Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter. Really. And that is why I am posting my story up here, on FF.N, instead of publishing it and becoming rich. That's logic for you. Next thing you know, you're going to think that Rowling woman came up with my work… Typical.

A/N: I don't know why the characters are the way they are – this is just how I imagined – in one way things could go – Harry and Ron turning out a couple of years down the road. I hope that I've stayed relatively true to the books, and I hope you enjoy.

Harry Potter scratched out a line on the parchment, flipped over the quill, and glared at his watch. Change - go ahead, I DARE you.

Click! the numbers flipped over. 12:00 AM. Saint Valentines Day.

Harry stared, dejected, at the parchment. Valentines was unquestionably a romantic day. For a guy with a girlfriend to miss it, he was informed relentlessly, would be on the same level as forgetting a birthday. No jury in the world would convict Ginny if he didn't come up with something damned romantic by breakfast.

One of the few downsides to staying with the Weasleys over the summers was that all major holidays began, not at a respectable date time, but whenever everyone happened to be awake. And, adding insult to injury, on holidays, the whole house woke very early.

He shook the hair out of his eyes and turned to the next bed.

"Ron," much shaking with little success, "Ron, wake up."

"What?" Ron growled sleepily, and rolled back over.

"Ron!" Harry shook him again, "Ron, if you don't wake up now, I will grab hold of your earring and pull."

"Gerroff, I'm up!" Ron sat up, glowering through a curtain of really sulky red hair. "Ugh, I should never have let you see that."

"Not important now," said Harry quickly, still trying to figure out how Ron could have hidden an earring, "Quick, when you picture me and Ginny, what do you think?"

"Ew?" said Ron, sulking. "I dunno."

"C'mon, Ron, I need help!"

"That's the truth," Ron grumbled, "Look, Harry, in my mind, she's still my little sister. I mean, I still think of you and Ginny and I remember her sending that stupid dwarf after you with a great bloody Valentine poem."

"Ron, you're brilliant!" exclaimed Harry, and started writing.

"Great..." Ron muttered, rolling over, "Good night."

"Night," Harry replied absently, without looking up.

Cocka-doodle, CoookledaadA, Cockie doddly DOOOO! ParrumppBUMPump jiiiiiingg.

Ginny Weasley woke on Valentines Day morning to the sound of several competing and dysfunctional roosters and one attic ghoul.

"Ugh," she rolled over, squinching her eyes against the bright sunshine.

Then, quite suddenly, she sat bolt upright. "It's the day... It's February fourteenth." She grabbed a bathrobe, slipped on her tattered third-hand house shoes and entered the new day.

She didn't get far.

On the floor outside her room was a small brown envelope, simply addressed 'Ginny'.

You're powerful, pretty, and know me too well

I should have seen right from the start

I'm yours and your mine, (how's that for a line?),

The girl who (that's you) stole my heart.