Ginny was definitely older. She was still short, she always had been, but forced retirement from Quidditch and two kids made her a little bit softer around the edges — not that it was easy to tell, considering the jumper she was wearing. Her hair was tugged up into a messy ponytail, and she had yesterday's makeup still smudged around her eyes.
She was watching him warily. "You're not really buying me anything when there's no money, but whatever makes you feel good. Get me the ... not the blue one, the blue one might kill a person. Just the ale. I finally feel like I can drink here now that Wormtail's not the one making the liquor."