They got home at about four o'clock, and came in through the kitchen. A frazzled Mrs Weasley was pointing her wand at various kitchen implements (which were flying dangerously above their heads) and muttering to herself.

"Are you alright, Mum?" Ron asked nervously.

"Your father can't get home tonight!" she said furiously. "You'd think with Voldemort gone, he'd make some time for us, but no, 'the Ministry still needs him'. It's ridiculous. It's preposterous."

She looked up, eyes fiery, and then remembered Harry. She covered her mouth with one hand. "Oh Harry," she said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't talk about all that. Sorry."

"It's alright," said Harry, trying not to sound irritated, even though he was. Enough with the tip-toeing already.

Mrs Weasley seemed calmer, but her eyes had welled up with tears. She brushed them away quickly, and went back to cooking. "It's just us, and Ginny, and Fred and George tonight," she went on. "So we'll eat inside."
Ron and Hermione looked at each other. Harry looked at the stairs. Ginny was coming down them. She was yawning sleepily. 

Hermione saw too, and tugged at Ron's arm.

"Let's go sit outside," she said.

Ron, clearing anticipating a snogging, followed her happily. Ginny had gone into the lounge room now, and Harry went after her.

She heard him coming in on the creaking floorboards and spun around.

"Oh. It's you, Harry," she said.

"Yeah. Hi." He hesitated. "Tired?"

"Just had a bit of a sleep then," she said evasively. "Been doing all this work."
He nodded, but could think of nothing else to say. After a few moments, she looked like she might be about to leave again, and he quickly stepped forward and spoke quietly: "Are you angry at me?"

"No," she said, looking taken aback.

"Oh." That was a relief. "Then why are you avoiding me?"

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "I'm avoiding you?"

"Er – yes?" he said, uncertain now.

"I thought you were avoiding me."

He started. "What?"

"I did. You're not?"

"No," he said, shaking his head vehemently.

"Really?"

They stood looking at each other and then both smiled ruefully.

"Well," Ginny said. "I feel like an idiot."

"I feel exactly the same."

"Why would I be avoiding you?"

Harry thought about that too-long hug, but couldn't bring it up. "I don't know," he said.

They went on looking at one another.

I have to say something now, he thought, or I might not get a decent chance again. But what? What could he possibly say that wouldn't make him sound like an absolute arse?

The idea came to in one of those rare flashes of inspiration.

"Listen, Ron and Hermione and I were talking today and we thought we might go into Diagon Alley tomorrow. D'you want to come? You could get your school stuff. Or not, you know, you could not get school stuff. It's up to you. If you come or not, as well. I mean – I just thought – you might want to," he finished lamely. Smooth. Very smooth, Potter.

She smiled, a bit shyly. He didn't think he'd seen Ginny shy since he was twelve. "That sounds great, but I'll have to ask Mum. You know how weird she can be these days."

He nodded. Fair enough.

"So – if she says you can come, you'll come?"

"Sure."
 "OK," he said. "Great. Good. Well – let me know once you've asked her."

"I will," she said.

"Well, I'll – see you at dinner, then."

"OK. I'm going to go help Mum," she said, and went past him into the kitchen.

Harry stood where he was a moment, and then broke into a smile – couldn't stop himself. That wasn't a flat-out rejection at all. That was practically an acceptance. Not that they were on a date or anything. Nothing like, because it was all four of them. Which was the genius of his plan – he wouldn't have to be alone with Ginny, so he couldn't freak out, but he'd still get to be with her.

Then he remembered that Ron and Hermione had no idea about the whole Diagon Alley concept, and went outside to find them.

They weren't, in fact, snogging – they were sitting on a sagging, wooden bench, holding hands and talking. Ron let go of Hermione's hand when he saw Harry, and waved him over.

Harry sat down next to them, and immediately launched into his spiel about Diagon Alley. Ron was enthusiastic, Hermione less so.

"I like it here better," she said.

"It's just a day trip," Harry argued. She still looked unconvinced. He hesitated, and then met her eye properly. "I invited Ginny along too, so she could get her school things if she wanted."

He actually saw Hermione's eyes brighten as she twigged. After that, she made a brief show of reluctance, and then, with some convincing from Ron, agreed.

"I suppose it might be fun," she said finally. "We won't be getting our books for the first time. And I can have a look at the library."
Ron shook his head in mock-disgust. Harry grinned at her. If her future career – whatever that might be – didn't work out, she could always go on the stage.

~

Fred and George were rather gloomy at dinner. Their apartment in London had plumbing problems and wouldn't be repaired for at least another week – which meant another week at home. They were so used to the fast life of the city now that they were easily bored in the confines of The Burrow, and constantly badgering whoever was nearest to play quidditch, or fruit tennis (in which they charmed pieces of fruit to act as ball and racquet – a game of their own, recent invention), or whatever ludicrous scheme they'd last cooked up. They were also worried about their joke shop.

"Who knows what Lee's doing to the place," Fred said glumly.

"He could be giving away our extendable ears to pretty girls."

"Or forgetting to pay the lease."

"Or trying on my dragon-skin jacket!" George exclaimed in an anguished tone. "I forgot I'd left it out the back!"

They both settled into a moody silence.

Harry tried to look at Ginny for most of dinner, but she was at the other end again, and Mrs Weasley blocked his view. Every now and again he'd catch a glimpse of her hand reaching for the potatoes, or a flick of red hair.

~

Later than night, he and Ron were playing chess on the floor in Ron's room, Hermione stretched out on Ron's bed, absorbed in a book. There was a knock on the door, and then it opened.

It was Ginny. She was wearing her pyjamas already, little grey shorts and a T-shirt, and Harry felt his mouth dry out.

"Hi," Ginny said. "Just thought I'd let you know I can come tomorrow."

Harry nodded. "Great," he said, somehow finding voice. "You're Mum was alright?"

Ginny shrugged. "Well, sort of," she said reluctantly.

"Sort of?" Ron asked. "That sounds a bit –"

"Ominous," Hermione finished for him. "What did she say?"

"I can go," said Ginny, "on one condition."