Chapter 5 : Lost My Senses
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She picked up a quill. She would worry about Luna later. For now, she would have to wait. She began to load her quill, but an occurrence across the room caught her eye.
Parvati Patil sat across from Harry. Ginny froze. Harry did not look unhappy, not did he look repulsed. He bore that pleased look that Ginny knew so well, which surprised initially, but did not so much as time wore on. She did not remember how long she watched them, but to her it seemed like an eternity, watching the man she loved pleased by another —
For the second time that day, Ginny held herself in check. Love? she thought skeptically. Unlikely. He was her brother’s best friend — she couldn’t betray Dean.
Dean! she thought. A nuisance! Always in the way!
Angry with herself, she rose quickly and left the Common Room. In her trunk lay that framed picture of innocence that she had once been.
“Why?” she said softly. “Why won’t you let me grow up? What can’t I move on?”
The innocent green eyes in the picture stared back at her, convicting her of her sin.
“I love Dean!” she shouted, throwing the picture at the floor, where it shattered. “I love him! How can I love Harry? I don’t!”
She stood silent for a moment, breathing heavily, intoxicated with her success. Success was not so sweet, though, when you cannot let go of the old and bring in the new. Ginny wept for the child.
A timid knock came on the door. “Ginny?” Hermione poked her head in the door. “Are you alright?”
“Oh, Hermione,” Ginny said hopelessly. “What am I going to do? I’m not that girl anymore; I don’t know how to be.”
“Don’t worry, Gin,” Hermione soothed her, sitting down beside her on the bed. “You don’t have to be.”
“I want to be!” Ginny wailed. “I don’t love Dean anymore – Luna was right!”
“We all knew it,” Hermione confessed, blushing. “You used to be so” — Hermione searched her extensive vocabulary — “perfect. You were perfect for each other. Now instead of that, you’re accommodating.”
“But he loves me,” Ginny whimpered.
“He’ll get over it.” Hermione brown eyes were full of wisdom. “Trust me. He’ll hate you for a while, but he’ll get over it.”
Ginny smiled through tearstained eyes.
“In the meantime,” Hermione said, mischievously, “Dean was looking for you.” Her look plainly mourned for the loss of such a close friend, and she exited the room, right on cue.
It was about midnight. It was Friday night, and nothing was preventing the students from going to bed early, as they all had done – in droves. In fact, Ginny and Dean were the only two left in the Common Room when she reached the end of the girls’ staircase.
When she looked at him, Ginny’s senses left her.
She floated over to him. He turned around and kissed her on the cheek, but Ginny had other ideas. She closed her eyes.
“Sssshhhh ...” she said. “Do you love me?”
Dean looked startled. “Yes — yes,” he stammered. “I do.”
Ginny kissed him — long, hard, and hungry. Before this tale is told I must say that Ginny cannot be blamed for her actions, for her senses were not with her, and she knew not what she did. A strange girl had taken over Ginny’s body; one so unlike the innocent child in the photograph. Her hands slid over him. She did not know him.
Dean was severely shaken. When she had kissed him, he had kissed her back, but he barely knew the girl that had taken over Ginny. This was the girl that they had all told him about. The one who lost her mind in the heat of the moment.
Ginny pushed him onto the couch.
It was then that Dean’s senses left him. He lay there and let her do it.
They both were intense. Dean was kissing her back. Harry! Harry! Help her!
Suddenly, Ginny stopped. Only two buttons were undone at the top of Dean’s shirt. For the second time since tern had begun, Ginny felt defiled. Not only was she defiled, but embarassed beyond belief, for Harry stood at the bottom of the staircase.
He had only been there for a few second, but he had seen enough. Ginny, he thought, what have you done?
Ginny saw him and burst into tears. She climbed off of Dean and ran up the dormitory stairs, blinded by them.
Harry looked at Dean, astonished. He didn’t know much about girls, but Ginny did not look like she loved Dean: her actions were that of a girl who was ashamed of what she had done.
“I’m sorry, mate,” he said to Dean, embarrassed.
“It’s all right,” he said, blinking. “We needed someone to get us back on track.” He paused for a moment. “Damn, she’s a good kisser.” Dean smiled deviously. Harry was indignant — how dare he speak of Ginny that way? But before he lost his temper completely, Harry followed Ginny’s example and dashed up the staircase before Dean could yell at him.
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