“Oh,” Ginny said quickly, “trust me, you are not gonna want to hear this screaming hissy. Hold on.” With that, she rushed out of a half-cleaned bedroom of 12 Grimmauld Place, leaving Harry by his lonesome.

She came back quickly, shutting the door behind her tightly. She stood with her back against it for a moment before proffering a slightly decrepit-looking radio. “Hermione brought it for Dad to examine.” Then she snickered. “Too bad she spent too much time examining a certain brother of mine.”

Harry smiled. “And in the closet, no less.”

They both laughed. “Maybe he really DOES belong to our family.”

Harry looked at her questioningly and she obliged him with an answer.

“I’ve found every one of my brothers off snogging with a girl somewhere, secretly. Apparently it’s in out genetic makeup.” She shrugged. “We’re very fertile.”

Harry flushed a bit. Ginny saw this and giggled a bit more. “Anyway, they’re about to get reamed by my parents. Since they’re pretty close to you, I figured you’d find that uncomfortable. Likely Mum’ll be screeching about contraception potions, and--”

“Oh, God, Gin, stop!” Harry closed his eyes and grimaced.

“Sorry, it’s just too easy. Anyway, try not to think about it-- it‘s not like we even know what they were doing in there.” She walked over to the dusted bedside table. “Let’s just hope I can get this hunk of crap to work. It’s ancient.”

“You know about radios? Really?” Harry was perking up.

“Yeah, thanks to my reeducation by Tonks. Her dad's Muggle-born, you know.”

Ginny fiddled with the dials and moved the antenna until it was at a wonky angle. She heard thudding music behind the static and she winced. “Techno.”

“And really bad reception, besides,” Harry replied, trying to readjust the antenna.

“You fiddle, I’ll dial. And hurry, ‘cause any second, the screaming begins.” Harry didn’t look stricken, but he went about his duty with a bit more zeal.

Suddenly the static stopped dead and they heard a quiet voice announcing the next song. “Oh, turn it up. I like this song,” Ginny said.

“I KNOW this song,” Harry replied, astounded. The Dursleys weren’t known for sharing, nor were they tolerant of “that damned rock and roll.”

“Next up is “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell,” a tinny voice said, without any enthusiasm.

Ginny picked up a feather duster and Harry picked up a rag. “See? Now we an clean. Music makes it better.”

Harry began to wipe the window, absently paying attention to the song and not his work. He didn’t realize he’d begun to mutter along with the words until he finished with a window and turned to see Ginny dusting a shelf while swaying back and forth.

She began to sing in a low, distracted manner. “The LOVE we share,” she said, “seems to-- go nowhere,” as her hips went side to side. Harry turned before she could catch him watching. He was smiling but at the same time trying to bite it down.

He began to sing again. “I toss and I turn, I can’t sleep at night.” He opened a desk drawer carefully, hoping nothing would jump out at him.

Ginny twirled in time to the music and saw Harry’s back. His head was bent over, and he peered into the drawer. With one hand he rummaged gently, and with the other he tapped to the rhythm of the song. His knuckles rapped against the desk periodically.

Ginny smiled and opened the closet. She wondered why he was singing. He rarely sang and never danced, both with good reason; this must be a good sign. Ginny started again, with “Once I RAN to you, now I run from you,” then she stopped. Empty closet. Keep moving, her body told her. Mustn’t stop. Too restless to stop.

Harry felt, if not edgy exactly, then alert. He continued to poke through the desk’s contents, wary of a trap. “I gave you all a boy could give you, take my tears and that’s not nearly ALL,” he muttered, eyes to the drawer.

“Tainted love,” they both sang, louder, and then looked at each other, startled. Then both smiled and said again, “Tainted love.”

Harry slid the drawer shut with his hip. It wasn’t terribly interesting, he decided. Nothing useful or dangerous or dirty there.

He tried to walk to the chest of drawers, but stopped in the middle of the room, facing Ginny. His hand twitched. ‘Stop it,’ he warned himself. ‘This is Ginny. She’s over you.’

Still he smiled as she sang louder, and slightly off-key: “Now I know I’ve got to-- run away, I’ve got to-- get away. You don’t really want it anymore from me.” She chastised herself internally, but continued to sing and step in time to the music. ‘He doesn’t like you, G. You’re better off as friends. You work well as friends.’

Harry tapped his foot against the moth-eaten run. “To make things right, you need someone to-- hold you tight,” he murmured as he moved to pick up a new rag. Ginny bent to pick up her feather duster again, and their hands accidentally knocked together.

“Sorry,” they both said, missing a few lines of the song.

They both paused for a long moment that felt like a quick second, gazes locked, until Ginny grabbed her feather duster and moved back to dust the shelves she’d already somewhat cleaned.

“Don’t touch me please,” she intoned.

Harry grabbed a new rag for the desk. “I can’t stand the way you tease.”

“I love you though you hurt me so.” Ginny stilled, looking at the shelves.

“Now I’m gonna pack my things and go,” Harry said, having not even touched the desk with his rag.

They both turned, smiling almost to the point of giggling. Harry crossed his arms with a slow grin and Ginny put a fist on her hip, smirking.

They raised their voices higher this time, as though competing for the best volume with each other and with the radio itself.

“Tainted love,” they both said, as melodiously as possible. “Tainted love.”

They took two tiny steps apiece. “Touch me baby, tainted love.” Almost there. Their brains were each shooting off fireworks and alarms and smoking signals, but at this point, that was kind of a pleasant sensation.

They were a little more than a foot apart.

“Tainted love.” A mere few inches.

“Tainted love.” Wider smiles were donned by their expectant faces.

Ginny crooked a finger and motioned to Harry to lean forward. He moved his head very close and she whispered into his lips, “Tainted love.” Her breath barely dusted his mouth. He looked into her eyes, which were daring him quite magnificently.

The song ended and neither noticed. A new song did not come on, oddly. It relapsed into quiet static, of a kind that didn’t bother either of the room’s occupants.

Because they were already kissing. One of each of their hands had met in midair, and were clasped at shoulder height. Harry had a hand on Ginny’s hip, and Ginny’s hand was at his upper arm, tightening and gripping at his shirt. It looked as though she might tear it.

Together they backpedaled slowly and tiptoed until Harry’s back hit a post of the four-poster bed. The kiss deepened.

Then the door swung open. Ginny pulled back, and without their combined momentum, Harry fell sideways into a sitting position on the bed. Their lips were far from normal-sized, and the looked at the doorway in silent rapture.

“Oh Lord, not you too,” Molly said loudly, sounding almost hurt. “Arthur, I’m afraid I’ve found them.” She then turned back to face them. “Come with me, you two.” Then she walked sternly away.

As they shuffled abashedly after her, they both distinctly heard Arthur say, “Still, I say it’s about time. For all of them, really.”

They would have heard a dry chuckle from Molly if Ginny hadn’t been whistling.