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Right Under His Nose
Chapter Two: Pay attention, Potter!
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“. . . and we walked in, and Ginny and Dean were kissing on his bed. Can you believe it?”
“Oh, my goodness, Ron. I hope you weren’t too hard on them.”
“Hermione, they were lying on his bed, snogging. Of course I was hard on them.”
Harry moved peas around his plate with his fork, not feeling much like eating, even though he had missed lunch. He was only halfway listening to Ron, and barely heard when he went on to explain the argument, his taking off points, and Ginny’s apology. Hermione was enthralled, as usual, and wanted to know exactly what Ginny had said. Harry didn’t bother to tell her that what Ginny hadn't said was what was bothering him the most about the afternoon.
What had Ginny meant by that look, anyway? Did she mean to tell him that she felt the same way about him as he did about her? And how was it possible for him to discover such deep feelings in such a short time?
Harry glanced up the Gryffindor table to where Ginny sat with Dean, apparently unconcerned. How could she look at him like she had today and then go back to sitting with Dean, acting like nothing had happened?
Maybe nothing did happen, Potter... you probably just imagined the whole thing.
But the look in her eyes had seemed so real, so... desperate.
Harry stabbed angrily at his potatoes.
“Harry? Are you all right?” Hermione was looking at him with concern in her eyes, and Harry trained his eyes on his plate.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied automatically. “Just a stomachache.”
She would be able to see through it, but he didn’t care. Hopefully she would be able to tell that he didn’t want to talk about it.
“All right,” she said. Her tone told him that she didn’t believe him for a second, but thankfully she didn’t press the subject. Harry shot her a grateful glance, and she smiled.
“Did anything else happen to you two today?”
Yes. I realized I’m in love with my best friend’s little sister. Hah, hah.
Ron launched into his explanation of their detention, and Harry went back to only halfway listening, staring at his peas and wishing he was the one sitting next to Ginny.
***
Three weeks later, the incident in the boy’s dormitory went nearly forgotten. Hermione, in fits of brilliance they had all come to expect, had earned Gryffindor thirty points in one class and twenty-five in another, meaning the points taken off for Ginny and Dean didn’t much matter anymore. Ron was still clenching his fists whenever he saw Dean, but there wasn’t much Harry could do about that, because he secretly did it as well. Every student, the fifth years especially, was eagerly anticipating the Christmas holidays. Every student, it seemed, except Harry Potter.
It wasn’t that Harry didn’t want to see the Weasleys”he did. But leaving Hogwarts for Christmas meant going to Grimmauld Place”somewhere he hadn’t been forced to go since last summer, and somewhere he didn’t care to go again. Grimmauld Place was full of memories Harry didn’t want to dwell on.
Harry wouldn’t exactly admit to himself that one of the reasons. . . well, the main reason, really. . . that he was apprehensive about the holidays was because Christmas with the Weasleys meant spending time with a certain Weasley in particular. . . a certain female Weasley.
Harry had spent the past three weeks carefully avoiding Ginny wherever he went. It wasn’t too difficult, considering they were both immersed in work”Ginny for her OWL classes and Harry for his NEWT classes. However, living in the same House as Ginny did mean seeing her on a daily basis was almost unavoidable. Now, whenever he did see her, Harry would divert his eyes to the ground and pretend he hadn’t. He wasn’t trying to be cruel; it was just. . . so much easier when he didn’t have these bloody feelings clouding up his head. He could work more effectively. . . talk more effectively. . . play more effectively. . . . But Ginny was also a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Now it was much more difficult to play Quidditch because, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She was mesmerizing, really, with her long red hair and freckles and white skin and that radiant smile . . .
Stop it, Potter.
Harry sat in Transfiguration, trying to pay attention but failing miserably. It had been like this for the past three weeks. Any time he needed to focus, his brain seemed to automatically switch to thoughts of Ginny. She really was magnificent. He didn’t know what had taken him so long to notice. She was always smiling, it seemed, and her eyes always sparkled. But the one thing that made her Ginny was her hair. . . that famous Weasley hair. . . bright red and gorgeous. Sometimes she pinned or twisted it up, but on other days (those happy, happy days) she let it down. Harry remembered she had let her hair free on Tuesday just before walking up to bed...
Damn it, Potter! Pay attention!
McGonagall was now issuing orders to do something. Exactly what that something was, Harry wasn’t sure.
“Ron,” he whispered, “what’s going on?”
“We’re getting our raccoons from the front of the class when she tells us,” Ron whispered back.
So that was what all the boxes with air holes in the front of the room were for.
“And what are we supposed to do with the raccoons?”
“Transfigure them into. . . er”hang on. Hermione!”
Hermione turned around. “What?”
“What are we supposed to be doing with the raccoon?”
Her expression changed from curiosity to mild disbelief. “Are you really asking me that question?”
“No, Hermione, I’m not asking you what we need to do. Just like I haven’t asked you what we’re doing in class every bloody day for the past six years.”
“Well, maybe you ought to pay more attention. And don’t swear.”
“Hermione, is this really the time for a lecture?”
“Mr. Weasley, is this really the time for a private conversation?” McGonagall was standing over Ron, whose ears went red.
“No, Professor.”
“Good. Now, if you please, proceed with Mr. Potter to the front of the classroom to obtain your raccoon.”
Harry walked up the aisle to get his raccoon from the collection of boxes. As he made his way back, he caught a glimpse of Parvati and Lavender peeking into their own boxes. They seemed petrified. Come to think of it, Hermione looked a little nervous herself.
That was another thing he liked about Ginny. She wasn’t afraid... of anything. Perhaps it was a habit learned by growing up with six older brothers, but Ginny never seemed afraid of speaking her mind. And because she wasn’t afraid of speaking her mind, she was never afraid of putting him in his place. She didn’t give him special treatment or tiptoe around him like he was a bomb ready to go off. Harry liked that. She was so different than the other girls. Those girls spent all morning putting on makeup and detested getting dirty (or at least Parvati and Lavender did, from what he gathered from Hermione). Those girls looked at him like he was some sort of slimy plant they harvested in Herbology if he came into the common room looking filthy”but Harry noticed that Ginny looked at him the same way if he came into the common room covered in mud or immaculately clean.
Not that you've been paying attention or anything, right, Potter?
But the one thing that was really amazing about Ginny Weasley was that she didn’t seem to know how amazing she really was. Hell, he hadn’t noticed it, not until the evidence of just how taken she really was had been shoved under his nose.
She was smart, for one. Brave. Funny. Unpretentious, yet so stunningly beautiful Harry sometimes lost his breath when he looked at her.
Why had it taken him so long to notice his match, his perfect girl, the one he cared about most in the world, when she had been right under his nose the whole bloody time?
He found himself thinking of that day more than anything. At first, he had tortured himself over that look. What had she meant by it? Did she want him, Harry, to do something about it? But as the weeks passed and he looked back, Harry found himself hard put to remember anything with any real clarity.
Maybe he had made it up. Maybe he was just being stup”
“Harry!”
Harry’s head snapped up but bowed slightly as he realized that every single person, including a very angry McGonagall, was looking at him. His eyes fell to his box, which was still unopened, and he felt a dull flush rise in his cheeks as he realized that everyone (well, Hermione, at least) had a raven sitting on their desk. He threw a sidelong glance at Ron, who was suppressing a laugh, and then at Hermione, who looked thoroughly disapproving. Slowly, he raised his eyes to Professor McGonagall’s.
“Potter, detention and ten points for not paying attention in class,” she quipped in her usual crisp tone. Harry gave a defeated nod.
McGonagall glanced at the clock and sighed in frustration. “I suppose we’ll have to finish this in our next lesson. Please place your animals in the boxes provided for you and mark them clearly with your name. Carry them up to the front of the classroom and stack them neatly, then you may go. Homework. . . discuss why the similarities in the namesakes of ‘raven’ and ‘raccoon’ might ease the difficulty of Transfiguring the pair.”
A usual, collective groan rose from the class as they shuffled forward to put their boxes up. Harry felt slightly ashamed that he hadn’t even begun to Transfigure his raccoon... all because he was caught up in thinking about Ginny. Again.
You see, Potter, thinking about her too much has its consequences. Why can’t you just”
“Potter!”
Harry jumped, causing the raccoon inside his box to do so as well. “Yes, Professor?” he said.
“We need to discuss the specifics of your detention.”
Harry twisted around to see Ron and Hermione, who gave him sympathetic looks.
“Go on... I’ll see you at lunch,” he urged. They nodded and made their way out of the classroom. Harry set down his raccoon box and then stood in front of Professor McGonagall’s desk. She fixed him with a rather sterner look than was usual, and Harry nearly gulped. He hadn’t been intimidated by Professor McGonagall for a long while... he hoped the habit wasn’t starting up again.
“Mr. Potter,” she began, “would you like to tell me precisely why you have been so distracted these days?”
Harry nearly jumped again”he hadn’t been expecting a question. “Um... er, well... Professor””
“Because, Potter, I have noticed that you have been increasingly distracted over the last fortnight. Perhaps even a bit longer than that. I just wanted to remind you that this is an NEWT-level class, and low attention levels will not be tolerated.”
Harry gave another weak, defeated nod. “Yes, Professor McGonagall.”
The severity of her mouth lessened a little as he stood in front of her desk. “Now, Potter, I would really prefer for you to get your detention over soon. I’ll set it for this Saturday at ten o’clock.”
Harry, who had been preparing to dully accept whatever punishment she gave him, felt a flare of annoyance at this. “But, Professor, Saturday’s a Hogsmeade day.”
McGonagall gave him a stern stare. “Yes, Potter, I’m aware of that. Perhaps if you devoted as much time to paying attention in class as you do to learning the Hogsmeade schedule we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
So no time at all, then, Harry thought bitterly in his head. While it was true that the appeal of Hogsmeade had diminished somewhat since his third year, Harry had still been looking forward to the break. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do. Harry sighed, resigned to his fate.
“I’ll be here, Professor.”
“Good.” McGonagall stood up and grabbed a stack of parchment on her desk. “Potter”you may leave now.”
Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and stormed out of the classroom.
***