It was a cold November Saturday as Harry sat in front of the fire with Ron and Hermione, sipping a butterbeer and wishing to Merlin that he could somehow get rid of his fan girls. He had been looking forward to spending his Christmas holiday at Hogwarts, as he'd always done in the past. But he also knew that his legions of fan girls were planning on him staying for the holiday and had changed their plans accordingly. Somehow, just knowing that Romilda and those other girls would be there made him dread Christmas. If he wanted to be able to relax and enjoy his time off, he'd have to make other arrangements.
The raven-haired wizard glanced over at his friends, who were looking very cozy, lost in their own little world. Hermione sat in Ron's lap in the nearby chair as they acted like a sickeningly goofy couple in love. Harry was sure that they would either spend Christmas at the Burrow, or with the Grangers. As much as Harry detested the thought of being a third wheel, he was desperate to get away from his annoying little stalkers. "Guys?"
The two lovebirds didn't seem to hear him as they continued playing kissy-face and talking baby talk to each other. Harry looked away for a moment, his stomach feeling queazy from the extreme mush he was witnessing. Once the nausea passed, he looked over at his friends again, this time raising his voice a little. "Guys?"
Hermione's Arithmancy textbook slid off of her lap and onto the floor, but she didn't seem to notice. At this point, Harry realized that there was only one way to get their attention. "Oh look, McGonagall's here!"
Immediately Hermione jumped off of Ron's lap and attempted to straighten her bushy hair before snatching her textbook off the floor. Then upon turning around and seeing no sign of McGonagall, Hermione glared at Harry. "Blast it, Harry, why the hell did you have to do that? What are you trying to do, give us a heart attack?"
Ron looked rather irritated as he grumbled, "You'd better have a damn good reason for scaring us like that."
"I do," the Boy Who Lived replied earnestly. "Guys, I have a very important favor to ask of you."
Ron and Hermione turned their full attention to Harry, looking surprised and a bit concerned; it was not like their friend to ask favors of anybody. Ron spoke first, "Sure, Harry. What do you need?"
The dark-haired boy crossed his arms over his chest, and stared into the fire for a moment, as if the crackling flames would tell him how to ask what he was about to ask. Then he looked back over at his best friends. "Guys, um... I wanted to know if I could, you know...tag along when you leave for the holidays?"
His friends hesitated for a moment and exchanged quizzical looks. After a moment of silence, Hermione gently said, "Well, Harry, we're not leaving this time. Sorry."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Ron nodded. "Hermione's parents are off to Belgium to renew their vows and go on a second honeymoon. My mum and dad are going to spend the holidays with Bill and Fleur. And besides, we need to stay and study for the N.E.W.T.s."
"I thought you liked Christmas at Hogwarts," commented Hermione. Then, changing her concerned tone, she asked, "Does this have anything to do with all those girls who've also decided to stay for the holiday?"
Harry groaned at the mention of the groupies, causing Ron to chuckle. "Aww, is ickle Harry afwaid of the ickle fan girls?"
"It's not funny, Ron! You have no idea how annoying it is to be constantly followed and spied upon, and you sure as hell don't know what it's like to be stalked by Romilda Vane! If Romilda found out I was here by myself, she'd never leave me alone!"
"Honestly, Harry," Hermione sighed in her know-it-all tone, "why don't you just tell Romilda that you're not interested?"
"Because she doesn't listen, and she won't take no for an answer!"
Ron looked puzzled, "But why don't you like her? I mean, she's pretty hot-"
"-RON!" Hermione said with a deadly glare at her boyfriend and swatted him in the arm with her book.
"Look, the girl's obnoxious! They all are!" Harry's head was starting to hurt. He sat back down in front of the fire, and rubbed his temples with his fingertips.
"Don't worry, mate," Ron pat him on the back, amusement in his voice. "We'll be here to protect you."
Myrtle was floating about through the corridors, bored and depressed when she thought she overheard the mention of Harry's name. Flying in the direction of the female voices, she saw Romilda Vane, the little trollop who'd been trying since the start of term to snag Harry. Morbidly curious as to what this girl might be planning in order to win the Gryffindor, Myrtle hid inside the wall next to the small group.
"But it didn't work last year," one of Romilda's friends reminded her. "What makes you think it'll work this time?"
The evil, sly grin on Romilda's face told Myrtle that she was up to no good. "Oh, it'll work this time, just you wait and see. I'll just slip him the potion when he least expects it."
"How are you going to do that?" asked Romilda's other friend.
The brunette raised one perfectly manicured brow and smirked. "Easy. You see, Harry always sits in exactly the same spot every morning. First, he pours himself some pumpkin juice, then he gets up to get his breakfast. All I have to do is mix up some spiked pumpkin juice and switch the cups without him knowing. You just wait, girls. I can guarantee you, the legendary Harry Potter will be mine by the end of Christmas break."
Myrtle waited until Romilda bid her friends adieu before approaching the conniving little witch. "You're not going to get away with it, you know!"
The prissy brunette turned up her pert little nose at the spectral girl and snapped, "And what might you be referring to?"
Myrtle's angry face was mere inches from hers as she stared down the snob and hissed, "You actually think you can feed Harry a love potion? Do you really think he's stupid enough to fall for something like that?"
"Not even half as stupid as you if you try to screw up my plans!" Romilda threatened before turning on her heel and marching away from Myrtle.
As soon as Stalker Girl was gone, Myrtle went searching for Harry. She had to warn him of Romilda's plans before it was too late! She checked everywhere for Harry, but there was still no sign of the Boy Who Lived. Then she realized that there was one room she had not checked...but did she dare?
Ahhh, this is nice, Harry smiled to himself as he sank into the warm, bubbly water. Being friends with the Head Boy and Head Girl most certainly had its perks, such as knowing the password to the Prefect's bathroom. In need of some solitude, the Gryffindor had magically sealed the bathroom door shut before entering the pool-sized tub. Now, he could be completely alone...or so he thought.
"Harry?"
Harry jumped and turned around, unpleasantly surprised to see Moaning Myrtle floating near the pool-sized tub. Bloody hell, he thought to himself. It just figures. I shut out all the living fan girls, and the dead one has to show up! The wizard frowned up at her. "What do you want, Myrtle?"
This time, Myrtle was too worried about Romilda's love potion scheme to giggle or try to hit on the handsome boy. "Harry, I don't want to interrupt your bath, but I overheard something quite disturbing, and I thought you ought to know about it."
The Gryffindor sighed, assuming that whatever she was about to say would turn out to be rather trivial. "Okay fine, what is it?"
"It's Romilda..."
Harry's head snapped up instantly, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at the mention of the snob's name. "What about Romilda?"
Myrtle wrung her transparent hands as she floated back and forth, nervously pacing. "She said that she was going to sneak a love potion into your cup one morning when you're not looking. She knows that you sit in the exact same place at the Gryffindor table everyday. She said that when you get up to get your food, she's going to take your cup and replace it with pumpkin juice laced with Amortentia... just thought you might want to know."
To Harry's surprise, Myrtle didn't stay or try to flirt with him, but simply left after giving him the message. As Myrtle's words echoed in his head, he felt his blood start to boil in his veins. That Romilda was absolutely detestible! And he would make sure that the spiked pumpkin juice never touched his lips.
The next morning, Harry poured a cup of pumpkin juice and placed it in front of his usual seat, just as he always did. As he was filling his plate with eggs and sausages, sure enough he noticed Romilda switching his cup, then discreetly slipping away. Making a mental note to thank Myrtle later for warning him, he intentionally sat in a different seat, across from his usual spot. He grinned widely as he tucked into his breakfast.
Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione sat down in the seats across from Harry and started to eat. As the Golden Trio conversed about their classes and their plans for the weekend, Harry totally forgot that Romilda's toxic Amortentia concoction still sat on the table, at his usual seat. He didn't even think about it until...
"Hmmm, this pumpkin juice tastes funny," Hermione commented after taking a few sips. "I wonder why."
Harry's green eyes widened with fright. "You didn't actually drink that, did you, Hermione?"
The bookworm rolled her honey-colored eyes, "Well of course I'm drinking it, Harry. What else would I be doing...?" The girl's voice trailed off, a strangely lovesick expression on her face. Harry watched with horror as Hermione turned around in her seat and started to blatantly stare at Romilda.
The Chosen One reached across the table to shake Hermione's shoulder. "Hey, Hermione? What are you looking at?"
Without turning around, the bushy-haired girl sighed dreamily. "Isn't she perfect, Harry?"
"Who?"
Hermione sighed again, "Romilda."
