Author's Note: Before HBP, I was a hardcore HP/HG; however, I have always been a canon follower, no matter what. After HBP, with Mrs. J.K. Rowling's awe-inspiring writing abilities, I have faithfully turned to a HP/GW shipper, though HP/HG will still have a place in my heart.

A/N 2: This is set during the summer events after Harry arrived at the Weasley's but before Sept. 1st.

A Pair of Shorts

The day was a nice summer event with a cooling breeze event with a cooling breeze wafting through the trees around the Burrow. A perfect day during which a game that makes fool of the stoutest wizards: Quidditch. Harry and Ron convinced a hesitant Hermione, though only mentioning a game to Ginny was all that was necessary.

"No, Mrs. Weasley," called out Harry. "I'm quite full from lunch. We're just looking for the Snitch so we can play." Harry had helped Ron forage through the disaster that is his room looking for a very old Snitch Fred and George had given their only sister. While Hermione had agreed to help Ginny in her room, each had broken off from the other to search different parts of the house. Harry took his time to look through the assorted closets along the hall on the first floor, finding odds and ends of all sorts of things but mostly knitting. Seeking out the Snitch firmly on his mind, Harry walked into a sight that would forever be burned to memory for the rest of his natural life. A pointed bare foot hung in the air before his face. His eyes lingered for a brief moment, then widened as they slowly followed the soft pale skin, curving delicately along the lean muscles of a calf then upward still to the stirring sight of tremendous proportion: the firm and rounding display of a pair of jean shorts.

"Oh," smiled Ginny. "Hi, Harry." She smiled down to him, balanced precariously on the arm an old family chair. Ginny was rearranging old family photos upon a tall bookshelf. Since she could not use magic just yet, the bright young witch had to look the old fashion way. "Have you found it yet?"

Harry's mind knew Ginny had said something. Something he should probably answer, but for the life of him just could not. The amazing sight of a pair of slim and alluringly pale legs less than a meter from him took his breath. Harry was aware of the room suddenly warming, of his heartbeat thundering loudly in his ears, and an acute tightness in his pants.

"Harry?" A sweet voice broke through the pounding of blood.

"Huh? What?" Harry stammered. Looking up, Ginny smiled in return, causing something to stir in his stomach as if a pygmy puff was purring.

"Did you find it?" Ginny inquired with a lopsided grin.

"Uh…no, not yet," Harry suddenly answered, focusing on Ginny's face to ward away the temptation to reach out and brush a hand inappropriately along the inside of Ginny's knee, up further to the back of legs. "Have you?"

"No," replied Ginny. She began placing the photos back to their original places. "Every now and then, the Snitch seems to get a life of its own and zoom off somewhere."

"Harry! Ginny!" exclaimed a friendly voice followed by a young woman with not so-quite bushy hair. Hermione stepped into the living room. In her hand, a golden snitch was fluttering. She stopped suddenly upon entering, a brief look of shock as she surveyed the scene of Ginny balancing on the arm of a chair, her leg out near a somewhat flustered-looking Harry. It was the look of shock on Harry's face that gave Hermione pause as to what she had just intruded. If she hadn't known any better, she was sure Harry seemed to be slightly tongue-tied.

"Oh," Hermione commented. "Um, I found the Snitch." She looked to Ginny still balanced on the chair but no longer with her leg out to Harry.

"Excellent," said Ginny. She turned effortlessly and jumped down. Harry, with his quick reflexes, caught her as she landed. Ginny's hair bounced in the air, cascading over Harry's face. He took a deep breath, smelling a quaint flowery essence on the auburn locks as her hands landed on his shoulders.

"Thanks, Harry," Ginny flashed another quick smile, turning quickly to a smirking Hermione. They walked off, Hermione whispering to Ginny as they were heading out of the house. Harry stood mute, replaying the scene in his head. The subtle curve of pale legs that were just within arm's reach. The gentle feel of her hands on his shoulders as she landed. The simply and nice way his own hands felt as they fit on her hips. Harry let out a shaky breath, calming his racing heart.

"Oi!" Ron yelled from outside the window. "You coming?"

"Yeah," Harry answered as if coming out of a haze. Grabbing his broom by the door, Harry jogged to the small clearing, shrugging off a very tantalizing daydream for fear of retribution from his best friend. And yet, still, he could not seem to get out of his mind the picture of a nice pair of shorts.