GINNY

"Hi, Mum," Ginny's voice was muffled by the suffocating embrace of her mother.

"It's so good to see you three," Mrs. Weasley said, pulling Harry and Ron into equally fierce signs of affection. "Pity Hermione couldn't join us. Are you hungry?"

"Harry and I just ate," Ginny said. "Won-Won on the other hand…" Harry sniggered, earning a hard nudge in the side from Ron.

"Alright, go and get settled, I'll fix you something to eat," said Mum.

Ginny pounded up the familiar winding staircase to her bedroom on the second floor. It was increasingly odd, coming home. How it was once her whole world, but now seemed so simple, so small. The groans of the house as it shifted was like hearing her favorite song. Smiling to herself, she cherished for a moment how nothing seemed to change here. Despite everything changing everywhere else. It was hers. A perfect preservation of safety. She was looking forward to the next week at the Burrow. No crowded hallways. No homework. No late Quidditch practice. No emotionally complex boyfriend…

"And three, two, one..." Ginny said softly.

Pop!

"Hey, little sis," Fred and George apparated into her room unannounced.

"Welcome home."

"Thanks. What's all this?" Ginny asked, indicating the pristine travel bags scattered on the floor of her room. Pastel tones and delicate clasps seeming to mock and sneer at the other tattered items of her room - the bed's covers she had since she was three, the tiny writing desk held together solely by her father's magic, her closet of knitted clothes.

"Didn't Mum tell you? You'll be bunking with our dear sister-to-be."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Ginny said, kicking a pink French-made purse.

"Language, dear sweet innocent sister."

"We think that Mum hopes you'll keep watch on her. Keep her from sneaking off to Bill's room in 'ze nuit'," said George.

"But we know you'll do anything to get her out of your sight."

Ginny laughed and started roughly pushing more of Fleur's belongings to the side in order to make a path to her own bed. One particularly heavy bag emitted a purple shimmering smoke of deeply scented perfume. It sent the three of them into dizzying coughing fits until George used a vanishing spell.

"She'll suffocate me before the new year," Ginny wheezed, starting to unpack her things.

"Anyway, what's this we heard about you attending a party?"

"Mum seemed rather cagey about it," said Fred.

"Yeah, Professor Slughorn's. He's the new Potions Master, but he taught Mum and Dad. He's mad. Throws these elaborate parties for his favorite students and calls it the Slug Club."

"I suppose Ron fits right in. You know," said Fred, miming vomiting up slugs.

"I almost forgot about that!" Ginny giggled. "No, Ron's not in it. And neither is Lav-Lav."

"And who, pray tell, is Lav-Lav?"

"One of the girls in his year, Lavender Brown. She's been an unwelcome addition to Ron's face for the past few weeks."

"And you're only telling us this now?" exclaimed George, looking delightedly at his twin.

"I always thought he and Hermione," Fred wiggled his eyebrows up and down suggestively. Ginny offered no response, starting to unpack her bag. "Alright, keep your secrets. I see where your loyalties lie," said Fred.

"She and Harry?" George goaded. At this, Ginny cringed and shook her head violently.

"Right, saving him for yourself. Got it." Ginny threw her hairbrush at Fred, who flicked his wand to turn it into a top, spinning out of control throughout her room.

"I'm with Dean," Ginny emphasized.

"Yeah? And how's that going?"

"It's good," she said. Her mind flicked back to the argument they'd had at Slughorn's Party. And an uncomfortably ill sensation settled in the base of her stomach, flashing back to their last conversation this morning. Dean, usually so pleasant and agreeable. Now he'd gone and ruined it all. It was annoying, really, that he actually started voicing an opinion. Like a real person with feelings and not just a good snog. Ginny cringed, hearing herself. Could she really be bitter with him for that?

"Oh-ho-ho, sounds like a steamy romance to me, Fred."

"Yes, spare us the raucous details, Ginny. You'll only make us blush," said Fred.

"I suppose he's missing certain qualities. Like a scar, glasses, and a moody temperament," said George.

She made an obscene hand gesture in their direction, but continued to unpack and arrange her room. "Harry's actually doing better this year, doesn't seem as …" Ginny shrugged, unable to find the words. The top continued to spin madly throughout her room, Fred and George taking turns pushing it higher.

"Touchy?"

"Angsty?"

"Disturbed?"

"Is he still with that Chang girl? The Ravenclaw seeker?"

"Oh, no. Not since it came out her friend snitched on the D.A." said Ginny.

"Good. They made a depressing pair."

"So, how's the shop?" Ginny asked, looking for a change in subject. She'd finished putting her things away and grabbed paper and spell-o-tape from her small desk, deciding to make paper chains. She spent the next hour chatting with Fred and George about the progress on Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and their new line of trick inks - which would give coherent messages to the intended receiver.

That evening, Ginny passed around her homemade Christmas biscuits. As large as saucers, and decorations leaving nothing to be desired. The base layer suffered underneath heaping mounds of sprinkles and frosting. Mrs. Weasley had charmed the sprinkles to flash various seasonal colors and snowflakes that appeared glisten.

Back in the kitchen, Bill and Fleur canoodled at one end of the table. Ginny rolled her eyes and turned to prop herself up to sit on the large dining table. Looking determinedly in the opposite direction of her besotted brother. Horrifying herself, she noticed she'd begun to hum the chorus of a particularly sappy number by Celestia Warbeck.

Ron and Harry passed through the kitchen, whispering in low tones. Conspiring as always.

"Christmas biscuit?" Ginny offered.

"What's in it?" asked Ron suspiciously.

"Extract of U-No-Poo," Ginny rolling her eyes exasperatedly. "It's just a Christmas biscuit, Ron. Who would bother to poison you?" Ron grunted "No, thanks" and left the kitchen to join the others in the living room.

"Harry?"

"Sure. Oh - er …" He trailed off as he examined the treats more closely. So heavily laden with frosting, it was difficult to find a clean spot in which to pick one up. "These are … festive."

"Dare you to eat one with a straight face," she said, shoving one into his hand. "The staring game. We both eat our biscuits. The first one to laugh or look away loses."

"Don't do it, Harry," Bill warned. "She always wins."

"I wood not be too sure, I do not zink I've 'av ever seen 'Arry laugh," said Fleur.

"Okay," said Harry. Light amusement brightened his face. Not one to back away from a competition, he looked for more direction.

"You can't break eye contact. You can smile but not laugh. Oh, and whoever finishes first wins." His eyebrows shot up, lips pulling into a crooked smile. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Potter. Ready. Steady. Go!"

Ginny took a massive bite and began chewing furiously. Brown eyes fixated on green, dancing with humor at the ridiculousness of it all. The corners of his mouth twitched, trying to remain straight faced. A wild thought entered Ginny's mind: How nice, not having to look away.

"Come on, Potter. Have a laugh," she dropped her voice, "Do it for Phlegm"

His face cracked as she took her second bite, fitting the entire biscuit into her mouth. At the sight of her, he made an odd snorting sound, presumably to stifle his laughter, but inhaled the half-chewed biscuit. He began gasping for air. "Mon Dieu!" Fleur exclaimed. Ginny rushed to begin whacking him on the back, dislodging the offending item.

"You alright?" she asked, hand still on his back. He nodded, face splitting into a wide grin, eyes watering. His biscuit laid upside down, unsanctimonious on the floor "You dropped it. I win."

"Can't say you weren't warned," said Bill, turning back to his fiance, who at once was utterly confused and revolted.

Clearing his throat, and having mostly recovered from a coughing fit, Harry rolled his eyes. Smiling pleasantly down at her, he said softly, "You cheated."

"Moi?" Ginny placed a hand lightly across her chest, eyes wide in mock surprise. "No, you just simply weren't aware of all the rules."

Mrs. Weasley and Lupin entered the kitchen, following a floating stream of dirty dishes from the living room. Mugs that once held peppermint hot chocolate, and plates with remains of Yule Log. Her mum tutted at the mess they'd made of frosting and biscuit crumbs but cleared it at once with a wave of her wand.

"As they say, Harry, 'all is fair…'," she winked at him. "Oh, your glasses." Without thinking, Ginny reached up to pull them off. Retrieved a tea towel and wiped Harry's glasses clean of a glob of frosting. He put them back on and ran a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his neck.

"Er - thanks," he said, clearing his throat again. His eyes flicked to Lupin, looking oddly sheepish. Without another word, he backed out of the room to join Ron in a game of Wizard's Chess.

Later, after all the dishes were cleaned and put away, the house was lit by just the warm magical glow of the Christmas lights and crackling fire. Bill sat on the edge of the couch, while Ginny sat cross legged underneath the Christmas tree.

"You said you have a boyfriend at school? Don, is it?" asked Bill.

"You know his name," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

"And how does he feel? About you and Harry?" Bill smirked.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Well it can't be easy, having your girlfriend challenging the Chosen One to staring contests," he said slyly.

"He's not the Chosen One."

"You're sure about that, Ginny?"

"It's a load of rubbish. I was there. The prophecy broke before we could hear it."

"Do you know how prophecies work?" he asked sincerely. "The Ministry holds copies of the prophecies. But a Seer must first deliver it to someone who knows the subjects of the prophecy." Bill leaned in closer. "A lot of witches and wizards went into hiding the last time You-Know-How was powerful. But very few were protected by Dumbledore himself, like Harry's parents."

Turning over this new information in her mind, Ginny considered whether or not Dumbledore knew details of the prophecy. And if so, perhaps he had shared it with Harry.

Bill continued. "Nobody knows for sure of course. But it makes sense the prophecy singled out Harry. And that there was a prophecy given to Dumbledore, and somehow You-Know-Who found out. He wanted to know the details of the prophecy, and lured Harry in to retrieve it. And well - " he gestured vaguely.

"So You-Know-Who must not know what the prophecy says, then."

Bill simply shrugged. "Either way, you should be careful, Ginny," he said. "It's dangerous to be involved with Harry right now. In any capacity."

"You sound like Percy," Ginny hissed.

"Gotta look out for my favorite sister," he winked and reached over to ruffle her hair. She felt a twinge of annoyance and hastily made to smooth it down.

At that moment, Fleur glided back into the kitchen and pulled Bill up from his seat. She had enchanted to the radio to begin playing a French ballad instead of Celestina Warbeck, earning a stern look from Mrs. Weasley.

Ginny went to bed early that night, having decided to avoid another bedtime routine being involved in Fleur's ten step skin care routine ("If you would do ze zame, per'aps you would not 'ave all zose spots," said Fleur, indicating Ginny's freckles). When she'd awoken in the early hours of the morning, Fleur had yet to return to her bedroom. Assuming she had found other sleeping arrangements, Ginny snorted gently and turned in bed.

Suddenly, randomly, and completely unbidden - she wondered what it would have been like to take the frosting off Harry's mouth with her own. How she would have done it slowly, ensuring every last sweet spot had been thoroughly cleaned.

She expertly pushed the thought out of her mind and drifted off to sleep.