The Impromptu Study Session

The Impromptu Study Session

By like a falling star

Her grades were good, but not excellent, nor exceptionally so, and she was a remarkably intelligent student, but then so were all the Ravenclaws. It wasn't as if she was bad at memorising facts, because she wasn't; Astronomy was one of her favourite subjects, taught by one of her favourite teachers, and Merlin knew how much there was to memorize when studying Astronomy. No, it was simply that Ginny never saw the point in studying History of Magic.

Ginny sat on her bed, her back propped against a pillow, her History of Magic book open on her lap.

She longed to pick up the latest book she'd borrowed from the library. She'd been rather surprised, really, that the Hogwarts library carried actually a Muggle title. She glanced longingly at her bedside table where it lay, curly gold letters which spelt out 'Pride and Prejudice' gleaming against the scarlet hardcover. Hermione and the rest of the girls who'd grown up as Muggles had squealed over how it was supposed to be one of the most romantic classics ever, and--

Right. She had to get to studying now; there was simply no other way around it. She had consistently good results, but recently her History of Magic grades had been slipping, and she really needed to do well for this test to pull up her average.

Ginny sat up straight and began to study. A few minutes later, she wondered idly if it was time for her to cut her fingernails. After all, there was no time like the present, right? She cut her nails, very neatly and perfectly around the edges, and reluctantly went back to studying. Ten minutes later, she lay sprawled on her bed, trying desperately not to fall asleep.

Forget it. The dormitory offered too many distractions, and Ginny could not afford distractions if she was going to retain her status as a straight A student.

She was going to the library.

*

The library was practically empty, save for a Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw [who was tutoring the Hufflepuff] who were sitting two tables away from Ginny. Ginny felt almost disappointed, though she couldn't fathom why. She'd hoped that she might bump into Hermione in the library. Ron, of course, would come looking for her, and perhaps, maybe, there was the slightest chance that Harry might as well--

Right. Ginny set her thick and incredibly dog-eared tome on the library table and settled into a comfortable position. Well, as comfortable as one could ever be on a hard, stiff-backed, but wobbly wooden chair that might have doubled as an instrument of torture in ancient times, that was.

Ginny opened her book to the chapter on the Goblin Revolutions of the nineteenth century and began studying. Or, well, reading. Which was practically the same thing, right? She read the paragraph once, aloud, and then the same paragraph again, this time in an American accent, and then began trying to translate it into French. This was really getting very boring, and the Ravenclaw and the Hufflepuff were shooting her strange looks.

"After Mooza the Meticulous was abdicated from his throne in 1843, the goblin triplets, Gufi the Good, Bodo the Bad and Uly the Ugly took over the throne as one, ruling the Land of Milk and Honey with iron fists. However, they died in consecutive years, beginning in the year 1847, in alphabetical order..."

Suddenly, a voice, a welcome distraction, woke her from her reverie. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

Ginny's head shot up, and her heart began to pound furiously. It was Harry, looking disheveled as usual but good enough to eat. "Why would I?" So much for studying, she thought. Harry Potter was more of a distraction than all the distractions in the world put together.

"Does that mean you don't mind?" He took a seat opposite her and answered her question. "You seem to be studying very hard."

You have no idea, Ginny thought. "So do you," she said instead, raising her eyebrow at the tall stack of books that he'd set on the table.

Harry glanced at them, and smiled sheepishly. Ginny felt her insides turn to mush. "N.E.W.Ts this year," he explained.

"Aah." Ginny nodded. She had stopped putting her elbow and butter dishes, but she had never been quite able to get rid of The Blush. The Wretched Blush was always there when he was, a telltale sign that she had not gotten over her childhood crush, and that her little infatuation had, in fact, developed into something more.

Through the course of the past few years Ginny had begun to view Harry in a different light. Before, she'd only fancied him a hero, The Boy-Who-Lived, her knight in shining armour, the Prince Charming who'd rescue her on his white stallion. Since he had saved her from the Chamber of Secrets, however, she'd begun to see him more of as Harry The Boy. And over the summer, they had collaborated to give her brother and Hermione a push in the right direction [towards each other], and through the course of it she'd begun to fall for him instead of her fantasies of him, and fell harder than before.

Harry and Ginny sat in silence for a bit, Ginny trying hard not to sneak glances at him. He was so adorable, his eyebrows crinkled into a little frown as he read--

Goblins. Ginny chanted mentally. Ugly, shoulder-high goblins with unfriendly snarls and scratchy voices. Harry Harry Harry Harry Harry--No. Goblins. Ginny forced herself to look at her book. In 1856, a new group of goblins, WAGON! [We Are Goblins On Nicotine!], attempted to usurp the position of the Bolivian Minister of Magic...

Ginny's head drooped over the textbook as she struggled to keep awake. Her eyelids felt like they were weighed down with lead, and Ginny resisted the urge to prop them open with a quill.

This had to be the most bloody boring subject ever, as Ron would say. Maybe she should just... no. But then again, she could study all this another day, couldn't she? Ginny decided to just give in to sleep.

...

There was a loud thump as Ginny's head made contact with her textbook. "Ouch." She sat up straight, frowning and rubbing her head.

Harry was watching her, appearing to be having trouble trying not to laugh.

Ginny mock-glared at him. "What?" she demanded, her eyebrows lifting as she tried to examine the spot on her forehead. "I happened to be concentrating very hard on studying," she told him indignantly. "but then my head felt a bit heavy so I--"

"Decided to take a nap?" Harry supplied, now not bothering in the least to hide his amusement. He looked at her meaningfully. "What are you studying, anyway?"

Ginny sighed, and shoved her textbook towards him. "Goblin Revolution. I hate it."

Harry made a sound of disgust. "I know. We did it for History of Magic last year. A whole year spent on Goblin Rebellions of the seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth century."

"It's horrible," Ginny agreed. "I don't see why we should have to study it. I mean, reading about it is really very interesting; it's like a story," she added earnestly, "but memorising it is a whole different matter--"

Ginny's words halted abruptly. She watched, entranced, as Harry lifted a hand to her face and rubbed his thumb over her forehead, looking thoughtful. His fingers then trailed down, lightly brushing her cheek before he pulled away as if he had been burnt, looking horrified at what he'd just done.

"I- uh- dirt. Ink. On your forehead. Where your head hit your book. Cleaning. Wiping it off," he explained very coherently indeed.

"Uh- right." Ginny nodded. "I understand." She wanted to bang her head on the table. Maybe then she'd get another ink spot on her head and Harry might wipe it off again. A right wonderful conversationalist you are, Gin. I'll bet he's really impressed by your incredible wit and charm he'll ask you out the next moment he gets the chance, she thought sarcastically.

"So," Harry began awkwardly. "I was thinking- wondering- hoping, I mean- wouldyouliketogotohogsmeadenextsaturday?"

"Huh?" Ginny realised that she was probably hearing things, but she honestly thought that Harry Potter had just asked her out to Hogsmeade.

"Hogsmeade," Harry choked out, turning redder by the minute. "Next Saturday. With me, you know. Uh. Hang out. Or something."

"Hogsmeade," Ginny repeated dumbly. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Harry Potter was asking her out. "Like- like a date?" Ginny felt her cheeks begin to heat up. She felt as if she were about to faint. Why, why, why was it that when things were going considerably well, she always had to do something completely inappropriate and stupid? This was definitely a case of open mouth, insert foot.

"A date," Harry squeaked. "Yes. No. Maybe." He cleared his throat. "If you want it to be, it is. If not..." He couldn't bring himself to speak.

"I do!" Oh Merlin help her. She sounded like a desperate bride proclaiming her wedding vows to all of Britain and beyond. "I mean, yeah, let's- let's make it a date?" It somehow came out as a question.

"Right. Yes." Harry said, nodding, looking as if his birthday had come early. He smiled at her, and Ginny smiled back.

She was beginning to love History of Magic.