It's okay to have scars, they will make you who you are
It's okay to have fear, as long as you're not scared of coming here

x

The Burrow was quiet but not silent, and that was how she liked it. It had been silent for a long time after Fred's death, but now its noises had begun to return. That soothed her. It had been a stressful day: as Head Girl, she'd had to supervise hundreds of hyperactive students going home for Christmas on the Hogwarts Express and then when she'd got to London, it had taken a good hour for them all to get through the barrier without being noticed—Kings Cross had been packed with Muggles doing last minute Christmas shopping. She'd hoped to find Harry waiting on the Platform for her, but Kingsley had needed him for important Auror business (she tried not to be too bitter when she noticed that Ron had somehow managed to get away to see Hermione). Once at home, her mother had fretted and fussed over her so much that she'd snapped at her, putting them both in a bad mood until dinner, when George had sent word that he wouldn't be able to make it back as the shop was experiencing a rush from the students who'd arrived home, causing her mother to fret even more. All in all, it had been a relief to finally collapse into bed and listen to the comforting sounds of her childhood.

Which was why it was such a surprise that she couldn't sleep.

She'd been tossing and turning for what felt like hours (though after checking her watch, she realised it had only just turned midnight) and was about to give up on the whole endeavour of sleep altogether when something started tapping at her window insistently. She wasn't scared as such—the wards in place on The Burrow were second to none, and only those who had previously been approved by a blood member of the Weasley family and knew a password could pass through them, thanks to the combined efforts of the Auror Department and a few of Bill's cursebreaker friends—but old habits died hard, and so it was with her wand in her hand and a list of pre-prepared curses in her mind that she drew back the curtains.

Her boyfriend was hovering there, on his brand new Firebolt.

Ginny blinked once.

Harry was still there. "It's me," he said. "Harry Potter. Boy Who Lived. Your boyfriend. Rescuer of girls who open secret chambers in bathrooms. Can I come in?"

She glanced over at her door, ensuring it was firmly shut, before carefully opening the window, hissing slightly as the cold night air entered her room. It wasn't snowing—it rarely did in Devon, especially before Christmas—but there was already a frost forming on the boughs of the trees, and she could see Harry's breath as he hovered there. He flew in through the opened window, squeezing himself through a gap that was barely big enough to fit his body, and managed to land silently on the carpet.

"Er," he said, dismounting. "Am I alright to...?" he trailed off, indicating his broom which he had propped against her wardrobe. She nodded once. "Nice pyjamas," Harry added, grinning.

Ginny glanced down at her pyjamas—voluminous trousers which featured snitches and an oversized t shirt that may once have been red and had definitely belonged to at least two of her brothers—and blushed, before mentally kicking herself. This wasn't her. She wasn't the awkward, stuttering nervous girl around Harry anymore. She wasn't.

It wasn't even like she hadn't seen him for ages—less than a fortnight ago, the two of them had met up in Hogsmeade (but Ron and Hermione had been there, too)—or that they'd never been alone together before; all summer, they'd snatched moments wherever they could (but never in her bedroom, after midnight, when no one else knew they were together). But she was Ginny Weasley. She was going to be brave and actually say something.

She cleared her throat. "Hi."

Harry looked relieved. "Hi," he replied. "Sorry, I didn't know if just turning up out of the blue would be okay. But I really wanted to see you tonight."

"It's okay," she said. "But wait." She pointed her wand at her bedroom door and cast the Muffliato charm. Whilst both of them were fully clothed (for the moment...) having one of her brothers, or worse, her parents, come to investigate the talking going on in her room was not her idea of a good time. "So," she said, once that was done. "It's good to see you again."

Dear sweet Merlin, she sounded like Percy. She tried again. "I mean...I missed you at the station today."

Harry looked anxious. "I'm really sorry, but I just couldn't get away. I tried to tell Kingsley, but he—"

"No, it's okay!" she said hurriedly. "I know that. I just meant...that I missed you generally."

"Oh," said Harry. There was a moment's awkward pause; Harry cast his gaze around the room whilst she fiddled with a loose thread on her pyjamas. "I like your decorations."

Ginny followed his gaze to the piles of tinsel littering almost every surface of the room and gave a short, embarrassed laugh. "I may have gotten a bit carried away earlier," she said.

"I like it," Harry said, smiling. "It's very...you. Especially the colours." She grinned. She'd charmed the tinsel that wasn't already red and gold to those colours, and her room now bore a strong resemblance to the Gryffindor Common Room after a Quidditch win. He took a step closer, and her breath hitched in her throat.

Get a grip she told herself sternly. You're not even touching yet...

"I really wanted to see you tonight," he said. "I didn't want to sleep alone. I...I want to sleep with you."

Ginny's eyes shot upwards, until she was looking directly at him. Though she wanted to have sex with Harry (and sometimes, she wanted it so much she thought she might burst), they'd discussed that topic over the summer and agreed they did not want to go there whilst she was still in school. But that was before you spent four months apart said a small voice inside her. Harry has needs...

So do you! a slightly louder inner voice argued back.

"I...I thought we said...?"

"Oh, no! I mean yes!" Harry said, quite loudly. Ginny made frantic flapping motions with her arms, and he dropped his voice to a whisper. "I just meant that I wanted to sleep sleep with you. Not, you know. That."

"Like we did after Fred's funeral?" Ginny whispered. Harry nodded.

The night of Fred's funeral had been the first night she and Harry had started properly speaking to each other again—they had both been far too emotional about everything that had happened to manage a proper conversation about everything that had happened before then. They had (innocently enough) fallen asleep in each other's arms, something her mother had accepted when she discovered them like that the next morning, but they hadn't wanted to push their luck and had avoided doing it again. Even during August, when Harry and Ron had moved out to Grimmauld Place, Ginny had always made it home by her curfew. The thought of climbing into bed with Harry for the night for only the second time was still nervous-making enough to give her butterflies (albeit the other kind of butterflies as well).

But she was a Gryffindor, so she took his hand and led him over to the bed. "Er," she said, after turning back the covers. "You should probably take off your shoes." They both laughed a little, which diffused the tension, and Harry removed his cloak as well before lying down next to her.

"I'll set an alarm so I can leave before your parents wake up tomorrow morning," Harry said. He was still holding her hand.

"That's probably a good idea," she said faintly. She was struggling to remember what words were, and how to put them into sentences, for every nerve she had felt like it was on fire and her entire body was screaming out for HarryHarryHarry.

"Definitely a good idea," Harry agreed, and she felt him nodding against the pillow and then—and then! She didn't know who started it, but they both leaned towards each other and then they were kissing like their lives depended on it, like they were back in the Gryffindor Common Room in her fifth year and everything was just a blazing heat of Harry and more and now. He ran his hands underneath her top, caressing her bare breasts and she stifled a moan. She responded by running her hands slowly up his legs until he hissed with pleasure, kissing every inch of her he could reach. She found herself unbuckling his belt almost before she knew what she was doing, and reluctantly pulled away.

"What? Did I hurt you?" Harry asked immediately.

"No," she said, breathing hard. "I just...we need to stop. Or we'll end up going all the way."

"Would that be so awful?"

"There's a big, big part of me that wants to say definitely not," she replied, reaching over and taking his hand. "But also. No. Not yet. I don't think I'm quite ready."

"That's okay," he replied at once.

"That's all you're going to say?"

"What did you think I would do? Force you into it?"

"No! Of course that's not what I meant, you idiot," she said, shoving him in the shoulder. "I just thought you might try to persuade me. I tried to persuade you a few times last summer..."

"I did not try to persuade you because there's a part of my own mind that needs no persuasion," Harry said, with as much dignity as he could muster given that Ginny was repeatedly poking any part of his body she could reach with her forefinger. "I thought it would probably end quite badly."

"Well, as long as the middle bit was enjoyable..." she replied.

"You seem to be changing your mind about this quite a lot," Harry said, raising an eyebrow.

"Woman's prerogative," she said. "I—ow. Right, don't take this the wrong way, but can you take your trousers off, please? I just stabbed myself in the leg with your sodding belt buckle."

"Only if you don't take it the wrong way when I take my shirt off, too," he replied. "I can't sleep with this thing strangling me."

Soon, he was clad in just a t shirt and pair of boxers. "Better?" he asked, banishing his clothes to the other side of Ginny's small room and placing his wand on her bedside table.

"Almost," she replied, vanishing his socks and ignoring his protests. "I am not sleeping with a man who leaves his socks on!" she said, rolling over onto her stomach so she could look at him severely.

Harry reached up and pushed his hair out of his eyes so he could glare back at her, but he exposed his scar in doing so and Ginny leaned forward and traced its pattern on his forehead. He froze. "Can you feel it still?" she whispered.

He shook his head. "Nothing at all since the second of May," he said. "I mean, I can feel you touching it. But other than that...nothing."

"What about this one?" she asked, rubbing her thumb over the phrase carved into his arm.

Harry said nothing for a moment, and then replied, "Sometimes, when I see Umbridge when I have to go to Azkaban, I swear I can feel it tingling. But I think that's just in my head." He paused. "I had to go to Azkaban today."

Ginny lay down, placing her head on his chest, knowing he would continue if he wanted to without her asking. "She was there." She didn't have to ask who he was talking about. "I think that in the future, I might ask Kingsley not to make me go on Azkaban visits when I might have to see her. I don't think I can do it."

"Does she upset you that much?"

"She makes me angry," Harry said, sighing heavily. "I mean, the whole war does, obviously. But no one makes me as angry as Delores Umbridge does. Whenever I see her, I literally see red. I just want to hurt her, torture her and make her suffer."

"Understandable," Ginny said.

"Maybe," Harry replied. "But what does that make me? Some kind of monster. I'm afraid of what I'll do if I get too close to her, but I'm not afraid for her, I'm afraid for me."

"Why?"

"Why?" Harry asked, tilting his head slightly so he could look down at her. "Because she tortured all those muggleborns. She sent them to their deaths, and those she didn't...well, it was almost a fate worse than death. And she didn't do it because she was scared, or because her family was in danger if she didn't do the things she did—not that that excuses it, it just makes it much more understandable. She did it because it was enjoyable. She took pleasure in thinking she was much better than everyone else. She just represents everything that's awful with the old Ministry system and...yeah. That's why she makes me so angry."

"So what you're saying," said Ginny, rubbing circles onto his chest with a finger, "is that she makes you angry because of how she treated the muggleborns? Because of her actions?" She felt him nod. "Then you're not a monster. After everything she did to you personally, and you only hate her because of what she did to others? You're not a monster. And you're not even a bad person because you control your temper, no matter how much you want to hurt her. I don't know many people who could do that. I don't think I could..."

"Mmm," Harry said. "I still don't trust myself around her."

"So speak to Kingsley about it, like you said," she replied. "He's not going to force you to see her, especially if he knows how you feel."

"But I don't want any special treatment!" Harry exclaimed. Ginny hurriedly hushed him and they both lay still for a moment, waiting for any sound to come from her parents' room, but it didn't. "Sorry. It's just...the other Aurors don't get to pick and choose which criminals they don't want to have to deal with, so why should I get to?"

"Yeah, no," Ginny said, shaking her head. "You told me yourself that they do: if there's a case that affects you personally—like if I go on a killing spree or whatever—you're not allowed to be the person who investigates. Frankly, you shouldn't be working on half the cases you're on at the moment because all those people are connected to you through the war, but half the time you're their only option. You've done so much for the Auror Department already that if Kingsley doesn't take you off the Umbridge case like you want I'll...I'll...I'll Bat-Bogey him myself!"

"I think there's probably people who guard Kingsley who wouldn't allow you to hex him," Harry said, very seriously.

"I'll do it anyway!" Ginny said fiercely, then both of them realised the ridiculousness of the situation and started laughing, trying to keep as quiet as they could. "Ssh!" Ginny hissed, whilst giggling helplessly.

Harry pulled the duvet up over their heads. "What're you doing?" Ginny asked.

"I'm trying to muffle the sound!" he replied, as though it were obvious.

"Ohh, I thought you were trying to suffocate us!" she answered. "Death by duvet." They both started laughing again, and gradually, their giggles died away until Harry's breathing became deep and even. Ginny thought he had fallen asleep until he started gently stroking her hair, and she snuggled into him. It all felt shockingly intimate, and she froze for a moment before relaxing. It was just Harry. Just Harry.

"What?" he asked, obviously having sensed her momentary discomfort. "Gin?" he prodded a few moments later, when she still hadn't said anything.

"When you first turned up," she said slowly, "I was a bit...nervous."

"Nervous? Why?" he asked.

"Being around you makes me nervous sometimes," she said. He stopped stroking her hair. "Oh, it's nothing you've done. It's just that...I li—love you a lot. And sometimes, when I haven't been around you for a while, I forget that. But then I see you again and it all comes flooding back to me and...how much I love you scares me."

"Why?" Harry asked.

Ginny pulled the duvet down, so she was able to look into his eyes. "Because I'm scared you're going to leave me," she said.

"I would never—" Harry began indignantly, but she shook her head.

"Not leave me in a run-off-with-some-Veela way," she said. "Leave me like what happened before. Because...I don't know if I could survive living like that again. Last Christmas...last Christmas I couldn't go five minutes without wondering if you'd just been killed. I know it was necessary. I know that. But I don't want to ever have to go through that again. I don't think I could go through that again."

"Ginny," he said. She looked at him, and kept looking, and he looked right back at her. "I won't do that to you again. And...I don't know if I ever said this but...I'm sorry. I am sorry I put you through that."

She breathed deeply, willing herself not to cry. "Thank you for saying that."

"I should have said it a long time ago."

"You should have. But that's okay," she answered. She smiled. "I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago. It's probably completely irrational that I'm still scared you'll leave me, but..."

"No, it's not irrational," he said. "It's perfectly understandable. But I won't leave you again...I need you too much for that. Not even Ron and Hermione..." He trailed off. "You're the person I would fly across the country at midnight to see, even though it's freezing cold and you're worried about certain parts of your anatomy falling off, because...well, because I need you. When I've had a bad day—a truly awful day—you're the only one who can make it better."

"And there was me thinking it was just a big romantic gesture," she said. She made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, and Harry squeezed her tightly.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," she said. "I really, really do."

He kissed her, his lips gentle and soft against hers. They didn't say anything else—they didn't need to—and she tucked the duvet around them, arranging herself around his body so they could both fit comfortably in her small single bed. Their breathing evened, and she felt her eyes beginning to close, when a thought struck her.

"Harry!"

"What?" he asked, fuzzily. "Don't worry, I've already set my alarm. I'll be out of here before your parents wake up..."

"No, it's not that," she said, giggling softly. "Just...why didn't you apparate? You were complaining about the cold, so why did you fly here?"

Harry stared at her for a moment, before slapping himself on the forehead and groaning. "I can't believe I forgot I can apparate now!" he said, and Ginny shoved the pillow over her face to stifle her giggles. "God I'm an idiot."

"Don't worry dear," she said soothingly, still trying to smother her laughter. "When we get married, I'll make all the important decisions like that for you."

"I'm looking forward to it, Mrs Potter-to-be," he replied.

They both lay there for a moment, before being struck by the same thought and sitting bolt upright in bed at the same time.

"Wait..." said Ginny.

"Did we just...?" asked Harry.

"I think we did," she replied. "Well."

"When I propose properly, do you promise to be surprised?" he asked, smiling.

"Almost as surprised as I was to find you outside my window tonight," she answered.

"God, I'm stuck with you now, aren't I?" he asked. She kicked him in the leg and he chuckled. "Goodnight, Ginevra."

Ginny smiled. Never before had she appreciated just how lovely her full name could sound.

Written for hpshipweeks's Harry x Ginny week (hpshipweeks dot tumblr dot com if you're interested in finding out more) and also thefirstservant as part of the Gift Giving Exchange. Sorry it's so late, but I hope you still enjoyed. As ever, I am still not JKR nor do I own any HP-related rights, and I should also disclaim the title and lyrics which come from Slow Club's *Nine voice* fantastic Christmas TV. Yeah yeah November whatever. Hope you enjoyed!