Ginny collapsed back onto her childhood bed at the Burrow with a sigh.

Four years of eating rich French food still hadn't prepared her enough for the almost obscenely large breakfast her mother had prepared for her this morning. She smiled at the ceiling.

Damn, it was good to be back.

A part of her already missed the bustle of Paris and the constant song the city seemed to sing. But there was nothing like eating breakfast at the Burrow where the love of her family seemed to wrap itself around her like a warm blanket. She had missed this. For too long she had pushed the memory of what it was like to be with her family to the back of her mind. It had been painful to think about it when she couldn't possibly be with them. Now that she was home, the memories and feeling of familiarity came rushing back.

Her parents were glad she was home too, she could tell. Her mother's face shone and she kept touching Ginny on her face, her shoulder, her arm, her hair; as if reassuring herself she was real. Every few minutes, her mother's eyes would flicker over to the family clock that showed the location of each of the family members. Ginny knew her mother was pleased to see that Ginny's spoon finally rested at "home."

Her mother had written to her when she first arrived in Paris and said the temperamental clock had created a new location just for her. Ginny's spoon had apparently moved from "traveling" to "searching" after a few weeks in France. Every year, her mother had written, it created a new location for her as if the clock could read what Ginny was feeling at the time. Her second year away the clock had listed her location as "waxing poetic," her third year, it claimed she was "determined," and finally, this past year, the clock said she was "in peace."

Peace, Ginny surmised, was an odd feeling and she hadn't thought about calling what she had found in Paris "peace," but it was probably true. The constant churning inside of her had been calmed while she was there. It was ironic that they had all had to fight so long and so hard for peace. She supposed peace was a relative term. Right now, she was feeling peaceful, remembering what it felt like to grow up in this room--a young witch determined to break free from standards set by her older brothers.

Since she had been old enough to think about it, Ginny had wanted to make her own mark on the world. She had made quite a different kind of mark, she thought ruefully, when in her very first year of Hogwarts she had been possessed by a16-year-old version of Voldemort, the darkest wizard of the age. Not quite the impression she was looking for.

The room looked unchanged from the last time she had been there. Her mother had cleaned up, but everything was the same. She stood up and walked over to the vanity where she noticed a bit of parchment folded in half with her name on it. She opened it up to find a note from Hermione.

Hermione, she sighed. Merlin, she had missed her. It had been over a year since they had seen each other and letters had been no substitute.

Ginny,

Welcome back! I'm so happy you're home and can't wait to see you! Ron and I will be by this evening for the weekly Weasley dinner--we have news! I know you're excited to see everyone and they are so excited to see you. The Weasley family has been missing its shiniest star.

Love from,
Hermione

Ginny giggled. "Shiniest star" indeed. Hermione had always teased her about that, labeling her the star of her family. In a family full of her brother's accomplishments, it had been a compliment, but she had never really believed her. Her friend had always insisted the entire family held its collective breath waiting for Ginny to walk into a room so they could bask in her warmth but it was an exaggeration.

Ginny looked up at her reflection in the mirror.

"Welcome back dearie," the mirror yawned at her. "You look better than ever."

Ginny smiled faintly at the mirror. "Thanks," she said softly. "It's been a long time." She examined herself. She didn't really see what Hermione meant but was grateful for her friend's loyalty. Her heart gave a sudden pang as she turned to face the room and remembered the summers Hermione had spent with her in this room. Late nights giggling over boys, tearful confessions of a broken heart, sighs of awe when her brother Ron had finally gotten up enough nerve to admit his feelings for Hermione and loads of studying late in the night to learn how to control the magical power the fates had given her.

She walked across the room to the pile of trunks and books she had banished here from her Paris apartment and began freeing one particular trunk from the small mound. It was smaller than the rest, a shabby peeling red trunk with initials "GW" stenciled in fading golden letters on the lid. It was her old Hogwarts trunk and Ginny had packed everything she would need for her stay at the Burrow in it. The rest of the trunks and boxes held more clothes, books and shrunken furniture she had decided to carry with her from Paris. She wouldn't be unpacking those until she found a new place to live.

Her mother had tentatively broached the subject during breakfast. Ginny knew her mother wanted her to stay as long as possible and she planned on staying long enough for a good visit. As she had said this to her mother, relief was evident on Molly's face and she had happily gone back to buttering her toast. Her father, Ginny noticed, wasn't so convinced and gave her a look that promised to bring it up later when they were alone.

The truth was that Ginny didn't have any concrete plans. She was trained in advanced magic, especially transfiguration and charms and her years in Paris had only added to the well of power she could feel even now, while she was at "peace," humming inside of her. Her power was something she could now control with ease and she owed a large part of that to Hermione…and Harry.

Harry.

As she unpacked the trunk, putting clothes in drawers, setting up a few pictures of her friends from Paris, she tried to remember their last meeting. It was no secret that loving Harry so much when he didn't love her back was a large part of her choice to leave but it still pained Ginny to recall the conversation they had when she admitted as much to him.

Her love for him had been threatening to spill out for years and when she decided she couldn't control it anymore, she knew it was time to go. He had been remarkably understanding about the whole thing, even tamping down his anger at her for changing their friendship without asking and for leaving England so suddenly. She hadn't given him any other choice but to let her go, she mused. She had simply told him, knowing that if he protested too much, she would have found a reason to stay.

The look in his eyes as he watched her pull away from him in that last moment, after she had kissed goodbye the scar that had cursed him for most of his life, had shaken her and been almost enough to stop her. He had looked at her with such intensity and Ginny, who had always prided herself on being able to read the emotions in Harry's eyes, hadn't understood what he was feeling.

Each year away from him had made her burden a bit easier. Almost as if he knew her wishes without asking, Harry hadn't written or visited her once. She had started several letters to him over the years but could never bring herself to finish them. What was there to say? 'I love you less than I did yesterday and I'm learning how to move on so we can be friends again.'

She didn't think he would have wanted to receive a letter like that. He probably already felt enough guilt as it was, he wouldn't have wanted an update on her feelings to remind him.

Her love for him was still there but no longer brimming under the surface, ready to explode at any moment. Just like she had learned to control the incredible amount of power bestowed upon her as the seventh daughter of a seventh generation, Ginny had learned how to control her feelings for Harry Potter. She would always love him, she decided, but wasn't in love with him anymore. She had dated in Paris and although she hadn't found anyone she considered marrying, it was a relief to know that she could be attracted to other men.

Except now she would have to face him. She had been preparing herself for weeks, ever since she had written the letter to her parents explaining she had decided to move back to England after graduation and her mother had replied with salutations of joy, insisting Ginny return home in time for the Friday night Weasley supper. Her mother had subtly listed all the people who usually came, being sure to include Harry's name as code for "be prepared." Ginny knew her entire family had known what she had once felt for Harry but she often wished they would stop bringing it up.

Suddenly wanting to see the rest of her family who she knew would be arriving soon; Ginny stopped her slow unpacking and simply waved her hand, letting the magic flow out of her to finish what she had started. The remaining contents of the trunk danced out and settled themselves into their places as if they had never left. She picked up her brush, gave her hair a quick run through and smiled as she heard the sounds of apparition announcing her brother's arrivals.

Bill Weasley, the eldest of seven Weasley children, apparated into the Burrow with barely concealed anticipation. His baby sister was here, in this house, right now. He couldn't wait to see her. It had been two years since he had laid eyes on her and he was so anxious, his wife Fleur had sent him along to the Burrow while she got their children, Jacques and Robert, ready to see their Aunt Ginny. It was, he knew, his wife's kind way of letting him have a moment with the sister he treasured above all siblings.

Ginny had always held a special place in his heart. From the moment his mother had brought her home from St. Mungo's Hospital, Bill had vowed to protect and love his sister even as her tiny fist had grasped his thumb. He had spent a good many years trying to keep his younger brothers from teasing her to death only to realize Ginny gave as good as she got. He had then switched tactics from protecting her to training her in the art of subtlety.

When Tom Riddle had possessed Ginny, Bill's parents had brought her Egypt where he had been working as a curse breaker. When Ginny arrived, his heart had nearly broken to see her pale face and to listen to the nightmares that plagued her nightly. Finally, one night, she had broken down on his shoulder, explaining that she still felt dirty. He had held her as she cried, and said everything he could think of to make her feel better. Something must have clicked because that night had signaled a change in Ginny.

He remembered now the moment when he realized she was leaving and there was nothing any of them could say to make her stay. In a moment of clarity, he knew why she had to go. Ginny had too much inside of her. She needed to let it out and she couldn't be who she desperately wanted to be from inside the Burrow. She had seen too much, experienced too much and gone too far to settle for anything less. He had tried not to watch as she said goodbye to Harry, the only person Ginny would have stayed for, but when she pulled away, he knew the resolve on her face meant he hadn't asked her to. His heart broke again for his sister whose unrequited love for the boy-who-lived had empowered her while also plaguing her.

And now she was here, just a few feet away. She must have heard him apparate in because he could hear someone scrambling to get down the stairs and a red and golden blur threw herself the last few steps into his outstretched arms.

He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up off her feet. "Firefly," he whispered into her hair, closing his eyes and drowning himself in the warmth that always seemed to flow from Ginny.

After a moment, he set her back down on her feet and pushed her away to arms length so he could look at her. He was shocked at her appearance. Ginny had always been pretty but four years in Paris had turned his pixie sister into a fairy princess. She had always had more magical power than any of the rest of them but now the power seemed to be a tangible presence, resting on her skin. He almost felt like he could touch it. She was a knockout.

"Bill!" she shouted joyfully. "Oh, I am so happy to see you." And she threw herself at him again wrapping her arms around his neck and choking back a sob. "Merlin I've missed you."

"Well next time don't stay away so long," he retorted back with a grin. And she smiled at him sheepishly, wiping a few tears from her eyes as she stepped back from his embrace.

"You look great," he said honestly. "I can't believe you're all grown up."

Ginny rolled her eyes at him and pushed lightly at his right shoulder with her hand.

"Quit it," she demanded. "I'm probably going to get enough of that from Fred and George."

"Speaking of our esteemed brothers, where are they," Bill said, looking around the kitchen. "Have they arrived?"

"No. Mum said they would all be here for lunch. Just the brothers I mean. The rest of family is coming for supper."

"Yes, we do that most Friday nights," Bill explained. "It's kind of a thing."

"I know," she said, crinkling her nose at him, "I keep up. I understand it's more than just Weasley family though."

"Yeah," he admitted. "Remus and Tonks usually come and of course Harry is usually here."

There was a silence as Bill evaluated his sister's reaction to this statement.

"I know what you're doing," she finally said in a singsong voice. "But it's not going to work."

Bill grinned at her. "Not still pining then?"

A shadow of something flickered in Ginny's eyes but it was gone as quick as it arrived and she smiled winningly at him. "Let's just say that certain things have been dealt with accordingly," she said mysteriously.

But Bill thought he knew what that meant. She was admitting, in her own Ginny-ish way that she would always have feelings for Harry but they weren't threatening to strangle her anymore.

Two hours later, the seven children of Molly and Arthur Weasley were gathered around the largest picnic table in the backyard of their parent's home laughing at their little sister's bawdy story of a drunk co-ed friend of hers who had attempted to 'enhance' certain body parts in an effort to attract a waiter at a Parisian nightclub they had been known to frequent.

"And then," Ginny said, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, "she threw herself on him but when she pressed up against him, they popped, like balloons!" Ginny threw her head back in laughter at the memory and her brothers joined her except for Fred and George who went still as calculating looks came over their faces.

"Fred, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" George asked out of the corner of his mouth.

"That depends," his twin replied. "Do the words running through your mind include 'exploding' and 'bosom'?"

The brothers looked at each other and grinned. "Thanks Ginners!" George said as he reached across the table to take a bite out of the apple pie she had on her plate. "Keep 'em coming. It's been awhile since we've been inspired so quickly."

"Must have been because our ickle Gin-Gin took a piece of us with her when she left," Fred said, his face suddenly serious.

"Yeah," George said, swallowing his bite, "she obviously took the only good part of you–left the rest of us with the part of you that's just a git."

Ginny giggled at George and then turned her eyes to Fred. He noticed with a start the normal chocolate brown eyes she always had were now rimmed with a lighter, golden color, almost the color of honey. He hadn't noticed it when he first saw her because he was too busy throwing her up in the air in welcome. Now he wondered how he had missed it. They made her eyes look…otherworldly, he decided.

"Ginny," he asked, "what's with your eyes? They look…different."

Ginny paused with her fork in midair halfway to her mouth. Her eyes scanned her brothers' faces now peering intently at her to see what Fred meant. She put her fork down without taking a bite and sighed.

"It's the power," she admitted. "While I was gone, it…took on new forms. I mean, I learned lots of stuff and well…maybe I'll show you sometime," she finished, looking back down at her plate and twirling her fork in her right hand.

Sensing Ginny really didn't want to talk about this, Charlie put his large hand on top of her head and ruffled her hair, making her squeal with indignation. "Honestly," she huffed, "I'm 21 years old, stop mussing my hair!"

Charlie threw his arm around her shoulders, a broad grin on his face as he drew his only sister into the crook of his neck. "Damn Gin it's good to hear you yell at me again," he sighed.

Ginny turned her face up to him and pecked him on the cheek. "It feels good to yell at you all again," she responded, pulling out of Charlie's embrace and sitting up straight. She cleared her throat and her brothers quieted down, sensing she had something to say.

Ginny looked around at them, tears suddenly threatening to fall. "I just want you to know how very much I missed this," she said, gesturing with her hands at the Burrow and the yard. "My whole life, you have all been there and even though I've wanted to kick each one of you in the arse at some point, it was bloody hard sometimes to make it through the day without you."

She laughed at herself, wiping a stray tear away. "This day is way too emotional," she said under her breath.

"And I am SO sorry that I missed so much of your lives," she continued, her hands moving to grip the edge of the table. "I can't tell you how ashamed I am that I wasn't here when you got married or when you became fathers or when important things happened to you…" she broke off and looked down at the table.

"My only excuse, and it isn't much of one, is that I didn't know what else to do. I would have exploded…" but she was interrupted when Ron reached out to touch her hand, loosening it from its death grip on the table and enfolding it his hands.

"Ginny," he said uncertainly, "I think we all understood and knew that…well, I mean, I can't speak for everyone but I saw what staying here was doing to you and…" he stopped and sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He opened them back up and looked searchingly at her, "I guess all I need to know is, was it worth it? Did it work? 'Cause that's what is bloody important."

Ginny smiled at Ron. He was thick sometimes but he still surprised her with his insight at the oddest moments.

"Yeah," she said softly, "It worked. I'm much better now. Paris was…cathartic."

Percy cleared his throat. He had been silent up until now, preferring to watch Ginny and let his brothers take the lead in the raucous conversation as they welcomed her home. But he was curious so he asked, "What worked exactly?"

Ginny turned her shining eyes to him, her hand still held firmly in Ron's grip. "I don't know how to put it into to words Perce," she frowned thoughtfully. "I just know that when I left, so many things were swirling around inside of me that it felt like I couldn't contain them. Paris gave me something else to focus on and the work at the University gave me something to channel my energy into."

"We could tell, you know," Charlie told her. His eyes met George's as he looked up. "We all knew something was sucking you down."

"Yeah," Ginny admitted, "It did kind of feel like that."

"It was hard," Charlie said, turning back to her. "Watching the star of our family draining away like that. You've always been the glue that held us together and when we couldn't hold you together, we felt…"

"Helpless," Percy finished. His brothers looked at him in surprise. Percy wasn't really one express himself or admit to failure.

"Oh guys," Ginny breathed. "There wasn't anything you could have done. None of you. It was all me. I was the only one who could change things. That's why I had to leave."

"We know," Ron said shortly. "We just wish you had been given a reason to stay," he finished, his expression darkening.

"Don't," Ginny said sharply. "Don't go there. You know that isn't," she swallowed, "his fault."

They were all silent for a moment before Bill sighed loudly, "We know," he said frustrated. "But it still would have felt good to have a clear cut path towards blaming someone, anyone really. Didn't matter who in the end, as long as we felt better after kicking his arse."

"Someone who we could have used as a test subject for Weasley's Wheezes on a regular basis," Fred offered.

"Someone who would have allowed us to use him in an as-yet-undiscovered form of beater practice for the Weasley family quidditch team," George said, his eyes twinkling.

"Someone who isn't afraid enough of dragons," Charlie said, getting into the spirit of things. "But I would have fixed that soon enough."

"Abso-bloody-lutely," Ron said. "It would have been nice to put the fear of the Weasley name into someone." His upper lip curled up a bit as he appeared to be imagining a scenario involving a faceless man in his head.

"I would have liked to have been able to practice that castration hex a bit more," Percy said musingly.

There was a shocked silence at the table as his siblings stared at Percy in disbelief.

"What?" he asked. "It's no big deal, just a little curse they use at the ministry sometimes when the rats get out of hand…" but his voice trailed off as his brothers and sister burst into varying stages of laughter around the table.

"What is wrong with you all," he said exasperatingly, looking around to see his oldest brother who had collapsed onto the ground behind him. "You act like I don't know what a penis is!"

But this was the wrong thing to say as it sent Ron sliding underneath the table to join Bill who was already hiccupping and encouraged Fred and George to immediately launch into a series of imaginative rhymes involving the words "Percy" and "penis."

"Damn," Ginny giggled, "It's good to be home."

In muggle London, Harry stepped out of his shower. He was just killing time really, until he was to be at the Weasley's. He hadn't scheduled himself to do anything today because he figured he would need this time to psych himself up to face Ginny. It wasn't that he was scared of her per say, it was that he suspected that after spending more than a few minutes in her presence, he would feel compelled to confess everything. He was really afraid that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from telling her that he… stop, he commanded himself. Best not to go there.

On the other hand, he reflected, looking around at himself in the mirror, it might have been better to schedule something today that would have taken his mind of the upcoming evening. What was wrong with him? His last confrontation with Ginny had been four years ago, surely they could be friends again. Ginny had four years of living in sophisticated, cosmopolitan Paris, she wasn't still in love with him. She had grown up, moved on and…bugger it, he was NOT going to examine the feelings that thought stirred deep within him.

He moved into the bedroom, tossing his wet towel into the hamper behind him. Naked, he crossed to bureau and took out some boxers and a pair of jeans. Sliding them on, he walked into his closet, emerging a few minutes later wearing a bright green Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes t-shirt. Fred and George had given it to him gleefully two weeks ago claiming it brought out the color of his eyes.

He sat down on the red loveseat in the room, pulled on his socks and stood back up, sliding his feet into some waiting loafers. He was determined to appear casual today. He didn't want to make Ginny uncomfortable and he certainly didn't want her to think he was trying to impress her.

He walked back into his bathroom to run a quick comb through his hair, suffering the usual morning critique from his mirror on the hopelessness of his hair and bounded down the stairs to find Dobby waiting at the foot of them, ready to hand him his morning newspaper.

"Really Dobby," Harry said amusedly to his over-eager house elf, "I've told you before you don't have to do this. Just set the paper next to my breakfast."

"Dobby is sorry Harry Potter sir," Dobby said in his squeaky voice, "Dobby will try not to forget again."

Harry strode into the morning room where he liked to eat breakfast and rolled his eyes. He had frighteningly similar conversations with Dobby everyday but the house-elf had his own ideas about the role of a proper servant.

Harry hated to think of Dobby as his servant; he was his friend and had been since for 10 years now. Explaining this to the elf however, was a different matter as whenever he said the word "friend," Dobby immediately broke down into sobs, claiming himself not worthy of the "Great Harry Potter Sir."

Hermione had insisted he continue to pay Dobby when Harry had coaxed the elf away from the house-elf staff of Hogwarts to come and work for him in Grimmauld Place. He certainly didn't mind doing so, even though it was unusual to pay a house-elf, but Dobby was so eager to work for his idol he had been willing to agree to almost any terms Hermione had put forth.

So Harry paid Dobby and it had become a game between them to see what ingenious method Dobby would use to give back half of the money his employer gave him once a week. Harry had found random coins throughout the house, once even discovering galleon sized tiles in a recently remodeled shower stall in the guest bathroom.

As he sipped his morning tea, Harry wondered if he should contact Hermione to see if she wanted to meet for lunch today. He knew she wouldn't be meeting Ron for their usual Friday lunch because Ron and the rest of his brothers were all going to the Burrow to welcome Ginny home. It had been a specially arranged time for just the siblings and their parents without the grandchildren and in-laws around. Harry knew Ginny would appreciate the precious hours alone with her brothers. They had always been so close and although they were a bit protective of her, they were always the first ones to support her, even before she thought to ask for it. There was a bond between them that Harry had never really understood, having never experienced it himself. Perhaps, he wondered not for the first time, if his parents had lived, whether he might have had siblings.

Shaking himself from his sudden depression, Harry thought again about calling Hermione. It had been awhile since he had seen her since she had spent the past two weeks working late nights at the Department of Mysteries where she was an Unspeakable, but he was afraid she would want to talk about Ginny.

Ginny.

Hermione had always called Ginny the "shining star" of the Weasley family. Even before Harry really knew Ginny, Hermione insisted the Weasley family could sense how special Ginny was and, she had added with the utmost serious expression on her face, she suspected they were right. Harry had shrugged his shoulders at her when she confided this to him, but after Harry and Ginny had become good friends in his sixth year at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had privately agreed with Hermione's assessment.

He'd be damned if was going to admit that to her. She was already too smug by half.

Sighing with a certain amount of trepidation, Harry put down his cup of tea, and stood up to floo Hermione. Might as well let her get it all out of her system. He knew she had missed her best friend and was excited to see her again. It was only fair he gift her with his undivided attention while she rambled on about Ginny over lunch.

Striding over to the fireplace, Harry waved his right hand and muttered "incendio" under his breath. The fire sprang to life and Harry dipped his other hand into the floo jar on top of the mantelpiece.

Throwing a pinch of the powder into the flames, he stuck his head in and shouted "Ministry of Magic Department of Mysteries!"