Non-HBP compliant. Post DH. I'm taking some licence with the timing and the events in the books, please forgive me. It's also strange because I'm usually against doing this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters that J.K Rowling created. I'm just grateful that she allows fans to play with them for a little bit. I'm not making any money from this fiction.

CHAPTER 1

Harry Potter did not like Thursdays. In fact, it would be fair to say that he liked Thursdays less than any other day of the week, although any day where he did not have see Severus Snape, his old Potions Master from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, generally turned out ok. Harry Potter disliked Thursdays because they had a habit of 'happening' to him, often causing him to spend his weekend in the hospital wing of the school. It seemed odd that most of the incidents that occurred over his six years at Hogwarts happened on Thursdays. Even in what was meant to be his seventh year at Hogwarts, which he skipped in favour of hunting horcruxes and killing Lord Voldemort, Thursdays proved rather tricky to negotiate.

If he had a favourite day, then surely that must be Saturdays. Saturday mornings during Quidditch season at Hogwarts found him riding his broomstick as Seeker for the Gryffindor House Team. Quidditch was Harry's favourite sport and one at which he was particularly good. Professor McGonagall spotted his talent back in his first year and recommended him as Seeker - the youngest Seeker in a century. She had also arranged a Nimbus 2000 racing broomstick for him that year and he had used that until his third year when it had been smashed by the Whomping Willow during a mid-quidditch match run-in with Dementors who guarded the wizard prison Azkaban. Rather ironically, his prized international standard Firebolt broomstick was sent to him by Sirius Back, who the Dementors had been hunting at the time. The same Sirius Black who later turned out to be Harry's godfather and an innocent man.

From appearances, Harry Potter looked like a very normal teenager. With unmanageable jet-black hair, piercing green eyes and old, comfortable clothing he looked nothing like the average wizard, let alone the most famous wizard of all time. His hair hid the famous scar that was shaped like a lighting bolt and that was given to him at the age of one by the Dark wizard Lord Voldemort after he killed Harry's parents.

Hidden was the way Harry liked it.

Not that it helped a great deal, he was still recognized constantly and repeatedly asked to endorse everything from new broomsticks to the latest in wizardly fashion. He had never liked being "The Boy Who Lived" or "The Chosen One" and had never played the celebrity like his Defence against the Dark Arts teacher in second year, Gilderoy Lockhart. Things had turned out even worse when Lockhart was found to be a fraud who took credit for things that other witches and wizards had done.

Since defeating Voldemort in the epic Battle of Hogwarts Harry had lived with his favourite wizard family, the Weasleys, at the Burrow. After Hogwarts, the Burrow was Harry's favourite place to be. He ate delicious food prepared by Mrs. Weasley who seemed to consider him chronically underweight and who usually insisted on second and sometimes third helpings at mealtimes. He also got to hang out with his best friends Ron and Hermione and play Quidditch with Ron and all Ron's brothers except for Fred who had died at the Battle of Hogwarts and Percy who had never really been interested in Quidditch anyway. George, Fred's twin, still seemed a bit off sometimes despite the fact that two years had passed.

Harry couldn't blame him.

On those days, Harry and George would take themselves off to Fred's grave and get through a bottle of Firewhisky while updating Fred on what had happened since the last time they had spoken to him. Harry still felt guilty because of all the people that died and particularly Fred although George had told him in no uncertain terms that Fred wouldn't have wanted Harry to blame himself and instead would have fed him one of the Ton-Tongue Toffees that the twins had invented. Both Harry and George always felt better after their little 'ritual' as they called it even though they had hangovers the next day until Mrs. Weasley made a hangover potion for them. But the best thing about staying at the Burrow (although Harry wouldn't admit it to any of the boys) was being around the youngest Weasley. The only girl for seven generations born into the Weasley family, sporting the traditional Weasley flaming red hair and with the ability to use the Bat-Bogey hex well enough to scare the living daylights out of most people - especially her brothers, Ginny Weasley was a strong witch, a compassionate girl and a gifted Quidditch player.

Harry had begun to develop some feelings for Ginny during his sixth year even though he had never said anything because he thought Ron would kill him. This was quite a turnaround for Harry as Ginny had had a crush on him since she was little and had only outgrown it by his fifth year. He hadn't seen her for an entire year until the Battle of Hogwarts - where she insisted on fighting despite her age - and then only briefly before he had gone out to meet Voldemort. Now she was seeing Dean Thomas and Harry wasn't about to break them up just so he could find out that Ginny didn't like him.

Ever since defeating Voldemort, Harry had had trouble sleeping and had taken to sitting on the front step of the Burrow to have Hot Chocolate and watch the sun come up. He found this rather relaxing until one Monday morning when he had come outside in his usual daze and very nearly walked into Ginny who was also drinking Hot Chocolate.

"W-w-what are you doing out here?" asked Harry.

"You think you're the only one who enjoys sneaking out here?" replied Ginny somewhat tartly. "I've been doing this since I was nine." She sniffed as she said this.

On closer inspection, Harry could see that her eyes were slightly bloodshot and that she appeared to have been crying. He felt a bit nervous. Dealing with crying witches was not his speciality. He hadn't known what to do when Hermione had spent nights crying after Ron left them in the forest and the whole Cho Chang incident still bothered him even after Hermione had explained it all and then said that Ron had the emotional range of a teaspoon. That was the sum of his entire experiences with crying girls (not that there had been any girls since the fiasco with Cho) and he had hoped that that would be it. Still, this was Ginny and that made it different. He sat down next to her.

"Are you ok? I mean, is everything alright?" said Harry, making a point looking in at the barely showing horizon and not at Ginny.

"I'm fine!" she said. Harry paused. He had two options. Ask again, and risk being Bat-Bogey Hexed into the next week (he knew she had her wand on her somewhere) or make a joke and change the topic of conversation.

"Isn't that my line?" he asked opting for the less painful of the two and feeling very un-Gryffindor. Voldemort had been easier to face than this, so he felt a bit justified.

She smiled, just a little, and Harry's heart leapt. He had done it, he had managed not to get cursed into oblivion and he had made her smile!

"Usually just before we carry you into the hospital wing," she managed to retort obviously choosing to continue the way Harry had started. "Stubborn, just like all men!"

Harry laughed, but could not argue with that statement. It seemed to be a fair and accurate comment. He settled for sipping his Hot Chocolate and gazing into the distance. Despite Ginny being a little down, this was the best early morning time that he had had so far and he was not going to ruin it by pulling a Ron and saying something that might offend her.

He glanced at Ginny, her profile barely showing in the dim glow of dawn. He thought she looked beautiful. If she didn't hex him for saying that then all her brothers would. They were very protective of their little sister. Not so little anymore, thought Harry. She was turning seventeen this year, making her an adult in the wizarding community.

He watched as she finished her Hot Chocolate.

"I'm going to go back to bed," she said, looking at him. "Enjoy the sunrise."

Then, getting up, she walked back into the house. Harry sighed. What was he going to do? Ginny was a potential minefield that could explode at any time. He would have to tread carefully.