CHAPTER SIX: 1997
Hermione kept forcefully turning pages on her Transfiguration textbook, not actually reading the words. She had gotten up at the crack of dawn to head down to the common room, but she assured herself that it was just to get a head start on revising, and not because she couldn't stand the thought of hearing Lavender giggling with Parvati when they woke up.
She couldn't admit to herself that every time she was going to look at the date "14th Feb" on her calendar today, her eyes would burn with angry tears. She couldn't admit to herself that if she so much as looked at his stupid face today, she couldn't be sure she wouldn't put him in the hospital wing.
And she certainly couldn't admit how badly she missed him.
She glared even harder at the pages of her book, trying her hardest not to remember how, those months ago that now felt like a different lifetime, she had allowed herself to picture spending Valentine's Day of 1997 very differently. She had allowed herself to actually entertain the thought of taking part in all the kitschy silliness that she considered herself too good for.
She finally gave up, slammed her book shut so hard that it startled some passing first-years, and leaned back to scowl angrily at the ceiling.
Why couldn't he have just followed the damn plan? It was a good plan, a logical plan. They could go to the Slug Club party together, and if that new dynamic didn't work for them, they could just go back to being friends and never mention it again, without any fighting. The fact that it gave them an out and plausible deniability was the entire point, but if she had actually only wanted to go as friends, she wouldn't have asked like that. The conversation certainly hadn't been as flirtatious as she had hoped, but when people want to go on a date as friends, they say that, to avoid confusion.
At least, that's what Hermione thought. She wasn't an expert on the subject, and what she had read was often contradictory, but that was how Neville had asked her to the Yule Ball, and Harry had asked Luna to the Slug Club.
And he had certainly seemed to understand the unspoken idea she was offering. He had agreed and had started to be more nice and polite toward her for a while. Then, for no reason Hermione could discern, he had suddenly started giving her the cold shoulder and treating her like an annoying stranger. After feeling closer to him than ever, she was suddenly thrust back to the start of her first year.
Hermione shook her head, furious at herself for wallowing in self-pity about things that didn't matter anymore. No matter the case of what he did or didn't understand months ago, he certainly couldn't claim ignorance now.
She wasn't proud of how she had reacted after the first time he had attached his face to Lavender's, sending birds after him like some scorned harpy, but her pathetically spiteful display of jealousy certainly removed any question about how she felt about him. It was all out in the open now, and yet he was still snogging her every chance he got.
That could only mean one thing. One thing that Hermione was beginning to accept with a sinking feeling in her stomach. He had assumed that Hermione had only asked him to the party as a friend because that was all he was interested in. He saw her as a friend, and nothing more. The "more than friends" was apparently reserved for girly girls who were much prettier than her, who giggled at everything, and had no shame about sucking face in the middle of the common room.
His ideal girl was someone who was nothing like Hermione Granger.
And that was why Hermione tried her absolute best to hate him and not to dwell on how much she missed him. Perhaps the worst part of all this was the knowledge that she could end her loneliness at any time. He had tried to talk to her and offer an olive branch countless times, but she knew what he would say, and it wasn't what she wanted to hear. He would either bury the issue and force things back to their old dynamic with his attempts at humor, or he would kindly tell her that he was sorry, he didn't know she felt that way, but doesn't feel the same and that he hoped they could still be friends.
And as much as she missed him, she wasn't brave enough to go through that. Some Gryffindor she turned out to be.
Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw two feet coming down the stairs from the boys dormitory, and she was brought out of her sulking and her stomach tied into a knot as she saw him come into view, moving his hands as he talked animatedly to Harry about something. As he reached the bottom step, he scanned the room and found Hermione, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she actually looked him in the eye.
Time seemed to stop for a moment as his goofy (and totally not adorable) grin dropped and he visibly gulped. Hermione forgot how to breath. She was torn between running towards him or running out of the room—
"WON WON!" the shriek echoed through the common room and the moment snapped in an instant. A mass of streaming blonde hair made a beeline for him from the staircase to the girls dormitory and the girl attached to it launched herself into his arms.
"Happy Valentine's Day, my sweetheart!" she sang in a sweet voice, so loudly it turned every head in the room turned to either look in annoyance or to snicker at them as his face blushed a deep read.
Hermione turned away again, trying to relax all of her muscles that had suddenly tensed and forcefully opening her book again, when she heard footsteps walking up from her side.
"Feel like going to breakfast?" asked Harry defeatedly.
"Of course," she said shortly, and quickly packed up her belongings into her bag and marched quickly for the portrait hole, not looking back.
As Hermione and Harry walked down the corridor, a heavy silence fell over them. Harry kept looking at her sideways like there was something he was afraid to bring up, and it wasn't hard to figure out what it was.
"Do you have something to say, Harry?" she asked sharpy, meaning to scare him into muttering a "no, nothing," and changing the subject, but alas he didn't cooperate.
"It's just…" said Harry uneasily, "He doesn't talk about it, but he misses you too. Really badly."
Hermione crossed her arms and withdrew into herself.
"Oh yes," she said scathingly, "he looks positively miserable, doesn't he? Why don't we just focus on—"
"Bloody Hell, Hermione, I can't take this anymore!"
Hermione looked at him in shock, completely taken aback at the desperation in his voice. The look on his face made him look intensely anxious, and exhausted.
"Sorry," he said, "It's just….this can't go on forever, can it? I need you. Both of you. There's a war, Hermione, things are only going to get worse from here. So I need to know…"
They had stopped walking, and he was looking at her pleadingly.
"Is this what it's going to be from now on? Do you really never want to speak to him again? Do you seriously hate him that much?"
Hermione's heart was pounding. There were few things that stressed her out more than being asked a question she couldn't answer. She didn't know how to say that she didn't hate him, though not for lack of trying, and of course she didn't want to stay like this for the rest of their lives, and yet she had no plan for how to reconcile.
So Hermione did what she usually did when she was cornered. She defensively lashed out.
"You don't need to tell me how dire things are, Harry!" said Hermione, raising her voice, "I'm the one who's reading the Prophet every morning while the rest of you talk about Quidditch or procrastinate on your schoolwork! And don't insult my intelligence by acting like you're somehow immune to being preoccupied by who is spending Valentine's Day with who!"
Harry's face turned scarlet and he stepped back, now the one on the defensive.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry growled with a glare, "I have to worry about Quidditch, people are counting on me. And I couldn't care less about who's dating who, I'm too busy worrying about a mission from Dumbledore I have no idea how to complete, not to mention a Death Eater plot right here in the school that I can't get anyone to take seriously!"
That was it. This morning, Hermione did not have the patience to entertain Harry's dual delusions that Malfoy was a Death Eater mastermind hatching a scheme that Dumbledore somehow hadn't noticed, but Harry had, and also his belief that he was actually succeeding in hiding his crush on Ginny.
"On second thought, I'm not hungry," said Hermione, and without another word she stormed off in the direction of the library.
Once she was safely sitting at a table tucked away in a remote corner, she finally allowed herself to cry. Harry had touched on the thing that she was most afraid to admit. She had always prided herself on always thinking things through and having a plan to accomplish what she wanted, but she hadn't thought ahead at all to what her and Ron's situation would mean after the end of the school year.
She now realized that she had been going along with an assumption in the back of her mind that something would just….happen. The last time they weren't talking, it had taken Buckbeak's sentencing to bring them back together. She was expecting some horrible tragedy to come along and take the decision out of her hand, forcing her to do what she was too afraid to do on her own.
She slumped and buried her face into her arms on the table. She cynically thought that as poor as that plan was, it was likely to work. The way things were going, some tragedy was probably inevitable.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Won-Won!" Lavender said loudly, beaming at him. "And happy Sunday, too, so I've got all the time in the world to show you just how happy it can be!"
"Can't wait!" said Ron, putting on a smile that he hoped didn't look like a grimace, and trying to keep his eyes on his girlfriend and not the portrait hole, where a different girl had just left.
"Come on," she said cheerfully, pulling him by the hand, "let's go find some privacy." She led him out of the common room and down the hallway, looking for a secluded spot while everyone else was going to breakfast.
Ron sighed, even as his body experienced the involuntary excitement that came when a pretty girl was about to have her hands all over him. He tried to remind himself that beggars can't be choosers, that it was a miracle that any girl was willing to snog a bloke like him, but he was starting to want more from life than just snogging. When they had first done it that day after the Quidditch match, he was certain that there was nothing better in life. As of that day, he barely knew Lavender, but he figured all that "feelings" and "connection" business could come later.
But it just….hadn't. They spent all their time together either kissing or finding a place to kiss, and by this point it felt like he snogged Lavender for the same reason he ate junk food; just obeying an imperative from his body that felt great in the moment but left him feeling slightly gross afterward, and the uncomfortable knowledge that he couldn't keep doing it forever.
It certainly didn't help things that in the back of his mind, there was already a girl who he could imagine being with forever. Hell, no point in pretending, there was a girl he was in love with. But he had blown the one chance he had with her before he even knew he had it.
It had felt like a dream when Hermione had asked him to go with her to that stupid Slug Club party. She didn't have to do that, if she thought she just needed a plus-one to save face, she could have just asked Harry since he was going anyway. She wanted him there, with her. He allowed himself to hope that he was finally getting everything he wanted with her.
But then….Ginny happened.
It wouldn't be fair to say she ruined everything. If that fight hadn't sent him spiraling into a pit of bitterness and self-loathing, something else would have. She just reminded him how delusional he was for thinking he had a shot with her.
Hermione snogged Victor Krum!
Of course she had. She was beautiful, and brilliant, and amazing. She was exactly the kind of girl to turn the heads of blokes who could have any girl they wanted.
And why in the world would a girl like that fancy Ron Weasley?
As he stewed in the hours after that confrontation, everything became clear to him. She had asked him to go with her just as a friend. Mostly likely, she didn't even really want him there, she just felt sorry for him and wanted him to stop his whinging about Slughorn ignoring him. Like a mother giving a child a sweet to get him to stop crying.
How could he have not seen it before? If she had actually wanted to go on a proper date with him, she wouldn't have asked like that. When people want to go on a date as more than friends, they say that to avoid confusion, not be flippant about it.
But if you preferred I "hooked up with McLaggen…"
For days afterward, he could barely look at her. He was angry at himself for being so stupid and angry at her for getting his hopes up. And after every time he snapped at her and she snapped right back, he just became more and more certain that nothing would happen between them. So when Lavender had started running her hands through his hair at that party, he felt so lucky that he told himself to not question it. Beggars can't be choosers, after all.
Turns out, Ron had been an idiot, just not in the way he thought.
Even he could figure out that if Hermione had truly only seen him as a friend, then she wouldn't have gone completely mental the way she did. The look of complete hurt and betrayal on her face as she sent those birds after him was the most baffling thing Ron had ever seen. One girl fancying Ron Weasley was crazy enough, two girls fancying him at the same time had to be some kind of mistake in the universe. But there was no other explanation, and that look still haunted his dreams.
But he hadn't realized any of that until it was too late. Just now, when he had finally looked into her eyes again after months, all he saw was rage and loathing. So unless there was some way to hate someone and love them at the same time, his friendship was now over with her, much less anything more.
And as completely terrible as that made him feel, he was certain it wouldn't help anything to ditch Lavender now. Even if Hermione did still have feelings for him, if he dumped Lavender to run after Hermione, then it would look — to Hermione, Lavender, and everyone else — that he had simply used Lavender to make the girl he really liked jealous. And Ron would not be that kind of git. He'd rather be unhappy for the rest of his life than be that kind of git.
So here he was, months later, just going through the motions, waiting for something to change.
"So, er, Lav," Ron cleared his throat, "How was your day yesterday?" He visibly winced at how awkward and formal he was being toward this girl whose tongue had been in his mouth.
"Oh, it was great!" Lavender said cheerfully, without missing a beat, "Parvati and I tried out this new hair potion we ordered; We used it on her, did you notice how she had great volume? I think I'm going to order some because I think you'll like it; She wanted to use it because we're pretty sure there's this boy in Hufflepuff who fancies her, but she's worried that he actually fancies Padma and just got them mixed up a few times. There was actually something we read in Witch Weekly where if you have a twin you can use that to see how a boy really feels about…."
Ron let his girlfriend's words just wash over him. His effort to actually care about what was going on in her life didn't last long, and soon he was just nodding along and back to brooding about his situation with Hermione.
He was jerked out of his thoughts when they arrived at an empty classroom, and Lavender turned to him with a sultry smile.
"But you don't want to hear about all that, do you?" she asked in a low, invited voice.
"Oh no, I do—" Ron protested weakly as she grabbed him by his collar and pulled him into the room. He knew he wasn't being convincing, but a transparent lie was better than admitting out loud "I'm making a last-ditch effort to have an actual conversation with you to see if I actually like you or not."
Lavender quickly pushed him against the wall and furiously pressed her lips to his. His nostrils filled with the scent of her perfume, and before he lost control of his faculties completely, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away.
"Lav — just — wait a — second," he got out between kisses.
He finally got her off of him, and her girly smile quickly fell into a look of genuine hurt.
"Won-won, what's wrong?" Lavender asked, her voice laced with worry, "Did...did I do something wrong?"
"No!" said Ron quickly. If he couldn't handle a lighthearted conversation with this girl, a serious one was out of the question. And the idea of an actual fight with her terrified him to his bones.
"No, everything's….everything's fine," sighed Ron. He brought his hands up, one to run his fingers through her blonde hair and the other to gently rub his thumb on her cheek, and her smile returned to her face. She really was very pretty.
Oh, sod it.
He leaned down and started kissing her again, and turned off his brain and let his body take over. A few more meals of junk food wouldn't kill him.
Harry was kicking himself as he walked down to breakfast, alone now, for snapping at Hermione. He knew, objectively, that the business between Ron and Hermione and their drawn-out romantic feelings for each other was none of his business, but it sure as hell felt like his business when it forced him to have every conversation twice.
Harry reached the ground floor and was making his way to the Great Hall when he came under attack.
"Hi Harry!"
Harry jumped out of his skin and grabbed his wand in his pocket as he spun around to see the smiling face of Romilda Vane, still looking just as confident as she had when inviting him into her compartment on the Hogwarts Express. One would never guess that she had received several months of rejections and cold shoulders from her quarry.
"I hope you're having a good Valentine's Day!" said Romilda, the sweetness in her voice more like cough syrup than honey.
"Brilliant," said Harry flatly, and started walking even faster in the direction of the Great Hall.
"Did you get a chance to try those Chocolate Cauldrons yet?" asked Romilda, almost jogging in order to keep pace with him.
"Er — no," said Harry, not looking at her, "I'm staying away from sweets. You know, for Quidditch." And because it's blatantly obvious you spiked them with love potion, he almost said out loud. He was weighing whether gossip about him being a cruel heartbreaker was worth definitively, publicly telling her to get lost.
"Well, I'm sure you could cheat for one day and still fly brilliantly, I won't tell anyone," said Romilda playfully.
Harry didn't understand it. Last year, offending girls and driving them away had come so naturally to him that he didn't even have to try. He was a damn prodigy at it. Why was his gift failing him now?
Suddenly, Romilda cut in front of him so fast that he almost plowed right into her. She bounced on her feet as she continued to give that unflinching smile.
"I have a feeling if you would just try the chocolates, you would have a very good Valentine's Day today."
Harry felt a cold shiver travel up his spine.
"Er — I've had a great Valentine's Day today," he stammered, brushing past her quickly. He frantically tried to come up with something that would discourage her.
"I sent a letter to my girlfriend," Harry heard himself saying. His eyes then widened at the shock of what he had said.
Harry heard an audible gasp from her, then jerked back in genuine fright as her eyes flashed dangerously. He almost thought he saw steam shoot out of her nose.
"She, er, doesn't go to Hogwarts you wouldn't know her," he pressed on, figuring in for a penny, in for a pound. "She's a muggle. We grew up together. And also, she lives in Canada now."
"Oh…" said Romilda softly, regaining her composure. Harry was hopeful that she was finally throwing in the towel, but then she fell in step with him again, closer to him than ever, and just brushed her arm up against his.
"Well that's a shame," she said, sounding genuinely sad, "Long distance relationships can be hard. And I don't think a muggle can ever truly appreciate how great you are, just my opinion."
She looked up at him and batted her eyelashes at him. "If you ever get lonely, I hope you know you can talk to me."
Bloody hell, thought Harry. She was so shameless that she didn't even blink at sabotaging an existing relationship. A warm feeling spread in Harry's stomach and he felt himself blush at the mental image of Ginny getting angry and hexing Romilda for encroaching on her territory. That feeling went cold, however, when he reminded himself that this was reality, not his fantasy. So Ginny wasn't his girlfriend, she had been over him for years, and she had no reason to care whether Romilda tried to "steal" him.
Harry finally — finally — reached the doors to the Great Hall, and thanked the stars when he saw Neville and Seamus already at the Gryffindor table.
He barely managed to restrain himself from breaking into a run and made a beeline for them.
"Hey have you guys done the Transfiguration homework yet I'm kind of stuck on the third essay want to go over all of it?" Harry word-vomited, and Romilda finally took that as a cue that she had no place in the conversation, and continued to walk further down the table.
Harry sighed with relief as Seamus didn't even try to hide his laughter.
"Harry Potter, Triwizard Champion, leader of underground armies, afraid of a fangirl."
"Shut up, Seamus," Harry grumbled as he started scooping eggs onto his plate.
"The simplest solution would probably be just to get a girlfriend," said Neville, "That would probably shoo her off."
"You'd be surprised," said Harry darkly with his mouth full.
"Don't go encouraging him," Seamus told Neville, his tone turning sour, "Two lovesick idiots in our year is more than enough, thank you."
Harry choked on his eggs and sprayed them all over the table in front of him.
"Is — that — where Dean is?" Harry asked between coughs, trying to sound casual.
"Oh yeah, he's got the whole bloody day planned out, every minute with her, no time for his friends," said Seamus bitterly, "He hasn't shut up about it for days." Harry's heart sank.
"Not that I have a problem with Ginny!" Seamus told Harry quickly, "I mean, I know she's practically your sister, mate—"
"No she's not," Harry blurted out, far too crossly and loudly than he would have liked.
"Er — sure, whatever you say," said Seamus, taken aback, "I just meant I don't want you to think I'm hoping they break up or something."
Oh yeah, that would just be terrible, thought Harry.
Of course Dean had a whole day planned for her. She deserved that kind of thing. And since she had a boyfriend who knew that, there was no telling how long they would be together.
An unwanted image floated up in Harry's mind's eye of himself having to smile and clap at Ginny's and Dean's wedding. He pushed away his eggs, suddenly no longer hungry.
"You go on to dinner without me," said Dean, "I've got to go check a book out of the library, I'll meet you there."
"That's fine!" said Ginny, trying not to sound too relieved. She had enjoyed most of the day, but as it drew into the evening, all the hours of being showered with constant affection was starting to get exhausting, possibly even smothering.
"I'll see you later," Ginny told him sweetly. She kissed him on the cheek before heading off toward the Great Hall.
Once out of his sight, her shoulders slumped and her guilt caught up with her. She felt like a bad girlfriend for not being more grateful and smitten. Dean had done everything right. It was completely the opposite of the disaster with Michael a year earlier. Hell, it was a great improvement over the last few months of this relationship.
As fiery and passionate as their romance had been when it started, things between her and Dean had started to cool off, culminating in a fight on the last day of autumn term, which cancelled their attendance at the Slug Club party. After the Christmas holidays, there hadn't been any more fights, but things hadn't reached the same high either, instead it was just a constant "good enough" lukewarm state.
But today, Dean had pulled out all the stops. She had gotten her all her favorite sweets through owl order, had given her a beautiful amber bracelet that matched her eyes, shared cups of hot chocolate with her in the best picnic one could hope to arrange in February, and presented her with a hand-drawn Valentine's Day card that he must have spent days on.
Dean was being a perfect gentleman, putting in real effort….but as much as it made her seem like an ungrateful bitch, she found herself thinking he was trying too hard. Like it made it all the more obvious that he was desperately trying to save a relationship that was within sight of its expiration date.
And of course, it certainly didn't help that every minor problem with Dean was amplified in her head by a little voice telling her that she probably had a different option. An option she had been hoping for for years.
Ginny genuinely thought she was over her thing for Harry. She thought she could go the rest of her life being happy for him and whoever he decided to share his life with, and finding happiness of her own.
What she hadn't accounted for was getting everything she had always wanted.
Ginny wasn't an idiot, so of course she had noticed Harry noticing her. She had spent enough years searching for that look in his eyes that there was no mistaking it: for several months, Harry had been looking at her "like that."
But apart from the excitement and feelings of validation, she found herself annoyed with him. He couldn't have gotten the memo that she was, in fact, a girl back when she was dating Michael? He had to wait until she had a legitimately good boyfriend to get her asking difficult questions?
And besides, she still couldn't be sure that Harry actually wanted to be her boyfriend. Just because he noticed her doesn't mean that he fancied her. There was a difference between a bloke liking the shape of your bum when you rode a broom and wanting to take you home to meet the parents (not applicable in this case, but it's a figure of speech). She figured if Harry truly appreciated her that way, he probably would have looked at her twice before her chest grew out, thank you very much.
Dean had appreciated her, and for that he deserved a legitimate chance, but as much as she tried she couldn't give him one. She was always mentally comparing him to Harry. And it wasn't like she could tell him that, which had led to many moments where he could tell she was keeping something from him. He'd earnestly ask her what the problem was between them but he honestly wasn't doing anything wrong.
She couldn't even communicate little things, like why exactly Dean's chivalrous streak annoyed her and why she snapped at him whenever he tried to help her through the portrait hole. Not without admitting that it made her flashback to when Harry had to practically carry her through the Chamber entrance after saving her, and that feeling of uselessness returned. She just knew that he wouldn't understand.
She continued beating herself up as she walked through the doors to the Great Hall, intending to eat her feelings away like a good Weasley. She was halfway down the table when she spotted a messy head of black hair, hunched down close to a plate of treacle tart.
A grin spread across Ginny's face and a warm feeling bubbled up in her stomach. She knew she had just been feeling guilty about having thoughts about this boy, but she didn't have a choice, she had heard something today that she simply had to tease him about.
"You're a real git, you know that, Potter?" she said accusingly, sitting down across from him.
Harry's head jerked up, and for a moment he looked terrified and adorably confused, but after seeing the smirk on her face he relaxed.
"I'm not disagreeing in principle," he said with a raised eyebrow, "but why now, specifically?"
"You know, I really thought we were friends, Harry," said Ginny earnestly, putting a hand over her heart, "So it hurts that you thought you couldn't talk to me about this secret Canadian girlfriend of yours. I had to hear about it from Romilda Vane of all people."
"Oh yeah," Harry grumbled, frowning again, "That. Well, I don't see how you're surprised, you know how well-travelled I am. I've been to this school, your house, and a third place I'll find eventually."
There was a beat of silence as they looked at each other, trying to appear serious, before they both erupted into laughter.
"Seriously Harry," said Ginny, shaking her head at him, "I don't know why you keep making things harder for yourself."
She leaned across the table towards him. "The easiest way to get rid of Vane is to get a real girlfriend. I don't know if you've noticed, but you wouldn't have trouble finding one. Have you forgotten all the fangirls at Quidditch tryouts?" She hoped she managed to sound casual, and not too obvious that she was being nosy about whether there were any other girls who had caught his eye.
Harry stopped laughing. He looked back down at his plate and blushed furiously. Ginny allowed herself to believe that she was making him blush as much as the question.
"Yeah, well…" said Harry, waving his hand dismissively. "It's not like any of those girls actually like me."
"...What?" scoffed Ginny, furrowing her brow. That wasn't what she expected to hear. "What are you on about?"
"Well, you know…" Harry squirmed in his seat, "None of them even know me, so how can they fancy me? They're just caught up in the things people say about me, and all the 'Chosen One' tripe the Prophet is printing. If any of those girls actually got to know me, they'd get over it like you did."
Harry's eyes widened in horror and he visibly gulped. Ginny was torn between wanting to sink into the floor and laugh in his face. On the one hand, this was the first time either of them had acknowledged, out loud, her early crush on him. On the other hand, the idea that she had "gotten over him," or that there was nothing special about him, was downright hilarious.
Suddenly, something clicked in Ginny's mind. Was that the reason Harry had never taken her seriously before? He had assumed she wasn't interested in anything besides his name? The thought that he had such a low opinion of himself made her want to hug him. More than she usually did.
Harry was still looking terrified and was trying to recover.
"I — er — I just mean that—"
A loud giggle erupted from down the table and they broke eye contact, the tension cut like a taut wire. They both jumped and looked in the direction of the noise and saw a very exhausted-looking Ron making his way toward them, with a giggling blonde girl still draped all over him.
"I've — er — got to talk to Ginny about something, Lav, " said Ron desperately, "Family stuff, I'll see you later."
As Lavender skipped off, Ron plopped down next to Harry and sighed.
"Ronald, what is it?" Ginny gasped, "What terrible tragedy has befallen our family, dear brother?"
"Shut it," Ron snapped.
As Harry and Ginny began their two-pronged attack of teasing Ron, Ginny became more relaxed after their close call. This was so normal, so mundane, that it was odd this might be the highlight of her Valentine's Day.