For everyone else, today was just a normal winter day in Hogsmeade, but for Harry, it was something more; it was the day he would finally tell Ginny how he felt about her. Harry had thought about this decision for a long time; it had brought him many restless nights, nights of hoping his feelings would go away, wondering what would happen if they didn't. Of course, he hated the idea of liking his best friend's sister, but he couldn't help it. She wasn't like anyone he had ever met. Sure Cho was pretty, but she was overly emotional—even before losing Cedric—and she wasn't that interesting to talk to anyway. If Harry had wanted a girl with leaky faucets for eyes, he would have just dated Moaning Myrtle and been done with it.
As Harry padded over the fresh snow blanketing Hogsmeade's main street, he thought about some of the other girls he knew. Lavender and Parvati were nice, but they were too frivolous and giggly for his liking. He thought about the way they would hiss with gossip during lunch or how they would sigh and blush whenever Firenze the centaur so much as scratched his chin. Hermione was a good friend, but she was too bossy for Harry to ever be interested in. Dating her would have felt too much like dating Mrs. Weasley. Harry briefly wondered how Ron's father managed it. Then he returned to thinking about the girls he knew. Romilda Vane was a disaster. Harry shuddered as he remembered her attempt to trick him into taking a love potion. Then there was Pansy Parkinson, who shrieked with laughter at everything Malfoy said, especially when it was cruel. The more Harry thought about it, the more he realized how glad he was that Ginny existed.
Harry liked so many things about Ginny that he had trouble deciding which was his favorite. He could talk to her about anything, they could go for broomstick rides and she'd be able to keep up, she could take a joke—probably a result of living with Fred and George—she was sweet, but not annoyingly so, and she was supportive. So many other girls acted obsessed with Harry even though he knew they would turn on him the moment the Daily Prophet printed something bad about him. Ginny's friendship was real, and it was among the few real friendships he had. That was one of Harry's favorite things about her; she was genuine. The other thing he liked about her, and this was perhaps his favorite, was that she thought for herself. Having been through several years of Hogwarts, Harry had seen how often girls would let their friends think for them. He had seen how often they would change their opinions or act differently just to fit in. Ginny wasn't like that, and Harry was glad.
Harry was approaching Madam Puddifoot's, the steamy café where someone had told him Ginny would be. His heart pulsed as he drew near. How would she react? What if she didn't feel the same way? Harry sighed. It was better to find out than to spend forever wondering what might have been. He was about to go inside when a sight made him stop cold.
He could see Ginny through the window, sitting across from someone—a boy. Maybe they were just friends. Harry looked closer. It was Dean Thomas. He and Ginny were holding hands. Friends did that sometimes, right? He pictured himself inside a steamy café holding hands with Ron. Okay, maybe friends didn't do that. But then that meant… Harry lurched. Ginny and Dean were leaning towards each other, moving closer. Friends definitely didn't do that. Harry looked away. His chest felt like it was on fire. He knew what was going to happen, and he couldn't watch. It was like a train was coming and his heart was tied to the tracks.
Later that night, Harry lay awake looking up at the canopy of his four-poster bed. The one thing he had wanted, really wanted in life, was Ginny. Of course he couldn't have her. He was Harry Potter, and things didn't work out for him. Everyone else had normal lives. They grew up with birthdays and friends and parents. They didn't have to live in a dusty cupboard. They didn't have to worry that the newspaper might turn everyone against them. Most of all, they didn't have to worry that they were going to be killed. Was it really too much for Harry to want one good thing to happen to him after all he had been through? He thought of Ron and Hermione curled up by the fire. He thought of Percy sharing secret kisses with Penelope Clearwater. He thought of Ginny and Dean, holding hands while he stood out in the snow. He remembered the way they had looked at each other. The thought still made his chest burn. Everyone else was happy with their cozy lives, but Harry was forced to watch from outside, as if separated from them by a window, shivering in the cold as their laughter filled the air.
Harry shoved his face into his pillow, but that didn't stop the tears.