Chapter I: the mysterious letter

Once again, Harry was back at number 4, Privet Drive. Although he knew (even if only in the back of his mind) that this summer would be a lot more favorable than the last, he still couldn’t help but feel a little bit depressed. Harry’s bleak summer was brightened only by the thought of the members of the Order Apparating in every week or so to “check on him”. He could barely conceal a smile at the thought Aunt Petunia’s dismay of someone like Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, or Remus Lupin popping into her kitchen.

Although Dudley was bigger and more powerful than ever (his boxing training at Smeltings had been continued over the past school term), even he seemed apprehensive at the thought of more contact with grown wizards. Harry could only imagine the memory of his piggy tail was still running strong though it was years later. When the car finally arrived home, Uncle Vernon made it perfectly clear to his nephew upon their arrival home exactly what would happen if those “blasted strangers” made a ruckus in his neighborhood.

“One thing of unnormal activity on this street, and I swear to you boy, I will kill that ruddy bird of yours with my own two hands! I don’t want those weird friends of yours stopping by either! You write them and tell them that the only time they are to come here is when they take you with them!” Harry’s uncle spitted, his face turning more and more purple with every syllable.

This threat didn’t have nearly the effect on Harry that his uncle had hopes. Sick of year after year of Uncle Vernon’s threats, Harry finally had had enough.

“Look, Uncle Vernon. They don’t want to be around you any more than you do them. I’ll be gone soon enough, and believe me; I wish I didn’t have to come back here either. Here’s my offer- you leave me alone this summer, and I’ll make sure that more Dementors don’t turn up and REALLY suck out Dudley’s soul this summer."

Uncle Vernon began to spit with rage, but Harry wasn't about to stop now that he ahd gotten started.

"Yeah. That’s right, you heard me. Stay out of my business, and I’ll make sure that all those powerful wizards you met at King’s Cross don’t show up here any sooner than they have to.”

“FINE!” Uncle Vernon yelled. “You just keep those Dementy-whatsits away from my family!”

Although Harry knew that there was really no chance of any more Dementors showing up in Little Whinging, he thought it wouldn’t hurt to put Dudley in what his Uncle would see as extreme danger. He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he brought his trunk up to his room, because he could hear Uncle Vernon’s incoherent stuttering all the way up the stairs. Harry put Hedwig’s cage on the desk, and opened both her door and his window so she could come and go as she pleased. He knew all too well that Uncle Vernon would never imagine objecting; for fear of what dastardly things those “wizard folk” (not to mention the “Dementy-whatsits”) would come and do to him and his family.

Harry sighed, and thought about plopping down on his bed for a good long nap, but decided against it. He was far too exhausted to have to deal with more dreams of Sirius falling through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. The horrid memory of what had happened in the department of mysteries was still fresh in his mind, although it had happened weeks ago. Deciding it was best to keep his mind occupied, as an alternative, Harry began to unpack his trunk. All sorts of interesting things came out of this magically expanded trunk: he, along with Ron and Hermione, his best friends, had all performed the Expanding charm on their trunks, because they found that the longer they were at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the more things they acquired.

Out of the school trunk came a large assortment of things, including a cauldron (pewter, standard size 2), random spell books (including the biting Monster Book of Monsters Harry’s professor and friend, Hagrid had given him as a birthday present before his third year), parchment, ink (some of which were color changing as you wrote) quills, and a broomstick.

Harry’s broomstick wasn’t just any old broom: it was a Firebolt. The Firebolt had a high value to Harry not only because it was the best broom gold could buy, but also because it had been given to him as a birthday gift from his Godfather, Sirius Black. Although Harry was very fond of his broom, the sentimental value of it being associated with his now late Godfather was, at this point, too much for him to bear. He hastily shut it away in the closet of his room. As much as it depressed Harry to unpack his school trunk, he knew that it would at least keep him occupied for a while. He placed everything neatly away, so he would be able to leave at a moments notice when he received an owl from someone in the Order, saying they would be picking him up.

Another sigh escaped Harry Potter’s lips, as he continued to unpack his trunk. As he hung up his robes in the closet, he realized that he was reaching the bottom of his trunk. Looking in, he saw the shattered remains of the mirror his Godfather had given him. He had never told anyone about the magical two-way mirror. Not even Ron and Hermione.
‘How could I have been so STUPID? I can’t believe I fell for Voldemort’s tricks. God, am I an idiot.’ he thought angrily to himself, ‘Hermione was right. I really DO have a ‘saving people thing’. I should really listen to her more often. Every time, she’s always right about everything. I really am lucky she’s still my friend even though I can be such a git sometimes."

Harry kicked the lid of his trunk closed with his foot, and was quite surprised with himself at how pleasing the angry “THUD!” sound was to his ears. Harry looked around the floor, to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, when a small piece of parchment caught his eye. ‘What’s this?’ he asked himself, picking up the yellowing fragment of paper. He concluded that it must have fallen out of a fold in his robes when he hung them in the closet. Harry’s green eyes contracted with confusion, and he took the piece of parchment over to his desk and unfolded it.

His breath caught in his throat, as he began to read:

Dear Harry,
I didn’t exactly know how to tell you this, and so I thought I would nip it into your trunk while you weren’t looking on the train. I know that you’ve been through a lot, not only this year, but in your entire life, and so you’re probably thinking ‘where does this person get off, giving me advice?’ but I just couldn’t sit there and let you suffer alone. I have to tell you.

Harry Potter, the thought of you sitting with your Muggle relatives treating you awfully all summer is almost too much for me to bear. I want you to know that you can confide in me. I’ve always been there for you, whether you realized it or not, and I will continue to always be there. I know that you only think of me as a friend, as I do you, and you keep many things secret and to yourself, but I want you to know that I can see right through it. You’re hurting, and you need to let it out.
Please, Harry… think of me as a diary. Tell me how you feel, and I will tell you everything I can, and try to make it better. I know that you’ve always been told, “never to trust anything that you can’t see where it keeps its brain”, but I want you to know that I AM a real person- and you do know me, even if I won’t disclose my name here.

I cared very much about Sirius, too, and if there is anything I can do to help… please don’t hesitate to send me an owl. Hedwig will know where to find me.

Love From,
…a friend

Harry read and reread his mysterious letter. It was written not actually by the person, but whoever it was had used a spell to make it look as if it were typed by a Muggle computer. Obviously, the person thought Harry would recognize their handwriting, and went to very lengthy attempts to disguise it. Who in the world would contact him in such a form? Even more to that, was it a girl of a boy? The letter was written in such a form that it could be either… and how could this person know that he would be apprehensive about trusting a magical object that he ‘couldn’t see where it kept its brain’? The even bigger question: Should he reply? He wasn’t entirely sure. Harry personally thought it was quite rude of this person (whomever it was) to just butt into his business.

And still… he DID want an outlet. Strange as it was, it seemed as if this person had almost read his mind- he HAD been thinking about starting a diary, but as he couldn’t do magic at the Dursley’s to keep it private, he was debating. ‘Hmm…’ he thought. ‘Maybe when I go to Diagon Alley this summer I’ll buy a pensieve of my own’. He knew that such an amazing and obviously powerful object had to cost about a hundred galleons, but he didn’t care. His parents had left him quite a nice little fortune, and he figured a pensieve would be worth it’s weight in gold if it heped calm his mind, and possibly (he hoped) end some of his nightmares. In the meantime… you know, he had nothing to lose at this point. He would write a short reply, and try to figure out who this person was. He had some suspicions, but he couldn’t really be sure unless he could get another letter. A little mystery… yes, it seemed to brighten up the summer. At least now he would have something to devote his mind to.

Harry put the letter away under the loose floorboard in his bedroom, and barely gave it a thought for over an entire week. But, with so little contact from the wizarding world, and letters that he knew he would have to write to the members of the Order, so they would know he was still alive, it began to creep into his mind. Finally, he gave into temptation. From underneath the floorboard, he pulled out several sheets of parchment, his Eagle feather quill he had gotten as a Christmas present from Hermione years before, and began to draft his letters. He wrote not only to Lupin, but Moody as well, and then letters to Hermione and Ron telling him how Dudley had finally gotten beaten in a boxing match, and was put on bed rest while his broken arm and leg healed. Harry couldn’t help but be pleased that the Muggle doctors weren’t nearly as good at healing broken bones as Madam Pomfrey. Since Dudley was bedridden, he couldn’t hassle Harry nearly as much, and he also kept Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia out of his way by constantly yelling for pillow fluffs and sweets. Really, the only thing that disrupted Harry’s quiet life at Privet Drive this summer were Dudley’s pitiful whines and his mother’s frantic “Coming, Diddy-dums!” replies.
Finally, after finishing the letters, which almost seemed chore like, he settled himself down to write to his “mystery friend”. He dipped his quill into his inkbottle, thought, and finally began:

Dear ‘friend’,
Seems a little eerie that you would write me, as I was really considering starting a diary of my own. And you know, I don’t feel much like talking about Sirius, but I keep hearing things about him, and what will happen with Gri… um, his house.

So what is it that makes you so keen to dive into my mind? I’m sure I know you, but I won’t be making any guesses any time soon. The Muggles are fine- Dudley broke his leg, so he isn’t nearly as terrible as normal. What about you? Aren’t you anxious to get back to Hogwarts? I’m sure the girls in your year miss you very much… that is, assuming you are a girl. Why don’t you give me a clue, and we’ll see if I cant figure out who you are.
Till next time, then.
H.P.

Harry reread his letter. It didn’t seem too bad. In fact, it was really quite silly. But, if this “mystery person” wanted to play games, he would play right back. As a matter of fact, Harry felt quite insulted at his ‘friend’s’ lack of confidence in him. ‘She probably thinks I’m sitting here crying my eyes out about Sirius’ he thought. No matter though… he had his mystery friend’s number now. He knew it wouldn’t be long before Hedwig came back with another letter.

Just so you know, I am (although unfortunately) NOT JK Rowling, and all characters and related logos etc. belong to her... the lucky woman.

Chapter II: the mystery solved

Harry had been right- Hedwig came back 2 days later with not only a letter from his Mystery Friend, but from Ron, Hermione and Lupin as well. Ron and Hermione had written a joint letter- Ron's untidy scrawl mostly about Quidditch and how his mum had made them keep cleaning Grimmauld Place. Hermione's neat script would interject every paragraph or so with worries about OWL results and how she was anxiously awaiting her scores, because she was 'having nightmares about messing up her charms practical'.
All in all, it was a happy letter, but Harry couldn't help but feel a little pang of jealously that Ron and Hermione were together at Number 12 having fun- even if it was just cleaning.

Lupin wrote on behalf of himself and Moody, and let Harry know that they would come to collect him in one week. Harry couldn't be happier. This would be his shortest stay at the Dursley's ever, and he could see the look of relief on Uncle Vernon's face when he informed him. Vernon gave him a lecture about how those "blasted wizard folk" had better not blow apart his living room like they did last time, and Harry coldly told him not to worry about it, before he went back upstairs.

Harry reclined on his bed, and Hedwig perched herself on his knee. He absentmindedly stroked her back while he read his mystery letter. He couldn't help but smirk at this one. You see, Harry was no fool, and after the second letter, he knew exactly who had sent him these mystery messages. But, even still, he felt quite mischievous and decided to let the game continue. The letter read:

Dear Harry,
Oh, no. I don't believe that I will reveal myself to you just yet. But let's see┘ yes, I am female, and to be quite honest, I don't have that many girlfriends in my year. Only a few, but they're enough, and they're really more like acquaintances anyway.
I just want you to know that I know you would never give me the time of day in person to discuss your most personal troubles, and I respect that. Why would you want to burden anyone else? Besides- I never trouble you with my own.
You have no idea, Harry, but you and I have a lot more in common than you think. You're not the only one that's been keeping secrets since you began at Hogwarts.
In my first letter, I told you that I know you only think of me as a friend, and I think the same of you, but I can't lie any more.
I do like you as more than a friend, and I know it could kill so many other friendships if we were to ever become more than friends, but at the same time, I feel like I'm obligated to let you know.
Yes, Harry Potter, I have a crush on you, and I've kept it secret for years, because I knew the problems I would face, the friendships that could be ruined, and the ridicule I (not to mention you) would receive. But, at least now I have it off my conscience, and can go on. You know I like you, even if you don't know who I am, and that (for now) is enough for me.

Love from,
A friend

After reading his letter, Harry smiled. There was now no doubt in his mind who had been sending them. 'Keeping secrets for years',and having 'barely any girlfriends in her year' ("more like acquaintances"), and to top it off- the signature at the bottom. "Love from".

Who did he know that signed all her letters like that, and who did he know that would be clever enough to charm the letter to look as if it had been written by a Muggle computer?
Who else would be concerned about ruining other friendships if they were to be together? It was obvious.
And besides all that, how else could Hedwig have gotten back so quickly, if this girl hadn't been also staying at Grimmauld Place with the Weasleys and the rest of the Order?
Oh yes, Harry knew exactly who had sent this letter, but that created in itself an even bigger problem┘

How could he possibly tell his "mystery friend" that it was not her he fancied?

For in fact, after the events that took place in the Department of Mysteries at the end of last term, he had finally realized who it was that he cared for. After all these years, she had been right under his nose, and he had never noticed. He was only sorry that it was such an extreme situation that had finally made him realize just how much he cared for her.
The way she was so strong, and refused to be helped, despite all the pain the Death Eaters had inflicted on her. When he saw her, lying there limp on the floor, unable to stand, he knew that he couldn't bear to see her hurt again. He wanted nothing more in the world than to make sure she was okay, and since then, she had always been in the back of his mind. He thought only of her, and she was the main reason (other than the Dursley's being so miserable) that he wanted to leave #4 Privet Drive as soon as possible. He knew that if he was with her, he could keep an eye on her at all times, and make sure she was all right.

Harry thought hard, and then he did the only thing that he could think of: he drafted another letter, and tried his hardest to put it so no feelings would be hurt. He needed to tell his "mystery friend" that he cared for someone else, but also make sure that her pride wouldn't be hurt in the process.

Yes, how could Harry tell Hermione Granger that he really fancied Ginny Weasley?

Dear Friend,
Thanks much for your letter; it's nice to know that I've got someone that admires me for more than just having a scar on my head. But, I can't lie to you either. I don't know how to say it, but I'll try my best.
You see, I think you should know that I fancy someone else, who in fact is quite a close friend of yours. One fitting your description, as she is not in your year, and so therefore COULD be more than your acquaintance. In fact, I'd go as far as to say she is your best girl friend. After what happened in the Department of Mysteries to her, I knew that I would die if I lost her. She has no idea, of course. I may be able to catch a speeding snitch, but somehow I can never bring myself to talk to a witch.
I still care about you, and very much, and I know that in the next years, you will always be the first I will go to when it begins to be too much to bear. I hope that I haven't hurt you too badly, and I hope that we will be able to continue our friendship, because as like you said, I don't want any friendships ruined either. So, I guess, when I see you at Sirius' place next week (as that is where I am guessing you are), I will go on as if you never told me anything.

Your friend, forever,
Harry Potter


Harry looked over his letter and sighed. It was as nice as he could put it, but he knew if he received a letter saying that someone he fancied didn't return the feelings, he would be quite miserable. Livid, in fact.
He attached it to Hedwig's leg, and sighed once again as she took flight out the window, giving him a friendly nip on the ear as she passed.

But, it was the best he could do. How was he supposed to go on pretending that he didn't know anything? He knew that when he saw Hermione it would be harder than ever, but he would have to just grin and bear it. She was the cleverest witch in his year, and he knew she was quite levelheaded. She would be fine. In the meantime, it was quite late. Harry looked at the clock, and saw it read nearly one a.m. He changed into his pajamas, and got into bed. As he settled in for the night, his thoughts couldn't help but wander.

Normally the woman he thought of most (especially after something tragic happening) was his mother, but tonight, like most recent nights, his thoughts turned to another. Yes, it was a different woman with long red hair that occupied most of Harry Potter's thoughts as of late.

As Harry rolled over and drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but smile. And you know, for everything that he had been through, for Ginny Weasley to be so powerful that even the mere THOUGHT of her could make him smile┘ Now he knew she had to be something quite special.

Disclaimer: Like I said, I (although unfortunately) do NOT own Harry Potter, or any other related works, titles etc. etc. They all belong to JKR (the lucky woman...)

I would like to thank everyone that has reviewed! So far, it's been really positive, and so after I finish this one, I might just write another fic! Let me know if you would like me to! Cheers!



Chapter III: arising complications

The next week went by rather quickly for Harry, with going to Grimmauld Place to look forward to. Although at the same time, Harry was apprehensive about spending the rest of the summer in his late Godfather’s house (the memories, he was afraid, would just be too strong sometimes), he couldn’t wait to see his friends again. Yes, Harry knew that it would be difficult at first to be with Hermione, but for some reason his heart told him not to worry about it too much. Besides, he had another woman to look forward to focusing his attention on.

Lupin and Moody arrived on schedule that Monday morning, and having been informed beforehand of their coming, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley had decided to conveniently be out of the house visiting Aunt Marge.

Harry had packed all his things the night before, and was waiting when the two wizards apparated into the kitchen. Upon seeing Harry completely ready to leave, coat already in hand, Lupin let out a hearty laugh. “A little anxious, are we, Harry?” he asked.

“You have no idea,” Harry replied, unable to hide his feelings.

“How are we getting there today? Not the Knight Bus I hope?” Harry remembered all too well his last trips on the infamous bus, and also the nausea that went along with it.

“No,” said Moody, gruffly. “We thought about using the floo network, but as we’re not entirely sure it’s not still being watched, we decided on a portkey. That, and the soot always makes my eye work funny for about a week after going through all those fireplaces.”

Harry laughed, and grabbed hold of Aunt Petunia’s toaster that Lupin had smartly turned into a portkey. Normally he would have been slightly concerned at his Aunt’s reaction about her missing toaster, but now he didn’t care. Yesterday Aunt Petunia had made Harry wait on Dudley hand and foot and pack his suitcase for him for their visit to Aunt Marge’s. Dudley was still mending physically (and emotionally, Harry couldn’t help but think privately) from his first loss at boxing, and so he was completely miserable to Harry and kept hitting him with his Smeltings stick when Harry didn’t fold the shirts ‘exactly right’.

“Ready?” asked Lupin, jolting Harry out of his miserable thoughts from the previous day.

“Born ready," Harry replied. "Get me out of this hell hole.” And in the next instant, felt the all too familiar jerk behind his navel.

In a swirling wind of color, Harry felt himself rushing through space, and finally came to a stop in the living room of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. For the first time, Harry couldn’t help but notice that he had remained on his feet when he landed- but not for long. A girl came running at him shrieking his name, and smacked him flat to the floor with a huge hug.

“UGH!!! Calm down! I’m fine, I’m here! Geez!” Finally Harry straightened his glasses, and saw exactly who it was that had flattened him. “’Mione?!” he gasped, shocked.

How could this be? She seemed to be taking this a lot better than he expected. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she put a memory charm on herself to make her forget the letters that had been exchanged between them the past few weeks.

“Come on Er-my-nee!” called Ron, with half a sandwich in his mouth. “Give the man some room! How’s it going Harry?” he asked, and pulled Harry into a brotherly hug. “Glad you could get here so soon! Dudley still smarting about his leg, huh? Stupid git. Come on, let’s go unpack your trunk!”

So Harry, Ron and Hermione headed up the staircase into the same bedroom he and Ron had shared the previous summer, and the three began to unpack his trunk. The room was sparkling clean, and Harry couldn’t have helped but notice that the rest of the house on the way to the room had been spotless as well.

“Wow!” he said, awestruck. “Ron, you didn’t tell me that you mum made you clean 24/7 without sleeping! This place looks amazing! And what happened to the portrait of Mrs. Black downstairs?”

Hermione smiled. “Oh, that wasn’t us. That was-“

But Harry being knocked flat to the ground again in a hug cut her off short. “Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter has come home! To see Dobby! Oh, Dobby missed him so much, sir!”

“DOBBY?!” Harry cried. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, Dobby couldn’t let Harry be all alone in his house with no one to take care of it for him! And while Harry is away at school! So Dobby asked Professor Dumbledore if he could come here to work for Harry Potter, too! Of course, Dobby will still work at Hogwarts, but he will come here on his days off to clean for Harry Potter, sir!”

Harry stood, bewildered at this news. “Dobby?” he asked, “What do you mean you wanted to come here to work for me? This is… this was Sirius’ house, not mine.” At the last words about Sirius, Harry choked. It was beginning to hit him even harder now that he was at Grimmauld Place that he wouldn’t be hearing Sirius singing Christmas carols in the halls during the Holidays again this year.

“Oh Harry Potter, sir! But Master Black left you everything! So it IS Harry Potter’s house now, and Dobby could not be happier sir, than to keep it tidy for him! That is,” and Dobby broke off, looking scared at the ground, “that is, if Harry Potter would like to keep Dobby. I is a good house elf, Harry Potter, sir. I is been cleaning for weeks and weeks Harry Potter sir, in hopes that you in your greatness, would let me be your servant. I is wanting nothing more than to help Harry Pott-“

“Dobby,” interjected Harry, kindly, “Of COURSE I would love you to help at Grimmauld Place! It will be really nice to have some company here over the Holidays!”

“Oh Harry Potter, sir! You is so very kind to keep Dobby, even though he has been dismissed by his old masters! Oh, Dobby is the happiest elf in the whole wide world sir!!!” and Dobby ran from the room to finish dinner with tears overflowing from his tennis ball green eyes.

Harry shook his head and laughed. “That is one crazy elf,” he told Hermione and Ron. “But still, it will be nice to have him around”.

“Oh, come now Harry!” said Hermione. “You don’t think we’d let you spend Christmas alone now, do you? You better invite us to stay, too!”

Harry was shocked- why in the world would Hermione want to spend the Holidays with him and Ron and the rest of the Order when she knew now that Harry didn’t return her feelings? Apparently, Hermione was not only practical and levelheaded; she wasn’t even HUMAN when it came to disappointments with the opposite sex. But, of course, Harry agreed. He couldn’t be happier than to think of spending the holidays with his two best mates, and the rest of the Weasleys, if he could convince them to come. Even now, with the war happening and everything that had happened in the past month, he was so happy; he couldn’t even worry about Voldemort.

He was away from Privet Drive, he had all the food he wanted to eat and no Dudley to steal it from him, and best of all… he had Ginny Weasley to look forward to seeing every day for the rest of the summer. Even if he never could quite pluck up the courage to talk to her, it would still be nice just to wake up in the morning, and see her beautiful red head sitting at the breakfast table with you. Hearing her laugh, sounding like bells tinkling through the nig-

“Come on,” laughed Ron, interrupting Harry’s private thoughts, “I’m starving, and I bet Dobby pulled out all the stops now that his ‘master’ has come home!!”

“Oh shut up Ron!” said Harry, but he couldn’t help at laughing along with him at his new house elf’s very devoted mannerisms.

As they left the bedroom, talking and joking, Harry couldn’t help but look around, wondering where Ginny was. She hadn’t even come to greet him when he arrived. That was really strange, usually she was quite happy to see Harry.

Harry never told her about how her smile could brighten even his darkest of days, and he thought glumly that he might never be able to. But, now Hermione knew that he liked Ginny (at least, he thought she should be able to figure it out from his letter, since she was so clever) and he was confused. Wouldn’t she have told Ginny by now? After all, they were really like best friends.

Or, even worse- maybe Hermione HAD told Ginny, and Ginny didn’t like Harry at all, so she was avoiding him to spare him the embarrassment. Harry shuddered at the thought. One thing was for sure, Harry would have to talk to Hermione tonight, and figure out where she had went. Hermione seemed to have no problem with what was in his letter, so he didn’t see why it would be hard for him to talk to her alone.

As they headed down to dinner, he didn’t have to wait long to get his chance. While Ron was complaining about helping his mother set the table, Hermione grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him aside.

“Harry, look, I really need to talk to you about something. I really need advice, and I can’t think of who to ask.”

Harry was shocked. Hermione? The girl that had been first in line to be Head Girl since the day she arrived at Hogwarts couldn’t figure out a problem? That was something new.

“’Mione, why don’t you ask Ginny? I mean, she’s a girl, she would probably be better at this stuff than me.”

“Ginny? I haven’t seen Ginny in almost a week. She won’t even talk to me. In fact, I think she’s mad at me. The only thing I know is that she started acting really strangely after she got a letter from someone. I mean, at first I thought it was maybe she had gotten a letter from Hogwarts saying she hadn’t been made Prefect, and that’s why she was so upset, but, I mean, we haven’t even gotten our OWL results back yet, so I don’t think that could be it. After that, though, she stopped talking to me. I have no idea why! But Harry, I could never talk to Ginny about this!”

Once again, Harry’s mind was blank. Honestly, he was glad that everything seemed so normal between him and his best girl mate, but then again, it seemed a little TOO normal.

“Okay. Lets talk after dinner. We’ll take our puddings into the library, and hopefully no one will bother us there.”

Although Harry had no idea what Hermione wanted to talk about, he couldn’t help but notice that Ginny wasn’t at dinner. She stopped in, made a plate, and went directly back up to her room without stopping to talk to anyone but Ron. In fact, Harry couldn’t be sure, but he almost thought that when she left, Ron had opened his mouth to say something to him about it. But, Ron had also promptly shoved a forkful of food in it, so maybe, Harry thought, he was just hungry.

As Ginny walked out of the kitchen without even so much of a smile or wave at Harry, his heart plummeted. Normally she would smile and say hi, at least, but she seemed so sad today. Harry smiled, and waved, being too nervous to say anything, for fear of sounding stupid, and she just glared. Harry sighed, and looked back to his food. It looked like talking to Ginny was going to be harder than he thought.

Why did she look so sad? Come to think of it, did she even look sad? Harry couldn’t help but worry that she seemed a little more MAD than sad. Even still, he couldn’t help but notice that even when she was glaring stonily at him from across the room, the light seemed to reflect off her deep brown eyes and turn them into basins having more depth and thought behind them than Professor Dumbledore’s pensieve. Harry could almost swear that she could see right into his soul with those beautiful brown eyes.

Even with a somewhat distressed Ginny on his mind, Harry couldn’t help but enjoy dinner. Dobby’s cooking was excellent, and he absolutely ran from the kitchen weeping tears of joy when Harry complimented him on it.

He had even forgotten about how he almost missed the way Mrs. Weasley kept mothering him; telling him he looked ‘horribly thin,' and ‘were those Muggles feeding you at ALL, Harry, dear?.' Lupin, Hermione and Moody were chatting animatedly about Werewolf restriction codes across the table, and Harry swore he heard his friend bring up S.P.E.W. again. Harry smiled to himself, and wondered if Hermione would ever give up on her obsession with House Elves.

Harry also couldn’t help but notice that Ron missed his mouth with his fork about 9 times out of 10 because he was staring at Hermione. Harry privately wondered if his best mate would ever get the guts to admit to Hermione how he really felt about her. ‘Heck,’ Harry thought ‘I wonder if he’ll get the guts to ever admit it to HIMSELF.'

Dinner wasn’t the only time that Ron stared at Hermione. In fact, Harry had noticed that over the past years, Ron really looked at no one else. Even when Padma Patil had started giving him a lot more attention after the second task of the TriWizard Tournament in fourth year, Harry noticed that when Ron told his stories, he always made sure that Hermione was in hearing distance. Harry had also thought that Hermione had been giving Ron nearly as many private glances as he had been her, but, the letters she had sent him this summer… (‘Ha! Love From, “A FRIEND”? Come on Hermione! I thought you were smarter than that!’ Harry tutted to himself).

But, as the meal died down, Harry couldn’t help but feel sorrowful that Sirius couldn’t be here with him to enjoy everything. Sirius would have loved to be here when Dobby had gotten rid of that horrid portrait of his mother. Sirius should be-

“Stop,” Harry told himself firmly. “He is gone, and he’s not coming back. Be happy for the time you had together, and stop worrying. He would want you to be happy here, not just think about what it would be like with him still here. That’s why he left you the manor in the first place. To give you something wonderful to remember him by.”

Harry sighed as he grabbed his pudding (tonight, Chocolate Cream Pie) and headed to the library with Hermione. He seemed to always lose people he cared about. First his parents, and then the closest thing to a parent he had ever known. As he followed Hermione to the library, he saw Ginny come down the stairs to return her plate to the kitchen.

“Hey Gin!” he called. He mumbled to Hermione that he would meet her in the library in a minute, and headed towards Ginny to have a private word. “Ginny, look, I was… um, just, you weren’t at dinner, and you looked sort of, um, upset and I was wondering if, um… if you were all right?”

Ginny scoffed. “Oh, SURE, Harry Potter. I highly doubt that you care at ALL how I feel.” And she stalked off toward the kitchen with a flip of her hair over her shoulders.

Harry gaped at her, confounded, sighed, and headed to the library. “Girls,” he muttered aloud, “Why do they have to be so difficult?”

Disclaimer: blah blah blah, I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's related titles/works.
Damn. Too bad, so sad for me.



Chapter IV: the truth revealed

Harry entered the library to find Hermione nervously perched on a wooden chair seeming to be completely unaware that she was fidgeting uncontrollably. Whether she was pushing her hair out of her face, or smoothing her robes, she seemed unable to sit still. As Harry closed the door, he seemed to look at his friend for the first time with new eyes.

“’Mione?” Harry asked tentatively. “Are you wearing MAKEUP?”

“What? Me? Oh um…” she hung her head. “Yes. Oh, Harry, why does it look AWFUL?”

Harry laughed, and walked over to his friend. With the tips of his fingers, he lifted her chin and forced her to look into his eyes.
He always knew Hermione was never ugly, (in fact, he had always thought that she was somewhat nice looking) but now he could deny it no longer. Her light makeup; just a touch of mascara (at least, that’s what he thought it was called) and brown eye shadow, and formerly bushy hair tamed into sleek, shiny curls had caused a huge transformation. He knew that she wore hardly any makeup, but still, what she had put on was amazing. There was no denying it, Hermione wasn’t just ‘not ugly’, or ‘somewhat nice looking’, she had turned out to be really… well, the only word Harry could think of was: Beautiful.

“’Mione,” he said, smiling at her, “you couldn’t look awful even with a furnunculus curse mixed with jelly legs put upon you”.

She laughed, and seemed to relax. Harry always had a way of making her snap back to reality. She was glad that he was one of her best friends. Somehow, she felt so much more at ease when Harry was around. She didn’t have to try and impress him…

like she did with Ron.

“So.” Harry continued, trying to forget about Ginny and her harsh reaction towards him, “when did you decide to start conforming to society?”

“Oh,” Hermione blushed, “actually, it was Ginny. She helped me… well, before she stopped talking to me, that is.”

Harry winced at her name, trying to forget about her stinging remarks in the hallway. “’Mione. Get to the point; what do you need help with? I have a hard time believing that you can’t figure out something. Couldn’t you look it up in a book somewhere?” Harry teased.

Hermione’s words came out in a rush, and Harry’s jaw dropped open at what she told him.

“Oh Harry. It’s RON! I mean, I can’t deny it any longer! I like him so much, and I’ve been here at Grimmauld place, and sometimes it seems like he likes me back, and then other times he wont even speak to me. I don’t know what to do!
“And I could NEVER talk to Ginny about it, I mean, he’s her BROTHER, and that’s just not something you say to one of your best girlfriends ‘oh, can I borrow your makeup, and by the way I’m using it to try and get your brother to fancy me!’. Come on Harry she would HATE me for it!”

And then Hermione gasped, “Oh No!! Maybe THAT’S why she’s stopped talking to me! Maybe she knows I like Ron, and she’s just ever so pissed! Oh, and what am I supposed to do? Ron would never like ME! I could never be pretty enough, I mean, look at Padma Patil- she gives him attention all the time and she’s GORGEOUS! And I’m a horrible flyer and I know nothing about Quidditch and he knows everything about it- it’s his favorite thing in the world, and I could just never be- oh HARRY! What am I going to do? Harry, I
“…Harry… you’ve said nothing this whole time. What is running through that head of yours? I mean, I know you’re too smart to miss the obviousness that I care for Ron, but- HARRY! WHAT?!”

Harry stopped, unable to speak. He had, in fact missed the obvious. Or at least, he had somewhat missed it. He had always thought that Hermione had fancied Ron, that is, until the letters this summer. Then he thought that all the time he had been mistaken, and had just been too blind to realize that Hermione had really fancied him, when in reality, he had been right the first time, and she had wanted Ron all along!

Thoughts ran through Harry’s brain faster than the Hogwart’s Express, and finally he just leaned over and put his head in his hands.
“Hermione,” he choked, “please, do me one favor, and when we go shopping in Diagon Alley at the end of the summer, remind me to buy a pensieve.”

“Harry, a pensieve, what? Yeah, sure, but… Oh come on! I need your help! I mean, of course I’ll remind you, but what?? Obviously I’m missing something here- wait a minute, it looks like I’m not the only one that’s missed something here!”

Harry sighed, and then lifted his head to face Hermione. Of all people, he could tell her. After all, in his letter to her (well, he had THOUGHT it had been to her), he said that she would be the first person he would go to, once it all became too much. Besides, he owed her at least this much. Her confessing to him her feelings for Ron was a big thing, so the least he could do was give her some collateral and pour some of his own feelings back into her.

Harry sighed, and began to explain. He started to tell Hermione about the letters, and how he had thought they were from her, because of all the ways it seemed to point to her. The signature, the way it had been bewitched to look written by a Muggle computer, and how he had written back as nicely as he could and tried to tell her (well, he thought it was her) that he fancied someone else.

“…So you see, I really like Ginny, and I thought that you liked Ron, but then your letters had me all confused! Well, not YOUR letters, someone else’s, but you can imagine what it was like for me to show up today and see you being the same old ‘Mione. I thought you would be livid with me when you found out I didn’t fancy you back.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped in her understanding. “Oh HARRY! That's AWFUL!!” she cried.

“I know.” He said, glumly. “And so I thought I was writing to you, and then I figured you would put it all together and know that I fancied Ginny, and then you would tell her, because I mean, she’s your best friend, and isn’t that what girls do? Tell each other everything?
"And that’s why I thought she wasn’t talking to me; because she wanted to save me the embarrassment because she didn’t fancy me back. And-

“oh SHIT, Hermione. I just realized it. Did Ginny send those letters? Because I told her- well, now I THINK it’s her that I fancied ‘someone else, who in fact was probably her best girl friend, seeing as she fit her description of not being in her same year’.
“Oh, ‘Mione. No WONDER Ginny isn’t talking to you! She thinks that I fancy you! And now she probably thinks you betrayed her.”

And of all things, Hermione laughed. In fact, she laughed so hard, she fell out of her chair.

“Oh, thanks a lot, ‘Mione!” cried Harry. “I didn’t laugh at your stupidity for not being able to realize that Ron has liked you since at LEAST third year, and now look at you!”

Hermione stopped laughing immediately. “Oh, Harry!” she cried. “You really think Ron likes me? You’re not lying are you?”

“Hermione PLEASE! Look at how he acts! How he was so jealous of you going to the ball in 4th year with Krum, and then writing with him all last year! Bloody hell, ‘Mione, he could barely get his fork into his mouth at dinner tonight because he was to busy goggling at you!”

“Oh HARRY!” she cried, jumping into his arms for another bone crushing hug. “I’m so happy! Oh, I might actually have a chance!”

“Come off it, ‘Mione. ‘A chance?!?’ I’m surprised he’s not kissing the ground where you walk by now! But still, so everything’s great for you, and that’s wonderful! I mean, hell, now I at least know why you were being normal with me. I thought you would HATE me after I sent you those letters telling you I fancied someone else. Well, I THOUGHT I was sending them to you.
"I was so confused when I showed up today and you didn’t just hex me on the spot. I mean, I would be pretty upset if I found out someone I liked didn’t like me back.
“But I guess now we know why Ginny is being cold to us. What am I supposed to do now, Hermione?”

“Well,” she said, regaining her ‘know it all’ composure, “it’s easy isn’t it? You just have to tell her you made a mistake, and she’ll forgive you, and then we BOTH get the Weasley we want! I mean, she told me, Harry, that even though she’s dated other boys, that really she’s fancied you the whole time, and was just trying to make herself get over you! No wonder she wrote those letters- she wanted to try and have another chance with you!
“Wow, she really doesn’t give up, does she? She’s a lot braver than me, but, oh yes Harry, she DOES still care for you, I know it! But if you tell her I told you, I really WILL hex you! She would kill me!”

Harry knew she was right about him having to talk to Ginny, and he told her so. “But Hermione, how am I supposed to tell her? I can’t just walk up to her and say ‘look Ginny, I never fancied Hermione, and I really like you!’- get off it, ‘Mione, she’d hex me on the spot. And don’t try to make it look like it should be easy, because I know VERY well that there’s no way you are just going to go straight up to Ron and tell him you like him, either!”

“Oh Harry shut-…. No. You’re right. I’m absolutely petrified of talking to Ron.” She blushed.

Harry bit his lip, and thought. After a few minutes, an idea came to him. “Okay, look, I know it will be harder for you, since Ginny hates you as much as me right now, but if you can talk to Ginny, you’d have a better chance at getting her to listen to SOMETHING than I would.
"And me, well, I’ll talk to Ron tonight, and see if I can’t make him come to his senses about admitting that he’s wanted to snog with you for the past 3 years.”

“Harry!” cried Hermione, blushing. “All right though, it’s a plan. I’ll let you know how it goes at breakfast tomorrow morning.”
They shook on it, and each went to their respective rooms to contemplate how they would formulate their conversations.

‘Don’t worry Harry,” he told himself, “You’ve got it easy compared to what Hermione’s facing. I’ve never seen Ginny so livid.”

Disclaimer: blah blah, I do not own Harry Potter.... oh, you know the drill!!!



Chapter V: fulfilling the bargain

Harry walked up the stairs to his and Ron’s bedroom, his thoughts racing, only to find Ron pacing the floor muttering to himself.

“What’s on your mind?” Harry asked. Ron jumped, and turned bright red.

“Nothing.” He muttered.

“Don’t lie, mate.” Harry said. He knew that he might as well bring it up now. There was no point in beating around the bush. “I saw you at dinner tonight. Hermione was looking pretty nice… or maybe you didn’t notice and were really just looking at the wall, and that’s why you kept missing your mouth with your fork.”

Ron threw a pillow at him, but Harry was too quick for him, and caught it. Harry lobbed it back at him, and attempted to continue the converation.
“Look, Ron, you’d better be thankful that I can’t use magic, or I would definitely be using the Legilimens spell on you right now, and then you’d be spilling your guts without even realizing it!”

Ron started to ask what the Legilimens spell was, but stopped short, shook his head, and sat down on his bed.

“Fess up, Ron. I’m your best mate, and if you can’t tell me, you’re going to be stuck with it on your mind forever. Come on,” he prodded, “it can’t hurt can it?”

Ron sighed. “Look Harry. I know everything okay. You might not know it, but Ginny and I have gotten pretty close since everything that’s happened. She told me about the letters she wrote you, but made me promise not to tell you.
“I knew she fancied you, and yeah, I’m her brother, so she thought I would be upset. That’s why she said she knew it would never work between you two. She saw how upset I got when she was with that git from Hufflepuff, and then even Dean Thomas. But I mean, you’re my best friend, and so I knew I could trust you with my baby sister. And if you DID ever happen to hurt her- I would be right there to see it happen, and curse you on the spot.
“When you wrote her back and told her you liked someone else, she came crying to me. I’ve never seen her so hurt, and honestly, I wanted to strangle you for upsetting her. I almost said something at dinner tonight, but I just knew it would cause a row, and I didn’t want to be bothered.
“ I snuck into her room last night and read your replies. I know you like ‘Mione, and yes, I DO fancy her, but come off it, mate. She would never like me. She’s too smart and beautiful and just, argh, she’s EVERYTHING, and I’m NOTHING. Of course she would want you. You’re the famous Harry Potter, and I’m just the sidekick.”

Harry began to protest about the ‘sidekick’ thing, but Ron cut him off.
“No really, it’s not a big deal, Harry. I take back seat to my brothers in school, why shouldn’t I to my best friend in life and LOVE as well now, too?”

Harry tried to interrupt and explain, but Ron was on a roll, and wouldn’t be stopped. It seemed like everything that he had been holding back for the past 5 years was coming out. Although at the same time, Harry couldn’t help but be impressed with the way Ron was being so collected about it. The Ron he had known a few years ago would have blown up completely by now.

“You know,” he continued, halting Harry’s attempt at words with the raise of his hand, “I thought I would be a little bit more upset with you for having Hermione like you, but I mean, I thought about it all last night. I really can’t blame YOU for what Hermione feels. All I can do is accept it and try to get over her.
“But please, Harry, you ARE my best mate, so just try not to snog in front of me, ‘cause I WOULD get jealous. Promise me that, and I’ll promise not to strangle you for hurting my baby sister. Besides, I mean, Padma Patil’s not so bad- kind of ditzy, and no where near in ‘Mione’s league, but still, not bad… I guess she’ll have to do.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to laugh uncontrollably. It didn’t surprise him though, when Ron reacted the same way as he had with Hermione, and started yelling at him. Harry regained his composure, and began to explain.
He told Ron about the letters, and how everything pointed to him that they were from Hermione: the signature, charm to make it look written by a MUGGLE computer, having no girl friends in her year. He explained everything as quickly as he could, so as to prevent another misinformed rant from Ron, and was quite surprised when he finished, to find Ron smiling at him.

“So, you mean it? She really likes me?” Ron jumped into the air, and gave a whoop, and then came over to give Harry a smack on the back. “Thanks mate. For telling me, I mean, now that I know I actually have a chance, I might be able to talk to her.”

Harry grinned. “No, Ron. You WILL talk to her. Next time you see her. And if you don’t, I’ll hex you.”
Harry and Ron changed into their pajamas, and tried to go to sleep. Harry knew Ron fell asleep immediately, and could tell by the way he was snoring, that he was definitely having happy dreams about Hermione.
‘Well,’ he thought, ‘at least two of us will be happy.’ Harry could only hope that Hermione’s conversation with Ginny had gone over as well as his did with Ron. Either way, he would find out soon enough.

As it turned out, Harry didn’t have to wait long. Not five minutes after him and Ron had turned out the light; Hermione silently opened the door, and prodded him awake.

“Harry,” she whispered, so as not to wake Ron. “Ginny’s locked me out. I don’t know what to do. I tried to talk to her and-“

Ron sitting up sleepily cut her short. “What did they get a penalty shot for?! Rubbish!” he shouted, stupidly. Quick enough, though, he saw Hermione, and blushed furiously. “Oh. Hi, ‘Mione. Sorry- dreaming about Quidditch again. Something wrong?”

Harry couldn’t choose which of the two was redder, and finally, stood up and grabbed his dressing gown.
“Look, I feel a bit peckish. I think I’ll go down and see if Dobby will make me something to eat.” He gave an obvious wink, so both Ron and Hermione could see (although each friend thought it was only seen by themselves), and headed to the kitchens.

Haven't I gotten it through your heads yet, all you crazy sue-happy people? I DO NOT own Harry Potter.
and damn.... does that suck. It would make paying off all my school loans a LOT easier!!




Chapter VI: the confrontation

Harry really had no desire for food, Dobby’s dinner having been so satisfying, but he really did need to talk to his house elf. Harry knew that Hermione had said Ginny had locked her out, and since he couldn’t use his wand to open the door (‘damned restriction for underage wizardry,’ he muttered to himself), he would ask Dobby to open it for him.

Harry found Dobby rather quickly (a little TOO quickly, he personally thought), and was halfway up the stairs when he finally realized that his insides seemed to be churning. Harry knocked gently on the door, and heard Ginny’s stony reply:

“Go AWAY, Hermione! Why don’t you go sleep in Harry’s room, since you obviously fancy him, too!”

“Um, Ginny?” Harry asked tentatively, “Can I come in?”

Harry heard something that sounded like a book crashing to the floor. “Look Potter. Why don’t you go and talk to your new girlfriend? Perhaps you didn’t get enough snogging time in the library after dinner? I locked the door, so you can’t magic your way in, so why don’t you just go away?” Ginny snapped furiously.

Harry gulped, and tried to mentally force his heart back down into his chest where it belonged, instead of his throat where it had taken residence ever since he knocked on the door. “Look, Ginny,” he said gently, “I have Dobby with me, and if you won’t willingly open the door, then I’ll get him to open it for me. It’s your choice, but you can’t avoid me forever, and I want to explain everything to you.”

Harry heard Ginny sigh, and stomp over to the door. He smiled at Dobby, and told him he could go. “Thanks for coming Dobby. I really appreciate it!”

“Dobby is only happy to serve you, Harry Potter sir!” the elf squeaked, as he scampered off. “Good luck with Miss Ginny, sir!”.

Harry swallowed, and heard the deadbolt being unfastened. ‘Luck?’ he thought. ‘I’m going to need a miracle!’.

Ginny opened the door a crack, and stuck her head out. “Look Harry, I don’t want to hear it, okay? I’m just Ron’s stupid little sister, and I mean nothing to you. I know it and I don’t care anymore. Can’t you just leave me alo-“

Harry pushing the door open stopped her in her tracks. “Ginny, please, Hermione is in my room with Ron, and I’m almost positive that they’re snogging by now, so if you would at least give me ten minutes to explain myself, then I might be able to guarantee myself not walking back in on something that would embarrass us all.”

Ginny huffed, pointed him to a chair in the corner, and then stalked off to sit on her bed, not facing him. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but lost his voice at the vision that was presented before him. The flickering candlelight on the walls seemed to bounce off of Ginny’s hair, making it glow. Harry couldn’t help but notice that her nightdress seemed to hug her curves, and that her eyes seemed to be so deep that he could drown in her gaze. That is, he could if she would even look at him.
Harry shook his head, and tried to come back to his senses.

“Ginny, I really don’t know where to begin. I mean, I… I” Not only did he not know where to begin, even if he had, he knew there was no way he’d be able to actually get his mouth to form the words.

Harry didn’t know what to do, and so he did the only thing he could think of. He went to her desk, and began to search for the letters he had written in reply to whom he had at one time (and now he realized that it was so foolish of him) thought had been Hermione.

Ginny turned, and cried out when she saw what Harry was doing. “HEY! That’s my personal stuff, stay away from there!”

“Yeah- but I wrote them to you, so obviously I know what they say anyway, so what’s the big deal? Look Ginny,” he said, cutting off her stuttered attempts to reply, “Did you really LOOK at these letters?” He pulled the ones Ginny had written out of his dressing gown pocket, and opened them to show her.

“Your letters. Look at this one from Hermione. I thought the whole time that they were from her. They were signed in the same way she’s ended her letters to me for the past 5 years. I didn’t think anyone but Hermione would think to bewitch the letters to look as if they were written on Muggle computer. Obviously if Hermione has been writing to me for the past 5 years, I would recognize her writing. That’s why I thought she would disguise it. Why would you need to disguise your writing? You’ve never written me anything. Well, except for that valentine in my second year, about my eyes being ‘green as a fresh pickled toad’ or something like that, but…”

“YOU KNEW IT WAS ME? Oh, God!” Ginny cried. “How mortifying!”

“The way you wrote about not having any girl friends in your year-“ Harry continued, knowing that if he stopped for long, he would never start again. “Neither does Hermione. How you wrote in the first letter that you ‘knew I liked you only as a friend, and you liked me the same way’. Can’t you see that I would think the letters were from ‘Mione?
“She is always trying to get me to talk about Sirius and everything else. Trying to get me to open up. How you wrote that you’ve been keeping secrets. I thought that it was Hermione saying that she’s been keeping it secret for years that she fancied me. All the time, I thought she fancied Ron (which she DOES, by the way!) and then all of a sudden, I get these mysterious letters? Having a lot more in common than I thought?
“I thought you were talking about keeping secrets about problems and things with other boys and not having a boyfriend, just like I could never get a girl to like me, and if I DID, I could never pluck up the courage to TALK to her.
"But I know now. It was about Voldemort. And you’re right. You’re the only person he’s gone to such extreme lengths to possess and torture.”

Ginny gasped, taking in all of these things that Harry Potter had been telling her.
“B, b, but,” she stammered, “then who were you talking about then? That you ‘fancy someone else’. If it was supposed to be Hermione’s best friend in another year, but… Hermione’s best friends are you and Ron. She doesn’t have a girl best friend. I mean, I know I think of her as MY best friend, but I never thought she would see me as her best friend. I’m just ‘Ron’s kid sister that she took pity on because my brothers were always so horrid to me’.
"Harry, just tell me who she is- tell me who you want, so I can go on with my life and forget you.”

Ginny was crying. Harry didn’t know what to do. He hated seeing her like this. He didn’t understand how SHE couldn’t understand that if the letters were originally intended for Hermione, that Ginny couldn’t see that she WAS, in fact, the ‘best friend’ he was talking about.

Harry didn't really know how to explain it, so he thought the best way to really go about it would be the obvious- the truth.
“Ginny, who would Hermione go to and ask for help about makeup and all that other girly junk to impress a boy? She would obviously go to her best friend. And she went to YOU. Don’t you see that you’re her best friend? She can’t talk to Ron and me about that stuff. Come off it, Gin!”

Ginny smiled slightly, and wiped at her eyes. “Well, that’s nice then. Hermione’s my best friend. That’s great, but now I REALLY need to apologize for being such a git to her. Good to know. Well, also nice to know that you still fancy someone else. Do you mind going now? I’ll just go on back to normal life- life where there’s no hope for the famous Harry Potter to ever notice me.”

Harry stood there, unable to speak. After all this, how could she not realize that he fancied her? If he didn’t love her, he would swear she was being completely thick.

Harry stopped himself- had he just thought to himself that he LOVED Ginny Weasley? ‘You bet you did!’ said a small voice in his head.
And Harry knew there was no point in denying it. He loved Ginny Weasley. Seeing her lying on the floor in the Department of Mysteries, unable to stand on her broken ankle. Cursing the Death Eater that had done it to her into oblivion.

Harry was beside himself with lack of knowing what to do next. Ginny seemed to him like a feminine form of the golden snitch- small, wicked fast and damn near impossible to catch. But Ginny was a far bigger prize than a mere 150 points and the likelihood of winning a quidditch match. To catch a girl like her...
But then again, he WAS one of the best seeker’s Hogwarts had ever seen, and if for one second he could just…

In the next instant, Harry did something that was both very brave, and something that earlier today he would have thought completely impossible. He reached forward, and grabbed Ginny by the hand.

“Harry, please! Can’t you just leave me be?” she sobbed. “You love someone else, do you really have to stand here and torture me with it? Why don't you just TELL me who she is, so I can pacify myself by hating HER for being so god damned lucky!”

“Gin, you’ve got it all wrong. You want me to tell you who I love? Fine. I’ll tell you, if you seem to think that it will make you feel better.”

Harry guided Ginny over to the bed, sat her down, and then sank into the feathery mattress next to her. He sighed. He knew that he needed to make her see that it was really HER that he loved, but how?
She was openly crying now, and her thin shoulders were shaking. How Harry longed to comfort her, but he didn’t know how. The candles flickered, and once again bounced the light off her hair. And suddenly Harry knew exactly what to say, and began to speak in between Ginny’s sobs.

“Ginny, the girl I love. Well, she’s like no other. There’s no one like her in the world- Wizarding and Muggle alike. When the light hits her hair,

(He boldly stretched out a hand, and pushed hers out of her eyes)

“It bounces back and sends a thousand shimmers into the night, making the stars more beautiful than they were before. When her robes fall upon her skin,

(He caressed her arm where her nightdress stopped, and could feel her shivering, and then melting into his touch)

“They seem to mold right to her body. No girl could ever make a Hogwarts robe look like she does. As if she was wearing the most expensive silk dress robes bought at Madam Malkin’s. When I look into her eyes,”

(Feeling braver, he used the tips of his fingers to turn her chin toward him)

“Ginny,” he whispered, barely able to believe that he could finally say to her what he had been feeling for so long, and barely believing the God could make the beautiful face that he now had the pleasure to look upon,
“when I look into her eyes, I can see the man that I want to be. And that man is nothing without her. Gin, that man is nothing, I am nothing, without YOU.”

And Harry pulled her chin closer towards his own. She was so close; he could see the candlelight reflecting off of her still drying tears. The very air that he breathed was hers, and he heard her whisper

“Oh, Harry. You really mean that, don’t you?”

He smiled. “Ginny, you are the only one I want. You’re the only one for me.” And he pulled her close. The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was Ginny’s perfect smile, and then he melted into her kiss.

Her lips were soft, and they played gently back into his own, and when their tongues touched for the first time, Harry knew that this was the woman he wanted now and forever. He wanted her; her and no other.

As Harry wrapped his arms around Ginny’s small, but beautifully formed body and held her close, his mind seemed to fall blank. Everything was bliss when he had Ginny in his arms. She fit so perfectly into his embrace, and he seemed to feel complete, for the first time, with her at his side.

The holes that had been gouged in his heart by Lord Voldemort: the ones belonging to his parents and Sirius, seemed to be filling right back up, and overflowing with love from this red haired woman in his arms. He knew, that as long as he had Ginny, and her love, that he could survive anything that Voldemort threw at him.
There would always be that blissful feeling of complete happiness and lack of worry when he held her. And after all, who needs a pensieve; when you’ve got the woman you love to share every worry, hope, fear, fantasy and dream with?


THE END