March 16th 2017: Just a little something to exercise my writing muscles! Don't worry! I'm still working on The Road Back Home, it's just taking a little bit longer than expected to get past a little knot in the plot. I took the name from the song that inspired the story, and I might continue it...

Plain old regency stories are good for my heart like that.

The stars shined brightly that night, their light cascading over the tall grass, swishing and waving in the bank of the lake the great house overlooked. It was bathing in moonlight. Ginny could see it tower above the tree cusps, from behind her room's window, across the lake, up the hill off where her own house sit in.

She supposed the house had been pretty, at some point of history. Her mother would always deplore on how the house had fallen into disrepair ("Really, Ginny! All the windows were cleaned no less than once a week, I tell you! I honestly don't know what that Sirius Black is thinking, keeping it like that!") when the owners, the Potters, were still alive.

Ginny kept combing her long, straight, red hair. Most of everyone else was already asleep; the only one awake besides her was her mum, Molly, who was upstairs tending to Ron, who in turn had caught a cold and was miserable at the moment.

The floor was cold under her slippers, and she shivered through her coat. They had enough money to heat more than one room at once, but her mother preferred to save the logs for when the winter really came. Normally, the warmest room had been the sitting room, but as Ron was sick, he'd gotten the privilege. Ginny didn't really mind, she just wished the warm weather would return, if only for a moment.

A knock on the door brought her out of her head.

Her mum's voice resonated from the precariously built second story. "Ginny, will you get that? I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment!"

"Yes, mum!" Ginny whipped the long braid she'd been weaving from her front to her back, and grabbed the candlestick to light her way. She heard Molly's voice complain about the hour ("These certainly are not the proper hours to call! I hope it's not an emergency…").

Ginny smiled. She opened the door a crack, holding the candlestick close so the light would illuminate the Weasley's late visitor.

"Harry!" Her smile became wider.

"Miss Weasley." Said he, with an uncomfortable, awkward sort of look.

"Mr. Potter," her smile dropped, annoyance slipping into her features. "Pray, what brings you here at this hour?"

Harry looked even more uncomfortable at her words. "Right, err… I just got back from London…"

"Yes…?"

Harry shifted.

Ginny sighed, a disobedient smile on her face, and opened the door wide. "Will you come on in, then?"

"Ginny, dear, who is at the door?" shouted Molly from upstairs.

"It's Harry, mum!"

"Well, let him in then! Tell him I'll be right down!"

Ginny smiled at Harry, "Well, you heard my mistress!"

Harry grinned back and followed her through the short hallway into the sitting room.

She sat down unceremoniously on the settee, the black-haired sat in the chair across from her. The light from the candlestick shined

He held his riding crop and his hat, turning it as he thought. He opened his mouth, but decided to change his words and closed it once more before opening it again to finally speak. "Since when do you call me Mr. Potter?"

Ginny raised a single eyebrow, a challenging smile on her. "Since when do you call me Miss Weasley?"

Harry smiled, the nervousness not leaving his features. "Since Mrs. Weasley, who is your mother, might I add, started to feel it was improper for me to use your Christian name."

She laughed, "Well, we've known each other since infancy, and Mrs. Weasley is upstairs, tending to Ron."

As if summoned, the sound of retching found them, making their smiles uneasy.

"How is he?"

Ginny turned her eyes to the door, wishing they could go through walls, through bodies, and she could be certain her brother would be just fine. "He will be alright," she said more to comfort herself than Harry, "The physician said he'd get well fast, reckons it's only a cold, but I think," she added, with a conspiratorial whisper "he's just a bit indisposed from eating too much as well."

For Harry, this brought an image of his best mate, Ron, practically inhaling the food at the table, as if he'd been starving for a few days before. He smiled, his hands stilling over his hat.

"Have you just arrived from London?" Inquired Ginny, glancing at his windswept appearance. "You look exhausted."

"Do I?" Harry combed a hand through his hair, "I did just get back, hence the late hour. I received a letter from Fred and George, and I saddled my horse."

Ginny smiled, an apology dancing in the candlelight. "You know them, they're always playing practical jokes, they must have sought to alarm you unnecessarily."

"Err… Well… they did." His cheeks turned a shade of pink that made him very pleasant to look at (wherever Ginny was concerned), he cleared his throat in annoyance "But that's neither here nor there. Sirius has been meaning to introduce them to Mundungus Fletcher; reckons he can import ingredients from the continent the twins can't access lately."

"Really? But I thought you both hated him. Mum can't stand to look at him"

"We still do but," He leaned in, closer to her. "lately he's been running his business straight. I expect the twins will be able to reign him in."

"Reign in who?" Molly Weasley burst into the living room, her feet carrying her hurriedly to where Harry was sitting. "Hello Harry, dear."

Harry rose abruptly and bowed over Mrs. Weasley's hand.

"No one, Mum," Piped in Ginny "just the twins."

Mrs. Weasley's frown made a slight appearance. "Oh, those two!" She waved her hand dismissively. "I hope they haven't been much trouble lately." She added, trying hard to be displeased, although her eyes betrayed the fondness she felt for her youngest children, barring Ronald and Ginny.

"They haven't been," Harry assured her. "The shop is very popular; I expect they will get a good return on their investment."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him, but he sent a hurried look at her, and she consoled herself with a frown.

"In any case, I must be going, Mrs. Weasley. I'm sorry I've kept you up so late" Harry reached down to the chair behind him, gathering his things.

Mrs. Weasley took note of his disarrayed appearance. "Oh, dear! Certainly, you didn't just arrive from London, did you? Say you didn't ride all the way here!" She took his silence as an affirmation to her suspicions, and frowned "Go home now, and rest! You all will be the death of me! Go home, dear, don't want you catching whatever Ronald's ill with."

After a few apologies and promises to visit the next morning, Harry Potter, with the green eyes and black hair Ginny so loved, left The Burrow.