|
||||||||
|
||||||||
Author: Calixa Story: Talk Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 4 Words: 30,925
Part Six Harry spent that night tossing and turning in his bed, listening to the soft snores of Neville and Seamus as he tried to figure out what he was going to do. The things Hermione had told him earlier that day had opened a lot of new questions for him, and he wasn't quite sure where to begin answering them. One thing was clear, however: he was going to have to get Ginny alone and explain to her everything he had come to realise. Eventually, Harry drifted off into an uneasy sleep, but it didn't last long. Morning came not long after, and when Harry awoke, all the other boys had already gone down to breakfast. He was contemplating skiving off lessons when Ron burst into the boys' dormitory, looking triumphant. "Ha! Got him!" "Got who?" asked Harry, sleepily sitting up. "Colin," said Ron, holding out a stack of photos. They fell onto Harry's bed, and he stared at them. The top one was a moving picture of Neville getting hit with a broomstick in the face. Harry winced, feeling slightly more awake, and moved it aside. Despite himself, he was intrigued. Just how many people had Colin photographed? Beneath the picture of Neville was one of Draco Malfoy, stealing a sugar quill from another Slytherin's bag while she was looking in the other direction. Harry felt an intense burst of dislike for Malfoy. "Git," said Ron. Harry grinned, "Look at this one…" Ron squinted at the blurry photo Harry was holding up. His expression became that of amusement when it was clear to him what he was looking at. "That's priceless!" said Ron, grabbing the photo. It was Malfoy again, but this time he was falling down the stairs, having been ambushed by Peeves. Harry had to laugh; it was rather entertaining to watch the blond prat tumble down the steps over and over again. "I'm keeping this," said Ron, "I'm attaching it to the wall - we can use it for a bit of a laugh before bed." Ron ran off in search of his wand which he'd left behind in the common room. Harry snorted, and continued rifling idly through the photos, glad for the distraction. A series of pictures of Ginny caught his eye and he pulled them out, his heart suddenly beating much faster. There was one picture of her posing for the camera, her arms flung out and a big goofy grin on her face, which Harry thought quite endearing, and one of her sitting in the common room, petting Crookshanks and laughing. Harry felt a twinge of loss and tried to recall ever being in Ginny's presence while she was as happy as she looked in these pictures. He couldn't come up with any, he realised with a bit of shock. But that was hardly surprising, once he'd thought about it. When had Harry and Ginny ever truly spent time together? Aside from the occasional exchange of words – which had grown to more frequent chats since Ron and Hermione had been made Prefects - Harry didn't think he'd ever spoken much to Ginny. Prior to this, he hadn't realised how stupid that was. He flicked through the other three pictures of Ginny – evidently she was a favourite subject of Colin's – and noticed that they were vastly different. One had been taken while she had dozed off in front of the fire, curled up on the chair as though she were a cat taking a nap in a beam of sunlight. He fought the urge to hide it under his sheets. The second one made Harry grimace. It was taken yesterday, when Dean had intercepted Harry's attempt to go over and talk to Ginny in the common room. He frowned, noticing something strange about the way Ginny's eyes kept drifting away from Dean's face… and towards a distant corner of the common room… he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, and stared at the last photo. Colin had somehow managed to get the entire common room into view, and he could see himself, brooding in the corner. The astonishing thing was how similar his expression was to Ginny's, and the way they both sat, slightly hunched over, and miserable-looking. It struck him that perhaps what Hermione had said was true – Ginny was just as upset over this as he was. He felt slightly better – not that the thought of Ginny suffering made him happy – and began to feel that maybe there was a resolution for all of this. Ron came striding back into the room, and Harry quickly shoved the photos of Ginny back into the pile. Ron brandished his wand and magically affixed the picture of Malfoy falling down the stairs to the space between his and Harry's bed. Standing back, he prodded it with relish. "Ugh…" said Ron, turning his attention to the other photos. He lifted one of Millicent Bulstrode picking her nose. "I think we've got to destroy some of these…" Harry nodded, holding up one of Seamus spurting blood from a nasty cut on his left hand. "When did this happen?" "Dunno…" said Ron, staring in puzzlement at a photo of someone's pimpled arm. He set it down, disgusted. "Anyway, you'd better get up now. We've got potions this morning." Harry groaned. "Why do we always have double Potions with Slytherin?" "Because Snape wants to torture us," said Ron darkly. "As if seeing his greasy hair wasn't enough to make me want to throw up my breakfast… we've got to spend all morning with the Great Bouncing Ferret too." Harry made a noise between a snort and a groan and lay back on his bed, not wanting to face the long day ahead. "I'll get ready in a bit. You go on." "Right," said Ron, shoveling the pictures into a careless heap and dumping them into his drawer. He moved towards the door, but then paused, and turned back. "By the way…" he asked hesitantly, "Have you spoken to Ginny yet?" "No," Harry replied shortly. "Are you – you know, going to?" "I dunno." "I think you should." "Mmm." "So?" "I'll find a way to get things straight," said Harry, in a tone of voice that he hoped made it clear to Ron that he didn't want to talk about the subject right then. "We're going to be late." "I s'pose." said Ron, shrugging. * Harry was late for Potions, even though he'd practically run to class. "I see you've decided to grace us all with your presence, Potter," said Snape venomously after Harry had burst into the Dungeon, breathless. Ever since Harry had witnessed Snape's memories of his days at Hogwarts last year, the tension between him and the Potions master had only got worse. Harry quietly sat down, reminding himself that taking Snape's bait would only cause him to suffer. He was having a bad enough time as it was with Ginny, detention for no reason on top of that would be unbearable. Snape sneered at Harry's silence in mild satisfaction and turned on his heel to train his gaze on the entire class. "Today we will be brewing the antidote to the Trio of Poisons we brewed last class. I trust you all remember that I have your flagons ready for testing next class – it might be wise not to make silly mistakes today," he moved his gaze over the class, resting briefly on Harry, "as I will be testing the Poisons on several volunteers." Ron coughed to cover his snort and threw Harry a knowing glance. Harry was willing to bet he'd be one of said volunteers, though he had no intention of willingly subjecting himself to being poisoned by Snape. "You will pair off into partners and start immediately. Follow the instructions in your book. Do NOT add the Cuspidata root until I've told you it is time – you may come up and get your root from my desk. " He glared at them all and spurred the class into action by snapping, "Well? What are you waiting for?" Ron and Hermione were paired together, so Harry partnered up with Neville, who looked nervous but grimly determined to do things right. He'd grown a lot more confident over the summer, and was capable of looking Snape in the eye without getting shaky now. Harry was rather impressed – and he tried to give Neville his support whenever he could. "I'll go get the root," said Harry, picking up the dragon hide gloves. "Do you mind setting up?" "Ok, Harry," Neville nodded and conscientiously set about getting his cauldron ready. "If you should be working too slowly – as you brainless lot tend to do – your root will dry out. What you shall do then is come up to this cauldron I have set up in the front of the class and put your pieces in this sieve and dip them into the replenishing potion. The Cuspidata root must be fresh for the potion to perform to its fullest potential." Harry retrieved his root, returned to his bench and began chopping it into small, equally sized pieces. He was almost done when Colin Creevey came bounding into the Dungeon, carrying a large crate in his arms. His camera swung from his neck, clanging against the wooden surface of the crate. Strange bubbling noises issued from within the box. Harry exchanged glances with Ron, who shrugged. "Professor - Sprout – says – Professor Sprout says-" huffed Colin, out of breath. Snape threw him an utterly disdainful look. "Give me the crate," he said impatiently. "Stay here, Creevey, I have a note for you to pass on to Professor Sprout." Colin nodded as Snape took the crate away from him and took it into his office. Colin, taking advantage of Snape's brief absence, took up his camera and was about to snap a picture of Harry - "Colin!" Ron shouted, grabbing the back of his robes. "I thought I told you to stop that!" "Ten points from Gryffindor," said Snape silkily, returning from his office. "Weasley, would you kindly not manhandle Creevey in my classroom? I'm afraid that's not within your duties as a Prefect." Ron glowered at Snape, but released Colin, who looked adamant. "You may go," said Snape. Colin lowered his camera and looked disappointed. Hermione was frowning at Ron, but she wisely held her tongue. Malfoy, sitting a few seats in front of Harry, smirked. Snape turned away and began prowling the class, examining each student's work with such scrutiny that Harry thought his eyes might've popped out to get a closer look. Parvati looked like she would faint if Snape's greasy head of hair came any closer to her cauldron. "Go on, get out of here!" "I'm going!" Ron and Colin were scuffling by the door, and it looked like Colin was putting up a pretty good fight. Harry shook his head, and from the corner of his eye he could see Hermione stirring her cauldron, glaring at Ron and clucking her tongue. "Harry, the root's drying out!" exclaimed Neville in horror. "I'll go fix it," said Harry wearily. He avoided the sneers that the Slytherins, in particular Pansy Parkinson, gave him as he passed. Harry returned to his seat, wondering when this lesson would end. "What are you dawdling here for?" snapped Ron as Harry went by them, cradling his sopping root pieces. Obviously he'd left them in the replenishing potion a bit too long. Frowning, Harry studied the flimsy slices, wondering if this would have an adverse affect on his antidote. He grumbled, knowing Snape was almost definitely going to pick him to poison. "Gerroff me!" Suddenly, there was the sound of struggle and the successive snapping of a camera light and Harry felt an elbow hit the small of his back. He tripped over something lumpy and hit the floor, sprawled on his face. The Cuspidata root flew out of his hands and sprinkled down all around him. Groaning, Harry rubbed his chin and pushed himself up onto his elbows, turning his head to see Ron angrily shoving Colin out of the Dungeon. "Damn," muttered Harry, looking around quickly, checking to see if anyone had seen his blunder. Much to his relief, Snape was still across the room, watching as Malfoy stirred his cauldron, a look of appraisal on his face. Harry hurriedly picked up his Dragon hide gloves and picked up the pieces of Cuspidata root lying on the dungeon floor. Frowning, Harry straightened up. He counted the chopped up pieces in his hands, and swore that there had been a lot more of the shriveled, lumpy grey root on his table just a moment ago… A strange scent filled his nostrils, and Harry looked up at the cauldron behind him warily. Uh oh. The simmering potion was emitting a pale blue smoke that Harry was quite certain wasn't supposed to be there. He gulped. Whose cauldron was that? Dean came up behind Harry, grumbling. " ‘Scuse me," he muttered. "Er-" began Harry, realizing who the unattended cauldron belonged to. "Harry, you're in my way," said Dean, pushing him aside roughly. Harry scowled. He glanced at the bubbling cauldron. It was an accident, anyway, he thought, turning away. Snape walked by, sneered at Harry, who was stirring the smooth blue surface of his potion, and moved on to inspect the work of other students behind them. Neville released a slightly nervous breath and continued grinding the Moonstone into powder. "He's in a bad mood, isn't he?" hissed Ron from his own bench. "Ron, watch how you're grinding that!" snapped Hermione before Harry could reply. "Stop nagging, I'm doing it fine-" "I don't think the book called for lumpy pieces like you've got -" said Hermione irritably, but she was interrupted by a loud bang. The back of the Dungeon had suddenly exploded in a mess of green goop. Neville threw himself over his cauldron, keeping the potion within it safe, and Harry, Ron and Hermione all jumped. "Detention!" Snape roared, spitting in Dean and Seamus' faces. It seemed that their potion had spontaneously combusted. Harry flinched. Neville, on his other side, was staring at Snape with an expression of suppressed terror. "I thought I told you not to add the roots until AFTER the powdered Moonstone paste!" "We didn't!" Dean protested, and Harry thought vaguely that Snape had said nothing of the sort. "Don't lie to me, Thomas!" snarled Snape, wiping goop off his sallow skin. "Ten points from Gryffindor! Potter! Is that Cuspidata root on the floor by your foot?" "Er -" began Harry, looking down with a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Twenty points from Gryffindor!" said Snape, snatching up the root as he walked past, dignified despite the green slime on his face. Harry's mouth fell open at the injustice of it, and he only uttered a few words of protest before Snape deducted more points. Furiously, he turned to Neville, who was feverishly stirring their potion. Snape bellowed some more about incompetence, as Malfoy and his Slytherin friends watched on, laughing amongst themselves. The rest of the class passed in quiet, and when it was time to go everyone ran for the door. Dean rushed past him, cursing Snape bitterly, and Harry felt himself cheering up considerably. "What are you so happy about?" asked Ron gloomily. "I'm sure you got zero on that potion." Harry shrugged cheerfully. "I'm just happy we've got Quidditch practice today." "Yeah, well, you'd better hope Ginny's in a good mood too." * Practice that afternoon went no better than before, but it was no worse, either. Ginny seemed to want to prove that she was perfectly capable of playing Quidditch and remain annoyed with Harry. They still kept a wide berth of space between themselves, and perhaps that was the worst past of the entire arrangement. Harry kept missing the Snitch, keeping his eyes open for Ginny in a feeble attempt to prevent what had happened last time from happening again. It worked, though, seeing as he managed to keep from grabbing any ankles this time… meanwhile, Ginny ignored his fumbles and scored repeatedly against Ron, who seemed a tad put off. Harry was very relieved when practice ended, until Ron held him back and forced him to wait for everyone else to clear out. They walked up to the castle in privacy, Ron taking the opportunity to talk. "Look, Harry, you can't play this way." "Tell me something I don't know," he muttered, poking sorrowfully at a bent twig on his Firebolt, a souvenir of his fall earlier (Ginny had come too close, Harry had panicked, and Jack Sloper had, unfortunately, been in the path of his swerve). Harry wondered if the Broom Servicing Kit Hermione had sent him years ago would be able to fix it… "We're going to lose, Harry," said Ron seriously. "It's just one bent twig…" muttered Harry absently, avoiding Ron's eyes. "I'm not talking about the broom!" said Ron, annoyed, and he yanked it out of Harry's reach. "I'm talking about you and Ginny." "It can't be that bad -" he protested, but he saw the glint of genuine anxiety in Ron's eyes and cut off his sentence. "Fine," he sighed, "You're right. We're going to lose. What are we going to do about it?" "What are you going to do about it?" corrected Ron, raising his eyebrows. "I've never seen you fly into another teammate like that, and let's face it, Harry, Jack Sloper isn't exactly an easy target to miss, either." "It was the sun in my eyes," he said sulkily. "Yeah, sure, whatever," said Ron vaguely. He shot Harry a grim look. "You know, I think this feud has been going on for too long now. When are you going to apologize?" Harry's mouth fell open. "Apologize for what?" "For whatever stupid thing you did." "I didn't do anything stupid, I already told you!" said Harry indignantly. "Besides, if it hadn't been your stupid plan none of this would have happened." "Actually, you never told me what you did do," said Ron dismissively, "but that's beside the point. Have you learned nothing about women?" Oh, that was rich, thought Harry, trying not to snort. This coming from Ron, of all people. "And I suppose you know loads about them." "Well, I know enough to keep from screwing up too badly," said Ron, a hint of sage-like asperity in his voice. "I get a bit off track sometimes," he added reflectively, "but when was the last time me and Hermione argued?" "Last week," said Harry automatically. "Yesterday, if you count the thing with Colin." "Never mind that," snapped Ron, most likely still irritated about the incident in Potions, "I meant a real fight." He had a point there, Harry admitted to himself reluctantly. "You've got to win her over," Ron announced, stopping in his tracks. "See, women have this thing where they think they're always right," he said wisely, "Even when they're wrong." "Huh." "Like Ginny, she thinks this entire thing is your fault, but honestly, I'm on your side here – if she would just take a minute to think, she'd realise you're being really mature about this." Harry hadn't expected to hear that coming from Ron, either, but it didn't hurt. Ron actually sounded like he was going to give good advice for once. Harry paused to listen, thinking maybe his best friend knew what he was talking about after all. I've already heard Hermione's take on this… he thought. Why not? "My guess it that she's doing this on purpose," said Ron, with the air of someone dissecting an enemy's battle stance. "She's trying to bait you. Isn't it obvious? She wants you to give in and apologize. Then she'll have one up on you and you'll never be able to go back." It sort of made sense, thought Harry, a bit skeptically. But Hermione's version had made sense, too. "Trust me," Ron patted Harry on the shoulder, in a very brotherly fashion. "I know Ginny. She's like a more feminine version of the twins. They're smart, you know, they know how to do business. I bet they're behind this, somehow… they probably put it up to her, like an early Christmas present for me or something… really, they just don't get it -" "Ron…" "Anyway, the point is, you should give in." "But you just said -" "I don't care what she says, I know she still fancies you," he said rolling his eyes. Harry missed his step and stumbled. "Huh?" "Girls," said Ron, shaking his head. "So what am I supposed to do?" "Win her over…" "Easy for you to say," said Harry as they rounded the corner and entered the Great Hall. A few people were milling about, but Hermione, who'd promised to meet them there after practice, was no where to be seen. "I've never seen Ginny this upset with me before." "It's simple," said Ron, eyeing the banister. A notice hung there, the scarlet ink of Professor McGonagall's handwriting still fresh and wet. Ron gestured to the sign and added, "Hogsmeade weekend after the match. There's your chance, mate."
|