Author's Note: This one was inspired by Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - basically one line said by Ginny to Harry. I'm not a huge fan of CC's canon, but I thought writing a story about Harry and Ginny's 'Exploding Snap' moment would be an interesting challenge. I also never truly thought Rowling's statement through Harry's eyes that Ginny was"perfectly happy again" immediately after the horrors of her possession and abduction was credible. Enjoy a reference to the Room of Requirement, some foreshadowing for events in HBP between Harry and Ginny, and some shade thrown at contemporary events and popular culture. Most of all, enjoy the story!

She turned the darkened corner of the corridor on the Seventh Floor beside the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and the mysterious tiny room she'd hidden in after waking up next to the Petrified Justin and Nick, and came face to face with the person she least wanted to see. Harry himself.

"Ginny?" He looked at her kindly, his emerald eyes boring into hers. "Something wrong?"

There was, and she couldn't stop herself, yet again. She felt something use her jaw to hiss out a command.

"Kill."

There was a horrible slithering sound from behind her, getting closer….

"You see, Ginny?" came the softly taunting voice of Tom Riddle, reverberating inside her skull as she felt the loathsome black book in her left hand heat up and twitch. "No-one can stop me. Not even Harry Potter. With him dead, you and I….we're well on the way to making Hogwarts great again!"

She heard the sound of the creature draw nearer; it was now surely right behind her, she thought.

A horrible hiss….

"BLOOD AT LAST!"

Harry's eyes widened with fear as he broke eye contact. She vainly attempted to move her arm to stop him from doing it, to cry out a warning, but it was no good. His green eyes became bloodshot, and with barely a moment's pause, his face now frozen in a death-mask of horror, he fell backwards. Ginny remained rooted to the spot, unable to flee, wanting to look away, anywhere but into the face of her one last hope, the one who could've put everything right. It was just a dream, her rescue from the Chamber. If only it had been real….

A whirl of colour…..she could see flashes of scales that were vivid, poisonous green as the beast she'd summoned moved in for the feast. A howling rush of wind, and she reappeared in Myrtle's Bathroom, facing the mirror above the sink with the malfunctioning tap. As she looked at her almost-vampiric reflection, she felt a sharp pain in her forehead as a whirl of vapour appeared from thin air, and soared over to land over her right shoulder. It began morphing into the shape of a handsome boy in outdated Slytherin robes…..

Jumping, Ginny turned to find nothing at all standing behind her. Another sharp pain erupted up her neck and head, and she felt her head forced back to face the mirror.

"Look at me," whispered the reflection of Tom, his quiet sadism positively pouring off him. "You've done very well, Ginny. I'm sorry about Harry, but he could've badly interfered in my plans for you."

"You're afraid of him!" she croaked out – her voice was once again hers. Tom's pallid complexion paled further and his lip trembled with rage, but he soon regained control.

"How alike you two are," Tom sighed exasperatedly, but then his face broke into an evil grin. "Correction: were. Then again, I guess I should take credit for your similarities. Now then, ready to finish what we started. How about a little trip down to see my loyal pet?"

The sinks in front of her began to separate, revealing the black pipe. Fighting her muscles every inch of the way, Ginny fought the urge to be sick as she felt herself manhandled by an invisible force into the slimy, gaping maw of the pipe ahead of her. Then came the fall…..this was it….she was going to be fed to the Basilisk…..

"NO!" she cried, fighting inexorably against the force at her back, but she lashed out and felt something soft.

Her eyes shot open. She was back in her dormitory, curtains closed around her four-poster bed. At first, she let out a strangled sob of horror as she positively threw herself out of bed to check under it for the horrible black book that had brought so much misery.

Not there.

She heard laughter and chatting from downstairs. Taking in a heavy breath, she looked at the bedside clock. It was barely seven p.m, two nights after her final ordeal in the Chamber, and the first evening after she'd been released from the Hospital Wing. Fred and George's visit that morning had raised her morale considerably, but the nightmares were still rolling in, and the three girls who shared her dormitory and who had long (and rightly) treated her with wariness and suspicion hadn't so much as exchanged a look at her all day. Then there was the matter of repairing her friendship with Colin Creevey, whom she'd seen pull out his camera as he exclaimed at the sight of the spiders moving past him, before…..

Taking in a deep breath, Ginny wiped her face of the accumulated sweat and tears, let out a melancholic sigh, and traipsed down towards the welcoming atmosphere of the Gryffindor Common Room.

There were barely ten people in the room: Oliver Wood in discussion with Lee Jordan beside the fire, two third years whom she didn't know, Neville Longbottom, the girl called Parvati and beside her the black boy (Dean, wasn't it?), who, she noticed with interest, was seriously good looking (though not as handsome as Harry, of course), and a sixth year boy who she also didn't know.

Then there were the three of them. Hermione, her brother and, of course, Harry. Once again, she felt a warm flush creep up her neck and ears, reaching her cheeks, but she was more overcome by the surge of affection and gratitude she felt for the heroic and handsome, though scruffy, boy in front of her. Bizarrely, it seemed to make him more attractive. Messy hair, as dark as a blackboard….

"Hey Ginny," Harry raised his eyes to meet hers. She suddenly felt like she was frozen on the spot once more. What to say? She remembered how she'd attempted to tell him everything about Tom Riddle's Diary only a few days beforehand, how she'd stolen it, but she'd been fighting Tom's control at that time. This was nerves, pure and simple.

Hermione, hearing Harry speak, also looked up, gave Ginny a friendly, reassuring smile, and an almost imperceptible nod. The gesture emboldened her. She could do this.

"Hi Harry." Why did her voice have to sound so pathetic and croaky at this time? "Hermione, Ron," she squeaked hastily.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked supportively as he got up from his comfy seat, and Ginny elected to ignore Hermione's slight smile at this. She saw Ron sit up at this and also acknowledge her briefly with a smile and a nod of his own.

But her face was now burning up. She could think of nothing but the pair of alluring emerald eyes now approaching her, and of how foolish she'd been around him. Every. Single. Sodding. Time.

"Fine," she muttered, suddenly finding her hastily pulled-on, battered trainers and patchy dressing gown to be more interesting. "Just needed some extra sleep." She yawned, tottering slightly.

"Easy," Harry whispered. "I…How about a game of Exploding Snap? Might take your mind off things." As Ginny took in a calming breath and looked back at him, he smiled once again.

"Come on, Ginny," came the exasperated, though slightly concerned voice of her bother from behind Harry's back. "How about kicking Harry's arse at something for once?"

"Ron," said Hermione reprovingly, but Ron ignored her.

She let out a chuckle. It was a weak, hollow-sounding one, but the idea of beating The Boy Who Lived, ridiculous as it was, had some appeal when it came from the potty mouth of her brother. Though she could on a good day match him for swearwords, thanks to Fred and George teaching the garden gnomes….

"Okay then," Harry said calmly, gesturing for Ginny to sit on a seat facing their couch. "Set it up, Ron. Classical game."

At this, Hermione excused herself and went to retrieve her reading pile near Parvati, Neville and Dean's couch. Ginny couldn't help but notice the way she let out a dismissive grimace as she took one look at Gilderoy Lockhart's Travels with Trolls and picked up Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them instead. Feeling an almost reckless surge of confidence, she caught Harry's eye and raised an eyebrow. She saw his lips twitch upwards, then, shaking his head, resumed helping Ron set up.

The first game saw her lose miserably, though the coldness inside her was slowly but surely beginning to thaw. The second game, by contrast, saw Ginny win handsomely, and both she and Harry joined in the laughter with Dean, Neville, Oliver and Lee as Ron reappeared from behind the cloud of smoke with a singed eyebrow. Ginny turned to see Hermione give their group a disapproving scowl as she returned to her reading. The leaden weight that had settled in the base of her gut was now, finally, lifting.

"Bloody hell, Gin," he muttered in frustration. "I said kick Harry's arse, not mine."

"Give me three or four years," she said cheekily, all but forgetting that Harry himself was sitting in front of her.

"Whatever," Ron scowled, scooping up the ashy remains of the deck, and getting to his feet as he moved towards Hermione's seat. "Oi, Hermione! Stop moping around with the reading, how about a game with us?"

"Honestly Ron…" Hermione's exasperation would've been easy to decipher even if one was blind and deaf, Ginny mused.

A loud snap made her look up.

"Chocolate?" Harry offered. "I'm sorry, it's a little squishy." He suddenly looked sheepish. "Your mum owled it to me for Easter, but I didn't eat all of it because, well, I was too worked up with the Diary at the time, I guess."

Nodding her thanks, and not caring that it was Harry Sodding Potter of all people offering her it, Ginny wolfed down the remains of the egg in a most unladylike fashion.

"That was some quick instincts," said Harry as hit bit into another portion of his egg. "You're really good Ginny - like a Seeker needs to be, actually. Do you like Quidditch?"

"Yes," she replied thickly, letting out a sigh of delight as the taste washed over her. Then she remembered who she was talking with – and with her mouth full of chocolate, too! What was she thinking? She attempted to reply, thinking about the times since the age of six she'd nicked her brothers' brooms and ridden them, feeling the wind soaring through her air, feeling the adrenaline rush through her…..

She inhaled some chocolate crumbs, and, mortified, began to cough.

"You okay?" Harry whispered as Ginny, eyes streaming, nodded her head and hiccupped herself back to regular breathing. "I love it," she wheezed.

"You ever wanted to play for a team?" Harry asked mildly; from the way he'd said it, he might have been asking about the weather. Ginny felt all her old insecurities about that topic rush back to her. What would her brothers say if she tried out next year, made the team, and was terrible as Chaser?

"Not good enough yet," she replied shyly. "I don't know….I might in a few years." As Harry nodded slowly in satisfaction, she realised she'd never divulged this secret to anyone. Not her parents, definitely not her brothers, and not even Hermione. Thoughts not just of the Gryffindor Team, but of the Holyhead Harpies, and their talented new Captain, Gwenog Jones, flashed through her mind. If only….

"Good idea," said Harry, his eyes darting over to where Oliver and Lee sat. "After all, not even the Twins and Oliver are going to be around forever. You could be utterly fantastic, and not even know it."

She felt her stomach swoop in delight. Harry had paid her a compliment! Sure, it was a theoretical one, but still.

Hermione's heated voice caught her attention once more as Ron stomped away from her spot and, sitting beside Neville, Dean and Parvati, pulled out another deck of Exploding Snap cards. She let out a loud snort as she saw Hermione sneak a glance at Ron's game from behind her book. Absolutely typical. The secret looks at her brother, the squabbling…..the cycle repeated itself every day. Did Hermione even know she was doing it yet?

"Bet you anything those two get married," she sighed, shaking her head with affectionate exasperation. "Look at them. What say you, Harry?" Even as her mind zoomed into overdrive, conjuring a scene of her, taller, looking far more mature and beautiful and wearing a dazzling white dress, softly kissing a dapper-looking adult Harry (what would he look like with dimples and stubble?), she fought to keep the blushing at bay.

"Oh." Harry had turned red. "I…..wouldn't know about that sort of stuff."

"Really?" He voice had gone up an octave, and her gaze was now drifting to the dazzling light from the setting sun reflected over the Black Lake. She scolded herself for her mind drifting, as an image of her and Harry, tentatively but deeply kissing outside in the golden light, continued playing. That exhilarating image, that had kept her sane all the way down to the Chamber that final time, even as it felt like her head was splitting open from the pain and Tom's snide insults…

"…..I didn't really know anyone well before I came here. Thanks to the Muggles I live with." Harry's unexpectedly morose, flat voice was awful to hear. She remembered snatches of the conversation she'd eavesdropped in on. Ron telling their mother that Harry's relatives had put bars on his window. Like a zoo animal! The image of her kissing Harry evaporated as it was replaced by anger. Tom Riddle and Harry's relatives; both had stripped of him of any vestiges of normal life. How different would Harry have been if he'd not had that encounter with Tom so many Halloweens beforehand? Would he have had siblings? Would he have been as motivated to stop evil? Would he and Ron still have become friends? And would she have met, liked, and become weak-kneed by the very sight of Harry? It made her head hurt, and she yawned once more.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said wanly. "I forgot." She smiled inwardly as she remembered Fred teasing George about his crush on Alicia in front of her that morning. So much Harry had missed out on – sibling banter, for one.

"You look pale," said Harry concernedly. "Are you needing more rest?" Ginny shook her head determinedly, but she was betrayed by another yawn.

"Maybe," she muttered reluctantly. "I guess I'll say goodnight." She got up, ears beginning to burn again, but Harry's footsteps and voice made her stop as her foot reached the first stair.

"You sure you're okay?" He stood there below her, barely three feet away. The way his eyes anxiously scanned her pale features and the concern in his voice warmed the cockles of her heart - better than a Pepperup Potion.

She took a step towards him. Then another. Go for Gryffindor, she thought fiercely.

"No, I wasn't," she admitted ruefully. "But I am now, I think."

Her heart began to pound, and she leaned forwards. For one horrible moment, part of her thought she was going to do one of her awfully embarrassing slip-ups around Harry while emboldened – like the decision to send him the singing valentine.

Or, maybe, impulsively kissing him on the lips right now.

She froze. This wasn't some lurid fantasy with everyone cheering her and Harry on in the Common Room. Nor of some trashy novel. No besotted girls and shirtless vampires, or whatever passing fad teenage witches were into at the moment.

She grabbed his elbow. A much better decision. Breathe normally, and don't blush…

"And thanks for the Exploding Snap invite," she said a little breathlessly. It was really nice and…." Words failed her once more. What to say to the boy to whom she owed not just her life, but through his actions today, a path ahead out of her traumatising trap of emotions, memories and guilt she found herself ensnared in? She removed her hand from his elbow as she felt the unwanted blush erupt fully across her face. But she did not drop her eye contact.

"Don't mention it," Harry said, a little awkwardly, and Ginny felt some guilt. Harry clearly had no romantic interest in her, likely would never be interested in…..that, and she'd gone in all clingy!

"Just glad you're back and everyone's safe," Harry finished, the pause hanging over the landing. Ginny looked around nervously. No-one appeared to have seen her interaction. No-one to tease her, which was good. And although she was certain Hermione would never tease her over her feelings for Harry, she nevertheless felt a smug sense of satisfaction that she may have just had a moment – not romantic, but nevertheless a meaningful one – with Harry without Hermione noticing.

"Goodnight Harry," she whispered, breaking eye contact. "Thanks for everything." Her face positively boiling, she didn't wait to hear Harry's reply, as she positively skipped up to her dormitory.

The moment her head hit the pillow, her eyelids fluttered closed, but this time, she knew she would sleep safely, soundly and peacefully.

All thanks to one boy who, while appearing ordinary enough, was capable of incredible flashes of heroism, and even more importantly, extraordinary displays of kindness towards someone he barely even knew. Still wondering when she'd stopped gawking at his scar, Ginny Weasley let sleep take her.

"After I came out of hospital - everyone ignored me, shut me out - other than, that is, the boy who had everything - who came across the Gryffindor common room and challenged me to a game of Exploding Snap. People think they know all there is to know about you, but the best bits of you are - have always been - heroic in really quiet ways." – Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child.