Disclaimer: Come on, people, if I owned any little piece of the wonderful world of Harry Potter, do you really think I would be writing this story? Well for those of you who think I would, I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING. EVERYTHING BELONGS TO JK ROWLING sighs, and church-like opera music starts playing; may God BLESS her!.

A/N: I'm in desperate need of a beta (for plot-line help more than grammar), so if anyone's interested, please let me know in your review (hint), or email me (check my profile).

Sometimes You Just Need a Slap in the Face

Chapter 2: Boy in the Bubble

This chapter is dedicated to LaurelinElentari for being my first reviewer, and a very helpful one at that.

It was a slow day

And the sun was beating

On the soldiers by the side of the road

There was a bright light

A shattering of shop windows

The bomb in the baby carriage

Was wired to the radio

These are the days of miracle and wonder

This is the long distance call

The way the camera follows us in slo-mo

The way we look to us all

The way we look to a distant constellation

That's dying in a corner of the sky

These are the days of miracle and wonder

And don't cry baby, don't cry

Don't cry

It's a turn-around jump shot

It's everybody jump start

It's every generation throws a hero up the pop charts

Medicine is magical and magical is art, think of

The Boy in the Bubble

And the baby with the baboon heart

"Boy in the Bubble" by Paul Simon

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"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley was beaming and crying all at once, her large warm figure squeezing Harry so tight he felt he would explode. "I'm SO glad you're FINALLY here. We were all so WORRIED when you didn't write back--of course, Remus came regularly to check up on you-you wouldn't have recognized him of course--Oh! Would you like some tea, or perhaps---."

"Mum! Give Harry some room, you're cutting off his bloody air supply!" Ron seemed to have grown even taller, if possible, Harry noticed as his red-headed best friend bounded toward him.

"Ronald! Don't curse in my house!" Mrs. Weasley was still smiling, however, as she reprimanded Ron.

"Harry, mate! How's your summer been?" Ron asked, giving Harry a brotherly clap on the back.

"Ron!" A stern, superior voice scolded in a stage whisper. "Remember what we talked about. Hi, Harry. How are you feeling?" Hermione had that incredibly annoying 'I'm really concerned about your emotional health and well-being' look on her face (A/N if you don't know the look I'm talking about, read the books again, my friend).

"Oh, so you've been talking about me have you? Pitying the poor bloody boy-who-lived because he killed his own godfather. Well I hope you've had fun PITYING ME. I, on the other hand, actually have to FEEL the pain. You want to know how my summer's been? DO YOU? Well, it was AWFUL. Not that any of YOU could possibly understand!" With that, Harry bounded up the crooked steps of the Burrow, leaving a sea of red hair and faces gaping behind him.

Hermione stood there, silent tears streaming down her face, stealing perturbed glances at Ron, whose facial color rivaled that of cooked tomato sauce.

Harry, not really knowing which room to go into, just slid down a wall next to a slightly cracked-open door and buried his face in his hand, closing his angry green eyes.

All of the sudden, a small hand grabbed the collar of his t-shirt roughly and dragged him none too apologetically through the ajar door.

Too exhausted to protest, Harry simply looked up to see two narrowed brown eyes and pursed lips, then two tiny fists set on slim hips, and a long mane of red hair. Ginny glared at him relentlessly.

"What do you want?" Harry asked Ginny, trying very hard not to show his fear of her, and nearly failing.

"What do I want? What do I want... Well, let's go through the list, Harry. First of all, I want you to stop treating my family like the scum beneath a bucket of cow manure, and I want you to show them the respect they have ALWAYS shown YOU. Secondly, I want you stop having an angst-fest, and gain some SELF-CONTROL before you REALLY start to irritate me. I also would like you to stop pretending that a) you are the only one who is affected by Voldemort; we ALL are in one way or another and b) that everyone is out to make you feel awful; you seem very able to to that yourself. Lastly, I let the whole "marked man" thing slide because I wanted to get you away from the Dursleys, but I think we would all like to know WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL you are moaning and groaning about," her voice softened, "We can't help you if you keep acting like the boy in a bubble, Harry."

Harry sat up now from his sprawled position on the floor, amazed at how Ginny was able to leave him absolutely speechless, and always seemed to get the better of him. "What bubble?" he asked.

Ginny's eyes narrowed again. "You're almost as bad as Ron, though that would be impossible. I obviously didn't mean a literal bubble. I just meant that you're closing yourself off from the rest of the world, including those who want to help you."

"You don't know--"

"I know exactly why you're doing it,Harry. You feel guilty about everything that's happened to you, and you feel like a-a threat or something to those around you, and you're trying to protect them by pushing them away. But you're only hurting them." Ginny's eyes were deep with concern.

"Trust me; they're better off not knowing me at all."

"But we do know you Harry. Whether you like it or not, we know you and we care about you. And it's our choice to associate with you."

"But why on earth would you want to associate with a person like me? A murderer."

"Because you're not a murderer, Harry. Sirius' death is not your fault. Sure, you let your emotions override your logic, but that's what we all love about you. You'd do anything and everything to save those you love. You know how many people are like that? Very few, Harry, very very few. And stop worrying about why we care for you, why you care for other people, why you--why you're a marked man. You just have to accept what's already happened, fix things where things can be fixed, remember what happened but don't dwell on it, do what you have do, and find a reason to do it that means something to you. Perhaps then you could enjoy life a little more, hm?"

Harry was appalled at Ginny's apparent wisdom and had quite a bit of trouble finding the words. "Er..right. Yes, maybe. Well, that's a lot to think about isn't it."

"Ok, well, eat now, think later, you're so thin you're practically transparent," Ginny was looking at Harry with a smirk playing on her face.

As Ginny gave Harry her hand to help him off the floor, Harry thought, How does she know everything I'm thinking and feeling right now? It's almost spooky, it's like--.

"Tom Riddle."

"What?" Harry was shaken out of his reverie by both this comment and Ginny letting go of his hand, which he did not even realize he had still been holding.

"Tom Riddle. That's how I know. I am right? You know I am." (A ginormous cookie to whoever can tell me what the last two sentences are from :)

Harry followed Ginny down the wobbly staircase, feeling all the more at home, and longing to find out more about this mysterious but incredibly strong girl who he hadn't seen though she'd been there all along.

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A/N: Yay!!! End of chapter two. I think I may be getting the hang of this writing thing. IIIIIII LIKE IT!!! Anyhoo, what I do like EVEN more? The leprechaun children inside my head yell "REVIEWS!!!" That's right, kids, I love reviews. So por favor, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW. Whatever (hopefully constructive) comment you've got to make, please let me know, young jetti. I'll post chapter three hopefully tomorrow, it depends on if my muse pays me a friendly visit or not.