The next week and a half seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Classes came and went, the weather around Hogwarts was hit with a sudden cold snap that assaulted the students with chilly winds and random showers, leaving them all damp and shivery, and the skies became increasingly greyer as Autumn arrived with a groaning shudder.

Not that anything could dampen the spirits of the Third-Year students, though, who were all looking forward to the first off-grounds, unchaperoned visit to Hogsmeade village of their time at Hogwarts. The older students, too, were equally as keen to stretch their legs away from the old castle, waxing lyrical about the array of shops and amenities that the largest magical dwelling in Britain had to offer, while those in relationships with students from other Houses were eager to make use of some private time away from prying eyes with their sweethearts.

Harry hadn't ever really considered it before, but there were a lot of couples at Hogwarts. He supposed he was just being spectacularly dim about the whole thing, judging his knowledge about such ideas in reference to his own experience and, admittedly limited, social circle. There were around a thousand students at Hogwarts and the possibilities for adolescent romance were numerous and varied.

Harry just wouldn't have guessed that there would have been so many.

But as he lingered in the Entrance Hall waiting for Sally-Anne, on the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade weekend, Harry lost count of how many couples Hogwarts was hiding. There were some from the same House, others from across Houses, Quidditch players with Gobstones champions, academics with artists; there were witch couples and wizard couples, as well as a plethora of witches and wizards who clung onto each other as they met, all hurrying away swinging joined hands or slipping arms around waists and shoulders as they went.

Harry watched it all with a dizzying sense of wonder, marvelling at where this world of Hogwarts had been hiding from his attention all this time. He scratched his head as he considered it, but then decided that he shouldn't have been surprised. After all, he'd spent weeks mapping out the underground secrets of Hogwarts, so it followed that there would be many simmering underbellies on the surface, too.

Just as he watched Percy Weasley meet up with Penelope Clearwater, one of the Ravenclaw prefects who had victimised by Lockhart last year, Harry's attention was caught by the sound of voices drifting up from the staircase to the dungeons just to his left. This route led down to the Slytherin Common Room, he knew, and a moment later this was confirmed as his least favourite member of that House emerged into the light of the Entrance Hall, flanked as always by his two heftiest goons.

"Alright, Scarhead, loitering around here in case someone gets stood up, are you?" Draco Malfoy taunted as he reached Harry. Crabbe and Goyle guffawed behind him. "Hoping to be some desperate witch's consolation prize, or something?"

"Stood up?" Harry frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, Potty, you must know this one," Malfoy smirked silkily. "This is where all the people who have dates meet up on Hogsmeade weekends. How can you have been here for two years and not known that?"

"I did know ... of course I did," Harry shot back, defensively. He was lying, of course ... how didn't he know this? What an odd bit of school trivia to have missed. It wasn't mentioned anywhere in Hogwarts: A History, after all.

"Then why are you hanging around here?" Malfoy pressed, delighted and curious now. This could be such a trove of potential taunts for him. "Don't tell me you've had Granger locked in your trunk for two and a half months and now it's time to take her out for a walk? I hope you've got a muzzle for that snappy gob of hers."

"You shut your mouth about her!" Harry snarled.

"Touchy, are we?" Malfoy smirked again. "So if you're not meeting the Mudblood for a date, then who is it? I'm dying to know who would put up with you all afternoon by choice."

"I would, actually. And it's not a date."

Harry looked around to see Sally-Anne marching briskly over to them. He'd never been more pleased to see her.

"You?" Malfoy asked in genuine surprise. "Well, I suppose you have more perks to Granger, don't you, Perks? But are you really taking old Scarhead on a date? Are you blind? I don't see a dog anywhere."

Crabbe and Goyle snickered away behind their master again.

"Don't call Harry that! And I just told you it isn't a date, are you deaf?" Sally snapped angrily. "And don't call Hermione a Mudblood, either. That's such a horrible word, Draco! Dirty blood! You should be ashamed of yourself for using it. You don't know Hermione at all, and there's nothing dirty about her. Is there, Harry?"

"No, absolutely nothing," Harry agreed, beaming at Sally and feeling the gentlest emotion for her that he ever had.

"You've changed your tune," Draco returned, smoothly. "Didn't you hate Granger last year?"

"No! I've never hated Hermione!" Sally-Anne rebuked, shrilly. "We've had our ... differences ... that's all."

"Looks like you've got some similarities, too," Malfoy taunted. "Bad taste in wizards being one."

"You think you're all that, don't you?" Sally-Anne fumed, taking such an angry step forward that even Crabbe and Goyle were caught by surprise and rocked back warily. "With Daddy's money and Mummy's sneer ... which one gave you the idea to model your look on Billy Idol, I wonder?"

Harry sniggered into his hand, but Malfoy just looked confused.

"Billy who?"

"Nevermind," Sally fired back, dismissively. "Uncultured swine. It's not a look that works for you, just saying. Though that absolute pug Sophie Roper seems to like it. One more bad word about Harry or Hermione and I'll tell the whole school about how I saw you swapping saliva with her behind the Quidditch changing rooms last week."

"You wouldn't!" Malfoy hissed, his skin turning the pale hue of his hair.

"Oh, I would," Sally whispered, dangerously. "Don't test me , Draco. Just piss off, the bloody three of you! Before I get really mad!"

"Alright, alright, we're going," Draco muttered desperately. He skulked away, but couldn't resist one last volley as he reached the school doors. "Oh, by the way ... enjoy your date."

"It's not a date!" Harry and Sally chorused in firm union.

But as their echoes diminished, Harry thought ... is it?

If Draco was right about this being the meeting point for couples, and Harry had seen enough evidence to suggest he was, then had he actually been duped and this was a date? Sally had suggested meeting here, after all. Harry hadn't got dressed up as if this was anything more than a favour to Neville, but had Sally? That would be a tell-tale sign. Harry looked over at her, still flushed from her row with Draco. Harry couldn't help but smile at that, feeling warm thanks that Sally had come to his and Hermione's defence. That was good of her, really.

But had she tricked him? He took a better look at her, but apart from a little extra shading over her eyes and wearing her hair loose, which he had seen as many times as her preferred ponytail-look if he was honest, then he had to admit that she didn't look trussed up at all. It was true that she was wearing a pink dress and white cardigan, which made her look more feminine than her usual school robes, but everyone looked stuffy in those. They were built for practicality rather than fashion.

So no, Harry told himself, she doesn't think this is a date, either.

"Sorry about that, and thanks," said Harry. "Malfoy and I aren't the best of friends, as you can see."

"Harry ... he's a big-headed, pompous prick, we all know that!" Sally-Anne grinned back.

Harry chortled out a laugh. "Yeah, he really is! So, shall we go?"

"Absolutely," Sally beamed.

There was no hand-holding, Sally-Anne didn't make to slip her arm into Harry's. Common and indifferent acquaintances, he reminded himself. They soon fell into stride and pleasant, amiable conversation. They discussed their homework and getting away from it for the weekend, they went over their itinerary for the day, remembering that they were to meet up with Neville and Daphne at the Three Broomsticks pub for lunch at two o'clock. That gave them four hours to explore the village.

"It's odd, really, that they allow underage kids in there," Harry mused. "It is a pub, after all."

"I think the students get given a special area all to ourselves, away from the regular crowd," Sally told him. "There's too much potential cash to be had, so they allow it for these weekends. And I think a teacher is required to be there at all times to make sure no naughty drinks are snuck in!"

"Makes sense," Harry nodded. "Have you ever been to the village then?"

"No, never. It's my first time. You?"

"Same. I'm really looking forward to it."

"I bet you were planning to come up here with Hermione," Sally offered. "Do you think she'll be gutted not to see it?"

"Yeah, probably," Harry replied, slightly awkward. "We talked a lot about exploring it together for our first time up here."

Sally slammed to a halt and turned to him anxiously. "Oh. Do you want to go back? I don't want her to be cross with you, or me for coming with you."

"No, it's fine. We said we'd help Neville. I'm sure she'll understand."

"I'm not sure I would, if I were her," Sally-Anne went on in caution. "If you've planned this out with Hermione, you should really go back, Harry. It isn't right that you do this without her if you've made all these arrangements We can just meet up for lunch if that makes things easier for you."

"No, that's just using you, and that's just as unfair," Harry argued. "Hermione and I can see the village next time. It's not like it wont be here, is it? Besides, this way I will know all the good bits to show her when she gets home!"

"By seeing the rubbish bits with me first! Thanks!" Sally teased with a laugh.

"You know what I mean."

"Of course I do, I was just playing," Sally grinned. "Well, if you're sure. I know I'm not Hermione, but I bet we can have a good time anyway. Just so long as you give me credit when you bring her up here next time and give her the perfect Hogsmeade visit ever! If I'm ever going to get into her good books I'll need your help!"

Harry laughed at that. "Okay, we have a deal. Just so long as you don't feel bad about today. I'm looking forward to seeing the village and hanging out with you. It should be fun."

"We'll make sure it is," Sally-Anne promised with a wide grin as they started walking again. "So, any idea when Hermione will be back at school?"

"No, none," Harry sighed sadly. "I haven't heard from her in ages, either. If I didn't know better, I'd say she's forgotten me."

"Impossible! Who could forget Harry Potter!?" Sally giggled playfully. "Hermione went to a funeral, you said?"

"Yeah, for her grandma in Australia," Harry replied, feeling guilty at the little lie. "I wonder what it's like out there."

"Hot and dangerous ... loads of things to bite and sting and nibble at you Down Under," Sally funned. Then she clocked the horrified look that crossed Harry's face. "But I'm sure nothing like that has happened to Hermione!"

"I hope not," Harry replied, worriedly, forgetting for a moment that Hermione hadn't gone to Australia at all.

"Relax, Harry, she's a clever witch, I'm sure she took all sorts of precautions," Sally reassured him.

"Yeah, I bet she did," Harry nodded, remembering his mind with a helpful bite from Marici, who was hidden in her place in his shirt pocket. "So, where shall we go first?"

"Quidditch shop? I need to pick up some new catching gloves for the new season," Sally-Anne suggested.

"Oh, did you make your House team then?" Harry asked, surprised that he hadn't asked that before now. He knew she was trying out, after all.

"I made the squad, but not the first Seven," Sally-Anne replied happily. "They are expanding the format this year, so I might get some play time anyway. But you know that, obviously."

"Yeah our Captain, Oliver Wood, told us," Harry confirmed. "We play each other twice instead of once, there will be substitutions now, and you can get sin-binned for serious foul play. It's just an experiment, but it will be funny to play Slytherin when they only have their goalie left in the sky!"

"Yeah, they are a dirty bunch of trolls, aren't they?" Sally laughed. "I hope I get to play with you ... or against you, you know ... because I still reckon I can beat you in a race."

"Er ... what's your broom, again? A Comet X-S, isn't it?" Harry teased. "Flashy bundle of twigs that, but against my Nimbus 2001? Not a chance, girl!"

"What about a time trial then?" Sally suggested, narrowing her eyes playfully. "We'll use your Nimbus and see who does the quickest lap of the stadium?"

"Alright, but only if we put obstacles in the way," Harry agreed. "Flying is about dexterity and skill as much as speed."

"You're on!" Sally crowed. "Shall we put a wager on it?"

"Terms?"

"Let me think about it," Sally grinned, her eyes flashing devilishly.

By that time they'd reached The Snitch and Seeker Quidditch supply shop. Sally dived forwards to get in first, holding the door closed and laughing as Harry tried to push her out of the way with as little force as he dared without hurting her. Eventually she let him in.

"Built like a Seeker with upper body strength to match!" Sally teased.

"Hey, I was holding back!" Harry argued, fairly.

"You don't have to hold back with me, Harry," Sally-Anne replied, blinking her eyes sweetly. Harry felt a knot coil in his stomach. She was giving him that look again and he wasn't sure if it made him more heady or uncomfortable. He would have to get it a lot more before he could decide. "A bit unfair, I think, that they named the whole shop after Seeking, though. There are other parts to Quidditch, you know."

"What position do you play, anyway?"

"I'm a Chaser, Harry ... I like to chase things," Sally-Anne replied with a shy smile. Harry swallowed as he saw it, then Sally slinked off to another part of the shop. Harry trotted after her and they started rifling through merchandise for the different Quidditch teams in Britain.

"So, which team do you follow, Harry?"

"The Fliers, of course!" Harry grinned, flashing Sally the team's crest on the hem of his robes. "They're the best!"

"Oh, I see!" Sally smirked, her eyes flashing playfully. "League champions three years in a row, European Champions Cup winners last year, more England Internationals than any other squad ... perhaps a touch of glory supporting, eh Harry?"

"Not at all," Harry scoffed. "Who do you support?"

"Glastonbury PQC."

"PQC?"

"Professional Quidditch Club."

"Ah, right!" Harry nodded, thinking he should really have known that. "But they finished second in the league last year, so maybe it's you who's the glory supporter!"

"I come from Glastonbury, Harry," Sally explained, patiently. "I've supported The Blue Stones all my life."

"Well, I live around the corner from where The Fliers play," Harry pointed out. "And I've supported them since I first knew about Quidditch, so you could say I've supported them all my life, too ... or at least, all my Quidditch supporting life."

"That's fair enough, I suppose," Sally smirked. "I'll let you off with it then!"

It was quite nice, Harry thought, be to simply ambling around having a friendly, largely meaningless conversation with Sally-Anne as he was. It cheered him slightly. Today was proving to be much less awkward and unpleasant than he'd thought it would be.

Sally-Anne bought her new gloves in the Quidditch shop along with a pair of sky blue earmuffs, the colour of her Quidditch team, which she airily said were to block out all the rubbish that Harry was talking about how much better the Farringdon Fliers were than any other team in the country. She modelled the earmuffs for him and asked the loaded question of how she looked ... which gave Harry his biggest shock of the day.

For he was forced to take a proper, critical look at Sally-Anne then. And as he did, with her throwing her arms wide and laughing as she cocked her head in a silly pose, he was hit with a shattering revelation.

Because he saw then that Sally-Anne was actually really pretty ... but in this new form of pretty that he'd first seen with Hermione over the Summer. Sally-Anne had this other pretty aspect to her, too. Harry wondered if every girl did. He couldn't say who was prettier, as they were just different, even though his heart had to give it to Hermione. But now he'd seen this side of Sally-Anne he couldn't unsee it.

But, perhaps more unsettlingly, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"You look nice ... for a Glastonbury fan!" Harry mumbled out, wondering why his cheeks felt so hot all of a sudden.

"I think that was meant as a compliment, so I'll take it!" Sally-Anne laughed as she rolled her bright eyes in response.

Something ached in Harry as he watched the laugh cross her face, as though her very energy flared a moment with this prettiness that she had. Harry tried not to look at her, as if it was forbidden to watch, but there was a pull to Sally's glow that was hard to resist.

"So, where next?" Harry asked, his dry throat causing his voice to squeak highly.

"Well, I have to find a good deed to do somewhere," Sally mused. "Or else I wont be able to get back into my Common Room later."

"What do you mean?" Harry quizzed.

"Oh, you probably don't know," Sally explained, brightly. "But to get back into the Hufflepuff Common Room we have to describe a good or helpful thing we've done that day. If we haven't done one, we can't get in, so we have to go around and find someone to help or we end up sleeping in the corridors!"

"That's actually quite a good idea," Harry nodded. "The good deed I mean, not sleeping on the flagstones!

"The Ravenclaws have to answer a riddle or logic puzzles to get into theirs, I think," Sally frowned as she tried to remember. "The door spends all day asking things like, 'how long is a piece of string'!"

"Oh, that's easy," Harry grinned. "It's 'twice the length from the middle to the end'!"

"Good boy, Harry! I'm impressed!" Sally beamed. "We'll make a Claw out of you yet! I often wonder if the Slytherins have to eat spiders or torture bunnies to get back into their Common Room. It seems the sort of thing, doesn't it? You Griffins have it so simple, just remembering a password. What an easy life!"

Harry tried not to fixate on the warm feeling that impressing Sally had stirred in him. That was totally new and a bit unnerving.

"You know, I'm surprised Hermione wasn't put into Ravenclaw with a brain like hers," Sally considered as they made their way along the main High Street now.

"She asked to be put into Gryffindor," Harry revealed.

"She asked? I didn't know you could do that."

"Neither did we, but we decided to try and both got in. She was my first ever friend, you know, so we wanted to be together."

"And some things never change, eh?"

"What?" Harry asked, nervously.

"Oh come on, Harry!" Sally cried in her mirth. "You and Hermione. There' s no need to be so coy. I wont tease you or anything."

"Tease? About what?"

"Are you telling me you've never thought about going out with Hermione?" Sally-Anne asked, quiet and serious. "You've never discussed it with her? You must have, surely. She seems the practical sort who would do something like that."

Harry's heart stopped at a stroke. Going out with Hermione? They hadn't ever discussed it, besides denying it to other people, but ... now that Sally had said it like that, so earnestly and assuredly ... there was an idea in that which Harry hadn't considered before. He shook his head, feeling shaken in a million other ways besides. But it would be rude to run away to think about that now, even if Marici was stabbing him relentlessly with her claws and begging him to.

"No ... I've never thought about it," Harry replied, honestly. After all, he never had until about thirty seconds ago. It seemed okay to not tell Sally that he was going to do a lot of thinking about it when he was on his own later.

"And she's never said that she likes you, you know, as more than a friend?" Sally pressed, hurriedly.

"Well ... no," Harry replied numbly, feeling a sharp stab in his chest as he answered the question. Hermione never had said those words to him, and it hadn't mattered until this very moment ... but why did it hurt so much now that Harry realised that she hadn't?

"And she's never said that she wants to be your girlfriend?"

"No ... not once."

"Really? Despite all the chances she's had to?"

"Really."

"Really!?" Sally cried in incredulous wonder. "And after all that stuff last year! Well, my, my ... maybe we've all got it wrong about you two, or about Hermione at least, because it's obvious that you're smitten with her."

"What do you mean?" Harry mumbled. His cheeks felt like they were on fire.

"Harry, you're obviously nuts about Hermione," Sally-Anne explained patiently. "You light up when you say or hear her name, you turn conversation to her whenever you can, without even noticing you do it ... and now you look devastated to think that she might not like you in the way you clearly like her.

"But we all assumed she did. And by we I mean most of the school. You're virtually inseparable and that's weird for a boy and a girl to be without there being an attraction there. We all reckoned that there was something going on in secret, and that you were just pretending in public. But you were telling the truth this whole time! Wow. And you're sure she's never told you that she fancies you and hasn't asked you out? You might have missed it, you know."

"I said no, didn't I?" Harry snapped, angry in his hurt. He immediately felt guilty for his outburst. "Sorry. Didn't mean that."

Sally stopped and looked gently at him. "Harry, look at me ... is - is this the first time you've realised how you feel about Hermione? Please tell me that the first time you know you like her isn't the same time as knowing she might not like you?"

Harry bit his lip anxiously. He had no ability to deny this truth, that had been battered into him in the last five minutes. His neck muscles, tensed in his anxiety, managed to give his head the briefest of nods.

"Oh, Harry! Honestly?" Sally gasped in her horror. Harry nodded again. "Harry ... I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to make you upset. I thought you must have known. It's so obvious to everyone! Oh dear, I wish I hadn't said anything now. I feel awful."

Harry looked up at that. Sally had a curious expression on her face, but looking awful didn't quite encompass it. Harry was too discomfited to notice a subtle gleam of triumph when he saw one.

"It isn't your fault, don't feel bad," Harry murmured. "I feel bad for me, for being so stupid."

"Hey! You're not stupid for thinking that Hermione fancied you!" Sally told him, hotly. "We all did, too, but maybe she's just really possessive of her close friends. And that's not a bad trait to have, you know."

"I don't feel stupid about that ... well, I do now!" Harry moaned. "I feel stupid for not knowing how I felt. How could I have not known? I'm so stupid."

"Harry, feeling something so deep and gentle could never be seen as stupid," Sally soothed him in a soft tone. "But maybe you put her on a pedestal straight away, up above all other girls. Then that stopped you seeing her. You might have liked her since you first met, and so didn't know there was any other way to feel."

"And it made me dumb for thinking that she'd ever look down at me," Harry mumbled, sadly. "What was I thinking? She's way too good for an ogre like me."

"If she's too good to notice you, Harry, then that's her bad luck," Sally cajoled. "But you are not an ogre. Look on the bright side, next to being in love we all like to be crossed in romance every now and then. That's what it says in Pride and Prejudice, anyway, and that's all about romance, isn't it? I've never had a boyfriend, myself, so I wouldn't know."

"You should have had a boyfriend, you're too nice not to have one," Harry frowned. "I mean, if a troll like Draco Malfoy can get a kiss, then me and you should be able to get one, shouldn't we? When did life get so unfair! Did you really catch him snogging Sophie Roper round by the Quidditch Changing rooms?"

"Oh yeah, and it was disgusting!" Sally shrieked in delicious horror. "It was like she was trying to eat his face off ..."

Then Sally-Anne spent the next ten minutes describing in graphic detail the scene she had witnessed between Draco and Sophie. Harry was glad of her exuberance, as it allowed him to try and order his thoughts as she babbled happily away.

And what a trainwreck they were! So he liked Hermione ... in that new way of liking people that was just as confusing as this new idea of pretty! Neville was right, and Ron was right, and the other Top Dorm boys were right, and his Dad was right, Sirius, too. But how did the boys know what this was and Harry had only just spotted it in the last half an hour? That annoyed him a lot.

And who else knew about his feelings for Hermione and hadn't told him? That was unfair ... they had been trying to tell him, and he was simply too obtuse to understand it. And now he did understand it, sort of, and it was the most thrilling and terrifying, wondrous and devastating piece of news he'd ever come across.

But, there was something even more potent about it. For it was also the most painful piece of news he'd ever received, too.

Because as monumental a moment as learning that he fancied Hermione was, understanding that she didn't like him back in the same way struck him like a Bludger to the soul. It hurt, actually ached, deep down inside. Harry could have whimpered from the sensation. He even noticed it made him limp a little, so all-consuming was the notion.

It had crashed into him all at once, that would be it, he told himself. The realisation of his feelings, which he knew he'd only just scratched the surface of, the knowing that he was deluding himself, if he ever thought that a girl as perfect as Hermione could feel the same for someone as unworthy as him ... someone who didn't even know how to understand his own feelings when they were sitting right there inside him ... it was too much to take in one go. And he had needed someone kind and clever, like Sally, to paint the picture so stark and plain for him, or else he might never have worked it out.

Sally-Anne. He'd never felt so guilty for the way he'd been to her last year. She'd liked him, wanted to go to the Halloween Ball with him. But he'd never even done her the courtesy of turning her down politely enough. He'd gone with Hermione, naturally, even though it was just as friends. That was his excuse when Sally had asked him, even though that's all Hermione had wanted to be with him. And poor Sally had gotten herself Petrified into the bargain, when Lockhart made the incorrect assumption about Harry and Hermione, too. Not that it was hard, Lockhart was just that big an idiot.

But Sally didn't deserve to get caught up in all that confusion, and Harry had never taken responsibility for it with her before. So he decided to now.

"Hey, Sal," Harry began, stopping her as they'd started walking again. "I just wanna say ... about last year, with the basilisk and everything ... well, I've never said, you know, that I'm sorry about that. Well, I am. Sorry, I mean. Sorry."

Sally-Anne smiled prettily. "Harry, that wasn't your fault. You didn't set a basilisk on me, and Hermione didn't either. I don't blame you or her for that. It was that pervy Lockhart who did it, and he got what was coming to him in the end. I hope he's enjoying the Dementors in Azkaban!"

"Yeah, me too ... but me and Hermione are sort of to blame," Harry argued. "We gave off an impression ... the wrong one, obviously ... and that alerted Lockhart to you. So, I'm sorry for that."

"If it was anyone's fault, it was mine ... for fancying you in the first place," Sally-Anne replied, turning her eyes down shyly. "But ... I'm not sorry for that, either."

"But ... you don't still ... for me, I mean?" Harry blushed, unable to ask the proper question out loud. "Do you?"

Sally shrugged coyly. "It didn't just go away because I went to sleep for a few months. I was dreaming of being woken by a kiss from a handsome prince, you know ... but I suppose we cant all be Hermione Granger, can we?"

Harry blinked hard at that. He'd never noticed that correlation, the fairytale aspect of it before. Girls were supposed to like mushy things like that ... but Hermione hadn't. Harry had brought her back to life with a little kiss, all romantic and fairytale-like, and it had meant nothing to her. Oh, why did this hurt so much! Harry wanted to cry out at the misery of it.

But, at the same time, he thought he understood Sally-Anne Perks a hundred times better than he had when they left Hogwarts an hour ago. Liking someone who didn't quite feel the same way back. It was horrible. It stung in ways that Harry hadn't known he could sting before. He wondered what might cure it.

Then, without really knowing why he did it, Harry stepped close and gave Sally-Anne a hug. She didn't say anything, but she seemed to know that he needed this, and maybe she did, too, because she cautiously snaked her arms around his chest and hugged him back a little firmer than the hug had started. Harry enjoyed how warm she felt all over, and marvelled at how visceral and solid a mass her body was, even if she was a dainty little thing.

"Sorry, for ... you know," Harry muttered into her hair. It smelt nice, flowery and fresh, and was satin soft, too. Harry closed his eyes at the sensations.

"I know, but don't worry about it," Sally-Anne whispered back. "Maybe we should make a pact that the next person we fancy has to fancy us back for a change!"

"Them's the new laws!" Harry laughed. He slowly pulled away from the hug and Sally smiled at him, her eyes unfathomably bright, but it was tinged with something else ... almost a permission for Harry to look at them. What did that mean? He would have to work it out as the day went on.

The next few hours went by quickly. Sally-Anne's cure to Harry's morose turn on account of his unrequited love was to cram in as much as they could before they had to head to the Three Broomsticks to meet Neville. Hogsmeade was crammed full of things to do and places to see so they had to choose wisely.

So Sally-Anne took Harry to the petting zoo, where they fed unicorns and watched Nifflers hoard an array of shiny objects that were scattered around their enclosure; then they had a race around The Cairn Grange, which was an ancient monolithic construction of some local importance, that Sally won, giving Harry serious doubts about his earlier broom speed bravado; and then they laughed themselves stupid walking back and forth past Madam Puddifoot's Tea Parlour, and making silly faces through the windows at the couples looking adoringly at each other inside.

Sally-Anne managed to get her good deed done for the day when they found a lost child in the hedge labyrinth, that stood on the green at the edge of town, and she spent an hour searching until she reunited him with his fraught parents, though, as Harry told her later, she might have gotten away with cheering him up as her good deed anyway. She wasn't so sure about this, as she said it was largely her fault for getting Harry all upset in the first place. Harry disagreed, and they argued for the greater portion of blame until they reached the door of The Three Broomsticks, where Harry refused to enter until Sally-Anne agreed to let him by her lunch for such a nice afternoon, regardless of who had won their playful row.

So Harry treated them to lunch, washed down with Butterbeer, which drew impressed gasps from Sally-Anne that he'd tried it before. He explained that he had only ever been given the non-alcoholic version, but that was plenty daring in Sally-Anne's opinion. So they decided to pretend that their drinks were actually loaded with intoxicating substances like the real thing, falling around and acting very silly and wondering if this is what being drunk felt like, and why on Earth adults liked to get this dizzy all the time.

Then Neville and Daphne idled up about half an hour late. They apologised for their tardiness, blaming it on some idiots in the street who had been distracting people in the tea shop, meaning it took ages to get served. Harry and Sally choked back guilty laughs and piously accepted Neville's apology, while trying not to giggle every time they caught each other's eye.

Being the chaperones for the date was easily the most awkward part of the day. Daphne Greengrass was, as both Neville and Sally had warned, painfully shy. She barely spoke more than two words together of her own volition, responding mechanically to the standard enquiries about how classes and her day was going and offering no more than she absolutely had to.

After those formalities, Daphne mostly spoke to Neville, so Harry and Sally had to amuse themselves. They did this by playing I, Spy, guessing objects that they could see around the pub; then they had several thumb wars, which Harry kept losing, as his thumb was shaking too much to control, where the crazily soft skin of Sally's fingers was distracting him; then Sally insisting on trying out what she'd learned in Divination by reading Harry's palm, but after several of the lines predicted his death in the next few years they decided to give the rest of his reading a miss.

At five o'clock it was time to return to the castle. The four of them walked along, and Daphne was far chattier when being away from the glare of prying eyes in The Three Broomsticks. She told them all about what she and Neville had done with their afternoon, and the girls discussed how their Venus Fly Traps were coming along in Herbology, then Daphne reassured them that there was no bunny boiling involved with entering the Slytherin Common Room, which Harry was actually a little disappointed to hear.

Then they were back at the Entrance Hall. Harry and Sally hung around in slightly awkward silence as Neville walked Daphne back to her Common Room, emerging a few minutes later blushing like a boy who had just gotten his first peck from a girl he liked. Neville grinned stupidly as he hurried back up to them, and spoke like he was fit to burst with good news.

"So, are you coming, Harry? Or are you going to walk Sally over to the Hufflepuff block?" Neville asked, bobbing in his excitement.

"No, that's not necessary," Sally dismissed, breezily. "My Common Room is on the other side of the castle. It would be a pointless walk for you, Harry."

"Are you sure? I don't mind," Harry told her.

Sally-Anne smiled shyly. "No, it's fine. But thanks for offering."

"Okay, then. Well, see you later," Harry nodded, stiffly.

"Yeah, bye," Sally smiled back, before setting off along the corridor that flanked the Great Hall.

Harry started walking with Neville then abruptly stopped and turned to him. "I'll meet you in the Common Room. I need to talk to Sally a minute."

"Alright, but hurry up!" Neville whispered. "I want to tell you about my date!"

"I'll only be a minute," Harry replied, grinning at Neville's exuberance. "You go on."

So he did, bounding up the stairs with his restless energy. Harry turned and hurried down the corridor.

"Sally! Wait a second!"

Sally-Anne turned, surprised to see Harry trotting down the corridor to her. "What's up, Harry? What did you forget?"

"Just to say thank you," Harry puffed as he reached her. "I had a really fun day. Eye opening, in many ways, but it was good. I enjoyed myself, so thank you."

"Thanks, Harry," Sally-Anne beamed. "I had a good time, too. We should do it again."

"Definitely. We definitely should," Harry nodded in agreement. "I'd be up for that."

Sally-Anne bit her lip nervously. "Well, assuming that Hermione hasn't come back by then, do you want to go to the Halloween Ball with me?"

Sally-Anne had blurted out the question and caught Harry totally off-guard. In his silence, she spoke on hurriedly again.

"You don't have to ... and if Hermione does come back you can go with her if you want ... but before you answer, I want to make sure we are absolutely clear about something."

"What's that?"

"I mean this as a proper date, none of the pretending like today," Sally-Anne mumbled, nervously. "I know I'm not Hermione Granger, but it wouldn't hurt to give me a go, would it, especially if she's not interested in you like that? I am, Harry, I am still interested in you ... but if a date goes badly between us, this'll be the last time I ever bother you about it. But if you do say yes and it goes well, it won't mean that we're engaged or anything, so you can relax about that!

"So ... will you be my date for the dance, Harry Potter?"

Harry's mind was foggy, waging a brutal war with itself, with many factions eager to have their say. But Harry's mouth had circumvented them all, and he heard the answer leave his lips before he'd even formed it in his head.

"Yes, Sally-Anne, I'd love to go with you."

Sally-Anne looked gleefully surprised, her shock perhaps the equal of Harry's own at his acceptance. She erupted in sunshine smiles and blinked to believe that she'd heard that reply.

"Great! That's great, Harry!" Sally-Anne beamed in joy. Harry was amazed by how pleased she looked. It was so weird that this would make her so happy. "Right. Well ... had a great day ... gotta go now ... give me a wave if you see me at dinner."

Then she darted forwards and bumped her cheek against Harry's, losing the courage to plant her lips on him at the last minute. Then she skipped away from him towards the Hufflepuff side of the castle. Harry watched her go and tried to work out what the hell was going on. In the gloom of the corridor, Marici poked her head out of Harry's shirt pocket.

"Harry ... what have you just done?"

"I don't know, Chi ... I don't know," Harry breathed back, scared and confused and a little excited all at once. "What's happening to me?"