Harry takes slow, uneasy steps up the staircase from the dungeons, not looking at the couple of Hufflepuff seventh years who pass him on their way to their common room. He doesn't feel like going back now, doesn't feel like facing Ron and Hermione after what he's just seen
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If he looks more carefully, he'll notice that the boy is a red-head. And that as he wraps his arms around the girl's waist (the girl has bushy hair, coincidentally) and pulls her closer for proper snoggage, he's blushing furiously the entire time.
In fact, the two individuals might look awfully familiar.
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He narrows his eyes, waiting, not speaking, wondering how long it'll take them to notice that he's standing right there. They go on kissing, like he's just a lampstand or a painting. He doesn't even exist for them.
Finally, he clears his throat.
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