Disclaimer; I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter. Not mine!
Ten Minutes Till Midnight
Ginny lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling. By now she had counted and memorized the positions of all thirteen cracks on the ceiling. She tried to turn her head to look at the clock, but couldn't. Ginny had no intention of actually rolling over in bed, because she had found that perfect, warmest, softest spot in between the covers and was finally starting to feel sleepy. On the other hand, she desperately wanted to know the time, for some reason or another.
Sighing, Ginny rolled over and stared at the clock. It was a good clock, dark brown and old. She reluctantly moved her hand out of the covers and picked up her wand with the little hand that looked almost disembodied in the darkness. "Lumos," she whispered, afraid to speak any louder, even though the nearest sleeper at Grimmauld Place was three rooms away. The little clock read 11:50. As Ginny watched, the minute hand jumped to the one.
Ginny wriggled back into the covers, into a colder, less soft spot. She had gone to bed and nine thirty at her mother's insistence. Ginny had read her novel (The Witch And The Ghost, what her mother called a trashy romance) until ten. She had lain awake for the past hour and fifty one minutes, thinking.
Mostly about Harry, of course. Harry had been gone for over a year now- one year, two months, and twenty three days to be exact. Not that Ginny was counting. No, it wasn't as if every waking- and dreaming- thought and idea wasn't linked to Harry. After all, he was fighting Voldemort right now, probably. She had nothing to worry about. Her job with the Order right now was really paperwork, with the occasional Death Eater fight. Harry had nothing to do with her, now.
Eleven fifty-four. Ginny turned over on her side, facing away from the door and towards the closet and the growing mound of dirty clothes she had been to lazy to clean. Harry probably didn't like her anymore, anyways. She had been his girlfriend so long ago- it seemed a world away- that he was probably over her. Just like she was over him.
Eleven fifty-five. Ginny had practiced in her mind over and over what she was to say to him. "Oh, Harry! How wonderful! You defeated Voldemort! No, of course not, Harry. I don't expect to burden you now. We're just friends. That's all we ever have been, anyways." She had this memorized so well she wouldn't wonder if it all came out at once when she saw him, instead of waiting for the appropriate pauses for him to interject his lines.
Eleven fifty-seven. Ginny rolled over onto her stomach. She saw Harry in her minds eye, black hair everywhere, electric green eyes, thin nose, glasses, scar. She felt a strange shiver in her belly, but that was just from missing him. He was her friend. Nothing else. They had never really been in love. He had just liked her a bit, and Ginny's was a baby crush. Really.
Eleven fifty-nine. Ginny felt anger at the clock. Why wouldn't it just go to midnight? Then it would be tomorrow, and soon she could get up and go on with her life. She wouldn't have to worry about not sleeping because- well because she missed Harry. As a friend.
Midnight. Finally! Ginny smiled, without knowing quite why.
Creak. The door swung open slowly. Ginny sat up quickly, clutching her wand with one hand and her covers with the other. And there, standing in the doorframe was Harry.
He was coated in grime and blood and sweat, holding his wand with one hand, his other hand clutching the doorknob. Harry looked at Ginny carefully, as if taking her in to his brain one molecule at a time. Ginny's mouth was dry, but then she remembered her speech.
"OhHarryhowwonderful-" She spoke fast, with her words popping on top of one another. "Um, I mean . . ."
Harry gave a funny sort of laugh. "Shut up, Ginny." Then, ever so carefully, he walked to Ginny's bedside and took her hands and knelt down till his face touched hers, and . . .
And Ginny Weasley realized that she was in love, that she had never been out of love, with Harry Potter.