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The conversation had begun as normally as you'd expect it to. Nearing the end of Eighth Year, the trio's days had been overcome with a strange sense of nostalgia – coupled with the quickly approaching Farewell Ball, their conversations had taken a rather melancholy turn.
"What're you and Ginny going to wear, Harry?" Ron enquired from where he was perched rather comfortably on a velvet chair, draped in woven blankets. The January winters were never kind to Hogwarts' students, and Ron often found himself curled up in the chair nearest to the fireplace. The contrast between the darkness of the room and the bright orange from it on his face only made him seem more fiery than normal.
Hermione huffed, brushing a stray from Ron's face. "Ginny wouldn't dare waste an opportunity to match, I'm sure she's prepared a few ideas," she reasoned with a smile, though most of it was hidden due to Ron using her as a pillow. Her hair stood out wildly, stray strands highlighted by the light of the fire next to her and Ron.
At this, the redhead shifted under his covers, twisting to face Hermione with a lazy smirk on his lips. "And have you planned anything, 'mione? It'll be our first ball being official, after all."
Hermione rolled her eyes, yet her amusement was evident through the flirty quirk of her lips. "No, but now that I know how enthusiastic you are, I'll be sure to have you pick and choose for me."
Placing a chaste kiss on the brunette's exposed hand, Ron looked up at Harry while sitting up properly.
"It's nice, having someone to go to the Farewell with – the Yule Ball was a travesty, right, Harry?"
The boy glanced to the side of the room sheepishly. "So picky, we were. Especially you. 'She's too pushy', 'she's too tall', 'I don't like her nose'," the redhead recited, chuckling while Hermione gave Harry an exaggeratedly incredulous look, before letting out a dramatic sigh.
"Everyone was after The Boy Who Lived, after all," The brunette reasoned, ignoring the mentioned boy's slight wince. "You had a rather large selection of options, though. I'm surprised that you only ever had one girlfriend before Ginny."
"Yeah, you're a loyal one," Ron chimed in.
Harry had never been too into romance, he had been a lot more focused on surviving every school year without being murdered by a teacher or a certain Dark Lord. He had procured an intense infatuation for Cho Chang during his earlier years, yet that had been ephemeral in the end. Harry hadn't had time to sit and ponder what exactly he found appealing in a person. He hadn't been with Ginny that long now, either.
Now that the topic had been brought up, Harry really did take a moment: why, he had certainly had his fair share of confessions; people clinging onto him for a chance to be with The Boy Who Lived. He never paid much mind, even then he was smart enough to understand that these people were the furthest thing from romance. Yet there must have been people who were truly interested in him, like Ginny. There must've been people he fancied, too.
"You're not wrong," Harry said. "About options, I mean. I did have a lot of people around me...." He trailed off, fumbling as the words left his mouth faster than his brain could prevent them from doing so.
"Wow, my Ginny will hear about this," Ron harrumphed with a pompous tone, causing Hermione to break into a fit of laughter.
"Between the three of us, though," the freckled boy continued, staring up at the brunette, "I clearly have the best taste – no offense to lil' sis."
Hermione rolled her eyes again, clearly used to performing the motion. "Get a room," Harry quipped, tossing a pillow at the couple.
"I'd argue you both have pretty niche tastes," brown eyes skimmed over the two boys, "with the exceptions of Ginny and me, of course."
"But I'm curious, now," Ron and Harry tensed as Hermione's voice took on a teasing tone. "Pray tell, who would you take to the Farewell in the absence of your partners?" Hand resting on her cheek, the girl seemed fully aware that she had placed the boys in a tight spot.
"Well – erm...." Ron sputtered, letting out a nervous laugh before diving back under the covers.
"Respectfully, I'm a loyal man," Harry stated, holding his hands up in a mock surrender. His lips quirked up as he heard his friends' muffled giggles.
"C'mon, out with it, Ron. I won't tell a soul," she insisted, tickling at the covers, aiming at Ron's ribs with precision. Causing him to let out a loud screech.
"What is this, a hear me out? Why does she have to tickle the information out of you, mate?" Harry wheezed between quiet laughter.
At that, Ron's giggles came to a stop and his face came peeking out of the blanket. "A 'hear me out'?" He asked, and the other two simply blinked at him dumbly.
They proceeded to look at each other, mischievousness brimming in their eyes.
"It's a type of muggle game I think you'd enjoy, Ron," the girl assured as a devious expression made home on her face.
"It's basically a game where you have to say the names of people – or things that you find attractive, despite it being strange to others," Harry added before Ron started doubting the nature of the game due to Hermione's attitude.
"So like...." the redhead started, fishing for examples.
"Like Oliver Wood," Harry stated, and his friends' necks nearly broke as they turned to stare at him with wide eyes.
"What? Oh come on, forget it." Harry turned away after receiving such judgmental looks.
"The old Quidditch captain?!" Hermione squeaked, eyebrows nearly vanishing into her hair. Harry dismissively waved his hands.
"Well, this does seem cool – plus, another few reasons to make fun of you lot," Ron quipped, eyes darting between the other two, clearly hoping for more instructions.
Hermione raised her hands to her chin, and an idea struck her. "It's a trend nowadays to take a small cardboard cutout of your 'hear me out', and place it on a cake. They call it the 'hear me out cake'," she said, eyes darting over to the cake box left on the coffee table a few feet away.
"That'll do it," she said, pointing at the strawberry-flavoured dessert.
"Wait, are we really doing this?" Harry asked, feeling unsure. He only received an enthusiastic response of 'of course!' from Ron as he rushed to abandon his perch on Hermione's lap.
The trio counted their cutouts as they sat around the cake, all hiding their choices by keeping them safe under their robes.
"Did everyone's come out fine?" Hermione questioned, seemingly worried about the effects of the simple spell they had just used to conjure their options.
"It's fine, cmon, let's start!" Ron said impatiently, he hadn't been able to suppress his giggles ever since the notion of the game was first implied. Beside him, Harry shook his head in mock disapproval.
The brunette frowned for a moment, before pointing at Ron. "You go first, OK?" She asked, to which the boys nodded in compliance.
Discreetly, the redhead sifted through his options before settling on one. Pulling it out of his robes, he pushed the cutout onto the cake.
"Luna Lovegood...?"
The other two raised an eyebrow at this, before Harry subtly coughed into his arms.
"What was that?" Ron asked.
"Cough – idiot – cough," Harry said, resulting in a loud exclamation of 'What?!' from the fierce redhead beside him. Hermione could only roll her eyes for the third time in the past hour.
"You moron, she had a crush on you in Fifth Year." Hermione huffed, unable to process how Ron never noticed, Luna wasn't being too quiet about it.
"Are you joking?" Ron asked, genuinely shocked, before Harry just patted his shoulder in a comforting manner gesturing for Hermione to continue with her turn.
Hermione reached into her robes and sorted through her cut-outs. "I don't think she has a crush on you anymore, so you've missed the opportunity," she said to a pouting Ron, who was attempting to pinch her cheeks. "Alright." She placed her choice on the cake firmly. She cleared her throat and looked away from the boys.
"Pansy Parkinson."
....
"There is nothing in this world you could do to make me hear you out, 'mione," Ron assured, staring wide-eyed and petrified at the little picture of Parkinson that was now part of the cake.
"That's a load of bogus," Harry began, shaking his head incredulously. "You – you hate her."
"Yes well, hating somebody doesn't mean I wouldn't make out with them after a few Butterbeers or some Firewhiskey...."
Hermione cradled her face in her hands. "Well, I'm seeing you in a new light, now," Ron said, a crack in his voice.
The pair turned to look at Harry expectantly. "Wha — oh, right, erm, here," Harry sputtered, fumbling under his robes. As he glanced between his choices, his expression visibly turned from cheeky to sour to practically tearing up with a hand over his mouth.
"Just pick one, mate," Ron yelled impatiently, causing his brunette to shush him, clearly exasperated and unwilling to wake their dorm-mates up.
"Don't worry 'mione, he'll pay for that later." Ron could only let out a confused noise at that before Harry placed his cutout onto the cake.
"Draco Malfoy."
....
"Any longer with your jaws unhinged like that and you'll get flies in there," Harry commented, looking away from his dumbstruck friends.
After a moment's silence, Ron piped up first, his voice many pitches higher than usual.
"That's – you can't just – you hate him, Harry!"
"Despise. Despise him," Hermione added after recovering.
"I've been his mortal enemy for years."
"I slapped him–"
'What is with you two and falling for your Slytherin enemies?!"
"We're not falling for anyone– Ron!"
"Oh shut up, both of you," Harry sighed at his friends. "He's clearly had a change of heart ever since the war, plus, have you seen how long his hair has gotten – it suits him, I think..."
"This is – this is because of his hair?" Ron exclaimed, eyes darting about the room, the others surmised he was in search of a pair of scissors.
"Okay, Ron. Take away the past, shut his mouth, and just look at him – I mean, he certainly isn't bad-looking?"
The redhead's eyebrows shot up, and even Hermione couldn't suppress the giggles that erupted from her as he couldn't muster up a reply.
"Oh my Merlin –" The brunette scoffed, hands brought to her mouth and eyes wide with shock. Ron could only snap out of his stupor to elbow her side.
Harry fiddled with the miniature Draco on the cake. "All I'm saying is, get me a few drinks deep and we'll see."
"We'll what –"
"OK, why don't I go again?" Hermione began, hands diving into her pile. She looked through for a moment, before a grin so wide crept onto her face that Ron scooted away.
Through coming-and-going bouts of laughter, the girl placed her cutout onto the cake.
"The – the Sorting Hat."
"WHAT?!"
"I said what I said, Ron!" Hermione turned away from the group,
"My love, it's a hat," The redhead said, pure concern etched onto his face.
Harry could only stare at the small Sorting Hat in horror. "I don't know what I was expecting, but..."
"It's the voice," the brunette clarified, gesturing to her ears. "Something about the gravely voice."
"So is this my status, then?" Ron said, head in his hands. "I'm next to Pansy Parkinson, and the Sorting Hat?"
"Sorry, mate," Harry chuckled after Hermione gave a quick nod.
"Well I wouldn't say 'next to', you're certainly a level above them." She leaned up to kiss Ron's cheek, which was seemingly enough to get Ron to let go of the subject.
"Congrats, mate, she chose you over the hat –" Harry was met with a pillow thrown at his face.
"Zip it," Ron said with a pout before digging into his robes, searching through his messy pile. He held his chosen cutout in his palms, looking troubled, before scoffing and placing it down with enough force to slightly squash that side of the cake.
"Blaise Zabini"
...
"Well – he's," the boy began, sweating profusely. "Look, he's actually quite cool, I mean, he looks nice? Like, clean?"
"Clean...?" Hermione spoke up with a blink.
Ron made some unidentifiable gestures with his hands, before letting out an embarrassed huff and flopping onto his back.
"Elaborate," Harry said with a tilt of his head, apparently intrigued.
"S-shut up!" Ron shouted, pointing accusatory fingers at both his friends. "You like Parkinson, and you – Malfoy!"
Hermione finally managed to quiet her incessant laughter before rubbing a soothing hand down the redhead's arm. "Nobody's asking you to explain yourself, Ron. No need to get defensive."
"Way to get extremely defensive and make everyone suspicious, mate." Yet another pillow met Harry's face.
"Well, now it's your turn, Harry, get on with it." The freckled boy sat up properly, glancing menacingly between his friend and the somewhat intact cake.
"If you say so." Complying with the request, the boy reached into his pile, searching for a specific cutout before smiling triumphantly.
Ron and Hermione quirked their brows as he spent a few seconds staring intently at his choice, before bursting into deranged, manic cachinnation.
"What?" The brunette asked, worry crawling onto her face. Ron wore a similar expression, clinging to her arm.
"Don't – don't hate me for this, mate. I – I did say you would 'pay', yeah,?" Harry managed between hiccups of laughter.
Before Ron could even force a reply, the boy smacked his cutout onto the cake, finishing the redhead's earlier job and making a mess of the poor dessert.
"William Weasley!"
....
"Will-William, as in Bill Weasley?" Hermione's eyes seemed about ready to bust out of their sockets. And, well, Harry couldn't bring himself to look at Ron's expression; he was a mix of too afraid and too hysterical to do so.
"MY BROTHER?! BILL?!"
At that, Harry really couldn't help but laugh louder, which only exasperated Ron more.
"Are you mental? Are you actually stupid? – THAT IS MY BROTHER!"
"I know! He got really lucky with his genes – not saying you didn't, though," Harry clarified, finally making eye contact with a Ron who had nearly turned into the colour of his own hair.
"I remember – !" Hermione shouted through her hand over her mouth, gaining the boys' attention.
"That must've been why – why you seemed so struck when you first saw him!" She buried her face into Ron's side, muffling her frenzied squeaks of laughter.
"Well, I don't remember trying to be subtle," Harry shrugged, trying his hardest not to burst again as the redheaded boy stared with his jaw practically unhinged.
"He's just really cool, plus his earring –" The boy tried to explain before a hand was smacked over his face.
"I do not want to hear what you find attractive about my very old and very married brother."
"Sounds about right," Harry sighed, before reaching into his robes and pulling out his last cutout, throwing it onto the ruined cake.
"Charlie Weasley!"
"STOP –!"
Ginny made her way into the common room, slightly crumpled homework in hand. The silence coming from the usually loud and booming area caused the girl to pull a confused face.
"Guys?" She whispered as she entered. Her eyes immediately made their way to the famed trio fast asleep around the coffee table, pillows strewn haphazardly around them and blankets falling off their laps.
As she tip-toed closer, she realized that there was something placed atop the table. Leaning down, she realized it was a ruined cake – one with many faces on it.
"Wait, what? Don't tell me...."
She recalled her father's month-old ramblings about a new muggle trend: putting people or things you find attractive on a cake before eating it.
"Oh, Merlin, is that the Sorting Hat?!"