Thank you to Anna, for reading; and Violet, for finally reading and for telling me to say: YES, this fanfic is the story of Ginny on her FIRST visit to Grimmauld Place. : )

JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter universe and no copyright infringement is intended by this fanfic.

Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was the filthiest, most desolate house Ginny had ever been in, and she'd hardly stepped through the front door. With a heave, she lugged her bag down the hallway. The house smelled like mold and wet old books. Her father trailed behind her silently, and following him was her other suitcase, charmed to wheel along by itself.

There was no light in the hallway, but up ahead Ginny could see a closed plain old door with light seeping out of the gap between the door and the floor. She couldn't hear a thing beyond her own pants and the sound of the plastic wheels gliding upon and probably marking up the hardwood flooring. The silence did not bother her: if what her mother had told her was true (and Ginny had no reason at all to think why it wouldn't be), Number Twelve was about the most heavily guarded, safest, and most secretive structure outside of St. Mungo's, which was definitely saying something.

Then again…were those house elf heads? Ginny grimaced. If it wasn't for the fact Fred and George were going to be here too…

"No, oh – Oh, drat it." Ginny turned, and suppressed a giggle. Her father was standing some feet away with the most peculiar expression on his face, something like bemusement and dismay and fascination. The enchanted trunk that had since been levitating after him like a well-trained, flying dog, had malfunctioned: it whizzed around the room, narrowly avoiding smashing into the walls – and, to her horror, the house elf heads. He pulled out his wand, muttering spells frantically. "Go on ahead, dear. I'll, well…"

And to think, she had just been feeling good about them, her brothers. Heaving the other trunk up, she offered her father a sympathetic sort of smile. He returned it, if half-heartedly and only for a moment. The trunk had stopped flying around the room, it was true, but now it began spinning around in a circle, faster, and faster…

She was going to hex the pair of them straight into next week.

Ginny turned and made her way closer to the door. Perhaps there was no spell on it after all; as she got nearer, Ginny heard the polite, discernable mumblings of conversation. She heard someone's bass, hearty laugh and a tinkling of glasses. "'Don't go bothering the Order, dears,'" her mother had chastised before leaving with Ron and the twins. As if, she had retorted, she'd just march on over to the first meeting she found and start throwing Dungbombs off the walls. A feeling very like apprehension made its way into Ginny's throat. Zonko's paraphernalia or not, she didn't think it would make a very good impression if on her first minutes inside the Black house she interrupt a meeting.

"Dad," she said nervously, licking her lips. "Dad, are you sure I can go through this door…?"

But he was, of course, busy, his only reply an impatient hand and sweat that began to dew on his forehead as he hurled spells at the wayward trunk.

Well. If anyone asked. She could always blame Ron. Ron was very easy to blame.

With a deep breath, Ginny opened the door.

It wasn't like anything she had expected – in fact she had expected something close to one of those interrogation rooms that she used to see on one of those Muggle crime shows Dad used to bring home before Mum found out and yelled at him for what seemed like a fortnight for exposing the children to "inappropriate" content. They were always dark long rooms with tinted windows that you could barely see through. There would be a nondescript gray table that always seemed unnecessarily long; and of course the grimy, unwashed accused and the attractive, make-up laden investigators. That was always how you could tell in these shows, who was responsible for the crime and who had goaded the criminal and who was the innocent, all in order of how clean and wealthy they looked.

In fact, the room was a bright little kitchen, albeit a bit grimy in the sinks, with white tiles and cheery white-and-yellow wallpaper. There were exactly three windows with moth-bitten lace hangings dangling drearily from them, but the sunlight wafting in was welcome enough. There were just three people in the kitchen, and although none of them looked particularly clean or wealthy, it only, strangely enough, made Ginny feel more at ease.

The first person she recognized was the convict Sirius Black, who was not really a convict but she had always thought of him that way and there you go, some habits are hard to break like that. He had leathery skin and prominent cheekbones, wild black hair and dark eyes. For every good trait he had a bad one, and she couldn't help thinking to herself, well, he must have been handsome before Azkaban. Situated on his right was a witch in her early twenties or so. She had a heart-shaped face, short lime-green hair, and wore a black t-shirt with the Holyhead Harpies' logo emblazoned on it. If in only looks alone, she appealed herself to Ginny very, very much.

And Lord all mighty there was her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lupin. The first three weeks of her second year Ginny had performed downright abysmally in his class, until he took her aside one day and asked if anything was the matter. Petrified, she admitted to being the possessed student of the year previous – not only had she been manipulated and possessed, she couldn't remember barely a thing about her classes during her first year. Her parents and brothers had been good tutors over the summer, but none of them were fighters, and where the dark arts was concerned, well, that was an Auror's job. To her relief, Lupin had been more than understanding and had agreed to tutor her in private for the first three months until she caught up. Smiling at the memory, Ginny meant to greet him first, but she was interrupted by the green-haired witch before she had time to complete a syllable.

"Excuse me," the witch said, her dark eyes glinting. "But are you a girl?"

Ginny blinked. Was there some confusion going on? Had one of her brothers posed as a woman? "I would hope so," she replied. "It's the box I always check off on on those tests."

The green-haired witch leaned forward. "Really? A girl?" she said. She sounded intrigued. "Parts and all?"

The men at the table turned to give the woman disapproving looks, although, she noticed, they seemed to be repressing grins. Ginny blinked again, utterly bemused. "You don't want me to show them to you, do you?"

The woman grinned cheekily. "Come sit down! Oh, not so far away, we won't hex you. That's it, that's it. Sorry for the questions, but I just didn't know the Weasley's made girls."

Ginny laughed in earnest now. "First girl in six generations!"

The woman's face went comically shocked. "No! And six brothers, too. I couldn't have done that, no way. I like your earrings," she added offhandedly.

"Ginny, where – oh, there you are, sweetheart." Her father had ambled into the room, sweat shining at his brow and, to her relief, her other bag, this time gravity-bearing and giving off not a twitch of magic. "I fixed it, sorry about that, I'll talk to your brothers later - oh hello, Sirius, I've got something for you from Dumbledore, but I'm afraid I won't be able to give it to you until tomorrow, I've got duty tonight." He smiled at the four of them before making his way out the door, leaving her other suitcase by the door.

The woman with green hair waited a full beat after her father had left the room before remarking, "Ginny, now that's a nice name. What's your full one, Virginia?"

"Oh, I wish. Mum took one look at me and reckoned Ginevra suited me just perfect."

The woman gasped. "No! Well, you're in good company, Ginny, of perfectly respectable - oh don't give me that look, Remus, I can be damn well respectable when I want to - perfectly respectablegirls whose mothers' have given them names you wouldn't give to a house elf. Well, at least you got a good nickname out of yours - mine's Nymphadora, and I just go by my surname alone, honestly."

"That might be helpful information," Sirius Black remarked airily, "had you told her your last name in the first place."

"Oh!" She looked, to Ginny's dismay, a little ashamed of herself. "I'm so bad at all this polite getting-to-know-you small talk crap. My mum, she's met strangers off the street who've ended up coming round for dinner, but just I haven't got the gift. You already know my first name," she paused, grimacing, and added, "but do call me Tonks. You already know Sirius, of course - the not-convict - he's my cousin! - and this is Remus, the self-sacrificing werewolf."

Ginny scooted her chair closer in, propping her chin up on hands, grinning. "It's very nice to meet you, Tonks, Mr. Black. Hi, Professor Lupin."

Lupin smiled widely at her. Sirius Black said, "Hmmph!" and folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat, but judging from his expression Ginny knew he wasn't mad at her. "No need for the formalities," he said with a wink. "Just call me Sirius. So how old are you, Ginny?"

"I'll be fourteen in August," and before he could reply: "and how old are you, Sirius?"

Sirius threw his head back and laughed, the chocolatey laugh she had heard while dawdling outside the kitchen door. Tonks still looked surprised, but she joined Sirius in a chuckle. "I'm sure you get it a lot then," Lupin said kindly. "You do look quite young."

Ginny shrugged. "It's mostly the height, it throws people off guard. Mum can barely pass for five feet, and I'm slated to be not much taller than that. Well. You know, when I was like, six, they thought I was going to be this giant." She smiled reminiscently. "'Course, as Fred and George's unofficial tester, it can't have been much surprise I turned out the way I did."

Sirius laughed again.

Tonks waved a hand. "S'not so bad! I was about three feet tall until I turned fifteen, and look at me now! Most un-midget-like, don't you think? But I had it much, much worse than you did. When I was your age, there'd be no way I could talk so well. Mouth like yours, mark my words, s'long as you know how to use it, that'll take you places."

Ginny wasn't sure she believed Tonks on that count, but she thanked her all the same. She wasn't unaware her ears had become very pink.

The four of them chatted on like that for the next half hour until Sirius suggested as that they were all in the kitchen anyhow they might have some tea. Munching on a biscuit, Ginny reflected. Sirius, Tonks, and Lupin were all very nice and easy to talk to, and they seemed to like her, but she couldn't help it, she had never been in a real conversation with adults before, and certainly not with a former teacher.

With Tonks she felt as if she were speaking with some reunited older sister, and Sirius was like Peter Pan, he simply hadn't grown up, and he reminded her so much of the boys at Hogwarts she talked to him like she would with any other. But as much as she loved him, Lupin made things awkward. Especailly when Tonks brought up Harry.

"You're a year younger than him, aren't you? Harry Potter? You two get on?"

Ginny could swear her heart missed a beat.

"What?" Sirius said, innocently enough. "You don't fancy him, do you?"

Oh God. This was not something she wanted to discuss - not in front of her mother, not with her friends, not with Hermione, and certainly not with Harry's godfather. "I, no. No."

But Sirius and Lupin - her Professor Lupin - exchanged knowing grins.

Tonks grinned down at her, and Ginny's thoughts were in a whirl, desperate for a reprieve. "I, well," she said lamely, much to Sirius's delight, "well, I did used to like him. That way. But I've gotten over that. I have a boyfriend now." She said the last bit happily, an unexpected surprise the last week before the end of term. He'd written to her twice now and if she were a sillier girl she'd have tacked them up in her room.

Lupin's head snapped back to hers. "Who?" he asked in earnest, at the same time Sirius announced, "It won't last." Ginny raised her brows. He brushed his hair back cockily. "Potter men always marry redheads. James did, and so did his father, and his father, and his father. It's not a tradition, it's set in stone. Anyway, I like you," he nodded to Ginny. "Just give him a year or two. Trust me. Just name your kid after me and we'll be even."

Ginny breathed. If she could only just....Glaring, she scooted in closer to Sirius, and motioned for him. "The firstborn," she whispered into his ear, "will be named James."

There was a pause. And then-

"How long have you had this planned out?"

Ginny smirked. "Since I was six. I gave it up when I was eight until it was then reinstated at the age of ten once I met him at King's Cross."

Sirius gaped at her, to Tonks' and Lupin's bemusement.

Pulling back, Ginny smiled cheekily. "You can have the middle name, Sirius. I wouldn't mind that. Anyway," she said, theatrically brusque, "I like you, too."

Sirius scratched at his wild hair. "How closely are we related, again?"

"And then Kingsley says to me, well, it'd be fine disguise if it weren't for one thing. One thing, I ask? Why don't you look at the mirror, he suggests. So I do as he asks. Well, I'm wearing the right clothes, I've got the face down to a point, I mean, I've even got that pompous scowl of his, but oh bugger, there's Rufus Scrimegeour in the mirror looking back at me, but he still has pink hair! And I had wondered why security was giving me such a hard time!"

Lupin snorted into his butterbeer. "Should've just told them you were going through a mid-life crisis. Not too far from the truth, to be honest."

It was just past noon; they had been talking for a little under an hour. Just then the kitchen door opened once more. Ginny turned, thinking it was her mother, come to ask her to help with lunch.

Instead it was a bushy-haired teenager, her trunk beside her, watching them all with great interest.

"Hermione!" Ginny threw out her arms, and Hermione scuttled over into the chair beside her, returning her embrace. "Unnf, I missed you. Hermione, this is Sirius, who you already know," and the two of them greeted each other, "this is Professor Lupin, who of course you know, and this is my long-lost sister, Tonks, who is amazing."

Hermione giggled, reaching for a butterbeer. "Hello. I have so many questions, you know, about the Order and everything. And where is Harry? And Ron?"

Lupin answered. "Ron is upstairs, probably unpacking." Hermione and Ginny exchanged looks; the idea of Ron doing something sensible like unpacking seemed a little farfatched. "And Harry is still with the Dursley's, although I daresay he'll be joining us quite soon. This week or next, I'd guess."

Ginny tugged at Hermione's arm. "Oh, I've got so much to tell you..."