So I'm mad. The reviews here have been much too slow, and it upsets me much. Sigh, I might even have to consider cutting this story off! But I won't, I have too much fun writing it.

Still, please try and review. Those who do, you make me a very happy girl. Yes.

Naturally, here's another chapter. Yes, very delayed, but I've been quite preoccupied. With my own boredom, and of course those of the other gender. Again, this one's in Cho's POV. And I do hope I can make it interesting. Summer is so very boring and that creative spark in me is a little dull if you haven't noticed from my last chapter. Ho hum.

And about all the swearing in the last installment. It was a character thing, I do hope you understand. And I know it was very emo. I just can't win.

Well, dammit. Read it!

Ch. 14: Young Lust Is Never Good.

He was getting annoying.

No, really.

It was outrageous.

Cho had the tendency to exaggerate, but she was sure at this point in time that Harry Potter—her new little occupation—was getting on her nerves.

It was always, 'Cho, let me help you with those books,' 'Cho, I don't know what I'd do without you,' 'Cho, I'm so happy we're together,'…from the day they started as a couple (for the second time) to nearly a week and a half later, Harry was clingy, horny, and infuriating. All at one time. She didn't think it was possible.

Agitated? Yes. Miserable? Not yet. Cho's relationship with Harry now gave her confidence. She was not alone when she hung out with her friends (and their men). She was the bloody talk of the school. It was all very enticing.

She had to blame herself for it though. She was the one who had been feeling isolated. She was the one who had screamed at Roger Davies. She was the one who stormed around the castle in a complete wreck. And incidentally, she was the one who had roughly grabbed an unaware Harry and initiated that wonderful mouth-to-mouth action called kissing. So really, what else was the boy to think? He was certainly infatuated already, so Cho decided to give it a go, and soon enough she found herself swimming along confusedly.

She stayed with him because he made her feel good about herself. For Christ's sake, if she told him to jump off the Astronomy Tower, he would happily oblige. And wasn't that what everyone expected anyway? Cho had given up on trying to change her image. She had come to the sad conclusion that people, no matter how much she sulked and snapped and pined, were by nature too stupid to take into account the steady evolution of an angsty soul.

As for Draco Malfoy, she had almost completely discounted him from her thoughts. She had been disturbed by the alarming number of hours she'd spent thinking about him, however since she had started seeing Harry she had managed successfully to push him into the back of her mind. After all, it is difficult to forget about someone who you had nearly shagged.

Cho was happy that she was confident, unhappy that the source of that confidence was also the source of her aggravation. She was happy that Malfoy was finally in the back of her mind.

But…he was still in the back of her mind.

And he'd left a peculiar taste there.

They were sitting in the Common Room, enjoying, er…rather Harry was enjoying…cuddling in front of the fire. It had been a particularly frigid afternoon, and the playful sparks that sporadically shot out and threatened to set fire to the furniture was welcomed.

Five minutes earlier Cho had been accompanied by Madeline and Roger Davies, two very good sources of conversation. While being berated by a constant stream of Quidditch small-talk from her captain, she pretended to be engaged heavily in the topic of Quaffle size regulation as to avoid being left alone in the clutches of Harry.

Don't get me wrong, Harry Potter was by no means repulsive. In fact, he had to be one of the best looking chaps in the school. But you know how things go, and Cho found him to be increasingly more unbearable as the days passed.

So when Madeline and Roger left the room to attend to some 'studying', Cho found herself in an uncomfortable arrangement. The Common Room was deserted, a friendly fire cast shadows on everything leaving the air warm and smelling nice. The cold rain battered on the dark, stain-glassed windows. It was the ideal romantic setting, but Cho found it anything but. Harry had slowly wrapped his arm around her, and pulled her gently toward his body. His face lay softly buried in her hair, but it only made Cho's flesh tingle in agitation.

If only he wouldn't talk…

She heard that short intake of breath that people make before they start a conversation.

No…please, don't open your mouth.

"Cho," Harry breathed quietly, slightly muffled. Damn.

"Mm-hmm?" Cho replied, wearing a stolid expression.

"I love this…"

"What?" The tone held exasperation. He didn't catch it.

"Being with you. Just sitting here. With you,"

She didn't say anything.

Oh god oh god no no no. Break up with him. No, you can't. Yes, you can't stand him. But you're finally happy. No…I'm not!

The internal battle raging in Cho's neural network made her temples hurt. She knew the right thing was to stop this as soon as she could; spare Harry, and more importantly, herself. However, she couldn't bring herself to it. She still feared that familiar sense of rejection and loneliness that she had to experience for such a long time beforehand. It didn't occur to her how selfish she was being.

Harry made a motion to hold her hand and without thinking, Cho hastily pulled it away and shifted, perturbed. At this moment, she knew she had gone too far. Harry's hesitation lingered horribly, and his confusion certainly laid quite the guilt-trip. She felt him lift his head, and his eyes bore through her skull. Five minutes passed, and by the time Harry broke the silence, Cho thought her lungs would never work again.

"Cho…" He took his arm from around her, his brow furrowed. "Is there something wrong?"

Cho looked down and opened her mouth to defend herself, only to be interrupted.

"Am I…bothering you?"

She peered at his face which was wrought with hurt and concern.

"No…Harry, look…"

Now would come the stream of gut-wrenching self-pity and low self-esteem. Now she would be made to feel incredibly guilty while Harry let out deepest insecurities and quiet sobs. Cho braced herself.

Instead, he hesitated and sat back, not taking his eyes off of her while she tried everything to avoid his gaze.

It seemed like forever, that sickening space between particularly awkward words. Harry held a surprisingly calm posture. By now, Cho would have expected him to be crumpled in a ball. He appeared as if she had just remarked upon the weather.

"Cho, I know you're bothered,"

"Harry, you don't bother me," Lying through her teeth? Yes.

He glanced at the fire, pushed his glasses up his nose.

"No. I hate to break it to you, but you kinda gave it away just now."

Cho couldn't say anything. And now, she was coming off as the fool. Harry waited, perhaps for her to say something, but when she didn't, he continued.

"I'm quite aware that I'm overprotective. And I've known that you find it occasionally unsettling…but I'm only that way because I can't help it. Cho, the truth is…I like you too much."

When he put it that way—when he was equipped with his mature tone and his startlingly logical reasoning—it made Cho melt just a wee bit. Why hadn't he said this before?

"I reckon it was the same with Ginny Weasley," he said, settling back comfortably, a good foot and a half separating the two of them, "But I never told her the same thing I just told you. I figured she wouldn't have understood. She was never the most forgiving—or brightest—soul, come to think of it," Cho had never seen Harry smirk—he didn't seem the type. When he did just then, she found it was positively…questionable. Irresolute. If anything, Harry Potter's smirk was wind-blown. (A/N: I know, I know, that's not what happened with Har and Gin. Geesh.)

"I'll understand if you want to break up," he said, "Just acknowledge my reasoning."

Cho's neural network was up in flames now, which was weird. She had just come from being terribly annoyed with this boy…to being, well, less annoyed. Albeit, it was a slow process. She wasn't going to completely disregard his insufferable clinginess. But to express this newfound gratitude, she made her way across the couch, and for the first time, she was glad to be in his company.

Now, the romantic setting worked its magic.

The next days resulted in the following: a) Harry was noticeably happier. b) Harry was noticeably hornier. c) Cho was still not 'into' Harry. In that way. Not yet.

Sad, really, seeing the sincere effort Harry had put into his last little act in the Common Room…Cho couldn't help the fact that she just didn't see him in that way. It didn't mean that she was going to hate him or break up with him…he was a good friend, and he was nice, and presumably very interesting because his life was always on the line, but she was just not head-over-heels for him. But I guess you don't always have to be head-over-heels in a relationship.

She stayed with him because he made her feel wanted. She ended up convincing herself that she did like him, pushing moral obligation into the back of her mind. For one thing Cho hated was to be ignored, and hell, Harry wasn't one to do that. He was the sort of boy who didn't know his own potential, who, if any sort of interest was directed at him, would cling on and not know when to let go. He was commonly desperate. And so was Cho, apparently. But for different reasons.

The spring air was brisk that morning, despite the fact that it was late-May. The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall hung clear and cold, and the students below milled about sleepily. Cho had gotten up early that day, at 9:00, and sat quite alone at the Ravenclaw table as she spooned Cheerios into her mouth.

Across the hall lay the Slytherin table: a clumsy, raucous group of idiots, and much too loud. From where she sat, it appeared as if Goyle was trying to shove a whole helluva lot of sustenance down some poor underclassman's throat. Cho sighed at the unsightly scene, too tired to put into action her Prefect authority. The table writhed with brutes, a thing that Cho found positively abhorrent.

Her eyes lingered away for a while, skimmed over the front page of the Daily Prophet, to her coffee, and then back to the Slytherins. This time her eyes rested on Draco Malfoy, sitting in the midst of it all, looking very annoyed and a maybe a little embarrassed at the scene his House was displaying. He had a copy of Advanced Potions and a mess of parchment spread before him on the table, that he looked at apprehensively every time the table moved. Judging from the large cup of coffee poised in his right hand and his sad, tired posture, Malfoy hadn't been getting much sleep. Of course, Cho recalled, 6th year was a bitch.

But she didn't stray on that thought for long. Soon, Cho found herself actually, physically staring the boy down. He wore typical clothes—nothing too stylish, but acceptable. The grey sweater was obviously on account of the weather, layered over a t-shirt. His worn jeans hung naturally on him and bunched ever so slightly when they touched his sneakers. His school robes lay discarded behind him, his bag thrown carelessly on the table. His ever-so regular attire, however, contrasted strikingly with his face. He had very sharp features, features that leaked intellect and quickness. His chin tapered off at a clean point, his cheekbones narrow and defined. Even his eyes were sharp, though holding a sort of half-amusement. They laughed at you, almost, if you can call it that. Cho didn't know how long she had been staring at him. It wasn't like anyone was there to judge her on it. But it was one of those rare (well, depending on your attention-span) occasions when you are completely out of it, and concentrating profusely and solely on one thing. Kind of like a beacon. Of light. In the hub of darkness. Haha.

So it scared her a tad when Malfoy ran his long fingers through his mussed blonde hair and looked up distractedly. She must have been sending stalker signals or something, because he hesitated slightly and looked almost instantly in her direction. And when he saw her staring straight back at him, he averted his eyes casually back to his Potions text. Cho found it a bit weird, so she finished her breakfast and got up to leave.

In the quietness on the stone hallway, she leaned lightly against the wall. Yes, she had seen a bit more of the boy in the recent past, but she had never taken the time look at him. No, really, look at him. It worried her, this sensation. For Cho found Malfoy to be unbearably delectable.

Yeesh. I started this chapter in early August, I think, and look. I just finished it today. On September the seventeenth, 2006. It's 10:18 on a Sunday night, and I just decided to finish up this chapter after a long delay—the combination of severe writer's block and of course, that mild hindrance of, you know, school. Well, now that I have some added drama and angst in my own life, this story might pick up a bit. Just wait and see what happens in the next addition. It's basically the story of my life. Minus Harry Potter. But hell, you can't have everything.

I should have mentioned this much earlier, but what can one do? The title of this story—'The Tulip Baroo' is from a song by Of Montreal (they're a real treat, by the way) and so I picked it because, one, I love the song, two, the name is so delightful, and three, tulips represent loooove. Or whatever. So my respects to Of Montreal. You know, boys are so overrated. I hate them. But I love them. It's difficult, really.

So review your pretty little butts off, please! I haven't had the pleasure of reading one for quite some time, so indulge me. Lots. More than lots. Heaps. Up to the sky!

I send kisses,

liannimation.