GINNY

Harry was acting strange.

Quiet and jumpy, she was used to. But that typically accompanied a brooding, isolating, and irritable Harry. Very different from last year, however, he seemed generally cheerful. He even joined her, Fred and George in slipping Weasley Wizard Wheezes products to Ron. She'd found it endearing when she caught him staring and appreciating her family's magical Christmas decorations - enchanted snowy scenes in ornaments, present wrappings that hexed snooping hands, and candy canes that changed colors as they were consumed. But then she'd say something to him, or do something and it'd set him off - clamming up and making an excuse to leave the room. It was odd.

She realized that they'd barely spent much time together since the summer holidays. Why this felt strange, she didn't know. It wasn't like they ever really hung out at school before. And now, when they did they were surrounded by the rest of the Quidditch team, or sharing quick greetings in the halls of Hogwarts. Hating to admit it to herself, being generally sensitive to anything involving Harry, she did miss the days of two-a-side Quidditch. Of picnics spent lounging in the warm summer sun with him, Ron, and Hermione. Joking and laughing, in a shared attempt to distract Harry from what happened in the Department of Mysteries. But, she reasoned, that was due to feeling that she'd finally been inducted into their group. Those perfect days, void of HarryRonHermione whispered conversations. No plans. Just free, sunlit, untarnished days.

On the last day of Christmas break, Mrs. Weasley sent Harry, Ron and Ginny into the garden. Grumbling with the task of having to weed out the overgrown collection of Chinese Chomping Cabbages, which had been decimating the Weasley's already modest carrot patch.

"Why is everything we own rubbish?" Ron asked, kicking the ground and observing the frozen, snow capped leaves of snarling cabbages. "I bet Cormac doesn't have to do this on his holiday."

"Ron, quit complaining," snapped Ginny. "In a few months you'll be able to do this with magic."

"Yeah," his face brightened at the thought of it. "Did you see that there's going to be a Hogsmead weekend for my birthday?"

"I'm sure McGonagall chose that weekend especially for you, Ron," she said, rolling her eyes at Harry behind Ron's back.

"I'll be able to use magic while I'm there. Maybe we can go through every shop, get a little something from each," Ron said dreamily. but then seemed to be struck once again by his financial state that surely would not support such a plan.

"I'll go anywhere that's not Madam Puddifoot's," muttered Harry.

"And why not, Harry? I hear the coffee is so good, it'll make your eyes water." Ginny grinned devilishly, earning a scathing look from Harry. Ron laughed and commenced attacking the hard ground with a spade.

"And what are you laughing at, Ron? You can't tell me Lav-Lav hasn't been begging to go there for a snog."

Ron spluttered. "Hold on, have you been there?"

"Michael was planning to take me last year. Luckily Angelina got me out of it with that wretched Quidditch practice. But I suppose I have Harry to thank. Getting banned from the team. Attacking Malfoy. Insulting Umbridge. All that."

"Cheers."

"RON!" came Mrs. Weasley's bellowing voice from the backdoor of the Burrow. "Do I look like your house elf?! Come get your things from this laundry room right this -"

"Yes, MUM!" he yelled back, hearing the door slam behind his mother. "Bloody hell, I can't wait to use magic," he muttered, scrambling to his feet and slumped back to the house.

Harry and Ginny were left alone to finish the pruning. She was about to comment that even if Ron could use magic, the laws of basic hygiene and cleanliness would likely still elude him.

But before she could, Harry asked, "So, how's your fifth year?"

She was taken pleasantly aback by his question. Harry wasn't normally one to actively engage in conversation. "Bloody tough. But, better than my first year. I don't know how you three did it all - the D.A., fighting Umbridge, and studying for O.W.L.s."

"Don't forget Angelina's Quidditch practices," said Harry.

"Right…I couldn't get through this year without Quidditch. Having a fly after classes is such a -"

"Relief," Harry finished.

"Yeah," she agreed pleasantly. "You put a great team together this year, there's only been a few practices that I had to carry the team."

"Thanks," Harry snorted. "But you're easily the best on the team." He now focused intently on the cabbage he was yanking out.

"Thanks, Dean says it as well. But sometimes I think he'll say anything to agree with me. Well, except for at Old Sluggie's Party …" Ginny trailed off, internally kicking herself for saying it. Feeling suddenly vulnerable, she realized that she'd revealed more than intended. As her own personal rule, she never divulged more details than absolutely necessary. Or, really, anything involving her personal life. She'd learn the hardest possible way that the more people knew, the more power they had over her. As if attaching herself on puppet strings. For better or worse, she had accepted this about herself. Despite the stinging truth that it was yet another after-effect of Tom.

The other girls in her year had long since learned never to ask her prying questions. Not unless they wished to receive a snappy retort followed by a mild personal insult. They never bothered to engage Ginny anymore in the nightly relationship chatter of hair, clothes and crushes. But she didn't mind. She had Hermione for those things. And Fred and George for most everything else.

Harry, however, didn't say anything in response to her comment. He simply looked at her curiously over the jostling green leaves of the cabbages, as if inviting her to speak further or not. She got the sense he would be okay with it either way.

Perhaps he could be an exception.

"We just got in a tiff. I dunno exactly what happened. Everything was fine and then suddenly he was all upset that I hadn't gone out of my way to introduce him to Gwenog. Hermione reckons he felt ignored. But I mean, it's Gwenog Jones! We talked all of thirty seconds. I wasn't exactly thinking straight. I was so pleased to have met her. Then I turn around and Dean has his knickers in a twist. Upset that I didn't introduce the two of them. Utter rubbish. I mean, who gets upset by that?"

She inhaled a deep breath, still feeling foolish. Maybe Harry didn't care. Maybe she'd said too much. Worse, maybe he'd tell her she was wrong. That she had no reason, or no right to be upset and confused.

"I've never really had that problem," he said, pointing to his scar.

"Right," Ginny let out the breath she'd been holding with a small laugh. "She probably asked you for an autograph."

"Sort of demanded it, actually. She was a bit … brusk."

"That's a Beater for you."

"Yeah? And what are Seekers like?"

"Temperamental," her eyes sparkled.

"I think you're confusing them with Gryffindor Keepers," he said. The unexpected slight at his best friend made her laugh again. Shaking her head in loving exasperation with her brother, she said, "Oh Ron… I'm telling him you said that."

"You do, and Gryffindor loses the Cup."

"Damn, Potter," she whistled. "Brave and brains." She thought she could make out the hint of a blush across his cheeks, but it could have just been the cold air.

"And Chasers?" he asked.

"Hm? Oh, let me think…" she said, pursing her lips and gazing up at the sky to settle on a fitting description. "Vivacious."

"Must think a lot of yourself," he said, eyes bright. "But I guess I could agree there."

"Had to be. Have you seen all the brother's I got to compete with?"

"My dad was a Chaser."

"Really?" Ginny said. Even though she knew very well that James Potter was a Chaser. She'd done her homework her first year of Hogwarts in the throws of her childhood crush with the Boy-Who-Lived. "Maybe that's why Snape hates you so much? Jealous of your Quidditch talent. 'Flying around on your brooms, as if you own the castle and the very air we breathe. Arrogant to the last, the pair of you'."

"Snape's not completely wrong," Harry shrugged. Her head snapped up so fast, she felt a crick in her neck. What base treason was this? Agreeing with Snape.

He chewed on his bottom lip and took a moment to think before explaining. "During Occulmency lessons, I accidentally saw Snape's memories. Of my dad. He was sort of roughing Snape up a bit, bullying him." Harry proceeded to tell her the rest of the memory. How Lily had intervened and Snape called her Mudblood. That his parents had argued over it. How he had asked Sirius and Lupin about the encounter, looking for reassurance that his dad was a good person. She hadn't heard him talk like this before. Like she imagined he spoke to Ron and Hermione.

"But when I asked Sirius about the argument between my parents, he said they fell in love during their seventh year. When they were both Head Boy and Girl."

"Wait, both of your parents were Heads?"

"Yeah."

"Blimey. Doesn't bode well for you, does it Potter?"

"Maybe you can't be a Head if you're Captain," he grinned.

"Yes, you can. And anyway, what makes you think you'll be Captain next year? You just admitted that I'm the best on the team."

"I take it back," he grinned.

"You can't. I already reported it to the Daily Prophet. It'll be in the prints tomorrow. Harry Potter Admits Defeat to Small Red-Head." His grin grew wider. Their eyes lingered on each other for a brief moment.

"AH!" he startled and fell back, clutching his hand.

"Scratch that, Chosen One Wounded by Dangerous Chinese Chomping Cabbage. Does the Wizarding World Even Stand a Chance?"

They both laughed, but Harry grew silent. Nursing his bleeding finger.

"Well, if I were Hermione I dunno how I'd get through Snape's classes."

"What do you mean?"

"When you told Hermione, I'm sure she was upset. About Snape saying 'Mudblood'."

"Oh, I - er - didn't tell her… or Ron."

"Oh." An odd satisfaction washed over Ginny, realizing that Harry had just revealed something so personal. Something that he hadn't even shared with his two best friends.

"That's actually what I was thinking about when you found me in the library last year. You know, when I wanted to talk to Sirius. I suppose if I hadn't spoken to him about it then, I would have never really known. I mean, maybe from Lupin, but not Sirius." His finger had apparently stopped bleeding. He stood up and peered down at her with a serious expression. "So, thank you."

"Anytime," said Ginny. He helped her to her feet and they surveyed their work. Finally enough of a separation was established to keep the carrot patch safe from intruding cabbages. They began gathering the discarded leaves and carefully managing the gnawing heads. Together, stuffing remains of the Chinese Chomping Cabbages in a burlap sack for keeping until her dad could get to Diagon Alley to sell them.

"He was a great man, Harry." She said, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder. He nodded in appreciation. "Gave me my first alcoholic drink."

Harry barked a laugh, but still cleared his throat of emotion. Together they lifted the bag full of discarded cabbages and walked to deposit the bag in the garden shed.

"Yeah, I still wish I could talk to him sometimes. It just feels like things have changed since then… or like I've changed… I dunno."

"Yeah, it's as they said about Tonks. When you love someone, your Patronus changes. Or you have a complimentary one, I guess."

"Right. What's yours again?"

"A horse"

"Nice."