Hello lovelies! This is my first Harry Potter story, and it is AU. In this story, Sirius Black did not run after Peter or let Dumbledore take Harry away. Sirius took Harry into his care and raised him, so he never went to Azkaban. There are no horcruxes, so Voldemort is not a threat. There is some Death Eater threat later on, but other than that, Voldemort's return is not an impending doom hanging over Harry.

So yes, it is a primarily romance story that includes Harry, Ginny, and an old, magically binding contract that brings these two practically-strangers together. I hope you enjoy it, and feel free to leave a review/constructive criticism. The story is complete, so I will be posting daily as time allows me to. Thanks a ton!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights and characters go to J.K. Rowling.

"Ginny!" Molly Weasley called. "Ron! It's time to go!"

"Uh-oh," five-year old Ginny Weasley giggled from her spot in the mud pit, looking at the three of them covered in mud. "Mummy's going to be mad."

Six-year old Harry Potter laughed madly; Ron Wealsey, however, did not. "Shut up, Harry! It's not funny when she's angry."

"It is for me," the black haired little boy said. He was silenced when a handful of mud was thrown in his face by a certain Weasley girl. He wiped it from his eyes angrily and went to throw some back when she smiled like he was the best thing in the world.

"I love you boys," Ginny sighed happily. "We'll be best friends forever, right?"

"Right!" Harry agreed. He took the hands of both his friends. "You're my best mates; always will be."

"Ronald!" Molly called.

"We're already in trouble," Ginny shrugged. "So..."

Ron grinned evilly. "Let's make a run for it."

It was a bright, sunny day in front of Grimmauld Place. The birds sang, people walked their dogs, children played on the sidewalks, and the fountain in front of the complex gurgled happily. Anyone milling around outside enjoyed the feeling of being alive.

A certain spectacle wearing teenage boy was not one of these people.

Harry Potter sat in his bedroom, staring at the ceiling. He tossed a snitch up in the air repeatedly, catching it expertly every time it fell back down to him. Days like these were ones where he questioned his entire existence.

What's the point of me? He thought to himself. What am I going to do?

Looking over to the portrait beside his bed, Harry eyed his mother and father. They were dancing, twirling around each other so happily. Sirius told him it was the day they discovered they were pregnant with him.

Too bad it screwed up their lives, his thoughts continued bitterly. They wouldn't dance so much then, would they?

He sighed dramatically before examining the rest of his room. It truly was a wreck at all times, with his clothes everywhere and random posters/pictures hanging haphazardly all over the red walls. It was the one place in the house Kreacher and the other elves weren't allowed to touch...which was most likely why there were a few banana peels and various candy wrappers laying around his room, unseen to those who did not know better.

A knock came at the door. "I'm not hungry, Kreacher."

"Master Sirius demands you come down for dinner," Kreacher croaked back. "The Weasley's are here for dinner, sir."

Harry sat up and grinned, but didn't change his tone. "Then tell Ronald he can get his lazy arse up here himself."

"Permission to use those exact words, Master Harry?"

"Permission granted."

Harry liked Kreacher, so Kreacher liked Harry. Despite the elf's hatred of mostly everyone else, he and Harry had a strange understanding of each other founded on a sort of mutual respect. Harry expected it had something to do with Harry always treating him kindly, unlike Sirius had.

Sitting up in bed, Harry threw on a clean shirt. The Weasley's were some of his favorite people, and often came to dinner. Growing up, Sirius had made sure Harry had a huge family to hang around, since both biological and adoptive families were very slim. The Weasley's were one of the poorest, oldest, largest wizarding families and just the kind of people Sirius wanted Harry around—and the people Harry loved being around.

As he made to brush his hair, Harry examined his features. He knew that he was a handsome young man, just like his father, but sometimes he wondered if anyone only ever liked him for his fame, fortune, and handsome features. Would anyone want him if he hadn't been the Chosen One?

"Stop grooming yourself, mate," his best friend's voice came the second his door was burst open. "You look like a prick."

"Piss off," Harry said affectionately, flipping off his best friend. "Sirius didn't tell me you lot were coming over."

"Mum and Dad didn't tell us," Ron shrugged. He looked around. "Your room smells disgusting."

"Like yours smells any better!"

"I don't keep food in my room."

"If you don't like it, don't come over."

"Like I've anywhere else to go."

"I bet that pretty Granger girl from the ministry wouldn't mind..."

Ron's ears turned pleasantly pink. "Shut up."

Laughing and shoving each other, Ron and Harry went back down the stairs. The redheaded young man paused at the bottom landing, suddenly looking horrified. "Oi, Happy Birthday!"

"Thanks," Harry said dryly. "Don't suppose you could just pretend it wasn't happening?"

"Mum said she's got a great present for you," Ron grinned. "She's acting a bit like a nutter today, so let's pretend you actually enjoy your birthday, hmm?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. He had grown up with many wonderful birthdays, but the last two had just depressed him. People reminded him that as the great Chosen One, he was expected to do something amazing with his life and he should be close to figuring it out. Now, on his seventeenth birthday, he wasn't any closer to that and it depressed him. If he was the Boy Who Lived, why couldn't he figure out his grand destiny?

Coming into the elaborately red and gold dining room, Harry was greeted by his second family. Molly immediately kissed his forehead and tried to smooth his hair. She made a face when it wouldn't budge. "One day, I'm going to make it work."

"It's a Potter trademark Molly, leave him be!" Sirius grinned. "He's a man now, anyways, he can take care of his own hair."

"Not by my view," Fred crinkled his nose.

George grinned. "You heard Sirius, he can't help it, he'll always look like a scrawny, speckle-faced git."

"I thought the birthday boy was treated nicely," Harry grumped as they sat down for their meal.

"They should be," Ron grinned. "But you know you won't be."

"Oh shush," Molly beamed. "Come now, let's all sit. Harry, I've made Trecle Tart for dessert so don't eat too much. There's plenty of dessert for all the friends coming around after dinner."

Dinner was an affair, as always. Harry almost forgot about his earlier misgivings about his birthday. The entire time was spent laughing and having fun with some of the people he loved most. Even more would be coming for dessert and presents.

It wasn't until the end of dinner did Harry begin thinking about his upbringing. Fred made some passing comments about Harry's start in the world that made the newly seventeen-year old man look back on everything.

He'd grown up in Grimmauld Place, with Sirius as his parent. The man had told him how special he was since Harry was a little boy—how when he was only one, he was somehow able to defeat the darkest wizard of all time. His parents had died protecting him, but he'd saved the entire wizarding world. Sirius, who was his godfather, took him from the wreckage and cared for him to honor Lily and James Potter. He was forced to mature a little more than he wished, but Harry had always remembered him being the best godfather there ever was.

One of his fondest memories was his earliest, when he was three or four. Harry and Sirius sat in the dark, grim House of Black that never failed to make Harry feel depressed.

"Why is everything dark and scary, Siri?" Harry asked calmly.

"Because my mean family was dark and scary," Sirius explained. "And this house was made to be like them. Understand?"

Harry nodded. "But you aren't dark and scary."

"Well, no..."

"So why can't this house be like you?"

Sirius told Harry that he'd been impressed with the younger Harry's brains, and decided that he was right. Remodeling had taken place. The terrifying portrait of the former mistress was removed by a curse breaker (and given to Kreacher, oddly enough), a wall was knocked down to make it more open, and every bit of furniture was thrown out. Wallpaper was taken off and walls were painted, carpets got pulled up and hardwood shined. The entire house was made to feel much more bright and airy.

Gone were pixies and spiders and everything that filled young Harry's nightmares. He barely remembered the way the old place looked after all the professional work Sirius had put into it for Harry.

Things like that made Harry smile; Sirius always did what he thought was best for him.

When everyone stood to go up to the drawing room, Sirius beckoned Harry to his side. The young man frowned when he realized that the Weasley brothers were going upstairs to the drawing room and the parents were staying behind as well. He frowned at all the adults. "Is everything alright?"

"Just fine, my boy," Sirius nodded. "We're all going to go up to my study for just a bit if you don't mind, though."

"Of course not," Harry nodded respectfully. Mrs. Weasley looked awfully nervous and Mr. Weasley very tense. Sirius appeared to be jovial, but there was something else in his eyes that made the back of Harry's neck bristle with nerves.

Once in Sirius' personal library/study, he took a seat at his large oak desk. Harry sat in one of the cushioned chairs, while Molly and Arthur took their place on the couch. Nobody said anything for a long and rather tense moment, during which time Sirius went to his safe and withdrew many documents.

Sirius cleared his throat when he sat down. "When you first came into my guardianship, Harry, I had no idea what was going to happen to me," he explained. "Death Eaters were killing Order members left and right, and I was concerned for my life, and in turn yours."

Harry didn't say anything, just waited quietly as he'd learned to do over the years when Sirius turned business-like.

"In that time, a sort of contract came to light. It was a magical, binding contract that dated back to World War I. This contract was written in secret by a Weasley mother and a Black mother who wished their houses to be combined. They believed that if they combined the houses, it was begin a bridge to mending the Muggle/Blood-traitor/Pureblood feud that was so heavy in the wizarding world. This was made back when the Weasley family was considered a strong, noble house."

Harry's stomach turned uncomfortably. Where was this going?

"The contract stated that a daughter of the Weasley's was to be married to a son of the Black's. If the contract was not carried out by 1970, a curse would be placed on the Black house; that it be barren until the contract was fulfilled. As I was the last Black born, and the last male to carry the name, it didn't seem like a big deal to me. That was, however, until I realized that legally, your last name was Black. Though you are known to me, to yourself, and to the world as Harold James Potter, Magical and Muggle Law know you as Harold James Black."

Harry blinked, processing this information. "What does that mean? That I won't be able to have children because nobody married a Weasley daughter?"

Sirius nodded gravely. "I'm afraid so."

He swallowed nervously, sensing there was more.

"You see, I didn't want that future for you," Sirius told him fervently. "I wanted you to have children you could love and cherish. It seemed like the perfect arrangement in case something happened to me. You would be able to have children, and if I died, the document would bind you to the care of another family who would be legally obligated to watch over you until you came of age."

"What document?" Harry demanded. When there was no answer, he stood up. "Sirius? Arthur? What's going on?"

"Oh, Harry dear," Molly said with tear-filled eyes. "We only wanted what was best for you and Ginny."

Harry started violently. "Excuse me?"

Ginevra Weasley was the youngest of the seven Weasleys, and the only girl. Harry had fond memories of her playing with him and Ron in the garden at the Weasleys or at the Potter's summer estate in Chesire country. She'd been an absolute tomboy who idolized her brothers and the famous Harry Potter. She could run just as fast, play quidditch just as well, and get just as dirty as any of the boys. She was fun.

When she was eleven, however, Molly and Arthur somehow found the money to send her to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. She went off to France to learn to be a well-educated lady. The first summer she returned, after Harry's second Hogwart's year, Harry barely saw her. That was the summer he and Sirius took a trip to spend the vacation in Spain, where the Quidditch World Cup was held that year. He briefly saw her again the summer before his fourth year, at the World Cup for Bulgaria vs Ireland. After that, she spent the next three summers at a friend's house or traveling with some Beauxbatons girl around the world. Currently, she was supposed to be coming back from Barcelona with a friend named Gabrielle in tow.

Harry brought his mind back to the present. "What are you all trying to tell me?"

"We signed a contract when Ginny was born," Arthur explained slowly. "A different document, actually. It...betrothed you and Ginny to be married by your eighteenth birthday."

Harry blinked.

Harry sat.

Harry stood again.

"So you expect me to believe that you signed me up to marry someone of your choosing because your ancestors were too stubborn to get their heads out of their arses and marry a Weasley girl?"

Sirius contemplated Harry's words, deciding carefully how to react. "Yes. At the time, it seemed like the right answer."

His anger building, Harry turned on the Weasleys. "What do you get from this?"

"Nothing, exactly," Molly answered with tears rolling down her face. "Just a secure future with a good man and money to get the best education we could find for Ginny in Europe."

Harry's knees trembled as he took a seat. He covered his face and attempted to control his anger and his shortness of breath.

Betrothal.

Married.

Ginny Weasley.

"Is there any way out of this?" Harry forced out. "Any way at all?"

"It's a magically binding contract," Sirius spoke slowly and deliberately. "You can choose not to marry Ginny, but you would never be able to have children."

He stood again, this time anger and betrayal fueling his strength. He shook his head at Sirius, even as he felt his world crashing down around him. "I can't believe you would do that to me. I..."

He had no words.

"Harry, you have to understand—

"No," Harry cut him off. "I...no."

And with that, Harry fled the room.