Title:  The Ginny Chronicles

Author: Casca Casccara@yahoo.com

Classification: Ginny POV, H/G

Summary:  Ginny and her conscience have a battle.

Spoilers: Naw.

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: All characters and names used in these fics are the legal property and creative work of JK Rowling and/or Warner Bros.  We are not making any profit on these fics - just having fun. :) We will be forever grateful to Ms. Rowling for providing us with this veritable playground for our imaginations.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this out… this chapter went through MANY revisions.  ;)

~A Girl Who Swoons~

"Harry Potter is a complete prat."

            I almost gasp.  My mouth opens in outrage from my position in the bathroom stall. I narrow my eyes. Who is talking about my Harry like that?  I realize that I called him a prat to his face only last week, but nobody else is allowed to do it.  At least, nobody who happens to be female.

            I let out a quiet sigh, and want to reach out and click the latch to get a look at the witch, whoever she was, but I don't.  I admit that standing here in this bathroom stall, listening to other girls talk about my Harry is not the best way to spend my Saturday, but I'm frozen with curiosity. 

How do I get myself into these episodes?

            You have a special talent for it.

            I suppose I do have a certain flair for compromising situations.  I'm still living a few of them down. 

Like yelling for all the world that you love Harry Potter and that he is a prat for not noticing you?

            Yes, that was an exceptionally compromising situation, I think vaguely and quiet my thoughts to listen.

            "I know," another girl is sighing dramatically and I recognize her voice. She's a fifth year who is on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and she's very popular and very beautiful. Dark hair, light blue eyes… I've envied her eyes quite a few times.

"He's so handsome…"

My eyebrows shoot up.  Yes, he is, I want to say threateningly.

            "He doesn't even show any interest in girls."

            "He's too busy thinking about fighting the Dark Lord and all that."

            "He's a warrior, that's for sure."

            They erupted into giggles and I feel myself getting sick.  I'm grateful for the toilet right next to me.

            "Has he ever had a girlfriend?" the one I don't recognize asks.

            "Nope, as far I know, he hasn't. He has to ask someone to the ball, though, right?"

            "Hmm.  Last year he went alone, I think. If only…"

            "If only…"

            "His eyes… they're like—"
            "Sapphires… " 


            Sapphires are blue, you idiots; his eyes are green, the color of emeralds, only darker.  I should know— they've been on me for the better part of the week.  I feel the blood rushing to my face.  Well, they have, no sense in denying it, is there?  I almost giggle, but catch myself. 

            The past week, I've had time to get used to the idea of Harry's eyes being on me.  And even though I've spent the entire week with my face contorted in a silent scream after my encounters with him, I've actually calmed down quite a bit. I've also talked with Hermione about it.  One night during a wonderfully violent thunderstorm, she and I sat up talking for hours in our nightdresses braving a box of Bertie Botts.  I told her about my fears and she told me that they were not unfounded.  She told me that they were natural and that there wasn't anything I could do about them with the exception of talking to someone.  So I talked to her and she made me feel as if they weren't life shattering.  She told me that she wasn't going to get in the middle of Harry's and my relationship (when she said the word relationship, I stood up and yelled "Don't say relationship, it makes me scared all over again!") but she said that Harry talks about me.  That's all she would say and I almost cursed her with a Tickling Charm until she talked some more (actually, I only threatened, I understand that she can't get in the middle; Harry is her best friend after all).  I also asked Hermione if Harry talked about me to Ron (even the thought makes me cringe fiercely in my stall) and she smiled mysteriously and started giggling but she wouldn't say anything!  What does that mean?  I didn't dwell on it, I had other things to dream about …

            Harry talks about me.  Talks about me when I'm not there… and you know what that means?  Ahem.  Harry must think about me.  Oh, goodness me, I feel faint in this bathroom stall.  Will the fainting episodes ever end?  I'm about to faint all the time, I wonder if I will ever actually do it.  Oh, well, perhaps Harry would catch me, after all, he does look at me now, it's quite plausible he'll be looking when I swoon.

            Swoon.  My mother always said I was a girl who swoons, and it's isn't until now that I realize what she meant.

            Because I am quite sick of being in this stall, I roll my eyes at the incessant talk about how blue Harry's eyes are and I push open the door to the stall and emerge.

            The girls glance at me and their eyes widen as I smile at them and walk up to the sink.  I see one of them mouth "Is THAT-?" and the other girl nods fervently.  They both look gleefully sinful.

            Ugh.  They're thinking about my Declaration of Love last week.  They must have been there. How sweet. And how utterly dreadful that I should overhear them talking about Harry.  I want to tell them that I'm proud of what I did and that Harry has looked at me and spoken to me more than he ever has because of it.  But I smile cheerfully and push my way out of the bathroom upon a huge explosion of giggles.

            "Stupid girls," I mutter and toss my hair back.  And music starts playing in my head for Harry is standing in front of me.

            I feel like swooning.  But I say, "Hi," and smile.

            He smiles back.  The music gets louder.

            I wonder why he's standing there, leaning against the wall, outside a girls' bathroom, all alone.  "Waiting for someone?" I ask with a slight grin and my eyes glance at the Lady's Restroom sign. I realize at once that I'm flirting. Well, maybe not flirting exactly, but… I am being slightly witty, aren't I?

            His grin flashes.  "Yeah… you."

            How do I not swoon, that is the question?  "Oh?"

            "Well, I," he looks at the floor, then at the wall, then back at me.  "I saw you go in there and I thought… well, Ron and Hermione are off"—he lifted a hand in a question—"and I thought you might like to have a game of chess or something…?"

            My heart is beating like the butterflies in my stomach.  Flutter, flutter, flutter.  I smile again.

            The door to the restroom opens then and the fifth year girls saunter out, their faces more colorful than they'd been before.  Their mouths drop open when they see Harry and me, then they dissolve into laughter and scamper away.

            I roll my eyes again and turn back to Harry.  "I'd love a game." 

But his eyes are narrowed at the girls. "What was that about?"

            Don't waste those gorgeous eyes on them, look at me some more.  "Nothing. Chess?"

            He turns back and when he looks at me, he grins.  "Chess."

            I make him grin, I think recklessly and walk with him to Gryffindor Tower to have a game.

            My chess pieces hate me.  They think I'm dense, but the fact remains that they've only ever played against Ron's men who are so brutal, that my pieces are constantly yelling in pain at some dashing checkmate of Ron's.  They've taken to yelling at me through the years and I often wonder why I don't just toss them all into the lake. 

"What are you DOING?" shouts one of my men. "Can't you see his QUEEN?!  If you move me THERE, I'm DEAD in all of three moves."

"Maybe then you'll be quiet," I retort, but I move my pawn instead.  It must have been a bad move because the entire lot shrieks "NOOOOO!" and cover their faces in horror.

Harry's laughing so hard, he has to gasp out his order to his piece, which finishes off my pawn.  I look up at him and grin at his laughing face.  "It's a sad day when you want to lose, so that your chess pieces get it!"

"It took a long time for my pieces to like me," Harry tells me sympathetically. 

"Dense braggart!" his knight confirms.

"I've had them since I was eight!" I exclaim and don't have time to stop and think that we are laughing together and that Harry's knee has just brushed mine.  We're having too much fun for me to stop and think.

At that moment, we are interrupted by a loud shrill giggle and we glance up to see Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown have just come through the portrait hole together.  They look at Harry and me with wide smiles; Parvati winks and Lavender grins broadly and gives me a thumbs up sign.

I close my eyes in embarrassment.  How could they be so obvious?  Don't they understand that— My thoughts vanish when I look at Harry. His head is bent and his shoulders are shaking with silent laughter, obviously at the fact that outsiders are offering me encouragement.  He meets my gaze and grins sheepishly. I cringe, but I'm still grinning at my own ironic predicament.

His smile falters slightly and I see his cheeks go red.  Oh, goodness me, he's blushing.  I've made him blush. Because I'm about to explode, I break my gaze and grin foolishly at my chess pieces, who've slumped to the floor in boredom. 

The glorious tension does not go unnoticed by the other occupants of the room; a few people glance our way and grin a little, I hear Parvati and Lavender whisper, "awwwwe!"  But I don't care about them—I'm in my own wonderful, swooning world.  Harry is suddenly pushing the chessboard aside and standing up, he holds out his hand for me.  "Come on," he says with a half grin.  "Let's take a walk. You want to?"

Do I WANT to?!?! "Okay." I try and try and try not to sigh, but he doesn't remove his hand from mine after I stand, so I can't help the little breath my heart sends.  Hand in hand, we leave the common room and walk.


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