Persistence of Memory

Persistence of Memory

Chapter 4

Dean snuggled closer to Ginny and breathed in her lovely scent. He was still half-asleep and couldn't quite recall how Ginny came to be there, but he wasn't complaining. Maybe they had imbibed too much butterbeer during the celebration. Gryffindor had beat Slytherin in the Quidditch match by a commanding lead, all thanks to Ginny; or at least that was Dean's opinion on it.

"You're so soft," Dean whispered, running his long fingers over Ginny's delicate neck and tangling them in her hair... her short wavy hair. Dean made a strangled noise and pushed himself away from the warm body, nearly tumbling off his bed.

Seamus opened his eyes and stared at Dean blearily.

"What're ye doin'?"

"Me!?" Dean squeaked. He pointed his finger at Seamus and sputtered. "You... you... what the hell... get out!"

"Stop yellin', Dean. You'll wake everyone up," Seamus muttered, yanking the covers over his head.

"Seamus!" Dean hissed, snatching the covers back.

"Neville was starin' at me again, alright?" Seamus huffed.

He glanced momentarily in the direction of Neville's bed, expecting Neville to jump out at any second, foaming at the mouth, and do him in. Seamus yelped in fear as Neville snored monstrously.

"Shut up over there, will you?" Ron Weasley's irritated voice sounded from across the room.

"Sorry, Ron," Dean apologized. He lowered his voice to a hushed whisper and addressed Seamus. "Neville is not going to hurt you."

"Don't patronize me, Dean. I told you, he-"

"Didn't do anything. You're making it all up."

"I am not!"

"Be quiet or I'll come over there and pound you!"

"Sod off, Weasley!" Seamus shouted.

Ron stomped over to Dean's bed and pulled the curtains open. He blew air out of his nose and waved his wand in Seamus's face.

"One more sound and I transfigure you into an owl."

Dean placed a hand on Ron's arm and pushed him away from Seamus. Ron scowled. Dean raised his eyebrows. Ron glared at Seamus for good measure and headed back to bed.

Seamus frowned at Ron and Dean's exchange of weird looks. "What was that all about?"

"I was only trying to convey the fact that you're batty and can't help disturbing people."

Seamus stared into Dean's eyes with a hurt expression on his face.

"Do you honestly think I'm merely hallucinating, Dean?" he asked seriously.

"Well, yes... no... I don't know, Seamus, okay? You have to admit it sounds rather far-fetched." Dean smirked. "I mean, Neville sadistically attacks you and then turns all your clothes green?"

"With pink shamrocks," Seamus interrupted quietly.

"Whatever. The point is it's not logical." Dean stated simply. "For Christ's sake, Neville torturing people? That's right up there with vampire kittens, that is."

Seamus stared at the bedcovers. "Alright, so the kittens weren't real, but I swear Neville-"

"Look, maybe if you hadn't told me about the vampire kittens and the Dementors first, I might have been more inclined to believe you. Now, will you please get out of my bed?"

Seamus returned to his own bed and huddled in the middle. He made sure the curtains were open in case Neville had planned an attack. Seamus held his wand tightly and involuntarily shuddered. Right before he drifted off, he glimpsed Neville's large eyes watching him evilly.

----

After an uneventful History of Magic exam, Neville followed the other Gryffindors down the corridor to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Soon, his plan would be set in motion. He had encountered a minor setback when Professor Sprout informed him she was out of Rejela seeds. Neville had waited patiently for almost two weeks for her to gather more.

Neville took his usual seat next to Hermione and tried to appear somewhat dazed. As he assumed she would, Hermione eyed him with a slight downturn of her lips.

"Are you alright, Neville?" Hermione asked with concern. "You look a bit peaked, there."

"I'm not um, feeling well," Neville said weakly.

Hermione nodded and turned around in her seat to talk to Harry and Ron. Neville smirked to himself. If Hermione expected he was faking, she would unquestionably look into it with her usual suspicion of anything out of sorts.

Neville waited a few minutes before interrupting a Foe-Glass lecture by waving his arm around and moaning loudly. Narcissa Malfoy stopped talking in the middle of a sentence and eyed him with a motherly look.

"Oh, are you feeling ill, Neville, dear?"

Across the room, the Slytherins snickered. Draco Malfoy pounded his head against his desk with a dull thud. He'd never live this down. His mother had attached herself to Longbottom of all people and was showing him more affection than she ever had bestowed upon Draco himself; as he absolutely refused to count the annoyingly sarcastic 'pumpkin' as an endearment. Not only did she fancy Longbottom, but she was a competent teacher. What good would it do the followers of the Dark Lord if the students knew how to fight back? Bloody useless woman. No wonder Father can't abide looking at you.

"Yes, P-professor Malfoy," Neville whimpered, clutching his wide stomach. "I-I think I should go to the... urghh..." he ended in a moan.

"Poor dear, of course you should leave," Narcissa simpered, putting a thin arm around Neville and guiding him to the doorway. "Don't you worry about the assignments either, Neville. Draco will help you catch up, won't you, pumpkin?"

Draco slammed his head on his desk again. Pansy Parkinson snorted and upset her ink bottle, spilling the sticky black substance all over Blaise Zabini's notes.

"Now, where was I?" Narcissa pondered out loud, walking back to her desk. "Oh, yes. The shadowy figures that appear in the glass..."

Neville left the classroom with an unnerving smile, but not before shooting a murderous glance at the back of the room where Dean and Seamus sat. Seamus grabbed Dean's arm hurriedly, causing him to make a scraggly ink line all over his parchment.

"Did y'see that, Dean? 'E's gone an' threatened me, he 'as!" Seamus squealed in a frightened undertone. He pointed a shaky finger at the door. "You saw th'way 'e looked at me! Ye did, didn't ye? Didn't ye?"

"Shut up, Seamus," Dean whispered harshly. "They're going to hear you, you paranoid freak. Do you want to end up in St. Mungo's?"

"Alright back there, Mr. Thomas?" Professor Malfoy questioned with a severely raised blonde eyebrow and a scowl. She may have fancied Neville, but she despised Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. They continually disrupted her class with their murmured conversations. "I believe I've asked you repeatedly to keep your whispering under control. Honestly, is that a daunting task, Mr. Thomas?"

"Um, no, Professor," Dean muttered and turned slightly purple with embarrassment. He glared at Seamus, who stared vacantly at the desktop.

Narcissa turned to her son with a fake smile. "Be a dear and exchange seats with Mr. Thomas, would you, pumpkin?"

----

Neville peered into the corridor, on the look out for Filch and Mrs. Norris. He waited a few moments, then crept silently down the next hall, slowly journeying to the dungeons. Neville stepped down the slightly spiralling staircase, narrowly avoiding falling down it when he accidentally hooked his foot in the hem of his robes.

"That was stupid, Neville," he berated himself as he untangled his foot. He descended the remainder of the staircase without further mishap.

He slinked down the hall, or at least he imagined he appeared rather slinky. In truth, he looked quite silly hugging the grimy walls and taking tiny too-careful steps with his squeaky shoes.

As he neared the Potions classroom, Neville heard pounding footsteps. He quickly ducked into the nearby girl's lavatory and watched from the crack in the barely opened door.

Two drunken House Elves rushed by wearing lumpy wool hats and socks on their hands. Their loud tittering was peppered with sporadic hiccoughs. Neville couldn't help but chuckle to himself and wonder what abysmal meal the sloshed kitchen-workers had planned for luncheon.

Neville emerged from the bathroom after the House Elves' laughter was barely audible. He continued his slinky movements past the Potions classroom and down the hall to Snape's storeroom. Neville had spent many detentions cleaning it out and knew exactly where the Unicorn blood would be; that is, if Snape had any at all.

Snape had a secret compartment in the back of the room near the extra cauldrons. Neville had stumbled upon it in his second year while scrubbing the floor. Neville moved a few cauldrons out of the way and got on his knees. He opened the trapdoor compartment, wincing as it creaked loudly.

"Lumos," he whispered, holding his wand out. Right away he spied the silver blood glinting in the light. Perfect.

----

Professor McGonagall creased her mouth into a thin line. She raised a pencilled eyebrow at the hideous salamander/pipe hybrid lying on top of her neatly organized desk. Ginny stood in front of the desk, biting her bottom lip. McGonagall sighed heavily.

"We need to talk about your performance in class, Miss Weasley," McGonagall began. "You are nowhere near your usual standard, and even then you weren't getting top marks. If you wish to continue to take this class in further years, I expect you to at least pick up an 'A' on your O.W.L."

"I've been really distracted, Professor," Ginny protested, "with, with Quidditch and all. Don't you want Gryffindor to win the Cup back? I overheard you telling Professor Snape that you'd get it back from him once and for all, and he said-"

"Whatever conversations I have with Severus are absolutely none of your business," McGonagall stated primly.

She knew Ginny had overheard the Potions master call her an old cow. Perhaps the other students had as well. That would explain their faltering laughter when she had entered her classroom this morning. Minerva would be having a talk with her colleague later on about proper etiquette when discussing things in the hallways.

"Yes," McGonagall continued, "I do wish to reclaim the Quidditch Cup, but not at the expense of my students' academic achievement. Though, I believe in your case, Quidditch is not your problem."

Ginny gave her a puzzled look. McGonagall opened her desk drawer and retrieved an unrolled piece of parchment. She held it up in front of Ginny. Ginny recognized her handwriting and knew it had to be her essay on why butterflies could not be transfigured into inanimate objects.

"I don't understand, Professor. I researched it for hours. I'm certain all the facts are there..."

McGonagall cleared her throat in a mockery of Dolores Umbridge's patented 'hem, hem' and tapped the margins of the essay with a long gnarly finger. Ginny reddened and gave a little cry of distress. She had written 'I love Dean Thomas' all over the margins of her assignment, even taking care to replace the 'o's with fat little hearts. Ginny had drawn tiny detailed arrows through some of them.

"I-I won't do that again, Professor," Ginny assured, snatching her parchment from McGonagall's hand and running out of the classroom.

----

Dean made his way to the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, Seamus trailing behind him. Ginny was nowhere to be seen, but Dean assumed she'd show up soon. He took a spot next to Parvati and dropped his bag on the floor. Seamus requisitioned the seat next to him. Dean sighed inwardly. Seamus had been following him around all day and nattering on about unimportant school-related things in between small outbursts of insanity. 'Did you understand question fourteen, Dean? Are you sure the potion is supposed to be red? Because it looked burgundy to me.' Ugh. Bloody annoying git.

"'Ey, Dean," Seamus began, sliding his Charms homework down to Dean, "does this look right? I think I wrote down the wrong pronunciation for this one."

He pointed half-way down the parchment with his quill. The feather kept poking Dean in the face. Dean snatched the quill from Seamus's hand and shoved it in his bag.

"It's fine, Seamus."

"You didn't even look! I'm shite at Charms, you know. What if I light the classroom on fire, eh? It'd be your fault, then." He shot a wounded puppy look at Dean. "Poor wee Professor Flitwick burned all crispy-like; and all 'cause you refused to read o'er me homework."

"Bloody hell, Seamus! I'll look at it, alright?" Dean leaned over and read through the homework. Sure enough no less than three spells had the accent written on the wrong syllable. One was so horribly mutilated and misspelled that Seamus probably would have blown up the classroom if he'd tried to use it.

"It's fine, Seamus."

Seamus happily took his homework back and left Dean alone for a few minutes. Dean focused his attention on what the House-Elves had seen fit to cook this time. Soupy casserole of some sort, rock hard rolls with no butter in sight, and burnt pudding sat before him. After taking a bite of the casserole, Dean downed his glass of gritty pumpkin juice. What the hell did they make that out of? Dean eyed the casserole as if it would sprout legs and walk off the table at any moment. Across the table, a slightly green Lavender Brown dropped her fork with a clatter and ran away with her hand over her mouth. Dean couldn't wait to get to Hogsmeade tomorrow and have something decent to eat at the Three Broomsticks.

Five minutes after Lavender had returned from the bathroom, Ginny arrived. She was flushed and appeared quite upset about something. Dean shoved Seamus. Seamus choked on his pudding and shoved Dean back.

"Move, Seamus. Ginny's here. Go sit down there." Dean gestured vaguely to the end of the table where Colin Creevey was animatedly talking to somebody and waving his fork about, nearly poking Natalie McDonald in the eye.

"Dean-"

"Ginny," Dean called, shoving Seamus again.

"Oh, Dean, it's just terrible!" Ginny whinged, sniffling.

Seamus vacated his spot before the girl sat on him. Ginny plopped down and grabbed Dean's hand.

"I'm going to get a 'D' in Transfiguration! I'll never have a chance of being a Hogwarts professor if I can't make a pipe out of a salamande-e-er!" Ginny cried.

Dean put an arm around her and let Ginny snuggle into him. She sobbed and sniffled as Dean stroked her shiny hair. Seamus stalked away from the nauseating display before they started snogging. He sat down heavily beside Colin Creevey, who promptly smacked Seamus in the forehead with his fork.

"Oh, sorry!" Colin apologized nasally, but kept waving the fork about. Natalie scooted a bit away from the utensil and picked at her casserole. Seamus helped himself to another goblet of pudding while Colin chattered on.

"-great shop in Hogsmeade that Malcolm told me about. I know he's a Slytherin, but he's really neat. Have you met him, Neville?"

Neville? Seamus gulped and lifted his eyes from the pudding. To his horror, Neville was sitting across from him. Neville looked away from Colin long enough to wink ominously at Seamus.

Seamus dropped his pudding. It clattered on the tiled floor loudly. He reached down with a shaky hand to pick up the goblet. Seamus sat the pudding back on the table, never noticing his glass of pumpkin juice had been slightly repositioned and was now more orange than brown.

"Are you alright? You're kind of pale," Neville said without a hint of malice.

Seamus blinked, wondering if he'd only imagined the wink after all. "I'm er, fine. Sweaty hands, you know... Um, we missed you in Potions, Neville."

"It was only a bit of a stomach ache," Neville dismissed, nodding. "I didn't really want to go to Potions anyhow. Sometimes I wish Snape had failed me last year, even though I've done alright lately."

"Yeah," Seamus agreed quietly, rather confused. He was having a civil conversation with a happily smiling Neville. I bloody well am delusional.