Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Any one surprised? No? I didn't think so…

A/N: Well, here is chapter two, ready and waiting to be reviewed. And by the by, if any of you are R/Hr shippers as well, check out my little one shot called Don't Leave Me. It hasn't gotten many reviews, so I want to figure out if it was really that bad or if I just don't have a fan base in R/Hr. Thanks! And now, a response to some of my reviewers. Sorry I couldn't respond to all of you, but anyone with questions I pretty much answered either here, or in the chapter itself. So enjoy!

HarrysanEmoKid: What is love without fighting? It's not time yet, though, I'm afraid.

Everpresent: The reason I made Ginny so spunky is because that's how I picture her acting, considering all the red heads before her. As seen in Order of Phoenix, she isn't the shy girl she used to be, and this is also four years after Hogwarts for her.

Author of the Mark: You'll see as you read this chapter. In the first chapter, yes, they were completely in the dark.

Granger's Twin: Thanks for your continued reviews for all my fics! I really appreciate it!

And now, without further adieu…

A Single Girl's Woe

Boy friend or Boyfriend?

A Single Girl's Woe

By Ginny Weasley – Witch Weekly Columnist

Where do you draw the line between a boy friend and a boyfriend? It is a question that is yet to be defined even by Webster. For we single girls, however, it is an ever more pressing question. If a girl is alone with her friend (who happens to be a guy), is it a date? Most people would say no. After all, it is possible for a man and woman to be just friends, as proven by two of my best friends of opposite sexes. But how long until going out alone together all the time crosses the delicate barrier between friendship and something more?

Now, my single friends, I am not trying to scare you away from all of your friendships with the opposite sex, I'm just making you aware of that boundary. In fact, maybe the perfect guy for you has been right next to you the whole time, and you just never noticed before. Just be aware of your surroundings. Has he dated other people lately? For that matter, have you? Or has it been just the two of you for quite awhile now?

I suppose keeping the delicate balance between boy friend and boyfriend is just another woe in the life of a single girl.

Webster: An articulate wizard who has been making our vocabularies grow (both muggle and magical) with his version of the dictionary since 1828.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

"Rise and shine!" A high-pitched voice chirped in Harry's ear, successfully waking him from an enchanting dream involving a gorgeous redhead with a lack of undergarments. Or any clothing, for that matter…

Harry rolled onto his stomach and smothered a pillow over his head in an attempt to ignore the annoying voice in his bedroom (that sounded suspiciously like Hermione) and sink back into that glorious dream.

"Up, up, Harry! Early bird gets the worm you know!"

"I'm not hungry," Harry grumbled through his pillow.

With an exasperated sigh, Harry's intruder muttered a spell. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Harry felt his pillow struggle against his grip on it, but he stubbornly didn't let go until he felt himself being lifted up with it. As his pillow floated to the other side of the room, Harry reluctantly cracked open an eye. Sure enough, above him stood a bushy haired, brown eyed, ridiculously chipper witch of twenty-two.

"Hermione," he groaned, "What are you doing here? It's-" Harry squinted at the clock, trying to make out the numbers.

"Eight o'clock in the morning!" Hermione supplied, entirely too happy about it.

Harry sat up in bed and retrieved his glasses from the nightstand so as to look properly at his friend. He simply stared at her for a minute as she bustled around his bedroom, tidying up his mess of dirty robes scattered about the room.

"Honestly, Harry," she chastised. "Haven't you ever heard of a hamper?"

"Hermione, it's eight o'clock in the morning. On a Saturday. What are you doing here?"

"You know I can't stand this pig sty you call home. I thought I would tidy up a bit is all."

"At eight in the morning," Harry deadpanned. It was true that Hermione wasn't fond of his bachelor ways, but this was ridiculous. He didn't buy it for a second. "Why are you really here, Hermione?"

"Don't you trust me, Harry?" she asked, with wide, innocent eyes.

"No," he stated flatly.

"Well, never mind that. I've made you a spot of breakfast, so why don't you get up and we can have a little chat over some eggs, hmm?"

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

"No," Harry said firmly, a no nonsense look in his emerald eyes.

"But she's-"

"Hermione, no!"

"What if-"

"Stop it!" Harry nearly shouted, crashing his fork on his plate and sending eggs flying over the table. "That blonde from the Prophet was the last straw! She was a nightmare! I knew her entire life story before the appetizer even arrived! No more—what did Ginny call them?—Oh yes, 'special dinners'. If, and when, I want someone, I will find her on my own."

"What if I said I had a certain redhead in mind?" Hermione asked with the same impish grin she wore yesterday during her little mind game.

Harry blushed, remembering how Hermione had tricked him yesterday. So what if he favored ginger hair? He has been surrounded by Weasley's since he was eleven! It was obviously a natural choice considering eleven years of good, kind, red haired people. (Well, except for that little slip up with Percy, but every family's got one) Yes, his choice of hair color was perfectly reasonable. He would simply explain this to Hermione. Surely she would see the logic in his argument.

As soon as Harry opened his mouth to argue, however, Hermione held up a hand to stop him.

"Let me guess. You've been surrounded by Weasley's for half your life so obviously you would automatically choose red hair, right?"

All Harry could do was stare blankly like a hippogriff caught in the headlights.

"So you can honestly tell me that when you said 'redheads' you were thinking of Ron?"

"Urgh!" Was the only sound that could escape his lips.

"Charlie then? Mrs. Weasley? Percy?"

"Urgh! Stop it! Please! I'm going to regurgitate my breakfast!"

"Don't go for the old 'uns, Harry?"

"No!" was Harry's indignant reply. "Did you ever think that I wasn't thinking of a Weasley at all?"

"Well, yeah, but here's the thing. I do think it was a Weasley you were thinking of, and I intend to prove it."

Harry gulped as images of Hermione hanging him by his toes until he snapped ran through his head. When Hermione is in one of her moods, there's no telling what may happen. "And how, exactly, are you going to do this?"

"Quite simply, actually."

Harry sighed in relief, relaxing into his chair.

"Now Harry, just take a deep breath and clear your mind—"

"Oh, no!" Harry jumped out of his chair, causing it to clatter to the floor. "I'm not falling for that one again!"

"Fine, fine," Hermione held up her hands in a peaceful gesture. Harry righted his chair and sat down, glancing at his bushy haired friend warily. "We'll just chat, okay? No, really!" she said as Harry began to stand back up. "We'll just talk about…your weekend plans. That sounds like a safe enough subject, doesn't it?"

It sounded safe, but maybe it was too safe. She was a tricky little blighter after all…Was there an alternative motive here? And why is she smiling like that? Like she knows something I don't…

'Oh, shut up, you! She's your friend, that's why she's smiling. You're reading too much into things…'

You're probably right…

'Oh gods, I've started to answer the little voice in my head. I need to get out more…'

"Harry?"

"Er, right, sorry. So weekend plans was it?"

Hermione nodded at him.

"Well, I had planned on sleeping in to a ridiculously late hour and wasting precious hours of daylight, but you successfully ruined that plan…"

"No Quidditch then?"

"Nope. This was our one Saturday off a month. Today. Our one Saturday of freedom every thirty days or so."

"Wow, you sound a bit bitter about that. Maybe you should talk to your coach about it or something…"

Harry just glared at her as she took a sip of tea, her eyes absent-mindedly scanning the room until they landed once more on Harry.

"What?" she asked, completely oblivious to Harry's anger at being awakened at the hour of eight a.m. "Don't look at me like that! You remind me of Viktor, all 'I'm a brooding sexy Quidditch star and tragically misunderstood'."

"Don't you categorize me in with Krum! I am much more chipper than he! Not to mention better looking…" Harry finished, giving his friend a wink and a smile that would have made Lockhart proud.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, although his statement was undeniable. "What's the problem, then? If those were you're only plans, just go back to bed after I scamper off and…you're avoiding my eyes. Why are you avoiding my eyes?"

"I do have other plans," Harry murmured.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I do have other plans. Plans that I intended to be fully conscious for."

"A date?"

"No," Harry quickly denied. "Ginny and I were gonna cross over to muggle London and take in a film. She's discovered a passion for movies she never knew she had since I took her to the cinema a couple weeks ago. She's especially fond of that one bloke…erm…Johnny Depp, I think his name is."

"That does seem like her type…dark hair, gorgeous eyes, nice build…famous…"

"What girl doesn't like those acting fellows," Harry replied, completely oblivious to Hermione's implications. "It's because they're sensitive, or something. I dunno, I don't really get it…"

Hermione rolled her eyes once more and muttered "hopeless" under her breath. "So am I to understand that you and Ginny are going to the theatre alone? Together?"

"Erm, yes, but—"

"And this has happened before?"

"Well, yes only—"

"How long has this been going on?"

"A couple of months, I suppose…but—"

"Harry, do you know what this means?!

"Not a clue, no."

"You're dating Ginny!"

"I am?"

"You obviously like her!"

"I do?"

Harry felt as though he'd been trampled by a whole heard of hippogriffs such was his shock. What was Hermione on about? So what if they go out alone…a lot… on Saturday night. What did it matter? They were friends. So what if he loved the way her hair glistened in the sunlight? Or that she cheered him on at every game, usually wearing one of his old jerseys…that he often had the urge to rip off her and do some not too friendly things to what lay beneath it! And—"

Whoa. What did I just think? Was that me?

"Oi, I'm in trouble…" Harry muttered.

"Well," Hermione said in that chipper voice Harry hated so much. "I must be off then." She gave him a friendly peck on the cheek and made for the door. "Oh!" she turned around just before leaving. "I almost forgot. Have fun tonight!"

With a wink and a triumphant smile, Hermione once more left poor Harry at a complete and utter loss for words.

A/N: It is officially one o'clock in the morning on a school night, so Review Review Review! Make my week! Please? All ideas and things that you want to see are welcome, so let me know!