You Can't Deal Alone

After the encounter with Harry, Ginny spent most of the day in her room under the pretense of packing. In reality she wanted to avoid Harry. Not that she objected to what had happened. Her problem laid in the uncertainty of Harry's feelings. Yes, he had responded to her; in fact he had started it when he caressed her face. But Ginny knew how easy it was to get caught up in the moment.

When Mrs. Weasley returned from shopping she asked for help with dinner. Hermione chatted with Mrs. Weasley, preparing their meal. Ron, Harry, and Ginny set the table in silence. Ginny tried to catch Harry's eye but he never looked at her. She refused to lose hope, however. The connection she had felt earlier that day was intriguing. The feeling was new to Ginny, whose previous boyfriends had never left her with such a bewitching feeling of suspense.

After what Ginny felt was an extremely awkward dinner she stood to return to her room.

"Ginny," Mrs. Weasley said. "Are you done packing?"

"She ought to be," interjected Ron. "She's spent all day in her room." Ginny felt her face go red. Glaring at Ron she told her mother she had finished.

"Could you do the dishes then, love?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "There's an Order meeting tonight."

Ginny piled as many plates and cups into her arms as humanly possible. She staggered toward the kitchen. Someone suddenly relieved her of half the load. When she saw it was Harry, she nearly dropped the remaining plates.

"Looked like you could use some help," he mumbled. Ginny noticed he continued to avoid her eyes.

"Thanks," Ginny replied. They set the dishes down next to the sink.

"I'll go get any left on the table," offered Harry. Ginny filled the sink with hot water, cursing the Under-Age Wizarding Laws.

Harry returned. "Er... too bad you can't use magic."

"Yeah," Ginny picked up the first plate. She noticed a chip in the white china. "Listen, Harry..."

"Yeah?" Harry's nervous eyes finally met hers, making him appear even more anxious.

"Do you..." Ginny's voice faltered. She meant to ask him if he thought the morning's events meant anything. "Do you have all your packing finished?" she ended lamely.

"Yeah, why?" The look on Harry's face - a combination of relief and disappointment - mimicked his expression when Ron had broken their moment earlier.

"Oh, I just thought," Ginny said slowly. What did she think? "That, erm, we could... um..."

"Talk?" Harry suggested. Ginny turned to him, taken aback by his straightforwardness. It didn't seem to fit Harry's personality.

"Only if you want to," said Ginny.

"I think we need to. About, er, this morn -"

"Harry!" Ron ran into the kitchen, breathless. "The meeting is starting now, in the living room. Mum said we can't listen, of course, but we have Extendable Ears..." Ron trailed off as he put pieces together.

"But, of course," he continued quickly. "If you're, erm, talking I can fill you in later." With that Ron left the room.

Ginny grinned at Harry and grabbed his hand. "I know where we can get privacy." She led him up the stairs, past their bedrooms, past where Buckbeak was kept. When Ginny reached for a doorknob she realised she hadn't let go of Harry's hand. She dropped it with an embarrassed laugh and mentally slapped her forehead.

Ginny opened the door to a room Harry had never seen before. It was a bedroom much like his own at Grimmauld Place, but had one large bed centered on the far wall. On the nightstand there were pictures of all the Weasleys. Ginny saw him looking and quickly set them face down.

"Mum insists on having our pictures there," Ginny explained. She watched as Harry's face took on a look of understanding.

"This is, er, your parents' b-bedroom?" He stammered.

"Yes. They'll be at the meeting for a good two hours. Ron and Hermione would have no reason to come here, so..." Ginny trailed off.

"Should we, er, sit down?" asked Harry, glancing around the room. Ginny also scanned the walls. The only place to sit was the bed.

"Um... I s'pose so." They sat awkwardly on opposite ends.

"So," Ginny racked her brain for something to say. "What d'you suppose they're saying at the meeting?" She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth.

Good job, Weasley, she scolded herself. Way to make it romantic.

"Oh, the usual," Harry said and laughed mirthlessly. Ginny recognized the cynical note lurking near the surface. "About how I'm going to kill or be killed."

Thoughts of a nice, long, passionate snogging session melted away as Ginny took on the role of a sympathetic mother. She crawled across the bed and embraced him. He didn't respond for a moment, but then leaned his head onto hers and held her tightly.

Ginny was on her knees as she tried to soothe Harry, but when he leaned on her the added weight threw her off balance. Ginny contemplated unhooking herself, but found she couldn't without seeming rude.

"Harry, I'm - eep!" Ginny exclaimed and fell to her left. Having Harry holding on to her caused her to fall on top of him. Ginny tried to get off but was still unbalanced.

"Hello, Harry," she joked and started laughing uncontrollably.

***

Harry had been studying the Weasley's patchwork quilt when he heard Ginny move towards him. He looked up as she got on her knees and hugged him. He wasn't sure what to do at first, but the warmth of her arms around his comforted him, so he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. She was like a china doll, so thin and fragile. He leaned his head onto hers, breathing the scent of her. If he could only stay like this forever, with caring arms around him and hair that smelled faintly of gingersnaps beneath his cheek. In that moment Harry felt that he was safe from Voldemort and the other horrors of the world.

Voldemort was quickly out of his mind when he found a very mature Ginny Weasley on top of him.

As Ginny struggled to get up between fits of giggles, Harry's conscience warned him to be a gentleman to Ron's little sister. Harry's hormones, however, said something quite different.

"Ginny," Harry whispered. She had finally succeeded in getting up on her knees, unintentionally straddling him. Harry tucked a piece of hair behind her ear gently, abruptly stopping all laughter.

"Ginny," he whispered again. His hormones had won, turning him into someone quite unlike the Harry Potter everyone knew.

Ginny had moved so she was sitting next to him. Harry reached out to touch her face, observing her. Her cheeks were flushed and she was out of breath. The last rays of sunlight that darted into the room glimmered off of Ginny's hair. Harry felt he had never seen anyone more beautiful.

Unable to wait any longer, Harry brought his lips up to meet hers. Harry didn't know what it was that electrified him when they touched, he only knew it was good and he needed more.

Putting one hand behind her head he leaned her down and maneuvered so he was on top. The kiss deepened and grew passionate. Ginny ran her hands through his hair and removed his glasses, letting them fall onto the carpet. Harry didn't care, he didn't need them. They were so close he could've been blind and still known her beauty.

Harry's hands flew through her ginger locks, down her back, her waist, and her hips. Other unchaste places to put his hands crept into his mind.

At this thought, Harry jumped off her and scrambled off the bed. As he searched for his glasses he said, "I'm so bloody sorry Ginny."

"No," said Ginny breathlessly, getting onto her knees. "Don't be sorry. Just... don't stop." She grabbed his arm and pulled him close to her.

As he kissed down her neck Ginny giggled. "Did you do all this to Cho, or am I getting special treatment?"

Completely bewildered as to what had come over him, but not objecting it, he whispered into her ear, "I'll show you special treatment." Then he tackled her playfully onto the bed, causing her to laugh again.

"Now, Ginny," he said between kisses traveling from her forehead to the button on her blouse. "If you keep laughing I can't-"

"Ahem." A much older voice sounded at the doorway. Harry promptly fell off the bed. He landed next to his glasses and shoved them onto his face.

In the doorway, with the traces of a grin, was Albus Dumbledore.