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Michael Corner is a git. by AineRose Utter nonsense! Don’t ask me about this, I don’t know where it came from. It doesn’t even have plot! And it makes no sense. But I’m bored and trying to put off studying so I’ll just have to go with it for now. If anyone has any suggestions, tell me. If not, this is a one-shot. Thank you.
Oh yeah!
Disclaimer: Two words: not mine. * * * Michael Corner is a git. by AineRose
Michael Corner is a git.
Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re saying. You’re saying “Whatever Ginny, You’re just bitter because you broke up!” but you’re wrong. He is a total git.
What a hypocrite! He says he loves Quidditch, and believes in fair play and rules (he is a Ravenclaw after all!) and yet when his wonderful, beautiful girlfriend makes a spectacularly spectacular catch of the snitch, he dumps her. That Snitch was bloody hard to catch you know! The bloody bugger is as elusive as a Demicrawl! And when your girlfriend does her very best and makes a thrilling dive and capture and escapes unscathed, clearly the winner, you do not get in a huff because your team lost. You congratulate her and at least pretend to be happy. You do not accuse her of foul play and pushing their seeker out of the way. That’s the job of a Seeker!
Chang understood that, she even half-smiled at me, which is good for her, not crying all the time. Though at first she did seem just a tad angry (I’m sure the whole broom throwing thing was really an accident!) she really congratulated me after. This was surprising, because I thought she hated me, what with her dating Harry and all.
Ah yes, Harry. That was another excuse he brought up. Apparently I lust after Harry like a love-sick puppy (and here I was thinking I had kept it away from the world!). I asked Hermione and she said that was complete and utter nonsense. My resolution of getting over Harry after the Yule’s Ball is working perfectly, apparently.
The only problem is that I don’t want to get over Harry. It may just be a schoolgirl crush but I still really fancy him. Hermione said he knew about me and Michael, which makes sense because Ron has been giving Corner dirty looks all year; and everything Ron knows, Harry knows. Well except for the whole Muggle Shopping Centre Incident and the pictures of me running around starkers when I was a baby! Right?
Bloody Hell, what if he does know about that stuff? I’ll never be able to look him in the face again (It took me two years to be able to control myself from blushing when he entered the room). I’ll be having a long talk with my brother tomorrow, once he’s stopped smiling.
Everyone’s smiling. Every single bloody person! You’d think we’ve never won the Quidditch Cup before. It’s so nice of people to come up and tell me how great a player I am. That is, until they manage to slip in something along the lines of:
“And everyone thought we didn’t have a chance this year, what with Oliver and Fred and George and Harry not playing!”
OR
“You’ve done Harry proud, I’ll wager!” (This particular comment was heard only once, from Lavender Brown and Harry, who happened to be walking past, almost choked on his drink and spent the rest of the night trying to control from laughing every time he saw me). It was weird really. Any time he wasn’t doing that he was strangely subdued. Like he had something on his mind. Maybe he was sad ‘because he wasn’t playing. But he kept shooting looks at Hermione, who wasn’t looking too good either. They both went to bed early as well. And I went not long after.
I’m sitting in bed now. And I can hear Kayla Scoritt and Jessica Parker giggling on Jessica’s bed. No doubt they’re talking about boys. I hope they don’t ask me anything pertaining to boys or fashion or, er, what else do they talk about? Boys? No, I said that. If I can silence the scratching of this bloody quill then maybe I can write in peace.
Uh oh, I can hear them talking to Sarah. They must be rounding up a game of Truth and Dare. I hope I can escape, with Quidditch as an excuse. Uh oh, they’re getting closer. Am I imagining the rustling of my curtains?
No.
Four hours later
Kill me now. Please. If I show my face tomorrow I’ll die of embarrassment. Though, in fairness, Angelina and Hermione are worse off than me. Who could actually like my brothers? I think I’m going to throw up. And of course, every female in Gryffindor now knows I like Harry. Even McGonagall, because apparently she doesn’t remember the post-Quidditch-Final-Ritual from when she was a Gryffindor, and put a stop to our fun.
We Lionesses are the only girls n Hogwarts (as far as I know) to have our own special customs, from generation to generation. There are so many, but each time it always ends along the lines of everyone drinking too much Butterbeer and telling their innermost secrets. Of course, there is ancient magic controlling us from telling anybody any of somebody else’s secrets. I believe that Godric Gryffindor had a very wise, secret wife, who liked to gossip and not be gossiped about. For instance, I could write all these secrets in this diary here, and if anybody but a Gryffindor Girl picked it up all they would see was a blank page. It’s pretty cool actually.
The problem is that those girls still know, and it’s also a custom to gossip about other people’s secrets the next day. And even though they can’t technically tell the lads, they can send deep meaningful looks in their direction. Not a single boy knows about our secrets, or our late-night gatherings. And I suppose I’d better write them down here, in case I’m hit with a Memory Charm any time soon and have to rediscover my identity (Hi me if you’re reading this!)
So here it is, the Gryffindor Girls Top-Secret parties and gatherings (You’d think in a millennium we’d be able to think up a name. Well, we’re not Ravenclaws!).
First Day Back: in which first-years are welcomed. If we have the energy.
First Quidditch Match: in which bets are made.
Birthdays: Always a goodie. All ages, all years. In which Lavender confessed to having a crush on (can you believe it!) Cedric Diggory .Of course he was still alive then, but still!
Halloween: in which older students give first and second years lots of Hogsmeade candies and make them terribly hyper.
Guy Fawkes: Who cares if he was a Muggle? That’s Dumbledore’s bird’s name!
Christmas: in which presents are exchanged.
New Year’s: in which was all drink as many Butterbeers as possible.
Valentines Day: in which we lend a shoulder to cry on and a tissue and gush about who got what from whom.
Easter: Mmm. chocolate. In which tummy aches usually follow.
Quidditch Final: in which we pay back or receive debts and celebrate (when we win of course!)
End of Year: in which we promise to send lots of letters that we never do.
Of course, all of these contain the usual stuff as well; Giggling, gambling, daring to eat a full box of Bertie Botts without leaving out one (I hold that record!), Truth or Dare, girly makeovers, shameful secrets (see above) etc.
The responsibility lies in the hands of us Lionesses to party like mad because no other House is suited to it. Slytherins would look down on it, Ravenclaws would organise a study session or a pop quiz or something and the Hufflepuffs wouldn’t know how to stop partying!
To be fair, the girls were great today. News travels fast here and everyone knew that I had dumped Michael. They were sympathetic and caring and I must admit I got a bit sniffly. But who wouldn’t be sad when they broke up with their old boyfriend-even if he is a git?! Angelina, Katie, Alicia and I were the heroes of the day, having exhibited such a bloody fantastic display of kicking some Slytherin arse, so we were given the first choice in everything. I mostly stayed at the edges f the circle, though, sniffling like a baby. I’m so ashamed about that now but Parvati says it’s perfectly normal.
I wish I were a fifth Year; the girls are so nice. Hermione was still acting odd all night, but she still had tons of fun. We talked for a long time tonight; something we haven’t got the chance to do since she’s been glued to her books for the last six months. We’ll probably hold another night for the end of the OWLS and NEWTS this year too, which should be good. Hermione promised to tell me what’s wrong with her and Harry when we get some privacy and they’ve told Ron. And I intend for her to keep that promise or a Bat-bogey Hex will be making its way towards her soon.
I’m tired now, so I think I’ll go to sleep, but I want to say one thing first.
Michael Corner is a git. Harry Potter is fit.
Virginia Abigail Weasley, Ginny, Seeker extraordinaire.
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