Dah Disclaimer: Lala, I don't own Harry Potter! Surprise surprise! Unless J.K. turn's out to be my long-lost Aunt's Cousin's Mother's Butler's Drycleaner, I most likely never will anyways!

Dur, I'm so bad for making another story. But Fahla to that! Ooh, I get to go see Cats tomorrow. (TOMORROW, TOMORROW I LOVE-) Yay to Jellicle Cats.

Wait, I'm off topic.

ANYWHOO.

Urum. This is all in Ginny's POV: Plastic Orange View. Scratch that, Point of View. Ever since… forever she's been my favorite character, so she deserves some praaaise. Hallelujah to that, girlfriend!

Uhmyeah.

NOTE: Due not read unless thou hast read thy HBP.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

July 1st.

Ever feel so happy you could blow up into a million pieces?

No?

Well… I don't suppose you'd want to! What if you wouldn't be able to put yourself together, or turned into a puzzle? What would you do then?

I have no idea.

ANYWHOO.

I think, that I might be feeling that now. My stomach is fluttering about in a million pieces and I feel like I could BURST. Ouch.

GUESS WHO'S COMING. He's coming, he's coming, and the Boy-Who-Lived-Again is coming! All will dance and rejoice in the brightness of… the earth orsomethinglikethat.

Bighappysigh.

I want to jump up and do big pirouettes across the floor until I'm so exhausted I fall on the floor and miss dinner. Buuut. I'm not able to do that, for my room is the size of pygmy.

Okay, not that small, but it's TEENY, plus Hermione would probably stare at me like I'm crazy.

Oh, yeah, she's here too.

Looking at me.

Waiting for me to say something.

"That... nice," I said lamely. Hermione sighed heavily and rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, Ginny. The boy you love is coming, and reply 'that's nice?'"

I managed a weak smile, then furrowed my brow.

"I don't love him!"

Or I'm not admitting it to anyone.

"Well he loves you," said Miss I-Know-Everything-About-You-And-Harry-Ginny-Weasly.

My heart skipped a beat. I think. If my heart skipped a beat, wouldn't I be dead?

Harry can't love me.

Harry can't love me.

Harry can't bloody love me. He broke up with me! It hurt, I admit it. But I must go on! Eighty cookies later and I was back to my exciting and infamous self.

Or not.

I just blushed and turned away again, leaving Miss Hermione Granger Smarty-Pants smug and keen crossing her arms over her chest.

"You aren't that daft, are you?" she asked incredulously.

"No! Harry does not love me, he broke up with me!" I said sitting down on my bed heavily.

"He broke up with you because he lo-o-o-ves you," Hermione crooned.

"No he doesn't!" I groaned into my pillow.

"What, do pray tell, are you doing?" A squeaky teeny voice came from the door.

Alright, not that squeaky.

Or teeny.

"Ron! You can't just come barging into a woman's room!"

"Woman?" snorted the offending thing in my doorway.

I sat up, giving my brother the Glare Of Doom. Not that it helped much, he was still smirking at me in that condescending way!

…

I just used the word condescending!

And spelt it in my head.

Go Ginny, go Ginny

It's your birthday.

Do a dance!

Whoo hoo.

"I'm almost sixteen, Ron," I muttered darkly.

"And I'm seventeen," he retorted smugly.

Ooh, one year older.

"With half the wits!"

"But a better body."

I stopped.

Excuse me?

Excuse me?

"Excuse me?"

Thinking about my brother's body isn't very appetizing. Or appealing. Or both.

Before he could get something out of that stupid fat mouth of his, Hermione pushed him out the door. "Boys, honestly."

I pretended my fingernails were the most fascinating things on this planet, excluding ekeltricity.

"So, when's he coming?" I asked, blowing hair out of my eyes while staring at my fingernails. Believe me, it's rather hard to do.

"Tomorrow," She said in a stupid sing-song voice.

Oh, so Harry's coming tomorrow.

No big deal.

Not a big deal at all.

I will not scream and fall off my bed making my family coming up stairs to see who got killed.

No.

I won't at all.

Oh.

I did.

"GINERVA WEASLY!"

Wow, that woman's got a set of lungs.

"WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME ARE YOU DOING UP THERE?" I turned to Hermione, who was silently giggling behind her hands.

The child.

"NOTHING MUUUM!" I shouted.

"THAT WAS NOT NOTHING. YOU BETTER STOP BEFORE YOU HURT YOURSELF."

I remained silent.

Mum doesn't need to be mute by the time she's… older.

Or.

I do not want to become deaf in my teen years.

I'll choose the latter, thank you!

"Will you stop laughing, you git?" I hissed at Hermione.

She straightened up and smiled at me.

More like smirked.

She smirked at me with that stupid and ridiculous smirk she has.

She could give Malfoy a run for his money, the prat.

"Fine!" I whispered, "I may really, really, really care for him, but, that's it! I can't in a million years, in a million centuries, love him!"

"Love who?" came a serious voice. I turned in my doorway and say a boy. A boy, who looked like a man, with shaggy black hair. And emerald green eyes.

Oh.

My.

God.

Hermione, I'm going to kill you.

"Hermione, I'm going to kill you."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

I'm going to kill Hermione, I will strangle her with my bare hands if I have to.

But first, I must go get gloves.

…

So they can't find any fingerprints, duh!

I stormed past Harry and started my way up the stairs to the attic.

"Ginny? Where are you going?" he called after me.

"To get some gloves!" I answered back.

He ran up the stairs right by me.

And grabbed my arm.

I swallowed REALLY LOUD.

"Why do you need gloves?" He asked, confused.

D'aaaww, he looks so adorable when he's confused!

"I can't kill Hermione if I don't have any gloves. For, then there'd be evidence!" I ran up the stairs, and then stopped at the top, only to see him staring up at me.

Staring at me.

Yay.

"Um, want to help?"

He shook his head and laughed.

"Ginny Weasly, you amaze me."

"I know," I grinned.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Can you believe this? Six boys, and not one pair of gloves! Did my brothers just freeze their hands off in the winter?" I asked.

This is so frustrating.

I've been up here foreeever.

Maybe that's why my brothers are so dumb.

They never had gloves so the blood never rushed properly to their heads.

… because their hands were cold?

"What'd you do for gloves at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

Oh shoot.

"I… stuck my hands in my pockets…"

"Aha!"

Stupid Harry. Fear me and my tongue-sticking-outness.

Beat that.

Aw man.

"No fair!" I pouted.

"Are you mad because my tongue's bigger than your's?" Harry asked, chuckling.

"It's not fair! You are a man!"

Men have bigger tongues. It must be proven somewhere…

He cocked an eyebrow.

"I have a bigger tongue," Harry repeated." I nodded firmly. "That helps me… how?"

"Women have smaller tongues. AND," I added, shooting a look at him, "I am a woman, thank you very much!"

He snorted.

"I would hope so."

OH.

So that's how it's going to be Mr. Hot Stuff?

Awkward silence.

"Twinkle, twinkle little star…" I started singing.

What?

I happen to like that song. It's got a nice melody.

"How I wonder what you are…" Harry looked at me, and sang softly.

…

"You know, you really suck at singing."

He snorted and looked around.

"What happened to your ghoul?"

I cringed. Ooh, Marty the ghoul.

I'll miss Marty. He was my buddy when I was lonely. We'd play catch! One time, he threw a pipe at me.

That wasn't a fun catch game.

But.

Well.

You see.

"Fred and George," I blurted.

"Ah." Harry nodded.

This is USELESS. There are absolutely ZERO GLOVES in this house.

"I'm done." I stood up and dusted off my pants. I helped Harry up and we raced down stairs.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Did you know we have really narrow stairs?

My family's house, I mean.

Someone could just totally try to beat a certain someone down the stairs, then trip over her own feet, down the stairs, and the other person could trip over HER and land on top of her.

Then, they could gaze into each others eyes…

And…

"AHEM."

Damn.

"So THAT'S what you were doing in the attic."

"Harry, I never knew you had it in you!"

"Get your hands off my sister!"

"Ginny, what it Merlin's name are you DOING?"

My family really sucks, you know that?

Harry and I were like a spring.

One minute you're down.

The next, up.

There stood my family. In all their glory.

And Hermione.

But… she was standing in her smug glory. With her smirky smirk on.

Ron looked like he was about to kill someone.

Mum looked shocked.

And Fred and George where doing some weird dance going,

"Go Harry, go Harry, go, go, go Harry. YEAH!"

Believe me, it sounded a lot less manly.

"Ahem. Welcome home, Harry," said my Mum, flushed, "I just wanted to say that dinner is… ready."

OH YUM. I bet my Mum made potatoes.

With… roast beef.

That's Harry's favorite, you know. She always makes the special things for Harry. Because Harry is special.

Harry is super special. So special…

That no one can have him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

A/N:

DORKY ENDING DORKY ENDING DORKY ENDING.

Cheee. I've always wanted to write a Ginny fic. Ginny rocks. She was an awesome character In Half Blood Prince. As I said earlier:

I'm going to go see Cats tomorrow. Yay! Except:

A; I have a lot of homework
B; I'm getting home at 2 in the morning.
C; Meeeemory. All alone in the moonlight! -stab- That song is like… death on wheels. Except, it doesn't have wheels. Eryeah.

Erum.

Ask questions! Questions about Me! My favorites! About the story! About random things! Questions are fun and make the life go round. Aye. Well. Have a nice day, (or night). Enjoy life. Read Harry Potter.

Review!

Reviewing is fun. I actually like to review. It makes other authors feel special and wanted.

/rambling/

Byyye!

-Miss Emily the Great Ruler of All