Fancy That

A/N: I have just started working on my next longer story, which I hope will avoid some of the problems I had writing Charming Ginny (too much drawn out, repetitive plot and not nearly enough sexy stuff). I'm going slowly with that new fic (which is called Servant of Death), because I really want to get it right, and make sure that I work out the important details up front. In the meantime, I've discovered that I can't just be working on a single story at a time, so this little bit of fluff popped into my head, and it's a good distraction. I recognize that I invented scenarios that don't totally mesh with canon, and Ron in particular is kind of OOC, but I also think there are hints in the books that he wanted Harry and Ginny to get together earlier than they did. It's just for fun. Enjoy!

After weeks of arduously setting silencing charms around his bed at night, and avoiding certain conversations, and thanking Merlin that Ron was terrible at Legilimency, Harry couldn't believe he'd slipped like that.

The silence was almost deafening as he floundered desperately for something to say, some explanation that smoothed away the admission that had fallen thoughtlessly from his lips. The door to the Hospital Wing clattered shut; Ginny's departure was only seconds old, but the damage was already done.

Harry looked at Ron. His best friend's face was still pale against the pillows of the bed, but his eyes were alert and questioning. "What did you just say?"

"Ummm." He looked at Hermione, but she was no help whatsoever. Harry didn't know how much of the satisfied look on her face stemmed from Lavender's earlier rant or Harry's recent revelation, but her expression told him quite certainly that this was not a bind she was going to help him untangle.

What exactly had he said? They'd been talking, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, about love potions and Ron's luck that Harry'd found a bezoar, and Harry had thought the conversation had been flowing quite well. He and Ginny had taken the mickey out of Ron for his recent behaviors, and exchanged amused glances when it was obvious that Ron and Hermione were still trying hard to deny their feelings for each other. When she'd jumped up to leave for class, Harry had touched her arm as he said goodbye, and Ron had noticed. Too late, Harry realized that his laughing comment – what, don't tell me you fancy my sister – had been just that, a casual joke. Harry had been too busy watching Ginny leave to realize he'd answered out loud; that single yeah changed everything.

It was still quiet as Ron waited for Harry's answer.

After another half-second of trying to come up with some excuse, Harry gave it up.

"Yeah," he repeated. "I guess I . . . kind of fancy her. Ginny," he added unnecessarily.

Ron blew out a breath that was only half-masked by Hermione's satisfied, "I knew it!" For a second, Harry was off the hook as Ron turned to Hermione. "You knew?"

Hermione shrugged. "I strongly suspected," she allowed. She looked at Ron. "Harry and I have spent rather a lot of time together lately," she said pointedly.

Harry was amused to watch Ron squirm. His enjoyment was short-lived, however.

"Yeah, well, this isn't about me," Ron said quickly. "It's about Harry, and how he apparently has a thing for my sister." He looked at Harry. "For how long?"

"Ummm." Harry cursed that this seemed to be his best answer right now. He looked at the ceiling as he tried to figure out what to say and how much to admit. Granted, analyzing exactly when he realized his feelings for Ginny had become more than merely friendly was an activity that had occupied quite a bit of his time recently, but he didn't have to tell Ron that. Quickly, he reviewed recent events in his mind. This summer? Too early; even Harry wasn't really thinking about her over the summer. The Amortentia should have been a big clue, but Harry'd only realized that in the last month or so. He finally settled on what he suspected was the truth.

"It was that day, you know, when we saw her kissing Dean. Behind that tapestry." Unsaid was the fact that that same event had started the series of actions that catapulted Ron straight into Lavender's arms. Ron looked thoughtful for a moment, counting on his fingers.

". . . January, February . . . that was over four months ago! You've fancied my sister for that long?"

"Longer, actually." Hermione snorted under her breath. Fortunately, Ron seemed too immersed in the fact of four months to notice.

Harry shuffled awkwardly, waiting.

"So why haven't you told her?"

Of all the things Harry might have suspected Ron would say, that was not one of them. He jerked his head up. "What?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "I said, why haven't you told my sister that you fancy her?"

Harry thought that would have been obvious. He rolled his eyes back at Ron as he ticked the reasons off on his fingers.

"One, she's your sister and I thought you'd hex me, two, ever since she got over her crush she's treated me in a purely friendly way, and three, she's dating Dean." Belatedly, it occurred to Harry that the fact she was dating one of his roommates should probably have figured higher on his list of reasons not to tell Ginny how he felt. But Ron and Hermione were both shaking their heads.

"You're wrong there, mate," said Ron. He counted on his own hand. "One, if Ginny dates you, at least I can keep half an eye on her, and two, if she dates you, I don't have to worry about what she might be doing with Dean behind the tapestries."

"She and Dean have been fighting a lot lately anyway," supplied Hermione helpfully.

Harry threw up his hands. "Neither of which changes the fact that if I had red hair, she'd easily confuse me for another one of her brothers." He shook his head. "Forget I said anything."

Ron snorted. "Forget it? Not bloody likely." His eyes narrowed. "Hey, is this the reason you've been setting so many privacy charms around your bed at night?"

"No, that's because you talk in your sleep and I got tired of hearing you muttering about 'Lav-Lav,'" said Harry quickly. He gave Hermione an apologetic look, but she didn't seem particularly upset.

"Yeah well, that probably won't be a problem any more," Ron said. He leaned back against the pillows. "Go find that book I gave you for Christmas, I think you need it more than ever," he mumbled. He yawned. "Just try not to remind me that it's my sister you're working on charming." He closed his eyes and Harry got up to leave, feeling oddly as if he'd just escaped a lion's den. He turned to ask Hermione if she wanted to see if there was still lunch in the Great Hall, but she was watching Ron sleep, a small smile on her face. She looked as though she planned to stay there for a while and so Harry left quietly, thoughts swirling and the monster in his chest more alert than ever.

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Hermione was right; Ginny and Dean did seem to be fighting rather regularly these days. Harry lost count of the times Ron poked him in the side or Hermione gave him a knowing smile whenever the couple's rows in the common room got loud enough to be heard plainly by the other Gryffindors.

"Stop it," he finally hissed one evening, when Dean had gone stomping up to his room and Ron had suggested in a loud whisper that Harry go see how Ginny's fairing.

"She has her friends for that," he said testily, although he'd be lying if he said he hadn't envisioned once or twice what might be involved in comforting Ginny – maybe sitting together while she leaned against his shoulder and cried, while he held her hand and agreed Dean was an arse or something. But in truth, the Ginny that was sitting with her friends across the room looked far from needing a shoulder to cry on. She was laughing at something Jimmy Peakes was saying, and whispering in Demelza's ear, and seemed supremely unconcerned that she had just had a rather public fight with her boyfriend.

Ignoring his sudden urge to hex Jimmy Peakes, Harry got up from the sofa. "Better check on, uh, Dean," he said, walking quickly to the steps before Ron or Hermione could say anything.

In the sixth year boys' dorm, Dean was lying on his bed, hands behind his head, looking melancholy. Seamus was sitting in a chair nearby, and when Harry came in, he threw up his hands.

"Potter, will you tell Dean here that witches just aren't worth it?"

Harry feigned confusion. "Umm, what? Witches? What . . . witches?"

"All witches," said Seamus. "But in this case, one red-haired, fifth year, Quidditch-playing witch in particular. She just broke my mate's heart and I'm trying to tell him she's not worth it."

"You and Ginny broke up?" Harry forced himself to sound sympathetic to his roommate. It was rather difficult to pull off; the monster in his chest was dancing around, trying to get Harry to grin.

Dean nodded. "Just now," he said. "She said she 'likes me as a friend, but we both need to recognize that this relationship isn't going any farther.'" He sighed. "She thinks we don't really have a 'spark' between us, whatever that means."

"I'm sorry," managed Harry. He knew he shouldn't, but he had to ask. "So, she didn't say it was because she liked another bloke or anything like that?"

Dean shook his head. "Quite the opposite. She told me she wasn't really interested in dating right now, she wants to focus on her studies, and Quidditch."

Harry deflated. "Ahh, right," he muttered. He caught Seamus looking curiously at him and quickly straightened up. "That makes sense. OWLs year and all." He nodded. "She's very studious, Ginny is. Probably wants to try to beat how many Ron got. And the twins, although that won't be as difficult." Harry knew he was starting to babble, but he couldn't seem to stop. "And Quidditch, definitely. She's brilliant; I've watched her. As her captain, of course," he added hastily. "It makes sense that she'd want to focus on that. Instead of, you know, snogging and things." He flushed. Had he really just mentioned snogging and Ginny? Harry forced his mouth shut and waved vaguely in the direction of the door.

"I uhh, umm. . . loo," he said finally. At the door he turned back. "I'm really sorry, Dean."

Dean just nodded morosely. Seamus was still giving Harry an odd look, but he ignored it and practically ran out of the room, only to run into Ron on the landing outside the bathroom.

"Hey, Ginny and Dean broke up, did you hear?" Ron raised his eyebrows.

Harry nodded. "Just talked to Dean, he's pretty upset about it."

Ron waved off any thought of Dean's mental state. "Yeah, but that means you're free to tell Ginny how you feel. Hermione thinks it's a good idea too," he added casually.

Harry snorted. "Oh, so you and Hermione both think I need to be honest to Ginny about my feelings? I shouldn't keep them, I don't know, all bottled up inside?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Why are you so eager to get me and Ginny together anyway?" he asked. "You haven't been so thrilled about her dating at all up until now."

Ron shrugged. "It's not like Ginny'd stay away from blokes altogether just because I want her to," he said, showing a remarkable amount of reasonableness. "If someone has to date her, it might as well be you."

Harry snorted again. "Do me a favor and don't tell your sister that," he said. "If there's anything that would get Ginny to never see me as anything more than a friend, it's you telling her to date me."

Ron nodded seriously. "You're right. That does sound like Ginny." He punched Harry on the arm. "So it's up to you to tell her yourself then."

Harry groaned. "I'll think about it," he said finally, mostly to get Ron off his back. He had absolutely no intention of telling Ginny anything of the sort. The monster in his chest was just going to have to stay put for a while.

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Things were rather tense in their dorm over the next two days. Dean seemed to alternatively blame Ron for his sister's decision and then want to ask him dozens of questions about what might best win her back. Harry found it rather tiring – not to mention surprising – listening to Dean prattle on about the various things he wanted to know about Ginny. Hadn't they dated for over six months? How does he not know that her favorite dessert is her mum's strawberry shortcake? Or that she learned the Bat Bogey Hex from Bill when she was five? Or that she hates when people tug on her ponytail? Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from asking Dean exactly what he and Ginny had talked about all those months, particularly because he feared the answer might be that they were usually busier using their mouths for something other than talking.

He finally got up and walked out when Dean's mood turned testy again towards Ron because he didn't know how Ginny felt about receiving flowers. Wildflowers over roses Harry thought to himself as he walked downstairs to the common room. Ginny had mentioned it while arranging a bouquet on the table for Harry's birthday dinner. He didn't blame Ron for having no idea, but really, Dean had been Ginny's boyfriend; how was that something he didn't know?

He sighed, forcing his thoughts away from Ginny and wildflowers, and birthday dinners sitting next to Ginny, and just Ginny overall. It would not to keep thinking about her this way, no matter what Ron seemed to think. At the very least, Harry wanted to stay Ginny's friend, and he knew her well enough to understand that blurting out his feelings was not the way to do that. Apparently, not everyone shared that knowledge, and Harry tried – and failed - to hide his smile at Quidditch practice later that day when he heard Ginny tell Jimmy Peakes in a rather testy voice that no, she wasn't interested in a walk by the lake, didn't he realize she'd just broken up with her boyfriend?

Ginny looked at Harry unexpectedly, and he couldn't quite get his face resolved back into serious lines first. But instead of being annoyed that Harry had overheard her, or that he apparently thought her ire was amusing, she gave him a quick grin back before rolling her eyes in Jimmy's direction.

"Work him extra hard, will you?" she muttered to Harry as she walked by. He managed a quick "absolutely, the git" and was rewarded with another one of Ginny's smiles before she walked out of the changing room.

Harry worked the entire team hard that practice; it was the only way he could manage to keep his eyes from wandering too often over to Ginny. Harry had never noticed how sensual broom flight was, the way Ginny did it. She grasped the handle with both hands, using (Harry imagined) the exact right amount of pressure. When she leaned flat into a dive, her breasts (Harry again imagined) hovered tantalizingly on either side of the wooden shaft.

Aww, fuck.

Harry had been flying gentle circles around the other players, watching their formations and calling suggestions. Abruptly, he leaned forward on his Firebolt and shot into the air, calling out behind him.
"New idea, lets work on speed. First one to circle the lake gets to end practice early."

They all took off, chasing Harry and yelling good-natured insults and threats back and forth. His Firebolt was the fastest broom and that, plus his head start, meant that he landed back at the pitch several minutes before everyone else. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was watching the sky for a hint of red (and not Ron's red), and when he saw it streaking towards him, he let out a little sigh of something very close to anticipation.

Ginny touched down lightly next to Harry. Her eyes were sparkling and her hair had started to come out of its tie. Harry had to resist the sudden urge to tuck it behind her ear and instead gave her a grin and a high five.

"Good flying, Weasley," he said, forcing casualness. "Ron anywhere in sight?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "He flies like our Aunt Muriel sometimes," she said. "But thanks for thinking up something to get Peaks off my neck.

Harry didn't get a chance to try to come up with a smart reply. As though conjured by Ginny's words, Jimmy and Demelza flew in, neck and neck, landing in a tangled heap of limbs and brooms. The rest of the team was not far behind. The two players on the ground were laughing and teasing each other, and when Jimmy reached a hand out to help Demelza off the ground, Harry caught Ginny's eye and raised his eyebrows.

"Looks like you're off the hook," he muttered.

"Thank Merlin," she muttered back.

Harry looked at the team. "Okay, everyone but Ginny give me ten flights up and down the steps before practice is over." He shot a spell at the stands. "I'll know if you cheat, so don't, or next time it's twenty flights."

Everyone groaned. "And what are you going to be doing?" asked Richie Coote. He was notorious for hating to exercise.

Harry grinned. "It's cold out here. I'll be waiting in the changing rooms to give you my post-practice pep talk." He carefully avoided looking at Ron, but he could feel his gaze.

"Lucky you, Ginny," remarked Katie Bell. She rubbed her hands together. "I'm freezing." The Chaser grinned at Harry. "Not that I'm complaining," she said. "You still talk less than Oliver."

Harry grinned back, mentally thanking Katie for assuming Ginny would be waiting in the changing room with him. "Everyone talks less than Oliver," he said.

"I think Harry should talk . . . a little more," said Ron pointedly. Harry groaned to himself, hoping no one else wondered what Ron meant. He shoved his friend a little harder than necessary towards the edge of the pitch. "Shut it, Ron, or I'll tell Hermione not to help you review your Charms essay."

"Ehh, she won't listen to you," said Ron cheerfully. "She already promised to help me, anyway." He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head in the direction of his sister before turning away.

Harry sighed. Ron was going to be a problem one of these days, but since he was being so decent about Harry fancying Ginny in the first place, hexing his mouth shut was probably not the best idea.

He watched as everyone walked – with varying degrees of enthusiasm – over to the stands to begin running up and down the steps, before turning towards the changing rooms. Harry didn't say anything to Ginny, letting her decide to follow him, or not.

She followed him, and Harry gave a little mental cheer. As long as he kept his mind focused solely on Quidditch, his body would hopefully follow suit while they waited. Ginny's next words destroyed that plan.

"I'm going to take a quick shower down here while we're waiting," Ginny said. "I have a lot of studying to do later."

The monster in Harry's chest jumped up and looked around. Harry swallowed before answering. "Ahh, right. A shower. Good . . . good idea," he stammered. "I think I will, uhh, yeah. A shower. Take one, I mean." He turned quickly towards the boys' side of the changing room and loo, thinking about all the silencing charms he was going to have to set to make it through the shower without Ginny realizing what he was doing. Because there was no question about what he was going to be doing.

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As soon as Ginny and the others had left the changing room after his post-workout talk, Harry cornered Ron. He had come in after finishing running his steps with a suggestive smirk on his face, his voice sounding almost too innocent as he noted that both Harry and Ginny had wet hair and looked rather more fresh than the rest of the team. Ginny had given Ron a strange look before muttering "shut up, Ronald," and Harry feared that she'd somehow twigged her brother's innuendo. Harry wanted to be firm and threatening, telling Ron to lay off, but Ginny's expression was still on his mind. Instead, Harry found himself begging his best friend to stop making suggestive comments and to just let the idea of Harry and Ginny die a proper death.

"Not that there's anything to die anyway," Harry conceded. His recent wank in the shower had left him feeling less satisfied than normal; the fact that he'd likely never get any closer to Ginny than showering separately from her across a large room bringing on unusual melancholy.

Ron seemed to understand Harry's mood. He cuffed him lightly on the arm. "Of course, mate. You don't need to be reminded all the time anyway." His voice took on a rather knowing air. "Hermione thinks we need to stop talking about it too."

Harry sighed, too depressed to even point out – again – that Ron seemed to be agreeing with Hermione an awful lot these days. "I'm glad you listen to Hermione, at least," he said tiredly, waving Ron out ahead of him on the pretense of needing to organize the equipment. Maybe a walk on his own would clear his head and give him a chance to figure out how he was going to manage – both literally and emotionally – trying to avoid Ginny Weasley for a while.

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Harry's success lasted two entire days. He forced himself to study in the library, not the common room, and took circuitous routes to all his classes. At night, he stayed away from Gryffindor Tower as much as possible, running straight up to his room if Ginny happened to be there when Harry climbed through the portrait hole, giving her only a perfunctory nod as he walked by. It was stupid and immature and he hated himself for his behavior, not to mention the fact that it absolutely wasn't working anyway. He was thinking of Ginny as much as ever, and by the second day, he knew he wasn't imagining the confused look she'd begun giving him every time he rushed by with barely a glance. He didn't need Hermione's relationship advice or any book from Ron to know how much he was about to make a mess of things, and resolved the figure out a different way to keep his feelings hidden.

Determined to patch things up with Ginny as soon as possible, Harry left Hermione and Ron to their studying/flirting and walked back to the common room early the next evening. To his relief, Ginny was sitting alone at a table by the fire and Harry casually sat down on a nearby sofa after giving he a friendly smile and hello. Ginny gave him a tentative smile back, but she seemed distracted. A shout of laughter from across the room made her grimace, and Harry looked over just in time to see Dean throw a casual arm around a pretty fourth year called Lucia. She'd apparently just won a round of Exploding Snap they were playing against Seamus and another girl Harry didn't know, the four of them looking rather cozy in the corner of the room. Harry also didn't miss Dean glance triumphantly over to Ginny, but she had gone back to looking at the parchment in front of her, and only the tight set of her lips gave Harry a hint that she wasn't engrossed in her homework.

Another shout of laughter, and Harry wanted to stomp across the room and tell his roommate to keep it down. But he wasn't a prefect and it would have looked odd, not to mention that Ginny would not have appreciated his stepping in. She was biting the end of her quill as she seemingly reviewed her essay with deliberate care, stopping every once in a while to cross out a word. Harry still wasn't fooled and he fumbled around for something comforting to say, unfortunately coming up empty. Frustrated, he turned back to his review of the Half-Blood Prince's potions book, telling himself to take advantage of not having Hermione nearby to give it a good look.

"All right, Lucia, good one!" Another shout by Dean, another glance at Ginny. Harry saw her squeeze her quill and mutter something under her breath, but she didn't look up. Briefly, Harry considered telling her she didn't have to stay downstairs. It was now late enough that excuses of shower and bed would not be suspicious. But he knew, somehow, that Ginny would not be leaving until after Dean did.

It took another hour for the common room to empty out. Ron and Hermione came back just before curfew, in the middle of a row, it seemed. Both left for their respective rooms with barely a glance at Harry or Ginny, and for that Harry was relieved. Dean, Seamus, and the two fourth year girls were the last to depart. Ginny did not look up from her work, but Harry did, in time to see Dean lean in towards Lucia, and the girl give him a smile and pat on the arm before giggling and running upstairs.

Harry hid his smirk as Dean walked by. "See you upstairs Potter, night, Ginny," the other boy said casually.

"Mmmhmmm," mumbled Ginny. "See you, Dean."

When he was finally gone and the common room was completely quiet, Ginny sagged a bit in her seat and ran her hand tiredly over her eyes. She looked over at Harry, and didn't seem surprised that he'd stayed.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

Harry understood. "Of course," he said.

Ginny looked back at the stairs up to the girls' dorm and bit her lip. She looked swiftly at Harry.

"Did they, umm . . ." she begain.

"No," said Harry firmly. "Not at all." He smirked. "She actually patted him on the arm."

Ginny snorted then. "Did she really? Good for her." Her face grew more serious. "I don't know why I care," she said. "I actually don't care. I broke up with him, and for good reasons. He's a nice guy; it just wasn't going anywhere." She sighed. "But I didn't need to see all that."

"He was trying to make you jealous," said Harry. "He kept looking over at you." Briefly, he considered that he was probably cementing himself firmly as merely one of Ginny's friends, talking to her about her ex-boyfriend. But she looked more cheerful than she had all night, and Harry pushed away the feeling that he was probably ruining any chance he might have had for more. "Really, I've been listening to him question Ron about you all week; he's not interested in that fourth year."

Ginny snorted again. "As if my brother could give relationship advice."

Harry laughed. "I had to step in when he told Dean that maybe you'd like a box of coconut bonbons as a gift."

Ginny made a face. "I hate coconut," she said, shuddering.

Harry laughed. "I know, but Ron apparently didn't." He paused. "Neither did Dean."

Ginny didn't say anything for a long minute, and Harry thought he'd gone too far. But then she stretched and got up from the table and Harry sighed, assuming she was about to say goodnight. Instead, she plopped down at the other end of the sofa with a contented sound. "Much better, my back was getting sore." She looked at Harry. "What else does my brother think he knows about me?" she asked.

From Ron and Dean, and then Ron and Hermione, Harry and Ginny's conversation moved to Quidditch, and Owls, and Harry's best memories of the Burrow, coupled with his worst of Privet Drive. Ginny had never heard that Harry used to sleep in a cupboard, and she was properly horrified at his treatment by his aunt and uncle. By the time their talk turned to their memories of the Chamber, and the Department of Mysteries, and Harry had told Ginny everything that had happened in the graveyard the night Voldemort returned, it was very late indeed.

They had scooted closer to each other on the sofa while they talked, and now Harry was drowsing sleepily against the cushions, his face only inches from Ginny's. "Thank Merlin I don't have Dada tomorrow," he said through a yawn. "There's no way I'd be able to survive Snape."

Ginny nodded. "I guess we'd better go to bed," she said, but made no move to get up.

Harry was just considering how a bad an idea it might be to sleep right there on the common room sofa when Ginny straightened up a bit and looked at him. "Can I ask you a question first? Before we go to bed?" Her voice had an odd timbre in it and Harry suddenly felt more awake. He sat up too.

"Sure, anything," he said warily.

Ginny looked down and played with her fingers. "I just was wondering," she said, "why you were avoiding me this week." She looked up. "You were avoiding me, right?"

Harry didn't even try to lie. "I was, yeah," he admitted. "I'm so sorry, Ginny. I was being an arse. It was all me; you didn't do anything wrong."

Ginny frowned. "But it had to do with me," she said. It wasn't a question.

Harry took a deep breath. "It did," he said. "I was . . . misguided," he finally said. "About how I should be treating you. Because . . .uhhh . . ." he stopped, flushing. There was no way he could say it to her.

But Ginny persisted. "Because why?" she asked quietly.

Harry didn't answer. He counted to ten, watched the last bit of log sink lower into the fireplace grate and send up sparks, swallowed hard. Finally he nodded to himself. He looked firmly down at his hands as he answered.

"Because I . . . I fancy you, Ginny. More than fancy, I think. I have for a while."

Ginny didn't say anything.

Harry closed his eyes and leaned back against the sofa. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know it's not what you need to hear right now, and you just got out of a relationship and aren't looking for anything else." He winced, feeling Ginny's eyes on him. "I probably should have just kept my mouth shut." He sighed. "But Ron accidentally found out and I don't think it's fair for him to know and not you. He's driving me kind of crazy about it, actually, and Hermione's not much better. It's just that I . . ."

Harry stopped when he felt the light touch of Ginny's hand on his. "It's okay, Harry," she said.

Carefully, he opened his eyes. Ginny's expression was thoughtful. As he watched, Harry even thought he saw a small smile play around her lips, but it was gone so quickly he might've imagined it.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I don't want to make things uncomfortable between us." He sagged. "I probably just made things uncomfortable between us," he said glumly.

Ginny squeezed his hand. "Harry, it's the middle of the night and we've been talking for more than four hours. I'm pretty sure we know each other well enough to be able to get past you confessing that you fancy me." Ginny suddenly looked unaccountably shy. "That is, assuming you want to get past it."

The monster in Harry's chest sat up with interest. Harry considered Ginny's words, not quite sure she meant what he hoped. "And, what if I don't want to get past it?" he asked carefully.

He watched as Ginny twisted her hands in her lap and took a deep breath of her own. "I finally gave up on my silly crush on you last year," she said quietly. "And I think that's why we've been able to become friends."

Harry nodded. "Hermione told me," he said. He waited.

"And that worked, for a while," Ginny went on. "I liked being friends with you." She looked up at him and Harry nodded swiftly. "I liked being friends with you too," he said. "I still like it."

"Me too," agreed Ginny. "Except, the better friends we became . . ." she stopped, and Harry could see a slight blush creeping across her cheeks.

He took a chance and reached out, gently lifting Ginny's chin so he could look her in the eye. She stared back, and didn't move her head away.

"I fancy you too," she whispered. "Or more."

Harry was pretty sure he stopped breathing. "You do? You . . . you fancy me too?" He wondered if he'd already fallen asleep, and this was a dream, and the noises he was making were waking up Ron right now and he was about to be hexed. But Ginny shuffled closer and leaned her head on Harry's shoulder and suddenly it felt like the most natural thing in the world for Harry to take the hand that was on her chin and run it down the side of her face. She turned a little more, and then they were almost facing each other and their faces were so close together that Harry barely had to move for his lips to meet hers.

He half expected her to pull away. Harry had just spent two days avoiding Ginny specifically because he thought he'd bollocks up their friendship if she ever found out he fancied her, and now here they were, kissing in the Gryffindor common room as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He finally knew it wasn't a dream when he felt her lips part, just slightly, against his, and Harry gave a swift, incongruous thought of thanks to Dean that Ginny felt comfortable enough to take the lead. Harry wasn't sure he'd have had the courage to go first.

They kissed, gently and curiously, stopping every so often to stare at each other in amazement, or even to chuckle at the incongruity of it all, until Ginny gave an enormous yawn and Harry matched it a second later. The shared a laugh, and Harry touched Ginny's cheek before they slowly climbed off the sofa and he helped her gather her homework into a neat pile.

"Can we . . . not tell anyone yet?" Harry asked. "I don't quite feel like we need to start explaining things to everyone. Do you mind?" He held his breath, wondering if he was already making a mistake.

But Ginny nodded firmly. "I agree," she said. "Can you just imagine my brother and Hermione?"

"And Dean," added Harry. "I already set enough wards around my bed at night. Don't need to start protecting myself from my roommates too."

"Why do you set wards?" asked Ginny curiously.

"Because Ron talks in his sleep," said Harry quickly, relieved he had that excuse at the ready. Now more than ever, it wouldn't do to tell Ginny to truth, to have her find out that he was just another randy bloke. He wasn't, was he? This was different, he was sure of it.

"We're different, aren't we?" The words slipped out before he could properly think.

Ginny looked surprised for a minute, and then her face relaxed into a pleased smile. "We are," she said.

Harry kissed her again by the stairs up to the girls' dormitory. He rested his forehead against hers and played with her hair, not yet willing to let her go.

"I guess I won't be able to kiss you here anymore," he said ruefully. "If we want to keep things a secret."

"Only at 3 in the morning," agreed Ginny. She reached up and gave him a lingering last kiss. "Sleep well, Harry."

"You too," he said. "And let's hope neither of us get called on in class tomorrow."

Harry tripped up the stairs in a daze of exhilaration and exhaustion. The giddiness was paramount; he didn't want to brush his teeth and lose the taste of Ginny on his tongue, or change out of his robes and lose the smell of her on his clothes. Only the knowledge that he was going to be able to recreate those senses tomorrow – today – propelled him into the loo for a quick wash and change. Tired as he was, he hoped the morning came quickly.