Harry was sitting cross-legged on his bed at Privet Drive, reading a letter that Hermione had sent him. It was only two weeks into Summer break, but he was already feeling ostracized from the goings-on within the Order. The letter was caring and empathetic, but Harry still found himself wishing for something of more substance, something that could hold his attention long enough to let him forget about what had happened at the end of the year. His days passed dully; there wasn't much to do besides his homework. He walked sometimes, doing nothing but wander for hours on end. The fresh outside air felt a lot less heavy than the atmosphere inside his bedroom.
He folded the letter from Hermione and reached for his Transfiguration text, which was lying ominously at the foot of his bed, calling to him with promises of long, laborous essays. For about twenty minutes he attempted to make sense of the complicated paragraphs swimming in front of him, but he eventually realized that there was no way he'd be able to concentrate on something that stiff and intricate for a long period of time. Out of his window, dusk was blanketing the street with a blurring haze. Harry stretched out on his bed, and in a few minutes he drifted into a light sleep.
What felt like a few seconds later, Harry was awoken by a dull thud against the wall by his head. He sat up abruptly, realizing that the wall by his head was one of the outside walls of the house. Straightening his glasses which had gone crooked during his unconciousness, he pushed himself groggily out of bed and shuffled over to the window. As he had expected, there was nothing there. Then, there was another sound, except it was not a muffled thud, and it was right in front of Harry. Something was knocking on the window. After a second he heard a voice, light and feminine but filled with urgency.
"Harry! It's me; it's Ginny. Open the window!"
For a few seconds Harry didn't move, he just stared at the window in disbelief.
"Harry!" Ginny said again.
When he heard her voice for the second time his paralysis broke and he hastily unlatched the window and yanked it open. He felt a hand on his wrist and he grasped the invisible flesh, pulling Ginny into the room. Her entrance was clumsy and she toppled to the floor.
"Ginny? Are you okay? How did you-" Harry started. He stopped abruptly when Ginny began to materialize in front of him, standing up now, holding her wand to the back of her head.
"I picked up a lot on my own this past year, Harry," Ginny said, smiling slightly. She stared into his eyes for a moment and then pulled him hesitantly into a hug.
"Ginny, why are you here?" Harry said suddenly after they had embraced for a few seconds. The young woman pulled away and sat down heavily on to Harry's bed.
"I wanted to see how you were doing," she said, picking up his clock and looking at it curiously, "I thought maybe..." her voice faded into uncertainty.
"You thought maybe I had locked myself in my room and I was spending all of my time spiraling into a well of depression?" Harry said, a slight edge on his voice.
"No," Ginny said with a quiet but firm tone, "I just thought that maybe you were lonely."
"You never seemed to be that worried about it before," Harry said, staring at the floor.
Ginny rose slowly and stepped over to where Harry was standing. She gripped both of his shoulders firmly; he looked up at her, his eyes defensive.
"I didn't know how to make myself invisible so I could fly to your house before," she replied. For a few minutes they just stood there, Ginny's hands gripping Harry's shoulders, her look expectant. Finally, Harry spoke.
"I don't know what you were expecting, Ginny, but I don't want to talk about... about anything."
For a second Ginny looked a bit taken aback, but then her face broke into a small grin, "Fine," she said, "We don't have to talk. then, if your going to be a big git about me trying to help you."
Her lips pressed lightly against his and her arms snaked around his back. Every function in Harry's brain seemed to shut down for a moment and an electric feeling pulsed through his entire body, but he was finally able to push Ginny away a bit and sputter, "Ron... Dean... your mother!" He pulled farther away from the redhead.
"Do you want to talk, then?" Ginny asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Fine, Ginny," Harry said, gritting his teeth against his defeat, "What exactly do you want to talk about?"
She led him to the bed, and sat down, pulling him down with her.
"Are you okay?" Ginny said softly, losing all of her sarcasm in an instant.
Harry started blankly at her, "Come on, Ginny, I don't know how to answer that."
"Do you miss... are you okay about Sirius?" she blurted, rushed and stuttering.
Harry sighed and closed his eyes. Images he had been surpressing for weeks surfaced in overwhelming clarity on the inside of his eyelids. He opened his eyes and met Ginny's own hazel irises. His mind was whirling and he could only wish desperately for all of the thoughts to go away and for Sirius's face to fade from his inner vision when Ginny said, "Oh, no, Harry, this is what I wanted to do... this isn't at all what was supposed to happen. I wanted to make you feel better, oh Harry."
Ginny's own mind was whirling as well, clawing for a plan to rid Harry's eyes of the tears that she knew would soon spill down his face.
"What will make you happy, Harry? That's all I wanted to do."
As his eyes burned with unshed tears, Harry looked at Ginny's pained face through blurred vision. He grasped for a good feeling, and could only think of one way to make that happen. He kissed Ginny, his tears running betweeen their flushed faces.
