Disclaimer: I do not own Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter's characters but only their actions in this story…
The theme song of this story is from "Josie and The Pussycats" the movie…
Chapter One
Well he looks at me with those innocent eyes and says
"It looks like you're wearin' some kind of disguise
Because you're hair sticks up. Your shoes are untied
I hope that you got that shirt at half price!!"
And every word I say falls flat on the floor
I try to tell a joke, he's heard it before
And I don't think that I can take it no more
It's driving me right out my front door
Why do you do what you do to me Baby
Shakin' my confidence
Drivin' me crazy
You know if I could I'd do anything for you
Please don't ignore me 'cause you know I adore you
Could you just pretend to be nice
Can you at least pretend to be nice
If you could just pretend to be nice
Everything in my life would be alright
Oeoeoeoeoeoeooooo
Oeoeoeoeoeoeooooo
Oeoeoeoeoeoeooooo
Ginny Weasley was a simple young woman with simple ways. And according to that particular trait in her, if there was ready-made sweetened chocolate powder for the chocolate milk, why go through the bother of putting the butter on the stove to melt then adding the cocoa, cream, and sugar to make chocolate sauce? But, unfortunately, that was how Uncle Robert liked it.
As the butter sizzled and melted into yellow oblivion, she contemplated how Uncle Robert was a not-so-simple man. He was complex. That was what drew her to him. Being simple, she had a penchant for the mysteriousness of complexity. Complexity was also what drew her to Harry potter.
Damn it!
Even when she was watching the butter melt did she have to think about Harry Potter.
Harry Potter was the main reason she was so much accused of daydreaming, as he annoyingly occupied her thoughts, and was so set on staying there, she gave up on kicking him out.
He has no right to be there when he doesn't actually give a hoot about me, she thought, furiously, as she stirred in the cocoa with such so much clanging that she got a hiss from her mother.
"Sorry mum." She mumbled. It's so ironic isn't it? To fall madly in love with someone who forgets you still exist…it's always "Oh…Ginny" when he sees me...like he actually forgets my name, he needs a second to remember what it is. I don't even know why I like him.
Now that was a stupid statement. At first it was because he was Harry Potter. I mean, HARRY POTTER. Even the name has a thrill to it. What eleven year old nitwit wouldn't "fall madly in love" with Harry Potter? Especially when Harry Potter turns out to be a real hero with all that trademark courage, honestly, and, well, sickening goodness. But as time at Hogwarts unfurled and revealed him to her, he wasn't just the hero. He was Harry the extremely friendly. Harry the wickedly adorable. Harry with the mega watt smile, the wish-you-could-get-your-hands-on-me Harry. And the eyes OH!
Just stop it. The chocolate's burning.
"Ginny! My mouth is watering. Where's my chocolate?"
God he sounds a lot like dad!
The real question is if he was this perfect but the only flaw in him was that he didn't, let's say, to spare Ginny's feelings, acknowledge her, why did she still like him?
Correction. LOVE.
The hot sauce was now creamy enough and dark enough for Uncle Robert.
It's amazing how even thinking about a subject like Uncle Robert could easily branch off into the subject of the yummy person named Harry Potter.
The chocolate was poured into two colorful mugs and was followed with warm milk.
Better leave the question unanswered for now. Uncle Rob needs his chocolate.
* * *
"Here you are dad." Said Ginny, carefully handing her dad his mug. And across of him, she said to her uncle, "And you Uncle Robbie, I put extra cinnamon in yours. Did I keep you waiting too long?"
"Oh, no" he said, waving a hand at her dismissively, "Thank you dear. Now you come right her next to Uncle Robbie and tell him all about Hogwarts. God, I do miss that place."
He was so adorable.
She sat next to him on the sinking green couch the Weasleys had in front of their hearth, where a bright cheery fire warmed up the living hole.
"Uncle, hot chocolate happens to be a drink that you can't make more exciting" said Ginny, raising an eyebrow, as Robert reached for the decanter of whiskey on the mantle.
Uncle Robert turned in his chair and pouted at her, but she shook her head. It was so delighting to see him sigh sadly as if she had wounded his old heart.
"So, Sweetheart," He started, pinching her cheek, "Have you got any boys from Hogwarts between your teeth?"
"Now, now Robert. You can at least have some tact and not talk about that with her in front of her father! Look at her! She's blushing." Protested Arthur Weasley.
"And a pretty blush it is!"
Her cheeks were indeed warm with extra rosy color. Thank God she didn't take after Ron with his red ears.
"And between you and me, Gin, there isn't a man who wouldn't like to see a girl blushing at his doing! Don't you agree Arthur?"
Arthur groaned and threw back his head. "Molly!" he called, "Will you come see to this cad who's flirting with your daughter? Come and glare at him!"
Molly Weasley, the stout well known housekeeper of the Weasley household, emerged from the kitchen, fists at her hips.
"You're the man and her protector Arthur. Do something about it." she joked back.
Ginny just sat here, smiled, and enjoyed the whole scene. They were a jolly old clan. Harry Potter had said it in those exact words. A jolly old clan, even if they did get on her nerves most of the time. Dear Harry! I wonder what he's thinking at this very instant.
* * *
Dear Harry was simultaneously composing a letter.
The only source of light in his room at Number 4 Privet Drive was the small desk lamp burning faithfully, casting an efficient sliver of orange light where his steady hand slid back and forth across the page.
He stopped abruptly to relieve the cramp that had formed in his arm.
How quiet the house was. How lonely. A sigh escaped him before he could hold it back. The Dursleys had gone to visit Mrs. Something-or-other and said that they will not be back until 10:00. He had the house all to himself at least. He could steal as many cookies from the jar and nobody would notice the difference. Except, maybe, Dudley. But then, Dudley was stupid enough to think he had eaten them.
He looked around his room, stretching his limbs all the while in a way that would have made the simpering girls giggle.
Why the hell do girls think it's cute when guys stretch?
He had a slight headache and his eyes were burning from staying too long in the dark, poring over the letter, and his heart was sore from loneliness.
Now that's something the Weasleys don't have to suffer from. They're always together. Laughing. Doing all sorts of family stuff that I wouldn't know about.
There. He'd caught himself thinking morose thoughts again. That was exactly what he was doing with his precious time all summer. Thinking Morose thoughts that where bound to drown him, pull him to the bottom of some well-known sea of sadness. This sadness had been with him ever since he could remember. And the cure for it was Hogwarts. Ron. Hermione. The weasleys all together. A sample of Mrs. Weasley's motherly hugs. Quidditch beating the hardness and cynicism out of him.
But in the summer, those things were only dreams of dreams. That was why he dreaded it.
Only one new thing had happened to him this holiday, however. He had been getting letters from an anonymous correspondent, who, apparently, didn't know who he was either.
And so they'd been enjoying each other's "company" the last month and a half.
His pen friend, he inferred, was most probably a girl who was lonely, like him, even though she came from a large family.
He'd wondered and pondered at that.
At least you have someone to talk to, if the worst came to the worst. I have no one. I am completely alone. And many a time have I wished to have so many brothers and sisters. I need to fight over the sausages with somebody, he's once written "her".
When asked, she said that "yes" she did go to Hogwarts but that she wasn't giving him a clue which year she was in.
Harry didn't care if she was in first year. She was fun and companionable. That was precisely what he told her in the letter he was now writing.
He turned to reread it.
Dear friend,
Do you think I honestly care which year you are in? You're fun and companionable and that's all that matters to me.
You may think me pathetic, but I do stay up for hours at night wondering what you'll write in your next letter. Yes. I'm that lonely. The only family I have is not so much of a family. I've always wished they were different. There's a stupid saying that says "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade." How can I make lemonade of my family? I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I'm already feeling sorry for myself and I don't want anyone doing it for me.
Be a friend instead and cheer me up. Are you a fan of Quidditch? A friend of mine thinks it's a serious waste of time and I can't get along with her at anything that has to do with Quidditch. If you are a fan then please let's talk of it. I'm having that manly urge to talk of sports! That would sure as sure cheer me up
Let me ask you a question. Which would you cheer for, if you were an outsider to the school, Gryffindor or Ravenclaw in a decent game?
If McGonagall were looking at me now she would sniff at me. Here I am talking about Quidditch with someone unknown instead of doing my homework. Hey! Are you done with yours? I haven't started yet. I feel so unbelievably languid these days.
Yep. Languidness and listlessness were creeping into his blood, making it feel like thick syrup.
He picked up his quill and started to end the letter…
I think you would be more known to me if you had a nickname. I can call you by something at least. Tell me what you think. I'll surprise you the next time with my nickname. OR…even better…you could write a new one every time!
God, I'm childish!
Well…
See you,
Someone.
Ps. you're a girl, aren't you? I figured as much as that.
* * *
The calendar he went down and bought from a nearby supply shop indicated that there were four days left and he would be off to heaven. In a golden chariot and all.
Heaven being the burrow.
He missed giving Ron a good punch in the arm as a greeting and getting one in return. The two cool older brothers were something of a mystery to Harry as they were never really there, but the rest he missed as much as Ron. Except maybe Ginny Weasley. He could never say her first name without the last. She was just as much a mystery as Bill and Charlie.
Strange how, to him, it was Ron, Fred, George, Percy, Bill, Charlie, and…Ginny Weasley. Why was it that only Ginny was stuck with her last name in his mind?
He knew there was more to her than meets the eye but he wasn't exactly dying to find out more about her. He was perfectly fine with not knowing much. Not that he didn't care about her or anything…it was just that he liked things the way they were. Then why the hell am I thinking too much about this?
Maybe it was because he didn't.
"Open Up" came the snarl from behind the door that separated his world from the Durselys'.
"What do you want Uncle Vernon?" He spat. The rude tone of his uncle's voice got to him. So he thought he'd be rude back, although he didn't know where that came from.
It sounded like Uncle Vernon was astonished at the boy's rebellion for neither an answer nor a grunt was heard.
What does he want to come growling at my door?
He swung open his door and faced the great lumpy form of an uncle, looking utterly deprived of speech.
"Have I done anything that displeased you or aunt Petunia?" he asked sarcastically.
"Are you being sarcastic with me young man?"
"What does it sound like to you? You know what uncle Vernon? My name happens to be Harry. Add a Potter to it and it's the full name. But… if you're too lazy to say it whole you can just content yourself with Harry."
His green eyes were blazing with the triumph he predicted in those few seconds he had snapped and spit his long-restrained venom at the elder Dursley, which even he saw and it him shook quite so much. That look. Where had he seen it before?
Lost in puzzlement over the somehow familiar green look in Harry's eyes and burning inside with rage at his outburst, he looked like a cork that would pop at any moment and shoot to the ceiling. It was quite funny.
Harry took a deep breathe. "What did you want uncle Vernon?"
By now, dignified Vernon Dursley had regained his control. His eyes narrowed and a bushy eyebrow raised itself.
"Don't you ever use that tone with me when you're under my roof!" he hissed.
"Oh and you can just hiss and snarl at me whenever you like?"
His arms were crossed at his chest. He was ready for war. This was his last year at this cursed household and he didn't care if he got himself kicked out at this very hour of the day. It would be just a little bit sooner than expected.
It was rash he admitted, but, Lord above, it was exhilarating!
"Tell me, uncle Vernon. Why is it that you can be rude at any time of the day? Why is it that I have to be quite as a mouse while you can pound about and shout orders and snort? Why is that your son gets more than enough to eat that he's wider than the front door while the only thing you allow to go down my stomach in the morning is one teeny weeny sour grapefruit_"
"THAT WILL BE_"
"But you really don't have to worry about my appetite, uncle Vernon, because, for your information, my friends have been sending me all sorts of food that Dudley only dreams about…because they care about me"
"HOW DARE YOU_"
"Did I ever turn you into bats or fruit flies? Did I use my magic against you?"
"If you recall the incident with Marge_"
"I do recall. I wonder, however, if you recall whether she deserved it or not. Since that time I have not allowed my parents to be an object or ridicule, nor will I ever again."
"WELL I_"
"It turns out that wizards are human, after all, eh Uncle Vernon? I do have feelings… and a temper, at that."
"SIIIIILENCE!"
Loud thumping resounded on the nearby staircase. The curious faces of bony Aunt Petunia and dumpy Dudley appeared. Both looked a hell of a lot startled.
"Vernon! Are you all right, dear?"
"DAD! You look pissed!"
How thick can you get, cousin?
"Of course I'm pissed."
He turned around and put his hands behind his back like a soldier and marched to stand next to his wife, who had gone pale and started chewing her tongue.
"Your nephew here is dissatisfied with our kindness through the last seventeen years."
That's right uncle Vernon. It's easier for you to have someone siding with you isn't it?
"What's all this about?" asked Aunt Petunia softly.
"Why don't you tell your mother's sister what you just said to me, eh?" hissed Uncle Vernon, threateningly.
"You think bringing up my mother when you need her for your defense is going to help matters any, uncle Vernon?"
That was supposed to have filled Harry with remorse for what he'd said. It fired up a rage in him. His uncle was deliberately using his mother for his own ruthless proposes.
"Why haven't you mentioned my mother before until now, uncle Vernon?" he demanded, taking a step towards them.
In the back of his mind, he couldn't even remember what had fired up this argument. But all he knew was that it was amusing and amazingly satisfying.
Meanwhile, the poor speechless Dursleys stood…well they just stood.
"It was always Ssh! When the weird freakish hocus pocus Lily witch was mentioned. But when the witch's own son, whom you thought you could manipulate for seventeen years, rebels against you, you'd dig that old name up as a shield, Wouldn't you?" He shouted, fully enjoying the strength of his voice and facial expressions.
The Dursleys had now begun to think that he'd gone bonkers, otherwise they couldn't believe that the boy would dare to say such things to them.
"I'm going now." He announced calmly, making the decision in a split second. "I'll making it easier for you and end it all. You won't have to worry about your damn reputation because your insane psychopath of a nephew won't be around anymore. That's what you want isn't it?"
He stopped to enjoy the effect of his words. Wicked! It felt so good to be independent like this. Walking out on the Dursleys? Dreamed of it all his life!
"Isn't it Uncle Vernon? Aunt Petunia?"
He didn't bother with Dudley's opinion in this.
"I'll go to the Weasleys."
With that he turned around and closed the door softly.
Rooted to the spot, he found what he'd just done hard to believe. He actually pinched himself.
He put his urge to jump and whoop and laugh with joy in the back of his mind and went about the business of packing.
Outside the Dursleys looked at one another and shook their heads. That was the nasty Potter in him coming out of the boy. Just like his father. The last thing uncle Vernon thought as he went downstairs was it was Lily's angry eyes I'd seen. And I never got to tell him to clean the garage. Pity.
* * *
The Weasleys were surely not expecting him, and especially not soaking wet and half covered with his invisibility cloak with his battered broom trudging in his hand and Hedwig in her cage looking extremely disgruntled about her wet feathers. He'd left his trunk and suitcase at the Dursleys and was going to ask someone at the Weasleys to be kind enough and go to pick it up as he was underage and couldn't work any spells to help him with that.
Now, he was standing on the stone doorstep, waiting for someone to have the courtesy to answer the door and let him into the light and warmth of the crooked old house.
He was cold, hungry, and desperately needed a good laugh with Ron.
His impatience waned away when a hearty set of clomp-clomps echoed inside.
Mrs. Weasley's wooden slippers.
"You should have gotten your job right by now! You collect the empty milk bottles in the morning and repl_"
The door clicked, opened, and the orange light encompassed him, surrounded him.
"HARRY?"
Harry grinned and nodded. How happy he was to see her.
"HARRY? OH you dear darling thing! How_what_erm…"then she laughed and grabbed his hand, "Oh you come inside at once! I thought you were the milkman!"
She chattered away about the annoying milkman, forgetting to ask him how and why he ended up here sooner than they'd expected.
When she reached up and lovingly shook his hair to get the excess rain out, he, without any kind of thought, put his head atop hers and hugged her hard.
"Oh" was all she whispered.
"I'm home, Mrs. Weasley." He whispered back.
She understood. With that short but very meaningful sentence, she understood. No more Dursley for him.
They finally pulled away after a few warm seconds.
"Give me you jacket, dear. I'll hang it by the fire. You go meet the others and get some dry clothes."
He pealed off his black denim jacket willingly. She took it and turned around to hang it on a hook near the blazing kitchen fire. Just then did he hear a suspicious sniffle from her.
"Thank you."
He smiled at the back of her very red head.
Then, in a rush of shouts and color, all the Weasleys that were home were crowded in the kitchen talking all at once.
Ron gave him a best friend hug, Fred and George summoned party horns out of nowhere, Percy was all dignified smiles and gracious welcoming speeches, and Bill, who was home this time, was in the background smiling with his hands in his pockets.
Someone was missing.
It became clear to him when a cute voice with a small bit of a scratch in it floated down the stairs.
"WHY does everyone in this house have to talk all at once?"
Tall and slender Ginny Weasley was skipping carelessly down the creaky stairs, her lustrous red-gold curls playing along with the rhythm of her movement.
The moment her eyes fell upon him, he felt the wind getting knocked out of him. He was flabbergasted with the experience.
There she stood before his eyes, her hands haughtily at her small waist. Her sixteen year old chest was rising and falling with her short intakes of breath. And her eyes were just wonderful. Bright and long-lashed. Just the color of a fawn.
He'd never noticed it before. Maybe rain was good for both the mind and the eyesight.
When she was in such a ruffled state a thought skidded across his mind.
She's the Weasley.
"Hello, Gin" was all he could think of to say to the beauty in front of him.
* * *
= right up next, folks, is how Ginny and Harry get along together in the days he spent at her home…