This takes place in HBP during that period of time Harry spends at the Burrow doing whatever. I decided to elaborate on said "whatever." :D

REVISED: 7/8/10

"Oi! I can't believe you're still writing Vicky!"

"I can't believe it still bothers you so much—and it's Viktor!"

Harry sighed at the sound of his best friends bickering. Ron and Hermione were two of his favorite people in the world, and he would trust them with his life, but sometimes it would be nice to get a spot of peace and quiet for more than half an hour.

He rolled over on Ron's bed and tried to finish reading page twenty-one of his well-thumbed copy of Quidditch through the Ages, but the words kept running together in his mind, and he ended up reading the same passage three times. The loud conversation—which was threatening to kick into yet another one of their blazing rows—between Ron and Hermione jarred his concentration.

"Bothered about it, am I? Don't make me laugh! I'm not bothered by it—I'm just looking out for you! For all you know, your darling Vicky could be crazy—totally barmy—a complete nutter—"

"A complete nutter? Don't be ridiculous, Ron! When has Viktor ever been anything more than a perfect gentleman—which is more than I can say for you—"

"He must be nutters if he's interested in you!"

Automatically, Harry winced; if that didn't set Hermione off, Harry didn't know what would. Much as he felt for his mate, he had gone too far in his last statement—and it was, after all, a bit hypocritical of him to call anyone interested in Hermione nutters. . . .

The deadly silence was punctured with screaming that exceeded, if it was even possible, the previous volume of Hermione's voice. "RONALD WEASLEY, YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!"

Harry thought now might be the right time to make his escape. He set down Quidditch through the Ages and crept out of Ron's room toward the stairs, hoping that he could get out of the house without being noticed. As he passed the room in which Hermione was staying, he caught sight of Ron, face screwed up in rage and looking, somehow, taller than he really was, standing ten feet away from Hermione who was clutching something in her fists, her cheeks marked with red patches and her bushy hair wilder than ever.

"WHY?" Ron bellowed back, shaking a finger at her accusingly. "YOU KNOW IT'S TRUE—ONLY A BLOKE WHO'S OUT OF HIS MIND WOULD FANCY YOU—"

At this point, he broke out into a flat-out run, racing down the stairs as quickly as he could. Luckily Fate seemed to be on his side for once, as he managed to reach the kitchen and dart out the back door just as Hermione began yelling at a pitch very near that of one of Mrs. Weasley's Howlers, "YOU ARE THE THICKEST, MOST INSENSITIVE—"

He sighed with relief as he slammed the door shut and Hermione's angry screeches became significantly quieter, though he thought he could still hear snatches of her tirade. He stepped towards the cluttered vegetable garden, observing the tomato patches that looked as though they were close to reaching three feet in height and the fat, potato-like gnomes running amok. The sight caused a broad smirk to emerge on his face as he imagined, not for the first time, the horror that would register on Aunt Petunia's prissy face if she saw the overgrown state of the garden.

"—OBNOXIOUS—"

When Hermione's voice, much louder than before, managed to reach his ears, Harry quickly moved forward. It was only after he was far enough away from the shouting match between Ron and Hermione that he realized he was lost. Looking around, he noticed with vague interest that he was at the base of a hill. Then his eyes caught a vibrant patch of something red up ahead, and he felt himself smile automatically as he realized it was the hair of Ginny Weasley.

"Hey—Ginny!"

The youngest Weasley turned around from where she was sitting at the top of the hill, and her face split into a smile as she saw Harry jogging toward her. "Oh hello, Harry," she said brightly, waving as he pulled up in front of her. "What're you doing here?"

"Oh, Ron and Hermione are having a go at it again." He watched in amusement as Ginny's breezy expression instantly turned into a grimace.

"Again?" Harry couldn't help but laugh at the deeply disgusted nature of Ginny's voice as she went on, "Those two are always rowing. It's been six years—you'd think they'd sit themselves down and just admit their true feelings to each other already!"

He nodded, chuckling. "If only." He looked over his shoulder back at the Burrow rather nervously before saying, "Er—would you mind if I sat here with you for a while? Ron, erm, said—something—that makes me think they'll be at it for a while. You know how those two can be. . . ."

"Oh yes," said Ginny, very seriously, though her eyes twinkled. "Hermione can rival Mum if Ron works her up to it. Speaking of Ron and his idiot attitude, what was that something he said to her?"

"Er," said Harry as he unconsciously flattened his unruly hair, "he—he told Hermione Krum was mad because . . . because he, well, fancies Hermione . . . and that, ah, only someone out of their mind would like her, you know . . . that way . . ."

"WHAT?"

Harry jumped back at the burst of noise that had escaped Ginny, and he cowered as the redhead drew herself to her full height: Ginny was small in stature, but she was unmistakably very scary, almost as scary as Mrs. Weasley herself, when she wanted to be.

"Er—"

"Oh, I'll kill him, the bloody prat," snarled Ginny. All good humor lost from her freckled face, she clenched her fists and spun around to face the house. "That is, if Hermione doesn't murder him first. How dare he say that to her—he's such a bloody hypocrite, too—I'll send giant bogeys flying up his face if he doesn't apologize to her—"

"Er . . . G-Ginny?" said Harry weakly, taking a few steps back uncertainly to avoid her wrath. "D'you—d'you mind if I sit now?"

"Oh!" said Ginny, and she looked back at him in surprise, as though she had just noticed he was standing there. "Oh! Yeah, of course, sit down. That certainly is something that would put Hermione at perfect liberty to fight with him. . . ."

"Er," he said again, taking a few wary steps forward and sitting. Ginny plopped down beside him, still trembling with fury.

"That absolute git—Hermione had better hex him into oblivion—if she doesn't, I will. . . ."

Wisely, Harry said nothing as she continued to simmer and glower darkly at the house as though it were Ron, her deep brown eyes positively sparking with anger on Hermione's behalf. At last, after several minutes of muttered threats and insults, her rage seemed to stem, and a silence fell over them. He glanced sideways at her, still rather cautious, and saw that she had closed her eyes and was taking deep breaths as though she were trying to calm herself.

Strangely enough, he couldn't help but notice the way strands of her hair were fluttering around in the breeze.

And at that precise moment, her eyes blinked open.

"Harry, why are you staring at me? Have I got grass on my face?"

"Er," stammered Harry, mortified at being caught, "n-no, your face is perfectly fine. I—" And he stopped talking, knowing that he was just making himself out to be a bigger prat with every word. Ginny arched an eyebrow, and he quickly turned his face away, knowing from the sudden way his cheeks were burning that he was blushing brightly.

"Erm, so . . ." Harry cast wildly around for a subject to defuse the awkward silence that had arisen, settling on the first that came to mind. "You and Dean Thomas, eh?"

A small smile tugged at her lips, and as she tossed her head up defiantly, strands of her fiery hair flew over her shoulder. "You too, then?" she groaned, rolling her eyes in good-natured exasperation. "Did Ron put you up to this? He's badgered me already, the great bloody git, so I don't need you to annoy me too—"

"No, no, he didn't tell me to—er—ask you," Harry said hastily, shaking his head and throwing his hands up into the air. "I, erm, just remembered something you said on the train—that, um, you and Dean . . . well, you know. . . ."

"No, actually," said Ginny, widening her eyes and looking at him innocently, "I don't know. Tell me, Harry, what d'you mean?"

Harry had never been so uncomfortable before in his life except, perhaps, when Cho had kissed him under the mistletoe. He felt his face heat up very quickly as he stammered and averted her laughing brown eyes. Ginny's lips were twitching furiously at his discomfort. "I—er—you know, er . . . you—him—t-to-together . . ."

"Together doing what?" Ginny gazed up at him, grinning in a positively evil way. "Homework? A project for Potions? Oh, I know what you mean—studying Transfiguration in the library!"

Harry frowned at her, a sudden wave of disapproval sweeping through him. "Oh, so you were in the library together? Just studying, then, were you?"

The smile on Ginny's face vanished as though he had thrown a bucket full of Stinksap at it. "Yes, as a matter of fact," she said crossly. "Why are you so curious anyway, Harry? It's none of your concern. You're not one of my brothers—and it wouldn't be any of your business even if you were."

He felt, strangely enough, half-irritated and half-relieved at the words. "Oh really?" he said sternly, attempting at the elderly-brother scowl that he imagined Ron would pull and crossing his arms. "How d'you know I don't think of you as my younger sister?"

"Don't lie, Harry," Ginny said in a flat sort of voice, turning away from him to stare straight in front of her as she pulled somewhat viciously at the grass. "I was never more than your best mate's younger sister to you—not your younger sister and certainly not your friend. So don't try to pull that older-brother card on me."

And for some reason Harry once again felt funny at her words, as though something inside his chest were stirring. He blinked and swallowed, feeling a twinge of guilt that he hadn't bothered to befriend Ginny earlier; she really was a great person, as he had only recently discovered. "I . . . I'm sorry," he said, watching the grass without really seeing it. "I should have gotten to know you better before."

Ginny chuckled tightly, and it was an odd, hard sort of laugh that struck a chord in his memories, but the thing of which it reminded him he couldn't remember. "Don't be," she said, shrugging casually while still looking at the pale blue sky. "We're friends now, aren't we? No hard feelings, right?"

The strange feeling had returned, though it was stronger this time. He swallowed again and nodded, muttering, "Yeah, yeah . . . friends."

She glanced over at him, looking a bit puzzled. "Harry, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said shortly, avoiding her gaze.

Ginny did not look convinced. "Seriously, Harry, what's wrong—"

"I'm fine," he said again, more firmly this time, and because she raised her eyebrows at him he added, "Really, Ginny, I'm perfectly fine. Don't worry about me."

Ginny looked deeply skeptical but did not push the issue; she stood up, brushed her knees off, and said, "Well, alright. We'd better get back into the house before Ron and Hermione set the house on fire or kill each other. Actually, bugger that; I'd love to see Hermione hex Ron into next year." Harry laughed but felt that tremulous quake in his chest again. He frowned slightly in confusion: what was wrong with him? Ginny probably thought he was off his rocker by now.

She cast him another concerned look and shook her head a bit before smiling faintly at him and setting off. And for the fourth time that day, his chest experienced that strange feeling when he noticed that she did not once look back.

7/8/10: Totally abused ellipses and dashes here, but whatever. :D Yay for HarryGinny and RonHermione. Hope they were IC - let me know if they weren't, 'kay?