Making the Team - H/G - Ch. 5 posted 10/17

Post by **bistyboo1974** » Sun Oct 17, 2004 1:12 pm

Disclaimer: I have no rights, I own nothing...who do you think I am, J.K. Rowling?! :lol
Summary: Fifth year is not all it's cracked up to be for Ginny Weasley as she tries to balance exhausting amounts of school work with Quidditch tryouts, plus humiliating encounters with The Boy Who Lived.
Rating: TEEN

***

1: Lions and Giants and Hippogriffs, Oh My!

Ginny Weasley heaved a bulging satchel of books over her shoulder as she trudged up the marble staircase towards her last class of the week, History of Magic. There was no way she'd be able to keep her eyes open during Binns' class, unless she planned on drinking a Stimulating Solution chased by a shot of Fire Whiskey beforehand. The first week back to school as a fifth year student had nearly done her in. Six brothers, and none of them had quite been able to convey the full magnitude of the O.W.L. year at Hogwarts. She'd all but given up on getting any sleep, and the term had barely started. She hadn't the foggiest notion how she'd manage staying conscious once Quidditch tryouts got underway. She was pretty certain Gryffindor's chance at winning the House Cup would be dashed if they had a narcoleptic Chaser on their squad. How was she going to convince this year's Captain that she'd be an asset to the team? She continued her trek up toward Professor Binns' classroom as she pondered this conundrum. The weight of her bag began to slow her pace so she decided to sling the heaving book bag onto her other shoulder. As she did, she nearly sent Colin Creevey – who was walking unnoticed just behind her – into a portrait of Artemesia Lufkin. He clumsily sidestepped Ginny and grabbed onto the banister for support.

"Watch it, children!" said the portrait huffily as she backed into the corner of her frame.

"Sorry, Colin!" Ginny said when she realized she'd almost pulverized him with her books.

"No problem," he gasped as he straightened up. "What's with all the books, by the way?"

"I didn't have time to go back up to the tower after lunch," Ginny said, noticing that Colin was merely carrying a copy of their history textbook, a roll of parchment and a quill.

"Oh," said Colin with a puzzled expression on his face. "If you hand over some of those books, I can help ease the load."

Ginny gave him a grateful smile and opened the bag. She surrendered the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5, along with her Herbology and Potions texts.

The puzzled look on Colin's face returned. "Ginny, we didn't have any of these classes today…it was Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes this morning—"

"I know," said Ginny as she began trudging up the steps once more. "I was doing a bit of extra revision during breaks."

"You've been hanging around with Hermione Granger too long!" he said, laughing.

"Don't laugh!" said Ginny indignantly. "Our professors have sprung all of this extra work on us right off the bat…and I want to do well in the spring, when we sit our exams."

"Ginny, you're a good student – you're going to do well. But can I offer you some free advice?"

"Of course," replied Ginny.

"Relax."

They had arrived in class just as Professor Binns glided through the chalkboard. Ginny and Colin took the last two available seats in the front row as Binns began his tedious lecture on the giant hostilities of yesteryear.

Ginny began scratching information down quickly at first, but after a few moments, her quill began to scratch in cadence with the drone of Binns' voice, and the effect was mind numbing. She was using all of her will power not to collapse onto the tabletop and begin snoring like a ninety-year-old man. Several times she caught her eyelids sagging under the burden of exhaustion and it wasn't until class was over that she realized her body had given in and stolen an hour of much needed rest.

"Did I miss anything?" Ginny asked one of her classmates as they processed towards Gryffindor Tower after class.

"I dunno," answered the girl, "Binns lost me the moment he materialized into the classroom." She had large, dark circles beneath both of her watery eyes.

Ginny sighed. She reckoned she'd reread the chapter on giant wars after tryouts that evening, and before heading to bed – along with doing hieroglyphic translations for Ancient Runes. But she figured she'd had enough first-hand dealings with Thestrals a few months ago to skip reading about them for Care of Magical Creatures homework that night.

At dinner that evening, Ginny could barely focus on her roast beef to take more than a few bites. A little way down the table, she heard her brother talking about how many goals the Chudley Cannons' Keeper had blocked in a match against the Appleby Arrows last season, and how he'd love to run through some of the techniques displayed in said match as soon as he could. She heard Hermione Granger's voice reply,

"Quidditch won't be the same this year."

"Dumbledore is letting the teams play," Ron protested.

"With certain provisos," Hermione retorted.

"Prowhatsos?" said Ron indignantly. "Speak English, will you?"

"Stipulations…conditions, Ron!"

Ginny glanced towards them. Ron's arms were crossed; Hermione's face was flushed, her eyebrows drawn into a deep furrow, but her eyes looked awash with unfathomable anxiety.

"Conditions for what?" Ron asked.

Ginny looked back at her ice-cold plate of roast beef and thought that Ron was making a rather stupid query. Of course, Dumbledore's conditions for Quidditch were for the students'—

"—Safety, Ron! The conditions are for everyone's safety!" said Hermione sharply.

Ginny heard a clatter of cutlery and the sound of someone getting up from the table. As she looked to see who was departing she observed the back of Harry Potter's robes as he headed towards the entrance hall.

"Look what you did!" spat Ron.

"What did I do?" snapped Hermione.

"You couldn't leave well enough alone, that's what!"

Another sound of a fork and knife being dropped and Hermione retreated from the Great Hall as quickly as Harry had.

"Lovely job," said Ginny to Ron as she got up to leave.

"Don't you get fired up, too," Ron spat. He was scowling ferociously as he followed his departing sister. "Are you coming to tryouts tonight or not?" he continued in a growl.

"Well, I had planned to," replied Ginny calmly, "but as you've decided to be a tremendous prat to me, as well as to the rest of the world—"

"What?" gasped Ron. "I'm a prat and this is this all of a sudden my fault? Hermione brought up the Quidditch prowhatsits…it wasn't me who got Harry all upset about stuff like safety and whether or not each member of the team would have their own set of troll bodyguards!"

"You can be so bloody thick-headed sometimes, do you know that?" said Ginny. "What is it going to take for you to acquire a little sensitivity?"

"I'm sensitive!" said Ron in protest, as he mindlessly plowed past a group of first year girls on the stairway. "Midgets need to mind where they're going," he muttered under his breath.

"I rest my case," said Ginny.

When they entered the common room, there was no sign of Harry or Hermione, but Katie Bell – the new Gryffindor Captain– was giving an assemblage of Quidditch team hopefuls a speech.

"…what we must remember is this: One team's ceiling is another's floor!"

"Huh?" grunted Jack Sloper.

"What I mean to say," said Katie, rubbing her temple with an index finger in an exasperated sort of gesture, "is that one team will triumph, while the other will be defeated – and I expect our team to maintain a decent level of sportsmanship and integrity, no matter what."

None of the congregation seemed to object to this proclamation.

"We'll reconvene in half an hour, in the entrance hall. We'll be escorted to the pitch from there. We'll only have an hour to conduct our tryouts, so be quick when you're called on to run drills. Any questions?"

Ginny wondered who would be escorting them to the Quidditch pitch, but she didn't ask. She was hoping to pinch a catnap before meeting Katie and the rest of the contenders downstairs.

As Ginny trudged up the steps to the girls' dormitories, she heard Katie call to Ron, "I expect you and Harry to be at the tryouts, too…I'll see you in twenty-seven minutes!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ginny had lost consciousness before her head met with her pillow. It felt so good to finally rest. It was quite unfortunate when she was ripped from her peaceful slumber by Hermione Granger's frantic voice.

"Ginny! You're missing Quidditch tryouts…Katie says she'll only wait another five minutes, and she's already threatening to dock points from your tryout score for being late!"

Ginny gasped, grabbed her shoes in one hand, her broomstick in the other, and sprinted from her dormitory past Hermione. Ginny's hair was in a wild condition from its brief encounter with her pillowcase and her robes were wrinkly from being slept in, but she didn't give a hoot about her appearance. She was certain Katie wouldn't be scoring her on appearance.

Ginny slid (literally – she was in her socks, with shoes still in hand) into the entrance hall just in time. Katie Bell's hands were on her hips and she appeared ready to lead her protégés onto the grounds.

"It's about time!" Katie said huffily.

Ron sidled over to Ginny's side as she tugged her shoes on. "What was keeping you?" he asked quietly.

"Sleep," said Ginny in an undertone.

"Appears as if you could use some more of it," he said, staring at her appraisingly. "You look awful."

"Thanks a lot," blurted Ginny sarcastically.

Katie turned around and hissed for everyone to be quiet.

Ron left Ginny to stand beside Harry. Ginny had expected the group to proceed by now, but they were still waiting. Katie looked around as if she was expecting something to appear at any moment.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall opened the front doors of the castle and joined them from the grounds. "Everything is ready, Miss Bell," said the head of Gryffindor house curtly. She glared sternly through her spectacles at the rest of them. "You lot follow me, and stay close."

Ginny hadn't felt nervous up until now – she knew they'd have to be cautious while on the castle grounds this year, but all of this solemnity for Quidditch tryouts was making a knot tighten in her stomach.

As she walked outside with the others and saw what awaited them, Ginny felt her jaw go slack. She'd heard loads about Grawp from both Ron and Hermione, and even Harry, but it was nothing to seeing him with her own eyes. And even odder still was seeing him flanked by a pair of Aurors – Aurors who were astride two sets of dappled hippogriffs. The eagle-horses' wings beat the air fiercely and their tails thrashed behind them like great bullwhips as their riders stared at the students intently.

"I wasn't too far off, was I?" muttered Ron to Ginny as she grabbed the sleeve of his robes in surprise.

"Far off?" echoed Ginny, staring at the giant in awe.

"Well, I reckoned we'd have security trolls, but a security giant isn't too far off, is it?"

"He's huge," murmured Ginny, still awestruck. She took a step closer to get a better look at Grawp's enormous hands and noticed the handle of a large mallet slipped through one of his massive belt loops. Without warning, she felt herself being tugged backward and turned to protest.

Harry stood there, glowering at her. "Don't get so close…he's dangerous."

Ginny reckoned he was right, but she was more than a little put out at Harry's nerve. How dare he yank her back like she was a little girl getting too close to the Chimaera's cage at the zoo, then glare at her like she was a disobedient child? Who was he to do that? Not her brother. Certainly not her boyfriend…

She longed to tell him she'd do whatever she pleased, but this wasn't the time or the place.

Professor McGonagall had begun to speak about the new rules and regulations for being escorted about the grounds at Hogwarts. She introduced them to the four Aurors – one of which she already knew, by the name of Kingsley Shacklebolt – and told them they'd be in charge of air safety during Quidditch practice and matches. She also explained that Grawp was part of their ground escort to the pitch.

"What else is part of the escort?" asked Jack Sloper, looking around the apparently empty grounds.

"That's not for you to worry about, Mr. Sloper," barked Professor McGonagall sharply. She cautiously beckoned Grawp forward and he trudged towards the Quidditch pitch. The Aurors urged their mounts to advance, and they flew along with the group in what Ginny imagined was a defensive formation.

"I wonder if all of the teams had this type of security for their tryouts," said Euan Abercrombie quietly "or if it's just because of—" He gestured towards Harry, who was walking a few paces behind Katie, with Ron. Ginny got the urge to thwack him in his head for making such an obtuse comment, then she recalled how Harry had a moment ago chastised her in front of everyone, and she easily resisted.

But of course everyone was going to have the same type of security. Did Euan the Elephant-Eared One actually think Professor Dumbledore was going to neglect the safety of the rest of his school and merely focus on safe-keeping Gryffindors?

Ginny was feeling extra cantankerous by the time they reached the pitch – lack of sleep and being in the company of infuriating people was a poor recipe for a good mood.

She watched as students took their turns on broomstick to run through drills as Katie, Harry and Ron looked on. She wondered how the aspiring flyers could maintain their concentration as the Aurors circled above. As Jack Sloper crashed in for a rough landing, Ginny was about to find out.

"Ginny Weasley!" Katie called from the stands.

Ginny mounted her broom, and gave an over-enthusiastic kick-off, which sent her darting into the air quicker than she'd intended. She lost control momentarily and tipped to the left as she tried to slow down. It was a sloppy looking tactic, but it was better than tumbling off the broom altogether and landing in a heap on the grass below.

"I want to first test you for speed," called Katie.

Ginny sighed. Katie knew how fast she could fly – she'd demonstrated that her capacity to maintain speed and stay in control was more than adequate last year, had she not? After all, who was it that caught the game-winning Snitch against Ravenclaw? But she supposed it was all mandatory procedure. She was a stand-in last year, and this year she was hoping for a new position. The team didn't need two Seekers.

Ginny began circling the pitch, adding momentum and gaining speed with every turn. She leaned into the handle and let the rush of air beat over her head, her whole body…the effect was exhilarating.

"Nice," she heard Katie call as she slowed down. "Let's run some drills…Harry's going to join you. You try to maneuver the Quaffle away from him and score off Ron."

Ginny looked down the pitch and saw her brother circling the goal posts. She saw Harry streak across the darkening sky on his Firebolt, a gleam of scarlet nestled underneath his left arm. He looked across the way towards her and shot her a look that seemed to say, "Come and get me."

That was all she needed by way of an invitation. Ginny darted towards him. She felt like a bird of prey streaking towards its target, but her target was trying to be very evasive and was succeeding quite satisfactorily. Ginny dodged to pursue him to the left, and Harry dropped his elevation a bit and swerved to the right; but when Ginny tried to backtrack and follow him to the right, he shot upwards and circled above her. A maddening "Can't Catch Me" smirk seemed to dance across his lips.

I need to go on instinct…I can't let this be a personal thing, she told herself when Harry had managed to dodge her for the fifth time in as many attempts. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, filling her lungs with air – she let the breath out again and snapped her eyes open. She may have been tired, annoyed and a load of other things, but she also wanted this position on the team. She let her gut guide her from that moment on – she could anticipate Harry's tactics now. He may have been the star Seeker, but he was just a mediocre Chaser; and where she may have been the second-rate Seeker, she knew she had him beat at Chasing.

In a flash of ginger and black (her hair and her robes were whipping behind her like proud banners representing her fortitude), she bolted towards her opponent. Harry went back to his old plan of attack, and Ginny happily cut him off, robbing him of the ball in the process. With a grab for the Quaffle and a shove in the ribs for good measure, Ginny turned flew towards Ron and the trio of goal posts with only one thought – of scoring. She knew Ron was an improved goalkeeper, but she also knew her brother well enough to guess how he'd try to block her. Her problem wasn't going to be scoring; it was going to be keeping the person trailing behind her at bay – the very same person she'd just bruised in the ribs not a moment ago.

She could hear the whoosh of Harry's Firebolt as it streamed towards her from behind. She knew if she stole a second to turn around and look it'd be a second too much – Harry's broomstick could get hacked in half by an axe and still fly faster than the school broom she was riding, but it was too much of a temptation to resist. She had to know how close he was closing in on her, and if she'd have to resort to a defensive trick before trying to score.

She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see the gleam in his vivid green eyes as he was reaching for her. She wanted to laugh at him – he was reaching like he was trying to catch a tiny Snitch, not a bulky Quaffle, but now was not the time to offer him advice. No matter how badly chosen his reach was, it was enough to graze her elbow and that worried her enough to fall into a drop. Harry matched her dive and Ginny looked up in time to see him soaring directly above her, grasping for the Quaffle. She straightened up, let go of the broom handle and flung her right hand back to block him. It met his nose and struck it with a piercing crunch, sending his glasses and a cascade of blood towards the ground in the process.

Ginny gasped and forgot that she was desperate to score a goal and secure a place on the team. She dropped the Quaffle to the ground and swerved her broomstick over to the side of Harry's. Harry was perched on his Firebolt, hovering chaotically as he clutched both hands over his nose; blood was seeping between his fingers. Ron had flown in to see what had happened, and Ginny heard Katie's voice call from the stands, "Is he all right?"

The thunderous sound of large wings flapping drowned out Katie as a roan hippogriff approached the scene. Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice boomed, "Potter, are you all right?"

Harry ignored Kingsley and squinted at Ginny. "Why did't you score?" he spluttered in a nasal tone. Blood was dripping from his hands down his chin. "You drobbed the Quaffle!"

"You're bleeding, you idiot!" said Ginny, leaning over to wipe some of the mess from his face with the sleeve of her robes.

Harry leaned back, almost tottering off his broomstick. "Ibe fine!" he said, objecting to her attempt to tend his wound.

"Land, Potter!" shouted Kingsley. "Connors will clean you up," he said, gesturing to a wizard riding a chestnut hippogriff. "He was trained as a Healer before joining the Aurors."

Harry took a hand away from his injured nose and descended, with Ginny, Ron and the two Aurors flying behind.

After Connors had patched up Ginny's handiwork and Professor McGonagall had located Harry's mangled glasses, Katie called an end to the tryouts.

On the walk back to Hogwarts castle, Ginny hung behind the crowd a few paces. She felt certain once Katie, Harry and Ron convened to name the new team members, her name would conspicuously be missing from the roster. Botching her attempt to score after fracturing the nose of one of her evaluators, she couldn't see how she'd make the cut. She might be able to rely on her brother to vote for her, but she was hardly confident Katie and Harry would concur. Not after her pathetic display on the pitch anyhow.

She watched her feet and listened to the beating of the hippogriffs' wings as the assembly trudged across the grounds. Ginny was extremely shocked when she glanced up and saw Harry lagging to the rear of the group to walk beside her.

"Why didn't you score the Quaffle back there?" he asked her quietly. "You had a clear shot after you…er, eliminated your obstacle."

"Don't you mean after I broke your nose?" Ginny said, feeling a sharp twinge of guilt.

"You were playing an aggressive game," said Harry. "It's no less than the Slytherin team would play."

"Well, I'm not a Slytherin!" grumbled Ginny, crossing her arms huffily.

"I didn't mean to imply you were," said Harry quickly. "I'm only saying you'd match their force – Angelina was a strong Chaser, too. You'd be an excellent replacement for her."

"Well, Angelina didn't go around breaking opponents' noses," said Ginny sullenly. "I wasn't trying out for Beater, and your nose certainly doesn't resemble a Bludger!"

"Well, it was unfortunate we didn't get to see if you're capable of scoring," sighed Harry. "You had to go and get soft-hearted about a little nosebleed—"

"Fine!" growled Ginny. "Next time, let's see if I care if you bleed to death!"

She pushed her way through the crowd to where Professor McGonagall was walking beside Katie; they were several steps behind where Grawp was pounding a path for them to follow back to the castle. Ginny's head was so hot, she had a mind to push past the giant as well, but didn't quite fancy getting squashed all because of her bad temper.

"Not a bad show, Weasley," said Professor McGonagall when she caught sight of Ginny. "Up until the point where your fist collided with Potter's nose, that is."

Ginny was thrilled the wand light in her hand wasn't enough to illuminate the flush on her face. Was she going to be the punch line of everyone's jokes now? What could be more humiliating than that? It was bad enough all chances of making the team were now removed from the realm of possibility.

She sprinted up the marble staircase once they arrived in the castle, not waiting for anyone else to catch up.

***

Please review! :) Thanks!

- Caroline

Post by **bistyboo1974** » Sun Oct 17, 2004 2:14 pm

2: And The Starting Line-Up Is… Ginny arose early the next morning, even though her body yearned to stay under the sanctuary of her quilt indefinitely. She wanted to be certain she'd beat the crowd into the Great Hall for breakfast, and knew getting up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday was the way to do it. Quietly, she dressed and slipped down the stairs to the common room. She glanced at the notice board and saw an announcement for the first Hogsmeade weekend in October, a message from Neville Longbottom regarding the loss of his Transfiguration textbook, and an owl post order form to subscribe to Dark Force Defense League Quarterly. Thankfully, there was no sign of the results of the team tryouts – Ginny didn't think she could stomach seeing the glaring absence of her name from the list without first having a cup of coffee and a couple hours to resolve herself to a Quidditch-free year. Only a handful of people were up and sampling the breakfast menu when Ginny arrived in the Great Hall. The room was unnaturally quiet, and the ceiling was still dim since the sun had not yet risen. She made her way to her usual seat at the Gryffindor table and gave a nod to a lone seventh year at the end, who was poring over three different textbooks while nibbling on a slice of toast. Ginny sighed and figured O.W.L. year must be a cinch in comparison to N.E.W.T. year. She poured herself a steaming cup of coffee, then dressed it up with cream and two generous spoonfuls of sugar. She ladled porridge into a bowl and slowly began to eat. As she swallowed her first bite, a thought occurred to her: In spite of everything, it probably was quite providential that she had botched her tryout. Without having to attend practices she'd be free to study more often for her courses, and extra study time would certainly ensure better exam results in the spring. So, why was it then that she was feeling miserable at the prospect of a school year without Quidditch? After all, she hadn't been perturbed in the slightest when she wasn't chosen as a fifth year Prefect, even though her mother had seemed more than a little put out. But being denied the chance to play for Gryffindor after having a taste of it in fourth year was more than she could bear at the moment. She sipped her coffee – which had had time to cool while she'd eaten her breakfast – and contemplated ways she could get beyond being rejected for the team. As more students began to trickle in to dine, Ginny decided to vacate the premises. She would have loved to wander out to the grounds to amble around the shore of the lake, but unscheduled jaunts outdoors were strictly prohibited these days. She acquiesced to wander around the castle instead, hoping to find a place to hide until such time as she felt ready to join the others and accept her elimination like a good sport. Perhaps she would lock herself in a broomstick cupboard and not emerge again until it was time to board the train for home in June. Mindless wandering had led her to the Astronomy Tower, where she sat down upon the balcony ledge, her legs dangling over the edge of the castle. The sun was rising in a glorious display of color over the horizon, unmindful of the troubled world it was showering its happy, cheerful rays upon. Ginny felt a pang of guilt over sulking about Quidditch. There were bigger concerns, and here she was moping about a silly sport. There were more important things in the world – like passing fifth year – and other diversions to fill up her spare time, most notably the D.A. Even though Umbridge was history, Ginny was still hoping the defense group that had been started last year would continue. Ginny left her solitary perch and ambled back towards Gryffindor Tower. There was no use postponing the inevitable. The news may not be cheerful when she reached the common room, but she'd face her defeat with all the grace and dignity she could muster. "Password?" the Fat Lady said as Ginny approached the pink-clad woman's frame. "Felis Leo," replied Ginny. The portrait swung aside and Ginny stepped through. A throng of students were congregating around the notice board, reading something that had been written upon a bright gold sheet of vellum. A garnet-colored "G" was printed at the top of the paper and a racing broom was drawn on either side of the letter – it was the new team roster. Ginny tried to edge past the crowd unseen. She was uncomfortable about reading the results in front of that many people. She'd come back later when the masses had parted, read the list, and genially congratulate the new team members on their success – then go back upstairs to drown herself in a sea of schoolwork to circumvent becoming covetous of anyone's position. As her foot hit the first step to the girls' dormitories, Ginny heard someone calling to her. She took another step, hoping to be able to feign deafness, but the shouter wasn't going to be put off so easily. "Ginny!" the voice yelled again, followed by footsteps and a tug on the back of Ginny's jumper. Ginny turned around and observed Ron's grinning face. "Congratulations!" Ron said, beaming. "Congratulations…for what?" Ginny said dully. "You half-wit!" barked Ron, with a good-hearted laugh. "On making the team…what else?" He tugged her over to the notice board, swatting aside a couple second-year boys in the process, and pointed to the golden notice: Gryffindor Quidditch Squad 1996-97 Season Katie Bell (Captain) – Chaser Ginny Weasley – Chaser Natalie MacDonald – Chaser Jack Sloper – Beater Andrew Kirke – Beater Ron Weasley – Keeper Harry Potter – Seeker Ginny gaped stupidly at the notice for a moment before Ron finally broke her idiotic stupor. "Say something," he said, trying not to chuckle. "Merlin blind me!" Ginny finally exclaimed. "I flew like I had my head on backwards and had got bladdered on a Befuddling Beverage before taking off to boot…" "Bollocks," said Ron, "in fact, you looked bloody marvelous out there until you dropped the Quaffle to play nursemaid to Harry's broken beak." "Well, in my defense, Ron," said Ginny hotly, "I was the one who broke Harry's nose." "A mere technicality," said Ron. "But Katie knows you're a good player, and I assured her you were a capable Chaser…" "And what did Harry think?" blurted Ginny before she could stop herself. She was desperate to know whether he'd voted for or against her – she'd got the impression last evening that he was disappointed in her display of sympathy as well, which had only resulted in her wanting to re-break his nose. "I thought we'd all be barmy to sign anyone else on," said a voice from behind her. Ginny swung around and blushed to the roots of her hair, despite a powerful urge not to. There stood Harry with a maddeningly indecipherable expression upon his face. <center><a href="http://www.angelfire.com/rpg/patronus" target="_new"><img border=0 src="http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2003-8/1 ... tharry.gif" /></a></center> <center>I tend to think that if someone is sufficiently engaged in one of the books, he's not going to be too disappointed if, at some point, his hero holds hands with a little girl. - Jo Rowling</center>

Post by **bistyboo1974** » Sun Oct 17, 2004 2:16 pm

3: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished "What's this about my broken nose being a technicality?" asked Harry of Ron, a smirk twitching the corners of his mouth. Ginny, who had finally cooled her burning embarrassment down to mild awkwardness, wasn't certain how to take Harry's obviously pleasant mood. But maybe, she thought quickly, he wasn't being playful at all with Ron. Maybe Ron's comment about Harry's nose had enraged him enough to trick Ron into thinking he was joking, but in a moment he was going to haul off and punch Ron in the nose… And maybe Ginny need a nice kip to get her senses back. Harry wasn't going to go ballistic on Ron. This is what sleep deprivation did to a person: Ginny couldn't evaluate the back end of Kneazle, much less the situation at hand without slipping into profound paranoia. Ron chortled and Ginny glanced back at Harry, making certain he wasn't clenching a fist. When she observed his hands stuffed casually into the pockets of his jeans, she relaxed. "I need a nap," she blurted finally. "Katie's going to want to meet with all of us later!" called Ron as Ginny retreated safely up the girls' staircase, away from the two boys. "Then I'll see you later," shouted Ginny as she climbed out of their sight. She collapsed into her four-poster and drew the hangings closed; she pulled her quilt up to her neck and lowered her eyelids, willing sleep to be prompt in taking her out of her present state of convoluted consciousness. But try as she did, and as tired as she was, she couldn't will herself asleep – for the bloody life of her, she couldn't get Harry's maddening image out of her mind. The picture of him fussing at her over how dangerous a giant could be; flying after her for the Quaffle and shooting her "Can't Catch Me" looks; calling her soft-hearted; and then having the audacity to act surprised at her astonishment over making the Quidditch team. And she could have abso-bloody-lutely kicked herself for being embarrassed by anything he'd say after everything from yesterday. What was she, eleven-years-old again? "I've given up on him, the idiot," she whispered to herself bleakly, pulling the quilt over her head and hiding her face from the accusatory way the stuffed cat on her bed was glaring at her. "I gave up…a long time ago." She pulled the quilt back so she could get a fresh gulp of air and found Mr. Whiskers still looking critical. If toy cats could talk, Ginny was certain he'd be saying, "You gave up, but you never really got over…" Ginny gave Mr. Whiskers a well-placed kick in his fluffy bottom, sending him careening through the opening in the drapes and to the floor. "What do fake cats know anyhow?" she said scornfully to the empty room. "I'm so very over him that I couldn't be more over him even if I tried. He's just being so bloody exasperating lately is all…if I wasn't over him, he wouldn't be so bloody exasperating, would he…I'd find him endearing or some other such tosh, wouldn't I? When he acted like such an idiot, I'd be batting my eyelashes or else blushing like a fool—" Ginny stopped her ranting at once and gulped. She had blushed just now, when Harry had startled her. She'd turned beetroot red and everything. "Well, he startled me is all, and I'd been talking about him…if Professor McGonagall caught me off guard while I was talking to someone about her, I'd probably have had the same reaction—" "Who are you talking to in there, Ginny?" a voice said from outside her hangings. It was Hermione, no doubt come to fetch her and ship her off to St. Mungo's in a straight jacket. "Oh," Ginny began cynically, "just having a conversation with that nagging little voice in my head. You know the one, don't you? The one that always thinks it's right." "Are you feeling OK?" asked Hermione as she peeked through the bed hangings. "You mean to tell me you don't have one of those voices?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Maybe you should lie back down," suggested Hermione nervously. "No," replied Ginny. "It's no good. I tried sleeping and I'm just too keyed up. What I really ought to do is study…I'm almost certain we're in for a pop quiz on Monday on hieroglyphs—" "Ginny," began Hermione earnestly. "You may not be able to believe this bit of advice is coming from me, but I think what you need right now is not to study, but to sleep…perhaps you should visit Madam Pomfrey for something to help you rest?" "Fine," agreed Ginny, hopping up from her bed and nearly tripping over Mr. Whiskers' limp form on her way to the door. "You win. I'll go to the nurse." Much to Ginny's delight, the common room was free of bespectacled lads as she crossed it and headed towards the portrait hole. Dreamless sleep potion, that's what she'd be asking for once she got in the hospital wing – something to give her a light-hearted, carefree eight hours of blissful ignorance. She owed Hermione a debt of gratitude for suggesting a trip to Madam Pomfrey. As she entered the hospital wing, she saw the back of Madam Pomfrey and heard the witch's stern voice talking to a student who was perched upon her examining table. "You know, if I offered students a frequent visitor punch card for trips to the hospital wing, you'd be the golden prize winner," she said, with what Ginny deciphered as a ever so slight hint of affection in her tone. Ginny took several steps deeper into the room, hoping to see who the nurse was talking to, but the old woman's form blocked the student from view. Madam Pomfrey must have heard Ginny's footfalls on the stone floor of the infirmary, because she called back without turning to look, "I'll be with you in a moment…if you're not bleeding to death or nursing a severed limb, please sit in the waiting area. If you're in dire need, however, you'd better speak up." "I can wait, thank you," Ginny called. "Ginny?" said the student hidden from view. Ginny cringed and looked to the ceiling as if to ask a higher power what she'd done to deserve this. She should have known right off the bat and made a run for it before anyone knew she was there. The whole frequent-visitor-punch-card-for-trips-to-the-hospital-wing-thing was a dead giveaway. "Harry." Ginny's voice was dull, her expression deadpan. She was never again going to do a good deed like checking to make certain the person's nose she'd just broken was all right…it just wasn't worth being haunted afterwards. "Oh, Miss Weasley…I'm just checking on your handiwork, m'dear. Seems you know the best way to snap someone's nose bone. You did a spectacular job of damaging the cartilages as well. I just can't believe you dropped the Quaffle…" "Honestly!" shouted Ginny as she headed to the door. No amount of potion was worth all of this grief. Quick, running footsteps were gaining on her as she reached the corridor. She heard Madam Pomfrey's voice shrieking behind her. "Potter! I haven't checked the rest of your cartilage—" Harry nearly plowed into Ginny as he finally caught up. He was winded and his nose was covered in a blue, gooey ointment. If Ginny hadn't been feeling so put upon, she'd have been extremely amused at the sight of him. As it was, she just glowered at him, her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. "Are…you...following…me?" he asked as he caught his breath. He cracked a smile, which made a bit of the blue goo drip from the tip of his nose and land on Ginny's shoe. Ginny looked at her shoe as if he'd shot a curse at it. "Oh, that's lovely," she said. "Sorry," Harry said, leaning over to wipe her shoe clean with the hem of his robes. "But, if I can point out, I only have this stuff on my nose because you—" Ginny pulled her foot back and seriously contemplated whether or not to use it to kick him. "Don't start," Ginny said, walking away from him down the corridor. "I'm only joking with you…don't be so sensitive—" "Don't tell me how to be, Harry!" shouted Ginny and she began to quicken her pace. Harry rubbed the rest of the blue stuff from his nose with his sleeve and sped up to match her stride. "What's with this animosity all of a sudden, Ginny?" he said. "I thought we were friends!" "I thought so too, Harry," said Ginny not looking at him and having to exert infinite amounts of self-control not to break into a run. "That is, before you decided to tell me how to be and before you began treating me like a child and before you accused me of being soft-hearted and sensitive!" She gave up on self-control and gave in to full throttle sprinting, leaving Harry to sort out what she'd just said. The trouble was, she was left with a little sorting to do of her own. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author's Note: I've borrowed the title of this chapter from the Broadway musical, Wicked. It's based upon Gregory Maguire's book entitled Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. It's a brilliant book. Read it if you get the chance. <img src=http://www.ezboard.com/images/emoticons/smile.gif ALT=":)"> <center><a href="http://www.angelfire.com/rpg/patronus" target="_new"><img border=0 src="http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2003-8/1 ... tharry.gif" /></a></center> <center>I tend to think that if someone is sufficiently engaged in one of the books, he's not going to be too disappointed if, at some point, his hero holds hands with a little girl. - Jo Rowling</center>

Post by **bistyboo1974** » Sun Oct 17, 2004 2:19 pm

4: All You Need Is… Ginny was fortunate in that she managed to keep a low profile for the rest of the weekend, avoiding boys who wore glasses like the plague. Part of her was feeling mildly contrite for having flown off the handle at Harry in the hospital wing corridor, but another part was still irritatingly brassed off about the whole situation. Phrases like "don't be so sensitive" and "you had to go and get soft-hearted about a little nosebleed" raced around her head like jinxed Bludgers, demolishing any errant thoughts of apologizing to Harry for bleating at him and running away. On Monday morning, after an early breakfast and study session, Ginny made her way to Ancient Runes. She was frustrated when the piece of parchment that materialized in front of her with the heading "Pop Quiz" was on translating the ancient Germanic runic alphabet the class had only briefly discussed last week and not the Egyptian hieroglyphs from the last three homework assignments. What kind of rubbish was that, testing students on an incidental topic that hadn't even been properly covered? The injustice of it all was enough to make Ginny forget to translate nauthiz before she handed in her paper. When the professor handed the paper back to her at the end of the class period, marked with a large red P, Ginny felt her head begin to spin. At lunch, Ginny steered clear of the Great Hall and opted to take lunch in the common room. Her rationalization to herself was that the common room would be quieter and she could sneak in a few extra moments of study time before the next class, but the nagging voice in her head whispered it was because she didn't want to bump into anyone surnamed Potter. Whatever her reasons were, the common room proved to be a decent choice for dining that day. Not a soul was around, save Hermione's fat ginger cat, who was curled up and snoozing in front of the fireplace. As Ginny took her first bite of sandwich, an abrupt noise startled the cat and he hissed and leapt up suddenly, his eyes flashing. Ginny turned to look at the portrait hole, thinking perhaps someone had come in, but the room was empty. She looked back at the nervous animal and called to him. "C'mere Crookshanks," beckoned Ginny, setting her sandwich down on her plate on the side table. The cat looked around cautiously, then eventually meandered across the room and into Ginny's lap. She stroked his fur softly and listened to him purr. He nuzzled her knee gently and she clucked her tongue affectionately at him. "That's a good boy," she said in a hushed tone. "Good kitty." As she scratched Crookshanks behind the ears, a large poster pinned to the notice board caught her eye. The poster read: Quidditch Practice, Monday 7 o'clock sharp! Team members should meet in the entrance hall to await an escort to the pitch. Tardy players will be penalized! "Dammit," groaned Ginny. She had stupidly signed on for an Ancient Runes study session that evening, which was set to begin at the same time. "Oh, well," she told the snoozing cat in her lap. "I reckon I can ask Hermione to help me sort out this new Germanic nonsense and skive off the study session…I certainly don't want to miss the first practice." As she picked up her sandwich to continue eating, she focused on her timetable for afternoon classes and ignored any thoughts that she'd no longer be able to hide from Harry come 7 o'clock. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Before dinner, Ginny caught Hermione descending the staircase to the girls' dormitories. "I don't want to keep you long, but could you take a look at this?" Ginny handed her the piece of parchment on which she'd taken a couple lines of notes in class and her abysmal pop quiz from earlier in the day. "It's completely foreign to me, which I presume is kind of the point…but I just don't understand it…and I haven't a clue why we didn't have a quiz on what we'd been studying instead of this!" Hermione looked as if it were taking all of her self-control not to shake her head scornfully at the crimson P on Ginny's paper. She scoured the paper with her eyes and cleared her throat, "You've made a common mistake…you see," she said, pointing to the first two translations. "You've switched uruz with ansuz…and kenaz translates to 'torch,' not to 'joy'…you must've been thinking of wunjo." She glanced down to the bottom of the paper, where Ginny had neglected to answer the final question. "Nauthiz means 'need,'" she said simply. "And not like a basic need…you know, food or water or oxygen…but like a yearning sort of need, like for love. It's more like a desire." Ginny felt her palms becoming clammy at the very thought. "OK," she said slowly, hoping not to reveal her uneasiness over the topic of yearnings and desires. After all, the only yearning she was having lately was to get at least six hours of shut eye a night – wasn't it? "I think I can remember all of that for now." "Well, feel free to come to me whenever you need help," Hermione said earnestly. "The Ancient Runes O.W.L. was a daunting one, and you won't have a hope of passing it without a lot of revision." Thanks for the good news, thought Ginny blandly as she took her papers back from Hermione. "Are you coming to dinner?" asked Hermione as she took a couple steps towards the common room. "No," answered Ginny. "I ought to read the chapter on Germanics before practice, and I still have Potions and Herbology homework to finish for tomorrow. You wouldn't happen to still have access to a time-turner, would you? I could really use a couple extra hours." "Sorry," replied Hermione with a sympathetic grin. "But I know how grueling O.W.L. year can be…and I imagine you'll have it even tougher with practices." Ginny nodded. "But I commend you for giving an effort…it's more than I can say for some of the people I know." Ginny smiled. She knew exactly which people Hermione was referring to. "It's good to see you smiling," Hermione commented. "I haven't seen you so much as grin in ages." Ginny gave her a sheepish look. "I suppose you're right about that." "And while I'm thinking of it, what's going on between you and Harry?" Ginny's face flushed. "Nothing," she said flatly. "Hmm," said Hermione in response. "What's 'hmm' supposed to mean?" asked Ginny, feeling a bit annoyed. "I don't know," said Hermione. "I'm just a casual observer in the constant conflict between you two all of a sudden. Is it some sort of misunderstanding, or what?" "The only misunderstanding is on Harry's part, where he is under the impression I'm some thin-skinned little infant." Hermione almost laughed. "Harry doesn't think that about you," she said, fighting back the urge to smile. "Honestly, Ginny…where did you get that idea?" Ginny glared. "Only through every conversation we've had since Friday," she said, turning on her heel to go up to her dorm. She stomped her feet heavily as she climbed the steps and shut the door loudly behind her. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- After reading a chapter from her Ancient Runes text, finishing an essay for Professor Sprout and committing the formula for the Draught of Peace to memory, Ginny succumbed to a catnap. Forty-five minutes later, she heard an all-too familiar frantic voice in her bedroom. "Ginny! You've done it again…it's five minutes until seven…hurry, or you'll be late for practice!" Ginny slowly rolled out of her four-poster, landed with a thud on the hard floor and muttered a thank you to Hermione. She hadn't deserved Hermione's good will gesture in waking her up for Quidditch practice, and she'd have to do something later to thank her for such a glorious act of friendship. In the meantime, she was trying desperately to locate her right shoe. "Dammit!" she shrieked, grabbing through piles of dirty laundry on the floor. "Where? WHERE?" She peered under the bed and saw the mislaid piece if footwear. "ACCIO!" she growled. As she thrust her foot into the shoe, she rummaged through her trunk for her broomstick. "I am in so much trouble," she said, noticing the time on the clock in her dorm room read two minutes until seven. She practically flew down the staircase to the common room and at the foot of the stairs ran right into— "Harry!" Ginny gasped as the handle of her broomstick nearly collided with Harry's newly healed nose. "Close one," Harry said, rubbing the end of his nose gingerly. "I'm late for Quidditch practice!" Ginny blurted. "That makes two of us," pointed out Harry as he glanced at the clock about the mantelpiece in the common room. It had just chimed for the seventh time in a row. "Dammit," groaned Ginny miserably. "Katie'll probably toss me off the squad." "No she won't," said Harry. "But she'll probably have both of us buffing equipment till our hands fall off for making the team wait." Ginny could live with that, just so long as she didn't get the boot. She traipsed quickly after Harry through the portrait hole and the pair of them careened through the halls, narrowly avoiding a confrontation with Peeves on their way. "This way," hissed Harry, tugging Ginny by the arm behind a tapestry. "I know my way around this castle," Ginny snarled back, wrenching her arm free as they came out in a different corridor. "Splendid," retorted Harry, sprinting down the corridor towards the main staircase that would lead them directly into the entrance hall. Oh, if only I had time to do a Bat-Bogey Hex, thought Ginny savagely. She darted down the staircase and arrived in the entrance hall two beats after Harry did, her lungs ready to collapse and her heart beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings. "Harry, Ginny…so nice of you to join us," said Katie, glaring at them both. "I don't suppose you have plans for this evening, do you? After practice?" Both Ginny and Harry shook their heads. "Good," said Katie blandly. "I'm having everyone practice in uniform this evening, just so you two'll be able to wash up everyone's clothes afterward in the changing rooms…the Muggle way." "Oh, you've got a washing machine?" asked Harry, looking hopeful. "The old-fashioned Muggle way, Harry," snapped Katie. "With your hands!" "Sorry, Katie," mumbled Ginny. "And I reckon you'll be even sorrier after you've scrubbed clean seven sets of robes, won't you?" "I'll never complain about Oliver or Angelina again," whispered Harry to Ron as the group set off with Grawp and the pair of hippogriff-riding Aurors towards the Quidditch pitch. "What was keeping you, mate?" asked Ron. "Nothing," muttered Harry in an almost inaudible whisper. "I just had to ask Hermione to do something." He looked back at Ginny, who pretended not to have heard. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Practice was an interesting affair that evening. Ginny performed fairly well considering the pandemonium she'd been through just prior to the start, but Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke were once again performing up to last year's low standards and frustrating Katie to death in the process. When Sloper nearly concussed Kirke with his bat, Katie screamed that practice was adjourned. Ginny trudged to the girls' changing room with Katie and Natalie and switched her Quidditch robes for a sweatshirt and jeans. "The Aurors will escort you back to the Castle when you're done," said Katie. "Mr. Shacklebolt will stay here with you while Mr. Connors takes part in escorting the rest of us back, but he'll be back once we're inside. Oh, and you're not finished here until you've got all the stains out," she added unsympathetically as she left Ginny alone with the pile of dirty uniforms. Ginny gathered the robes in her arms and walked to the boys' changing room. Ginny cracked the door and shouted, "Are you decent?" "Almost," replied Harry. Above the heap of dirt laundry, Ginny could see Harry as he tugged a clean t-shirt over his head. She caught a glimpse of his taut abdomen and thought to herself she should really have looked away, but found it very difficult to redirect her eyes. Harry's hair was wild – which was saying something – after having the shirt yanked over his head and he wasn't wearing his glasses. Ginny's eyes locked with his startlingly green ones and he squinted at her. As he put his glasses back on, he said, "As soon as I get my shoes back on, we can get this over with." Ginny felt like she'd swallowed a chunk of lead. "Yeah, let's get this over with." She walked back into the corridor between changing rooms to a wash station that one of the Aurors had conjured at Katie's request. A large bar of soap sat on the table between two very large metal washbasins, and inside the first basin was a funny looking board with what looked like metal ribs. A line of rope had been strung across the corridor. Ginny dumped the load of girls' uniforms beside the table. Harry finally emerged from the changing room, loaded down with four sets of boys' robes. He deposited them in the laundry pile Ginny had created and fished out a set of particularly grubby ones. "These are Andrew's," Harry said, dunking them into the water of the first basin. "He bled a little on them, after Jack hit him with his bat." "How're we going to get a blood stain out without using magic?" asked Ginny, looking at the dark splotch that had settled into the fibers of Andrew Kirke's Quidditch robes. "Well, first of all the water is too cold…it should be lukewarm," said Harry, testing the temperature with his right hand. "I don't suppose we'd get into trouble for adjusting the warmth of the water, would we?" He peered at the doorway to the pitch to see if the Aurors or perhaps even Katie were lingering where he'd be seen. Ginny heard the oddly mismatched footsteps of the hippogriffs above them and said, "The Aurors are on the rooftop. They won't see a thing…and besides, how else are we supposed to wash blood out without some sort of help?" Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket and touched it to the base of the washbasin. The wand tip ignited as he muttered an incantation, and he left it there for all of a minute before testing the temperature of the water yet again. "That's better," he said, pulling his hand out of the water and wiping it dry on his jeans. He picked up the bar of soap and went to plunge it into the basin when Ginny stopped him. "Here, let me try," she said, reaching for the soap. "Just tell me how to do it, though…I've only ever done laundry with magic." "Well, when I would wash stained clothes at my aunt and uncle's house, I'd kind of blot the stain in lukewarm water with detergent for a while—" "You routinely washed out bloodstains?" asked Ginny in surprise. "Occasionally," answered Harry as he watched her blot the stain. "Maybe you ought to scrub more than blot," he said. Ginny did her best to take his counsel without irritation. She had, after all, told him to tell her what to do. She began to scrub dutifully as she said, "I'm almost afraid to ask whose clothes were stained." "They were my own," said Harry as he sifted through the pile of robes, searching for any other piece of clothing that might have required special attention. "It wasn't all that uncommon that I'd get a nosebleed when my cousin was feeling extra charitable with his fist." It was no surprise to Ginny that Harry's cousin had been a bullying git. But the reminder made her feel a twinge of painful guilt for treating Harry badly these last few days. "So, my tactic of 'bash and fly' the other day was old hat for your poor, tormented nose, eh?" She looked at him and chuckled weakly, knowing she had no right to try and make a joke out of it after her past behavior over the incident. She realized that this whole scenario was probably nothing more than some higher power taking action, demanding penance and atonement for her short fuse. She continued to scrub for a few moments, then mustered her nerve, swallowed her pride and offered him a lopsided apology. "I've been stupid," she said. "I've been tired, and preoccupied, and for some reason I've taken things you've said the wrong way, which is just stupid," said Ginny, all in one breath. She was scrubbing the daylights out of Andrew's poor, defenseless robes. "I really don't know what's come over me…I'm sorry." Harry put a hand on one of her arms and said, "First of all, I don't think anymore scrubbing with soap is necessary." Ginny looked sheepishly at the water, which was still sloshing as a result of her scrub-fest. "And secondly, it's OK…I really should have considered your feelings… it's not like I don't know how maddening O.W.L. year can be." He picked up a discarded water cup from practice and scooped it full of water. He checked the doorway to the pitch again, then tapped his wand to the side of the cup when he saw all was clear, sniffed the contents and made a funny face after doing so. "What's that?" asked Ginny timidly. "Ammonia," answered Harry. "Now budge over…it's my turn to scrub that berk's robes." He dowsed the stain with a bit of the ammonia and began scrubbing the robes against the washboard forcefully. Some of the water sloshed him, wetting his t-shirt, but he continued. "I don't think you're a child, Ginny, and I'm sorry if I made you feel that way," he said. "I'm sorry, too." Ginny felt the lead sensation in her stomach melt away, and thought – despite every urge not to – that she'd certainly not forget to translate nauthiz again if it came up on her next Ancient Runes test. Watching Harry standing there, almost soaked to the skin as he apologized to her reminded her sharply of certain needs, desires, yearnings… -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author's Note: I must say I was inspired to give Harry and Ginny laundry as a punishment after reading St. Margaret's story Red is the Heart. If you are a fan of H/G fic, check that brilliant story out, after reading her wonderful "Wallpaper Trilogy," which is a definite prerequisite. <img src=http://www.ezboard.com/images/emoticons/wink.gif ALT=";)"> You can find her stuff archived at both the Sugar Quill and Phoenix Song. <center><a href="http://www.angelfire.com/rpg/patronus" target="_new"><img border=0 src="http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2003-8/1 ... tharry.gif" /></a></center> <center>I tend to think that if someone is sufficiently engaged in one of the books, he's not going to be too disappointed if, at some point, his hero holds hands with a little girl. - Jo Rowling</center>

Post by **bistyboo1974** » Sun Oct 17, 2004 2:22 pm

5: Plan of Distraction "The material on my Quidditch robes seems a bit stiff, Ginny," said Ron in tones of mock complaint as they were eating breakfast the Tuesday following Ginny and Harry's laundry punishment. "Next time try a fabric softening spell." Ginny shot her brother an ugly look and said, "So sorry, your highness. Spellwork was prohibited." She looked at Harry and gave him a shadow of a smile, remembering how he'd bent the no magic rule ever so slightly. "So, are you two speaking to one another again?" Ron asked before stuffing his mouth full with an entire chipolata. Ginny went to open her mouth to offer her brother a response, but Harry spoke first. "Yes," he said simply. "Good," said Ron after he'd swallowed his sausage. "Pass the kippers." Ginny shoved them towards Ron, and opened her Transfiguration text. "You're going to make yourself sick, eating like that," Hermione commented as Ron plunged his fork through two smoked herrings and tossed them onto his plate. Ginny ignored their debate over the proper speed at which to consume food for the benefit of good digestion and reviewed the lesson Professor McGonagall had planned for fifth years that day. "What are you working on today?" Harry asked Ginny as the heated argument over how many times a person should chew each bite of food continued. "Transfiguration," said Ginny, only briefly looking up from the book. "Vanishing spells, to be exact." She flipped the page. "I wonder if McGonagall could teach us how to make all of this homework disappear." "Don't I wish we would have learned that," said Harry, grinning. "That would have made life a little easier, at least." The argument between Ron and Hermione had ceased for the moment, and Ron decided to throw his two cents into Ginny and Harry's conversation. "Don't get too riled up over vanishing spells," he said to Ginny. "It could be worse…we're staring on human transfiguration this week." "Which ought to be quite amusing," added Hermione, still vexed from the food quarrel. "Considering how devoted you are to your studies, your results ought to be quite amusing indeed." Ron glowered at her. "Don't be surprised if you end up with a hat rack instead a brother tomorrow afternoon after our lesson with Professor McGonagall," Hermione said to Ginny. At that, Ron had had enough. "I've had a sufficient amount of nagging for one morning, thank you very much," he said, and got up to leave. Hermione watched him for several seconds as he crossed the Great Hall for the door, sighed loudly, then went off to follow him. "Think all of that arguing could be masking something else?" asked Harry as he took a bite of toast. "Huh?" said Ginny, feeling very hot under the collar all of a sudden. "Masking something? Erm, maybe." She felt the need to quickly change the subject. After all, it wasn't that long ago that she'd been rowing with Harry, and she certainly didn't want him thinking that her desire to row with him was pretense for infatuation. Because it wasn't. Not really anyhow. It wasn't like before. Getting momentarily bothered by the vision of Harry Potter's abdomen, Harry Potter scrubbing laundry with vim and vigor, Harry Potter in a wet shirt, didn't mean… NO! she told herself firmly. Change the subject. You gave up on him a long time ago. "That would make things interesting at home," said Ginny quickly. "What would?" asked Harry, refilling his glass with fresh pumpkin juice. "Ron as a hat rack," said Ginny. "Picture Mum introducing all of us to guests and getting to Ron and saying, 'And that's my youngest son, The Hat Rack…just a Transfiguration experiment gone awry, but we still love him, and he's so much more useful now…used to be he'd never lift a finger to help with chores, but now look at him! So functional, and incredibly attractive alongside the umbrella stand.' " Harry laughed so loudly that the students at the next table turned to see if anything was the matter. "You've got a good sense of humor, Ginny," said Harry. "Most of the time." Ginny nodded. "When I'm not taking things the wrong way, you mean?" she replied, trying to hold back a grin, but failing to do so. "Yeah," said Harry. "Well, you're going to be late for Transfiguration and I'm going to be late for Charms if we're not careful." Ginny looked at her wristwatch. "Ugh, you're right," she said, dropping her fork with a clatter and shutting her book loudly. "I don't have time for a detention…see you, Harry!" She piled her Transfiguration text atop her other schoolbooks, then scurried to exit the hall, her arms full. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- While Professor McGonagall lectured the class on the technique for vanishing objects, Ginny's mind began to wander. She began to wonder how she had gone from a girl who had been cool, calm, collected last year, to the girl she was today: A total lunatic. What was it that had made her brain short circuit when she came within five feet of Harry Potter? If she wasn't acting like a beast and biting his head off, then she was having lustful thoughts about him as he washed grubby Quidditch robes. Honestly, last year she hadn't this issue. What was the difference? she thought desperately. Then it hit her. Michael, she thought. Michael distracted me. Michael doted on me enough that I could redirect my needs to him. Michael helped me keep my mind off of Harry. But now Michael's busy with other people's needs, so I'm falling back on old habits…old habits die hard, after all. I just need another distraction, that's all…but what or who? "Miss Weasley, did you hear what I said?" said Professor McGonagall's firm voice, jogging Ginny's mind back to Transfiguration class. "No, I'm sorry Professor…I didn't," admitted Ginny. "I said that I expect you lot to be able to successfully vanish the items you see on this table by the time we meet again on Thursday…is that clear?" "Yes, Professor," said Ginny. "Class dismissed." As Ginny made her way into the corridor and meandered through the Castle towards her next class – Charms – she began to devise a sort of plan of distraction. There were plenty of unattached boys at Hogwarts who didn't think of her as just her brother's baby sister or just a pal…maybe she'd ask one of them to join her for a cup of coffee. She slipped into Professor Flitwick's classroom and saw that she had beat most of her classmates there, but one of the sixth years had remained behind to talk to the teacher about something. It was Dean Thomas. As Ginny arranged her Charms book and notes on her usual desk, she heard Dean as he talked to the professor. His voice was low, but Ginny gathered enough from his conversation to presume he was asking about an assignment. Then it hit her. It was perfect. After all, she had already led her brother to believe she and Dean were more than just friends last year on the train ride home. It wouldn't be such a stretch to believe she was interested in dating him now, and he was a really nice chap. Ginny could foresee no difficulties with her plan. After Dean had finished his conversation with Professor Flitwick, Ginny ran to head him off at the door. Most of the fifth years had arrived at this point, and Dean looked desperately rushed to get to his next class, but Ginny called out to him anyway. "Dean!" she hollered as he went to leave. Dean looked over his shoulder and shot Ginny a quizzical look. "What's up, Ginny? I'm going to be late for Potions as it is." "Er…oh, Merlin…I don't want to make you late for Snape's class…he'll be murderous," she said, all of a sudden feeling very nervous. "I just wanted to know…I mean, I was wondering…" "What, Ginny?" asked Dean urgently. "There's the bell!" The sound of the tardy bell was reverberating through the walls. "Would you like to join me for coffee in the common room this evening?" Dean looked positively baffled at this sudden invitation. "Sure," he said, beginning to move into the corridor. "After practice, that is!" Ginny called to him as he sprinted away. "OK," he said, darting down the staircase on his trip towards the dungeons. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ginny was feeling very proud of her plan of distraction on her way to the Quidditch pitch that evening. She'd reached the entrance hall with ten minutes to spare, and strutted along the grounds next to Natalie MacDonald with a spring in her step and a confident smile upon her face. This plan was going to work wonders. She was already preparing a mental picture of what she'd wear when she met Dean later on. This was going to be the perfect remedy for her impromptu case of Harry-itis. "You look cheerful this evening," commented Natalie, looking at Ginny with a somewhat puzzled expression on her face. "I am," said Ginny, as she glanced over at Harry. He was walking beside Ron, animatedly describing some sort of Quidditch move to him, his Firebolt acting as a prop for his description. She blinked. Nothing, she told herself. Much, she added as her insides did a tiny jig. This is doable…I just need to focus when I'm around Harry, without my distraction to distract me…I was such a pro at this last year. A little later on, Ginny hovered above the pitch, listening intently as Katie explained Parkin's Pincer to the team. "OK, this is an effective move if utilized correctly, but I also need my Chasers to be able to get themselves out of a sticky spot if another team tries this one on them…if it happens to you—" Katie pointed to Natalie and Ginny "—will you know what to do?" Ginny and Natalie shrugged, which was not the answer Katie wanted. "Picture yourselves on your broomsticks…the defensive team has sent two Chasers to close in on you, on either side of you…and before you know it, you're being bombarded by the third Chaser, like a speeding locomotive, barreling towards you headlong, at an insanely reckless speed…what are you going to do?" "Hand them the Quaffle and say 'I surrender?' " replied Ginny jokingly. "Wrong answer," growled Katie. "Natalie, you and I are going to demonstrate to Ginny exactly how this move is performed, and we'll see if she can get herself out of trouble without the option of admitting defeat." "Won't you need an extra Chaser for that?" pointed out Harry, who was hovering beside Ron, at a safe distance from Kirke and Sloper, who had obtained several minor bruises and contusions that evening already. "Since you two are acting as the opposing team's Chasers, and Ginny is representing the offensive team?" "Thanks for volunteering, Harry," snapped Katie as she tossed the Quaffle to Ginny. "Work up some speed, Ginny, and we'll be seeing you in a moment. Harry, Nat and I will be flanking Ginny…you're the locomotive." It seemed Harry knew better than to question Katie's decision to appoint him stand-in Chaser. He gained altitude and speed on his Firebolt, and Ginny watched as he did a u-turn at the end of the field. As Katie flew in to her right and Natalie to her left, she spied Harry zooming towards her like the Hogwarts Express at full-steam. She knew she hadn't much time to think. She had one idea, albeit she wasn't sure it was a very good one. She'd drop the Quaffle a few seconds before Harry closed in on her, then slip into a dive to catch it. Of course, in a real game, another Chaser would be available to intercept the dropped Quaffle, but in this case she'd have to do her own catching – a touch of brilliance that, if pulled off, would probably thrill Katie into promoting her on the spot to honorary co-captain of the squad. Three, two, one…now was the time to drop the ball and do a suicide plunge. The ball slipped from Ginny's grasp, but her timing was off for the dive. She lowered her broom for the dip one second too late, and the handles of her broomstick and the Firebolt tangled like two branches of a tree in a hurricane. Hers snapped, while Harry's Firebolt remained solid, but the force of the collision sent Harry careening into Ginny at top speed. Gravity yanked them towards the ground, but thankfully Connors was nearby to perform a cushioning charm in the knick of time before the pair struck the grass with meteoric force. "Oof," groaned Ginny as Harry landed atop her, knocking the wind from her lungs. "Are you OK?" asked Harry, his body straddling hers. "Can't…breathe," she gasped. He looked at her in surprise, then realized why she was short of breath. He rolled to the side and leaned over her, placing his hand to her forehead as if she were feverish from the flu. Ginny shuddered at his touch. "Can we get some help down here?" Harry shouted to the group of Aurors, who were hovering above them. He was giving Ginny an odd sort of look. Connors landed his grey hippogriff and dismounted. He walked to Ginny's side and observed her as she lay there. "She's hurt," said Harry. "I just had the wind knocked out of me is all," said Ginny, making an effort to sit up. By this time, the entire team, the other Aurors – even Grawp – had congregated around her. "Be still, young lady," said Connors. He held up his wand to her left eye and said, "Lumos." He moved the lit wand tip to her other eye. "Hmm, slightly dilated…you may have a concussion." "OK, team…practice adjourned," Katie said. "Let's head back to the castle." Ginny was made to ride back to the castle with Connors, which was a decision she vehemently protested but was something she was ultimately forced to do by Katie, Ron, Harry and the whole host of Aurors. "It's either that, or we're making Grawp carry you back," said Ron threateningly, so Ginny stopped objecting. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As Ginny lay in a bed in the hospital wing, all of her company had departed but Ron, Hermione and Harry. Madam Pomfrey had just announced fifteen minutes until the end of visiting hours when the door to the hospital wing creaked open. In walked Dean Thomas, clutching two mugs of steaming hot something or other. Ginny suspected it was coffee. "Er, we're going to head back up to the Tower now, aren't we Ron?" said Hermione quickly, as she spotted Dean approaching Ginny's bedside. "We are?" said Ron dimly. "Yes, we are…g'bye, Ginny…Harry," said Hermione, and she tugged Ron's shirtsleeve to get him to his feet. Harry eyed Dean suspiciously as he set the mugs atop the side table next to Ginny's bed. "Hey, Harry," said Dean. "Hello, Ginny." Harry remained silent as Ginny mumbled a soft hello. "I reckon this is a good excuse for standing me up?" said Dean, gesturing towards the bandage wrapped around Ginny's head. Ginny laughed nervously. She never had any intention of having her distraction convene with the reason she needed to be distracted. This situation was most uncomfortable. "Visiting hours are almost over," Harry told Dean blandly. "And Ginny probably shouldn't drink coffee with the potion Madam Pomfrey just administered—" "This stuff is decaf," said Dean. "Besides, Ginny and I had plans to have coffee after her practice ended…give us some breathing room, will you Harry? Ginny's OK here with me." Harry stared hard at Dean for a moment, then shoved his fists into his pockets and said to Ginny, "You're all right, then?" Ginny gulped. What a dilemma she'd got herself into this time. She had trouble admitting it to herself, but she didn't want Harry to go. On the other hand, she also didn't want Dean's feelings injured. Merlin only knew what Harry was thinking…probably something very big brotherly, along the lines of something Ron would be thinking in the same situation. "I'm all right," Ginny muttered weakly. "All right then," Harry said finally. "I'll see you tomorrow." "See you," echoed Ginny. "See you back in the common room…soon," Harry added to Dean. "Yeah," said Dean, a bewildered expression on his face as he looked from Harry to Ginny, then back again. "See you." As Harry departed, Dean handed Ginny a mug of coffee, and she slowly began to sip, feeling as if her scheme had blown up like one of Fred and George's fireworks, right in her face. <center><a href="http://www.angelfire.com/rpg/patronus" target="_new"><img border=0 src="http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2003-8/1 ... tharry.gif" /></a></center> <center>I tend to think that if someone is sufficiently engaged in one of the books, he's not going to be too disappointed if, at some point, his hero holds hands with a little girl. - Jo Rowling</center>

Anonymous · Post by **Anonymous** » Sun Oct 17, 2004 2:54 pm

Yahooie, more stuff from Bistyboo. I love your take on HPdom!

Post by **bistyboo1974** » Sun Oct 17, 2004 3:06 pm

<blockquote>Quote:<hr>I love your take on HPdom!<hr></blockquote> *blushes a deep scarlet* Thanks!! It's a very fluffy take, but it's all I've got...<img src=http://www.ezboard.com/images/emoticons/wink.gif ALT=";)"> Glad you enjoy my stuff. <img src=http://www.ezboard.com/images/emoticons/smile.gif ALT=":)"> <center><a href="http://www.angelfire.com/rpg/patronus" target="_new"><img border=0 src="http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2003-8/1 ... tharry.gif" /></a></center> <center>I tend to think that if someone is sufficiently engaged in one of the books, he's not going to be too disappointed if, at some point, his hero holds hands with a little girl. - Jo Rowling</center>

Post by **majiklmoon** » Sun Oct 17, 2004 3:14 pm

Hey, fluff is good Caroline <img src=http://www.majiklmoon.com/ezboardsmilies/lol.gif ALT=":lol"> did you crank this out TODAY?<img src=http://www.majiklmoon.com/ezboardsmilies/eek.gif ALT=":eek"> <center>It all started with a boy, a girl, and a silver handprint.</center><center><a href=http://pub84.ezboard.com/bmajiklmoonsrealm><img src=http://members.aol.com/majiklmoon/image ... a></center>

Post by **bistyboo1974** » Sun Oct 17, 2004 3:24 pm

<blockquote>Quote:<hr>did you crank this out TODAY?<hr></blockquote> No, Tracie...I didn't crank all of this stuff today! <img src=http://www.majiklmoon.com/ezboardsmilies/lol.gif ALT=":lol"> I'm not Supergirl! <img src=http://www.ezboard.com/images/emoticons/wink.gif ALT=";)"> It took me two weeks to write chapters four and five of this one, and sixteen and seventeen of Through His Mother's Eyes. I'm just now getting around to playing catch-up and getting all of it posted finally...sorry if anyone gets overwhelmed by all of it. <img src=http://www.ezboard.com/images/emoticons/embarassed.gif ALT=":o"> P.S. Fluff IS good...but sometimes I wish I could cough up even an ounce of angst! <img src=http://www.majiklmoon.com/ezboardsmilies/lol.gif ALT=":lol"> <center><a href="http://www.angelfire.com/rpg/patronus" target="_new"><img border=0 src="http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2003-8/1 ... tharry.gif" /></a></center> <center>I tend to think that if someone is sufficiently engaged in one of the books, he's not going to be too disappointed if, at some point, his hero holds hands with a little girl. - Jo Rowling</center>

Anonymous · Post by **Anonymous** » Sun Oct 17, 2004 5:08 pm

I agree, fluff is good and has a place in this world! This is a great story!

Astrid · Post by **Astrid** » Thu Jul 21, 2005 12:29 pm

Fun stuff

Fan Fic and More

Making the Team - H/G - Ch. 5 posted 10/17

Making the Team - H/G - Ch. 5 posted 10/17

Re: Making the Team - H/G - post-OotP

Re: Making the Team - H/G - post-OotP

Re: Making the Team - H/G - post-OotP

Re: Making the Team - H/G - post-OotP

Re: Making the Team - H/G - post-OotP

Re: Making the Team - H/G - post-OotP

Re: Making the Team - H/G - post-OotP

Re: Making the Team - H/G - post-OotP

Re: Making the Team - H/G - post-OotP