As Harry Potter leaned against the window of his compartment on the scarlet steam engine taking him back to the hellhole Dumbledore claimed was his 'home', he was about ready to tear his hair out. He was currently sitting in the middle of what felt like what he had dubbed 'The Great Yule Ball Battle Part Two'.

Harry loved his friends; honestly, he did. They were the best people he knew, and he honestly thought he would have gone crazy without Ron and Hermione by his side. But sometimes...sometimes they were just too much, and he began to wonder if he might go crazy, regardless of if they were with him or not.

After his – well, he didn't want to call it a row, but he had no idea what else to label it – with the two of them, they had never really patched things up, leaving awkward silences, stilted conversations, and pitying glances thrown his way when the other two thought he wouldn't notice. It was really beginning to drive him bonkers, and their constant bickering really wasn't helping.

Harry knew what it was. Honestly he would be surprised if the whole school didn't know what it was. Maybe it had started out as innocent schoolchildren crushes, but it had evolved into something much different, much deeper. There was no denying that Ron and Hermione fancied each other in the worst of ways. And as much as Harry wanted them to just snog and get over it – well he didn't really want to think about them snogging – but he would begrudgingly admit to himself that he would rather the two bluster their way along, dragging their feet for as long as possible, than follow in the footsteps of so many other teen romances, blazing like a candle for a short moment, and then fizzling out to an awkward broken friendship.

Still, he worried that one day they were really going to do damage to each other, or their friendship.

Or him.

Closing his brilliant green eyes, he tried to focus on something, anything other than the fierce arguing of his two best friends. As soon as he did, he found his mind traveling back to his peaceful private conversation with Ginny. Almost unwittingly a smile spread across his face as he thought about it.


"What is this place?"

Harry looked around at his surroundings in awe. They seemed to be in some tiny alcove of some sort, but he couldn't figure out what the point of it was. It was a rather small space, with a large stone spiraling staircase taking up most of the room. Ginny had already settled herself on the large cushy window seat. Taking her lead, Harry sat down across from her, still looking around.

"I don't really know to be honest." Ginny admitted, delicately crossing her legs, and following his gaze towards the staircase. "I climbed the stairs when I first found this place, and it leads to a trapdoor. It's locked though, and I can't figure out how to open it. It's got some pretty powerful charms on it. Fred and George could probably figure out how to get in but," She shrugged her shoulders, and Harry picked up on her meaning, "I just felt like this was private."

Harry looked at her appreciatively, realizing what this place must mean to her, and the fact that she brought him in here meant something. He just couldn't figure out what.

The redhead blushed under the scrutiny of his gaze, and absentmindedly Harry noted that it was quite adorable. Or perhaps endearing was a better word to use. Yes, it probably was, considering her status as his best friend's little sister.

He gave himself a mental shake, and his conscience scolded his mind for thinking that. Harry had kept the youngest Weasley placed in that box for far too long, and he really shouldn't have. She had proved to him in the past day alone that she was certainly a good friend by her own merit.

Looking at her now, he realized that she might be a perfect mix of Ron and Hermione. She was gazing at him with a knowing looking her eyes, but unlike Hermione she wasn't pressing him for information. Her silent gestures of solidarity were similar to Ron's, but uniquely her own. Harry was truly beginning to realize how valuable of a friend Ginny really was.

"Thanks." He finally broke the silence, and flushed as his voice cracked. With the stress of the Triwizard Tournament weighing heavily on his mind all year long, he hadn't really noticed that his voice was beginning to change, not to mention many things about himself.

But to his utter relief, Ginny didn't attempt to hand him a book on puberty like Hermione would have, or blush in embarrassment, or guffaw like Ron would. She simply handled it gracefully, not even paying it any mind. With a start Harry realized he seriously needed to stop comparing her to his other two friends. She was her own person after all, and she did have seven older brothers. He supposed she must be used to this sort of thing.

"I mean, thanks, for – you know, back there." He ducked his head, trying to hide the blush fighting to make itself apparent on his cheeks. It was frustrating, being so unable to articulate his thoughts, and he chalked it up to the stress of the past couple of days, and the frustration with his two best friends. "I just really didn't feel like talking, you know?"

Ginny smiled at him, a warm gesture that genuinely made him happy. "It's perfectly alright Harry. And you know I won't pressure you to talk or anything. But I know how much of a prat my brother can be at times, and much as I love her, Hermione can get a little overbearing at times. I don't think she quite realizes that a book can't teach her how to react to human emotions."

"No, no, I didn't mean I don't want to talk." Harry found that his mouth was moving without his brain really giving it the say so. "I just don't want to talk to them. At least not right now. You're much easier to talk to though."

It was Ginny's turn to blush, and she tilted her head forward some, so that her curtain of long red hair covered her face. Harry grinned and wished his own hair was a little bit longer so that he might have the same chance to avoid awkward topics.

"Well, what did you want to talk about then?"

He sighed and leaned back against the wall.

"I dunno. I can't...it's hard to explain. I just don't think Ron and Hermione would get it, you know? I don't think anyone would get it, not any students at least, except for you." And Neville, his mind added, though his promise to Dumbledore and respect for his friend kept him silent.

Ginny's mouth pressed together in a thin line, rather reminding Harry of her mother.

"You might be surprised." She said softly, her brown eyes wide, and a touch of sadness in them. "You're right, a lot of students wouldn't understand, death and danger have never touched them directly, or at least they don't remember it. But a lot of people lost family and loved ones in the war. Even if they themselves don't remember it, their parents, or other family members do."

It was at that moment that Harry remembered the small photograph on the wall of the Weasley house. Two boys, almost identical, easily passing for twins, smiling and waving from their framed prison, jumping on one another and laughing. The first time he had seen it he had mistaken the two for Fred and George. But after seeing Mrs. Weasley going misty eyed, looking at the picture, Mr. Weasley had once informed Harry that it was in fact, of Molly's older brothers, lost to the war.

He felt a surge of guilt in his stomach, and he looked towards Ginny in shame.

"You're right Gin, I'm sorry." He ducked his head, unable to meet her large brown eyes. "I shouldn't be so selfish, thinking I was the only one affected by what happened." He was certain that his parents would be disappointed in his self centered attitude.

"Merlin no Harry, that isn't what I meant at all!" Harry's eyes snapped up to meet Ginny's chocolate colored ones, wide with surprise and apology. "You have to be the least selfish person I know! I just meant...I just want you to know that you aren't alone. Not really. I mean, Hermione and Ron are great and all, but Hermione has never really lost anyone, and Ron...well he doesn't exactly have a lot of tact. I mean, I can't claim to have lost as much as you, or really anyone around here, but I do have some idea of what it's like." Her voice darkened, and all of a sudden seemed very small and childlike. "I know what it's like to feel like you're losing yourself, like your own innocence is dying. Mum told me that was what it was like for her, when she first really understood death."

Harry was not good with feelings, nor girls, and he was certainly rubbish at comforting girls, if Hermione was anything to go by, but it just felt natural to lean over and engulf Ginny in a warm hug. Maybe it was because she was a Weasley, and Harry knew that Weasleys were affectionate creatures, who relied on physical contact to express emotions, or maybe it was finally the Potter side of the family kicking in (though those who knew his parents would argue that it was most certainly Lily's sensitivity shining through) but for several long moments he simply sat there hugging the young girl who, like him, had been forced to grow up much too early under very dark circumstances.

Though he knew Ginny wasn't crying, he could feel her violent trembling, so much so that she was shaking his entire body. It made Harry wonder when was the last time anyone had held her like this. Though he loved Mrs. Weasley dearly, he could not help but admit that her bone crushing hugs might not be what Ginny had needed after her ordeal in the Chamber. She was clearly craving security and safety, something that she had most likely found in her father's arms. But how long had it been since she had shown anything but her fierce independence that made her so inherently a Weasley?

"Sorry." She muttered as she finally composed herself. It was Ginny's turn to glance down at her pale fingers in embarrassment. Harry shook her head, and tilted her chin upward so that they could speak face to face.

"Never." He said quietly, and with his one word, he managed to express everything that he was feeling. Harry hadn't been there for Ginny after the Chamber, and that was a mistake, one that he would have to make up for. He wanted her to know that he would always be there for her, no matter what.

Eventually the two seemed to realize what an intimate position they were in, and both of them scrambled back to their original positions on the window seat, both blushing like mad. They soon got over it though, and spent the rest of the afternoon talking away. The subject miraculously never turned to Cedric or the Tournament, or anything else Harry didn't want to talk about, thanks to Ginny's talents in the art of subtle subject changes, something she must have picked up from her father who was a crafty master at it.

Still, the knowledge that he could talk about it if he needed to, and not be judged, or looked at as if he were mad, or be gazed imploringly at was remarkably relieving, and left him feeling uplifted for the rest of the day.

He went to bed that night feeling considerably better, despite the knowledge that Cedric's funeral was the next day. He knew he would make it through. He would be okay in the end.

He was just glad he had gained Ginny Weasley as a true friend.


Harry gave a start as he was prodded sharply in the side. Frowning, he fixed his glasses which had fallen askew on his face, and looked around, only to find both of his friends glaring at him pleadingly.

"Well?" Hermione demanded in her bossy tone that Harry dreaded hearing. It usually meant bad things, like homework, and lectures, and other horrible things.

"Er, sorry, what?"

"Harry! Weren't you listening?"

He shrugged. "No, sorry. I must have dozed off."

Hermione looked scandalized, and Ron looked put off, and Harry sighed inwardly. Really, did they honestly expect him to keep up with all of their fights? He would never get anything done if he went around recording them all in splendid detail!

"Harry! Please explain to Ron that you are clearly in no state to be thinking about Quidditch right now!"

Wait, when had the argument turned to him? The last Harry remembered, they had been bickering about a wide range of topics, from Viktor Krum to Crookshanks. Despite the fact that Scabbers had turned out to be an illegal Animagus who was responsible for the deaths of Harry's parents and over a dozen innocent Muggles, Ron had not let up on his vendetta on Hermione's beloved cat.

"Oh come of it Hermione! He just saw someone die, a game of Quidditch will make him feel better! You don't have to act like such a know it all, all the time! Sometimes you just don't understand!"

Though Harry couldn't really bring himself to disagree with Ron's words, it irritated him that his best mate was speaking about him like he wasn't even there. And while it was true that Harry would like nothing more than to play a game of Quidditch, the fact was he was headed back to Privet Drive for the summer holidays, against his deepest wishes, and would more than likely be stuck there for the rest of the season. Quidditch would be lost to him for three whole months, and it was this bitter, unpleasant thought that had him shooting to his feet, urged by a sudden desire to get out of the compartment and the stifling tension that was threatening to choke him.

"Harry?"

"Where are you going mate?"

The alarmed voices of his friends reached Harry's ears at the same time, and he was not blind to yet another worried glance they exchanged between them, one that clearly said they both thought he had gone off the deep end. The look only served to harden his resolve, and he scowled deeply before yanking open the door and stepping out into the corridor of the train.

"I'm going to talk to Ginny."

Offering no further explanation, he stalked away from the compartment, his ears already picking up the resumed bickering between Ron and Hermione. He let out a frustrated huff of air, and then began his mission to find his friend.

The task was easier said than done, as Harry attempted to navigate his way through the narrow corridors of the train, attempting to avoid stopping and talking to every person interested in his well being, or a hopeful looking for an accurate depiction of what had happened the night of the third task.

Eventually Harry found Ginny, though to his embarrassment, when he stepped foot in the compartment he realized that she was already surrounded by her own friends.

"Er, sorry, didn't mean to interrupt." Harry mumbled bashfully, already inching back out of the carriage. "I'll just go back to –"

"No!"

All occupants of the compartment jumped slightly, and looked at Ginny, who blushed fiercely; she hadn't intended to be so exuberant with her response, but she didn't want Harry to go.

"I just mean, it's okay, you aren't interrupting."

"Yeah mate, really it's alright."

Harry was startled to see the presence of a boy in the compartment, and he turned his gaze to a boy he knew to be in the year under him.

"Coote, isn't it?" He asked, desperately scrambling his brains for the remembered Gryffindor names. Apparently he had gotten lucky with this one, for he nodded his head with a wry grin.

"Yeah, I'm Ritchie Coote. And this is Demelza Robbins and Vicky Frobisher." Ritchie gestured to the two girls sitting by Ginny, and Harry grinned at the pair, giving them an awkward little wave. He couldn't help but blush slightly as the blonde haired girl, Vicky, giggled slightly. Ginny simply rolled her eyes, and waved to the seat across from her, and next to Ritchie.

"Go on and sit down Harry. You're welcome here any time."

He shot a genuine grin at her, and then looked around the compartment. It was easy to talk to Ginny, but he hadn't really counted on having an audience. It had been stupid of him, really. Ginny was a popular girl, from what he gathered from Ron's numerous complaints. It should come as no surprise to him that she would be surrounded by her friends. Still, an awkward sort of silence had settled over the compartment, and Harry had no idea what to do, other than to scratch his nose in embarrassment, and from a lack of nothing else to do.

"So...you're on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, right?"

Surprisingly it was Demelza who had spoken first. Harry had pegged the girl for the shy and quiet type, but obviously he had misjudged her. She was gazing at him through a long curtain of eyelashes, her eyes so dark they were almost black, though considerably warmer than the bottomless pits Snape had in the middle of his head. Harry could practically see a hint of mischief and excitement in her eyes, and he couldn't deny that the prospect of a kindred Quidditch fan excited him.

"Yeah, I am. That was one of the worst things about this year, no Qudditch."

"Well you did a fair bit of flying during the First Task. Even Viktor Krum was talking about how good you were."

Harry detected plenty of admiration in Ritchie's voice, but for once it didn't bother him. For one, he could tell that there was no hero-worship in his tone of voice, just genuine praise. But perhaps the most important thing was that Harry was being praised for something that was really his own. Someone wasn't congratulating him for killing a basilisk, and ignoring him when he said he had loads of help. He wasn't being patted on the back for getting through the Professors' traps during First Year, when he would have been eaten by Fluffy if Ron and Hermione hadn't been there. Quidditch was in his blood, but he had spent years honing and perfecting his skills, and so to have his hard work admired, well it just felt good.

"Well thanks. I love flying. So does that mean you fly?" Harry directed the question towards Demelza, but he was surprised when the entire compartment responded in a chorus.

"We all do."

Almost immediately Harry turned his surprised gaze on Ginny, and once again she blushed under his scrutiny, but jutted out her chin slightly in a defensive manner, almost as if her pride was at stake.

"I've been sneaking into our broom cupboard at night for the past seven years, and practicing on my brothers' brooms. And when we're at school, sometimes Ritchie or Mel will let me have a go on theirs." She suddenly bit her lip, and looked at Harry pleadingly. "Please don't tell Ron. Fred and George are the only ones who know."

Harry held her gaze, and tried to convey his sincerity in his words. "Don't worry Ginny, I won't. I know how important flying is to me, and how important it must be you. Ron's my best mate, but he would try and take that away from you."

Ginny shot him a relieved glance, and visibly relaxed. Harry glanced around the rest of the compartment, not recalling seeing any of their faces at tryouts.

Come to think of it, he couldn't really remember ever having tryouts.

"Well why haven't any of you gone out for the team then?" Harry asked in confusion. The way their eyes had lit up, he could tell that they all loved flying. Sure, passion didn't necessarily replace all raw talent, but Harry had the feeling that they could at least be on the reserves if they really worked at it.

Come to think of it, he didn't even think they had a reserve team.

He saw the four third years exchange a glance, and he frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Well, there haven't been tryouts." Harry's frowned deepened at Vicky's words.

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon Harry, do you ever remember seeing a tryouts sheet posted in the Common Room?" He scratched his neck, not really wanting to answer Ginny's question. "Wood was a great Captain and all, but he's old school. Like, last century old school. He had his team, and he never thought to change it. The only reason he even let you onto the team was because you were so bloody brilliant. He learned from the Captain before him. Did you know the year before you came to Hogwarts, Gryffindor didn't even have a Seeker?"

Harry's jaw flapped open in surprise. No Seeker? How was that even possible? Not to sound self-centered, but the Seeker was the whole point of the game!

Ginny shot him a wry grin, seeing his expression. "Exactly. He didn't want to mess with the team dynamics, see. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's a good theory, but it's flawed. There's always someone better out there, and you never know who could outperform your best player. That's why the Holyhead Harpies do so well, they're constantly replacing members, and forcing their starting players to be fiercely competitive."

"Oh not you and your bloody Harpies again." Ritchie groaned, though Harry detected some amusement in his voice. "I swear, if I have to hear one more statistic about them or Gwenog Jones, you're going to drive me mad."

Harry grinned, seeing that Ginny's eyes had taken the same sort of light that Ron's did when he began talking about the Chudley Canons. However Harry felt that it looked much nicer and less maniacal in Ginny's soft brown eyes than Ron's bright sapphire colored ones.

It also helped that the Holyhead Harpies were actually a good team.

"Shut it you." Ginny said pulling out her wand and waving it around his face teasingly. "I'm going to play for them someday. I even have a name starting with a 'G'!"

Harry tilted his head in confusion. "What has that got to do with anything? And isn't Ginny short for Virginia? Or is your given name Ginny?"

"All the Holyhead Harpies are girls, and all of them have names that start with 'G'." Demelza explained to him patiently. "The first is a requirement, and the second is just a coincidence, though my father says it's quite amusing, and they do tend to pay a smidgen more attention to those with 'G' names." Seeing Harry's confused glance, she smiled kindly at him. "My papa is a Quidditch trainer."

"Wicked!" He said, glancing at her in newfound admiration.

"Yep, it's one of the reasons why she's one of my best friends. Demelza has the connections, Vicky keeps us all doing our homework, and Ritchie sort of just lags around like some lost puppy that we feel sorry for."

Ritchie narrowed his eyes at her, and crossed his arms over his chest, arching a cool eyebrow, and reminding Harry horribly of Snape.

"Oh yeah? Why don't you go ahead and tell Harry what Ginny is really short for?"

Immediately Ginny's mouth clamped shut, and a red flush began to spread around her cheeks again. But now she had peaked Harry's interest, and when he wanted to know something, it was the one and only time he would equate himself to Aunt Marge's bulldogs.

"What's it short for Ginny?"

Nothing.

"Ginnnnny."

Still nothing.

Narrowing his green eyes at her, Harry decided to switch tactics.

"May I remind you, the last time I set my mind to figuring something out, I discovered the Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, and figured out the three tasks? Not to mention all the other secrets I found out along the way. So if I have to go digging to get your real name, well who knows what else I might find? Especially if I ask Fred and George?"

There was a general 'ooh' around the compartment, and Ginny went at least three shades paler. She leveled a death glare at Harry, and if it wasn't for his pride on the line, he would have probably been shaking right about now.

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The staring match went on for at least another minute, before Ginny finally caved and sighed heavily.

"Fine, you might as well know. I'm sure my Mum will be yelling it at the top of her lungs at some point this summer anyways. If you absolutely must know, it's short for Ginevra."

Harry hadn't been expecting that. He didn't really know what he had been expecting, to be quite honest. How many names could come with the variation of 'Ginny'? And he had to admit, that on anyone else he would have thought the name quite funny, and sniggered privately to himself. But it wasn't just anyone else, it was Ginny.

"It suits you." He told her honestly. "No really, it does!" He added, seeing her skeptical look from red tinted cheeks. "I mean, Ginny suits you much better obviously, but there aren't many people who could make that name seem alright."

Vicky Frosbisher snorted from behind her magazine, Simply Charmed, and Harry had the feeling that he had probably stuck his foot in it. Again.

"Well thanks. I think. But really, I don't know what my mum was thinking. I mean, everyone has normal names in my family. The oddest one is Bilius, and that's only Ron's middle name! But then for some reason she goes and gives me a normal middle name, and a travesty for my first. Honestly, I think all the kids eventually got to her."

Harry grinned, and shook his head in amusement, and then decided it was high time to direct the conversation back to Qudditch, as it was his favorite subject, and seemed to be the same for all members of the compartment.

"So are you lot going to tryout next year then?"

Once again, a look was exchanged amongst the four of them.

"Probably not." Ginny said, looking at the ground rather dejected. "The only spot opening up next year is Keeper, and I play Chaser. Sometimes Seeker, but I seriously doubt Gryffindor will be looking for a new one next year."

"Yeah, and I play Beater. Even I'm not mental enough to go up against Fred and George." Ritchie added from next to Harry. "I mean, I disagreed with Wood's policies on tryouts and all, but I can't blame him for not replacing Ginny's brothers. You can't really beat twin telepathy. That's pretty valuable, especially in Quidditch."

He did have a point, and it was one to think about.

"Demelza is a Chaser too, but I might try out next year." Vicky said from behind her magazine. "I play Keeper and I can be a fairly decent Chaser, but I'm not sure if I'm up for the commitment. I'm President of the Gobstone Club, and I might be up for the presidency in Charms Club, and those would just have to take priority over Quidditch."

She shrugged, and Harry moved his shoulders with her's.

"Yeah, Quidditch is a pretty big commitment, but maybe you could be on the reserves? You probably wouldn't be required to go to all of the practices in that case."

"Does Gryffindor even have a reserve team?" Ginny asked him skeptically.

"I don't think so, but I'll suggest it to Angelina next year. She's certain to get the Captaincy, and I bet she'll see the sense in it. Especially the amount of times I've landed myself in the Hospital Wing. Really, they shouldn't be leaving the most important job in the game to the most accident prone member of the school."

He was met with four set of raised eyebrows, and once again they chorused in unison, causing Harry to laugh.

"Accident prone?"

Time was flying by so quickly that he didn't even realize how close to approaching King's Cross Station. And honestly, even if he had, he probably wouldn't have cared. He was flying far too high to be grounded by the thought of his aunt and uncle, and the whole summer he would have to spend with them.

It felt good to be this free.


A/N: So I managed to update sooner than I was planning. The next update might be a little slower, as I'll also be working on the next installment of my next-gen story, a Marauder era prequel to this story, and an AU. I do plan on updating either before or shortly after Christmas though, but if I do not manage to make this self imposed deadline, I hope you will all forgive me in holiday spirit and joy.

To the anonymous guest who asked the question pertaining to Fleur and Dumbledore: Though Dumbledore did try not to show favoritism in public, he was not necessarily always discreet about his interest in Harry. I have chosen to write Fleur as being a little sharper than one might assume from canon - though it was certainly implied in the sixth book - and in my headcanon, during the Tournament the Champions from the other schools were constantly on the lookout, watching the other Champions and their respective mentors. It was established in canon that Fleur had at least chatted with Cedric at times, and surely she would have noticed that he seemed to have no mentor - aside from perhaps Pomona Sprout, while Harry had both Barty Crouch Jr. and Dumbledore watching him carefully in their own ways. In my head it makes sense that Fleur was more observant than the other champions, who relied on strength or skill almost one hundred percent of the time (or dumb luck in Harry's case at times), and so she noticed that Dumbledore's fixation on Harry ran deeper than simply a mentor-student relationship.