“Ron, I really don’t think this is a very good idea.” Hermione said, watching the smoking goblet of firewhisky in front of her with narrowed eyes.

“Oh come on Hermione,” Ron coaxed, “you only turn eighteen once.” He glanced at Harry and grinned.

“I suppose…” she replied cautiously, “but, well, we are Prefects Ron. We should be setting an example to, you know, younger students. Not…” her voice grew in confidence as she began to unearth a good argument, “encouraging underage drinking!” she finished, head held high.

“You’re not underage though.” Harry observed. Hermione looked daggers at him, whilst Ron’s grin broadened further, so he was reminiscent of a Cheshire cat. Besides, Harry thought, you didn’t care much about what example you might be setting when I saw you and Ron together yesterday. Harry felt he had accepted his best friends’ relationship with good grace, but his cooperation and support didn’t stretch so far as to witness again what he saw yesterday.

“Tell you what,” Ginny piped up, who until now had been watching the conversation looking mildly amused, “if you drink some, I will too.”

“You bloody well will not!” Ron exclaimed determinedly. Harry had to laugh at the look on his freckled friend’s face. His ears were slowly turning to the same colour as his vivid red hair.

“And may I ask why not?” Ginny replied, staring stonily at her brother, her face set. Harry made a mental note never to cross her, and wondered why Ron hadn’t yet learnt this.

“Because, well, you know…” Ron spluttered, “you’re like…” he left his sentence hanging.

“Yes?” Ginny prompted sharply, making Ron start slightly. Harry was reminded forcibly of Mrs Weasley when she was in a temper.

“Young.” Ron finished lamely. Ginny sat back in her chair looking triumphant. Harry had to admit, Ginny was a much stronger person than anyone gave her credit for.

“So…” Ron tried to pick up where he’d left before the humiliation. He turned back to Hermione who was desperately trying to recover from her giggling fit before he saw her. Ron looked at her questioningly.

“I’m fine.” She at last managed, turning, very obviously in Harry’s opinion, her laughs to coughs. Ron however, seemed satisfied.

“Well, here goes.” Hermione said sceptically, “cheers,” and with that she drained the goblet in one. Cheers, whoops and laughter arose from their corner of the Gryffindor common room. Hermione slammed the goblet down, screwing up her face in disgust and coughing. Ron, wiping tears from his eyes, trying in vain to stop laughing, patted her gently on the back.

“Wow, that was amazing.” Harry thought he detected a faint note of pride in Ron’s voice as he complemented his girlfriend.

SLAM. A sharp noise followed rapidly by a loud “eurgh” stopped the uproar momentarily. Whilst they were preoccupied with Hermione, Ginny had poured herself a drink. Now she looked like she regretted it. She pointed to her throat, “burning!” she spluttered. Harry and Hermione laughed again, Ron simply stared at her.

Then, he looked at her defiantly, poured more of the smoky concoction out of the decanter, raised his goblet towards her, one eyebrow raised and emptied it. For a moment, Harry was convinced Ron was going to be sick. But no, to Harry’s surprise Ron’s grin reappeared. He looked at his goblet approvingly.

“Not bad.” He commented. Hermione and Ginny looked at him incredulously as he made for the decanter again.

“Me first.” Harry hadn’t meant to say that. Why, he thought desperately, do I say things before I think about them. Prat, he inwardly cursed himself as Ron presented him with a full goblet. The smell was repulsive, the liquid a similar colour to his best friend’s hair. It was also emitting sparks, Harry couldn’t fail to notice. He screwed up his face and practically threw the fiery liquid down his throat. Ginny was right, it bloody well did burn. He looked up; everyone was smiling approvingly, except Hermione, who wore at look torn between amusement and horror at how they were celebrating her birthday.

* * *

Before Harry knew it, the clock in the common room chimed one o’clock in the morning.

“God, tonights gone quickly, hasn’t it?” Ginny slurred slightly as she spoke. Harry nodded his acquiescence. Things were looking slightly blurry, like when he took off his glasses. He reached upward. No, they were still on.

A crash came from the boy’s staircase, and Ron stumbled out of the entrance looking slightly dazed. Harry and Ginny started laughing once more as Ron struggled to gain his balance and make his way over to them.

“She’s gone to sleep. Finally. She’s swearing off firewhisky forever though.” Ron explained. So would I if I’d drank as much as she did, Harry thought.

“Good stuff!” Ginny stated heartily. Personally, Harry couldn’t agree more. Since Ron had spent the last hour tending a vomiting Hermione, he and Ginny had been left alone together. Harry found himself noticing the way her hair reflected the light from the dying fire, especially when she flicked it out of her face. Neither before had he noticed how sweetly her nose wrinkled when she laughed.

Get a grip Harry, he thought, mentally shaking himself from his reverie. Despite his inner reprimand, Harry found himself desperately wishing Ron to join his girlfriend upstairs. He liked being alone with Ginny. Liked the way her deep brown eyes met and lingered on his, even if just for a second.

“I don’t feel great, you know.” Ron said, almost conversationally.

“Hmmm, you look a bit…” Ginny tailed off for a moment. “Green, I suppose.”

“As green as a fresh pickled toad.” Harry mused, a smile playing on his lips, looking at Ginny.

For a moment brother and sister looked at each other in complete bewilderment, before the light of comprehension began to dawn on Ginny’s face, and she blushed furiously. As Harry began to laugh, she buried her head I her hands, giggling nervously, her hair falling around her. Ron continued to look thoroughly bemused. For some reason, Harry didn’t want to explain this to him. He wanted to share something with Ginny. Just with her.

“Merlin’s beard! I so hoped you had forgotten that!” Ginny exclaimed, her face on fire.

“Not a chance.” He replied, and their eyes met for a second, before she looked away in embarrassment. That singing valentine back in his second year had to be one of the most cringe worthy moments of his whole life. He wouldn’t forget that in a hurry. Still, he had to wonder where that memory had sprung from so unexpectedly.

“Right,” said Ron as he shook his head, blatantly still confused, “I’m off to bed, night.” He set off unsteadily back towards the boy’s dormitory and Hermione.

“Night.” They chorused. Silence fell on them for a moment. Suddenly, Harry didn’t know what to say to her. He looked at the floor, then…

FLUMP. A cushion hit him square in the face. As he readjusted his glasses he saw Ginny grinning mischievously at him.

“Don’t say you didn’t deserve that.” She said playfully, resting her eyes on him briefly. “I’m going to bed.”

“Yeah, I guess we should. It’s late.” Harry grudgingly hauled himself from the armchair. Just as Ginny stood, she tripped and lost her balance.

“Thanks.” She muttered awkwardly as Harry caught her in his arms.

Harry smiled and loosened his grip on her. “No problem.” They stood a moment longer. Was it just him, or should Ginny have moved yet? Or even just looked away? But she hadn’t.

In fact…Oh God, thought Harry. She was moving closer to him, slowly closing her beautiful eyes. Without thinking, Harry found himself leaning in. And then…

“Wow.” Harry breathed, almost whispered. Ginny smiled slightly, gently pressed her soft warm lips to his once more, and left towards the girl’s staircase.

Harry’s eyes followed her, hardly daring to believe what had just happened, let alone how natural and right it had felt. As she reached the threshold, she turned slowly and looked deep into his eyes. She smiled. Then she was gone.

Harry slumped back into his seat, and felt a grin spread across his face.

Yes, he thought pulling the stopper off the decanter and pouring himself yet another drink: this stuff isn’t bad at all!