You know I don't own Harry Potter, because if i did, well, you'd know. (I dont own anything you remember) And I warn you, if you haven't read HBP then you should (read the book, that is), and should not read this.
Ginny Weasley had never felt less wanted.

He was impossible, stubborn, thickheaded, strong willed, impulsive, passionate. Some would say they were a lot a like, but Ginny was too blinded by rage to see the resemblance.

He was taking her brother. He was taking her friend. Stupid. Absolutely stupid. The worst part: he wasn't taking her.

Sometimes, she hated him. Actually, she hated him a lot these days. She hated the fact that he was unbelievably handsome when he smiled (although she hadn't seen him do that since Dumbledore's death). Ginny hated the fact that she was still sleeping in the shirt she'd stolen from him. She hated the fact that he thought she couldn't take care of herself against Death Eaters like Lucius Malfoy. She loathed the fact that he was partially right. But how was she supposed to compete against a man who'd been trained in the Dark Arts for… well she wasn't sure how long, but it was certainly longer than Bill's life. She also hated the fact that she knew he still fancied her; it would have been a lot easier to (really) hate him if she knew he didn't have any feelings for her (and if she didn't have any for him… which she did). Whenever she thought of following them she saw two things in her mind's eye: 1) her torso and her legs separated and 2) her mother's sobbing face.

When he'd arrived at the Burrow, Harry hadn't said anything to her; he just looked at her in a tentative way. She'd turned her back on him and left to the kitchen where Bride-Zilla was in full rein.

It wasn't that she was trying to be cold-hearted or anything; it was just that she didn't to make it harder for herself.

Ginny thought that they would leave the day after the wedding; she was surprised to find Harry hammering on the bathroom door. When she opened it he bashed her on the head with his fist- on accident.

As she rubbed her head he stuttered an apology. He bent down and whispered in her ear 'tomorrow'. She knew what he meant.

That night Ginny was restless; she couldn't decide if she wanted to say good-bye or let them go. She was confused as to what Harry wanted. She was confused as to what she wanted. In the end she decided that she'd say good-bye- it was the right thing to do.

At dawn she crept down the stairs- careful to not wake her parents.

Her heart stopped.

They had already left.

But somehow, she knew, that even if she never saw Harry, or her brother, or Hermione, again, that they were doing this because they had to.

And somehow, that comforted her.

It was the first time she'd been completely alone since Harry and co. had left. Some were afraid that she'd take after her; some were sure she'd commit suicide or something; (only those who didn't know her well) and some thought she might need the companionship.

Her mother had been adamant that she not go to Hogwarts that year. Instead, she stayed at Grimaulled Place, where the order members who weren't busy tutored her in whatever subject they were good at. It meant that she was well past the NEWT level in Defense, but was horribly behind in subjects like Herbology (she didn't need that subject anyway) and Divination (a waste of time) and Potions (she hated anything that reminded her of Snape, so it didn't matter). Her favorite tutors were Tonks and Lupin and her least: her mother (who had tried unsuccessfully to teach her potions).

The Burrow had been vacated because of a Death Eater attack. Ginny could have sworn she had never seen her mother so angry or powerful. They (her and her mother) had gotten out just in time; if they'd been in the house just a minuet longer they would have dead. When they had gotten to the Order (the knight bus… still working even though Stan wasn't there) her mother had downed two shots of Fire-whiskey before she let anyone touch her. She never wanted to see her mother like that again.

Anyway, she hadn't been left alone since the Trio left and she was relived to have sometime to herself.

She was trying to decide weather or not her mother would notice the missing whiskey when she heard Mrs. Black's screams echo through out the empty house.

"Bloody Hell!" She froze; she knew that voice, and it wasn't one of the (official) Order members' voices.

"Language!" A slow smile began to stretch across Ginny's face.

"This place had better had some food."

"Oh, honestly, can't you think of anything else? We're all hungry." Those voices, they belonged to… well, she wouldn't let herself get her hopes up.

Quickly, she pulled out her wand and glanced around. She wasn't one to be paranoid, but… she grabbed a knife from a draw. She crept towards the main hallway, praying that it was them.

When she rounded the corner she dropped to her knees in relief, dropping the knife and her wand.

All three heads whipped around and a chorus of 'stupefy' was yelled. She flopped over, out cold.

When she was woken she was aware that thee heads loomed over her.

"Oh, My Goodness, Ginny, you scared us." Hermione's face was wrinkled with worry. Ginny couldn't help but notice that her face was unusually pale and her eyes had dark rings around them.


"Yeah, Gin, and what's up with the knife?" Ron asked, his face just as tired looking as Hermione's.

She grinned, "Extra protection."

Ron smiled.

Ginny sat up and stretched. "Hi guys."

Ron and Hermione's face broke into smiles.

Harry's face was stony and cold. He looked haunted more then anything else, and Ginny supposed he was.

"Harry," she said, nodding. He nodded back. "Food, anyone?"

Half an hour later, after Harry and Hermione were finished eating (Ron had eaten almost as much as the two of them put together and was still going at it strong) she begged information off them.

"I'm sorry, Ginny, we can't tell you that, it's too-" Ginny cut Hermione off.

"I know, I know, dangerous," she paused, "but I haven't been out of the house in months. Who am I going to tell, Mrs. Black?"

"We can't tell you Ginny," was Harry's firm reply. That had been the end of the discussion.

They spent the rest of the night reminiscing about the Burrow and the almost carefree life they had lived.

In the middle of the night Harry had excused himself, saying he needed sometime alone.
When Ron and Hermione started leaning against each other, Ginny brought them up stairs to a two-bedroom room. She figured Harry would want to stay in Sirius's room, which hadn't been touched since he died.

She knocked timidly at the door, he didn't answer at first, but as she turned to go he opened the door and said, "Yes?"

"I thought you might want to talk."

He sighed and opened the door wide enough to let her in. She smiled shyly.

She sat down on the bed and looked at him. He was skinnier than ever and his skin was dry and his lips were chapped. She fantasized about rubbing her hands on that skin and kissing those chapped lips. Somehow, she restrained herself. Barely.

There were no confessions of love murmured, no hot, passionate love was made; they simply sat beside each other and he rested his head on her shoulder and whispered, "I missed you."

And she whispered back, "Same here." And somehow, that was enough for Ginny. She knew that Harry couldn't tell her anything else, but with those three words he had reassured her more then he knew.

Ginny Weasley had never felt so wanted.

A/N: Hello! I hope you enjoyed it, and even if you didn't, it would be nice of you to reveiw! lol I'll send you a virtual cookie! (Chocolate chip!)