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SIYE Time:6:20 on 29th March 2024
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You Can't Always Get What You Want...
By BrowneyedWeasleyGirl

- Text Size +

Category: Angst Valentine Challenge (2006-1)
Characters:None
Genres: Angst, Comedy, Fluff, Humor, Drama
Warnings: Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 17
Summary: You Can't Always Get What You Want- It's Valentine's Day at Hogwarts Harry's seventh year. The girls are acting odd, Hogsmede Weekend is approaching, Fred and George have some new tricks up their sleeves, and emotions are running high. The wizards and witches seem to have very different ideas about love, and thus comes a story of love, lust, disappointments, frustration, hilarity, and angst. Here we will follow the misadventures of our favorite witches and wizards as they learn about not getting what they want. Perhaps if they try, instead, they just might find-they get what they need.
Hitcount: Story Total: 4978







ChapterPrinter


You Can't Always Get What You Want…


“Studying in the dormitory tonight?” asked Ron, hopefully.

“Yeah,” said Harry with a sigh. “The common room doesn’t seem appealing tonight for some reason.”

Indeed, it had been quite a miserable day for Ron and Harry, along with every other boy at Hogwarts, as far as they knew. It was Valentine’s Day. For some odd reason everyone of the female persuasion seemed to have her knickers in a knot about something. Ron had gotten the cold shoulder all afternoon and evening from Hermione, despite having gone to the trouble of sending her a Valentine. Harry, as well, had been ignored by Ginny.

Harry and Ginny had reached a tacit understanding when school had resumed this year. Harry showed no romantic interest in anyone but Ginny, however he could hardly be called her boyfriend. They still spent lots of time together, especially now that Ron and Hermione were openly an item, but their interactions were more friendly than anything else. Harry always sat next to Ginny at meals, studied with her every day, walked her to her dormitory each night, and often left her notes or sweets just to say “hi.” But holding hands, snogging, or even overly long hugs didn’t happen anymore. It was killing Harry, being so close to her and constantly being tempted to touch her. But he had vowed to control his feelings to keep her safe. He wasn’t about to lose one more person he loved to Voldemort.

But today had been the worst. Anytime he had gotten near her, she had seemed more peevish than usual. At dinner, he had watched her eat in silence, then startled when she just bolted out of the Great Hall in tears, for no apparent reason. Hermione proceeded to scream at both of them for being complete dullards, and grabbing Luna, had run out of the Great Hall, presumably to find Ginny.

“What was that all about?” Ron asked. “Do you think she wanted red lace knickers like Dean gave Lavender?”

“Dunno,” Harry replied. “That’s not usually Hermione’s style.”

“Exactly,” Ron agreed. “I mean that’s why I went for the dwarf Valentine. Maybe she wanted a subscription to Witch Weekly. I heard Parvati saying Seamus had given her one, and the articles were fantastic.”

“Ron, I don’t think Parvati reads Witch Weekly for the articles,” Harry smiled. “Besides, you know Hermione’s tastes are a bit more…upper crust than that.” Harry couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt, however, about Ginny’s behavior. He wasn’t sure why she had been acting so strangely today but had a sneaking suspicion it had everything to do with him.

Climbing the stairs toward their dormitory, Harry asked, “So are Fred and George going to be ready for the Grand Opening this weekend?”

“Yeah, I think so. It should be perfect timing with it being the first Hogsmede Weekend of the year. And everyone says Percy is the brilliant one in the family, but those two are unbelievable. Who would have even thought about a ‘Gentleman’s Club’ adjacent to their Hogsmeade branch of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes? Bloody hell, they’re going to make a killing!”

“Mmm,” Harry added. “And creative too. They’re calling it The Horny Snorkack, didn’t you say?”

“Yeah. Brilliant, isn’t it? Fred told me they are hiring gorgeous witches for waitresses. And you should get a look at the uniforms those girls will be wearing! Not much left to the imagination, if you know what I mean.”

Harry smiled blankly. There was only one witch who captured his imagination these days, and she was definitely off limits for the moment. “Didn’t Ginny tell me she was helping Fred and George out for the opening?”

“Right,” said Ron eagerly. “But not at the Snorkack. They’ve hired her to mind the joke shop, so both of them can schmooze with the customers next door. George offered me the job first, but when I mentioned how good it would be for business if their little brother showed up with the famous Harry Potter…”

“You’re a bloody git, you know that,” Harry smiled teasingly.

“True, but that’s why I’m your best friend. You love me for it!” Ron bantered back. “And besides, after today’s demonstration of affection from the ladies in our lives, I think we’re completely justified in a little extra-curricular entertainment.”

“If you think Hermione’s angry now, mate, wait until she hears about your plans for Saturday.”

“Aw, you worry too much, Harry,” Ron answered confidently. “I told her we were just helping out my brothers. Wanted to make sure they had a good turn out and all for the Grand Opening.”

“Yeah and if you think she buys that piece of rubbish…” Harry raised his eyebrows knowingly. “What has your Mum said about it?” he enquired, as they settled on their respective beds, getting out books and parchment.

“Dunno,” replied Ron. “I know they are keeping it pretty low key with her. She can’t say a whole lot, though. They’ve made more money in one year from the joke shop than anyone in my family has made in the last ten. And as she is enjoying the presents they treat her with, she won’t let herself be too much of a hypocrite.”

Their conversation was then disturbed by a loud clamoring in the stairwell. Evidently, Neville running up the stairs, fell down them, and was scrambling to gather his belongings and composure. Breathlessly he ran into the room. “Harry, Ron…have either of you seen Luna? I’ve been looking for her everywhere!”

“She left dinner with Ginny and Hermione. But Neville,” Ron cautioned, “I wouldn’t be in such a hurry to find her. She seemed in a bit of a snit like the lot of them today.” Harry nodded in agreement.

“Of course, she’s in a snit, now, isn’t she?” Neville continued, his chest still heaving from his haste running up the stairs. “I’ve been cultivating this for months to give to her today, and then I even had to skip classes all day to make sure it was just perfect. I mean, Valentine’s Day is almost over, and she hasn’t even seen her boyfriend, little own gotten a present from him, now how she?” Neville was beaming, holding out a blossom in his hand for Ron and Harry to see his gift.

“What is that Neville?” Harry asked, pushing up his glasses and tilting his head to examine the flower in his roommate’s hand.

“Isn’t it beautiful!” Neville exclaimed. “Oh!” he sighed, “But not as beautiful as my Luna.”

Ron rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Hey, wait a minute,” Ron began. “Is that a blue rose?” Ron’s eyes now widened with amazement. “Those are really rare! I’ve heard my Mum talk about those. She was saying Fleur had wanted those for the wedding, but that they were extremely expensive and took someone specialized in magical herbology to get them to grow right.”

Neville now began to blush. “I had started working on them after Luna and I first started seeing each other. I thought it was the perfect flower for her. Both of them are so…unusual and exotic,” Neville cleared his throat. “But the thing is, I can’t find her anywhere to give it to her.”

“No problem,” Harry said, moving toward his trunk and pulling out the Marauder’s Map. ‘If I can’t be with Ginny right now,’ Harry thought to himself, ‘At least I can help the cause of true love where I can.’ Harry tapped the map with his wand. “I do solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” Suddenly the map revealed the plan of the castle and small footsteps designated familiar names.

“There she is!” Neville shouted, pointing to the Prefects Bathroom. “Thanks Harry, thanks Ron!” he said running out of the room. “Wish me luck!” And with that, Ron and Harry were once again alone.

“Did you see who else is in the Prefects Bathroom?” said Ron nervously.

“Yeah,” replied Harry dejectedly. “Ginny and Hermione. Wonder what they’re up to?”

Seamus then slumped into the room with his head noticeably turned away from them. “Hey mate, what’s wrong? Are you OK?” asked Ron.

Seamus looked directly at them with one eye black and swollen. “Let’s just say, the Patel twins were not amused with my Valentine’s Day surprise.”


*************************** **************************************** *******

“This was a great idea, Hermione,” said Ginny as she closed her eyes, breathing in the sweet lavender perfume of the bubbles surrounding her.

“Yeah,” I think the three of us definitely could use some pampering today,” Luna affirmed. “I’ve never been in here before. If they gave tours in here, everyone would be clamoring to be a Prefect just to get to use this bathroom.”

“Hey, if Head Girl can’t take a few perks once in a while, why bother?” Hermione giggled smugly.

“Ahhh!” Luna sighed, as she sank lower into the bubbles so that just her eyes and top of her head were visible over the foaming white peaks. “Do you think anyone will think we’re, you know, funny, the three of us bathing in here together?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Hermione said cautiously. Each of them had entered the bathroom several minutes apart, so if anyone had noticed it could easily have been regarded as mere coincidence.

“Who cares,” muttered Ginny a little bitterly. “Maybe if someone thought I was a lesbian I might get luckier than my current condition!”

“Ginny Weasley!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Well, Ginny,” sighed Luna leeringly, “If Neville doesn’t have some good excuse, maybe we should consider it. You know, I have been secured as a consultant for Fred and George’s line of more intimate items for witches only. Maybe I should ask them about designing something for…”

“Enough, you two!” Hermione lectured. “ I thought the point of this was to relax and commiserate about the men in our lives.”

“Right,” said Ginny, eager to change the subject that had gone much further than the jest she had intended. “Especially considering what that moron of a brother of mine did for you today, Hermione.”

“How did it go again, exactly? Hmm…” Luna then began to chime,

“ ‘There is a girl named Hermione
Whose eyes and hair are shiny.
But what I like best
Are her bum and her breasts,
And the fact is that she is all mine-y.’”

“Uuugh! Please don’t remind me again!” wailed Hermione. “I don’t know what he was thinking! Why didn’t Hogwarts get rid of that idea of students sending singing Valentines when they got rid of Gilderoy Lockhart?”

“Hermione,” Ginny tried to soothe. “Honestly, I think he meant well. It’s just, well, Ron isn’t… I mean,”

“You mean, that he’s clueless that the poetry gene skipped the entire Weasley clan?” Hermione shot back. “Oh, no, Ginny…I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

“No it’s all right,” she smiled weakly. Obviously Hermione was referring to her own embarrassingly painful mistake of sending Harry a singing Valentine her first year.

Luna smiled broadly. “Oh, yes! I had almost forgotten about that one, Ginny. Let’s see if I can remember it. Wasn’t it something like… ‘ His eyes are as green as fresh pickled toad’”

“Please, Luna, don’t…” interrupted Hermione, feeling guilty enough for her faux pas.

“And to think, I thought you were my friend, Luna,” Ginny feigned hurt.

“I think it’s kind of sweet, really,” Luna admitted. “But Ron’s poem…I’m sorry Hermione, but that really was dreadful!”

“Tell me about it! I was absolutely mortified! And then that the poor dwarf had to hunt me down just before Defense Against the Dark Arts. In front of Snape and Malfoy! Oooo! I just want to throttle Ronald Weasley!”

“Well, at least you got a Valentine from your man, Hermione,” Luna said sadly. “I haven’t seen Neville all day. It’s just not like him. I was beginning to worry, when Professor Sprout gave me a message that he was working late in the greenhouses. On Valentine’s Day! I could have sworn Neville was planning something special. He has been talking for weeks about today. For a boyfriend who dotes on me so, I can’t believe he forgot Valentine’s Day.”

“Well, at least the two of you have boyfriends, even if they did mess things up,” Ginny sighed wistfully.

Still lost in her own thoughts, Luna asked, “Do you think I might have scared him off a bit?”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked concerned.

“Oh, it’s just that, well, in our relationship, sometimes I think the roles are a bit, you know…reversed.”

“Go on,” encouraged Ginny.

“Neville is just, well…wonderful,” Luna sighed dreamily. “But, I’m afraid that I might frighten him sometimes. He’s just so timid about, well, you know, the physical aspects of our relationship. I know I can be a bit, how do I say this…”

“Sexually confident?” Ginny interrupted.

“Thank you, Ginny,” Luna continued, “Yes, sexually confident. I mean, it’s not like Neville doesn’t seem to enjoy himself. Merlin, you should hear some of the cute little noises he makes!” Ginny and Hermione winced, not wanting more of that mental picture. “But,” Luna continued, “Maybe I went too far this time. Maybe last night when I…”

A loud knock at the door startled Luna into silence. “Luna… I know you’re in there. Can I, ahem, come in? It’s really important.” The voice was unmistakably Neville’s. Luna looked expectantly at Hermione and Ginny. They nodded in unison as they swam away to the far side of the giant bubble filled pool.

“Only if you keep your eyes covered, dearest,” Luna called coyly to him. “You see, I’m not in here alone.”

Neville’s heart sank. He had not noticed Ginny and Hermione’s names along side Luna’s on the Marauder’s Map. The thought of his beloved Luna with someone else felt like a boulder about ready to crush him to pieces.

Knowing Neville’s gentle temperament, Ginny felt compelled to intervene. “It’s just me and Hermione, Neville. We just thought we’d have a little girl time. It’s OK. You know, I grew up with six brothers.”

“Just keep your eyes covered,” Hermione cautioned anxiously as she lowered herself as much as possible into the warm, soapy water.

Neville walked in, one hand covering his eyes and the other holding out what all three witches immediately saw to be the most beautiful flower they had ever seen. The three of them gasped simultaneously, and with the startle, Neville dropped his hand from his eyes, fearing disappointment.

Ginny and Hermione immediately recognized that their modesty was in no danger. Neville was completely lost gazing upon Luna covered in bubbles. He had no inkling anyone but the two of them were in the room. “It’s a blue rose, Luna,” Neville stammered. “It’s for you. I’ve been cultivating it for months to give to you today. I’m sorry I’m so late, but it was a bit behind schedule, and well, I needed to spend the day putting on the finishing touches, so it would be perfect, just like you.”

With that, Luna jumped out of the bath and into Neville’s arms, soaking him through and covering him with bubbles. Ginny and Hermione turned away to give them a bit of privacy, however, neither Luna or Neville seemed to notice their presence. “Oh, Neville!” Luna exclaimed. “I knew you hadn’t forgotten!” The obvious sounds of snogging were echoing through the bathroom.

“Luna,” Neville was panting now. “Perhaps we should find somewhere more, intimate?”

And without another word, Luna, still clad in nothing but bubbles and with the blue rose clenched securely between her teeth, pulled Neville quickly out through the bathroom door, as he reached deftly for her towel.

“Well, I’m glad to see at least one of us had a happy Valentine’s Day after all,” Hermione grinned.

“Me too,” Ginny sighed. “But I suppose there was never any real chance of me having a nice day today.”

“Oh, Ginny!” Hermione sighed. “I suppose there was never much a chance for either one of us. Why did two of the smartest girls at Hogwarts have to fall in love with the two thickest blokes who ever enrolled here?”

“Good question. I keep asking myself that very thing quite often these days,” Ginny concurred. “But then again, somehow, I don’t think being intelligent has anything to do with how I feel. If I could think this all away, I would. Believe me, I certainly have tried.”

“I know what you mean,” Hermione continued. “It is truly a dunderheaded thing to do, going out with one of your best friends. It is completely illogical. Yet, somehow, here I am…”

“Not to mention we’re talking about Ron, here,” Ginny said. “He may be my brother, but he can be the most insensitive git I’ve ever met.”

“True,” Hermione added sadly. “But that’s the darn thing about it. It’s almost because he is so clueless, that when the sweet part of him shows through, it’s so… irresistible.”

“Irresistible…? Pathetic, more like it, if you ask me,” snorted Ginny.

“C’mon Ginny, I know you love him too, despite your protests to the contrary.”

“Guilty as charged, but only because I have to.” Hermione raised her eyebrows suspiciously. “OK, OK. It’s true, I am being a bit hard on Ron, but truly, that Valentine was dreadful!”

“Good point. But, I suppose, as much as I would never admit this to anyone but you, the problem may be that I expected too much from him. I mean really, it’s ridiculous to have thought he might, I don’t know, send me chocolates, or flowers, or a book of poetry.”

“Is that what you were hoping for, Hermione?” Ginny asked.

“I don’t know what I thought, really,” Hermione admitted. “But I suppose something like that might have been nice. Silly, isn’t it?”

“No, I don’t think it’s asking too much. Maybe I should have coached him a little. Dropped a few, not so subtle hints…”

“Oh, no, Ginny. I don’t want you to get involved. I just have to decide if I love Ron enough to put up with his… more unpleasant qualities. Loving someone, I mean, really loving someone means you take them despite their flaws. I read in a book somewhere that true love means you love them just as they are. You accept someone on their terms and have no designs on changing them. What the question is then, it seems to me, is can I do that?”

“I don’t know, Hermione. I mean, you can’t just let someone walk all over you,” said Ginny cautiously.

“Oh, I agree. There must be mutual respect, obviously. It’s just, I think if you love someone,” she paused for a moment before she continued, “You have to love everything about them. Even the parts you might not like or the parts you might not quite understand. And then, you just keep loving them.”

“Yeah, I mean, I guess you’re right,” said Ginny distractedly.

“Oh, why am I telling you this?” Hermione chided herself. “You understand this so much better than I do. It seems if you’ve been the one teaching me about all this.”

“Me? You’ve got to be joking! You’re the one with a boyfriend. It seems I am a bit lacking on that front these days,” Ginny laughed sardonically.

“Yes, you,” Hermione answered squarely. “Ginny, you’ve been in love with Harry for as long as I’ve known you. You’ve loved him when everyone loved him because he was famous and when everyone hated him because he was misunderstood. Even after he pushed you away, you love him just the same and you don’t try to change him.”

“You make it sound so…noble,” Ginny said bitterly.

“Ginny, look,” said Hermione. “We’ve always been friends. You know I don’t mean to be cruel.”

“Yes, Hermione, I know,” Ginny sighed in frustration.

“Do you remember when I told you when you were a second year, that perhaps you should just forget about Harry for a bit? I told you that if you moved on, maybe you could relax around him.”

Ginny smiled sadly. “How could I forget that chat? I cried every night for weeks after we’d talked. I couldn’t imagine how I could ever feel about anyone the way I did for Harry.”

“But you did it, though, didn’t you? You did what you had to for yourself and you also did it for Harry. He’d never have realized you were more than Ron’s little sister if you hadn’t done it.”

“And your point is?” Ginny spat.

“And my point is,” Hermione took a deep breath, “That ultimately, you know what you need to do and you do it. It’s certainly not the easy way, but you have always been true to your heart.”

“Why am I beginning to feel like I am having a conversation with Professor McGonagall, Hermione?” Ginny retorted.

“Look, Ginny. All I am trying to say is that I know you are hurting right now. I know you are completely miserable. But I believe, and I think you believe as well, that despite appearances, Harry loves you. I think he has feelings for you he has never had for anyone. Ginny, no one has ever loved Harry unconditionally the way you do. I think,” Hermione paused. “I think he loves you so much, that he can’t even begin to get his head around it.”

“I know,” Ginny whispered, choking back tears. “It’s just…I wish he’d just tell me that.”

“You grew up with a houseful of brothers,” Hermione tried to lighten the tension. “The likelihood of a seventeen year old boy being able to actually talk about his feelings?”

“Right,” Ginny forced a smile.

“So Ginny, he will come around. Harry loves you, but I think you have a lot to teach him about what love means. Remember, he and Ron are the thickest boys Hogwarts has ever admitted…”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Ginny laughed darkly. “I guess I just hadn’t bargained for having to give out remedial instruction!”

“Tell me about, it. I was hoping I’d fall for someone who had passed their N.E.W.T.’s in love 101, but somehow, I got Ronald Weasley, and I’m certain he’s never even heard of the subject!”

The two girls shared a laugh and a comfortable silence fell between them.

“Will you be going to Hogsmeade with Ron this weekend?” Ginny asked after a while of soaking in silence.

“Hmm…I’m not sure. After today, I think Ronald may need a little tutoring in Hermione’s course on Simple Romance. He needs to appreciate how badly he messed up today. Did Harry ask you to go with him?”

“No. Of course not. I didn’t really expect him to. That might suggest I was his girlfriend or something. But I can’t help hoping he might ask…Anyway, I told Fred and George I’d help out at the store this weekend.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot. They’re expanding the joke shop, right?”

“That’s their story to Mum, but I’m pretty sure they have other plans.”

“Such as?” Hermione’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity.

“I’m pretty sure they’re opening up a ‘Gentleman’s Club’,” Ginny said flatly.

“Really?” Hermione said incredulously.

“Really. Mum would have a fit if she knew, but she’s not asking any questions, because I think she doesn’t really want to know. I suppose it’s harmless enough, taking money from teenage boys with raging hormones. After all, they’re completely stupid when it comes to the real thing.”

“You’re pretty open minded about all this,” Hermione wondered.

“Growing up with Fred and George, honestly, nothing surprises me anymore.”

“Hey, Ginny,” Hermione probed. “Would you like to have some help in the joke shop Saturday? An excuse to ignore Ron could be very helpful.”

“Well, sure! I’ d need to talk to Fred and George, but I think they’d love to have extra help. ”

“Excellent!” Eager to change the subject, Hermione asked, “So you asked me earlier if I had any ideas about what I would have liked for Valentine’s Day, what about you? Any good fantasies?”

“Well having a boyfriend, for one,” Ginny giggled easily now. “I dunno. I hadn’t really considered it.”

“Not even a little bit?” Hermione goaded. “I confessed about my totally traditional, boring fantasy for chocolate, flowers, and poetry.”

“Well, maybe…”

“Go on…tell me,” Hermione continued.

“Hmm…let’s see. I suppose it might have something to do with a warm fire, hot mulled cider, some serious snogging, and maybe, oh I don’t know, maybe an ‘I love you’ thrown in there somewhere. You know, the little things.” Ginny laughed.

“What do you think Harry’s Valentine’s Day Fantasy would be like?” Hermione asked.

“Probably today exactly as it was, completely uneventful and uncomplicated.”

“I’m not so sure about that. I mean, as you so well put it, he is a seventeen year old boy with raging hormones. Perhaps…”

A loud voice rang out of nowhere, echoing throughout the bathroom. “Blah, blah, blah, blah! Are the two of you ever going to stop talking and get out of here? No wonder you don’t have boyfriends when all you do is sit here and go on and on and on!”

“Hello Myrtle,” Hermione said sweetly. “We didn’t realize you were here.”

“Of course, not,” wailed Myrtle. “No one ever notices poor Moaning Myrtle. That is except tonight.”

“What’s going on tonight, Myrtle?” Ginny asked genuinely curious.

“I have a date tonight. As a matter of fact, I have two dates tonight. And the two of you are ruining it! Would you please get out of here and go do something instead of whining and tying up the bathroom so my double date and I may have some privacy!”

“Sure, no problem,” Hermione said quickly as she grabbed her towel and got out of the bath.

“Have a great time, Myrtle,” said Ginny blithely as she wrapped herself in a towel. “Promise us details?”

“You’re just jealous you don’t have a boyfriend,” Myrtle taunted.

“Anyone we know, Myrtle?” Hermione questioned, teasingly.

“Maybe,” she said, “But I’ll never tell!” Ginny and Hermione grabbed their dressing gowns and headed toward the door.

“Ginny,” Hermione said, looking at Ginny’s towel a bit more closely. “What is that you’re wearing?”

Ginny blushed. “Well, since it is Valentine’s Day, and under the circumstances, I brought it because I thought we might find it …amusing,” she giggled. “It was a prototype Fred and George were working on. I don’t think they went over very well with the other designs, but they seemed to think it was bloody brilliant. Mum made them clean up the Christmas dishes without magic for giving it to me as a present this year.”

The towel Ginny had draped around herself bore a large picture of Harry perched on his broom, much like publicity photos. Harry was smiling and waving, and the caption underneath read ‘Nothing comes between me and Harry Potter!’

****************************** **************************************** ****

The white marble bathroom sat quiet. Bathed in the warm light of the chandelier, the diminishing foam in the pool-sized tub twinkled invitingly. Impatient, Myrtle returned to her spigot and awaited her double date. The mermaid in the portrait on the wall fell asleep upon her rock, and the small sound of her steady breathing only deepened the silence. Into this state, the sound of the opening door and the irregular clattering of shoes echoed thunderously.

“Is this the right place, then,” said Crabbe. He carried a towel and appeared to be wearing only a dressing gown with his trainers.

“This is where Draco told us to meet her,” replied Goyle, who was dressed in a similar fashion. “It’s lucky for us our best friend is a prefect.” Neither of the boys seemed to notice the grandeur of the room. They seemed to have something else occupying their thoughts.

“Do you think it’s true?” asked Crabbe as they neared the edge of the tub. “You know, what they say about her?”

“How should I know, git?” came the reply. “They say she comes if you turn the right tap.” The pair stared at the scores of taps surrounding the tub. Each was encrusted with a different colored gem. “Now, where’s the dark purple one?”

“On the far side,” pointed Crabbe after a moment. They pulled off their dressing gowns hesitantly and entered the warm sudsy waters still in their boxers and shoes. Both crouched in the water and stared at the tap in awe and fascination. “Do you think it’s true, then?” asked Crabbe for the hundredth time.

“‘Mind-blowing’ was what Draco said,” whispered Goyle. “‘Mind-blowing’.”

“I’d like something else blown,” giggled Crabbe as the bubbles tickled his nose.

“You have to get the water really hot,” continued Goyle as if he had not heard his mate, “because she feels cold when she passes through and into you. But, when she gets down inside your crotch… — ‘mind-blowing’.”

“Go on, then,” Crabbe encouraged, “turn the tap.” Goyle glided to the far side of the tub and turned the tap. A whole bunch of hot thick foam began to pour from the spigot and a squeal of delight issued Moaning Myrtle into the tub.

“Are you the blind dates my blond boyfriend promised me?” she cooed. Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, panic-stricken, and then nodded. “I just love the strong silent types,” she continued. “Will you promise to visit me often?” Again, two exaggerated nods met with Myrtle’s approval. She let out an ecstatic groan as the boys watched her sink below the surface.

“I don’t think boxers are very romantic, do you?” she whined as she reemerged. Crabbe and Goyle were barely able to breathe between the steamy bubbles and their own expectations. They could only shake their heads furiously. “Then, drop ‘em, boys!” Myrtle shouted with unexpected vehemence. The bathroom was evidently her domain and she seemed to enjoy ordering others around in it. The mermaid in the portrait awoke and clapped her hands as she watched Myrtle take command of the muddle-headed pair. In the rush to pull down their shorts, they had forgotten their trainers and the two repeatedly fell into the water as their shorts and shoes tangled. Soon, however, the garments were lost in the hot foam, and the two boys stood at attention. “That’s better,” purred Myrtle as she began wrapping herself along one and then the other. The chill they felt down the spine was refreshing in the progressively hot and perfumed foam. There was a momentary sensation in the pit of the stomach like nothing either of them had ever experienced. It was a taste of what awaited them. “Would you like more?” murmured Myrtle. They each nodded without waiting for the other’s response. “Then, say ‘Please’,” she moaned.

“Hermione, Ginny, you lot will never believe what Neville and I just did,” announced Luna as she burst into the bathroom. She was wearing only Neville’s jumper, which reached down to her mid-thighs. She was so engrossed in the blue rose she was carrying that she noticed little else. “He is so sweet. He bred a new variety of rose: midnight blue with tips like a crescent moon. ‘Luna’ he calls it. Poor thing says he spent all day coaxing the petals to open for me, one by one.” She pulled off the jumper and entered the bath. “So I took him to the Room of Requirement and —” she continued as she finally looked up at her companions. First, Luna screamed. However, hers was closely followed by that of Crabbe and Goyle as they jumped from the bath. Not bothering to pick up a towel or dressing gown on their way, they headed for the door. The mermaid giggled as she watched them disappear through the portal still completely starkers.

“Not even a card, a smile, a hug,” moaned Myrtle, “proof I’m a girl.” She began to wail as she disappeared into the deep purple tap. Luna, by contrast, held her rose aloft. Sinking comfortably into the hot suds, she contemplated it and its giver.

************************************** ************************************

When they arrived in Hogsmeade, Ron headed Harry straight toward the Horny Snorkack. “I thought we’d have trouble with the girls,” he confided to Harry as they neared the door. “But they’re apparently having some kind of ‘girls’ day out.’ Can you believe our luck?”

“It does seem a bit too coincidental,” replied Harry. After the fuss they had made over the list of blunders made by every boy at Hogwarts on Valentine’s Day, he was suspicious of the lot of them running off together during a Hogsmeade Weekend. ‘I think they’re up to something.”

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” said Ron.

“Beware Greeks bearing gifts,” countered Harry. Ron simply rolled his eyes.

“Women have a double standard,” he reminded Harry, “they say they want one thing, and then they go out and do something completely different. It’s the smart bloke who knows how to take advantage of it.” The pair had arrived at the front door. They looked at each other for a moment and drew in deep breaths. Ron opened the door and he motioned Harry to step in. Harry gestured for Ron to go first with a slight bow. Neither one moved.

“How about the two of you boys slide your tails right in,” came a breathy voice from within. “It’s cold out there and I have so little on.” Ron turned a shade of crimson that clashed with his hair. Harry walked woodenly forward without bothering to look up. His friend followed close behind. A young buxom witch stood behind the reception counter. “Would you boys like to take anything off for me?” she smiled with broad and voluptuous lips. Ron and Harry looked at each other. Ron’s jaw looked a little unhinged and sweat ran from his forehead. “I mean your overcoats.” She indicated the cloak room behind her.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Ron stammered with some relief. He and Harry removed their coats, gloves, and scarves. As they handed over their apparel, Ron put half a galleon in her cup.

“I just love Gryffindors,” she said as she pulled the red and gold scarf slowly from the padded sleeve of Harry’s coat. Holding it taut and erect between her hands, she seemed to study it longingly. She turned to Harry and her eyes drifted to the right side of his forehead. “Don’t I know you?” she proposed.

“I’m Harry — ” Harry’s introduction was cut short by Ron’s elbow in his ribs.

“I’d like to be my own judge of that,” she replied as Harry nearly doubled over from Ron’s jab. She turned toward the cloak room and hung their coats.

“You don’t give your real name in a place like this, mate,” he advised Harry in an ardent whisper. “I’m Percy Shagbottom and this is my friend Dick Trotwood,” Ron told the woman who was still in the cloak room. She returned with two numbered tags.

“If you need anything in which to wrap yourselves, Percy, Dick,” she winked as she handed Ron the tags, “you got my number.” Harry and Ron moved to the doorway of the club’s main room. There were multicolored beads hanging from the lintel to the floor, and Harry could hear some jazzy music from beyond the doorway but could see little.

“Diffusion beads,” gushed Ron admiringly. “Fred and George didn’t think they could get any of them. They diffuse the light in such a way that in one direction you can see basic shapes behind them but not details. In the other direction, you can see out perfectly. They wanted to put them around the back tables. Piercing through the beads, Harry and Ron found themselves in a dimly lit room which changed hue every few minutes. True to Ron’s description, one wall was hidden behind diffusion beads. Harry could see that several of these tables were occupied. Multiple round tables stood in the middle of the room and many were set with what appeared to be lava lamps. Some of these were likewise occupied by Hogwarts upper year students and others. Towards the stage, there was one table occupied by Neville. It had a blue rose in a vase as the centerpiece. His eyes were fixed on the show. Looking up at the stage, Harry could see there was a scantily clad pole dancer. Looking again, he saw that it was Luna Lovegood. He motioned to Ron.

“I thought Hermione said Luna was going with them today,” he said. Harry and Ron approached Neville who was so engrossed, he barely noticed Harry and Ron until they had sat down at the table. “Two firewhiskeys,” Ron called over to the waitress.

“Isn’t she the loveliest,” sighed Neville to his friends. “I’m so proud.” There was clearly a tear in his eye. Looking to change the subject, Harry noticed that many of the tables around had blue roses.

“Yes,” said Neville, “I was able to grow a full dozen for today, but Luna insisted we share them with others. She has an uncommonly generous and liberal spirit.” He smiled and looked up toward Luna. The waitress now returned with two butterbeers.

“You must not have heard me,” began Ron. “Do you need to see my I.D?”

“Problem is —” said a familiar male voice behind him.

“–that the management knows where you got that fake I.D., Mr. Shagbottom,” finished another familiar voice very similar to the first. It was Fred and George. They were dressed in their dragon skin coats with matching boots and waistcoats of purple suede. “Mr. Trotwood is, however, welcome to anything he wants on the house.”

“So what do you think?” asked Fred. “Fleur put us in touch with the crème de la crème of Beaux Batons graduates for our waitresses. Still, we have a few details to work out such as where to put the hookahs.”

“It’s brilliant,” interjected Ron, “except the music. Also, I’m not sure about the lava lamps.”

“Those are not mere lava lamps, Little Bro,” replied Fred.

“Those,” added George, “are the latest generation of Abracadabra Lamp. Like Aladdin, you stroke the shaft, head to base, firmly but gently three times, and poof!”

“The globs inside take the form of your fantasy,” finished Fred with his eyebrows dancing up and down. “Rub three more times and you feel it along your —”

“I really like the beads,” said Harry. “Add a dance floor and this place could be a wicked dance club.”

“Apparently Mr. Trotwood is not getting into the spirit of the place,” said George.

“Do you think we should let the spirit of the place get into him?” asked Fred.

“We’ve been able to tap into Hogwarts sewage system,” explained George, “and we’re expecting Moaning Myrtle any moment.”

“The things our own dear Percy has told us about his late night baths with her,” moaned Fred longingly. Harry blushed at the thought.

“And just for you, Mr. Shagbottom,” added George to Ron, “we’re trying to get Miss. Granger’s bum and breasts. Unfortunately, we’ve learned they are patented and the current owner is an overly possessive git.” Suddenly, there came a chime like the opening notes to “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” and Fred and George drew matching pocket watches from their waistcoats.

Checking the watches, Fred said to Harry, “We’ve arranged this especially for you.” He turned his attentions to the stage, and Harry likewise turned his attentions with a sense of dread. There was a drum roll and crash of cymbals.

“Gents, The Horny Snorkack is proud to present this year’s Queen of the May, a girl who can straiten out any wizard’s wand, Miss April Showers!” There was a smattering of applause. As the curtain opened and a small band of gnomes played from the foot of the stage, Harry saw Ginny strut forward in long white gloves and a feathered boa. She began to remove one glove. Harry spit a mouthful of butterbeer clear across the room.

“Don’t worry,” said George reassuringly. “She’s actually a two hundred year old crone with a little Polyjuice Potion. Ginny’s watching the shop.” Harry watched with astonished fascination, uncertain whether George was telling the truth or not. Fred consulted his watch again.

“Actually, we told her we would be back a half hour ago,” he said. “Must dash. Make yourselves,” he hesitated, “comfortable.” Harry hardly noticed their departure. As foolish as Neville had looked when they first arrived, Harry appeared twice as engrossed. He was both horrified and tantalized by what he was witnessing. It was as if it were for the first time that Harry saw the shapeliness of her legs when the garters came undone and the stockings snaked their way down. Her breasts had never been more round and mouth-watering than in their red lace bustier. When she straddled the boa, Harry felt that his head became as light as a feather. Minutes or maybe days went by as he watched. After the curtains had finally closed, Harry nearly forgot to applaud. Ron still had his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“You can open your eyes,” said Harry. “It’s over.” Ron peeked before opening his eyes wide. He took a deep breath.

“You must be very proud, too,” Neville commented to Harry. If looks could kill, Ron would have had Neville fertilizing his own roses. Turning toward him, Neville added nervously, “You, too, Ron. She’s nearly every bit as beautiful as my Luna.” Ron was suddenly confused as to which comment he should take offense at. Fortunately, another voice caught his attention.

“Weasley,” Draco Malfoy accosted him from a nearby table, “check out the buffet.” He began to laugh. Crabbe and Goyle, who were each holding an Abracadabra Lamp, also began to laugh. “It’s all you can eat,” he continued, “and the cocktail sauce is particularly spicy.” It was easy for Ron to transfer his anger to Malfoy. He was certain there was malevolence in the words, but he did not understand exactly where or how. Ron only knew he wanted to force the argument and fight.

“Don’t call me ‘Weasley’ in here,” Ron blurted. “I’m Mr. Shagbottom. Do you hear? Shagbottom.”

“Whatever you say,” replied Malfoy with an expression half way between amusement and pity. He, Crabbe, and Goyle burst out laughing again. He again turned his back on Ron as he began to whisper to his companions.

“Some refreshments might be nice,” said Neville reasonably. He rose and waited a moment for Harry and Ron to join him. When they did not, he made his way to an alcove across the room. A few minutes later he returned with a small plate of appetizers and pastries. Noting that Neville had nothing unusual to report about the buffet, Harry thought it might be safe to engage Ron’s energies in the pursuit of food.

“Come on, Ron — Er, Percy,” said Harry. “I am a bit peckish, and maybe some food would help to take your mind off Ginny’s performance.”

“It wasn’t Ginny!” demanded Ron.

“All right,” said an exasperated Harry, “whoever she was.” This was not a large concession on Harry’s part. In his heart, he was certain that the witch on stage was not Ginny because there was something very un-Ginny in the expressions on her face. Nevertheless, it had to be her body in question. Harry and Ron made their way over to the buffet. Nearing the spread, Ron let loose a whistle. The buffet consisted of a woman lying on a bed of cheeses and dressed only in an assortment of savories and sweets.

“This is bloody brilliant,” said Ron rubbing his hands together. Taking a plate near her feet, Ron made his way up her legs. He found there an assortment of sausages, including ‘pigs in a blanket,’ and various tarts. Following the curve of the thigh upwards, he came to cocktail shrimp with a bowl of sauce placed at ground zero. Her waist was wreathed with grapes. Higher up was a ripe strawberry placed in the navel. Over her breasts, one plate of clotted cream and one of dark chocolate were placed side by side for dipping. Ron took the strawberry and another appeared. “A replenishing charm,” he assured Harry. He rubbed it in the cream and the woman let out a small laugh. Ron froze in mid-mouthful. Something in her voice was too familiar. He looked at her face. “Hermione!” he yelled.

“I’m just replacing the regular girl while she’s on break,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “After all, I didn’t want to waste a perfectly good Hogsmeade Weekend alone. I’m meeting a lot of new friends and some admirers.”

There was a terrible crash from the alcove as Ron covered Hermione in a nearby tablecloth. Harry could hear Malfoy and his mates roaring with laughter again. Ron began chasing off patrons by snarling, “we’re closed!” He helped Hermione up and led her through the nearest door he could find. Harry did not bother to get his coat check from Ron. He left them quarreling and went over to the joke shop in search of Ginny.

************************************** ***********************************

“H ey, Ginny,” came a voice from the door. Without looking up, the butterflies began fluttering in her stomach.

“Oh, hi, Harry,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I thought you’d be over at the Snorkack.”

“Well, I was you see, and well…” Harry stammered, unsure of how much Ginny actually knew about goings on at the club.

She surveyed his nervous expression and replied with a simple, “Oh, I see.”

“Well, I was wondering, I mean, if you could get away for a few minutes, that is if Fred and George don’t need you for a while…”

“Wait right here a second,” she said, heading toward the back of the joke shop.

In less than a minute, Ginny reappeared with her coat on, wrapping her scarf around her collar. “Where are we off to?” she asked brightly.

“I dunno. I just thought you might want a break or something,” Harry said, opening the door for Ginny.

“Where’s your coat, Harry?” she queried as they walked outside. The cold February snow fell upon them. Despite Ginny’s concern, Harry welcomed the blustery wind and cold shower.

Not wanting to go near his previous destination, he muttered something she didn’t quite hear, and they walked on through the center of Hogsmeade. As they walked, he was trying to chose a good place to duck into. The Hogshead was too dodgy, Madame Puddifoot’s was completely out of the question, and he wasn’t much in the mood for shopping. The wind was biting and frigid, and he knew he needed to make a decision fast to prevent turning into an icicle. “Hey, Gin… what about The Three Broomsticks?”

“Sounds good,” she agreed. When they reached the top of the street, they veered toward the pub and once again he held the door open and followed behind her. As they entered the dimly lit pub, the warmth inside beckoned him toward the fireplace at the back. Sensing his desire, Ginny turned and offered, “Somewhere in the back, maybe?”

“Perfect,” he replied, anxious to thaw from the cold outside. At that moment, Seamus brushed past them, with a curt apology.

“Sorry, mate,” he said to Harry. “I’d watch it if I were you. Trelawney has been nipping on the sherry a wee bit much today and is reading everyone’s palm in the place.” He nodded toward the bar, and indeed, there was Professor Trelawney reading Rosmerta’s palm. Rosmerta looked anxiously to Professor McGonagall, sitting with a few other of the Hogwarts teachers, looking to be rescued.

As they proceeded to the back of the crowded pub, Harry felt relief as he spied the chesterfield, directly opposite the fireplace unoccupied. He nodded to the spot with raised eyebrows when Ginny stopped in front of him, looking for a suitable spot. Ginny sat down on the sofa, taking off her overcoat, scarf, and gloves. Nervously, Harry stood directly in front of the fire, rubbing his hands together for warmth. Ginny gazed at him, longingly. He was quite handsome now, really. Broad shoulders, well defined biceps, a particularly gorgeous bottom… she bit her lower lip considering his attributes silently. Turning around, Harry noticed the heat rising in her cheeks, unsure if it was from the fire or perhaps something else. “How about a hot cider?” He asked.

“Great,” she said, looking down, ashamed she had gotten caught staring. Despite just having been discovered, she couldn’t help but allow her eyes to follow him to the bar. She tried unsuccessfully to quell the sigh that heaved from her chest, but it was no use. Hermione was right. It was pathetic. She was in love with Harry Potter and there was nothing she could do about it.

Harry sat down next to Ginny, handing her the warm mug. “Mmmm…” she smiled, taking a sip of the steaming, sweet brew. “This hits the spot.”

Feeling her thigh next to his and having a flashback of the teasing way she had removed her stockings at the club, Harry agreed silently. However, he didn’t mean the cider. “Ginny,” he began. “Have you been working at the joke shop all day?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason, really,” he responded. He knew that her brothers would never let her actually get near the club, but he just had to confirm it really hadn’t been Ginny seducing him from the stage earlier. Her reply had somehow lifted a weight from his shoulders, however, strangely, he felt an odd sense of disappointment.

As if she had used legilimens, Ginny asked, “Did you have a good time at Fred and George’s new place?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Harry answered distractedly. “It’s well…very…interesting.”

Ginny laughed at his description. “Harry, I don’t even want to know,” she chuckled darkly. “Fred and George were trying to rile me this morning, talking about a surprise they had for you. With you being their benefactor and all, they seemed to think you deserved a special treat. So really, it’s OK. Trust me, I have no desire to know anything about what goes on in that place.”

“You really are amazing, Ginny,” Harry said, admiring how the firelight glimmered in her dark chocolate eyes when she laughed. “Most girls I know would be furious about something like this.”

“Hmm. I see,” she smiled. “Well, I suppose I’m not most girls.”

“No, you certainly are not,” he answered still looking into her eyes. His directness took her aback, and she felt her throat tighten and her breath catch.

“Ginny, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk with you about,” he said. His voice was now tender and deep. As his mind raced, trying to find words to describe the conflict that had been aching inside him since he had spoken with her at Dumbledore’s funeral, Harry felt a cold hand on his shoulder. Startled, he looked up to see Professor Trelawney standing behind the chesterfield, enveloping he and Ginny in an embrace.

“Ah, my children! I am called to share with you secrets of your future,” she said thickly. “Allow me to read your palms and I shall reveal your destiny!” The strong smell of sherry overpowered them as she bent toward them.

Ginny shot Harry a frightened look. Professor Trelawney never had anything but bad news for Harry. It seemed her predictions always included images of an early, painful death, and after the emotional frustration of the week, Ginny was afraid she might sob uncontrollably if Trelawney uttered any such nonsense today.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, knowing they were trapped. Hoping to get this unpleasantness over with quickly, he gave the professor his hand and rolled his eyes at Ginny.

“Very interesting, very interesting indeed,” Trelawney said, running her index finger over the creases in his upturned hand. “Now yours, Miss Weasley,” Trelawney demanded. Ginny reluctantly put out her hand, and Professor Trelawney repeated the same maneuver on her. “Curious. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen this before. Quite unusual, yes. Odd, I might say.”

“What is it, Professor?” Harry asked, anxious to get rid of her.

“The peculiar thing is,” Professor Trelawney said, looking from Harry to Ginny and then back again, “The two of you have matching love lines. They are completely identical. I’ve never seen such a thing. There is an ancient legend…”

“Here we go,” whispered Ginny under her breath, steeling herself for tales of misery and woe.

“That tells of identical love lines in lovers who are true soul mates.” Her voice grew distant and eerie. “‘ Theirs is a love than runs deeper than the ocean, more vast than the stars in the heavens, and lasts beyond this life into eternity. Even death cannot separate them.’” Her normal tone returned, and she mused, “Quite strange, don’t you think?” Professor Trelawney looked at each of them once more, and dropped their hands, as she saw Professor McGonagall rising to leave. “Wait, Minerva!” she called. “It is imperative you learn your destiny!” Professor Trelawney then stumbled away.

Harry looked back into Ginny’s eyes and saw the tears about to spill out onto her cheeks. Without thinking, reacting on pure impulse, he reached for her in one fluid motion, gathering her into his arms and kissed her. As his lips brushed hers, he felt her hesitation, and he opened his mouth hungrily and explored her mouth gently with his tongue. His kiss sent her mind reeling and she responded to his caresses, encircling her arms about his waist.

“Oh, Ginny,” he breathed as they separated. “Can you forgive me? I’m a total prat.” Unsure of his meaning, afraid he regretted kissing her just then, she looked at him tentatively. She waited, trying to discover his meaning, before she answered. Sensing her uncertainty, he continued. “I am so sorry I’ve hurt you. I thought if I just kept you at a distance, you’d be safe. I couldn’t go on if I thought I was the reason…” his words trailed off. She looked at him expectantly. “Ginny, I couldn’t bear to lose you,” he went on. “Please understand, I’m doing this because I do care about you, and I don’t want to be responsible if …” Once more, his words dropped into an infinity of silence. Harry just couldn’t make the words come out of his mouth.

“If I were killed, right?” Ginny finished his thought. His eyes revealed her truth. “Harry, look. I’m not saying what Trelawney just told us is anything but codswallop, but I can tell you this.” She stared him squarely in the eyes and said, “Harry Potter, I love you, and despite everything, there doesn’t seem to be a damn thing I can do about it. So it’s your decision. Whether we’re together or not, it’s up to you. But there it is and nothing is going change it.”

“Ginny, we’d be taking a terrible chance. How could I face your family, knowing it was my fault. How could I go on, certain that if I had said no today, you might still be alive?” His voice was ragged and bitter now.

“I’m not dead yet, Potter!” she said angrily. Gathering her composure, she pulled him back, so that he faced her straight on. “Harry, if it’s my life we’re talking about here, shouldn’t I get a say so in this? Look, none of us know the future. But what I do know for certain, is that if the worst happens, I don’t want to die wondering what could have been. I want to live life, Harry, not just exist waiting to die.”

There was a long silence between them as they sat staring at one another in a stand off. Finally, Harry fatigued under the ferocity of her gaze. He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head, heaving a heavy sigh.

“Harry,” she said quietly. “I’m not asking for promises you can’t keep. I’m just asking for right now.”

He looked into her eyes once more and saw the unmistakable love there, pouring out to him. His resolve melted, like an icicle devoured in flames. He put his arm around her shoulders and she nestled her head into his chest.

“Did I mention that you’re not like most girls?” He said playfully.

She looked up and smiled, as he bent toward her, embracing her with a kiss.






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