25. Drowning

"RON!" I yell, battering on the door. "We have to leave to get the train in TEN minutes, and you're still in the shower! I forgot to pack my toothbrush, I need to get it!"

I hear muffled shouts from inside the bathroom mixing with the sound of the running water, but whatever Ron's shouting is beyond me.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

More muffled shouting. I look down at my watch.

"We have to leave in NINE AND A HALF MINUTES! GET YOUR BUTT OUT HERE!"

I hear the squeak of the taps, and the water stops. After a couple of moments, the bathroom door opens.

"Finally, Ron. I thought you were trying to drown yourself in there – "

I break off. Oh, lord. That's not Ron.

"Um, sorry, Ginny. I went in after Ron."

That's Harry. Harry. With just a towel wrapped around his waist. And I just told him to get his butt out here. I wrench my eyes away from his chest, realising my eyes had lingered slightly too long there.

"I…sorry!"

And then I run away to my bedroom.

I flop on to my bed, last minute packing forgotten. Harry looked as embarrassed as I feel. I never knew he was so toned… all that Quidditch, I suppose…

There's a knock on my door for the millionth time that morning, and I grab some socks from the bed ad pretend to be packing them.

"Yes, yes, I've nearly finished packing Mum, for the millionth time! I'll be down in a second."

"Um, no. Me again."

Harry pokes his head around the door, looking apologetic.

"Oh. Come in, Harry," I say shyly. I close the lid of my trunk hastily, hiding certain girly unmentionables from view. Harry blushes, and I know he's seen them anyway.

Unfortunately, he's put a shirt on – or maybe it's fortunate, so I don't make an idiot of myself by staring at his chest again. His hair is dripping wet, and it's even messier than it is in its dry state.

"I brought you your tooth brush. That was why you were so intent on getting in to the bathroom, wasn't it?"

He holds it out, and I look at him, surprised. I'm so pleased for a moment that he knows which brush is mine that I just stare at him. Who knew something so insignificant could fill me with such pleasure?

I take it and smile. "Thanks. I'm sorry about before. I thought you were Ron," I say, stupidly. Obviously I thought it was Ron. That's why I was screaming his name.

"It's fine. You'd better get packing though; only eight minutes left."

It isn't until I'm packing my tooth brush that I realise Harry must've known it was mine, as it's most likely that it was the only one in there. That bursts my bubble.

A/N I'm sorry I haven't updated in forever, and my excuse is writer's block (which I thought was impossible, seen as this story allows me to write pretty much anything). But then ideas all came flooding back to me, and this is the result.

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