The Gifted Amissio

Chapter 3

The Carriage Trial

The carriages that carried the students toward the school that housed them for ten months were teetering precariously in the wind. Harry came to the conclusion that to go outside for any period of time that lasted more than five minutes in duration would result in an icy death; even the Thestrals were becoming agitated by the freezing cold pelting sheets of rain and biting wind.

Ron gave a grunt in the seat next to him.

Harry turned his head, squinting to try and make out Ron through the wind, water, and darkness. He managed to see a Ron-shaped shadowed figure shifting uncomfortably.

"Ron?" Harry asked.

He waited for a few seconds for an answer. So he tried again.

"RON!"

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

Harry couldn't quite make out what Ron was saying, even when he strained his ears and leaned in as close as he could to him; he did, however, manage to catch a few words on the wind. Ron seemed to be muttering angrily about sitting on candy. Harry paused for a moment. That boy was always eating...

* * *

One carriage behind Ron and Harry's, Ginny sat with Hermione. Ginny's first choice obviously would have been to sit with Seamus, or Dean for that matter, even Neville who had promised to help her on her Herbology homework this year; but Hermione had grabbed her hand when the students had emptied out of the train and flooded onto the platform claiming she had to talk to her - and it was "urgent". Ginny sincerely hoped it wasn't a scolding about studying. She had developed a reputation for skiving off classes, getting in rows with teachers...she didn't think it would be too long until Hermione would come into the picture trying to reform her into a clone.

But that is not what Hermione wanted to discuss.

Hermione had to yell over the wind to talk to Ginny, so at first Ginny thought she was hearing her wrong and had misunderstood what she wanted to say. But it become apparent that she was not misunderstanding.

"Gin," she had said, "I know Ron can be a bit of a...dolt sometimes. But honey...well...I think he was right. You're obviously holding out for Harry. And as much as I want to see you happy, I would rather see Harry be the happy one. He wouldn't be happy with you, Gin. So I'm just going to warn you..." they carriages stopped; they were at the castle. As students filed out around them, Hermione finished what she had started, "don't you ever try and hurt my Harry."

Her last words had been filled with such venom and spite that Ginny had not wanted to allow herself to hear them. Now walking up to the Great Hall, Ginny had come to one conclusion.

What. A. Bitch.

* * *

Draco walked into the Great Hall, trying to absorb what Dumbledore had told him. The meeting had been brief, barely five minutes, but was also one of those decisions that had been made that Draco couldn't get out of.

He took a seat next to Blaise at the Slytherin table. Students talked among themselves; being the Slytherin table, he overheard more that one conversation about diabolical plans, which was rather pathetic seeing as no one present was over the age of seventeen.

He busied himself by observing the other students seated in the Hall; he spotted Cho Chang, who had a pout plastered to her face; he mused that her pout, which was evidently supposed to be cute, actually made her look like she was looking at the most vile, repulsive thing known to man. Then he spotted that Ian Primer was seated across from her. Oh. That's why.

His eyes moved on to the Hufflepuffs; nothing interesting there, seeing as he never had paid attention to them and therefore could not reflect upon how any of them had changed over the summer holiday.

Then to the Gryffindors.

His silver blue eyes flashed along the table until they came to rest upon the Trio. What he saw there was sickening.

Weasley seemed to be casting secretive glances at Granger; Granger was casting secretive glances at Potter, and Potter was staring off longingly towards the end of the table. Draco followed his gaze, and saw, with a jolt, the youngest of the Weasley clan chatting happily with Thomas and that little Seamus Finnigan shit.

"Aah," he mused, turning to murmur in Blaise's ear, "the tables have turned. Watch as the Famous Hero pines after the Famous Hero's fan club president."

Blaise looked on with amusement. It was true; it seemed that Potter was quite taken with the Weaslette, and she, for once, didn't seem to give a damn that he was in the same room as her. Come to think of it, she didn't even seem to notice he was there.

Both Blaise and Draco watched as she turned and headed back over towards the opposite end of the table, where her brother had apparently just called out to her. She sat (rather reluctantly, Draco thought) beside him, put her head in her hand, and focused her now bored eyes blankly at a wall across from her.

The meal started shortly afterwards, and Draco felt his eyes slipping back to a certain red head more than once.

* * *

Ron had claimed he wanted to talk to her when he had asked her to sit down. She realized later that the only reason he wanted her to be there was to keep an eye on her. What a bloody git.

She was now in the Gryffindor common room, sitting on the couch with her bare legs curled up against her. She was dressed only in a white satin nightdress, which came down barely past her thigh; not the wisest choice of dress, she now realized, as the weather had not gotten any better and the windows had been ordered to be kept open to air out the Dungbomb that had went off somewhere in the boy's dormitories. She vaguely assumed George had put one in Ron's bag.

The firelight cast a flickering warm orange glow about the room, as it cackled quietly in the otherwise silent night. Silent, that is, until Ginny heard footsteps behind her. She turned her head.

Seamus.

"Hey," she said gently.

"Hey," he murmured back, being careful not to wake anyone. He quietly walked around the couch and took a seat next to Ginny. The orange glow from the fire had cast itself onto his face, defining his cheekbones and making his blue eyes dance with light.

"What are you doing up so late?" he asked, his Irish accent still audible despite the fact that his voice was now so soft and quiet that if Ginny had been sitting an inch further away from him she would not have been able to hear anything at all.

"Couldn't sleep," she replied simply, with a small smile.

"Any reason why?"

She wanted to tell him so badly about Hermione. She already knew that Hermione and Seamus weren't friends anyway, they were just civil to each other to make the other feel like they had the courtesy to acknowledge their existence. So she put it as simply as she could.

"Hermione's a bitch."

There was a pause.

"Yeah, I know."

"Well, I don't mean that - wait. What?"

"I know. I heard her talking to you when we were getting off the carriages. Seems to me like she's a crazy wench."

Ginny giggled. "How so?"

" 'My Harry'? Who talks like that?"

"Point taken," she agreed.

It was not long before they had begun taking stabs at Hermione. Ginny felt a little guilty for it, really, Hermione was usually a good person, but Seamus was doing a good job of convincing her that Hermione was actually not such a marvelous girl at all.

"She's really full of her self, actually," said Seamus -- Ginny had asked him how she was during classes, as she wasn't in the same year - "one time in History she thought I was staring at her boobs, so she flipped out after class and told me that I could never have her. I mean really. It was so obvious that I was looking a Lavender's."

Ginny smiled wearily.

"You look tired. You should head up."

"No, I'm -" she yawned, "fine..."

She leaned over and put her head on his shoulder and fell asleep. Seamus smiled to himself; she had become incredibly beautiful over the summer. He was not the only one who had noticed. More or less the entire male population at Hogwarts had stolen glances at her in the Great Hall. It seemed the only one who hadn't noticed she was a complete knock out was Ginny.

Wind rustled in through the open windows. Seamus reached a hand over to cover Ginny's bare arms to keep her warm when he noticed - as any man would - the soft curves of her breasts underneath her low-cut night gown, her nipples erect at the sudden chill that had entered the room.

He allowed himself to stare for another moment, while various dirty situations flashed through his head.

She shook himself.

Bad Seamus.