Disclaimer: Not mine, otherwise I wouldn't be this far in debt...
A/N: Yeah, yeah, another post-Battle of Hogwarts fic, hopefully a little different than others, but by this point, who knows? Not starting out perfectly between Harry and Ginny, but moving through their issues. Come on, after that night, everyone will have issues.
"That wand's more trouble than it's worth," said Harry. "And quite honestly," he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."
"And then some," Hermione agreed heartily as she pulled the door closed behind them.
Together the three friends stepped down onto the staircase, which conveniently switched directions and took them slowly downwards. With sympathetic winces, they passed the stone gargoyle still leaning drunkenly against the wall, who lifted a hand in vague recognition. They waved and started down the corridor.
"So Voldemort," Ron grinned, apparently relishing the freedom to say the name, finally, aloud, "is dead, and the Horcruxes are gone, and the Death Eaters are captured or on the run, and they're releasing everyone from Azkaban—"
"I hope they find Luna's dad," Harry said.
"—and Kingsley of all people is the Minister of Magic—"
"Temporary Minister of Magic," Hermione reminded him.
"—and even Umbridge is probably gonna pay."
"She'll say she didn't have a choice," Hermione muttered darkly.
"Kingsley won't buy that. But the thing is…the war is over. It's done. We're done! We don't have to hide! We don't have to go back to that damn tent! We don't have to eat Herm—anything we don't want to!"
"Nice save," Harry said with a small thumbs up.
A glance at Hermione showed her not angry, but slightly disgruntled. "Is my cooking really that bad?"
"No!" both boys chorused.
"It is," she sighed. "But there were a lot more important things to think of than cooking, Ronald."
"And you were amazing at all of them."
Again, Harry looked over his shoulder at Hermione to find her a faint pink with a tiny smile on her lips.
"So what now, Mr. Harry-Boy-Who-Lived-Chosen-One-Potter?" Ron asked, nudging him in the shoulder. "What are you going to do now that you have your own life?"
"Sleep," Harry answered without hesitation. "For about five days. I might wake up on the third day for some food. Then back to sleep. After that…I have some ideas."
"Do any of these ideas involve my little sister in any way?"
"Oh, several of them!" Harry said cheerily. "You probably don't want to know which ones."
"Bwah!" Ron threw up his arms in horror.
"There's nothing you can do about that, Ron," Hermione said, moving to slide her arm into his. "And I don't see that you can even argue against it any more. So smile, and be happy for them, and think about your ideas for the future."
"Well, Hogwarts is going to need some serious maintenance, and Luna doesn't have a house anymore, we'll have to put her and her dad up somewhere, and we'll be able to open the shops up in Diagon Alley again, but all that can wait. What's really important is the wounded. McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Slughorn got the worst out to St. Mungo's, and Madam Pomfrey and some helpers took care of the rest, but family has to be notified if they aren't here and we have to get them all home…Plus we should really set up something for the people who lost someone, a private memorial before the real funerals because you know they'll be swarming with people like Rita Skeeter and…what?"
Hermione had stopped, her hands on her hips, regarding Ron with an expression somewhere between exasperated, awed, amused, and adoring.
"What?" he repeated, turning to look at her. "What did I miss?"
Harry picked up his pace, leaving them to a blessed moment alone, yet still their voices followed him.
"What did I forget?" Ron asked. "I—your parents! Of course, but they can wait for a couple days, can't they? I know you miss them bad but there are so many other things that are really important, too."
"Like your family," Hermione agreed. "But I wasn't talking about all that. I was talking about something a little more…personal."
"What, like…? Oh! Oh, you mean you and…oh!"
"Yes, Ron. I mean me and oh."
"Oh. Well, yes, of course I should plan for that in the future. The near future. The very near future. But…maybe after sleep?"
"After sleep." Harry could not remember ever hearing Hermione sound like that, somewhat coy, and yet shy. "But definitely in the near future."
Several yards ahead of them now, and not slowing down, Harry rounded the final corner to the main staircase. The roar from the Great Hall seemed to have died down slightly. He wondered if anyone had noticed his absence yet.
Then his eyes caught on something, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
There, at the bottom of the stairs, sat a girl with long, brilliant red hair.
She sat sideways, so he could see part of her face. It was tipped up to the round-faced young man talking to her, yet Harry barely noticed him. His gaze was drawn to a long, thin graze along one of her pretty cheeks, something he had not seen when she threw herself into his arms nearly an hour ago.
Suddenly, he had a burning desire to know where that graze came from…where she had been in the battle, what she had done, had she missed him, had she thought of him nightly as he thought of her, longed for his arms or his smile or his laugh?
It can wait, his exhausted mind whispered. You have forever now. It can wait.
She smiled.
Maybe sleep can wait.
Harry took several eager steps to the nearest stair, his voice set to call to her.
The round-faced young man offered her his hand. She took it, and let him pull her to her feet. Her smile widened. She wrapped one arm around his neck.
Harry froze once again.
Ginny Weasley leaned forward and kissed Neville Longbottom.