My thanks go out to Ms. Estella Black for agreeing to be my beta. Her suggestions have made the chapter flow much better, and she has also ratified some of the decisions I was unsure about.

'Your heart is my Piñata.' – Chuck Palahniuk

All too quickly, the first two weeks of term had sprinted past, and suddenly the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year was upon us. The interim period had been fraught with nervous excitement, as most of the castle waited with bated breath, some hoping to be asked on a date, and others hoping to be accepted.

I fell into a third category: the one which anticipated the weekend merely as a chance to relax and enjoy shopping with my friends.

However, unexpectedly, I was asked out on a date. I was sitting in the library; alone thankfully, as Lily and Katie would have been giggling tactlessly throughout had they been present; when Jake Boot from Ravenclaw slid into the seat next to me and asked me how I was.

I was a little perplexed, as although I had been partnered with him for Charms a few times, we had never really spent time together as friends. After a couple of minutes of polite small talk, he cleared his throat, stared intently into my eyes, and asked me if I wanted to go to Hogsmeade with him.

I couldn't answer him for a long moment. Firstly, my brain had to process what I had just been asked. Then, my stomach had to quell the eruption of hyperactive, buzzing insects which had just awoken. Then I had to formulate a reply.

I finally managed to stammer out a coherent acquiescence, and he grinned at me, obviously relieved. We made plans to meet in Hogsmeade itself in the afternoon, so at least I had the morning to relax with my mates.

Once he had bounded off, no doubt to inform his mates, realisation kicked in. I do not regard myself as particularly deficient in any capacity (apart from general ability to not embarrass myself), but I have heretofore only been on three dates. Most people seem to believe that a sixteen year old girl should have dated several boys, but I hadn't.

I had had two disastrous dates with a muggle boy back at home. At the age of fourteen years old, I had excitedly sat down in the cinema with the boy from down the road, so nervous that we could hardly speak to each other. However, just as the adverts ended and the trailers began, my two brothers came in, kicked the people behind out of their seats, (giving them tickets for further back in the cinema), and watched the two of us as intently as everyone else was watching the film.

I was of course livid, but there was nothing I could do without humiliating myself further. Despite this, the boy surprisingly decided to give me another chance, but when my brothers showed up in the coffee shop, I think he had had enough of being intimidated by two very hostile, not to mention muscly, older boys. The other date was with a Hufflepuff on a Hogsmeade weekend in fifth year last term, but he was rather boring, so I managed to refuse his offer of a second date.

This general lack of experience made me extremely nervous around boys in a romantic context, although with my brothers' mates from back home I was entirely at ease. It seemed that the intervening three days between that Wednesday and the Saturday were to be spent in nervous anxiety.

I awoke that Saturday morning feeling a mixture of dread and excitement - feelings which pervaded as I tried to tame my hair into a decent style. Lily was moaning to herself as she dressed; she never fully enjoyed Hogsmeade as Potter took every opportunity available to pester her throughout the day.

Although he has never been directly implicated in sabotaging any of her dates, her trips to Hogsmeade with members of the opposite sex often seem to end badly, with food poisoning, and stray dog attacks, not to mention a particularly memorable kidnapping incident.

Katie was surprisingly buoyant, but then she was dating a rather gorgeous Ravenclaw beater, with whom she professes to discuss wizard politics. Lily and I gave her one of those looks, which ask "Really?" with the mere quirk of an eyebrow.

Any potential dates had been discouraged from asking Lily to Hogsmeade on account of her calamitous dating history, and Alice was still in the stages of exchanging shy gazes with Frank Longbottom, another Gryffindor. Therefore, the three of us were going to enjoy some girly time in the morning, before my dreaded date in the afternoon.

However, the butterflies which were happily flapping around my stomach and creating tornados in my mid-section were interrupted at breakfast, as Black strolled into breakfast, his date on his arm, and winked at me as he passed. Titia saw. Her expression could only be described as "desirous of causing bodily harm."

I was distracted from my thoughts regarding the necessities of bodyguards when Jake Boot sat down next to me and told me I looked lovely. After handing me a beautiful posy of flowers, he asked me if it was okay to meet him in the Three Broomsticks at one o'clock.

I managed to nod in reply, blushing down at my posy. He grinned at me, then hopped off the bench, glancing back once over his shoulder to smile as he trotted off. So there I sat, blushing like a tomato, heart drumming gently against my ribs, smiling slightly after him.

'Does Loganberry have a date today?" A deep, baritone voice asked.

The Marauders had taken their seats very near us, and had obviously witnessed the preceding scene. Still blushing, I turned my face towards them, composing my face, and answered shyly:

"Umm… yes."

However, this answer was not sufficient to satiate Black, as he continued on –

"Jake Boot - chaser for the Ravenclaw team. Good grades, good Quidditch player, good-looking – but I think he's a little boring for you. I give it a 7 to 1 chance of a second date."

I had to turn my head to stare at him in disbelief, left speechless by his overweening conceit.

He grinned widely at me, and then elegantly shoved some ketchup-covered fried egg into his mouth as he turned back to chat to his friends.

I glared mutinously at his ridiculously perfect hair for a moment, considering whether to flick some of my scrambled egg into it, but in the end I couldn't muster the courage to do so. Lily rubbed my shoulder softly in consolation, and shook her head at me, non-verbally telling me to ignore him.

The incident was soon forgotten as we left the breakfast table, and embarked upon the twenty minute walk down to Hogsmeade. The morning was a pleasant one, although my pockets were significantly heavier after buying three new books at Dervish and Banges, some eagle feather quills and ink at Scrivenshafts, and then as much peppermint crunch fudge as I could viably carry by myself. I was not alone in my gluttony, as Lily purchased an armload of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, and Alice loaded up on sugar quills. We shrank everything to fit comfortably in our pockets, and made our way to Zonko's Joke Shop.

There, the three of us had a brilliant time perusing the tricks section, that is, until Potter came in. Lily broke the world record for the 10 metre dash as she leapt agilely behind a shelf, making frantic motions with her wrist at us. We both stared at her blankly as she gesticulated wildly towards the cash desk, before catching her drift and hurrying over to pay. We all breathed a sigh of relief once outside of the shop, glad to have avoided at least one of the inevitable Potter-Evans Hogsmeade confrontations.

Despite the haste with which we had exited the shop, I had managed to buy a leaking goblet; which appeared undamaged, but which gradually leaked its contents down the front of the bearer; and some green hair goo, which was nigh on impossible to wash out. I have always loved practical jokes; in my family, it was great to be revenged upon my brothers, having spent most of my childhood being the butt of their pranks. I would save this one especially for Ethan, in payback for the time I awoke to find he had tied my hair in a really difficult knot around my bedpost. Revenge is a dish best served gooey.

One o' clock arrived. With sweating palms, I walked to the Three Broomsticks with Lily and Alice, and inside the door we parted with a hug and went our separate ways. They, towards the bar, and I towards the attractive boy waving at me from a table he had managed to procure in this very crowded pub. I sat down across from him, and smiled at him, trying not to show how nervous I was.

I normally manage to stop worrying, and start enjoying myself, and true to form, I did. When our drinks arrived, we were talking about the shallow subject of NEWTS, but by the time my pizza and his lasagne had arrived, we were chatting away about a new band called the Blue Elf, and whether the dashing Professor Caverleigh was after the very shy, and rather drab Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall.

Afterwards, walking round Hogsmeade, we talked a bit about a new film we had both seen, (his Dad was a muggle), and then as it began to get a bit colder, we turned to head back towards the castle.

In the dusky twilight of a Scottish, September evening, the couple kissing in the lane leading out of Hogsmeade were almost unrecognisable. However, there was no mistaking the glimmer of that blonde hair, nor the silky quality of that black hair, the ends of which often curled softly around the collar of a Gryffindor tie, just a little too long for school regulations.

The couple were so engrossed that they most likely did not hear us pad past them. Jake did nothing more than raise an eyebrow as we passed, and then softly pick up his sentence on the merits of fudge over chocolate. Despite this being a topic dear to my heart, I could do no more than interject mono-syllables for the rest of the walk back.

Very chivalrously, he accompanied me to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Before I could thank him for the date, he turned to me, and then quietly asked-

'Did you want to go out with me?'

I was perplexed for a moment, my mind elsewhere, until I realised he was asking me to be his girlfriend. Oh, no. Right. Taking a deep breath I turned to face him and sighed the truth:

'Oh. Right. Um – look –"

Before I could stammer my apology, he shook his head.

"You don't have to say any more, Rose. I get it. Thanks for the date."

He proffered me a small, sad smile, before turning away and walking slowly down the corridor, my eyes following his retreating back.

I stood there, feeling awful, gazing into the space down the corridor, before a voice interrupted me from my thoughts.

'Yes, the corridor is rather fascinating isn't it? I take it your date left you here? Or are you waiting for him to return?'

Black stood at my side, smirking, obviously thinking himself very witty. If only I didn't have these stupid feelings for him, maybe I wouldn't have to disappoint kind guys like Jake. I just shook my head, ignoring him, and walked inside the portrait and up to my dorm. There, I could pick up a book where no one had to disappoint anybody, or fancy someone who could not possibly return their feelings.

I was pulled out of my maudlin state later that evening by Katie. She waltzed into the dormitory, her eyes sparkling with the verve evoked by a successful date, and saw me curled up on my bed, an empty box of fudge within easy reach, and a Georgette Heyer novel clasped in my hand. Raising her eyebrow, she dumped her shopping bags on her bed, before coming to sit Indian-style on the end of mine. She surveyed me wordlessly for a moment, her nose twitched to one side.

Like Titia, Katie had blonde hair, blue eyes and endlessly long legs; like Titia, Katie was extremely intelligent. There, the similarity between them ended. Katie was one of the sweetest, most loyal women around. Vivacious and charismatic, she was the girl who orchestrated the fun in our group, often pulling Lily and I out of our books, and Alice out of her daydreams, to participate in Karaoke evenings, and 'chubby-bunny' challenges. Not to mention that she was usually the one to persuade us to make midnight trips to the kitchens, after curfew. If you ever needed someone to cheer you up, Katie was the one to do it.

"I take it your date didn't go that well?" she inquired.

"Um...yeah." I offered.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I sighed, eyes looking down at my book.

"Well, we had fun chatting, the conversation was good, he was really sweet."

"But…" prompted Katie.

I sighed. "There just wasn't that … that spark. So when he asked me to – become his girlfriend, I couldn't say yes. And now I just feel - "

I sighed, unable to find the words to express my feelings.

Katie reached forward, and rubbed my shin comfortingly.

"It is all right to turn someone down, you know." She soothed. "Better that than going out with someone because of pity. He'll get over it. I mean, Lily has turned down Potter hundreds, no thousands, of times and he's still walking around. More's the pity."

My lips quirked unwillingly into a brief smile.

"Yeah, I know. It doesn't stop me feeling bad for him though. And it's just that-"

I rubbed a hand over my eye wearily.

Katie made no move to interrupt me, content just to listen.

"I just wish that I could – you know – return his feelings. Or the feelings of a guy like him. Someone who is sweet, and I can talk to easily. Rather than liking some guy who would rather spend the time in Hogsmeade standing in the road kissing his date."

Katie didn't have to ask who I meant.

"Well, honey, I see your point, although I might have to disagree on the kissing part. It can be more fun than sitting drinking butterbeer or looking at books. Even knowing how much you love books."

"Yes, but I would actually have had to kiss someone to know that. I mean, look at me – I am sixteen years old, nearly seventeen, and I have never been kissed. How sad is that?" I snorted.

"Not sad at all!" Katie exclaimed. "It doesn't matter at what age you receive your first kiss – be it 7, 11, 13 or 17: all that matters is that you do it for the right reasons! Some people prefer to have a casual fling, and others prefer a serious relationship. Neither is wrong, or 'sad', as you term it, just different. Just because you haven't found someone you would like to kiss, and then had the opportunity to do so, it doesn't mean that you will never find someone. Some guy will come along, and when he does, he will be stumbling around like a drunkard, wearing a huge grin on his face, shouting to the rooftops that he is the lucky guy who gets to go out with Rose Logan.

Her eyes bored intently into mine, and I squirmed slightly, embarrassed, before nodding grudgingly.

"I suppose you're right. It's just difficult not to feel a bit down when you are surrounded by teenagers cooped up in a castle, all acting on their hormones."

"That's why you need to take your mind off it. Shall we say girl's night tonight?"

"Oh - I've got patrolling."

"What! It's the weekend! Hogsmeade weekend!"

"Try telling that to Ben."

"Ben?" asked Katie.

"The head boy?" I peered at her.

"Oh – that Ben."

"Very funny Katie."

She just smirked at me. At this point Lily and Alice arrived back from Hogsmeade, and Katie regaled us with the tale of her date, which had gone surprisingly well. We skipped dinner (not a habit, I must emphasise) to munch on chocolate, although I was feeling rather nauseous from all the fudge. Soon enough, it was 10pm.

"Right, I'd best be off to patrol the fourth floor." I stated, slowly getting to my feet. "So if you guys are going to sneak to the kitchens, don't go along the corridor with the medieval witches with that strange table thing."

"Thanks for the heads up," smiled Lily, "but I think I am rather full of chocolate."

Katie groaned in agreement, and Alice just clutched her stomach.

Patrolling was fun. I always enjoy spending an evening walking up and down a darkened corridor, when I would rather be in bed. Not. At least you normally had conversation. But no, tonight I was all alone, as my partner, Steph Thatcher, was in the Hospital Wing having concussed herself in Hogsmeade. It sounded as though she was even clumsier than I was.

I was lost in thought, lulled by the regular pad of my feet against the carpet. However, I gradually became aware of an echo to my footsteps, an echo which the carpet should prevent. Stopping and listening, I withdrew my wand. I was not alone. Though anyone making so much noise could hardly be wanting be discreet.

The footsteps came closer. Black strutted around the corner, his arms full of food. He had obviously been to the kitchens and was returning to his dormitory with the plunder. Biscuits, pumpkin pastries, cauldron cakes, chocolate frogs. He saw me, and stopped.

"Loganberry. Out of bed after curfew? I didn't know you had it in you."

The sight of him wandering so casually around school after hours had already annoyed me, but to actually tell me to my face that he thought me some sort of goody two shoes angered me even further. I prissily replied:

"In actual fact, Black, I am on prefect duty, and so am perfectly within my right to be here. You, however, are not. That will be a detention."

From my pocket, I retrieved the black book that prefects are always meant to carry whilst patrolling. The purpose of this book is to protect students from being punished by a revenging prefect. The idea is that as prefects always patrolled in pairs from different houses, each prefect would sign to say that the person was indeed out of bed. Failing one prefect being able to sign, the signature of the culprit would do.

I wrote down his name, book balanced on my knee, as he regarded me with amusement. After signing my name, I looked up at him.

"Sign this." I thrust the book at him.

He looked at me, then laughed.

"Even if I didn't have my hands already full, Rose love, I wouldn't just sign up willingly for a detention now, would I?"

I glared at him, partly for the fact that he was right, and mostly for his audacity in calling me 'love'.

"Well then, I guess we'll just have to wait for another prefect to come along and sign this then. You'll have to stay here until someone does."

He shrugged, and sat down, carefully placing his burden of food on the floor next to him. Then, leaning back against the wall, he grabbed a pumpkin pasty and began to eat it. I rolled my eyes at him, and then walked to the other end of the corridor, hoping someone would come along soon to relieve me of him.

If it were anyone else, I would just let them go, but I had heard many prefects had had encounters with him out of hours, and he had got away scot-free just by using his 'charm'. Well, I may have a stupid, idiotic, pathetic crush on him, but I was not going to let him 'charm' me into letting him get away with it. He could look as attractive as he wanted sitting there eating his stupid, tasty pasty, but he was going to get detention for this because I was a prefect, and I was not going to give into him. Not this time.

Fifteen minutes later and he had started on a cauldron cake. I had walked up and down the corridor several times, but no one had come. I sighed, and sat down a few feet away from him, annoyed that I might actually have to let him go.

"Muffin?" he offered, holding one out to me.

That did it. He had insulted my chances with my date this morning, ruined my afternoon with his public displays of excessive affection, made fun of me just for standing outside a portrait hole, and now he had the insolence to offer me a muffin. I was cold, I felt sick, and I wanted to go to bed.

"A muffin? You're asking me if I want a muffin?"

"Yes."

"NO I JOLLY WELL DO NOT WANT A MUFFIN."

He considered me silently, surprised that Rose Logan, the Gryffindor wall-flower, had just shouted at him. My face reddened as my temper waned. How embarrassing. If only the guy didn't drive me crazy. At least he hadn't made a smarmy comment. I sighed.

"You can go." I told him.

"Oh – thanks."

He got up and began picking up his food. I stared at the floor in rigid embarrassment.

"Um…" I looked up. He was standing looking down at me. "Are you alright?"

"Me? Yeah – I'm just a little stressed. Sorry for… well… you know."

"Hey, no worries. If you ever, you know, need to blow off some steam, you should try hitting something. An object I mean, not a person. You're welcome to borrow my beater's bat to knock a few bludgers around, if you'd like."

"Thanks."

"No problem. 'Night Loganberry."

"'Night."

It was only after he had left that I realised he had called me Loganberry. But for once, it didn't sound like he was trying to wind me up. It sounded almost… No. I wasn't even going to let my mind go there.

Ah - Rose. Need I say more?

Hope you enjoyed it. Many thanks, Ellie Baby xxx