magnolia ~ h. potter

twenty

Now it was Harry's turned to look stunned, and Emily smiled when Ginny looked up and gave her a cheeky wink.

"I'm sorry?" Ron asked, gobsmacked, turning to Emily, "When exactly did you kiss my sister?"

"That's none of your business," Emily said defensively.

"No...actually I'd like to know too," Harry piped up, and Ginny snorted.

"Don't get your wand in a knot Harry, I'm not moving in on your girlfriend," she said, and Harry raised an eyebrow.

"No?" he asked sarcastically, and Emily rolled her eyes.

"It was before you and I were together," she said simply.

"Emily," Kate said severely, "I came up here to work, and as much as I'm enjoying this conversation about your burgeoening bisexuality, I'd rather not get detention from McGonagall for not handing in a project that's due tomorrow,"

Emily gave an exasperated sigh. "I've finished my part!"

"Yes, but I haven't, and it's called a group project for a reason," Kate said, and Emily groaned.

"Emily Poole, glorified essay writer," she said, pushing herself up from the floor.

"Tiny violins are playing your misery," Kate said sarcastically as she too stood up.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, sounding somewhat disappointed.

"Don't worry, I'm only taking her to the library, lover boy," Kate mocked, and Harry turned scarlet.

"I was just asking," he muttered, as he sunk a little lower into the armchair.

Emily leaned down and kissed him quickly. "I'll see you later," she assured him, and he smiled, still looking somewhat miffed, as Ron made a retching sound in the background.

As Emily and Kate climbed through the portrait hole, Emily vaguely heard Ron start to interrogate Ginny.

"Kissing girls, now are we?" his voice abruptly disappeared when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung shut.

________________

Kate and Emily spent the next two hours of the afternoon working in the library, and Emily was just trudging back towards the common room past the seventh floor when she heard a shriek and a crash.

"How — dare — you — aaaaargh!"

The noise was coming from a corridor nearby; Emily sprinted toward it, her wand at the ready, hurtled around another corner, and saw Professor Trelawney sprawled upon the floor, her head covered in one of her many shawls, several sherry bottles lying beside her, one broken.

"Professor —?" Emily asked, rushing forward and helping her to her feet. Some of her glittering beads had become entangled with her glasses. She hiccuped loudly, patted her hair, and pulled herself up.

"Are you alright? What happened, Professor?"

"You may well ask!" she said shrilly, "I was strolling along, brooding upon certain dark portents I happen to have glimpsed . . ."

But Emily was not paying much attention. She had just noticed where they were standing: There on the right was the tapestry of dancing trolls, and on the left, that smoothly impenetrable stretch of stone wall that concealed—

"Professor, were you trying to get into the Room of Requirement?" Emily asked her, and Trelawny halted in her tirade

"I– what?" She looked suddenly shifty. "I — well — I didn't know students knew about —"