Definitions

Syn

PG-13

I do not own these characters.

Summary: Over-stressed by her upcoming O.W.L.'s, Ginny loses it.  Harry tries to make her relax and learns a little something.

Notes: I don't normally do pure fluff, but well...I had this random ficlet in my head and it wanted out.  It's a nice break from what I normally write in any case.  

 

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I hate Potions.  I hate Potions.  I hate Potions, Harry Potter thought over and over again as he stared at the piece of parchment before him on the table.  His eyes were unfocused and the few paragraphs he'd managed to write so far were blurry spiders on the white scroll.  He tried and failed once again to make his scattered thoughts focus into a coherent whole, but they wouldn't go. 

 

He was just in no mood to be doing his hellebore essay for Potions.  Flinging his unruly hair out of his eyes, he looked around the quiet-as-a-tomb library, seeing the hunched figures of other students busy at work.  Madam Pince was lording over the counter at the front, her nose nearly buried in a dusty tome.   Since no one was making much noise beyond the scratching of quills and the occasional cough or turn of a page, she didn't seem too concerned with the students.

 

Harry's gaze wandered away from the librarian and toward the ceiling high bookshelves.  There wasn't anything particularly exciting about them, but his eyes were caught on the gilt lettering of one book and, resting his chin on the heel of his palm, he stared at it.  Boredom crept up and still he couldn't look away from the golden letters.  He thought he ought to finish his Potions essay, but he just wasn't interested...

 

He must have dozed off, because when a loud screech of frustration erupted through the quiet library, he jolted in his chair.  Confused, he lifted his head and stared around for a sign of what had interrupted his doze.  Everyone else's heads were turning in all directions as they too sought the source of the interruption. 

 

They didn't have to wait long.  Another frustrated scream rang through the library and a book suddenly arched over the top of the bookshelf to Harry's right, pages fluttering.  It landed with a thump in the middle of the floor.  Another scream followed, along with a long stream of curse words that made several people's mouths drop open. 

 

Harry, however, was more shocked because he recognized the voice. 

 

"BLOODY STUPID HISTORY OF MAGIC!" Ginny Weasley screamed from the other end of the library.  Catching the sight of Madam Pince rushing toward Ginny's position within the labyrinthine rows of bookshelves, Harry jumped up, intent on heading the librarian off at the pass.  If Madam Pince got a hold of Ginny, she was sure to get a detention.  

 

"Must be a fifth year.  That's the third one I've seen lose it this week.  O.W.L. year is brutal, man," someone said as Harry rushed past them, ducking another thrown book as it arched through the air. 

 

Far ahead of Madam Pince, Harry skirted around a bookshelf and ran down the long row, seeing another book sail over his head.  Ginny was still cursing loudly.  He had no trouble homing in on the sound of her voice.  He rounded another corner and saw Ginny kicking at one of the carrels along the back of the library.  She was red in the face and her books were scattered, chair kicked over on the floor.  Her robes, several pieces of parchment and the top of the carrel were splattered with a generous dose of black ink. 

 

Without stopping to wait and knowing her safety was in danger, Harry grabbed her around the waist and hauled her backward just as Madam Pince rounded the corner.  Her back was to them and she didn't see them as Harry hauled the struggling Ginny back around the corner. 

 

He needed an exit and he needed one now.  Ginny squealed and he clamped his hand over her mouth. 

 

"'Arry?" Ginny said against his hand. 

 

"Shh...we need to get out of here before YOU get detention!" he breathed against her ear. 

 

That seemed to calm her down a bit.  She relaxed as he hauled her backward, looking for the nearest exit.  There was one three shelves over that let out into the corridor near the staff room.  He took off toward it, nearly picking Ginny up in his rush to get to the relative safety of the corridor.  They made it without incident, rushing through the double doors, which opened when he kicked at them.  They spilled out of the library and raced off down the empty corridor. 

 

The first empty classroom they came to, Harry pulled them into it and closed the door tightly behind them.  He took a deep breath and let Ginny go, noticing that he had nearly carried her all the way from the library. 

 

Free, she spun away from him and kicked at one of the desks nearest to her.  She crowed with pain and clutched at her foot immediately, hopping up and down on one leg.

 

"Dammit!" she said thickly, tears of frustration showing in her eyes. "Stupid desk!"

 

"You're the one who attacked it, first.  I say you got what you asked for," Harry said, completely nonplussed.  Ginny glared up at him through the tangled curtain of her hair.  Her red face was twisted in annoyance for a second before she managed to laugh, her face relaxing.

 

"Yeah well...it was looking shifty," she said as she sank into a chair and continued to rub at her hurt foot.

 

"Want to tell me what that was all about?" Harry asked, perching on the corner of the desk opposite her chair. "Why where you chucking books?"

 

The mad light in her eyes flared and Harry winced at the tone of her voice.

 

"I had the fucking thing done!" she burst out.  "I was three sentences from finishing and what do I do?  I dump a whole bottle of ink on the blasted essay!  I ruined two days of work!" Tears of frustration showed in her eyes again and she fisted her hands in her hair. 

 

"Ouch.  That's really..." Well, it sucked.  But she knew that and didn't need his commiseration. "Who was it for?"

 

Her eyes narrowed a bit and she curled her lip, making Harry's eyebrows rise. "Binns.  That undead bastard keeps setting us these horrible essays on giant wars and rebellions and he expects us to spend HOURS in the library looking up these impossibly boring events in impossibly hard to read books!"

 

"Well, he does like to do that..." Harry said with a sigh. "Wait until sixth year.  You think goblin rebellions are bad, just wait until he goes on and on about ghost rights."

 

"If I make it to my sixth year," she said darkly, slumping in her chair.  The redness was slowly bleaching out of her face, leaving only high patches of color in her cheeks.  Her hair was a wild tangle on her head and spilling over her shoulders. "I'm so bloody stressed out over my O.W.L.s!  I have tons of homework and I have Quidditch practice all the bloody time--how's a girl NOT go mad under those circumstances?" 

 

"O.W.L.'s are awful, Ginny, but you'll make it through," he said, putting his hands in his pockets. "And I bet you can rewrite your essay.  It'll be easy--you already know what you want to say!"

 

"Harry, please don't see the silver lining right now.  I'm not in the mood," Ginny said as she lowered her face to the desk, forehead banging on the surface, hair spilling over to hide her from view. 

 

"This coming from the girl who's constantly on me about not brooding all the time?" Harry ventured teasingly. 

 

It was true, Ginny was constantly trying to get him to lighten up, something she thought was very important.  He'd had more than his fair share of guilt for disappointing her, but he couldn't help it.  Most of the time he wasn't a very pleasant person to be around and it only seemed to get worse with every bit of news about the Second War that came in.  He felt useless and trapped here.  And Hermione had told him, on more than one occasion that he was depressed.  He didn't normally care, but around Ginny he felt he should at least make an effort, if only to see her smile. 

 

He was secretly glad she was worried about his mental health and overall happiness.  And unlike Hermione, she didn't go after him in a motherly way.  It made him feel comfortable and loved.  Normal, almost. 

 

"Oh no!  Don't turn this around on me, Potter!" Ginny said, lifting her head from the desk.  Her chocolate brown eyes were narrowed and Harry found himself fighting back a laugh at the expression on her face. "And stop smiling like that!  You're freaking me out!"

 

"I thought you wanted me to smile more?" Harry said with a laugh. 

 

"Not like that!  You look two ingredients short of a potion when you smile like that!" Ginny straightened in the chair and crossed her arms over her ink-splattered chest.  Ink was all over her black robes and glancing down, Harry saw his hands were smudged as well from where he'd hauled her out of the library.

 

"I look crazy?  Who was the one cursing like a sailor and chucking books in the library?" he teased, laughing outright at the exasperated expression on her face.

 

"I was not...I didn't...shut up, you!" Ginny exclaimed, turning her back on him. "You're...you're..."

 

"Waiting for my thank you for rescuing you from Madam Pince.  She'd have had your neck on the block for throwing her books like that.  Not to mention disrupting her quiet library with such foul language," Harry said, circling her desk and crouching down before her.  Their gazes met and he saw her face go red again. "Wherever did you learn--what was the phrase?  Oh yeah...'Motherfu--'"

 

Ginny cut him off as she put her hand over his mouth, looking flustered. "I deny everything." Harry smiled behind her hand, the corners of his eyes crinkling with laughter.  She drew her hand away and sighed heavily. "I like that smile much better."

 

"I like having a reason to smile," Harry confessed, catching hold of her hand.  A swoop went through his stomach at the nearness of her large eyes and he was suddenly short of breath. "So?  Where's my reward?"

 

"I thought you only wanted a thank you?" she countered.

 

"Aren't they the same thing?"

 

"By my definition?  Definitely not," she said with a coy look in her eyes.  Harry suddenly had the suspicion she was flirting with him, but since he had absolutely no experience with flirting himself, he wasn't sure.  He'd been trying (rather badly) to flirt with her for a few months, but it just didn't seem to be working.  Flirting was a basic skill and he couldn't even manage it properly, since she hadn't seemed the least bit interested in him outside of her attempts at getting him out of a bad mood.

 

Testing his theory, he rubbed his thumb across her hand, watching for a reaction.  The corner of her mouth lifted ever so slightly, but she didn't look away from his eyes.  A tiny part of his mind danced a jig as he looked at her seriously.

 

"What is, in your definition, a proper reward then?" he asked, licking his lips.

 

"I couldn't tell you without showing you," she said in an offhand voice.  His heart skipped a beat and then stopped a second later. "So I'll just say thank you instead."

 

His mind stopped dancing immediately.

 

"Well, that's fair," he managed, realizing he'd probably read her wrong.  A sick feeling of disappointment spread through his limbs and he immediately let go of her hand. 

 

What HAD he been thinking? 

 

"Harry--" she started to say, but he stood, glancing toward the door of the empty classroom. 

 

"So, are you ready to venture back to the library?  I don't know about you, but I left all my things in there and---"

 

"Harry--"

 

"I hope Madam Pince didn't confiscate your things or you'll be cooked for sure."

 

"HARRY!" Ginny shouted, leaping up and grabbing his arm.  He spun around to face her, startled by how close she was. "Would you shut up for a moment?"

 

"I--" he started, but she placed her hand over his mouth once more.

 

"Thank you for saving my neck in the library and for listening while I ranted like a madwoman.  And thank you for smiling.  I miss that," she said, tilting her head to gaze into his eyes. 

 

"You're welcome," he said around her hand.  He moved to pull away, but she held him tight, removing her hand. 

 

She was suddenly very close now and leaning closer.  His mind raced.  Was she...?

 

His internal question was answered when her lips met his.  She kissed him softly and for him, all too briefly, her body flush with his, hands on his neck.  He reached for her when she pulled away, eager for more, but she slipped away from his fingers all too easily. 

 

She blushed deeply and met his gaze.

 

"What was that for?"

 

"I was thanking you," she said simply, the corners of her mouth twisting again.  He frowned.

 

"I thought you already had," he hazarded in confusion.  What was it with this girl that completely knocked him for a loop?  She was always managing to confuse him. 

 

"Not by my definition," she said, a saucy grin lighting her face.  He blinked at her.

 

"And just what is your definition, Ginny?" he asked, bemused expression on his face.  She only smiled at him, walking backward toward the door. "Hang on...if that's a thank you, what is a reward?"

 

"You'll just have to find out, won't you?" she said, reaching the door and escaping through it like a phantom.  He stared at the closing door for a moment and then tore off after her. 

 

As he chased her down the hallway, Harry had a feeling Ginny Weasley's definitions weren't generally found in the dictionary. 

 

That was fine with him.  He couldn't wait to find them out for himself. 

 

(end)

 

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