By the Fireplace

Ginny didn't get a chance to talk to Ron until the next day. The wedding was keeping everyone busy especially now that Ph--Fleur and Bill had arrived. Now, after spending hours in utter frustration at being unable to find Ron, she found him sitting (hiding from mum was more like it) in his room and reading a Quidditch magazine.

She had wanted to talk to him the previous day after speaking with Hermione. But he had showered and surrounded himself with family (which inevitably included Hermione since she would sooner rather than later be an official member of the family; Ginny was betting on next year) and Ginny hadn't gotten a chance to speak with him since.

She knocked on his locked bedroom door wondering idly if he would choose to respond or not. It didn't matter either way. Actually, Ginny rather liked the idea of having a dramatic entrance by busting down the door and entering with a flourish.

Sadly, her desires for melodrama went unmet.

"What d'you want, Gin?" Ron stuck his head out the door, surveying her suspiciously. His paranoia amused her. But, she had to concede, it was deserved. With mum acting so short tempered (Fleur was a very picky bride), it was no wonder he was wary.

This wasn't the case however, and she told him so.

"Don't worry," she said with a grin, "mum didn't send me. She's too busy making altercations on Fleur's gown with Mrs. Delacour."

Ron visibly relaxed. What a predictable boy, he was. "So what do you want then?" he asked with a degree less coolness. Right the temperament Ginny wanted him at; Relaxed and unguarded.

Beforehand, George, Fred, and herself had decided the best way to get Ron into agreeing was a surprise attack. She would lure him into a false sense of security and then proceed to whip the blanket out from under him.

She tried to hide her smile and failed.

That made her smile even more.

While her manipulation tendencies were pure Slytherin, her failure to disguise her emotions reminded her of her Gryffindor roots. A fact she held onto fiercely.

Second year had been spent coming to terms with her first. In those months she had grown and discovered herself as a person who had made a mistake but wasn't beyond redemption. She'd also thought extensively about the prejudices she, her family, and everyone around her suffered from. Yes, lots of Slytherins were ambitious bastards. But, then again, so were some Gryffindors. Take Percy for example. His misguided ambitions had him on the right side of the wrong track.

Prejudice was something Ginny didn't abide. She sincerely tried not to make hasty first impressions without actually knowing a person. That was part of the reason she was so popular in her year. People recognized she didn't have any preconceived ideas and stuck to her like glue.

There were exceptions to the rule, however. None that she wanted to pollute her mind by thinking about, though.

But, getting back to the topic at hand, Ron would be an easy target. If only because he was number three on her who-I-know-everything-about list. Third to Harry and herself, of course.

"Ginny?" Ron's impatient voice tugged her focus back to where it was suppose to be.

"Oh, right. May I come in?" she asked, but only from habit, for she was already moving to step inside before the words were even out of her mouth.

Ron used his superior strength (the ONLY thing he was superior to her in, mind you) and blocked the door from opening any further. "No," he said, "you can't."

A faintly amused look briefly crossed her features. Poor ninny thinks he has a choice, Ginny thought fondly.

"Please?" she would give politeness one more attempt before moving to other means.

"Ginny," he grounded out with clenched teeth, and she could practically see him switch into 'sibling banter' mode, "just tell me what you bloody want and then leave!"

"Why?" she couldn't help baiting like any good sibling would do, "is Hermione in there with you?"

He glowered and spluttered incoherently.

Ginny took the moment of his inattention in guarding the door with his weight to sucker punch him in the nose lightly. Well, lightly for her. It would still hurt like hell.

"Bloody--insert highly rated expletive--damn you!" He stumbled back a step but it was enough for Ginny to combine the force of the door with her own weight to invade his territory.

She felt like laughing evilly...

...And had to remind herself that she was on the Good Side. People on the Good Side don't laugh evilly. Does that mean they laugh goodly? She wondered.

Ron was still clutching his nose when she whirled past him and took an uninvited seat down on his bed.

"Sorry, Ronnie," her smile contradicted her words, "but it isn't gallant to block a lady's path."

"You're not a lady," he marched angrily to his ugly orange Chudley Cannon chair and plopped down sulkily. What Hermione saw in him was anyone's guess. Though Ginny was willing to bet she needed high magnified glasses to see it.

"And you're not gallant," she countered.

He sulked. "Yes I am."

"I'm coming to look for Horcruxes with you."

"Yes--huh?"

Ginny was taking a gamble by coming right and saying it. She knew it was highly risky to say their plans aloud. The walls had ears after all.

Ron was trying to gather his wits. Something Ginny seriously thought was a mote point since trying to gather wits implies you have them.

She waited patiently until he'd come up with some half-thought through argument to give her.

She'd be willing to bet it sounded something like you're too young.

"You're not of age!" Ron shouted, predictable again, upon thinking of a somewhat valid reason for forbidding her to go.

Not of age, too young, same difference.

"No," Ginny agreed, "but if you remember, which I'm sure you do because even you're not that stupid, I would be allowed to do magic if I was home schooled. Mum and Hermione could easily come up with some kind of curriculum, which they would do gladly I'm sure."

"M-mum agreed?"

"Yes."

Ron was speechless. It had taken him the entire length of the summer to get mum to agree.

He didn't stay voiceless long to Ginny's great disappointment. "No, Ginny, you can't come. It's not safe and I won't allow my little sister to come fight Deatheasters! What if you get killed? It's just not safe." A chill went down Ginny's spine. In her mind, she'd been aware that they planned on fighting but it hear confirmed...she filed away the information for later, knowing that she couldn't afford to have her resolve crumble.

Change the subject. "What if you get killed? Or Hermione?" seeing his face, she knew she had her ace. "Yes, let's talk about Hermione." The mere mention of his heart's holder dying had made him pale drastically.

"Ginny..." His voice warned her not to go on.

She ignored this, like she did most things he said. "Ron, just think about it. When you're fighting Deatheaters with Harry, who has Hermione's back? You two are going to be concentrating on fighting for your lives, won't the knowledge that everyone's back is protected help you to concentrate?" She paused to let him answer.

His face contorted into the familiar stubborn Weasley face all of them had inherited. "That's not the point!" he yelled in irritation. "I can protect Hermione! I can't protect you at the same time. And if something ever happened to you..." he swallowed, not enjoying talking about his feelings, "I wouldn't ever be able to forgive myself."

Ginny opened her mouth to reply but found no words in her grasp. That was sweetest thing Ron had said to her in years. She felt her girly-ness starting to react to his sentimental (for him) words.

"Oh, Ron!" she cried, tears floating in her thickly lashed eyes. "Don't you think I feel the same way? I'd be letting my family down if I didn't do something. All of you are going to be front row center when Harry finally confronts Voldemort," he flinched, "and I could never look at myself in a mirror again if I wasn't there with you." Hand gestures accompanied her passionate words.

Ron, getting back into teaspoon range of emotions, tried to interject a bit of humor, "I guess you better start getting rid of mirrors then," were his insensitive words.

So much for sweetness, she thought dryly. Really, really magnified glasses, they must be.

"No. I'm coming. Do you want Hermione and Harry to be safe or not?"

"Of course I do! How can you ask me that? But I want you to stay safe too."

"Ugh. Why do you think I'd be safer here or at Hogwarts than with you?" She was curious to know his answer.

"They have dozens of fully trained teachers there," his answer was immediate. "They would protect you."

"Like they did last year?"

"That was different."

"How so?"

"It just was!"

"And if Deatheaters attack again?" she asked quietly. "Do you think I'm going to hide with the first years and cower? And you know they are going to attack again. So does the Ministry. Hogwarts has a bigger chance of not being opened this fall than it does."

"I don't care," he said weakly, knowing he was losing the battle, "you still can't come with us."

Ginny barely resisted rolling her eyes. She should've known his arguments would eventually come to you can't because I said so!

"Grow up, Ron," she snapped angrily. "This is a war, not me following you and your friends around in hopes of you including me. I'm telling you, not following nor asking. I'm going. If that means I have to do it myself, then, bloody damn, I will!"

It was a bluff, for she knew her mum would track her down and blister her fanny if she even really thought about running away. But Ron didn't know that.

"You would not!" He didn't look convinced of this.

"Of course I would," her voice was confident. She had him.

Ron wasn't ready to give in to defeat and he made a last stab at defiance. "Fine," he said loudly, but continued before Ginny could even blink, "but Harry has to agree."

Ginny really wanted to hit her head against the wall. Hard.

Why does everything important to me always lead back to Harry? She wondered with a hint of despair.

Ron didn't add and Hermione because he was positive she would side with Ginny. Women always stuck by each other, he thought in disgust. He was gleeful inside that he had found a way to make Ginny stay, for Harry would never agree to let her come. He was probably the only person more stubborn than Ginny.

There was a small silence before Ginny replied.

"Fine," she snapped, highly aggravated that everything rested on Harry now. "I guess I'll go start packing then."

Ron smirked. "I wouldn't be too hasty," he advised.

Standing up, she stomped across his room and restrained herself from punching him again. But, no, she had plans to make. Things had to be discussed. She could no longer say that Ron and Hermione said it was fine, and that had been an important argument. Oh, what a mess.

"Just you wait, Ronald Weasley," she coldly called over her shoulder, pausing in the doorway and turning to face him fully with eyes of hazel ice, "you're going to choke on your words."

"Again," he quipped, "I wouldn't be too hasty."

"Just wait," was the last said between them.

Ginny rushed back to her room and flung herself on the bed.

Tears of frustration came unbidden.

It isn't fair, her mind screamed. Why wasn't this working like she planned?

She buried her face in her pillow and gladly would've kept it their all evening if a choke inducing smell hadn't caught her attention.

What the--?

A small fire was crackling on her mahogany desk in the corner, happily eating away her over-used Defense textbook.

"Eek!" she squeaked, dashing off her bed and grabbing her handkerchief to smother the flames with.

In the back of her mind she knew the knowledge that calling for someone to put out the flames was what she should've done. But at the moment she wasn't feeling particularly inclined to be dependent. So, she battled the flames herself.

Just as you have to battle everything else, her mind whispered.

The fire started to grow larger.

As did her frustration.

She never considered using her wand. It seemed weak, to her, to be forced to rely on something other than herself.

"C'mon!" she yelled angrily at it, screaming out imprecations along with all her frustrations. "I'm not useless, I can do this!"

The handkerchief turned to ash, though Ginny didn't notice as tears clouded her vision once more, and her hands were making direct contact with the flames.

"Please," she wiped an unburned hand across her face to scrub away the tears, "let me help."

Gradually, her anger started to deplete, the fire following swiftly. Her mind was a numb place of shock. She knew what her eyes were seeing but it wasn't processing.

Her pale hands shook. No burns.

Impossible.

She raised her face and looked at the Defense book.

It was charred beyond recognition or repair.

"Oh, shit." Just about summed up whatever was happening to her.

What was happening to her?

The wheels in her mind starting turning and taking in everything that had happened in the past few minutes. She'd been angry and frustrated. A fire had started. Connect the two events: she had made the fire start. The night by the fireplace flashed through her mind. She'd been angry then, too. And what had happened then...flames had flickered to life, is what.

Numbness was fast being replaced by awe and wonder. She hadn't started a fire with her emotions since before her first year, when accidental magic still plagued her untrained mind. In fact, her childhood had been filled with fires starting whenever she got to upset.

If that's what was happening now it could only mean she was the one controlling it.

Well, she used control very loosely. Causing it would be a better description.

Did that mean she could control it then? Maybe it was similar to summoning a Patronus, except replacing happy thoughts with angry ones.

She centered her thoughts on Ron's patronizing tone and smug words. The feelings of being inferior. Treated like a china doll.

Then she concentrated on starting the flame in the palm of her hand.

A whoosh and cackle.

A fire was now sitting in the palm of her hand.

Her hand!

Unbelievable. It was fast attenuating, however, because her feelings of wonder were fast replacing those of vexation.

Still.

A seed of something started growing...

A bargaining chip...

A key...

But above all:

A solution.

It just might work, with renewed hope, she closed her hand, effectively diminishing the fire, and sat down in her favorite chair to begin her plans anew.

~*~