Ginny Weasley was hanging out the window, as she had been most of the day. Specifically, Ron's window, as it had the best view of the surrounding countryside and was highest in the long, teetering structural plan of the Burrow. Harry Potter-her Harry, as she had wanted to call him since she was ten and saying goodbye to lucky Ron (who got to go to Hogwarts a year before her, even though it was her dream to go to the wizarding school), was arriving today, and Hermione Granger the next. Bill and Charlie had taken time off from their jobs in Romania and Egypt respectively, Percy had a few days off free, as his boss was also going to the Quidditch World Cup-the real reason Harry and Hermione were coming-though it didn't mean he wasn't working, locked in his bedroom. And it didn't mean Ginny couldn't dream about Harry's reasons for visiting the Burrow. Ginny sighed, staring out at the peachy clouds accented by the great ball of a sun, sinking slowly to the horizon in the distance. Out over the edge of the valley they would go the next morning, if Dad, Ron, Fred and George ever got back. They had left early to go to the Ministry, and of course side-along Apparation always took a minute with more than one person. With three, Dad would probably shuttle them.
Ginny could hear Bill playing his guitar over the sun-soaked backyard, the guitar being a Muggle talent he'd acquired in Romania along with the ponytail and fang earring. The dusky sun falling over the valley in slants only accented his flaming hair all the more, and he pulled out a wand, cherry with dragon heartstring, thirteen inches, Ginny remembered, momentarily putting down the guitar and lighting candles on the food-laden table in the back garden.
Suddenly, with a loud crack, Harry and Ron themselves fell from the sky onto a large, knome-infested bush. Ginny grinned as the potato-like creatures ran for their lives, shouting simultaneously, "They're falling! Save our homes!". Wincing, Harry and Ron clambered out of the bush, dusting each other off—"So, you've never tried Side-Along Apparation before, mate?"
Ginny flew down the stairs, trying to compose herself as she slowed to a walk in the short hallway to the kitchen. With a "Hey, Harry," she climbed—overly noisily, it seemed—onto a kitchen chair. Molly, who was overseeing knives chopping onions, smiled at her daughter. "Good, Ginny, I thought you were holing yourself up in that room until the next century! You can help Harry and Ron set the table."
As she struck out into the oncoming darkness with a fistful of forks, Ginny made a short note of everything—the trees swaying at the property line, the boys ahead of her, talking noisily of Quidditch, Bill and Charlie bashing tables together recklessly before setting them down in the garden. Ginny could always relax after being in the vicinity of Harry for several minutes, and now words came easily again, while Ron brandished his knives threateningly. They were laying down plates as someone—rather unsteadily, it seemed—landed in the daffodils. Harry dropped his spoons with a clatter. "Hermione! You weren't supposed to get here until tomorrow!" "And gee, you're really terrible at flying," Ron said, stepping out from behind the table.
"Wow, thanks, Ron," said Hermione, somewhat annoyed, as she tossed the Cleansweep 7 out of the bushes and pushing her Hogwarts trunk, full to bursting, onto the grass. "I'll show you where you can sleep," Ginny offered, grabbing one end of the trunk. Hermione stepped out of the flower bed herself, gave Harry a hug, Ron a firm handshake, and picked up the other end. "It's so good to see you!"
The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. Hermione and Ginny set up the cot in Ginny's room, Bill showed off his musical talents, and they sat down to a feast prepared by Mrs. Weasley. It was only after Bill had played his last song, 'The Lonely Warlock', that they blew out the candles and turned in for the night. A night, thought Ginny, that had been so far unsurpassable.
Hermione woke her the next morning.
"Ginny! Up and at 'em!"
The brown eyes, too awake for whatever hour in the morning it was, thought Ginny, turned away as they heard Mrs. Weasley upstairs. "Harry! Ron! I've called you three times already!"
A minute later, Ron's head appeared in the doorway. "Too bad we can't Apparate." Hermione pulled the door open, and the boys tumbled in wearing pajamas, Harry still putting his glasses on. Ron blinked. "Bright in here, Gin."
Indeed it was. Every wall—somewhat like Ron's room—was covered in seven women in equally neon robes to the Chudley Cannons—these were the Hollyhead Harpies, the only female Quidditch team.
Half an hour later, seven figures were gathered at the outside of the Burrow, each carrying a duffel bag or knapsack. Fred shivered. "And they call this summer?"
Mr. Weasley nodded knowingly. "Cool now, but it'll be a whopper later."
They walked the mile to the portkey in sleepy silence, meeting up with Amos and Cedric Diggory, around the old boot, Ginny making sure to be next to Harry. Without warning, Cedric kicked off, as one often does, to start the Portkey.
Ginny landed flat on her back, winded, several feet away from everyone else. Fittingly, Harry landed on top of her.
And before she knew what was happening, he bridged the gap between them. Oh, the kiss was quick, but it was a kiss just the same, and as he helped her to her feet, blushing, she knew this day was one in a million.