In the Gryffindor common room Harry sat comfortably in an armchair placed in front of the roaring fire. He stared longingly over at Ron and Hermione. She was sat comfortably on his lap, her head turned slightly so she was facing him. They were deep in conversation and would stop every now and then to gently press their soft, warm lips together.
"Earth calling Harry" a voice broke into his thoughts. "Wake up, mate." Harry identified it to be Fred, or George. Did it really matter? They're practically the same person.
"Mmm." Harry managed to utter as he tore his eyes away from the happy couple.
"You alright mate?" said Fred, or it could have been George. He still wasn't entirely sure.
"Yeah." Harry mumbled, his mind drifting off once again...
He felt a small pressure upon his hand; it felt like somebody was holding it. He inhaled slowly, and then the smell hit his nose. It was the most wonderful smell in the world. He'd recognise it anywhere. He slowly opened his eyes and was welcomed by the magnificent sight of the extravagantly decorated hall. He noticed the Christmas Feast had begun without them. As many students had returned home to celebrate with family, Professor Dumbledore had removed the four house tables and placed just one table in the centre. Leaving plenty of room for the twelve Christmas trees brought in by Hagrid and decorated beautifully by Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick.
A tiny pop sounded above their heads as mistletoe sprouted in mid-air. The red-head grinned sheepishly, eyes twinkling.
Harry's heart began to thump. Loudly. His mouth went dry, his hands clammy. Butterflies began to flutter around his stomach. His breathing rate increased and he felt slightly dizzy (probably due to the fact he hadn't eaten anything all day, but that was beside the point.)
Not caring who was watching, he tilted his head slightly to the right, slowly parting his lips (he was trying hard to make sure he didn't pout. What a turn off that would be.) As he leaned closer his eyelids fluttered shut, he felt the soft warmth of the lips he'd craved for a while now. His heart exploded with excitement and joy, the magical moment made him tingle all over. When he reluctantly pulled away he stared into the eyes of the one he loved, causing his face to radiate happiness.
"Ron." Harry breathed happily.
"No, it's me silly. It's me Fred."
"And me." George added brightly.
"And you." Fred said, rolling his eyes.
"Oh." Harry sighed. "I just imagined it all."
"You sound disappointed." stated Fred.
"Are we not..." George started.
"...interesting enough for..." Fred interrupted.
"...you." They finished simultaneously.
Harry chuckled out of politeness as he gazed once again at Ron and 'Wish-it-was-me-ione.' He was falling in love, hard. And there was nobody there to catch him...
"And there never will be." said Ron in response to something 'Little Ms. Perfect' had said.
Harry sighed. Wishing more than anything that someday... Someday it could be him in Ron's arms.