Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, although I would really love to.
My mind is elsewhere all day. This is routine, for me, but I haven't yet gotten the hang of it to the point where I can avoid walking into things. And, of course, after I walk straight into Mark Havisham's back for the fourth time in a row, he turns straight around and puts his hands on my shoulders, shaking me; my dazed eyes flick back towards him.
"Ginny, really," he says, a note of anxiety in his voice. "What's gotten into you today? You're worse than normal."
"I'm fine," I assure him. "Really, it's nothing."
His eyes search mine, but he seems to be on the fence about believing me or not, so I give him one last assurance to push him over the edge.
"I'll be okay, I swear," I say, and after a couple seconds he nods and sets off down the corridor full of bustling students. As soon as he's out of sight, the same scene that has been replaying in my head all morning pops up once more, and I close my eyes, remembering the scene this morning at breakfast fully…
"Harry, we've just got to grit our teeth and do it." My brother Ron is unsuccessfully attempting to convince his best friend that it's better to find dates to the upcoming Yule Ball sooner rather than later. He continues his convincing, and I, several seats down, almost choke on my cornflakes for Ron's next argument:
"When we get back to the common room tonight, we'll both have partners – agreed?"
"Er… okay," Harry agrees.
And I, I am on Cloud Nine - because, thanks to my ridiculous ever-present daydreaming, I have suddenly got it in my head now that Harry will ask me.
But I am knocked out from my reminiscing as someone accidentally bumps into me, and I am jolted back into the world where Harry sees me only as his best friend's little sister.
"Oops, sorry, didn't see you there," says the person who brought me out of my reverie.
"Don't worry about it." I look up, to see who it is, and then – "Oh, hi, Neville," I say quite glumly. I feel somewhat badly that I've greeted him like this, but as he recognizes who it is he's bumped into, his face lights up and I realize he didn't notice my melancholy mien at all.
"Ginny! I was just looking for you!" he says quite animatedly, and I almost wonder if Professor Flitwick's class practiced Cheering Charms today, but then I realize that this is just regular Neville. "I… I was wondering if, if you might like… to go to the ball with me," he continues.
"Oh," I say, for lack of anything else. "Didn't… didn't you ask Hermione, though?" I only say this to stall for time; I already know perfectly well that Hermione's already got a date.
"Nah, she's going with someone else," he says.
Completely out of other suitable stallings for time, my brain tries to figure out what I want to say. In the meantime, Harry's face swims to the front of my mind.
And then I think. I mean, actually think. Without daydreams or fantasies involved at all. I don't know where I got the idea I'd be going with Harry Potter. He barely notices me and he wouldn't have a sudden realization in time to ask me anyway. Third-years aren't allowed to go if they don't get invited, so technically, this is my only ticket into the ball. Besides, the poor bloke's already been rejected once.
So I turn back to Neville and say defiantly, "Sure. I'd love to."
"Great!" he says, grinning with joy. "So… I guess I'll meet you in the common room at around eight, then."
"Okay," I say, smiling only for Neville's benefit. There is no way I'm going to ruin Neville's night.
I slowly make my way back to the common room.