"Peeves!" Harry hollered, sweeping down the second-floor corridor. "Peeves, get back here!"

"Why, Mr Potter, sir?" Peeves screeched back, ducking into an empty classroom ahead of him. "Going to jinx me?"

"Malfoy!" Harry called wildly.

A blonde head popped out around the corner, behind him.

"What?"

"Peeves," Harry mouthed, pointing a finger at the classroom the poltergeist had entered.

"I'm on it," Malfoy said grimly, running a hand over his slick hair and striding forwards. He had a particular dislike for Peeves, and always enjoyed bringing him down. Harry mostly found it a nuisance, and was happy to let Malfoy take care of him. He waited in the corridor for several minutes, listening to the bangs and screams from Peeves' classroom, and then smiled slightly at the sudden, sullen silence.

Malfoy came out, putting his wand back in his pocket.

"Well," he said smugly. "He won't be bothering us for a while."

"What bloody curse did you use this time?"

"Impendimentia for spirits," Malfoy said promptly. "I learnt it especially."
Harry shook his head. He couldn't really understand the notion of doing extra study, but then again, Malfoy was an ex-Slytherin. Always ambitious. It was strange – in so many ways, Malfoy had changed, but in others, he was exactly the same. Like the look on his face right now – the 'I may possibly be a genius' Malfoy arrogance. It was part of his make-up and didn't exactly offend Harry anymore, so much as provide opportunities for him to bring the prat down a peg or two.

And he used the word 'prat' in an affectionate way. They were good friends now – impossible not to be, after a whole year thrown together – and Harry almost felt as though he was beginning to understand the guy. He still had the occasional, violent mood swing, and could be insufferably conceited, but most of the time was pleasant, and clever, and actually a lot of fun to be around.

He wasn't exactly thinking of his relationship with Malfoy at that moment, however. His mind was otherwise occupied, and his heart felt as though it was going three times its usual speed.

"What?" Malfoy asked as they walked on, nudging him.

Harry started. "Nothing," he said immediately, flushing.

"Twitchy, aren't we?" Malfoy commented. "Nervous for your girl, Potter?"

"Nah. She'll be right. S'only graduation, and believe me, she's seen worse."

"You in bed?" Malfoy suggested, and was rewarded with a hard shove from Harry. "Sorry," he said, grinning widely. "Couldn't help myself. What time is it? Shall we go to the Great Hall?"

"I guess," Harry muttered.

There was a brief silence as they headed for the stairs, and then Malfoy, frowning, spoke again.

"You're rather uncommunicative tonight."

"Tired."

"Didn't get much sleep in?" Harry said nothing, and Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "No response now, even to lewd suggestion. What's really the matter, Potter?"

Harry sighed heavily.

Tell him?

Good Lord, no, protested inner monologue, but for some reason, he felt the need. Maybe it would settle his nerves. Wordlessly, he stopped, put his hand in his pocket, and produced a small, gold ring, tipped with a white diamond. He held it out in the palm of his hand.

Malfoy nearly fell over in shock.

"No," he said incredulously. "You're not."

 Harry nodded, rather miserably.

"Merlin. May I?" Without waiting for a reply, he took the ring between his thumb and forefinger and held it up to the light. After several seconds of examination, he whistled appreciatively, and gave it back to Harry. "Nice, Potter. Very nice. You get that in France?"

"Yeah. Toulouse. How'd you guess?"

"Oh, I know a bit about precious stones," he said, as though everybody should know a bit about precious stones. "Well, she'll love it. It's a beautiful piece of work."

"Thanks."

They stood where they were a little longer, Harry staring at his feet, and finally Malfoy said:

"Funny. For a man who's about to propose, you look like shit warmed up."

"That's how I feel," Harry admitted, briefly meeting Malfoy's sardonic eye. "I don't know how I'm going to do this."

"Haven't you planned something out?"

"I can't. I've tried, believe me. I just don't know how to say it."

"What about, 'please marry me'?"

"Yeah, it's real easy when you're not the one in the hot-seat," Harry said bitingly, and then sighed. "Sorry. Sorry. I'm just – I'm freaking out."

Malfoy eyed him, and then put two hands on Harry's shoulders.

"Right, Potter," he said firmly. "You love this girl?"

"Of course."

"You want to marry her?"

"No," Harry said sarcastically, "I'd rather not, thanks."

"Come on."

"Of course I want to bloody marry her."

"Then go and bloody do it," Malfoy urged, giving him a push forwards.

Harry knew he was right. He'd just have to grit his teeth, work up the courage, and ask. Like finding a Yule Ball partner.

You know it's not like finding a Yule Ball partner, whispered inner monologue. You know how much this means. And you know why you're scared too – because she might just say no.

With an effort, Harry silenced the ever-articulate voice in his head. If he thought too much about the possibility of her refusal (we're 18, she's just finished school, she needs her life, what am I doing?), he'd never go through with it.

And he knew, despite his fears, that he had to go through with it. There was no way he could go on loving her this hard, without knowing that they'd only belong to each other. No, that wasn't it. He knew they'd only belong to each other. The thing was, he wanted everyone else to know it too.

"Go on," Malfoy said archly, gesturing at the stairs leading down to the first level and the Great Hall. "Lead the way."
Squaring his shoulders, Harry did so. The doors were open, as always, and the ceremony had already started. He and Malfoy had been on patrol (one of their more trying duties as assistants – besides Peeves, there were constantly students out of bed, most of them just trying to find a quiet place to make out. Harry had no idea there were so many of them when he'd been at school), and McGonagall had asked that they join the festivities once the corridors were clear. The two of them slipped in the back and stood against the wall, facing the newly-erected stage.

Only sixth- and seventh-years, staff, and seventh-years' family members were present at the graduation ceremony. The other students would arrive later to partake in the end of year feast. Onstage currently was a short, blonde girl whom Harry did not recognise. He scanned the Gryffindor table, and soon found Ginny, her hair pulled back into a long, sleek ponytail for the occasion. On either side of her were Fred and George. Mrs Weasley was nowhere to be seen.

Ginny moved her head, just slightly, and his breath caught in his throat. Merlin, how did she do this to him?

"Malfoy," he hissed, "what the fuck do I do if she says no?"

Malfoy thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "Not sure. Nobody's ever said no to me."

Harry looked at him quickly, not exactly sure if he was being serious, and was relieved to see the grin playing around his lips. "Don't joke about this," he sighed. "What will I do?"

"I don't know, Harry," he said impatiently. "You're starting to sound like a broken record. The truth is, you're not going to know until you ask, are you?"

Again, it was true, and Harry fell into silence once more. He watched each of the graduates take the stage to shake hands with McGonagall (the Headmistress), and then their Head of House – Gryffindor's replacement for McGonagall, incidentally, being Nearly Headless Nick (the second ghost to find regular employment at Hogwarts, and the first to enjoy it so immensely).

Ginny was second to last, as a Weasley. She was wearing faded black robes, and when McGonagall took her hand, she burst into such a bright smile that his nerves rose up into his throat and threatened to choke him. She looked very beautiful at that moment, and along with his nerves, there was a wild, uplifting pride.  

What if she said no?

He had to ask.

~

"'Ello 'Arry!" Fred said delightedly, in a broad Cockney accent. The ceremony was over, but the twins had accosted him before he made it halfway across the room. He could just see Ginny over George's shoulder, talking animatedly to Professor Flitwick.

"My, my," George said, admiring Harry's robes. "Don't we look spiffing?"

"Thanks," he said. Where was she now? Wait – there, talking to her friend. Harry, to his embarrassment, could never remember her name. Jenny? Justine?

"Oi," Fred interrupted, snapping his fingers at him. "Over here."

"Sorry," said Harry, shaking his head briefly, as though to clear it. "Where's your mum?"

"She couldn't come," George replied. "She sent us in her place."

"You?"

Fred raised his hands in a 'search me' kind of gesture.

"Bill's still in France with Fleur and the baby, Charlie's trapped in some cave in India –"

"Indonesia," George cut in.

"Well, Ind-something. And Mum and Dad are at a Ministry dinner. Very important, she said. Impossible to get out of. She was fuming. But she wanted us to be here, so Gin'd have someone to cheer – along with you, naturally."

"Naturally," Harry agreed. He hadn't heard most of this. His pulse was pounding. "Well, nice to see you …"

"Fobbing us off?" George demanded indignantly, but Fred put a hand on his arm.

"He wants to talk to his girlfriend," he said. "Look at his face. You know, I think he might just hit one of us if we don't get out of the way. Which one, Harry, me or George? I'd suggest George. His meat's more tender."

"Don't be ridiculous," Harry said gratingly. "I don't want to hit you." He paused. "Maybe you, Fred."

"I resent that. That cuts right to the quick." But he and George did step aside, grinning. "That's alright. We'll check out the buffet."

"Excellent," agreed George, and, to his relief, they were soon gone.

Ginny was standing with somebody else now, a tall, good-looking boy whom Harry immediately wished to send away. The boy hugged her – OK, now Harry wanted to hurt him. Ginny hugged him back and then, spotting Harry, said some kind of goodbye, and came towards him.

"Hello," she said, reaching him, and putting her hands behind her back. "What do you think?"

He looked at her from head to toe, glad that, for the moment, he did not have to talk.

"You're wonderful," he said eventually, softly. "Congratulations."

Impulsively, she put her arms around his neck and held him. They usually tried to avoid displays of affection in public. There was no official rule about assistants and students having relationships, but Harry was pretty sure it wouldn't be applauded. The two of them kept things quiet in general – but she was done with school now, and this, hugging her in public … it was nice. Really nice.

"I like this," he said into her neck.

"Mm," she replied.

"You're all finished."

"I know."

She dropped her arms and straightened his robes, which were hooked slightly to one side.

"I felt like an idiot up there," she continued. "Everybody staring. And Fred and George kept crossing their eyes at me. Honestly, sometimes I think that they might really be four years old, and just abnormally tall for their age –"

"Can we go somewhere?" Harry interrupted.

"Sure," she said, rather surprised. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no," he assured her. "I just – want to talk."

"But nothing's wrong?"

"No," he said definitely. "Nothing's wrong."

"Alright," she agreed, rather bemused, but her friend – the one with the damned elusive first name – chose this moment to return. "Hey," the girl said, tapping Ginny on the shoulder. "Oh. Hi, Harry."

During class, he was Mr Potter. But, uncomfortable with this formality from students only a year younger than him, he'd asked that they all call him Harry when he wasn't carrying out his assistant's duties.

"Er – hi Julie," he hazarded.

The girl looked immediately affronted, and Ginny widened her eyes at him.

"This is Jenny, remember?" she said.

Dammit. That was his first guess.

"Sorry," he said helplessly. "I'm crap when it comes to names."

"He is," Ginny assured the girl, who still looked a bit put-out.

"That's alright," she said stiffly. "You want to eat, Gin?"

No, insisted inner monologue.

Ginny looked at him, and then back to her friend. "No," she said apologetically. "I'll get something later."

Jenny nodded and walked briskly away. Ginny slapped him hard on the arm.

"I don't believe you sometimes!" she said, but she was laughing.

He couldn't take this one second longer.

"Ginny," he said lowly, "we need to talk. Now. OK?"

She said nothing for a moment, clearly taken aback by his intensity, but then nodded quickly. "OK," she said. "Let's go."

~

Ginny followed him back to his quarters, on the third floor. The walk seemed interminably long for Harry, and he was so distracted that he would have gone the wrong way if Ginny hadn't directed him at a crucial point.

When finally they reached his door, he muttered an Alohamora, and then let her enter ahead of him. He shut the door behind himself – and then stood facing it, trying to work up a bit of courage. He put his hand in his pocket, making sure the gold band was still there.

"Harry?" Ginny said uncertainly. He turned. She was standing at the foot of his bed, head tilted to one side. "What is this?"

"Ah –"

For God's sake, speak, hissed inner monologue, but there were no words at all.

"Something is wrong, isn't it?" she said, her face draining of colour.

"No!" He almost shouted it, finding voice at the sight of her anxiety.

"Well, what then?"

"I – OK." He came forward two steps, then stopped. "Right. I'm sorry. I just don't know how to say it."

She was frowning now. "Harry," she said quietly. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"Jesus, no! I mean – Merlin, Ginny, will you stop putting words in my mouth?"

"Well why don't you talk to me, then?" she retorted angrily. "What the hell are you trying to say?"

"I don't know."

"If you don't know, what are we doing here?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake."

"What's the matter with you?"

"Marry me," he blurted.

She closed her mouth abruptly, and stared at him. Harry swallowed. He could feel the blood throbbing in his head. He went a bit closer to her, and then, almost involuntarily, sunk down on one knee.

"Marry me," he said again, and fumbled in his pocket to find the ring. He held it out to her. "Please."
Ginny covered her mouth with her hands and went on staring at him. He went on holding the ring out to her, his knee hurting, his heart beating too hard.

"Harry," she said shakily. "Get up."

Now his heart stopped.

Get up? Is that a no? Is that a 'get up and stop asking'?

And then she dropped her hands, and she was smiling a huge smile, and there were tears in her eyes.

"Stop being such an idiot and get up," she said, almost sobbing, and he did so.

"Are you saying yes?" he asked, feeling that lump in his throat again.

She nodded, half-laughing, half-crying. Relief and a kind of wonder swept through him. He took her left hand.

"Which finger is it again?" he said, grinning, trembling, unable to believe this.

She grinned back through tears. "Fourth."

He slipped it on, and she looked it at it for a moment, before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him hard. He kissed her back, overwhelmed, and touched her hair.

"This is the craziest thing that's ever happened to me," he said quietly.

"Not people from a diary coming to life?" she murmured, pulling her lips away from his. "Not fighting the Dark Lord?"

"Nope," he said, half-smiling. "This is much, much crazier. I love you."

"I love you."

They went on smiling at one another.

"We're getting married before Ron and 'Mione," Ginny pointed out eventually.

"I know. Who would have thought?"

"Have you told them?"

"'Course not," Harry said. "I didn't even know if you'd say yes."

She touched his chin. "How could you not be sure?" she said quietly, and just hearing that made him want to kiss her again. He remembered he could. He did.

There was a sharp rapping on Harry's door, and then it clicked suddenly open. It was the twins, and they had their eyes shut.

"If you're shagging –" Fred began.

"Very quietly shagging," muttered George.

" – then please send us out."

"Merlin! There are no limits with you two, are there?" Ginny said, trying to sound stern, but laughing despite herself.

Both, cautiously, opened their eyes.

Fred took one look at Ginny in Harry's arms, and the tears on her face, and turned to his twin. They broke into identical wide grins.

"We were just going to let you know that dinner's on," said Fred.

"But now that we're here," added George, "we've got dibs on being Best Men."

Still grinning, they backed out, quietly shutting the door.

"Well," Harry said. "They sure know how to spoil a moment."

"What's spoilt?" she answered softly. "Everything seems pretty good to me."

He looked at her for a long moment, and then raised her hand to kiss it, and kiss the little ring on her finger.

It all seemed pretty good to him too.

 ~

A Word

Well. Whew. There you go. I hope it meets with your approval, as it took some time to put this last chapter together. It feels weird to be finished – my first fic, done and done, and boy am I exhausted!! Now (as a certain loyal reviewer suggested) I'm going to have a nice rest, and then, I guess, start up another one. Got any suggestions, lovely readers? I'm stumped at present, but that might also be because my head's too full of Harry and Ginny to think. :-)

I wanted to let you know that for the past couple of weeks (only that long? Jeez, it seems forever since I started this!), the best part of my morning has been reading your reviews. They've been so nice and helpful and sweet and encouraging (aww – you guys!), and believe me, did not go unappreciated. Thank you, particularly those of you who took the time to review my every little chapter.

With much love, many thanks and – but not for the last time – ~no more 3x5s~ …

Shez XXOO

PS – OK Trav, will email if the need arises. Thanks esp. for your last review, it put me in a happy happy mood. Cheers and cheerio. Same goes to all the old faithfuls (you know who you are – yes, Smidget, count yourself among them *grin*)… Your reviews gave me so many smiles from the beginning. I keep thankin' you, but you guys deserve it.

PPS – Hey Meegs! You spotted my John shout-out! I hoped you would hehe! What can I say, I'm the master (and modest too) … see you soon, Mrs W-McG-M …