Disclaimer: Firstly I don't own anything. I can't even take credit for half the ships in this story but whatever. So…. Don't sue please.

Harry stayed in his room until well past sunup. The Dursleys were not yet awake.

And the whole neighborhood slept on such a hot Saturday morning; everyone that is except one Harry Potter. He was laying face up on an old worn bed, apparently studying the cracked ceiling.

Harry was tall, nearly as tall as his father had been, he guessed. At slightly less than two meters (6 foot for all you Americans) tall he had more that out grown the twin bed he used when at his Aunt and Uncles residents. Not to mention his cousin, Dudley, still enjoyed making swipes at Harry's head.

This had been the worst summer yet for Harry. He felt so terribly guilty. Sirius had been the closest thing to a father that Harry could remember and he had thrown it all away. That had been going through Harry's mind every two seconds this summer except when he was reading or writing a letter.

Letters were Harry's only refuge this summer. He continued to send Professor Lupin- Remus he reminded himself- owls stating that he was getting on alright at Privet Drive. Those were not the letters that Harry took refuge in however. Harry looked for a small, hyper owl hooting gleefully from the horizon.

The small owl's name was Pig and he belonged to Harry's best mate Ron. Despite this fact more often than not the owl brought not letters from Ron but from his little sister, Ginny. Ginny had been the most comforting this summer. She had sent him letters weekly, scolding Harry for blaming himself about Sirius' death.

Whenever a letter from Ginny was in front of him the gaunt, hollow look of his eyes dissapeared, often the reading of the text tugged the corners of his mouth into the slightest of smiles. Something in the way he thought of Ginny was changing. Lately he had taken to blaming the hormones that coursed though his system for his not so platonic thoughts of Ginny but it did no good.

He then had settled on the picture she had sent him. Hermione was with them, wherever they were that wasn't the Burrow. She had brought a muggle camera and insisted on taking photos of the Weasley family. Ginny had sent him two pictures of her.

One was black and white. He could see her silhouette, her face peeking out from behind a screen. Her protruding shoulder made it obvious to the male mind that she was wearing little or nothing. Harry had had to shut that picture in a drawer to keep from looking at it. It aroused him more then any Playboy Magazine he had pilfered from Dudley.

The other picture was colored. The smile on her face made it obvious she was enjoying herself immensely. This picture only lent to Harry's imagination of what was behind the screen in the other photo. Ginny's curves were apparent in the photo proving that what was behind her school robes was something worth seeing to Harry at least. The clothes she wore showed off her golden-red locks and long legs. She wore a black tee-shirt that hugged her petite frame and a short, unbearably short, white skirt.

Harry had put that picture carefully on his nightstand next to the picture of his parents and Sirius. He rolled over on to his stomach and pulled it of the small table removing her latest letter from a corner of the frame. Her reread the letter a fourteenth time that morning, hoping that it would be the last letter before he saw her.

Harry,

Stop beating your self up over Sirius, I mean it. If I hear one more comment about it in the next letter I will beat you to a pulp when you get here. Don't think for a second that I won't.

I hope you like the pictures I sent. Hermione took them. I will send you some of her, Ron and the twins in my next letter after they are developed. Mum made some mince pies today and I convinced her to only send you three seeing as how Ron could eat all twelve of them in one sitting.

Mum, Dad and everyone miss you. Write soon.

All my love,

Ginny

Harry had responded immediately to that letter and eaten half a mince pie in since he had received it. He hoped she was not to busy to send a note in the next few days and looked forward to what she would write next. What he did not know was how soon he would be seeing her.