Breakfast, 1996.
I own pies. Lots and lots of pies.
Harry stared down the Gryffindor House table, searching the seats for a certain red-haired girl.
Why was he doing this? He asked himself this very question many times and had finally come to the conclusion that since Ron his basically his brother, Ginny qualified as his little sister. Yes, definitely. And big brothers look out for little sisters – or so he had seen with Fred and George in Diagon Alley, along with Ron himself – so he should keep an eye on her sometimes, just to make sure she was all right.
Or, you know. Two eyes.
… And maybe all the time, because honestly, Ron was a rubbish older brother. And also currently setting a bad example with Lavender.
Surreptitiously, he glanced sideways towards his best friend and Brown and winced.
Seriously. There were broom cupboards for that sort of thing.
Harry quickly averted his eyes from the daily game of 'let's-see-how-far-I-can-stick-my-tongue-down-your-throat' (which was a favourite amongst Lavender and Ron), he caught sight of the aforementioned Weasly girl finding herself a seat further down the table. Harry felt his shoulders relax.
… only to have them tense again as Dean slid over next to her.
Harry placed his goblet down harder than he had expected to. The liquid jostled out over the tablecloth.
Ron and Lavender took no notice.
Ginny, however, did.
"Something up, Harry?"
Dean flashed him a smile (cocky bastard, he knows, he knows – did he just scoot closer to her? Where's his left hand? Holy- it's underneath the table. It's UNDERNEATH THE TABLE. That smarmy son of a-), Harry considered saying 'no' and glaring viciously in Dean's general direction, when he looked – and really looked – at Ginny's face.
She was genuinely concerned.
(… oh.)
"Nothing," Harry murmured. "Just thinking..."
Ginny smiled uncertainly and Dean then began to distract her with trite conversation.
Harry glowered privately with his kippers. Yeah, he'd keep his eyes on her alright, if she was going to continue this outrageous and tasteless relationship with Dean. Perhaps mention his opinion on the thing...
You know. In a brotherly fashion. Naturally.
Harry chanced a glance back over towards his right and thought aloud if one could become impregnated from too much snogging. Several people sniggered; the couple to whom the comment had been directed appeared not to have heard over the embarrassing sound of plungers plunging.
Harry stabbed an egg brutally with his fork and wondered when his life became so sexually frustrated.