I did try to sound enthusiastic, but even I could tell that it didn't work. Bugger. Double bugger. Triple bloody bugger.
Dean is a perfectly nice bloke. He's even pretty good as a boyfriend. He understands my desire to play Quidditch, and of course he does not mind if I win. He even puts up with Ron watching him as though he is about to sprout an extra pair of arms and hands specifically for the purpose of making even more of a 'public spectacle' of our relationship.
Of course, now comes the 'however'.
However, I have noticed, over the last two weeks at the Burrow, that Harry - also known as My Harry - is behaving strangely in my presence.
It was the maggot that gave him away. All I did was lean over the table at Christmas lunch and remove said offending creature, thoughtfully provided by Kreacher, from his hair. Under cover of Ron's nauseating behaviour for Phlegm's benefit - you would think that he would be beyond needing attention from Phlegm, now that he's had Lavender's tongue down his throat almost continuously for the last few weeks, but not so - I watched as Harry broke out in goosebumps. Oh. Then, he actually, physically, convincingly blushed. Ooh!
This is the best Christmas holiday that I have ever had.
Now, I need to find a way to divest myself of a perfectly agreeable boyfriend, with whom I get on very well, and who has very few bad habits.
There is that annoying little 'help her through the portrait hole' thing, though.