Don't own HP. I know I've been gone for a while doing some Grey's Anatomy fics and having general writer's block, but I'm back now and school's nearly over. A couple more tough weeks and then it's fancy-free until September. Whooh.

The Beauty Of Grace

Ginny Weasley understood a multitude of things. She understood the effects of Polyjuice Potion on twelve year olds, thanks to her brother, and she understood the principles of the 'expelliarmus' charm. She understood that wars were dangerous and that Percy was a prat. But, while she understood many things, the one thing that she couldn't grasp was why Harry Potter continued to pretend she didn't exist as he waltzed around her house, occupying her brother and best friend.

At the moment, he was sitting on the threadbare sofa alone, staring into the crackling fire. She approached him carefully, her steps quiet as she plucked up the courage to sit beside him.

"How are you?" she asked. He turned his head the other way and grunted in response. Ginny could feel her Weasley temper swell as her ears turned scarlet. "No."

Sighing, he spoke to her for the first time since he had arrived at the Burrow. "No what?"

"You don't get to do that. You don't get to walk away on good terms and then come here and treat me like I'm just Ron's little sister again. I've been just as good a friend to you as the rest of them. I was the DA, too. I went to the Department of Mysteries too and I fought Voldemort just as well as anyone else you care to mention. I'm not eleven anymore, Harry, and you don't get to treat me like I'm still the stupid, naïve girl with Riddle's diary."

"Ginny, I – "

"No, don't." The puce shade had spread to her cheeks and she was standing now, glowering down at him as a bewildered expression splayed itself across his features. "You don't like me, that's fine. It's getting to the point where that feeling's getting bloody close to mutual. But at least be man enough to say it instead of leaving any room I enter. I get it, I do – you're saving the world one evil wizard at a time and there's no room for me. That's fine. Really. But you're in my house, and you don't get to ignore me in my house."

"Ginny – " He made to rise from the cushions, protestation in his eyes.

"No, you stay. I'll leave. That's what you'd prefer, right? For me to just go?" She turned around swiftly, her socked feet shuffling in the carpet as she cursed mentally.

"Damn it, Ginny, would you just shut up for half a second?" She froze for a moment, her eyes fixed on the floor ahead of her. She could feel the rapid beat of her pulse against her collarbone and couldn't help but think of how horribly her embarrassment must clash with her hair, as if it mattered. "I don't want to avoid you. I have to, because, if I don't, I might do something crazy. I might do something stupid. I might do something…like this."

She felt his hand graze the small of her back before resting over her stomach, pulling her close to him but keeping her far enough so that their bodies did not touch. He leaned forward, his mouth hovering over her shoulder. She could feel the warmth of his breath and shivers ran down her spine; she arched her back as she shook. Slowly, he allowed his cheek to rest on the side of her neck. "I can't kiss you," he whispered.

"I know," she said. "But I wish that you could."

"Please, Ginny. I can't be around you right now, because when I'm around you I just want to reach out and touch any part of you. I want to make sure that you're still real, that the Ginny I'm in love with still exists."

"What if one day you check and she's gone?"

"Then I'll just pick up loving the Ginny that's left."

"Alright."

He turned his face and kissed her neck softly before walking backwards, releasing her and leaving her with the ghost of his hand over hers as he climbed the rickety staircase.