Just as Harry had made his decision and put the notebook back under his pillow, Ron entered. Perfect timing, Harry thought.

"Poor Gin," Ron said. "She's looking everywhere for her notebook. I don't think she's been a day without it since she's gotten it. It's actually notebook #5. She goes through those things like most people go through shoes. I mean, you wouldn't think she'd ever want to keep a thing like that after-" Ron stopped, realizing he was talking to Harry, who was staring out the window and didn't seem to be listening, and that Ginny would probably kill him if she ever found out. He shouldn't talk about her like that; he owed it to her after she promised never to so much as think about that time Fred and George had… well, he didn't want to think about that either.

"She likes writing," Harry answered before he knew what he was doing. Ron looked at him in surprise. That wasn't what he was expecting. But Harry kept talking, though it seemed like more to himself than to Ron. "It helps her sort things out. You know, see them objectively." Harry turned round to look at Ron. "Have you ever tried to do that? Tried writing everything you thought down?"

"No, not really," Ron answered. Just what was Harry getting on about? "For some people it works, for some it doesn't. But Gin's always been one of those people who can do that. Did I ever tell you that when we were little, she'd rewrite fairy tales when she didn't like the ending?" Harry shook his head and Ron continued- this had always been one of his favorite things about Ginny, and despite everything, he loved bragging about her every once in a while.

"When she was about 7 or 8, she had this book that was full of Muggle fairy tales a friend had given her. She loved it, I mean, she read that thing to death. So anyway, she decides one day that she doesn't like Cinderella, which was odd, because we all thought it was her favorite story- she even made us all call her Cinderella for a whole week, wouldn't answer to Ginny anymore, wore a tiara constantly, that sort of thing. Then out of the blue, she comes down with about 3 rolls of parchment or something, all covered in her huge writing. They were messy and blotted and generally eligible, but she poured them on the table, right on top of the newspaper Dad was reading and said, 'No Daddy, that's boring. Read this, it's better.' Turns out, she had completely rewritten Cinderella and made it the way she thought it really ought to be. Well, none of us could read it, and at the time I thought it was stupid anyway, but she read it to us- still don't know how she knew what it said."

"What was her version like?" Harry asked.

"Well, you know the original story, about the glass slipper and all?" Harry nodded again. "In her version, Cinderella won't be her stepsister's slave anymore and leaves. I think she gets a job or something. And when her Godmother tells her midnight, Cinderella starts bargaining for a later time. Ginny used to do that all the time, not argue so much as bargain. And when Cinderella has to leave, instead of running home, she just runs out the door and waits outside for the Prince to follow her, because she thought it was stupid for Cinderella to have to wait all that while and go through with the slipper if the Prince really loved her. And he does follow her of course and they live happily ever after."

"Is that it?"

"Oh no, there's tons more," Ron said, "but that's all of it I can remember. She did the same thing then with Sleeping Beauty and Snow White I'm pretty sure. Mum kept them all. They're somewhere up in the attic, I think. Honestly though, everyone was so impressed that she did that. Except me, I knew she could do something like that."

"Like what?" Harry was beginning to wish he had a little sister. It must be nice to be able to brag like that, be so proud of her. Ron was certainly enjoying it.

"Ginny's always been really special," Ron explained. "She's going to become famous or something. She could be an actress, you know, or even a singer. But aside from all that, I mean," he paused, thinking for a minute.

"She's really supportive. She's a lot like Mum in that way. Gin was always the one who was there for any of us when we were upset or anything. Even Bill- once when she was about 3 he was upset over a girl or something and shut himself in his room, and she went in there and crawled up in his lap and told him not to be upset and just stayed with him. She can't stand to see anyone in pain or anything. Mum told me about that once; I was only 4 or something, I don't remember it but, well… The thing is, you know how sometimes I get kind of angry that I have 5 older brothers, and I feel that I have to live up to them? Well, Gin's never like that, never jealous or mean. She's usually the one I go to when I'm upset or something, always there to calm me down; she's always there to tell me the I'm special in my own right and everything, not matter how corny that sounds. She really is the best sister." Ron had long ago stopped talking to Harry and was now just thinking aloud. "Maybe I haven't told her that enough," he muttered.

Harry was incredibly jealous. It must have been nice to have someone like that. He didn't have anyone to tell him he was wonderful, or calm him down when he was angry, or to be protective of. He stopped suddenly. He didn't have someone…

"... He's someone I want to love, and help, and care for, forever. I want to be his someone; I want him to know."

She had written it. It was one of the first things he had read. He suddenly realized that if he really wanted it, Ginny could be that someone. It was his for the taking, if he were to choose so. There was a sense of power there. But just as soon as it came, it was gone, and he was left with a horrible sense of guilt. How could he ever, even for a split-second, thing of taking advantage of her like that?

Besides, if he wanted a little sister, Ginny could never be it. He doubted the feelings she had for him were the same she had for any of her brothers, which was a good thing really, as that would be really sick. He wanted a little sister, yes, but if he could choose one, it wouldn't be Ginny. The things she wrote about were not quite what he imagined he wanted his own little sister feeling at all, no matter to whom those words were for. Or at least, he wouldn't want to know if she was feeling those things, not at all. He wondered what Ron would think if he read Ginny's notebook.

"Your really lucky, you know," he told Ron. "It's got to be wonderful to have a sister like that."

Ron smiled. "You can't have her," he joked. "Take Percy though, or maybe the twins- both of them."

There was a knock. The door opened and in popped Ginny's head. "Ron?" Harry's hand went instinctively to his pillow. Only, the pillow was at the top of the bed, and he was at the bottom. He fell and ended up sprawled on his side in a very odd manner- he thought of those old war movies Uncle Vernon watched, when the men would jump away from a grenade.

"Harry," Ginny asked, laughter and concern in her voice. " Are you… are you alright?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered, awkwardly trying to sit up. "Yeah I'm fine." He glared at Ron who was doubled over with laughter on his own bed.

"OK," Ginny smiled as she stepped further into the room and leaned against the doorframe. She turned towards her brother. "You're remarkably calm." Ron eyed her suspiciously.

"What do you know that I don't?"

"Oh, nothing, really. I mean, you do know that Hermione's coming today, right?" Ron went pale.

"Oh God," he said, his voice slightly higher than usual. "It's not the 26th is it?" He groaned when Ginny nodded. "That means she's coming at noon and it's already-" He glanced at his clock and jumped when he saw the time. "11:32?!" he cried, suddenly frantic. "Ginny, it's already 11:32! What am I going to do?"

"Calm down," Ginny told him in a soothing voice. "That's why I'm here. I'm not going to let you make a fool of yourself, no matter how hard you try. Just calm down."

He did seem to calm just a little, but still rushed to his closet. "What am I going to wear?" He held up a gray shirt. "How about this one?"

Ginny shook her head. "She hates gray." She walked over to the closet and gently pushed Ron out of the way. "Let me deal with this."

"Since when does she hate gray?" Ron said, pacing behind Ginny. "I never knew she hated gray. What if she finds out I didn't know? Why does she hate gray?" He was completely oblivious to Ginny's small smile and how she was shaking her head at him in a very compassionate manner. Harry noticed it, though, from where he sat, forgotten on the bed. He was amazed. He had never witnessed anything like that before. Yes, he decided, it must be great to have someone like Ginny. She saw Harry looking at her and tried to share a look of sympathy with him behind Ron's back. But, for some reason, he couldn't meet her eyes. She turned back to the closet and flipped through the shirts and trousers hanging there.

Harry suddenly realized that he was supposed to be unaware of the situation between Ron and Hermione. "What are you all worked about anyway?" he asked Ron. "I mean, its just Hermione." Ron stopped pacing and looked at Harry, not sure what to say. "Unless you're not telling me something," Harry continued. Ron was throwing desperate glances at Ginny, who was pointedly ignoring what was going on behind her, though Harry could see she was smiling.

"Well, umm…" Ron shoved his hands in he pockets and looked at the ground. Harry was about to ask again when he sucked in a large breath, looked up and met his eye, and very simply he said, "I told Hermione I liked her. She said she liked me back. I just wasn't sure how to tell you, mate. Sorry." All Harry's plans for teasing Ron were forgotten. He couldn't harass him after he heard the sincerity in his voice. Besides, the twins would probably do that for him.

"That's great," Harry said, smiling. Ron let out a sigh of relief and smiled back, chuckling slightly.

"Awww." They both looked back at Ginny, who was holding a white button up shirt and a pair of light kaki trousers in her hand. "That's so sweet," she said, grinning.

"Oh shut up," Ron laughed, smiling down at her. Harry didn't think Ron would be able to stop smiling if he wanted to. He had felt that way before, after winning his first quidditch match or whenever he spent Christmas with his friends. That feeling that you're so happy, the only way you can let it out is to just smile till you can't smile anymore, no matter how ridiculous you may look.

"Here," Ginny handed the clothes to Ron. "Wear this."

He looked at them with skepticism. "Are you sure?" Ginny nodded. "OK, whatever. But if she doesn't like it, it's your fault." Ginny just smiled and left the room while Ron changed. Harry looked at a broomstick catalogue that had come the day before. The minutes ticked slowly away until there was another knock on the door.

"Come on in," Ron called. Ginny opened the door and came in. This time, she was wearing a light green cardigan set and a matching flowing skirt with small white flowers on it. She certainly wasn't wearing that before, Harry was sure he would have noticed it the first time. She looked so different. She looked calm and peaceful and innocent and grown-up all at the same time. She seemed so very soft, the only cool think in the summer heat, even down to her delicate white sandals. How she managed it was beyond him, but she did. It seemed so odd to think that the girl before him was the one who had written those things he had read. She certainly had a more sides to her than he had ever imagined.

"You look really nice Gin," he said, making her blush and causing Ron to do a double take at the two of them.

"Thanks. The twins gave me this for my birthday last year."

"It was better than the poster I got you," Ron said, feeling a need to make his presence known again.

"She'll be here soon," Ginny said, referring to Hermione. "You look great Ron." Harry looked at Ron who looking so much older than he usually did dressed like that. With Ginny wearing a nice outfit too, Harry considered changing when he looked down at his old t-shirt and jeans. "Don't worry about a thing. I'll wait in the kitchen and listen for whenever she comes. I'll just come up and get you then, ok? You can make an entrance that way. Give you both a chance to gather yourselves."

Ron nodded, then paused for a moment. "You really think she'll have to gather herself?" He smiled again. "Hmph. Who knew?"

Harry was tempted to say, "We all did," but held his tongue. Ginny opened the door and turned around one last time. She sniffled and pretended to be misty-eyed. "My little boy is growing up," she said, sounding a lot like Mrs. Weasely. Ron rolled his eyes at her.

"Get out, Gin," he said, giving her a little push out the door. She laughed and obliged. Ron watched her go and closed the door behind her, only to round on Harry. "You look nice?" he questioned. "What was that? That little thing there, what was that?"

"It wasn't anything," Harry said. "She looked nice. I told her she looked nice. That' pretty much it."

Ron looked at him, sizing him up. He's being insane, Harry thought. "That was all that was?" he asked. "You don't fancy Ginny?"

Harry thought for a moment. Did he fancy Ginny? He couldn't tell. It felt as though he had just met her. "No," he decided. "I don't think I do."

Ron seemed very relieved. "Just making sure. Sorry, but it's in the Older Brother handbook." Harry laughed. "You think I'm joking," Ron said. "But we have one. Charlie and Bill wrote it as soon as they found out Ginny was a girl. I'll show you it someday. But even if you did fancy her, I don't think I'd really mind. In fact, it'd probably make her happy, so I'd be ok with it, it's just that, it's so much easier if you don't. But you don't. So it's easier. Because you don't." He babbled as he watched the clock with apprehension. It was 12:01. "Shouldn't she be here by now? I mean it doesn't take but a second to get here. What if she doesn't want to come and backs out? What if-"

There was a voice downstairs, and it was female, and not Ginny's. Ron froze. "She's here! She came! What if she doesn't like me and was just being nice in her letter? What if she's changed her mind?" He was a wreck. Harry wasn't sure what he could say that would make Ron calm down any. What had Ginny said?

"Look, Ron she's probably just as nervous as you are," Harry reassured him. That sounded good.

"Ron," Ginny called form outside the door. "She's here. Are you ok?" Ron walked over to the door and opened it. "You'll be fine. She really wants to see you. Come on." She ushered him down the stairs and Harry had little choice but to follow.

When they entered the living room, Hermione was looking at some old pictures on the wall with her back to them. She laughed at one of the Fred and George as babies and Percy, only a few years older. He was trying to hold both of them on his lap and they kept pulling off his glasses and yanking his hair. Harry remembered that Hermione was an older child as well and wondered if she ever longed for siblings the way he did when watching the Weasleys. "Here they are," Ginny announced.

"Hey Hermione," Harry said. She smiled at him and said hi, but soon turned all her attention to Ron.

"Hi Hermione," he said. "You look beautiful." She blushed.

"You look great, too," she faultered, not quite sure what to do for once. Ginny intervened.

"So, I'm going to walk down to Liz's house. I guess I'll see you guys later." When she had gone Harry tried to think of an excuse to leave too, but found he didn't need one.

"Harry," Ron said. "Do you mind if Hermione and I went on a walk? I, um, want to show her the new flowers Mum planted in the garden and I'm sure you'd think they were boring."

"Go right ahead- I don't mind at all." They smiled and left, whispering to each other shyly. Harry grinned to himself. This was the perfect chance to give Ginny back her notebook. Percy and Mr. Weasley at work, Mrs. Weasley cooking, the twins doing Lord knows what, Lord knows where, Ron and Hermione on a walk, and most importantly, Ginny at a friend's house.

Harry raced up the stairs, eager to just get this whole over with. He found the notebook right where he had left it under his pillow. It was simple, just find a place to leave it in her room and get the heck out of there. Easy enough.

He soon stood outside Ginny's room; he and never been in it before and he wondered briefly what it looked like. As he opened the door, it creaked a little. He stepped inside and closed it behind him.

The walls were light green (Harry was noticing a pattern), but you could barely see actual wall. Her room was covered in posters. That explained Ron's comment on giving her one for her last birthday. They were almost all black and white pictures of cities. There seemed to be a million of Paris, a lot of London, and even some of what looked like New York. They all seemed to have been given to her; each one had a little note written in the corner. "To Ginny, With Love, Charlie." Or, "Gin, remind me to take you here for your 18th birthday. That'll be my present. I know you'll love it- Bill." There were even a few paintings hanging on the walls he was sure she had done herself, judging by the set of art supplies laying on her small, white desk. However, the thing that caught his attention the most, was not on her walls.

She had a piano. It was a very, small, old upright one, but it was still a piano. There were music books and sheet music scattered everywhere around her room, though it wasn't messy, and Harry stepped up to look at a large stack on her nightstand. "Songs from Frank Sinatra," was on the front with a picture of a man (obviously Sinatra) sitting at a piano with a cigarette in his mouth. He picked it up and turned it over, looking on the back, where there was a long list of the songs included. Some looked familiar, and he wasn't sure why, until he looked back down at the cover of the notebook he was still holding. That was it! Those phrases that he didn't understand before, they were song titles. It made sense now.

She had a few classical music books, the basic Motzart and Bach, but she really seemed to like a lot of old, Muggle music. There was a book of Ella Fitzgerald music, some Louis Armstrong, and even one of some woman named Blossom Dearie, who he never heard of, but Ginny had made a lot of notes in that book.

On her desk, Ginny had loads more notebooks. There was even a notebook with "Poetry" on the front. It took Harry a lot of force to keep from reading that one, but he managed not to. She had a bulliten board above her desk with pictures of her friends and family on it. Some were even of herself when she was younger. There was one of her when she must have been around 5, dressed in a little ballet outfit, holding her father's hand and twirling in a circle. So she could write, sing, act, play the piano, and dance. Was there nothing she couldn't do? It was a shame he had to learn these things about her from poking around her room and things. It felt like a very low thing to do, even though he wasn't sure if he could help it.

Harry then remembered that he was there for an actual reason and decided to stash the notebook somewhere she would find, and get out of there. Where should he put it? The piano was too crowded, her desk was too obvious, as was her dresser, so he decided that the best place would be the nightstand, under the Frank Sinatra book.

He quickly left it there and headed for the door, but stopped before he had reached it. It seemed a little wrong to just leave it there, so unceremoniously dumped in the first place he could find. That little book had opened up a whole new line of thought for him, one for which he was thankful. He walked back over and pulled it out, promising himself that this would be the last time he ever looked at it. He just wanted to read something one more time. He turned back to the first page he had ever read. The page Ginny had written just the other day.

No sooner had he started reading it, than he heard the door creak. "Harry?" He spun around, completely surprised, almost dropping the notebook. Ginny was standing in the doorway, looking more than a little confused.











I realized that I wasn't sure when this fic took place. Harry's at the Burrow for the summer, but I don't think something like this would happen in the summer after his 4th year. (Poor kid, an old notebook would be the last of his problems.) But I can't see this happening much later than that, so… It happens in fluffy world after GoF (the end of the summer) where no one suffers from the dark harrowing nightmares that are enevitable after they almost die… again. Just wanted to clear that up.

Thanks to:

Beccy, Hedwig, ShellyK, and j-belle