“Harry? Harry! Are you even listening to me?” Ginny waved A History of Magic in front of Harry’s face, and only then did he become aware that she was talking to him. They were sitting in front of the fireplace in an almost empty common room, early Saturday evening. Ginny had parchment and a quill in front of her, and Harry had his arm casually thrown around her shoulders as she attempted to finish her homework.
He shook his head. “Sorry, Ginny. What were you saying?”
Ginny sighed. “Never mind. What’s with you, anyway? You haven’t been listening to me for the past fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, I have,” said Harry, untruthfully.
Ginny looked at him in disbelief. “And what was I saying?”
“You were talking about…erm…well, I don’t remember now.”
Ginny laughed. “Well, I was trying to tell you about Lavender and Seamus, but obviously you don’t think that it is very interesting.”
Harry grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, Ginny. I was just thinking. How does Ron feel about it?”
Ginny grinned. “He doesn’t know yet. He and Hermione still haven’t come back from patrolling, even though Hermione promised to help me with my Herbology assignment.” She sighed. “And they think we’re bad.”
Harry smirked as he stood up from the couch they were sitting on.
“Where are you going, Harry?” Ginny asked suspiciously.
He took her hand and pulled her up. “You just gave me an idea. Why don’t we go for a walk outside? It’s a great evening.”
Ginny looked out the windows at the grey skies. She could see the leaves on the Whomping Willow shaking in the crisp autumn wind. “A nice day? Really, Harry. And what about my homework?”
Harry laughed. “You have all weekend to do your homework. And I guarantee that Hermione won’t be back from patrolling for at least another hour.” He winked.
Ginny smiled. “All right,” she conceded. “I’ll just go and get my jacket.” She ran up the stairs, and Harry turned to look out the window again. He could see Hagrid outside in his large pumpkin patch, Fang at his heels, nipping at each leaf that dropped from the trees. The scene itself could have been picturesque if Harry thought about it. But his mind was drifting far from the cold, brisk autumn evening to thirty eight years previously. He had yet to make another trip in the Pensieve. Quidditch practice and homework interfered with his plans to use the memories Remus had given him. In the past week, however, he had thought more about his past then ever before. Or, rather, about his parent’s past.
Ginny’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “I’m ready, Harry. Are you coming or what?”
“Harry Potter at your service, Miss.” She laughed at his poor impression and took his hand as they headed out through the portrait.
~*~
“Where the hell have you two been?” asked Ron, when Harry and Ginny finally stumbled into the common room three hours later. Ginny’s cheeks were red from the cold wind, and Harry’s hair was messier then usual.
“We went for a walk,” said Ginny, in response, “and don’t even think about asking us why. This prat,” she gestured at Harry, “thought it was a “nice evening” to go for a walk.”
Harry laughed as he strolled over to warm his hands over the fireplace. “Well, I figured we couldn’t let you two have all the fun.” He inclined his head towards Ron and Hermione who were curled up on the couch.
“What do you mean?” asked Ron, stupidly.
“Oh, Ron! Please don’t pretend that you voluntarily patrolled for two hours. There must be some catch.”
Hermione blushed, and Ron’s ears went pink, but he grinned anyway. “Well, me and Hermione, we have lots to get done. You have no idea how many Fanged Frisbees we had to confiscate today.”
“I’m quite sure I do, and they are all probably upstairs hiding in your trunk,” laughed Ginny. “But it’s all right, Ron. Harry and I both know how you like to spend quality time together.” Ron looked as if he was trying very hard not to smile, but soon they were all laughing.
~*~
Potions was the only class Harry had with the Slytherins this year, and it was with a great deal of reluctance that he descended the stairs to the dungeons the next morning. He had been trying his best to avoid the green and silver clad students since the beginning of the year. He told himself that this was to avoid any arguments, but deep down he knew that it was seeing people like Goyle who scared him the most. Without the bulk of Crabbe beside him, the few glimpses of Goyle Harry had had, showed a nervous, lonely boy. And underneath his hatred for the house, Harry couldn’t help but feel pity for some of the students.
As Harry entered the potions classroom, he could see Slughorn writing on the chalkboard. As he took his seat, Slughorn turned around and faced the class.
“No need to take out your cauldrons today. Please copy down the following into your note book and then read chapter three of The History of Potion Making for the remainder of class. For homework, answer questions one to ten at the back of your text book,” Slughorn’s voice boomed from the front of the class.
The class was filled with groans as the all students took out their quills and began to copy down the notes Slughorn had written. When he opened his text book, the watch on Harry’s wrist read eleven-thirty.
Great, another forty-five minutes to go, thought Harry, as he gloomily opened his book to chapter three.
“Hey, Potter! Move your fat head. What’s the matter, one of ginger’s spells go wrong?”
Harry’s could feel his heart beating louder with every word spoken. Beside him, Ron was shaking with anger. Finally, when Harry caught the words “dirty Mudblood friend” he had had enough, but just as he was about to turn around he heard another voice, one that was very familiar.
“Shut your ugly face, Zeal. I can’t concentrate over here.”
Ron and Harry stared at each other with eyes wide, before whipping around to see Draco Malfoy glaring across at Quintus Zeal. When he saw Harry and Ron, though, he reverted his eyes, and stared at his parchment.
Before Harry had enough time to make any sense out of this, Slughorn decided to take a stroll around the classroom, checking how everyone was coming along. Harry was forced to return to his Potions book. This time, however, the page might as well have been blank, for he stared without seeing as his brain tried to digest everything that had just happened. He was used to Slytherin abuse, but why had Malfoy stood up for him?
Harry Potter: The Following Year by ginnygirl16
Chapter Notes: Sorry for the very long delay! This chapter has been done for sometime now, but I've only just found the time to finish it up. Hope you enjoy it. Thanks to Emma for beta-ing and as always, feel free to leave a review!
Chapter Endnotes: What do you think? Leave a review and let me know!
--ginnygirl16