Гарри Поттер и Принц-полукровка
A very frosty Christmas
Itwasnearlyfiftyyearsold.Neitherhisfather,norhisfather’sfriends,hadbeenatHogwartsfiftyyearsago.Feelingdisappointed,Harrythrewthebookbackintohistrunk,turnedoffthelamp,androlledover,thinkingofwerewolvesandSnape,StanShunpikeandtheHalf-BloodPrince,andfinallyfallingintoanuneasysleepfullofcreepingshadowsandthecriesofbittenchildren...
"She’sgottobejoking..."
Harrywokewithastarttofindabulgingstockinglyingovertheendofhisbed.Heputonhisglassesandlookedaround;thetinywindowwasalmostcompletelyobscuredwithsnowand,infrontofit,Ronwassittingboltuprightinbedandexaminingwhatappearedtobeathickgoldchain.
"What’sthat?"askedHarry.
"It’sfromLavender,"saidRon,soundingrevolted."Shecan’thonestlythinkI’dwear..."
Harrylookedmorecloselyandletoutashoutoflaughter.Danglingfromthechaininlargegoldletterswerethewords:"MySweetheart"
"Nice,"hesaid."Classy.YoushoulddefinitelywearitinfrontofFredandGeorge."
"Ifyoutellthem,"saidRon,shovingthenecklaceoutofsightunderhispillow,"I—I—I’ll—"
"Stutteratme?"saidHarry,grinning."Comeon,wouldI?"
"HowcouldshethinkI’dlikesomethinglikethat,though?"Rondemandedofthinair,lookingrathershocked.
"Well,thinkback,"saidHarry."Haveyoueverletitslipthatyou’dliketogooutinpublicwiththewords’MySweetheart’roundyourneck?"
"Well...wedon’treallytalkmuch,"saidRon."It’smainly..."
"Snogging,"saidHarry.
