Ginny Weasley was not having a normal day. She'd woken that morning in the midst of the same Weasley School Rush she'd experienced every year of her life, ready to watch another one of her brothers leave her behind, while trying and failing to persuade her mother to let her join them on the Express. Of course, all the other times she'd at least had one brother to keep her company at home, but it wasn't as if Ron's was much better than nothing anyway. He'd spent most of the last year outside, flying around the paddock on Charlie's old broomstick and leaving Ginny alone to fend for herself against their mother's household charms lessons. If she learned one more strangely specific and completely useless variant of the Scouring Charm, Ginny had a feeling she'd finally have a need for Scourgis Vomiteluteus after all. It didn't help that even Luna, her only friend her age, had suddenly stopped coming over near the end of January, without so much as a floo call in explanation, and both Bill and Charlie had started new jobs which apparently left them with no time to write to her anymore.

That wasn't to say she wasn't going to miss Ron. He was loads more fun than Percy, and not as much trouble as the twins, but she still found herself brooding over them plenty while they were off having fun at Hogwarts. She'd even started to miss the twins' pranks, however much she'd bemoan them at the time. Besides, it was handy to have somebody else, whose ears didn't transform into glowing, red beacons of guilt whenever questioned, to take the blame for her own pranks. It seemed unlikely that she wouldn't miss Ron when he left, too, and she was more than happy to let her parents believe it too. After all, it was all the more material for her own annual tradition: trying to persuade Mum to let her go to Hogwarts.

It had barely taken her mother ten minutes to tire of the pleading and send her upstairs on the pretence that she wouldn't mind 'finding Ron's other robes, would you dear?' Ginny felt her huffing and stomping up the stairs made it quite clear that she did, indeed, mind cleaning up after her youngest, and messiest, brother, but she searched nonetheless. She knew better than to make her mother properly angry, especially considering they'd most likely be the only two in the house for about eight hours a day until Christmas, on the reasonable assumption that her next attempts to persuade her parents would fail as usual.

Three false starts, one missing rat and several hurried slices of toast later, her father finally coaxed the battered Ford Anglia off the driveway and onto the road, ignoring Percy's insistence that he was 'just sure' he'd left something behind.

'We're late already, if you've forgotten anything we'll just have to owl it to you later,' their mother had insisted as they rounded a particularly sharp turn at considerable speed, squashing Ginny between Fred and the cushioning charms on the doors with a muffled squeal, and knocking her book from her hands. She scowled and shoved her brother off of her, silencing his faux outrage with a practiced glare. It seemed her mother's teaching could be useful, after all, even if she had a strong feeling that hadn't exactly been her intended lesson. Shaking her head, she flipped through the pages until she got back to where she had been before the interruption. Unfortunately, it seemed the hurried rustling of paper on paper had drawn the attention of her youngest brother, as he looked up from his tattered copy of Martin the Mad Muggle, Volume 7, speaking through his mouthful of toast.

'Wotchoo readin' 'at for 'gen, Gin?' he gestured at the book in her hands, spitting crumbs across the plastic upholstery. Ginny bristled at the nickname, but ignored him. ''aven' yoo red i' 'undred times?'

'Yeah, Gin-Gin,' Fred piped up, 'You must know the story by heart now.'

Ginny continued to stare at her book, feigning disinterest. As long as she didn't respond, she knew they'd eventually get bored and go back to tormenting Percy over his new Prefect badge. They were right, of course, but that didn't mean The Boy Who Lived wasn't her favourite book of all time, even if she couldn't do the voices like Bill could. Besides, Ron had already packed their copy of Quidditch Through the Ages in his trunk, their mother brushing aside Ginny's complaints with something about 'ladylike behaviour'. Ginny was pretty sure he just took it to spite her, she'd never actually seen him read a book without pictures in it by choice. Too late, she noticed Fred reaching out to grab the book from her hands and pass it to his twin, who made a show of pretending to read it aloud, though Ginny knew he was simply reciting what Bill had told them years ago.

'Once upon a time there was a young boy by the name of Harry Potter,' George began in a singsong voice.

'He was good and kind, and never ever cried,' Fred continued.

'But one day, as Harry and his Mum and Dad were relaxing at home, the evil You-Know-Who appeared, and after a long and heroic duel, struck down both of Harry's parents.' George dropped his voice to little more than a whisper, not wanting to bring their own mother's wrath upon himself.

'But as he turned his wand against poor Harry, something changed.' Their tones shifted such that an outsider would have almost thought the twins were being serious. Ginny, of course, knew it was nothing of the sort, and refused to take their bait as she glanced idly at her nails.

'He spoke the killing curse, like so many times before, but something about the defenceless baby boy blocked it, and it rebounded, vanquishing He Who Must Not Be Named forever.'

'His job done, Harry Potter disappeared, ready to come back and save the world from the next evil Dark Lord.'

The twins both took a deep breath before speaking in unison.

'And we all lived happily ever after, thanks to The Boy Who Lived!' they finished, bowing as far as they could in their seats to imagined applause. Ron gaped at them, eyes wide, as if he hadn't had the same bedtime story since Ginny was five. He finally swallowed his mouthful of toast as he gazed at his brothers.

'Did he really destroy y-You Know Who?'

'Of course he did, oh brother of mine,' George grinned.

'That's the reason-'

'Our favourite sister-'

'Wants to marry him!' they exclaimed in unison once again, drawing their mother's attention.

'Now, boys, stop teasing Ginny or you'll have to keep her company this year.'

The threat of missing Hogwarts was sufficient to silence both boys immediately, even if they were both pretty sure their mother wouldn't actually follow through on it. It just wasn't worth the risk. Fred passed the book back with a 'Sorry, Gin,' in their practiced apologetic tone, just regretful enough to stop their mother fussing without giving any of their siblings the impression it was actually sincere, gaining a huff and a glare over Percy's horn-rimmed spectacles.

'How do you expect to become Prefects behaving like that?' he sniffed, chest thrust firmly outwards out to give his own gleaming badge the respect he believed it was worth.

'Isn't it obvious, brother dearest?' The twins chorused. 'We don't.'

'I'm serious, boys, one more word from the two of you and you'll be be spending the year at home.' their mother had taken on the tone Ginny was glad had only been directed at her once before, when she'd gotten into the Floo powder and sneaked off to Diagon Alley after her mother had refused to let her go into Quality Quidditch Supplies, even though her brothers had all been allowed in since they could walk. She hadn't even wanted to buy anything, even if her brothers all had their own brooms, it would have been enough to be able to look at the ones in the shop. After all, Ginny was quite capable of sneaking out to use their brooms when nobody was looking, in spite of her mother's insistence that Quidditch was 'unladylike'.

Aware of the growing danger but not without several looks of disdain at their older brother, the twins put their heads together and began a whispered conversation in which Ginny was sure she heard the words 'badge' and 'charm' mentioned several times. She sighed and went back to her book. She'd probably hear all about how they'd enchanted Percy's prefect badge to insult any teachers he tried to talk to, or maybe to turn invisible whenever he puffed out his chest as he'd been so fond of doing, when they came home for Christmas. That was, if she managed to successfully eavesdrop on them when they told Bill and Charlie, since apparently pranking wasn't a suitable topic for the sensitive ears of their 'ickle Gin-Gin', and they certainly weren't going to tell her anything of substance in their rare, trifling letters home. She hoped Ron might be different, but his reading habits didn't exactly instil hope that he'd beat the twins' record of one and a half lines each. Including the closing.

The rest of the journey passed relatively quietly, at least by her family's standards, with only a few passing references made regarding her lifelong crush on The Boy Who Lived. She knew it was silly, but she'd meant it when she told Bill she was going to marry Harry Potter, even if she wasn't entirely sure how she was so certain that it would happen, but she was certain of it. Could she be a seer? She vividly remembered meeting her Great-Aunt Tessie at a family gathering, where she'd gone on about all of the prophecies she'd made, but Ginny had found it strange that somebody claiming to be a prophet couldn't predict the twins transfiguring all of the many folds of lace on her dress into cobwebs, giving her the look of a strange, pink fly.

The car came to a shuddering halt, knocking Ginny from her thoughts as she looked up at the concrete forms around her. She quickly climbed out of the car behind her brothers, ignoring the look on her mother's face. Ginny knew they were both very aware of her plans, but neither mother nor daughter took any action to avoid the impending argument.

'Quickly, now, get your trunks. We're running late, so I'll have to drop you off here and you can go to the platform with your mother while I find a place to park,' her father called as he helped Ron lift his luggage from the magically expanded boot, gaining a few strange looks from passers-by, but Ginny had no idea whether it was because of the various caged animals surrounding her family or the fact that seven people and four large suitcases had somehow managed to fit inside the small Ford Anglia. Fortunately, nobody did anything more than stare, so they wouldn't have to call the Obliviators like when Ginny was five and Ron had set their old car on fire in a temper tantrum over being left behind. Sometimes, in the rare moments when the Burrow fell quiet, Ginny swore she could still hear her ears ringing from that particular telling off.

A few minutes later, at something of the wrong side of ten minutes to eleven, the Weasleys finally made it to the barrier separating Platform Nine and Three Quarters from the muggle world, as Ginny´s mother repeated the same complaints about the platform´s location she had made every year Ginny could remember to anyone nearby who cared to listen in. Normally that was restricted to the passing muggles, most of whom seemed to believe that the redheaded clan were from some foreign country, at least based on the occasional angry mutters she could pick out of the station noise. This time, however, 'anyone nearby' also appeared to include a boy, barely bigger than Ginny, with a mop of messy black hair that seemed to point in all directions but downwards, and what looked to be spell-o-taped glasses balanced precariously on his nose. If Ginny had been a little older, she might have thought the mismatched boy in a too-large t-shirt looked cute, but she was barely ten years old and as such simply wondered where the raven-haired boy's parents might be, before her thoughts turned back to her mother, and the next phase of their annual verbal sparring match. A thought occurred to her, and she smiled to herself as she tried to dredge up her saddest memories, most of which, it struck her, were right there in the station.

If Ginny had hoped that her mother might have slipped and finally let her onto the platform in the midst of their time-induced panic, she had failed to account for Molly Weasley's head for pressure. She was in her element here, brushing Ginny off almost before she'd managed to even dredge up the tears to ask in nearly the same breath as she sent Percy off through the barrier with a faint pop, all the while glancing around to make sure no muggles were paying particularly close attention. Ginny made an effort to dry the worst of her eyes on her mother's sleeve. No use having blurry vision if it wasn't going to garner her the least bit of sympathy from her mother, and she'd prefer not to embarrass herself by crying needlessly, even if she was only doing so in front of a few muggles she'd never see again. Muggles, and that boy she'd seen before.

Ginny glanced over at the shadowy corner where she'd spotted the strange boy, ignoring Fred and George's antics with her mother. He was still standing there, his face a vision of disbelief as the twins disappeared in front of his eyes, as if he'd never seen a Transportation Barrier before. Unless he really hadn't. She knew from Percy's endless lecturing that there were all sorts of protective charms to stop Muggles noticing anything special about the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten, and they even prevented Muggleborn wizards and witches from becoming this cognizant of the blatant magical activity in the middle of the bustling station, at least until they had it pointed out to them during their orientation day with the Head Boy and Girl, and she knew from Bill's grumbling about the six extra days they'd had to run on short notice just how much effort the Hogwarts staff were willing to go to in order to make sure everyone was able to attend. No, that boy didn't make any sense to her.

Ginny was left with little opportunity to ponder the strange boy before he rolled his trolley up to join them, his green eyes resting on her own for a moment. Face warming under his gaze, she stepped back to stand slightly behind her mother, suddenly hyperaware of the traitorous tears still clinging stubbornly to her lashes. When he looked away to talk to her mother, Ginny attempted to blink the water from her eyes as subtly as possible, but only succeeded in reddening them further, and she gave it up as a bad job. She retreated slightly further, still not entirely certain why she cared what this boy thought of her, though it didn't stop her from listening intently as her mother explained the Transportation Barrier, stifling a giggle at his politeness. He seemed so different from her brothers, and not just because of his lack of the Weasley-red hair and freckles common to almost everyone else she knew.

It was with a twinge of sadness that she watched the boy drag his trolley to face the barrier, and she turned away to hide the fresh tears she could feel beginning to stain her cheeks as he examined the wall. They'd only just met, but she still felt almost as if she'd known him for years, and now it was going to be a whole year before she had a chance to see him again and find out why exactly this boy seemed so familiar. She couldn't let that happen. Ginny turned, about to call out to the boy to stop for just a moment, but the cry caught in her throat as he stumbled almost as soon as set off, causing his snowy owl to hoot at him in what she imagined was a quite haughty tone for a bird. He looked at the owl for a moment, before turning his gaze on Ginny. She held it for a moment, staring back into his emerald eyes, but quickly remembered the tears still sticking to her face and dipped her head, hoping to hide the worst of it.

'Nice work, Weasley,' she thought to herself bitterly, 'You've made a right weepy sop of yourself, haven't you? Now he's going to walk through that barrier and never even look at you again, and you'll have no idea who he is or what's so special about him.'

Ginny let her shoulders slump in resignation, though she kept her ears focused, not willing to risk embarrassing herself further by looking up before the slight popping that accompanied the use of the barrier. In her concentration on the sound that never came, she completely missed the soft footsteps approaching her, and was consequently so surprised when a hand curled gently around her own that she didn't think to pull away from it, though she stiffened slightly at the unexpected contact, since neither her mother nor brothers would ever be quite so tender about grabbing her arm, except maybe Bill. It took Ginny a moment to realise that the hand lightly gripping her fingers belonged to the black-haired boy, and another moment to notice that he was speaking. To her.

Ginny felt her eyes slowly drifting upwards as he talked, and she noticed for the first time the state of his clothing. She knew her family had little money for new clothes, indeed her 'new' dresses and skirts were all in reality bought second-hand or transfigured and otherwise magically modified from her brothers' old clothes, but even her most patchwork hand-me-downs looked brand new compared to the tattered grey rags covering the boy. It was only when she heard him mention Hogwarts that Ginny realised she'd been too distracted by his strange looks and soft tone to actually pay attention to his words. She quickly looked away again, both to hide the blush creeping up her neck and to stop herself getting too distracted to hear his next words.

"I – I was wondering whether you'd mind if I were to write to you, G-Ginny."

She stared into the emerald-green orbs for a moment, searching for a hint of the twins' familiar mirth but finding only uncertain hope in his eyes. Her own brothers could barely find the time to send her even the smallest notes in their occasional letters home from Hogwarts, but this boy was going out of his way to offer, and Ginny thought he actually seemed serious. He really wanted to write to her.

He must have mistaken her stunned look for offense, as he quickly began a stuttering apology, though Ginny barely gave him a chance to speak before she pounced, wrapping her arms around him and thanking him with all the words she could find, and then again when it seemed that the vocabulary she had built up over ten years wasn't quite sufficient. By now, she'd completely given up on stopping her tears. It didn't seem as if the boy minded particularly, and her mother was probably used to it from her annual performances. She froze in the middle of her gratitude, remembering how her mother had reacted when she'd asked to see Luna. It certainly wouldn't help the situation that she was behaving so 'undignified and common', as Aunt Muriel would say.

Ginny tore herself away from the statuesque boy to turn to her mother with a whispered plea, her face falling at the tight purse of her lips. She could almost hear the admonishments coming now, "You'll only distract the poor boy when he's meant to be studying, Ginevra," or perhaps "No, Ginevra, you're far too young to be owling a boy." She had no idea why her mother was always so worried about her having any sort of contact with boys, it wasn't as if she didn't spend every summer living with six of them. She glared up at her mother, the effect lessened somewhat by her short stature and moistened eyes. At least, it would have been if her mother was actually looking at her. Instead, her gaze drifted up and down the boy, studying his messy hair and tattered clothes, before coming to rest on his eyes. Her expression softened and finally melted into a smile, barely leaving Ginny any chance to brace herself before being crushed in a Weasley hug.

She almost didn't mind as Ron hurried through the barrier, almost knocking an unfortunate pair of muggles to the ground as he passed. But then it was her new quill-pal's turn to go, and just as he began to move purposefully towards the brick wall, Ginny realised that in the excitement she'd never actually found out his name, and opened her mouth to ask him just as her mother apparently had the same idea. The tail end of his reply was lost as he stepped through the barrier, but the message was clear, even if it did take a few moments to properly sink in. Harry Potter was going to write to her.

Ginny's squeal of excitement was sufficiently loud to garner several dirty looks from passing muggles, as well as a hushed telling off from her mother.

"Be quiet, Ginny, or I'll leave you out here and you won't be able to watch the train leaving."

They were both well aware that the threat was an empty one, but Ginny still didn't want to risk her mother's ire, and the possibility that she might decide to forbid her writing to Harry after all. She didn't think that was particularly likely either, and she knew she'd find a way around whatever restrictions her parents tried if she had to, but it would be much easier if she didn't have to sneak around them.

"Sorry, mum. I'll be good." She bowed her head slightly, shoulders slumped. It wasn't exactly a natural response for her but it seemed to do the trick for the twins most of the time, and their transgressions tended to be significantly worse than a simple squeal in a station.

Satisfied with the response, Ginny's mum took her hand and, looking around to ensure none of the muggle attention lingered from her outburst, strode purposefully towards the wall. Ginny was about to clamp her eyes shut to minimise the disorientation, when it struck her that nobody had thought to warn Harry about the dizzying effects of the portal. Hopefully it wouldn't make him sick like Ron had been, the time he'd tried passing on to the platform with their eyes wide open. She hadn't been around to see it, but the Twins' annual Christmas recreation of the aftermath left little to the imagination. The sheer volume of fake vomit was probably a bit exaggerated, but given how far the youngest Weasley brother's blush spread, it didn't seem they were that far from the truth. She just hoped her forgetfulness hadn't consigned Harry to similar embarrassment. The floor in the entryway to Platform Nine and Three Quarters was as grimy as usual, but at least vomit-free, which she took to be something of a reassuring sign.

In any case, Ginny didn't have much opportunity to worry, as the train began to pull away with one last great puff of smoke just as she reached the platform's edge. Ignoring her mother's calls to "please be careful, Ginny", she ran alongside it, searching up and down the carriage windows in search of the shock of red hair that made her family so easy to find in a crowd. She'd known it was a lost cause from the start, of course. Percy would have gone straight to the prefects' compartment, and he wouldn't take the time to wave to her from a window like Bill had always done. The twins would likely be stalking the corridors in search of somebody to prank, and the youngest of her brothers probably hadn't even stowed his trunk yet.

Disregarding the futility of her actions, Ginny continued her search, eyes passing back and forth almost in time with the chacking of the train. Her disappointment at her brothers was so encompassing that she almost didn't notice the pair of emerald-green eyes watching her from a window. She waved up at her newfound friend, grinning in spite of her shortness of breath as he mirrored the action. The train accelerated until Ginny struggled to keep up with it, and she barely managed to slide to a halt before she fell off the platform, though she maintained her frantic waving as though her movement might slow the retreating carriage down slightly, so their goodbyes could last just a few moments longer.

All too soon, the train faded into the distance, leaving Ginny standing alone at the edge of the thinning crowd. She let her arm fall to her side, but stayed for what felt like hours, staring out at the point on the horizon where the tracks seemed to join as one as the platform quieted. Her mother's hand clasped around her wrist and they began the long trek home.

She just hoped Harry would remember her.