*Anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. This is a fanfiction, and I am in no way profiting from it.*

Just a bit of fluff. Don't mind it. In fact, don't even read it. I don't claim to have anything to do with it. It belongs to the insane plot bunnies leaping about my brain.

"Why do they say it like that?" Harry blurted without thinking.

"Wha-?" Ron looked up from his homework, glazed eyes betraying his complete lack of focus.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wishing he hadn't said anything. A couple girls across the Gryffindor common room were talking loudly about girl things—dating and magazines and such. They had quickly grown rather giggly, leaning on each other and hiding their faces in their hands. One phrase in particular had floated over to Harry and gotten lodged in his brain. "…and then, of course, she had to go and fall in love with him!"

"Er—well, why do they call it falling in—in love?" Harry could feel every last bit of his manhood seeping from his ears by even speaking the words. "I mean, it's not like you're actually falling, is it?" The words came out in a rush in his embarrassment.

Ron stared blankly for a moment then shrugged. "Maybe that's what it feels like? Falling?"

Harry was a little shocked to realize his best friend was actually thinking his question through. Or maybe he just wanted an excuse to deviate from the essay he was supposed to be writing. Harry shrugged and made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat, anxious to move on from the conversation and forget it even happened. It was a sign of the strength of their friendship that Ron hadn't just made fun of him for it.

He didn't even really know why the subject intrigued him so much. Perhaps it was the lesson from Slughorn earlier that semester, when they were introduced to the love potion, Amortentia. Part of him wished he could smell it again and that worried him. Harry reached up and surreptitiously checked his forehead. It didn't seem overly warm.

"You alright, Harry?" Hermione sank into a chair across the table, dropping her bag at her feet. "Does your scar hurt?" She gave him a worried look.

Harry lowered his hand quickly, shaking his head. "Just think I might be coming down with something. It's probably nothing, though," he added quickly, seeing the expression on Hermione's face.

"I agree, you might want to go get checked, mate." Ron piped up, a grin forming on his face. He looked at Harry sideways. "He's been asking questions about falling in love." Harry glared daggers at his friend. Perhaps their friendship wasn't that strong after all.

Hermione turned an extremely curious face back to Harry who, done feeling ridiculous, began clearing his things. "I'm going down to the kitchens for a snack," he said forcefully, ignoring his friends' looks of amusement.

"Oh, but Harry, it's nearly—"

"I'll take my invisibility cloak," Harry grumbled, cutting Hermione off. He strode up to his dormitory. As he passed them on his way back, Ron called out, "Grab me a couple biscuits, will you?" Still feeling rather negative feelings toward his friend, Harry just grunted.

Normally, Harry would walk carefully through the hallway, making sure the edges of the cloak were covering his feet. He had grown quite a bit since his first year, and he couldn't even break into a light jog without flashing bits of his trainers. Tonight, however, his mind was elsewhere.

In fact, his mind was so far into elsewhere that, upon turning a corner, he nearly ran into Filch. Harry stopped just short of coming into contact with the squib, so close that he could see the crusties in the corners of his eyes. Holding his breath, Harry leapt backwards like lighting, likely creating a breeze at the speed he moved.

Filch's watery eyes shot in Harry's direction, making a noise in the back of his throat. "Is someone there?" he said in his thick, gravelly voice.

Harry continued inching away as quietly but as quickly as he could, silently cursing his stupidity. Reaching the end of the hallway, he let out a breath of relief. Now he could move faster and still get to the kitch—Harry ran into something very warm and solid. The something let out a rather girly squeal.

Whipping his cloak around the other figure, Harry grabbed her around the waist, thrusting them both into a small crevice behind a nearby statue. The girl struggled, but Harry put a hand over her mouth, hissing in her ear. "Filch!" Nodding her understanding, she froze, her breath tickling the palm of his hand.

Not a moment later, Filch came shuffling into the corridor, his eyes bulging. "I know someone is there," he whispered, sucking at his teeth. "Come out, come out, wherever you are…" he sang under his breath.

Hair tickled Harry's face. He blew, watching strands of red scatter. The girl was ginger.

His hands suddenly became very sensitive where they lay—one on her waist, the other over top her lips. He wished fervently that Filch would move on. His collar itched and his left leg was beginning to seize up, frozen in a crouch.

After waiting long moments since he last saw Filch, Harry allowed himself to shift slightly. He released the girl, sitting down slowly on the cold stone floor. She followed suit.

"Think he's gone?" Harry breathed. He looked over, finally given a view of more than just a head of red hair.

Ginny looked back at him, her cheeks slightly flushed with worry. She bit her lip. "Maybe we should stay a bit longer, just in case."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Ron's not going to be pleased. I was supposed to bring him back some biscuits."

Ginny smirked. "Is that where you were headed? You didn't get very far, did you?"

Feeling a tad defensive, Harry replied, "Good thing I didn't. You were about to find out just how cranky Filch gets at night."

"Oh, and you were hurrying in this direction because you wanted to take the scenic route to the kitchens, right?" Ginny shot back lightly.

"Well, I got one, didn't I?" Harry's grin melted off his face. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. At Ginny's confused face, he added quickly, "So where were you going at this hour?"

Ginny blushed and Harry congratulated himself on successfully distracting her. "I was meeting Dean." She avoided his eye. Suddenly, Harry felt this inexplicable urge to hit something.

Instead, he craned his neck, trying to see past the statue. "You know, I think Filch might be gone." He clambered to his feet, throwing off the invisibility cloak. He reached out a hand to help Ginny up, but she was already standing beside him. He leaned against the wall to cover his sudden movement.

"Well, enjoy your nighttime snack," Ginny said brightly. "And thanks, Harry. I really wasn't in the mood to get detention tonight."

"Anytime." Harry balled the silvery cloak between his hands.

As they went their separate ways, Harry threw on his cloak once more. Only then did he turn to look back at Ginny, padding silently down the hall.

It was like gravity, he realized. A force similar to the one that kept his feet solidly on the floor was also pulling him in her direction—he felt it in the tips of his fingers and the balls of his feet. And as he watched her disappear around another corner, it hit him.

There was no fighting it. For weeks he had been arguing with himself, struggling to convince the monster in his chest that he didn't really feel that way. This was Ginny, after all. She was Ron's sister. Ron was practically his brother—didn't that make Ginny practically his sister?

No. He knew that now she would never be anything like a sister to him. And there was nothing he could do about it. He was helpless to that pull—to that warm, amazing gravity that dragged at his stomach.

Harry found himself back at the portrait of the fat lady. His feet must have taken him back. He showed himself just long enough to give her the password, then slipped inside.

"That was quick," Ron called from the table. Hermione turned in surprise. Harry passed them both silently, headed toward the stairs. "Hey!" Ron said in confusion. "Where are you going? What about my biscuits?"

Harry dimly heard Hermione hush Ron, but he ignored them both as he climbed the stairs. Upon entering his dormitory, he collapsed onto his bed, burying his face into red and gold covers.

He had never given up before. When he was convinced Snape was going after the Philosopher's stone, he snuck passed a three-headed dog. When Ginny was kidnapped by Riddle, he slid down a hidden tube in the girl's bathroom toward a Basilisk. When Sirius was in danger of being kissed by a dementor, he went back in time and freed him.

But now, faced with the image of a girl in his mind, Harry knew he was powerless to stop it. He could struggle and fight all he wanted, but the conclusion would be the same.

It was a lot like falling.