Well, I realized last night that I happen to be waaaay too addicted to my lj. I was unable to get on-as you prolly know-and it was a very scary time. Teehee I feel so pathetic when I say that, but it's true.
And I think that I'm just not meant to see Phantom of the Opera. No, really. I was supposed to see it today with the Holly and the Rach, but we got sidetracked by shopping and didn't want to stop. Hence, no Phantom. Buh. I *will* see it eventually, somehow, I swear. Even if it kills me.
On the bright side, I got clothes shopping out of the way for a few more months. Yay! I hate shopping for pants worse than anything else on this planet, and that was what had to be done today. I also discovered a really really cool steering wheel cover that I absolutely have to get when I have more money, and I want a jumprope! When I was little I used to jumprope all the time, and I miss it. Kept me occupied at any rate. I also realized that I need a saftey kit for my car. They had this really cool one that Holly got, and how freaking sad is it that I'm all excited at the prospect of buying a bloody safety kit for my car?
I'm all pumped up on caffeine right now, as we stopped by Starbucks on the way home. Me + Coffee late at night = me being up till around five...not that I'm not normally up that late anyway. Still, it's the principle of the thing. And it results in long babbling lj entries that no one wants to read because they are just that: full of meaningless babble.
Ah, well, that's just the way it goes sometimes, I suppose. Ooh, Ooh, I also got the first Invader Zim DVD, which I totally adore and will probably watch over and over until I have to go to work tomorrow...or maybe not. Whatever.
And hey, lookie here...my muse decided to wake up enough to produce something that slightly resembles fic! Cool! Be warned, three a.m. fic ahead, read at your own risk!
Title: None *gasp*
Pairing: H/D, with a side of H/G for flavoring.
Rating: PG, maybe? It's pretty tame...
Summary: Ginny has a good idea of what it'll be like to date Harry Potter...or does she?
Author's notes: Um, can I claim insanity in the morning?
Whenever Ginny thought about it--and think about it she did, despite what she led everyone else to believe--she always thought that being the girlfriend of the Boy-Who-Lived would be a non-stop adventure. Something new and exciting happened to Harry every year, from the battle for the Sorcerer's stone to the prophetic dreams about the Department of Mysteries, and Ginny had always assumed that because of this, the girlfriend of Harry Potter would never get boring, or dull. That she would be in the limelight more often than not, and Ginny was more than ready for that to happen.
So Ginny thought, but when she eventually got her wish and Harry stumbled through asking her to the Ball being held in honor of his finally defeating Voldemort (she'd nearly cut him off twice with an answer to his unspoken question simply to shut him up, but decided in retrospect that it was probably a good thing that she hadn't quite dared to interrupt the Vanquisher of the Dark Lord), the reverse was quite the case. The Ball passed without any adventure; the biggest threat being Draco Malfoy's disgusted sneer as he danced by them with Parvati Patil, of all people.
Ginny had been rather disappointed. She'd been hoping that Malfoy might do more than sneer, as everyone present knew that even though nothing could be proven, he was one of the Dark Lord's biggest supporters and would just love to see Harry Potter dead. She waited with baited breath for Malfoy to pull out his wand and point it at Harry shouting the dreaded killing curse. Ginny would of course tackle her Harry, saving him and putting them both out of harm's way. Harry would look at her adoringly and kiss her right on the lips in his gratitude, cameras would flash and the next day the front page of the Prophet would show her courageous move, and the accompanying article would be full of praise for the brave redhead who was willing to put herself in such danger for her beloved.
Only none of that happened. Harry and Malfoy had engaged themselves in a fierce snarking competition that had lasted for the rest of the Ball, and the night ended with Harry escorting Ginny back home, grumbling about "that git Malfoy" most of the way and then standing outside for a good quarter of an hour more doing much of the same, before placing a distinctly brotherly kiss on her cheek and making his way to his own place. Ginny watched him leave with a feeling of dread...and extreme anger towards a certain blond prat by the name of Malfoy. Because of that creep's constant presence, Ginny hadn't been able to be as dazzling and charming as she wanted, and now Harry would never ask her on a second date.
She went to bed that night certain that her chances with Harry were over, so it came as a great shock when he stopped by The Burrow around noon to ask her if she would "do him the pleasure of accompanying him to Diagon Alley for a bit of lunch". Ginny accepted, feeling rather pleased that despite Malfoy's annoying presence she had still managed to make quite the impression on Harry, and determined to make their second date better than the first.
Of course, she was also hoping for the trademark Harry Potter Adventure, and was once again disappointed. Matter of fact, the second try was *worse* than the first. It happened that the restaurant Harry took Ginny to employed none other than-you guessed it-*Malfoy* as one of their waiters, and the poor couple were placed in the blond's section; something that Ginny was sure Malfoy had arranged, if the smug smile covering his face was anything to go by.
Ginny glared at him as hard as she could, and Harry sent her an apologetic look and reached across the table to cover her small hand with his. "Just ignore him. He's nothing," he said, loud enough for Malfoy to hear. The smug smile faded from the other boy's face, to be replaced with a quick flash of something that Ginny thought might be pain before it was masked over with a mixture of anger and the usual disdain. He stalked right up to their table, grabbed the smirking Harry by the front of his robes and yanked him out of his seat, forcing his and Ginny's clasped hands apart.
"Care to repeat that?" he hissed through clenched teeth, and as Harry's eyes narrowed Ginny knew that this was it, this was what she'd been waiting for. Harry and Malfoy would have a brief arguement before it would get physical, Malfoy acting like he was about to back down and then sucker-punching Harry, getting him hard and rendering him virtually useless in the face of his anger. He would smirk, thinking he had won, and raise his fist again, and there Ginny would be. She might look like a weakling but she was strong, and she would beat the daylights out of Malfoy for daring to touch her Harry. The cameras would flash, the quills would scrape the parchment, and by tomorrow everyone would know the tale of little Ginny Weasly, who had put her own well-being at risk to help her beloved.
Head full of fantasy, Ginny started to stand and defend the Savior of the Wizarding world, when she happened to look at said Savior's face. What she saw there made her freeze halfway out of her chair, which was quite akward...but she hardly noticed. Her eyes were firmly fixed on Harry's, but his...his were fixed on Malfoy, and Malfoy's on him; and suddenly Ginny knew that there would never be any limelight, not for her. Her fantasies were just that, fantasy, and all she needed to know that for sure was the picture the two boys made glaring at each other, both with barely disguised want and longing and *pain* and oh, how could she-how could anyone have missed it?
Then Harry was opening his mouth to reply to the hissed question from earlier; to say something awful, hurtful, and so, so cruel, and Ginny watched transfixed as the faux hatred in Malfoy's eyes snapped, broke, shattered into a million pieces and all that was left was raw need as he jerked Harry that last inch toward him and swallowed whatever awful reply the other boy had been about to make.
Ginny sank slowly back into her seat, covering her mouth with both hands and barely hearing the shocked gasps of the people around them, barely seeing the flashes going off around her. All she could hear was the small sound of surrender Harry made as he responded to Malfoy's kiss; all she could see was Harry's hands coming up to bury themselves in Malfoy's hair...
And the next day, staring at the pitiful picture the small girl sitting next to the two snogging boys made in the 'Daily Prophet', all she could do was weep for the crushed fantasies that lay in ruins at her feet.