Maybe it was a Weasley trait, this state of oblivion.

But then again, he'd seen her whip out her wand at every noise other times, so she couldn't be wholly unaware of her surroundings.

Harry had come to the library a couple hours ago, thinking that no one would be there at the ungodly hour. He had been almost right-the dusky mahogany shelves appeared abandoned, but for a drowsy Madame Pince in the corner. Harry had flung his invisibility cloak over himself just in case, though he doubted the lethargic librarian would have taken note of him.

Of course, he'd been fairly shocked when, armed with Prophecies: The Truth behind the Terrors, he'd snuck over to his beloved crimson armchair, only to find Ginny Weasley, lying across the chair, legs thrown over one armrest carelessly, nose buried in a thick, leather-bound novel.

Harry had watched for a moment, wondering why the youngest Weasley was awake at this hour. She obviously wasn't studying anything, Harry decided, now immensely intrigued.

Why do you care, Potter? Harry frowned at the thought, and shrugged, quietly seating himself in a cobalt chair, and flipping open his own book.

Every so often, however, Harry found himself being distracted by the flash of glossy tangerine, as the sun caught a strand of Ginny's hair and illuminated it, dusty rays of a sunrise toying with it.

After a while, too, tangled ringlets would escape her chaotic, loose ponytail, and the movement of her fingers pushing them back would cause Harry's eyes to turn toward her again.

He willed himself to concentrate on Cassandra: The most famed seer of all but found the movements distracting, grabbing his gaze and forcing it to her.

The minutes ticked away, and a few other students ambled into the library, Hermione among them. After a while, Harry let his book close upon his lap-it was pointless, he hadn't been reading it for a while now, idly flipping the pages. He felt hypnotized by her, drawn like a moth to a glowing wand.

Stop it, you're being stalker-esque, he chided himself, though he didn't move.

Hermione left for breakfast, and Harry felt vaguely hungry, though he seemed to be held in place, thoughts drifting between Ginny and…well, everything, really. A myriad of 'what ifs' were playing through his mind, as Harry was wholly lost in thought.

All trains of though abruptly vanished, however, when Dean Thomas sprinted into the library, looking as if Voldemort himself were after him. Instinctively, Harry pulled out his wand as Dean leapt under a table, and the source of his terror revealed himself:

"Please, Ron, don't kill me! I swear, I wasn't!" Dean shrieked, as a furious, red-faced Ron Weasley entered the library, a distinctly evil glint in his eye.

"Right, so your eyes simply happened to be on Hermione, did they?" Ron bellowed, as a flustered Hermione raced in after them, wand at hand.

"She, uh, had something on her shirt?" Dean offered, hands over his eyes.

"Ron, stop making a scene!" Hermione glared at him, and Dean shot her a grateful look. This was clearly a mistake, as Ron turned to look at him, and hurled a quick spell. His reflexes really had improved tremendously.

Harry placed both hands over his mouth to hide his mirth as the scene unfolded, tearing his gaze from Ginny. Dean Thomas was now sporting chartreuse warts, and his skin had become a fluorescent blue.

"Ron, you are a prefect! You can't do things like this!" Hermione cried, as Dean Thomas slowly crawled away from the growing argument.

"But...he was ogling you!" Ron sputtered, "I was protecting you from randy boys like him!"

Harry winced. He had learned to recognize the stupid things Ron could say, and knew this was definitely a terrible move on his best friend's part.

"Protecting me? PROTECTING ME!" Hermione shrieked, "How dare you think I even need protection! Ronald Weasley, if you haven't noticed by now, I can very well protect myself without your help, thank you very much!"

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but seemed to finally notice Dean, who had reached the doors, looking like a gleeful fugitive. Forgetting his debate with Hermione, Ron charged towards Dean, reminding Harry of a Spanish bull approaching the matador, and…


He proceeded to trip over the poor, blue boy, and both went flying into the hallway, Hermione following, and Harry could have sworn he heard the sounds of people falling down a spiral staircase.

Harry turned back to Ginny who…hadn't moved. Wow. Did she really miss all of that? Harry thought, awed as he realized that Ginny had not glanced up from her book as the others had fought in front of her. Curious, he silently tiptoed over to her, wanting to know what book had bewitched her so. Reading the spine, he found: Diagon Venus by some witch named Tamlane. Harry looked at Ginny's face, her eyes were wide, obviously captivated by the text in front of her, and she seemed to be beaming, radiating a sense of…passion? Intrigue? Harry couldn't place it.

Suddenly, Ginny sat up, curling her legs beneath her. Harry jumped, startled, as she shut the book, and placed it on a glass table beside her.

"You know, Harry, you've grown in the past year," Harry froze, stunned, though he heard the amusement clear in her tone, "I can see the edges of your robe, and the tips of those shoes you wear."

Blushing madly, Harry removed his cloak, offering a feeble, "Hey, Gin, whatcha doing here?"

"Well, I was reading, but I'm done now," Ginny cocked an eyebrow, "Why were you under the cloak?"

"Er…I was reading, too," Harry gestured to the Prophecies book, which lay forgotten on a neighboring table.

"Mm-hmm…so what brought you here?" Ginny sounded suspicious, but was smirking faintly.

"I wanted to know what you were reading, actually," Harry confessed, wondering why he was telling her, when it sounded so bizarre.

"Why?" Ginny asked, shoving a tendril of hair behind her ear irritably.

"Well, you seemed to miss everything that happened…" at Ginny's confused look, he added, "Ron, Dean, Hermione…you were so engrossed in that book, I guess I was curious as to what could make you ignore a boy turning blue and warty right before your eyes."

"It's an art and romance novelette, actually," Ginny said, grinning, "I must be really self-absorbed though, not to notice any of that," she frowned pensively.

"No! Not at all," Harry told her quickly, "I, uh, think it's nice that you can be that into whatever you're reading, Gin."

I kind of envy the fact that you can still enjoy things like that in a war like ours, he added mentally, unwilling to drown the casual flow of the conversation.

She smiled slightly, though giving him a strange, scrutinizing look, and replied, "Thanks, Harry."

"I'm going to go eat breakfast now, I guess I'll see you later?" Ginny stood up, stretching her arms above her head as she spoke.

"Well, I can come with you," Harry suggested eagerly, and Ginny grinned at him.

"That would be lovely."

He smiled, and followed after her, watching those glossy curls as they chatted their way through the hallways…

A/N: I don't really see Ginny much like this, but this plot bunny was calling me…its half off of how Dean meets Rory in Gilmore Girls, for anyone who has seen that…nothing really happened here, should I make this a two-shot, and give it some actual romance?

Also, Diagon Venus by Tamlane is possibly my favorite fanfic of all time, a HG/BZ romance.