Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, however much I wish that I did. How many times do I have to say it? Eeeesh.

Author's Note: Okay, I am updating! Finally! I won' bore you with excuses. There were births, deaths, epiphanies... but I'm sure you don't want to hear about the ups and downs of my personal life; you just want to read the story, I'm sure. So, without further ado, I present Chapter Six (I think) to you, in all its unbetaed, somewhat rushed, I-finally-finished-writing-this-at-two-in-the-morning (and believe me, two in the morning is late for the well-behaved thirteen-year-old) glory...

Attraction and Other Sinister Things

Silence reigned in the Weasley house; Harry was suddenly very aware of the thin, feminine hand he clutched within his own, not to mention the fact that an eleven-year-old and a ten-year-old holding hands would look decidedly odd to anyone other than the two children that the hands belonged to. He swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut, painfully aware that even the slightest motion he made would be scrutinized by Ginny's family.

He knew without having to look that Ginny was getting quite stressed. He tried to subtly squeeze her hand, and was rewarded with a rush of affection through their bond. Trying to school his expression into something passably impassive, he called to her through the bond as he clung to the fervent hope that Ginny's parents would not notice their private conversation.

Ginny? he asked carefully. What are we going to do?

Her response was immediate. I don't know.

Well, that's a first, he teased affably, though Ginny could sense the undertone of agitation in his mind-voice. Seriously, though, we've got to do something. Your parents are waiting for an answer.

She shrugged mentally. Well, we can't do anything with Petunia here. No offense to her or anything, but she doesn't understand magic. We can give her some semblance of an explanation later, and separately.

Agreed, Harry responded. What do we say to her, though?

I dunno, we'll have to improvise. It's going to look pretty damn strange if we carry on any longer – already does. To them, we're just sitting here with random facial expressions flashing across our faces every so often. Ginny, too, sounded agitated.

Okay. Harry opened his eyes and turned to Ginny. She was the better one at improvisation, and besides, it was her family they were telling. They'd rather hear it from her.

"'Kay. Well, um, first… Petunia?" The older woman glanced up at her, surprise registering in her eyes. "Um… we know you want to know how we did it as well, but it's got a lot to do with magic. We will tell you, but it might be better off if we tell you later. We'll need to explain more to you than we will to my mother and father."

Petunia nodded understandingly. "Okay, then. But what do you want me to do while you talk?" She looked uncertain, uncomfortable even. It would be impolite, cruel even, to make her wander the Burrow by herself when she didn't know much about magic.

Ginny smiled devilishly, winking at Harry. He glimpsed her plan, and a soft smile lit his face. Without warning – except for, of course, Harry, who was quite aware of what she was doing, Ginny stood and bellowed out to her four Hogwarts-age brothers. "FRED! GEORGE! PERCY! RON! GET YOUR LAZY ARSES DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!"

Petunia winced at the sheer volume of the small girl's voice. Mr. Weasley shook his head in bewilderment. The sound of stampeding elephants echoed through the house, and three teenage boys shot into the Weasley living room with worried looks plastered on their faces. A moment later, another teenage boy stepped into the room, scowling fiercely and giving Ginny an icy glare. Mrs. Weasley looked torn between reproving her daughter for being unladylike or congratulating her for her success in summoning her unruly (Fred, George and Ron) and irritatingly unsocial (Percy) older brothers.

"Ginevra? What is the meaning of this?" Percy finally broke the stilted silence. As usual, I was with an ignorant and pompous statement that made Ginny grit her teeth. She turned to her brother.

Instead of answering his question, however, she snarled, "Don't. Call. Me. Ginevra." She looked ready to kill.

Percy ignored her. "And you know, Ginevra, it is quite unladylike to use diminutive language." He didn't notice the collective wince that the rest of the Weasleys and Harry all had on their faces when he said this, but Ginny surprised all when she didn't retaliate with her normal wild fervour. Instead, she grumbled through her and Harry's mind-link, Gryffindor my diminutive-language. Harry stifled a laugh.

"Could all of you guys show Petunia around the house? Harry and I need to talk to Mum and Dad." She'd completely ignored Percy. At this, Percy huffed and stomped out of the room. Ginny rolled her eyes and turned to look at her other brothers. "Fred? George? Ron?" She smiled at each of them in turn, locking eyes with them as she did. Her gaze and smile lingered on Ron.

Her three brothers all nodded. 'Of course, Ginnykins." Fred and George, of course, spoke in unison. Ron, too, confirmed that he would help show Petunia around. The older woman stood, leaving the room with Ginny's three brothers after giving Harry a warm smile.

The room became awkwardly silent once more. Ginny and Harry glanced at each other. Now what? Harry asked.

Now… we tell them something. She sighed, and her mind-voice dropped to a whisper. But what do we tell them? She and Harry were both at a loss, but then an idea occurred to Ginny. It wasn't something either of them wanted to do, but they both knew they couldn't keep their secret forever.

We have to tell them the truth, don't we? Harry's mind-voice was resigned.

Yes. Ginny, too, was resigned. Oh, Harry, I wish we didn't have to! I wish this could be our little secret for just a little while longer. She sighed, both mentally and aloud. But we have to. There's no other explanation that will suffice for them. And we'd have to tell them eventually… I just wish it wasn't now…

"Mum, Dad… this is going to sound really, really strange… so just bear with us…" She swallowed hard, and Harry squeezed her hand supportively. It was Ginny's parents, so she would have to do the talking. But Harry would be there for her… her anchor. "Do you remember last year, Mum, when you found me and Harry in the woods unconscious and we told you we had no idea what had happened?" Her parents nodded. "Well, we weren't being entirely truthful…"

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked blank. "What does that have to do with you knowing about Harry being mistreated?" Mrs. Weasley asked suspiciously. Her eyes narrowed, and she looked directly at Harry and Ginny's linked hands as she waited for an explanation.

Harry and Ginny looked at one another cautiously, and Harry spoke up. "Mrs. Weasley… something very strange happened that night. I think Ginny might be better off explaining that part."

"That night, I was walking Harry back to his house, when I tripped over a tree root. I was falling, and Harry reached out to help, and grabbed me round the waist." Her parents frowned, beckoning for her to continue. She did so. "When Harry and I first touched then, we blacked out. We came to in a sort of… dreamscape, I guess. It was white all around, and at first I thought it was a dream… so did Harry…" She paused, not knowing whether or not this next part would go over well. "But the strange thing was… Harry and I were dreaming the same dream. And we could talk to one another, and it was real."

Everything was, once again, painfully silent. Finally, Mr. Weasley broke it with, "Real? You mean to say…" He seemed at a loss for words before finally continuing, "You mean to say, you were somehow able to talk between your minds?" He was shocked.

Ginny smiled. Her father was a sharp one. "Yes, Daddy. He didn't know what on Earth was going on… neither did I, for that matter, but I knew more than he did. So I told him he was a wizard." She shrugged. "I also told him what I knew of that Halloween night when his parents died…" She squeezed Harry's hand apologetically. "Which wasn't much. He took everything quite well."

Her parents were obviously in dire need of more information; in other circumstances, the expressions of confusion on their faces would have been amusing. Now, though, it certainly was not. Ginny continued on where she left off. "And then we came to, and we were here, and so was Dumbledore. But then something even stranger happened." She paused. Her parents had hungry expressions on their faces; it did not befit them well. "We could… we could…" She felt a lump in her throat. She didn't want to tell them this! She wanted this to be Harry and her private thing!

I know, Gin, Harry murmured. I know. But we've got to tell them, you know that.

I know! she said. It's so bloody hard, though. Painful even. It just sucks.

In response, Harry sent a wave of understanding empathy to her, bolstering her resolve. She continued on doggedly. "It was then that Harry and I first discovered that we could converse through our minds."

The silence was a thick, weighty blanket over them this time. No-one seemed to want to dare to break it. Finally, though, Ginny ventured to. "Mum? Dad? Say something, please…"

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were in shock. Their only daughter… neither of them could quite process what their little princess had just told them. Finally, Mrs. Weasley put her daughter out of her misery and broke the night's billionth awkward silence.

"Sweetie… what do you mean, converse through your minds?" She looked quite ready to berate her only daughter about what was proper.

Seeing this, Ginny hurried to assuage her mother. "Yeah… it's just like talking to someone, just like a normal conversation, except it's in our minds. And sometimes we can sense each other's emotions, just a little, and we kind of know when the other is in pain… that's why I was screaming and everything that night Harry and the others went after the Philosopher's Stone. I knew he was in pain and, to a certain extent, could feel the pain as well, though that bit could have just been in my head, I guess." She didn't dare say that if they concentrated, they could share senses… telling them that would most likely send her mother off into a tirade about them looking through the other's eyes while showering or something.

Mrs. Weasley fell silent, and Ginny allowed her to digest that for a while. Mr. Weasley still hadn't said anything, but finally, tentatively, made an enquiry. "So – so does that mean that you were talking to each other the whole time while Harry was at Hogwarts?"

The two nodded in synchronization. "I've learned pretty much everything that Harry did last year. It's going to be dreadfully boring repeating it all." She smiled softly. "It'll be fantastic to finally see everything for myself, though. I just wish I could start out in second year with Harry and Ron. And Hermione, though technically I haven't met her yet. I didn't get a chance at the train station."

Mr. Weasley turned to look at his wife. "Well, that must be why they didn't send any owls to each other. They didn't need to." He smiled sadly. "It explains a lot."

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "That it does."

* * *

The conversation had ended soon after that, and Harry and Petunia had enjoyed a delicious lunch with the Weasleys. Upon returning home, Harry had struggled to distract himself so as not to be privy to the conversation between Ginny and her parents. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had reacted as expected, taking Ginny aside, asking her if she was happy with everything that had happened. She, of course, had responded that she wouldn't change things for the world. That had settled it; though they had seemed to want to give Ginny The Talk. She'd managed to distract them from the horrifying prospect, but it was only a matter of time.

The next day, Ginny had ventured over to Harry's place, where he had moved into an actual bedroom rather than the tiny study and was slowly but surely beginning to make the room his own. Petunia had also promised to take Harry shopping for clothes that actually fit him. The prospect was exciting for him, though he'd never admit it to anyone but Ginny; and even then, she knew anyway. She could sense his emotions.

Harry and Ginny had told Petunia of their curious little soul bond. She didn't really understand just how rare it was, being Muggle, but Harry and Ginny had been able to divulge the fact that, if they concentrated hard enough, they could merge their senses. They knew that Petunia wouldn't react as though it were improper, like Ginny's parents would have. They found that it was actually kind of refreshing to tell her, as she was someone who did not have the same views as a witch or wizard, and hearing her opinions was actually quite interesting.

* * *

Three days later, Harry and Ginny ventured into Ottery St. Catchpole in search of some fitting clothes for the former, accompanied by Aunt Petunia and Mrs. Weasley. Petunia had at first been intending to take Harry to Muggle London, but after Ginny told him about the clothing stores in Ottery St. Catchpole, Harry managed to convince his aunt to take him shopping there. It was a warm but not stifling summer day, perfect for an outing into town, and soon enough, the four of them found themselves in a little side alley of boutiques.

Harry stared in horror at the array of bright shops filled with girly clothing, suddenly and inexplicably terrified. Oh Merlin, he gasped. What have I gotten myself into?

Ginny giggled; unbeknownst to them, it had been out loud. You're in for some well-deserved terror, Harry. That's what shopping is. She flashed him a wide grin. Don't worry, I'm sure there's a shop here somewhere that isn't horrifically pink. She'd seen the way his eyes had lingered on a bright, fuchsia pink shop with extravagant and frankly disgusting clothes that no-one in their right mind would wear… except maybe Lavender Brown. Oh, Harry, she giggled. That shop only sells clothes for girls. We're going to go to a place where they have simple, plain clothes for guys, okay? Harry nodded, relieved. Unfortunately, neither realized that the nod hadn't been sent through their minds, but instead had been a physical head movement. It was then that Mrs. Weasley intervened.

"You should really be careful," she warned sternly after she'd pulled them aside from all the hustle and bustle of the walkway. "You can't go nodding and giggling without warning – that's what it seems like to other people. Muggles might well think you are insane, but at Hogwarts you could easily tip someone off to your situation. What with Harry being who he is, you'd be all over the papers, and this is something best kept quiet." The two children nodded, properly abashed.

"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley," they chanted in unison. The aforementioned Weasley matriarch sighed, and the duo swore they heard her mutter something about having another set of twins on her hands, or as good as. They tried to keep their giggling inside their heads at that.

Finally arriving at their destination, Petunia and Mrs. Weasley led the near-infamous duo to a small, slightly dingy-looking shop at the end of the street. As they walked in, a bell tinkled.

The shop was obviously for childrens' wear, as the clothes that would fit Harry were among the largest of the shop. There were two tables to either side of second-hand clothes; one table held girls clothes and one held boys. The rest of the racks held new clothes, and there was a cash register in the centre of the room. Two changing rooms were nestled in the corner.

"Well, it could be worse," Harry said aloud. But Ginny could feel his excitement.

* * *

The rest of Harry's morning was spent being dragged around a clothing shop by three determined women, changing in and out of various types of clothing more times than he'd like to remember. When the morning ended and they finally made their way out of the shop, however, he grudgingly had to admit that he was happy with the result. He had a few pairs of jeans, shoes, socks, and underwear, as well as a few T-shirts and jackets. It was not a gigantic wardrobe by any means, but it was plenty and it was better than he'd ever had. He'd even managed to persuade Mrs. Weasley to let him buy a dress for Ginny off the second-hand table with his own money from Gringotts. He still didn't quite know what had made her eventually agree… perhaps it was the well-timed use of his puppy-dog eyes?

Ginny reached over as they left the store, snatching up his hand within her own. Thanks for that, Harry, she said affectionately.

No problem, Harry replied, just as affectionate. It was a pretty dress… I still don't know why Aunt Petunia and your mum wouldn't let me see you wearing it, though. He frowned, careful to keep the frown inside their minds.

Ginny giggled. You'll see, she said cryptically. She, too, would not let him know the reason why he hadn't been allowed to see her wearing the dress. It was difficult to keep secrets from one another, which was why they didn't do it often. It must be important, otherwise, she wouldn't not tell him. Catching his train of thought, Ginny smiled affably and said, It's a girl thing.

* * *

The morning of July the 31st dawned bright and cloudless. Harry yawned, stretching and reaching for his glasses. His alarm clock reported that it was dawn. That's odd, he thought to himself. He'd been enjoying being able to have a lie-in; now that he didn't have to cook for the Dursleys, he had ample opportunity to sleep until ten.

He glanced at the window; the curtains were wide open, which was again odd. That would explain why he'd woken up – the sunlight had interrupted his sleep – but that question answered left another unexplained. He never left his curtains open, knowing that that woke him up.

"Hello." The voice spoke both in his mind and aloud, startling him. He glanced wearily at the doorway, and nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Ginny!" he gasped. His beautiful soulmate stood in the open doorway, beaming brilliantly down at him. And she certainly was beautiful… he abruptly realized why Petunia and Mrs. Weasley hadn't let him see her in that dress.

The dress was a soft amber brown, the exact same shade as her eyes. It draped over her nicely, starting at the neckline along her collarbone and ending two inches above her knees. The singlet straps, hem and neckline were lined with sparkly gold sequins. It fit her perfectly, accentuating the almost-eleven-year-old's small but still blossoming chest just so and showing her already long and smooth legs. Amber sandals with hints of gold adorned her small feet, matching the dress perfectly. Ginny's gleaming copper hair had been pulled back from her face, fastened high up on her head with a glittery gold scrunchie that matched the trim of her dress. Without her hair framing her face, Ginny looked different… older. She was amazing.

Harry stood up, blinking the residue of sleep from his eyes. You look amazing! he exclaimed when he finally regained control of his voice… or his mind-voice, at least. He wasn't about to try speaking aloud just yet.

Ginny giggled. Thanks, she said softly. Mum let me come over here early, since it's your birthday. Her and Petunia made me save the dress for today, and Petunia came in last night and opened up your curtains so you'd wake up early.

Harry gave a start. He hadn't even realized it was his birthday… all thoughts of birthdays had flown from his mind the moment he'd seen his beautiful best friend. Merlin, all thoughts of anything had flown from his head when he'd seen her! Oh. Thanks. I was wondering why I'd woken up so early.

Ginny giggled again. I know, silly. I can hear your thoughts, remember? And you can hear mine.

Harry smiled in delight. Ginny continued on. I wanted to be the first to tell you "Happy Birthday" today, she said, in the mental equivalent of a whisper.

Harry beamed. Thanks, he said. I really appreciate it.

We're going to Diagon Alley today, Ginny said. Hermione's going to be there today as well, apparently. There's meant to be some sort of book signing. I'm going to go downstairs while you get dressed.

Great! Harry said delightedly. Ginny turned to leave the room, but just as she stepped out, she turned again.

Oh, and Harry?

Yes, Ginny dear?

Happy Birthday. Again.

* * *

An hour later, Harry, Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys stood before the fireplace at the Burrow, Harry's stomach churning uncomfortably; he was about to make his first attempt at Floo travel. Petunia had begged off of going to Diagon Alley, taking the opportunity to complete some of the community service she'd been charged with. Given that the wizarding world was rife with unjust prejudice, Harry and Ginny both agreed (privately, of course) that it was probably for the best.

"Now, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said warmly, "remember to say your destination nice and clearly."

"And keep your elbows tucked in," Ron added.

"Don't breathe in when you let go of the Floo powder, or you'll choke on the ashes."

"And close your eyes, too. Seeing all those different lounge rooms flashing past you a mile a minute can be a bit disconcerting the first time."

Harry felt as though he was being battered with information; it was starting to give him a headache. There was no way he would remember all of that; he felt sure he was going to stuff up.

"Poor Harrykins looks a bit green," Fred commented slyly.

"Yes, I noticed that too, Fred. Don't you think someone should go before him, Mum?" George continued.

Spotting their plan straight away, Mrs. Weasley said, "If you think I'm going to let you two of all people roam about Diagon Alley on your own, you'd be sadly mistaken. Arthur, could you go first, dear?"

Before Harry knew it, Mr. Weasley and Percy had both Flooed already, and it was his turn. Swallowing hard, he stepped over to the fireplace and ducked down into the hearth. Snatching up a handful of greenish-grey powder from the pot clipped to the side of the mantel, he announced, "Daigon Alley!"

The moment the words left his mouth, he realized the mistake. But before anyone could stop him, electric green flames flared up and whisked him away.

* * *

"No!" Ginny yelped. The second the flames died away, she leapt forward, snatching up a handful of Floo powder and diving into the fireplace. "DIAGON ALLEY!"

She was whisked away before the others knew what was happening.

Meanwhile, Harry had shot out of the fireplace at which he'd arrived. Coughing heavily, he picked himself up off the grimy floor on which he lay, scooping up his glasses and ramming them onto his nose. He was in some sort of shop, and by the looks of it, it wasn't the most pleasant place to be.

Brushing the soot off his robes absently, he glanced around the dank little store with a morbid curiosity. What little light there was illuminated some truly grotesque things; a twisted, knobbly grey hand fused upon a little stalk thing that looked disturbingly like a handle, and a sickly black candle beside it gave off the unpleasant stench of something rotten, while giving off the aura off something undeniably Dark. In fact, everything in that shop gave off the aura off something distinctly evil. Harry shuddered. What was he doing here?

Gin? he called uneasily.

A wave of panic shot toward him through the bond. Harry? Merlin, where are you? I've been worried sick!

Oh… um, where are you? Are you in Diagon Alley or still in the Burrow?

Impatiently, Ginny sent a quick image of the Leaky Cauldron before Harry felt that familiar prickling behind his eyes, and Ginny was looking through them. Merlin! she breathed. Look around a bit, Harry.

He complied, eyes lingering on anything that looked sort of interesting. Ginny, too, was intensely grossed out by that disgusting hand.

It's foul, she said, and then, What is that sickening smell? She'd merged her other senses with his as well, and had noticed the pungent odor right away.

I dunno, but I think it might be that candle, Harry guessed, pointing.

You probably shouldn't make 'seemingly random' gestures like Mum said, just in case someone walks in, Ginny pointed out.

If someone walked in here now, I'd be more worried about what they think of me being here and who the hell they were, not 'seemingly random gestures'. Anyone who would come in here in their right mind isn't someone I'd like to be around.

Agreed, Ginny said emphatically. Then…

Oh no! I can hear footsteps! Ginny said, visibly panicky. Thankfully, her father had realized that she was most likely speaking to Harry, so he frowned and shielded her from view. Mrs. Weasley shot through the fireplace then, and was whispering hastily to her husband.

Crap! Hide, hide, where can I hide… Harry glanced around hastily; an ornate black cupboard caught his eye, so he scrambled for it and flung himself in. He swung the door shut behind him before proceeding to flatten himself to the bottom of the cupboard and peer through the crack at the bottom.

Just seconds after he was safely – or as 'safe' as it was possible to get in a shop so sinister – tucked away and out of sight, a bell tinkled as the shop's door swung open. In walked –

Holy shit, that's Draco Malfoy! Ginny gasped. The aristocratic, arrogant blonde idiot sashayed through the door like he was some sort of saint, followed quickly in by a man who could only be Malfoy Senior. The long, white-blonde hair of the man reached his waist, and his face shared an obvious likeness to his son's when you looked past the weathered, wrinkled skin. The same cold grey eyes as his son stared out of that face, and the man walked in with the air of someone regal, rich and supposedly superior.

Malfoy Senior stalked throughout the strange shop, looking at the items on display with a lazy sort of disinterest as he made his way to the shop's dusty countertop. Pushing a button on the old, outdated bell that sat atop this counter, he turned to his son and articulated sharply, "Touch nothing Draco."

Touch nothing, Draco, Ginny mimicked. Her impersonation was overly whiny but otherwise surprisingly accurate, and Harry repressed the immediate urge to laugh out loud.

Shut it, Gin, he grumbled. It wouldn't do for Malfoy and his dad to find Harry Potter laughing like a maniac in the cupboard of a shop so obviously Dark, now would it? We would be SO DEAD if that happened. Literally.

True, Ginny agreed, stifling her own snort of laughter. C'mon, let's focus. I want to see what the Malfoys are doing here.

Harry refocused on the room before him. Malfoy Junior had just reached for a glass eye, and he grumbled sulkily, "I thought you said you were going to buy me a present."

Spoilt brat, Harry and Ginny thought in unison.

"I said I would buy you a racing broom," Malfoy Senior said sharply as he drummed his spidery fingers on the countertop.

"What's the good of that if I'm not on the house team?" Malfoy whined ungratefully. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous… famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead…"

Jealous, are we? Ginny gloated as Malfoy bent down to look at a shelf of those creepy shriveled skulls.

Malfoy Senior proceeded to reprimand his son, stating rather cryptically that it 'was not prudent' to seem 'less than fond of Harry Potter' in a patronizing, snooty voice. Weirdos, Ginny muttered.

A creepy old hunchback named 'Borgin' then arrived, distracting the two Malfoys from their father-and-son argument, which was so unconventional in its formality and harshness. Family wasn't supposed to act so cold to one another.

Borgin began a seemingly well-rehearsed sales pitch to Malfoy Senior, who cut in impatiently, saying, "I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling."

"Selling?" Borgin deflated and the fixed smile slipped from his face, disappointed at the missed opportunity to make a profit.

"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Malfoy Senior as he withdrew a tightly scrolled piece of parchment from the inner pocket of his robes and handed it to Borgin for him to read. "I have a few – ah – items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call…"

Shit! Ginny gasped. That sneaky little bastard! He knows Dad's hot on his trail, so now he's selling all his suspicious crap so that Dad and the others won't find anything when they search his house.

Malfoy Senior and Borgin then proceeded to partake in a civilized argument about the sales, in which Malfoy referred to Ginny's dad as a "flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool". Ginny and Harry both fumed with anger and Harry had to restrain himself from diving in there and throttling the sneering little git of a Malfoy.

Malfoy Junior then interrupted the conversation. "Can I have that?" he asked, staring greedily at the creepy, withered hand that Harry and Ginny had noticed earlier.

"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Borgin. Sniffing the opportunity to make a sale, he abandoned Malfoy Senior's list and hurried over to Malfoy Junior's side, throwing himself into his sales pitch with renewed vigour. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers!" He turned to Malfoy Senior and said admiringly, "Your son has fine taste, sir."

"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," Malfoy Senior drawled, and Borgin quickly jumped to placate him.

"Though if his school marks don't pick up, that may indeed be all he is fit for," the aristocratic bastard continued coldly.

"It's not my fault," Malfoy Junior retorted indignantly, "those teachers all have favourites, that Hermione Granger – "

"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizarding family beat you in every exam," Malfoy Senior snapped in return.

Ha! said Harry as Ginny said Take that! at the same time.

Malfoy Senior and Borgin then started to haggle over pricing, and Harry and Ginny distracted themselves with a lighthearted debate about who was the bigger shithead (shithead being Ginny's term) – Malfoy or Malfoy's dad.

I reckon they're both as bad as each other, Harry compromised eventually. They had faced a disagreement; Harry thought that Malfoy was worse, but Ginny argued her side by saying that Harry only thought that because he'd seen more of Malfoy Junior than Senior and that the older one was worse because he'd had a longer time on Earth to hone his "shitheadedness" to perfection.

Fair enough, Ginny agreed reluctantly. They had just started up a competition for who could come up with the better insult to either of the Malfoys or Borgin when Malfoy Junior (or junior git), who had been idly exploring the room whilst the adults argued, began to approach the cupboard in which Harry hid.

Uh oh, Harry said worriedly. He watched Malfoy approach warily, cautiously, all the while trying to come up with a feasible plan of escape and/or attack.

Help! he whispered to Ginny, interrupting her mantra of repeated swear words.

Alright – well, um, maybe you could – However, Harry and Ginny were spared having to invent a spur-of-the-moment escape plan. "Done!" Malfoy Senior declared, with a pointed glance at Borgin when the oily man opened his mouth to argue. "Come, Draco!" he called.

That reminds me of a master calling his dog, Ginny sniggered as Harry wiped his sweating forehead on his sleeve, relieved. The moment the door to the shop snapped shut, Borgin began a string of dark mutterings and curse words of which Ginny would be proud (Man, that guy can curse almost as well as I can!) The suspicious little man disappeared into a back room, and Harry waited a few heartbeats to make sure he wouldn't reemerge and catch Harry in the shop. Once satisfied that Borgin really was gone, Harry quietly opened the cupboard door and slipped out, stretching his cramped muscles.

Harry stole through the dingy alleyways of a place Ginny identified worriedly as Knockturn Alley. He tried to appear invisible, but without his Cloak, the act was rather futile.

"HARRY!" It was Hagrid! Relieved to be rescued from his run-in with an ugly, mossy-toothed witch who looked like she wanted to steal him away and torture him, Harry shook off the vice-like grip of said witch and scrambled through the throng of crazy Dark people.

"Hagrid!" he gasped. "Thank Merlin! I was lost… Floo powder, you can't trust it…" He was surprised at how croaky his physical voice was, and had to adjust to speaking out loud. He swiftly found himself seized by the scruff of the neck and dragged out into the bright sunlight of Diagon Alley.

"Yer a mess!" Hagrid proclaimed. "What were yeh doin' down there, 'Arry? Dodgy place, Diagon Alley is…"

Harry adjusted his broken glasses and brushed some of the soot from his clothes hastily. He hadn't really realized how bad he must look, but now Hagrid mentioned it, he must have been a mess. "Like I said, I was lost. Floo powder… I must've came out the wrong fireplace."

Hang on… what was Hagrid doing down there then? Ginny thought.

Yeah, that is weird, Harry agreed. He repeated Ginny's question aloud, looking at Hagrid suspiciously.

"I was lookin' fer a Flesh-Eatin' Slug Repellent," Hagrid defended in a growl. Harry and Hagrid continued to talk absentmindedly as they headed for the Leaky Cauldron.

"Harry! Harry! Over here!" Harry spun around at the sound of Hermione's voice and found himself engulfed in a strangling hug. Spitting bits of bushy brown hair out of his mouth, harry pulled away and said, "Hello, Hermione."

She beamed at him. "Hang on… what on Earth happened to your glasses?" Hermione stepped back, whipping out her wand and, before Harry could blink, Hermione announced, "Oculus Reparo!" Harry's glasses mended themselves and he stared at her in amazement. "I'll have to remember that one," he said.

"It's alright, it's alright, he's with Harry and Hermione now," Ginny whispered to her father as Harry, Hermione and Hagrid made their way to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Do you know how disconcerting that is?" her father whispered back. The father-and-daughter duo beckoned to the other Weasleys and they exited into the street.

"Harry!" He knew she was there, but waited till he heard her calling out to him before he turned, to keep up appearances.

"Ginny!" he cried, swiveling around and throwing himself at his best friend.

"Thank Merlin you're all right!" Ginny announced dramatically. The inseparable duo shared a tight hug before separating. Harry still kept ahold of her hand, though, as they always did.

"Gin, this is Hermione, me and Ron's friend that we told you about. Hermione, this is Ginny, my best friend," Harry said, introducing the two girls. Ginny and Hermione had missed each other at the train station a couple of months prior, so this was the first time they had met officially… though Ginny knew Hermione as well as Harry did from the times she'd merged senses with him while he was at Hogwarts. Hermione couldn't know this, of course, so Ginny pretended this was the first time she'd met the girl.

"It's great to finally meet you," Ginny enthused, extending her free hand to shake Hermione's. "I've heard so much about you from the boys." She smiled at Hermione, and Hermione returned the gesture, curiously taking in the clasped hands of the two. There was a knowing edge to her smile.

"Likewise," Hermione said with a laugh. "It'll be so nice to finally have a girl to talk to."

Ginny beamed. "Oh, definitely," she agreed. "I've been the only girl amongst a jumble of rowdy boys for far too long."

Hey! Harry said indignantly. What's wrong with me?

Oh, Harry, Ginny said affectionately. You're still my best friend, you always will be. There's just a difference between talking to another girl and talking to a boy. Of course it's different for me, because I have you, and we can share anything. But it'll be sort of nice to have a conventional friend, you know? Someone who you can tell what you want to tell, but keep other things private. And girls and boys have their differences… Oh, and before you say anything, Ron doesn't count either. For starters, he's not a girl, and he's also my brother. That just adds a whole new layer of complexity… do you see what I mean?

Yeah, I guess so, Harry said, as Hermione caught sight of Ron and vaulted off to antagonize him about his homework. Okay, all right, I do. Thanks for explaining it to me.

Ginny grinned cheekily. No problem.

Girls are weird. They both laughed, and Ginny pretended to be offended, but the façade didn't last five seconds.

Mr. Weasley leaned over. "Be careful," he whispered. "Bursting out laughing or grinning for no apparent reason could arouse suspicion."

"Thanks, Dad," Ginny said. "Hey, speaking of 'arousing suspicion…'"

Harry jumped in. "Well, I came out of the fireplace at a shop called… hang on, what was it called?" He turned to Ginny.

"I dunno," she said, "but it was owned by some man called Borgin."

Mr. Weasley's eyes widened in recognition. "Borgin and Burkes!" he said. "Thank Merlin you got out of the place!" he said.

"Yeah… and anyway, I was looking around – I had no idea where I was, you see, otherwise I would've left straight away – when me and Gin heard footsteps, so I hid in a closet. And in walked Draco Malfoy and his father."

Mr. Weasley gasped. "And then what happened?" he asked.

"Malfoy's dad tried to sell some stuff to Borgin, Malfoy Junior tried to convince his dad to buy him this weird shriveled hand and they slandered Muggle-borns and Harry," Ginny said flippantly. "So nothing new. But Malfoy had a list of things he wanted to sell, and Borgin reviewed it and decided to buy some of it. He's going to pick it up from Malfoy Manor tomorrow, but they didn't say a time."

Harry stared at Ginny admiringly. "I would've forgotten that part. Good job," he commended.

Mr. Weasley stared at the two. "You know, we just might be able to catch him this time. I'll organize a raid for tomorrow… thanks, you two. This is a huge help."

"Well, here we are," Mrs. Weasley said as they strode through the doors of Gringotts. She'd greeted Harry, quite enthusiastic in her worry, as soon as the Weasleys had met up with Harry, Hermione and Hagrid, and now seemed extra paranoid about losing someone. She did a quick head count as they bustled through the Gringotts doors and made their way over to the carts.

Harry felt rather embarrassed at the vaults; he tried to hide the entrance to his own when they reached it with his body. He just wished the Weasleys would let him give them a small amount of money, just a bit, as a token of appreciation for being there as his real family. They were to proud to accept charity, though, and would rebel at the suggestion.

The motley group separated to buy the various things they needed before reassembling outside Flourish and Blotts an hour later.

The bookshop was in chaos. A crowd of squealing witches across all generations pulsed inside the shop, and another jostling crowd tried to elbow their way in from outside. The reason for this quickly became apparent as Hermione spotted a banner stretched across the shop's upper window. According to the banner, Gilderoy Lockhart would be signing copies of his autobiography today for a few hours.

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione said delightedly. "I mean, he's written almost the entire booklist! And just look at all the things he's done…" She sighed as she gazed admiringly at the winking and smiling picture of an arrogant-looking man that had been painted on the banner. Mrs. Weasley, too, stood and admired the picture, patting her hair absentmindedly.

What's gotten into them? Harry asked Ginny, frowning.

I dunno. They're a bit… starstruck, I suppose. And they reckon he's handsome, Ginny replied, rolling her eyes.

Is he? Harry asked. All of a sudden he felt quite anxious to hear Ginny's response.

Oh, I dunno… I suppose so. But he's not my type, she quickly reassured.

Harry felt relieved, though he wasn't quite sure why. That's good then. What is your type?

Um… Ginny sputtered nervously for a second, but was spared from answering by Mr. Weasley gently prodding them and saying, "We're going in now."

Harry and Ginny forced their way through the throng, keeping a tight hold of the other's hand so as not to lose each other. They finally managed to squeeze into the packed shop, and quickly regrouped with the rest of the Weasleys, Hermione, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Hermione's parents. Mr. Weasley quickly made his way over to Hermione's parents, striking up a conversation about something Muggle.

After an embarrassing run-in with Gilderoy Lockhart, in which Harry found his picture destined for the front page of the Daily Prophet and in which the smarmy git (Lockhart, of course, not Harry) announced that he would be taking up the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts this year (the announcement caused most of the people in the room to cheer and Harry, Ro and Ginny to groan simultaneously). Finally making his escape, Harry dumped the armload of signed books he had regretfully been 'awarded' with from Lockhart into Ginny's cauldron.

"Never again," he groaned. "That was pure torture."

"You poor thing," Ginny said sympathetically. They spoke out loud so as to not arouse suspicion; it was fairly likely that no-one else would be able to hear them over the droning of everyone else talking and squealing anyway. "He was practically squishing you with that arm of his. Tell me, what was the stench of his perfume?"

Harry laughed. "Dunno. I think it was meant to smell nice… it had more of a 'wet dog' effect, though. I'm not sure if it was perfume or if that was just his natural smell."

They both broke out in laughter, and Ginny said, "It wouldn't surprise me if that was his natural smell, but I'd put my money on it being perfume. He's too much of a pansy to not wear perfume at a 'big event' like this." They laughed again, and Harry voiced his agreement. It was then that Junior Git made his appearance.

"Famous Harry Potter," he drawled with that ceaselessly irritating voice of his. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page." He turned up his nose and waited for a response.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Pansy?" she asked, sighing.

Malfoy looked affronted. "I am not a pansy!" he snapped. Then, hastily and with double the snideness to recover from Ginny's comment, he said, "oh, Potter, it looks like you've got yourself a girlfriend!"

Harry followed Ginny's suit and rolled his eyes. "What's it to you if she is?" he challenged.

Ginny then took her cue and widened her eyes dramatically. "Oh, I'm sorry – Malfoy, is it? For a second there I got you confused with one of your housemates that Harry and I saw earlier today… Pansy Parkinson, that's where I got the Pansy from… my mistake. It won't happen again." Her eyes got even wider, if that was possible, and she gave Malfoy a doe-eyed look of mockingly pleading innocence.

Malfoy scowled, turning scarlet, and opened his mouth to retort. Ron and Hermione then emerged from the crowd, both clutching a stack of books to their chests. Malfoy saw his chance and flung a sharp-toothed insult at the approaching redheaded boy, who turned scarlet as well. Dropping his books in his cauldron, he started towards Malfoy, only to have Harry and Hermione hold him back. Malfoy looked pleased at having finally got the kind of reaction he'd wanted.

Malfoy Senior – or Senior Git – and Mr. Weasley then joined them (separately, of course) and the argument that proceeded was full of thinly veiled political stabs whose meaning escaped Harry and Ginny and obvious insults whose meanings were as clear as day. The result was a brazen fistfight between two grown men. Ginny's cauldron was knocked flying, her books scattered everywhere. Hagrid approached to break up Mr. Weasley and Senior Git's fistfight, and Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione scrambled around on the floor gathering up Ginny's scattered schoolbooks.

"Here, girl – take your book – it's the best your father can give you – " Malfoy Senior thrust Ginny's tattered transfiguration book at her and swept out of the shop, Malfoy Junior trailing despondently after him, his pride sufficiently dented.

"C'mon, let's go," someone muttered, and the group was ushered from the shop. They all headed toward the Leaky Cauldron, Harry and Ginny once again holding hands. The pot of Floo powder was passed around, and as Harry grabbed his own handful, he said to Ginny, I definitely don't like Floo powder.

* * *

It was the night before Ginny's first year at Hogwarts started, and both Harry and Ginny were immensely excited. Harry's first year had been fun for the both of them, but it just hadn't been the same without Ginny there. Now, they would both be at Hogwarts, and together. The thought had them both flying on air.

I can't believe I'm finally going to go to Hogwarts! Ginny squealed. They were currently sitting side by side, holding hands as per usual, and packing Ginny's trunk in her bedroom. They'd tackled Harry's trunk earlier in the day, and were now faced with the difficulty that was sorting out what Ginny was going to take and what would be left behind. They were too excited to leave packing till tomorrow morning like the rest of the house, but had copped a bit of slack from Ron, Fred and George, who frowned upon being organized.

Okay, so we've packed all your clothes, Harry said, and your cauldron and potions kit. So now let's sort out your schoolbooks.

Okay, Ginny agreed, clambering to her feet and releasing Harry's hand. She walked over to her desk, where all her schoolbooks were stacked up in the corner. One by one, she threw them to Harry, who then caught them and slotted them into Ginny's trunk wherever they would fit.

This is like Tetris, Harry said, laughing. At Ginny's confusion, he quickly gave her the impression of the Muggle computer game to which he had referred.

Oh! Ginny said. It is too! Cool. She picked up the last book from the stack; her transfiguration book. Hey, what's this? She pulled a smaller, nondescript brown book from where it had been stuffed inside the first book, turning it over in her hands.

T.M. Riddle, she murmured, running her finger along the inscription of the owner's name on the spine. Who's that?

I don't know, Harry replied. Pass it here. Ginny walked across her room and plonked herself down beside Harry, passing him the book. He opened it. The first page had a date scrawled at the top in smudged ink, but the rest of the page was blank. He flipped to the next page. Blank. And the next one. Blank. Every page in the book was blank.

It must be a diary, said Ginny, but clearly it's never been written in.

Yeah, Harry agreed. Want to try it?

All right, Ginny said. Harry got up and rifled around on Ginny's desk to find a spare ink bottle and quill that she hadn't packed. Grabbing them, he returned and sat down beside Ginny again, handing them to her. Ginny uncorked the ink bottle, dipped the quill in, and put quill to parchment.

Hello. My name is Ginny Weasley.No sooner had she written this, the ink dunk into the page and vanished.

What the hell? Harry said. They both stared at the place where the ink had been, then at each other. And when they looked back at the page…

Ink was oozing back out of the page, forming letters in an old-fashioned script. Hello, Ginny Weasley. My name is Tom Riddle. And no sooner had Harry and Ginny read the words, they faded away into the paper.

Astonished, Harry and Ginny stared back at each other. Well, it is magic, Ginny reasoned. We shouldn't be too surprised.

Good point, Harry agreed. Ginny took the quill in her hand once again, and wrote back on the paper. I am eleven years old. It is the day before I leave for my first day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!

They waited anxiously for a response, and received one quite quickly. Really? Tom Riddle wrote. I went to Hogwarts, long ago. It's a good school. Are you excited to be going there?

Ginny didn't wait to write back this time. Oh, yes. I have six older brothers and a best friend who have all gone there and I'm the only one who hasn't yet. My best friend and I are really excited to be going there together! He's a year ahead of me. Harry smiled at Ginny affectionately, and she smiled back.

That's good. Hogwarts is a very exciting place, and I'm sure you and your best friend will have lots of fun together. What's his name?

His name is Harry Potter.

There was no response for quite a while. Harry drummed his fingers on Ginny's knee and Ginny twirled the quill in her hands impatiently. Then, finally…

Really? That's quite… interesting. May I speak to him? The script was messier, rushed, and the tone of the response had changed. This Tom Riddle person seemed feverish, excited… it made Harry's spine crawl with unease.

Harry and Ginny looked at one another. I don't know, Gin, Harry said. This Tom Riddle guy creeps me out a bit. Hell, the whole concept of a diary that talks back to you creeps me out. Should I reply?

Ginny frowned. I'm not sure. It didn't really creep me out, at least not until the bit where it found out I was best friends with Harry Potter. It sort of gave off this vibe. D'you know what I mean? Maybe it was just me, but it almost seemed like it was… perversely excited. Or is that just me?

No, it's not just you. I got that vibe off it too, Harry answered.

Besides, I don't even need a diary. I have you. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. I can tell you anything I could tell a diary… no, more than I could tell a diary.

Exactly. So they both shut the diary and stuffed it into Ginny's trunk. It won't hurt to pack it, Ginny reasoned.

Oh, if they only knew…

So now all you've got to do is REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! Okay, I'll stop the subliminal messaging now (even though it's fun and I'm high on overtiredness). If you've got any questions, dont hesitate to ask in a REVIEW... Okay, okay, I'll stop the subliminal messages now... ~grumbles~ spoilsport. Or, you could PM me if you really wanted to... but I'd much rather a REVIEW, of course. (Okay, Im stopping! Sheesh!) So, bye!