I hope these are enjoyable and fun! They're all completed but I'll post 1 at a time each day for October!

Chapter titles will be the song and the ship

Ginny blinks awake at the sound of her alarm, entirely too early and too shrill for mid-winter. Her eyes are scratchy and dry, brain feeling clumsy with her fitful night's sleep.

Before her body rebels and drifts back off to sleep, Ginny rolls from beneath the covers, chilling the rest of her body to matchy her rosy, chapped nose.

"Bloody hell, guess this is their final revenge," Ginny mutters, along with some choice words for whoever built the drafty tower dorms. Though they hardly bear the burden for Ginny's foul mood this appropriately grey morning.

Hermione shifts fitfully in her sleep and Ginny quickly gathers her clothes and shoes to dress in the bathroom, hoping to avoid waking her friend. It had been a late night for them both, mostly staring into space while pretending to revise or play some odd Muggle card game Ginny is apparently incapable of comprehending.

The one Harry taught her where you get to slap each other is oceans more enjoyable.

Thoughts of his playful teasing over winter hols does manage to bring a smile to her lips, however imperceptible to the naked eye it may be. It had been quite a lovely holiday, all things considered.

Just before she and Hermione left for King's Cross after the new year, Mum had knocked softly on the door to Ginny's bedroom, bearing freshly laundered robes and a grim expression. "Free of wrinkles," she'd said, quiet, "You'll look quite respectable."

Then, they'd finished packing Ginny's trunk in silence, laying the inky black robes on top with paper wrapped around the crisp folds for good measure. Unbidden, her eyes had filled with tears that spilled over when Molly tugged her to her chest. "I am proud of you, my beautiful, brave girl."

Now, as the floo powder clumps with the dampness of her palm and McGonagall waits like a sentinel over her shoulder, Ginny wishes she was less brave.

McGonagall sniffs once, prim. "Well off you get," one hand finds Ginny's shoulder in a firm squeeze, "I expect you back for dinner. This isn't a holiday."

Blowing out a breath, Ginny takes the instruction for what it is. Not only an instruction, but also a reminder - this is temporary and it will end. Just like everything else, just like everything almost did.

And that thought is what jars her into action, what jarred her into action the day Hogwarts was invaded and Sirius died, the day the world almost ended for all of them and for too many it actually did. Never again.

Not if Ginevra Molly Weasley had anything to say about it.

Her resolve last through the whirlwind of the Floo Network, lasts as her carefully shined shoes click-clack on the polished marble of the Ministry Atrium.

Despite all the ceremonies, all the times she'd visited Harry since the war, it's still a shock to see the bare center where the fountain used to be. Most feel the same, like leaving the chasm is accepting it as a permanent wound on the wizarding world, but however universally something is felt, the wheels of bureaucracy grind slowly. Particularly when funding is at issue.

When she reaches the visitor's checkpoint, the attendant gestures for her wand and it feels like removing a limb, feels like she's being set up for - something - but she complies and accepts it back along with a badge that reads Visitor - Wizengamot.

Beneath, there's her name and a small, clinical photo she'd submitted months before, as an increased security measure at Harry's suggestion. He'd worked closely with Kingsley over the last half a year, pointing out some flaws that were easily exploited should one wish to enter the Ministry of Magic undetected.

Sensical as the suggestions were, and still are, Ginny can't help like the badge acts like a large glowing sign above her head, shouting war hero, war victim, damaged.

A blinking light letting everyone know those circles under her eyes, the slight drag in her step, is from sleepless nights filled with sweat-drenched nightmares she wishes every day weren't so steeped in reality.

A firm hand grips her arm and Ginny's body freezes. "Gin?"

Harry.

She twists and he's frowning down at her, that little wrinkle between his brows. "I didn't know you were coming today - I planned to come get you when - "

Ginny squares her shoulders. "I can find my way just fine."

His frown deepens, less concern and more that mostly infuriating and partially adorable pout he makes when he's unhappy. Then, he's carting her off God knows where and shoving her in a dank broom closet.

After a moment, golden light from the tip of his wand fills the air and Ginny gets to unleash the full brunt of her scowl, "You know I'm really not in the mood for a quick snog, Harry."

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. Oh, somebody's using their 'intimidate the suspect' training on his girlfriend. "Yeah, I'm not either. Talk."

"I don't talk to strange men I meet when they drag me off into a broom cupboard at the Ministry."

"You're avoiding things."

"Because you're so open with your feelings."

"Fine, how's this? You're pissed and terrified and can't decide if you want to burn the world down or hide away forever. It feels like the weight of everyone we lost, everyone who's suffered, is on your shoulders and you want to ask why these arseholes get a day in court when they didn't even spare their victims basic human decency."

He holds her gaze and she lets her hands drift up to his forearms, gripping tightly. "I have to relive it all - I already do in my sleep."

"But now it's with an audience," Harry finishes.

"Thanks for the words of comfort," Ginny says with a watery laugh.

And then, her cheek is pressed to his chest, that spicy cinnamon fills her lungs as her tear swollen eyes drift closed and his heard beats steadily beneath her ear.

Some unknowable time later, one of Harry's hands drifts from her back and she hears a small click. "They'll be calling for you soon."

Ginny blows out a steadying breath. "Yeah."

He smiles at her in the soft glow of his wand light. "I'll take you for ice cream after?"

Rising up on tip-toe, Ginny presses a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. "After."