Two weeks, three days, four hours, and nineteen and one-half minutes. That's how long I have to figure out a way. That's how long until you-know-when.
Oh, you don't know? Well then, I'll have to tell you...
Hang on...I should start with the basics, shouldn't I? First off, my name is Sirius Lee Black. I am - well, was - thirty seven years of age. Was, you ask? Does that mean that I am now thirty-eight years of age, you inquire? No it does not.
I died, see. I was killed. Last year. In the Department of Mysteries. And what a way to go, too!
Since that day, I have been wandering around here. Here, of course, being the world of the living. Though I'm not a ghost. No, I'm well, quite frankly I don't know what I am. It seemed to me that I must have had something to do before I moved on. Something to accomplish. But what was it? was the question I asked my handsome - if not entirely solid - self.
Well, first thing I thought was that it must have to do with Harry. Maybe he needed me? To...do...something?
As I said, I've been wandering around here since my death. It's odd, you know, to be able to say since my death. Or at least think it. Don't know how I'm talking to you. You're alive aren't you? I thought as much.
I keep wandering from the topic. As I said, twice now, I have been wandering around here since I died. I've been watching things. Following people around. As I'm not a ghost, I had to settle for being an unnoticed observer. Mainly, I followed Harry around. What'd you expect? I'm his godfather.
I noticed something. Something I overlooked in life. Harry was growing up. Fifteen, then. Now he's sixteen. I never really had thought that Harry might have had a girlfriend. Not that I thought of him as a little kid, no. It just seemed he was always too busy; fighting Dark Lords, and creating illegal Defense Against the Dark Arts groups. I never knew of Cho Chang, and am only aware of the fact that she existed, now, because of my following Harry. The train home at the end of his fifth year was the first time I heard of their brief relationship. I was the boy's godfather for crying out loud, you'd think he'd tell me these things!
Back to the topic at hand. I noticed that Harry was growing up. And I noticed that he was doing so alone. It seemed that he had given up on dating after that Valentine's Day, one year ago. I've only heard a bit about it, but I gather that it was a disastrous occasion.
He hadn't lost his heart, though. He had feelings for someone, I could tell. It took a bit of time for me to figure out who, though. It most definitely wasn't Hermione. That I knew straight off. Hermione was the sister Harry never had.
Besides, a certain brother that Harry never had would be pretty upset about that one.
Thoughts of brothers and sisters led me to Ginny, and I could not believe I hadn't thought of her first.
I practically lived at the Potter's house during my teens, and I thought of James' mum as my own. She always treated me as such. I teased James quite a bit about how much his mum looked like Lily.
I should have known Harry would fall for a redhead.
And fall he did. From thirty feet, off of his Firebolt. I remember it like it was yesterday. Oh, wait, it was today.
"Harry, you're going too fast!" called Ron, but Harry didn't seem to hear him. He just kept on going. His Firebolt was going at top speed, and Harry appeared) to have zoned out. He was staring at the opposite goals, and, if not careful, would soon crash right into the Slytherin section of the stands.
Gryffindor scored, Ginny putting the Quaffle through the left hoop for the seventh time. The Gryffindors had just started a chorus of ‘Weasley is Our Queen,' when a Firebolt hit Vincent Crabbe in the side of the head.
"POTTER'S FALLEN OFF HIS BROOM!" yelled Seamus Finnigan from the announcer's box. "Seems as though he was a bit distracted, watching the Gryffindor chasers - Weasley in particular, I'll bet - and slipped right off his Firebolt! It hits Slytherin beater Crabbe in the side of the head! And Slytherin's not even playing!"
Half of the Gryffindor team were trying to catch up with Harry as he fell, but none seemed to be fast enough. No one was calling out spells, to slow the descent...
But then he was rising again. At least, for a moment, before his wait overwhelmed Ginny Weasley's broom, and caused it to descend. They landed, quite ungracefully, and toppled off the broom.
"You all right, Harry?" she asked worriedly.
"Yeah..." he said, blushingly. "Thanks, Gin."
It was then that I knew for sure. The look on his face was exactly the one that James wore once, after his head had deflated.
So, here I am, trying to think of something. After all, I only have two weeks, three days, four hours, and seventeen minutes. Until Valentine's Day, that is.
I want it to be perfect. No screw-ups like that time James tried to get Lily to go out with him, in sixth year. No, that would be catastrophic.
Even though I technically had never been there, I just knew this was a match made in heaven.
A match made in...
Oh, it's...it's perfect! I should have thought of this years ago…could have been useful with James and Lily…
* * *
Harry was sitting in the common room, late that night. The clock had just struck midnight. It was February the fourteenth. Valentine's Day. If only he wasn't so alone.
Harry couldn't sleep. He was having the dreams again. Tonight it wasn't nightmares of Voldemort, nor was it visions of what the Dark Lord was doing… No, Harry Potter had been having dreams of quite a different nature for quite a while now. Dreams that had nothing to do with Voldemort. Dreams that had to do with Ginny.
It had been two weeks, three days, four hours, and nineteen and one-half minutes, since he fell of his broom and Ginny caught him. Before that event, Harry had had the dreams twice, maybe three times a week. Now, he was having them every single night. Sometimes even during the day. In fact, one of his favourites had occurred in History of Magic.
Why then, was he not asleep, in his comfy four poster bed, dreaming about the girl of his, well, dreams?
He did not know. For some reason, he felt that he should be awake. As if a silent voice had been whispering in his ear, that if he was awake, tonight, something would be different. Something would change. For the better.
He didn't think anything was happening. He did not feel any different. Nothing changed.
Then he saw it.
On one of the tables, lay a book of matches. Had Harry been an ordinary person, in an ordinary school, this would be nothing out of the ordinary. But no one used matches in the wizarding world...
He stood, his muscles aching from leaving the position they had been in for so very long, and walked over to the table. Just as he picked up the matches, he saw a bright red something from the girls' stairs. Of course, he knew who it was at once...
"Harry," Ginny said, perplexed, "where on earth did you get that?" It appeared that she had excellent eyesight to see the matches from such a distance.
"I dunno," he said, trying desperately to keep the blush from rising to his cheeks.
"Those are snatches, right?" she said walking up to the table. "Dad had a collection."
"Er, no, Gin," said Harry. "They're called ‘matches,' not ‘snatches.'"
"Whatever," she said. "Dad called them snatches, and he rubs off on all of us."
She narrowed her eyes, trying to look at the matches that lay on Harry's palm, in the dim light of the fire.
"Can I have a look at those?" she asked.
"Sure." He handed her the matches, his hand briefly touching hers.
She held them at her eye level, and then turned around so the light could light the face of the book.
"Apparently, these are ‘Heavenly Light' brand," she said, and handed them back to Harry. "Where did they come from?" she asked. "No one uses them here."
"I dunno, they were on the table."
Harry also read the print on the matches, but then he looked at the back. In small, black writing, were the words,
MADE IN HEAVEN
"Uh, Gin?" he said. "Look at that."
She did, and looked back up, wide-eyed.
"Well, I guess it's a match made in heaven." She smiled. "You think it's a coincidence we found it?"