A/N- I've had some difficulties on the board [A.K.A. trying to put my story
on the Astronomy Tower AND the Dark Arts, stupid me], but now I'm on a
roll!
* * *
Ginny flicked on the light to the guestroom, Harry behind her, dragging his suitcase along the ground. The room was painted a light shade of blue, and was shaped a little like an obtuse hexagon, and Harry could see that bits of paint were peeling from the six sided walls.
In the right corner, there was a feather bed with a yellow warmer. Over to the left was a work desk with parchment and quills supplied in open drawers, and a dresser was standing next to the door on clawed feet.
"Here it is," Ginny said quietly. "If you don't like it then you can sleep in Charlie's room," she said, blushing a little.
"No, I think it's great," Harry said. Ginny smiled.
"Well, that's good then, because Charlie probably wouldn't be too fond of you in his room anyway. I just said that to make you feel comfortable," Ginny said. Harry grinned.
"I'll help you with your suitcase," she said, looking away from him and reaching for the traveling bag. Harry blocked it.
"No, it's okay. I can get it." He picked it up by the carrying strap and wheeled it onto the foot of the bed. Ginny stood in the doorway, picking at her nails.
"Is that it?" she said, not looking at him.
"What's wrong? Do I have something on my face? Is my fly open?" Harry joked. Ginny looked at him, dumbfounded.
"What? Harry, I-," she began, but Harry held out a hand.
"I was kidding. At least I got you to look at me," he said. Ginny smiled.
"I wouldn't have seen if your fly was open anyway, do you take me to be, some kind of sick tart?" Ginny asked, placing her hands on her hips melodramatically. Harry laughed.
"Not in the least." He smiled at her, and she felt her heart jump into her throat.
Harry Potter is flirting with me.
The two of them were silent for a moment, and Harry scratched the back of his neck. He tapped his foot on the ground, obviously waiting for her to say something.
Do something, stupid! She told herself. Don't just stand there like a bloody git, Say goodbye, walk away, just do something!
"I've got to go," Ginny croaked. Harry nodded, fixing his glasses.
"I had a good time flying today," he said, apparently wanting to start another conversation before Ginny walked out on him.
"Yeah, it was great."
"You're a good flyer," Harry said, looking into her eyes. Ginny laughed nervously.
"hmm." She bit her bottom lip and turned to walk out the door, her hair flying behind her lightly. She made to close the door when Harry spoke again, his voice croakier than usual.
"Er, Ginny?" he said.
"Yeah?"
Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it.
"Never mind, it's nothing," he said quietly, staring at his apparently very interesting hands. "It's not important."
* * *
Ginny rapped on her brother's door fiercely. She could hear some rustling and then Ron's footsteps before he turned the doorknob and faced her. She glared at him.
"You're a conceded prat," Ginny said simply. Usually, Ginny saved this kind of language for when she met Malfoy in the Halls of Hogwarts, but she was ready to scream at her brother for hours on end.
Ron stared at her, and she knew that he knew why she was yelling at her.
"It's not like he didn't know that you liked him. Don't push it, Gin. He's obviously not interested, because he hasn't said more than twenty syllables to you at once," Ron said unkindly.
Ginny spit fire at him.
"Shows what you know," she said, crossing her arms immaturely. She wasn't quite sure if she knew what she was talking about.
Ron rolled his eyes.
"Fine. Spend the rest of your life running after Harry Potter. Here's my dedication to you. If you two hook up, then I'll support you all the way, but I strongly encourage you to not get your hopes up," Ron said, closing the door in her face. Ginny smiled to herself, though she had no idea why.
* * *
That afternoon when Mrs. Weasley came home from the market, she cooked them all lunches of turkey sandwiches and chips. The kitchen was less crowded and looked larger now that all of the other Weasley children had moved out- Fred and George a year ago.
Ginny, still fuming at Ron, sat by Harry to his secret delight. He watched her eat a potato chip absentmindedly out of the corner of his eye. She stared at the pan which was cleaning itself in the sink, her mind a million miles away.
Her hair was pulled back by a black bobby pin, and Harry could see the full length of her killer eyelashes as he scanned her profile. Her face seemed to curve flawlessly at the base of her nose, and her lips formed a perfect "M" shape.
He had never really looked at Ginny before; he had always seen her, always known that she was there and alive, but had never really looked at her. Up close, studied her, took the time to notice her. He scolded himself for taking her for granted.
He snapped back to reality- this was Ginny.
So what? He barked at himself. Ron wouldn't mind, and she's a girl and she's pretty. So what's wrong?
Harry couldn't answer his own question.
* * *
Draco closed his eyes and felt his head sink into his feather pillow. He tried to ignore the screaming coming from below him. He'd gotten partly used to it now, but he never would completely.
The first time his mother and father had fought with each other was lost in his mind, but he could still remember what he had thought when it had happened: We're rich. Rich people aren't supposed to fight, they're supposed to be happy and have everything go right.
But he knew better now. Draco's mother had always tried to conceal what they quarreled about, but he had figured it out long before. His father was a death eater, and they had mountainous amounts of objects belonging to the Dark arts under their mansion.
Lucius had begun to practice some Dark spells on himself in his den last year, and Narcissa was slowly beginning to hate him for it.
He had kept his head high at school, pretending like everything was going perfectly, and if anything he had gotten more stuck-up. But he knew. Deep inside his stomach, the cold and icy feeling grew every day.
Draco's life was falling apart.
* * *
Inside his room, Harry was packing away his cloths into the dresser I the far corner when someone knocked on the door quietly.
"Come in," he said loudly, picking up a pair of boxers patterned with a golden snitch. Ginny opened the door and Harry felt his ears redden as he tried to hide the boxers behind his back. Ginny snorted.
"I guess this means the end of the rhetorical boxers or briefs question," she said. Harry laughed nervously, shoving them into the open drawer sloppily. "Anyway, I just wondered if you were done unpacking yet or if you brought enough shirts to cover the country of China." She leaned coolly n the doorway.
"You know, you've changed a lot since last year. Is his the new Ginny, or is it just a hormonal thing?" Harry asked.
"A little bit of both, I guess," Ginny replied, looking thoughtful. "I never really thought about it."
She walked over to the suitcase on the bed, Harry following her, and took out an ash colored sweatshirt with a picture of three golden Quidditch hoops printed on the front.
"Is everything you wear related to Quidditch?" she asked him. "I didn't even know the made Quidditch boxers."
"I have Quidditch socks, too," Harry said, remembering Dobby the house elf vividly. Then Ginny suggested something Harry would have ever thought her to ask of anyone, let alone him.
"Model for me."
* * *
Dear Mione,
Not much has been going on at the burrow. Harry arrived yesterday via his broom and we went to play Quidditch today. Ginny followed us and tried to get Harry's attention by flying around in the orchard. She ended up making him smack into a tree branch headlong, and it's safe to say she got her wish. She's still tagging along after him, and it's really quite annoying. Other than that, we've all had a great time playing around in the backyard and doing impressions of Malfoy snogging Crabbe- don't worry, it wasn't with each other. Tell us if you're going to stay over in your next letter, and I'll tell Mum.
Your friend, Ron
He scanned over the letter quickly and opened the door I Pigs cage; He fluttered out madly, nearly upsetting the ink bottle on the desk. Ron rolled his eyes and grabbed the minute owl in his right hand, wrestling the note onto its foot.
He let it go and it dove out the window with a small clink as the note hit the sill. Ron stared after Pig for a moment before returning to his desk and pulling Hermione's note out of the study drawer, her neat cursive inked in black.
Dear Ron,
How has summer been treating you? Not much has been going on at my house; Mum and Dad have been at the dentists' office. It seems that all of England has a nasty bout of cavity decay. All of my holiday homework is finished (big surprise, Ron thought) an It's deadly boring not having any lessons. How's Ginny? Tell her love from Hermione. If Harry's there tell him I said hello as well. If it's okay with everyone over there, my parents said it was alright if I stayed at your house for summer. Owl me soon!
Love from, Mione
Ron smiled to himself slightly as he thought about her bossy, overachieving, and all-around lovely voice telling him to do his homework.
* * *
"Have you gone completely bugger?" Harry asked exasperatedly as he stared at the grinning Ginny. She smiled wider.
"Just do it. I dare you." Harry rolled his eyes.
"Awe, come on, I'm not going to fall from some stupid little children's game," Harry said, his arms crossed on his chest. Ginny laughed.
"If you model for me, I'll model for you," Ginny chorused. Harry's gazed snapped to her, a mischievous smile forming on his lips.
"Okay. I'll do it," he said. "Where do I change?" he asked, afraid hat the answer might be "here".
"There's a bathroom down the hall," Ginny said. Harry sighed from relief.
"Okay. Give me those jeans and that ash sweater," Harry said, gesturing to Ginny's hand. Ginny stared at him, moving it away from him.
"Who said anything about modeling in your cloths?" she asked him. Harry gulped.
* * *
Ginny flicked on the light to the guestroom, Harry behind her, dragging his suitcase along the ground. The room was painted a light shade of blue, and was shaped a little like an obtuse hexagon, and Harry could see that bits of paint were peeling from the six sided walls.
In the right corner, there was a feather bed with a yellow warmer. Over to the left was a work desk with parchment and quills supplied in open drawers, and a dresser was standing next to the door on clawed feet.
"Here it is," Ginny said quietly. "If you don't like it then you can sleep in Charlie's room," she said, blushing a little.
"No, I think it's great," Harry said. Ginny smiled.
"Well, that's good then, because Charlie probably wouldn't be too fond of you in his room anyway. I just said that to make you feel comfortable," Ginny said. Harry grinned.
"I'll help you with your suitcase," she said, looking away from him and reaching for the traveling bag. Harry blocked it.
"No, it's okay. I can get it." He picked it up by the carrying strap and wheeled it onto the foot of the bed. Ginny stood in the doorway, picking at her nails.
"Is that it?" she said, not looking at him.
"What's wrong? Do I have something on my face? Is my fly open?" Harry joked. Ginny looked at him, dumbfounded.
"What? Harry, I-," she began, but Harry held out a hand.
"I was kidding. At least I got you to look at me," he said. Ginny smiled.
"I wouldn't have seen if your fly was open anyway, do you take me to be, some kind of sick tart?" Ginny asked, placing her hands on her hips melodramatically. Harry laughed.
"Not in the least." He smiled at her, and she felt her heart jump into her throat.
Harry Potter is flirting with me.
The two of them were silent for a moment, and Harry scratched the back of his neck. He tapped his foot on the ground, obviously waiting for her to say something.
Do something, stupid! She told herself. Don't just stand there like a bloody git, Say goodbye, walk away, just do something!
"I've got to go," Ginny croaked. Harry nodded, fixing his glasses.
"I had a good time flying today," he said, apparently wanting to start another conversation before Ginny walked out on him.
"Yeah, it was great."
"You're a good flyer," Harry said, looking into her eyes. Ginny laughed nervously.
"hmm." She bit her bottom lip and turned to walk out the door, her hair flying behind her lightly. She made to close the door when Harry spoke again, his voice croakier than usual.
"Er, Ginny?" he said.
"Yeah?"
Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it.
"Never mind, it's nothing," he said quietly, staring at his apparently very interesting hands. "It's not important."
* * *
Ginny rapped on her brother's door fiercely. She could hear some rustling and then Ron's footsteps before he turned the doorknob and faced her. She glared at him.
"You're a conceded prat," Ginny said simply. Usually, Ginny saved this kind of language for when she met Malfoy in the Halls of Hogwarts, but she was ready to scream at her brother for hours on end.
Ron stared at her, and she knew that he knew why she was yelling at her.
"It's not like he didn't know that you liked him. Don't push it, Gin. He's obviously not interested, because he hasn't said more than twenty syllables to you at once," Ron said unkindly.
Ginny spit fire at him.
"Shows what you know," she said, crossing her arms immaturely. She wasn't quite sure if she knew what she was talking about.
Ron rolled his eyes.
"Fine. Spend the rest of your life running after Harry Potter. Here's my dedication to you. If you two hook up, then I'll support you all the way, but I strongly encourage you to not get your hopes up," Ron said, closing the door in her face. Ginny smiled to herself, though she had no idea why.
* * *
That afternoon when Mrs. Weasley came home from the market, she cooked them all lunches of turkey sandwiches and chips. The kitchen was less crowded and looked larger now that all of the other Weasley children had moved out- Fred and George a year ago.
Ginny, still fuming at Ron, sat by Harry to his secret delight. He watched her eat a potato chip absentmindedly out of the corner of his eye. She stared at the pan which was cleaning itself in the sink, her mind a million miles away.
Her hair was pulled back by a black bobby pin, and Harry could see the full length of her killer eyelashes as he scanned her profile. Her face seemed to curve flawlessly at the base of her nose, and her lips formed a perfect "M" shape.
He had never really looked at Ginny before; he had always seen her, always known that she was there and alive, but had never really looked at her. Up close, studied her, took the time to notice her. He scolded himself for taking her for granted.
He snapped back to reality- this was Ginny.
So what? He barked at himself. Ron wouldn't mind, and she's a girl and she's pretty. So what's wrong?
Harry couldn't answer his own question.
* * *
Draco closed his eyes and felt his head sink into his feather pillow. He tried to ignore the screaming coming from below him. He'd gotten partly used to it now, but he never would completely.
The first time his mother and father had fought with each other was lost in his mind, but he could still remember what he had thought when it had happened: We're rich. Rich people aren't supposed to fight, they're supposed to be happy and have everything go right.
But he knew better now. Draco's mother had always tried to conceal what they quarreled about, but he had figured it out long before. His father was a death eater, and they had mountainous amounts of objects belonging to the Dark arts under their mansion.
Lucius had begun to practice some Dark spells on himself in his den last year, and Narcissa was slowly beginning to hate him for it.
He had kept his head high at school, pretending like everything was going perfectly, and if anything he had gotten more stuck-up. But he knew. Deep inside his stomach, the cold and icy feeling grew every day.
Draco's life was falling apart.
* * *
Inside his room, Harry was packing away his cloths into the dresser I the far corner when someone knocked on the door quietly.
"Come in," he said loudly, picking up a pair of boxers patterned with a golden snitch. Ginny opened the door and Harry felt his ears redden as he tried to hide the boxers behind his back. Ginny snorted.
"I guess this means the end of the rhetorical boxers or briefs question," she said. Harry laughed nervously, shoving them into the open drawer sloppily. "Anyway, I just wondered if you were done unpacking yet or if you brought enough shirts to cover the country of China." She leaned coolly n the doorway.
"You know, you've changed a lot since last year. Is his the new Ginny, or is it just a hormonal thing?" Harry asked.
"A little bit of both, I guess," Ginny replied, looking thoughtful. "I never really thought about it."
She walked over to the suitcase on the bed, Harry following her, and took out an ash colored sweatshirt with a picture of three golden Quidditch hoops printed on the front.
"Is everything you wear related to Quidditch?" she asked him. "I didn't even know the made Quidditch boxers."
"I have Quidditch socks, too," Harry said, remembering Dobby the house elf vividly. Then Ginny suggested something Harry would have ever thought her to ask of anyone, let alone him.
"Model for me."
* * *
Dear Mione,
Not much has been going on at the burrow. Harry arrived yesterday via his broom and we went to play Quidditch today. Ginny followed us and tried to get Harry's attention by flying around in the orchard. She ended up making him smack into a tree branch headlong, and it's safe to say she got her wish. She's still tagging along after him, and it's really quite annoying. Other than that, we've all had a great time playing around in the backyard and doing impressions of Malfoy snogging Crabbe- don't worry, it wasn't with each other. Tell us if you're going to stay over in your next letter, and I'll tell Mum.
Your friend, Ron
He scanned over the letter quickly and opened the door I Pigs cage; He fluttered out madly, nearly upsetting the ink bottle on the desk. Ron rolled his eyes and grabbed the minute owl in his right hand, wrestling the note onto its foot.
He let it go and it dove out the window with a small clink as the note hit the sill. Ron stared after Pig for a moment before returning to his desk and pulling Hermione's note out of the study drawer, her neat cursive inked in black.
Dear Ron,
How has summer been treating you? Not much has been going on at my house; Mum and Dad have been at the dentists' office. It seems that all of England has a nasty bout of cavity decay. All of my holiday homework is finished (big surprise, Ron thought) an It's deadly boring not having any lessons. How's Ginny? Tell her love from Hermione. If Harry's there tell him I said hello as well. If it's okay with everyone over there, my parents said it was alright if I stayed at your house for summer. Owl me soon!
Love from, Mione
Ron smiled to himself slightly as he thought about her bossy, overachieving, and all-around lovely voice telling him to do his homework.
* * *
"Have you gone completely bugger?" Harry asked exasperatedly as he stared at the grinning Ginny. She smiled wider.
"Just do it. I dare you." Harry rolled his eyes.
"Awe, come on, I'm not going to fall from some stupid little children's game," Harry said, his arms crossed on his chest. Ginny laughed.
"If you model for me, I'll model for you," Ginny chorused. Harry's gazed snapped to her, a mischievous smile forming on his lips.
"Okay. I'll do it," he said. "Where do I change?" he asked, afraid hat the answer might be "here".
"There's a bathroom down the hall," Ginny said. Harry sighed from relief.
"Okay. Give me those jeans and that ash sweater," Harry said, gesturing to Ginny's hand. Ginny stared at him, moving it away from him.
"Who said anything about modeling in your cloths?" she asked him. Harry gulped.