He spotted Ginny two tables away; she was sitting with her head on her mother's shoulder: There would be time to talk later, hours and days and maybe years in which to talk.

- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows p 745

"Mum says breakfast is ready."

Ron's head was the only part of his body visible as he poked his head into Percy's old room, which had been converted into Harry's temporary bedroom. His eyes still looked tired, emphasized by the dark circles that rested under them. "You know how she gets if we're not down there before she's done setting the table," he reminded him.

Harry nodded, knowing that despite he and Ron gaining most of their weight back, Mrs. Weasley had not lost her insistence that the both of them eat more than they could manage. With his friend's acknowledgement, Ron disappeared, leaving Harry sitting at Percy's old writing desk.

He'd already been up for an hour just staring into the garden of the Burrow watching Crookshanks keep a vigilant watch on a quiet gnome hole. It had been almost nine weeks since the Battle of Hogwarts. The last scourge of corruption in the Ministry had taken place the week before, and articles in The Daily Prophet from the past few days signaled that life was beginning to resume normalcy for most of the magical world. Though it seemed whenever someone at the Burrow tried to grasp a piece of that familiarity to hold onto, it always slipped away. Harry wished desperately there was something he could do to restore it for his adopted family, but he knew there was no heroic mission available that could fill the gap of what had been lost.

Day-to-day living had resumed, of course. There was work that had to be completed at the Ministry by Percy and Mr. Weasley, and Charlie was already back at the dragon reserve. George, along with a few of his employees, had recently revisited his shop to take inventory and ready the shelves for its reopening. With Kingsley's help in acquiring the foreign permissions, Bill and Fleur accompanied Hermione three weeks ago to Australia in search of her parents. The rest of them had busied themselves working towards rebuilding Hogwarts. As soon as the announcement had been made that it would reopen for the following year – albeit later than McGonagall had preferred, but open nonetheless – hundreds of wizards and witches volunteered to rebuild, many of whom were among those who fought on its grounds only a month ago. Harry felt a tremendous sense of obligation to contribute in that effort. His affection for the school that had provided his first sanctuary from the Dursleys and the final setting for his defeat of Voldemort deserved more than what little he could repay. Of the Weasleys, Molly had been the only one reluctant to go back, explaining that she didn't feel quite ready to return.

It wasn't that grief had consumed them. That is, all of them were dealing with Fred's loss on different levels, and all of them were doing their best to learn to live without him, which was, as Bill had said shortly after the funeral, what Fred would have wanted. Of course, everyone was still grieving, but the consuming sadness began to ebb away in the days following Fred's memorial service. The difficulty for the Weasley family was figuring out how to be whole when a piece of them was missing. Harry held steadfast to his role as a strong pillar for others to rely upon. He felt as if he owed it to them as repayment for what they'd sacrificed for him.

The option of staying at the Burrow had been offered to him immediately. His first inclination was to say no and move into Grimmauld Place. It was George who convinced him to stay. Looking back, Harry was glad that he did. Though the three of them had cleaned it thoroughly in the few weeks they stayed there the previous summer, it was not a welcoming home, and he was thankful for the company provided at the Burrow. He also decided that he would be most useful to them here, should they need anything from him.

So consumed in his thoughts, Harry almost ran into Ginny when he stepped onto the first landing. She smiled. "Well, hello, Harry."

She didn't step away from him, and it was obvious from the smell of her hair she had just taken her shower. "Morning," he replied, moving around her to resume his trip to the kitchen.

He felt her grab his arm and turned to see Ginny's brow furrowed and a slight frown appear on her face. "All you can say to me is, 'Morning?' Harry, you sound like Ron. It's rather depressing."

If he were honest, Harry had imagined himself being Ginny's rock during the entire grieving process. Arthur and Molly had their children and each other. Ron had Hermione. Bill had Fleur. Both Charlie and Percy had their work to throw themselves into. George had the support of his entire family as well as Lee Jordan, his employees, and the endless droves of Hogwarts students who flooded their shop with condolences. Ginny had her family as well, but there was no single person for her to go to, and Harry had assumed it would be his responsibility to support her. But she had been the first of all of them who seemed to emerge from the overwhelming sadness. He always admired her strength and resolve, but even he didn't see her recovering so quickly. He knew she was still in the process of grieving, but she held herself very well.

"You look nice today?" he offered.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'll take it if that's the best you can do."

"You shouldn't tease Ron, you know. He's not been himself lately."

"Oh, Harry. He'll be fine. Ron's just worried about Hermione. Well…more like pining after Hermione," she added as an afterthought.

The two started walking downstairs towards the kitchens. "Why would he be worried? She's with Bill and Fleur."

Ginny stopped short of the kitchen to keep Ron from hearing their conversation. "I think he feels guilty about not going with her."

"But she understood that your mum needed – "

"I know," she interrupted, "but he's still struggling with leaving you two last year."

Her statement shocked Harry. As far as he knew, none of them had spoken to her about what had happened after Ron had left. "How did you – "

"Hermione told me," she said, then shrugged. "She told me a lot of things."

Harry detected a slight tone of resentment in her last sentence. A thousand different thoughts ran through his brain as to what Hermione could have told her. "What did she tell you?"

Ginny shook her head and smiled in a way that all women do when they aren't being completely honest. Harry's stomach squirmed when he saw it. "Are you angry with me?"

This time she gave him a genuine smile and took his hand. "No, I'm not. I just wish that you'd talk to me, Harry."

She was trying to lure him into a conversation he had been avoiding since the week after Fred's funeral. Harry tried pulling away, but she held onto his hand with both of hers. Her unwavering stare into his eyes was almost enough to make the solid walls he'd built to remain strong crumble. Almost.

"Ginny, now's not the time to get into this."

"It's the perfect time."

"No," he said solemnly. "We'll have loads of time to talk later."

"When will that be, Harry?" she asked. "You've been avoiding me for weeks."

Harry put his free hand over hers and gently slid his other out of her grasp. "There were things I lived through that I don't want you to ever have to imagine. I don't want upset you."

"All I want – "

Harry interrupted her. "I know what you're going to say, and now is not the time."

He could tell that he was irritating her quickly. Her eyes narrowed defiantly. "Then explain why it's perfectly acceptable for Ron and Hermione."

"That's different," he said quickly, turning into the kitchen to avoid the impending argument.

"What's different?" Ron asked, his mouth full of eggs.

Ginny and Harry answered him at the same time. "Nothing."

After he joined Ron at the table, Ginny leaned into him and whispered, "Don't think this conversation is over."

Oblivious to what was going on behind her, Mrs. Weasley asked, "Ron, I need your help pulling weeds in the garden today."

He gulped down some juice and answered, "Sorry, Mum. I promised George I'd help him restock the shop before it opens next week."

"Oh, alright then. Harry, are you going with him?"

"Uh," he paused, looking over to Ron, who nodded, and back to Ginny, who raised her eyebrows. If he wanted to avoid a row with Ginny, helping at WW was his best option. "Yeah. I'll go."

An irritable huff was heard from Ginny's direction, and Harry purposefully avoided her gaze. When the two of them finished breakfast, they disapparated to the George's office in the back of the shop. It didn't take very long for him to put both of them to work packing hundreds of Skiving Snackboxes. Soon after starting on his share of Nosebleed Nougat, Ron asked, "Have you decided anything about Hogwarts?"

Harry knew he was referring to the offer McGonagall had extended to all students to repeat the previous year. Ginny would be returning, of course, and it was no surprise that Hermione would be as well. Neither of the boys had discussed whether they'd decided to return. "I'm not really sure whether there's much more for me to learn," he said. "I mean, I know I'll learn stuff, but I don't know if I could go back and have everything be the same."

Ron nodded his agreement. "I know what you mean. I can't see myself actually getting interested in the coursework. It was boring when I was forced to do it. It'll only be worse if it's optional this go around. The only reason I'd choose to go back is for Hermione."

"Does that mean you're going back, then?"

Ron tossed another Nosebleed Nougat box on the growing pile. "I have to talk to her about it, but…I don't think I am. I sort of feel like I want to just start over. I want to try something new. I'm rubbish at school. Maybe I could be better at something else."

The two worked in silence for a few minutes until Ron spoke again.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

Harry looked up from his work. "What?"

"You've kept to yourself quite a bit."

"So have you."

Ron shook his head. "It's different. I've had Hermione."

"Not for a few weeks."

"Well, no," he admitted, "but we've exchanged letters."

"That's great and all, but I'm fine. Really."

"Have you talked to Ginny?"

Harry went back to stuffing the boxes in front of him. "About last year?"

"Yeah. Well, about anything really."

"A little," Harry lied. "Not much."

"You ought not to keep these things bottled up, mate. It's not good for you."

Harry laughed. "You really have been talking to Hermione. You're starting to sound a lot like her."

"She's right, you know. She told me before she left that I had better write to her whenever I started to feel overwhelmed. Fred's death left me really angry. One night, I took her advice and wrote to her. Told her everything. I folded up the parchment, gave it to Pig, and watched my frustration fly away. It was really therapeutic. My point is that you shouldn't try to do everything on your own. We went through some pretty traumatic shite, Harry. If you don't want to talk to Ginny, at least come up to my room sometime."

"Thanks, Ron…How is Hermione, by the way?" he asked.

"I haven't heard from her in about a week, but I think they've found her parents' house," Ron replied.

"That's great. Hopefully it won't take long for them to restore their memories."

"Yeah. It's definitely different without her here," he said. Then his smile widened. "I can't wait for her to come home."

A few hours passed, and they finally finished the Snackboxes, along with many more fake wands, Extendable Ears, and a few Portable Swamps. When they arrived back at the Burrow, the work in the garden was done, but Mrs. Weasley found plenty of jobs for them around the house, much to Ron's displeasure.

"Here's a good example of when I get angry with Fred," he whispered when his mother wasn't looking. "Mum wasn't nearly as interested in cleaning until he ran off and got himself killed. Stupid git."

Harry knew Ron wasn't entirely serious, but it felt good to share a laugh imagining Fred doing the same as the two of them worked. Eventually, Mrs. Weasley relented as she began to prepare dinner. Harry and Ron retreated to Ron's bedroom for a game of chess. Ron pulled his set out from his trunk, and they sat on the floor to play, Ron resting against his bed and Harry lying opposite him. Ginny found them a few minutes after they had begun and found a seat on the mattress. She watched them silently for a while and then reclined on her brother's bed. After a few more minutes, she asked, "How's Hermione, Ron?"

Without looking up, he answered, "She's still in Australia."

"When will she be back?"

"I'm not sure," he said, "but it may be pretty soon. They've found her parents. All they have left to do is bring back their memories and help them move."

"Are you going to ask her to be your girlfriend when she comes home?"

Ron laughed. "She told me she was my girlfriend before she left!"

Harry glanced up and saw Ginny staring pointedly at him. "You don't think it's too soon?" she asked.

Ron's gaze finally left the board as he turned to face her. "I thought you already knew all this?"

Ginny looked at her brother and shrugged. "I thought Harry'd might like to know."

"That Hermione was my girlfriend?" he asked, looking at Harry with a confused expression. "You did know that, didn't you Harry?"

Harry's eyes dropped back to the chess game. He knew that Ginny was trying to pull Ron into their disagreement, and it made him uncomfortable. He didn't want to discuss this in front of his best friend. "Yeah. I kind of figured it out a while ago."

"To be honest," Ron continued, "it was sort of long overdue between us, Hermione and me. Both of us were too thick to do anything before, and now…it feels like something we both need."

Ginny stood, and despite his better judgment, Harry looked up once again. "That might just be the most logical thing I've ever heard you say," she said, speaking to Ron but looking right at Harry. Then she turned to her brother. "I'm really happy for you, Ron."

She left, closing the door behind her and leaving the two of them in silence. Harry tried resuming the match while Ron looked between the door and his friend. "What was she on about? Or has she finally gone 'round the twist?"

"Sounds like she's excited about you and Hermione," Harry said, trying to divert attention away from Ginny's passive-aggressive attack. Unfortunately, Ron couldn't be waivered.

"She looks pretty upset with you. What did you do?"

Harry got defensive. "I haven't done anything."

"Harry, I've known Ginny all her life, and I can tell when she's angry."

Knowing that there was no escaping the inevitable, he gave in. "She wants to start things up again, but I told her now wasn't the time."

"Oooh, bad mistake."

"No, it wasn't a mistake!" Harry argued. "She's grieving, and I just don't think it's appropriate."

"Oh, bollocks."

"It's the truth!"

Ron held up his hand. "Harry, you know as well as I do that Ginny is probably the most stable out of everyone in this house. Of course she's still grieving the same as the rest of us, but she's always been this way. I think this would be good for both of you to have someone to go to. Unless you're not interested."

"No, that's not – "

"Then, what?"

"You said yourself that we've been through hell, and I can't bring her into it Ron. I can't. You've got Hermione, and that's great, but she was right there with us. She knows what we've been through! She understands, and as much as I hate to say it, she suffers through the same nightmares we do. You don't have to expose her to any of these horrors because she's been seen all of it already. I'm not going to do that to Ginny."

Ron quietly considered what he'd heard as he moved one of his bishops across the chess board. Then he looked up with a half smile and said, "The war's over, mate. Don't you think you ought to drop the self-sacrificing hero bit?"

"That is not what I'm – "

Ron cut him off. "All I'm saying is that you, of all people, deserve some happiness. So does Ginny."

"I know she does, Ron. That's the exact reason why we can't. All of this shite I'm carrying around doesn't need to be dumped on her."

"You don't have to load her down with it," Ron observed. "And it doesn't have to be thrown out there all at once, but if you don't unload some stuff, where else are you going to put it? Take Hermione's advice. Don't bear this burden alone. You're not going to find any peace doing that."

Feeling irritated, Harry changed the subject. "I don't want to talk about this right now. Can we please finish the game?"

To Harry's relief, Ron shrugged and said nothing else to him. Harry rushed through his moves, eager to end the game quickly. When Ron declared checkmate, Harry left and made his way into the kitchen, followed closely by Ron. Mrs. Weasley was almost done with her dinner preparations, and he made small talk with Mr. Weasley and Percy, who had followed his father home. At last it was time to eat. As always, Harry finished his plate feeling completely full, but his earlier conversation with Ron left him in no mood to socialize. He left them, using the excuse of needing to be up early to help with the renovation efforts at Hogwarts in the morning. To his surprise, Harry suddenly felt very tired as he climbed to the second floor. It only took a few minutes for Harry to fall asleep.

When he opened his eyes, it was still very dark, and from the silence pervading the house, Harry assumed that there were still several hours before the sun would be peeking over the horizon. His conversation with Ron replayed in his mind, and though he was eager to end it earlier, Harry had to admit to himself that Ron had done a lot of maturing in the last year. If he'd been speaking to anyone other than himself, Harry would have said that Ron's advice was borderline genius. Wanting to remove himself from Ron's words, he decided to get some water. Harry quietly walked back into the Burrow's kitchen. He stopped suddenly at the door when he saw Mrs. Weasley sitting at the table. She was crying. Harry started backing away, not wanting to disturb her private moment. Before he could do so, she spotted him and smiled.

"Harry, dear," she greeted, wiping her eyes, "come in. Would you like some tea?"

Not wanting to be rude, he agreed. "Sure. Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

She stood and started making a cup for him. He noticed a small picture album open on the table where she was sitting. Harry could see the Weasley children in multiple photographs, all of them smiling. There was a sharp pang of guilt that shot through him when he saw a younger Fred laughing with his twin.

"There's only one picture I have of those two not grinning like a bunch of loons."

Mrs. Weasley had appeared at Harry's side and was gazing lovingly at the album. She handed him his tea and flipped a few of the pages. Her finger tapped lightly on a photograph of the twins. They looked to be about twelve, and both of them were scowling, most likely from the matching formal outfits they were wearing. Harry could see Ron and Ginny laughing and pointing in the background.

"I thought they looked so handsome, but Fred and George absolutely hated this picture."

Harry laughed along with the smaller versions of Ron and Ginny. He stopped when he heard her say, "I miss him so much."

He drank from his cup, pretending not to have intruded on her private moment for a second time. There was nothing that came to mind that would alleviate the awkwardness he felt. Mrs. Weasley seemed oblivious to it and reclaimed her seat at the table. Her eyes were trained on Harry, and he kept his attention on the album.

"You looked a little tense around Teddy last week," she said, trying to pry a conversation from him.

"I've not had any experience around babies before. They make me nervous," he replied, swallowing the rest of his tea in one gulp.

The older woman nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, that's understandable. I felt the same way when Bill was born."

Her confession surprised him. "You did?"

"Of course! I'd never been responsible for another person before. And he was so helpless. Arthur and I were all he had."

Though unintentional, he was sure, Mrs. Weasley's words weighed heavy on his heart. Harry felt an enormous responsibility for the little boy, and he had no idea how he was supposed to care for someone so young when he himself was barely of age. Figuring that Mrs. Weasley was possibly the best person to seek advice about children, Harry asked, "What do you think I should do?"

"About Teddy?" she asked.

Harry nodded.

"Well, I think Andromeda will manage to care for his needs. I think the best thing you can do for him is be there when he needs you."

A large lump formed in his throat, and he was unable to swallow it. He looked away, searching for the words to explain his fears. "I don't know anything about being a father. I never knew…I mean, Mr. Weasley – and you, of course – have always been here, but I've never…"

A small hand took his, drawing his gaze back to Mrs. Weasley. "Don't worry about that right now. Just be the best role model you can, and it will become more comfortable in time."

The harsh prickling of tears stung his eyes. As much as he tried to resist, there was something about Mrs. Weasley's motherly nature and the comforting words she spoke that crumbled the walls Harry had built so carefully since the immediate aftermath of the war.

"It's my fault they're gone," he said, tears flowing freely down his face. "Teddy is an orphan, and it's my fault."

"Oh, Harry. It's not your fault," Mrs. Weasley said, standing and pulling him into a tight hug. "Tonks and Remus willingly fought to make a world for Teddy to live a happy life."

Harry had not told anyone about his experience with the Resurrection Stone. The words of comfort from the older woman were almost exactly the same he'd heard from Lupin in the Forbidden Forest before he faced Voldemort. The resolve that prevented him from crying at all of the funerals disappeared, and the outburst of emotion he'd been holding back finally broke through as he wept on her shoulder.

"It's not fair," he cried.

"No. It rarely is," she whispered, running a hand over his unkempt hair and kissing the top of his head. "None of this is your fault, my boy. It's not your fault."

Hearing Mrs. Weasley call him one of her own flooded him with guilt once again as he thought of Fred, and he cried harder. "Mrs. Weasley, I'm so sorry about Fred. He – I never wanted…You've sacrificed so much…"

Harry could hear her sniffle, and he knew she was crying with him. No words were exchanged as their tears fell. Sobs racked his body while Mrs. Weasley hugged him. When his tears began to subside, Harry felt her pull away. When he looked up, his eyes met hers, and she said very seriously, "Fred died to protect his family and friends. He loved us very much, and if he were standing here today, I'm sure he would do it all over again if he could. I miss him so much it's almost too painful to face every new day, and I suppose it's a little selfish of me for wanting him to stay with me a little while longer. But you understand this, Harry Potter: not one of us is responsible for him being gone."

Hearing her speak so candidly helped ease the guilt that had welled within his chest, and all he could do was nod numbly. She kissed his forehead before grabbing his cup and filling it for the second time. Both of them sat as they drank their tea.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

"It's quite alright, Harry, dear. If I'm completely honest, I was a little concerned about you."

"Why is that?" he asked.

"I can see a bit of myself in you," she explained. "You want to keep a strong appearance for those around you to see, and because of that, it's very hard to grieve properly. As you can see, I'm hardly one to hide my emotions, but I avoid my own grief by staying busy. Lately, I've felt these crazy urges. There's a part of me that screams, 'Clean all the things! Feed everyone I know!' It's a lot easier to keep your mind constantly running than to deal with your emotions, but it's not productive grieving. That's why it's comforting to me to see you release some of the stress you've kept inside."

"Ron told me the same thing this afternoon."

"He has his moments, that boy."

Harry managed a small smile. "Mrs. Weasley – "

"Oh, for Heaven's sakes, Harry, you've known me long enough. Call me Molly."

"It means more than words can express that you and Mr. Wea–," he stopped and corrected himself, "Arthur consider me your son."

"We always have," she said, patting him on his hand. "This little chat has been so beneficial to me, Harry. Thank you for sharing with me. I think we'll both deal with our grief better in the morning. Why don't we turn in? I think I may join you three at Hogwarts tomorrow."

She kissed him once more on the forehead and was gone. Her confession stunned him for a moment. The ultimate goal had been for Harry to help the Weasleys through his determination to remain stoic, but it had been his unintentional meltdown that had been the most comforting for someone he dearly loved. Molly would be returning to Hogwarts for the first time in since the tragedy, and he felt truly honored to have played a part in the healing process. Realistically he knew that one conversation wouldn't end her grief. In fact, nothing would ever completely fill the void that had been caused by Fred's death, but knowing that he was helping her recover just as much as she had done for him in the past hour made his heart feel full.

When he finished his drink and placed the cup in the sink, he walked back to his room. For a moment he considered peeking into Ginny's room but decided against it. Harry didn't want to wake her, and he wasn't quite sure what he would even say to her. He knew he wanted to apologize for being so cold towards her, and he knew that conversation needed to take place sometime other than the middle of the night. He walked past her closed door after pausing for only a moment. Though it took him a little while longer, Harry eventually fell asleep.

Everyone was pleasantly surprised the next morning when Molly travelled with them to Hogwarts. Classes would be resuming in a little less than two months, and while most of the damage to the corridors and classrooms had been completed, the main focus of the morning and afternoon was finishing the restorations of the Great Hall. Once it was complete, there would be several repairs left to make, but the school would be ready for the first of September. There were several volunteers who came, and by late evening, the Hall had been rebuilt and magical enchantments had been replaced. McGonagall invited all of the volunteers to stay for a celebratory dinner. The volunteers and staff ate and fellowshipped with one another well into the evening. Eventually everyone said their goodbyes, and Harry followed the rest of the Weasleys back to the Burrow.

Everyone felt exhausted when they arrived. Arthur and Molly were the first to go to bed. Ginny, Harry, and Ron sat in the family room talking about the renovations at Hogwarts for a while. After a few minutes, Ginny decided to start sorting through her belongings to begin the packing process for her trip back to Hogwarts.

"You've still got almost two months!" Ron said.

"Yes, but I don't particularly enjoy hearing Mum scream at me the morning we leave. I think I'll be proactive for once and prepare early. Goodnight," she said and then disappeared up the stairs.

"Mental, that one," Ron muttered, shaking his head. "Feel up for a game of chess, Harry?"

"Sure."

Harry put more effort into this game against Ron than the one from the day before. Despite coming close to capturing Ron's king several times, Harry finally lost after an hour and a half. Feeling confident, he asked for a rematch, but Ron yawned and shook his head.

"Sorry, mate. Feeling a bit knackered. Maybe tomorrow?"

Harry didn't feel tired at all, which was a bit strange he thought, considering how exhausted he had felt just the previous evening. "Sure thing. You go on. I'll put the pieces away, then?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Harry," he said, yawning again. "'Night."

As soon as Ron left, Crookshanks ran into the room, hoping the chess pieces had been forgotten. The cat was sorely disappointed to find Harry putting the last pawn away and let out a low growl. Harry scratched Crookshanks under the chin and around his ears for a few minutes as a consolation. Feeling satisfied, Crookshanks wandered into the kitchen, and Harry started making his way towards his room. When he reached the first landing, he noticed that Ginny's bedroom door wasn't quite shut. Harry peeked inside and saw her lying on her back, sound asleep in the dim light cast by a single lamp. She had already changed into a worn sleep shirt and shorts that stopped well before the middle of her thighs. It felt like a lifetime had passed since the last time he stopped to admire how beautiful she looked. He was amazed how effortless it seemed to be for her. As he continued the climb towards his room, the wooden floor creaked.

"Harry?"

He winced and turned back towards Ginny's door. Gently, he pushed the door open and saw her sitting up in bed, yawning. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"What are you doing?" she asked, standing to stretch.

He scratched the back of his head nervously. It was a little embarrassing having been caught staring at her while she slept after refusing to have a conversation that lasted longer than five minutes all summer. "I noticed your door was open. I was just on my way to my room."

"I didn't intend to fall asleep," she explained in the middle of another yawn, "but I got distracted sorting through my trunk and found all sorts of odds and ends from the past few years. I suppose I was more exhausted than I thought because I fell asleep before I was done pulling out half of this rubbish."

"At least you have a few weeks left to sort it all out," he offered.

Ginny nodded and asked, "Is Ron still awake?"

"Probably. He came up right before I did."

He watched as she looked around the room with a frown on her face. Her belongings were strewn over almost every surface. "Do you mind helping me throw all this back into my trunk?" she asked.

"Isn't that being counterproductive?"

"You said yourself that I've got a few more weeks," she shrugged. "I just need to clear my bed and a path to the door. Everything else can stay."

The two of them worked in silence, and it didn't take very long before Ginny was satisfied. Harry dropped a textbook into the trunk, and when he looked up, he saw her staring at him. His throat suddenly felt dry, and it was hard to swallow. He felt ridiculous standing there like a giant bushel of nerves when it had been little more than a year earlier he'd had her underneath him near the lake at Hogwarts, snogging her senseless.

"Thanks," she said.

"You're welcome."

There was silence for a moment as they continued to look at one another. "Well, goodnight, then."

He was a little surprised she was giving him permission to leave without pressing him for more conversation. "'Night," he replied.

Harry felt strange walking away. When he got to her door, he glanced over his shoulder and saw her arranging the pillows on her bed. His hand moved without his brain's permission and closed the door, shutting both of them away from the rest of the house. He saw Ginny turn her head, and when she saw him still standing there, her eyebrows rose. Before she could ask, Harry started speaking.

"I need to apologize to you," he said quietly. "I've been forcing my own ideas about how you should be dealing with your sorrow instead of listening to you. I just wanted what was best, but I was too caught up in ignoring my own grief to actually realize what actually is best."

Ginny started to say something, but he interrupted, crossing the room and taking her hands into his own, "I missed you last year. So much. I was scared and worried and all I could think about at night was you. When I met Voldemort in the forest, the last thing that crossed my mind before he cursed me was how amazing you looked and how much I loved kissing you."

"Cursed? Harry, what happened?" Her jaw dropped at the mention of Voldemort's attempt to kill him. Harry had not told anyone what had transpired in the Forbidden Forest.

"That's not the point I'm trying to make," he said, squeezing her hands in his, "and I promise I won't keep it from you, but right now isn't the time to discuss it. There was a lot of horrible shite that happened while we were gone. I haven't felt ready to relive it yet, and I'm still not ready. We have plenty of time – years, even. There are things I've seen that I don't know if I'll ever be able to tell you, but that doesn't mean I don't want to share other things with you. I love you."

Never before had he told her he loved her, and the confession not only shocked Ginny, but Harry also surprised himself. She was silent as she held his gaze. Her lips parted as if to speak, but he couldn't hear her voice. Ginny pulled her hands from his grasp and placed them on either side of his face. Suddenly, she kissed him, and Harry did nothing to resist.

It was so much better than he'd remembered. His hands fit comfortably against her back when he pulled her into him. Having her run her fingers through his hair gave him the familiar swooping sensation he'd missed so much in the past year. She trailed little tingling paths along his scalp while she kissed him, stopping only once to whisper, "Don't ever leave me again."

"I won't," he promised.

The sweet reunion kisses they shared evolved into a full blown snog. Ginny's small hands gripped the hem of his shirt and pushed it over his head. Harry managed to catch his glasses as they fell from his face before Ginny resumed kissing him frantically once more. Her hands ran wildly over his bare skin, giving Harry the courage to slip his own underneath her worn t-shirt. The skin on her back still felt as soft as he remembered. It only took a few seconds for him to realize that her back was completely bare underneath her shirt. In all their snogging sessions at Hogwarts, he had never touched her naked breasts, and he was unsure whether he should slide his hands to do so. His dilemma was solved when he felt Ginny's smooth skin against his own. Harry looked down and saw that Ginny had removed her shirt just as quickly as she had his own. At the sudden sight of her breasts, the air in his lungs escaped in a rush, and a moan escaped his throat before he could stop it. Not happy with the sudden interruption of their snog, Ginny grabbed Harry's face once more and kissed him hard. Wanting more, he finally moved his hands to the sides of her breasts and let his fingers follow their curve until they were resting underneath. Ginny's tongue licked the roof of his mouth. Before he understood what was happening, the back of his knees made contact with the bed.

"Lie down," said Ginny, her eyes half-closed.

There was absolutely no desire for Harry to deny her anything else she asked of him. He flopped backwards to rest his head and shoulders against her pillows. When he looked up, Ginny had each of her knees on either side of his thighs. Harry reached for her, but she pulled back suddenly, her eyes growing wide.

"Harry! Your chest! What – Did Voldemort do that?"

He sighed. Already knowing what she had seen, it wasn't necessary for him to look down, but his eyes found the scar that had put the terrified expression on her face. The Avada Kedavra curse left a jagged scar, not unlike the one on his forehead, stretching across the left side of his chest. It was almost fully healed, but Harry knew what had alarmed Ginny was the giant, ugly bruise that still had yet to fade away completely. It looked much better, but he understood it must look horrifying to someone seeing it for the first time.

"Does it…does it hurt?" she asked, gently touching the discolored skin.

"No," he answered honestly.

"What happened?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper, and he could see the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. Harry brought the palms of her hands to his mouth and kissed them. "Now is not the time. Soon," he added. "I promise. Just not tonight."

She said nothing, and for a moment, Harry was afraid he had upset her again. His worries were alleviated when she reached for something on the table beside her bed. As she leaned, her breasts were suspended above him. He grabbed her waist, wanting to keep her there, but Ginny sat up. He watched as she used her wand to cast an imperturbable charm around her room. Harry's heart thudded wildly against his chest as his mind thought of all the reasons why she felt it necessary to cast such a spell. After placing her wand back on the table, Ginny worked the fastenings of his trousers and began tugging them down his legs.

"Ginny, we don't have to – "

She silenced him with a long look. Any doubt remaining in his mind immediately vanished when she placed open mouthed kisses against his neck and collarbone. When he felt her nipples rubbing against his chest, he groaned. He could see her bum over her shoulder, still covered by the small shorts, high in the air. Harry snuck his hands beneath the waistband, and when he discovered that there was nothing else underneath, his fingers squeezed her, bringing her into contact with his naked lower half. As she looked up, he kissed her, opening her mouth with his tongue and bringing her against him again. After a few more squeezes, Ginny's hips began moving without his help, and he finally took both of her breasts fully in his hands. He felt her moan as he kissed her when his thumbs brushed over her nipples, and she rolled off him. At first, he thought he had done something wrong, but within seconds, she was straddling him again, this time completely nude. She resumed her rolling motions against him, nipping the skin of his neck as she did so. However, the sensation became much more intense as he felt her slide over him without the friction created by the material of her shorts. Her breath was hot against his collarbone, and his cock was slick from her arousal. Once again his hands gripped her bum, pushing her down, directing her movement into a faster momentum. Ginny's fingers had long since abandoned their trails along his scalp. Her arms were hooked underneath his, her fingers now digging deep into his shoulders. Every few seconds, Harry heard muffled and strangled cries from her. At that moment, he had never wanted anything more than to feel himself inside her. He stilled her hips, much to her displeasure.

"Harry, no. Don't stop," begged Ginny.

One of his hands positioned his cock in just the right place. She looked at him to make sure she understood what he wanted, and he managed a forced, "Please."

Slowly, she lowered herself until he was completely surrounded by her. Ginny rested her forehead against his. When he gripped her waist, she rested one of her hands on his wrist. He looked up and saw that her eyes were closed in concentration. Harry thought he might die from the need to continue from where they had stopped, but after a few seconds, her eyes opened. She kissed him and then started moving.

Harry felt as if he had Apparated into another world far removed from the one he'd known. Ginny's kisses were amazing, but what she was doing to him – what she was doing to his body – was simply indescribable. The only thing that existed at that moment was the two of them. His fingers dug into her waist as she rocked against him. The sight of her breasts bouncing in front of him became too much, and Harry closed his eyes in the hopes that he could stay in the moment longer. His jaw clenched shut as his head fell back, desperate to hold off his orgasm as long as possible. All of his senses were overloaded. Even the squeaking of the bed pushed him closer to the edge. He tried to slow Ginny's hips, but she wouldn't succumb to his attempts. When she felt him trying to restrain her, she only rocked faster. Harry made the mistake of opening his eyes when he felt her resisting. Ginny' fingers were working furiously against her clit. The sight of Ginny touching herself finally undid him, and he pulled her hips down hard against him as he thrust into her. Harry was barely aware of the cry that burst forth as his orgasm hit him. He continued to watch her until he was spent, and his head fell back against the pillow. Cool air surrounded his lower half, and he realized that Ginny had rolled off him. He lifted his head in time to see her finally reach her own climax.

"Oh, god! Harry!"

Her free hand gripped the sheets forcefully when her body bowed as she continued to touch herself. It was the most erotic thing Harry had ever witnessed.

Minutes passed in silence. Harry was content to watch her as she breathed and for the first time in months, really take in her beauty. There would be no more sneaky glances across the sitting room and no need to peek through her open bedroom door in the evening. Ginny was his to admire anytime he chose. At that moment he realized he finally had a future to look forward to, and Harry smiled to himself. It didn't go unnoticed.

"What are you smirking about?" she asked.

He leaned over to kiss her. "There's plenty of time to talk about it later, Ginny. Hours and days and maybe even years in which to talk."

A/N: This is my first Harry Potter story. I had to do something after seeing Deathly Hallows in the theater. I'm more of a Ron/Hermione shipper, so I'm not very used to the Harry & Ginny characterizations. Let me know what you think!