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Soft, crackling flames danced in the fireplace, lighting up the empty room with a warm glow. Everything else was dark, the last of the students having gone up to bed long ago. The chilly Scotland nights were enough incentive to go to sleep protected by thick blankets. Outside, the winds raged war against the silence of the night, howling beyond the closed windows of Gryffindor Tower.

Insomnia, Harry Potter decided as he descended the stairs from the boys' dormitories into the common room, was quite annoying.

Plopping down on a well-worn couch in front of the fireplace, Harry yawned, staring into the flickering flames. Blue clashed with gold, a dizzying yet relaxing combination atop the burning wood. Such tranquility was a rare find for Harry, especially ever since Voldemort had returned and the Ministry decided they needed a scapegoat instead of a hero.

Light footsteps resonated from behind him in the peaceful silence. Harry turned, irritation at the interruption building, until he realized who it was.

"Hi, Harry," greeted Ginny Weasley quietly. An undercurrent of exhaustion echoed in her words. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Nightmares," Harry confirmed, stifling another yawn and gesturing for her to join him on the couch. "You?"

"Same." Ginny curled up next to him, her knees tucked under her body. "I've never had to deal with war," she added, sounding almost wistful. "I was born on the tail end of the last one."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised. "I didn't know that. When's your birthday?"

"August eleventh," Ginny answered, toying with a bracelet on her wrist.

"I never saw you having a birthday party," Harry said, feeling rather lost. How could he miss that her birthday was in August when he was at the Burrow every year around that time?

Ginny offered him a small smile. "I'm not much for big parties. I usually go over to Luna's house and have a sleepover."

"Oh," said Harry for lack of anything better to say. "Did you cut your hair?" he asked, noticing the lack of her waist-length hair for the first time.

"Yeah," Ginny combed a hand through her shoulder-length, layered locks. "You just realized? Mum cut it a few days before school. She insisted it was getting too long."

Harry leaned back into the couch, taken aback at how much he didn't know his best friend's little sister. "Do you like it?" he asked, somewhat awkwardly.

Ginny giggled. "Well, I didn't, until everyone began telling me how cute I looked. To be honest, I still think Mum paid everyone to say that so I would like it."

Harry laughed. "No, you do look cute," he told her sincerely. "And it's a lot better than the time Aunt Petunia tried giving me a haircut. She practically chopped it all off until I was bald!"

Ginny's fit of giggles turned into a full-fledged laugh. "Really? When was this?"

"I was around seven, I think," answered Harry, running a hand through his hair just to remind himself that it was still there. "It wasn't nearly this amusing to me, of course. Thank goodness my magic made it grow back before school the next day. It would have been so embarrassing to go to school looking like that."

Ginny smiled. "Well, at least you don't have to worry about having bad hair days. Nobody gives you a second glance if your hair's messy."

"Within good reason," Harry said, returning her smile. "It's always this messy, after all."

There was a moment of comfortable silence before Ginny spoke. "You know, if you had told me five years ago that I would be sitting here with the Boy-Who-Lived talking about bad hair days, I would have sent them to St. Mungo's to be checked for insanity."

"Yeah, you're living a fangirl's dream," Harry remarked, then paused. "Er—you are over that crush on me, right? Because it would be pretty awkward if you weren't."

Ginny laughed. "No, Harry, I'm still hopelessly in love with you and waiting for your hormones to kick in so we can gallop off into the sunset on your white horse and live happily ever after," she teased. "Now there's a fangirl's dream come true."

Harry grinned. "No kidding," he agreed, feeling, for the first time, completely relaxed in her presence. She was fun to talk to in a way neither Ron nor Hermione were, and a much-needed distraction from Umbridge, the war, and life in general.

"Think you can go to sleep without nightmares, now?" Ginny asked, absently braiding a strand of her hair as she gazed into the dying flames.

Harry glanced over at her and smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I can."

Quiet footsteps crunching through scattered leaves informed him of the presence of somebody walking up behind him. The sound was too light to be Ron or Hermione, but too heavy to be Luna, and he had just spoken to Neville, so there was really only one other student it could have been.

"Hi, Harry," Ginny greeted, her voice soft as she dropped to the ground next to him. She didn't say anything more, and he couldn't have felt more grateful that she didn't ask any version of 'Are you okay?'

"Hey," he returned, just as quietly. "Did someone send you out here to talk to me?" He wouldn't put it past Hermione or Mrs. Weasley to check up on him using an intermediary.

"No," she told him, bracing herself on the palms of her hands and tilting her head up to the sky. "You looked like you could use some company."

Harry wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so he let the silence—halfway between awkward and comfortable—linger in the air until he couldn't bear it any longer. "Ginny, you don't have to…waste a perfectly good afternoon you could spend with your friends sitting here with me."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Is that your way of telling me to bugger off?"

"No!" Harry denied. "Well, maybe," he admitted, looking away from her perceptive gaze. "I just—I'd like to be alone."

Ginny tilted her head, studying him for a moment before speaking. "No. You'd like to be with Sirius."

Her tone of voice was matter-of-fact, but the words sparked some residual resentment inside him.

"Of course I want to be with Sirius!" he snapped, jumping to his feet. "He's my godfather!"

"And he's dead." Ginny rose to her feet and stepped closer, brushing off her uniform. "And this isn't the right way to deal with it, Harry."

"Don't tell me how to 'deal with it'," Harry snarled. "I'll deal how I want to." And what right did she have, telling him that he wasn't dealing correctly?

"I'm not telling you how to deal with it," Ginny replied, her voice still quiet even in the face of his anger. "I'm telling you not to deal by cutting yourself off from everyone. There's a difference."

Harry switched tracks, partly to avoid admitting she was right. "How would you know how to deal, anyway? You've never lost someone to Voldemort!"

"I haven't? Really? Wasn't it my father bitten by his man-eating snake? Isn't it my brother always going on those reckless suicide missions with you? Wasn't it me who was possessed by Riddle? This is the first time you've actually had to deal with losing someone close to you, Harry. I've been dealing since I was ten." Ginny's fists were clenched but that was the only sign of her annoyance. Harry had to admire her self-restraint.

"But—but they haven't died," said Harry, wishing he didn't feel and sound like a confused little boy.

Ginny looked like she almost wanted to laugh. "Do you think that matters when they're lying in a hospital bed, pale and weak and this close to death, Harry? You've been through a lot, Harry, I'm not denying that. You absolutely deserve to grieve. But other people have suffered too. How do you think Ron and Hermione feel? They love you, and they can't stand to see you like this."

All his anger, all his grief seemed to deflate as he listened to her words. She was right, he knew, more right than he wanted to admit. He was being selfish, retreating into himself under the assumption that nobody would understand how he felt instead of leaning on his friends for support.

"Maybe we haven't lost someone who would risk his soul for us, Harry," Ginny said quietly, catching and holding his gaze with her own. "But we can still help you, if you'd just let us."

Her hand rested on his arm, warm and steady, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to collapse in her arms and cry for the loss of his godfather.

Harry couldn't recall a time when the hallways of the Burrow had been quieter than now. Everything was almost perfectly still, even the photographs. Everyone was outside in the backyard, enjoying friendly games of Quidditch and Mrs. Weasley's top-notch cooking. He was only up here to grab a jacket (Mrs. Weasley insisted) before he could play Quidditch.

The sound of pages rustling and a quill scratching made him pause in front of an ajar door he had never before entered. By process of deduction, he realized this must be Ginny's bedroom, although why she was up here when there was Quidditch to be played and sandwiches to be eaten was beyond him.

He knocked twice and waited patiently until she opened the door, looking rather stressed. Her hair was swept up in a messy ponytail, some fire-bright strands falling in her face, and he could see the exhaustion in her brown eyes.

"Hi, Harry," Ginny said, stopping him from examining her further. "What are you doing up here?"

"I was wondering the same thing about you, actually," Harry told her, concerned at her appearance. "Why do you look so…?"

"Awful?" Ginny suggested, half-smiling.

"I was going to say tired," Harry retorted, grinning. "Seriously, though, what's the matter?"

"Studying," Ginny sighed, rubbing her eyes. "OWL preparations and all that."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember getting so much homework I could barely sleep."

"You don't take Ancient Runes, do you?" Ginny asked, smiling somewhat wryly at him. "Ask Hermione about it sometime. Professor Babbling thinks that if we don't get homework every day, she's doing her job wrong. She's almost worse than Snape."

Harry attempted to hide a snicker. "Professor Babbling?" he asked in disbelief.

Ginny grinned. "That's what I said when Percy told me," she said. "But yes, that's her real name."

"So, you're stuck up here doing homework all summer?" Harry asked once he had finished laughing with her.

"Pretty much," Ginny sighed, pulling her ponytail loose and running a hand through her short hair. "But the others are probably waiting for you to join the Quidditch game; you should go back down."

Harry glanced at the window behind her, weighed his options, and decided that Ron was simply going to have to persuade Hermione to play. "I should," he agreed, smiling at her. "But if you want my company, I wouldn't mind staying up here and helping you study."

The smile lighting up her face was worth every bit of the complaining he endured later from Ron.

Peppermint Café, Harry was happy to discover, was rather like heaven on Earth for someone with a life like his. Quiet, cheerful, and practically bursting with happiness—it was heaven if heaven had pretty waitresses and laughing teenagers and bubbling lava lamps and Ginny Weasley sitting in a booth drinking something green and fizzy through a twisty straw.

"Hey," Harry greeted when he reached her booth nestled in one corner of the cozy café. "Is this seat taken?"

Ginny swallowed her drink and smiled. "No, of course not," she said, gesturing for him to take the seat opposite her. "Hi, Harry," she added, somewhat belatedy.

Harry grinned. "Hey," he said, sliding into the booth. "Your mother sent me to get you—it's your turn to degnome the garden."

Ginny groaned. "Terrific," she mumbled, none too enthusiastically. "Do you want to buy something before you drag me to my doom?"

He had to laugh. "Never thought you were one for melodrama, Gin," he teased. "Sure, what's good here?"

Ginny held up her half-empty glass. "Peppermint lemonade," she told him, eyes bright. "It's the best liquid concoction known to man."

"Is it, really?" Harry grinned at her. "All right. So, where's the waitress?"

As if on cue, a pretty blond girl about their age popped up at their table. "Hello!" she greeted with extreme enthusiasm. "How may I help you?"

Harry didn't miss the way she gave him a once-over and then a flirtatious smile, or the annoyed look Ginny sent her when she thought he wasn't looking. Stifling a smile, he said, "One peppermint lemonade, same as her, please."

The waitress, whose name tag indicated that her name was Addie, shot Ginny a disdainful look before plastering a smile on her face. "Of course. Anything else, Mr…?"

"Harry," he said. "Harry Potter. And no, I'm good, thanks." Fumbling in his pocket for a moment, Harry produced a few dust-gathering pounds Hermione had loaned him a while ago and placed them on the table.

Addie fluffed her hair—it was black and curly and overly-gelled, and Harry was surprised when he realized that he much preferred Ginny's straight red locks—and flashed him a bright smile. "All right. I'll be right back with your order," she chirped, collecting the money and sauntering off.

"Um," Harry began intelligently, looking over at Ginny with a bemused smile.

She sighed. "Oh, go ahead. Rave about how hot she is. I'll listen patiently, I promise. You can ask Ron for some new adjectives, if you run out."

Harry deduced that Ron had been here with Ginny and met Addie before, then rolled his eyes. "I don't think she's cute, Gin."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"You seem pleased," Harry noted, trying not to smirk.

Ginny looked away, but not before he noticed the blush on her cheeks. "I couldn't care less, Harry."

"Mm, sure," Harry grinned, dodged her smack, and straightened with an appropriately contrite expression on her face. "So, do you come here often?"

"Every chance I get," Ginny answered. Harry opened his mouth to question her further, but Addie returned then, with a glass of peppermint lemonade in her hands and a scarily cheerful smile on her face.

"I hope you enjoy it," she said brightly, positioning herself so she was blocking Ginny. Harry tried not to look amused. "You should come here more often."

He shot Ginny a sidelong glance, but he couldn't see her properly from behind Addie. "Um, I should?"

Addie nodded, making her dark curls bounce wildly. "Of course! Peppermint Café is an awesome place, and…well, we don't normally get blokes as cute as you around here."

She giggled, a high-pitched sound that made him wince. "Oh…thank you," he said awkwardly, wondering if Ginny was laughing or glaring at him and then wondering why he cared. "But I don't live here. I'm just visiting her family."

He nodded at Ginny and Addie whirled as if she had forgotten the other girl was there at all. Ginny was sitting with her arms folded across her chest, her face carefully blank, but Harry could tell Addie was irritating her, whether on purpose or not.

"Oh," Addie said the word like one would say snogging Filch or Snape's underpants. "Her."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Yes, me. Got a problem with that, Maybell?"

"No," Addie dragged the word out, wrinkling her nose. "Well, anyway, enjoy," she muttered, then stalked off.

Harry kept his face straight for all of two seconds before bursting into laughter.

A week before school started, Harry found himself in the local park down in the village, wandering aimlessly around after having given excuses to Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley. He wasn't brooding, despite what Hermione insisted. He just need some peace and quiet and time to think. Watching the adorable little children play on the swingset and the jungle gym was oddly relaxing. He found a spot underneath a shady olive tree and sat down, reveling in the fresh breezes and tranquil atmosphere.

"I thought I'd find you here," said a familiar voice from behind him about an hour into his time alone, making him jump and spin around, grasping for his wand. It was only Ginny, though, and she was leaning against the olive tree, an amused smile on her face as she watched him fumble.

"You know, if I had been a Death Eater, you wouldn't stand a chance, Potter," she said casually, sauntering forward and plopping gracelessly down on the grass next to him.

Harry felt himself blushing, and decided now would not be the best time to dwell on how cute she looked in her candy-blue hoodie and denim skirt. "How'd you know where I was?" he asked instead, settling down next to her.

Ginny shrugged, absently plucking some strands of grass and twining them into a bracelet. "It just seemed like the kind of place you'd go for some…brooding, and whatnot."

"I am not—" Harry began defensively, before noticing the mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "Ha-ha," he muttered, slumping against the tree.

Ginny seemed to be trying very hard not to laugh. "You make it too easy, Harry," she chided, grinning. "So, if you're not brooding, what are you doing?"

"Just relaxing," he answered, propping both palms on the grass behind him. "It's peaceful out here. More so than any house with both Ron and Hermione in it, at any rate."

That surprised a giggle out of her. "Yeah, no kidding," Ginny agreed. "D'you reckon we could get away with just stuffing them in a broom closet until they start snogging?"

"Maybe at Hogwarts, away from your mother's eyes," Harry grinned. "After all, Hermione won't want to miss any classes because she's trapped in a broom closet, will she? It'll be much quicker then."

Ginny laughed. "True. You know, I never got why Hogwarts students prefer broom closets to snog in. I mean, surely there are more romantic places to kiss your boyfriend—or girlfriend—in, right? The castle's huge!"

Harry sent her a sidelong look. "Yeah? Where do you like to kiss your boyfriend, Ginny?" he asked teasingly.

Ginny blushed. "That's none of your business," she muttered. "I don't even have a boyfriend."

"Really?" Harry sat up straight. "What about Dean?"

"He…" Ginny hesitated. "Well, he asked me out on a date, but I don't know if it was casual or not. I guess I'll find out when school starts."

Something was squirming around in his stomach, and it wasn't the usual butterflies that popped up when he was near her. The thought of Ginny with a boyfriend made him feel inordinately annoyed. "Guess so," Harry said neutrally and leaned back on his hands again.

Ginny seemed eager to divert the attention. "And what about you, Mr. Chosen One? You must have hordes of fangirls lining up for a date."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You've been reading too much Prophet," he accused her. "I haven't a girl interested in me since Cho."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "Wanna bet? I can name at least a dozen different girls who'd give an arm and both legs to date you—and that's just in my year. There's no telling how many of your own classmates you've charmed."

"You're lying," he said, more uncertain than he sounded. "I don't—I mean, I'm not charming or anything."

"Well, you're definitely not charming when you're saying stuff like that," Ginny agreed, rolling her eyes. "Fact is, Harry, girls do want to date you. You're the golden boy of the press right now. Why wouldn't they want to date you?"

"If they like me just because I'm 'the golden boy of the press', then I don't really want to date them," Harry said firmly, running a hand through his hair and messing it up even more. "I'd rather date someone real, you know, someone who doesn't just want Harry Potter, the Chosen One on her arm."

He sounded bitter, he knew, but he really wasn't. Truth be told, he didn't have much time for dating these days, not with the war and Dumbledore's promised lessons and everything else going on. Not to mention, the only girl he might possibly have feelings for wasn't exactly available at the moment.

Ginny touched his arm, sending something that wasn't quite electricity but which was pretty darn close through his body. "You'll find a girl like that, Harry. If anyone deserves a happily ever after, you do."

His head knocked against the trunk of the olive tree. "We don't always get what we deserve," he reminded her, definitely not thinking about the way the sunlight made her hair flash gold or the sparkle in her warm, brown eyes or the beautiful smile playing on her face.

She looked like she didn't know how to respond at first, but eventually settled for humor. "No kidding. Like, I'm reasonably certain nobody except Voldemort deserves to listen to Ron and Hermione bickering like a couple just past the honeymoon stage."

Harry looked at her quizzically, glad she had lessened the weight in his stomach. "Isn't it 'like an old, married couple?" he asked.

"Well, yeah, but I always liked my version better. The old, married couple one makes it sound like they need a divorce, when they actually need to admit that they're crazy in love with each other."

He snickered. "I like your logic. It's very uplifting, especially for a brooding, dashing hero like me."

"Thanks." Ginny smiled at him, making a storm of butterflies appear in his stomach. "Glad I could help."

She rose to her feet after a moment of comfortable silence. "You feel like going home yet? I kinda promised Mum I'd clean out the attic for her today, and a little help would be greatly appreciated."

Harry grinned. "I knew you had an ulterior motive," he teased. "I'll come home in a few more minutes. I still need to brood in private, y'know."

Ginny laughed. "I always have an ulterior motive, Potter. You should know that by now. And I guess I'll be in the attic when you finish brooding." She made a face. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need it," he said matter-of-factly. "If you can take on Death Eaters, I'm sure you can tackle a messy attic."

She flashed him a flattered smile. "Thanks. I'll see you later." Before he could react, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his cheek in a light kiss. "Don't brood too long, all right?"

Harry lifted a hand and touched the spot she had kissed, smiling at her. "All right," he murmured, watching her turn and walk back towards the Burrow with one last wave. "See you later."

His hand didn't come down from his cheek for quite a long time.

Author's Notes: Would you believe me if I told you I've been working on this since early fall last year? It started out rather different, but I like where it ended up. I was planning to write some more, but I think this is a good a place as any to end it. What do you guys think? Did I get the characters right (or mostly right, or even partly right)? Tell me what you think; click that pretty green button down below and type away! Thanks!