CHAPTER THREE: 1994

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still in the library, even though they had completed their homework (even Hermione's monstrous load), because they were desperately searching for some way to prevent Buckbeak's execution before the appeal. They knew there was little hope, but Harry and Ron were mostly trying to work off their guilt as they had left Hermione to do it herself the last several weeks, before they started speaking to her again.

But they occasionally found themselves distracted by groups of students (usually girls) walking past their table while giggling, or nervous boys giving girls valentine cards behind nearby bookshelves.

"One would certainly think there are better places for that besides the Library," said Hermione crossly.

Ron, sitting across from her, just grunted in response, staring down tiredly at an old book about the rights of deadly animals.

Hermione noticed how haggard Ron looked, and her expression changed to a look of concern. "You two really don't have to put yourself through this," she said timidly, "I've covered most of this ground already, I just need to skim through it again and cross-reference it for Buckbeak's case."

"I'm fine, it's no problem," muttered Ron, still looking down at the book, but his eyes weren't moving across it.

"Are you sure you don't want me to look over your Transfiguration essay?" Hermione pressed.

"I'm fine, Hermione," said Ron irritably, looking up at her now, "Just drop it!"

Harry braced himself for another awkward non-conversation. They had been circling each other ever since they made up. Hermione kept trying to break through Ron's polite defenses and actually talk about what happened with Scabbers, but he just wanted to forget it ever happened.

"I'm gonna go check the 18th century again," Harry said quickly, and got up from their table to disappear among the bookshelves, hoping to pretend to look for some book they hadn't spotted yet until he was sure the conversation was over.

Hermione bit her lip nervously and recoiled at Ron's response. She could do what he asked and drop the subject, but she wasn't going to let herself off the hook that easily, that had caused too many problems between them already.

"I know you just want to brush everything off, Ron," said Hermione, crossing her arms and raising her nose up, "But I will make everything up to you, and I won't take no for an answer."

Ron continued to stare down at his book, and then his shoulders started to shake. Hermione's heart ached as she realized that it looked like he was crying.

"Oh, Ron…." she said softly, gently placing her hand on his wrist.

"HAHAHAHA!" Ron looked up and Hermione scowled and jerked her hand back when she discovered he had been shaking with laughter.

"And what exactly is so funny?" asked Hermione coldly.

Ron got a hold of himself, looking around to see if Madam Pince had heard his outburst.

"It's nothing, it's just…." he was still chuckling, "You're even treating apologizing as something that you can beat me in, just another thing for you to be the best at. You never stop, do you?"

Hermione recoiled, his words hitting very close to home. So, like she always did when Ron was right about something, she lashed back.

"Well excuse me for trying to repair our friendship!" she said icily, "That requires seriously talking about—"

"Hermione," he cut her off, frowning at her, "You already said you were sorry. That's literally all that I ever wanted. That's why I got so upset, because instead you just called me stupid for thinking that the cat finally killed him."

"I'm sorry," Hermione repeated again weakly, not knowing what else to say.

"You didn't have to be so afraid of being wrong about this one thing. It doesn't suddenly mean you're not right about everything else," said Ron, "And you definitely don't have to try to make me feel stupid, rest assured that's my default state around you."

"You are not, stupid, Ron!" Hermione groaned, putting a hand over his again, "I won't hear anyone say so, not even you! For the last time, you just don't properly apply yourself."

Ron chuckled again, gesturing down to the book with his other hand. "Hermione, we both know that I could 'apply myself' to this stuff until I'm old and gray and I still wouldn't put a dent in it. I don't know what I hope to accomplish that you haven't already."

"There's always a chance you'll find something that I missed," said Hermione earnestly, "You've always been able to see easy solutions when I'm over-thinking things."

"That's me, your reliable resident under-thinker," said Ron with pride, "Good for lighting fires, even when there's no wood."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

Ron shrugged. "Well, I have to take—"

They were interrupted by the sound of giggles from the next table. They looked over and a group of first year girls, ones that had been gossiping about valentines, were looking at them sideways, their eyes darting downward. Ron and Hermione followed their gaze and saw that their hands were still on top of each other.

They jerked apart in a flash Ron cleared his throat loudly, causing the girls to burst into more giggles.

"So, uh, anyway, where did Harry run off to?"

Harry continued to loiter among the bookshelves, just barely skimming the titles on the spines. He would occasionally turn around and head in another direction when he encountered a couple nervously observing the holiday. In previous years, he just ignored everyone making dopey eyes at each other, or made jokes about it, but this year he found himself mentally taking notes, noticing what girls around the school seemed to be enjoying.

While Harry had been trying to work on researching, images kept creeping into his mind of himself being a performer in these corny scenes. Ever since his Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, the image of Cho Chang smiling cheekily at him as she cut him off kept replaying over and over in his head. He wasn't sure if he hated the warm, bubbling sensation the memory caused in his stomach, or loved it.

As he continued to wander, he added more and more details to the scene in his head depicting him giving a valentine to Cho Chang. She would laugh, throw her arms around him and say, "Oh Harry, I love it!" He had to guess what exactly her voice sounded like, since he hadn't technically ever heard her say a complete sentence, but that was just a small detail he could work around.

He was about to head back to check in with Ron and Hermione when he heard a sharp gasp behind him. He turned around at the sound, but never got a look at who made the noise. He just saw the tail of a robe disappearing from view behind a bookshelf. He shrugged and continued walking back to his friends.

Ginny turned down an aisle between two bookshelves and she loudly gasped as she saw the back of a messy black-haired head that she would recognize anywhere. She was allowed a split-second to wonder what it would feel like to run her fingers through that hair before he started to turn around at her swooning noise. Acting on reflex, Ginny practically dove out of sight behind the nearest bookshelf and took off flat-footed down the aisle, praying that he hadn't recognized her.

After she got away, she leaned against the shelf to catch her breath, then started whimpering pathetically.

Valentine's Day. One year since the biggest humiliation in her life (and yes, she was counting nearly dying at the hands of a book in that). She had sworn that by this time this year, things would be different. She supposed she should count her blessings, since she was now able to speak around him, even if she had a ways to go before actually speaking to him. For now, she was still relegated to sending him badly singing messages.

She covered her face with her hands as she thought about that stupid get-well card she gave him after the match against Hufflepuff. Why did she always do this to herself? Why couldn't she just give him a simple card? She always had to go over-the-top. She supposed she had felt the need to match the over-the-top-ness of saving someone from a monster with a damn sword.

But with a familiar sinking feeling in her stomach, she reminded herself that she needed to stop thinking of that as some sort of romantic gesture. The summer after her first year, she had allowed herself to become hopeful, since surely the fact that he was willing to throw himself into danger for her meant that he thought she was special. She was sure that once the school term started, he would seek her out and they would get closer.

But it quickly became obvious that he hadn't charged into danger out of feelings for her, Harry was just….like that. He would have done it for anyone. And as much as that crushed her newly found hopes, knowing that he was so brave and kind and good that he would have fought a monster for a stranger certainly didn't help the fluttering she felt in her stomach whenever she thought about him.

Pull yourself together, Ginny, you're not a silly little princess from those silly little stories.

She sighed and got her breathing under control. There was no reason to get down on herself when she hadn't technically failed at anything yet. She shouldn't give up on him before she had really tried. Of course he wasn't interested in her, thanks to her nervousness, he didn't even know her! She had to give him the chance to feel the same way after a single conversation, at least. So from now on, she was determined to treat him like any other boy. To remain collected around him. To stay calm, cool—

Someone in the neighboring aisle slammed a book shut and Ginny jumped with a mouse-like squeak, afraid that somehow someone had read her thoughts. She winced again in embarrassment.

Well, certainly off to a great start, aren't you?