JUST BEFORE
Ginny takes the stairs three at a time and lands with a thump on the wooden floor.
Molly looks up. "Ginny, I wish you wouldn't do that, these floors are too old for it."
"Fred and George and Ron do it," Ginny says unconcernedly. "And they're all twice my size. Where did you put my school books, Mum?"
That look crosses her mother's face again. The soft one, where the lines around her mouth disappear and she smiles at Ginny like she's just tied her shoelaces for the first time.
"Mum?" Ginny ventures, noting her mother's far-off expression.
"Oh. Yes, dear. If you want to," Molly says placidly.
She wasn't always this distracted. But she worries more with all her children grown up or in school than she does when they're all in the house. Maybe she thinks if we're all within grabbing distance, things will be all right, Ginny wonders.
"My books, Mum? I left them in the hall and someone's moved them and – oh. Hi, Harry."
Oh, someone please jinx her. She's not blushing, is she? Her mother's smiling at her again, oh, she is blushing. Can't she even say his name without lighting up like a flare?
He looks uncomfortable too. "Um, hi, Ginny. Um, Mrs. Weasley, have you seen my school books? Someone's moved them from the hall."
"Yes, dear, I put them all on the study desk."
And why does her mother listen to him and not to her own daughter? All right, so he might be The Boy Who Lived and he is The Boy With Very Nice Eyes When He Smiles, but really. What ever happened to family loyalty? Ginny wonders if her mother thinks that Harry's family now, after two weeks at the Burrow. This makes her angry for some reason, so she stomps off to the bloody study to find her bloody books and what is that bloody broomstick doing lying in a strategic position to trip someone?
From behind her, she hears Harry asked, confused, "Did I say something?"
Well, he may be the saviour of the wizarding world, but sometimes he isn't very bright, she must admit.