A/N - I will freely admit first of all that the original concept of this piece is based on an excellent fanfic that I read a long time ago, so the title and author escape me, but I am taking that premise in my own direction here. I am a great fan of Aaron Sorkin's writing, particularly in the rapid and witty exchange of dialogue, and so wanted to try that bring that out of the characters here.
Here is a little prologue to the story. I hope you enjoy it!
And in case anyone was wondering, I intend to write the final chapter(s) of The Final Countdown very shortly after what has been a long hiatus.
* * * * *
Even before February had begun, Harry had been growing more fearful by the day. Well, maybe not fearful. Anxious…wary…full of a sense of foreboding, that'll do. He couldn't accurately pigeon-hole the right description, but he was in doubt as to its cause.
Yes, Valentine's Day was about to descend on Hogwarts…again.
He had thought about flying the coop for a few days either side of that dreaded day, fantasized about it really. As soon as the first pink-colored posters started to pop up in the hallways and common room notice boards, he had to clamp down hard on that flight reflex.
And part of him felt stupid about it. I mean, come on, this is Valentine's Day, he'd thought. A chance for the girls to gush over the glamour of going to the ball, dressing up and being asked out, and for the boys to summon up the courage to buy cards and flowers while struggling to hold on to any sense of self-worth or masculinity they may have previously clung to. And then go to the ball. And dance.
But Harry knew his track record with V-Day was not exactly stellar. He didn't even want to go back over it in his head; that's how bad it was. And as soon as Hermione started babbling about the ideas she had to involve herself and the other Gryffindor seventh-years in the ongoing festivities, Harry made sure he would not be involved in any way, shape or form.
"I mean it Hermione," He'd told her one lunchtime, "I'm not taking anyone to the ball, I'm
not being set up, I'm not handing out flyers, and I'm definitely not…"
"Okay, I think I get it," Hermione cut him off curtly, "but why? It's just a bit of silly fun, Harry."
"Not for me," He said, pointing his knife at her across the lunch table, "for me V-Day has disaster written all over it."
"V-Day?"
"You know, like D-Day?"
"I got the reference, Harry, thanks," Hermione said, "but this year might be different."
Harry snorted.
"At least you don't have Voldemort to contend with."
"I might prefer him."
"Harry…"
"I'm serious, at least he never blew off a date."
"No, but I would've quite liked to see that." Hermione said with a grin. She resumed scribbling feverishly in the open notebook beside her half-eaten salad.
Harry went back to his food, trying his best not to take an interest in whatever Hermione was working on. He didn't care, not one bit…not one single…"What are you working on?"
"…Hmm?" Hermione said, looking up distracted.
Harry grinned, "What are you working on?"
She shook her head, "Oh, nothing really."
"You know when you say things like that you only make me more intrigued."
Hermione smiled, "Oh yeah?"
"It's probably not even that interesting, anyway." Harry teased.
Hermione slyly closed her notebook, "Then I suppose there's no point telling you, is there?"
"Fine," Harry said.
"…But I might need your help with…"
"What did I say?!" Harry nearly shouted.
"I wasn't really listening," Hermione said, "But if you can help spread the word around the common room, maybe drum up a few more volunteers…"
"Volunteers for what?"
Hermione grinned triumphantly, "So you do want to know."
"…I hate you."
"You love me, I'm infectious." Hermione said, poking out her tongue as she gathered her things.
"You're impossible," Harry said under his breath as she walked away down the hall.
And now he did want to know what she was planning.
Dammit.
-->