DISCLAIMER: *Bangs head against proverbial wall* Rights? What rights? I don't own it! But I do rather enjoy borrowing it...

A/N: This is a prelude of sorts to the story I've promised will be up as soon as I finish "Magic, Marauders, and Other Misdemeanors" and "A Crash-Course in Friendship", the one called "Smile, Harry!". Hope you enjoy. I'm not going to beg for reviews, but they are nice. Reeeally nice. Okay, who am I kidding? Please review! I'll bribe you with a cherry on top! ;)

Oh, and this is set in the summer between Harry's fourth and fifth years.

And since I was asked, the "Idiot and Einstein" line was referring to Ron and Hermione.

~Ari

Ginny honestly hadn't expected such a fuss to be made - after all, she only wanted to send a letter! But then, perhaps she should've figured out by now that nothing was easy where the recipient of the aforementioned letter was concerned.

Besides, it wasn't as if Ron was going to let her send a simple note to his best mate without making a big deal out of it.

Contrary to popular belief, Ginny was not the drama queen of the family. No, that was Ronald. If he was hungry, he was famished. If he'd found a couple of ginger hairs on his pillow and his rat was missing, Crookshanks had fancied a snack. If he'd tripped and fallen, his leg was broken.

And if his younger sister wanted to send a letter to Harry Potter, it was some sort of sordid love note.

Thus, said sister had rather a right to be standoffish if said brother decided it was a good idea to tear the letter from her hands as she was about to offer it to Errol, demand to know its contents, and assume the sordid-love-note scenario when she told him it was none of his bloody business and to keep his nose where it belonged.

Even if being standoffish meant a shouting match and some creative threats involving Hermione Granger, Ron's broomstick, Professor Snape, some Skiving Snackboxes, and the old pond on the very edge of the Weasley property.

"Well then, why won't you let me see it?" Ron cried when Ginny informed him sharply that it held no sort of declaration of undying affection.

"Because you have absolutely no right to go through my mail! In fact, I do believe it is a federal offence in the Muggle world. Right Daddy?" she added to their father, who was slumped in an armchair in the next room over, a newspaper hiding his face.

"Yes, dear," he called back absently.

"See?" Ginny said triumphantly.

"Doesn't mean a thing. He wasn't even listening," Ron snarled. "Besides, if he knew you were writing to Harry -"

"Oh, Ginny's writing to Harry too? Good, that boy needs more people looking after him if he won't do it himself," Molly said firmly as she bustled past an irate Ron and a smirking Ginny to the kitchen counter and began Summoning various ingredients of that day's lunch.

Ron made a sound somewhere between a growl of frustration and an indignant humph! He wasn't quite defeated yet, though.

He stepped back quickly, stumbling a bit over his own large feet in his hurry to put the kitchen table between himself and a furious Ginny, breaking the seal as he went.

"Ahem! Hiya Harry," he read loudly. ("Ronald!" scolded his mother.) "I know I've never written you before, but I reckon after last year, you'll need all the cheering up and scolding about that guilt that lingered in your eyes at King's Cross last term. (Don't deny it, we all know you're blaming yourself...you stupid noble prat!)

So, here I am, wasting parchment telling you not to blame yourself for the fact that the Dark Git enjoys murdering and that horrid rat of his did his dirty work. And you couldn't stop it. Because you couldn't, you know.

Now, I'm sure that all you wanted in the first place was news. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I know nothing more than what's in the papers. That's what I get for being the youngest and the only girl to boot - "Ginny, you're too young! Ginny, we must lock you in a steel room for the rest of eternity so that you don't get hurt!" Bloody hell, I'm not a porcelain doll!

And neither are you, which is why I'm sorry no one seems willing to update you on whatever Snake Face is doing right now. However, I can tell you that we'll be moving to what everyone is calling "a new safe location" very soon, which may or may not have something to do with Snuffles. Oh, and Professor Dumbledore is preparing, even if the Ministry isn't. Dumbledore made Ron and Hermione promise not to write anything important in a letter, so you'll probably be receiving a bunch of rubbish from now on. ("Oi!" Ron protested as Molly scolded, "Ginny!")

In any case, Percy is being a gigantic git, Idiot and Einstein haven't wised up yet, Mum's French Onion Soup is still the best thing in all of culinary history, and Gred and Forge are still pranking. They said to say thanks for you-know-what. I'm assuming you do know what, because I don't. I hope you haven't done anything abnormally stupid. Have the Dursleys turned into the animals they resemble yet? If not, I'm sure the twins can fix it.

Do something useful and write back instead of wallowing in self-pity.

Your friend (I hope!),

Ginny.

P.S. Do yourself a favor and smile, Harry. You know you want to."

There was a long pause. Ron's hand went slack on the letter and Ginny took the opportunity to retrieve it from him.

"Happy, you git?" she snapped. "That's what all your dramatics were about!"

Ron's ears slowly began to blend into his hairline as he spluttered, "Dramatics? My dramatics? Who was threatening me with images of Snape in a bikini sunbathing next to our pond?"

Ginny huffed indignantly. "Ronald. Does that foot," she snarled, gesturing to her brother's shuffling feet, "fit in that mouth?"

"Apparently not," Bill chuckled from the doorway. "But that doesn't stop him from trying."