The third time Harry was sent to a safe house by Ministry protocol, everything changed.

Harry Apparated nearly on top of the tree and had to grab at it to keep himself upright. Rough bark scraped the skin of his hands but the real pain centered on his leg, where a gash bled profusely. He tapped a password against the bark and a door opened. Harry stumbled over the threshold and caught himself on the back of the chair.

The raid had not gone as expected.

Harry winced and took six deep, even breaths. We did everything by the book, he thought angrily, sliding around the chair and flinging himself into it. Rodolphus Lestrange's British estate had been gone over by Aurors. Wards had been set. Several different curses were countered as Harry'd walked through the maze of rooms. Rodolphus Lestrange had turned out to be a lot like other Death Eaters. They liked their estates to be rather ostentatiously magical, and this one had a few more traps than usual.

With a flick of his wand, Harry summoned a basket and set to work healing the wound on his leg. He poured a potion the color of parchment over the cut and hissed at how much it stung. "Fucking Death Eaters," he muttered.

The pain eased slowly over the next hour or so. At one point, Harry stripped down to his pants and wrapped a bandage around his upper thigh. It was only then that he gave the interior of this particular Ministry safe house more than a cursory glance. Not that he really had to — whether the bespelled location was hidden in a tree, a cave, a Muggle neighborhood, or a junkyard, they all looked the same. It had a bed, a chair, a table, a basket of food, and a small door that led to the tiniest of loos.

With a furtive glance at the door, Harry glanced down at his wrist. Fabian Prewett's battered old watch gleamed innocently up at him; the stars and planets revolving slowly around the face adjusted themselves as he tapped his wand against it. Once. Twice. And a third time. Mercury whizzed around at a dizzying speed and knocked into Neptune before it settled and a soft chime broke the silence in the room.

Three minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. Harry got to his feet, wincing at the pain that jolted through his leg, and hobbled over to the door. The moment he opened it, he had only the briefest of impressions of a mane a red hair, creamy skin with scattered freckles, and big brown eyes before Ginny flung herself into his arms. "Ginny," he murmured against her hair.

Her hands squeezed his shoulders. "Harry, I…"

"I know," said Harry. He nudged the door shut with his foot and caught her lips with his. Her hair was like silk as he slid his hand up to cup the back of her head. Her hands were restless, roving over him in a way that was part pleasure, part interrogation.

"You're hurt," she said.

"It's mending," he said.

But she drew back a little. There was a tiny furrow between her eyebrows and Harry kissed it. "I promise, it is mending. But here — I know you want to see it for yourself."

"Damn right," said Ginny.

"Here, let me get your cloak," said Harry. "Wait, is that my cloak?"

She shrugged. "It was closest to the door when my bracelet began to glow." It was large on her; fabric spilled around her feet like a train. "But I'm still cold, so I'll keep it on for a bit longer."

Moments later, Harry was back in the chair and telling her exactly what had happened. Everything had gone so smoothly until he'd opened that last door. The sensory charms — there to alert Rodolphus to an intruder — had fallen on him, sticking to his hair, his robes, and even his shoes. While Harry's stomach had been sinking, contemplating a lonely night in a Ministry safe house – and, more importantly, worrying over Ginny's reaction – an enchanted wire had slashed across his leg. "Robards was right behind me," Harry finished. Her fingers slid under the bandage, undoing it, and her wand prodded at his wound.

"He sent you right out?" Ginny asked. In the dim light of the single lamp, her hair looked the color of embers. Harry leaned forward and inhaled, drawing in the flowery scent he so loved.

"Yeah," Harry said, wincing when the charms she was performing began to knit his flesh. "Just gave me the location and ordered me away."

"You did the charm right away," she murmured, holding up her snitch charm bracelet.

"I did," Harry confirmed.

Brown eyes met his and held them. They weren't damp with tears, nor did she seem angry. Relief pulsed through him. "I've figured out why I... have a hard time when this happens," Ginny said. His wound tingled and then blessed cool settled over it. She'd healed him the rest of the way, which was what Ginny generally did for him. Still, despite the tender moment, it didn't escape him that she was kneeling in front of him. Pleasure stirred low in his belly and it took him a moment to piece together what she'd said.

"You mean you don't just miss me?" Harry said, giving her a cheeky smile. An answering grin flickered across her face. Her thumb stroked along his thigh, idly, almost as though she weren't aware she was touching him.

"It goes back to me missing you," she said. She shifted and her hair brushed against him. "It... when you get sent off to one of these places, I can't help but think of Bill and Fleur's wedding... the way you just disappeared. And you know — I was in love with you then, but not... not like this."

"Like this?" he said, puzzled.

She waved her hand. Her gaze did not waver. "Together how we are." Her eyes flickered downward for half a breath and her thumb rubbed over his knuckles. "With your things mussing up my loo, your robes in my closet, and Damacles. Our tree… all of it. If you broke up with me now for some noble reason…"

"I never wanted to break up with you," Harry said quietly. "Never."

"I know," said Ginny. "I told you at the time that I understood. And I did."

"I know you did," said Harry. There had been that moment of perfect understanding between them. He squeezed her hands. "You're telling me you wouldn't be so understanding again."

She paused. Their eyes were tangled together. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying," she said simply. "In fifth year we dated three weeks. I understood what you had to do. Merlin knows I understand even more clearly now exactly why you had to do it. Those Horcruxes," she said. Hate suffused her tone and her gaze flicked up to his scar. "But I... I want reassurance that you aren't going to make that choice again." She held up her snitch charm. "I want to know that even if something dire came up, if you were facing a threat and had to go into hiding, or — or something similar, you really would want me to come to you."

"It's about breaking up," he said. Wonder — absurd as that was — suffused him. "You're worried I'd get involved in something dangerous and feel like I needed to break up with you."

She lifted her shoulder. Her look was direct. "Do you blame me?"

He thought about that. "No," he said. "Especially not with the safe house thing bringing it up all over again." He shook his head and let his fingers tighten around hers. "In a lot of ways I feel like everything with Voldemort — it was ending a fight that started on Halloween when he killed my parents. You know what I think about the wording of the prophecy."

She nodded. "'Neither can live while the other survives,'" she quoted.

"Right," said Harry. "How could I really live with a bit of him in me? But it's over."

"It's a dangerous job, being an Auror," Ginny said. "And you have that noble streak..."

"I'm not going to sacrifice you," said Harry, trying to make it plain to her. "People have sacrificed everything for me, I've honored that, I try to live up to it. But my dad didn't go off fighting. He didn't leave my mum and me to keep us safe." He let out a small laugh. "I'm not making sense. But I'm not going to take anything on that means I'd have to give you up." The idea of it made his chest feel tight. "My life with you is my life. I'm not going to sacrifice that. You. Us."

Her hands slid out of his and cupped his jaw. "You mean that," she said.

"Of course I do," said Harry.

For half a moment, he expected her to kiss him. It was what generally happened when they were this close to one another. So it surprised him when she stood and used her wand to conjure three small swirls of light. Their subtle beams caught in her hair, making it shine, and for the space of a few breaths, Harry was transfixed. Then she undid his cloak, let it fall to the ground to pool at her feet, and he nearly swallowed his tongue.

All she wore underneath were a few wispy bits of lace that couldn't possibly be held up by anything but magic. Her skin looked especially pale against the black that concealed hardly anything at all. His eyes drifted between her breasts, lingering on each for quite some time, before he looked down to see matching knickers. He licked his lips. "You're giving me a reward, then?" he said hoarsely.

"A thank you," she said. "For drawing that line for me. I needed to hear you say it." Her eyes gave a tiny roll, and color came to her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I—"

It pleased Harry that she'd known that he would draw that line for her. He reached for her and pulled her closer, so he could kiss the tender spot just above her navel. "Don't apologize," he said. "You don't need to."

"I was quite the watering pot," she said. "I bet you thought I'd turned into Cho…"

"Never," he said. "You don't cry over everything, do you? If you do, I know it's serious. And besides, you're not Cho, you're Ginny." He thought he could handle her tears if it meant he could also be around when she laughed. When he told her this, she made a sound in the back of her throat and kissed him, hard, dropping into his lap and gripping his hair.

His blood ignited.

She banished his clothes with a twist of her wand. When she made to do the same to her lingerie, Harry protested. "No, wait!" he said. He squeezed her bum in his hands, enjoying the feel of the rough lace against his palms.

"It's a little difficult to have sex with knickers on," she told him.

"Let me do it?" Harry asked.

His arousal pulsed in his veins; his erection pointed upward toward his belly, urged even harder by her fingers circling it, squeezing it, and rubbing the tip. But Harry ignored this in favor of looking at her. Trying to take it off was like trying to pull apart a cloud, Harry realized. The lace wasn't quite solid, kept slipping through his fingers. He didn't mind – whenever he pulled at the cloudy lace, it did interesting things to his view. He kept having to press kisses against a freckle here, an exposed aureole there…

"You're enjoying this too much," she said with breathless amusement.

"So are you," Harry said. She was rocking against his leg; he could feel how hot she was. The heat increased when he took her nipple in his mouth – magical lace and all – and suckled on it and laved it with his tongue. Her slim fingers squeezed his erection in a tight grip. But Harry's attention was focused pretty tightly on her breasts… they were particularly brilliant tonight… It was some time before he noted, idly, that in the cloud of black lace that revealed and concealed and drove him nearly mad – in the best possible way – there was a thread of silver.

"Ah," Ginny moaned when the lace fell away and drifted down to the floor. "You found the silver lining."

"Weren't you the one who taught me how?" Harry asked, meaning the lace but also everything else. It didn't take him much time to find the silver lining on her knickers. "I'm going to play with those, too, but not tonight," he promised. They would have time, later, for Harry to give the lacy knickers the same attention he had the bra. "Where on earth did you get these? Did you make them?"

"I bought them from Carn Alley," she said.

"They're brilliant," Harry said. They were squirming together, nearly too impatient to fit their bodies together properly. But the tip of his erection found her slick heat, and then he was entering her. There were no more words. Ginny lowered herself down on him with one sure movement. Their eyes were locked together, and there was no charm in the world that would make Harry look away.

His hands gripped her hips and he helped her find a rhythm that made pleasure sweep over his entire body. There was so much about life with Ginny that he wouldn't give up; sex was only part of it. But at the moment, it was the most visceral part, and he held her a little tighter, watched her a little more intently, and felt a little deeper than he normally did. She matched him in intensity.

Her hair threaded around his fingers. "Never," he said, toward the end.

Her eyelids flickered closed for a moment. Their lips met. His promise seemed to reverberate through the room, seemed to imbue their love-making with an extra spice.

When it was over, and they lay nestled together like spoons in the small, Ministry-provided bed, Harry was still marveling over it. "I'm glad you came tonight," he said, entwining his fingers with hers.

"You usually make me come," she said wickedly.

He squeezed her and chuckled against her hair. "What do you mean, usually? No, I meant… I'm glad you're here with me. I'm glad we've got that sorted."

"You mean, you're glad I figured out why I was so mental?"

"Nope," he said, with the great good cheer he usually felt after an orgasm. And this one had been particularly good. "I'm glad we've got it sorted that you're never getting rid of me…"

She turned in his arms. There was a small smile curving up the corner of her lips. "Never?"

"Never," Harry said. It was another promise that seemed to fill up the entire space of the room. It felt right. "I'm not going anywhere. And if I have to, I'll need you to come with me. You wouldn't make me go alone, would you?"

"Never," she echoed. "Never, ever."

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Author's Note: It's shockingly difficult for me to write with a prompt, but this was a fun little thing. I particularly enjoyed the lingerie parts – those of you in the Ginny Lovers discord will recognize this as my ode to Team Unwrap.

Hope you enjoyed!