Step 7:- Talk.

We know guys don't really 'talk' very much but that's probably just because their mates are around. Get him on his own and try to get him to open up. Perhaps letting him get to know you.

Harry Bloody Potter does not TALK! He hides all his emotions (not very well I might add) and the only way to get through to him is with a beaters bat! And in my experience the use of a beaters bat is more advisable than the whole of this advice column.

I walked onto the landing feeling glum. I reflected on the new line of advice I now had to follow; Harry Potter, man of mystery himself, certainly had more issues than anyone else I knew, but also as anyone who knows him will tell you, he'd never give in to them. Which is why I looked at the idea of speaking to him as if I was being asked to sooth a wild horse. Maybe it could be done but it sure as hell wasn't going to be easy or pretty. I sighed (it had become a habit of mine) and trudged down the stairs. If only my life was simple, but no, my brother had to befriend the wizarding world's past and future saviour.

The kitchen was as it always is, Mum at the cooker, Fred and George eating and scheming at the table, the trio no were to be seen. Sitting opposite my brothers I eyed the WWW product they had in front of them warily. I may be their little sister but you know as well as I do that they spare me no mercy (just a little bit more than Ron) with their products. After all we are free testing in their eyes.

"Ginny, good lord what are you doing up so early? Is Voldemort attacking? Should I get Harry?" Only George (and Fred if you count him as a separate being) could joke about stuff like that; but I am talking about the creators of You-No-Poo.

"Ha bloody Ha. And you call yourselves comedians."

"No actually I call myself George and I'm pretty sure I call him Fred most of the time." My expression went stony and I raise an eyebrow threateningly at George. Getting the picture he nudges Fred and they leave me to eat my breakfast in peace.

When I'm half way through my porridge I hear the door swing open, not bothering to turn around I raised my spoon to my lips again.

"Morning Harry dear, there's some porridge on the table if you want some, or I could make you some bacon?" I sniffed; mum hadn't offered me any bacon.

"No that's ok, Mrs Weasley. I was just gonna go outside this morning."

"Oh. With Ron and Hermione, could Ginny come or else she'll just sit in her room?" Die Mum die!

"Erm well I was just going to go and get some fresh air, alone. I don't know where Ron and Hermione are." He sent me a sly wink.

I walked out to the garden were I knew Harry was sitting, "Harry? Do you feel like talking? I mean you've been through so much last year and…" I trail off hoping that this sad pathetic explanation is enough. He looks up and his eyes narrow

"No, Ginny." He snaps.

"Oh I mean if you ever feel the need...?" I think that's enough effort; onto the next mortifying step.

"I won't."

"Yeah," oh screw the stupid step he's an idiot, "if its about Sirius Harry, he wouldn't want you to mope, he wouldn't want you to disappear for hours, he wouldn't want you to push us all away, and he wouldn't want you to be rude to people who are only trying to help!" well maybe I wanted to do more than help him but that wasn't the point.

"It's got nothing to do with Sirius, Ginny! And even if it was you can't tell me anything, anything about how to grieve!"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" I say dangerously.

"You've never lost anyone. Have you?" he's out right shouting. Air caught in my lungs and anger completely foreshadows that stupid step.

"And how would you know that? Have you ever took the time to ask... do you even... you don't know me!"

"I know you well enough to know you have no right to act like you know what I'm going through." he states with what I could have sworn was arrogance. "So have you, have you lost someone as close to you as Sirius was to me?" Now that was arrogance, he obviously thought I was some silly little nosy girl.

"Harry I'm not gonna stand here and let you talk to me like this." I say, turning to leave.

"I knew it." He sneers.

I spin around and in my anger pull out my wand, Harry eyes it apprehensively and his hand brushes his pocket though he withdraws no wand, I dropped my hand and give him a pitying look and making to leave again, I knew his comment was merely a jest.

But as I was walking away I breathed deeply and said: "My Uncle Bilius."

"What?"

"When I was eight. The twins had gone to Hogwarts... it was just Ron and me at home... I loved him as much as I loved Dad or Mum... we all did really... but he used to say I was his favourite... just to me." I turned to face him; regretfully feeling a tear fall down my cheek.

Harry's expression and mannerisms had changed completely. His hand was outstretched to me, his face looked regretful.

"I didn't know..."

"Course you didn't," I said bracingly "How could you have? Ron wouldn't have told you and it happened before we knew you. But still, you had no right to say that I don't know what I'm talking about. I don't make a habit of talking about stuff I don't understand."

I turn to leave again, knowing that this would probably be a perfect opportunity to start intense conversation but not caring in the slightest.

"Gin... it wasn't Sirius."

"What?" I stopped and turned around again. He'd been out here for hours of course it was to do with Sirius what else could keep him away from Ron and Hermione? Unless it was... "Voldemort. Oh Harry sorry. I didn't think."

"No. Well yeah partly but no not entirely. What I was really thinking about Ginny was..." He walked forward until he was closer to me than I could ever remember him being. I took a breath.

"Ginny! Harry! How long have you been out there? Its nearly time for lunch. Come on inside and get some jackets." Harry's face turns away from mine and towards the sound of my mother's voice.

"Yeah Mrs Weasley. We're coming." And with that he gestures for me to follow him inside. When we walk through to the kitchen he's hailed by Ron and Hermione. I'd no chance from then on.

Now that is absolute proof that that step doesn't work; that really happened. He's been moping all bloody holiday - like I wouldn't say anything. Step 8: - Get a new look