Ron pounded on Ginny's door

Ron pounded on Ginny's door. He knew better than to Apparate unannounced into her flat. She always valued her sense of privacy. He had learned that the hard way, he recalled, when he was seventeen, rubbing his nose with a grimace.

"Ginny! Open up!" He pounded harder on the door. When she didn't answer, he unlocked the door with his wand and stepped inside. This was probably better. He could just get his shirt and leave without having to confront her about stealing his Cannons shirt.

He walked through her flat. He always liked visiting her here. It wasn't big, but it was comfortable. She had rented it a few months after she started working at the Daily Prophet. She wasn't making much at the time, but she took after his mum when it came to stretching her gold. Every room was painted a different warm colour, recreating the cosiness of The Burrow.

Hermione had taken her to Muggle flea markets. After digging through loads of options, they found the perfect pieces to add to her new place. He knew that since she began working at iThe Quibbler/ishe was more financially stable, but for reasons he did not understand, she refused to upgrade her furniture. Perhaps there was sentimental value to all her junk. The kitchen table was solid and inviting. They had also found chairs to match. Ron didn't understand why Ginny didn't look for regular furniture like he and Hermione had, but she insisted on Muggle ones. She took after their father in that way, he supposed. Ever since she was four or five, she could always be found wandering out to their father's shed. The two of them would spend hours in there together. Ron was sure most of the time Ginny didn't know what she was looking at, but she was "Daddy's little girl" and his dad loved to show her all the new gadgets he brought home. Ron suspected it was more his dad's enthusiasm that attracted Ginny to Muggles than anything else.

But Ron wasn't concerned about Ginny's decorating style or preoccupation with all things unmagical. Right now he had a shirt to find. He strode through her living room and down the hallway that he knew led to her bedroom. He stopped after taking two steps inside of it. It was like a disaster zone. While the bed was made and everything seemed to be in order, it looked like her wardrobe had spit out every item of clothing she own. He'd nearly tripped over a shoe upon entering.

He let out a long sigh. It looked like this might be harder than he anticipated. At least orange was an easy colour to spot.

After ten minutes of looking, he nearly gave up. It wasn't among any of the articles strewn about her room, and frankly, he didn't fancy looking anymore. He had inadvertently picked up several of her unmentionables and planned on having a talk with her as to why she needed such extravagant undergarments. Then again, maybe he didn't want to know.

It was an understatement to say that he was shocked at the state of her room. When they had been growing up, she had always been meticulous about keeping her room in order. He thought it had something to do with knowing if one of her brothers were in there or not. Even after she moved in here, she had always kept it tidy except for her collection of old Quibblersand her office while she was mid-article. This…this was different.

He spied the open door that connected her bedroom to the bathroom. He could see from where he stood that the sink was littered with different potions, pastes, and creams. Taking another look around her bedroom, he noticed that most of the clothes were neither nightgowns nor lumpy jumpers. No, she would never have worn any of these outfits to The Burrow. It was almost like she had a date.

Ron felt his ears turn red at the thought of Ginny on a date with some git. He realized she was old enough to date, but she always went out with tossers or nancy boys. She still hadn't found the right guy yet. Someone who had a sense of humour and was competent with a wand. Someone he could be friends with, someone like Ha–, well, someone right for her.

Pushing thoughts of Ginny's love life aside, he approached her wardrobe. It had only taken him a few seconds for his eyes to spot orange near the back. He hastily grabbed the shirt and pulled it out to examine it.

His eyes widened in horror at the sight of his beloved lucky shirt.

"GINNY!"

Ginny walked through the door to find Harry reclined on the sofa, legs crossed at the ankles and his hands laced behind his head.

"What's got you looking so smug?" she asked, stopping a few feet away from him.

"I have a beautiful witch serving me my favourite dessert. Why shouldn't I be smug?"

"Prat," she said, making sure to hand him the correct plate. "If you're so happy about it, why don't you dig in?"

"I think I will," he was already reaching for his fork. He took a large piece and chewed slowly, savouring the taste. "That," he said, "was good."

Ginny only smiled and took a small forkful herself. She didn't want to raise his suspicions, but right now she was more focused on his eating then her own. Harry wasted no time going for his second bite. The blissful expression suddenly turned into one of confusion, as if he tasted something that wasn't supposed to be there.

Ginny pressed her lips together and stayed silent as Harry swallowed the food in his mouth.

"Did you… Blast!" He brought his hand up to his nostrils and pulled it back to see a few drops of blood on it. "Ginny!"

"What's the matter, Harry? Were your fingers acting like little nifflers looking for gold? Didn't anyone tell you that's not hygienic?" she giggled. It was a cheap trick, but amusing nonetheless. She had been planning on using this on Ron the next time she saw him, but this worked.

"Bery fubby Gibby," Harry muttered. He had all but stuffed his napkin in his nose to try to stop the trickling of blood. He leaned his head back and pinched the bridge even though that wouldn't do anything since the injury was induced my magic. "Gib me the odder habf"

"Okay Harry, but first you have to say the magic phrase."

"Gibby," he groaned. "Fine, preddy please?"

"That's very polite of you, but that's not what I was looking for. I want you to repeat after me."

Harry gave her a withering look, but eventually nodded.

"I, Harry Potter."

"I, Harry Podder,"

"Do solemnly swear,"

"Do solemnly swear,"

"That Ginny Weasley…"

"Dat Gibby Weasley…"

"…is the queen of everything magical."

"…ib da queen of ebythin magibal," he sounded amused. "Now gib me it."

"Well that wasn't the ending I expected, but I suppose I could do that for you."

She took the other half of the Nosebleed Nougat out of her pocket and placed it in Harry's waiting hand. She barely got her hand away before he swallowed the treat.

Harry took the tissues out of his nose and waited for the remedy to take effect.

"Shite!" he cursed. A new wave of blood started to seep out of his nostrils, only this time it was faster.

"Oh no," Ginny whispered. All amusement about the situation was gone. The second half should've stopped the blood. "Sit still, Harry. I'll stop this."

Harry nodded and froze with the back of his palm pressed against his nose. Ginny took a deep, calming breath and took out her wand. She pointed it at Harry's nose. "Episkey."

The spell seemed to have clotted the nose, but only for a few seconds before the flow of blood resumed in full force.

"Damn."

She conjured a towel and pressed it against his nose. "Harry, I'm so sorry!" she whispered frantically, her face close to his. "It was supposed to stop. I don't know what's wrong. I didn't mean for this to happen. Please believe me."

"It's okay, Gin". He smiled slightly behind the towel. "Where did you find those? I thought the twins stopped selling them in Great Britain because all the teachers and parents knew about the trick."

"I found one at The Burrow. Probably one of the ones Mum confiscated." She was starting to get worried. The blood wasn't stopping and he looked a bit pale.

Harry groaned. "If they were the ones your Mum found, they were probably the prototypes. They got the nose to bleed but didn't know how to stop it. They tried it my fifth year and had to go to the Hospital Wing for a potion."

"Oh Merlin…Harry do you have any medical books or a First Aid Potions Kit?"

"I have a Remedial Healing book. It's on the shelf over there."

Ginny rushed over to where Harry pointed. She tried to ignore her shaking hand as she ran her fingers over the spines of the books looking for the one that would help. Thankfully, his collection wasn't as large as Hermione's so it only took a minute of searching to find it. She opened it to the table of contexts and found the chapter she needed. "Harry, do you remember what the twins said that Madam Pomfrey did?"

"Uh, I think they mentioned something about a potion. Said it tasted right awful but worked fast."

"Right." Ginny flipped the pages until she found the potion she was positive would work. "Do you think you'd have these ingredients in your kitchen?"

"I might have some but not all."

She placed the open book on the table and sat next to Harry. She put her hands on both of his cheeks and turned his face gently towards her own. "I'm going to Apparate to The Burrow. Mum always has a stock of potion supplies. We got into so much trouble growing up she had to be prepared for anything. You stay here and I'll be right back. I'll fix this."

She lifted the towel from his nose and said "Scourgify." She gingerly placed it back to his face. She was about to stand up to Apparate, but changed direction, planting a kiss on his forehead.

"I'm sorry."

Ron stormed through The Burrow, calling out to see if anyone was home. The lights were off and the house was quiet so it looked like he was alone.

He was fuming. How dare she? It was bad enough that he spent his childhood always looking for his socks just to find them on her feet. It was bad enough that she stole all of his Christmas jumpers. It was bad enough that she had to steal his lucky Cannons shirt. But no. No, she had to…to defile his shirt by sticking that badge on it.

And the Tornados? When had she ever liked them? She had always been a Harpies fan. She was just as mad as he did when people claimed to be Tornados fans right when they started playing better. Then Harry began playing for them and their popularity increased even more. Maybe Harry gave her the badge. Ron couldn't remember the last time Harry and Ginny saw each other. They might not have told him. Why wouldn't they tell him if they met up? The only reason they would do that would be if they were hiding something.

Ron shook the thoughts away from his head for now. He was there for a purpose. He lit the kitchen when he walked in and looked at the Weasley Family Clock on the wall. Ginny's clock was swinging over to "Travelling", and a moment later, it moved to "Home".

A soft popping noise came from outside and Ginny ran through the kitchen door. She didn't notice him as she ran past him to the pantry holding a basket.

Ron, still angry about his shirt, moved to block Ginny's exit from the pantry.

"I've been looking for you," he grumbled. Ginny nearly jumped a foot off the ground in surprise.

"Ron, whatever it is, now is not the time," she snapped. She began pulling different jars and phials off the shelves and placed them in her basket. As he got a better look at his sister, he noticed that her face was paler than normal and her hands were shaking as she searched for more supplies.

"Ginny, what is it? What's going on?"

She didn't bother to stop what she was doing. "I can't. Not now Ron. I just need… there it is!" She grabbed one last phial and turned to leave, but Ron was still blocking the way out.

"Move."

Her voice was firm and her eyes sparked. He almost obeyed her command before he realized what he was doing. "No, Ginny, not until you tell me what's happened."

"You have one more chance, Ron. Move."

He was really starting to worry now. Her eyes were darting around and she began to pace like a caged animal. Was that blood on her hands? "Please, Ginny. I've never seen you like this. What's wrong?"

Ginny pulled out her wand and pointed it at Ron's chest. It was surprisingly steady. She'd hexed him before and he knew she wouldn't hesitate to do it again, but his protective instincts had already kicked in. "Ginny, if something's wrong, maybe I can help."

She took a step back and for an instant he thought she was going to tell him. Instead she raised her wand over her head and she Disapparated.

Ron ran to look at the clock to see if she was in any danger. Her setting was now at "Out". That meant she wasn't in Mortal Peril, but it also meant that he had no clue where she had gone.

"I have all the ingredients here. It shouldn't take me long to brew it."

Ginny lined up all the potion ingredients on the small table set up in front of Harry's sofa. A cauldron and other necessary materials were also ready.

"Ginny, calm down. It's just a little blood. I'm fine."

Ginny nearly dropped a glass jar at the sight of him. He had switched his position to lying down on the sofa and there appeared to be more blood then fabric on the cloth she conjured.

"Oh Harry," she sighed. "You noble idiot."

She cleaned the towel again for him, since he was either too daft or stubborn to do it himself. She tugged on his arm to pull him into a sitting position. "Come on, Harry. Up you go."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Your bedroom."

"Taking advantage of me in my condition?"

"I see that you're still your cheeky self so I suppose I shouldn't be worried yet." She frog marched him down the hall that she assumed led to his bedroom. After they reached their destination, she ordered him to get into bed and pulled the covers over him. Once he was settled, she sat on the edge of his bed and took out a glass container of blue liquid.

"This is a Blood-Replenishing Potion. Mum's kept some at The Burrow ever since Dad was bit by that snake."

"I don't think I've lost that much blood to need this."

Ginny crossed her arms and tried to appear stern, but she was worried. He was even paler than before and she couldn't handle watching the white towel slowly turn red with blood another time. "Humour me," she pleaded. "Please."

Harry opened his mouth, but paused and looked at Ginny for a few seconds. Eventually, he swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded in submission.

Ginny handed him the blood-replenishing potion and made it clear that she wouldn't leave until he drank all of it.

Ginny had never had difficulty in Potions, besides keeping her temper in line when Snape made snide remarks about her work. Her mother used to ask her how she could do so well in the subject but terrible in the kitchen. Ginny would only shrug and say she must have a mental block when it came to cooking.

Tonight was the first time she was worried about the potion she had to brew. It wasn't difficult, but she had to rein her impatience in. That was her least favourite part about the art of potion making – the interminable waiting. She had to return to Harry's room three more times while it was brewing to make sure he kept his wound and towel clean. When it was finally done, she poured it into a goblet and hurried over to the bedroom.

Her stomach sank at the sight of him. His hand loosely held the towel to his face, as if it was too tired or weak to stay there. At the sound of the door opening, he opened his eyes and blinked slowly at Ginny.

She placed the goblet on the nightstand next to him and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking hold of his hand. "It needs to cool down a bit more, but you'll be able to take it soon. It'll taste bad; that's due to the armadillo bile in it. How are you feeling?"

Harry lifted his head a few inches but let it fall back to the pillow. "Dizzy," he whispered.

Ginny helped Harry ease into a semi-upright position. The sudden move must have upset what little blood was still flowing to his head. She began rearranging his pillows and blankets. She wasn't exactly sure how fluffing pillows would help, but she felt compelled to do so. Perhaps she was more like her mother than she thought. Whenever she or one of her brothers were sick, her mum would fuss over them.

She remembered the smothered feeling when this would happen and paused. For a moment, she was afraid Harry felt the same way, but it didn't seem like he minded. She stopped smoothing out his covers and sat beside him.

"Sorry." She reached out and brushed the fringe away from his brow. "I reckon its cool enough now. Best drink it fast to avoid the taste."

He downed the contents of the goblet in one large gulp. Ginny thought he took it rather stoically until he began to shudder at the awful taste. He stuck his tongue out in a feeble attempt to eliminate the taste.

"Eck. I knew it would taste bad, but nothing could have prepared me for that." His body convulsed another time from the remnants still in his mouth. "Ugh. Wretched. I don't suppose I'm allowed to eat anything to take the taste away."

"Actually," Ginny rose from the bed, "I didn't see anything saying you couldn't. Let me double check the book to make sure."

When she returned to the bedroom, she was carrying a new slice of treacle tart. She saw Harry eyeing it warily and sighed.

"Don't worry, this one's not tampered with. I'll even take a bite of it myself to prove it to you."

"No, no that's fine." He grabbed the plate and began shovelling it into his mouth.

Ginny noted with satisfaction that the blood had stopped, though there were dry bits still left around the edges of his nostrils. She picked up the forgotten towel and cleaned it one final time. She conjured a glass of water and dipped the towel inside. After dampening it, she turned her attention back to Harry, who was finished with his dessert. Gently, she took the empty plate out of his hands and sat it next to the discarded goblet.

"Here, let me." Ginny lifted his chin with her fingers so he was facing her. She proceeded to remove this excess blood from his face, ignoring Harry's intense gaze.

The guilt of that night's events was still sitting heavily in her stomach. She moved to sit next to him against the headboard, refusing to look at him.

"So," she said after a minute of agonizing silence, "how are you feeling now?"

"Better. I – whoa!" He tried to sit up further but slid back down, resting his head on Ginny's shoulder. "Still lightheaded. Maybe…I lost more blood than I thought."

If Ginny thought before that she couldn't feel any worse about what happened she was wrong. She only meant to make him uncomfortable and possibly beg for mercy. She hadn't wanted to send him to the hospital! Now he was still feeling light-headed. Both potions should have taken effect already, and he should be feeling better.

""Maybe you need some more Blood-Replenishing Potion." She began to get up, but Harry caught her arm.

"No!" he nearly shouted. "Uh, I feel fine with my head like this. I think I just need to sit still for a while."

Ginny relaxed against the bed once more and Harry returned his head to her shoulder. Hoping to help him feel better, she began to run her fingers over his scalp.

"Mmm," he murmured, closing his eyes.

"Does that help?"

"Feels good."

She slouched farther down so she could turn more to rub his head. The blanket twisted between them, making Harry have to rest at an odd angle. Quickly, before she could second guess herself, she slid underneath the bed linen so that he could be more comfortable. "Is this any better?" she asked after a few minutes of her ministrations.

"Wha? Oh, uh, I still feel a bit dizzy."

"Are you sure you don't want to rest awhile? I can just grab my things and–"

"No," he repeated. "I think if you just, yeah, just keep doing that for a bit then…yeah."

Ginny looked at Harry out of the corner of her eye. His eyes were closed again and he wore a slight smile. But what made Ginny happy was that the colour had finally returned to his cheeks. In fact, if this incident hadn't shaved ten years off her life, she would doubt whether it happened at all. He looked fine. She was surprised Harry hadn't insisted that he was "Fine". He never was one to accept help so easily.

"Harry, if you're still not okay I really think you should see a healer. We can go to St. Mungo's."

"Harry?"

"Harry?" she whispered.

Ginny shifted under the weight of his head on her shoulder. His face was relaxed and his mouth was slightly open. Slowly, Ginny removed her hand from his hair. She bit to her lip to keep from giggling. His hair was sticking up on its ends and she'd never seen it this messy. As gently as she could, she removed his glasses and set it on the table next to her.

His face was different when not hidden by eyeglasses. He looked younger without them. In fact, with his hair mussed up like that, he looked like a little boy who had snuck into his mother's room after having a bad dream.

Ginny's heart clenched as she imagined a four year old version of Harry tiptoeing barefoot down the hall. He was probably a heartbreaker even then. She felt even worse when she realized that he never had the option of crawling in between his parents in the middle of the night if he was scared, as she and Ron had done so many times.

She knew it was getting late and it was time for her to head home. Slowly, to avoid waking him, Ginny slumped farther down the bed. If she got up, she was sure to disturb him and she couldn't bear to wake him from such a peaceful state. It seemed to take an eternity as she inched and wiggled her way down the bed. Thankfully, Harry's body seemed to mimic hers and now resembled a lying position instead of a half-seated one.

She was finally flat on her back, but his head still rested against her shoulder. She was about to slip his head to the pillow when something flung across her stomach, pinning her to the bed. Horrified, she looked down. Harry's arm was strewn carelessly across her waist. Ginny felt him start to shift and she froze, hoping he didn't wake up. Though remained asleep, his body was now angled toward her and his face was pressed against the crook of her neck.

Ginny stifled a cry when she felt a cold foot brush her calf. She bit her bottom lip and looked around wildly, berating herself as to why she made him take off his socks before getting into bed. Ever so slowly, the offending foot slid across her legs, pinning them down at the knees.

Her legs and one arm were now immobile. Ginny was officially trapped beneath an unconscious Harry Potter. Ginny clenched her jaw when she felt his breath against the hair framing her ear. He clutched her tighter like a boy with his stuffed animal. The day's events seemed to catch up with her and the urge to fall asleep washed over her now that the panic had passed and she was warm in a bed.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that, unable to move and hearing nothing but the steady rhythm of his breathing. Once again, she regretted ever agreeing to Luna's crazy idea of an article; more so now because she knew that her old, buried feelings for Harry were now coming back in full force. Eventually, her breathing matched his and her eyelids grew heavy. His feet were no longer ice cold where they brushed up against her leg. In fact, no part of him was cold; it was as if he was her personal hot water bottle. Staying immobile underneath Harry Potter was easier than she anticipated.

Ginny looked at his face bathed in moonlight. The serenity she saw there was astonishing and the way his lips were curled into a soft smile made her smile in return. Not allowing herself to think, she gave in to her emotions and the undeniable feeling of security. Ginny twisted in his arms and wound an arm around his back, returning his embrace. It didn't take long before sleep consumed her.

Ginny blinked and stared at the stars twinkled innocently through the window at her through the window. The dark curtains were strangely unfamiliar to her.

She glanced around the dark room, confused to see it wasn't her own. She tried to get up, but there was a heavy weight across her midsection. Slightly annoyed, she glanced down to see what it was.

It was an arm.

Harry's arm.

And she was in a bed.

Harry's bed.

This was interesting. Her neck cracked as it craned to see what time it was. Shite! She needed to go. She waited a moment for the inevitable panic to set it, but it never came. Lying in the same bed as Harry was the furthest bit from terrifying. Her eyes didn't fall shut with dread, but something akin to excitement. Her mind tried desperately to ignore her body's reactions to being trapped underneath his warm body. She needed to leave now or she would never want to. She was dating him, not crawling into bed with him at the drop of a hat. Granted, it was a nice, warm, comfortable bed that smelled like Harry's shampoo…

No. She needed to get out of here. Get out of this bedroom. Get out of this flat. Now. It was getting closer to dawn by the minute, and it would do neither of them any good if she stayed the entire night.

As if he sensed her plan to leave, Harry's hand tightened around her waist and his torso leaned in further, pinning her left arm beneath it. Shite. He looked thin but Merlin, he was heavy.

Sliding out from underneath his frame was not an option, she quickly realized. She spied her wand on Harry's dresser. She reached out to grab it, but her hand fell short a couple inches. She tried again, stretching her arms and fingers as much as she could. It didn't work. If she had a few more inches of room, it might have worked, but she couldn't move.

She lifted her head up as far as she could (which wasn't much) to see if Harry's wand was within reach. If it was she could levitate him a fraction and slip out. It was on the night table on the opposite side of Harry. Ginny groaned and dropped her head back to the pillow.

Her eyes widened and her heart gave a surprised flutter when she heard Harry echo her groan and snuggle closer. She glanced around wildly, looking for something that might help her.

After minutes of searching, she suddenly realized what she had to do. She had to roll him. It would be tricky, but could work if done right.

She had done it once before during the summer before her seventh year. Ron had found a bottle of firewhisky and brought it to her, claiming that they hadn't had any sibling time together in the past few years. In the end, Ron had confessed his feelings for Hermione and passed out, crushing Ginny.

Slowly, Ginny wrapped her free arm around Harry's waist. She felt his back muscles stir beneath her fingers, but didn't have time to appreciate them. Ever so slightly, she leaned into the embrace and pushed up. Miraculously, the small prod worked. Harry leaned back like she had hoped, but her world began to spin. It took her a moment to realize that he had yet to release her waist, and that he had dragged her along with him.

She was still caught in his bear hug, but at least she was on top. She unsuccessfully tried to ignore the appeal of staying this way, but the desire to bury her face into his neck slipped through her defences.

After a minute or two of breathing in and enjoying Harry's distinctive scent, she finally gathered enough willpower to pull free. With a little more wiggling and a display of flexibility that would impress most men, Ginny was able to substitute a pillow between his arms instead of her body and scrambled out of bed.

She waited to see if he would wake, but besides furrowing his brows slightly, he did not stir.

She paused in the doorway and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest and how relaxed his face was. In fact, the only time she had ever seen him this relaxed was when he was asleep. Giving into her impulses, she crossed back over to the bed. She pulled the covers up to his chin and made sure they were wrinkle free. Softly, she brushed the hair away from his forehead and placed a kiss on it.

"Good night, Harry."