Chapter I.
So Young

It was coming - the War was coming, this one, valid fact, Harry Potter knew. Some had all ready said, it's here, but the teenaged boy knew better. If he was still able to breathe, to behold the eye of the heavens rising, to hold Ginny Weasley in his arms; then, the War was not yet here.

So, it was he and she, a coy, red-headed girl, entangled with a dark-haired boy on one of the couches in Gryffindor Commons. The fire burned as brightly as a Summer's day, yet it was Winter. Long ago, the snow had ceased falling, leaving a good six to eight inches on the ground. It was so cold - too cold for any person to go out there, let alone open a door. Gryffindors of all ages and years were either snuggled in bed, or lounging in the Commons.

Harry noticed that Ginny's breath was uneven, far from being content. Her dark brown eyes that seemed to echo all the shades of warm chocolate, were closed, attempting to feign slumber. But, he could see directly through her facade - he would always see through her, as if she were nothing more than seran wrap. Hesitantly, Harry wrapped his fingers around her shoulder. Ginny jumped, slightly, actually believing that her falsities had been working.

"Are you tired?" he whispered, kissing her ear.

"A bit,"

"Want to go to bed?"

"Not really,"

Sighing, wearily, Harry turned the girl so that he could behold every inch of her countenance. Briefly studying her, the green eyed boy found that no one could compare to Ginny's natural beauty. Sure, she was a plain sort of pretty, what with brown eyes, and placid tresses of a common red shade of hair. The light speckling of freckles across her narrow nose only made her more endearing to him. She was tall, almost as tall as Ron - it ran in the family. As did her muscled tone of her body, from playing Quidditch. Her voice was neither silk or honey, nor course or hard; it was simplistically Ginny Weasley's voice - a voice only she could possess.

"What's wrong, Ginny, and don't lie, I can tell when you're lying,"

"Oh, really?" she questioned, an eyebrow raised.

"Your bottom lip twitches when you lie,"

"Ah!" and, Ginny playfully slapped him, "It does not!"

"Does to,"

"Does not,"

"Does to - infinity,"

"Does not - infinity, plus one," she stuck her tongue out at Harry, "so, there!"

So, the began a tickle war. It was common knowledge that Ginny was extremely ticklish on her sides. But, few knew that Harry's weakness was his neck. The few students that were dilly-dallying in the Commons, made agitated sounds, then proceeded to their rooms. It made them sick to their stomachs to see the two love birds shamelessly flirting with one another. But at the moment, it was just them: Harry and Ginny, and they were so young, and they thought they would stay that way forever.