One of These Mornings

Chapter One

Ginny Weasley was an ordinary girl, by wizarding standards. Like any other witch, she had tried time and again to get rid of her freckles (Miss Tinkerbelle's Magical Blemish Remover), her brothers (The Witches' Guide to Getting Revenge), and her crush (Young & Magical Magazine: Does He Deserve Your Undying Devotion? Take Our Quiz!). Like most witches, she usually failed to do so. However, as she often lamented in the privacy of her room, away from her brothers, her apparently typical situation was made quite unusual by the fact that her crush happened to be Harry Potter. The boy who had survived the most powerful dark wizard of his time not once but five times, and who had saved her, Ginny Weasley, from that wizard's clutches.

Any ordinary witch would have been pleased to have been saved by the boy she loved. But for Ginny that, really, was the worst part. Harry Potter had saved her life, when she had almost got him killed. On the surface, she had pretty much recovered from the horror of the Chamber of Secrets the summer after her first year, but somehow one devastating thought refused to fade away: Harry Potter might easily have been killed that year, all because of her. She had opened the Chamber, he had come to save her, and Tom Riddle had almost, almost killed him. And afterwards Harry wasn't even angry with her for putting him in such danger. He had simply saved her life, been a bit concerned, and rather friendlier than usual, and then gone back to hardly noticing she existed.

It was only fair, really. She was just Ron's foolish little sister, after all. A silly little girl who was too gullible to think a diary could be anything more than a diary. Ginny looked angrily down at her hands and noticed, startled, that she was tearing up a page from her magazine. She stared blankly at the shreds of paper, then swept up the ruined magazine and hid it under her pillow. Fred and George would make such fun of her if they knew she was reading something like Young & Magical. She'd only got it because it was the Unrequited Love: Is He Really Worth It? issue. She knew it was silly, really, but she had hoped to learn how to fall out of love. She had even taken the interactive magical quiz, pointing with her wand at the correct answers to all the questions that materialized in the air above the page. In the end, a friendly female voice had told her, "It's time to move on, dear. He's clearly too blind to notice how lovely you are, and it's his loss. Go find a nice wizard who deserves you." Ginny knew the voice meant well, but it wasn't much help. Whenever she thought about Harry too much, she only ended up convincing herself once again that it was she who did not deserve him, and not the other way around.

And suddenly she hated herself for lying up here in her room reading silly magazines while Harry was locked up with those awful relatives, back to the Muggle world to be helpless again after everything that had happened. She didn't want to think about how miserable he must be, after Cedric...and everything. She knew he must be blaming himself, and she fiercely wished she could make it better. It was almost unbearable, knowing there was such pain in him, and not being able to hold him and comfort him.

There was a sudden tapping sound, and Ginny looked up to see Pigwidgeon fluttering around excitedly outside her window. She rolled off her bed and opened the window, letting Pigwidgeon in. She could hear her brothers outside now, probably playing Quidditch, and a warm breeze drifted into the room. Once inside, Pigwidgeon's hooting seemed to become more frenzied and high-pitched, and he zoomed around the room like a Cornish pixie. Ginny caught him eventually and slid the letter from his leg. For a moment, her heart stopped: the words scrawled across the parchment were in Harry's handwriting. But a second later she saw that the letter was addressed to Ron; Harry had not written to her, after all. She felt burning disappointment and humiliation sear through her. For a moment, she had thought that by some miracle Harry had written to her--Harry Potter, who had spoken hardly a word to her in all the time they had known each other. It was awful, to have that wild momentary hope fall so hollowly. No one but herself had witnesses the brief, private disappointment, but her cheeks still burned. For one moment, she had presumed to think that Harry might care about her. But of course, he didn't--not any more than any good, kind person would care about a fellow human being. It was Ron who was Harry's friend, after all; she was just Ron's little sister.

Still pink with embarrassed disappointment, she made her way downstairs and out into the front yard. Her brothers were indeed playing Quidditch: Fred and George against Ron and Bill, who was home for the summer holidays. She stood silent for a second, watching them, and thinking of all the times she had watched Harry play Quidditch. She supposed she should be ashamed of that--it was pathetic, some people said, how she followed Harry around. But if he wasn't going to ever like her, or even talk to her, at least she could watch him fly. That was one joy that couldn't be spoilt by Harry's indifference to her.

"Oi, Ginny!" George yelled. "We know your favorite Seeker's not here for you to goggle at, but want to have a go at some Quidditch?"

"Yeah, you can be our Seeker--one more thing to have in common with good, great, handsome Potter." Fred started to imitate her voice, clasping his hands and batting his eyelashes. "'Oh, Harry, you're so brilliant when you fly! I'd love to learn to fly the way you do--d'you think you could teach me?'"

Ginny glared at Fred and George. They all knew she was in love with Harry, and it was a bit unkind of them to keep bringing it up. She cheered up a little as Bill shot Fred a warning look and beat a Bludger his way, but she wasn't about to let the twins off the hook. She crossed her arms and smiled up at the twins, who were now hovering a few feet from the ground. "No, thanks. I think I'll just go off and write another hot, steamy love-letter to my 'favorite Seeker.' It's much more interesting than flying around with you immature gits." She smiled sweetly as Fred fell off his broom.

George jumped down from his broom and pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Ginny Weasley, you even think about doing anything with Harry--"

"Oh, don't worry, we don't actually do anything, we just talk about it."

George gawped at her for a moment. "You're not having--you know--by owl post, are you?"

Ron stared, hovering precariously several feet above the ground. He looked around at his brothers for reassurance, but they all seemed just as baffled as he was. "She's gone mad." He shook his head. "Ginny, you're not really--I mean, Harry would have said--"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "No, of course we're not. Don't be ridiculous! Harry's just a friend, and I assure you it's going to stay that way. So please don't talk to me about him." Shooting one last murderous look in Fred and George's direction, she stalked off. At the door, she turned around quickly and said, "I wish you would all just grow up," before slamming the door and stomping up the stairs. Once back in her room, she realized that she had forgotten to give Ron Harry's letter after all. She fished it out of her pocket and stared at it; it seemed to be begging to be read. She considered for a moment--suppose she read it, just for revenge? But Ron hadn't been particularly cruel this time around, and besides, it wouldn't feel at all right to be reading a letter of Harry's that wasn't meant for her. She went over to the open window and stuck her head out, vaguely making out four redheaded blurs.

"Ron!" The lankiest of the blurred figures slowed down and looked around, his eyes finally resting on her bedroom window.

"Well, what is it? Decided you want to join us after all? Well, you can't. We've got four players already and you can't play with an odd number."

Apparently, he was still a bit put off with her after the little story she had told. She wished now that she hadn't said anything about steamy love letters to Harry; she had really ended up hurting herself more than she had shocked them. Seeing them almost believe her had just been...painful. She hurriedly shook the thought away and waved the letter outside the window. "No, I just forgot--here, it's Harry's letter." She dropped the letter, and Ron blankly watched it fall. "Well, not much of a seeker, are you? Can't even catch a piece of paper," she said laughingly.

"Of course he wouldn't be as good a Seeker as the great, wonderful Harry Potter--" Fred began, but he cut himself off on seeing the murderous look Ginny had sent his way.

Ron jumped off his broom and gingerly picked up the piece of parchment, looking at it as if it would explode any moment. "What kind of letter? It's not...what you were saying before, is it?"

She moaned, wishing even more fiercely that she had not said all that about the letters. "For the millionth time, NO! I was only kidding." Honestly, they were so thick-headed sometimes. She tried to keep her voice calm, but she felt like screaming at the lot of them. "It's Harry's letter to you; Pigwidgeon delivered it to me by accident. It's what I came down to give you in the first place, but then some stupid git had to make a nasty comment, and I forgot."

"Oh." Ron looked considerably relieved. "Thanks." He looked at her questioningly. "Have you--"

"No, I haven't read it, she said irritably. "Unlike some other people I could name,"--she looked meaningfully at Fred and George--"I don't make a habit of reading other people's letters."

She slammed the window shut, but not before hearing Ron mumble, "What's got into her? I was just going to ask if she'd had a letter from Hermione today, that's all." Ron and Hermione hadn't been on speaking terms since Hermione had written him about the lovely time she had had in Bulgaria. Ron had blown up at her, and she had stopped writing to him altogether, though Ron continued to send her the occasional angry owl about Viktor. He had even tried to send a howler, but it hadn't quite worked--Hermione had easily undone Ron's clumsy spell, as Ginny learned in an almost-amused sounding letter a week later. For the past month, Ron had been casually asking Ginny for news of Hermione, but Ginny's answers had been vague and evasive. Most of the time Hermione just wrote to her about how unfair Ron was being, and Ginny had to say she agreed.

As Ginny flopped down on her bed, she could hear muffled jeers coming from outside, and she expected Fred and George were teasing Ron about Hermione again. "Honestly, those boys," she muttered.

"They mean well, dear. They only want the best for you."

"No, they don't. They just want to make me miserable," she muttered. Suddenly she sat up. Where had that voice come from? It had been somewhere very near her head. She fished under her pillow and dragged out the magazine, looking at it in disbelief. The quiz was long since over; why was it still talking to her? She began to panic, edging slowly away from the magazine.

"I must say, dear, you do have a bit of a temper." Ginny noticed the pages fluttering as the voice spoke. "It's a good thing you didn't damage me too much, tearing up my pages like that! Thankfully, it was just my table of contents, so I'm just a bit muddled. But do try to be careful in the future, dear--imagine if you had torn apart my cover!"

"Oh dear. I'm really sorry about that." Ginny's voice wobbled, and she looked at the magazine with a frightened expression on her face. Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain, her dad had always said. And Ginny had certainly learned her lesson. But she wouldn't think about that; it only made her sick. This voice seemed very kindly, and it couldn't do anything to her as long as she kept her distance. "How can you talk to me?" She was vaguely aware of more animated shouting outside, and the corners of her mouth hinted at a smile. Perhaps they were insufferable gits, but at least her brothers had energy.

"My! Haven't you ever read a magazine before?" The voice asked.

"Well--I've read some of mum's copies of Witch Weekly...and some of dad's issues of Pinch, but...no, not your kind of magazine. Why?"

"Well, what would be the point of a magazine for young witches if it couldn't give you any advice? I suppose you bought me to find out a bit about how these...these crushes work, hmm?"

"Well--yes."

"Had yours for quite a while though, haven't you?"

"Sorry?"

"You've had your crush for quite a while?"

"Oh, right. Yes. Ever since I met him, when I was eleven."

"And you are...how old now?"

"Fourteen." Ginny blushed a little. "I know it's dreadfully silly of me to go on liking him all this time, but I can't seem to help it at all."

"Oh no, dear, it's not silly at all. That's just how these things work, after all."

"You--you told me when I took the quiz that I should...move on."

"I did, didn't I?" The voice sounded a bit bemused. "Well, they do tell us to advise that sort of thing. Strength and independence for the modern witch, and all that. Back in my day, love was love, and a girl didn't have to worry about appearing independent. I suppose it's different now, though."

"Who are you, though? I mean--sorry if I sound a bit rude, but...where do you come from?" Ginny asked. "You said 'back in your day'...so are you from the past, or something?"

"Oh, I'm just a charm, cast fifty years ago."

Ginny looked concerned. "You're...a charm?"

"Well, yes and no. I am a charm with the personality of Sally Stonebridge, really. She preserved me in this magazine--or rather, every copy of Young & Magical that is issued on the fifteenth day of an even month. Unfortunately, that leaves me to clean up post-Valentine's day messes." She sighed wistfully. "Speaking of which, dear, a word of advice, if you want this young man of yours to come courting you: never send him a sappy valentine. More often than not, you wake up the next morning to deeply regret it. And I do hate dealing with the aftermath..."

Ginny stifled a giggle. "Erm, thanks. I'll...keep that in mind." Fred and George had tormented her so much about that particular incident that she had eventually come to find it rather funny, too. His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad.... She grinned to herself. Of course, it still made her blush and cringe a bit, but what was once absolute mortification was now just amused embarrassment.

Suddenly she heard footsteps outside her door, and she quickly shoved the magazine under her pillow, whispering a hurried apology. There was a knock, and she opened the door to find Ron standing there with a huge grin on his face.

"Who've you been talking to in here?" he asked, still grinning.

"No one. What's going on?"

"Harry's letter--" he paused, then slowly grinned.

"What about it?" Ginny asked, trying not to sound too eager.

"Oh, nothing." He crossed his arms smugly. "I won't tell you till you tell me who you've been talking to. Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. I heard voices."

A bit flustered, Ginny glanced over to her bed to make sure the magazine was out of sight. A bright pink corner was sticking out from under her blue pillow, and she wondered if she should make a move to cover it up. Making up her mind, she sat down on the bed, blocking the telltale corner from Ron's view. It would certainly not do to have Ron--or any of her other brothers, for that matter--knowing that she was reading Young & Magical. "It must have been the voices in your head again, Ron," she said distractedly.

Ron smirked and opened his mouth in reply, but suddenly a faint shadow passed across his face, and he froze. Ginny looked at him apprehensively, wondering what had caused this sudden stiffness. "Ginny," he began, then trailed off. He looked around the room, as if some dark creature were bound to be lurking in a corner somewhere. "Ginny, you haven't been talking to--well, any sort of...diary, have you?"

He had tried to sound casual, but Ginny felt as though his words had slapped her in the face. "No, Ron." Her words were firm and final, but he still seemed unsure. He edged a bit farther into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Ginny," he said tentatively, running a hand through his hair as though unsure of what to say next. "Are you sure? You know you can talk to me if--"

"Of course I'm sure," she snapped. Her face softened, though, as she caught the concern in his eyes. "I've learned my lesson, Ron. You know I'll never let that happen again. Putting...people...in danger like that. It was so horrible." She broke off, fighting to keep tears out of her eyes. Every time she thought about it....

Ron moved over to the bed and sat down next to her, patting her arm awkwardly. "It's all right, Ginny. I know you won't."

There was a long silence as Ginny stared down at her hands. Then she drew a deep breath and smiled up at Ron. He grinned back, visibly relieved that she had not burst into tears. Ginny knew from years of experience that for all his good intentions Ron was generally a bit uncomfortable with tears.

"Well, who were you talking to? I know you were talking to someone." He grinned and elbowed her in the ribs. "C'mon, who was it?"

Ginny shook her head. "No-one at all," she said, in the annoying singsong voice she knew he hated.

Ron stood up and picked up the magazine, dangling it in front of her face. "Does it have anything to do with this horrid pink thing I've been sitting on?" Ginny blushed crimson as Ron grinned maniacally. Really, it was unsettling how much he took after his brothers sometimes. He held it up, reading the title. "Young & Magical?!" he spluttered. "What's all this nonsense? 'Do-It-Yourself Perfect Hair Potion: Ten Quick Ingredients'--Snape should have a go at that one. 'Fifty Dress Robes to Catch His Eye and Keep Him Spellbound'--try that one on Harry, why don't you."

"Ron--" she began, warningly.

"No, wait--what's this? 'The Only Thing Better Than Chocolate (Unless There's a Dementor Nearby)'-- What?" His eyes widened. "Ginny, Does mum know you're reading this stuff? I don't think--I don't think you should be reading this... I mean, what is this rubbish?"

"It's a magazine, Ron, if you hadn't noticed."

"Yeah, I know it's a magazine, I've seen Lavender and Parvati giggling over them in the Common Room way too many times." He was still staring at the magazine in horrified fascination. "Honestly, Ginny, this is the kind of thing girls read!"

Ginny raised her eyebrows and gave him a meaningful look. "Girls? And what am I, then?"

"Okay, okay, it's the kind of thing silly, giggling girls read. That better?"

"Much better," she said sweetly. "It most definitely is the kind of thing silly girls read. More intelligent girls read things like Hogwarts, A History. But then, we can't all be like Hermione, can we?"

Ron scowled. "And a good thing, that."

Ginny sighed. She shouldn't have said that, either. Today was not going very well so far. "Look, Ron--"

"She's as bad as them, really. Going off to visit her famous, Quidditch-playing boyfriend. Traipsing around Bulgaria with him. Makes me sick."

"Ron..."

"Thinks she's so brilliant and all. Then she goes and gets stuck with some bloody oaf who hardly speaks a word of English--"

"He speaks very good English, Ron, and you know it. And you don't know what's going on with them, so stop making judgments."

"I can bloody well see for myself what's going on with them!" He shouted, jumping up and facing Ginny with his arms crossed.

"Please, just try to be a bit more sensitive to her feelings. It...it really hurts her when you yell at her." Ron snorted. "Please, just promise me that you won't make a big deal out of it when she comes tomorrow."

"WHAT?!" Ron stared at her in disbelief, his jaw slightly dropped. "Hermione's coming tomorrow? What are you on about? She's NOT coming to visit. I didn't invite her this year," he said decisively. "She's been too busy with Vicky, anyway," he added, looking away.

Ginny was sitting as still as a statue, her hand over her mouth. She was making quite a mess of things, wasn't she? She'd known she'd have to tell him eventually, but she had not much been looking forward to his reaction, and she'd been putting it off...and then she had just completely forgotten. Oh, this was going to be bad. She gulped, then slowly looked up at Ron. Seeing his livid face, she quickly averted her eyes and looked determinedly a few inches past his left ear. "She is coming, and I invited her."

"YOU! How DARE you invite her? She's not allowed in this house! Anyway, you can't invite her--you're not even her friend! She's just nice to you because you're my sister."

That was it. He had finally had gone too far. "Funny, because I've been more a friend to her than you have this past month." Her voice was quiet, but her eyes were blazing. "Please get out of my room."

"Well!" Ron sputtered. "This is just--imagine, my little sister, telling me what to do! Pretending she knows my friends better than I do--"

She stood up to face him, looking him right in the eye. "Ron. Get out."

"You could have at least told me she was coming! You've gone mad, inviting my friends, and not telling me!"

"If you treated her like a friend, maybe she would have told you herself! But no, you had to fly into some jealous rage and be so awful to her. And now she hates you, Ron. She almost didn't want to come, because you'd be here. Now get out, before I hex you."

Ron stumbled backward out the door, his mouth gaping. With one last glare, Ginny slammed the door. She stood still and waited, listening for the footsteps that would show that Ron was leaving her in peace. There was a long silence, then--

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, JEALOUS? THAT'S RUBBISH! I JUST DON'T TRUST VICKY WITH HER!" With that, a series of heavy footsteps signaled Ron's departure.

Ginny let out a long sigh. If Ron and Hermione couldn't manage to sort things out this summer, the school year would be rather painful. She walked over to her desk and absently picked up Hermione's last letter to her.

Dear Ginny,

Oh, honestly, Ron is being such a beast! He's still on about my visiting Viktor--and that was weeks ago! Well, if he won't listen, I won't tell him that Viktor and I are just friends. You won't tell him, will you? It really isn't any of his business, and he doesn't deserve to know.

Sorry about all that, Ginny; it's just that you're the only person I can talk to. My mum just thinks it's sweet the way Ron's acting (honestly, I don't know how she came up with that!) and Harry...well, I don't really want to bother Harry with silly stuff like this, if you know what I mean.

I'm really looking forward to visiting you next week! I do hope Ron doesn't ruin everything. If Dumbledore gives Harry permission to visit the Burrow, the two boys can go off together and leave us in peace. Boys. They're so thick-headed sometimes! Maybe they'll have grown up a bit over the past month; wouldn't that be a treat! Though, I don't suppose Ron has, judging by his dreadful letters to me.

I do hope you're having a lovely summer, in spite of having to live with Ron, and I'll see you on Saturday!

Love from

Hermione

This whole thing with Ron and Hermione was almost farcical, from afar, but Ginny didn't suppose it would be much fun next week, when she'd be directly in the line of fire. And if Harry came, it would only make things worse; she'd be a nervous wreck to top things off. She'd just have to take it all in stride, she supposed, trying to keep Ron and Hermione from killing each other and trying to keep herself from blushing and knocking things over. What a summer it was turning out to be.