A/N: Slightly weird to be writing a Christmas chapter in July, but I couldn't let you, my loyal readers, wait any longer for an update, so here you have it ;)

*EDITED 03-01-19*

Chapter 14: Christmas at the Burrow

Christmas was held at the Burrow as usual. It was probably the first time since Fred's funeral (Ginny swallowed a lump in her throat at the thought) where the whole family would be gathered once again. It wouldn't be the same, of course, not without Fred, and Ginny doubted it ever would, but she hoped the gloomy atmosphere she had left her home in at the end of the summer had evaporated – or would as soon as her parents got their children together again. She was determined not to let her own mood surface too much, at least. No need for them to worry any further.

Hermione had warned her: Harry would be there as well, of course. She had looked at her with such pitiful eyes and Ginny was in absolutely no mood to go into Hermione's rationalizations about their relationship, so she'd simply retorted that 'So would Ron'. That had shut her up, although Ginny felt slightly guilty about it, afterwards. She just didn't have the energy to ponder about boys at the moment. She had hoped for a quiet school year, but apparently hadn't gotten her wish, so instead she wished for a quiet Christmas holiday. That wasn't too much to ask, was it?

Of course, it was never quiet at the Burrow once the family was gathered (she suspected her mother would still clash with Fleur over the food and table settings and all that stuff), but as long as it took her mind off whatever else was happening – or had happened – she would be more than happy. She didn't need anyone's pity, least of all Hermione's. She just wanted to have a good time and forget. Sure, the presence of Harry wouldn't exactly clear the air of tension, but she had missed him, most of all as a friend and felt that they would be able to overcome the initial awkwardness as long as he didn't suddenly try to pick up from where they left off. That would be awkward!

She hated to admit to herself how little thought she had given to him since the beginning of the school year, but so much had happened since their break-up that she'd hardly had time to ponder upon him. It wasn't like she didn't want something to happen between them again. It was just … such bad timing, it seemed. The way they had left things ... it seemed so final and yet wrong at the same time. Like, it shouldn't have ended but it just wasn't working either - at the time. And she'd somehow sensed Harry had felt the same in the few, friendly letters they had shared since.

And then there was the issue of Blaise.

It wasn't like her dealings with him could be compared to Harry and her past relationship with him, but it was still somehow awkward to try and pick up things with one boy while keeping up a very confusing, complex relationship with another. Especially a former Slytherin. No, it wasn't like that kind of relationship - not even close! But after what had happened between them during the last few months, the latest event the strongest and most upsetting, she couldn't get him out of her head. Everything collided with Blaise for some reason. She was so frustrated and confused about him all the time and trying to deny how unraveled he made her feel took up even more headspace..! She felt so silly and not herself about it all, and it didn't help to be reminded of 'her old self' with the reappearance of Harry in her life. Still, it might do her good; perhaps getting back on track; remind her of the life she set out to live with him and her family and friends and Quidditch ...

Yes, perhaps it would do her good. She just had to relax and be mature about it, just as she expected everyone else to be this Christmas.

X

The gathering went more or less as expected: The air was a mix of both familiar comfort of their reunion and forced cheerfulness, trying to chase most of the gloomy absence of Fred away while still mourning him.

Dad was as close to his jovial, distracted self as he could manage, but clearly pleased to have his children in one room again, and Mum fussed more than usual and clashed with Fleur over the table settings and other petty things which made everyone roll their eyes and laugh. It was a nice and familiar, albeit rather shrill, distraction. George had gotten some of his teasing spark back, but was still somewhat a shadow of his former self, probably still too guiltily caught up with what a reminder his presence was of his twin. Bill had thrived under Fleur's love and care; he didn't seem very self-conscious about his scar any longer. Besides, he was entirely preoccupied talking to Dad about the new extensions for children's rooms he had planned for the Shell Cottage. Charlie was his usual, reliable, laconic self but would always light up when one prodded about his dragons and brought many adventurous stories home from Romania. Percy had, of course, changed radically since his betrayal; the former air of self-importance and snobbishness gone entirely, though he still hadn't let go of some of his know-it-all, big brother-attitude. Ginny wouldn't have it any differently. Initially, he kept a bit back from joining the more humorous festivities, but Bill, George and Charlie would have none of it and bodily hauled him into the circle. He would give a small smile, slightly flustered at the warm, forgiving reception he hadn't received in a long time.

The long-awaited arrival of Harry and Ron made both Ginny and Hermione – who had arrived to the Burrow together – slightly anxious, but also pleased. Ginny gave her brother a tight hug, while Harry received an equally tight hug from Hermione, but when the girls changed places, their respective greetings of the boys were slightly stilted for very different reasons. Hermione immediately pulled Ron away to the first floor before he had the chance to greet everyone else, but they soon came back down, a bit ruffled and Ron with a goofy smile plastered on his freckly face. Harry threw Ginny a knowing glance and a disarming smile – one that made her heart pinch bitter-sweetly – and she smiled tentatively back, feeling the air between them relaxing. How she had missed him!

But, for some reason, looking at Harry, his image was all too sudden replaced by a taller, dark-skinned and brooding wizard whom had occupied her daily life for half a year now. She blinked and shook her head, unsettled by how traitorous her mind was. How could she be thinking about Blaise when she was looking straight at Harry who was giving her his warm, familiar smile; no sneering, arrogantly formed lips, subtly taunting and mocking her and giving her hell!? Here was the boy she loved and longed for; the boy she had had a crush on since before she could remember and for the last couple of years thought was the one and only person she would end up with for the rest of her life! Even if they were not together now, they might be again, some day, at the right time.

Why couldn't she be happy about that notion? Why did she feel so torn all of sudden?

Harry seemed to notice the shifting emotions crossing her features and gave her a questioning look, which she quickly dismissed with a reassuring smile, before the welcomed distraction of the rest of family coming to greet him broke their eye contact.

She continued to keep the smile plastered on her face as she stepped back and observed Harry laughing in surprise as he was buried in freckly arms and red heads, but on the inside her emotions were in a turmoil.

What was this? Why did this feel so rattling to her very core? Why couldn't she dismiss it as being mere hormones or silly thoughts? She simply pitied Blaise. That was it. ..Wasn't it? Sure, they had become closer, but anything could be considered 'closer' compared to their icy, hostile non-acknowledgement of each other before the war. And yes, she couldn't deny he was handsome, but in an arrogant, superior, cold sort of way. She didn't go for that. She didn't have any other feelings than pity – verging on basic human compassion – for the guy.

"You alright there, luv?" George sidled up to her, away from the boisterous family greetings, hugging her slim shoulders with his long arm.

She looked up at him as he gave her a sidelong look that spoke brotherly affection and sympathy; a more serious, matured version of the George she once knew. She could still spot the bleak traces of their mutual loss around his eyes, yet, somehow, he managed to put up a brave front of teasing, carefree joviality. She loved him all the more for it and hugged him back in return. His mouth quirked up in a sad smile, eyes momentarily glazing over in the all too familiar way they had done after Fred's death, and she quickly tightened her hold, giving him an empathetic look. They would always have each other, she hoped her eyes silently told him, and George, always the quick-witted one, seemed to catch her message as he gave a reassuring squeeze in response. They stood there for a while, consoling each other in quiet contemplation, looking at the others disentangling themselves from each other, still smiling and laughing.

Fleur came from the kitchen to greet the boys and kissed Harry and Ron's cheeks until they were both entirely flushed and Bill guffawed at the show as Fleur drew back into his arms, flaunting her French and slightly overdoing her praises about the boys having grown taller and handsomer since she last saw them. They were practically beet-red in their faces now.

As if only naturally, the gang soon spread out or intermingled in the lively house. Mum and Fleur returned to the kitchen and the preparation of the food with Hermione helping out and acting as a mediator when things got heated between them. Bill, Percy and Dad were talking to Harry about some Ministry dealings, and Ron wrestled good-humoredly with Charlie but quickly went on to gush over the latest International Quidditch scores and Charlie's news of Romania. George gave Ginny one last squeeze before he trotted towards and in-between the various groups, saying little, all the while snatching up food when Mum wasn't looking.

Ginny stood silently by for a moment, watching everyone dive into their animated or subdued chatter. Not exactly feeling left outside; she was just happy to see everyone else feeling relatively happy again and right now she didn't mind being left to her own devices.

Placing herself in her favorite comfy chair by the fireplace, she picked up one of the books she had been reading about Patronus spells since the beginning of the Holidays and soon lost track of time.

Of course, George, Ron and Charlie interrupted her quiet reading after an hour or so; with Ron hauling her out of the chair, shouting to George about finding their old Quidditch gear which George responded with loud footsteps up the stairs and more shouting, making her ears ring. Charlie shuffled behind her and gave her a lopsided smile, followed by a resigned shrug at their brothers' typically boisterous behavior.

After much searching and cursing, George finally dug up their old gear and flung them lazily down the stairs where Ron tried to catch it all but getting most of it in his face instead and making Mum scold the boys for the unnecessary racket.

Harry had joined them outside and soon he and all the Weasley children were off to the small family Quidditch field they had set up years ago a couple of yards from the Burrow.

It was dusk and chill, filling Ginny's lungs with icy spikes and clearing her head as she took in the sight of the snow-covered scenery and the first stars glinting in the wide darkness above her.

Her brothers seemed as excited as small children; mounting their brooms and shooting into the crispy winter air, cheering, with her and Harry close behind. A welcome rush and sense of freedom flew through her as she rose into the sky. Quidditch and flying had become like an extension of herself and she always felt amiss when she hadn't had the chance to exercise her body and mind through the sport for a while. And it was fun to play with her brothers once again; her vocal chords soon cracking anew with laughter and shouts at her their various antics and – as always – slightly unfair play as only older brothers do.

They returned to the Burrow after two hours or so, cheeks flushed and faces playful, and were delightfully greeted by the warmth of the fireplace and smell of roasted turkey, homemade bread and mince pies. Hermione handed her a tray filled with cookies first (probably a strategic move since she knew of her brothers' infamous gluttony) and Fleur came next with several mugs of burning hot, spicy chocolate to get them warm.

A sated atmosphere and calm chatter filled the living room and kitchen. Ginny slowly sipped her chocolate by the fire, staring into the flames, while some of the others started to get up and shuffle around with their various doings and the rest soon spread out throughout the house, leaving her once again to herself as she listened to the satisfying, crackling sound of the fire. It was good to be back home again, after all, she mused, draining her mug and yawned.

Slowly she drifted off, the empty mug resting in her lap.

The warmth licking up her sore legs.

The crackling of fire.

Something burned.

An awful smell she couldn't place hit her senses, smoke watered her eyes and her ankle hurt. Bricks splintered and fell left and right as spells ricocheted off walls and students ran and fell in painful or dead screams around her.

Crumbled bodies on the ground. Eyes wide and lifeless, staring up at her. Through her.

Gone.

FRED!

… No! Nononono - NOOO!

She bolted upright. A dream, she breathed raggedly. A nightmare.

Looking quickly around the spacious living room she saw that, luckily, no had noticed her sudden reaction. Leaning back, she tried to calm her breathing, closing her eyes to make the vision disappear, but the burning, smoky presence of the fireplace only reminded her of those torn up walls of the school and the distorted bodies on the burning ground.

All that... death.

The, by now, all too familiar, unwelcome nausea clamped down on her throat. She rose, moving away from the fireplace and scurried upstairs to her room without drawing attention to herself. She quickly went inside and closed the door behind her, her breath leaving her body as if she had been punched in the stomach.

But crying wouldn't help, she told herself. It had not helped before, so why should it help now?

Still, the tears came and she barely stifled a gut-wrenching sob, as she slid down the door and sat on the floor. She cried in silence, alone in her old room, grateful of the lack of interruption as she gradually managed to collect herself, reigning in her outward sadness as best as she could and dried her eyes, using a charm to make the puffiness disappear.

Rising on numb legs – as if she had cried all energy out of her body – and dusting them off, she was instantly transported back to the confrontation she and Blaise had had with the Dementor in the Shrieking Shack. The only time she'd ever seen the stoic, elegant, nonchalant Blaise Zabini petrified with fear. How his muscles had strained and trembled under her hand, looking with astonishment at his Patronus and down at her; overwhelming her with eyes like dark pools of unchecked emotion and a million questions. His poised body slumped, his demeanor bleak and self-deprecating, yet saying nothing of it. Never telling her of his inner scars.

But was she so different? And hadn't she – by helping him – inadvertently tried to help herself?

But why, oh why, didn't she feel this about Harry instead of him?! Why - when she now tried to think of or picture Harry in her mind - did she see the dark, pensive, perfectly sculpted face of Blaise looming above her, giving her the scathing smirk and perceptive look once in a while that she had found to belie a show of something close to fondness rather than the disdain he tried so hard to put upfront?

… The hard, burning imprint of his body and lips against her in the Prefects' Bathroom.

She looked in the mirror by the wall, touching her lips absentmindedly, observing the many questions still swirling in her wondrous gaze. It was like looking at a new self; a more mature, scarred Ginny.

Pulling out of her daze, she quickly made extra sure her appearance revealed nothing of her recent tears and decided to go back downstairs in case the others had begun to worry about her.

Still, as she went out of her room, she couldn't help wondering where Blaise was and what he was doing this evening; a concerned thought sneaking its way into her musings: 'How was he? Was he happy? Was he alone?'

She shook her head out of her somber thoughts when Harry suddenly cornered her on the first floor near the stairs.

"Harry!" she yelped in surprise.

"I didn't have a chance to ask you before, Ginny, but I just wanted to know how you've been?" he said sheepishly at her astonished look, his green eyes focusing keenly in on her, yet with a note of nervousness, his hands demonstratively stuck down his pockets.

Taken aback by his close proximity, she blinked at him and realized he too had tried his best to move on; to remain friends, yet not finding much ease in it.

She gulped. Could she even return the sentiment any longer? Yes, there was a past longing still lingering around Harry. Perhaps there always would be. Yet, she was now also acutely aware how her heart beat differently when she was near Harry than when she was with Blaise, and the knowledge rattled her.

Somewhere, deep inside her, she was unintentionally and irrevocably connected to Blaise. She couldn't deny it any longer, despite still feeling slightly confused and uncertain by it all.

Clearing her throat, feeling guilty realizing all this in front of Harry (of all people), she hoped he didn't notice anything. Still, his green, caring eyes were such a relief to behold once again and she suppressed a wobble in her smile, deciding to put up her best front.

"I've been well, Harry, thank you. Things are fine at school. I, um, still train the Quidditch team and am doing alright in class. Well, mostly. By the way, McGonagall has established new Houses and I've become Head Girl for mine. Have Hermione told you?"

Harry nodded absentmindedly and observed her silently, eyes scrutinizing.

She grumbled mentally. Oh, bollocks! Why can't I lie more effectively!?

"Ginny," he murmured pointedly, throwing a glance over his shoulder, before guiding her gently by the arm further away, out of earshot from the others downstairs. He gave her a concerned look and she dreaded what came next. "Ginny, please tell me what's going on? Are you alright? Truly?"

She righted herself, crossing her arms defensively. "Harry, I'm fine. I just told you. You don't have to go all 'concerned-ex-boyfriend' on me, you know. That part is over between you and I."

Taken aback by her sudden hostility, his brow furrowed. "I am not, Ginny. That's not the point – I-"

"Well, if this is some third-degree interrogation you've learned in the 'Auror school', don't be putting it on me, you hear!" she hissed defensively, surprising herself as she pointed a threatening finger at him.

Immediately, he grabbed her raised hand and drew her into one of the unoccupied rooms on the first floor.

"Merlin, I'd almost forgotten how your temper is like!" he breathed in mild exasperation but with a note of teasing affection, as he pulled her into his body, giving her a brief, calming hug.

Damn him and how well he knows me!, she sighed internally and leaned into him, reveling in his familiar touch and smell.

"I know it has been hard. It has been on me as well," he mumbled into her hair, stroking her arm gently, and she wasn't quite sure if he meant postwar-life or their break-up or both, "But I'm not acting as a concerned ex-boyfriend –", at that she looked up and gave him a pointed look to which he sighed, "Alright, I am partly that, but first and foremost, I am acting as a concerned friend, because I still love you.. like a friend – well, like family, I guess," he halted, and she sensed it was because he was not the family he wanted to be to her and perhaps never would.

She lifted a hand to push some of his stroppy, black hair back from his down-turned eyes and smiled comfortingly up at him. "I know, Harry. I love you too. Like a friend, like family. I always will. But it is not as it once was between us." She looked away briefly. "I don't think we can go back. It hurts me too to think about it, but I'm also happy that I still get to have you in my life."

He looked down at her, his beautiful, green eyes filled with such unspoken emotion that it was her turn to look away and she slowly disentangled herself from his embrace, her heart feeling torn, as if she was betraying him by staying in his arms like this as well as leaving. But also because it didn't feel quite right. Like … she was betraying someone else.

They stood rather awkwardly beside each other, when they suddenly heard someone clearing their throat behind them and turned to find Hermione standing in the doorway.

"Sorry to interrupt, but the boys are lighting the tree decorations outside and Mrs. Weasley asked me to come and fetch you, Harry, to join them if you'd like," she announced, looking questioningly between Ginny and him, apparently having picked up the tension between them.

Ginny didn't know if she welcomed the distraction or if she wanted to finish this thing with Harry first, but Harry seemed to make the decision for her.

"Oh, alright. Thanks, Hermione, I think I will," he mumbled, shooting one last, apologizing look at Ginny and quickly shuffled out of the room and went downstairs.

Hermione, however, remained, her eyes observing Ginny who – as always – felt peeved by her friend's perusing gaze.

"What?"

Hermione shrugged but still didn't move her eyes from her. "I just wondered if there was anything you wanted to talk about … About Harry perhaps?"

Ginny crossed her arms. "No," she replied curtly.

"No?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, Hermione. Thanks!"

"Calm down, Ginny, no need to get defensive. I'm just –"

"Just what?" Ginny bit out.

Her brow furrowed, "Just – concerned for you. You've been acting a bit … off ever since the school year started."

"Yeah, and I wonder why?!" she snorted sarcastically.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "I didn't –", she sighed heavily, "I didn't mean it like that. You know I didn't. It's just that – that you have been slightly distracted and, well, blue for a long time it seems. I couldn't help noticing."

"Hmph, didn't seem you noticed much to me," Ginny fired back.

"Don't be like that. You know I've had a lot on my plate this year, but that doesn't mean I do not notice what goes on with my friends, especially my best friends."

Ginny unfolded her arms, hands turned into fists at her side. "So what has been going on, huh, Hermione? What has been going on with your so-called best friend?"

Hermione took a step closer to her, pity and worry painting her face. "I know you have not been entirely happy, Ginny. And I've been, well, rather worried about your dealings with Zabini as of late."

Ginny's eyes hardened. "What about it?"

She sighed heavily as if she was about to explain something to a small child and Ginny hated it. "Well, I don't like it. I'm not sure what he wants from you – "

"Why should he want something special from me, just because he spends time with me?" Ginny retorted indignantly.

"Please, Ginny," Hermione held up her hand in peace, "hear me out? I'm just concerned about your relationship with him, that's all."

"That's all? It certainly doesn't sound like 'that's all'! Spit it out, Hermione! Say what you want to say!"

Hermione's worried gaze blazed momentarily, her jaw shooting out. "Alright. I don't think you should trust him," she said in a clipped tone.

Ginny lifted an eyebrow. "And why is that, may I ask?"

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. "You know why!"

"No, honestly, I don't."

"Stop that, Ginny!" she exclaimed, aggravated, "You know he is a cad and a womanizer! You know what he has done! Do not tell me you don't!"

Ginny hated the accusing stare she gave her, as if she had demoralized herself by being in his company, and as if Hermione also accused her for not confiding more in her. But Ginny had tried! Well, not enough, perhaps, but Hermione hadn't exactly been forthcoming about the subject. Speaking of which:

"You do know he's not going to change all of a sudden, don't you?" Hermione said, now more subdued as if slightly ashamed of having been so riled up a moment ago and about the way she had spoken. Still, there was a disappointed edge to her voice.

Ginny sighed, swallowing her irritation, knowing this was Hermione when she cared but also thought her slightly judgmental. "You do not know him, Hermione."

"And you do?" she raised an eyebrow in reproach. "Remember how he was before the war. Do you really think all that is gone?"

Ginny looked down in admittance. "No, not all of it. Some of it is a part of who he is, I guess." Then she steeled her gaze. "But the rest – I know it has. I've seen it. And it was the war, Hermione. You know what that can do to you. No matter what 'side' you were on. We all got our scars." Ginny hadn't meant for it to come out that harsh, but she was not going to excuse her 'relationship' with Blaise to Hermione.

However, the minute she had spoken she regretted it. The flash of hurt and painful memories in her friend's chocolate-colored eyes was unmistakable and made Ginny's heart skip a panicky beat. Of all people, Hermione knew all too well what war could do to you. Why, she had it etched into her arm!

Stupid Ginny!

"No, Hermione, I didn't – you know I didn't mean it like that. I just –," she bit her lip, afraid of saying the wrong thing again and ruining the evening for them. "Can't we just forget about it for the moment and enjoy Christmas, hm? I just want to be here - with my family and my friends, not at school, not thinking about – you know?"

She gave the older girl a tentative, consoling smile, reaching for her hand to give it a friendly squeeze. Hermione returned the gesture with a somewhat watery but understanding smile and a nod. Ginny hated to see those tears in her friend's eyes, even more so when she had been the cause of it, knowing just how deep and literal Hermione's scars went. Her friend was one of the bravest and strongest people she knew, yet she also knew her too well. She was not invulnerable and was as quick to tears as the rest of them.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

She smiled reassuringly. "It's alright, Ginny. I overstepped. It is your life. I'm just – as your friend – I'm worried about you, that's all."

"I know and I'm grateful that I have you as my friend." She gave her a cheeky grin. "But you know me; I can take care of myself. And if he so much as tries anything, I'll go for the balls first. He won't stand a chance against my Bat-Bogey Hex!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and smirked. "Boy, do I know." They continued to chuckle quietly as they moved to go down into the living room, arm in arm and mood changed.

Ron and Harry, who had apparently returned from the outside decorating and now settled for a game of Wizard's Chess, looked up at the two girls coming down the stairs, giggling conspiratorially, and sent each other a slightly worried look.

"Easy now, boys," Hermione chuckled as they reached them, "we're not planning some devious Christmas surprise when you wake up in the morning. Are we, Ginny?" She winked at the younger girl and Ginny scoffed in a way that clearly rattled her brother.

"Of course not! We would never do such a thing! But … perhaps they could do with a bit of scaring, don't you think, Hermione?" She tapped her finger playfully on her chin, "We can't have them slacking on their famous Auror reflexes, can we now?"

Harry looked like he couldn't quite figure out what facial expression he should be going for, while Ron looked positively pale. He gave a wavering laugh. "Eheh, w-what are you two up to?"

Both girls broke down laughing just as the rest of the family entered the living room.

"What's up with your faces?" George said to the boys, plopping himself down on the sofa next to them and snatching a mince pie from the tray that Molly had just passed by him.

"George! Not until dinner!" she berated him and placed it on the grand dinner table by the kitchen.

He merely shrugged, speaking with his mouth full of pie, "Can't see what harm it does, Mum. They're to be eaten anyway. By me."

Molly shook her head, "You such a child sometimes, Georgie," but looking at him she couldn't quite put as much scolding into her words and quickly returned to give his cheek a brief, affectionate kiss.

"Mum!" he cried in embarrassment and everyone who had witnessed it laughed heartily.

The evening went on from there with great food and shared tales of great friends and past comrades and there were tears as well as laughs and – well, Ginny couldn't have wished for a better Christmas. The awkwardness between Harry and her had been momentarily replaced by the easy Christmas spirits and joviality of the others, and she secretly hoped they would remain so and be able to put past feelings behind them. It wouldn't do either of them any good to be lingering on what might have been. Perhaps one day, but right now they needed to go their separate ways.

X

Later that night when everyone had gone to bed on full bellies and with pink cheeks, Ginny lay on her bed next to Hermione's, thinking about how the evening had went; how happy everyone had seemed for a moment, the first time since Fred's death.

"You sleeping?" Hermione asked quietly beside her.

"No."

A couple of moments went by before she spoke again. "Why are you spending time with Blaise, Ginny?"

Ginny was jolted from her sleepy ruminations at the mention of Blaise's name and looked towards her friend in surprise. "I – uhm – why?" she squeaked, cringing at how her own voice was giving her away.

"'Why' I ask or 'why' you do?"

Ginny couldn't help but snort drily. "Always so analytical. Even at 1 AM."

Hermione responded with her own inelegant snort and both girls giggled at their respective antics.

"No, seriously, Gin," Hermione sobered in one last giggle, "why do you like Blaise? I mean – besides from the obvious?"

Ginny sputtered, "I never said I LIKED him! And what do you mean 'besides the obvious'?!"

"Well, I guessed you must like something about him since I so often see you two together in some context or hear about it from others."

Her ears pricked up. "Others? What others?"

"Oh, I don't know… Basically everyone who has seen or noticed you two together. You do make quite the conspicuous pair, you know."

"Wha- I –" Ginny continued to splutter at this new information. "I don't see how? I mean – it's not like we're that famous at the school or anything!"

"Oh, come now, Ginny!" Hermione huffed, "You're deceiving yourself if you think so little of your own reputation! You are a bloody hero in all those little, gullible First Years' eyes! Of course; I cannot speak for Zabini … other than what I have heard –"

"Right," Ginny interrupted between her teeth before her friend could point out even more flaws in the dark skinned, former Slytherin. "Fine. We're bloody famous! Or infamous! But it is not like we've flaunted ourselves or anything like that!"

"Yeah, right," she chuckled drolly, "you are not at all a surprising sight when you are seen either yelling or bantering in the middle of the hallway or classroom or locker room?"

Ginny gasped. "How did you know?!"

Hermione hummed conspiratorially. "I have my sources."

Moments went by in silence as Ginny's head felt overloaded with this new information, then wondering why she was so surprised by it in the first place. She should have known people would notice and talk. Neither Blaise nor she was exactly wallflowers and together they probably stood out even more – especially because of their opposite sides in the years before and during the war.

And they had made.. a couple of scenes in public.

"You never answered my question," Hermione's voice cut through her musings.

"And you never answered mine," she quickly retaliated.

"Which one?"

"The 'besides the obvious'-thing. What was that about?"

"Honestly, Ginny! Blaise is a looker – despite his repugnant misuse of it – and you of all people should have noticed that by now! Don't you deny it! After all, did you not take his vanity complex down a notch once?" Hermione's voice was tipping on indecent mirth by now and Ginny growled in annoyance.

"Alright, yes, I did – and YES he is bloody gorgeous, okay!? Satisfied?!" she breathed in exasperation and mumbled into her pillow, "Only a fool would say otherwise."

"So you admit it?"

"What?"

"That you like him?"

Ginny shot up from the bed. "Hermione, you're putting words in my mouth!"

"I bet you want to have him put something in your mouth, though," she barely withheld her laugh. At Ginny's scandalized expression, Hermione finally broke down laughing. "Oh, come now, Ginny. None of us are virgins. You can tell me," she cajoled and giggled again like a First Year, sharing dirty stories.

Ginny huffed wryly at her friend's amusement. "I can't. I'm trying to get the images of you and my brother having a go at each other in the Forest of Dean - while Harry is sitting right outside - out of my head," she spoke sneakily and Hermione quickly sobered.

"It was not like that. That time didn't really count. It really happened after the war when –"

"Hermione, as much as I'm here for you as a friend whenever you need it, I really don't want to hear any details of my brother's 'assets', thanks."

"Ah. Sorry," Hermione flushed, having the decency to look embarrassed.

Silence once again sufficed the air as Ginny lay back with a huff. Since when had they become so talkative about boys? It wasn't like any of them had ever put that much value into the usual girly chatter or having a boyfriend and all that. Was this what life after a war came to; with no looming threats hanging over your head?

She sighed inwardly. I guess this is what you call normalcy, Ginny.

"So," Hermione said teasingly after a while, and Ginny growled in frustration at what her friend was about to say, "you haven't done it with him yet?"

Ginny knew she clearly couldn't make her friend believe otherwise. Well, not tonight, at least. She simply lifted her head, giving a pointed eyebrow in response, yet Hermione continued to smile irritatingly conspiratorially.

"Right, Hermione. Like your love life is such a picture-perfect," Ginny said brusquely.

Taken by surprise at the comment, the mirth left her face as she looked away and shrugged. "Well, Ron is … Ron. You know your brother; he's far from perfect but nor am I. I've realized that now. I'm not sure –," she suddenly looked pensive and somewhat insecure, picking at the threads of her blanket and finally sighed, "I'm not sure if we'll be one of those couples who stay together for life, but for now I'm content."

Ginny studied her in contemplation, realizing her friend had matured beyond years and still remained such a young girl, inexperienced in so many things in life. Just like herself.

"I don't blame you for having your doubts," Ginny shrugged sympathetically and Hermione stared at her in surprise as she continued, "I love him, make no mistake, but anybody who crushes on my idiotic brother is either foolishly brave or has the greatest tolerance for mankind in my eyes."

Hermione shot a quizzical look. "You think I'm wasting my time?" she said, slightly hurt.

Ginny shook her head. "No, I didn't mean to belittle your feelings for him, Hermione. And I'm certain he's head-over-heels for you! It's only that which you said yourself: I'm not so sure either he'll be able to hold on to you forever. I think," she swallowed, feeling traitorous to her own blood, but she needed to be honest to her friend, "I think you deserve more than what my brother can give you."

A thick silence followed in the wake of her words. Ginny gulped.

"I think, perhaps, you are right," Hermione spoke slowly, subdued, a slight tremble to her voice. She looked up at Ginny and reached up to give her hand a squeeze, eyes watery but grateful. "Thanks for your honesty."

"You know, I didn't say you should dismiss the possibility of him proving his worth just yet," Ginny gave her her own trembling smile, a teasing note to it, "He can be an obtuse ass sometimes, but he loves you."

She gave a half-hearted nod. "I'm sure he'll make someone – if not me – a terrific husband some day," a somewhat sad smile hanging on her lips as she let go of Ginny's hand and they both settled back into their covers.

Some time went by, both of them ruminating on their conversation. Then, at last, Hermione spoke quietly: "I do not know Blaise, but I know and trust you, Ginny. If you truly like him, I will not judge you. And if you ever need a listening ear, you know I'm here for you."

Ginny swallowed a lump in her throat. "Thank you, Hermione," she answered softly, truly thankful of her friend's considerate, open mind and her avoidance of the subject of Harry, in particular. She wasn't ready to admit what she had come to realize just yet.

As Hermione's breathing gradually slowed to a deep slumber beside her, Ginny lay staring up in the dark, still trying to wrap herself around the dark skinned wizard that persisted in her thoughts, until she too drifted into a, for once, restful sleep.