A 17 year old Harry Potter sat with his legs stretched out in front of him on his four poster bed at Hogwarts, talking to his best friend of almost seven years, Ron Weasely. They had discussed various things that day; though they flitted from one subject to another, they hadn't talked about the one thing that was weighing down both of their hearts lately.


Not just any women, though. For Harry, it was Ginny Weasely, who just happened to be Ron's little sister. He loved her so much, and he knew she felt the same way. Unfortunately for Harry, at the end of the last year, he had broken up with her. What with Voldemort trying to kill him, and a war going on, he didn't want anything at all to her; especially not Voldemort himself. And so, he had broken up with her, even though this was the time that he desperately needed her most. If only he would figure it out on his own, they would be together again, this time permanently.

And, of course, for Ron, it was their mutual other best friend, Hermione Granger. It had been pain fully obvious that he was head over heels for her ever since their first year, and she eventually felt the same for the lovable village idiot of the Trio. The only problem was the fact that neither of them had enough courage to tell the other of their feelings; in fact, they were the only two people in the school who hadn't a clue about the other's feelings. But anyway, enough back round. On with the plot!

As a lull formed in the conversation, Harry knew that they had been tiptoeing around the girls all day, and decided to bring them up.

"So…" He began.

"So…" Ron replied.

"Okay, so I've been thinking," Harry stated, "And, well…maybeIshouldn'thavebrokenupwithGinny." He mumbled the last part together as he looked away, embarrassed about making such a personal statement.

Ron looked at him for a few seconds, then yelled, "Bloody hell! 'Mione and I thought you'd never come to your senses and get back with her!" He paused then muttered under his breath, "She owes me four sickles and a knut. Score."

Harry looked back at him, surprised. "You were betting on when we would get back together?"

"Nah, just how long it would take you. I bet a summer with your relatives, and Hermione bet a year or two. Thanks for that, Harry. You just made me a little bit richer!"

Harry smirked and rolled his eyes but replied, "Anytime, mate."

Now a more comfortable silence filled the room. Harry was now wondering about his friend's own relationship problems, but knew not to push him.

"Well, I'm going to go talk to Ginny," said Harry, after a considerable amount of time had passed. As he pulled his legs to him in preparation to get off of the bed, a large BANG filled the room. Ron and Harry jumped back on their respective beds; a cloud of smoke had appeared where Harry's legs where only seconds before. To figures appeared at the end of his bed. They seemed to be wrestling, or something else…

As the smoke cleared, they could make out a boy and a girl, roughly their age, and snogging passionately. They didn't even notice the two bewildered teenage boys watching them with shock, until both ran out of breath.

They both looked up at each other and whispered, "Wow…"

The boy then said, "If that doesn't prove that we're meant to be together, then I don't know what will, Evans."

Harry raised his eyebrows at the last statement. Evans was his mother's maiden name. His dead mother's maiden name, at that.

The girl replied, "Well, maybe, just maybe, in some strange way, you could be right, Potter."

Harry's eyebrows shot up even higher. He glanced sideways at Ron. Ron was wearing an expression that mirrored Harry's exactly. Both boys suppressed a small chuckle.

The two strangers, finally realizing the two boys were there, scrambled off of each other, clearly embarrassed. After a moment of silence, the boy spoke.

"Hey, you're not Sirius and Remus!"