The sticky summer night enveloped Ginny in an
uncomfortable blanket. She tossed and turned in her
bed, desperatley trying to find that last cool spot on
her sheet. Endlessly she turned over her pillow, and
was grateful for those seconds of cool bliss it gave
her before heating again.

She turned on her side, eyes wide open and marveled at
the fact that Hermione was asleep, and had been for
hours, on the mattress on her floor.

Hermione and Harry had been staying at the Burrow for
two weeks already, and they were looking forward to
three more weeks together. They had all been surprised
that Dumbledore had let Harry, especially, come for so
long, but it wasn't without extra security. There were
constantly at least three Order members at the house,
and many of them would stay for hours improving and
building new wards around the house.

Ginny groaned and sat up in exasperation, silentley
cursing whoever thought of the Underage Magic law,
which stopped her from solving her problems with a
quick cooling charm. She swung her legs over the side
of the bed and automatically sought her slippers. She
quickly threw them off, for they wrapped her feet in
even more unwanted heat, and winced as they just
missed Hermione's sleeping form,

She trod carefully through her darkened room, mindful
to take small steps, lest she kick Hermione. She felt
her foot hit the mattress, and leaped over it,
stumbling when her foot snagged the sheet. Ginny
looked quickly at Hermione, but breathed a sigh of
relief- she hadn't noticed anything.

Ginny made her way slowly to the kitchen, intent on a
cool glass of water- anything to relieve her from the
heat. She creaked open her door, but no one had heard.
She knew every step on the stairs that would signal to
her mother that she was up, not that her mother would
mind, of course, but was still careful to jump lightly
over them.

The kitchen was only lit by the small ever-lasting
candle her mother left burning every night. Ginny
walked in quietly, heading for the cupboard to get a
glass. When she finished filling it at the tap,
letting the cool water run over her hands for a
minute, she turned to sit at the table. She jumped
slightly when she saw another figure already occupying
the too-small table.

She couldn't immediatley see who it was at the table,
other than it was male. He was slumped and appeared to
have fallen asleep. There was even a half-full glass
of water next to him.

She instantley thought who she would like it to be.
She would have liked it to be Harry, waiting for her
to come to him and solve all his problems. Perhaps
they could start meeting every night. He would be able
to see how great she really was, and maybe even
eventually come to like her...

With these thoughts in mind she crossed the room and
scaped a chair back loudly, and succeeded in shaking
him from his stupor. He jerked his head up with a
groggy, "Whaddya want?" and Ginny realized with a
slight pang that his head wasn't covered in messy,
black hair, and his eyes were not covered by old
glasses. Instead, a shock of red hair suddenly came
into the light, as his sleepy eyes sought her.

"Ginny?" Ron asked, rubbing his eyes and then taking a
sip of water.

Ginny couldn't help but slump her shoulders slightly
in disappointment.

"Yeah, it's me." she answered dully.

"Don't try to sound too excited," he answered
sarcastically. He rose to fill his glass with fresh
water.

He returned to his place and sat quietly. Neither of
them felt the need to talk, and they sat in
companionable silence.

The minutes ticked on, counted only by the clock
mounted above Ginny's head. She wanted to ask why he
was down here this late, but was reluctant to put a
stop to the relaxing silence.

"So, what are you doing down here?" she eventually
asked.

His eyes turned to her, and he suddenly seemed older.
He seemed to be judging her, deciding if he should lay
his confidence with her. Eventually his eyes left hers
and he squinted at a spot directly over her shoulder.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Nightmare's and all that,"
he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"/Your/ nightmares? Or..." she couldn't help herself
and left the question open for him.

"Oh no, not /mine/. No," he sighed, "Harry again."

She nodded slightly and looked down at her hands
gripping her glass. She wondered why Harry's
nightmares would cause him to have to leave the room,
but decided not to ask. The minuted began to tick by,
and more questions bubbled within her. She wanted to
know all about Harry, everything, but didn't know how,
or, indeed, what to ask, there was so much.

"How is he?" she asked quietly, some time later.

"Who, Harry?" again he sighed with so much sadness
that she clenched her jaw, hating whoever did this to
them.

"Well, if you ask him," Ron continued, "I'll bet
anything he'll say, 'I'm fine, don't worry,' but I
don't know. Hermione reckons he's not telling us
something. She thinks its got something to do with the
Department of Mysteries."

"What, other than Sir-,"

"Yes, of course other than /that," he cut her off
harshly. "It's just that, he won't tell us /anything/
anymore. He was in Dumbledore's office for so long
after we returned. I just don't know." he slumped back
in his chair and turned his eyes towards the ceiling.
Ginny looked away quickly, blinking her eyes rather quickly.

Again, the silence descended upon them, and neither were quick to change it. Ginny glanced over at Ron as he played with his glass; teetering it on edge- capturing it fully with his hand just before it fell. Ginny sipped her water through pursed lips.

"Is there anything you can do? Anything /I/ could do?" she asked quietly.

He laughed quietly, shaking his head and smiling. "What could you do? Its seems we've tried everything."

"Everything?" she was staring at her own hands now, teetering the glass as he had. She missed the odd glance he gave her. /Surely not everything, she thought.

"He just needs... space," he said with slowly, "space... and, I don't know... something /else/. Something neither Hermione nor I could give him." He was looking at her hard, but she refused to meet his gaze.

She knew what he was getting at. She knew it, and she agreed. He needed someone to /talk/ to. Someone who would listen. Someone like...

/Me, she thought sadly.

Once again, neither of them spoke. They both sipped quietly, never meeting eachothers gaze, never sharing what they were thinking. /What could they do/

"I'm going back to bed," Ginny finally said, a bit gruffly. "See you in the moring, alright?"

"Alright," he answered.

She left him sitting alone, her empty glass still on the table, her chair not pushed in. As she trod slowly and quietly to her room, she glanced further up the stairs, at Ron's room. She heard a rustling from within and sighed.

/All he needs is... me./