Her parents had thought that, as she was the only girl, she would 
stick out more, that she would be the coddled youngest, the baby of the 
family who was showered with attention and gifts and love.  Ginny had 
wanted none of that, and it was an impossible thing to explain to those in
 her classes.  The Weasleys were known for their large families, and she'd
 heard the classic joke of Noah, and how he had to have been freckled and 
redhaired in his younger days, as there was no other family who could have
 repopulated the Earth as his did.

	They didn't know what it was like, to be swamped in a sea of 
brothers, to grow up among them with parents who didn't know how to relate
 to girls.  Truth to tell, Ginny had always remained slightly distant from
 everyone in her family, with the exception of Percy, her fellow Weasley 
outcast.  Neither of them had preferred the rough and tumble games of 
Quidditch and Levitation, or the loud pops surrounding an Exploding Snap 
game.  

	They'd spent hours exploring the Moor land near their home, or 
sneaking down to the Muggle villiage to buy treats and gifts for each 
other.  They were perfect for it, as no one in their large family would 
suspect shy, blushing Ginny or stern, law-abiding Percy of ever breaking
 rules.  Percy had actually held down a job at the village, a simply paper
 route to be sure, but it brought in Muggle money.  He retrieved and 
delievered the papers, and she diverted attention from their activities,
 then they split the funds.  Percy used to say that learning more about 
Muggles was good practice for when they grew up, especially as he had very
 high ambitions, and wanted to be the delegate to Muggle Parliment someday.
  Ginny didn't care as much about Muggles; she rather disliked them, truth
 to tell, but Percy was fascinated, just like their father.  So she helped
 out, and in return, Percy found rare books for her to study when he went 
down to Diagon Alley with their mother and Ginny wasn't allowed to.  Too 
young, her mother said, but Ginny knew better.  

	Her mother worried about her, and Ginny hated this.  She was 
treated the same as her brothers, neither parent knowing exactly how a 
daughter should be treated differently than a son, but when Ron was 
allowed his own broom at age four, she had to wait until she was seven, and
 when Charlie had been off alone without checking in for hours at eight, 
Ginny was still tootling along following Percy, or after he left for 
Hogwarts, Ron.  Ginny loathed this seperate but equal affair her parents 
had with her, and so, more than ever, ignored them.

	It was different, after Percy had left.  She was young, only six or
 so at the time, and though they stayed close at summers and the Christmas 
hols, there was an added distraction there.  They made up for it by bonding
 over his books, and together they explored the fantastic recesses of the 
magic world, looking up spells and thoughts together until she was nine and
 he fourteen, and he suddenly had more important things to do then look 
things up with his little sister.  

	It wasn't the same after that, when he had started his third year 
at Hogwarts, and she was still two years off from her first, and both of 
them knew it, and both regretted it.  The paper route was long abandoned, 
and the bills received, now half a decade old, lay dusty in their tin 
hidden under Ginny's bed.  She missed her brother, but didn't know what to
 do to get him back.

	Eventually they drifted farther, his ambitions growing stronger, 
and she moved on as well, becoming interested in history instead of the 
present.  She researched the old wars, the ones fought by the Merlins and
 cardinals.  She learned that her clan hadn't always been the Weasley's, 
that they'd once been known as the "Red Death", known for their fierceness
 in battle and the stout loyalty to those they served.  Curious, she 
researched other families that she had once known, the Browns, who were 
named after the color their skin had once been, generations ago, how they 
were thought to have come down from the hills in the age of the Tuatha de 
Danann.  The Finnigans had once held the seat of power in Ireland, and were
 still distantly related to the last surviving branch of magical Irish 
nobility.  

	Ginny found the entry for the Potter family towards the back of an 
old tome called "Familiee ov thee Greater Landes."  She hadn't even known 
what she had discovered at first, as she'd been busy looking up the 
Dumbledores, curious at a letter her brother had sent from school.  It was 
rainy that day, and the light dim, so that she had to borrow her father's 
wand to cast Lumos just to be able to see the words.  Even then, the wand 
bounced and sputtered over the pages, and she had to set it in her teeth 
and balance the large book on her knees to continue reading.

	"The Potters," the book said, "Are of the olde bloodes, and decended
 from Merline Johanne Braughhart, who  hade no legimate children, but whoses
 seede gave live to a bastarde of unknowne mater, in 1425.  This childe was 
given to a carpender for apprenticeship, being that he was of Mugglee 
birthe, and thus thought to be magickless.  There he was renamed Peter, 
after the Christiane saint, and when he showed no apptitude for his taskes,
 was given to a pot maker, who Peter toke his surnamme from.  

	Though Peter showed no sign of magick, his son, nom Jacob, 
experianced magick from a younge age, and was sent a letter of invitation to
 Hogwartes Skhoole of Witchery and Wizzardry (now known as Hogwarts School 
of Witchcraft and Wizzardry.) et it is from his line that we knowe such 
famos Aurors as Mediline Potter, renown for her skillful stopping of 
rampaging Gryffants in 1756, and, more recently, Lawrence Potter, best known
 for his skillful memorie work which in 1812, suppressed the mindes of 
countless Mugglees, and prevented an uprising of unknown darke artes wizzards."

	Ginny had let the book fall shut, and rested her elbows on her knees
, her fingers cupping her chin.  She thought momentarily, about that.  She'd
 never heard that the Potters were descended half from Muggles, or that they 
were a bastard line.  She'd always assumed that they were an old family, as 
her own was and so many countless others were.  Muggleborn families were not 
often started, especially in those times.  It was nearly a death toll to a 
family, to bring Muggle blood into it.  Even now that magical blood was 
stronger and more resilent to Muggle intrusions, her Muggle loving father 
and brother would never dare marry one, for fear of bringing a Squib into 
the world.  

	She knew the story of the Potters, of course.  Every child her age 
did.  They'd grown up on it, learned the tale as a wonderous bedtime story,
 made all the more special by the sleeping prince-hero, trapped in a cage of
 Muggles and unknowning of his own descent.  It was a fairytale of their 
generation, and she, like all the others, was priledged enough to watch it 
happen.

	This suddenly wasn't good enough.  Ginny had a passion for history a
nd names, and she turned this attention to more recent events, studying the 
rise and fall of the Dark Lord, learning the names of those who fell under 
his Imperius curse, and those who resisted it and him, researching until 
she found reference to that boy who was only a single year older than 
herself, and when she had found him, she marveled at the simplicity of 
it all.

	Suddenly there weren't enough books to hold everything that she 
wanted to know, and then she had to make excuses to tag along after her 
mother to the Alley and then sneak off to do further research at the Library
 in town.  

	Her mother and father were confused at this newfound desire for 
information, but they allowed Ginny her research.  Eventually they warmed 
to it, as they had finally discovered something steady that Ginny liked, 
and liked well enough to share.  Ginny spoke to them about it, pestering 
them both with questions, desiring more than they knew, until, amused by 
her curiosity, they gave her a sack of Floo powder and let her go to the 
Library herself.

	This freedom was glorious, and exactly what Ginny had known she had
 needed.  Here she was able to learn, and study, and research t her heart's
 content, followed by Fred or George on occasion, partially, she knew, to 
check up on her, but also to do their own research on exploding powders and
 magical games and tricks.  The twins had their own ambitions, and so long a
s they kept their noses out of hers, Ginny didn't mind their presence.  

***



	"Why then," she hissed, her eyes narrowed and sharp as amber daggers
," Why?  Are you jealous?  Jealous that he came to my bed, but never to yours?"

	His face twisted momentarily, and he sneered.  "Just what would I 
have to be jealous of?  I'm sure he tired of you quick enough.  It's not 
like you're that good a fuck.  Good enough to dick around with, maybe, but 
not exactly the sort of girl you'd come home to...  More like the kind of 
girl you'd leave home to get."  

	She gasped, shocked.
	"If either of us are /jealous/ it would be you.  When he looks at me
, he sees me.  But when he looks at you, he sees /nothing/, just open arms 
and legs and a place to forget everything.  He doesn't want you, he wants 
oblivion."