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Author: cwarbeck Story: Getting Over Harry Potter Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: Completed Reviews: 19 Words: 47,538
She speedily went through her toilette, and now as she stood in front of the small mirror on her nightstand, she decided to wear her favourite hair combs. They were of delicate silver filigree inlaid with iridescent green flowerets, a gift from Charlie last Christmas. Even in the weak early morning light streaming through the window, they shimmered with a muted emerald glow, the flowerets having been made from the scales of a Romanian Longhorn dragon. Casting a quick drying charm with her wand, she chose not to put her hair in a ponytail for once and instead used the combs to sweep her long red tresses up on either side of her face. Normally, she hated the colour of her hair, thinking it was too orangey-red and emphasized all one hundred million of her freckles. She made a face at her reflection, remembering the horrid nicknames that the twins used to call her when she was a little girl, and all the times she had woken up to find that Fred and George had played ‘connect-Ginny’s-freckles-and-try-to-form-the-major-constellations-hey-this-one-looks-like-the-Big-Dipper!’, despite being threatened repeatedly with bodily harm by Mrs. Weasley. But today she thought that her hair was quite all right. It appeared a deep, rich auburn when it caught the sunlight in a certain way. Ginny admired the way the clips sparkled with a bright emerald fire of their own, contrasting nicely with her hair. She loved this colour, this particular shade of green. The fact that she had once commented to Hermione that they exactly matched the colour of Harry’s eyes completely escaped her. “Oh, you do look lovely, dearie,” the mirror said approvingly when, with one final flick of her wand, Ginny’s hair arranged itself in gentle curls about her shoulders. “Thanks!” Ginny felt her confidence rise, and she skipped merrily down the stairs. She spied Neville Longbottom on his way out of the common room. She greeted the round-faced boy enthusiastically. “Hullo, Neville!” “Good morning, Ginny.” Neville smiled at her. “You’re in a good mood. You look nice today.” “Why, thank you, kind sir. You say the most thoughtful things.” She linked her arm through his, and they started strolling in the direction of the portrait hole. “Are you on your way to breakfast, then?” “Yes, I am.” The sixth-year boy’s cheeks turned pink and he gave her a bashful smile. “Would you like to go with me?” Ginny patted his arm in a friendly fashion. “Yes, please. It’s been ages since we’ve caught up with each other, Neville. O.W.L.s have been taking up too much of my time. What’s up with you? How’s your Gran?” She chatted amiably with him about his grandmother, Herbology and his toad Trevor (who was currently lurking in a windowsill, nervously looking down on a beady-eyed Crookshanks). As she walked down the stairs with Neville, Ginny sized him up as a potential candidate to replace Harry in her heart. She liked Neville well enough and thought that he had a lot of traits that she found attractive: he was smart, honest, loyal… but he lacked one quality that was important to her – he was not into Quidditch. She knew that, in her eyes, Neville would only remain a good friend. They entered the Great Hall, and Ginny noted that not many people had come down to breakfast yet. More than half of the long Gryffindor table was empty, including the seats where Harry, Hermione and her brother usually sat. Ginny spied Colin waving at her. “Ginny! Hey, Ginny! I saved you a seat!” He pointed eagerly at the space right beside him. She waved back and headed towards him. She sat down beside the small blond boy, with Neville on her other side. “Hey, Colin. Did you get any homework done last night? I didn’t see you in the common room.” “Just a little bit. I was busy trying to get Dennis’ eyebrows back to their normal colour.” Colin nodded toward his brother who was sitting in front of them, busily chewing on a piece of toast. The younger Creevey grinned at Ginny through a mouthful of bread. One of his eyebrows was still an outrageous shade of magenta. “I think we’ll have to ask for Professor McGonagall’s help, or maybe Professor Flitwick. What do you think, Ginny? By the way, your hair looks really pretty today. Here, have some.” Without pausing for breath, Colin handed her the jam pot and proceeded to chatter away at his brother about the possible charms that they could try to restore Dennis’ appearance. Shaking her head at the uncanny way Colin could manage to talk, breathe and eat at the same time, Ginny spread some blackcurrant jam on her toast. Savouring the tangy flavour, she watched Colin touch his brother’s face with his wand, succeeding in transforming the normal eyebrow back to the unnatural magenta hue, as well as making Dennis’ hair an unflattering electric blue. Instead of getting angry, however, Dennis shouted, “Cool!” when he caught sight of his appearance in the back of a spoon. “I need to get a picture of this to send to Dad!” Colin jumped up and rummaged through his bag, bringing out his ever-present camera. Ginny took in Colin’s pale face as he began taking pictures of his brother’s odd appearance. Colin was all right, Ginny supposed. He was a good friend and had a sense of humour, even if it was a little quirky at times. But was he boyfriend material? Her speculative gaze lingered on his wavy blond hair. That settled it. Colin had the wrong hair colour. Ginny could not quite put her finger on it, but for some reason, she preferred dark-haired boys. Sighing inwardly, she mentally scratched off another name on her list. She did not even consider Dennis Creevey. Not only was he younger than her and also had the wrong hair colour, she simply could not fathom going out with blokes who were even shorter than she was. Dennis only came up to her chin. Ginny could just picture it now – she would be leaning in for a passionate kiss after a date with him… … and she would look down to find him clambering up on a stool just so he could reach her lips to snog her. Not her idea of a romantic interlude. Salazar Slytherin’s shiny snakeskin boots! Ginny sipped her pumpkin juice morosely. She was not even halfway through breakfast, and she had already eliminated two boys from her list of fanciable blokes. At this rate, she would run out of boys by the time lunch rolled around. Ginny glumly ate a spoonful of cereal and listened with one ear as Neville began telling her about the latest article in Herbology Today, something that had to do with the discovery of a rare species of Flutterby bushes in South America. Her attention was caught by the sight of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan entering the Hall. Dean smiled at her as he sat down, and to Ginny’s amusement, Seamus gave her another one of his winks. The Irish boy obviously thought he was being a bit of a charmer. She looked thoughtfully at them. Seamus was obviously not going to pass muster, seeing that he had sandy-coloured hair. Besides, Ginny knew that the Irish boy fancied himself as some sort of a ladies’ man, which had become a sort of running joke with the girls at Gryffindor Tower. Dean, however, had potential. Ginny took furtive peeks at the black-haired boy as he talked animatedly with Seamus. Dean was tall, dark and quite good-looking, plus he liked Quidditch almost as much as his beloved Muggle West Ham football team. From the couple of times that she had talked to him, she knew that Dean could be quite funny if he wanted to be. Ginny was getting quite worked up – yes, Dean Thomas definitely had possibilities. She could work around the fact that he had dark brown eyes – after all, she was not picky about that. Ginny was happily contemplating how she could manage to get to know Dean better when she spotted her brother and Hermione coming in through the doors of the Great Hall. Steeling herself for the inevitable sight of Harry following behind them, she was a little surprised when he did not make an immediate appearance. Hermione and Ron settled themselves on opposite sides of the table and began eating breakfast. Hermione gave her a friendly wave which Ginny returned. Glancing back at the entrance, Ginny waited to see Harry walk into the room. When he failed to do so, she became apprehensive. Where is he? Could he be sick? Ginny felt a cold prickle of fear run down her neck. Had Harry finally gone to confront Voldemort? But he would not have done so without informing anyone, especially his two best friends, who appeared to be acting normally. Ron was calmly wolfing down rashers and toast while Hermione absentmindedly added milk to her cereal with a wave of her wand, a thick book inevitably propped open against a pitcher of pumpkin juice. Telling herself that she just needed to know because she was still Harry’s friend and was only concerned for his welfare, Ginny was already standing up to ask Hermione where he was, when, as if the thought had summoned him, Harry entered the dining hall. Cursing herself for being so easily affected by Harry’s absence yet again, Ginny casually sat down and ducked her head, pretending to be looking for something in her bag, hoping that no one had noticed that she had been halfway out of her seat. Luckily, it seemed that Harry had been hailed by Ron, and he dropped into the empty space beside his best friend, who was already on his fifth helping of bacon and on his second bowl of cereal. Ginny took a peek at Harry through her hair, absently noting how handsome and cheerful he appeared to be today, but when she noticed him looking around as if he was searching for someone, she averted her gaze right before his head swivelled in her direction and she forced herself to listen intently to Neville, who was now expounding on the differences between the male and female species of Flutterby plants. Apparently, there were none, as South American Flutterby plants were all asexual and only managed to spawn new Flutterby plants when someone sneaked up behind them and whacked them with a croquet mallet. As croquet was not a popular sport in South America, it was no wonder that this species were in danger of extinction. He’s probably looking for Parvati, she thought cynically, since the Indian girl had not come down to breakfast yet. She sighed deeply and pushed her now-soggy cereal away. She really needed to focus on her mission about finding someone else to like. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she stood up and said good-bye to Neville, who faltered in mid-explanation and gave her a disconcerted smile. Colin stopped taking pictures of his blue-haired brother and speedily picked up his bag. “Are we going already then?” he asked as he trailed behind Ginny. He waved to Dennis and Neville. “Yeah, we don’t want to be late for Charms. Professor Flitwick said that he was going to teach us some new Cheering Charms today,” Ginny replied unenthusiastically, turning and missing the little wave that Harry gave her, and the small frown that creased his brow as he stared after her retreating form. Colin promptly launched into a convoluted and highly improbable story about a Cheering Charm gone horribly wrong which Ginny automatically tuned out. As she walked past Seamus and Dean, she was a bit dismayed to overhear them making plans to go to the next Hogsmeade visit with some fifth-year Ravenclaw girls. Dean was boasting that he had made a reservation at Madam Puddifoot’s. Well, so much for my plan to get to know Dean better. Maybe I should look for someone outside Gryffindor, Ginny thought glumly, as she manoeuvred her way out of the Great Hall, almost bumping into Parvati and Lavender, who were giggling softly to each other as they made a beeline for Seamus and Dean. She was quite unaware of the pair of green eyes intently watching her every move, and the disappointed sigh that escaped from Harry’s lips as she left the room. Ginny spent the rest of the day stealthily checking out the male population of Hogwarts. To her frustration, every single boy seemed to be missing one or two vital traits that she wanted in her ideal man. At the end of her classes she retired to the library, where she had decided to hide away to avoid being asked again by Hermione to join their study group in the common room. She was starting to lose hope of ever finding someone else to fancy. Maybe she was being too demanding. She brought out her list of ways to get over Harry and was about to read it again when she heard someone walking towards her. She shoved the list back into her bag and looked up to see Luna Lovegood walking towards her table, her wand stuck behind one ear and her nose buried in a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. “Daddy always said that this was incomplete.” Not taking her eyes off the book, Luna wandered over to take a seat beside Ginny. “It doesn’t mention the Manananggal, which is the half-woman, half-bat found in some countries in Southeast Asia. They like to eat unborn babies, you know. They suck them out with their straw-like tongue.” She stared gravely at Ginny, as if expecting her to refute her outlandish statement. “Hullo, Ginny. What are you doing here by yourself?” Ginny had to smile at her eccentric friend. Luna really was something. “Hi, Luna. Just wanted to be alone for a while. You know, so I can actually get some work done.” “Really? I thought that you would be with Harry,” Luna said, sticking her wand into the book to mark her place. “What? Why would I be with Harry?” Ginny asked, surprised. “Oh, well, I saw him in the corridor this afternoon and he stopped to ask me if I knew where you might be,” replied Luna. “He did?” “Yes, he seemed a bit put out when I said that I had not seen you all day.” Luna smiled serenely at her. “He said that he had not seen you all day either. Are you hiding from him?” Ginny bit her lip, then decided to take Luna into her confidence. She knew that Luna had an uncanny way of putting things into perspective. Maybe she could help. “Sort of. Luna, you do know that I like Harry, don’t you?” Luna nodded solemnly, causing her radish earrings to sway madly. “Of course you do,” she said matter-of-factly. “Everyone in Hogwarts knows that.” Ginny cringed at the blunt statement. “Um. Well, I’ve decided that I don’t want to anymore.” “Oh, that’s too bad. You two would make a lovely couple.” Luna favoured her with one of her misty smiles. “Are you planning to like someone else then?” Ginny nodded. “Yeah, but I can’t seem to find anyone else to fancy,” she complained. “There isn’t any one who’s my type at all.” “What sort of boy are you looking for?” Luna asked, picking up her wand from where it was marking her book and lodging it behind her ear again. Fishing about in her robes, she eventually produced a crumpled piece of parchment. Luna smoothed it out, and Ginny saw it was a recipe for Gurdyroot-pumpkin pudding. As Ginny looked on bemusedly, Luna took out an acid green quill from her other pocket and carefully set it over the reverse side of the recipe, which was blank. The quill hovered gently over the parchment, twitching occasionally. “Er, Luna,” Ginny asked hesitantly. “Forgive me for asking, but what are you doing?” “I’m going to write down the qualities you’re looking for in a boy with this Steno-Quill that Daddy gave me. Daddy says it’s always a good idea to write things down to put them in perspective,” Luna said earnestly. “That’s how Daddy and I were able to deduce that the Flesh Eating Slugworts of Ipo-Ipo Island are very seriously misunderstood creatures. They’re really vegetarians and not into eating flesh at all, you know.” Ginny stared at Luna, who gazed calmly back at her with her slightly disturbing, unblinking blue eyes. Making a list of what she liked in boys did not seem as mad as some of Luna’s other ideas. “All right then,” she acquiesced. “Just make sure that list doesn’t fall in the wrong hands, okay?” “Of course. Now, please state your name and age for the quill, please,” Luna said briskly, sounding very professional all of a sudden. “Oh, erm. Ginny Weasley,” Ginny replied, startled. “House and hair colour?” “Huh? Oh, Gryffindor and um, my hair is red – no, wait,” Ginny paused, “my hair is auburn,” she corrected, thinking that ‘auburn’ sounded more glamorous than plain old garish ‘red’. “All right. Now, what are the qualities that you are looking for in a boy, Ginny?” Ginny sat back and thought for a while, her fingers tapping on the table as she started speaking. “Well, he should be handsome – obviously.” “Obviously,” Luna repeated solemnly. The Steno-Quill began moving and wrote out: Miss Ginny Weasley, a striking young redhead of Gryffindor House, is currently looking for her ideal man. Miss Weasley has confessed to liking boys who are devilishly handsome. Ginny squinted at the parchment and let out a dismayed yelp. “Luna, this is something that Rita Skeeter cow might write!” “Well, yes, that’s because all the reporters at The Quibbler, the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly use them.” Luna looked puzzled. “Is there something wrong?” Ginny thought about protesting that the Steno-Quill was being a tad over-inventive, but then she shrugged. It was not as if anybody else was going to read this anyway. “No, there’s nothing wrong, Luna,” she said, deciding to go along for the ride. “All right, this devilishly handsome bloke should also be tall,” Ginny continued, thinking of Dennis Creevey’s lack of stature once again. “At least taller than me anyway. No midgets please.” “Right, no midgets,” Luna echoed dreamily, while the quill dutifully scratched out: Being on the petite side, it is understandable that Miss Weasley would desire that her ideal man be tall and rangy, in order for her to feel cherished and protected in his manly arms. “He should be at least as old as I am. And he should love Quidditch as much as I do,” Ginny said emphatically, now enjoying the sheer ridiculousness of what the quill was churning out. It was almost like she was reading one of those trashy romance novels her mum was always sighing over and that Hermione sometimes read in the common room when she thought that no one was looking. “It would be even better if he could be a fantastic Quidditch player and fly rings around the competition.” An exceptional Quidditch player herself, any man worthy of Miss Weasley’s affections should be prepared to dazzle her with his maturity and his brilliant Quidditch skills. Luna smiled encouragingly, and Ginny continued to rattle off qualities which she found attractive in boys, the quill scribbling furiously between them. “He should have a good sense of humour, and he ought to be able to get along with my idiot brothers and pass my parents’ standards.” One must also be able match wits with the gregarious redhead, as well as be brave enough to face the fact that Miss Weasley has several siblings, all of them fine, strapping young lads. It goes without saying, also, that potential suitors should pass the strict standards set by her parents, who are understandably protective of their treasured daughter. Ginny was becoming quite worked up, and the quill became more eloquent with each word that she uttered. “He should be brave and noble and be willing to rescue me from any danger. And he should be fiercely loyal to his friends and family,” she finished, her voice ringing in the quiet library. But in the end, Miss Weasley confesses that she is looking for a hero, someone who will sweep her off her feet with his bravery, nobility and his innate sense of duty to rescue those unfortunate souls who have foolishly wandered into the paths of danger. Only to this paragon of virtue and loyalty will Miss Weasley surrender her closely guarded heart. The Ravenclaw girl picked up the parchment. “So, all you have to do is find someone who is,” she tilted her head to one side, her wand threatening to fall off from its precarious position behind her ear and read out, “tall and handsome–” “Oh Merlin, yes.” “– plays Quidditch brilliantly –” “Rings around the competition.” “– funny –” “Hilarious.” “– noble and brave –” “Uh-huh.” “– and gets along spectacularly with your family, right?” Luna concluded. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” Ginny agreed. “Oh that’s lovely, then. Your problem’s solved.” “It is?” “Yes, I think you’ve already found your ideal boy.” Luna handed the list to her and rose from the table. “I have?” Ginny said, taken aback. “Oh, yes,” Luna rose from the table. “But, who are we talk–” Ginny started to ask, then closed her mouth with a snap and goggled after her slightly dotty but apparently highly astute friend. “Lovely hair clips, Ginny. How did you get them to match Harry’s eyes?” Luna called out over her shoulder as she floated out of the library. Ginny stared unseeingly at the surface of the table, which was covered with graffiti, testimony to the endless number of students who had come and gone before her, scratching out their initials and pithy messages such as “A.P.W.B.D. is cute, and humble to boot!” and over in one corner, “S.S. sux doxy eggs – BIG time”. Sighing deeply, Ginny thought about what she had been doing the whole day and winced. Ginny vowed that she did not need to find someone else to like just so she could put her feelings for Harry behind her. She certainly did not need a boy – not even Harry – just to be happy. She was fine on her own. She firmly quashed the niggling voice in her head that was making derisive snorting noises at her declarations. If she ended up a spinster like her Great-Aunt Muriel, who spent a great deal of her time going back and forth between her homes in the Isles and the Antipodes, then so be it. There were worse ways to live out the rest of your life – being a single, world-travelling witch of independent means was surely not one of them. She just hoped that she did not wind up having chronic halitosis like Auntie Muriel. *
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