He couldn't understand what had happened to him.

One moment, he'd been all about Cho; the dark hair, the creamy skin, the way she dodged and flew like a bird on the Quidditch pitch. Sure, he'd seen that Fleur was attractive, but even her half-Veela beauty hadn't distracted him from his main object of affection. From his *crush*. Cho Chang, Seeker. It was a match made in, well, a match-making place; same hair colour, same Quidditch position, similar age...

But she didn't notice him. She didn't have the time of day for the awkward boy who kept being in the wrong place at the wrong time, even though he'd say it was the right place. She didn't want to get involved in all that fighting buisiness; she just wanted to complete her studies, find herself a nice quiet academic spot somewhere, and let the world pass her by. After all, it wasn't as if she was in any particular personal danger from the Death Eaters right now, having a reasonable lineage but not one that would encourage them to recruit her; why should she increase her risk?

Now he'd noticed... the other girl... he couldn't really remember what he'd seen in her anyway. He'd dug out some old poetry he'd written; but what was it about an oval face that was so good anyway? Sure, her face was a perfect oval; like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master. Just because oval and opel vaguely rhymed didn't mean they had anything to do with each other. And an opel was just a stone, and stones were dead and cold, like Cho was to him. But she - he refused to actually think her name too much, as though it would wear it out - she was like fire, and he knew that she burnt only for him. Wasn't that better than stupid cold Cho with her stupid oval face?

The only problem was, Ron was going to kill him.