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Author: cwarbeck Story: Getting Over Harry Potter Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: Completed Reviews: 16 Words: 47,538
A/N: Hullo. Just wanted to remind my lovely readers that the story is from Ginny's POV, and as such, events are coloured by her perspective. Things may get a wee bit angsty in this chapter, but what's a teenage romance story without angst? LOL. Thanks to everyone who's been kind enough to leave reviews, and of course thanks to Chreechree and Sherry, for tidying this up for me. By the third day of her plan to get over Harry, Ginny was just about ready to give up. It seemed that she was fighting a losing battle, and she was beginning to wonder why she thought she could have ever succeeded. She had assumed that, with the heavy workload of her O.W.L. year, she would be sufficiently distracted to even think about him. The morning had been quite all right. Her morning lessons were sufficiently hectic enough that she barely even remembered her own name. She was too busy making up predictions for Professor Trelawney – who kept asking her in front of the whole class if she had worked out her romantic problems yet, much to Ginny's annoyance – to remember that Harry had been the one to inform her that the teacher would believe any predictions as long as they were dire enough. He had told her this as he walked her to the Divination Tower after breakfast that morning. She could even shove the image of Harry laughing uproariously at her funny story about the lion, the witch and the Kneazle, his eyes crinkling up in that maddeningly gorgeous way of his, far into the recesses of her subconscious as she listened to Professor McGonagall explain the principles of human Transfiguration and the rather nasty accidents that could result when one did not perform the complicated task properly. "I cannot stress the importance of absolute concentration and attention to detail," the Deputy Headmistress said emphatically as she walked around the Transfiguration classroom, her tartan robes sweeping behind her. "I need not recount to you the unfortunate fate that befell the wizard Angus 'Porky' Porcinus, who, while attempting to Transfigure himself into a potbellied pig, became distracted by a small grease fire that had broken out in his kitchen." Professor McGonagall rapped sharply on Colin's desk, startling the boy who was making his quill perform a lively step-dancing routine across his textbook. "Needless to say, the end result of that botched-up Transfiguration was... unpleasant," McGonagall grimaced, "and sadly, irreversible. As a consequence of that unhappy catastrophe, Mr. Porcinus spent the rest of his days in seclusion at his cottage in the Scottish Highlands, rooting around for vegetables in his backyard, until he met his untimely end by eating a bad rutabaga." Afternoon lessons were tolerable as well. In Herbology, for example, Ginny was far too preoccupied in avoiding the amorous feelers of the teething Venomous Tentacula in Greenhouse Three as it tried to take a bite out of her shoulder to reflect on the way Harry's Quidditch uniform fit his body perfectly, accentuating the developing muscles on his once scrawny body. Furthermore, during Care of Magical Creatures, Ginny had to make sure that Hagrid's newest beasts – Fire Crabs – did not burn her eyebrows off and wrench her arm out of its socket as she attempted to walk them. After the initial whispers of awe at the beautiful jewelled shells, some of the more excited fifth years had rushed at the creatures, causing the Fire Crabs to suddenly shoot flames from their rear ends, sending most of the rattled class running every which way. Soon the pumpkin patch was overrun by shrieking students as they scurried and scrambled over each other to avoid the bright green flames. "C'mon, all of yeh, don' be frightened. Yeh jus' have ter be patient wit' 'em! They're only flaming 'cos they think they're being attacked. They're really quite gentle-like! Harmless like babies even!" Hagrid bellowed at the panicking students. Ginny concentrated on holding on for dear life as the tortoise-like creatures ran amuck through the pumpkin patch, trampling and destroying the gigantic pumpkins, so she did not have time to dwell on the way Harry's face took on a striking expression of complete determination as he searched for the Golden Snitch during practice sessions. Yes, her lessons kept her busy enough so that she did not think about Harry Potter at all. Well, not that much anyway. It was in the evening when Ginny had the hardest time holding on to her resolve. She staunchly vowed to study for her O.W.L.s either with her classmates or by herself, and refuse Hermione's offer for her to join them at their spot near the fireplace; she did not want to be derailed even further from her self-imposed campaign. This particular evening, she decided to skip dinner and after her Astronomy class was cancelled because Professor Sinistra had somehow got a mild concussion when one of the school telescopes punched her in the face (Ginny had the uncomfortable feeling that Fred and George had something to do with this), she had made a cosy space for herself in a small, enclosed alcove in the common room by the time Harry, Ron and Hermione had trooped in after dinner. The trio settled themselves at their usual places. Hermione sat in the straight-backed chair, her books and parchments spread neatly around her. Ron sprawled lazily on his stomach upon the hearthrug in front of the fireplace, reading his Quidditch magazine to pass the time until Hermione finished her homework so he could copy it from her. Harry settled in the small loveseat, his feet propped up on the small table in front of him. A book was open on his lap, but he was not paying attention to it yet. He seemed to be waiting for something. Hermione glanced around the room and soon found Ginny in her little hiding place. Ginny pretended not to notice her and resolutely continued to fill in her star chart, plotting the coordinates of Betelgeuse and Vega for her Astronomy homework. A thoroughly and uncharacteristically naughty expression on her face, the brunette loudly called out, "Hello, Ginny. Why don't you come over and join us over here?" If Ginny had not known that it was downright impossible, she would have sworn that the light of unholy glee was present in Hermione's brown eyes when she beckoned Ginny over. Harry's head swivelled around to look at her, and his face lit up with a smile. "I think I'll stay here, thanks. I've already got all my books out," Ginny declared, determined to say no this time. She pointed to the scattered notes and books surrounding her while staring daggers at a happily smirking Hermione. "It'll be too much trouble to move to your table." "Oh, come on, Ginny," Harry said in a low, throaty voice that somehow carried across the room and raised the little hairs all over Ginny's arms and at the back of her neck. "You can study with us. You look lonely over there by yourself. I'll help you with your books. Plus, I – erm, I mean – we missed you at dinner. Aren't you hungry?" He sauntered over to her corner, scooped up her texts effortlessly and patiently waited until Ginny had no choice but to stand up and make her way to sit in the only available space – the loveseat where Harry had been sitting, right in front of a smirking Hermione. Ron nodded at her as he read an article about how the Chudley Cannons were definitely going to have a turnaround in fortunes this season. Harry took his seat beside her and offered Ginny a ham and cheese sandwich carefully wrapped in a serviette that he retrieved from his bag. "Thanks, Harry," she said in grateful surprise. He was such a thoughtful boy. How was she supposed to get over him when he was such a thoughtful boy? "No problem, Ginny. I thought you'd be hungry," he acknowledged, and they spent the rest of the night in relatively quiet study, only occasionally broken by Ron's loud snoring when he fell into a light doze, his head pillowed on Hermione's bag. Ron woke up with a grunt when Hermione prodded him with her foot and pointedly handed him his Potions textbook. It was a miracle that Ginny actually got any revising done, so distracted was she by the way Harry occasionally ran a hand over his perpetually tousled black hair, making it stick up even more in the back. It had got a little longer over the term, but it still suited him. Helga Hufflepuff's furry pink bathroom slippers! Even his hair is bloody sexy, Ginny groaned, her fingers itching to smooth back Harry's fringe from his forehead. "Hmm? What was that, Ginny?" Harry asked, turning to look at her. Ginny froze in mortification. Oh, bugger. Had she actually spoken her thoughts out loud? She glanced at Hermione, who was still bent studiously over her parchment, writing copious notes in her small, meticulous handwriting. Ron had fallen asleep once more, his cheek resting on page two hundred eleven, which listed the ingredients needed for a simple Sleeping Draught. Harry gazed inquisitively at her as his hands idly played his quill. "Erm – I – um – I said – heh – I said that I was – um – bloody sleepy." Ginny faked a big yawn and made a great show of stretching and rubbing at her eyes in what she hoped was a convincing fashion. "I'm absolutely knackered from dodging that ruddy Venomous Tentacula in Herbology. It tried to bite me on the neck when I turned my back on it." Ginny faltered in mid-stretch when she realized that Harry was staring at her intently. He really was sitting much to close to her. "Oh, but I bet it couldn't help itself," Harry said in that same husky tone that sent shivers down Ginny's spine. "After all, it's such a lovely neck, yeah?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her. Ginny felt the colour flooding her cheeks. Was Harry actually flirting with her? Impossible. Harry Potter simply did not flirt – it was practically against the laws of nature. But Ginny came to the startling realization that after being a bit broody last year, nowadays, Harry almost seemed to be in constant high spirits. He almost seemed to be – for lack of a better word – happy. Ginny opted to make light of his comment, in order to hide how affected she was with Harry's light-hearted banter. "I'm glad you think so, Harry," she said primly as Harry continued to grin impertinently at her. After a few more seconds of gazing at Harry in bewilderment, Ginny decided that it was time to make her escape, while she still had her sanity and her dignity. From the way her lips kept trying to pucker up, she had a feeling that she would shortly be embarrassing herself by swooping down on a shocked Harry to give him a passionate kiss. Biting down firmly on her lower lip, Ginny gathered her books and put them in her rucksack. "Well, I reckon it's time I get to bed now. Good night, Harry." "Good night, Ginny. Sweet dreams," Harry cheerily waved one hand and aimed another devastating, lopsided grin at her. Hermione finally looked up and smiled, raising her eyebrows expressively. Ginny rolled her eyes and wryly bid her good night also. She was halfway across the room when she saw Parvati Patil stroll over to the group. She watched surreptitiously as Harry greeted his former Yule Ball partner affably and made room for her on the loveseat. Curious as to why the lovely Indian girl had unexpectedly approached him, Ginny let one of her books fall to the ground, and she hunched down to pick it up, straining her ears to pick up the dialogue between Harry and Parvati. A soft giggle came from Parvati, and Ginny turned her head to see her beaming up at Harry as she playfully slapped his arm. In turn, Harry was giving Parvati a crooked grin which, up to this minute, Ginny had thought was reserved for her alone. Parvati continued to talk animatedly with Harry, who seemed to be enjoying his chat with the comely girl. Ginny could not help but be envious. She was really beautiful with those dark doe eyes and striking colouring. It would come as no surprise if Harry liked Parvati. He seemed to go for the exotic types, and Ginny realized with a pang that her own complexion was about as un-exotic as it could get. A sharp stab of jealousy made the book slip through Ginny's suddenly nerveless fingers with a loud thud. She could feel Harry looking in her direction, but she let her long hair fall forward to hide her face, so that he would not see the sudden tears that had sprung into her eyes. She picked up the book, straightened up and marched purposefully to her dormitory, not bothering to hear any more of Harry's conversation with Parvati. If he was going to flirt with his classmate, she did not want to know about it. It was none of her business. Ginny took a long, hot shower, letting the spray ease out the tension in her body. She changed into her favourite green nightdress (the one with Snitches on it) and the mismatched socks she had nicked from Harry's trunk when he had stayed over The Burrow that summer, brushed her teeth and then slowly climbed into her bed, feeling miserable and hating herself for it. She wanted to get angry at Harry, but she knew that he had not done anything wrong. He was perfectly free to go out with whomever he wanted. Just like she was perfectly free to go out with whomever she wanted. The problem was that the only boy she wanted to be with only saw her as a friend. You're so pathetic, Ginny Weasley. Stop dawdling in the train station of unrequited love and pull yourself together! Her wavering resolve to get over Harry abruptly came back in full force. She sat up and decided that it was time to add to her parchment: Number 4 –Start Noticing That There Are Other Boys Aside from Harry Bloody Potter Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would try her darnedest to start looking at other boys. Surely in a castle full of students, half of them of the male persuasion, there must be some fairly attractive bloke out there to whom she could transfer her affections. For a moment, she despaired as she thought of her own definitely dull complexion – pale freckly skin, boring brown eyes and flaming red hair, but she shrugged it off. So what if Harry went for the exotic types? After all, Michael Corner had once thought she was pretty. She tried to remember why she had broken up with Michael in the first place. He had not been a bad boyfriend; he was smart, had a great sense of humour, and was handsome too – tall and muscular, with dark hair and those piercing green eyes. Ginny frowned. Did Michael have green eyes? Oh wait, right. They had been blue. Blue, the colour of his House, Ravenclaw. The same House where his current girlfriend, Cho Chang – otherwise known as the human hosepipe – also happened to reside. Now I remember why we broke up. He was a right sore loser. Ginny fumed as she thought about how Michael had berated her when she had snatched the Snitch from Cho during the last Gryffindor-Ravenclaw Quidditch match. The nerve of him! She sighed in frustration as she lay down on her pillow again, staring blankly at the ceiling. A sudden idea came to her, and she leaned over the side of her bed, rummaging in her bag for a quill and a fresh piece of parchment. She was going to list the qualities that she found attractive in a boy who was not Harry Potter. Thirty minutes later, she was still staring at a blank piece of parchment. Deciding that she was probably too worked up over Harry talking with Parvati, she gave up and Banished her quill and parchment, plumped her pillow just the way she liked it, and gradually fell asleep. *
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