I tried not to be upset about the match, I really did, but it was difficult. It was my very last Quidditch match at Hogwarts, and it would have been kind of nice to go out with a bang, but...oh well. It’s not like it really mattered, it was just a stupid game. I only spent the better part of the last five years trying to win the Quidditch Cup.

But at least I didn’t have to play Seeker against Harry, which would have been undoubtedly awkward. Lucky for me, he was in detention for some unknown reason and instead, it was that Weasley girl. It had caught me by surprise, however, how good she was. Better than me, apparently.

The corridors of the school were completely empty and quiet as I strode through them, lost in thought. I’d even forgotten that I was still wearing my midnight blue Quidditch robes. Everyone must have been enjoying the beautiful weather outside, or perhaps studying for exams (or even, in the Gryffindors’ case, celebrating). Suddenly, I noticed the sound of two voices in the corridor just ahead. Two very familiar voices...

Intrigued, I peeked around to corner. Sure enough, there was Harry Potter, laughing happily with the Weasley girl -- was her name Ginny? They were meandering contentedly together towards the Entrance Hall, and the great oak front doors. Then my jaw dropped in shock. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley were holding hands.

It was childish, I knew, but I couldn’t resist temptation. Something burned in my chest (anger? Jealousy?) at the sight of their entwined fingers, and I made a split-second decision. Casting a hasty Disillusionment Charm over myself, I slipped out the front doors behind them, remaining just barely within earshot.

“I knew you’d come around eventually,” Ginny was saying, giving Harry’s hand a visible squeeze.

“Did you?” Harry said playfully, shoving Ginny’s shoulder with his own, but I saw that he was blushing a little. “I wouldn’t have guessed, judging from the way you were snogging Dean a few weeks ago.” Ginny grimaced.

“Yes, but you are a boy, Harry, and you don’t notice some things. I split up with Dean, very shortly after Hermione reported that you were starting to pay me a little extra attention.”

“Hermione told you?“ Harry said indignantly. Then, “Wait a moment -- Hermione knew!?“ Ginny, who appeared to be holding back amusement, nodded.

Harry seemed lost for words while Ginny cracked up laughing at his expression. Finally, after Ginny’s laughter had quieted down, he said seriously, “Sorry I took so long. You might not have noticed, but I’m not too skilled with girls…”

I felt a prickle of embarrassment creeping up my neck, sure of what Harry was remembering.

“Well, it’s not fair to say that, since you haven’t got any practice apart from the Cho fiasco.”

My embarrassment turned to anger at Ginny’s words. So our relationship was a fiasco, was it? Who was she to draw that kind of conclusion? She wasn’t there! Unfortunately, Harry seemed to agree with her, as he looked uncomfortable at the memory.

“We don’t need to talk about that,” he said, as they arrived at a large beech tree by the lake. It was a peaceful spot, in a secluded area of the grounds where not too many students were lingering. Harry then pulled Ginny down wordlessly at the base of the trunk, so that they were seated comfortably side-by-side. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke, but they simply sat; Harry leaning against the tree, Ginny’s head resting on Harry’s shoulder.

“You smell good,” Ginny said after a while. He snorted.

“Yeah, I’m sure I do, after spending hours in Snape’s smelly dungeon.”

“No, really. You smell…like Harry. I like it.”

I couldn’t remember what Harry smelled like. I never really got close enough to him, I suppose.

“Well, thanks. You smell good, too.”

“Now you’re just trying to return the compliment,” Ginny laughed.

“I’m not!” Harry said defiantly. “At the beginning of the year, Slughorn had a big cauldron of Amortentia in his classroom. Y’know, it’s supposed to smell like things we like -- things that attract us?”

“Yeah...”

“Well, I smelled treacle tart, broomsticks, and you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, only I didn’t realize it was you I was smelling until some time later.”

I lost track of the conversation for a moment. I’d just realized something for the first time: Harry seemed totally and completely comfortable with Ginny. When he and I had been on our only date last year, to Madame Puddifoot’s coffee shop, he’d been nothing short of awkward. Harry and Ginny were so content, so relaxed, it was like they’d been together for ages. Perhaps that was where we’d gone wrong; we never got to the point where we felt comfortable in each other’s presence. I’d really honestly liked him, and he seemed to honestly like me, but we were both too insecure to really enjoy each other’s company. I also supposed Harry had grown up with Ginny, seeing as he and Ron-Weasley-the-Tornados-hater had been best friends since, well, since anyone at Hogwarts could remember.

Watching them -- though at this point I was starting to feel a little guilty for following them like a creeper -- was utterly fascinating. It was clear to me that both of their feelings for each other had been building for some time. The way he toyed affectionately with her hair...the way she turned her head against his neck to breathe him in... Already, this was something more than raging teenage hormones.

“Ginny?” The silence, as well as my reverie, was broken by Harry’s quiet voice.

“Yes, Harry?”

“I don’t think I properly asked you out yet,” he pointed out. My stomach flipped over, and I wondered what exactly did happen after the match.

“No, you only just threw yourself at me.”

“Actually, the way I remember it, I was standing still, and you ran at me.”

“I was just going for a hug, but you obviously had other ideas!”

“Well, it was sort of impulsive. I didn’t plan it. But anyway, you didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask a question.” Harry gave her another playful shove, and she toppled over in the grass, laughing with a kind of mischief I’d only ever seen before in her twin brothers. Harry leaned over her, his face only inches from hers, and spoke very deliberately: “Ginny Weasley, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes,” she whispered, before attacking his mouth with kisses. Feeling more and more intrusive by the second, I turned away from the happy couple and retreated back to the castle. I was over Harry, I knew that for sure, and I had Michael now anyway. But I still cared a little for the Chosen One, so it was natural that I feel something when I saw him happily whiling away his afternoon in the company of a fiery young witch. Watching them had also driven me to the conclusion that Harry and I were just not right for each other. He was a little shy and socially awkward, but also opinionated and driven. He needed someone who could hold his hand and adore him, who could comfort him when he needed it, but could also leave him alone when it was necessary. He needed someone who could keep up with his energy, and sometimes stand up and set him straight. I’m a little quiet, but I always need friends and other people around me to thrive. I’m a follower, not a leader, and I need to be comforted often. I can be insecure and jealous, it’s true, and that was where our downfall lay.

Michael was waiting for me when I returned to the Ravenclaw Tower. He had with him a bunch of tiger lilies (my favorite) and a little box of chocolates, and presented them to me as soon as I’d entered the Common Room. I blushed deeply, and kissed him heavily in thanks.

“You just seemed a little down after the match, and since it was your last one at Hogwarts and all, I thought I’d congratulate you on a job well done,” he explained, looking pleased at my affection.

“Wow! You really are the sweetest, Michael,” I said, and it was true. I couldn’t be happier.

Three things became very clear to me during my “walk” on the grounds. One: Quidditch was nowhere near as big a deal as some people make it. Life is full of far more important things. Two: I was happy without a relationship with Harry. Michael was the kind of person I needed, and Michael needed me. Michael was the kind of person I could fall in love with. Harry was not.

And thirdly: I, Cho Chang, may have been his first girlfriend, but I was not, by any means, Harry Potter’s first love.