Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the idea. AU.

Touch your lips just so I know
in your eyes, love, it glows so
I'm bare-boned and crazy... for you.

  I opened the pale blue damask curtains forcefully, a dust cloud and burst of sunshine making the crisp, formal lines of my dark gray suit and the severe shape of my matching pumps somewhat less severe.

  I turned on the balls of my feet, the shuffling sound of my pumps against the border of dark, mahogany hardwood floors, sighing dismissively. "Of course, every room will need to be attacked by a team of house elves before I can even dream of trying to work on this place, Mrs. White. Of course, you know what's expected." I looked about the large blue drawing room, with its remarkably high ceilings, and rolled my eyes, drawling as affectionately as possible, "I want all critters and creatures out, everything removed of dust, and MAGICALLY wash all of the cloth items, the walls and floors need to be scrubbed, the fireplaces need to be cleaned, but leave my antiques and valuables alone." I broke into an uneasy smile, rubbing the back of my neck. "I can't believe it all stayed the same."

  "Your father didn't like to move anything." Mrs. White commented dryly. "Where will you be staying, Miss Rockford?"

  "Well, originally I had planned to room at the Diggorys. They're pleased I'm no longer staying at the Grimaldi Manor and, besides, it'll be their last summer housing Ron. They do worry about me." I paused, smiling somewhat wistfully before I shook my shoulders and returned to my senses. "But then the Diggorys decided to take Ron and Cedric on a vacation and sadly, their funds cannot provide me with the same pleasure, and they wouldn't let me pay my way. The boys have all moved out of Ms. Figg's apartment, her mother insisted upon it. Her mother was such a nice old lady, especially for a Squib, if Filch is any basis, they do tend to be bitter, so I've been arranged to stay with Sirius Black and his ward."

  "And who was that, my dear? Your friends' little custody battles do get so confusing." I had to admit. Mrs. White was a snobby, snobby Squib.

  "Mr. Potter, I presume? I don't know, after all, it is all so confusing." I retorted, rolling my eyes. "I'll still be in London, owl me when you know the house is prepared."

  Snob she may have been, she was quite professional and she loved me in her own, strange, impersonal way.

  She nodded and I headed toward the door, where my Portkey was waiting. Mrs. White handed me my valise and I hugged her coldly, smiling enigmatically and turning, disappearing into the lamp.

   I instantly felt overheated the minutes I stepped into Sirius's home. I couldn't see anything. There was fog…no, it wasn't fog, it was steam. Was I in a sauna? Did Sirius have a sauna? Is there a sauna in this story?

  I dropped my valise to the floor and instantly the roaring sound in my ears registered. Water.

  I was in someone's bathroom.

  …SHIT.

  There was so much steam I couldn't see the doors. I couldn't see anything but white shapes. I wandered aimlessly and slowly, bumping into the sink. I was tempted to wipe off the mirror to see who was in the shower, but I was lost and someone was taking a shower and I couldn't figure out where the door was.

  The water turned off.

  DOUBLE SHIT.

  A door that had been fogged up with steam slid open and the steam began to clear and I found myself staring into the brilliant green eyes of Harry Potter.

  TRIPLE SHIT.

   Harry's brow wrinkled at first, but then he broke into a grin, grabbing a towel before the steam disappeared completely, tucking in the top edge at his hip. A little low, don't you think? I was staring at his hip dumbfounded, and then my eyes slowly trailed up his skin to his magnificent smile.

  QUADRUPLE SHIT.

  "I take it Sirius forgot to fill out that paperwork? I reminded him." He said finally, gently moving past me to put on his glasses. The steam completely cleared and he picked up my valise and my lamp. I turned to face him awkwardly. "Let me get dressed and I'll—"

  Harry looked at me with a slightly amused, surprised look on his face. "Why are you so stiff, Ginny?" Harry smiled once more, slightly rolling his eyes, and disappearing out of one of two doors. The fact that I might have walked into the linen closet had I made myself determined enough to leave comforted me only slightly.

  He returned before I had a chance to open the medicine cabinet, dressed in a pair of loose khakis and a t-shirt that softly clung to him like a needy girlfriend. Harry laughed after giving me the once-over. "You look flustered."

  I frowned. "Do not."

  "You sure?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, and I nodded indignantly. "And I was just about to call you cute."

  "Good then." I said after a moment, frowning further still. He rolled his eyes and reached for my free hand, leading me through the door he had just come in from.

  It took me less than a second to figure out I was in the envied position of being a girl in Harry Potter's bedroom. The thought usually made me scowl; girls oohed and ahed when I went up to Ron's dorm to borrow something and some even asked me to get a souvenir. I rolled my eyes and instantaneously, the memories of being the envied visitor of the sixth years boys' dorm left as I suddenly felt hotter in this room than I did in the bathroom full of steam.

  Harry's room was quite a change from his dorm back at Hogwarts. Although both were a tad messy, he was a boy after all, the somewhat cozy antiques at Hogwarts were most definitely not Harry's style as the room was filled with chrome, gunmetal and dark blue metallic furniture, as well as jewel tone chairs and blankets. But besides the basics, Harry had no decorations and most of the floor and shelves were covered with full boxes. I shed my jacket nervously and complimented him on the place.

  "Yeah, I'm packing it up. Most of the place is packed up, actually." Harry grinned. "Sirius is getting married in August."

  My eyebrows raised in delight before they meshed into one. "I'm not…invading, am I?"

  "Nah, Sirius just won't be in that often. Besides, you're Ron's only sister. Couldn't have you kicked out onto the streets, could we now?" Harry laughed and someone popped their head into his doorway. I barely recognized them, but it didn't matter.

  The lanky boy merely nodded and grabbed three boxes before exiting.

  "Don't mind him, he's not very friendly." Harry muttered. "He's Bella's cousin and he's the biggest grump I've ever met. I offered to do the moving myself, but he just sorta started and never stopped. I guess he's bored."

 "Or selling your stuff." I laid back on Harry's bed, the soft and gentle velvety texture that wasn't at all rich or heavy making me marvel. This couldn't be cotton. I closed my eyes; these were the only foreign sheets I had ever come in contact with that didn't make me shiver. I felt the weight shift on the bed and I turned, opening my eyes. Harry was leaning next to me, our four legs dangling off the edge of the bed, propping himself up on a bended elbow. "When's your place supposed to be done?"

  I shrugged, still relishing the softness of his sheets. "No idea."

  "Well, then I have you to myself for some time, huh?" He grinned and sat up. He stretched out a bit.

  "Um, I guess." I sat up, biting my lip and raising my eyebrows simultaneously. "Is Sirius home right now?"

  Harry shrugged and flopped back down on the bed. I joined him, staring up at the ceiling. You could see where posters had been put up.

  "Ginny?" He asked after a moment, and I turned my head to face him.

  "Yeah?" He was still looking at the ceiling, and he startled me when he turned his head to face mine.

  He studied my features for a moment, and suddenly reached a finger out to trace my jaw line. It was rough…a different sort of roughness than Avery's. Avery had an unpolished coarseness about him, while in contrast; Draco's hands had been all too silky. Harry's finger wasn't silky, but it was smooth.

  "Why do you look so different from the Weasleys?" My eyes narrowed in confusion.

  "What? What do you mean?"

  Harry gave me a soft, small smile, stroking my hair, implying with his gentle touch that my hair was different, then both of his hands cupped my face, noting wordlessly the evenness of my skin: the lack of freckles. He inched closer, blinking pointedly.

  "Thestral's milk. Maxwell's girlfriend fed me Thestral's milk. Maxwell was trying to be charitable, she wanted a publicity cow." I answered, noting how Harry hadn't made me tremble since I had arrived.

  "How does that make you feel…you know, that your beauty wasn't natural?" Harry asked me suddenly, and I stared at him intently, trying not to smile.

  "You're the first person to have ever asked me that." I turned my head, giggling. "It's sort of like permanent cosmetics. For a while it startled me; I had no identity of my own. But I am a Weasley. Just in different packaging…" I turned back to face him, staring at his chin. "It just took me a while to realize that."

  Harry nodded, his eyes meeting mine, a smile trickling into his bright green orbs and my own pleading silently for an answer. One hand came off my face and suddenly gripped the small of my back carefully, as if I might break. I closed my eyes, feeling almost helpless but strangely not vulnerable. And then he kissed me.

  It was a soft, lingering kiss.

  "I kind of like that you don't look like a Weasley." He said after a moment and I opened my eyes. "It'd kind of be like kissing Ron."

  I giggled in spite of what had just happened. Still, I had yet to quiver. Why was it that this—boy wonder, a boy I barely knew…why did he make me feel more comfortable than with Draco, who I'd known since I began my adolescence, or Avery, who I knew I'd probably never speak to again?

  Before I could get confused, Harry kissed me again. This time, a little more forceful, and open-mouthed, but it was still pleasant. In fact, it was perfect.

  "Why?" I asked, pulling away suddenly.

  "Because, little Miss Ginny Weasley…" He began, and he had a look in his eyes that he did not act upon; lust. Point for Mister Potter. "You are beautiful."

  "I know that." I said, rolling my eyes and sitting up.

  "No, you don't. Your Thestral beauty is not what I'm talking about. It's the emotion that flashes

in your eyes when you're confused or scared or happy. It's genuine." He sat up suddenly and

pulled me into another kiss, a swift, and playful one. My arms had somehow ended up around

his neck, but I couldn't face him when it was over. "You are a Weasley in different packaging.

And in spite of what you've been through and what you've learned, you're strong and willing."

  I raised one eyebrow. "Alright?"

  He laughed once more and pushed me back onto the bed, arching over me, and there was

something comforting in his expression. Perhaps it was the fact that it wasn't full of lust. It was

full of a happiness and zest and then I figured out he wasn't kissing me because I was beautiful,

because I had curves or because I had money. He was kissing me just for the sake of kissing

me.

  "You are beautiful." He whispered in my ear between kisses; kisses that weren't hungry or

lingering or mysterious. He didn't just want me, the superficial and short desire that was

intertwined with the equally succinct and shallow attraction factor intrigue, he needed me.

  And I needed someone like him.

  But our semi-tryst was interrupted by the lanky grump coming in and glaring at me, as if I was

corrupting Harry or something. The conception is understandable, but honestly, I hadn't kissed

him. But Harry inched away from me whilst the other boy moved about, as if he had something

to be ashamed of. My heart sank and a spiked fence began to spring up around it.

  My eyes must have blazed dangerously, because both of them suddenly stopped what they

were doing. I flashed them both a sarcastic smile and left the room abruptly, muttering

something about saying hello to Sirius.

  I rushed to a bathroom first, looking through the medicine cabinet desperately and finding what

I wanted. I stuffed a long, glittering tube between the bottom of the door and the floor and began

to cry miserably.

  How could he do this? A man that had been in my life for a relatively short time, with no

possible perks, no intrigue, no mystique…how could I want him so much he made me cry?

To be continued.