Afterthoughts

A/N: Remember these are unbeta’d and written quickly (this one in about forty five minutes). There will be/are mistakes here and I digress to repair them, unless there’s a major, major mistake.

I’ve wondered how Ginny heard the story of Harry Potter in her childhood. This is my interpretation. Naturally, it probably can’t be taken into account in canon seriously for one reason or other. Just a random thought…or afterthought, as the title may be.

I imagine Ginny’s fantasy would be a little more childish than what it is. She is only five after all. Oh well, it was written quickly so far from perfect. Enjoy.

EDIT: It seems has been a pain and made my usual section breaker ineffective again. I'll have to go through the entire story and replace them. Quit doing that!

Chapter 2: The Beginning of an Obsession

Red hair flailed wildly as a five year old Ginny Weasley dodged around the numerous obstacles in her family kitchen, her mother a few steps in front of her.

“Careful, Ginny, dear,” Mrs. Weasley cautioned as her only daughter stumbled over a pile of washing thoughtlessly left in the middle of the path. Their house was always hectic. Seven children resulted in that kind of atmosphere.

“It’s late, Ginny,” Mr. Weasley said kindly from his perch on one of the couches, reading the Daily Prophet in one of the few moments he could garner some quiet time. “Shouldn’t you be off to bed?”

“I want Mum to read me the story again!” exclaimed the young girl, her attention switching between both her parents, hope unabashedly expressed on her childish features.

Mr. Weasley sighed quietly and set down the paper. His quiet time was over; it seemed, for the time being. He removed his glasses and began cleaning them, thinking what to say next.

Mrs. Weasley sent her husband a quick glance, putting down a half made batter of pancakes for the next morn. Mr. Weasley replaced his glasses and, after exchanging another look with his life, nodded.

“Go to bed, honey, I’ll be there soon.” Mrs. Weasley said softly. Ginny’s face lit up with anticipation and within seconds had disappeared upstairs to get herself ready for bed.

The two Weasley parents were silent for a moment.

“She really likes that story.” Arthur commented, staring up at the stairs. Molly nodded her agreement.

One month before, Molly had read to her daughter, for the first time, the story of the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his downfall that fateful Halloween night at the hands of the Boy-Who-Lived, a mere baby. The tale had affected their daughter far more significantly than it had any of their other children, especially the news that she would be one year behind the Harry Potter at Hogwarts a few years down the track.

Since that first night, Ginny had requested to hear that story more and more, over all the usual wizard fairytales ‘Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump’, ‘The Fountain of Fair Fortune’ and, Arthur’s personal favorite, ‘The Tale of the Three Brothers’.

In the beginning, it had taken four nights before the story was requested. Now, a month later, four or five nights a week the story would be mentioned. As her only daughter, Molly did not mind reading stories for Ginny, even though she was perfectly capable of reading the story on her own.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Ginny Weasley raced up the stairs, moving so quickly and noisily to draw complaints from her numerous brothers. She knew Percy was all talk and little action, Ron would pout and complain but concede in the end and Fred and George would not dare try any of their pranks on her. The last time they tried … well, they were sore for a week. It was one of the perks of being an only daughter in a house full of males.

In a near record time she was in and out of the bathroom, her regular clothes discarded in favor of a white nighty and underwear. Mere seconds was all it took to clean her teeth and brush her hair.

As she lay in her warm bed, waiting excitedly for her mother to read her her favorite story, Ginny thought about Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

He was a year older than her. This fact was the most interesting and pertinent to her. She would have six years at Hogwarts with Harry. Six years for her dreams to come true.

How was it that a baby could defeat the Darkest of Dark wizards?

Harry must be powerful, very powerful, thought Ginny. She grasped the blankets and hid herself underneath them, giggling.

The Potter family was a wealthy one, one of the Most Ancient and Noble, like the Black’s. A powerful and wealthy young man … and she would spend six consecutive years of her life in the same castle as he.

What if they were in the same Hogwarts House? What if they would meet and become friends? What if that friendship developed further?

As her mind continued to fantasize her future, her life with Harry Potter, a steady blush, infamous amongst the Weasley can, graced her features. She tightened into a ball in her bed without noticing, her face on fire and her heart beating rapidly.

Never before had anyone or anything created such a deep reaction in her. She was five, only five years old, yet she knew what she wanted in her life.

She wanted Harry Potter.

Ginny was the sole female of seven children, a shy female amongst six rowdy males. Her brothers all varied in age and ability, though they were all going to have their own achievements and friends before she would even grace a single persons’ mind.

Harry Potter would be that man to notice her. He would see the beautiful creature inside the freckled face and average features and turn her life around. She would become, to the world, beautiful, and everyone would envy her.

This was what she wanted from her future.

No.

This was her future.

She would have Harry Potter and nobody, nothing, would prevent her from achieving her goal.

A knock at the door surprised the young girl. Quickly she lay on her back straight and called out the okay for entry.

Mrs. Weasley entered the room and shut the door behind her quietly. Ginny shuddered with anticipation as she watched her mother reach for the book, the book that contained the story. Her hopes and dreams, all littered around in one single short story.

With a small sigh, Mrs. Weasley sat herself down on the lower than norm chair, shrunk from its usual height for Ginny to be able to reach and use without assistance. She smiled, watching her daughter eye the book and herself with open affection. Ginny was so young, so naïve and innocent. On so many similar occasions, Mrs. Weasley would promise herself to make sure her daughter’s dreams would come true, and this time was no different.

Her sons all had each other to go to for help, but Ginny was her sole daughter, the only other female in a male dominated line. She would need help more so than her youngest male son, Ron, and she would give her help, no matter the cost, to ensure her daughter’s success and happiness.

Mrs. Weasley’s loving smile remained on her face as she opened the leather bound book and began to read the tale of Harry Potter.

Ginny lay still, listening, absorbing every word as if it were her life force and if she missed one word, her life would end. She envisioned the future, the day she would board the Hogwarts Express like her brothers before her, shy, small, afraid.

Her fantasies ran wild, yet every word of the story was heard. Two older boys would step in front of her, preventing the eleven year old Ginny Weasley from boarding the train. Her parents were preoccupied saying their goodbyes to her brothers, but that was alright, she wanted to become independent and not reliant on her family for everything.

The two boys sneered at her, eyeing her dangerously.

“What do we ‘ave ‘ere?” one asked the other humorously.

“Another Weasley?” the other asked back, a dark grin on his face.

“They just keep coming, don’t they?” the first replied and let out an amused laugh.

“Aye, but this ‘n’s’ a ‘gal,” the second remarked, intrigued at the sight of a non-male Weasley.

“True,” the first one said quietly.

Ginny eyed the two males warily. Her brothers had mentioned these two before, the names forgotten, but their exploits not. Afraid, she retreated a few steps.

“‘ey, not so fast,” the first one said quickly, stepping forward and reducing the distance between Ginny and himself with incredible ease. “Come sit with us on the Express. We’ll take care of ya.”

“Not in a good way,” a third voice, unknown to all three of them, interrupted them. The three of them looked around to found the source of the voice, only to find a young male with messy dark hair and glasses walking towards them from further up the train.

“Potter,” the two bullies seethed out.

“Have a nice break, guys?” asked Harry unflinchingly. He continued to walk towards them, stopping beside Ginny and facing the other two. Ginny watched, enthralled, at the sight of the Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, who was, for some reason, protecting her.

“Leave off, Potter, she’s with us,’ bully two said.

“That’s right,” the first bully added, nodding his head in agreement.

“Really?” Harry asked skeptically. “Let’s ask her, shall we?”

All three sets of eyes turned to Ginny. The bullies’ gazes were threatening, promising hell if she ratted on them. Harry’s were kind, those green eyes so soulful, piercing and deep, filled with emotion, and, if her eyes didn’t deceive, a trace of longing. Longing for what was the question.

“Excuse me, miss, but are these two bothering you?” asked Harry softly. Ginny found herself getting lost in his eyes, her heart beating twice as fast as normal, unable to look away, a blush rising in her face. She, almost imperceptibly, nodded; transfixed by the attention she was receiving.

And like that it was gone, the eyes turned back to the two bullies. Ginny panted, her lungs not working properly.

Never, never before had she felt so much from one glance, one look. This boy was him, the one. She knew it.

“You saw her,” Harry said calmly to the bullies. If her ears had not mistaken her, there was a hint of a threat in his voice. He was defending her. It was all too surreal.

“Leave her alone from now on and you won’t find yourselves in detention all year, you hear me?” continued Harry, his tone unmistakable.

The two bullies looked between Harry and Ginny, then each other. The first one spat on the ground at Harry’s feet, swore and turned away. The second followed a moment later, sending the two of them a dark look as he went.

“Thank you.” Ginny breathed, watching the two retreating forms, and then Harry, in awe.

“What’s your name?” asked Harry, turning towards her, a brilliant smile lighting up his face. Ginny felt her face flush again at the sight.

“G-G-Ginny Weasley,” she stuttered out.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Harry Potter.”

The sound of a book closing interrupted her thoughts. She lolled her head to the side to see her mother looking down her, a smile on her face.

“Goodnight Ginny, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said softly. She leant forward and kissed her forehead. A moment later she stood, replaced the book on the shelf, Ginny watching the book all the way, and then left the room, pausing to wish her goodnight again.

The light out, her sheets up to her chin, her breath rapid, Ginny focused on a singular thought.

Harry Potter.

He would be hers.