Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to J.K. Rowling

This chapter is dedicated to Chelles for making me very happy every time she reviews.

"Ginny . . . Ginny! . . . GINNY!" Harry puffed after the witch, straining to catch up to her. He'd spotted her at the top of the stairs a few minutes ago, and had been chasing after her since then. The obvious problem that she had gone deaf made it immensely harder to get her attention, and Harry discovered that even while she wasn't running per se, Ginny could move awfully fast when suited.

"Oi!" He shouted. "Wait up!" She whirled around and shot him a rather rude hand gesture. Well, at least she can hear me.

Harry rolled his eyes. Hogwarts was only so big, and she couldn't ignore him forever. He had perfect stamina build from years of running all over Little Whinging followed by Dudley and his gang of cronies.

He paused, however, when Ginny neared a staircase that was just about to levitate itself to the next floor. Waiting for it to come back would take long minutes he couldn't afford to let her get ahead. It was absurd, really. For the past two days, the witch had skillfully avoided his apology.

Sorry, Ginny. Harry whipped out his wand and aimed it at her bag. With a loud ripping noise, her bag split in two. Her books, parchment, and quills tumbled across the floor. Ginny swore loudly as the stairs drifted off by themselves. She furiously began collecting her scattered belongings, shoving them into her ruined shoulder bag.

"Don't, Potter."

Harry half-smirked, leaning over to help her gather her books. "I believe your exact words were 'you can't make me.'"

"I thought you never wanted to see me," she spat back. Harry's smile fell. Ouch. "And, you know, I don't have time for this, so if you'll excuse me," Ginny stood and moved to brush past him.

"No, wait!" He seized the hem of her robes, tugging her back. Ginny made a noise like an angry cat, pulling away.

"I swear, if you do not let go this inst—" With a final heave, Harry upset the witch's balance and she toppled to the floor in a heap beside him. He ignored Ginny's outraged shriek and promptly sat on her ankles, pinning her to the ground. Harry didn't notice, but the seen looked remarkably similar to another years ago on a certain holiday . . .

"Harry — you — gerroff—" She pulled at her feet, sputtering like a hot teakettle.

"Right then," he continued unabashed. He looked up at her angry face, finding his rehearsed apology dissolving. "Er—" Ginny's pretty features were contorted into a mask of anger. Her arms were folded across her chest, fingers tapping impatiently. To his horror, Harry spotted a few passersby lingering to watch the scene.

"Can't — feel — my — feet —" She snarled.

Say something. "Do you want to get some tea?" Okay . . .

"Tea." She repeated flatly. He shrugged. "You've been after me for days to ask if I wanted tea?" Harry winced. "Are you mental?"

"It's the only way you'll get your feet back. C'mon." She rolled her eyes. "Please, Gin?" Harry bit his lip, acutely aware of how pathetic he sounded.

She shrugged one shoulder. "You weigh a lot more than you look. Get off." Harry obliged, standing and offering her a hand up as well. Ginny glared, slapping it out of the way. "I can get up by myself, Potter." She smoothed her robes down the front. "And I'm only coming for the tea."

Harry sipped his drink eyeing Ginny from across the table. The two teenagers were in the kitchens sitting cross-legged in front of an elf- height table. She had her chin cupped in her hand, staring at the wall. Harry had nearly memorized her lean profile by now. Ginny was absentmindedly stirring her tea with her little finger, pausing every now and then to suck a drop off of it's tip. She had grown up, he realized with force. She didn't need protecting anymore. He took another swallow, brushing away the sudden pang of loss.

"I'm sorry."

Ginny started, snapping her eyes back to him. "Forget it."

"No, I shouldn't've —"

"I said forget it." She lifted the cup to her lips, closing her eyes momentarily. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does," he shot back fiercely. The Boy-Who-Lived swallowed the lump of nervousness growing in his throat. "I — I'm sorry. I said some things that —"

"Sticks and stones, love." Harry vaguely marveled at the sheer Snape-ness of her retort; complete with curled lip and scornful drawl. He found himself growing hot all over.

"Would you let me finish?" he snapped. Gah!- I'm doing it again. "Bullocks, woman, you're just — I don't even know what!" Ginny snorted into her cup, amused by his outburst and retraction.

"Okay." Breathe, Potter. "Let me try that again. I was a sodding idiot. Ginny — I'm not very good at this kind of thing, but I really, really, mean it. You didn't deserve any of . . . what I said. No one should be forced to relive they're worst memories. " Harry stared at his hands. "I was wrong. You just — Ginny you drive me nutters. I can't tell if you're barking mad, or . . . brilliant. And I reckon you're the only person with a worse temper than mine."

He heard a small huff. "Well it's true. You are stubborn, and opinionated, and . . . er, I'm sorry for losing it like that. I pulled a real Malfoy," he made a face at the thought. "I betrayed your trust."

"I'm sorry too," she said after a long moment. "For saying those things about Sirius. I was out of line — he's your family." For a second or two, she looked like she had more to say, but decided against it.

Harry scratched his nose uncomfortably. Another minute ticked by in awkward silence. He couldn't decide if he and Ginny were okay now or not. She was still wearing half a scowl. Regardless, he continued, determined to say what he came for. "Please, Ginny . . . I know I don't know much about you, but — er — I'd like to fix that." Harry chanced a look at the witch.

Ginny looked like she had crammed one of her mothers' Easter eggs whole into her mouth. The corners of her lips were twitching with her suppressed smile. "You are so pathetic— it's kind of cute." She sighed, draining her cup. "Good tea."

Women. Raving nutters, the lot of 'em.

"So . . . Ginny . . . "

"Yes?"

"Um, I haven't really . . . ever treated you well." He flushed. "But I don't think you're a little girl anymore." Not by a long shot. "You're . . . different. And I've been a right git but . . . maybe . . . can — can we start over?"

She looked him over, her brown eyes flicking up and down his form. Harry was nastily aware of his unkept hair and the bit of tea he had accidentally dripped on his sleeve. A second later though, Ginny's face broke into a wide grin.

"'Course. But you're on probation." She extended her hand, smiling cheekily. "Ginny Weasley."

Harry took it, giving her fingers a light squeeze. "Harry Potter."

And even after their tentative handshake, Harry still could almost feel her soft palm against his.

xXx

Thud.

Harry was in the library, tucked away from the watchful eye of Madame Pince in a secluded corner. What he needed was privacy to sort some things out. He and Ginny had talked for quite a while that afternoon.

She had matured without him ever noticing. Harry underestimated just how much the redheaded witch understood about him and the reality of war. She knew things about evil that he'd only just come to grips with. That was the part that hit him like a herd if hippogriffs; Ginny had seen the ugliest side of life and still refused to despair. The littlest Weasley wasn't a force to be taken lightly, Harry realized as they chatted over another cup of tea.

Thud.

Harry banged his head again. It hit him like a club between the eyes. There was an undeniable, very definite possibility that Harry might fancy the freckles off of her. It shouldn't have been a surprise. He had been toying with the idea of a serious snog with Ginny for days now . . . but the idea that he could honestly, deeply, genuinely, care about someone in a "you-complete-me" kind of way was not good.

Thud.

Harry groaned aloud, desperately fighting to ignore the swell of his stomach when he thought about her impossibly soft hands. It didn't make sense, he reasoned with himself. He had only just become friends with her for Merlin's sake. And it was a probation alliance at that! And why did she have to get all pretty? And how shallow was he for only caring when she did? And weren't there more important things to be focusing on anyway? And isn't it against some obscure grammar ordinance to begin a sentence with a coordinative conjunction?

Well, there goes occlumacy . . .

"Excellent day for Kvaddle-itch hunting." A dreamy voice broke into his thoughts.

Thu — "Whazat?" Harry paused, his head inches from the sleek table top in the library.

"I said excellent day for Kvaddle-itch hunting. Although you seem to be . . . . engaged already," the voice continued. Harry looked up to find Luna Lovegood seated next to him, staring out the library window. Her hair was pulled into a knot on the crown of her head, held together by what looked like two carrots.

Harry didn't bother to ask what a Kvaddle-itch was. No doubt some runt cousin of the Snorkracket- whatsit. "I say," she continued, still staring out at Hogwarts' grounds. "You can try it if you'd like, but I'm not sure how successful you'll be."

"Try . . . what?" Harry asked thickly. He had rather a lot to think about without Luna's vague commentary.

"Beating that scar out of your head. You'd have better luck with a potion. My father did an article on Australian wizards who've found that all skin markings can be cured by drinking swamp water during the new moon. Naked." She paused for dramatic effect. "While standing on your head."

Harry blinked. "Right. Well, I'll keep that in mind." Thud. Harry banged his head on the counter again. The blonde witch propped her feet up on a bookshelf and started humming.

"Why are you still here?" Harry knew he was acting rather rude but didn't care. Luna turned her misty, protuberant eyes onto him for the first time, watching him with mild interest.

"Why are you here? I haven't seen Hermione around." Harry noticed her voice cooled as she pronounced his friends' name.

"No," he muttered, still not sure if speaking to Luna was a good idea. "I sort of . . . need some privacy, you know?"

"Ahh," she nodded sagely. "I frequently find that self-punishment is best done away from the crowd."

"No, I . . . bugger." It could be worse, Harry thought to himself. Luna was eccentric, no question — she had vegetables growing out of her head for Merlin's sake — but maybe . . . well, she was a girl after all. Maybe she'd know what to do.

"Hey Luna," he began slowly. "Well, I don't know if you can help me or not, but . . . oh, never mind." Harry turned moodily back to the counter.

"Harry," Luna said in an uncharacteristically serious voice. "You are odd."

"Yeah, well, nobody's perfect." The witch made an impatient tutting sound. "Oh, fine," he huffed, running a hand through his hair. "I can't believe I'm . . .If Ron saw this . . . have you ever . . . .— what if — bullocks . . . what if — what if you knew this person, see? And you never . . . or you thought you knew them, at least. But you didn't really. And then when you found out who they really were you sort of . . . well, you got this — er – you . . . well, what do you do?"

Luna chewed her lip thoughtfully, as if she understood exactly what Harry was trying to say. "Well, do you fancy her?"

"What?" Harry nearly fell out of his chair. "How did you —?"

"Harry, the only time you can't complete your sentences is when you're very angry, shocked, or talking about girls."

"Oh." And he had successfully come full circle. Congratulation, mate. You're as batty as Lovegood. "But I can't — there's no way— she makes me so mad sometimes. I wouldn't have the first clue . . . "

"Harry," Luna chided. "You are a very extraordinary wizard. But surely you know that some things simply cannot be changed." She was smiling slightly.

"Er— can't they? I mean, isn't it better to pretend —"

"Oh, come on," Luna murmured, not taking her eyes off of him. Harry began to shift uncomfortably; it was not the first time he had noticed she didn't seem to blink as much as normal humans. "Even you, Harry, with You-Know-Who and this horrible war to worry about, even you, cannot change what's in here." She pointed at her chest dramatically and sighed. Her eyes had misted over again, and Harry could have sworn they had grown even larger.

"But I don't know if I even, you know . . . like her. And she's over me," he muttered lamely, more for his sake than hers.

"Well, then," Luna stood, patting him on the arm. "You must find out."

Harry cursed himself as soon as Luna was out of earshot. "Because, you know, finding out is a right subtle business," he murmured to no one in particular.

xXx

He'd been in the library the rest of the day, first spending a ridiculous amount of time arguing about whether or not he fancied Ginny — the answer was a firm yes, — then pondering exactly how possible it was to fall for someone in the space of a fortnight — apparently, very, — and lastly, wondering how to go about finding out if he had more than a passing infatuation, and what she thought of him without making a complete arse out of himself.

Tricky.

It was just before curfew. Harry was in the common room, trying to concentrate on his wand work. Lupin had taken him aside at the end of the summer, informing Harry that the Order thought it best to give him additional defense exercises to practice over the year. The wizard usually worked in the Room of Requirement, but he knew no one would bother him here so late at night.

Last Hogsmeade weekend a humpback witch poked Harry with her cane and handed him a slip of paper. Concealment spells: disillusion. "Wotcher, Potter." The old witch winked and disappeared. A member of the Order usually gave him his assignments during those weekends, disguised in some fashion.

He screwed up his concentration, rapping himself over the head with his wand. Harry willed himself to feel the odd sensation of an egg being cracked over his hair, camouflaging his body to the colors of the room. Nothing.

He sighed, not at all surprised the spell had failed. It took a good bit of focus to do it properly and Harry's mind wouldn't cooperate. He could all too clearly remember Ginny's spectacular loss to the Creevy brothers at Exploding Snap earlier that night, especially when her final stack burst into flames, singeing her eyebrows. She had shrieked, jumping out of the way. Harry had caught her eye then, and was pleasantly surprised when she blushed faintly.

He shook the memory out of his head, tapping his wand harder than before. Ow— Harry started, shocked when he felt the queer, egg-drip sensation trickle down his head, then neck. He looked down, his torso and arms quickly disappearing. It worked.

Harry grinned, allowing himself a small victory dance. Nothing the Order had assigned him came this fast; it had taken him nearly a month to learn how to conjure even the simplest items.

He breathed in his new and exotic freedom. Even better than his invisibility cloak, he didn't run the risk of unintentionally revealing himself. Harry took off his glasses, amazed when they reappeared on the table the second he let go of their frame.

He jerked at a small noise, spinning around to find the source. For reasons unknown to him, Harry decided to leave the charm on, even if it was just some first year sleepwalking.

The noise grew more pronounced — the shuffling of feet — coming from the girls' stairs. Harry swallowed the vague feeling that it might be Ginny, his stomach twisting at the idea.

Fate, divine intervention, and the position of Jupiter have all been credited for bizarre and strange coincidences. Harry personally felt that karma had a very twisted sense of irony.

For in fact, it was Miss Weasley ambling down the stairs in all her nightgowned glory. She paused at the bottom and cocked her head to one side, listening.

Without thinking, Harry's legs swept him across the room, standing before her. He had a hundred reasons to stay away, all of them pounding in his head. But as the boy took in everything about the girl in front of him, they burned into ashes. Time seemed to have stopped, or at least slowed into a murky web of present and future.

Ginny smiled slightly, staring at a space just left of where he was standing. The window to her side reflected her profile, as sharp, brilliant hues of red met the cold night. Harry was certain he could feel a sort of magic crackling through the air. It was like a dream . . . He felt his heart slam painfully against his ribs, certain that even if he was invisible, she could hear the hear it's erratic beat.

To his sheer amazement, Ginny found his eyes — though surely she couldn't have!— and held his gaze. "I thought you'd be here," she murmured softly, somehow probing his bodiless face.

Harry stepped nearer to her. He couldn't risk speaking, she'd know his voice in an instant. If she hasn't a clue yet anyway . . . Harry glanced to his right, spying a used quill left on the table. He aimed his disillusioned wand at it and cast a tricky spell Flitwick had the sixth years learn earlier that year.

The feather sprang to life, scribbling on a bit of parchment. He levitated the scrap paper over to where the two were standing, watching as Ginny read it's message.

I won't hurt you.

She smiled again. "I believe you." She took the floating parchment, caressing the edges lightly. "I know I shouldn't," a shadow flickered across her face. "But I do. I can feel it."

She was staring over his head again so Harry took another step closer, drawing her attention nearer to it's target. "Why?" she whispered, her eyes looking through him.

Harry flicked his wand again, wanting very badly to stop the silly spell concealing him. And yet . . . he felt compelled not to. The Boy-Who-Lived knew he was making a grievous error, and still he couldn't bear for her to know the truth — that he was too cowardly to approach her like a man. Shadows and whispers would have to do. Aside from all of that, maybe the biggest reason why he couldn't part with the invisible anonymity, Harry felt Ginny wouldn't give him half a chance this way.

Confiding in a bodiless stranger came easy to the siren in front of him, but he knew that the two of them, seeing each other in "real life" would never feel the palpable chemistry surging so freely between them now. It was stupid and surely wouldn't last. But it was all he had and Harry intended on using it.

I had to.

"Articulate, there," she muttered softly.

Harry raised his hand, gently cupping the edge of her jaw line with his palm, the same palm she had shaken earlier. It was an odd sight, to see Ginny nestle into what looked like nothing but air.

Harry allowed himself another step closer, caressing her soft skin, giving in to the spell of madness. He could smell the faint traces of ginger and something flowery now and felt her trembling slightly beneath her white nightdress.

Harry clasped her other hand with his, slowly bringing her palm to his lips. He lingered only a moment, gently releasing her porcelain hand like the most delicate of snitches. He felt as if on the edge of a very high cliff, an instant away from soaring past all boundaries. The thought frightened and thrilled him.

"Who are you?" He barely heard the question, spoken as soft as the wind. Harry knew what his next move would be even before it registered in his conscious. He tipped her head upward, and brought his mouth to hers in one motion, plummeting off the cliff with a reckless leap.

Harry's eyes jolted open, though he didn't remember closing them. Blood surged through his system, burning within him in a frenzied whirl. He felt like he'd swallowed an entire cauldron full of ice water. Harry wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing Ginny closer to him, aware only of far too much space between them.

He fumbled for her lips, again and again, knowing he was clumsy at it, but not caring. Harry drank her in, feeling the burn of her lips. He could very well spend hours kissing her — the rest of his life maybe. It was as though he'd never eaten before, and now beheld a feast of kingly proportions. Fire and ice alternately flooded Harry's senses.

Harry was flying — falling — soaring. It was a terrifying feeling, and at the same time so breathtakingly magnificent that he'd give all the gold in Gringotts to have her all the time. Nothing existed but the two of them, caught in the realm of now.

Tomorrow Ginny'd go back to whatever boyfriend she had, tomorrow Harry would still be caught between his best friend and that friend's sister, tomorrow they'd return to a tentative friendship.

But for one last searing moment, Harry Potter had captured the heart of Ginny Weasley. His embrace grew more intense, drawing her another inch closer, conveying through her mouth the desperate desire threatening to engulf him. Harry understood perfectly why neither Dean nor Michael could forget her. His chest soared; he could have run to Wales and back on the adrenaline burning through his legs.

Ginny's knees buckled against him, her body slipping against his. He slowly let her go, still breathing heavily, only now aware his hands and legs were shaking. Harry stepped back, his hand still wound in Ginny's flaming hair. Her eyes had misted over, her lips red and raw. Harry gave the beautiful witch one last kiss on the corner of her mouth and darted up to his room, head spinning.

He'd just had the most fantastic snog of his life and the girl didn't even know who he was.

A.N.: Sorry so late- was trapped in Las Vegas for 10 days with no computer. Bit of a problem there. I hope you like this one- I apologize for any grammar errors, I'm out the door for a week of camp right now.

Oh, and I'm really late!

SugarQuill12: Thank you for the review! I adore the Marilyn Monroe movie, which is where the title of this was adopted. Good call! The link between them is a little far fetched: no cross-dressing (sorry) but Harry does disguise himself up to get more of a chance with the girl.

Livyd Erm . . . I know Ireally like my story . . . that's why I'm writing it! Do you like it? (lol) Thanks for the review though.

Rick Peterson: Thank you for the completely honest review. I thought a lot about your concerns and I hope explaining some of what went into those scenarios will help. First, I do think that Neville has it a bit worse than Harry. They both have incredibly terrible heart-breaking tragedy in their lives, make no mistake, but I honestly think that it's more painful to live with the knowledge that your parents are alive yet incapable of any of the things that truly make a person. Neville has spent all his life watching his helpless parents, knowing that they can't recognize their son. His pain won't go away with time (until they do die). Every time he visits his mom and dad, I cannot imagine the emotional hell he must go through.

Second, while I heartily agree that Ginny crossed some major boundaries in what she said to Harry, her transgression isn't unforgivable. The storyline I wrote said that Ginny and Sirius spent an awful lot of time together over the summer, and while he was part of Harry's family, please remember that Ginny has a very strong bond with him as well. She probably misses him close to as much as Harry does. Unlike James and Lily, who she never shared anything with, Ginny does have some right.

Third, in the course of the entire fight, Harry also said "inexcusable" things. He accused Ginny of only wanting him for his scar, shunned the entire Weasley family— especially her — and played the "no one understands me" card, which is bullocks. To some degree, Ginny can't be blamed for losing her temper; better people have done worse.

Lastly (finally!), Ginny wasn't going to apologize for the entire row. Who knows what she was going to say before Harry cut her off? Also, in the last row, Ginny has no idea that her Sirius comment caused so much pain. The main point was that she was clueless about what really set him off. And after all the fighting, they both needed to make up.

Noname: There's a town in CO called "No name." Any coincidence? But really, thanks for the review, I try to make it realistically dark-ish (war, anyone?) in the background, yet not to the point of thick depression/angst. I'm glad to see I hit my target for one person, anyway.

ChibiMangaAngel Thank you! I love it when stories make me laugh- it's nice to see mine could do it too. Keep writing!

Cheers

WQ

Please review. I cannot tell you how much it means to me. I love you guys more than my bowling shoes.