CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Mixed Emotions

9 October 1995

That Umbridge woman is an absolute cow! Someone told her about our little get together at the Hog’s Head, how else could she have come up with such an appropriate decree?

She’s effectively banned any teams or groups at Hogwarts that don’t have the express permission of the Hogwarts High Inquisitor. As if she’d give us permission to start a Defense group! For pity’s sake, she’s balking at letting the Gryffindor Quidditch team regroup!

She’s plastered her decrees all over the castle. Michael says there’s one on the Ravenclaw notice board as well.

And speaking of Michael . . .he went into a full-fledged rant over Umbridge that left me rather speechless. God, I’d never seen him so impassioned! Downright sexy is what it was. His blue eyes were flashing, and he took me by the shoulders, driving home what he said I suppose. Anyway, I couldn’t help myself, I kissed him — right there — in the middle of the hallway.

Well, I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t for him to pull away so abruptly and look at me as if I were some sort of bizarre insect he’d never seen before.

"Not in the hallway, Ginny!" he hissed, looking around him wildly as if afraid we might have been seen. We had of course, the hall was packed with students. Cho and her curly haired friend were passing, and the look she gave Michael was one of cool amusement.

Needless to say, I was a bit put out. I mean, he can drag me off into broom cupboards, but I can’t give him a quick kiss in the hallway? I just don’t understand it. I mean, it wasn’t as if any teachers were around. Kids snog in the hallway all the time. Was he embarrassed of being seen with me? Or could it be he was embarrassed to be seen being kissed instead of doing the kissing? That sounds more likely, but it still doesn’t leave a very good taste in my mouth.

11 October 1995

Well, I’d say that the first meeting of Dumbledore’s Army was a smashing success! Hermione was right of course, electing Harry as leader does give him a sort of authority (damn Cho and her breathy voice! Every time she speaks Harry’s stomach does flip-flops. I tell you, the boy’s gone down several notches in my opinion. Is this what he wants? Breathy admiration? "Harry’s leader", honestly!)

I couldn’t resist one-upping her when Cho recommended the Defense Association as a name for our group. Calling it the D.A. is a good idea, that way nobody knows what we’re talking about, but I couldn’t let it go, I just couldn’t! Besides, you have to admit the name Dumbledore’s Army does have a sort of ring to it, doesn’t it?

We practiced the Expelliarmus charm for most of the lesson. I was surprised that so many people had trouble with it. I mean, I’m used to being able to do a Charm or Spell the first time around (thanks Tom!), but Expelliarmus is a rather elementary charm. We learned it first year but lots of people were having problems with it. Probably because we never get to really practice it — I remember that night that Lockhart put Harry and Draco together, what a mess!

This was much better. Harry went around correcting people’s grips and pronunciation. He’s a born teacher, really, it comes naturally to him. He knows how to get people to do better without making them feel bad about their performance, and he’s not afraid to actually demonstrate how to do something.

I couldn’t help being proud of him, I really couldn’t. The warm glow was quenched quite unexpectedly by the thrill that went through him when Cho said he made her nervous. Honestly!

4 November 1995

I should have done something! I should have intervened! Shit, it’s not my fault though, how the hell was I supposed to know that he’d go and punch Malfoy! I keep seeing the whole thing over and over in my head:

Harry catching the Snitch. Harry lifting his hand with the snitch in it. The crowd going wild. Harry falling headfirst off his broom as Crabbe hits that Bludger square into the small of his back. Harry and Draco yelling. Then, out of nowhere, Harry and George tackling Malfoy while the rest of the team restrains a struggling Fred.

I could feel Harry’s annoyance with Draco, I could hear what Draco was saying, I knew that Harry was ticked off, but I had no idea Harry was going to loose it like that! NO IDEA. He just — ERRUPTED!

The fury that surged through him, good god, I never knew that anyone could feel that much hatred and not explode! It took me so much by surprise that I just stood there, gaping like a fish out of water while Harry and George laid the groundwork for both themselves and Fred (I have yet to figure out Umbridge’s reasoning for that decision, Fred wasn’t even there for Pity’s sakes!) getting banned from Quidditch!

Banned from Quidditch? Ever again? Can she do that? Is that legal? I would think that a decision to give someone a lifetime ban would have to come from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. And what’s with confiscating their brooms? She didn’t ban them from flying on broomsticks, just from playing Quidditch. Weirdness. She’s like, psychotic or something.

I stayed up as long as I could, Hermione and I giving Harry morale support. Ron was nowhere to be found. In fact, no one had seen him since the game. He showed up after I finally went to bed and then, just as I was starting to drift off to sleep the three of them traipsed down to Hagrid’s.

I woke up in a hurry, let me tell you, when I found out that Hagrid was back. I would have gone down myself if I’d had the means. I should have known that Hagrid was off on some sort of harebrained mission. Recruiting the giants? Honestly! That story he told was absolutely chilling story he told. But it still doesn’t explain why he took so long getting home.

Why am I not surprised that Umbridge has been keeping an eye out for Hagrid? I mean, we all know that she has a thing against half-breeds, but to show up at his house after midnight? To just barge in and start looking around his premises? That is just plain rude! Umbridge has absolutely no tact. What the devil is she playing at anyway, setting herself up as a sort of god here at Hogwarts? Shit, give her till the end of the school year and no one will be able to do so much as sneeze without her by-your leave!

6 November 1995

Thestrals! Hagrid showed the fifth years Thestrals! I bet you anything we don’t get anything that cool tomorrow! We’ll get Knarls or something equally boring, just wait and see!

It was the most bizarre thing — to see the through Harry’s eyes, but to not really see them. I could see what he was seeing, but without any sort of substance — which would be explained by the fact that I’ve never seen anyone die. I knew what he was seeing though, and it was enough to make me stop dead in the middle of Charms class, which meant that the cushion I’d been banishing just kept soaring — right out the classroom door and down the hall. I got reprimanded severely by Professor Flitwick for not paying attention, but hell! To see them tearing the flesh off that cow . . .no wonder Parvati was scared half out of her wits!

But where does Umbridge get off, treating Hagrid like that? She acted as if he were a dim-witted six year old. The Slytherins of course thought it was a hoot. There are occasions when I’d like to poke her ugly bulging eyes down her prissy throat. I could do it, too. I could do it and she would never know what had hit her.

You know, all things considered, this has definitely been a year for practicing self-restraint.

16 November 1995

I discovered an interesting way into and out of Gryffindor tower. It’s a small air vent at the top of the common room; not big enough for a person to get through, but just the right size for a cat!

What a discovery! I can now go prowling on my own. No invisibility cloak necessary for me, thanks! You’d be surprised at what you find when you’ve got a cat’s eye view! I was up all night, skulking around. I had to duck out of the way a few times to avoid Mrs. Norris, but altogether I found out some interesting stuff.

Did you know that Professor Snape doesn’t sleep in a bed? I kid you not, I slipped through this crack between some stones down near the dungeons and ended up in his private quarters. It had to be his private quarters, there was a wardrobe full of robes, stacks of books laying all over, several large, squashy arm chairs, a shaving kit laid out in front of a mirror, a table on which were heaped a number of rather sinister looking items — none of which I recognized, and a roaring fire — over which a cauldron was bubbling with some sort of nasty, gloopy looking sort of liquid, but no bed.

Now, I suppose I could be wrong, maybe he sleeps somewhere else, but I’m under the impression that he doesn’t sleep at all. Here it was, two in the morning and he was prowling around his room, checking a piece of parchment on which were written lots of loopy writing, then adding some of the sinister ingredients to the brew in his cauldron. I just stayed very still in my corner, blending with the rocks, watching.

Is it possible to not have to sleep? I mean, maybe I just surprised him on a night when he, like myself, couldn’t get to sleep, but I’ll say it again, where was his bed?

I found an air vent that leads directly into Dumbledore’s study as well. I’d been going for at least three hours by the time I discovered where the air vent led. I was sniffing around the bookcases behind his desk, when I heard an odd sort of chirp and nearly jumped out of my skin when I turned around to find Fawkes standing behind me, watching me curiously.

I tried hissing, but he didn’t move. He had me pinned, and let me tell you, from a cat’s eye view that beak looks wicked! I was about to give up and transform back into myself when a light switch on and a voice called to Fawkes, asking him what he had. It was Dumbledore. I panicked — Dumbledore doesn’t know anything about me being an Animagi, and I had a sneaking suspicion that he would get a good look at me and know at once that I wasn’t a real cat, so as soon as Fawkes turned his head, I ran for it, straight up the air vent and as far and as fast as I could go.

I got back to my dormitory just in time to avoid being missed, and while I’m now feeling the effects of being up all night, I’ll take the rest of History of Magic to take a nap (I’ve perfected the trick of sleeping with my eyes open).

Hey, good to know that Binn’s class is good for something!

28 November 1995

Sometimes I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Michael can be so sweet sometimes! I mean, today he brought me a big punch of roses for absolutely no reason! I mean, it’s not my birthday or anything, but out of the clear blue he comes up to me after breakfast and hands them out to me. It made me feel all warm inside, like maybe he really does like me for me, and not just for the snogging, but then, by the time the afternoon was over, I’d figured it out. He’d thought that by softening me up with roses that he’d be able to get into my knickers!

See, the roses were just the beginning. He asked me to go for a walk after lunch. We were walking around the lake when he pulled me into this clearing. Before I knew what was happening he had me pinned up against a tree and was going to town with the snogging, getting really enthusiastic.

I could feel the hardness of him even through our layers of clothes and cloaks and everything, and his hands on my breasts, even over the layers of material, was definitely a turn on and I could feel my head getting all foggy and I don’t know what I would have let him do if it hadn’t been for the sudden realization that he had guided my hand down — well, it definitely wasn’t his wand I was holding!

Well, the weirdest thing is, as soon as I had him in his hand, it was like I suddenly ceased to exist. No more warm little kisses and endearing comments, suddenly it seemed as if all his concentration was riveted on this once spot, and what my hands were doing and everything else had ceased to exist.

I suppose I should be ashamed of myself, I mean, he’s not the one, I know he’s not the one, but Mandy’s warnings about loosing Michael to someone who would give him more kept ringing in my head. I mean, really, I haven’t been exactly swamped with boyfriends now, have I?

Anyway, thanks to Tom’s storehouse of knowledge, I knew exactly what he was expecting, and must have done a pretty good job of it, because when it was all over, Michael was leaning against the tree, panting, looking as relaxed and replete as if he’d just eaten a six course meal.

"Mmm, that was wonderful!" he said, pulling me up tight against him and nuzzling my neck. "I don’t even want to know where you learned how to do that," he added, running his tongue around the cup of my ear. He gave it a quick probe inside and I could feel my whole body tingle as if it had been set on fire. Suddenly I wanted his hands on me, I wanted that tingling feeling to continue, and I didn’t care what I had to do to feel it again.

But it seemed that now he was satisfied, anything to do with sex was miles away from his mind, and he began talking Quidditch straightaway, asking me, even as he cleaned himself and my hand off, if Gryffindor had replaced Harry and the twins yet.

I couldn’t believe it! What a stupid prat! Did he really think that I got as much out of giving him a hand job as he did? Can he really be so self-centered as to not realize that getting him off had made me as horny as hell?

We walked back up to the castle, stopping for lots of long snogs, and he was really attentive to me all evening.

But once I was alone. Once supper was over and I was in my own bed, alone with my thoughts, I couldn’t think of anything else but the way I’d tingled all over when he’d nibbled on my ear, and then I was touching myself, crying at the building pressure, trying to imagine that it was Michael touching me, but then, at the very moment of release, I saw in my minds eye, Harry, not Michael, and he was touching Cho, not me, and that, somehow was worse.

11 December 1995

"Sixty seconds, no contest!" yelled Angelina Johnson, grinning broadly at Ginny who had just reverse braked to join the Gryffindor team captain by the goal posts. "Ginny Weasley is our new Seeker!"

It hadn’t been difficult. She’d been practicing for weeks with the Snitch Harry had inadvertently nicked after his last Quidditch game. (She’d relieved Crookshanks of his prize, which he had finally caught after days of determined effort), and had been practicing during lunchtime for the last three weeks, ever since Angelina had quietly let it be known that she was looking to audition a new Seeker and Beaters.

She’d told Bill what she was doing and he’d immediately given her his old broom, a Cleansweep Seven (having just bought a Nimbus 2001 for his own use) and while an older model that Ron’s Cleansweep Eleven, it was in excellent shape and had given her a real chance at making the team.

Hell, thought Ginny, grinning broadly as Katie and Angelina both clapped her on the shoulders, it was good to know that all those hours spent in Harry’s head during Quidditch games had been good for something!

Harry of course, wouldn’t meet her eye. She knew he was feeling weird. He’d been replaced. That couldn’t be the best of feelings. Several times she caught him looking at her serriptiously, as if wondering how on earth she had ever managed to fly well enough to make the team, let alone to land his position.

It was that feeling alone that stiffened Ginny’s spine against any sympathy she might have felt for him. She was just Ron’s little sister now, was she? Didn’t even know she could fly? She’d show him. Egotistical bastard.

She made a point of being extra nice to Michael, laughing at all of his jokes, making sly comments about what she’d like to do after they were finished with the night’s lesson, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t shake Harry’s preoccupation with Cho.

It was only after the D.A. had disbursed and she was halfway down a side corridor with Michael (a little known shortcut that was hidden behind a tapestry) that she became acutely aware of the scene that was unfolding in the room of requirement.

"What’s up?" Harry said feebly. Cho was standing there, crying silently, her dark eyes bright with tears.

Ginny’s pace slowed, she had a feeling that there was more to Cho’s tears than met the eye and she was suddenly quite keen to hear exactly what she was about to say. To her amazement, Cho began talking about Cedric.

Does she think that talking about Cedric is the best way to go about showing you she likes you? Ginny wondered.

She’s alone with me, isn’t she? Harry snapped, unable to take his gaze off of the diminutive figure before him. She stayed behind to be with me. I don’t care if she only wants to talk about Cedric, it’s not every bloke who gets the opportunity to be alone with Cho Chang!

What did I tell you! hissed Ginny.

Well, she hasn’t left yet, has she? retorted Harry.

She was vaguely aware of the fact that she had stopped walking. And Michael, who was several paces ahead of her, had just realized that she was no longer directly behind him.

"Ginny?"

She could feel the stone wall of the narrow corridor behind her back, even as Cho pointed out the mistletoe above Harry’s head. And then, Michael was coming toward her, his face in the dim light of the passageway, was oddly superimposed over Cho’s blotchy, wet face as she approached Harry where he stood, rooted to the spot.

A tingling sensation was spreading throughout Ginny’s body as she felt Harry’s paralyzing disbelief as Cho kissed him. And then Michael was kissing her, and she wasn’t entirely certain as to where she was anymore, or who she was with, but for the briefest of moments Harry was kissing her, not Cho, his lips firm and warm on hers, and in that instant Ginny felt all inhabilitions leave her.

Harry! Her tongue was probing, teasing, her hands tangled in his hair, the scent of him, that soapy, yeasty scent was driving out all rational thought. And then, then, his hands had slipped beneath her jumper, they were running over her skin, igniting a fire in her blood as his thumbs brushed across her breasts, causing her to moan in longing.

The kiss was fierce now, hot and demanding, one hand still beneath her jumper, the other had now slipped down the front of her knickers and was —

But it wasn’t Harry! With a start, Ginny realized that Harry was still only kissing Cho, responding with surprised enthusiasm to her probing tongue. Then who . . .?

"Michael?" she gasped, struggling to free herself from his clutches, but Michael was having none of it, obviously taking her struggles as enthusiasm, he kissed her harder, slipping his hand deeper until —

With a great wrench Ginny twisted away, gasping for breath and trying desperately to straighten her clothes.

"What the devil do you think you’re doing?" she panted, backing away from Michael, who now looked stunned.

"What do you mean?" asked Michael confusedly. "I was just kissing you and then you started getting all enthusiastic."

"I- I did not!"

"You weren’t putting up much of a fight!" Michael pointed out, giving her a mischevious grin. "Come on love, no need to pretend."

"Pretend what?"

"That you want me," he waggled his eyebrows, and a second later had her pinned again, nuzzling her neck.

"Michael, please."

"What, afraid to finish what you started?" he taunted as Ginny twisted away and began walking swiftly back up the deserted corridor.

"Just not ready to do it with you," Ginny shot back. She was angrier than she’d ever been. Harry was saying a lingering goodbye to Cho at the branching of the corridors. If she hurried she could get back to Gryffindor tower before him, slip upstairs without anyone seeing.

"What the hell happened to you?" exclaimed Ron eloquently as Ginny emerged, disheveled and out of breath through the portrait hole.

"Had a run in with the giant squid," said Ginny cryptically, giving Hermione a pleading look. Hermione took the hint and promptly changed the subject, giving Ginny the opportunity to slip up the staircase to the girls dormitory where she threw herself onto her bed, sobbing incoherently, oblivious to her dorm mates voiced concerns and, in Mandy’s case, snide comments. It wasn’t until hours later that she fell asleep, and then it was only to dream of Michael’s accusing glare and Harry’s dreamy look of contentment as Cho had kissed him goodnight in the hall.