Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter … damn.

Mistakes
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Harry keeps his head down as he enters the party, trying to block out the people who are cheering his name or, even worse, just staring in awe as he passes them.

He hates every eye that is trained on him, every finger that points in his direction, every mouth that whispers excitedly, It's Harry Potter.

When Ron and Hermione invited him to this party, he told them that it was probably best if he skipped out on the celebrations this year. It is, after all, the first New Year's Eve after Lord Voldemort's epic defeat.

Nonsense, Hermione said. It'll be good for you to get out.

Yeah, mate, Ron seconded.

I'd rather be at home with nobody to kiss than be in the middle of a huge party with nobody to kiss, Harry said. You'll both be all over each other, snogging at midnight and all that other rubbish.

No, we won't! Hermione cried. I promise you'll have a great time. It'll be the three of us, like always.

Harry rolls his eyes at the memory, because Hermione was lying out of her arse when she said that. Harry cannot find Ron or Hermione anywhere in this huge place. Granted, he has only just gotten here and there about two hundred people around him, but still. One would think that spotting a six-foot-five wizard with bright red hair would be fairly easy.

At least he won't be alone at midnight. He managed to scrape up a date – something that is actually difficult for Harry Potter to do, since most of the girls he meets can't get past the stupid scar on his forehead – and she seems more than willing to shove her tongue down his throat when the clock strikes twelve.

Miranda, her name is. Harry met her at a small coffee shop in Muggle London, and although they struck up a conversation, he wasn't going to ask her because he assumed that she was Muggle and this party was going to be crawling with magic. He thought it was too bad, though, because it was the first time he'd been attracted to an interesting, genuine person since … well, since a certain redhead showed up on his radar.

But, just as she was leaving the coffee shop, she said, I'm glad those things the Daily Prophet wrote about you aren't true, and Harry was so caught off-guard that she was a witch that he almost didn't have the sense to chase after her.

In the end, though, he'd caught up to her and invited her to be his date to the New Year's Eve party his friends were forcing him to attend.

So there Miranda is, hanging off his arm in a blue dress that looks delicious on her and makes her long, silky blonde hair and bright, blue eyes stand out even more than usual. Her heels bring her to almost eye-level with Harry, who finally grew into his body sometime during the battle with Voldemort.

'Is that Ron over there?' she asks, pointing across the room. Harry cranes his neck to see and then nods. They are at a table with another couple, talking and laughing (Hermione) and drinking (Ron). Miranda has never met Ron before, but he – along with Harry and Hermione – has shown up on enough covers of the Daily Prophet since Voldemort's defeat to be easily recognized now.

While making their way over to Ron and Hermione, someone bumps into Harry and nearly spills their drink all over him.

'Oh! Sorry,' the person mutters absentmindedly, and Harry simply nods politely and keeps walking, but then something connects in his brain and he spins around, the stupid grin already plastered on his face.

'Ginny Weasley,' he says brightly.

She jumps at the mention of her name and freezes for a moment before slowly looking up.

She looks … brilliant. Her hair – even more red than it is in his dreams – is curled to perfection and cascades down her back; it frames her even-more-beautiful-than-in-his-dreams face. Her pale green dress clings to curves that Harry doesn't remember her having, and he knows that they must be a recent development, because he definitely took the time to memorize every curve she had while they were together. Her eyes, the ones that have always been able to see right through the walls he put up, are doing what they always do – searching his for something, but he isn't sure what.

She doesn't smile, and Harry's stomach sinks.

'Harry Potter,' she says in the voice that he hasn't heard in ages, making it sound so unfamiliar, and yet he still knows it better than his own.

He is standing stock-still now, unsure of what to do. It's uncomfortable and he wants to leave and go find Ron, or maybe he doesn't. No, he would rather chat with Ginny. But only if that look leaves her face.

'Good of you to finally come around,' she says, and Harry feels a pang of guilt, because this is the first time he's seen Ginny since Bill's wedding two summers ago. But then a smile breaks across her face and the next thing he knows, she is throwing herself toward him, and he automatically wraps his arms around her. And her head rests on the same exact spot it did when he was sixteen … and she smells the same, girly and flowery and beautiful … and Harry forgets that he is here with someone else, that she is probably here with someone else, too.

Harry knows that hugging Ginny is a mistake. If he can keep her a fair distance away – just until he gets used to having her around again – maybe he'll be able to control his feelings for her. Maybe he'll be able to forget the fact that he fell completely in love with her during his last summer at The Burrow, even though they were broken up by that time. And maybe he'll be able to forget that he never really got over his feelings.

He'll just have to remember how he acted that summer, because, even though it was hard, he somehow made it through without slitting his throat for ever ending things with her.

'Are you Ron's sister?'

Harry blinks stupidly for a second. When did Ginny let go of him?

'Yeah, I'm Ginny Weasley,' she says, her eyes taking in Miranda, sizing her up. 'And you are …?'

'Miranda,' she says, holding out her hand for Ginny to shake. 'I'm here with Harry.'

Ginny looks at Harry for a long moment and he thinks he sees something in her eyes, but then it's gone and Harry wonders if it was even there at all.

'That's lovely,' Ginny says warmly, shaking Miranda's hand, but Harry is beginning to wonder if it's really all that lovely. Suddenly, standing next to Ginny, Miranda isn't half as wonderful as she seemed when he met her. 'So you've met my brother?'

Miranda shakes her head. 'No, actually, not yet. But I will tonight, probably.'

'Best do it before he gets a couple drinks in him,' Ginny says wisely. Miranda laughs and it's not uncomfortable at all, and Harry wonders why until it dawns on him that Miranda has no way of knowing that Ginny and Harry were ever involved. She has no way of knowing that Harry would love nothing more than to dump Miranda off on the next bloke he sees so he can go home with Ginny. Why did he even think he wanted a date to this awful party? At least if he was alone, Ginny might have considered giving him a pity kiss at midnight.

And then the uncomfortable feeling he has in his stomach changes to something else, because it seems as though Ginny doesn't know they used to date, either. Maybe she has forgotten. Maybe she has blocked him out.

'Here you go,' someone says, coming up behind Ginny and handing her a drink.

'Thanks,' says Ginny, taking a drink. 'Oh!' she says after a second of awkwardness. 'How rude of me. This is my date. Marshall.'

Marshall has short blonde hair and blue eyes, and he looks all wrong for Ginny. Truthfully, Harry thinks that unless he's the bloke standing proudly with Ginny on his arm, it can only look awkward and wrong.

'Marshall, this is –'

'Harry Potter,' says Marshall, eagerly shaking Harry's hand. 'Wow, I … hello.'

'Yes, hello,' Harry says. He suddenly has the urge to punch Marshall, and tells himself that it is simply because the bloke is staring at him, absolutely star-struck, and not because of any other reason. Not that there is another reason, anyway. He doesn't love Ginny anymore.

If he tells himself that enough, he might start to believe it.

'And this is Harry's date –'

'Miranda,' says Marshall, and is Harry the only one who is bothered by the fact that this idiot doesn't let Ginny finish her bloody sentences?

'You two know each other?' asks Ginny.

Harry doesn't really like the way Marshall and Miranda are looking at each other. It reminds him of the way Ron and Hermione look at each other.

'Oh, yes,' Miranda says, giving Marshall the same smile that she gave Harry in the coffee shop that day. 'We go way back.'

'How've you been?' asks Marshall. 'Gale says you've gone back to the Ministry.'

Miranda smile is so wide that Harry nearly winces from looking at her. 'You've talked to Gale, have you? She never told me that!'

Marshall grins. 'If you didn't know that much,' he says, 'then I bet she hasn't told you quite a bit.'

Miranda laughs – oh, is that her laugh? Harry doesn't remember that from the coffee shop. No, he doesn't like that at all. He prefers a softer laugh. Throatier. Like Ginny's. Yeah.

'Well,' Miranda says, touching Marshall lightly on the arm, 'I'll just have to get you liquored up so you'll spill your secrets.'

Marshall gestures to his empty drink. 'You can start any time,' he says.

'I think I will,' Miranda says. She looks up at Harry and Ginny, frowning. 'Do you mind if –?'

'No,' Harry and Ginny say together.

'It'll only be for a minute,' Marshall promises Ginny. 'We'll come right back.'

Ginny stares at him. 'I'm sure you will.'

Marshall smiles at her, then at Harry, and then he leaves with Miranda. Ginny stares at their retreating figures, her mouth open in shock.

'That … that slag of yours just stole my date!'

'That prat of yours stole my date, too,' Harry says, though he doesn't really care.

Ginny furrows her brow, as if confused by what has just happened. 'Oh, let them go,' she says, waving her hand dismissively. 'I hope they're very happy together. I hope that they go off and get married and have kids with perfect blonde hair and blue eyes and – bugger, I guess I'm not going home with him tonight.'

Harry stares at her and knows that he probably looks like he swallowed a lemon, but he can't help it. 'You, er, you were going to go home with him?'

He knows that it shouldn't bother him. Just because the last girl he spent a decent amount of time with – other than Hermione or Tonks or McGonagall – was Ginny herself, doesn't mean that Ginny hasn't been around with other blokes. He didn't expect her to wait for him, or anything. But … gods, does she have to act as if nothing ever happened with them? And would it have been so terrible if she had waited?

Ginny blushes and shakes her head. 'No, probably not. Okay, definitely not,' she says grudgingly. 'I mean, I've never actually …' She blushes again and clears her throat. 'Whatever. I was at least going to kiss him at midnight.'

Harry nods stupidly, because what else can he do? Jump for joy? Not bloody likely.

'Shite,' he mutters, realizing something. 'I've just lost my midnight kiss, too, haven't I?'

Ginny nods. 'It sure looks that way.' Her eyes meet Harry's and he wonders if she feels this … thing … between them, or if it's just him. 'So, Harry Potter, it's been a long time.'

'Nearly two and a half years,' Harry says, and it sounds even crazier now that he says it out loud. How did he survive?

'Twenty-eight months, actually,' Ginny says quickly. Then, as if realizing what she said, she looks away.

'I came by The Burrow sometimes,' Harry says feebly. 'After it was all over, I did. But you were never there. Your mum said you moved out, and I even went to your flat once or twice, but you weren't home.'

She looks surprised at this. 'I – I was probably at work. I'm a –'

'Healer,' he says. 'I know.'

Ginny blushes. 'Well, I'm not a fully-qualified Healer yet. But someday, hopefully.' Harry smiles. 'I … I know that you've been busy, Harry. Ron says you're hardly ever in town anymore. I've been to your flat, you know, with Ron and Hermione … it's like you don't even live there.'

Harry shrugs at this, because it's true and he can't really say anything. He and Ron got a flat once the war was over, but Ron's had it mostly to himself.

'I've been overseas with Kingsley and Tonks,' he says. 'They think they can get me into the Auror program … even though I skipped out on my seventh year at Hogwarts.'

'You had a lot on your plate back then,' Ginny says, and it sounds practiced, as if she has repeated this fact over and over to herself in the past few years.

'I would've written you,' he says, his eyes locking on hers again. 'For birthdays and … and just to let you know that I was still alive, somewhere … but it wouldn't have been safe for you.'

'You were always so concerned about my safety,' she says quietly, almost bitterly, and Harry doesn't say anything because he doesn't think he was really meant to hear that.

'Yeah, well, I just thought I'd tell you. I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten about you, or something.'

'I knew you wouldn't,' she says. There is a long pause before she continues, 'Ron probably gave you flack for weeks about …'

She doesn't go on, but she doesn't have to.

Harry doesn't tell her that Ron didn't mention her name at all when Harry was present, as if Harry was his mother and Ginny was an exceptionally awful curse word.

He doesn't tell her that Ron didn't really have to give him flack about dumping Ginny, because he gave himself enough every time he saw Ron and Hermione together, when he saw how happy they were and how they weren't letting the war come between them.

He doesn't tell her that when he couldn't fall asleep during those long, lonely nights away from The Burrow and Hogwarts, he used to pretend that she was there with him.

And he definitely doesn't tell her that he's thought long and hard, and that he's really starting to think that letting her go was the biggest mistake of his entire bloody life.

So he coughs, looks down at his shoes for a moment, and says, 'Yeah. That's Ron for you.'

There is another awkward pause.

'I visited you,' she says. 'When you were in St Mungo's. I would sit with you during my breaks and lunches and … days off.'

Harry didn't know this. Then again, he was unconscious the entire time, recovering from the Final Battle, so how could he have known?

'Yeah?' he asks. 'I – Ron and Hermione never said …'

'They weren't around when I was there,' Ginny says, her cheeks turning pink. Harry was told by the Healers that Ron and Hermione were at his side unless one of the Healers kicked them out or Mrs Weasley came by and pleaded with them to come to The Burrow for a good, home-cooked meal. Harry is suddenly swarmed with visions of Ginny sneaking in when they were gone and holding his limp hand. Maybe she cried a little. Maybe she even professed her undying love for him.

Ginny takes a long drink, emptying her glass, and Harry looks around, wondering where he, too, can get himself a nice, strong drink.

An attractive woman in a fancy uniform passes by him carrying several drinks on a tray and Harry grabs one, and when she turns to look at him, he winks at her, which causes her to giggle and rush off.

'You've picked up a new trick,' Ginny notes.

Harry shrugs. 'Picked up a lot of them since you last saw me,' he says, and then waves his hand over her glass, watching as it refills with whatever she was drinking.

Ginny does not look overly impressed and Harry is glad, because she is perhaps the only person who has seen his new "ability" and in as unfazed by it as he is.

'I bet Ron tries to get you to do a ton of stupid things for him,' she says.

'Only when Hermione isn't around,' he says with a smile, and Ginny laughs.

'Well,' she says, folding her arms across herself, 'it doesn't seem that our dates are coming back.' She nods her head toward a snogging couple across the room and when Harry squints, he recognizes the couple as Marshall and Miranda. Harry rolls his eyes at them but finds that he is more relieved than upset, and Ginny looks about the same. 'Just as well,' she says. 'He was sort of a git.'

'Why'd you come with him, then?'

Ginny sighs and takes a sip from her drink. 'Dad set it up. Marshall's father is a friend of his from the Ministry and … I don't know why, but they thought it would be nice to set us up. Mum was furious.'

'Yeah?' he asks. 'Why?' Ginny shrugs. 'Oh, c'mon, Gin. Tell me.'

'Honestly?' she asks, looking at him skeptically. He nods. 'See, near the end of my fifth year, I dated this boy.' Harry swallows thickly, already knowing that it was a mistake to ask her to explain. 'And I made the mistake of letting Fred and George find out. Sometime during the summer, even though it had been over with him for months, they told my mum about it.' This must have been after he left to go track down the Horcruxes, because he doesn't remember this. 'And she was … well, I'm sure you can imagine. So I guess nobody is ever going to measure up to him, in her eyes.'

Harry drains his glass and Ginny does the same.

'Let's go find Ron and Hermione,' she suggests.

'Good idea.'

Ron and Hermione are still at the table Harry spotted them at earlier, but the other couple is gone now. He and Ginny make their way over and take the newly-vacated seats.

'Oh, Harry,' says Hermione. 'We were looking for you.'

Harry fights the urge to roll his eyes, because he knows that they were doing nothing of the sort.

They chat for several minutes until a band (formed by the lead singer of the Weird Sisters after the group members went their separate ways earlier in the year) begins to play.

'Not as good as the Weird Sisters,' Ginny says.

Harry shrugs. 'They're awfully loud, too. Don't they realize that nobody's even dancing?'

Ginny shifts in her seat and sighs. 'I don't know … but I know I'd rather go somewhere and have a conversation than sit here and listen to this so-called music,' she says, looking at Harry and raising her eyebrows.

'Let's go,' he says. They tell Ron and Hermione that they'll be back shortly, and unless Harry is imagining things, Ron winks at him.

They wind up outside. The air is cool and there is a slight breeze. Ginny hugs herself and shivers a bit, but when Harry asks her if she's cold and wants to go back inside, she says no.

They talk for a bit and it feels just like old times, and Harry can almost pretend that he's still in sixth year and that he hasn't been a stupid git and dumped Ginny yet. She laughs and he is hit with wave after wave of nostalgia.

'Oh, it's snowing!' she announces, holding out her hand and giggling. 'I love the snow.'

'I know,' Harry says. 'I remember.'

She is so close that he can't help but lean forward and close the gap between them. She responds almost immediately, threading her hands into his hair just like she used to. He has grown quite a bit taller since sixth year, but Ginny is wearing heels, so they are in the same position they perfected at Hogwarts – her hands in Harry's hair, his hands on her hips, their lips cemented together.

He moves his hand up and brushes against her arm, and she is soft and perfect and his – because she just has to be, because they are too good together and it would be a waste if she wasn't his and he wasn't hers. They are supposed to be together. Harry knows this. Ginny must know it, too.

As if she is reading his thoughts, though, Ginny pulls away. She sighs and moves out of his grasp, her cheeks flushed.

'I – oh, Harry. No. I'm sorry,' she whispers, and sounds genuine. 'But … I can't.'

'Why not?' he whispers back.

'Because,' she says, turning away. 'You're a mistake that I can't let myself make twice.'

Harry is stung by her words but they don't deter him. 'But … Ginny,' he pleads. 'Can't we just start over? Please?'

Ginny laughs sharply. 'I was fine with being just friends, Harry,' she says, turning back around to face him, looking enraged. 'I was fine pretending that I didn't feel that way for you. I spent my entire life at Hogwarts trying to forget about you, trying to convince myself that your friendship was good enough for me, and when I finally made peace with the fact that you'd never want me the way I wanted you … suddenly, you did. And that was great. And I was so happy with you. But you never cared about me like I cared about you.'

'That isn't true,' Harry argues. 'I cared so much about you. I still do! It … it's not over for me.'

'Yeah,' Ginny says, nodding. 'It is. It has to be. You broke up with me because you thought you were doing something good. And I know that I would have only held on tighter if the situation was reversed.'

'Ginny –'

'And even then, after you all but ripped out my heart and showed it to me, I smiled and said that I understood, because I didn't want you to feel guilty about what you did. I didn't want you to hurt.' She sighs. 'What does that say about me?' she asks bitterly.

'It says that you're amazing and that I'm an idiot.'

'No. It says that I'm an idiot for falling in love with the one boy who couldn't possibly love me back,' she says. He feels hope bubbling up inside at the word love, because if she felt the same way he did back then, maybe her feelings haven't completely disappeared, either. 'I don't blame you for what happened with us, Harry,' she says, so sincerely that he can't help but believe her. 'If you hadn't done what you'd done, maybe everything would've turned out differently. Maybe you wouldn't have saved the wizarding world like you did.'

'Or maybe I still would've,' Harry says resentfully, 'but you wouldn't hate me like you do.'

'I don't hate you,' she says strongly. 'I couldn't hate you. That's part of my problem.'

Harry does not know what to say. He wants to tell her that he loves her, that he thinks about her every second that he's awake and she even sometimes works her way into his dreams. But he doesn't think that it will help.

'When I was in seventh year,' she says, 'I met another boy, you know. A Ravenclaw. He loved me.'

Harry's mouth goes dry. 'And – and did you love him back?'

She doesn't say anything for a moment and Harry wants to die. 'No,' she says finally. 'That's why it didn't work out. I remember … I was sitting at breakfast in the Great Hall and he was beside me – hardly anybody was even at Hogwarts anymore, so all the House tables merged into one – and I was reading the Daily Prophet. The article on the front page was about how no one had sighted you in a long time. They said you were dead. And I started to laugh because I knew it wasn't true.' She raises her eyes back to his face. 'I knew, because I could still feel you. Because I still had feelings for you. And that's when I realized that I was doing to Davidwhat you were doing to me.' She looks away again. 'See, I didn't love him. I … I was just with him to be with someone. I was with him while you went off and saved the world, and I told myself that when you got back, everything would be okay and we could be together.'

'It can still happen like that,' Harry says instantly.

'No. It can't,' she says firmly. 'I thought long and hard when I graduated. I thought about what I wanted for myself and for us, and I realized that we were just too different and that it would never work. So I put you behind me. I got over you, Harry. And I'm not going to put my heart on the line again just because you've had a few drinks and now you want a snog on New Years Eve.'

'That's not what this is!' cries Harry. 'I want you. Not just for New Years Eve. Not just for Christmas or Valentine's Day or any other stupid holiday, either. I want you for every day. Gods, Ginny, I … I never stopped thinking about you! You … you mean everything to me. You have no idea. I … what do you want me to do? I'll do anything. Please.'

'You missed your chance,' she says evenly before spinning around and going back inside. Harry, wisely, does not follow.

He sighs, already able to tell that this coming year is not going to be a very good one.

He waits a few minutes to collect his thoughts, and then goes back inside. After getting himself a rather large drink, he looks around for Ginny again. She's alone at the table they were at earlier. He debates whether or not he should go over before deciding that he should.

'You know,' Harry says, coming up behind her and hoping that she doesn't do something to make him feel even worse. 'They say that the way you spend New Year's is the way you're going to spend the rest of the year.'

'Yeah? Who says that?'

'Dunno,' says Harry. ' "They"do.'

Ginny sighs. 'Great. This is going to be one fabulous year, if that's true.'

'Yeah, well, it's only a saying,' Harry says lamely, sitting in the chair beside her. 'I hope it's wrong. I don't think I'll be able to handle it if you avoid me for the whole year.'

Ginny frowns. 'I'm sorry about before,' she says. 'What I said …'

'No,' Harry says, shaking his head. 'I'm the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't have …'

'We were both wrong,' Ginny says softly. She holds out her hand. 'Friends?'

The word twists in Harry like a knife but he forces a smile and shakes her hand. 'Friends,' he says.

'Come on, then,' Ginny says, pulling him to his feet. 'I want a dance with the famous Harry Potter.'

The music is slow and melodic, and Harry is sure that he'll look like a fool out there. 'I … can't we wait for another song?'

Ginny laughs and pulls him along. 'Oh, hush,' she says. 'Let me have my fun. It'll be like the Yule Ball. Remember that?'

Yes, he remembers. But that doesn't make him want to dance any more than Hermione's lectures made him want to revise for OWLs. 'That was an awful night,' Harry says.

'It wasn't so bad,' she says thoughtfully.

'Neville spent the whole night dancing on your feet,' he reminds her.

'True,' she says. 'But I'll tell you a secret … I didn't really notice, because I spent the entire time staring at you,' she says with a small smile. They are dancing now, and Harry is relieved to find that he still remembers some of the steps from his fourth year. 'You were sulking with my brother and I was debating with myself whether it would've been horribly pathetic of me to ask you for a dance or not.'

'You should have,' Harry says, and then feels guilty when he realizes that he probably would've been horrified back then at the thought of dancing with Little Ginny Weasley.

'No, I'm rather glad I didn't,' Ginny concludes. 'You wouldn't even dance with me at Bill's wedding. Can you imagine what a disaster it would've been at the Ball?'

Harry sighs. 'I didn't dance with you at the wedding and I probably wouldn't have danced with you at the Yule Ball, yeah, but for two completely different reasons.'

Ginny hangs her head. 'I – right. I'm sorry, Harry.'

Harry is getting awfully sick of hearing her apologize.

He pulls her closer and she rests her head on his chest. He closes his eyes and tries to convince himself that he can do this, that he can be her friend and that everything will be fine and dandy.

He doesn't think he'll be able to do it. But maybe he's just letting tonight's disappointments get the better of him. Maybe he'll wake up in the morning and find that Ginny turning him down was that best thing that could have happened between them.

Or maybe he'll just have to settle with getting her in his arms as often as he can without making it too obvious that he's still painfully in love with her, because, like now, it's easy to pretend that they are together if she doesn't tell him otherwise.

The song ends and he releases her, then regrets it because some other bloke comes up to her, apparently looking for a dance. Harry gives him the nastiest look that he can muster, and that, along with the fact that he's Harry Potter and he defeated Voldemort, drives the bloke away before he can fully form the proper words. Ginny just furrows her brow when he takes off, but then laughs softly and sits down again.

Harry can't wait for midnight, so he can just go home and burrow himself under the covers, trying to forget that he made a complete arse out of himself and nearly messed up everything with the only person who really matters.

He somehow manages to make it through the night, and soon enough, it is nearing midnight. Ron and Hermione are back at the table, on their feet and ready to kiss as the countdown starts. In fact, everyone is on their feet. Harry and Ginny, naturally, are sitting down. They appear to be the only ones without someone to kiss. He wonders if there is a way to suggest that they kiss each other without angering her again. Unfortunately, Ginny won't even catch his eye. She is staring at her lap and her hair is hanging in a way that prohibits Harry from seeing her beautiful face. Sensing that there probably isn't a way to kiss her, he resigns himself to watching the others.

He has discovered something tonight: He can easily convince his head that he doesn't love Ginny, but his heart is a little more of a challenge.

It was a mistake coming to this party tonight. It was a mistake kissing Ginny when she clearly wanted nothing more than his friendship. It was a mistake to break up with her in the first place. But maybe his biggest mistake was that he ever fell in love with her, that he ever pulled his head out of his arse long enough to see her for more than Ron's baby sister.

'Ten!'

'Here we go,' Harry mumbles.

'Nine!'

He sighs and watches as everyone breaks up into couples. Deciding that it isn't worth it, and knowing perfectly well that he's being a miserable sod, he stands up and goes to walk away. He feels a hand on his shoulder and he turns.

'Eight!'

'Harry,' Ginny says urgently, on her feet now. Her eyes are shining with tears. 'Stay. Kiss me.'

'Seven!'

'What? I thought you said –'

'Six!'

'Forget what I said,' says Ginny, grabbing his tie and pulling his face to hers. 'I lied.'

'Five!'

She is holding his gaze and Harry is stunned at the intensity he can see in her eyes. 'I … It's not over for me, either,' she whispers.

'Three!'

'Really?' Harry asks, even though he knows the answer. At least, he hopes he does.

'Two!'

'There's never been anyone for me but you,' she says honestly, and Harry feels the weight lift off his shoulders at her words.

'One!'

There is a loud noise that is probably people shouting Happy New Year, and then another noise … maybe it's bottles of wine being popped open, the corks flying out and hitting the ceiling … or it might even be the next Dark wizard coming to kill everyone in the building. But Harry can't really bring himself to care, because he is finally kissing Ginny again, and this time it counts, because they both want to.

He has to bend his neck down, almost uncomfortably, because Ginny isn't anywhere near eye-level with him, even though she's wearing heels. And he knows for certain that everyone else has broken apart now, because he can hear snippets of conversation swirling around him, some of which include him and Ginny.

When he pulls away, he grins. 'You know, I think I'm going to like this year, after all.'

'I think I will, too,' says Ginny. 'As long as you don't go off gallivanting with Ron and Herm—–'

Harry shut her up the best way he knows how: with a kiss.

Maybe coming to this party was a mistake, after all. But out of all the mistakes Harry has ever made (and there are many), this one is his favourite.

……………………………………………………………

Cheers to a great year. Don't forget to review!