'Harry, I can't stand it!'
‘You can’t stand what?’ asked Harry, now starling to feel definitely alarmed. Ron was rather pale and looked as though he was about to be sick.
'I can't stop thinking about her!' said Ron hoarsely. Harry gaped at him. He had not expected this and was not sure he wanted to hear it. Friends they might be, but if Ron started calling Lavender 'Lav-Lav', he would have to pui his foot down.
'Why does that stop you having breakfast?' Harry asked, trying to inject a note of common sense into the proceedings.
'I don't think she knows I exist,' said Ron with a desperate gesture.
‘She definitely knows you exist,’ said Harry, bewildered. ‘She keeps snogging you, doesn’t she?’
‘Who are you talking about? ’
'Who are you talking about?' said Harry, with an increasing sense that all reason had dropped out of the conversation.
‘Romilda Vane,’ said Ron softly, and his whole face seemed to illuminate as he said it, as though hit by a ray of purest sunlight. They stared at each other for almost a whole minute, before Harry said, ‘This is a joke, right? You’re joking.’
‘I think … Harry, I think I love her,’ said Ron in a strangled voice.
'OK,' said Harry, walking up to Ron 10 get a better look at the glazed eyes and the pallid complexion, 'OK … say that again with a straight face.'
‘I love her,’ repeated Ron breathlessly. ‘Have you seen her hair, it’s all black and shiny and silky … and her eyes? Her big dark eyes? And her -‘
‘This is really funny and everything,’ said Harry impatiently, ‘but joke’s over, all right? Drop it.’