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Jealousy

Author: [info]brimac13
Title: Jealousy
Summary: Too much studying and not enough relaxing can sometimes ever-so-slightly unhinge a person.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Mostly fluff with a speck of angst
Word Count: 596 (so says Word)
Notes/Warnings: Massive thanks go out to antosha_c for being awesome and beta reading this fic for me.

This was written for the 3rd wave ficathon at hpgw_ficafest on livejournal. My challenge was: Michael Corner (Student/Professor in the Library)/ Scene from canon: the chocolate in the library scene on pages (in the US, paperback edition) 654-656 of OotP.



Michael Corner was in a foul mood. His girlfriend had Quidditch practice, he had tons of revising to do—though this shouldn’t have bothered him so much, studious Ravenclaw that he was—and he hadn’t had a decent snog in a good three weeks because of his girlfriend’s ruddy Quidditch practices and his OWL revising. To say he was frustrated with it all would be an understatement.

He knew his relationship with Ginny had begun steadily moving south when he got upset with her for taking over Potter’s spot on the Gryffindor team and therefore eliminating much-needed snogging time. It didn’t matter to her that he was right (his current situation a perfect example of just how right he was); all that mattered to her was her stupid House team. It was just a stupid game anyway. It certainly should not have taken up so much of their quality (snogging) time that it drove him bloody well insane.

He did realize he was a bit fixated on kissing; but what fifteen year-old boy who was accustomed to having regular make-out sessions with his girlfriend and was suddenly deprived of said sessions for three bloody weeks wouldn’t be? Heaving a deep sigh, he attempted to focus on his Herbology text. Apparently, his imagination had other ideas. Just as he settled into reading about "Hazardous Plants and How to Handle Them", he found himself thinking of Ginny’s pretty red hair that always smelt of honeysuckle and magnolias and her soft, freckle covered skin that always felt so good beneath his hands.

"Bloody hell," he swore as he ran a hand through his normally smooth black hair, mussing it up in the name of sexual frustration. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to find her. At this point, he didn’t care if he had to pull her out of practice and haul her back to his dorm; he was going to get some alone time with his girlfriend. Packing up his books, quills, and parchment, he stood and strode purposefully through the stacks until a voice stopped him.

"Harry, I’m talking to you, can you hear me?"

He paused, conveniently hidden by one of the many bookshelves, and peeked around to see if that voice belonged to who he thought it belonged to. A quick glance and he could see his girlfriend—who looked attractively windswept—sitting at a table, all alone except for Harry Potter. His eyes narrowed and his thoughts began to run a little wild. Quidditch practice, eh? Won’t be over for a few hours, eh?

"How come you’re not at practice?"

How come, indeed.

"It’s over."

And the first place you came was to see him, not your loving boyfriend who sacrifices fulfilling his own needs so that you can play your stupid effing Quidditch! Fuming silently, Michael missed a small portion of the conversation.

"Yeah, I’m fine."

And what about you, Potter? Wasn’t Cho enough? Can’t get into her knickers so you have to go about hitting on my girlfriend? Fine. Fine! I’ll show you both!

Had he not been so very frustrated with everything from OWLs to Quidditch to his sudden lack of any sort of a sex life, he might have seen just how off his line of thought was. However, the stress of the looming examinations and the burden of being unable to relieve that stress seemed to shut down the sensible part of his brain—which is, by rights, most of it. As it were, he set off to find Cho Chang and have himself a good revenge snog.

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