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Getting Over Harry Potter | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP, Alternate Universe, Buried Gems Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley Genres: General, Humor Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 515 Summary: When Ginny realises that she is firmly entrenched as Harry’s friend in the strictest, most platonic sense of the word, she is determined to banish any of her own definitely non-platonic sentiments once and for all. She comes up with a plan – an ingenious, infallible, perfect, foolproof plan – but how was it supposed to work if Harry seemed to be everywhere she looked? Hitcount: Story Total: 131187; Chapter Total: 17117 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: I cannot claim to know the first thing about writing Quidditch matches, so I hope I didn't muck this up too badly. I also took liberties with the Slytherin players, since the HP Lexicon didn't offer much information about the team's sixth-year line-up. |
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Saturday “Here it is! Here’s the Snitch, Harry!” Ginny shouted, pointing to the fluttering golden ball right in front of her, which immediately changed direction and arced over her head. “Go get it!” Harry laughed and zoomed towards her. “All right. If that’s what it’ll take for me to get in front of your queue of admirers!” “There was never any need for you to stand in line, Harry!” Ginny said playfully. “But you're going to be sent to the back of the queue if you crash into me!” Yanking hard on her broom, she swerved to avoid colliding with him and only narrowly missed a leering Argus Filch, who was astride an ancient school broom, with Mrs. Norris perched precariously in front of him. “Well, well. Take a look at this, my sweet,” Filch crooned to Mrs. Norris. “What do have we here? A couple of impertinent rule breakers. Detention, Weasley, Potter. No flying inside the castle,” he taunted, wagging his long finger at her. Ginny gaped at the unpleasant caretaker. Since when did he know how to fly? And what was he talking about? They were not inside Hogwarts, were they? She looked up and saw the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall twinkling brightly with stars, reflecting the actual night sky outside the castle. “Silencio!” Before she could sort out her confusion, Harry’s spell had Filch waving his arms in anger as he mutely continued to berate them. The sight of the caretaker nearly apoplectic in his silent rage had Ginny laughing so hard that she fell off her broom. Her startled shriek was cut off when Harry caught her on his Firebolt. “Thanks for saving me, Harry,” she said breathlessly, staring into his green eyes, her hands spread out across his chest. “I’ll always be here to save you,” he murmured, tightening his grip around her waist and leaning in closer. “Harry,” she whispered as his breath fluttered on her lips, his face mere inches from hers. “Ginny,” Harry responded throatily. She closed her eyes and shivered in anticipation. Instead of a tender kiss, however, she was instead rewarded by Harry suddenly shouting “Ginny!” in a loud, and — she was disturbed to note — rather high-pitched voice. Ginny frowned. That was not what she had been expecting. Nor was she expecting Harry to be shaking her shoulders in such a vigorous manner, like they were being shaken right now. “Ginny!” It was at this point that Ginny became aware of someone — someone definitely not Harry — insistently calling her name. “GINNY!” Someone with a bossy, know-it-all kind of voice. “Go’way,” she mumbled, highly annoyed, pulling the blanket over her head. Whoever this person was, she was totally ruining her momentous, history-in-the-making snogging scene with Harry. “Oh, honestly! You leave me no choice, Ginny.” The covers on her bed were unceremoniously yanked off. “Aguamenti!” The jet of cold water drenched her face, and Ginny sat up abruptly, sputtering in indignation at being woken up in such a shocking manner. She looked up into the concerned face of Hermione Granger, who was dressed in school robes and had her red and gold Gryffindor scarf wrapped around her neck. “Hermione! What the bloody hell was that for?” She wiped her dripping face with the sleeve of her shirt — Harry's Captain shirt — and scowled at her tormentor. “I was having the most wonderful dream!” “Ginny, the match is about to start in half an hour, and you’re still having a lie-in!” Hermione cried out exasperatedly, pointing to her watch. “Holy Mother of Merlin!” Ginny gasped, frantically struggling to free herself from her blankets. “Harry’s going to kill me!” She jumped off her bed. It was a good thing that she had washed her hair last night. After scrambling into her Quidditch robes, brushing her teeth and tying her hair in an untidy ponytail, she crammed a piece of toast that Hermione had given into her mouth and took off at top speed down the numerous staircases of Hogwarts Castle. She was moving so fast that she did not notice the tall redheaded form of her brother until she crashed spectacularly into him in the first-floor corridor near the boys’ bathroom. They went down in an impressive tangle of arms, legs, and scarlet Quidditch robes. The resulting racket and Ron’s startled bellow caused the group of beautiful noblewomen in a nearby portrait to drop the tapestry they had been diligently working on to run away shrieking and wailing into the next portrait, which contained some suddenly very happy young knights. Ginny groaned painfully and struggled to catch her breath. “Ron! What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at the pitch?” “I was in the loo throwing up. You know how nervous I get before a game,” Ron answered, his face screwed up as he gingerly touched his side before standing up. “How come you’re not there either?” “Help me up, will you?” Ginny peevishly asked. Ron hauled her upright, and she winced as she got to her feet. “I overslept,” she said as she straightened her robes. “Bloody hell! Harry’s going to totally lose his rag,” Ron said worriedly. “Come on! We can still make it if we hurry!” The grounds still held some evidence of the previous night’s unexpected thunderstorm; the grass was still wet and some parts of the field remained muddy. The sky had cleared up, but there was a definite chill in the November air. Ron and Ginny hurriedly wove in and out through the throng of cheerfully chattering students also making their way to the game. Any match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was always highly anticipated, and since this was the first game of the Quidditch season, expectations were running extremely high. The Gryffindors were proudly wearing their colours; the Creevey brothers had found a better use for the charm that had turned Dennis’ eyebrows magenta, and now both boys sported alternating red and gold stripes in their hair. They had even managed to convince most of the Gryffindor boys and some from the other houses to do the same, so majority of the mob that streamed and jostled towards the Quidditch field looked like a strange, exotic herd of red- and gold-striped creatures, with an occasional flash of silver and green from the few Slytherin supporters. “Finally!” Harry stopped pacing and shouted at them when they burst into the Gryffindor changing room at last. “Where have you two been?” he demanded, glaring irately at Ginny and Ron. The rest of the team was already there, talking nervously amongst themselves. Jimmy said a bashful hello to Ginny, who acknowledged it with a small wave of her hand. Ron went to his locker and started strapping on his Quidditch leathers. “Had to let off some excess energy,” he mumbled, as he laced up his gloves. “He had to spiff his biscuits,” Ginny informed Harry, as she also started donning her Quidditch gear. “Bit nervy, you know.” Harry rolled his eyes but looked sympathetically at his best mate, whose face was still a bit green. “What about you, Ginny?” Harry asked in a softer voice. “Everything all right?” Ginny gave him a sheepish smile. “Had a bit of trouble waking up,” she admitted. “Why? Didn’t you go to bed early?” Harry looked concerned and touched her arm. “Did you have nightmares about—?” “No, nothing like that. It was a rather nice dream, actually,” she assured him, feeling pleased that he seemed worried about her. “A bit strange, but nice.” Ginny smiled, wondering how Harry would react if he knew that he featured so prominently in many of her dreams. “Really?” Harry asked interestedly. “What was it about?” Ginny pulled on her gloves and picked up her broom. “Oh, nothing. It was about Quidditch. Filch was in it.” He made a face. “You having dreams about Filch now? D’you fancy him or something?” he teased. She stuck her tongue out at him. “No, Filch was only there because he was shouting at me and you— ” She stopped, aghast that she had admitted that she had been dreaming about him. “Yeah? I was in your dream then? Why was he shouting at us?” Harry looked fascinated. “What were we doing?” “Let’s go kick some Slytherin arse, shall we?” she said gaily, trying to change the subject. “Huh.” He picked up his broom and leaned against it, his head tilted to one side. “Okay. But you’ll have to fill me in later, yeah?” He smirked impertinently at her. “I’d love to know why you were dreaming about me.” “Only if you tell me what you were dreaming about the other night in the common room,” Ginny replied audaciously. Time to find out once and for all if he does fancy me and not Professor Binns, she thought smugly, watching as Harry blinked a few times behind his glasses before his face broke out in a wide grin. “All right. Let’s make a deal. You score as many goals as you did during last Saturday’s practice, and I’ll tell you,” he challenged. “Deal. And I’ll tell you what I was dreaming of this morning if you catch the Snitch immediately after I score my twentieth goal,” she answered, holding out her hand to seal the bargain. Harry reached out and firmly grasped her hand in his. Ginny looked up and saw that Harry’s eyes had drifted down to her mouth. Her heart thumping wildly, Ginny unconsciously parted her lips. Harry drew in a sharp breath, and he began leaning towards her. “Oi! Harry! Ginny! Sorry to interrupt your — um — conversation, you two,” Ron called out impatiently. “But it’s time for the match to start!” Ginny looked around, surprised at the sudden flurry of activity as the rest of her teammates sprang to their feet and made a beeline towards the pitch. She glanced back at Harry, who also seemed a little bit dazed. He shook his head, then smiled and squeezed her hand. “Come on,” he said softly. “I expect to collect on our bargain later, okay?” Still feeling a bit weak-kneed, Ginny nodded, and they both ran out of the changing rooms to be greeted by the raucous roar of the crowd. Ginny kicked off hard from the ground and flew toward Katie and Demelza. “Testing, testing. Hello? Is this thing on?” Ginny was startled to hear a familiar voice echo throughout the pitch, and she squinted at the stands, trying to see if she was imagining things. “Oh, it is. Right. Well, I suppose it's time to begin, then. Good morning, everyone!” Hermione was at the commentator’s box, holding a magical microphone in her hand. She waved cheerily at Ginny, who chuckled in disbelief. Professor McGonagall must have had a really difficult time finding someone to comment on the game, if she had to resort to Hermione — who was decidedly awful on a broom and not keen on Quidditch at all. Glancing over at the Gryffindor goals, she saw Ron’s mouth hanging open as he gawked in mute astonishment at Hermione’s bushy brown head. On the field, Harry also looked completely gobsmacked and almost tripped as he reluctantly strode forward to stand in front of Draco Malfoy. “Welcome to the first Quidditch match of the term: Gryffindor playing against Slytherin,” Hermione announced officiously, smiling as the crowd erupted into a cacophony of whistles and cheering. Beside her, Hagrid — his bristly hair and beard also striped red and gold courtesy of the Creevey brothers — was yelling and clapping loudly, his huge hands making such a din that Hermione held her wand against her throat and cast an additional Sonorus charm. “First, the two Captains will shake each others’ hands in a gesture of good sportsmanship. Harry Potter is Gryffindor Captain, and for Slytherin we have Draco Malfoy,” Hermione was unable to keep the disdain out of her voice when she mentioned the pale blond boy’s name, “who is acting as temporary Captain while Urquhart is in the hospital wing, recovering from a rather nasty bout of spattergroit.” There were boos and cheering, and finally a roar of laughter from the students when Madam Hooch blew her whistle and forcibly separated Harry and Malfoy as they sneered at each other, both boys trying to crush the other’s hand. Harry gave Malfoy a last glare of scalding contempt, which was met by a malicious leer from the Slytherin boy, and then the two Captains sailed into the air, circling each other warily. “Oh dear,” Hermione said, a little distressed at the open antagonism between the two boys. “Right, well, it’s time for Madam Hooch to release the balls. There go the Bludgers, which, according to Quidditch Through the Ages, were once merely flying rocks carved into the shape of balls. They were not made out of metal until about the sixteenth century when—” Hermione interrupted herself when Madam Hooch next released the Golden Snitch, which danced tantalizingly in front of Malfoy’s face before fluttering off. He made a grab for it, his arms flailing wildly, righting himself just in time to prevent him from falling off his broom. “The Snitch has been released! Now the Snitch is actually representative of the Golden Snidget, which was once mercilessly hunted almost to extinction by wizards who had no respect for those poor, defenceless birds. I mean, honestly. What some people won’t do just for sport— ” Hermione paused in mid-tirade when Professor McGonagall tapped her on the arm and frowned at her. “Oh, yes, sorry about that, Professor.” Even from a distance, Ginny could see Hermione’s cheeks as they coloured in embarrassment. She spied her brother doubled up in laughter, and Harry was openly chuckling as Hermione cleared her throat several times. Finally, the Quaffle was thrown into the air, and Ginny swooped down to intercept it from Vaisey, one of the Slytherin Chasers. She tuned out Hermione, who had once again entered into lecture mode. “The modern Quaffle is more properly known as the ‘Pennifold Quaffle’, named after Daisy Pennifold who—” Ginny swiftly passed the Quaffle to Demelza, who passed it in turn to Katie. All three of them streaked towards the golden hoops being guarded by Millicent Bulstrode, the first girl to be taken on the Slytherin team in ages. Millicent scowled and swiveled her heavy body around to lunge at Katie, who tossed the Quaffle back to Ginny at the last minute. “Oh! Ginny Weasley has scored her first goal for Gryffindor!” Hermione said excitedly. “Ten nothing in favour of Gryffindor. Did you know that the Chaser is the oldest position in Quidditch? Kennilworthy Whisp said that— ” Loud boos from the Gryffindors drowned Hermione out as Vaisey snatched the Quaffle and sped in Ron’s direction. He dodged a Bludger that Jimmy Peakes sent his way and elbowed Ginny’s side as she attempted to wrestle it out of his hands. Hermione’s voice faltered as Ron — his face pale but determined — gripped his broom tightly and braced himself. “R-Ron Weasley moves into position to block Vaisey. And — and — oh — oh, I can’t look!” Hermione clutched at her face then shrieked when Ron managed to deflect the Quaffle from entering the centre hoop. “Yes! Yes! YES! I knew you could do it, Ronald!” She threw her hands up in the air and began whooping in delight. “That was amazing!” Ron grinned smugly and waved at Hermione, who beamed at him, both quite oblivious to the fact that the most of the students were shouting their amusement at the affectionate looks the two were giving each other. Hagrid’s laughter could be heard booming across the pitch. Even Professor McGonagall appeared highly entertained, judging from the way her shoulders were shaking slightly and that she was covering her mouth with one hand to keep from laughing out loud. Ginny swung her broom around to fly towards her brother, and smacked him on the head. “Hey! Keep your pants on, all right? You can flirt with Hermione later. There's still a game to win!” She flew out of his reach, sniggering at the slow flush that crept up his neck. He shook his fist at her. Ron seemed unduly inspired by Hermione’s flattering remark, as he managed to block almost all of the Quaffles sent his way by the increasingly frustrated Slytherin Chasers. Harry and Malfoy continued to scan the pitch for the Snitch, which seemed to have disappeared into thin air. By the time Hermione had managed to recount the entire history of Quidditch to those in the crowd who were actually listening to her, the score was three hundred and twenty to a hundred, in favour of Gryffindor. Malfoy was so infuriated with his team that he took Gregory Goyle’s bat and sent the Bludger toward his own Chasers, who broke formation to avoid it. The iron ball careened wildly and hit the Gryffindor stands, causing Hermione to scream and duck behind Hagrid. Professor McGonagall shook her finger angrily at Malfoy, leaning dangerously over the barrier to do so. Madam Hooch called a timeout to berate the Slytherin team who were all looking very sullen and were muttering amongst themselves. Ginny landed next to Harry, who was giving Ron and the rest of the team a little speech. Ron kept giving Malfoy murderous looks. “Good job so far, you lot. I know that we’re leading, but let’s not get too comfortable, all right? You know how dirty these Slytherins can get when they feel they have nothing to lose.” He looked around and grinned. “Let’s humiliate them some more, shall we?” The others grinned back, and Demelza and Katie got back on their brooms, while Peakes and Coote beat the ground with their bats, giving loud war cries. Ron flew over in Hermione’s direction to see if she was unharmed. Harry turned to Ginny. “All right there?” he asked, his worry evident in the way his eyebrows were knit together. “Did you get hurt when Vaisey elbowed you like that?” “I’m fine, Harry. Thanks for asking,” she reassured him, waving his concern away. She lifted her chin and looked at him thoughtfully. “You know, I think I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain, Potter.” “Yeah,” he replied, his voice full of admiration. “You’re playing brilliantly.” “What did you expect?” she answered him cheekily. “Nothing less than excellence from my favourite Chaser, of course.” He winked at her. “So, I reckon that means it’s my turn, yeah?” “Yeah,” Ginny said, feeling a stupid grin tugging at her lips as Harry tilted his head and smiled at her. “You do know, Ginny, that I was only waiting for you to score your twenty goals. I’ve actually seen the Snitch a couple of times already,” he said impishly. “Well, have at it then,” she challenged, arching her eyebrows at him. “I’m looking forward to hearing about your dream.” “And I’m looking forward to hearing about yours. Like I said earlier, I’d love to know why you were dreaming about us,” he said in a low voice, his intense green eyes boring into hers. For a few interminable seconds, Ginny locked gazes with Harry. She only came back to the present when the strident sound of Madam Hooch's whistle pierced the air again, and she ordered all the players to return to the air and resume play. Ginny took a deep breath and looked up at Harry. “Well, Potter, time to show me what you’ve got!” she shouted as she flew into position between Katie and Demelza. “Oh, I will, Ginny. I definitely will,” he called out. Shaking his head and grinning at her, Harry took to the air and circled the pitch, with Malfoy trailing behind him. Hermione, who had been diligently consulting her copy of Quidditch Through the Ages during the timeout, resumed her commentary, despite the gaping hole beneath her that the Bludger had left behind. “Well, after that atrocious display of bumphing by Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Captain, which unfortunately cannot be punished because the penalties can only be applied to the Beaters,” Hermione’s and Professor McGonagall’s twin sniffs of disapproval were clearly heard by everyone, “the game resumes with Gryffindor in the lead by two hundred and twenty points.” Demelza had just managed to score another goal when a pair of Gryffindor fourth-year girls — who were both wearing white Muggle-style shirts emblazoned with the words HARRY POTTER is the SEEKER and I am his GOLDEN SNITCH — began screaming wildly when Harry abruptly swiveled around on his Firebolt and dove towards the ground. With great effort, Malfoy also turned his broom about and rushed after him, but it was too late. A few seconds later, Harry was rising into the air, the Snitch fluttering weakly in his gloved hand. “Oh my goodness!” Hermione squealed. “Oh my goodness! It’s over! Yes! Harry’s caught the Snitch! We won! We won!” She jumped up and down in excitement and turned to hug Hagrid around the middle. The exhilarated Gryffindor students surged onto the pitch and swarmed around the team as they hopped off their brooms, their arms raised in victory. The Slytherin team landed hard on the other side of the pitch, Malfoy already loudly berating and cursing the rest of his teammates, his normally pale face almost purple in rage, not noticing that Professor McGonagall was determinedly striding towards them, her forehead furrowed and her lips in a very thin line. Ron slapped Harry on the shoulder, then took to the air again and made his way to Hermione. Ginny met Harry’s gaze above the mob, and she beamed at him. He pushed his way through and before she knew what was happening, had enveloped her in a very quick but very warm embrace. She blushed violently but looked steadily into his eyes, which were sparkling with happiness. Harry opened his mouth as if to say something but he was interrupted by a sudden commotion in the crowd. “Blimey! Would you look at that!” Seamus Finnigan shouted out and frantically motioned towards the stands. Necks craned in the direction where Seamus was pointing to find Hermione leaning forward and kissing Ron, who was hovering on his broom in front of the stands. Hagrid was off to one side, dabbing at his eyes and blowing his nose with his spotted handkerchief. Ginny and Harry gaped at each other and began laughing delightedly. “All right! Way to go, Ron!” Harry called out, pumping his fist in the air and clapping his hands. The rest of the students soon joined in. The deafening applause seemed to penetrate Ron and Hermione’s romantic haze, and the two broke apart, looking embarrassed but highly pleased with each other. Ron gave the cheering throng a victorious thumbs up, helped Hermione climb gingerly onto his broom, and they flew toward the castle, appreciative whistles and catcalls following them. The gossiping mass began to disperse, and Harry and Ginny were soon left by themselves on the Quidditch pitch. Harry cleared his throat and looked her keenly. “So, Ginny…” “Yeah?” Ginny fidgeted with her robes. She suddenly felt horribly conscious of the fact that her hair was coming loose from her ponytail and that her face was shiny from sweat. “What were we doing in your dream to get Filch so brassed off with us?” A/N: And now, the end is near... Thanks to the lovely and gracious Chreechree who is really the bomb when it comes to beta work. If you haven't done so yet, go read her excellent excellent excellent one-shot, Willpower, also on SIYE. Hello to the ace gang, the one and only KWSS. Muchas gracias to everyone who's reviewed and nominated this for the DSTA. |
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