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Ginny covered her mouth in shock, eyes wide. Next to her, Gabrielle looked so horrified she couldn't speak. Harry's eyes were watery and Ron looked murderous.

"You said you wouldn't say anything, you giant prick!"

"I can't keep anything from my fiancé," Harry replied. Ron deadpanned.

"Did you just make fun of me about the girl I fancy and poke at a still VERY delicate situation concerning my only sister, all in the same minute?"

"I believe s—OI! Calm down, mate!" Harry dodged a hit from Ron and stood up from the kitchen table. It seemed necessary for him to take off from the room entirely. This proved to be true when Ron got up and ran after him.

"Boys," Ginny shook her head.

"Aren't they acting a bit immature?" Gabrielle watched as they ran around outside the Burrow like five year olds. "They're of age now, I mean. Shouldn't they be acting like adults?"

"I don't know if they ever will," Ginny admitted. She thought back to before her teenage years. "When I was little, I would've been out there firing hexes with them. Well, if I'd known any. We all used to be rather fond of mud, and that was our weapon."

"Maman would've had an absolutely fit if we played with mud," Gabrielle shook her head, but noticed a certain look in her friend's eye. "Do you miss it at all? Not caring about expectations or finesse?"

"Sometimes," Ginny said. "I wish I could be a little girl again. But, it doesn't seem like that's going to ever happen. I won't have much time to be anything but a grown up. I suppose its best I gave up acting like that."

Ginny was smiling brightly, trying to be optimistic. She truly did miss the days of running in the mud, playing quidditch, and eating like a slob. It felt like people expected so much of her, and she didn't have that much to offer. She was supposed to be a strong, fearsome creature of wit and diplomacy. She felt, however, as if she was nothing more than a little girl.

Oh well. She'd figure something out, as she always did.

"I think I want to ask Harry about a garden," Ginny moved on. "What do you think?"

"I think it'd be charming," Gabrielle. "You know I could help you with so much. You'll have to start next spring though, it's far too late now."

"August does have that damper I suppose," she replied. "Then maybe I'll put it off until we're closer to spring."

"That sounds splendid," Gabrielle beamed. "Only, I'll still make plans. Oh, the ideas I have!"

The girls laughed together while they finished their tea until the boys returned, dirty and scuffed up. They sat down with grins on their faces and looking stupidly satisfied to have acted so foolish.

"So!" Harry asked cheerily. "How was your day?"

"I spent time with mum," Ginny said. "Gabrielle went to visit with Fleur for a bit, so that was nice for her. Mum and I did a lot of cooking and cleaning while we caught up on each other's lives."

"Was she acting like a nutter?" Ron asked nervously. "Because you don't have to come over if you don't like."

"No, I need to," she answered pointedly. "It was quite enjoyable, anyways. I miss cooking."

They didn't seem to believe her, but moved on into an intense discussion about how English food was better than French food. Ginny felt awfully conflicted between the food she grew up on and the food she'd grown accustomed to and simply let Gabrielle defend their lifestyle. Harry wasn't as passionate; he simply sat back and watched as well, sometimes saying something random to pitch in. Mostly, however, he just shot worried glances at Ginny.

She had to wonder what that was about.

"Well," he said around six. "It's getting a little later. The girls and I should head home."

Ron frowned, reacting to Ginny leaving to stay with Harry. "Alright. I'll see you lot later, then."

After bidding her family goodnight, the three teenagers left the Burrow via flu network and stepped out into the Grimmauld Place kitchen. Normally when Harry came home, he went to his room and shut himself up for a few hours to read the prophet or a quidditch book. Ginny, however, immediately grabbed his attention.

He was kind of glad.

"I want to see the library again," she said. "Would it be alright if I did that before dinner? Or is that only for Sirius?"

"Of course not," Harry brushed it off. "Come on, I'll show you."

Gabrielle excused herself to write a letter to her parents. Ginny blushed at her friends obvious actions, but walked with Harry up to the third floor. He opened the door for her in a flourished manner that made her roll her eyes. "So gentlemanly."

"Always," he winked. She hadn't known Harry could be so flirty—but then again, he was raised by Sirius Black. "You can take whatever book you like. We have spell books and magical creature books, potions, or history. We also have a variety of fiction novels, both wizard and muggle authors. I believe there are some herbology textbooks, but not many that I know of."

"Do you read often?" she asked, beginning to examine titles.

"A little bit," he shrugged. "The popular fictions, I can read, but nothing too romantic. Sirius says I should read them to understand women and know how to act, but I've never been able to get past the first few chapters."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "I feel like it's not real."

Ginny didn't know how to respond. Instead, she turned and gasped at the sight of her favorite children's book. "Tales of the Beetle and the Bard!" She pulled it off the shelf. "The spine is barely cracked."

"Sirius didn't have them read to him as a child," Harry replied. "Before my mom died, she told Sirius she wanted him to read me muggle fairytales if anything happened to her. So he read those instead of Beetle and Bard."

"You have to hear them," she insisted. They stared at each other, him seeming slightly afraid. "On the couch, now."

He obeyed instantly, sitting on the plush black couch. Ginny kicked off her sandals and slid on to the other end of the couch, curling into a small ball. Seeing her so settled in made Harry more comfortable, and he relaxed into the couch a little more. It was there that he noticed how much he liked listening to Ginny. Her voice was a little deeper than a lot of girls, but it still had a soothing feminine touch to it.

Harry had heard some of the stories of Beetle and the Bard from Ron in summary, but never in their original form. He enjoyed the ridiculous ideas of how magic affected the characters in the story, and noted the differences to muggle fairy tales. He would definitely make sure Ginny read both types of stories to their children.

Merlin's beard.

Their children.

The thought made him a little dizzy.

"You zone out a lot, do you know that?"

Harry snapped back to reality. Ginny was watching him with a mixture of concern and amusement. "Sorry?"

"You often look off into the distance." the corner of her mouth twitched. "It's only been about twenty four hours and I can already tell."

He blushed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to. I was thinking about how much I liked listening to you."

"Oh," she blushed as well, the red color creeping up her neck. "Well. Then maybe I'll read to you more often."

He flashed his best 'Sirius' smile her. "I'd love that."

"Lovely," she smiled back. She wondered if he knew how much that smiled affected her.

Judging by the mischievous glint in his eye, he did.

)-(

Quickly, Ginny learned that Harry Potter had a very silly side. He could be quite mature at times, and knew how to handle the people around him. There were times when he was smooth a charming like his godfather, making her blush with witty comments and surprisingly deep thoughts. He did, however, have his moments.

It gave them a slightly frustrating dance. It was nice and smooth when they went for a run, ate meals together, read in the library...but there were times when Harry wanted to let loose a little bit. He wanted her to dance and be silly, not ballroom dance. He wanted her to come play quidditch instead of just watching him. He wanted her to go swimming in the lake instead of the clear waters she was accustomed to.

Ginny simply wasn't comfortable with that. She couldn't remember the last moment that she'd played in the mud or done something athletic. Between Beauxbatons and summers with Gabrielle, her callouses had worn away and her hands had turned delicate. The dirtiest she got was tending to her mother's garden or running with Harry. For six years, she'd been taught to be clean and lady like and it was ingrained in her.

Why couldn't he leave that be?!

Close to two weeks after she'd moved in, the two of them were on their typical morning run, this time in the rain. There wasn't much talking during their time together, and there never really was. They simply ran, and Ginny enjoyed the quiet companionship.

The rain began to pour harder. Ginny grabbed Harry and stopped him, motioning to turn around. He didn't quite understand, however, and kept running in a sideways motion. She would've laughed at how goofy he looked if he hadn't slipped off the path and fell straight into grass and mud. Still, Ginny had to bite her lip to keep silent when she offered to help him up.

Of course, he only pulled her down to his side.

"Harry!" she yelled. "Now we're both covered in mud!"

"I know!" he yelled back. "I remember how much fun you were! You didn't garden, you rolled in the mud!"

"Maybe I like gardening!" she said, anger building inside of her. Why couldn't he accept that she'd changed from her younger self?

"Nobody likes gardening, Ginvera!"

"I do, Harold."

Harry's eyes flashed with anger. "What happened to you? The fun, happy, dirty Ginny!"

"I was shipped off to boarding school in France so I could learn how to be your DAMN WIFE!"

"I didn't ask for a prissy Beauxbatons girl who can't have fun! This isn't my fault!"

"Well I'm sorry I'm so terrible, not fun, and stiff! I'm sorry that when I went to France, I felt like my life was ripped away and everything I was got replaced with a lady like person I don't even know! I'm sorry I don't know who I am!"

Harry looked taken aback, and almost confused.

"I am trying to make this work," she cried. "I've tried. I put all my training into practice, I've tried new things, but it's hard to completely change yourself again for the person you were changed for in the first place."

Harry looked down. "This isn't how I wanted my life to pan out, Ginny. I wanted to choose my wife a few years after I was an auror. I wanted to find someone who could roll in the mud with me, but also cook for my children. I wanted a best friend, a partner in a wife. I wanted to pick her. And that was taken away from me."

"So I'm sorry," he looked up into her eyes. "I'm sorry for trying to make you into my perfect bride. I'm sorry for not being your perfect groom."

"I can't go all the way, Harry," she sighed. "I want to be good for you so we can make the rest of our lives easy. But you have to meet me half way."

"You're right," he said with an equally exasperated sigh. Looking at her fondly, he held a hand out to her. "Let's start over, shall we?"

"Of course," she smiled.

And threw mud in his face.

Harry looked unbelievably shocked. "Ginvera Weasley. Did you just throw mud in my face?"

"Possibly."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm so much damn fun."

Harry laughed loudly, wiping it from his eyes. It took two seconds for him to dump a handful on her head. She retaliated until it grew into a full on war, running through the small park and ducking behind trees, throwing mud and sliding around in the pouring rain.

Ginny hid behind a tree, mud dripping between her fingers, as she waited for the opportunity to catch Harry off guard. She thought she heard a noise behind her and turned. She was ready to pounce when she collided with Harry...who happened to be doing the same thing as she.

The mud-covered pair fell to the ground in a whirlwind of limbs and hair, Harry attempting to brace the fall for his fiancé. She landed on his chest awkwardly, with his head on a root and her elbow in his stomach. They both groaned in pain. Prying themselves apart, Ginny barely had time to register what happened before Harry was checking her over.

"I'm such a bloody idiot," he chastised himself. "Are you hurt? Where are you injured? We can go to St Mungos—

"Harry—Harry, stop," Ginny grabbed his wrists. She stopped his hands from checking any further up her legs and kept his large, masculine hands at her knees. "I'm alright, I promise."

"Right," he said slowly. They sat there in the rain, bodies close and eyes locked in a trance-like state. Despite the cold rain, Ginny could feel her blood warming at the way Harry glanced at her lips. She herself noticed the way droplets fell off his black locks and onto his forehead, sliding down beneath his eyes. She followed the path of a particular droplets down to his nose, where it slid to his lips.

He licked it off.

Oh.

Ginny suddenly understood what it meant to desire someone. Sure, she'd been attracted to many boys at Beauxbatons and just others in general, but this was different. Her heart beat was erratic and she felt herself getting dizzy with breath loss. She wanted to kiss the rain drops off of his lips before he got the chance to lick them away.

Just as she felt herself leaning in to kiss him, she realized that she barely knew him. Yes, Harry was very attractive. He had a good heart and was intelligent, strong, and once again—very handsome. She also knew, however, that before she let herself get whisked away, she needed to have something more than sexual attraction. Less than half an hour ago they'd been arguing over Ginny not being fun enough!

"Sorry," Harry cleared his throat pulling back. "I should get you back home, you'll catch your death and Ron will rip me apart with his hands—magic not necessary."

Ginny giggled. "You're right. Come on, Potter."

"It's Black now, or haven't you heard?"

"Oh ha-ha-ha."