A Normal Girl Can Dream

"Ibble-obble-chocolate-bobble-ibble-obble-out," A ten-year-old Ginny Weasley said, her finger darting between a bag of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans and a pile of Chocolate Frogs.

"What are you doing, Ginny-dear?" Mrs Weasley asked, passing through the living room with a pile of washing teetering up to the region above her red head.

Ginny held up her free hand signalling her mother to be quite while she finished. "Turn the-dirty-dish-cloth-in-side-out."

"Ginny..."

"Mummy-says-it's-dir-ty..."

"Ginny..."

"Daddy-says-it's-..."

"Ginevra Weasley!" Mrs Weasley snapped.

Ginny looked up and scowled at her mother. "You made me forget it!" she whined.

"I don't care," Mrs Weasley replied. "Now help me please. Pick up that sock I've dropped."

Ginny got to her feet. "Ew!" she squealed. "It's Ron's! I'm not touching that!"

"Don't be silly. Pick it up and bring it into the kitchen for me. There's a dear."

Ginny pulled her sleeves over her hands to protect them from dreaded Ron disease and bent down to pick up the offending foot garment, following her mother obediently.

"Mum..." Ginny asked in that I-want-something-but-I-know-you're-going-to-say-no voice.

"What, Ginny?" Molly sighed, placing the pile of clothes into the sink.

"Mum..."

"I'm listening," she said and she pointed her wand at the sink rather violently, making water splash all over the floor.

"Mum..."

"Just spit it out Ginny. What do you want?" she said, turning around.

Ginny looked at the floor and twirled her foot into the stone tiles. "Mum... You know... You know Harry Potter?" She blushed violently when she said this.

Molly rolled her eyes. Her youngest and only daughter's obsession with Harry Potter had meant he had come up in conversation everyday since Ron had left for Hogwarts. "Yes Ginny-dear, I know Harry Potter."

"Well, do you think he knows what Every Flavour Beans are?"

"I'm sure he does. The way Ron eats the things he must do," Molly said as she returned to her washing.

"So, is Harry Potter Ron's best friend?"

"Yes. Well, from what I can gather from his infrequent letters to me. And a girl called Hermione Granger."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "I don't like girls."

Molly laughed. "And why is that?"

"They're no fun," Ginny said breezily. "They don't climb trees."

"Some girls do," Molly said.

"Yeah, and girls who climb trees keep spiders as pets as well, I don't like spiders."

"Just like Ron," Molly said, shaking her head fondly. "You haven't met this Hermione Granger yet, you might like her."

"No I won't. I'll hate her."

"Ginny!" Mrs Weasley snapped. "That's not very nice. And you'll find out soon enough. I'm sure Ron will be having his friends over at some point during the summer."

Ginny's eyes grew dramatically. "Harry Potter. Here. In our house?"

Molly smiled. "Yes, that won't be a problem will it?"

Ginny was speechless.

Molly ruffled her daughter's vibrant hair and went to the back door. "Of course, if you don't want him here, I can always..."

"No!" Ginny yelped. "He can come!"

Molly's smiled widened affectionately.

"Mum?"

"Yes, Ginny-dear?"

"Can I come with you to pick up Ron, Fred, George and Percy this year?"

"Why?"

"I want to see Harry Potter again." Ginny said blushing slightly.

Molly shook her head fondly. "You don't have to call him 'Harry Potter' all the time. I'm sure he wouldn't mind just plain Harry once in a while."

Ginny smiled, nodded and rushed up to her room where she pulled the pad out from under her bed. She flipped it to a page in the middle where she'd been sketching for months. She'd put the finshing touches to it the previous night.

It was her and Harry Potter stood side by side. Harry Potter had his arm over her shoulder. As if they were friends and he was looking down at her adoringly, as if they were lovers. Ginny had put their names above the couple. She pulled out her quill and dipped it in a pot of red ink. She moved it steadily over to her pad, her tongue between her teeth in concentration. She lowered the quill slowly until it met the paper. She drew one swift line. A horizontal stain through a word. She tilted her head to one side.

One name, just like her. Without his second name he was different. He wasn't famous, he was a boy. Just like all Ginny's brothers. A normal boy, with dark messy hair, startlingly green eyes and a lightning bolt scar across his forehead. A normal boy in love with a normal girl. Well... a normal girl could dream, couldn't she?