Disclaimer: It's not mine, yadda yadda, JKR, yadda yadda, I own nothing.
She looked different, Harry noted. Ginny's face was shallower, with light purple bags under her eyes. Her skin was pale, more so than usual, and her Weasley blush didn't reach her hairline.
He also noted her weight. She was far smaller than he'd ever seen. She never was stick thin; her curves were somewhat part of her personality. Harry felt that if he picked up her shirt, he could count her ribs easily. Her clothes were hanging off her, her singed jeans held to her waist by a rope.
Ginny's signature hair was still somewhat the same. It was shorter by a few inches, but Harry could still imagine himself running his hands through her silky strands. He longed to breathe in her scent, feel a sense of normality that was most potent in her red hair that fell straight to her shoulders.
Harry's arms physically ached to be around her, holding her. But at the moment, she was still sitting next to Mrs. Weasley, looking defeated.
Harry knew that it wouldn't be right to talk about their relationship now. He would find time later. A smile crossed his lips suddenly; foreign to him for so long that he felt his chapped lips stretch.
Time, he thought again, all the time in the world.
A/N: Constructive criticism is the best kind of review I can get. Wink wink.