“You don't know what you're talking about!

“You don't know what you're talking about!” Ron roared, trying to get a clear shot at Ginny around Harry, who was now standing in front of her with his arms

outstretched. “Just because I don't do it in public—!”

Ginny screamed with derisive laughter, trying to push Harry out of the way.

“Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?” You —

A streak of orange light flew under Harry's left arm and missed Ginny by inches; Harry pushed Ron up against the wall.

“Don't be stupid —”

“Harry's snogged Cho Chang!” shouted Ginny, who sounded close to tears now. “And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting,

Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!”

And with that, she stormed away. Harry quickly let go of Ron; the look on his face was murderous. They both stood there, breathing heavily, until Mrs. Norris, Rich's

cat, appeared around the corner, which broke the tension.

“C'mon,” said Harry, as the sound of Filch's shuffling feet reached their ears.

They hurried up the stairs and along a seventh-floor corridor. “Oi, out of the way!” Ron barked at a small girl who jumped in fright and dropped a bottle of toad-

spawn.

Harry hardly noticed the sound of shattering glass; he felt disoriented, dizzy; being struck by a lightning bolt must be something like this. It's just because she's

Ron's sister, he told himself. You just didn't like seeing her kissing Dean because she's Ron's sister...

But unbidden into his mind came an image of that same deserted corridor with himself kissing Ginny instead... the monster in his chest purred... but then he saw Ron

ripping open the tapestry curtain and drawing his wand on Harry, shouting things like “betrayal of trust"... “supposed to be my friend"...

“D'you think Hermione did snog Krum?” Ron asked abruptly, as they approached the Fat Lady. Harry gave a guilty start and wrenched his imagination away from a corridor

in which no Ron intruded, in which he and Ginny were quite alone—

“What?” he said confusedly. “Oh ... er ...”

The honest answer was “yes,” but he did not want to give it. However, Ron seemed to gather the worst from the look on Harry's face.

“Dilligrout,” he said darkly to the Fat Lady, and they climbed through the portrait hole into the common room.

Neither of them mentioned Ginny or Hermione again; indeed, they barely spoke to each other that evening and got into bed in silence, each absorbed in his own thoughts.

Harry lay awake for a long time, looking up at the canopy of his four-poster and trying to convince himself that his feelings for Ginny were entirely elder-brotherly.

They had lived, had they not, like brother and sister all summer, playing Quidditch, teasing Ron, and having a laugh about Bill and Phlegm? He had known Ginny for years