Despite her initial worries, Ginny actually found the seven days of the summer to be not as lonely as she had imagined. Yes, of course, there were a couple of those days, the days where Harry, Ron, and Hermione would disappear right away after breakfast, and all that was seen or heard of them was a flash of bushy brown hair or a bark of laughter, but usually, they would allow Ginny to join them in their escapades.

And despite her initial excitement, Ginny soon learned that perhaps the trio's coveted outings weren't as fun or important as she had imagined them to be. They had their share of jokes and laughs, but by the middle of the first day Ginny couldn't help but notice the awkward, heavy silences that would fall all too often when somebody, usually Ron, accidentally stumbled onto topic that would send somebody, usually Harry, into a brooding state. And then somebody, usually Ginny, would rack their brains for a way to cure the mishap.

"You know," Ginny said, somewhat desperately, to cover the silence that had followed after a thoughtless comment by, surprisingly, Hermione who had happened to mention a clever spell used in the Department of Mysteries, "I heard Mum mentioning a trip to Diagon Alley this weekend. Suppose we will, Ron?"

"Err, I don't see why not," Ron said, giving Ginny a hard look. Usually, she was a bit better at transitioning topics than this. "We've only got a couple weeks left before school starts."

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know why we couldn't just go ourselves. It's not as if we need her around to baby-sit anyway."

"Yeah," Ron said nonchalantly. "I don't particularly mind." A suspicious look crossed his face. "Why would you care whether she was there to watch over us or not?"

There was no disguising the regretful face Ginny made. "No reason, really. I'm just ready for a little more freedom, that's all."

This was the wrong thing to say. "Freedom to do what exactly?" Ron demanded. "And with whom?"

Ginny turned on Hermione accusatorily. "You told him Dean was coming, didn't you?"

Hermione had the good grace at least to look sheepish. "It came up. Honestly, Ginny, I was just warning him to keep away."

Ginny made a show of sighing heavily and crossing her arms, but deep down she knew that was all it was: a show. A quick glance in Harry's direction let her know what she was doing was working. He had long since shed his brooding shell, looking mildly interested, amused even, at what was taking place. Ginny felt a squirm of pleasure at being able to help him forget his sadness, if only for the moment.

She was ignoring the accompanying feeling of disappointment that he didn't seem in the least bit jealous that she was hinting of doing unspeakable things with Dean.

Unspeakable things with Dean…

Ginny's smile turned sickly.

She really was a horrible girlfriend, she mused, as conversation sparked around her once more, consisting of Hermione insisting that Ron be civil around Dean that weekend, and Ron staunchly maintaining that his kid sister deserved better. This, in turn, led to a strict lecture on what a good friend Dean had been to them that year among many other positive points, which was then retaliated by Ron mentioning that Ginny might have competition for Dean's affections if Hermione was so enamored, and that was followed by…

Good lord their arguments were mind-numbing, Ginny thought, annoyed, as she rubbed her temples. She glanced at Harry to see that her earlier efforts had gone to waste, as he fell into yet another contemplative silence under the cover of Ron and Hermione's bickering. Ginny had an almost undeniable urge to shake the pair and scold them like her mother. Look at what you've done now!

But she knew she couldn't. It would only serve to discomfort everyone involved, especially Harry.

Harry, who perhaps was in a better mood today than usual as he caught sight of Ginny's fingers massaging her head and cracked an amused, albeit small, grin. Ginny seized the chance to forge ahead, capitalizing on the door he had had nudged open. "Like an old married couple, aren't they?" she said in a loud whisper, meant to be overheard but still failing to catch the attention of Ron and Hermione.

Harry nodded. "I imagine they'll keep at it until they actually are an old married couple," he whispered back conspiratorially.

"Oh, they'll never stop," Ginny agreed. "I imagine we'll hear them bickering back and forth from their graves."

Graves…

Ginny winced, and Harry pretended not to notice. Alluding to death, Ginny scolded herself, not a bright move. At all. Something Ron would do. Jesus, Gin. A fleeting silence passed over them, but despite a clench of his jaw, Harry tried to forge ahead, unaffected. "Yes, well," he said with a cough, "I guess that puts us in the position of the eternal peacemakers."

"We could make a career of it," Ginny said, back to pretending that nothing had happened, "Mum would be so proud. I mean, yes, she's always fancied the idea of her daughter being a medi-witch but surely she'll be thankful for the load I took on someday. It'll be a public service, really." Harry and Ginny glanced over at the still heavily-involved pair in front of them and began to laugh.

At about this point, Ron and Hermione seemed to pick up on the fact that they were the topic of discussion. "I'm not sure what you said," Ron muttered darkly, his ears pink, "but sod off, both of you."

But those, of course, were the good days.

Harry was talkative and happy those days, almost deceptively so, and Ginny strongly suspected that he, and Ron and Hermione for that matter, were all caught up in some type of act. The bad days, come to think of it, weren't that much different except that the laughs came more forced and the smiles more tense. But there was always something much darker and palpable on the bad days too, looming over them, and Ginny was always afraid if she stretched her fingers above her head, she'd be able to grab hold of it.

In no time at all, Ginny became an expert at recognizing the signs that would inevitably lead to a bad day. A creak of the staircase at three or four in the morning followed by the sound of water running from the sink and into the glass--Harry's usual schedule post-nightmare, the rare mention of a missing ministry official in the Daily Prophet, the sight of Harry's fingers tracing his scar that indicated some type of dark activity…these, among others, were the main warning signs.

Sometimes, Ginny almost preferred the bad days. The group seemed more real these days, their act less transparent. They had undergone a tragedy last year, and Ginny couldn't help but wonder, occasionally, if they were going about the wrong way of dealing with what had happened. Particularly Harry. It seemed he had dropped his puberty-induced angry-at-the-world act from last year, and developed a much more masking one. The hurt from what had happened in the Department of Mysteries was heavily veiled during the daytime, and Ginny suspected, only to be allowed to show itself at night, both in his dreams and in the following ten minutes in which he blearily stumbled down her creaky steps to get himself a glass of water. The rest of the time, it was relegated to tearing Harry apart from the inside. It couldn't have been healthy.

Of course, Ginny didn't probe too deeply, as she was somewhat aware that she was guilty of not being able to face her own feelings concerning, well, everything as well.

But there was so much to confront, where could she start?

The answer wasn't easy to come by. For now, it was just neater and simpler to tuck everything away, neat and tidy, in some dark corner until she was ready. Until all of them were ready. For now, they could continue their façade, with smiles and good cheer to fool everybody into believing that they retained their innocence.

It was amazing how one night could tear so many people apart.

And it was also amazing how other people could keep on living, unaware or unaffected by the same tragedy.

Dean chattered on happily on the day Ginny met him in Diagon Alley.

"Been a while since we've been in touch, eh? I almost thought you wouldn't owl me back in time to meet up, but you did, and well, here we are," he said, shooting her a winning grin. It had been the first full sentence he had been allowed to say to her, as Hermione had only recently been able to drag away a protective Ron and cordial Harry off in the direction of Flourish and Blotts. Mrs. Weasley, in the end, had opted not to come, with the reasoning that it should only take them a few hours and she really did have so many chores around the house to do.

Ginny nodded, a half-hearted attempt to add to the conversation. Not that Dean noticed. "Beautiful day really; weathermen were saying it was a record high for London on the telly this morning. Really fantastic weather for ice cream, don't you think?"

It was shameful, but Ginny couldn't help but perk up at the words. It had been a while since she had treated herself to such a thing. Dean laughed. "I thought that would get a rise out of you. How about we head over to Fortescue's, and I'll buy you a cone?"

"Oh, no," Ginny said, waving him off, "I've got plenty of money to pay for myself." Which wasn't entirely true, Ginny thought as she fingered the dwindling change in her pocket, enough perhaps to afford the smallest cone, but it was the principle of the matter.

"I insist," Dean said staunchly. "I'm your boyfriend, and according to the manual this means I must hold your hand, tell you you're beautiful, and most importantly, buy you things. The manual is never wrong, you know."

"I'd like to get my hands on this manual," Ginny said, raising a brow.

Dean shook his head. "Anything else, Gin, but that would be a betrayal to all of my fellow men."

"Uh huh," Ginny said slowly, "And when you say anything else, you mean…"

Dean winced, "Unfortunate slip of the tongue. Let's keep things reasonable here, please, Gin?"

She made the effort to cross her arms over her chest and pout convincingly. "So I suppose this means no diamond ring?"

"It is a little soon for that," Dean pointed out with a furrowed brow.

"Fine," Ginny said, scowl still in place, "I suppose I can settle for a two scope cone of vanilla ice cream and sprinkles."

With a laugh, Dean settled an arm around her waist and steered her inside Fortescue's parlor. "Now, that I can manage."

A good twenty minutes later, thanks to the enormous crowd who had apparently agreed with Dean that it was the perfect day for a cone, Ginny and Dean were happily licking at their vanilla and mint-chocolate chip ice creams, respectively. Dean's arm was still snaked around Ginny's waist, and while normally Ginny would have found someway to subtly extract herself, she was in a good mood today and decided to try and enjoy the benefits of having a boyfriend. Besides, she was fairly certain she could see Ron's red hair bobbing over the crowd towards them.

She leaned further into Dean's hold. "Thanks for the ice cream," she murmured.

Dean laughed and gave her a small pinch in the side. "You'd better be thankful. After the warlock and I swear what had to be a vampire that I had to sneak around to get the front, and not to mention that little girl who kicked me in the shin, I went through a lot for that cone in your hands."

"Well, you could have just waited in line like everybody else," Ginny pointed out.

"Ah," Dean said with a careless shrug, "Where's the fun in that? Anyway, I've always wanted to be James Bond when I grow up."

"James Bond?" Ginny repeated cluelessly.

Dean sighed. "Muggle reference."

"Oh," Ginny said, making a mental note to ask Hermione about it later. "Well, James Bond, I don't suppose you could get us out of this."

"What?" Dean asked.

"This," Ginny repeated grimly as Ron came into clear view, his expression twisted angrily as Harry and Hermione struggled to keep up with his long strides.

"Thomas, you'd better have a good explanation as to why you're all over my sister in the middle of the street," he demanded as he charged up to them.

Dean cringed and began to take his arm away, but Ginny's fingers wrapped firmly around his hand before he could. "Well, considering he's my boyfriend, Ron," she said peevishly, "I'd have to say he did have a fairly good excuse. Besides, he wasn't all over me."

"Bullocks," Ron all but shouted, "I could see you two snogging from Gringotts."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "This," she said, gesturing to her and Dean's intertwined fingers, "is not snogging. This, on the other hand, is." Abruptly, she released Dean's hand and turned into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and crashing her lips onto his. Dean made a noise of surprise, but it came out as a moan, and Ginny reveled in the fact that it probably only made Ron more upset. After what she felt was a sufficient demonstration, Ginny pulled away, leaving a panting Dean. "Really, Ron," she said, only then raising her eyes to his, "Mum and Dad should have had a talk with you about this sort of thing a while ago."

Ron was positively purple, and Ginny felt the pleasurable warmth in her stomach of satisfaction. His mouth gaped open, but before he could explode, Hermione laid a hand on his arm. "Really, Ron," she said, "Now isn't the time or place to overreact." Ron said nothing, but Ginny could see some normal coloring return to his face, and she shot her friend a grateful smile. Hermione in return, glared, catching Ginny off guard. She happened to catch a glance at Harry's uncomfortable, almost embarrassed expression as well and wondered for the first time if she had gone too far.

Dean was still trying to catch his breath behind her, and Ginny fought the urge to roll her eyes again. At least somebody was happy. She averted her gaze in shame, only to see a couple of old biddies shaking their heads in her direction. Oh, bugger it. "I'm sorry," she said finally, breaking the silence and giving her boyfriend a good tug. "Come on, Dean. Let's go buy our books." He complied without protest, and they left the trio staring open-mouthed behind them.

"You know," Dean ventured hesitantly after a long while of silence. "You really don't have anything to be ashamed of, Gin. I thought what you did was clever. Funny, even."

"Of course you did," Ginny said sourly. "You got a good snog out of it."

Dean fell silent again, and Ginny didn't feel any remorse until she crawled into bed that night, begging off dinner with the excuse that the ice cream had given her a stomachache. She really was turning into a horrible person, she reflected as she curled deeper into her covers. To Dean, and to Ron, and to everybody else. In between the times she assured her family she was fine and sending off letters to Hermione and Dean, she had burrowed deeper within herself, creating her own little shell to block away others. One would have suspected, given everything that had happened last year that she and her brother would be that much more closer, bonded by their near-death experience.

On the contrary. Ginny and Ron's petty arguments had escalated steadily over the summer, to the point where they had gone days without speaking a word to each other, before Harry and Hermione had arrived. It would be over silly, unimportant things too, stuff that they would have laughed off within minutes in the past. Ginny's only guess as to why their fights had developed such an intensity was that they knew too much about each other.

Ginny and Ron had always been close. In age and in mannerisms. They blushed fiercely when embarrassed, laughed easily among friends, and put up unmatchable temper tantrums when they were angry. They both felt deeply about, well, a lot of things. They understood each other well. Ron could tell when Ginny was lying, and Ginny was able to get Ron in trouble for a number of things that he had never confessed, but she knew he had done when they were younger.

And because they knew each other so well, they could also see right through the acts they both put up this summer and witness something neither of them was ready to handle yet, that both of them wanted to remain tucked away in their respective corners. So it was best to stay away, to close themselves off, rather than to face their problems.

It was messy, but it was the only way to keep from falling apart.

Because, right now, falling apart just simply wasn't an option. Not for Ginny anyway. She had scorned the Ministry for it last year, but now she grudgingly had to agree that sweeping things under the rug, while wrong, had its appeal. It was easier somehow, better, to pretend everything was okay than to admit weakness. Ever since her first year and the summer following, when Ginny had been treated like a fragile baby doll, she had hated admitting weakness. Hated it.

Besides, it wasn't as if she was trying to pretend away Voldemort's existence, just covering the fact that it had shaken her so much. There was nothing wrong with that for the time being.

It was better this way, really.

Author's Note: I know, I know. Long time between updates (not smart for a new story) and minimal H/G with lots of Dean/Ginny. What do you guys think of Dean anyway? Please read and review! The response last time was great, and I'm looking forward to reading more of your comments.