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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: 131239; Chapter Total: 17696 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: Strangely enough, the HP Lexicon doesn't have any schedule for the Friday classes of the fifth years, so I made up my own. |
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Friday Ginny was at the library as soon as the double doors had opened that morning. She immediately dashed off to the table she had occupied the previous day. Although she had searched everywhere, she could not find the parchment and had been forced to give up when the bell rang for first period, and she had to rush in order not to be late for double Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins. Her last class, Potions, had been presided over by Professor Snape, who had taken over for Professor Slughorn when the latter wound up in the Hospital Wing after finding out the hard way that three pounds of crystallized pineapple did not go down well with four pints of oak-matured mead and a sherbet lemon. The reappearance of their former Potions master after having just suffered through two hours with him in Defence Against the Dark Arts certainly put a damper on the Gryffindors’ morale. Colin became so nervous that he unintentionally added more hellebore than necessary to his Draught of Peace. The resulting solution had produced a faint orange mist with a sickly sweet odour that caused the students nearest the violently bubbling cauldron to pass out, wearing rather dreamy smiles on their faces. Professor Snape had angrily dismissed the rest of the class before anyone else could be affected by the erroneous potion, so Ginny was at the library an hour earlier than she was expected, which was good, because she might actually finish in time to go to Quidditch practice. She became a bit disheartened however, when Madam Pince led her to the rows and rows of books that comprised the History of Magic section. “As you see, Miss Weasley, some people have no sense of responsibility,” the woman said with a frown, pointing to the disorganized collection. “They just decide to put the books back in anywhere they see fit. I expect you to have this all sorted out by the end of your detention. Now, take note that most of those books are older than you. Some of them are even older than me,” Madam Pince sternly told her. Ginny suppressed a snort. Nothing could be older than the thin-lipped, pinched-face librarian — except perhaps Professor Binns — but he did not count, seeing that he was already a ghost. Ginny silently contemplated the possibility that Professor Binns and Madam Pince had been childhood friends, or maybe — horrors! — boyfriend and girlfriend. I wonder if she called him Binniekins. She had to bite the inside of her cheek from laughing out loud. Or maybe, Bin-Bin? “They are, therefore, of considerable value,” the librarian continued, unaware that Ginny was trying very hard to control her giggles. “Please treat them carefully and respectfully, or else I will make sure that you spend the rest of your natural life here in the library.” Ginny instantly sobered when she caught the look that Madam Pince leveled at her. She had no doubt that the librarian’s threat was not an idle one. Madam Pince handed her a feather duster made entirely from shockingly pink Fwooper feathers, and told her to get on with cleaning the long rows of books. The thick film of dust that had accumulated through years of disuse was sucked up as she passed the feather duster over the numerous shelves. When she was finished with that, she began the tedious task of arranging the books alphabetically by title, starting with ‘Aaaaarrrrrggghhh!’ In His Own Words - The Beginning of the End for Grindelwald by Montgomery Peyton. She was only halfway through the D’s — Dark Lords in the Making: Nature versus Nurture by Erich Sonerik — when Hermione came in to join her. By this time, Ginny was highly aggravated and miserable, and she snapped at Hermione when the other girl greeted her cheerfully. “Hello, Ginny,” Hermione said as she sat down at a nearby table. She peered interestedly at Vivienne Morgan’s Which Witch is Which? A Listing of Prominent Witches in the Past One Thousand Years which was at the top of the stack of books that had not yet been returned to the shelves. “What do you want?” Ginny replied somewhat irritably. She blew a strand of her red hair out of her eyes and did a double take when she saw the picture of the author of New Age Enchantments and Spells — The Origins of Transcendental Magic smiling mistily from the purple and chartreuse paisley patterned cover — she bore more than a passing resemblance to Luna Lovegood, butterbeer cork necklace and all. Ginny made a mental note to ask her slightly dotty friend if anyone in the Lovegood family had been a published author. Hermione looked hurt. “I only came to see if you needed any help.” “I’m sorry,” Ginny said guiltily. “It’s just that I’ve been here for ages, and I still have that entire section to go through!” She waved her hand towards several shelves and groaned out loud. She slumped wearily onto the floor and buried her head in her arms. “Well, why don’t you just use an Alphabetizing Charm?” Hermione asked. She was now flicking through Berke’s Peerage: Who’s Who in the Death Eater World. Ginny’s head shot up, and she looked at Hermione with a hopeful expression on her face. “What’s that?” Hermione tutted. “Honestly, Ginny. Don’t you pay attention to Professor Flitwick? You’re just like Ron. An Alphabetizing Charm will do just that — arrange items according to the alphabet. It’s very useful. I use it all the time to arrange my notes.” “Sorry, I think I missed that one,” Ginny replied, a bit sarcastically. “Not everyone needs to have their notes alphabetized, Hermione.” Seeing that the other girl was starting to look offended once more, Ginny hurriedly mollified her. “But now that you mention it, I can see that it’s dead useful. Could you show me how to do it?” Hermione demurred. “I don’t know Ginny. What if Madam Pince didn’t want you to use magic to do your detention?” She shook her head, her bushy brown hair bouncing on her shoulders. “I don’t want to get you into any more trouble.” “Please, Hermione?” Ginny implored. “Madam Pince will never know. She’s off terrorizing some poor students for daring to breathe on her precious books.” Sure enough, the sound of the woman berating someone suddenly resounded through the quiet room. “WHAT IN MERLIN’S NAME DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING BRINGING THAT — THAT FILTH IN HERE? HAND THOSE OVER IMMEDIATELY!” Hermione hesitated. Ginny did her best to look utterly exhausted, which was not much of a stretch since she really was knackered. It appeared to do the trick, because Hermione looked pityingly at her, pulled out her wand, then taking a furtive glance around, she muttered a quick spell. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY’RE 'MINISTRY-APPROVED MATERIAL'? GIVE THOSE TO ME THIS INSTANT!” To Ginny’s delight, the rest of the books flew out of the shelves and began lining up in alphabetical order. She became slightly alarmed however, when the books made loud flapping sounds as they hovered in the air, each book awaiting its turn to slide into its proper place. Fortunately, a noisy scuffle broke out as Madam Pince struggled to confiscate the contraband literature from the offending students who, panicking in the face of sheer and utter terror, gave up and bolted from the library. “YOU DEGENERATE HEATHENS! COME BACK HERE!” Ginny and Hermione watched as Zigzagging through Zimbabwe, Zambia and Zaire: Magic of the Dark Continent by Mauritius Lesotho glided into position with a thumping bass beat similar to tribal drums, a curious counterpoint to the furious clacking sound that Madam Pince’s heels made on the library floor as she chased after the escaping students. “Thanks loads, Hermione. You’re such a brilliant witch.” Ginny got up from the floor and sat down beside her friend. “No wonder my brother fancies you.” Hermione’s ears became pink. “It’s not as if he’s actually given any sign that he does,” she muttered. “Come off it,” Ginny said. She was in a more relaxed mood, now that she did not have to wade through piles of tomes and scrolls. “You know he likes you, Hermione. It’s so obvious. It’s just that Ron can’t see past the end of his long nose. We’ll just have to help him realize his true feelings for you.” Hermione shook her head. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Ginny.” Ginny smiled wickedly at her. “That doesn’t leave me much to do, you know.” Hermione laughed and hit her on the arm. “Oh you, you’re incorrigible.” She then leveled a look at Ginny which the younger girl knew very well. It was that look that meant Hermione was about to ask her something she was not going to like. “So, what was that scene with Harry last night in the common room?” Ginny picked up the duster from the table and fidgeted with it. “Nothing. I told you, I was just passing by when Harry grabbed me.” Seeing the disbelief written on Hermione’s face, she sighed deeply. “Oh, all right. I just happened to wander over to where Harry was sleeping, and maybe I just happened to lean in a bit to observe him sleeping, and well — maybe — erm — smell him a little — but that’s it,” she said defensively as Hermione snorted indelicately. “Harry did grab me just as I was about to move away. I don’t think he knew what he was doing. He was asleep after all. More’s the pity.” Ginny added regretfully. Hermione gave her a shrewd glance. “You two looked dead cosy. And I saw that last part when he reached out for you.” “Huh. He probably thought I was his pillow or something.” Ginny refused to think about the fact that Harry had said her name while he was asleep. At least that was what she thought he had said. For all she knew, he may have said something entirely nonsensical such as “kin” or “din” or “bin” and any other three letter word that sounded suspiciously like the first syllable of her own two-syllable name. Maybe he had been dreaming of History of Magic class and was attempting to catch the attention of the ghostly professor. But why had he given her that kiss on her head? Had Harry been dreaming about snogging Professor Binns? Rowena Ravenclaw’s baby blue ball gown! Where do I get these mad ideas? Ginny struggled to concentrate on what Hermione was saying. “…plus I witnessed that little intimate tête-à-tête you had by the stairs,” Hermione finished, smirking a little. “So, did Professor Flitwick teach you anything else interesting aside from the Alphabetizing Charm?” Ginny said loudly, trying to divert Hermione’s attention. “Don’t try changing the subject,” Hermione warned. “Are you still trying to get over Harry?” she abruptly asked. Ginny winced. She had been dreading this question. “Um, well, yes — and — no. Sort of.” “What does that mean?” Hermione asked insistently. Ginny sighed deeply. She knew that the older girl was not going to stop until she got an answer. “I’m still going to try, but I know that it’s pretty much a lost cause.” Ginny decided to tell her what she had come to realize last night as she lay in a slumbering Harry’s arms. “I think my feelings for Harry are far too intense for me to simply deny them like I’ve been trying to do. So, I think I’ll just bury them and concentrate on being the best friend I can be to Harry.” Hermione looked sympathetic. She knew how it felt to be hopelessly in love with a boy who was too thick to realise what he was missing. “You’re simply going to suppress those feelings? Why don’t you just go and tell him?” Ginny stared at her in disbelief. “Are you daft?” she said, waving the duster wildly in the air. “I don’t think I could stand the humiliation when he laughs at me. Or worse, what if he starts feeling uncomfortable around me and avoids me? I mean, this is Harry. And I’m just Ginny, his best friend’s baby sister.” “Harry does not think that you’re just Ginny,” Hermione scolded her. “You’re one of his closest friends. I know that he likes being with you because you can see it in his actions. You’ve got him to open up in more ways than Ron and I ever have.” “Thanks for saying that, Hermione.” Ginny impulsively hugged her friend. “I always knew that my future sister-in-law was a great person.” Hermione blushed. “Right,” she said in an embarrassed but pleased tone. “Well, aside from those things, I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Ginny. I have a feeling that he sees you as more than Ron’s sister.” “Yeah, he sees me as his star Chaser.” Ginny suddenly recalled that Harry had rescheduled their practice in deference to her detention. “Though he did rearrange our Quidditch training when he found out I couldn’t make it at five o'clock,” she admitted. “See?” Hermione grinned in triumph. “Harry would never do that for just anyone!” “He’d do it for Ron,” Ginny pointed out, still hesitant to get her hopes up about Harry. “That’s different.” Hermione waved impatiently. “Ron’s the only Keeper. There are two other Chasers. Why would Harry postpone practice simply because one of you couldn’t make it?” Ginny shrugged and nibbled on her lip. “He postponed it because of you, Ginny. Because you wouldn’t be able to make it,” Hermione stated. “Come on, Ginny. It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen Harry this happy, which is saying a lot, since we all know how broody he was last year — and I know that a big part of that happiness is because of you, Ginny.” “Yeah, maybe.” Hermione frowned at her lack of enthusiasm. “Why is it so hard to believe that Harry might actually like you back?” “I don’t really know, Hermione. There’s nothing I want more than for him to return my feelings, but after waiting for so long, I’ve become a wee bit cautious in interpreting any hint of affection from him. Sometimes, he’ll be smiling at me in a certain way, and I’ll start thinking that yeah, maybe he does fancy me.” Ginny looked momentarily hopeful, then exhaled noisily. “And then there are those days when he ruffles my hair and treats me like I’m one of the boys.” Hermione nodded in understanding. Boys could be so confusing sometimes. Ginny nibbled on the end of her ponytail. “Besides, I — well, I think that maybe he fancies someone else…” she trailed off glumly. “He does?” Her friend’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Who?” “Parvati.” “Parvati? Parvati Patil?” “Yes, Parvati Patil.” Ginny tried not to roll her eyes. For someone who was supposed to be the brightest witch of her age, Hermione could really be thick sometimes. Maybe she should discourage Hermione from hanging around her brother too much. “You know — long shiny black hair, gorgeous dark eyes, exotic complexion. How many Parvatis do we know?” “Don’t get shirty with me, young lady,” Hermione rebuked in her best prefect voice before her eyes softened. “Whatever gave you the idea that Harry liked Parvati?” “The other night in the common room, Parvati sat down beside Harry on the sofa…” Ginny closed her eyes and recalled the scene by the fireplace. She felt that painful pricking of jealousy in her chest again. “Yes? She was asking about our Transfiguration assignment.” Hermione still looked confused. “Then Neville, Lavender and Seamus came along, and we all had a nice long chat.” Ginny opened her eyes. “Really? But her hand was on Harry’s arm, and she kept giggling.” She moodily stared at the rows of books, plucking absently at the Fwooper feathers of the duster. “And so?” “She was flirting with him, Hermione,” Ginny said in a pained voice. “Parvati flirts with everyone,” the other girl said dismissively. “It’s what she does. Only Lavender can beat her in the flirting department.” “But Harry was flirting back because he was smiling at her.” Ginny scowled. “He was smiling his adorable crooked smile that’s only supposed to be for me,” she added a little petulantly, now pulling out feathers by the handful and savagely throwing them on the floor. “Ginny,” Hermione said patiently, prying the duster gently away from Ginny’s clenched hands and setting it on the table. “Harry was not flirting back. He was merely being the nice, charming young man we know he can be when he’s in a good mood. And he always seems to be in a good mood whenever he’s with you.” Hermione smiled archly. “Besides, it looks to me like Harry’s saving all his crooked smiles and flirting techniques for a certain redheaded girl these days. He seems to be awfully preoccupied with your hair, hmmm?” Ginny felt a smile creeping onto her face. Harry had given several flattering comments about her hair lately. “Maybe he’s thinking of opening a series of beauty salons after defeating You-Know-Who,” she offered impishly. “I can just see it now — ‘Potter’s Perfect Pompadours — now open at a magical location near you!’. Or how about ‘Harry’s Heavenly Hairdos’? Ron can help him run it. He can be in charge of painting nails at the salon.” Hermione promptly burst into giggles. Ginny joined in until tears were streaming down their faces. Their merriment was cut short when they caught sight of Madam Pince stalking past them, her iron-grey hair disheveled and her chest heaving mightily from her earlier exertions. “I’d better get going, Ginny. I’m supposed to see Professor Vector about some Arithmancy equations.” “All right. Thanks again. I’ll see you later.” The other girl waved and headed toward the exit. Ginny bent down to gather her books and her bag but stopped short to stare perplexedly at the scattered Fwooper feathers on the table and on the floor. She picked up the noticeably denuded duster and was wondering how she was going to explain it to the already irate Madam Pince when she was startled by a voice behind her. “All right there, Ginny?” She straightened up to find a pair of green eyes smiling at her. Oh dear sweet Merlin. Ginny gripped the duster tightly and sternly ordered her heart not to pound so loudly. Of course, it ignored her and pounded madly away. Traitor. She tried to think over the roaring in her ears and the twinkle in Harry’s green gaze. “Ginny?” Twinkle, twinkle. Good grief. Twinkling should definitely be made illegal. “Gin?” Harry peered concernedly at her . Taking a deep breath, she managed to say, “Oh. Hello, Harry. What are you doing here?” She was proud to hear that she sounded quite nonchalant. “I thought that I’d be all noble and save you from your detention so we can get to practice early, but Hermione’s just told me that she’s already beaten me to it.” Ginny’s insides gave a pleasurable squirm. Harry had come to the library to help her? Excellent. “Thanks. That’s really nice of you.” “So, are you all done then?” Harry rested his hip against the library table. Ginny tried not to stare too conspicuously at the way Harry’s white shirt pulled tight across his well-toned abdomen, but somehow she knew she was not succeeding. Her eyes must have glazed over because Harry suddenly put his hand on her arm to get her attention. “Erm, Ginny? D’you think we can go to practice now?” She reluctantly dragged her gaze away from Harry’s flat stomach and looked up into his expectant face. “Huh? Oh, yes, yes. Of course,” she said, trying to sound calm and composed. “Why don’t I meet you at the pitch? I need to change into my practice clothes.” “I’ll go with you, yeah? It’s still a bit early, so the others aren’t there yet.” He smiled beguilingly at her. “Oh.” Ginny blinked. She realised she was still clutching the rather bedraggled duster tightly to her chest and she hastily put it behind her back. “All right. Hang on. I’ll go tell Madam Pince I’m finished.” When she came back from informing Madam Pince that she was through with her duties (luckily the librarian was still a little winded from her impromptu pursuit of the other students that she did not seem to notice the state the duster was in), Ginny found that Harry had already taken her rucksack and books and was waiting patiently for her. “Harry, I can carry my books myself,” Ginny protested. “You don’t have to do it just because you showed up late to rescue me from Madam Pince,” she said, half-jokingly. “Nonsense. It would be my pleasure to help you, my lady,” Harry bowed deeply. When he straightened up, he winked mischievously at her before he adjusted her bag more comfortably on his shoulder, leaving Ginny with nothing to do but to fall into step beside him feeling very fluttery and slightly giddy as they exited the library. A/N: Props to Chreechree, my super fantastic ace beta. Hello also to Sovran, who agonized over the hidden meaning of the contents of Ginny's bag from the last chapter. Good one, eh, Dave? And of course, domo arigato gozaimashita to all those who voted for this story in the DSTA. Please keep those reviews coming! |
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