Strangers like Me

Every gesture, every move that she makes

Makes me feel like never before.

Why do I have this growing need to be beside her...?

(Disney's Tarzan)

The moon rose high above number twelve, Grimmauld Place and the stars took their places in the sky as night fell on what had been a gloriously warm and bright August day.

Somewhere way below, a girl had pulled back the curtains and was gazing dreamily at the night sky, her mind a tangled web of confusion, yet at the same time inexplicable happiness. She could hear an owl hooting and smiled to herself as a large Snowy drifted silently across the tableau, clutching something in her beak. She recognised the owl instantly as Harry's Hedwig, no doubt back from a successful evening's hunting in the fields not far away.

She looked back to the stars for a moment but then sighed and turned away, though leaving the curtains open. The stars were beautiful, but offered no answers or reassurance, which was what she needed at the moment. Tears stung the backs of her eyes as she lay back down on her bed, not bothering to cover herself with the duvet but instead hugging her pillow close to her for comfort.

She lay like that, staring at the wall for what seemed like an eternity. Despite the fact that it was past midnight she was not in the least bit tired; after all, it's not every day you make a discovery that threatens to change your life forever. But should I let it change me? she thought. Are these feelings for real, or will they be gone just as quickly as they appeared? Her mind suddenly flashed back to a couple of hours previously. A flash of pink, spiky hair, a mischievous grin ...

Ginny hugged the pillow tighter. I should not be thinking like this, she told herself. It's not right, it's not normal. So why does it feel so exciting...? Fiddling with a loose thread on the sheet beside her, she wondered why suddenly all she could see when she closed her eyes was that smile ... that face ... those eyes ...?

A soft snore from behind her reassured Ginny that Hermione was still asleep. The last thing she needed right now was to be asked if she was all right; even though she knew Hermione only meant well. Rolling over slightly, Ginny looked at the older girl's sleeping form; even in the dim light she could see bushy brown hair everywhere and one arm drooping over the side of the bed. It was wonderful to have another girl around, being used to a houseful of brothers, and she really enjoyed having someone to have girlie chats with, but turning to the wall once more, Ginny knew that this was something she would definitely not be sharing.

It occurred to her for a moment that maybe she was not the only one to feel like this. Maybe, a voice murmured in the back of her head, maybe other girls feel the same sometimes.

Ginny flopped onto her back frustratedly and gazed at the swirly patterns the plaster made on the ceiling, illuminated by the moon shining through open curtains. Nobody else feels like this, she thought sadly. Nobody else is as weird as me. And even if they are, I'll never know because nobody must ever know what I'm feeling. She shuddered at the very thought. What would other people say if they knew? Would she have any friends left, would her parents disown her?

She was slightly consoled by the realisation that her parents were her parents, and while not always the most conventional of people, she couldn't imagine that anything would be so bad they'd never speak to her again. But still, she thought quickly, I could never tell them. They'd be disappointed in me at the very least, and after all they've done for me and the boys, I couldn't let them down so badly.

Another image involuntarily flashed before her eyes. An umbrella stand being knocked over ... Hermione catching it just in time ... a sheepish smile ... a flutter of eyelashes ...

No! A tear trickled out of the corner of Ginny's eye, meandering down her cheek and onto her pillow. This can't be, it's not right, it's not natural. Fifteen ... girls of fifteen just don't feel like this!

As she wiped away another tear, a thought struck her. Confused, she levered herself up onto one arm and allowed herself to thing carefully, logically, slowly. Had she really never felt like this before?

She had had a couple of boyfriends, nothing serious, but she had been in relationships with boys. How had she felt when she'd hugged or kissed either of them? It had felt nice and reassuring that she wasn't a 'little girl' any more, but somehow it was nothing like this. Before, when she had fancied anyone it meant thinking they were rather good looking and giggling about them in hushed whispers with your friends, but suddenly it was deeper and more overwhelming than anything she had ever experienced.

But I don't, she thought, I don't ... fancy ... do I?

Her mind drifted back to when she was eleven and so much in awe of Harry, who was now sleeping in the same house as her on the floor below. She wasn't sure if she'd actually fancied him or whether it was more a case of meeting a 'celebrity' for the first time. She cringed as she remembered going scarlet and hiding every time he spoke to her ... it's a wonder he takes me seriously now, she thought, he must have thought I was a lunatic! But those days are long over now; I definitely don't fancy him now, whether I did then or not; he's not my type ...

She almost laughed at herself when she realised what she'd just said to herself. 'Not my type?' And what is your type, Ginny? Up until now at least she thought 'her type' was limited to boys.

And yet, what was it when she was new at Hogwarts and that fifth-year girl in Ravenclaw had asked if she was alright, when she'd been crying about the Tom Riddle episode? She recalled how when Liza, she thought she was called, had touched her arm, something had turned a double somersault in her stomach and sent a shiver through her whole body.

That was probably just because I was glad somebody cared, Ginny snapped at herself, now absent-mindedly picking at the wallpaper. I didn't fancy her, she was just being nice. But then, there was that Quidditch match a few weeks later when that really pretty Slytherin girl with the piercing green eyes had fallen off her broomstick. Ginny had bumped into her later that day by chance and asked if she was all right. The girl, Ariana, had sneered at her, made a rude comment about Ginny's family and sauntered off. She certainly hadn't been nice, and yet Ginny still hadn't been able to take her eyes off her next time she saw her.

Ginny's eyes widened as it dawned on her that maybe these feelings weren't new after all; perhaps she'd just dismissed them at the time, not admitted it to herself, or maybe it was because this time she was older and therefore ready for more adult feelings. And of course, the person she could not seem to get out of her head wasn't just a girl, she was a woman, and a nice woman at that, someone who never seemed bored by what Ginny had to say or treated her like a kid.

Another flash of pink, a swirl of violet robes ...

Maybe I just admire her, Ginny pondered. Loads of teenage girls go through a 'hero worshipping' stage. She remembered reading a problem page in a Muggle magazine and seeing the words: "It is quite normal to experience strong feelings for someone of the same sex during puberty." She tried to believe them; she wanted to believe them. These feelings will go away, she told herself. It's only a matter of time, they will go. I'll get a boyfriend and feel like this with him; I'll be normal and nobody need ever know about this.

But, a tiny voice in her head persisted, do you really want what you're feeling to go away? Look at you; you listen intently every time she speaks. You hold your breath when you hear footsteps outside the room in anticipation that it might be her. Your heart skips a beat when she walks into the room. When she's there, it's like you haven't got a problem in the world; do you really want that to go away?

No, she answered silently, surprising herself. If I'm totally honest then no, I don't. But it would be so much easier if I did. After the Tom Riddle and the diary mess, all I've wanted is to get on with life and make an effort to be a normal girl. She knew she had succeeded rather well so far; nobody seemed to blame her for what had happened any more. The only people who still made the occasional comment were Malfoy and his cronies but they picked on anyone they didn't like and she'd long since stopped being upset by what they had to say. But this wasn't the behaviour or feelings of a normal girl, surely?

So why don't I want this to stop, she thought. Why does it feel so great when she's around? And why isn't it just that I like her, what's different, what changed? I do like her, definitely, but in what way does it feel so much more than just 'like'?

Ginny couldn't answer that one, not even to herself. She brushed a couple of stray hairs off her face and thought hard, but if there were words to answer her question she could not think of them. But what about the pictures that played constantly in her mind, the memories of that day ...?

Her thoughts flashed back to that evening's washing-up session in the kitchen. She and Tonks had been left to that, since the others were needed to root out the remaining doxies in the other room. Talking and joking as they normally did, until a plate slipped to the floor and smashed into at least a dozen pieces.

Mrs Weasley had bustled into the kitchen, tutting, and looked back and forth between the two of them, looking exasperated.

"I didn't quite catch it in time," Tonks obliged, cringing slightly.

"I didn't wait long enough before letting go," Ginny added.

Mrs Weasley shook her head resignedly, flicking her wand at the fragments of plate, which flew back together instantly, joining with no trace of a crack. "I don't know," she muttered. "You're both as bad as each other."

Ginny smiled to herself. "You're as bad as each other." It didn't matter at all that her mother had been half telling them off; it had felt like a sort of unity between her and Tonks, and the grin they had exchanged afterwards had sent a shudder like an electric shock down her spine.

But surely if I really did fancy her, Ginny thought, I'd be thinking about kissing her or something...? She hadn't really wondered about that before. Kissing another girl ... no, she could honestly say she'd never considered that before, not about herself, anyway. She couldn't say she was entirely sure about the idea; it sounded pretty scary. But you don't need to think about that, she told herself. Soon you won't feel like this any more so there's no point in even thinking about it.

She glanced at the clock on the wall above Hermione's bed. 1:15am. She wanted to be tired so she could sleep, but knew that in this frame of mind, it seemed unlikely. It also dawned on her that she was boiling hot; the sun's absence didn't seem to have made much difference to the day's stifling warmth. How could Hermione sleep in this heat? The window was open but that didn't help; all it meant was that more warm air could come in, along with moths and mosquitoes.

She thought about the ice-cold orange juice in the fridge downstairs and found unsurprisingly that it made her feel hotter and thirsty. I might accidentally wake Hermione if I got up now. And it's so late ... or rather, early, now. She rolled over, hugging her pillow once more and closed her eyes. I'll ignore it. I'll ignore the fact that I'm boiling to death with a dry mouth and go to sleep.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

Ginny's eyes snapped open; she had not been even vaguely close to falling asleep.

This is bloody ridiculous.

She sat up slowly, placing the pillow back in its usual position and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She considered putting some socks on to lessen the possibility of creaking the floorboards, but it was so warm, even the shorts and vest top she was wearing to bed made her uncomfortably hot.

She looked at Hermione again; she was facing the wall now, which was one thing in Ginny's favour, and was breathing deeply, emitting the occasional light snore.

Ginny stood slowly and edged between the two beds, wishing there was a bit more room to manoeuvre. She tiptoed painstakingly to the door and gripped the handle, only daring to move it a fraction at a time. It creaked slightly, but apparently not enough to wake Hermione who did not stir at all as Ginny pulled it open a crack, just enough to slip through.

She decided it would be best not to shut the door since it would only make more noise, so she left it slightly ajar with what smelled like a cheese sandwich, but was in fact one of Fred's socks, as a doorstop.

It was not pitch dark as Ginny tiptoed down stairs onto the first floor landing, but she was glad somebody had left a candle burning in its holder on the window next to the stairs leading to the ground floor. Hoping that no-one had left it there for a reason, she lifted it gingerly and used it to light her way; the worst thing she could possibly do would be to start Mrs Black off on one of her screaming fits at night. If there was a sure way to rouse the whole house, that would be it. Fortunately though, she managed to avoid disturbing the shrouded portrait as she crossed the downstairs hall and descended the shorter flight of stairs into the basement kitchen.

Ginny set the candle down on the large wooden table before finding a glass on the draining rack next to the sink and pouring herself a large orange juice. She downed half of it in one, then pulled up a chair and collapsed into it, not feeling quite so parched.

This is where she was sitting earlier, she realised as her heart gave a small jolt. I was sitting opposite ... trying not to look at her too much in case anybody noticed. It had been one of the strangest feelings Ginny had experienced in all of her almost fifteen years; earlier that day, looking at the young, feisty metamorphmagus beside her (as they watched Ron and Harry play wizard chess) and suddenly realising, to both her amazement and horror, that something which felt inexplicably like love was blooming deep inside her.

Love?? Ginny had alarmed herself with that thought. Oh Merlin, no, don't say the 'L' word, I'm not ready to handle that yet...

She took another large gulp of orange juice to steady her nerves. What is love, anyway? When does a crush stop being a crush and turn into love? She hated the word 'crush'; it made what it meant sound childish and silly, which was the last thing she wanted to feel.

So what's a crush? She pondered, trying to think logically. I suppose it's when you fancy someone who you don't know, you just like the look of; maybe a famous Quidditch player. You fancy them but it comes and goes; you know that nothing will ever come of it. Just lust ...

Ginny nodded to herself, quite satisfied with that explanation. So when does it become more than that? When you really do know them and it's not just lust but a ... a burning desire to be near them; you want to get to know them better, to be able to confide in them and have them confide in you; to just fold your arms around her and hold her close ...

A sudden noise outside the door jerked Ginny out of her thoughts and made her jump. It was a muffled sound but was unmistakably a person; probably pretty much how she had sounded just now. She sighed; she didn't feel like company now. It was probably Hermione; she'd have noticed she was not in her bed and was coming to make sure Ginny was all right. Although actually, it could be Mum or Dad, she thought, wrinkling her nose. Wondering why I'm still up ... oh no, I hope it's not Professor Lupin's night to transform ...

The kitchen door did not creak, fortunately, as it opened and a purple, spiky-haired head peered around the door.

Ginny jumped as if she had just received a minor electric shock and seemed to have temporarily lost the power of speech. All she was able to utter as a greeting was a small squeak; she didn't think Tonks had even stayed over tonight.

Tonks shoved the door open lazily and strolled into the room sucking her right hand which appeared to be bleeding slightly.

"So, you're the one who nicked my candle!" she smiled slyly, walking behind Ginny to the sink.

"Oh no, was that yours?" Ginny spluttered in horror. "I thought someone had left it there by mistake ... oh, I'm really sorry, did you ...?"

Tonks shrugged dismissively. "Nah, it's all right, I only missed the bottom step; I usually manage more than that in daylight. Just as well it wasn't the one in the hall; I'd have woken Mrs Black up! I just made the mistake of grabbing at one of those spiky coat hooks instead."

As Tonks spoke, Ginny noticed she was wearing nothing except a purple nightshirt. It matched her hair perfectly but was a lot shorter than Mrs Weasley would have considered decent. It certainly complimented her figure, though, and made her bare legs look much longer ... and so slender ...

Stop looking! Ginny ordered herself.

"I was really hot and couldn't sleep so I decided to come down here for a while ... and I saw the candle and thought someone had just left it there accidentally," Ginny burbled, hoping dearly that she wasn't shaking as much as she thought she was. "I'm really sorry ... you didn't hurt yourself, did you?" She got up quickly and moved over to the sink beside the young Auror.

"Hey, chill!" Tonks grinned kindly, running her hand under the cold tap and watching a small trickle of scarlet blood wash away. "It's fine; I do stuff like this all the time! Pity I didn't bring my wand down with me; I don't suppose you've got ... no, of course you haven't, you're not old enough, sorry, I keep thinking you're older ..."

Ginny felt a shudder head down her spine and fought to think clearly. She thought I was older ... wow, she thought I was seventeen for a moment. That means she doesn't think of me as just a silly little girl ...

An idea suddenly dawned on her.

"You could try one of these," she suggested, opening a drawer beside the cooker and pulling out a small packet. "Dad got these, he says Muggles use them on cuts and scratches. I tried one once, it's a bit weird and a lot slower than magic, but ...?"

"Plasters?" Tonks read aloud, looking puzzled. "Like what they make wall coverings with?"

"No, I don't think so," shrugged Ginny, "Same name but different stuff."

Tonks drew one out of the box, looking at it curiously. She read the instructions on the side of the box, then tore off the protective outer packaging.

"You know," she said, beginning to nod in realisation, "I think I've seen one of these before; I think my Dad had some, 'cause he was Muggle-born and all. 'Course, he probably didn't need things like this much after he learned magic, but yeah, I think I might have seen one once."

"I think you've got to dry your hand first," Ginny mentioned, glad that she wasn't the only one who wasn't sure how to use Muggle objects. "Right, then you take these bits off and ... ah ... yeah, you won't be able to with just one hand; I'll have to ..."

Ginny felt like someone had replaced her brain with soggy spaghetti, yet she was determined to maintain her grown-up, calm demeanour. This was something she was not going to mess up. She took the plaster and removed the filmy bits, holding it delicately at both ends.

"Right, so you take those bits off," Tonks said slowly. She was watching Ginny's every move and was obviously very interested.

"Dad says you mustn't touch the yellow bit," Ginny added, delaying as much as possible. "It's the bit that makes it heal, but if you touch it, it might not work, or something. Anyway, then you just position it over the cut - make sure it's the yellow bit and not the sticky bit - ..."

With trembling fingers and a feeling like a knot in her stomach, Ginny placed the plaster over the cut and then gently pressed it down around the edges. She had not noticed before what beautiful hands the young Auror had. Pale, peachy coloured skin, long, slender fingers and perfectly shaped oval nails which were painted bright yellow. And her skin was so soft; it seemed that being accident-prone and often volunteering for messy jobs had not yet taken its toll. Ginny found herself wondering if maybe being a metamorphmagus had something to do with it: if Tonks noticed a small scar or spot, perhaps she could get rid of it just by wishing it away ...

She came crashing back to earth in the split second she realised she had spent far too long smoothing the plaster down. She immediately drew away and looked up at Tonks uncertainly. She's smiling but she looks a bit ... confused? Is that the word? Oh god, how long was that, how stupid am I?

Ginny forced a smile and nodded, matter-of-factly. "It doesn't always stick very well," she explained, hoping desperately that the colour of her face wasn't giving away too much.

"Oh, right!" Tonks smiled, inspecting it approvingly. "And what do I do now? Do I have to wait ten seconds or something?"

"Um, it takes a bit longer than that," Ginny admitted. "'Cos it doesn't mend it as such, it's like it protects it from germs while it mends naturally underneath. You're meant to leave the plaster on for about a day, or until it falls off."

Tonks shook her head, grinning in disbelief. "Falls off!? And Muggles really rely on these?"

"Apparently," Ginny nodded, allowing herself a smile. "Strange but true!"

She cringed to herself as she realised how daft that must have sounded. Rule one, when talking to someone you're crazy about : avoid cliches! And yet Tonks giggled, shook her head and poured herself an orange juice without spilling any, to Ginny's surprise. She then sat down at the table, directly opposite Ginny.

There then followed a long silence. Tonks looked as if she might be on the verge of saying something, but didn't. Ginny knew she probably looked the same and thoughts span around in her head like a tornado. Why aren't either of us saying anything? I don't like this, the atmosphere's suddenly gone all weird. Did I say or do anything to offend her? Oh god, what could it have been? Or maybe it's just because it's the middle of the night and she doesn't want to wake anyone up? She just looked at me again ... I was looking the other way but could still sense it. It couldn't be ... no ... oh no, she couldn't have guessed, could she? I was so careful to behave and talk normally ... maybe she's noticed and is about to ask me! What would I say? I'd have to deny everything, of course ... but then ...

"Ginny ... is there something bothering you?"

Ginny looked up suddenly. Tonks was leaning on the tabletop with her head on her hands, smiling but also looking concerned.

"No," Ginny said, giving what she thought was an innocent smile and shaking her head. Don't make eye contact, she reminded herself. She'll see right through you.

"Are you sure? You just seem ... I don't know, kind of on edge, like you're waiting for something awful to happen. I noticed earlier at dinner, too."

The young woman had such a soft, kind voice that Ginny suddenly felt incredibly guilty for not telling her the truth. When she was rushed or flustered, usually with Moody for getting his glass eye out right in front of her, her light cockney accent was magnified several times over which often made her sound like a reject from Eastenders, but not now.

Ginny wanted to answer, but suddenly words escaped her. All her instincts told her to say the obligatory "No, I'm fine," but something inside wouldn't let her. But the longer she stayed silent, gazing across the moon or rubbing an imaginary mark on her glass, the harder it became to deny that anything was wrong.

"If you ever wanted to talk," the voice said gently, "Y'know, if something was wrong and you needed some advice or just someone to listen..."

Ginny gave in and looked up, into the Auror's deep brown eyes. She was still smiling.

"Obviously, there's your mum, she'll always listen," Tonks said quickly, "But I know what it's like when you're heading towards being an adult; sometimes there are things you just don't want to tell your parents. I didn't tell mine half of what I was going through when I was your age; they'd have flipped!" she added with a small shudder.

Ginny was glad she was not the only one who had thoughts and feelings she would not be willing to share with her parents. She also wondered what it might have been that Tonks kept from hers ... it would never be something as awful as her secret, but she knew it might be just as meaningful to her.

"Well ..." she began slowly, "There is something, but ..."

Ginny surprised herself; she had not intended to say anything but the words seemed to have just slipped out. Oh no. Oh, Ginny, what have you got yourself into?

"But it's hard to talk about?" Tonks suggested, looking as if she understood. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's ok. Just remember I'm only eight years older than you, so my teenage years are still pretty fresh in my mind. It might be something I went through too; I might be able to suggest ways of getting out the other end," she added.

Oh, trust me, you won't have gone through this, Ginny thought frantically. What am I supposed to say now? I suppose ... I could tell her there's someone I like ... she probably won't ask who it is. That way she might actually suggest something that'll work. As long as I'm careful, this should be all right ...

"Well ..." Ginny took a deep breath, steeling herself. "And don't tell Mum or Hermione or anyone, yeah?"

"Of course not; this is just between us."

Ginny's heart fluttered. "There's ... there's someone I like. Someone I like a lot."

"Ahh," Tonks nodded. "Boy trouble."

Ginny bit her lip. "But it's starting to go beyond just liking," she continued, moving quickly on from the fact that she had not actually confirmed that it was boy trouble. Part of her could still hardly believe she was in this situation; it was surreal.

"There's nothing wrong with that," Tonks smiled. "It's what happens at your age; it's normal, nothing to be worried about."

"But it's different," Ginny said frustratedly, then immediately wished she hadn't said anything.

Tonks paused. "In what way is it different?"

Ginny was starting to panic. This was the ultimate question; her time for coming up with excuses and fabrications was up, and though the young woman in front of her was being in no way impatient or interrogative, the fact remained that she had asked a question that Ginny was terrified of answering. Then suddenly a plausible answer was there.

"Because ... because it's someone who could never feel the same about me."

Tonks looked at her, clearly thinking hard as if she was trying to fathom some incredibly complex mathematical problem. She drained her glass of orange juice, then looked back to Ginny and cocked her head.

"Harry?"

"No!" Ginny couldn't help giving a short laugh. "No, not Harry. I know I was a bit funny about him when I was in my first year but ... oh god, that's so embarrassing when I think about it now! No, I guess that was just, y'know, 'cause he's so famous and everything. But I moved on from there ages ago. My tastes have ... changed a lot since then."

Tonks nodded knowingly. "Well yeah, I hadn't noticed you drooling when he walks into the room or anything so I didn't think it was. But then, you might have been just really good at hiding it."

"I am though, that's the problem," Ginny sighed. "The ... person it is has no idea at all, or at least I don't think so. Not that I want them to know, oh no, I definitely don't want that."

"I understand," Tonks smiled.

"I mean I know that's really daft, but ... what?" Ginny stopped suddenly.

"I said, I understand," Tonks laughed softly. "That's not daft at all. You fancy someone, but the idea of them finding out ... ohhh..." she shuddered. "Nightmare. It feels like if they did, you'd just have to hide in your room for the next ten years!"

She understands. She knows how it feels. Not the full extent, but pretty close ... I can't believe this is happening. This is so much more than I could ever have hoped for; whatever happens I mustn't blow it now. Don't relax so much that you give the game away.

"But," Tonks added, looking thoughtful, "How can you be sure that ... this person couldn't feel the same way about you?"

Ginny grinned sheepishly and concentrated on picking at a splinter on the wooden tabletop. "There's a lot of reasons, really. If you knew who it was, you'd understand why. Not that I don't trust you or anything," she added quickly, realising that she could probably have phrased that better. "It's just that ... some things ... you just can't tell anyone."

"It's ok," Tonks said gently, smiling. "I wasn't going to take offence. I was just wondering what made you so certain that whoever it is wouldn't be interested. 'Cause it would be an awful shame if all this time it turned out that he secretly felt the same about you but neither of you had the courage to do anything about it."

He. She had said that fateful word. Ginny hoped dearly that Tonks hadn't seen her shudder. What do I say now? If I go along with this and pretend it's a boy I'd be out of trouble, but I can't bring myself to lie to her. Or to myself.

"No, really," Ginny shook her head dismissively. "Just trust me on this one; it could never work. It would be too ... too complicated. Too many differences."

As Tonks nodded understandingly, Ginny realised that actually, it wasn't differences that was the problem. They were both magical, they got on well, they laughed at the same things, they were both involved with the Order ... oh yes, and they were both female. So ironic, she thought, and probably would have given herself a morbid laugh if she had been alone. It's what we have in common that's the main problem..

"It feels really wrong," said Ginny suddenly. "But it feels right, too. Does that make sense ...?"

"Yes," said Tonks, simply, a vague look of recognition in her eyes.

"I mean, I wouldn't go so far as to call it love yet," Ginny said hesitantly, "There are still quite a lot of things I don't know about ... this person. And it's weird, but normally when you fancy someone, you daydream about kissing them, them asking you out and things like that? This time it's not like that. I mean it's not a ... not a bad thought, but if it actually happened, I think I'd be terrified!"

Don't go too far, Ginny. You're going to wake up tomorrow morning and think "Oh my god, why did I tell her that!?" if you're not careful.

"That makes a lot of sense," Tonks continued, right on cue. "I don't want to sound like your mother, but at your age, feelings like that really are normal. At fifteen your hormones are all over the place and they chuck up all sorts of new emotions. The important thing is that you don't worry too much or start thinking you're abnormal, 'cause you're not, I promise. A lot of it will just fade away eventually."

Ginny smiled. This wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear, but it was a comfort all the same and didn't sound like a lecture at all. It made a refreshing change from what she had read in books about growing up. They only ever seemed to deal with the physical changes, never the roller coaster rides that are your feelings.

She suddenly felt guilty again. She's being so nice ... how on earth would she feel if she realised that the person we've been talking about is her? She probably wouldn't be angry, but she'd be bound to feel uneasy and I know our friendship would never be the same again. And even if she didn't mind, I would! I'd be so embarrassed I'd never be able to talk to her again.

"But what if ..." she began, cautiously, "What if some things don't go away? What if maybe ... maybe I don't want them to?"

Tonks smiled. "Then they'll be just part of what make you you."

Ginny thought for a moment. She'd never really considered it like that before.

"We girls can find something attractive in just about anyone," Tonks shrugged, standing up and taking her and Ginny's empty glasses to the sink. "And if it's someone that maybe other people wouldn't like or understand, it's not freaky, it's just a sign that you're an individual."

Ginny shivered. She knew that any moment now it would be time to go back to bed and once more she would be alone in the dark with her unanswered questions and secret feelings. What Tonks was saying was all very well; it would make most girls feel better and was no doubt good advice, but she could not honestly believe that what she was hiding was normal and acceptable. If Tonks only knew, she wouldn't be so quick to say it's nothing to be worried about.

"You're not convinced, are you?" Tonks shook her head sadly, depositing both glasses in the washing-up bowl. "Well, let's see who it could be. Not naming names," she added quickly, presumably at the look of fear that had just flashed across Ginny's face. "Just the sort of person. Could be ... someone much older than you, maybe in a higher year ... someone younger, maybe ... a teacher ... someone famous - not Harry - umm, maybe one of Ron's friends ...

Ginny was well aware that her pulse was starting to creep up. Don't say it, she thought, please don't say it, I'll go bright red and you'll know. Yet at the same time, somewhere deep inside her she felt a faint glimmer of hope and she found herself thinking, at the same time, say it ... please, say it and tell me I'm normal ...

Tonks was getting quite carried away now, leaning against the sink, gazing absent-mindedly at the ceiling as she ticked off the various possibilities on her fingers. "Could be someone from a different house ..."

Ginny looked up suddenly. "If you're thinking it's Malfoy, I promise it isn't!" she said hotly, though trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the idea. "I ... I mean I know you're related to him, but really, he's ..."

"An arrogant little git?" Tonks suggested helpfully. "Yeah, it's ok, I know. Wonder where he gets that from, she added, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, who else? A teacher ... no, I already said that. I had a huge crush on one of my teachers ..." she said wistfully, a dreamy smile creeping across her face. "Yeah, so ... uh ... someone you've never met ... another girl ... a Muggle ..."

Ginny, perching on the edge of one of the kitchen chairs had all but stopped listening when suddenly she froze. Had Tonks really said what Ginny thought she'd said?

Oh my god. She said it.

Tonks stopped counting and seemed to snap out of her dreamy state. She looked back at Ginny and shrugged apologetically. "That's all I can think of at the moment. It's just 'cause it's late, I can probably think of more in the morning."

She said it. She all but said that fancying another girl was ok.

"Did I get it?" she asked hopefully, after a moment's silence.

Ginny paused. Tonks had named quite a few different possibilities; letting her know that she had managed to guess at least one of them right wouldn't give it away, would it?

Ginny nodded shortly and bit her lip. She was emotionally exhausted and part of her still wanted to burst into tears but another part felt immense relief as if a huge weight had been lifted off her. She smiled, allowing her to make eye contact with the incredible young woman standing before her.

"Oh, great!" Tonks said cheerfully, looking pleased with herself. "To be honest I don't think there are many more possibilities but I wasn't going to say that in case yours wasn't in my list!"

Ginny grinned. She cares about my feelings.

"And now you know," Tonks went on, opening the kitchen door, "That whichever of those people it was, it's totally normal and nothing to feel ashamed of. I mean if it was someone like Snape I'd probably suggest you don't tell anyone at all and seek psychiatric help ..."

Ginny laughed out loud and picked up the candle in its holder as they left the room and started up the basement steps.

"But honestly, whoever it is, it's okay," said Tonks. "Hell, I probably had some sort of crush on someone in most of those categories, if not all, and I'm still here to tell the tale!"

She could have fancied another girl as well? Ginny had never considered the possibility of that, ever for a second.

They tiptoed past Mrs Black's portrait, only pausing to straighten the carpet at the bottom of the stairs that Tonks had wrinkled by tripping over it half an hour or so earlier. They ascended both flights of stairs and were suddenly at Ginny and Hermione's bedroom door. Tonks was presumably in one of the bedrooms around the corner of the landing.

Ginny paused. "You'd better take the candle," she whispered, smirking slightly. Then, what she really wanted to say spilled out.

"Are you really sure it's ok? To fancy ... any of those people? Even if I still do in a few years?"

Tonks turned around and set the candle down on the window sill, from where Ginny had originally picked it up. Putting both hands on Ginny's shoulders, she leaned forwards slightly and looked deeply into the girl's eyes.

Ginny was too overwhelmed to move, even quiver. The soft candle glow behind Tonks suddenly made her look even more beautiful than usual; the patches of light and shadow accentuating her every feature.

"Totally, utterly, one hundred percent sure," Tonks whispered slowly, her eyes glittering. "With so much hate in this world, Ginny, I don't think anyone should ever be ashamed to love."

It felt as if someone had suddenly removed every problem from the world. In that one instance, for the first time in several years, Ginny felt free. Free of worry, free of paranoia, free of that nagging feeling that she might be abnormal ... Tonks was right, and she knew it.

"You're right," she stuttered as Tonks relinquished her grip on Ginny's shoulders. "You're so right. Thank you ... I really appreciate this, you know ... if you hadn't ... I would have gone on thinking I was being weird for goodness knows how long."

"Any time," Tonks grinned, ruffling Ginny's already messy hair. "And I mean that, yeah? Any time you need a girlie chat, you know where I am. And remember, darlin', you are normal."

She paused for a moment. "Come here," she said softly, and pulled Ginny into a gentle hug.

Ginny was taken completely by surprise and forgot to feel nervous as she suddenly found herself pressed to the young Auror's body, enveloped in her arms. In some ways, those few seconds seemed to last for hours; the fresh scent of her newly-washed hair, the softness of her nightshirt, and then her hand stroking Ginny's hair as she rested her head on Tonks' shoulder ...

As they slowly broke apart, both were smiling; words were unnecessary.

Ginny gently pushed open her bedroom door as Tonks picked up her candle. It creaked slightly but a quick glance into the moonlit room showed her that Hermione was still fast asleep. She edged through the gap in the door and risked one last look back at Tonks who had started to walk away but turned back and smiled.

"Sweet dreams," she whispered.

"You too," Ginny whispered back, still smiling, as she gently closed the door.

The heat seemed to have subsided now, which was just as well because Ginny had completely forgotten that it was the middle of the night. She realised she was actually very tired now, and slipped into her bed, pulling the duvet up and snuggling underneath, hugging her pillow close once more.

She smiled blissfully as a cool breeze stroked her cheek. How did so much happen so quickly tonight? How could it have gone so perfectly? I'm normal. I'm not a freak.

Growing up has got a lot to answer for, she thought, with a secret smile. But now, somehow, she knew that she would be all right; she could cope with whatever life was going to throw at her. Becoming an adult wasn't just about endings. There would be some, of course, but also so many new beginnings ahead of her, things she couldn't even imagine now.

So Ginny Weasley drifted into a peaceful and happy sleep that night. She didn't know what trials and tribulations the following years were going to bring or what cards she was going to be dealt. But it was going to be a lot of fun finding out.