Disclaimer: I am not (I’m sure this is obvious to all) J K Rowling. All characters sprang from her brilliant mind, and I am but a humble acolyte. *bows*
HEAVEN AND HELL
Chapter 1: Seven Minutes in Hell
By 11 o’clock that Friday night the Gryffindor common room was empty, except for a handful of fifth and sixth years. The seventh years were all upstairs in the seventh-year boys’ dorm; what had begun as a study session was, from the sound of things, rapidly deteriorating into an impromptu party.
Ron and Harry were in a corner playing wizard chess while Seamus, Dean, and Neville looked on with half-hearted interest. Hermione was curled up in her favourite over-stuffed armchair beside the roaring fire, muttering to herself while her eyes flew over a large dusty tome. Peals of laughter could be heard from the other side of the room, where Lavender and Parvati were talking in excited tones, Ginny looking on tolerantly.
“Hey there, keep it down,” Ron shouted. “We’re trying to concentrate!”
A shriek of mirth from Lavender was his only answer.
“What are they on about now?” asked Ron irritably. Focused intently on his game, he was annoyed by the distraction.
“Hmmm,” answered Harry, desperately trying to come up with a move that wouldn’t get his knight crushed by Ron’s Queen.
“Yeah, they seem a bit more . . . animated than usual,” snorted Dean, “and that’s saying something. Didn’t know Ginny was that keen on Lavender and Parvati though.”
“What’s wrong with Lavender?” asked Seamus.
“Nothing’s wrong with her,” Dean replied. “She’s just a bit too girly for my taste.”
“Sometimes girly is good, mate,” Seamus chuckled. “Especially in certain . . . ahem . . . situations, if you know what I mean!” And he winked mischievously.
“Well, if you put it like that then,” Dean admitted, laughing. “Parvati’s pretty good at the girly thing too, right?”
“Ohhhh yeah,” Seamas laughed. “Parvati’s REALLY good at the girly thing. Ginny, now, I’d love to have a chance to find out how she is at . . .?”
“What do you mean?” Ron and Neville snapped simultaneously. “You’d love to see how Ginny is at what?” Ron jumped to his feet, knocking over the chess board. “You’ve ruined the bloody game,” he snarled.
“No loss there,” Harry mumbled to himself. He wasn’t all that sorry to have the game ruined, considering that he never won.
“Well?” Ron barked.
Under Ron’s intimidating glare, Seamus held up an appeasing hand. “Nothing, Ron. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You take it back then!”
All four boys turned in astonishment. Trembling with suppressed anger, Neville had turned scarlet, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Say you take it back!”
“All right, mate. Take it easy,” said Dean. “He’s sorry, aren’t you, Seamus?”
Seamus, not usually one to back down from a fight, was so astonished at Neville’s unexpected aggression that he simply nodded mutely.
“Well . . . OK,” Neville sank down into his seat and seemed to lapse into a brown study. Now that the confrontation was over, he was shocked at his own daring. Ron was still standing, looming over the others but somewhat mollified by Dean’s words and Seamus’ apology. He seemed a bit agitated and was trying to process what had just happened. He had a hard time accepting the fact that his baby sister was 15 and more than a little interested in the opposite sex. To make matters worse, she’d filled out over the past year and was getting a fair share of attention from the fifth and sixth-year wizards. Ron didn’t like it; he didn’t like it one bit. The whole thing was bloody unsettling!
“Hey guys,” Lavender’s voice cut through the tension. “You up for a game?”
“But it’s too dark for Quidditch,” Ron said in puzzlement.
“It’s also after curfew,” Hermione cut in reprovingly.
“Quidditch!” Lavender said in disgust. “No, not Quidditch,” she rolled her eyes. “Honestly, is that all you lot ever think about?”
“No, he also thinks about breakfast. And lunch. And dinner,” Ginny snickered. The others all laughed; even Ron let out a reluctant chuckle.
“So what game did you have in mind then?” asked Harry warily.
“Seven Minutes in Heaven,” giggled Parvati. “It’s a muggle game. My cousin saw it one time in a muggle movie.”
“How do you play it?”
“Well,” Parvati giggled again, “We pair up, picking names out of a hat, and each of us gets to spend seven minutes in the broom closet over there with someone of the opposite sex.”
Neville gulped audibly. Hermione, Harry, and Ron all turned pale, while Seamus and Dean appeared to cheer up considerably.
“Oh yeah, we’re in,” Seamus said, rubbing his hands together.
“Honestly,” broke in Hermione. “Don’t you think we’re a bit too old for that kind of nonsense?”
“Scared, Hermione?” Parvati asked slyly. “You’ve never snogged before, have you?”
Lavender smirked, while Ginny and Harry looked sympathetic.
“It’s really none of your business what I have or haven’t done,” said Hermione loftily. “I just think games like that are childish.”
“So you are scared!” Parvati’s voice was triumphant.
That did it. Above all, Hermione was a Gryffindor; accusing her of fear was like throwing petrol on a fire.
“Of course I’m not scared!” Hermione retorted scathingly.
“So you’ll play then?”
“I guess, if everyone else wants to.” Hermione sounded incredibly bored, but Harry could tell that she was really very worried. Her cheeks were flushed pink, but most revealing of all, she was clutching her book with both hands and her knuckles had gone white. That only happened when she was under the throes of great emotion”usually anger or fear. But Harry knew that it was fear this time.
“How about the rest of you?” Lavender smiled sweetly at Neville, Ron, and Harry. “You up for it then?”
At that moment, Harry grasped the idea that Hermione had been right all along: Lavender and Parvati really were very silly girls. But at the same time, he didn’t want anyone to know how nervous he really was. This was going to be so awkward. No matter who he was matched up with, he was doomed.
“Yeah, of course,” Ron cut in bravely. “Sure. Why not?” He didn’t sound all that happy though.
“Come on everyone, it’ll be fun,” Lavender laughed. “Give us a chance to ‘get to know each other’ better, so to speak,” she grinned.
“Wait a minute,” Hermione cut in. “We have five boys and only four girls. The numbers are uneven. It won’t work.”
“Well, if you’ve got too many guys, I guess I’ll leave the field open to the rest of you and head up to bed. Busy day tomorrow.” Harry turned to go (run) up the stairs. Ron and Neville looked as if they would like to run right after him.
“Wait, Harry,” giggled Parvati. “We’ve already figured a way around that.”
‘You would,’ thought Hermione bitterly.
You would,’ thought Harry sourly.
“We’ll put the name of each boy and each girl on slips of parchment. The first girl we pick will be saved for the last two boys. All the others will be paired in order.”
“So one of us will get to kiss two of you,” squealed Lavender.
“Oh, joy,” muttered Hermione.
“Lovely,” mumbled Harry.
With great pomp, Parvati produced a quill and parchment and proceeded to write down the names of everyone present.
“All right then. First I’ll pick the lucky girl who’ll get fourteen minutes in heaven. Drumroll please . . .” and with a flourish, Parvati plucked a name out of the pile. “And the winner is . . . Hermione Granger.”
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, turned pale, and slumped back speechlessly. ‘Please, just kill me now.’
“Now for the pairing up.” Parvati smiled (nasty smile that girl’s got, thought Harry). “Are you ready?” and she quickly began pulling out scraps of parchment. “First we have . . . Dean and . . . oh,” she paused dramatically, “me! Ginny, you be in charge of timing us.”
Dean beamed, grabbed Parvati’s hand, and headed for the broom closet.
“Humph!” Ginny sniffed, turning up her nose. She and Dean had broken up a year ago, but seeing him go into the closet (so eagerly into the closet) with Parvati was still rather insulting.
Everyone waited nervously. For Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville the next seven minutes seemed to crawl by at a snail’s pace. Ginny seemed indifferent, while Seamus and Lavender kept exchanging smiling glances. Aside from a couple of muffled bumps (the closet was VERY small), silence reigned supreme. Finally, Ginny called “Time!” and knocked on the door. Parvati and Dean emerged smirking and Parvati went right to the parchment pile.
“Let’s see here (smoothing her ruffled hair) . . . next up are . . . Neville and . . . Ginny!”
Ron glared at poor Neville, who swallowed and, avoiding Ron’s gimlet eye, met Ginny at the closet door.
They emerged seven minutes later, Neville visibly stunned, as if he’d been hit in the head by a bludger; Ginny was smiling demurely. Before Ron could cause Neville any more grief, Parvati had selected the next couple: Seamus and Lavender. Which left . . .
Ron turned red; Harry turned white; Hermione turned to stone.
Laughing, Seamus and Lavender almost ran into the closet, from which squeals and short bursts of laughter were soon heard.
“Well,” Parvati said rather enviously.
“Looks like you’re going to have a chance to ‘broaden your friendship’ with Ron and Harry then, eh Hermione?” Dean said with a wink.
“At the same time?” squeaked out Ron. Harry looked ill.
“No, of course not, silly,” sniggered Parvat. “She’ll go with you first and then finish up with Harry.”
‘Finish up with Harry. That’s a great way to put it,’ Harry thought. ‘I’m doomed. ’ He collapsed onto the couch beside Neville, who was now looking somewhat pleased and smiling to himself.
‘This could not possibly be worse,’ Ron thought to himself. ‘If I snog her, she’ll probably slap me silly or hex me into next week. If I don’t snog her, she might think I hate her and start crying. Either way, I’m dead.’
The minutes ticked by. Parvati knocked on the door. Seamus and Lavender tumbled out of the closet--Lavender’s hair askew and Seamus’ face smeared with bright pink lip gloss.
“All right then,” giggled Parvati. “Go ahead Ron. Hermione.”
Feet dragging, his face rivaling his hair, Ron slunk to the closet.
“Oh honestly, Ron,” Hermione scolded, stalking up to him. “You look as if you’re going to your own funeral. Grow up, for heaven’s sake!”
“Grow up!” Ron exploded. “I suppose you’re just fine with all this. Read about it in a book somewhere did you? Think you can give me pointers, maybe?”
“Oh right, like you’re so experienced, Ronald Weasley. You just . . .”
SLAM!!!
And for the next two or three minutes, everyone in the common room was treated to the muted sounds of bickering and squabbling, as Ron and Hermione continued to argue from inside the depths of the broom closet.
Then --
Total silence.
‘What are they doing in there?’ Harry worried. ‘It’s too quiet. Maybe they decided to make up and right now they’re . . .’ The mental picture this conjured up was too horrible to contemplate.
“Wow, Harry. Looks like you’re going to have a lot to live up to mate,” snickered Seamus. “Haven’t heard a word out of them for a while. Maybe there’s more to ‘ickle Ronniekins’ than we thought!”
Ginny, who had gone to sit beside Neville (much to his delight), rolled her eyes.
“Maybe she’s put a full-body bind on him.” Neville added, only half-joking.
“Maybe she’s killed him,” suggested Ginny, laughing. “Or they’ve killed each other.”
“Times up,” yelled Lavender.
‘Maybe someone should just kill me,’ thought Harry.