Arrmaitee (arrmaitee) wrote,

The War Within - Chapter 6



The sky hadn’t fallen... yet. Harry stared curiously at the infirmary’s ceiling... waiting to be entombed in a pile of broken stone blocks. But the ceiling didn’t budge... and neither did Harry. He was still in shock, repeating Ginny’s destabilizing question in his mind...

WHAT do you look for in a guy?’
‘What DO you look for in a guy?’
‘What do YOU look for in a guy?’
‘What do you LOOK FOR in a guy?’
‘What do you look for IN A guy?’
‘What do you look for in a GUY?

Harry was dumbfounded. It had been an hour since Ginny’s ‘revelation,’ and yet he still didn’t know how he was supposed to respond. How did she know? Was it that obvious? Did Cho know? Is that why she left him? Were Ron and Hermione joking about this behind his back? Did everyone know? Was he the laughing stock of Hogwarts? IT’S NOT FUNNY!!!

Harry looked around, waiting for something awful to happen... but the ceiling remained intact and he was still breathing. Ginny was now long gone. Harry recalled the expression on her face when she asked him the question. She had a grin... that damn mischievous grin. Harry had looked at her... speechless... and then she said, “Feel better, Harry,” and walked out of the room. How the fuck was he supposed to feel better after a question like that?

Harry didn’t know what to think. Why did Ginny ‘out’ him privately? Was she going to expose him to the rest of the school? Is that how she’d repay the boy who saved her life during her first year at Hogwarts? Was she angry at him for rejecting her? Or, did she simply want him to know that he wasn’t alone. That she was still his friend...

Harry suspected that Ginny wanted to be his confidant. He had to trust her... What other choice did he have? Besides, Ginny was not vindictive, and she’d love to be the only person privy to Harry’s sordid little secret. After all, it had to do with sex... and wasn’t that Ginny’s mothership?

Harry climbed out of his bed and reassessed the situation. Surprisingly, he wasn’t having an emotional breakdown. In fact, he was relieved. Maybe Ron and Hermione wouldn’t freak out about the news, either. Maybe they already knew... and it was okay. Well, maybe not...

Why was Harry so afraid of telling his friends that he was gay? He didn’t have to tell them that he had unruly brown hair and crappy eyesight. Was he the only person that thought this was a big deal? Was he just... melodramatic? Or was the real problem about Malfoy?

Malfoy... Harry shuddered at the name. Why was he attracted to that damn ferret? If Ginny ever found out... He could never tell her. She wouldn’t accept him. No one would... Harry would have to harbor that secret alone.


After being released from the infirmary on Wednesday morning, Harry met up with Ron and the two climbed up to the North Tower for their first class of N.E.W.T. level Divination. Harry really didn’t want to continue with Divination, but, remarkably, he had earned an ‘Outstanding’ on his O.W.L.

Harry had thought that his tea-leaf reading and crystal ball interpretations were atrocious after he informed Professor Griselda Marchbanks (the head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority) that: i) she would meet a round, dark, dodgy stranger in an alley, and ii) she ought to have died on the previous Tuesday. Well, originally the 166-year-old professor planned to fail Harry for his ridiculous prophecies (especially the one about her kicking the bucket). But two weeks after the exam, she abruptly changed her mind.

While doing ‘routine shopping’ in Knockturn Alley, the Professor Marchbanks ran into a round, dark, dodgy stranger hawking stolen cauldrons. To her surprise, the stranger covertly informed her of a serious threat against her life by rogue Death Eaters on the exact day that Harry had Seen. Marchbanks, of course, was completely unaware that the ‘stranger’ was none other than Mundungus Fletcher, a member of the Order of the Phoenix whom Harry had vented to at the end of the term about his disastrous exam. Dung, who felt really guilty about abandoning his post in Surrey last year (when Harry had to battle the two dementors in front of his cousin, Dudley), decided to make it up to Harry by helping carry out his ‘prophecies.’ But even Dung didn’t realize the full implications of his scheme.

After learning that Harry Potter was a True Seer, Professor Marchbanks immediately: i) hired a full-time bodyguard, ii) gave Harry an ‘Outstanding’ O.W.L. for Divination, and iii) nominated Harry for Order of Merlin, Third Class, for his courageous attempt to notify her of a dangerous threat against her life. Additionally, she owled Sibyll Trelawney with the news about her burgeoning prodigy.

Harry and Ron climbed through the trapdoor into the North Tower. The light from the low-burning fireplace cast an eerie pall on the sickly-scented classroom. They took their seats at a spindly little table at the back.

Initially, Harry was a bit awkward around Ron. Did Ron know? Had Ginny told him? Ron seemed quite oblivious to Harry’s concerns, so Harry stopped worrying about them...

“Good day,” Professor Trelawney announced. “And welcome back to Divination. As there are now two Divination instructors at Hogwarts, I will be teaching the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. level courses, and that beast will be teaching the pre-O.W.L. classes. Our N.E.W.T. level course will be focusing primarily on genethliacal astrology.”

Lavender and Parvati beamed at their favorite professor, pretending to know what genethliacal astrology actually was.

“I am delighted to see that you have all passed your O.W.L.s and survived the summer, as, of course, I knew you would. Today’s class involves advanced dream interpretation. You will all find a copy of The Dream Oracle by Inigo Imago on your desk. Divide into pairs and use the book to evaluate each other’s most recent dreams.”

“You say one, mate,” Ron said to Harry. “What did you dream about last night?”

Harry had an immediate flashback of Ron making out with Draco under the benches in the Quidditch pitch. He paled.

“Umm... nothing. I didn’t... dream.”

Ron looked suspicious. “C’mon, mate. You can tell me. Don’t you want to hear what I-mango has to say about your dream? Maybe it was a premonition?”

How did he know it was a premonition? Was it a premonition? Ugh! This was ridiculous! Harry wanted to forget about that bloody nightmare...

Professor Trelawney approached Harry’s desk. “Mr. Potter, I’m delighted to hear from Griselda that you possess the Seeing Eye... but, of course, I already knew that. As the only student to have earned an Outstanding on your O.W.L. last year, I have a dream that I would like you to interpret...”

Harry swallowed hard. Ron mouthed ‘Bloody hell, you got an Outstanding?’ to Harry as Sibyll continued...

“The dream was about you, Mr. Potter. You had just been released from the infirmary when you decided to carry your Firebolt out to the Quidditch pitch to practice your flying.”

Harry started to sweat profusely. Ron looked intrigued.

“You were entranced by the euphonic sounds of nature when suddenly you heard the most intriguing noise...”

“A couple were snogging under the benches,” Harry muttered. Professor Trelawney nodded. Ron looked stunned.

“And then you went to investigate. Who were they, Mr. Potter?”

Harry was ghost white... he raised his hand to his scar and rubbed it like he was in pain.

“It was the Grim, Professor. Actually there were... er... two of them... Both Grims... One black and one... chocolate brown... And they were... grim...”

“Who were they really, Harry?” Professor Trelawney asked.

Harry looked like he was about to faint. He was so pale he made Nearly Headless Nick look tan.

“C’mon, mate,” Ron said, clutching The Dream Oracle. “You have Seen and I-mango will interpret...”

Suddenly, Harry tumbled dramatically onto the floor, his right hand clutching his scar. Professor Trelawney looked amused by his theatrics.

“Harry!” Ron yelled. “Are you all right, mate?”

The whole class swiftly turned around. Harry sat up, shaking, and ran out of the room clutching his scar. Ron chased after him. Professor Trelawney smiled devilishly and ordered the class to continue with the assignment.


Ron Weasley arrived at Professor McGonagall’s office at 3:00 PM on Thursday for the first meeting of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. He was still very concerned about Harry. What had happened yesterday in Divination? Why was Harry acting so weird lately? And what was up with those inflatable Malfoy dolls?

Ron entered the office and saw many familiar faces beaming at him. Harry, Ginny, Katie Bell, Jack Sloper, and Andrew Kirke were seated in a circle next to Professor McGonagall. They were all wearing flashing pins which stated, “Weasley is our King!” Ron blushed, looking over at Harry. Harry grinned back as Ron took the empty seat next to him.

Ron was already having an incredible day. Neville and Seamus woke him up this morning to drag him to the Hogwart’s gym. He wanted to go, but he didn’t have any clean gym clothes. Well, when he opened his chest, he found that he had an entire new wardrobe of expensive preppy clothing, including designer gymware. It was bizarre! And all of his old clothes were missing... He asked Neville and Seamus about it... but they swore that they had no idea what happened. Bloody hell, it was as if someone were trying to make him over? But who... Harry? Harry had already denied knowing anything about it. Well, whoever it was, he had to find them... They needed to give back his torn Chudley Cannons jumper... It was a definite witch magnet.

“Fellow Gryffindors,” Professor McGonagall said. “Our first order of business is to welcome back our Seeker, Mr. Harry Potter!” Harry blushed as the whole room burst into cheer. Ron stood up and gave Harry a standing ovation. His fellow team members followed suit. Harry looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die from embarrassment... but overall, he seemed to appreciate the validation. Ginny patted Harry on the back. They exchanged covert glances.

“Our next order of business is congratulate Miss Ginny Weasley on her promotion to Chaser!” Everyone cheered. This time Harry patted Ginny on her back – they exchanged glances again...

“Finally,” Professor McGonagall said. “It is my pleasure to open up nominations for our new Gryffindor Quidditch Team Captain.”

Harry immediately raised his hand. “I nominate Ronald Weasley,” he said.

Ron was stunned... Me? ME? He didn’t know what to say... Well, at least he had the right wardrobe... Three of his new t-shirts and preppy sweaters had “Captain” embroidered on them, right above the Gryffindor crest. What a lucky coincidence...

“Does anyone second the nomination?” Professor McGonagall enquired.

Four other hands immediately shot into the air. Ron was in shock.

“I second the nomination,” Ginny stated proudly.

“We do, too,” Katie, Jack and Andrew cheered.

“Mr. Weasley, do you accept this nomination?”

“I... umm... uh... YEAH!” Ron chocked. He was redder than a beet. Everyone smiled broadly at him and then covertly glanced over at Ginny, who had a mischievous grin across her face.

“Are there any other nominations?”

The room was silent for a few moments. Finally, Ron slowly raised his hand.

“I nominate Harry Potter,” he stated. Harry looked surprised. There was a muffled murmur throughout the room.

“I respectfully decline,” Harry said, grinning at Ron. “I’ve already picked my Team Captain.”

“Are there any further nominations?” McGonagall asked. The room was silent. “Well then, congratulations Mr. Weasley, the floor is yours.”

Everyone stood up and cheered. Ron looked like ripe tomato. He couldn’t believe how supportive his friends were. And they even had pins just for him... But why were they all looking slyly at Ginny?

“Umm... uh... thank you,” Ron said nervously. The room quieted down. “Our first order of business is to... uh... replace our graduated Chasers. Angelina and Alicia passed their N.E.W.T.s, see...” No one looked at Katie Bell, since they knew that she had failed all of her N.E.W.T.s and therefore had to repeat her seventh year at Hogwarts. Katie quietly stirred with embarrassment.

“Anyway,” Ron continued, “Ginny has taken one of the... uh... positions. But we... uh... still need a new Chaser for the Team. Tryouts will be held on next Wednesday... That’s it.”

Ron was still blushing as everyone gathered up their belongings and congratulated him. Ginny approached.

“Oh Captain, My Captain,” Ginny cooed. “I know a bloke who would be the perfect Chaser. He’d really distract the competition.”

“Who?” Ron asked suspiciously.

“You’ll see,” Ginny replied. She looked over at Harry, who clearly gave her a ‘no way in hell’ look. She responded with a ‘hee hee hee’ reply glance. Ron was still confused. ‘Who was she referring to?’ he wondered? Dean Thomas?


Ginny chuckled all the way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Her plan to reinvent her brother Ron had worked seamlessly. He was now the Gryffindor Quidditch Team Captain, he was already wearing his new clothes, and Seamus and Neville had already started dragging him to the gym. Now she just needed to get him a haircut and get him laid...

“Captain Ron,” Ginny whispered to the fat lady. The portrait swung open, revealing an entryway to the Gryffindor Common Room. Ginny had already convinced Professor McGonagall to change the password to reflect her brother’s new social standing. She entered the Common Room; Neville was standing in the corner watering the house plants. This was her chance! Ginny crept over to Neville like a panther on the prowl. She placed her hand on his shoulder suggestively, ready to pounce.

“Need a hand?” she cooed. Hee hee hee...

“Oh, hi Ginny,” Neville responded. “No. I’m just watering the Mimbulus Mimbletonia. It needs to be watered five times a day or it goes into convulsions.”

‘Riveting,’ she mused, staring at his crotch. She needed to take a more aggressive approach. Ginny pushed her arm around his neck.

“You know, Neville,” she said. “Ron’s the new Gryffindor Quidditch Team Captain, and he thinks you’d be perfect as our new Chaser.”

“But I don’t know how to fly very well...” Neville replied, clearly more interested in his plants than in Ginny’s proposal.

“Details,” she responded. “Besides, I could always give you private flying lessons...”

The Portrait suddenly swung open and Ron marched into the Common Room triumphantly, surrounded by Colin, Seamus, Dean and a handful of other Gryffindors.

“Hey Neville... Ginny,” Ron exclaimed. Neville rushed over to congratulate him. Bugger! Foiled again by Ron...

Suddenly, an arm casually swung around Ginny’s shoulder. It was Dean Thomas, Ginny’s ex-boyfriend. He was wearing a beat-up West Ham football jersey and faded jeans.

“Hi Ginny,” Dean cooed into her ear. “I still have rope burn on my...”

Ginny quickly slapped her hand over his mouth. “Mmmmmmmmm,” Dean mumbled, until Ginny finally removed her hand.

“Well, now that I have your attention,” he whispered. “Where were you? You told me you’d call.”

‘And you told me you were nine inches,’ Ginny mused to herself. What was she supposed to do, play ‘hide the sausage’ with phallus limpus! Ginny glanced over at Ron. Her brother turned bright red at the sight of her and ‘Mr. Erection-cilable Differences’ standing intimately close.

“I was busy,” she replied to Dean. Doesn’t this bloke take a hint?

“Don’t you want to play with Little Dean?” he whispered seductively.

“Umm... is that what you call it...?” Ginny shuddered. The only way she’d consider rekindling their old flame is if he could turn ‘Little Dean’ into ‘Big Dean.’ But right for now, the only flame in the room was Colin Creevey, and he was hitting on her man!

“Excuse me,” Ginny replied, brushing Dean off and storming over to Neville’s side. If Colin dared to offer Neville a private photo shoot, he was going to become a castrati! Dean remained in the corner... alone.


Oh puh-leeze! As if Dean Thomas deserves a POV after he failed to perform for Ginny!


Pansy Parkinson was generally not a vindictive ball-busting, bitch-on-wheels... but there was no way that indigent freckled-face hussy was going to get the better of her in front of the head of her house! It was now 8:00 PM on Thursday. Pansy picked up a red dart and threw it at her personal dartboard. A glowing picture of Ginny Weasley was pasted onto the board... it was littered with dart holes. The dart landed in Ginny’s hair; the picture smirked at her... damn.

Revenge would be swift... and devastating! But Pansy had to be careful... she could not get caught. After the TRAGEDY that befell her darling Drakey-Poo, there was no way that she would be implicated in her own scheme. She would not lose her precious Prefect badge as well...

“Oh Millicent,” Pansy cooed into the hallway of the Slytherin Girl’s Dormitory. There was silence for a few seconds. STOMP. Some more silence. STOMP. Pansy grinned, here she comes... STOMP. ‘Militant Bulldog’ entered the room.

Millicent was a big girl. At six feet tall (72 inches, 183 cms) and 250 lbs (17.86 stones, 113.4 kilos, whatever…) of pure muscle, she would have been a very effective keeper if she didn’t keep breaking her racing brooms. She looked a bit like Cyclops with two eyes. Millicent scanned Pansy’s 5’4” figure suspiciously.

“You called me by my real name... something must be up,” Millicent snarled.

Pansy shrieked with laughter. “Oh Millicent, darling, I would never call you ‘Militant’ behind your back,” Pansy lied. “Besides, you’re my best friend,” Pansy lied again.

“So what’s up?” Millicent asked.

“Well, Ginny Weasley disrespected me on Tuesday in front of Professor Snape, and WE need to get even.”

Millicent snarled and grabbed the red dart out of Pansy’s hand, flinging it at the dartboard. Bulls-eye! She nailed Ginny’s picture right between the eyes. The picture winced and then glared at her menacingly.

“So what’re we going to do to that bloody Gryffindor?” Millicent snarled. “She disrespected a Slytherin Sister! Should I pulverize her? Should I snap her in two? Should I fling her off the Astronomy Tower and see if she flies? Should I...”

Pansy would have offered Millicent a magical Prozac Cocktail right about now, but unfortunately she ran out of her own personal stash.

“Why don’t we think of something a little less... violent?” Pansy suggested.

Millicent raised her hands in the air in frustration. “Why is everyone so bloody soft?”

Pansy ignored her. “We need to wreck her reputation...”

Millicent looked confused. “What reputation? She’s a penniless, clown-haired reptile...”

“Well, the boys seem to like her... But we can fix that real quick.” Pansy wore a devilish smirk. Millicent squatted down so that they can speak eye-to-eye, sister-to-sister.

“So here’s the plan. Saturday’s the first Hogsmeade weekend. You will drink a Polyjuice potion and become Ginny Weasley...”

“But Polyjuice takes a month to brew?” Millicent replied awkwardly.

Pansy grinned, opened her chest and pulled out a flask of the legendary substance. “I have my own suppliers...” she cooed. Then Pansy reached back into her chest and pulled out a strand of long, vivid red hair. “I got this from the drain in the Prefect’s Bathroom on Tuesday. Hee hee hee...” Pansy chuckled, impersonating Ginny.

Millicent rubbed her hands together with anticipation. “So what do we do with the Juice?”

“You will go to Hogsmeade, drink it in the Shrieking Shack, emerge as Ginny Weasley, and then stroll into The Three Broomsticks.”

“And that’s it?”

“No! You will start out by having a few beers. Maybe you’ll hit on Potter, just for kicks. And then you will climb up onto the bar and announce to the room that you want to make a tribute to your brother, the new ‘Gryffindor Quidditch Teeeeeeeeam Captain.’ Then you do a strip show... for Galleons, of course...”

Millicent looked shocked. “And how is that supposed to damage her reputation? She’ll be the most popular girl in school!”

Pansy shook her head. “I’m not finished... yet. For your final number, you need to start a threesome in the bar with Crabbe and Goyle, and then you will leave with them.”

Millicent looked stunned. A tear dramatically trickled down her cheek. “I’ve... I’ve always wanted to be the Lucky Pierre sandwiched between those two blokes...”

Pansy was about to throw up. “Lucky Pierre is a guy...” she mumbled.


There was an awkward silence for a few moments...

“Well, Pansy, suppose I agree to do this... How do we know that the real Ginny Weasley won’t show up as well? Can I tie her up in the dungeon? Can I bury her alive under the quidditch pitch? Can I...”

“Why don’t you leave that to me...” Pansy smirked devilishly.


It was now Friday. 6:00 PM. Harry packed a knapsack full of schoolbooks and assignments that he had not bothered to complete over the past week due to a certain duel which he would prefer not to remember. Harry was actually doing quite well, given the circumstances. And Harry was glad that Ron was elected the new Gryffindor Quidditch Team Captain. He knew how much it meant to Ron to be in a position of importance. But now, Harry had to pay the price for dueling with the amazing bouncing ferret on Monday night...

Detention was being served with Professor Filius Flitwick tonight. It was going to be a long month, Harry grumbled. Why did he have to lose 100 house points and receive a month’s detention? Professor Dumbledore was being completely unfair! All he did was passively accept Malfoy’s offer to duel to the death. You’d think he’d be nominated for Order of Merlin, First Class, for attempting to rid the Wizarding World of that insipid prat!

Ugh! Malfoy. Harry had to get that name out of his mind. Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy. Hermione recommended visualization for times like these. Hmm... Think of a happy thought. A hot arrogant blonde with captivating grey eyes... Okay, that obviously wasn’t working. He needed to think of something really unattractive... Umm... Professor Dumbledore in a rhinestone studded halter-top with matching garters... Yuck... That was just wrong!

Harry wandered out of the Common Room into the main hallway on the seventh floor of the castle, and began to climb down the stairs to the second floor. He was interrupted on his way down by a low whisper.

“Psssst... Harry.”

Harry turned around and saw Neville Longbottom and Dennis Creevey standing on the third floor. Neville was still devastatingly good-looking and completely clueless. Dennis was still a runt, but the third-year, mousy haired Gryffindor had obviously spent a lot of time at the gym this summer because he now boasted an impressive athletic build.

Harry wandered over to them.

“Hey Neville... Dennis,” Harry exclaimed.

“Hey Harry... How’re you doin’? Dennis is my new bodyguard. He comes with me whenever I leave Gryffindor Tower. Professor Dumbledore assigned him to me after the first attack... He’s great at defense and first-aid.”

Harry was stunned. Dennis? A bodyguard? It boggles the mind... And what did Neville mean by ‘attack?’

“CODE 3!” Dennis yelled suddenly. Dennis yanked Neville and a bewildered Harry into a vacant classroom. Suddenly, a mob of horny third and fourth year girls dashed past them in the hallway... lusting after Neville. The three stood in silence for a minute, waiting until it was safe for them to go back out. Finally, Dennis nodded, and then he, Harry and Neville walked back into the hallway.

Harry was still a bit shaken by the recent turn of events.

“Harry, I have a question for you,” Neville asked. “Are you an antidisestablishmentarianist?”


“Umm... do you... uh... view the Muggle proletariat uprisings of the 15th century through the hetronormative gloss of... uh... an Eritrean hegemonic despot?”

“I dunno,” Harry responded. What the fuck was Neville talking about? Harry glanced at the tarnished, leather-bound book that Neville was clutching in his left hand. The title read: “50,001 Completely Useless Big Words And How To Abuse Them.” Neville saw Harry looking at the book.

“Oh,” he blushed. “Hermione gave this to me. She said it would make me sound more intelligent... I mean perspicacious.”

Harry and Dennis exchanged looks. Harry was going to KILL Hermione for this!

“CODE 2!” Dennis yelled suddenly. A blonde third-year leapt out of nowhere at Neville. Neville ducked and she flew over him and landed on the floor.

“Oww... my neck,” the girl cried. “I can’t feel a thing!” Dennis immediately sedated her, conjured up a floating stretcher, and floated her over to the infirmary. Neville glanced over at Harry.

“That was the fifth incident today. I told you he’s good at first aid,” Neville said.

Harry decided to leave Neville before he found out what ‘CODE 1’ was... But before he made it down to Professor Flitwick’s classroom, a familiar voice stopped him on the staircase.

“Hi,” said Cho Chang slightly breathlessly.

“Hi,” replied a stunned Harry. Why couldn’t he just get to detention?

“Did you get my owl over the...?”

“Yeah,” Harry interrupted. “Ron gave it to me in August...”

They stared at each other uncomfortably. Harry felt a dull ache of guilt festering in the pit of his stomach.

“Umm... Shall we just talk here then?” Cho asked nervously.

“Well, I... er... had to be in detention with Professor Flitwick... ten minutes ago.” God bless detention, Harry mused.

“Oh... right. Well, can you meet tomorrow... at Hogsmeade?” she suggested.

“Yeah, where d’you want to...?”

“Well, we could go back to Madam Puddifoot’s... for old time sake.”

Harry paled. That’s where they had gone for Valentine’s Day.

“That is assuming that your precious Hermione doesn’t have other plans for you,” she said with a conniving grin. “I need to talk to you, you know...”

“Er... okay but...”

“Great! I’ll see you there at noon.”

Cho pranced away. Bugger! Bugger! BUGGER! Harry really needed a full frontal lobotomy right about now! He quickly dashed over to Professor Flitwick’s classroom. There was no way in hell that he was running into any more ex-girlfriends along the way. Oh yeah, he didn’t have any others... Harry entered the Charms Classroom and looked inside. Draco Malfoy was sitting at a small desk inside of the room, writing lines. They glared at each other coldly. This was going to be a long month...


It was Friday night. Draco had finally returned from detention and was now getting ready to sneak out with Crabbe and Goyle to terrorize some innocent Gryffindor first-years. Was there another impoverished Weasley that they could harass? He didn’t remember seeing any flaming red-hair in the first-year class... but that wasn’t conclusive evidence. Draco wouldn’t be surprised if that prolific wretch the Weasleys called their Mum didn’t bang destitute Muggles and Half-breeds on the side. She really needed to be neutered!

Draco gazed at his almost perfect reflection in the Slytherin vanity. He would show that second-rate squib, Longbottom, who’s the sexist Pureblood at Hogwarts... If only he could fix his damn mullet! A strand was out of place. This was simply unacceptable. Draco had already applied three helpings of Madam Maklin’s Malleable Mullet Salve, but it wasn’t working. He was unnerved... he couldn’t concentrate... he had to stop thinking about Potter.

Draco was livid when that insipid half-blood interrupted his detention. Since when did Potter get a month detention as well? That old codger never told him that? As if Draco didn’t suffer enough by losing his Prefect badge and being subjected to writing lines for Flitwick... But now he had to be stuck in detention with Potter! This was intolerable! He had to do something! He had to stop thinking about him!

Draco was irate! He needed to concentrate on his hair; Crabbe and Goyle would be here soon. The strand would not stay in place... Why couldn’t he focus? Why was this bothering him now? He had managed to shut Potter out of his mind for four days, but somehow seeing him at detention brought all those terrifying memories back. He could still taste Potter’s blood on his mouth... He could still see the horror in his devastating green eyes when Potter realized that they had accidentally kissed.

Why was Draco feeling like this? Did he have feelings? Malfoys don’t feel... they control! He was stoic... just like his father! He would not be unnerved by The Fucking Boy Who Lived! What was this curse Potter had put on him? Why was he craving to touch his scar? Why did he yearn to kiss him again? Why couldn’t he get those damn haunting eyes out of his mind? Was he in control? Why didn’t he like girls? Why wasn’t Potter a girl? Why wasn’t Potter a Pureblood? This Wasn’t Part Of The Plan! Draco L. Malfoy was going to marry a Pureblood girl from the right family and they were going to live happily ever after in the Malfoy Mansion and they would raise a son that looked just like him and he would be really happy and...

Tears welled up in Draco’s murky grey eyes. That fucking strand was still out of place! Draco grabbed his jar of Mullet Salve and chucked it at his reflection. The mirror cracked. He gazed at his fractured former self.

He was going to be disowned! His father would never accept this ‘orientation,’ and he would definitely not accept Potter! Lucius wanted Potter dead! Draco was disgusting... unworthy! He had failed his father! He was not worthy of his family name! He needed to run away... He needed to get away from that damn four-eyed freak! How dare Potter ruin his plan! How dare Potter screw up his future! He was Draco Malfoy!

Tears streamed down his cheeks. Who was Draco Malfoy? What had he earned? Everything was given to him. His name... his wealth... his class... his friends. He didn’t choose any of this. He didn’t earn any of this. At least Potter was brave. At least he had earned his own respect. But that still wasn’t good enough. Potter wasn’t the right sex... the right class... the right blood. He did not meet his family’s expectations! HE DID NOT FIT WITHIN THE PLAN!

Draco’s watery eyes shifted to the Halloween Ball poster on the Slytherin message board. What was he gonna do? He still didn’t have a date. He didn’t even like girls! Who was he gonna bring - ‘Saint Potter’? Those bloody Gryffindors would love to gossip about that... The fall of the house of Malfoy! How much lower was he going to sink? Where was his Slytherin pride? He used to rule this school! Why was he crumbling? Why was he now coming apart at the seams?

Draco heard footsteps. Crabbe and Goyle were coming; he could hear those dolts a mile away. They couldn’t find him here in this state... Draco had to pull himself together. HE WOULD GET EVEN WITH POTTER FOR THIS! Draco’s blood rushed to his face as he gazed at his tearstained reflection in the cracked bathroom vanity. He would exact his revenge! He would definitely find a way...


Ginny Weasley lounged back in her mango bubble bath in the Prefect’s Bathroom. It was a beautiful Saturday morning. Life was good... her plan was underway. Ginny would make sure that Captain Ron would get laid today after the Three Broomsticks pub crawl at Hogsmeade. Actually, she wouldn’t mind getting a piece of the action herself, but Neville was staying back at Hogwarts to do advanced herbology research... No comment.

Ginny smiled at Myrtle, who was giving her a French manicure and pedicure. She and Myrtle had become great friends, and Ginny had been working on Myrtle to update her former ‘Why me?’ Nancy Kerrigan-on-crack image. Myrtle had already cleared up her complexion, lost her girlish pigtails and ditched those hideous thick glasses, but sixty-six years of celibacy was ridiculous! Even the ‘Scourgify’ spell might have problems cleaning out the cobwebs down there... Then again, Myrtle did seem to hang around toilets... Ginny would rather not think about that...

“Pine fresh,” whispered a coarse female voice from outside of the Prefect’s Bathroom. Ginny heard a hand trying to turn the doorknob. It was bolted shut from inside. Knock, knock, knock... Ginny looked at Myrtle, but didn’t respond. POUND, POUND, POUND... She still didn’t respond.

“Ginny, are you in there?” cried Pansy Parkinson from the doorway. This was déjà vu.

“Use the girls’ bathroom on the second floor,” Ginny replied innocently. Myrtle smirked devilishly.

“Silencio!” Pansy’s voice cried from the hallway. The door glowed for a second. Ginny looked at Myrtle, startled.

“COLLOPORTUS!” Pansy shrieked. The door glowed again. Ginny was horrified; her wand had been left in the Gryffindor dormitory. Ginny leapt out of the bathtub, ruining her new pedicure, and dashed over to the door. She tried to unlock it, but the spell had sealed her in.

“HELP!!!” Ginny shouted. But it was no use. The bathroom was sealed with a silencing spell. Ginny knew Pansy was up to something, but now she was trapped! She had to find a way to get out! Ginny paced back and forth, pondering all of her options. Suddenly, she looked up at Myrtle.

“I have a plan...” Ginny said.




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