Arrmaitee (arrmaitee) wrote,

The War Within - Chapter 5



Harry slouched forward in his hospital bed in the infirmary. It was just after 5:00 AM. He hadn’t slept at all since the duel with Malfoy. Harry rubbed his dry, itchy eyes and evaluated his solitude. He was numb... paralyzed... haunted by his own stoicism.

The taste of Malfoy’s blood was no longer on Harry’s lips, but it had etched its own Dark Mark onto his soul. Harry shuddered. He wanted to scream. He felt a primal scream bottled up inside of him that was too horrifying to express. What was that feeling? Had he known it before? It seemed shockingly familiar...

Was it the feeling of guilt that rotted at the pit of his stomach when he realized that it was his fault Sirius had died? If he had only not fallen for Voldemort’s stupid trick... If he had only kept studying Occlumency.

No, this scream came from somewhere else... much father back. A terrifying image flashed across Harry’s mind. He was alone. An infant. Fifteen months old. His parents had just been murdered by Voldemort. They lay silent... slumped over... cold. A painful razor-sharp cut had just been carved into his forehead and yet everything was suddenly silent. His parents were still. And then he screamed... a primal scream. A scream of an animal, hurt... wounded... abandoned... left to die. A scream of a terrified child who had just grasped onto a lock of his lifeless mother’s red hair, not understanding why she didn’t respond to his cries. A scream of an infant that had suddenly grown up, not understanding why.

This was the scream that gnawed at the core of Harry’s gut. This was the ache he felt inside. Was he still lying there? On that cold, wooden floor? Screaming for his mother? Waiting to die?

The Malfoy Mark burned inside him. He needed to wash it away. Would tears of desperation rinse away this fresh new scar? Would he be purified by his own guilt... or would it suffocate him? Harry felt so dirty... so cold... so hollow... so alone.

Harry crawled out of bed and hobbled over to the shower in the Infirmary. His injuries from the duel still throbbed with pain. But it was a good hurt... The pain kept him grounded. At least he could feel something.

Harry used a silencing spell as he entered the shower. He did not want Madam Pomfrey to hear him. To find him there... trembling... alone.

Harry turned on the faucet. The water was cold... too cold. It could not rinse his shame away. Everything was going to change. His friends would never accept him. Not after this. Ron would be devastated. ‘D’YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THIS HURTS ME?’ Ron’s voice echoed in Harry’s mind. It was the ultimate betrayal. He knew how Ron felt about Malfoy. How could he be so selfish? Their friendship would soon end.

Harry would also lose Hermione’s friendship, but more gradually. She would also feel violated by Harry, but she would be compassionate. She would treat him like an injured house elf. Maybe she’d even knit him a wool cap. But their friendship would never be the same. She would never look up to him the same way again.

Harry turned off the icy water. He felt filthy. Rancid. He despised himself. Why wasn’t he The Boy Who Died? Things would have been so much easier. Sirius might still be alive. And he would not have had to live with the guilt, the shame, the horror of the blood. The delicious taste of Draco’s blood on his lips. The haunting Mark branded onto his soul.

And then it happened. He screamed! Harry released a primal scream that even he didn’t know he was capable of. A solitary tear trickled down the side his face. Harry suddenly emitted an instinctual laugh. He was human. He could feel. Tears gushed down his cheeks. And then came the sobbing. And so he stayed there, huddled in the corner of the cold, dank shower... drowning in his own sadness. But among the wails of misery and sobs of grief, there were still a few solitary tears of joy. Harry was still human. He could still feel. He was still alive.


“Pine fresh,” whispered a coarse female voice from outside the Prefect’s Bathroom on the fifth floor.

Ginny heard a hand trying to turn the doorknob. It was bolted shut from inside. Knock, knock, knock... Ginny didn’t respond. POUND, POUND, POUND... She still didn’t respond.

“Ginny, are you in there? Open the fucking door!” cried a desperate Pansy Parkinson from the doorway. “You’ve been hoggin’ the loo for over an hour!”

“Use the girls’ toilets on the second floor,” Ginny replied innocently.

“But... Moaning Myrtle’s in there!” the Slytherin Prefect pleaded.

“Tell her I said hello,” Ginny replied cattily.

“Stupid Bitch...” whined the disgruntled Parkinson as she finally stomped away.

Ginny LOVED being a Gryffindor Prefect. Well, the Prefect duties sucked, but the perks were brilliant. Ginny loved to cruise the halls at night (ahem, to patrol the halls), and the Prefect’s Bathroom was magnificent. Where else in Hogwarts could you take a four hour marathon bubble bath before breakfast? And she could probably have sex in here, too... Hee hee hee...

Which reminded her. She needed to work on reinventing Ron. Obviously, his Weasley good looks alone hadn’t gotten him laid yet, so she was going to have to seriously augment his stud-factor in order to increase his marketability.

In this regard, Ginny made a mental list of what she needed to do this morning:

- Owl Fred and George to ask for 100 Galleons (Ginny needed the cash to buy Ron a whole new wardrobe, because his Robinson Crusoe look was obviously not working)

- Lobby Professor McGonagall and the Gryffindor Quidditch Team Members for Ron to become the Quidditch Team Captain (If the Captain of the Quidditch Team couldn’t get laid, then he’s probably a eunuch)

- Order The Wizard’s Kama Sutra: Sex Spells for the Desperate, Dateless and Debilitated from an adult bookshop in Knockturn Alley (Why didn’t she have this book when she was going out with Dean Thomas?)

- Convince Seamus and Neville to take Ron to the Hogwart’s gym immediately (This was truly an act of desperation)

- Take Ron to Hogsmeade for a decent haircut (She might have to use the Stupefy spell on him in order to ensure compliance)

- Owl Harry (She needed to speak with him immediately)

Ginny looked up at the clock on the bathroom wall. It was almost time to check up on her favorite Pit-bull Prefect. Ginny climbed out of her luxurious strawberry bubble bath, dried herself off, got dressed quickly and left the bathroom. Ginny climbed down the staircase and walked in front of the girl’s toilets on the second floor to bear witness to the melee. Pansy and Myrtle were screaming at each other at the top of their lungs. Finally, Pansy emerged from the restroom, irate... and soaking wet. Pansy saw Ginny, and was literally about to attack her when Professor Snape walked into the hallway.

“Oh hello, Pansy,” Ginny said with a mischievous grin. “Do you often bathe in toilet water? Or were you just trying to have a drink?”

Pansy was so livid that steam was literally rising from her ears. Moaning Myrtle levitated behind Pansy and gave Ginny a ‘mission accomplished’ look. Ginny owed Myrtle big time for this job. Ginny turned to acknowledge Professor Snape, who was now standing beside her. She swore that his lips bore the faintest smirk.

“Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Miss Weasley,” Professor Snape chided. He turned to the drenched Slytherin Prefect, and glared at her with utmost contempt.

“Miss Parkinson, why aren’t you using the Prefect’s Bathroom?”


Harry woke up later that morning in a daze. He was back in his cot in the infirmary. Was it Tuesday already? He shuffled around looking for his glasses. He was still traumatized from his breakdown in the shower, but, at the same time, he felt a little better. He had bottled up his pain for so long; now, he had finally released it. Harry felt almost... relieved. Harry knew that crying would not solve his problems, and he didn’t know how he would face his friends again. He obviously couldn’t tell them. The Malfoy Mark would be one more albatross around his neck that he would be forced to bear. One more strand in his intricate web of deception.

Suddenly, Harry noticed a brownish blur and a reddish blur peering down at him...

“Hi Ron,” Harry gestured to the reddish blur. He really needed magical eye surgery. “Hello Hermione...” Harry found his glasses and put them on. Harry’s friends were standing over him, looking very worried. Hermione looked exhausted. Her bushy brown hair was uncharacteristically unkempt, and her eyes were watery and dilated from lack of sleep. She must really be distressed.

“Harry, are you all right?” Hermione asked. “We were so worried? Are you hurt? A Wizard’s Duel? Harry... why? Why were you dueling with Malfoy? Why didn’t you tell us? You could’ve been killed! YOU COULD’VE BEEN EXPELLED! I... I just don’t understand. You don’t talk to us anymore...”

“Well, if you’d let him speak...” Ron grumbled. Hermione ignored him.

“Fortunately, Ron and I were on Prefect duty last night... I had just gotten back from the library and we were patrolling the hallway when we heard this awful commotion... It sounded like Crookshanks... Like he was in a fight or something.”

“Hermione...” Ron muttered. Harry was surprisingly amused.

“So of course we climbed up to the Astronomy Tower to see what was going on. And there we found you... and Malfoy... beating each other up on the cold stone floor... Your glasses were shattered... You were all bloody. Oh Harry, I can’t believe that you would duel with Malfoy without at least telling us first...”

“Hermione, please!” Ron pleaded.

“But Harry,” Hermione whimpered on the verge of tears. “I... don’t understand.”

There was silence for a few seconds. Ron looked quite surprised that her diatribe had actually come to an end.

“C’mon Harry, no more secrets,” Ron said. “You know that you have to tell us everything now.”

“Okay, okay,” Harry lied (There was no way in hell that he was going to tell them everything... especially now). “Malfoy challenged me to a duel in the beginning of August.”

“August!” Hermione interjected, a bit miffed.

“Well, I initially didn’t take the brainless git seriously. But I reckon I was wrong... I think his father put him up to this.”

“Up to what?” Hermione asked.

“I think his father may have ordered him to kill me.”

“TO KILL... YOU?” Hermione was shocked. Ron was outraged.

“THAT NUTTER! I’LL... I’LL SLAY HIM MYSELF!” Ron yelled, pulling out his wand.

“Well, I don’t know for sure,” Harry said, clearly gesturing for Ron to put the wand down. “Let’s just say it’s a hunch. Anyway, where was I...? The Midnight Duel... Well, I really didn’t think it was a big deal at the time; I wasn’t even sure that Malfoy was going to show up.”

“Harry,” Hermione chided. “If you didn’t take the duel seriously, you wouldn’t have skipped a valuable Care of Magical Creatures class in order to practice wizardry on inflatable Malfoy dolls in the Room of Requirement!”

Harry sent Ron a scathing ‘How dare you tell her that’ glare. Ron’s face flushed. He sent Harry a ‘Hey mate, I wasn’t the one playing with Malfoy dolls’ return look.

“Well of course I prepared for the midnight duel, you gits,” Harry said to his friends, covering his ass. “I learned that from you, Hermione. Besides, I couldn’t take any chances. That’s why I brought reinforcements...”

“Reinforcements? Who?” Hermione asked.

“Crookshanks,” Harry replied.

“YOU ENDANGERED MY CAT?” Hermione shrieked instinctively. Ron staggered for a moment and then gave her a ‘Blimey, it must be that time of the month’ look. Hermione quickly regained her composure.

“Well, I’m... I am glad that he was helpful,” she conceded.

“He probably saved my life,” Harry said seriously.

“But Harry, I still don’t understand!” Hermione pleaded. “Why didn’t you tell us? We’re your best friends... We can’t protect you if you’re always sooo... cryptic. I know that you’re going through a lot, but... Harry, please... You have to talk to us... We care about you... and... We’re really worried... and... Then you do this... and...”

Hermione broke down in tears. Harry felt awful. He wasn’t blind; he knew how much she looked up to him for validation. He knew that his forced isolation was torturing her. He saw the agony and suffering in her bloodshot brown eyes. But what could he do? Tell all? No, he couldn’t possibly... But... Harry reached up and tenderly grabbed a hold of Hermione’s hand. She instinctively pushed him away, but, on his second try, she let him hold her. There they were, suffering in silence, for several minutes. No one moved or dared to speak a word. Hermione finally wiped her tears away and regained her composure; but she wouldn’t let go of Harry’s hand. This made Ron very uncomfortable.

“Hey mate, I have some good news,” Ron interjected, intentionally breaking the tension. “Last night, after Dumbledore took you away on a floating stretcher, I was poking around the Astronomy Tower, see... And you won’t believe what I discovered?”

“What?” Harry asked.

“Bloody hell, I found four Galleons!”

Harry was mortified. He instinctively yanked his hand away from Hermione and bit his tongue so hard that it started to bleed. She looked at him suspiciously... Harry could not look either of them in the eye.

“That’s really great, Ron,” Harry lied. “I... wonder how they got up there?”

If Ron only knew where that money came from, he’d probably disembowel Malfoy with his bare hands... Fortunately, Professor McGonagall rescued Harry from this situation by entering the infirmary.

“Mr. Potter, Professor Dumbledore would like to see you now.”


Draco Malfoy sat in Professor Dumbledore’s office awaiting his disciplinary sanction. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were present. Dumbledore looked unusually grave. The door opened and Professor Snape entered the room. Draco glanced around nervously – the room was too quiet. Draco was so concerned about expulsion that he had almost forgotten about his little escapade of the night before. He would definitely get even with Potter for that...

“Mr. Malfoy, I am most disappointed in you...” Professor Snape said coldly. “Getting caught in a duel with Mr. Potter... You have brought shame onto our House.” Draco smirked. As if he could be reproached by an Ex-Death Eater that bottoms for the Wolfman... Draco shuddered at the mere thought...

“One hundred points will be taken from Slytherin,” Professor Snape grimaced. It obviously pained him greatly to deduct points from his own House.

Draco was absolutely livid! One hundred fucking points? How dare that repulsive, repressed closet case! Draco did not have to be subjected to this rubbish from a greasy, hooked-nose pariah on a power trip!

“Are you going to expel me?” Draco scoffed.

“I have deferred that happy power to the Headmaster. However, I can safely assure you that expulsion is the most appropriate punishment for your nefarious behavior.”

Draco sneered at the Headmaster, awaiting his biting words.

“Mr. Malfoy, this does not look good,” Professor Dumbledore said, shaking his head. “Last month, you patently violated the Ministry’s Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. Yesterday, you challenged Mr. Potter to a Wizard’s Duel. The Board of Governors will not be pleased. If they were notified of your grievous violation of school rules, they would demand your immediate expulsion from this academic institution.”

Draco swallowed hard. He was actually going to be expelled... What would his father think? But he put him up to this! And now what was he going to do? Become a groveling Death Eater? Desecrate his flawless forearm with that hideous Dark Mark? Absolutely not! Well, he’d have to leave at once. But where would he go? He could transfer to Beauxbaton? But he was a xenophobe! He despised the bloody French! Draco paused. The room was silent. Professor Snape obviously found sadistic enjoyment in watching Draco stew, awaiting Professor Dumbledore’s final pronouncement.

Professor Dumbledore continued. “Therefore, after consulting with the faculty and with Mr. Potter this morning, we have decided to pursue an alternate course of action. We are not going to inform the Board of Governors about your alarming transgression...”

“What?” Draco choked, a bit confused. Was the old Muggle-loving fool actually trying to protect him?

“Draco, we are very concerned about your safety... Merlin’s beard, these are dangerous times... And I certainly would not want a student as talented as yourself to fall prey to noxious outside influences.”

“How do you know that I am not already a Death Eater?” Draco countered. Professor McGonagall gasped. Professor Snape looked amused.

Professor Dumbledore simply stared at Draco. Draco glared back. The Headmaster’s look was absolutely terrifying. Draco could not stare him down. Draco shuddered, broke eye contact, and begrudgingly looked away.

Professor Dumbledore’s mustache twitched. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take, Mr. Malfoy. Effective immediately, Blaise Zabini will be replacing you as the new Slytherin Prefect. You will also receive detention for a month.”

Professor Dumbledore waived his right hand and Draco’s shiny Prefect Badge vanished from his silk robe. Damn Him! As if he, Draco Malfoy, should feel grateful for being spared expulsion by this senile Methuselah... that Badge complemented his hair color! And where was he supposed to shower? The Slytherin lavatory doubles for a bathhouse, for Christ’s Sake! Draco Would Not Soil His Perfect Body By Accidentally Stepping In Crabbe’s Spilled Love Juice! That’s disgusting! He would not stand for it! Fortunately, he still knew the password to the Prefect’s Bathroom. They had better not change it...

“But I must warn you, Mr. Malfoy,” Professor Dumbledore maintained. “If you do anything like this again, I will have no choice but to expel you immediately. You may go.”


Bellatrix Lestrange hobbled into her Master’s lair. She looked terrible. Her long black hair was singed and horribly tangled. Her clothes were charred and ripped. Her face was all scratched up. A tall, thin, black-hooded man with a hard, gaunt face and red slit-pupiled eyes glared menacingly at her. Bellatrix threw herself at his feet and attempted to kiss his robe.


CRUCIO!” Voldemort bellowed. Bellatrix screamed and writhed in pain on the hard, stone floor. Finally, Voldemort released her.

“Thank you, Master! I am so sorry! I couldn’t... I couldn’t control the boy! I couldn’t transform back! Forgive me, Master!”

“Calm yourself, Bella. I have no interest in your sniveling apologies. Besides, you couldn’t have transformed back if you had tried. Dumbledore recently bewitched the castle to prevent animagus transformation on Hogwart’s grounds, that damn clairvoyant ninny.”

“My Lord, you are so merciful! Thank you for understanding!” she cried.

“Enough! Go and get yourself cleaned up. You look wretched. Your stench is suffocating.”

Bellatrix climbed up off of the floor, bowed and turned to walk out of the room.

“Besides, I didn’t expect you to succeed. This was merely a test...”

Bellatrix turned around. “Master?”

“Of young Malfoy... of course,” Voldemort smirked. “To test his allegiance...” Bellatrix looked intrigued.

“I’ve already contacted his father,” he continued. “We were not pleased with his performance.”

“But Master, I could work with him... He has great potential!”

Voldemort shook his head. “Bella, there’s something you don’t understand. You see, Harry Potter has not been studying his Occlumency... So I have had the riveting pleasure of being subjected to his juvenile thoughts for quite some time...”

“But Master?”

“It seems that Harry and young Malfoy have a ‘connection’ of sorts...” Voldemort chuckled. Bellatrix looked confused.

“So what shall I do, Master? What shall I do with Draco?” she asked.

“Isn’t it obvious, Bella? You’ll have to kill him.”


It was a gorgeous afternoon. Harry felt liberated. He had been released from the infirmary earlier that day. His injuries were healed, and he finally felt alive again; invigorated by the sounds of nature. Cornish Choughs were chirping in the nearby trees and Harry swore he saw a very rare songbird, the Scottish Red Kite, soaring overhead. Harry was carrying his Firebolt out to the Quidditch pitch to practice his flying. He really missed riding his Firebolt. It was a liberating feeling to fly. He could think of nothing better than to catch up to the Red Kite and soar beside it. What an incredibly beautiful day.

Suddenly, Harry heard an intriguing sound. It sounded like... kissing? Harry looked around the pitch. No one was there. But that sound... He just knew... It reminded him of those cheesy Muggle films that Dudley subjected him to. Harry shuddered. Was somebody snogging under the benches? Harry smirked; he had to investigate. He walked to the side of the pitch and climbed under one of the benches. Harry was not prepared for what he saw.

Harry recognized one member of the clandestine couple immediately. He had platinum blonde hair, slicked back. It was definitely Malfoy... Draco Malfoy... And he was clearly making out with someone else. Harry could not see who. Harry shuddered. He should leave now. HE SHOULD LEAVE NOW! He did not want to see this... Oh my God, why was this bothering him? Was he jealous? Who was the lucky girl? Damn... he had to know! This couldn’t be happening? No way... Why was he feeling this way? Was he such a bloody masochist that he would torture himself like this? He should leave. He was not going to cry... Not over Malfoy... But... who... was it?

Tears welled up in Harry’s eyes... He slowly crept forward. Ever so slowly... They would not hear him coming. He would go undetected. Traumatized, Harry watched Malfoy’s technique from behind. Malfoy was damn good. He knew what he was doing... Ugh! This was too hard. He had to leave... But he still crept forward. Until finally he saw the hair of the culprit... It was flaming red.

Harry gasped. “RON! Oh for heaven’s sake...”

Harry staggered backwards and dropped his Firebolt in shock. It was Ron who had betrayed him! This could not be happening... Why was he so blind? After Ron’s outburst on Sunday night, he should have known something was up...

Ron looked absolutely mortified. Instead of turning bright red, Ron paled to a sickly white. Ron shoved Malfoy aside and gasped for breath.

“Oh my God, H-H-H-Harry! This isn’t... what it looks like... I mean... I’m so sorry, mate. I...”

Tears streamed down Harry’s cheeks. He looked over at Malfoy, utterly disgusted. Draco had a devilish smirk on his face. He obviously enjoyed watching Harry suffer. Harry stepped backward, tripped over his Firebolt and tumbled onto the ground. Ron stumbled over towards him.

“Harry, please mate... Blimey, I... I don’t know what came over me... I just... Don’t look at me like that! I didn’t mean... Harry, you have to forgive me!”

Trembling, Harry did the only noble thing there was left for him to do; he decked that two-faced, red-haired son of a bitch.

“OWWWW!” a girl screamed. Huh? A girl? What the...

Harry opened his eyes. Everything in the infirmary was a blur. What time was it? Was he dreaming? Where were his glasses? It was just a nightmare... Or was it a premonition? And what was that familiar reddish blur now standing over him?


“No, it’s Ginny. You just punched me...”

“Oh, Ginny, I’m so sorry... I was dreaming, I s’pose... I have a wild imagination.”

Harry blushed. You can say that again. Where were his glasses? Well, at least he wasn’t dreaming about Voldemort anymore. And his scar hadn’t hurt for over a week. Maybe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was no longer a threat? Fat chance. Voldemort was probably up to something...

Harry finally found his glasses and put them on. Ginny sat down on his cot, rubbing her newly injured shoulder.

“How’re you feeling?” Ginny asked.

“Er... I’m okay. Hopefully I can leave in the morning. What time is it?”

“It’s 7:00 AM,” Ginny said.

Geez, it’s Wednesday already. “Look, I’m really sorry about...”

“Don’t worry, I don’t bruise easily,” Ginny lied.

Ginny slid over next to Harry and put her arm around the back of his neck. Together, the two gazed up at the coarse stone ceiling.

“I got your owl,” Harry said. “But I‘ve been injured... I still can’t believe that I’m holed up in here... So how’s life as a Prefect?”

Ginny smirked. “It has its ups and downs... Mostly ups.” Ginny had a mischievous grin on her face. “I need to ask you a favor, Harry.”


“I want you to vote for Ron for the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.”

Christ, Harry forgot all about the election for the Quidditch Team Captain. It was tomorrow afternoon!

“Of course I will...” Harry responded instinctively. But now Harry was suspicious... If Ron had wanted his support, why didn’t he ask Harry directly? Did he have something to hide? Was he afraid that... No, this was ridiculous! Ron was his best mate! Harry would never suspect that Ron might betray him. Unless... Ginny looked as if she were reading his mind.

“Ginny, why didn’t Ron ask me for his support?”

“Because he doesn’t know that he’s running...”

Harry gasped. “Really? So you just plan to nominate him at the forum?” He chuckled at the thought.

“Yep,” she mused. “That’ll ensure that he doesn’t chicken out.”

Harry grinned, imagining Ron’s expression when he found out his sister’s covert scheme. Harry looked at Ginny; he knew that she was up to something. She was being a bit too supportive of her older brother. She definitely had an agenda. He knew her too well... But what could it be? Hmm, let’s think... What would a burgeoning little horndog like Ginny want from Ron? Maybe she wanted Ron to help her seduce Neville? He’d obviously have to investigate...

“So Ginny... er... I heard that you’ve been pursuing Neville?”

“Did he tell you that?” she asked curiously.

“No, Hermione blurted it out...” Harry said. Ginny blushed.

“What d’you see in Neville, anyway?” Harry asked.

Ginny gave Harry an ‘Are you fucking blind?’ look. “What do you mean?” she asked coyly.

“I’m just wondering what you look for in a guy?” Harry asked misty-eyed.

Ginny rubbed up next to Harry, a wee bit too close for comfort. She laid her head next to his and whispered softly into his ear.

“Well, there’s just this attraction,” Ginny cooed seductively. “It’s magnetic... And suddenly everything changes...” Ginny rubbed her hands suggestively all over her cleavage, making Harry feel very uncomfortable.

“Blood rushes to my head... My animal instincts take over...” Ginny was now straddling Harry’s pillow erotically, about to mount it...

“I need a man that makes me feel sssspecial... That knows how to ssssatisfy my appetite...” Ginny was now dry humping the pillow on the cot, inches away from Harry. Harry bore a terrified ‘just puh-leeze don’t touch me’ look.

Ginny nuzzled up against Harry aggressively, still riding the pillow. “And Neville’s my man.” Ginny purred, stopping her suggestive movements. She looked like she was about to light a Muggle cigarette.

Harry took a deep breath... Okay, note to self, he mused. Never ever ever talk to Ginny about men ever again!!!!

“So Harry,” Ginny whispered into his ear. “Now I have a question for you...”

“What?” Harry asked nervously.

“What do you look for in a guy?”


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    so aside from (which refuses to die), where is the bulk of hp fanfiction posted these days? twitter? Posted via LiveJournal app…

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  • A thought

    Shagging Snape is love! Enough said...

  • fanfiction

    so aside from (which refuses to die), where is the bulk of hp fanfiction posted these days? twitter? Posted via LiveJournal app…

  • Question

    So I was scrolling through a number of HP communities that I used to frequent when I was active in the fandom several years ago and a lot of them are…