Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

4rd January, 1999.

(Evening)

~Ginny's Room, The Burrow, Damson Lane, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon.~

A young woman with vivid bright hair was standing before an open trunk, pointing her wand at it and muttering under her breath.

A young man with wild dark hair sat on her bed, watching her with a slight smile.

She wasn't particularly happy with the present task at hand, and she wasn't particularly happy about going back to school. Frankly, he wasn't especially thrilled with the present circumstances himself and couldn't help agreeing with her when she gave vent to her feelings in a furious whisper.

Still, in an effort to make her feel better, he reminded her that it was only for half a year, they would see each other in a few weeks, Easter break always seemed to come quickly and – most importantly - the professional Quiddich teams would be sending scouts out in May.

True, true. She nodded her agreement and flashed him a smile. Sometimes she did forget the bigger picture; and if she wanted the attention of the league, she did actually have to be there.

She went to resume her packing, but was surprised when he took the wand from her hand and placed it carefully on her bed-side table. Looking at him curiously, she broke into a grin when he made a show of throwing his arms around her dramatically and pretending to sob; then he kissed her thoroughly before taking her spell books from the floor and putting them in her truck.

The quicker they got it done, the sooner they could do something a lot more enjoyable.

oOo

~Ron's Room, The Burrow, Damson Lane, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon.~

A young woman with wild dark hair was standing before an open trunk, pointing her wand at it and muttering under her breath.

A young man with vivid bright hair lounged on his bed, thoroughly enjoying the banter between them as he teased her about leaving her packing to the last night.

She told him it was entirely his fault, he was far too distracting for his own good ... and if he wasn't going to help, the least he could do was keep his clever remarks to himself.

Laughing, he reminded her of the last time he'd offered to help her pack – nothing was in the right spot and his folding wasn't up to her standard - and he laughed even harder when she turned around and fixed him with a fierce look. Of course her lips started to twitch, and when he pulled her down on top of him she was laughing too.

This was exactly her point, she told him. How was she supposed to finish her packing if he was always diverting her from her task? Admitting defeat, he kissed her nose and then slapped her bum, telling her to hurry up and get on with it so they could get to more interesting matters.