Disclaimer: All characters, locations, etc. are property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Bros. All use herein is strictly not for profit.

Matchmaker, Matchmaker

It was a bright, sunny day at the Burrow. However, two of the current occupants were inside, slaving away at an indescribable piece of nothing.

***BOOM***

"Hang it George, we're not getting it to work today."

"I know, I know. It really wasn't worth it anyway. Too much risk for the reward."

"Don't I know it. I nearly lost my eyebrows because of that blasted thing yesterday."

"Well, then at least it's a slight success. That would have been really funny."

"Only because it wasn't you."

"Now come on. I laughed at myself that time I lost my eyebrows playing exploding snap."

"That's only because Katie was there. If it had just been you and me, or even Ron and his friends, you would have been complaining nonstop for hours. Around her you feel the need to keep up the 'total prankster' image."

"That's not true. I can laugh at myself."

"Let's not get into that. Anyway, I'm bored. Have the papers arrived from the Ministry come yet?"

"No. How long can it take to process an application for a license for a joke shop? Well, that and the building permit, insurance forms. . . Bureaucrats." At this, George let out a sigh.

"Who needs them?"

"We do, Fred. Our dad's one, remember?"

"Oh yeah, right. Oh well. Let's go outside. Maybe there's something fun to do out there."

The twins left their room, pounding down the stairs as was their wont, taking special care to make even more noise as the passed Percy's room, but quieting as they passed Ginny's room.

"Oi Fred, C'mere."

"What now, George?"

"Look at Ginny."

The door to Ginny's room was partially open. Ginny had a pretty girly room in the twins' opinion, but that wasn't the point.

"Why on earth is she doing that?"

"Come on, the answer is obvious. He's here again." At this, the twins exchanged an amused glance.

Ginny was just lying on the bed with an absent, dreamy smile. A book lay open, but facedown on her stomach. She hummed absentmindedly. The twins recognized it, for it had been playing relentlessly on the WWN. It was a song, a love song about a girl who had been pining for a love that would never be hers. However, this song differed from such songs played on Muggle radio. It had a happy ending. The woman's true love came to her.

Fred pondered this for a moment. "Yes it is, now that you mention it. The question now is what are we going to do about it?"

"We? What do you mean we? Do I look like a matchmaker, female, or someone with a death wish?"

"No, you look like George. Of course you look like me, too."

"I know, I know. I'll go along with this for now. But let's go outside, I'm getting claustrophobic, and Ginny will notice us at any moment."

"She wouldn't notice if a hippogriff went rampaging through the house, but I get your point. Let's get outside."

Fred and George finally made their way outside, becoming silent and ducking down as they passed the kitchen. Now that they had a new project to work on, they had no desire to be detained by their mum for some pointless chore like setting the table or de-gnoming the garden. Once in the garden they began trying to formulate a plan. This was important, because they couldn't let Ginny know what they were up to, they didn't want anyone else knowing what they were doing, and, most importantly, they wanted to have fun doing it.

"Okay, first things first. We need to get them talking."

"Now that's a problem. Every time Ginny gets near him, she starts blushing like a true Weasley, and becomes clumsier than Neville Longbottom. What exactly is her problem anyway?"

"That's easy for you to say. Remember, he's not just a hero, but he also saved her life a few years ago. You try getting over that."

"Correct as always, my dear brother. Well, I can't help noticing our dear little sister has grown up quite a bit since then. He'd be a fool not to notice her."

"She'd have to be around for him to notice first. I can't believe it, but she seems to have become even shier around him as time has passed. How is that possible?"

"I don't know, but she has." All of a sudden, George, who had been looking around as they talked, got a certain sinister smile on his face. A smile that could be found on his or his twin's faces a large amount of time, which his parents, his teachers (especially Professor McGonagall), and the Slytherins all called "That Smile". It was the smile that indicated trouble, and one never, ever wanted to have directed at oneself, if one valued one's dignity. "I think we could start the solution to our problem right now." At this, he gestured at the familiar mop of unruly black hair, which was all that could be seen at this moment of the boy sitting on the porch swing, head bowed. "Do you still always carry a dungbomb?"

Fred looked at him, confusion etched on his features. "Of course. You never know when they would come in handy."

George now gestured at an open window. "Well, it will come in handy now. We need Ginny to start feeling comfortable around him, to start talking to him, and to just generally be around to be noticed. To do that, we need to force the situation."

Fred nodded in understanding. "That we do. Shall I do the honors?"

"Of course."

Fred lobbed the dungbomb into the open window. The sound of a muffled explosion, followed by a girl's shriek rewarded his efforts. The twin's broke up laughing, and didn't stop until they heard the door bang, and one angry young lady came stalking towards them. By this time the twins had perfectly innocent expressions, which fooled no one of course.

Ginny was furious, as anyone could tell. Her face was redder than the Gryffindor Quidditch robes, her eyes were slits of barely contained fury, and her mouth was a thin line. All in all, it reminded one greatly of someone who had just taken a dose of Pepper-up Potion, minus the steam. "You threw that into my room," she yelled. It wasn't a question, rather an accusation.

"Who us?" said George, slowly. "Why would we want to do something like that to our favorite little sister?"

"Because you're you, that's why! And I'm your only little sister, so don't try that form of flattery."

"Anyway, since you're out here, you can do something." Fred made this remark quite hastily, as it was well known that out of this generation of Weasleys, Ginny's temper was the worst.

"Yes, you can," George added. "You see there's this guy over there-- "

"And he seems quite down."

"We've tried to cheer him up-"

"But he hasn't responded."

"We think he needs some. . ."

"Different"

"Thank you Fred. Yes, different type of attention. Can you help?"

At this, Ginny looked in the direction towards which the twins had been gesticulating, and turned a unique shade of crimson. It was similar to Ron, but yet more feminine. "Where's Ron? Can't he help?"

"At this moment, our dear brother is out on a picnic with Hermione. We wish him the best of luck, and also wish to add that it's about time that that boy got around to noticing the world around him."

"Yes, it is about time. Well, I guess I can try." She turned even redder. "I don't know how much help I would be."

"Trust us, you'll be a big help. Just be patient and talk to him. It can't hurt anything."

She set her shoulders, turned and started striding determinedly towards the porch swing with her ears still red, and stumbling over the grass on the way over.

* * * * *

The Boy Who Lived walked out the door to the porch with only a smile from Mrs. Weasley. His two best friends were out on a picnic, alone. He wanted the best for them, but he couldn't help but think that it was about time Ron had noticed reality, his feelings, and Hermione, though not necessarily in that order. Harry, though, was using this a chance to think on his own, a luxury that wasn't allowed in the presence of his two best friends.

He noticed the twins coming outside in their own unique fashion. He barely looked up though, as the seemed to be deeply involved in their own conversation. He wondered what they were up to, as they were always up to something. He just hoped he wasn't the target of their mischief.

His thoughts started down the familiar dark path. He still hadn't told Ron and Hermione all of the things that had gone on that horrible night. Cedric's death, Voldemort's return, and the betrayal of his parents by Wormtail were all weighing heavily on his mind. His thoughts were interrupted momentarily by a muffled explosion, a scream, and the banging of the door. He glanced up to see a whirlwind of red, but went back to his darker thoughts.

He was just getting down far enough to where he was ready to stat fighting back tears, when he heard a gentle, feminine, an somewhat wavering voice. Was that embarrassment? Who would be embarrassed to talk to him?

"Hello Harry," were the first words Ginny had voluntarily spoken to him and him alone that he could remember.