Ginny's Yule Ball (Harry Potter Fanfiction) (not hinny)

He gave you something private in the broom cupboard?

HEY THERE! <3 read on...

I walked up the grand staircase in a slight daze. This was so strange. I didn’t really concentrate on where I was going, my feet just glided up each step. When I finally woke up I was surprised to find myself at the common room, I must have sub-consciously led myself here, how odd. The fat lady was blinking down at me, expectantly. 

“Um…I have no idea what the password is…” I realised, suddenly. The password was always reset after Christmas but so far today I had only left the common room – never entered it. Was I going to have to go back down and find Dean and get the password? 

“Oh, Dear,” The fat lady giggled, completely out of character. But then I noticed the box of chocolate liquors that was lying squashed and empty at the bottom of her portrait and understood why. She was tipsy – incredibly tipsy. “Say, Miss Weasley, I saw you and a certain Dean Thomas coming out of that broom cupboard looking very bashful, indeed!” And with this her head collapsed into her hands and she started shrieking with laughter. 

“What?” I whispered sharply “How do you know about that?” The fat lady pulled her hair away from her face and sat up straight. 

“I was visiting my friend violet! She hangs in the entrance hall,” She explained “Are you two seeing each other then?” She asked this so casually it was almost like I wasn’t talking to an ancient portrait at all. “I dare say your brother Ron won’t be happy about that!” 

That was a good point of hers, actually. I guess I could never be with Dean or Harry without Ron hating me and them….another reason I could never be with Dean! Or Harry…I really never thought about that. My mood sort of lifted from general numbness to lonely numbness - so not really a bit difference. Not that I minded one bit that Ron hated me, he’d get over it, but I hated the thought of me being the one to ruin Ron and Harry’s friendship. But I’m getting carried away. It’s not like I’ll ever date Harry Potter. 

“Absolutely not.” I said stoutly, trying to make myself sound indignant, innocent but I wasn’t either of those things – especially not innocent – and I it also appeared that my mood wasn’t the only thing that was numb – it seemed my face was too! I couldn’t compose my face into any expression other than “bored stiff”. “He was just…giving me something.” I was about to concoct some elaborate lie about why me and this fourth year boy were in the broom closet alone and for a good while, too. God, no wonder she was suspicious. But I settled for the truth, not wanting to get myself in any more bother. 

“Well, what was it he gave you, girl?” The fat lady demanded, affronted, almost knocking me out of my daze. 

“Nothing special…nothing of any interest to anyone…It was something private!” I muttered aggregately. 

In the time that it had taken me to say this last statement the fat lady had found another box of chocolate liqueurs, had ripped them open ad guzzled about half of the packet. And it was no small packet either. I watched as she snatched up her champagne flute from the ground and slugged at it. She threw the empty glass away where it shattered into a thousand sparkling pieces at the edge of her frame. 

“Oh, soooo sorry Sir Dapton!” The fat lady giggled, drunkenly as some of the shards of glass flew into the portrait next to hers of a man – Sir Dapton – slumped in an armchair, sleeping. Or at least he was before the glass flew at him. 

She then turned back to face me and her pink face turned scarlet as she slapped a chubby hand over her mouth and giggled, mischievously.