Chapter 2Notes:
I've edited the first chapter a bit to fit with where I want the story to go. So if you read it when I first published it, don't be confused by some slight differences.
Chapter Text
Harry woke to sunlight streaming through Ron's bedroom window and the distant sound of Mrs. Weasley clattering around the kitchen below. For a moment, he lay still, savoring the lingering warmth from his dreams. Not nightmares this time – dreams where he commanded attention effortlessly, where people hung on his words with genuine interest rather than morbid curiosity about his scar.
Ron was still snoring across the room, one arm dangling off his narrow bed. Harry stretched, feeling unusually rested, and caught his reflection in Ron's cracked mirror. Something had changed, though he couldn't put his finger on what. His eyes seemed sharper, more alert. More confident.
The red comet was still visible through the window, even in the morning light, pulsing gently against the pale sky.
"Ron! Harry! Breakfast!" Mrs. Weasley's voice carried up the stairs.
Ron snorted awake, his hair sticking up at impossible angles. "What time is it?"
"Time to eat," Harry said, already pulling on his clothes. He found himself looking forward to joining the family downstairs in a way that felt different from previous summers.
The kitchen was its usual morning chaos when they arrived. Mr. Weasley sat hunched over the Daily Prophet, muttering about Ministry incompetence while Mrs. Weasley juggled six different pans. Ginny was already at the table, still in her nightgown with her red hair loose around her shoulders.
When she looked up at Harry, her smile was warm and knowing. "Sleep well?"
"Better than I have in months," Harry admitted, settling into the chair across from her. He couldn't help noticing how the morning light caught the copper highlights in her hair, or how her nightgown had slipped slightly off one shoulder.
"Good," she said softly. "You looked peaceful."
The simple intimacy of the observation made Harry's pulse quicken. Had she checked on him during the night?
Hermione appeared in the doorway, already dressed and carrying a thick book. "Morning, everyone. Any word on OWL results yet?"
"Should be any day now," Mrs. Weasley said, sliding a plate of eggs in front of Harry. "Though I'm trying not to think about it. The waiting is killing me."
As they ate, Harry found conversation flowing more naturally than usual. When Mr. Weasley mentioned his latest Muggle artifact, a rubber duck that apparently sang when squeezed – Harry had them all laughing with his impression of Uncle Vernon's reaction to Vernon's brief encounter with a whoopee cushion.
"You're different," Ginny observed, eyes sparkling with amusement. "More... I don't know. Relaxed, I suppose."
"Maybe I'm finally where I want to be," Harry replied, holding her gaze a moment longer than necessary.
The slight flush that crept up Ginny's neck was reward enough.
"Right then," Ron said, completely oblivious to the undercurrent between his best friend and sister. "What's the plan for today?"
"Garden work," Mrs. Weasley announced. "Those gnomes won't de-gnome themselves, and the vegetable patch needs weeding."
An hour later, Harry found himself working alongside Ginny in the herb garden while Ron and Hermione tackled the gnomes with considerably more enthusiasm than skill. The sun was warm on his back, and he was acutely aware of Ginny kneeling beside him, her bare legs emerging from beneath her summer dress as she reached for weeds.
"You know," she said quietly, not looking at him, "I used to dream about moments like this. Just... normal things. Working in the garden, talking without everyone watching."
"Everyone watching you, you mean?" Harry asked, understanding immediately.
"Everyone watching us," she corrected, finally meeting his eyes. "I know people talk. About whether I'm just some silly girl with a crush, or if you're just being kind to Ron's little sister."
Harry sat back on his heels, studying her face. "What do you think?"
"I think," she said, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "that the way you're looking at me right now has nothing to do with Ron."
The air between them seemed to crackle. Harry was suddenly very aware of the freckles scattered across her nose, the way her lips parted slightly as she breathed, the pulse visible at the base of her throat.
"Ginny..."
"BLOODY HELL!" Ron's voice shattered the moment as a particularly large gnome got the better of him. "These things have claws!"
Hermione's laughter rang across the garden. "Language, Ronald! And you're supposed to grab them by the feet!"
Ginny grinned at Harry, the intimate moment broken but not forgotten. "Come on," she said, standing and brushing dirt from her dress. "We'd better help before he gets himself gnome-bitten."
But as she walked past him, her hand brushed his shoulder in a way that sent heat racing through his veins.
The rest of the morning passed in comfortable domesticity, but Harry found his attention constantly drifting to Ginny. The way she moved, the sound of her laugh, the flash of her legs when she bent to pick up scattered gnomes. When she tied her hair back with a bit of twine, exposing the elegant line of her neck, Harry had to focus very hard on not staring.
"Someone's distracted," Hermione observed quietly, appearing beside him as they watched Ginny demonstrate proper gnome-throwing technique to Ron.
"Just thinking," Harry replied.
"About anyone in particular?"
Harry glanced at her, noting the knowing look in her eyes. "Am I that obvious?"
"To me, yes. Ron's completely oblivious, of course."
"Good," Harry said, then paused. "I mean-"
"I know what you mean," Hermione said gently. "Just... be careful, Harry. She's not the little girl who had a crush on the famous Harry Potter anymore."
"I know," Harry said, watching Ginny launch a gnome over the hedge with impressive force. "That's the point."
---
Three owls arrived the next morning, official Ministry seals gleaming on their legs.
"OWL results," Mrs. Weasley announced unnecessarily, her voice pitched higher than usual. "Oh, my nerves can't take this."
They gathered around the kitchen table, the atmosphere thick with anticipation. Harry broke his seal with steady hands, though his heart was racing.
"Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts," he read aloud, feeling a surge of satisfaction. "Exceeds Expectations in Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, and Herbology. Acceptable in History of Magic and Astronomy." He paused. "And Poor in Divination."
Ginny snorted. "Poor in Divination? That's the best result! Shows you've got your head screwed on right..."
"Seven OWLs!" Ron announced, staring at his results in shock. "Seven! I can't believe it!"
Mrs. Weasley burst into tears and enveloped him in a crushing embrace while everyone else applauded.
"Ten Outstanding, one Exceeds Expectations," Hermione reported, trying to look modest. "I missed Outstanding in Defense by just a few marks."
"Only you would be disappointed with an E in DADA," Harry laughed, but his attention was caught by the way Ginny was looking at him. There was something like pride in her expression, and admiration that made his chest tighten pleasantly.
"Not bad, Potter," she said with a grin. "Though I always knew you were brilliant at Defense."
"Did you now?"
"Oh yes. Very impressive, watching you work." Her tone was light, but there was something in her eyes that made Harry's mouth go dry.
"This calls for celebration!" Mrs. Weasley declared, releasing Ron from her death grip. "Arthur! Come see what brilliant children we have!"
The rest of the day passed in a blur of congratulations and planning. Harry found himself naturally at the center of conversations, his confidence growing with each interaction. When Uncle Vernon's treatment of him came up, he told the story with wry humor rather than bitterness, earning laughs and admiring glances.
"You've changed," Mr. Weasley observed that evening as they sat in the garden after dinner. "More sure of yourself."
"Maybe I'm just finally growing up," Harry replied, very aware of Ginny sitting beside him, her leg pressed against his.
"About time," she murmured, so quietly only he could hear.
---
The third morning brought news that would cast a shadow over the coming weeks.
"Another disappearance," Mr. Weasley said grimly, reading from the Daily Prophet. "Ollivander this time. Vanished from his shop, no sign of struggle."
Mrs. Weasley's hand went to her throat. "But he's been there forever. Who would want to hurt a wandmaker?"
"Someone who doesn't want their activities traced," Harry said quietly, the implications hitting him immediately. "If Voldemort's recruiting, he wouldn't want Ollivander identifying which wands were used."
The use of the name made everyone flinch except Ginny, who was watching him with sharp attention.
"That's... actually very good thinking," Mr. Weasley said, looking at Harry with new respect. "The Ministry hadn't considered that angle."
"They should," Harry said firmly. "And they should be warning other shopkeepers. Borgin and Burkes, Knockturn Alley businesses. Anywhere that sells things Death Eaters might need."
"I'll mention it to Kingsley," Mr. Weasley promised.
Later, as they helped Mrs. Weasley prepare for the engagement party, Ginny cornered Harry by the pantry.
"That was impressive," she said, standing close enough that he could smell her soap. "The way you analyzed the situation. Very... commanding."
Harry felt heat pool in his stomach at her tone. "Someone has to think strategically about this war."
"Yes," she agreed, moving even closer. "Someone does." Her hand came up to rest on his chest. "And I like that you're not afraid to take charge."
The pantry was small, shadowy, and suddenly felt about ten degrees warmer. Harry was acutely aware of Ginny's curves beneath her summer dress, the way her lips parted as she looked up at him.
"Ginny..."
"GINNY! HARRY! Where are you?" Mrs. Weasley's voice rang through the kitchen. "I need help with these decorations!"
Ginny stepped back with a frustrated sigh, but not before letting her fingers trail down Harry's chest. "Later," she promised.
---
Bill and Fleur had come over to plan their wedding and it ended up turning into a small engagement party. It was small but it gave Harry his first real taste of how different he felt in social situations now. Instead of hovering awkwardly in corners, he found himself naturally part of conversations, offering opinions that people actually listened to and respected.
"Young Harry's grown up, hasn't he?" he overheard Bill say. "Got a good head on his shoulders now."
"Always did," Mr. Weasley replied. "Just needed confidence to show it."
Across the room, Ginny was talking to Fleur about wedding preparations, but Harry caught her glancing at him repeatedly. When their eyes met, her smile was private, meaningful in a way that made his pulse race.
"She's smitten," Hermione said quietly, appearing at his elbow with a butterbeer.
"Is she?" Harry asked, trying to sound casual.
"Completely. Though I suspect the feeling's mutual."
Harry took a long drink, not trusting himself to respond.
Later, as the party was winding down, Ginny found him on the garden wall, looking up at the red comet that dominated the night sky.
"Penny for your thoughts," she said, settling beside him close enough that their thighs touched.
"Just thinking about changes," Harry said. "How everything feels different now."
"Different how?"
He turned to look at her, struck again by how beautiful she was in the moonlight. "Like I'm finally becoming who I'm supposed to be."
"And who's that?"
"Someone worth your attention," he said quietly.
Ginny's breath caught. "Harry..."
"I know this is complicated," he continued, his voice rougher than usual. "With Ron, with everything that's happening. But I can't stop thinking about you."
"Good," she whispered, leaning closer. "Because I've been thinking about you too. About us."
The space between them was electric now, charged with possibility. Harry could see the pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat, could feel the warmth radiating from her skin.
"Ginny, if we do this-"
"When," she corrected firmly. "When we do this. Not if."
The certainty in her voice sent heat coursing through him. "When," he agreed.
"OI! GINNY!" Ron's voice bellowed from the house. "MUM WANTS YOU!"
They sprang apart, both breathing hard. Ginny stood, smoothing her dress, but her eyes never left Harry's face.
"This conversation isn't over," she promised.
"I certainly hope not," Harry replied, watching her walk back toward the house with a new appreciation for the sway of her hips.
Above them, the red comet pulsed against the star-filled sky, and Harry felt something fundamental shifting inside him. He was changing, growing into someone who could handle whatever came next – war, responsibility, and the intoxicating complexity of Ginny Weasley.
For the first time in his life, Harry Potter felt ready for it all.