A/N: READ BOTTOM A/N!

Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling (which I am not) don't you think I'd be writing book 7, and not this? Well, there you go. I'm guess I'm not J.K. So I don't own HP. THERE.

Ten years ago:

Gwen held up a tiny tank-top. We were in one of those cool muggle stores that Gwen seemed obsessed with.

"Gin," she said, "see this? Someday, I'll fit into this. Remember that."

I widened my eyes at the shirt. It was one of those super tiny ones you had to be stick thin to wear. The kind that even the thinnest girls had to squeeze into.

"But Gwen," I began, "that's a pretty small extra small. Like, really."

Gwen rolls her eyes. "Fine, Gin. How about the small, then?"

I let out a sigh of relief. Lordy, if she thought anyone could fit into those extra smalls, especially in muggle sizes, she'd have gone bonkers. You'd have to starve yourself to fit in one of those.

"Good," I said. "Now, let's go get some of those muggle fries you keep talking about."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Gin, I'll never get thin if I keep eating those fatty fries!"

"Oh, c'mon Gwen! You keep telling me about how delicious those fries are, it'd be a sin not to let me try them!" I did feel a bit bad about forcing Gwen to take me to those fries since she was trying to loose weight and all, but I was really hungry, and the way Gwen talked about the fries, she made them sound delicious.

Gwen finally gave in and took me to the fries. I could see why she like them, all covered in grease and salt, but they weren't exactly my type of food. You see, Gwen has these obsessions with muggle things; muggle clothes, muggle foods, muggle everything. Sort of like my dad, except more modernized, I suppose. One way or another, having two muggle-enthusiasts in my life is enough.

When we arrived at the kiosk for the fries, Gwen looked like she was going to explode. You know, the whole 'I-know-I-can't-eat-this-or-I'll-be-unhealthy-but-oh-God-it-looks-good' face. The kind Percy's girlfriend used to get whenever Mum brought out that super-delicious, super-unhealthy pie during holiday dinners.

Just then, a blonde lad passed us, and he flashed a huge grin at me. I smiled back, just to be nice, and Gwen sighed.

"How do you do it Gin?" Gwen asked, paying for the fries and popping one in her mouth. "Really, getting all those fine lads to notice you..."

"All except one," I said, sighing too as we took our seats.

Gwen looked seriously pissed. "GIN!" she cried. "Would you stop going on about Harry? Please. It's annoying. And I thought you were over him anyway."

I flushed. Okay, so maybe I still thought Harry was sexy, but, whatever. "I am," I said, lying. "It's just I want to know so badly why he was never interested." I try one of Gwen's fries. I'm pretty sure my face twists up like Malfoy's every time someone joked about his Mad Eye Moody incident. Ah, that still makes me chuckle...

"Ginny," Gwen said dejectedly, "if you don't like the fries, you don't have to eat them. I suppose they're just for f...f...fa...fat kids like me–" Gwen began to cry.

Great. Just what I needed. I know I didn't really make Gwen cry, but, I still felt bad, because I know she's always envied me because I'm thin. "Oh, Gwen, don't worry, you're not fat–"

And out of nowhere, Harry pops, dressed in a tux. "Harry?" I cried.

"It is I, the great Harry Potter," Harry begins. Then he gets down on one knee.

Oh Lord. For a second I thought Harry was going to propose to me. But that would be silly, as he's fifteen... oh dear, he's just pulled a ring out of thin air.

But, then he turns away from me and to Gwen, who's now super-thin and model-like.

"GWEN!" I cried. "What's happened?"

Gwen just smirks. "Oh, Gin dear, I told you I'd fit into that extra small, didn't I?"

Then, the tag on her blazer suddenly enlarges, reading X-TRA SMALL.

"Gwen," Harry cut in, "I've never met a girl like you. Marry me, baby?"

My jaw dropped open. What. The. Hell. Harry... my Harry, had just proposed to Gwen. And now they were snogging each others' faces off.

The room was spinning. Ron was laughing in his boxers. Penelope was refusing the pie. Spinning. Spinning. Oh hell. We're at the alter now. And they're still snogging–

BANG

BANG

BANG

GINNY!

I wake up with a jolt as the door slams shut. Gwen walks through the door, her platinum blond, pin-straight hair pulled up into a ponytail. She's just gotten back from her morning jog, I suppose, due to the tight bra-like top and shorts.

"Morning Gin," Gwen says, her blue eyes sparkling.

"G'mornin'," I mumble. It's at that point I remember my dream. Or more or so, Gwen snogging Harry. "Gwen," I ask slowly, "you, by any chance, don't fancy Harry, do you?"

Gwen's pouring milk, but her face turns red and she misses her glass by a mile. Oh, hell. Gwen likes Harry. I should have noticed the signals. Her flipping her hair, getting all dressed up when Harry was coming to drop off my birthday present... damn, damn, damn. Not that I still like Harry, so it really shouldn't matter, but I just don't want Gwen anywhere near him. Even though it's been six years since I last snogged him (well, except for when we got drunk that one night...). So I really don't know why I still care. Ugh. Damn.

"I... I'm not sure," Gwen says finally, after a torturously long pause. "I mean, I think I might fancy him... but, Gin, I know you probably wouldn't want me to date him..."

Great, now she's boxed me in. BOXED I TELL YOU, BOXED! I mean, I can't tell her I don't trust her with Harry, nor that I still like him and don't want her to date him...

"No, really Gwen, I don't care."

Curse my lips.

Gwen's face brightens up. "Really? That's good, because I invited him over for breakfast. He should be getting here soon–"

Gwen goes on talking, but I really don't here her. The room was doing that weird spinning thing again. Harry. Breakfast. Me. Looking like this. Breathe. Gwen likes Harry. Damn.

I get off the sofa where I must have dozed off last night (much thanks Gwen for waking me up, not) and head to my room in an attempt to find something moderately sexy, so hopefully Harry will be so taken with me he'll decide that he'd rather snog my face off instead of Gwen's. Not that I want to snog Harry or anything. I just don't want him snogging Gwen.

Jealous, aren't we?

Oh no. It's that little voice again.

Shut up.

You wanna snog Harry, admit it, the voice says again.

Get out of my head, pathetic-attempted-voice-of-reason!

Not that I think it even remotely makes sense that I've got another me inside my head, but slamming the door seemed to do the trick. No more annoying little common-sense me. Squeal.

By now I've managed to get myself into my pathetic excuse for a bedroom. I suppose I've made it look alright, what with the bright orange walls and dark stained wood, but it's still rather small, and it's not the best make-out spot.

Oh dear, it appears Juan left his shirt here. Whatever, I'll never be seeing him again. I'll just sleep in it.

When I make my way over to the closet, I realize what a dilemma I'm in. Is there such thing as morning sexy? Lord, this is going to be tough.

--

Five minutes later, I still haven't figured out what I'm going to where, when Gwen pops into my room.

"So, what do you think?" she asks, twirling around.

Well, that's exactly how I wanted to look. Her platinum blonde hair was up in a messy bun. She wore a low, light blue camisole, and a short dark denim mini with a pair of sneakers. She wore golden bangles on her left wrist.

All in all, the look said, "I'm not looking hot for you, I just look hot all the time."

AAAH! Why couldn't I get that look?

"Fabulous, Gwen," I say with a hint of bitterness in my voice. She doesn't notice.

"Really?" she asks, beaming. "I look good? Not like a slut?"

I could be a bad friend and tell her she does look like a slut, and make her change into something that makes her look like a granny, but because I'm a good person, I tell her she doesn't look like a slut, and kick her out of my room.

Finally I settle on a pair of low-rise hip hugging jeans, ballet flats, and a pale blue halter top to match my dark blue flats. I put studs in my ears and my hair in a messy ponytail and hope it'll do.

There's a knock on our apartment door, and as I pass the mirror, I realize that I do look pretty good.

I rushed out of my room to beat Gwen to the door, and luckily, I did.

I open the door, and there, in the flesh, was Harry. Things have still been a bit awkward since the last time the two of us got drunk, but I think we managed to patch things over.

I spread my arms wide open. "Harry!" I cry. "Good to see you, it's been to long!" Poop, I just saw him three days ago. Now I really was giving away that I like him. NOT that I like him. Er... ow. My brain hurts.

He gives me this odd sort of look, as if he was wondering why I wasn't in the asylum. It's at that point I decide to go to Plan B, since Plan A (Harry magically falling for me just because I opened the door) didn't seem to be working. I drop my hair clip. Right at his foot.

Harry bend down to go and grab it, and so do I (but aha, this is all part of Plan B, A.K.A. Seduce Harry Plan), and my shirt slips down just a little. God, boys are such perverts. You show a bit of cleavage and suddenly it's all they can think about (or look at for that matter).

"Thanks for trying to get my clip for me, Harrrrrry," I say, rolling the 'r.' Then I burst into a laughing fit, and it's suddenly like all my hard work at seducing Harry disappeared, because he was laughing with me too. Ugh. What was meant to sound seductive ended up making him laugh? God knows I need a new plan now.

It's at that point that Gwen comes prancing into the room, her outfit changed, might I add. She was wearing a pair of dark blue (very short) hot pants and high stiletto heels.

My jaw dropped open. And apparently so did Harry's because he drooled a bit on my shoulder.

Gwen shot me a look. You know, one of those Touch-him-and-I'll-pummel-you-into-a-pulp-before-you-can-say-I-look-like-a-whore looks.

Ouch. That one hurt.

"Harry," Gwen purred, "take a seat, please?"

Harry turned red. "Erm, not that I don't want to stay or anything, but... I've just remembered that I have an important auror's meeting in... um, right now, so I have to go... now–"

He was out the door before he got to 'meeting.'

Gwen glared at me. "Gin, what was that about?" she said angrily.

"Oh, pardon me for dropping my hair clip," I snapped and perambulated (excellent word, isn't it? Hermione taught it to me. I use it whenever I want to confuse Ron over simple things.) over to my room, where I then spent half an hour sulking on my bed listening to some old muggle blues station.

For half an hour.

I hate that music.

--

After having enough of that blues music, I chanced a walk out of my room. Who knows what Gwen The Scary will do to me. Ever since she got thinner, she's been right nastier too.

I perambulated into the kitchen, hungry, because, after all, I hadn't had any breakfast, and I see Gwen sulking on the kitchen table with a mug of tea.

"Gin," she mumbled harshly. But at least she acknowledged my presence, right?

"Gwen," I mumbled back, heading to the cupboard for some cereal.

"Gin," Gwen mumbled back, staring hard at her tea.

"Gwen," I mumbled back, pouring the milk on my cereal now.

"Gin," Gwen said, "why'd you do that?"

"Do what?" I asked innocently. Oh no, looks like she might have caught on.

"Make Harry look at you like that," Gwen said with a sigh.

Whoa. Wait. Pause. Rewind. How was he looking at me? I got too caught up in being chosen over Gwen that I hadn't even noticed the way Harry looked at me.

But, I want to make Gwen feel better, despite my oddly fast beating heart, so I say:

"Gwen, he wasn't looking at me any different than the way he always does," I respond.

"That's the thing," Gwen said. "He looks at you like that all the time."

"Gwen, don't be stupid. The last time Harry looked at me like that, without the affects of alcohol, mind you, was right after he defeated Voldemort."

"No, he looks at you like that all the time–"

"You know what, I'll have lunch with him. And I'll dress like a granny, and I'll tell him I think you two should have a go at it, and you'll find you really, truly and deeply, care about each other. How's that?"

Gwen looked at me like I was looney. Maybe I am. Who knows.

"You sure, Gin?" Gwen asked. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable..."

"Gwen," I said, "I'm pretty used to you bringing home boys. Now, come one, lets go for a jog."

--

It's a pretty gloomy morning, I've got to say. The clouds are gray, and the sky's even darker gray. Glad I brought my sweatshirt.

The boys along the streets wolf whistled as Gwen and I passed. Gwen smiled at them, but I just looked away. Probably because they were looking at Gwen and not me.

"C'mon Ginny," Gwen said as I lagged behind her. We rounded the corner and came to Leeman's Café. A bunch of cute lads were bunched around the shop window. They each had a cigarette popped in their mouth, and waved as Gwen passed.

"'Lo, Gwen!" a cute blonde lad called to Gwen. "Care for a cigarette?"

Gwen smiled politely at them. "Nah," she said energetically, running backwards now. "You know how those are terribly unhealthy. Can't imagine I'd ever want to date someone who's a smoker!"

They immediately tossed their cigarettes to the ground and stomped on them.

"Same here!" they called.

Gwen and I continued jogging.

"Gwen," I asked, "can we please take a break?"

Gwen gave me a look. "'Course not, Gin. We've got to exercise, or we might end up... you know."

Oh God. Gwen was still thinking about her fat days. Gah.

--

When we finally got home, I quickly went to Pig (Ron had given him to me when he woke up with poo all over his bed) and quickly scribbled up a note.

Harry-

Want to go to brunch tomorrow? I know you're probably busy with your auror job, but I haven't spoken to you without anybody around in a while. Also, I apologize for how Gwen and I acted... we accidentally put vodka in our coffee instead of milk. My apologies.

Anyway, I'd love for you to come for brunch tomorrow. If you decide to come, be at Leeman's Café between 9:30 and 10. I'll be there waiting.

Much love,

Ginny Weasley

I sealed the letter and gave it to Pig.

"Go now, and get it to Harry as quickly as possible. I don't care if you have to fly through windows to get this to him, all right?"

Pig gave me a look as if to saying 'Love letter?'

God, that owl had some serious mental problems. Or maybe it's just me.

A/N: Okay, I have NO clue how I spawned this. It just... came. And basically I let out all my retardedness into this. I didn't mean to offend anybody when I wrote this, so take absolutely no offense. I know I keep going off and doing different things when I should be worker on The Third Rider, but sometimes I JUST CAN'T WRITE THAT FIC! I'll try to update soon, but I keep getting SO MUCH FREAKING HOMEWORK. And I'm not even in high school.

I hope you enjoyed, and please, please, please review, and no flames.