Ch. 3

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Lily blinked away tears as she watched Harry blow out his candles for his eleventh birthday. His party was today, the thirtieth, since they planned on heading to Diagon Alley as soon as they received the letter with his supply list, which would probably be the next day on his birthday.

The Weasleys cheered and Harry grinned wildly as his mother took him up into a huge hug. He blushed furiously.

"Mum.... Your embarrassing me!" He mumbled, shooting a glance at Ron who was smirking. Then Fred and George, then Ginny.

Every time he looked at her he felt a twitch in his chest, like his soul was physically trying to come loose and present itself to her. Her eyes flashed and he knew she felt the same thing. Strange. They had never really been great friends, only talking rarely.

She was still a Weasley, and all of the Weasley's were his friends. And she was really pretty. But, that didn't matter.

He tore his eyes from her and back to his mother who was still beaming through her tears as she cut into the cake.

She handed him a piece and he dug in, enjoying every bite of it. But he soon noticed that Ginny was gone, and that Ron was looking putout, like he had been in a fight.

Harry glanced at the sliding glass door and wasn't surprised to see Ginny walk down the porch steps and start walking through the grass.

He stood up after he was sure that his mum wasn't looking, and slid the door open, trying to make it not squeal like usual. The house was surprisingly modern for what it looked like outside, like a cottage, but still had the rusty door hinges and creaking floorboards that came with older houses.

Harry jogged to catch up with Ginny and started walking beside her. She sniffed and looked at him.

"Harry?" She asked, without emotion. He cringed at how broken she sounded.

"You okay?" He asked, placing his hand on her shoulder to make her stop. Warmth spread through his hand as he touched her shoulder that was partly bare. She was wearing a pair of overalls that went to almost her knees and a tank top under that, so when he touched her shoulder, most of his hand was touching her skin. He shivered slightly and felt goosebumps rise on her pale skin.

"Yeah," She said unconvincingly. Without thinking, he took her in his arms and felt her shake with sobs. She told him how Ron said she shouldn't have been there because she wasn't Harry's friend and that Harry was his friend, not hers. She said that afterwards Ron realized what he said and tried to apologize, but she didn't believe he actually meant it.

Harry felt great, and he hated himself for it. He liked having her in his arms, tucked away where he could keep her safe. But she was in pain and it wasn't the time to think about that. No time to think about his growing crush on her while she cried.

He calmed her down and they both sat across from each other, cross legged, and talked for pretty much forever, or so it felt like to him. Ginny absently made a crown of wildflowers and Harry marveled at how nimble her fingers were. He watched as she weaved flower after flower into a halo of gold, white, and fire orange with blades of grass sticking from the top to make it seem more like a king's crown than a tiara.

"How do you do that?" Harry asked, awestruck.

"My mum is always teaching me new things, like how to knit, cook, or even weave flowers into different things." She replied, still fiddling with the crown. "I think it's because she never got to teach those things to my brothers. Since they're boys."

When she was finished, she admired it before getting a sly smile and looking at Harry who was grinning like the goofball he was just from watching how amazing she was at crafts.

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