Pour L'Adrénaline

Rating: T (mostly)

Pairing: Hinny (Harry x Ginny)

Summary: In a race around the world, Harry and Ginny discover they have more in common than their death-defying hobbies. Muggle AU.

A/N (important!) – As you may have noticed, this is not a Dramione pairing one shot. I will – henceforth and furthermore – be writing more than simply Dramione pairing stories in this collection. If that upsets you, then I implore you simply skip the stories that are not to your preferred pairing. If you are, however, brave enough to read on, then I thank you! (It should be noted that Dramione pairings will continue to dominate this collection.)

The cold, north wind was numbing, but it would be nothing compared to the icy, treacherous waters below. Ginny peered over the edge of the cliff, her toes dangling off the unstable rock, and was forcibly yanked back by her guide with a harsh string of obscenities directed at her reckless stance.

She shrugged, unbothered.

Ignoring the scowl that the other man shot her way, she fumbled for her phone to see who could possibly be calling her at a time like this: it was one of her brothers. Ginny clicked the phone off and slid it back into its protective case.

"Just, hurry up and take the video, will you?"

"Fine," the guide grumbled, fumbling for his waterproof Go-Pro as she dug out the laminated sign from the inner lining of her wetsuit. "Alright," he said, "Three… two… one,"

Ginny smirked as the red light gleamed, signaling its recording, then stepped backwards and fell off the cliff; the cold air rushed up around her, entangling her flaming hair.

In the brief moment of suspension before she hit the water, Ginny welcomed the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins; her heart pounded loudly, so much so that she couldn't hear anything outside of its erratic beating. A smile broke out across her face seconds before she plummeted into the freezing water.

Testing her limit, she stayed under the water for as long as possible, until her lungs burned and threatened to burst. This was known as voluntary apnea, Ginny knew, and it was an interesting, yet confounding, experience; when a person is drowning, they don't actually inhale water until right before they black out because no matter how frightening the situation is, the instinct not to let any water in is so strong that it overpowers the desire to breathe. When her head began to feel like it would implode, Ginny recognized the final signal that she needed oxygen now or this would be it: the one time she gave into that slightly suicidal tendency of hers.

Her head broke the water and her lungs greedily expanded with the chilling air.

She beamed.

Swimming back to the base of the rock, intending to begin the long trek back to the top to jump again, Ginny contemplated this adventure's caption. Should she aim for something daring and brave, highlighting the danger of the feat, or should she go for something more casual, as if the whole ordeal was a bit boring – an ordinary Tuesday if you will?

Shivering as the harsh winds met the exposed skin at the base of her neck, Ginny weighed her options.

Already, her sign would anger her mum, but which caption would make her six brothers envious?

Decisions, decisions.

Harry fished out his phone, sliding his thumb across the screen to answer the incoming call. He balanced precariously against a semi-solid rock jutting out from the mountain and brought the phone to his ear with his free hand.

"Hello?"

"Hiya, mate,"

"Hey, Ron," he huffed, slightly out of breath from physical exertion, "What's up?"

"Oh – Err – I was wondering if you had a minute, but if you're busy–"

He glanced at his footing, not impressed with his chances of not slipping, but at the same time, this was hardly the most life-threatening position he found himself in. Harry took a moment to steady his breathing, then cleared his throat and directed his attention back to his mate on the other line. They hadn't talked in a while, not since they both graduated from Uni and moved away, but that was normal, Harry supposed.

"No, it's fine. I'm fine. Now's a good a time as any," he replied, attempting for a casual tone. "Did you need something?"

"Well, I was wondering – Err – I mean – I thought you might be interested–"

Harry's fingers, gripping onto a rock just above his head, began to cramp, but luckily the other line cut off abruptly. He shifted to put his phone back in the zipped pocket of his jacket and was suddenly aware of a rather high-pitch voice emanating from it.

Tentatively, Harry lifted it back to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Harry," breathed a familiar feminine voice.

"Hermione," he said brightly. "Hello! How are you?"

"I'm wonderful, Harry, thanks for asking. I'll get straight to the point because Ron – Well – Never mind Ron, but anyway, Harry – Are you still – I mean, do you still like going off on those… adventures?"

He blinked.

She was trying to be polite, he knew, with her phrasing of his favorite pastime.

"Err – Yeah," he replied, daring to hoist himself up one-handed so as to relieve the pain in his other hand somewhat.

Most climbers, or ordinary people without a death wish (which he didn't have, though he was accused of having one often enough over the years that he recognized the similarities), would not have attempted this advanced climb without ropes or a belay device. At the very least, they would have a buddy.

Harry brought neither.

Thus, the longer he stayed on this call, the more likely he was to injure himself, and as much as Harry invited the few seconds of weightlessness, he possessed no desire to fall at this height. Breaking all the bones in his right arm as a child was a nightmare, and he was certain if he were to fall right now, he would break more than that.

"Hermione," Harry said, interrupting her going on and on about something one of Ron's many siblings apparently did, "Can I call you back?"

"Hm? Oh… Sure, of course, Harry. Talk to you later,"

"Bye," he said, slipping his smartphone back into his pocket with just enough time to relieve the surmounting pressure on his other hand. Harry resumed the climb, eager to get to the top; the day was surprisingly clear for late April in the Scottish Highlands and he couldn't wait to see the view.

Seeing the richest views that the world offered always caused his heart to lurch in his chest, which is something that the number reflected in his bank account never did, much to his mate's bewilderment. What Ron didn't understand was that money wasn't everything, specifically not the money he'd been left after his parents' death.

Unlike his trust fund, the so-called adventures sparked true happiness, especially when there was a magnificent view.

Because he'd earned it.

"You did what?"

Ron backed away, holding his hands in the air defensively.

"I just thought since you–"

"No. No you didn't. You didn't think." Ginny fumed, pacing the flat she shared with Hermione and looking for something to throw at her older brother. "What makes you think I would want to do something like that?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you're always off doing stupid stuff like that anyway! Might as well get paid for it, right?" He replied, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

Ginny narrowed her eyes.

"Absolutely not! I'm not doing it. You can't make me," she huffed. "Besides – You mentioned there have to be teams of two?" He nodded reluctantly, glancing askance at Hermione for help. "Well, there you are. I don't have a team, and I can't compete if I don't have a team. Now, go away, I need to get back to planning my next trip."

"Err – That's the thing," Ron said, "You do have a team."

Ginny's head snapped up.

"Come again?"

"Well, you have to be nominated see–"

"And the application was really quite easy, you fit the profile so well, Gin," input Hermione

"– except for the part where you need a partner, because we didn't know anyone as reckless as you. I mean who on earth would be willing to–"

"Get to the point, Ronald," seethed Ginny.

"Right – Err – Well, we found you someone."

"You what?"

"Technically," Hermione said, "Ron found someone–"

"You called!"

"No, you called him. I just–"

"Him?" Ginny said, interrupting their minor banter. "Who is 'him'?" She paused, holding up her hand to cut them off before they answered her. "Never mind. I don't want to know. I don't need to know because I'm – Not – Going,"

"But – But we–" stammered Ron.

Hermione took the laptop away from Ginny and brandished a very motherly finger in her face. "Ginevra," she commanded, "You will go. We've nominated you. They are thrilled to have you, and," she continued, wagging the finger to keep Ginny from another outburst, "we've already told him, and he's agreed to be your partner. This is a great opportunity for you to make friends in your… field."

"What if I don't want to make friends?"

"Tough," ruled Hermione.

"If you don't want to make friends, at least try and make some money," input Ron hastily. "There's a million pounds on the line if you win, and honestly I don't see how you won't with the two of you paired together," he added, shaking his head. "Think of all the trips you could plan with that."

Ginny pursed her lips.

She hated the thought of going on some dumb, reality television show with someone she didn't know nor trust, but it seemed she didn't have much of a choice at the moment. Besides, her brother was right (not that she would ever tell him that); the money was enticing enough to consider this crazy ordeal.

She sighed.

"Who is he?"

Starring on a reality television show in a race around the world was not the wildest thing Harry ever planned on doing, but it was certainly up there. He was nervous – Not about the race, though; he'd already backpacked two continents by himself, and by the pretense of the show, what they were asking of the teams wasn't all-that different. No, what Harry was anxious about was the girl he was going to be spending the next month traveling around the world with.

He wasn't sure why he was nervous because he'd met several of Ron's siblings throughout their years at Uni and they were wonderful (mostly, but Percy was a special case), but he never met Ron's younger sister.

Ron and Hermione assured him that they would get on swimmingly, and while he was wont to believe them given their enthusiasm, within the first thirty seconds of meeting Ginny Weasley, he was less sure they were right.

"You're late," she said.

"I know," he replied, sliding into the seat opposite her in the dreary coffee shop. "Sorry," he added as an afterthought. "I'm Harry,"

"I gathered that much," she quipped. Her brown eyes peered at him, scrutinizing every feature of his face, and Harry fought the urge to squirm under her strong gaze. "Ginny," she finally said, offering him her hand. "Ron tells me you two went to Uni together," she said. "You must have also met Fred and George then I take it?"

"Only once or twice. They're a good time,"

"They're my favorites," she said with a hint of approval in her tone. "Well… were. Anyway, don't tell them that. It'll go straight to their already inflamed egos,"

Harry nodded, giving her hand a firm shake and then replacing his in his lap, wiping it on his trousers and praying she didn't notice the sweat on his palms. By the way her eyes flitted to the door every time someone entered or exited, he imagined not much went unnoticed around her.

"How come you didn't attend Uni with us? You don't look too much younger than Ron,"

She shrugged. "I was busy doing other things."

The non-answer struck Harry as odd, and he made a mental reminder to do a bit of social media digging after this meeting. She looked familiar and a thought pricked at the back of his mind that he knew her from somewhere; it could be that he was imagining things and that he remembered seeing her in some of Ron's family photos in their dorm, but his instincts felt it was something more than that.

"So," he said, clearing his throat and thanking the waitress when she arrived with their drinks. "Don't you think we should get to know each other a little better before this whole thing starts?"

She scoffed, "You think knowing my favorite color is going to help us win?"

"No," he replied, raising his eyebrows pointedly, playing off her sarcasm with a knowing smirk. "We both know that won't make any difference. Besides, it's obviously scarlet–"

"How did you–"

"Never mind that," Harry's smirk grew infinitesimally. He was nearly always right; his instincts were unmatched. "I was thinking more along the lines of travel experience and things like that. Knowing our strengths, weaknesses, preferences, and whatever else…"

He trailed off, catching her mouth momentarily gaping and was overcome by the urge to bite her lip. Repressing this desire, he blinked and motioned for her to begin the conversation.

She stared at him, unspeaking, for several long minutes, then finally asked, "Planes or trains?"

"Trains," he replied instantly. "I hate flying."

"You hate flying?" She repeated. "What the hell–"

"It doesn't stop me." Harry quickly input, cutting her off before she could fully go off on him. Understandably, since flying would likely take up a considerable portion of their travels around the world.

"Say I believe you–"

"Which you should."

"– how do you cope?"

Harry shrugged.

"Typically, some form of pharmaceutical drug. Half a Xanny usually does the trick for longer flights,"

Ginny's lips twitched into a ghost of a smile, then resumed their pursed state. "We likely won't have access to those. Pesky guidelines when broadcasting on national television, you understand. What then?"

Again, he shrugged.

"I'll figure something out." He took a languid sip of his coffee. "Are we really going to keep talking about this? Surely there are more interesting topics to discuss." He paused, then nodded to her hand, where an amber ring glinted under the harsh lighting. "Polish?"

"Yes," she confirmed, absently twisting the ring.

"It's pretty," he commented drily, watching intently for her reaction. Relief flooded his veins when a spark of anger flashed behind her eyes.

"I didn't buy it because it's pretty," she snapped. "I'm not one of those girls that just – that goes off and – I'm not ignorant–"

"I know," he smiled, taking hold of her wrist to stop her from leaving. "I presume you're familiar with the Polish legend associated with amber, then?"

Ginny nodded, slowly sinking back into her seat. "Are you?"

"Very," Harry replied. He always made a point of knowing the history and culture of places he visited, and from her violent reaction, it seemed that Ginny did too. "I've never been, if I'm being honest. It's one of the few places I have yet to visit, though I always like to familiarize myself with stories involving lightning so, I know the legend well."

"Lightning?"

Harry nodded.

He lifted his wayward hair to reveal the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead and watched her eyes widen, taking in its details.

"Accident?" She guessed.

"Something like that," he non-answered, and they both leaned back, growing more comfortable with one another as their personalities revealed likenesses.

Harry Potter was… something.

Ginny never – never – felt that way about someone within the first thirty seconds of meeting them.

His emerald eyes followed her every movement, and his stupid, perfect lips mocked her with every smirk; she wondered how many girls he loved and left haunted. Determined not to be one of those girls in the future, Ginny quickly threw up her defenses. Most men, from her experience at least, would have seen her rough exterior and smart mouth as a challenge – as an invitation to break down her walls.

Not him.

True, there was something inherently dangerous about the way he looked at her, but other than that Harry Potter was a complete gentleman; he made the occasional comment but didn't dare attempt more than that. Where most men tried too hard to win her affections, he didn't try at all; where Ginny typically dated older men to try and weed out this particular behavior, he was younger yet more mature than all of her ex's combined.

A paradox.

A very hot paradox.

"Ginny?"

Bringing herself back to reality, she blinked up at him, noting that his hair was extremely disheveled that morning, adding to his roguish appearance.

"Yes?"

"What do you think – About Face or Pancake Race?"

He held up their Detour card and pointed at the two options they encountered; the first leg of the race took place in their home country, and in bustling London on a mid-summer's day no less. She couldn't guess what the first might be about, but she would rather take on that challenge than any potentially involving food.

"About Face," she replied.

"Alright then," he agreed. "About Face, it is,"

As it turns out, that particular task required them to travel to Somerset House where they dressed up as members of the Queen's Guard and learned the complex steps of the Changing of the Guard ceremony.

Harry kept tripping and eying Ginny's swift foot movements with furrowed brows.

She laughed, "It's really not that difficult, Harry,"

"Easy for you to say," he grumbled, glancing nervously at the parade captain studying them, then added in a whisper, "Military?"

"Hm?"

"Military," he repeated. "Is that what you did instead of Uni? It would explain your footwork. Or, were you a dancer?"

"Do I look like a dancer to you?"

Harry smirked, "You've certainly got the legs for it, Ginny, but your attitude on the other hand…" He trailed off and she smacked him when the parade captain wasn't looking.

"Focus," she hissed, half-reprimanding. "Watch me."

"Oh, I am."

Ginny tilted her chin down, using her loose hair to cover the heat rising to her cheeks; he was being exceptionally flirtatious today, and if she assumed any hope of making it through the next month without giving in to his cheeky insinuations, then she ought to focus, too.

At Christ Church, they were each given a bowler hat and an umbrella which they were instructed to carry for the remainder of the leg.

Harry's impression of Churchill was spot on, and Ginny couldn't help but laugh in spite of herself.

"Harry!" She squealed when his umbrella nearly flew into the busy street. She had half a mind to give him a lecture right then, rather than later that night when cameras wouldn't be on them, but then her eye caught on something tucked inside the umbrella. "What's this?"

It was an Express Pass, giving them to option to search for a building in Oxford rather than head straight to the finish; it would provide them with a lovely head start on the next leg, which was tempting, but Ginny pointed out that neither of them knew where they stood among the other teams.

"We could be wasting precious time by trying to track it down," she argued. "We should just head for the Pit Stop,"

"We won't be wasting time," he assured her, tugging her along with one hand and holding onto his bowler hat with the other to prevent it flying off. "I know exactly where this Inn is," Harry said. "I used to live in London, remember?"

"Oh, right, Uni. Still, I don't think–"

"Don't you trust me?"

His emerald eyes sparkled, and Ginny's stomach flipped.

"No," she breathed.

She was rewarded with a mischievous grin and another firm tug toward Oxford.

"Come on,"

At the hotel that night, Harry flashed her another triumphant smile. They'd finished first and successfully secured the Express Pass. Ginny rolled her eyes and set her phone alarm for the following morning; they needed to be up at an ungodly hour, which she did not look forward to at all.

"Don't say it," she warned him.

Harry smirked.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Ginny," he said, getting into the twin bed opposite her.

The I told you so hung in the air between them. She sighed, "You're the worst." Then, clicked off the light and settled herself between the sheets, desperate to dream of something other than his dastard lips on hers.

"Goodnight, Ginny," he called into the darkness.

She smiled into her pillow, grateful he couldn't see her expression, then forced a dry, monotonous tone in her reply. "Goodnight, Harry,"

"I knew I knew you from somewhere," Harry said, sidling up next to Ginny.

"Yeah," she commented, rolling her eyes, "My idiot brother. Obviously,"

"No, not just that," he said, waving away the fact as if it was a fly on the wall. "You're that Sign Girl."

He pulled out his phone, angled it towards her, and showed her a photo on a blog post; there was a gif of a figure bobbing in and out of view – in a boomerang of a bungee jump fall – with a laminated sign held in front of their chest that read: I'm fine, Mum! Below the gif, the author of the blog (named The Quibbler) completely disregarded the irony of the sign paired with the stunt and pointed out that the canyon was believed to be the home to a species known as the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

"That's you, isn't it?"

"I'm a shite writer, Harry," she replied coolly, "and I have no idea what the hell a Humble-Horned Snortback is,"

"Crumple-Horned Snorkack," he corrected out of habit, then frowned at her and put his phone away. "That's you holding the sign, isn't it? I've seen your pictures everywhere," Harry exclaimed, excited to have gotten another one of his hunches about her correct. "Why do you do it?"

"I thought that was fairly obvious from the context of the sign," she smirked.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean," he added under his breath.

She pretended to ignore him and instead tapped his forearm impatiently. "Hand me that piece over there,"

Harry obliged, handed her an oblong puzzle piece, and watched as she fitted it into the wooden puzzle according to its beveled edges and painted designs.

"You almost done?"

Ginny spared a minute to give him a full, long glare.

Harry backtracked quickly, "You said you didn't want me anywhere near the puzzle."

"Because you've been an utter nightmare about it," she commented. "Please make a note that puzzles are one of your weaknesses."

"But research is not," he countered, flashing his phone screen in front of her again. This time, it displayed her Instagram feed; it was full of video clips and photos of her doing what ordinary people would call bold acts, all while holding the same I'm fine, Mum! sign. "Almost four million followers? Not bad, Ginny, not bad."

"Shut up," she remarked, backhanding him and stepping back from her masterpiece. The puzzle was complete, and after a moment to reflect on Ginny's work, he whisked her away and back down the ladder to where the zip lines awaited them.

"Come on," he said, turning to help her strap in.

"I can do it myself–"

"I know,"

"Then, why the hell are you–"

"Because I can." Harry quipped. "Because I want to. And because now I can do this," and with a mischievous grin, Harry pushed Ginny off onto the zip line track and watched her zoom off across the Moroccan canyons of the Atlas Mountains in Tahannaout.

"Harry!"

He laughed as he, with his zip line running parallel to hers, caught up to her; in their brief moment of interaction before he ultimately passed her, Harry beamed unapologetically. Ginny, much to his delight, presented him ceremoniously with a nasty finger – he imagined the crew attempting to cut that out and blew her a kiss for good measure.

Ginny took revenge by driving to their next task, and Harry held on for dear life as she sped through the busy market streets and minor sand dunes in a vehicle that was not well-equipped for off-roading.

"You're the worst," he muttered, shaking his head.

They emerged at the Pit Stop, finishing second behind a father-son duo known as the Diggory's. Ginny looked a bit upset at not finishing first, but regained her benevolent composure quickly, and sported a polite smile. Harry could tell the smile didn't reach her eyes, and even though her lapse in happiness appeared silly and passing, he was suddenly overcome with the desire to ensure nothing ever doused her flame again.

Harry nudged her as the cameras directed their attention to the incoming third place team. "It's only the first week," he reminded her. "Don't worry, we'll win."

"I thought you were only doing this because you had nothing better to do this summer?"

Harry shrugged.

"I have other intentions for being here now,"

Later that night, Harry climbed the narrow staircase to their shared bedroom and crossed the room to retrieve his toothbrush. "Wow, I really need to brush up on my Arabic," he said, chuckling under his breath as he met Ginny's eye across the room. "When the host family said goodnight, I either said, 'Thank you for having us' or 'Forget me, I'm soup'. By the funny looks the son gave me, I'm going to presume it was the latter,"

Ginny's lips twitched into a sly grin, and Harry felt himself smile in turn; her smile was contagious, albeit rare.

"I'll take the floor," Harry said, gesturing to where Ginny was readying the only bed in the room. "Just – Toss me a pillow, will you?"

She blinked; a gentle frown formed across her face.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," she chided, "We're both adults. There's no need for you to sleep on the floor."

It was a stupid thing to be happy about, and yet, there he was, internally grinning from ear to ear.

"You're an only child, aren't you?" She said as Harry slid cautiously into bed beside her, careful not to let any of his limbs linger too close to hers. He nodded. "I can tell," she explained, "because you look so uncomfortable to be sharing a bed with me – Well – Let me rephrase that – Sharing a bed with someone in a platonic way," she laughed.

Harry arched a brow.

"How does being an only child have anything to do with that?"

"I've had to share beds with my brothers more than once, especially when visitors came to stay. We lived in a small house you see. At least, as the only girl, I only had to share when we were far past maximum capacity," Ginny said.

"Oh," he said. "Yeah, I suppose I've never done anything like that. I've stayed in hostels with dozens of people in the same room, but – It's not the same – I always had my own bed."

Ginny nodded.

He expected her expression to reflect some form of resentment for his upbringing being so wildly different from hers, even with the simple privilege of space, but it didn't; if anything, she looked understanding and, if he was not mistaken, a bit sorry.

"I wish I had a brother or sister," he murmured.

"Or several?"

When their laughter died down, Harry spoke up again.

"Speaking of family," he said, earning lifted brows from Ginny. "How come you only talk about your childhood? You never mention anything more recent, and then there's the sign–"

"No offense, Harry, but I don't want to talk about it, ok? Goodnight,"

Without another word, Ginny shifted to blow out the bedside candle and delivered them both to darkness.

The next morning, they headed off to Italy.

Harry didn't bring up her family, to which Ginny was immensely grateful. She wanted to show her gratitude for his abiding by this personal boundary by being exceptionally accommodating on their flight. Per every flight – knowing that he despised planes and flying – Ginny made a note to make Harry as comfortable as possible.

She knew he liked to talk, and that he was overly fond of getting to know her, so she opted to share some personal stories of her various travels and daring adventures; that topic was safe. It was a brilliant idea because Harry was readily enthused by the topic and immediately began retelling some of his best – and worst – stories as well.

"The cow chased you?" She exclaimed in disbelief. "I thought they were gentle animals."

"Not this one, at least," he replied. "I was stuck on top of that brick wall for hours. It wouldn't leave me alone! Finally, once the sun went down, I was able to sneak off the wall and make a good run for it."

"You're kidding,"

"I wish," Harry said. "Sometimes I still jump when I hear a cow mooing."

"That's incredible. Meanwhile, I have a perfectly irrational fear of penguins."

"No, that's perfectly rational. They're mean sons of bitches," he agreed.

Ginny threw up her hands excitedly, "Yes! Exactly! Everyone thinks they're so nice and cuddly – probably because of Pingu – but they're not! I swear I almost got pecked to the bone when I was on an escapade in the Galapagos."

"Oh man, Galapagos penguins? I'm surprised you made it out alive," Harry joked, laughing. "How long did you stay in the Galapagos for?"

"A month," Ginny said with a thin smile, "though I wish I was able to stay for longer. There was so much wildlife, and the diving was amazing."

"Scuba?"

"Obviously,"

From mainland Italy, they took a boat with the other leading team but mostly kept to themselves, talking excitedly over the edge of the boat and pointing at every dolphin sighting.

"I bet you've done that tourist photo op with a dolphin," he taunted, shooting her a sidelong smirk.

Ginny returned the haughty expression and said, "I have actually."

"I bet you got a kiss, too."

"Yeah, but it wasn't that good. A bit wet,"

"Well, it is a dolphin, Ginny," he said, rolling his eyes.

Ginny's mischievous grin twitched upwards, and she leaned in close to whisper, "I was talking about the photographer, actually," and reveled in Harry's coughing fit that immediately followed. "I'm joking," she added.

"Are you?"

His tone was skeptical, and rightfully so; she laughed.

"Maybe, maybe not,"

They continued to banter and chat in a lighthearted, friendly manner over the next several legs of the race. It was easy, comfortable, and thoroughly blissful, which only made it that much harder for Ginny to pretend like she wasn't totally into him. If he were to be the one to close the infinitesimal distance between them, she would fall – and fall hard.

The worst of it was that Ginny believed she deeply misunderstood him at their initial meeting.

His roguish attitude and treasonous good looks were, perhaps, a façade; where she thought him to be a robber, running off and stealing hearts and never saying sorry, he was quite the opposite. Ginny got the impression that Harry Potter, despite all of his chivalry and infectious courage, had very little experience when it came to wooing women.

Conversely, Ginny was quite the maneater.

This particular feeling sat unkindly in the pit of her stomach, constantly turning it over and over, nearly making her sick; as much as she wanted him – wanted to be with him – she feared that she would ruin him in the process.

He was too good for that.

Too good for her.

Yet, in the middle of the night – in her dreams – they did unspeakable things that made her burn for his touch and his love even more.

"This is it," Harry said, jarring Ginny from her thoughts of his lips and his hands on her. "This is the apocalypse,"

"Don't be so dramatic," she mocked, peering at the Roadblock card in his hands. Their next task, meant to stall their arrival to that leg's Pit Stop by a few hours and potentially ruin their lead, involved mildly war-like tactics.

"Looks like your militaristic skills are going to come in handy here," he commented.

Ginny hailed a cab and asked him to drive to Ill-Monti Valletta, the most popular outdoor market in Malta. They were given two marks, which they must successfully identify within thirty minutes, and any mistakes would cost them additional time; then, once the marks were identified, they were instructed to covertly pass them 'illegal papers'.

"I told you," she sighed. "Not military."

"Then what did you do instead of Uni?"

Ginny ignored this and pointed at a well-wrapped slice of cheese in the nearest market stall. "Here, we'll buy a few of these and put the papers between the wax seal and the paper wrapping. That should conceal the papers well enough and keep them from getting cheese all over them as well."

"Are you sure you weren't military?" Harry pressed. "Royal Navy? Air?"

"No," she scoffed. "I'm positive. Now, we just need to find our marks."

"Easy," Harry grinned. "They're over there, by the rugs – What the hell are you doing? – Don't look!" He swore under his breath, then play-acted taking a selfie of them, all the while describing the two men in the background of the photo. "See them?"

Ginny nodded.

"How did you spot them so quickly?"

"I have amazing eyesight,"

"You wear glasses," she pointed out.

"That's just to level the playing field," he smirked.

They made it to their last task of the Malta leg in record time, with broad grinning smiles painted across both of their faces; this challenge, most likely invented to stall others, was right up their alley. Harry gestured to one of the rappel lines.

"Ladies first,"

"Off you go then," Ginny retorted. Harry laughed – a full and beautiful laugh that momentarily mesmerized Ginny – then took hold of the rappel and began descending into the Blue Grotto.

Once they were both in the water, they swam into a cave to pick up their final clue, telling them where the Pit Stop was located. The cave was enchanting, but the clue was hiding in a dark crevice that was difficult for them both to fit in, and so, Ginny ended up pressed right up against Harry's heavily expanding chest.

She inhaled the intoxicating scent of Harry's cologne.

Her eyes dropped to his lips; they were slick with saltwater. For a second, Ginny considered kissing him. The camera crew followed them into the cave, of course, but they hung back in the water because there was no room for them all to fit in the crevice; this was as good an opportunity as any.

Before she could muster up the courage to bring herself to kiss him, however, Harry cleared his throat and held up the card, "Guess we better get going, eh? Don't want to be late and risk getting eliminated."

"Yeah," she said, blinking.

Harry wanted to know everything about Ginny Weasley, but he didn't dare bring up any sensitive topics or anything remotely related to her family. For one, because he was certain he met the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and he did not intend to push her away. For another, because they were only halfway through the competition, and they still were obligated to spend every minute of the next two weeks at each other's side… until they weren't.

"Wait – What?"

"You're my partner," sniffed a very presumptuous young woman; she didn't look any older than Harry, but there was a superior air to her personality that rivaled even his arrogance.

"I heard you the first time," he grumbled.

She pursed her lips. "Could have fooled me," she said, then held out her hand at the pointed cough of a crew member, "I'm Pansy Parkinson," she told him, forcing a pleasant smile across her stiff face.

Harry wanted to recoil at her touch; she was far from Ginny's warmth and he longed for her company now more than ever. However, plagued by his inherently British manners, Harry shook her hand and returned the polite smile with a more welcoming grin.

"Harry Potter," he told her briskly.

Pansy was unlike Ginny in all the worst ways. Where he and Ginny were often on the same page when it came to planning a route, solving clues, and completing tasks with their complementary strengths, Pansy was the complete opposite; they argued at nearly every transportation point and struggled to come to an agreement with the clues.

It wasn't until they were halfway through their first task – a Detour – that Harry spotted Ginny with her new partner; they were only supposed to be switching for this leg, with the added incentive to get along because the last two teams to finish would be dropped, no matter where their partner finished.

"Hey," she greeted, waving at him from the back of her horse; she seemed unsteady but confidently so, and it caused Harry's chest to expand. "I reckon we can place all of these poacher pieces back on the path before you two can," she taunted, smirking askance at her new partner (Pansy's original partner and fiancé). "What do you think, Neville – think we can take them?"

Before Neville could answer, Pansy cut him off.

"You two? Beat us?" She let out a high-pitch snigger, "Please,"

"What's the matter?" Ginny leered. "Afraid of a little competition?"

"Competition?" She scoffed, then whipped her horse around to face Harry with a steel gaze. "What do you say, Potter?"

His eyes shifted from Pansy's dark ones, to the nervous blue of Neville's, then finally to the warm brown of Ginny's and forced a familiar mischievous smirk across his lips. If there was one thing he learned about Ginny, it was that she was highly competitive; betting on a victory against one another was a sure way to make her see how perfectly they fit together.

At the very least it would incentivize Pansy to get along better with him for the sake of winning; she appeared to be equally as competitive.

"Last one to finish is at the mercy of the winner this evening," Harry ruled.

"Deal," Ginny said, grinning.

Without another glance in their direction, Pansy sent her horse into a full gallop and tore off toward the first marking on the map; the Detour – named Rhino Track – involved riding horses along a marked path through a Rhino reserve in rural Zimbabwe, along the way spotting and collecting eight pieces of evidence left behind by poachers. Then, they returned to the starting point. This is where they ran into the others. After that, they were tasked with following a set of clues meant to instruct where to correctly place the eight pieces in the reserve.

Harry knew that Ginny was gifted with puzzles, but Pansy informed him that Neville was decidedly not.

As for he and his partner, both were equally mediocre at solving puzzles.

It took longer than he'd have liked, and when they both hopped off the back of their horses at the end of the task, it was disheartening not to see the other two anywhere in sight.

"They're probably lost," said Pansy. "Neville, sweet boy that he is – I love him to bits – is terrible with directions. Twice last leg we narrowly missed key tasks because he sent us in the complete opposite direction."

"Why didn't you take over the navigation?"

"I did," she half-snapped.

"Then, I don't see how–"

"Look," Pansy hissed, pointing to the Pit Stop.

Across Imire Lake – where the teams were instructed to paddle a makeshift raft from shore to shore – stood Ginny and Neville, both wearing broad, triumphant grins, standing beside the host of the television show.

"Bloody hell," Harry groaned.

Once they reached the Pit Stop, they switched back to their original partners, where they could officially check-in and receive their placement; neither team would be eliminated as they weren't in the bottom two to finish, however, that did little to comfort Harry and Pansy who, according to their bet, still finished after their partners.

"That was fun," Ginny said once they settled into their huts for the night.

The stars shone brightly overheard in the deep blue night sky, and Harry slid over on the top step of the porch to make room for her to sit. She did and, either slyly or without thinking, leaned her head against his shoulder.

Harry stiffened.

Was this a sign? Was he meant to wrap his arm around her – or kiss her?

Before his brain could form a complete thought, however, Ginny lifted her head back up and peered up at the twinkling stars.

"I was in an accident," she blurted out. "Sort of."

Harry swallowed; blood rushed back to his head… from elsewhere… and it took him a minute to formulate a response.

"An accident?"

"Yeah, though it wasn't because I was in the military, or a dancer, so don't go getting carried away with that theory of yours," she said softly, sparing him a fleeting smirk.

Harry blinked.

Finally, he registered what they were talking about.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't–"

"I do," she said, cutting him off but offering a reassuring smile that melted his heart. "I want to talk about it… with you." Harry stilled, waiting for her to go on. "I played youth football, and I was really good at it," she smirked. "I signed on to play for St Mary's with every intention to play professionally after graduation, preferably for Arsenal Women's because then I could stay in London and room with Ron."

"We could have met," Harry realized aloud. "We might have been flatmates."

"Yeah," she smiled, "that occurred to me."

"But – Ron moved away after Uni, didn't he? To be closer to family, I think." He wasn't entirely sure, because he'd moved away as well, and they hadn't kept close touch since then. "Was that because of you?"

"No," she sighed. "That would be because of Mum."

Harry wanted to ask a hundred different questions for clarification purposes, but he waited patiently for her to go on, knowing that Ginny needed comfortable space to open up properly.

"I spent the summer before I was supposed to attend St Mary's at their football training camp. It was brutal but nothing I couldn't handle or didn't secretly like; the aching muscles and turf burn weren't new. But, during a scrimmage match, I slid for a strike and collided with the goalie. She walked away with a few bruises, but my knee was torn to shreds. All three ligaments – Gone,"

"Ouch," Harry winced, "I'm sorry,"

"Yeah, well, me too. It ruined my football career, and I went through loads of physical therapy to get it anywhere close to normal function." She gave him a tentative smile. "I was a bit lost, after that–"

"Understandably,"

"Not to Mum," she countered with a low chuckle. "I went off to go discover myself or whatever, but that mostly just meant pushing my body to its limits and edging closer and closer to death with whatever daring activity I could find."

Harry nodded, returning the knowing smile; he could relate.

"Anyway, after a while I sort of just… stopped going home. Cut off all communications with my family, except for sending a Happy Birthday or Happy Christmas text," Ginny confessed. "The sign," she said, giving him a blazing, determined look. "At first, the sign was meant to be a joke, to help prove to Mum that even though I was doing insanely reckless stunts and traveling all over the world, that I would be alright. It caught on so much – I don't know – Then, it became habit to carry it around with me, even though I know she hates it."

Ginny was quiet for several minutes.

"And your brothers?" Harry asked.

"I think they resent me a bit for the mess I left Mum in,"

"But Ron–"

"Has been the most understanding," she informed him. "I never really understood why, but I'll bet anything it has something to do with you."

"Me?" Harry repeated.

Ginny nodded.

Another several minutes of silence passed between them.

"You know," Harry said, emerald gaze flicking back and forth between the moon and her face lit under its bright light, "In Zimbabwean culture, a new moon means a new season and a new day."

"That's true for many cultures, Harry,"

"True," he agreed, "but it means more here. Unlike Britons, Zimbabweans don't import and food or vegetables so, their selection of crops is completely dependent on the season. A new moon – a new harvest – is culturally very significant because of its symbolism to prosperity."

Ginny stared at him; her brown eyes sweeping across his features as if she were seeing them anew.

"All I'm saying is," Harry went on, "Perhaps, this new moon will bring some prosperity for us tomorrow. It'll be a new day, and a new adventure,"

"A new day," murmured Ginny, smiling up at the stars and the bright, full moon. "I like the sound of that."

"It's never too late to begin again," he whispered, patting her arm gently as he stood up, then offered her his hand. She took it and followed him back inside.

As with most nights lately, Harry didn't sleep well; he lost sleep dreaming about everything he and Ginny could be. So, he lay awake – in the cot across from hers – staring up at the night sky through the small open window and counting the stars.

Ginny laughed so openly and fully that her abdomen ached, and tears sprung to her eyes. She gasped, clutching her side and turned away from Harry so she could control her breathing. "Oh my god," she exhaled raggedly, glancing over her shoulder to see Harry standing there, a deep frown settling into his ebony brows, and began laughing all over again.

"You – Look – Riddikulus – Oh, I mean ridiculous," she gasped between dying bouts of laughter.

"Ha, ha," he tutted, emerald eyes glinting.

Ginny reached forward and tried to wipe away some of the flour from his face, biting down on her lip to refrain from losing herself to another giggle fit.

"Sorry, Harry," she murmured, flashing him an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, too, Ginny,"

"What do you have to be sorry about, I was the one who – AH!" She shrieked, throwing her hands up far-too late to block the incoming flour from Harry's fists. "Harry!"

"Fair is fair," he shrugged, grinning mischievously.

Ginny was about to throw another fistful of flour toward him (the first incident was accidental – truly) when she caught the eye of the surveying camera crew and the baker they were supposed to be impressing.

"Our apologies," she said in horribly broken Armenian.

When they finally received good enough marks on their fifteen handmade traditional pieces of bread known as lavash using a tonir, an Armenian underground oven, Ginny and Harry made their way out with low chuckles and furtive, playful shoves to one another.

Having finished that leg's Detour, they quickly wound their way through the city of Yerevan and completed a series of minor tasks; by mid-afternoon, yet still confident that they were ahead of at least one team for the time being, they boarded an overnight train through Armenia and Georgia. The entire trip, Ginny and Harry shared a small cot in a train compartment.

Not that she was complaining – Harry was more comfortable sharing close spaces with her now, and the two of them slept soundly pressed up against each other.

Unfortunately, nothing more interesting happened. For one, they were both exhausted going into this last week of the race around the world. For another, Harry didn't make any move to see their friendship blossom into something more, and Ginny was terrified of making a move herself.

"You should really make up with your family," Harry said into the darkness.

Ginny sighed.

"Listen, I don't–"

"No, Ginny, you listen." Taken aback by his harsh tone, she quieted. Then, he went on. "Family is… everything. They may not be perfect, and you may not always get along, but you only get one. The way I see it, you owe them an apology."

"Harry–"

"I'm just saying," he continued, "if I had any family left, I would do everything in my power to make sure they knew how much I loved them – how much they matter to me."

Ginny frowned but remained silent.

"My scar," Harry said, his breath tickling the back of her neck where her hair was swept aside. "I got this scar the night my parents were murdered. Murdered, Ginny. I was barely a year old. I have never known them, and I will never know them because of the foul actions of a madman. Somehow, I survived, and I reward myself by pushing the boundaries of my life. You think I don't know why you do careless and reckless stunts? I know exactly why you do them. We are the same, and yet so different."

"I didn't know," she murmured.

"Yeah, well." Harry sighed, "I know why I want to be closer to death – living on the edge of life, always half a breath shy of crossing the boundary – but you? You have so much more to live for. Make it up with your family, Ginny."

Without another word, he turned over in the small space and left her to her tumultuous thoughts; Ginny didn't settle until long after Harry's breathing became rhythmic.

The next morning, well-rested but still bleary-eyed and wired, the two of them made their way to their only challenge of the day: skydiving in the Caucasus Mountains, at the intersection of Europe and Asia.

Ginny was living.

This was everything she loved rolled into one; there was the thrill of the jump, the rush of the fall, and the slight chance that one could die.

She turned to beam excitedly at Harry as the small, propeller plane soared into the clear blue sky. However, Harry did not seem nearly as electrified as Ginny felt; in fact, he looked immensely squeamish. Recalling his hatred of flying, Ginny took his hand in hers and laced their fingers to reassure him.

She was here; she wasn't going anywhere.

As they neared ten-thousand feet and the jump zone, Harry's anxiety worsened, deepening into a full-blown panic attack. He was inhaling and exhaling rapid, shallow breaths; his palms were slick with sweat, which also pooled on his temples.

"Harry?"

He stared straight ahead; his emerald green eyes unfocused and dilated.

"Are you ok? Harry?"

Ginny crouched down in front of him, then ran her hands through his hair, trying to soothe him. "Hey, look at me," she murmured gently, "Look at me, Harry – It'll be alright – Shh – It's only one small jump–"

He finally focused his eyes on her face, but now his expression of panic doubled.

"I mean – Err – Fuck – There will be a guide jumping with us, alright? – You won't be alone," she said, willing him to settle. If anything, his panic attack worsened. "Harry, look at me – Shh – Oh, fuck this," she swore.

Ginny pressed her lips firmly to his, tasting salt with a hint of mint.

After a long moment, she broke away; her hands cupped his cheeks, and her eyes searched his, which thankfully returned to their normal state. His panic attack subsided completely.

"How – How did you do that?" Harry asked, childlike innocence evident in his tone.

"I – Err – I read somewhere that holding your breath could stop a panic attack so, when I – Err – kissed you, you held your breath."

"Thanks. That was brilliant," he whispered.

"Well," said Ginny, rocking back and letting her hands fall into her lap, "Your welcome." When he nodded, leaning back against the cool metal wall of the plane, she added under her breath, "And if I was really brilliant, I wouldn't have waited so long to do that."

The dive was surreal; the view was one-in-a-million, both in reference to Harry and the mountains.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and it was a familiar sensation, but it didn't rival the butterflies that flitted around in her stomach, or the dizzying sensation in her head, that was brought on from the memory of the kiss. Ginny let the winds whip unkindly against her bare cheeks and hands – a welcome respite from the longing to kiss him again.

He hadn't made any inclination after it happened that it rocked his world the way it shook hers, and even later that night, when they safely made it to the Pit Stop in first, Harry did not comment on it.

Bewildered – and thoroughly embarrassed – Ginny hid behind her walls once again.

She kissed him.

No –

She only kissed him to stop his panic attack.

It didn't mean anything… not to her.

Harry repeated these words over and over again in his head, on an endless loop. He wanted to confront her and ask about it, but he didn't feel it was appropriate to do so in front of the camera crew on national television, especially if she was only going to reject him. No, Harry didn't think he could take that blow.

For someone so ready to take physical risks, it was very off-putting to be confronted with an emotional risk.

Harry tried to talk to her before bed and first thing in the morning – the only time they truly had to themselves without cameras on them (especially since they were down to the final four teams) – but Ginny was first to roll over and fall asleep, then first to rise and rush out of the room.

"Oh good," Ginny exhaled when their Fast Forward challenge was presented to the remaining teams at Sentosa's WaveHouse, "I love surfing. I wonder how different it will be to surf on an artificially-generated wave."

"You surf?"

She didn't meet his eye but nodded.

"I've been a few times, and for some reason I picked it up pretty quickly. I'd like to think that's because I have very good balance," she told him.

"Huh," Harry exhaled.

He followed the other teams as all of them got set up in front of their boards; everyone was challenged with staying on their surfboard for at least two full minutes without falling, and the first team to succeed would win the advantage of surpassing the larger task that afternoon.

Ginny was true to her word and balanced expertly on her surfboard; she was one of the only ones not to fall every ten seconds, and, in fact, Harry didn't see her fall at all. He, meanwhile, struggled. His focus was anywhere but the thought of balancing on a small board as the artificially generated rafts rushed towards him, and his gaze kept wandering over to Ginny.

"Sorry," he mumbled, coming up to her afterwards. He wrung out his soaking clothes with a towel. she stood by and waited for him; she was dry. "We needed that advantage,"

"It's alright,"

"No, it's not," he argued, "I want us to get ahead – I know you want to win."

"It's fine, Harry,"

"It's not," he said, exasperated. She arched a red eyebrow at him questioningly. "Why won't you argue with me?"

"You want me to argue with you?"

Harry sighed. "We always banter."

Ginny shrugged.

Harry wanted to pull her aside and talk this over because something was clearly off between them, but a crew member came up and told them to go on and get a move on it; the other teams left minutes ago.

The minor tasks hidden throughout Singapore did little to ease the tension between them and by the time Harry and Ginny arrived at the Roadblock of the leg, both were equally on edge – literally as well since they both stood at the edge of the fifty-seventh floor of Marina Bay Sands hotel.

"That's one hell of a fall," remarked Ginny. "What a terrible way to go."

"We'll be belayed to a cord above the tightrope so, I doubt falling is even possible – I mean – Look at these cords. They're thicker than my arms,"

"That's not saying much," whispered Ginny.

"Are you–" Harry made a noise, somewhere between a scoff and an incredulous laugh. "Was that a joke?"

"What? Am I not allowed to make those?"

"No – I – Never mind," he said, sporting a ghost of a smile.

Harry double- and triple-checked his harness, then stepped out onto the tightrope; they needed to make it from one tower of the hotel to the second tower to retrieve the final clue of where their Pit Stop was located. Ginny followed closely behind him.

Halfway across, however, he no longer caught the scent of Ginny's floral shampoo wafting into his senses.

"Ginny?"

He turned over his shoulder and glanced back at her – she was stopped some ten feet behind him. Harry carefully and skillfully, turned and began walking back towards her.

"What's wrong?"

"I–"

He glanced at her slightly stunned expression and blinked.

"You have excellent balance," he pointed out. "You aren't afraid of heights, or you've fooled me if you are so, what's the matter?"

"I'm – I'm afraid of falling," she murmured.

The wind whistled loudly around them, and if Harry wasn't standing inches away from Ginny, he wouldn't have heard her; without a doubt, no one from the television show could hear them and so, Harry attempted to soothe her fears, glad that they weren't able to broadcast this intimate moment (miraculously, they missed the kiss as well because they didn't have their equipment set up yet).

Harry held out a hand to her.

"I won't let you go,"

"That's not what I meant – Not that kind of falling,"

Harry's reassuring smile spread infinitesimally.

"I know. I still mean what I said,"

"You won't let me go?"

"I won't let you go."

Ginny bit her lip, then took his proffered hand.

"Ok," she sighed.

The moment of victorious bliss didn't last long because, unfortunately, they were eliminated that round and immediately sent home.

"Do you really think they'll forgive me?"

Ron took his eyes off the dirt road in front of them for a quick glance askance at Ginny; the closer they got to the Burrow, the more nervous she became. The last time she walked through the front door of her childhood home was ages ago.

"Mum and Dad will be thrilled," he told her, sparing a lopsided grin. "As for Fred and George well… They'll come around. You three were close as ever as children, it really did my head in–"

"Ron, hush," chided Hermione from the backseat of his beat-up Ford Anglia. "This is not the time to bring up your pathetic excuse for childhood trauma,"

"You're right, 'Mione," he said in a mocking tone. "I reckon we have enough on our hands tonight with this one's trauma."

"Ronald!"

"It's fine, Hermione," Ginny said as she smacked her brother on the arm; he continued laughing despite both women shaking their heads at him and muttering obscenities under their breath.

"Alright," Ron said as they all piled out of the car in the front lot of the Burrow. "I forgot I have to – Err – Get something – I'll be right back." He slid back into the driver's seat, then called out to Ginny, "Try not to burn the house down!"

"I make no promises!"

Hermione pursed her lips at Ginny's outburst, but she chose to ignore this in favor of drawing up the courage to step through the front door for Sunday roast. The quaint rural home was just as she remembered it; wonderful, mouth-watering smells wafted into the dining area from the kitchen, her Dad sat tinkering over some small device in the sitting room off to the right of the entryway, and the welcome mat was slick with mud.

"Hello," she called tentatively into the air.

Immediately, four redheaded figures appeared (her three eldest brothers weren't in attendance that Sunday).

"I'm sorry," Ginny blurted out. "I'm sorry for everything I put you through – for always making you worry. It won't happen again. I'll be better."

She stood there, shuffling uncomfortably from foot to foot, as the seconds ticked by loudly.

Just when Ginny was about to turn to Hermione and drag her out front, demanding Ron return to whisk her away from this awkward dinner, her mother came bounding across the entryway and wrapped her plump arms around Ginny's slim, athletic figure. She gasped, shocked, then hugged her mum back.

"I'm sorry, Mum,"

"Oh!" Mrs. Weasley wailed. "That's alright, dear! What's important is that you're here now, right? My girl, my darling girl," she wept into Ginny's shoulder. "Oh, my goodness,"

"Molly, dear, you're going to suffocate her," her father said, stepping in to remove his wife from his daughter, then took her place and hugged his daughter fiercely albeit quickly. He stepped back, cupped her cheek, and added, "Good to have you home, Ginny,"

"Good to be home," she replied, and she meant it.

The weight – the tension – that lived on her shoulders over the years of their estrangement lifted.

"You know," said Fred, stepping forward as her parents returned to what they were doing before her entrance; Hermione followed Ginny's mum into the kitchen to help finish preparing the dinner. "You look a bit like our sister," he said.

"Except you can't be her," added George, "because she disappeared off the face of the earth and let everyone in her family go berserk."

"Yeah," Fred agreed. "Even her idiot twin brothers were upset."

"Stupid of them," joked Ginny, flashing a crooked smile. "Don't they know better than that? I don't think their reckless baby sister would ever leave them – they're her favorites, you know."

"D'you reckon?"

Ginny nudged Fred playfully.

"Yeah, she told me so,"

"Well," said George, smacking his brother on the back. "There we have it. When the idiot brothers see their reckless baby sister again, she will be forgiven."

"Brave baby sister," corrected Fred with a wink, causing Ginny and George to laugh with him. "We saw those stunts you pulled on Instagram."

"Can still be reckless even if I'm brave," said Ginny, rolling her eyes.

"True that," said Fred, "but what's the fun in doing brave, noble things if you can't be even a tad reckless doing them?"

"Well said, Brother Fred,"

"Thanks, Brother George,"

"I missed you two," Ginny smiled.

She helped Hermione set the table, leaving her brothers to wash up because according to their mum, they were "Filthy beyond measure," which was not suitable for dinner with guests.

"Mum," Ginny scoffed, "Hermione is hardly a guest, she's here more often than I am, honestly."

"I'm not talking about Hermione, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied wisely, then turned to the bushy-haired woman in question and angled a serving spoon at her accusingly from across the table. "Speaking of you, Hermione, when are you going to start dating my son?"

"Which one?" Ginny muttered under her breath, earning a smack on the back of her arm from her mother. "Ouch," she groaned.

Hermione flushed under Mrs. Weasley's scrutiny. "Actually," she said, biting her lip. "I'm dating someone new, now."

"What?" Ginny and her mum exclaimed at once. "Who?"

"Draco Malfoy," she admitted, turning even redder in the face.

Mrs. Weasley spluttered nonsense before disappearing off to the kitchen, but Ginny flashed Hermione an incredulous grin, and Hermione smirked in return; both young women vividly recalled Hermione's not-so one-night-stand earlier that year.

"Oh, Ginny," said Hermione, "I've been meaning to ask you, since you got back, how was the trip?"

"I know you're not really asking about the trip, Hermione," chastised Ginny playfully.

"Fine, fine. I'm not. How was Harry? Did you two get along alright? Ron and I think you two would – Oh, what's that face for?"

Ginny sighed, realizing there was no way to hide it anymore. "It's been nearly two weeks since we've been back, and I haven't heard from him at all. I really thought that–"

A loud bang of the front door swinging wide open interrupted their chat, and Ginny spun to see what caused the commotion, and subsequent intake of breath from Hermione, who was already facing the direction of the door.

"I mentioned it to Mum that you'd be coming, of course, but I didn't say anything to anyone else because I wanted to surprise Hermione and Ginny – How are you two by the way? Have a good run around the world, yeah?"

Ron kept rambling, and Harry supplied him with the occasional word of encouragement, or nod, to keep him satisfied; however, Harry's mind was busy running rampant with what he was about to walk into.

He wasn't sure where he and Ginny stood at the moment, actually.

Harry was stupid enough to forget to exchange numbers with her at the airport before they went their separate ways – seeing as they lived in completely different parts of England – and by the time he recalled Ron would make a good resource for tracking Ginny down, too much time had elapsed. It would have been weird to get her number from him by then, and then he might have had to tell Ron why he wanted his mate's little sister's phone number.

Shooting her a direct message over Instagram was completely out of the question.

Thus, Harry resorted to more… extraneous… measures.

Somehow, he planted the idea in Ron's head that they ought to meet up, and that Harry could visit his place in order to see Hermione (and Ginny) as well since they all lived close by one another. Unfortunately, Harry didn't think much past this part of the plan.

Ron swung open the front door and stepped back ceremoniously, displaying Harry as if he were some tournament trophy won in a deadly battle.

Harry's mind went momentarily blank as Ginny slowly turned, but when her warm brown eyes met his, he stepped forward without thinking; he held out his arms, taking her in them, and kissed her.

She tasted sweet, like honey, and fresh, like water on a boiling hot day; this kiss was everything he could have dreamed of, and he didn't want it to end. When several moments passed – or blissfully beautiful summer days in the sun, or deep in a cave in the middle of the Mediterranean – Harry and Ginny broke away, grinning stupidly at one another.

When Harry finally glance over Ginny's head, still wrapping her in his arms, he saw Hermione beaming and squealing her delight into Ron's shoulder. Ron, meanwhile, stood stunned – like he'd just been hit over the head with a frying pan – as his twin brothers whooped and cheered from behind him. Their noise shook him from his catatonic state, and he offered Harry a lopsided smile that seemed to say Well, if you must.

Ginny signaled for Harry to follow her out to the garden before dinner, and once they were outside, with the sun melting into the horizon behind her bright, flaming hair, she turned to him.

"Why now?"

"Not now," he amended, "Always. I'm sorry it took so long–"

"You were afraid."

It wasn't a question, Harry noticed.

"I was afraid. The thought of messing up – messing this up with you – it killed me." He admitted.

"So, what made you finally change your mind then? I mean – don't get me wrong – I'm not complaining, but…" Ginny trailed off, shrugging, and Harry nodded; he knew what she meant.

"Everything that kills me, makes me feel alive… including loving you," said Harry.

A/N - Aww, well I hoped you enjoyed it. I reread the HP series recently, and I grew a newfound love for Hinny because, let's be honest, book Ginny was so much better than film Ginny. Anyway, I have tons of one-shots planned for this collection, and many of them will not be Dramione pairing (don't worry there will still be plenty of Dramione - I physically cannot write about either of them with someone else). If you have any preferences for any particular pairing, please let me know so I can prioritize those one-shots!