Ginny and Harry
There had been punches thrown. There had been stern talking-to's. There had been - very many things who should not equate Christmas. And yet it did. Ginny was standing in a mostly empty kitchen, making herself a cup of tea. It was as good of an excuse as any to step away from the madness that always happened when you put all Weasleys in the same room.
Everyone seemed to fucking have an opinion on the article, and Ginny wasn't sure what bothered her the most - that they believed the crap the Prophet wrote, or that they were all so ridiculously over-protective of Gabi, who was of age and quite capable of taking care of herself.
She pulled the kettle off the stove and went to the cupboard for a mug to pour it in, registering a small movement in the corner of her eye. "Harry," she said when she realised who it was that had come into the room. "I'm just having some tea. Excellent excuse not to step back out there for at least ten minutes. How's the eye?"