The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley

Rating: T

Author: TromboneChampion (I change my pen name WAY too much)

Chapter IV: In Which Ginny is Hysteric

I was depressed. It was Hogsmeade weekend. I was going with Dean Thomas. I didn't want to go with him. I wanted to sit around and mope.

Harry hadn't stalked me since I heard him talking to Ron and Hermione in the library. Actually, I had barely gotten a glance of any of the trio the entire week. It made me uncharacteristically sad. So sad that I started using long words like uncharacteristically. So sad that I failed the Care of Magical Creatures test Hagrid had set for us last Wednesday; which is totally ridiculous, because that was my easiest subject. All I could do was think about what they said in the library and how they planned to get revenge on me because of my bitchy issues.

So, here I was, dragging my feet and cheap polyester bag down a flight of steps to the Entrance Hall where Dean said he wanted to meet.

I got there much too soon, and I was disappointed to find that Dean was there waiting. I had hoped he had gotten ill or forgotten about our date. I felt a false smile automatically appear on my face as I went up to greet him.

"Hello, Dean," I said cheerfully.

He smiled at me. "Hey, Ginny. Ready to go?"

"Erm, sure!" I answered. We made our way awkwardly out of the castle, our conversation forced at some moments (okay, all moments).

Once we got past Filch's inspection, inside the carriages, and into Hogsmeade, I was relieved. Small talk was hard when it seemed the two people making it had very little in common.

We did the usual rounds of the shops until about one o'clock, when Dean chuckled as my stomach growled loudly and proposed that we stop by the Three Broomsticks.

We entered the pub and took a seat near the center. Dean offered to go up and wait in the long line to get us food and butterbeer. I agreed. I needed some moping time alone; even if it was in a crowded room.

As luck would have it, at the exact moment Dean went up, the scheming three entered the restaurant with a jingle of the bells attached to the door. I watched them as they made their way through the crowd. They saw me and made their way over to my table.

When they sat down at my table, I was confused. Don't they hate me? Is this part of their revenge?

"Hullo, Ginny," the three chorused. I eyed them suspiciously.

"What're you doing here?" I asked sharply.

I saw Hermione raise an eyebrow. The deviant, plotting witch.

"Well, there's a thing called my stomach. And there's a thing called food. And there's a thing called 'I'm starving," Ron answered.

I glared at them. "No, I mean, why're you here with me?"

"I didn't know you didn't want us here, Ginny," Hermione answered stiffly. "We'll leave if you have such a problem with us."

I snorted loudly, drawing looks from other tables. But I didn't care. I was angry at them. I wasn't going to fall for their so-called innocent act. "You're one to talk," I muttered loudly.

"What's your problem?" Harry finally asked. He had been quiet during the entire thing up until that point.

"My problem?" I asked incredulously. "MY problem?" My tone caused Hermione and Ron to back up ever so slightly in their chairs. Harry just glared, but he didn't cower. Of course not, I thought resentfully, if a bit logically, he's the boy who lived.

"Yes, your problem," Harry nearly shouted. Now we were getting a lot of stares from neighboring tables.

"Well, Harry Potter," I started rather impressively, if I do say so myself, "my problem is you three scheming behind my back. My problem is that I feel betrayed by three people I thought cared about me. My problem is that I guess I was wrong!" My voice steadily grew louder through my little rant. By the time it was over, anyone within twenty feet was silent and watching. I was standing. I couldn't recall at what point I had gotten out of my chair.

Harry gave me such a bewildered look I almost smacked him. That would not end well, though, so I restrained myself. "What are you talking about?" Harry rasped out.

I stood there in silence for a moment. I was fuming. I turned quickly and walked out of the pub before I did something I regretted.

Too bad Harry followed me. I made it out of the pub and three shops down before Harry grabbed my arm and turned me to face him.

"Just leave me alone!" I shouted, roughly shoving Harry's hand off of my arm. I turned to walk away, but I only made it a few feet before Harry grabbed my arm again.

"Please – tell me what's wrong!" Harry begged desperately. I glared at him.

And then I did something that felt very nice, if I do say so myself, given the current situation. I slapped Harry straight across the cheek. "You back stabber! You let me go!" I shrieked. I writhed as I tried to struggle out of his grip.

"Just – just – stop!" Harry ordered, still recovering from my rather well-placed smack. He gripped both of my arms in a tight hold, preventing me from running. It was a useless fight, so I gave in regretfully.

It took a few seconds, but I finally stopped moving. I stood still, staring at my feet in fury, completely silent.

"Now," Harry's voice cracked nervously. "Why are you so mad at me?"

I could feel the tears swell up in my eyes, hot and fat and ready to fall. I didn't even know why I was so mad. I didn't know if I was mad at Harry or Ron or Hermione or Dean or myself. In my confusion of the source of my emotions, I didn't realize the tears had released and were rolling down my face. And, much to my horror, big, heaving sobs shook my shoulders.

"Oh – um – er – hey – it's alright…," Harry trailed off awkwardly. I felt long, lanky arms wrap around my shaking shoulders as I let out a huge bawl. I shoved my face in to Harry's ratty shirt.

"H – Harry! I – I'm s – sorry. I d – don't even kn – know why I'm cr – crying!"

Harry attempted to sooth me by awkwardly rubbing my back. It was clear he was not used to comforting people – least of all a crazy, sobbing, red-headed freak like me. I felt one of Harry's arms release me and the other wrap around my waist.

He started leading me away, but I couldn't see where we were going because my tears clouded my vision.

It was at least ten minutes before I could make out anything remotely other than brown and green blurs. My tears started to slow down. My breathing went from heaves to occasional hiccups. I could see Hogwarts about a half-mile away in the distance. Harry was bringing me back to Hogwarts. Now I felt bad for disrupting his day… even if I was angry.

I glanced at Harry (he was only a few inches taller than me) to see him staring determinedly at his feet. I was embarrassed and more than a little ashamed.

I stopped walking, pulling Harry to a halt beside me.

I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around him, shoving my face back into his shirt. That's how I started my confession. "I'm so sorry! I know I'm a psycho bitch! I know I should let you carry my books if you want to! It is a little irritating, but you deserve to do whatever you want! You're selfless and kind and you should be treated with respect! I deserve to be punished. So whatever revenge you planned in the library, let it loose! I'm a horrible person! I don't deserve your kindness!"

Harry was still during the entire duration of my speech. He was still for a few more seconds before I began to feel him shake. In rage? I backed off slowly and opened my eyes.

Smiling.

Harry Potter was smiling. No. Chuckling. Laughing. Dying.

Harry Potter was bent over laughing harder than I had ever seen him laugh. His baritone chuckle rang loud and clear over the empty road before us. He clutched his stomach, his face turning red.

He gasped for breath only to take one look at my confused face to keel over in a fit of giggles once more.

"I-" Harry gasped, gulping in air, "I guess I should explain some things." He was grinning like a maniac and kept letting out an occasional burp of laughter. I would have glared at him if I wasn't so darn confused. I almost huffed in irritation. Boys.

"Let's walk," Harry said, looping my arm through his and leading us back to Hogwarts. He had a lot of explaining to do.

A/N: As always, please review. And thanks to everyone who reviewed, put this on alerts or favorites, or put me as an alert or favorite :) J'adore vous! -- That's most likely improper French. Au revoir!