Author's note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last installment of this story. Your kind words mean a lot to me. Special thanks to my aunt Becky, for without her, I wouldn't have been able to complete this chapter.
Disclaimer: All characters found within the contents of this story are the sole property of Ms. J.K. Rowling. The only thing that is mine is the plot and the song.
Chapter 6
Singing the Blues
Harry sat on his bed staring out into space, his eyes glazed over and his mouth hanging open. The rest of The Conspiracy was busy bandying ideas back and forth about what to do next. Finally Ron, hard as it is to believe, became the voice of reason.
"There's no way around it, mate," he said. "You have to try the last proposal."
"I'm not doing it, Ron," Harry said. "I told you this one was not an option."
For those of you who joined us late in our epic drama, Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, has been attempting to propose to my human, Hermione Granger. I say attempting, because after four tries, he has yet to have his feelings known as each attempt has met with miserable failure. Suffice it to say, Hogwarts it still standing, though barely.
It all began when Harry made the grave mistake of asking his closest friend, Ron Weasley, for advice on the best way to propose. Naturally, neither boy had a clue as to what they were doing, so I felt it wise to intervene by showing them a magazine hidden underneath my human's bed. It was Witch's Bridal Monthly with an article on the Top Five Magical Proposals of the Ages. So far, Harry has tried four of them and failed.
The final option, to which Ron was alluding to earlier, was Magical Proposal Number Five. This proposal has the wizard singing his wishes to his lady love while accompanied by an entire choir made up of his own voice. While the theory of this proposal is quite impressive, only one problem remains. Harry cannot sing.
"But you've got to, mate," Ron said. "And look, the magazine says there's a spell you can do to make your voice sound better. And look on the bright side, we won't be around to mess things up!"
"He's got a point, there," Dean piped in.
"Yeah," Seamus agreed. "What have you got to lose?"
"Oh, I don't know," Harry said. "Pride? Self respect? The love of my life?"
I tended to agree with Harry.
"Oh, pshaw!" Ron said. "She'll love it."
The rest of The Conspiracy agreed. I, on the other hand, had my doubts. However, they continued to pressure Harry until he finally succumbed.
"Okay!" Harry said. "I'll do it. But what song will I sing?"
"We'll write one!" Dean said.
"Uhhh . . . no," Harry replied.
"No, no! That's a great idea!" Ron exclaimed. "It will be from the heart this way."
"Ron, between the five of us, we can't even come up with a good essay for Professor Binns' class," Harry said. "And he's dead!"
I had to admit, Harry had a point. Literary geniuses, these boys were not.
"Nonsense!" Ron said. He quickly grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, rushed over to the writing desk, and just sat there with a blank expression on his face.
"I know," Neville spoke up. "Why don't we get Hermione to help us? She's good at this sort of thing."
Four heads turned to stare at Neville. I just shook mine in disgust.
"Oh, right," he said sheepishly. "I forgot."
After a few minutes of silent pondering, a look passed over Ron's face. Whether it was inspiration or constipation, I do not know. Whatever the case, he began scribbling furiously.
"Okay, guys," he said. "How's this: Now Heaven bless thy grace this day . . . It's something my mum used to sing to me."
"That's beautiful, Ron," Harry said. "What's next?"
"Uh, I don't know," he answered. "That's usually about when I fell asleep."
Again, I just shook my head. What a senseless waste of human life.
"I know," Dean spoke up. "How about 'say all at dear Hogwarts'? After all you need to mention where they met."
"Perfect!" Ron said, quickly writing it down. "Okay, next line?"
Silence filled the room. Everyone stared at each other, no one coming up with anything. Finally, I decided to do what I do best; nap. No sooner had I started my snooze when Seamus' shrill Irish voice spoke up.
"For thou art lovely, blithe and gay," he said. Everyone stared at him in wonder. Who knew that he had the heart of a poet? When he is sober, that is.
"What does 'blithe' mean?" Neville chimed in.
"I don't know, but it sounds good," Ron said.
"Is she gay?" Dean asked. "I didn't think she was. But if she is, then why is she going out with Harry? Don't get me wrong, I've had a few fantasies about Lavender and Parvati, but . . ."
Dean was silenced by a well-placed elbow from Seamus. The tall Gryffindor obviously did not see the dark look that crossed over Harry's face.
The Conspiracy was silent as they tried to think of a rhyme for "Hogwarts". For the next ten minutes they thought, until Neville cried out, waking several of us from a quiet slumber.
"I've got it," he said. "How about 'and don't have stinky farts'?"
Ron, Dean and Seamus nearly fell off their beds laughing. Harry, however, was deadly silent. He glared at his dormmates for long minutes, then slowly reached for his wand. There was a mad scramble for the door as the others beat a hasty retreat.
* * * * *
Later that day, after Harry had a chance to calm down, the boys sequestered themselves in their dormitory determined to come up with the perfect song. Having neglected my human for the past few weeks, I decided to keep her company. She was walking around the common room with me in her arms (I was only allowing her to carry me because it made her feel good, not because I received any joy from it) when she turned to go up the stairs to Harry's room. I knew this was not the most opportune moment, but there was nothing I could do.
With determination plain on her face, she knocked on the door. The door opened revealing Ron's red-haired visage.
"May I talk to Harry?" my human asked sweetly.
"No," he said and closed the door.
My human frowned at the door and knocked again. This time Dean poked his head out. "Yes?" he asked.
"Let me talk to Harry," my human said.
"Not now, he's busy," he replied. Again the door was shut in her face.
Her frown turned into a scowl as she rapped harder upon the door. Seamus answered this time, but took the initiative.
"Hermione!" he exclaimed. "How are you? Would you like to go for a walk?"
"No, I . . ."
"All right, then," he said and shut the door.
Fury replaced her scowl and my human pounded on the door. Neville timidly answered.
"Hi?"
"Neville," her patience was clearly worn out. "I want to talk to Harry now!"
My keen cat hearing overheard Ron in the background. "Stall her!"
"Harry?," Neville asked. "Harry who?" He turned around to face the room. "Is there a Harry here?"
That, apparently, was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. "Harry James Potter! You get out here right now!"
"Ooooh!," Ron said. "She used all three of your names, mate! She must really be mad! Maybe you had better go talk to her and see what she wants. Try to get rid of her. We'll be working on the song."
"Touch that parchment," I heard Harry say, "and all of you will wind up visiting Madame Pomfrey in the hospital wing."
A moment later Harry appeared at the door. "Hermione!" he grinned. "How are you, love?"
"Don't you 'Hermione' me! What is going on in there?"
"In where?"
Not a smart answer, I thought.
"Harry!" my human growled.
If humans had machinery in their brains, I would have sworn that I saw Harry's turning furiously at that moment.
"Okay," he said. "But you've got to promise to keep it a secret."
This seemed to pacify my human some.
"Neville's been trying to work up the courage to tell Ginny he likes her. We're helping him write a letter asking her to go to Hogsmeade with him."
"Neville likes Ginny?" my human nearly squealed. Harry made a shushing sound and motioned for her to be quiet. "That's wonderful! But really, you boys know nothing of romance. You need a woman's touch. I'll be glad to help you . . ." She reached for the door handle.
"No!" Harry said and grabbed her wrist. She looked at him curiously. "I mean, poor Neville's a nervous wreck as it is. It would embarrass him to death if he knew I told you. You know how he gets."
Apparently my human did know, for she let the matter drop.
"Well, I promise I won't breathe a word if it. I think that's marvelous! But why don't you and I go for a walk. There's something I want to talk to you about. I'm sure the rest won't mind working on it without you for a while."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Harry muttered under his breath so that I was the only one who heard him.
"I'm sorry, what was that?"
"Nothing," Harry said quickly. "Hermione, you know I would love nothing more than to go for a walk with you, but I did promise Neville I would help him write this letter. I can't disappoint the poor boy."
My human sighed, and Harry quickly added. "I promise you, we will get some time alone soon, and we can talk then."
"Fine!" she said and stormed off in a huff. I looked over her shoulder and saw Harry leaning against the door, beating the back of his head against it.
* * * * *
The next day my human was still in a tizzy. She spent most of her free time in her dorm room alternately muttering about someone being out to get her and uncaring boyfriends. As much as I wanted to be with Harry to make certain he did not make a mess of things, I felt it wise to spend this time comforting my human. After all, what could possibly go wrong?
It was late in the afternoon when there came a tapping at my human's dormintory window. Curious, she opened it to find Harry, sitting astride his broom, floating just outside.
"Harry!," she cried. "What . . .?"
"I've got something I want to say to you." Harry pointed his wand at his throat and uttered two incantations, Singan and Choros. With that, the air was not only filled with his voice, but a whole chorus of Harrys accompanied him as he sang.
"Hermione, my love.
Such beauty from above.
I long to see your face,
With it's everlasting grace.
My heart you stole from me.
I never want to be set free.
You are always on my mind,
Ever loving, ever kind.
So this I ask of you,
From my heart, you'll know it's true.
Make me happy as can be,
Oh . . ."
Whatever he was going to say next, will never be known as at that precise moment, a bludger came out of nowhere and struck him squarely in the noggin. And just where did this bludger come from, you might ask? All I can say is that it wasn't until much, much later that the answer to that little mystery was found.
Around the same time that Harry was preparing to fly his broom up to his lady love's window, the Slytherin Quidditch team was headed to the pitch for practice. Never one to pass up an opportunity to humiliate Harry, Draco Malfoy waited until he saw where Harry was going before opening the chest of Quidditch balls and releasing one of the bludgers. Taking a beater's bat from Goyle, Malfoy sent the bludger in Harry's direction. So intent on his serenade, Harry never saw the bludger that clipped him on the back of his pate.
Lucky for Harry, my human is a quick thinker. Before he could fall off his broom she snatched her wand, and with a swish and flick, she levitated him through the open window. She gently laid him on the bed and began ministering to Harry's most recent wound.
"My poor baby," she said softly as she pressed a wet cloth to the knot forming on the back of Harry's head. "Crookshanks," she turned her attention to me for a moment. "This just goes to prove it. Someone is definitely out to get me."
Despite the situation, I had to laugh inwardly. If only she knew the truth.
Post script: Well, there you have it, dear readers. This is the last of the mishap chapters. The next update will be the last, and I assure you that Harry will get it right. Just what he does, you'll have to tune in and see!
Also, due to the overwhelming response, I have decided to write the Cho/Hermione battle for Harry's affection. I don't know when I'll get around to it as there are several other stories floating around in my twisted, little mind that I feel the desperate need to write first. However, I promise you faithful few that I will do it. Just keep watching Portkey for it.
In the words of the great Stan Lee, "Excelsior!".