Up until now, I've used the same involved third-person point of view (from Harry's perspective) as J.K. Rowling. Starting in this chapter, due to the nature of the story and the need to explore the characters' emotions in-depth, the point of view will begin shifting around a (little) bit.
One more note: who ends up with whom in the end is as up for grabs as it would be in real life, though I will say that the overall arc of the love story has been plotted since before I uploaded the first chapter, and that I honestly think I go where Rowling will take it (if not in book five, then over the course of the whole series). Also, Harry is not going to fall for a new, original character—both because J.K. Rowling would never do that, and because I don't think I'm a good enough writer to make it seem believable. So, onward and upward!
CHAPTER THREE: RED HAIRED FRIEND
Judging from the way Ron and Hermione were chatting amicably with each other at breakfast the next morning, Harry figured they had managed to make up after their half-fight the night before. He ate his breakfast in silence; he was still tired from his late-night conversation with Cho, and didn't much feel like talking. Both of his friends made several stabs at conversation with him, but utterly failed to elicit much more than a grunt in response.
"What, bee in your bonnet, Harry?" piped Ron.
"Oh, leave him alone, Ron. He's just tired."
"From what?"
Harry opened his mouth to explain, and then (for some reason he wasn't quite sure of) after a moment of thought decided against it, closing his mouth and returning to his food. Ron and Hermione looked puzzled.
"Uh…right…" said Ron uncertainly.
Just then, a sneering Draco Malfoy strutted over to where the three friends were seated, his usual entourage of Crabbe and Goyle in close step.
"Well, well, well, Potter! Decided to return to your friends, instead of spending the morning with your new lover, eh?" Ron and Hermione were very confused; Harry turned a bright shade of pink.
"What on earth are you talking about, Malfoy?" inquired Hermione.
"Ha! I didn't figure you'd be one to get upset about it, Mudblood—weren't you all about that Bulgarian guy just a few weeks ago?"
"Viktor was just a friend," replied Hermione defensively, "despite whatever that awful woman might have written about us. But that has nothing to do with Harry. What's this business about a…lover?"
Draco eyed her for a moment. His lips twisting into a sneering grin, he responded, "Why don't you go to the man himself for that?" Hermione looked at Harry.
"Harry?"
"…Yes?" sheepishly asked Harry.
"Do you know what he's talking about?"
"I don't know…I mean…maybe…I think so…because, after you and Ron left, I went to go talk to Cho, to…settle our accounts, after the…events… of last year." Harry looked nervously over at Cho, who looked much better than she had last night, and was energetically talking amongst her friends. "Anyway, we got to talking, and we ended up staying here quite late…" Harry trailed off.
"Oh!" exclaimed Ron, clearly delighted.
"…Oh…" said Hermione, her expression unreadable. Draco sniggered at her reaction, and Crabbe and Goyle joined in, snickering.
"It's not like we're together or anything," added Harry quickly—but the damage had been done.
"Jealous, Mudblood? I don't see why you should be; it's not like you ever had a chance. As distasteful as Potter is, even he is above the likes of you." Hermione, Ron, and Harry all went livid with rage. Harry was too stunned to speak, but the others angrily responded.
"Not that I'd care if I had a 'chance' or not," retorted a very flustered Hermione, "but I'm quite sure my birth is a total non-issue to Harry!"
"Harry's not above Hermione, and neither am I!" shouted Ron.
"Of course you're not above her, Weasley," scoffed Draco, "my dad's always said your Muggle-loving family is a disgrace to the name of 'wizard.'"
"And my father has always said that your father and he have very different ideas about what disgraces the name of 'wizard.'" Draco stood there with an expression on his face like he'd smelt something rotten.
"Sounds just like your Muggle-loving father. Well. I hadn't meant to chat long—just wanted to see what Potter was doing with his little crew instead of his little girlfriend." Draco turned his back on the three friends without another word, and his fan club immediately followed suit, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione with an awkward silence.
"So, Harry… why didn't you tell us about Cho?" asked Ron, grinning and nudging his elbow into his friend.
"Yes, Harry… why didn't you tell us?" Hermione glared at him.
"Because there's nothing to tell!" Harry said, exasperated.
"Nothing to tell about besides a night spent together, you mean," Hermione said, still glaring.
"It wasn't spent together, we were just—what does it matter to you, anyway?"
"It-…it doesn't matter…not really…but you should have told us, " Hermione chastised lightly. Harry sighed.
"Really, there is nothing at all between us," he said. Ron looked vaguely unconvinced, but didn't say anything.
* * *
The rest of the meal was spent in near-silence; because of this silence, however, Harry was able to catch some rather interesting bits of conversation between Fred and George Weasley, who were seated on the table directly across from him.
"Are you sure?"
"Quite sure, but—"
"No way!"
"Of course, 'way.' Didn't I just say that I was sure?"
"Well yes, but… that seems almost too good to be true."
"It does, doesn't it?"
"This will be the prank to end all pranks!"
"Well, not quite. But we'll certainly leave one hell of a legacy for Gryffindor!"
As Fred and George got up from the table, laughing like maniacs, Harry wondered what they could possibly be talking about, but knew better than to ask them about it; whatever mischief they were planning would surely manifest itself soon enough. It seemed as though Ron hadn't noticed the bit of dialogue between his older brothers, but when Harry turned to ask him if he knew what they might be up to, his vision fell upon young Ginny Weasley—surrounded by a group of her friends, and softly sobbing into a paper napkin.
Harry was at first taken aback by the sight: Ginny was sitting, her hair mussed up, her face in her hands, crying into the napkin, her flanking friends all touching her in a supportive way. Before he was able to contemplate what would elicit such a reaction from her, he heard a wisp of conversation—
"Oh, Ginny… it's OK… it's all fine… don't worry, honey…"
"Don't worry about what? About… her? How could I not? The way they were there, just sitting right over there, for hours on end… I could…I could just curl up and die…"
—and Harry knew it was his fault. Unintentionally, through the same talk with Cho that had nearly gotten Hermione upset at him, he had broken Ginny's heart. A sick, empty feeling spread through his stomach; it wasn't like he fancied Ginny, but sleeping on the matter had led him to realize that he didn't fancy Cho, either—and if thinking that he did was causing Ginny such pain…
"ALL RIGHT, SLIMEBALLS!" roared the magically-amplified voice of Colonel Quinn, resounding throughout the cavernous Great Hall (its occupants startled and jumping). "Today, because we're starting on a Tuesday, the fourth and fifth years will have their first lesson of the term together. It will be here, in the Great Hall, starting in five minutes. So the rest of you gits, get out of here! Fourth and fifth years, you heard me, I want you ready to rock and roll in five. MOVE!"
The sixth and seventh years cleared out in a hurry, not wishing to risk a confrontation with Quinn. One unlucky sixth year Hufflepuff, in his hurry to clear out, accidentally slammed into Snape (who began cursing in a language Harry didn't recognize, but didn't do anything to the student). Meanwhile, the fourth and fifth years gradually formed up in a great circle around Quinn, who was standing with a ramrod-straight back. After five minutes had passed, all the students had filed in; Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all by each other, and Colin Creevey had somehow managed to position himself adjacent to Harry. Quinn cleared his throat and addressed the all students standing around him.
"Today, you begin your training in Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts," he began, his eyes shifting across the sea of faces in front of him. "Now, many of you might think that this is like some accelerated normal course. Don't make that mistake." Harry saw Hermione's face droop with disappointment. "THIS is the first day of the rest of your lives! Today begins your six-week journey into yourself. The purpose of this seminar may be to teach you to defend yourself, but that will be impossible without knowing who you really are—how far you can go, the utmost limits of your talents and your abilities. Defense is not about overpowering your attacker; not only is that foolish, given the extreme power of those likely to threaten you, it is liable to get you mangled up pretty bad. Defense is about pressing the advantages you have—using your mind to get yourself out of a sticky situation. But, given the extreme amounts of crap you've got floating around inside your little teenage heads, it's difficult for you to operate your mind effectively.
"So, the first steps in your training will involve getting your mind to work for you. We will begin with a meditation exercise, to remove all the gunk jamming up your brains. We then move on to basic martial arts training; by the end of today, you will have learned how to successfully block almost any shot to your torso. The purpose of this skill is not practical in the traditional sense, as you are very unlikely to come across a Dark wizard who tries to punch you in the gut." There was mild laughter in the circle of students, which Quinn ignored. "Rather, you are learning to think without thinking—to intuit. I will teach you only a few basic blocking moves, not nearly sufficient to cover the wide range of possible attacks on your upper body; but these moves, combined with the meditation techniques we'll start with in a moment, will nevertheless make you very difficult to hit.
"Now, I've found that a change in scenery generally helps trainees clear their minds, so I've organized a special transfiguration of this Great Hall with your Transfiguration teacher herself; make sure to tell her thank you. Minerva?" Harry idly wondered how Quinn could be on a first-name basis with Professor McGonagall already, but with McGonagall's cry of Mutarem Magnus! the remarkable change in scenery blasted that thought from his mind.
The interior of the Great Hall was suddenly transformed into a magnificent Chinese-style dojo, or at least what Harry always thought one would look like. The floor changed from polished wood to a white, slightly spongy material; the stone walls, once covered in moving pictures, became stark bamboo. Columns now supported the suddenly much-lower roof, and through an opening in the bamboo wall Harry saw the sun, red and large on the horizon, stretching lazily through forests of emerald trees.
Then he looked across at Hermione, and saw that she was wearing a plain white gi, her long hair held up in a tight bun. Looking around, he saw that everyone had suddenly changed clothes, even himself. He gasped in wonder at the suddenness and intensity of the change in scene, and heard nearly all the students do the same.
"Amazing…" said Ron, vacantly.
"Isn't it wonderful?" cried Hermione, feeling her hair (which had been straightened as though by an iron).
"Everyone, sit down with your legs crossed," said Quinn gruffly, displaying no patience with his pupils' amazement. "Close your eyes, and relax. Try to clear your minds of any lingering doubts or worries. Oh, before we begin, anyone who falls asleep will be prohibited from going to Hogsmeade this weekend. Yes, you heard right, Hogsmeade this weekend. Now then. Imagine you are walking alone in a dark forest…"
* * *
Ron Weasley had never figured himself to be the mystic type. There weren't really any Weasleys who were, though out of all of them the one who came closest was probably Ginny. However, when he focused his entirety of being on nothingness, as Colonel Quinn gradually led him to do, he was amazed to discover the wealth of experience present in the void. Ron felt oddly outside of his body—and yet it seemed that he had never been so in tune with himself as he was then.
"…Now open your eyes," said Quinn softly (but somehow still gruffly). Ron slowly opened his eyes. As if by instinct, his gaze turned directly to Hermione; it took an extreme effort to snap it back directly in front of him.
Ron sighed deeply. As quieting as being in that meditative trance had been, it hadn't completely removed his biggest concern from his mind: Hermione. He couldn't help it; he was simply crazy about her. Or crazily mad at her, depending on when you talked to him. But how could he help arguing incessantly with someone whose simple presence struck such a deep chord in him? She was totally unlike any girl he had ever known before—brilliant, kind, and unwilling to compromise her individuality to be seen as feminine (even though she was very much a girl, as he had embarrassingly and belatedly discovered right before the Yule Ball last year). Being her friend was in its own way every bit as wonderful and rewarding as being Harry's friend…and yet…
Ron sighed even more deeply. He had run this over in his head a thousand times, and it still didn't quite all add up; he felt as though there was some empty space in his relationship with Hermione, as though the level of their present friendship wasn't quite deep enough for him. It wasn't just that he wanted a girlfriend—Ron started going pink as he thought of Hermione in that role—but he knew needed some deeper level of understanding and communication, and he couldn't think of a better person to have that kind of relationship with than Hermione. Although…
Sighing a third time, Ron considered Harry, his best friend. Ron deeply and truly wished that Harry would find love with Cho, both for Harry's happiness and—Ron felt slightly guilty for admitting this, even to himself—Ron's. Ron had always looked at Harry's relationship with Hermione with an ever-so-slightly jealous eye; sure, he might have gotten attention because they were always bickering, but Harry was always steadfastly the friend of both of them, and had through four years perfected (albeit reluctantly) being the knight in shining armor. Ron supposed that this might work in his own favor—didn't Harry's steady friendship with Hermione mean that he wasn't interested in her that way?—but nevertheless wished Harry would hurry up and find a girl.
But where did that leave him? Ron felt that some sort of decision needed to be made, and soon. Would he confess his feelings to Hermione? Could he? How would she react? Had she given him any thought in a romantic way? Ron suspected she had, after that foolish, extended scene he'd made about Krum and her last year. But how would she react—
"Ron! Ron! Colonel Quinn is trying to—" urged Harry, but it was far too late.
"WEASLEY!!!" bellowed an extraordinarily irate Quinn, and Ron was instantly snapped out of his reverie. The entirety of the circle of students began laughing, Draco Malfoy hardest of all.
"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING? THIS IS NOT NAP-TIME, SON!" Ron's face flushed.
"I…I just… zoned out…sorry…"
"That's 'I just zoned out, sir, sorry, sir!"
"I zoned out, sir. Sorry, sir." Quinn surveyed Ron, his weathered face twitching angrily.
"Lucky for you, I saw you concentrating on the meditation. You did do a damn fine job—only one who came close to your state of concentration was Potter…" Quinn's face stopped twitching quite as violently as it had been. "…And you weren't technically sleeping, so I suppose it would be unfair to not let you go to Hogsmeade…" the final vestiges of anger flowed from Quinn's face. "…But don't let me catch you 'zoning out' again. Understood?"
"Yeah…I mean, yes…I mean, yes sir," Ron fumbled.
The students all laughed again, and Ron's face went completely red as he stood up to join the rest of the crowd.
"Good. Now that that's cleared up, I want you all to break up into pairs with the person next to you, and follow my example. You're both going to get a little bruised, at least at first, but don't worry about it; everyone in Hogwarts will be black and blue throughout these weeks. Just be careful and do what I say, and no one will get too terribly banged up. Now, first we have to work on your neutral position…"
* * *
Harry had never sweat so hard in his life; he was grateful that the training session had taken place inside the magically air-conditioned Great Hall, rather than outside under the sweltering July sun. After the intense warm-up, he had been paired off with Colin Creevey, who throughout the lesson (despite chastisement from Quinn) was absolutely unable to even attempt to do Harry bodily harm. Harry had no such qualms, and gave Colin a rather nasty bruise on his left shoulder after a particularly vigorous series of attacks, apologizing profusely after the hit but thinking to himself that it was really just part of the training. He switched partners a little while into the training session—a burly Hufflepuff in fifth year replaced Colin—who wasn't afraid to send strong punches Harry's way (the vast majority of which Harry was fortunately able to block). At the end of the day, Harry felt as though he had really learned something. His defense motions, while ultimately not as efficient as they could possibly be, were still clean and smooth, and he was able to focus hard enough to read where the attacks would be coming.
Ron had been paired off with Hermione, and was similarly unable to even make a halfway serious attempt at hurting her. Quinn didn't notice this, however; he was too busy praising Ginny, who was viciously tearing into her partner throughout the day (a scared fourth-year Ravenclaw) and managing to block all of the shots coming her way.
"You see? Everyone, come watch this girl. This is exactly what I'm talking about—smooth, fluid motions. Look at that expression on her face—concentration, in its purest form! This girl, ladies and gentlemen, has the mark of a true warrior," said Quinn excitedly, his eyes twitching with glee. "Hmm…let's how she does against the famed Harry Potter!"
Ginny let out a small yelp; Harry felt like he was suddenly wearing lead boots and trying to swim.
"Oh, um, Colonel, I…I can't—"mumbled Ginny.
"What's that?" asked Quinn.
"No-nothing…" trailed off Ginny; Harry had heard her first statement perfectly clearly.
The whole crowd of fourth and fifth years now circled around Harry and Ginny.
"Put what you've learned here to use, you two. No hits below the belt, of course. Now, show everyone what can be done with talent and practice!" Quinn's eyes were raving in the mania of bloodlust. Harry and Ginny, for their part, just stood there.
"What are you waiting for?" angrily asked Quinn. "Go! Start! Fight!"
Reluctantly, Harry bowed to Ginny and entered the neutral position. Ginny followed suit. Harry readied his fists in the standard defensive position; Ginny prepared to strike, and then tepidly stretched her hand out in a weak attack that Harry easily blocked.
"Come on, girl," growled Quinn, "I know you have more than that in you."
Ginny's face hardened, and she struck out again, with a bit more force. Harry, of course, blocked again with ease.
But Quinn had hit a nerve inside Ginny, and with the ferocity of a trapped tigress she sprung on Harry. Her attacks came faster and faster, their speed rising with the pitch of the crowd's excitement and the mounting force of emotion within her as she let out the anger and frustration she felt on the person who was responsible for her feeling it; it took every ounce of concentration Harry possessed to keep up with Ginny's unrelenting assault.
"Whoa! Go Ginny!" shouted the happily surprised Ron.
"Oh…be careful, Harry!" called out Hermione. "And don't you dare hurt her!"
The feverish pace of Ginny's attempted battery increased even further, and Harry found it necessary to throw a few swings her way just to break up the pace a bit. He had decided that he wasn't going to attempt to harm her—doing her physical as well as mental harm would be beyond reproach—but that decision made strategizing difficult.
"Come on, Potter! Fight back seriously! She's not going to let up, you know—and everyone, Ginny included, should expect a few bruises. So just let her have it!" egged on Quinn.
Harry held his ground, and did not send any punches that he knew Ginny wouldn't be able to block (a feat that became increasingly more difficult as the fight went on). Finally, though, his defenses started to break down; Ginny managed to get glancing blows against Harry's chest and shoulders. Ginny's face twisted into a horrible expression of hurt and rage, and she redoubled her efforts. Just as Harry was about to have his concentration—and defense—totally broken, someone came between the two of them, absorbing Ginny's attacks.
"THAT is ENOUGH!"
Professor McGonagall stood between Harry and Ginny.
"Minerva," hissed Quinn, "this is my lesson. What are you doing?"
"I don't know what you're playing at, Quoniam," replied Professor McGonagall harshly, "but this fight has gone far enough. You've taught the students everything they can be reasonably expected to have learned in a day, and kept them half an hour past dinner. Everyone," said McGonagall, addressing the crowd, "your lesson for today is over. Go wash up; dinner has been delayed for your benefit." The group of students reluctantly started to disband, and Hermione and Ron rushed to the side of Harry and Ginny.
"Ginny! That was amazing! I didn't know you had it in you!" exclaimed Ron.
"Hush, Ron! Ginny, are you okay? You were like an animal out there! And Harry…are you hurt at all?" Hermione looked quite upset.
"I'm fine, guys. Nothing I can't handle," said Harry nonchalantly but nevertheless shaken.
"I…I'm so sorry!" Ginny rushed off, crying. Ron looked at Harry quizzically, but Harry just shrugged his shoulders.
"Can't imagine what that was about."
"Oh…I think I might have some idea…" said Hermione, half accusingly, to Harry. He gulped, knowing exactly where she was heading.
"Wha-what's that?" he asked nervously. Hermione sighed.
"Nothing, don't worry about it. Come on, let's get something to eat—I'm absolutely famished."
"Me too," said Ron.
* * *
Talk at dinner that night was fervent. Stories of the days events zoomed all around the Great Hall; students spoke in hushed tones of the intense workout, of Harry's fight with Ginny, of Professor McGonagall's interference. And, in the greatest quantity and the lowest volume, were possible explanations for the interaction between McGonagall and Quinn—how they addressed each other by first name, but did not speak to each other at all when not forced to. Harry and Ron, however, had an entirely different matter on their mind.
"Prank to end all pranks? Legacy of Gryffindor? What the hell's that supposed to mean?" asked Ron.
"Ron, your language!" said Hermione as she perused through a stack of papers.
"I was hoping you'd know," said Harry, ignoring Hermione.
"I don't have the slightest clue."
"They haven't told you anything?"
"They never tell me anything, you know that."
"But still, from the sound of it, whatever they're planning is pretty big—and if it's big enough to put them in the history books, or whatever, shouldn't they need more than just two people?"
Hermione, who hadn't been paying a bit of attention to their conversation, suddenly got up. Harry spoke out.
"…Hermione?" She wheeled about, as if she had forgotten something.
"Oh—yes—sorry—I'm just terribly distracted—"
"You think?" asked Ron sarcastically. "Where are you going, anyway?" Hermione blushed.
"I'm not really supposed to…talk about it." Harry and Ron both gave her identical looks, and Hermione sighed.
"It's Prefect stuff. Professor McGonagall told me I'd been made a Prefect, although technically we're not supposed to know until two weeks before the start of the new year. Anyway, I have an awful lot of material to read through, as well as training to work out, and I figured I might as well get a head start over the summer." Ron got up.
"Well, then, you need someone to help you, right?"
"Er…no, not really. I'm fine on my own, really—enjoy your dinner, guys." But Ron would not be persuaded.
"Nonsense. Come on, let me help." Hermione sighed exasperatedly, and then nodded assent. As Ron started walking ahead of her, she shrugged her shoulders and smiled at Harry, who grinned in reply.
However, he wasn't grinning for long; Hermione and Ron's departure had left him with absolutely no one, and Harry didn't feel like eating alone. Picking up his tray, he walked over to Cho's table, where she was talking excitedly with two female Ravenclaws. Cho's eyes lit up as he approached.
"Harry! Hello!"
"H-hi, Cho," Harry said nervously. Cho's friends, a petite brunette with the softest doe eyes he had ever seen and a tall redhead with an extraordinarily well-proportioned figure, were both very attractive.
"Oh, allow me to introduce you. I'm sure you both know the famous Harry Potter," Cho spoke eagerly to her friends. "Harry, this is Lucille—" Cho motioned to the brunette with one hand, "—and Alexa," she said, using her other hand and smiling broadly. She brought her hands back to rest in her lap. "We were just talking about Colonel Quinn and Professor McGonagall—is it true that they called each other by first name?"
"Ye-yes," Harry stammered, trying with all his might to resist the temptation to stare at the upper portion of Alexa's figure. Cho didn't seem to notice his nervousness, and continued.
"Why do you think that is? You didn't happen to hear them talking to each other, other than when they were fighting, did you?"
"No," said Harry, his eyes pointed straight downward.
"How curious…" said Cho to no one in particular. Alexa and Lucille got up.
"We'll just, ah…leave you two alone," said the visibly amused Alexa.
"Be good," giggled Lucille, and the two walked off. Cho laughed.
"Those two… honestly. I told them there was nothing at all between us, and they just looked unconvinced and said 'whatever you say.'" Harry couldn't help but laugh.
"I got the same reaction from Ron."
"Ron—Ron Weasley? He's your red-haired friend?" said Cho, surprised.
"Uh…yeah…" said Harry, not understanding her surprise. Cho burst out laughing.
"So wait. Ron is your best friend…and Ginny is his sister?"
"Yeah," Harry replied, blushing slightly.
"Well…looks like misunderstanding runs in the family, eh?" Cho asked; Harry turned a deeper shade of red.
"Certainly does, judging from the way she was bawling this morning and the way she tried to take me apart this afternoon."
"Though, you know, maybe she had the right idea with the wrong person."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I'm not sure if it was Lucille or Alexa, but one of them obviously caught your fancy," Cho said with a wink.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said to the floor.
"Of course you don't," Cho said, grinning playfully. "Though, you know, it'd probably be easier for you and your friends if you went for Lucille or Alexa."
"Why do you say that?" asked Harry, his eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement.
"Say, where is Hermione?" asked Cho, seemingly changing the subject. Harry was taken by surprise, but answered nonetheless.
"She went on some officially unofficial Prefect business."
"I see…and where is your red-hair—I mean, where is Ron?"
"Oh, he followed her. I guess he was trying to make up for their fight yesterday, or something," Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders. Judging from Cho's laughter, she seemed to find this quite amusing. "What's so funny?" Cho's expression drew half-serious.
"You don't see any connection there?"
"Why would I?"
"You mean Ron's behavior hasn't struck you as odd in any way?"
"Well of course it has, you know, I mean Ron's not exactly the least…conspicuous pea in the pod."
"That's not what I mean."
"Then what are you talking about?" Harry said with definition. Cho looked him straight in the eye and replied:
"I'm talking about the fact that if you don't make a move soon—and I mean very soon—Ron will."
"Make a move? Huh?"
"On Hermione."
"Oh, get off it," Harry said with a dismissive wave of his hands. "That's the same nonsense you were talking about last night."
"Nonsense, eh?" Cho asked, her eyes twinkling the same way Dumbledore's always seemed to.
"Yes. Nonsense."
"We'll see, Harry… we'll see," Cho mused; a thought suddenly struck Harry.
"Besides, why would I want to make a move on Hermione?" Cho's grin widened into an overly large smile.
"Oh, my goodness!" Cho exclaimed with a start. "Look at the time!"
"It's not that la—" Harry started, and then looked around the Great Hall; it was empty except for the two of them, and nearly all of the candles had been extinguished. They had totally forgotten about the passage of time, and someone was sure to come to shoo them off very soon.
"We really need to be getting to bed, Harry."
"I'll go in a minute. First, answer my question: why would I want to make a move on Hermione?" asked Harry resolutely.
"I don't know …why would you?" Cho asked, her eyes sparkling like tiny diamonds. "Ask yourself that question. Now, goodnight!"
"Goodn—" Cho reached over and gave Harry a quick kiss on the cheek, cutting off his farewell, then turned and disappeared.
Harry stood alone in the nearly pitch-black Great Hall, wondering what exactly was going on, and wishing to himself that things were as simple and uncomplicated as they had been his first year at Hogwarts.
~End Chapter 3
Finishing note: PHEW! That was a beast of a chapter. Sorry about the length, but I envisioned all these events happening as a single thread in the continuum, and so had to stick them all together.
So, how do you all like the story so far? Interesting enough? I've only set up half of the conflict—namely, the romantic aspects of it. Next chapter, the other half kicks off. Til then, please tell me what you think of this story!