Author Notes: I wrote this before Order of the Phoenix, uploaded it to and then when I had the edited version finished just this month, I did the incredibly intelligent thing of deleting the original story. So I've lost all my old reviews, which makes me very sad, but all that means is that you dear readers must leave plenty to make up for it! And… off you go!
Chapter One: The Beginning of Things
Ginny sighed as she heard her door creak open. She peeked a glance at the clock, trying to pretend to be asleep. "Too early for Saturday," it read.
"Ginny, dear?"
It was her mother. The indomitable Mrs. Weasley, come to try and get a good mother-daughter talk in before the rest of the family woke up for breakfast. Not that Ginny really resented it; being the only girl in the family did mean that she and Mrs. Weasley had that "unique bond" that women can have.
Ginny mumbled something as incoherently as she could. As much as she did love her mother, she just didn't want to talk right now. First day back from Hogwarts, feeling that press of family presence--she just needed a little more time, a little more space.
The bed sagged as Mrs. Weasley sat down and put an arm on Ginny's back.
"Ginny? Ginny, come downstairs for some tea. Let's talk."
Ginny sighed again. She knew from past experience that her mother would not leave until she rolled over and said that she'd be down in a minute. Of course, when she'd been a few years younger, it hadn't seemed so intrusive. She rolled, slightly reluctantly. "Let me brush my teeth, Mum."
Molly Weasley patted Ginny on the shoulder and left her. Ginny rolled further over to search for her slippers, slid out of bed, and made for the bathroom. Once she'd locked the door--who knew when Ron would barge in, never knocking--she slipped off her nightdress and examined herself in the mirror. Puberty was treating her pretty well, she decided. The few pimples she'd had before final exams last term were fading, and her breasts were definitely there. Still a little gangly, she thought, appraising her reflection. Oh, well, you can't have everything. I'd rather not have bigger breasts if it means having pimples.
She brushed her teeth, used the toilet, washed her hands, and made her way downstairs, where Mrs. Weasley was pouring two cups of breakfast tea and setting out some scones. Ginny halted in the doorway.
"What's the occasion, Mum?"
"Hmm?"
"Scones." Ginny pointed, walking over to the table. "We never have scones in the morning. You told me when I was nine that they were expensive to make every day..."
"Oh, I thought just this one time, dear. Your first day back and everything... Special occasion..." Mrs. Weasley's casual tone of voice didn't deceive Ginny.
"Mum, what's up?" Oh, no, thought Ginny. This had better not be The Talk.
"Well, dear... I was noticing in the laundry last night...your underthings..." Mrs. Weasley was definitely not looking at her daughter. "Your body is changing, and, well." She finally looked up. "I thought we should talk without the boys around," she finished firmly.
"Oh, Mum, is this about my period and sex and all that?" It is The Talk, thought Ginny with growing unease.
Molly Weasley looked distinctly startled at the word "sex." "Well, yes, it is. I was talking with your father last night, and we---"
Ginny felt her face go red. "You told Dad about this?" So much for keeping the boys out of this! It was okay for Mum to know, but Dad?
"Your father and I have been wondering for several years now when you would mature, and now that it's happened, there's some advice I wanted to give you." Mrs. Weasley seemed to be steeling herself for the coming awkwardness.
"Mum, I know all about the plumbing--insert tab A into slot B and all that, and I know that I shouldn't have sex until I'm married."
"No, dear, it isn't the plumbing I wanted to tell you about--goodness, you have six brothers, I figured you'd have seen them naked enough to know what happens--it's, well, it's boys."
"Huh?"
"Boys will notice you now, Ginny. You must have noticed it."
Ginny thought--the Yule Ball, the way Neville, who did step on her feet often, had stammered to her, "Y--you look nice, Ginny," as she entered the common room, even in her horribly second-hand dress robes. His eyes had distinctly traveled up and down her figure before, almost shocked at himself, he had offered her his arm. Ginny pulled herself back to the present.
"--was so happy when you owled about getting dress robes for the Yule Ball, Ginny," her mother was saying. "Finally getting to dress up! And that Longbottom boy is such a nice young man, I didn't worry." Mrs. Weasley frowned. "But other boys will notice you, dear, and they won't be so gentlemanly." Her cheeks were going distinctly pink as she chose her next words, but she retained eye contact with her daughter. "I just want you to be careful, Ginny. Don't let your desires get in the way of your intelligence, and always use a contraceptive."
That last had thrown her for a loop. "Wha--?"
"There are a few useful spells that aren't generally taught until much later, and most certainly not at Hogwarts, which I wanted to give you for when you made your choice."
Ginny was still staring. "My choice?" she stammered. Was her mother actually telling her to go and have sex? She was fourteen, for heavens' sake! All she really wanted was a good kiss--not that embarrassed cheek-bump that Neville had done after the Ball, but a good, solid, tongue-in-the-mouth-bodies-pressed-together-sweaty-palms kiss. Just thinking about it made her tingle in new regions. Sex was something still foreign to her. Oh, she did know the logistics of it, but getting naked with a guy was something creepy.
"Ginny? Are you listening?"
"Mum!" she finally found her tongue. "I don't know if--" I want to know this right now, she wanted to say, but trailed off at the determined look on her mother's face. "er... okay... I guess..."
"Good!" Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands together and took her wand off the countertop. "As a young girl, I didn't really believe in these, but those were the old days, when girls got married at nineteen and had their first child by twenty... But after you came along, I realized I was getting a little old for this and, especially with your father being held back at the Ministry by Fudge and our income not growing... ah, well." She sighed distantly. "The first spell is Contraceptio..."
It wasn't until Harry came to visit that Ginny began to understand the wisdom of her mother's talk. His meeting with Voldemort--she forced herself to think the name out loud, no matter how terrifying it was--seemed to have aged him somewhat. His green eyes--"as green as a fresh-pickled toad" came the words from her first year Valentine--seemed less sparkling now, and more appraising of the world around him. It was as though he was seeing everything and filing it away for future reference, not just letting the visions slide over him. Although she knew he'd been through hell--he'd told them everything on the train ride back--and that he had nightmares--the first night of his visit, she heard him yelling wordlessly in terror, and heard her mother creeping as silently as the house could manage up the stairs to Ron's attic room--there was something very alluring about him. It wasn't simply the "Omigod, it's Harry Potter" experience of her first three years at Hogwarts; it was... it was... well, he was more mature than any other boy she knew. Ron only cared about Quidditch, and, while he wasn't exactly a class clown the way Fred and George were, he never acted particularly intelligently. Especially not with Hermione there, too.
Hermione's parents had agreed to let her come and stay with the Weasleys again this summer, for the last two weeks of the holidays. She and Ginny were staying in the same room, which meant late-night gossip sessions about boys and, sometimes, Voldemort and the disturbing news which their parents tried to shield them from but failed.
On the first evening Hermione was there, Ginny made her tell about Krum and the visit to Bulgaria.
"It was loads of fun," Hermione said. "But it wasn't all that romantic, really. Really!" she added to Ginny's raised eyebrows. "I mean, not in the sense of romance. We kissed a few times..."
Ginny giggled uncontrollably. "What was it like?" she asked, unbearably curious. "I've only been kissed by Neville, and, you know..."
Hermione let out a snort. "What was that like?" she asked, still chuckling.
"He kinda bumped my cheek with his nose, and ran."
Hermione guffawed. "That sounds like Neville."
"What was it like with Krum?" asked Ginny eagerly.
"Well... it was... it was nice," Hermione began slowly. "I didn't really let him put his tongue in my mouth--it was really gross the one time he did--but we just kissed lips to lips. It's nice, it feels good." For once the older girl seemed at a loss for words.
"What else?"
"Oh, we went on walks, held hands, flew together in the mountains--"
"What, on the same broomstick?"
"Once, yes." Hermione shuddered. "I got sick... we thought that it would be better if I had my own broom--like the way the driver never gets carsick."
Ginny was lost for a minute. Must be a Muggle thing. They'd covered the existence of cars in Muggle Studies, but she hadn't come across carsick yet. I'll ask Dad. Hermione was still talking.
"...so he lent me his old Nimbus 2001 and we flew around the lakes and the countryside. It's nice up there, since there are so few Muggles that we don't have to fear being seen, unlike here. I got to actually like flying, and so Krum let me keep his old broom--that was really nice of him. And we went to a nearby city. Because there's so much local village witchcraft historically, we didn't really have to conceal that much. His parents could buy potions ingredients and dress however they wanted without being noticed. Really different from Britain."
Hermione sounded to Ginny as though the social studies of Bulgaria had been worth more than the walks with Krum. She asked Hermione.
"Well, I guess it was about half and half," she said honestly. "Krum is nice and very gentlmanly--he never once tried to touch my breasts, actually--but the differences in culture were really fascinating! I wrote an extra essay for Binns' Eastern European Wizarding History assignment based on the market stall arrangements, which apparently are the same as they were 2000 years ago--" Hermione seemed about to launch into a lecture, so Ginny mentioned the time and hastily pretended to be tired. Whether Hermione was fooled or simply got the hint, Ginny could never figure out.
Next morning the amusements began. When the two girls came down to breakfast, Ron and Harry were already there, reading their Hogwarts letters. "Morning, mum," said Ginny by way of announcement.
"Morning, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione.
Ron looked up and accidentally put his elbow in the butter dish. No one noticed but Ginny, fortunately, and she hid her smirk as Ron hastily wiped his elbow clean.
Mr. Weasley, looking exhausted from the past week at the Ministry, handed Ginny and Hermione their letters. Hermione's was considerably thicker than everyone else's. Probably a prefect letter, Ginny thought, unsurprised. Opening her own letter, she saw that it had the usual information about the Hogwarts Express, in addition to a new booklist:
Fourth year students will require:
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4 by Miranda Goshawk
The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts by Owen Grate
A Longue and Exhaustingue
Surveye of Magicall
Anti-dotes, edited by Vince Zabini
Ginny breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. She still remembered her first year at Hogwarts, when purchasing that incredibly long list of new books had meant second-hand robes and Bill's old wand. Even with Harry giving her the Lockhart books, her mother still hadn't been able to get much. With only three new books, all of which could easily be found used, things would be a bit easier.
She glanced at Hermione, who was looking very happy, holding a sheet of parchment that looked suspiciously like a prefect letter. Ginny could see the gleam of metal in the envelope that meant there was a badge in there. Ron and Harry were looking up, too.
"Did they make you a Prefect?" asked Ron, sounding slightly disgusted but at the same time happy for her.
"Yes, they did," breathed Hermione. "Ooh, this is wonderful. There's a long letter here about all the privileges that Prefects get--extended library hours and book loan periods! And I get my own room, too--that'll be nice for studying for my O.W.L.s..."
Ginny could see Ron's ears perk up at "my own room, too." When he saw her looking, those ears went red. She smiled inwardly.
"Goodness, Hermione, all you've done for the past four years is study!" Ron exlaimed to cover his sudden interest. "Aren't you ever going to relax?"
Hermione dropped her letter angrily. "Ron, O.W.L.s are really important! How you do on them can determine your entire future! Besides--"
"All right, Hermione!" Ron exlaimed, a little taken aback at her vehemence. He went back to his porridge.
Hermione sniffed and continued reading her letter, but silently. Her ears were slightly pink, too.
Harry and Ginny looked at each other and grinned. This was going to be an interesting year, Ginny thought, feeling definitely too happy to see Harry smiling.
"Well, I guess we'll be going to Diagon Alley today," announed Mrs. Weasley, as Fred and George came into the kitchen to get their letters. "Arthur, can you come?"
"Sorry, Molly--I should go into work. Fudge said something yesterday afternoon about 'You should all have a nice relaxing weekend, stay home...' that made me a bit suspicious."
"D'you reckon something's up?" Ron asked eagerly.
"I don't know, honestly," replied Mr. Weasley. "I just want to make sure that he doesn't overstep his boundaries. Dumbledore--" he broke off at a look from Mrs. Weasley.
"What?" all six people at the table asked together.
"Nothing, nothing..." mumbled Mr. Weasley, but Ginny saw that his ears were distinctly pink. He was hiding something, and she was sure it had to be about You-Know--oh, all right! Voldemort.
They arrived in Diagon Alley around mid-morning, without losing Harry this time to Floo Powder. First stop was Gringotts, awkward as it always was. Ginny didn't blame Harry for having money, nor did she particularly blame her parents for not having money. They never went hungry, like the homeless she'd read about in Muggle Studies. And she'd learned enough glamour and illusion charms after her embarrassing first year to keep herself looking fairly tidy, despite the second-hand clothes.
As they made their way back down the alley, having separated outside the bank (Mrs. Weasley grabbed both Fred and George, determined not to let them out of her sight), Ginny waved to a few people from Hogwarts--Colin Creevey, of course, with his perpetual camera, Neville, being told off by his grandmother for losing his booklist, and Ingrid Tuee, Mela Schwartz, and Zoe Campbell, her fellow fourth-year Gryffindors. Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn't objected to her joining them, so she followed them into Florean Fortescue's, where Harry bought them all cherry-and-honeycomb ice creams. They ate them on their way to Quality Quidditch Supplies, where the boys ogled over the new Firebolt Two--"price on request."
"Wonder if you'll get that one as a gift, too?" said Ron, looking sideways at Harry. "Siri..." he broke off at a look from Hermione, who jerked her head towards Ginny. Wonder what they're keeping from me this time?
"You like Quidditch, too, Ginny?" asked Harry.
"A little..." she began, a little shyly. "It's a lot of fun to watch."
"Ginny used to play Seeker in our family games," said Ron, much to Ginny's amazement. Since when had he ever mentioned that to anyone?
"I'm not that good," mumbled Ginny.
"C'mon Ginny, you were okay."
"Why haven't you tried out for Gryffindor?" asked Harry, who then flushed as everyone stared at him pointedly. "Oh."
After a moment, the boys went inside to look at robes, leaving the two girls outside. "Shall we just ditch them?" Ginny asked Hermione.
"Oh...I don't know..." Hermione's eyes peered in, following Ron's horrible Chudley Cannons hat.
"Come on, they'll catch up with us in the bookstore." And Hermione let herself be pulled away.
"So where's Percy?" asked Hermione.
"He and Dad had a big argument about You-Know.. sorry, Voldemort. I know Harry's trying to get us all to say his name, but it's tough." Hermione nodded.
"They argued?" she prompted.
"Yeah. Percy got really upset when Dad wouldn't accept Fudge's official statements about the whole Tri-Wizard Tournament thing, and Crouch's death, and all that. I have the newpaper clippings at home, you can look at them when we get back. Anyways, they had this big row, and Percy said that he wasn't coming home until Dad came to his senses."
"He left?" Hermione mouth hung open, revealing those now-very-straight teeth.
"Yeah. I mean, he is nineteen--almost twenty, actually--so he's old enough to find his own flat. I think it's actually not too far from here. Mum checks up on him every week or so, but he's never happy to see her, I hear. I went with her once." Ginny paused for a moment remembering Percy's complete inacceptance of the fact that she, too, believed Harry's story about the night Cedric died.
"How can you be so... so..."
"Honest with myself?" she'd replied. Percy had sighed.
"Ginny, Mr. Fudge"--she'd had to keep from giggling at that title--"would have made an announcement if You-Know-Who were back. I see no reason not to trust the man in charge of the entire magical community!"
"What about Hagrid?" she'd shot back, a little too forcefully. "My first year!"
"A perfectly understandable mistake, Ginny!" he'd replied pompously. "Look at Hagrid's history--and look at his blood! Half-giant!"
"You were quick enough to like him when you were at Hogwarts!"
Mrs. Weasley had come back out of the bathroom at that point and they'd stopped arguing.
Ginny realized Hermione was waiting for her to continue. "The flat is really small, but he keeps it ridiculously clean--at least when we're there. He hasn't disowned his name yet, fortunately, and Dad thinks he'll come to his senses at some point. Although I do like not having him at home," she admitted.
The girls walked silently for a minute, and eventually paused in front of Eeylops' Owl Emporium.
"That grey one is beautiful, don't you think?" asked Hermione, to break the silence.
Ginny agreed. Then she voiced the question that had been bothering her since breakfast. "Hermione, do you like Harry?"
"What?" asked Hermione, turning to face her. "Of course I like Harry, he's my friend. We've been friends ever since that troll incident our first year..." she broke off at the look on Ginny's face. "Oh, you mean do I like him!" she giggled. "No, he's all yours."
Ginny felt her face turn scarlet and her heart shoot into her throat. "Is it that--that--obvious?" she managed after a moment.
"At least to me."
"Does Harry know?" Ginny asked in a small voice, turning to look again at the grey owl, who knew nothing of her old imagined romances with the famous Harry Potter, and now her inexplicable, yet simpler, desires to be near him.
"I think so."
Ginny sighed, watching the owl open one yellow eye to regard her imperiously, then fall back asleep, its head under its wing. "Do I have a chance against all the other girls?" she asked wistfully.
"Well... to be absolutely honest, your only other real competition is Cho. I have Arithmancy with her, and before she and Cedric were together," Hermione paused sadly, "well, before the Yule Ball, she used to ask me a lot of questions about Harry. But I don't know exactly how much Harry feels for her..."
Ginny breathed a small sigh of relief. Thank goodness Hermione was honest. "I just thought that, because he's, y'know, famous, that he'd, well... have too many other girls liking him to pay attention to me." There was the crux of it, she'd finally said it.
"I really don't think you need to worry too much," said Hermione firmly. "Just let him get to know you more." She fell silent, and they continued wandering down the alley toward the bookstore.
"He's changed," said Ginny after a while.
"You mean, since Voldemort?"
"Yeah. He's--I don't know--more serious, more concentrated." They passed Madam Malkin's, and Ginny eyed the light green robes in the window for a moment before telling herself a firm no. Mum had given her some money for her books and supplies, and, as much as the dress robes looked perfect, they would eat into her budget.
"I know what you mean," said Hermione, looking at some lavender robes. Ginny could see the older girl doing the same mental dialogue that she'd just done.
"Wonder if there'll be a Yule Ball this year?" Ginny asked.
"Hmm..."
At that point the boys caught up with them. "You looking at clothing?" said Ron derisively to Ginny.
"You should talk! You just spent twenty minutes looking at clothing!"
"We did not!"
"What do you call Quidditch robes?"
Harry laughed. "She's right, Ron, give it up."
He has changed, thought Ginny. Last year he would have argued back.
"I think the lavender would look good on Hermione, don't you, Ron?" Ginny asked, half-seriously.
"Yeah, it would," replied Ron, obviously without thinking. He blushed as he remembered that everyone was there. "I mean, anything would..." Insert foot A into mouth B, thought Ginny, barely controlling her snigger.
Hermione blushed too. "The green would look good on Ginny, wouldn't it, Harry?" she asked over Harry's guffaw.
"Um..." Harry looked at Ginny. She looked back, fully aware that she wasn't blushing, and that his eyes were tracing her figure. "It would. Go with your complexion." Was that appreciation in his eyes? She hoped so.
They made it to Flourish and Blotts without Ron's feet getting completely to his stomach. Just halfway, she thought, making a note to talk to Ron if she could before term started. After a relatively uneventful time purchasing their books and Harry insisting that he treat them to a dinner at the Leaky Cauldron, they Floo'd back home.
