The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley

Rating: T

Author: thewoolsweater (this is getting ridiculous, I can't think of a good penname, so I change it every week. Maybe I'll change it back to ValorOrgulloso.)

Chapter V: In Which A Lot Happens

"Umbridge?" I shouted. "Umbridge!"

Harry, who was standing in front of me, stared off across the lake and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Do I make him nervous when I shout? I certainly do when I cry. I'm sorry, Harry! I just have problems, and my incredulity isn't really directed (harmfully) at you! But, anyways, "UMBRIDGE!"

A little more rubbing, then: "Erm, yeah." Oh, very loquacious.

"You, Harry Potter, intend to tell me that you were talking about Umbridge? That dumb bitch?" I asked, staring at him in disbelief. His eyes darted around as if looking to find a way out of this situation. C'est dommage, mon ami. Too bad.

"Yeah."

"And, I've been pulling my hair out with shame and regret when I thought you were talking about me?"

"You have?"

"I – yes! I care what you think about me!" I was baffled. Why wouldn't I have been pulling my hair out with shame and regret when Harry 'the hunk' Potter was supposedly talking bad about me and his plotting revenge?

"You do?" I didn't like that grin that was blossoming on that wonderfully handsome face.

"Well, of course," I stated as it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which it was. To me, at least. "Why wouldn't I care what you think about me? You're –"

"I care what you think of me, too," Harry blurted out suddenly. "I mean, you're smart, funny, gorgeous…" He trailed off awkwardly in a very quiet voice, but the silence after that statement was even more intensified on the naked grounds. We stood there staring at each other for a moment. Slowly, my mind went from Whoa there, buddy mode into Aw, you're so sweet! mode. I pulled Harry into like the tenth gazillionth hug that day.

I decided to say what I was thinking at that moment: "Aw, you're so sweet!" And he was. It was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. Like I matter. To him! When things like this happen, it's hard to not understand how I adore him more and more every day.

After a few long moments of my-face-in-Harry's-beautifully-toned-chest, I pulled back before he became more nervous than he already was. God, he probably thinks I have some bipolar disorder; well, that or that I'm completely crazy.

But he was grinning shyly at me, his gaze dropping from my face to the ground then back again. My heart almost melted right then and there.

Without a word, we made our way back to the castle. It was a long walk, since we were on a far side of the lake. As we were passing a rather pretty autumn tree, I felt a hand slip into mine. I looked up to see Harry smiling a little, a pink hue kissing his cheeks. He was staring at the ground. I squeezed his hand and bumped my shoulder against his. He laughed softly. A huge Cheshire smile erupted onto my face; one that I couldn't suppress even if I wanted to.

---

Oddly enough, we spent the rest of the afternoon doing homework quietly in the library. It was fairly empty except for the occasional first or second year browsing the shelves. We sat directly across from each other so that I was facing the wall-covering window overlooking Hogsmeade, while he was facing the huge, oak-door library entrance. We didn't talk much, but I couldn't help but keep looking up at Harry, only to find him swiftly averting his gaze back to his papers with a little cough to "clear his throat."

He was so adorable, in a masculine kind of way, and I just swooned whenever I looked up to see him brush a rumpled black lock out of his eyes. I sighed in contentment. After we had gotten the whole "who were you talking about in the library" thing sorted out, I was feeling a lot better than I had in a while. That and the fact that he called me smart, funny, and gorgeous helped improve my mood significantly.

Something had happened between us, that was for sure, and whatever it was made me dance on air. When Harry took my hand I just about died. I sighed dreamily thinking about it, and Harry looked at me with that knowing look he has. What? So I'm a bit disgustingly mushy and sentimental about Harry. But, hey, who wouldn't be smitten, with those stunning eyes, kind heart, and tight ass?

A little before dinner, people started returning, and we regretfully (well, I at least) walked back to the common room to get cleaned up. We had our bags on our shoulders, so there were minimum holding-hand opportunities (which I had wished to repeat). But, before we went up to our different dormitories, Harry gave me another adorable smile and grasped my hand softly. He let go after a moment, but it was enough to make that goofy grin to return and me to melt into a puddle of goo.

At dinner, I sat with Ron, Hermione, and Harry. Harry was to my right while Ron and Hermione were across from me. When I had gotten to dinner, I hadn't seen them, but Harry found me and dragged me over (well, not exactly dragged since I was entirely willing). I normally sat with my roommates, but I wasn't upset at all for a change in seating arrangements. Ron and Hermione just gave us a look, apparently confused yet glad to see I wasn't acting like a fucking psycho anymore.

I was tempted to reach over and grab Harry's hand, wanting to feel what I had felt earlier. Oh, yeah, we connected. That, my friends, in the Muggle world, is what we call "good chemistry." But, to squash the overwhelming urge to grip Harry's hand in a death claw and never let go, I forced myself to eat with my right hand even though I used my left. This made me spill my mashed potatoes all over my lap, but at least I didn't grab Harry's hand.

I wasn't totally sure what this whole hand-holding gaga-eyes thing meant between Harry and me, but I didn't want to hold his hand in front of a bunch of people to give them the wrong impression. Not that it would be a bad impression, but if I don't know even what's going on, I don't want other people to tell me. So, I forced myself to eat with my right hand, effectively dripping some pudding onto my favorite jumper. Lovely.

---

Over the next week, Harry and I had a mutual agreement: don't hold hands in public, meet in the library at eight, don't discuss what's happening.

So, as I sat in the library on Friday night, I wondered, Why the fuck am I doing homework on a Friday night?

"Harry?" asked I. As I looked up, Harry pretended that he wasn't observing me; no, he was looking past my shoulder at the totally interesting, neatly-stacked folding chairs leaning up against the wall.

Looking at me again he returned, "Yeah?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Why the fuck are we doing homework on a Friday night?"

Harry stared at me for a few seconds, then looked down at his blank parchment that only had, in a messy scrawl, Harry Potter. This was probably a result of him staring at me the entire time we've been in the library. And, looking down at my own parchment, I wasn't much better off. While I hadn't been staring longingly at Harry (which I normally wish to do… I just have to hold back these urges… hold back!), I had been a bit distracted by his gaze. Okay, so a lot distracted.

He struggled for a response. "Um… err… well… we, um, kind of…" This made me smile at him. Not that I wasn't before – he makes me ridiculously glad anyways. He was just so damn cute! He was flustered around me. Before last week he wasn't so flustered – that was me. Now our roles were reversed. The thought made me happy with cheerful irony.

Deciding to put him out of his misery, I suggested, "Let's go for a walk outside."

"Um, alright, but, um, you know, it's kind of cold." Harry seemed okay with this since he didn't say um or er too many times.

I was prepared. "It's taken care of! Accio coats!" I commanded. After a minute, two floating coats came floating through the library entrance. A group of Hufflepuff third years, who were just walking through the doors, jumped, pointing at the jackets with some amount of wonderment.

Harry half grinned. Swoon. "Okay. Let's go."

So off we went, coats and all, leaving our books under the chairs with a Notice-Me-Not charm on them, courtesy of Harry. We really didn't want the hassle of carrying our books all the way up to our dorms; besides, we'd come back for them in the morning.

We weren't really allowed out this late at night, a quarter to nine, so we were as quiet as possible while leaving. Harry said he would've summoned his invisibility cloak if he wasn't so afraid that someone might snatch it out of the air or see it on the way down. So we crept around corners and giggled whenever one accidentally ran into the other or stepped on a foot. Harry's warm hand found mine, and we fled across the entrance hall to the doors quickly, giggling and trying to keep quiet. When we finally got outside, we broke apart and ran across the lawn.

Once we were a decent distance away from the school, I collapsed on the crisp lawn, rolling onto my back, laughing. Harry joined me moments later. We lay there, exhilarated with silliness.

"Now this is much better than doing homework," Harry sighed.

"So much," I agreed. "Now I'm actually allowed to be loud enough to ask you an important question."

"And what question would that be?" Harry asked, curiosity lacing his voice.

I looked up at the diamonds that were stars and said slowly, "What exactly was so fascinating about those chairs that you couldn't help but stare at them all night?" I was teasing, but I couldn't help it; it felt like an outside force was making be bolder than usual.

Harry took a minute to respond to that, and, since I couldn't see his face, I didn't know how he was feeling. "Well, you see, these chairs are pretty special," Harry said in a calm voice, but there was something underneath the calm exterior that I couldn't define. "They're not like other ordinary chairs. These chairs are unique and one of a kind. They are strong and sturdy, comfortable and cozy, and, most of all, perfect for me."

I rolled onto my side; Harry's face was half in the shadows, half in the moonlight. I've said many times that he's hot and sexy and adorable and a hundred other things, but, in that moment, the only word I could think of to describe him was beautiful. Maybe I'm a hopeless romantic, but he really was. He had, pardon the upcoming cheesiness of this statement, a beautiful soul, and I was glad he was there with me.

"Harry," I said quietly. His head turned sharply to look at me and he sat up too fast and I could tell he was nervous; after all, he had just been bolder than even I, and it was daring and incredible. I didn't even mind that I was being compared to chairs, because it was Harry saying it, and he did it in the sweetest way, and he didn't even know he was doing it.

"Harry," I repeated. Our faces were inches apart.

"Hmm?" he asked. He licked his lips.

I didn't think. I just did. I leaned forward and pushed my lips against his. Harry grunted in surprise, but I didn't stop. It was messy and our noses bumped and teeth scraped and we were inexperienced and it only lasted a moment, but, oh, it was perfect in my eyes.

We pulled apart and looked at each other with overexcited eyes and heaving chests. I still lay propped on my elbow, and Harry still was sitting.

"So what does this mean?" I whispered after a moment of breathlessness had passed. "What are we?"

Harry licked his lips again, and I still felt my lips tingling from where they had been. "I mean, if you want to – we could – we could be – you know – you could be my – my girlfriend," Harry stuttered.

I could barely contain myself when I laughed, "Okay!"

Harry grinned wider than I'd ever seen him grin. "Okay."

We lay back down on the grass, the cool October breeze cutting across our faces.

A/N: As always thanks to everyone that has given me statistics to look at and reviews to read. C'est Dommage, mon ami means Too bad, my friend. Please review; any constructive critisism is welcome, but please don't bash me too much! I try!