Chapter 8 : Mission Actually Somewhat Possible
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I was just going to take a peek – that’s all. I was romantically involved with this man, in a way, so I think that it’s only fair that I see what he’s up to. And the only reason why I’m not going to tell Bella and anyone is because they would just jump to the wrong conclusion. And definitely not because I know that they’ll say that I’m crazy and not let me read it.
As I crept up the stairs after a night of plotting, I felt like a bit of an idiot. I was acting like some deranged Auror, or something. I tried not to make a sound, but my feet still made the stairs creek. It took me back to the days where I thought that I could get to take a look at Harry sleeping in our second year. OK, not as bad as it actually just sounded – it was a dare. The first time.
I jumped and crashed down the stairs. Amy came rushing to my aid, but I shrugged her off as I stood upright and turned towards her, sharply saying, “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” Honestly, I should’ve known that she would be completely against the plan – subconsciously or otherwise. It’s as if she got a whiff of the fact that I was doing something she wouldn’t wholly approve of, and bam, there she is. Well isn’t it great for Amy, who now partially has the Sight? Her and Trelawney could both have a party and -
I’m taking it too far, aren’t I?
“I was doing homework in the Astronomy Tower.”
“Well what’s your excuse?”
“I’m stealing Bella’s copy of Witch Weekly.” When Amy laughed bitterly and opened her mouth, I cut her off, saying, “At least I have a solid alibi!”
“What do you mean? I was in the Astronomy Tower. Ask Seamus, he took me there! ”
“But he came back! I saw him.” He was talking with his little lover, Lavender Brown. Please, who does she actually think she is? She should surely be able to get over herself and just give up! I mean, he can say what he wants, but I know that he’s still interested in Bella.
“Well, Seamus can go wherever he wishes,” snapped Amy. For Merlin’s sake, I didn’t realise that I had pissed her off that much. I was just saying. “The point is, he went with me there.”
“But what were you doing there for all that time? You don’t have any charts with you.”
“Do you want me to help you get the article or not?”
Amy rushed behind me, almost hissing, “Let’s do this.”
Even though I made a mental note to talk to her about her weird behaviour later, I decided to take advantage of the situation and follow her into our dormitory. Amy seemed much lighter on her feet, so she stealthily walked towards Bella’s bed, while I hazardously followed.
Rolling her eyes, Amy whispered, “Maybe it’s best if you just wait for me.”
“OK.” Am I actually that much of a klutz? Because, if you think about it, my real accident prone moments were actually a façade in order to get our way around men. Yes, I know words like façade.
And perhaps Magda taught it to me the other day.
I rushed down towards the common room, secretly filled with joy. It wasn’t the prospect of seeing Oliver on the cover of Witch Weekly, or anything. It was just that the idea of one of my missions was finally succeeding. OK, so the plan was for me to get the magazine, but that was immaterial! The fact of the matter was that I was actually going to get away with it. I say this at a point at a point when I was completely unaware that I was blatantly jinxing it.
Making it as far to the back of the portrait hole, I breathed out, only to then eavesdrop on a conversation outside.
“The old hag!” The voice was very familiar, but I couldn’t tell from where exactly. The voice was in a low whisper, but my amazing hearing once again made it easy for me to listen in. The voice continued to say, “She’s sick! Go to McGonagall, say something!”
“No.” HARRY! IT’S HARRY! Not that I cared now that I was with the very gorgeous George Weasley. “I’m not giving her the satisfaction of knowing she’s got to me.”
OK, I was getting really angry now. Who on Earth were they talking about? Why can’t people just stop using pronouns for a moment and get to the point? Because, believe me, the moment I find out who’s behind hurting Harry, they’re dead meat! Unless they’re significantly stronger than me. Then they’ll be mildly annoyed meat as I set a few oddball charms their way.
Harry took a moment to question McGonagall’s power over said person. Right, so that means that she’s a member of the staff. But what’s he on about? McGonagall can freely talk to whichever teacher she wants, she’s McGonagall! Who on –
Oh, she’s dead!
Then person-I’m-not-quite-sure-who-they-are suggested Dumbledore, which he refused. I think that he should tell me. All I need is five minutes and an escape root; Harry’s totally worth Azkaban. Clearly so, as I just said “totally” without cringing - immediately. That’s a sure sign of the madness I’m willing to have for his sake.
The Fat Lady barked another complaint at them. Damn, that meant that they were going to come in. And that only meant one thing: RUN.
I began to sprint away, but unfortunately, Amy had to come out then, due to her success. “I think Bella stirred, so I just –”
We both collided and fell back. Lucky for Amy, she just hit the wall, but I actually tripped and rolled down the stairs, for the second time in one night, taking a blow to the head on every other step. When I finally reached the ground, I was met by Harry’s feet.
This was our big official meeting. Life really is a bitch.
“Are you OK?”
“Oh, me? I’m fine. Just a little –down we go.” Harry had to catch me, as I grew faint and collapsed. I mean, yay to the fact that Harry was practically hugging me, but I really wished we were hugging under different circumstances – if it was not for the fact that I had a boyfriend, of course. Oh, I’m an awful person.
“Seriously, are you all right?”
“I’ll be finely.” Finely? I am not all right. “Just a little bang on the noodle.” Besides, I have vowed that my relationships with men will never begin with a trip of the Hospital Wing… again. Yes, that’s the reason that Harry and I are never going to happen. Not the fact that I actually called my head my ‘noodle’. It was completely my decision. Though I am willing to forgive him -
DAMN IT, ANNE! YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND!
“Finely?” I knew I recognised the voice! Ron Weasley was eyeing me suspiciously. Now looking up, he said, “Hey, Amy.”
“Hi.” Amy’s eyes darted around the room at top speed. Obviously, she was a little guilty about not going out with Fred. And damn straight. I mean, who else would she have in mind? Apart from Cedric, but… well, it’s best not to talk about that. OK, now I feel kind of bad for doubting Amy. Ah, why is everyone making me feel so guilty?
He then turned to me and showed out his hand. “You need help getting up?”
When I had been successfully pulled up, he said, “I’m Ron.”
Of course, Harry already knew that – wait – and so should he. Why doesn’t he know who I am? I’m dating his brother. I’m dating his older brother who he frequently talks to. Did I not come up in conversation once? How about last year when he had a crush on me? I cannot believe this. Harry Potter knew me, and the only word I had ever said to him before was ‘cooey’ – don’t ask.
And he knew Amy. Fred only fancied Amy, but he knows her. He knows her but me, the girl dating his brother, am apparently not worth knowing. Oh, I am going to have words with George when I get the chance.
Eager to get some connection, I said, “Weasley, right? I know your brother.”
Which one! Is he kidding me? “George.”
“Ah cool... well, bye. C’mon, mate.”
Ron and Harry walked off, while my foot tapped repeatedly against the ground. Once they were out of earshot, I said, “What was that?”
“I don’t know. But, hey! You got to hang around in Harry’s arms for a while!”
“I know.” It felt for a few seconds like I had been hit by a Bludger, because of the euphoria, and because I had repeatedly hit my head on the stairs coming down. However, I soon became serious again. “But – you got it!”
“Why else would I be out here?” That’s true. I even noticed when she first came out. Oh Merlin, Harry still makes me act like a giddy idiot. Or again, it could be the bump on the head. I really should go to the Hospital Wing when I get the chance… though if last year proves anything, it’s that injuries or any reason to go to the Hospital Wing can actually help your love life. Or set you up for a bigger, metaphorical fall, however you want to look at it.
Though she looked a little wary, she handed me the copy of Witch Weekly. I pretended to not care much about the situation and strolled down again, sitting myself on the sofa. Flicking open the pages, I said, “Well, let’s see what you’ve made of yourself, Wood.”
He has a whole feature spread. I mean, he’s a bloody reserve, for Merlin’s sake. But since he’s the ‘new addition’, they insisted on interview with him. They talked about his life, his old school and – oh yes – his women. Actually, forget the previous two, it was pretty much all about women. I think we’re starting to see why he got so much coverage, yes?
He had two girlfriends over his time at Hogwarts. However, he had crushes – and one of them better had been me. He said how he was a bit of a mess with women, so you know that he wasn’t completely bullshitting his way through it. Well, he was actually, but in the sincerest way possible.
Underneath a picture where he was smiling brightly, I notice that he’s changed a lot even since our last encounter. He’s got a lot of stubble, and there was something more mature about his face – maybe it was the jaw? His smile had a bit more suggestion behind it then it used to, when it was just boyish and charming. I tried to make it a reassuring fact that he had changed, that he wasn’t the same guy. But then again, I had changed physically, and I don’t think I was any different, personality wise.
Then there was the one question that really got me.
’So, what do you look for in a witch?
(Laughing heartily) Well, I think the main thing that I want in a girl, is for her to be funny.’
He wants someone who’s funny. That was my thing. It had always been my thing - that I was funny. And now he wants that kind of person. It was like he was trying to tell me something, something I honestly didn’t want to hear. Not now. I would have jumped for joy if he had told me at the beginning of June; but now... What he should do is to say that he likes big breasts – I don’t have that.
And, to my horror and dismay, it got worse as I continued to read. I wasn’t sure at the point when it was painful to read, but I know when it was just excruciating.
‘And what was the best way you ever met a witch? [OK, this is just garbage, why can’t they ask questions that haven’t got anything to do with women? Since when was favourite colours unfashionable?]
Well, it was rather funny actually. I was pep talking my friends on the Quidditch team when I saw these girls. They looked like they were fighting, because the next thing I know, they just charge at one of them and it was quite complicated what happened next, but the story ends with me meeting her when she woke up from unconsciousness. It had to be one of the best moments of my life, now that I look back on it.’
You can see my dilemma. Me meeting him was one of the “the best moments” of his life. I was just glad that George wasn’t planning on reading it, because he would immediately know what it meant. Also, I was upset enough as it was while reading it. And that wasn’t the end. It seemed like the witch noticed this affectionate nature and made it so all her questions resulted in some sort of link back to me. I didn’t know whether to be flattered that he still cared, or insulted by the fact that he somehow thought that I would actually forgive him or something.
All in all, it was rather an upsetting and shitty night. The article made me generally a woman in despair, and rather confused. Why couldn’t he have said all that stuff to me in person? Why couldn’t he have just walked up to me and told me that meeting me was one of the best moments of his life? Why did he have to say all that shit of how he should stop looking at me and stuff? Why did he leave it till the next year in a magazine for him to reveal these things?
However, there was another emotion behind it: curiosity. If he managed to get that much out in one interview, then what in Merlin’s name did he put in that letter? Because that was about the size of three Witch Weeklys put together. Perhaps he did say all the things he should have. But it was still too late, wasn’t it? No, there was no question about it. He was too late. He was far too late to say all of those things, because now I had George – my boyfriend, George Weasley.
My boyfriend – my boyfriend, George Weasley.
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