A/N: Some major personal things happened in the past two months, there was a scene in this chapter that I just couldn't seem to write, and everything to do with this fic ended up becoming a bad mental place for me, so I decided to take a massive step back for a while. I haven't started on the next chapter yet, but I'm hoping to be able to get back into it again soon.

Thank you, as always, to my wonderful brother for beta reading this for me.

To the first guest reviewer: Thanks. He has become so much fun to write and I wish he'd been more involved in the final book, even if it was just them asking him if he knew a way to destroy Horcruxes.

To Najiya: Given the fact that I have previously stated that this is perspective-based, I don't see the need to respond to your critique. However, I would like to remind you that it's a good idea to keep in mind that there is always someone on the other end of the internet. While constructive criticism is useful, depreciating comments aren't. Your review is actually one of the reasons I stayed away from this story for so long. I honestly don't care what you think anymore, but I hate to think that you might run someone off this site because even your 'compliments' read like a slap in the face.

To the second guest reviewer: He really does get the short end of the stick there, doesn't he?

To the third guest reviewer: I'm enjoying writing him so much more than I thought I would. His POV chapter was hard to write at first, but he has become so much fun.

Ginny settled back into an armchair and, closing her eyes to help herself focus, let her mind wander. Her plan for the evening had been to finish her part of a group project she was working on for Ancient Runes, but her brain was still aflutter from her conversation with Viktor Krum. He had been unexpectedly helpful; she hadn't expected him to be able to give her any practicable advice, but, knowing she would regret it if she let the opportunity to ask him about Efrozina Genov pass her by, had decided to ask him for help anyway.

And he had more than come through for her.

Growing up in such a boisterous and mischievous family meant that she had quite quickly learned how to demand or avoid attention as the situation required. Timidity and hesitation meant death in a place like the Burrow, so she had learned to be decisive and bold in everything she did. But, as a child, she had never spent much time with people outside her close family circle; there were more than enough Weasleys to keep anyone occupied, after all. All in all, it had lulled her into a state where she was confident around everyone she came into contact with and so never had to truly deal with nerves or self-doubt. She therefore hadn't been prepared to handle the anxieties that came with moving to Hogwarts, and so her first year had been full of vulnerability and confusion. That, in her opinion, was the main reason why Tom Riddle had been able to manipulate her so easily; her brothers hadn't had time for her, and she hadn't known how to behave around her classmates.

Since that tumultuous year, she had learned how to be herself around most of her peers, but she still became a nervous wreck whenever she came into any sort of contact with Harry Potter. Hermione had, after reading a bunch of Muggle psychology and sociology textbooks in the hopes of finding a way of helping her, advised her to deconstruct how she viewed the boy until she could see him as just another Gryffindor rather than as the storybook hero she'd been raised to view him as. The plan was, however, much, much easier said than done.

In that context, Viktor's advice seemed almost revolutionary to her. Her strategy had been to view and treat all of her classmates as if they were simply more Weasleys, but that wouldn't work for Quidditch, where her brothers formed her biggest hurdle to success. So the idea of just forgetting about them altogether was so exciting and different and radical. It didn't solve all of her problems, of course, seeing as how Harry was on the team, so she would still have to learn to suppress the anxiety that cropped up whenever she was around him, but it gave her a place to start. A good place to start. And that, however much her classmates would loathe the idea of forgoing an opening to ask for an autograph, was the most valuable thing he could have given her. She didn't know whether or not she would ever get to the stage of being able to play Quidditch near Harry – she often became clumsy in his presence, and flying like that would be downright dangerous – but she resolved to try her best. If she could get over that, then she would easily be able to use her determination to prove her brothers wrong to spur her on in the team's tryouts.

For the time being, however, she just wanted to appreciate the sense of contentment that came from having received Quidditch advice from an internationally acclaimed sportsperson.

Slowly opening her eyes, she surveyed the room around her. Everyone – herself included – was still on a high from Harry's swift victory and what that meant for his chances in the final task. Every now and again, someone would break out in an excited retelling of the moment they realised that Harry was the first person back, which inevitably snowballed into group story-time everysingle time.

Two people, however, didn't look nearly as light-hearted. Hermione, perched on the very edge of an armchair, was vigorously writing on a piece of parchment, doing what appeared to be homework. Meanwhile, Ron was idly fiddling with chess pieces in his spot diagonally across from her. In hindsight, things had already appeared awkward between the three Gryffindors when Ginny had nervously approached Harry to tell him about Viktor. It had been as if they were seated as far apart from one another as they could while still technically being classed as sitting together.

Narrowing her eyes, Ginny quickly formulated a battle plan. Like she'd said to Viktor, she thought that the three friends had been through more than enough already, and she didn't like the idea of them having to deal with personal issues on top of that. Until that moment, however, she hadn't had the time to focus on doing anything about it. She had spent the past few days vacillating between participating in the various impromptu celebrations, providing emotional support for Hermione, who had spent the day after the second task fretting about what it would mean for her friendship with both boys, and working on the stupid group project. Feeling like a Quaffle being tossed around between players to the point of exhaustion, she had been so caught up with everything that had been going on that she hadn't thought to check up on how her brother was going. Dean or Seamus will have talked to him about it by now, she thought, but I suppose I should, too.

While she empathised with Ron, she really thought he was overacting to what ultimately amounted to a simple mistake. It wasn't as if there had been a plaque stating who each hostage belonged to, after all, and even heroes could falter during times of pressure.

Of course, she thought, glancing at her best friend's noticeably exhausted face, I might be biased.

She glanced over at the twins, who seemed to be in the middle of an intense discussion with Lee Jordan, before deciding against involving them. They made keen and resourceful sidekicks, and their age and popularity gave them more sway over Ron than she had, but they had the unfortunate habit of taking over things. This was something that she had to do on her own.

Leaping up from her chair like a jackrabbit, she hurried over to their corner of the room, determined to put her plan into action immediately.

"Ron, want to come for a walk with me?"

Confusion passed over his face at her words. No wonder, she thought. Despite how close in age they were, they never seemed to talk much during the school term. She didn't exactly function normally around Harry, after all, and he wasn't particularly fond of her friends.

"I – " Glancing down at the chess piece still clenched in his palm, he paused and nodded. "Sure. Where to?"

"Just around. I'll catch up with you later, Hermione."

"See you, Ginny… Ron."

"Yeah, see you," Ron replied noncommittally. "What is it?" he asked Ginny as they walked away.

"Wait until we're outside."

Neither sibling said anything more as they left the room. Ginny was aware that Ron was watching her intently, clearly wondering why it had to wait until they were alone. Her thoughts, however, were focused on where she could take him to ensure their discussion remained private. However frustrating her brothers could be, and however much she enjoyed embarrassing them in public, there were some lines that just weren't to be crossed.

"Let's go this way," she said when they finally cleared the portrait hole, and she led him off down a random hallway.

"What's this all about, then?"

"We need to talk. You know I love you, right, Ron? Despite how bloody annoying you can be."

"Er – yeah," he replied, not meeting her eyes as he fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve. Love was generally an unspoken assumption among the Weasley siblings; they squabbled and they teased and defended one another, but the one thing they never ever did was put words to the affection that they all felt on some level.

"So you know that I'm trying to help you here. I – ugh – want you to be happy."

"You do?" he asked, looking genuinely perplexed.

Exasperated, she rolled her eyes. "Yes. I do."

"Alright… But you still haven't told me what you want to talk about."

"About Harry and Hermione. A book I read a few weeks ago said the most important parts of any relationship are communication, forgiveness, and loyalty."

"You sound like Hermione," he cut in. "'A book I read.'"

"Well, she did lend it to me," Ginny admitted. "Anyway, do you want me to get to the point or not?" Planting her feet firmly on the ground, she stuck her hands on her hips and waited for him to answer. Deep-hidden filial affection or not, Ginny was obstinate enough to make him concede before continuing.

"Er, yeah. Go on."

"My point is that, while I know that what Harry did hurt you, you can't just give them the cold shoulder for it. Stop being such an idiot. Talk to them about it. Forgive them for it. Stay even though it's hard."

"What are you talking about?"

Loosening her stance, she looked at him incredulously. "Isn't it obvious? Harry thought Hermione was his hostage; he took her up instead; you were embarrassed; you haven't forgiven them. What I'm – "

"I – "

"What I'm saying is that you need to get over it. Like, sure, he hurt you. Do you think he meant to? Haven't you hurt him before? We've all hurt one another on purpose before, but we've all moved on. I hurt you when I pushed you off your toy broom that time and you had to go to St Mungo's because you landed on your finger and Dad didn't know how to fix the break, and you forgave me. Fred and George hurt you when they turned your teddy bear into a spider, and you still talk to them. You hurt me when you ripped up my dot painting because it was better than yours, and, sure, I kicked a tantrum, but I still – "

"It wasn't because it was better than mine!" Ron snapped. "It was because you wouldn't stop pulling my hair and pinching me! Besides, I have talked to Harry and Hermione. We've all forgiven each other, alright? And we are sticking together."

"But, earlier, in the common room, you and Hermione – "

"Weren't talking? Just because we're still friends, it doesn't mean things are back to normal. Things are just… weird at the moment, that's all."

"Oh. Right."

"Why did you assume I was the problem, anyway?"

"Hermione told me a few days ago that she and Harry both felt really bad about it," Ginny said, "so I thought – "

"That I was just being an idiot?"

Ginny blushed, the colour quickly spreading from her ears to her face until she resembled a ripe tomato.

"So, what, you talked to them about it but you just went straight to lecturing me? Right. Well, thanks for that." Brushing past her, Ron stormed back down the hallway, heading back towards Gryffindor Tower.

"Ron, I – I'm sorry for immediately assuming it was you, but you have to admit – "

Stopping at the end of the hallway, he turned around to face her. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll – what was it, again? – talk, forgive, and stay. It seems I'm not as much of an immature idiot as you think I am. But, right now, I want to be alone. Unless that's too immature for you?"

Stunned, she didn't protest as he strode back towards the common room. It felt like her heart had dropped, the force of her shame and embarrassment pushing it out through its cage of bones and down to her stomach region.

He wouldn't have been as mad if Fred and George had been the ones to talk to him, she thought bitterly, unable to accept the fact that Ron – Ron, with his envy and immaturity and hotheadedness – had been more level-headed than she had. Surely it was something to do with him. He would have accepted it better if it had come from the twins, she knew that; perhaps that was the only reason he had scolded her like that?

But, try as she might, she was unable to shake the demoralising truth. For all of his very many faults, he hadn't been the one in the wrong.

I should have just asked him.