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Author: parakletos Story: Twelve Months Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-OotP Status: WIP Warning: Sexual Situations Reviews: 18 Words: 206,778
Ginny spent a surprisingly uneventful afternoon serving in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The twins pounced on her as soon as she walked in to the shop, eager to tease her. Several interesting hexes later, they retreated to the stock room and left her on her own to serve the sparse afternoon trade. She was grateful that the few customers that did enter the shop were relatively undemanding. The time in between each one left more than enough space to ponder her lunch with Harry. Her mind kept replaying the events over and over as she tried to make sense of it all. But as much as she tried she couldn't resolve the conflict raging inside her. Okay, she knew that she hadn't been completely honest with him, but she was having such a difficult time understanding it herself. And if she couldn't understand it herself how could she possibly explain it to him? As she finished rearranging the counter display of Cheeky Charms for Cheeky Chappies, she let out a long exasperated sigh and thumped the counter top in frustration. The books tumbled to the floor behind the counter, where they sat in an untidy heap waiting for her to pick them up. Instead she slumped down next to them and buried her head in her hands. She wanted to scream and shout and kick things. Life was so unfair! What she had told him, her 'official' excuse for making him wait, was true… he really didn't know her that well. How could he? she thought with a sigh. I don't even know myself – there are parts of me that I just haven't come to grips with yet. But, there was so much more, and it was all so complicated and confusing. Over the past few years they had spent a lot of time together and yet had never really got to know each other. There had never been the time to talk about the more prosaic things of life; the sort of things that boyfriend and girlfriend fill pointless hours with when all that counts is time together. At school the only time they had alone was when the curtains around Harry's bed were closed. Even Dumbledore had learned that failure to respect the "do not disturb" sign could have some very serious consequences. Leaving the shop at half past five, she left her brothers to lock up. Politely declining their invitation to join them in meeting Lee Jordan in the Leaky Cauldron, she flooed home, glad to be away from their questioning stares. After the obligatory whirl of flames and spinning had stopped, she stepped wearily out of the fireplace and into the kitchen. It's a good job Harry isn't with me, she thought with a smile. I'd be picking the-Boy-Who-Tripped up from his embarrassed soot-covered heap on the floor. Voldemort and Death Eaters he could handle, but a ten-second journey by floo had always left him flummoxed. And that, she reflected fondly, was his attraction; the greatest wizard of his age one moment and the lost boy she saw at Kings Cross all those years ago the next. She sighed, unable to stop herself feeling sad at the passing of the old Harry. Don't change too much, Harry James Potter. She had expected to find her mother in the kitchen preparing the evening meal, but the room was surprisingly quiet. Ginny breathed in deeply, trying to relax from all the tension she had allowed to build up during the day. The welcoming aroma of beef stew filled her lungs as she did so. Well, that explains why Mum isn't in the kitchen, she thought. Taking advantage of this unexpected break, she made her way carefully to the foot of the stairs, intent on spending a good part of the evening in her bedroom. The day's events had left her in a tiswas and Harry's new attitude in particular had thrown her. She had not expected him to react so reasonably to her initial rejection of his proposal, let alone show a maturity that she knew she couldn't match. At the back of her head she felt the beginnings of a headache. It had been nagging away for a while, and she knew that it would only get worse under her mother's probing. If only Harry were here, she sighed. Harry had come to her rescue on many an occasion during her sixth year. At the end of a long day, when the war and too much homework had filled her with tension, his strong hands were there, gently easing the stiffness out of her troubled muscles. The groaning that accompanied it, and the contented grin that followed, only added to their reputation of being the most sexually active couple in Gryffindor Tower. Would that our relationship were that simple, she thought. What appeared to everyone on the outside to be a great friendship born out of a love of Quidditch, a mutual dependence on each other and great sex, was in fact very different and far more complex. It was an odd symbiotic relationship where real love and affection was all too often submerged beneath the need to do whatever was necessary to survive a horrifying war. Every so often, they managed to escape, usually in the company of the other, and for a few hours they were two teenagers walking hand in hand, enjoying a few stolen moments and forgetting the call of destiny. She made her way quietly up the stairs, avoiding the noisy steps with the practised ease of an inveterate sock stealer. Pausing on the final step before the third landing, she made one final check to see that she was still alone before opening her bedroom door. Except it was already open and her mother was bent over her chest of drawers, slowly emptying the contents of the worn-out wicker washing basket that sat half empty on the bed. Pausing on the threshold, Ginny debated whether she still had time to retreat to the relative safety of the kitchen before her mother spotted her. She had, however, failed to account for the parental sixth sense which gave Molly Weasley eyes in the back of her head, and had enabled her to manage a house full of unruly Weasley children without giving up her sanity. "Hi Ginny," said her mother without looking up, "are the twins going to be home by half past seven?" Surprised, but pleased, that her lunch with Harry wasn't the first topic of conversation, she answered her mother guardedly. "Well," she said picking her words with care, "they know what time you expect them, but they went off to the pub to see Lee Jordan, so the short answer is 'I don't know'." "Well, if they expect to stroll in here, drunk as skunks again, then they'll be in for a piece of my mind." Ginny winced as she remembered the last time the three former Gryffindors met in the Leaky Cauldron for an impromptu board meeting. Everyone in The Burrow had had a rude awakening in the early hours of the morning as a drunken scrum of hexes, Old Speckled Hen, red hair and dreadlocks had demolished first the fireplace and then half the kitchen. Her Mum turned her attention back to the task of putting Ginny's clothes away, humming to herself as she did so. "It's okay, Mum," she said, picking up the rest of her clothes from the basket. "I can finish off here. Why don't you go and put your feet up until dad comes home?" Her mother gave her a knowing smile. "It's nice of you to offer, dear, but I'm nearly finished. Now," she said with an air of feigned indifference, "why don't you hand me the rest of your clothes and tell me how lunch with Harry went?" Okay, Ginny said to herself, you can do this; straight face, straight bat. "It was okay," she offered, schooling her face to show no emotion. "He took me to a very nice French restaurant and we had a lovely time chatting about this and that. Then I went to the shop for the afternoon and then I came home." Her mother dropped all pretence at detachment, leant toward her daughter and gave her a conspiratorial wink. "Well don't keep me in the dark dear, what's he up to?" She had expected her mother to be eager, but she was shocked by her naked curiosity. "I think I'll let him tell you, Mum, after all it's his life, isn't it?" She fixed her Mum with a stare that said 'back off'. For a moment Molly met her stare, testing her daughter's resolve. The few moments of silence that accompanied their duel reminded Ginny of the many times mother and daughter had clashed in the past. But she was not going to back down this time. If she had to stare from now 'til Doomsday, she was going to win this one. Sensing that she was not to be moved, Molly turned back to her housework conceding defeat. She let out a long sigh as she put the last of the clothes away. "I suppose you're right, dear," she said breezily. "I'll let him tell me when he's home. Any idea when that'll be?" Ginny had learned the rules of this game with her mother very early on, and one of those was that the victor, especially if it were her, did not gloat. She smiled sweetly at her mother and carried on as if nothing had happened. "No Mum, sorry I don't. He said he had some stuff to sort out at Gringotts, but I've no idea after that." Her Mum picked up the now empty basket from the bed and headed towards the door. As she passed over the threshold she glanced back over her shoulder giving her daughter a weak smile. "All right dear, I'll ask him when he comes back." And with that her Mum left her alone in her room to brood over the day's events. Ginny lay down on her bed, intent on dissecting the last twenty-four hours, but her head had begun to throb and she closed her eyes, willing her headache to go away. Harry Potter, she thought, what have you done to me? I had you in a nice little box, safe, secure and predictable. And now? And now he was as predictable as the Hogwarts poltergeist, Peeves. The insecurities that had driven him for all his life as a wizard were gone. Where in the past he was wont to fly off the handle in a rage, he now was capable of remaining calm and finding a new way forward. This new approach both dismayed and delighted her. She knew that the next year was going to be very interesting. ~*~ She was woken by her mother's gentle tapping on the door. "Ginny, dear," she said gently, "it's tea time. I'm just about to dish up." Stretching and yawing, she let out a long sigh before climbing off the bed and slipping her feet into her battered old slippers. Still blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from her eyes, she shuffled her way to the door. Pausing on the landing, she took a deep breath and then shook her head in a final effort to wake up. Thankfully her headache was gone, and she began her slow descent towards the kitchen and the inevitable questions that mealtime would bring. Still yawning, she shambled down the last few steps before joining her mother, father and Ron at the table. Taking her seat in front of a steaming bowl of stew, she threw Ron a quick glance. Her brother stared at his bowl with such concentration that she knew that Hermione was pressing on with her plans for further study. Their on/off relationship had taken another lurch toward the gutter and she knew better than to try and interfere. Her parents were content to discuss goings on at the Ministry and when questions about her day came, they were innocuous in the extreme. She finished eating and, after clearing away her things, she feigned the continuation of her headache, retiring to her bed and the blissful oblivion of sleep. ~*~ Harry did not arrive home until after she was in bed, asleep. The next day he was up and out before she had risen, and came back late the following evening. That Friday, Ginny was again up early in an attempt to catch him before he left, but found only her mother in the kitchen. "Is Harry up yet, Mum?" she yawned. "He's long gone, dear. You'll have to get up earlier than this is you want to catch him." Ginny stood by the sink and looked out into the garden as if trying to catch a glimpse of him disappearing into the distance. So much for the new Harry Potter, she thought shaking her head. Didn't take you long to go back to your old ways, did it? Just because things have got a little tough doesn't mean you have to hide from me. Well, I'll be damned if I'm going to let a perfectly good friendship go down the pan, just because I didn't drop everything and agree to be your wife. Just wait until I get hold of you, you're going to wish you were facing Tom and his cronies. "Anything wrong between you and Harry, dear?" enquired her Mum. Ginny started at the sound of her mother's voice. "No Mum, there's nothing wrong," she lied. "Well, you can explain why you're wearing such an angry face then." Molly Weasley continued to set out the breakfast table whilst she waited for her daughter to answer. Ginny was annoyed that she had been so obvious with her emotions. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she smiled at her Mum. "No Mum, I'm fine." Her mother scrutinized her, before finally deciding that six thirty was too early in the day to resume their earlier contest. "If you need more sleep dear, I'd prefer you went back to bed rather than stomp around the house all day." "No Mum, I'm fine. I'm sure I'll be better after a cuppa." On cue, a steaming mug of tea made its way over to the kitchen table to the place where she normally sat. She pulled the dilapidated chair out and slid her small frame onto the shaky seat. Damn you, Potter, she fumed. You can't do this to me. You can't flit in and out of my life when you feel like it. So much for your promise that you'd try and get to know me better. If you have any plans on getting to know me you'd better rethink the way you're carrying on. As she drank her tea, she reflected that if she had accepted his proposal, she would not have to worry about being locked out of his life. In fact, if she had accepted his proposal, her world would not be as frustrating as it currently was. No, she thought, it could be worse. I would be sitting here, bored stiff, whilst Mum sat in front of me talking nineteen to the dozen about the wedding. Perhaps a Muggle wedding in Las Vegas would be best: quick and easy… I wonder if Elvis is free? "So Ginny, what do you want for breakfast?" "Just some toast and marmalade will be fine, Mum. Did you get the chance to speak to Harry about his plans for the day?" "No dear. I'm barely downstairs before he's out the door. Are you sure everything's all right between you two?" "Well, I'm sure everything's fine Mum; it's just that he has a lot of things to sort out at the moment. I don't want to say too much, but if he's not around for tea tonight, I'll bring you up to date." ~*~ Harry was home in time for tea and so she was spared the task of explaining his comings and goings to her family. He burst in through the front door, levitating a cloud of bags and packages before him. With no more than a cursory nod at the two Weasley women, he herded the shopping upstairs, slamming the door of his room behind him. Ten minutes later he reappeared in the kitchen looking very pleased with himself. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked at Ginny long and hard. "Let's go," he said. "I'm not going anywhere with you, Harry-I-come-and-go-as-I-feel-like-it-Potter," she replied. After a brief smile at Mrs Weasley, he marched over to where Ginny was sitting and, grabbing hold of her elbow, pulled the surprised teenager out of her seat and began to drag her towards the kitchen door. "Come on, Ginny, we're going for a walk," he declared in a tone that would brook no refusal. She struggled against his grip, but to her dismay his hold remained firm. "Harry, stop, you're hurting me! Mum, tell him…" Her Mum just smiled at her. "Tell him what, dear? Tea is in half an hour, Harry, so don't be too long." He nodded his thanks and continued to drag a flustered Ginny towards the door. She glared at her mother, channelling all her anger into one piercing stare. With her free hand she reached for her back pocket, searching for her wand. Molly shook her head gently, smiled and then lifted the missing wand from the pocket on the front of her pinny. Once they were through the door Harry kept hold of her arm, but as she began to struggle less, he relaxed his grip. Finally free from her constraint, she shook him off, but despite her anger at the way he had manhandled her, she continued to walk with him. She knew exactly where they were going. They had trod this path together many times before. They walked in awkward silence; the ease and comfort they had known previously lost in the maelstrom of the last few days. On reaching what had become their favourite spot under a gnarled oak tree, Harry conjured a blanket, sat down and motioned to Ginny to join him. He could tell from her body language that she was still angry at him, but in the end she relented and sat down, an angry scowl evident on her face For a while they sat in silence, neither looking at the other, the only sound the low buzz of insects in the long dry grass. It was gone six o'clock, but the sun still shone brightly, covering them with the oak tree's shadow. Harry had always enjoyed their moments together in this place. They had spent blissful afternoons watching soft, white clouds drift across the azure sky, content that they were with each other. Happy that for a brief moment in time they had found peace in the midst of war. Today was different, very different. Despite the agreement they had reached about the next twelve months, he found that Ginny's rejection had wounded him more than he'd thought. He had been certain that she would say yes and he was angry with himself for misjudging her. She was right, he thought, I don't know her, and in proposing, I've gone and wrecked our friendship. Not that he wanted to return to just being friends. During the insanity of the war, they'd come together like magnet and steel. One thing led to another and they'd taken up the habit of sleeping together, finding that the nightmares and insomnia disappeared when in each other's company. On those odd nights at school when her presence did not ensure instant sleep, he would have had to have been dead not to notice the woman she had become. Voldemort's plans may have cast a long shadow over their lives, but they couldn't obscure her beauty. Sometimes when she had fallen asleep, he had stayed awake watching her, bewitched by her beauty and wondering if there would ever come a day when they would be free to simply love each other. To be boy and girl, husband and wife, father and mother. Finally, he spoke. "So," he ventured, his voice wavering. "Yes, Harry?" Her voice was flat, betraying no emotion. He winced at the lack of warmth it contained, but he pressed on. "I bet you're wondering what I've been up to over the last few days?" he said more cheerfully than he felt. "Well, that thought had crossed my mind, not to mention my Mum's mind, Ron's, Fred and George's…" The coldness was still there. She wasn't going to let him off that easily. That's okay, he thought, if she wants to have an argument, I'm game, but I'd rather not. "Okay, Ginny," he declared, "I get the message. You can call off the hounds now." She turned to face him, her eyes blazing with anger. Her jaw clenched as she spoke. "Well, what have you been up to? Running away? That's very old school, Harry. You did that when you were a surly schoolboy. The new thing is to care and to care passionately." He ignored the jibe. He would not rise to the bait, he couldn't afford to. "I've spent a lot of time running, if that's what you mean. I signed up to a Muggle gym where I've been using a personal trainer to help get me in shape. I've been to Hogwarts to spend some time flying and I've done a lot of sorting out at Gringotts. You know, the more time I spend there, it seems the less I sort out. It turns out I've got a Muggle stockbroker, accountant, lawyer and even an estate agent." As he talked, he noticed that her anger began to subside as he kept his calm. She had obviously been spoiling for a fight, but his time was short and he couldn't waste it. "What do you need an estate agent for?" she asked. Her voice was almost warm, he thought. "Well, somewhere along the line, I've managed to become a bit of a property magnet." "Sorry, Harry, I know I'm probably being a bit thick here, but I thought magnets attracted metal. I did get an "O" in my Muggle Studies OWL, but this one's beyond me." A brief smile flashed across her lips before it vanished behind her stony façade. Okay, he thought, time to confront this. "Well, I could be patronising," he replied "but I figure you're mad enough with me without that." "Oh, you've noticed? Well done, Harry, and here was me thinking you were still the same immature person who skulked around The Burrow after the Ministry fiasco." Something inside him snapped. If she'd wanted to be more hurtful, she could have brought up his parents' death, but this was bad enough. What was with her tonight? He stood up, walking away from the blanket as he tried to deal with his rising anger. He turned and faced her, his face incandescent with rage. "Okay, enough is enough," he snapped. "If you want to have an argument, then fine, we'll have an argument. Then perhaps we can talk about the things that are important instead of this 'Don't shut me out of your life' crap." Ginny was angry, very angry, and his rage only added fuel to the fire. "Okay then, let's have an argument," she said, pulling herself up and walking over to him. Standing in front of him, hands on hips, she delivered her broadside. "Let's talk about you walking away, let's talk about the fact that you've spent the last few days before you go to Puddlemere, on your own. You've barely spoken to my Mum; you've not spoken to me at all." She was in full flow now, fuming as she gave vent to the feelings she'd lived with over the last few days. "You know what, Mr Potter?" she said, jabbing him in the chest with her index finger. "I felt awful in saying no to you, but now I'm glad I did. You can be such a selfish bastard that I don't know why I even thought twice about it." She stood shaking with emotion, waiting for his response. When it came, it surprised her. He had listened impassively to her rant. He was aware that he had been preoccupied with his own affairs and he'd hoped to put that right tonight. He'd bought going-away presents for all the Weasleys and had wanted nothing more than to spend a couple of hours with her, letting her know how much she meant to him. She had changed that, and he now had to choose to stay and fight or go. He chose to stay. "You know what, Ginny?" he said stepping close to her. "What?" she snapped. "You're right, all except the bastard part. Mum and dad were married when I came along, so I'm an orphan, not a bastard. You're also beautiful when you're angry. Scary, but very beautiful." "Well let me tell you, mister, that if you think that…" "Shush," he said, placing his finger gently on her lips. They felt soft, warm and very kissable. "You've had your say, now let me have mine. If you want to hex me after that, then you can. I'll go and we'll put all this behind us. You'll never have to speak to me again if you don't want to." He fought hard to keep his voice calm hoping that his anger would not show through. "I know that I've been selfish this week…" "You can say that again." "As I was saying…" He glared at her, willing her to shut up and listen before he said something he regretted. "I know that I've been selfish this week, and I'm sorry about that. You offered to help me out and all I've done is ignore you. I apologise, Ginny, unreservedly. I was wrong. Will you forgive me?" "Yes, Harry, I will." He let out a huge sigh of relief. "Thank you. You don't know how relieved I am." "I think I do. But please don't do this to me again. I'm not God, I'm a girl and I don't have a sea of forgetfulness." He looked at her trying to read her eyes. The coldness had gone but doubt still lingered there. "I'll try not to, honestly I will." He smiled at her, willing her to smile back. She looked away from him, walked back to the blanket, and sat down. She motioned to him to do the same. "So," she said, smiling at him as he sat next to her, "apart from hob-nobbing with the Goblins and counting your money, what else have you been doing?" "I've been doing a lot of thinking." "About?" "About us." "Oh. Come to any conclusions?" "I've been thinking…" he continued "You've said that already, Harry," she teased, now warming to the task of baiting him. Exasperated, he ran both of his hands through his hair before letting them rest on the back of his head. He let out a long sigh and shook his head. If he'd know that it was going to be this hard to be mature, he would have stuck to being moody a long time ago. "Ginny," he enquired raising his eyebrows, "do you really want to know what I have to say or are you going to prattle on all evening?" She stifled her grin, realising that she had pushed him as far as was prudent for one evening. "Sorry, Harry, carry on." "These next few weeks are not going to be easy for either of us. I'm going to be so focused on making the team that I'll probably have little time for anything else. We'll only be able to speak by owl and even then we'll only be able to use Hedwig to begin with." "Why's that, aren't the Weasley owls posh enough for a professional Quidditch player?" He could hear the taunting in her voice, but again he decided that he would ignore it. "That's not the problem. The team has strong wards in place to keep out unwanted owl post, howlers and the like. All post, other than that delivered by the family owl, gets diverted to an office that deals with fan mail." "So I'm just a Harry Potter fan girl, then?" she sniggered. "Shall I ask you to sign my cleavage or just send you a pair of my knickers?" "Well, Ginny," he mused in mock seriousness, "that's a hard one." He rested his chin on his hand as he pondered the choice before him. "I'll think I'll go for the… knickers!" He pounced on her, pinning her to the blanket with his knees and reached down to her waist. Grabbing hold of her belt with one of his free hands and started to unbuckle it. "The knickers, Weasley, I want the knickers," he yelled playfully as she struggled to throw him off her. She pushed against him, punched him very hard on his thighs and even tried, unsuccessfully, to use her elbow to reduce his chances of bearing children, all to no avail. Suddenly she stopped moving and smiled at him. He had seen that smile before and a shiver ran down his spine as he climbed off her. "Okay," she beamed pulling herself to her feet, "the knickers it is, then." And with a flourish she pulled her belt out of her trousers, dropped it to the floor and slid the zip down with exaggerated slowness. "No!" yelled Harry leaping over to grab her jeans as the zip reached the bottom of the fly exposing the ivory coloured lace that lay underneath her jeans. "Please, don't. The joke's over, okay?" "What's the matter, don't you want my knickers?" she teased. "Or are you afraid of what might happen if I do take them off?" This, he reflected, is I love this woman. She can go from being angry to having fun in the twinkling of an eye. And what's more, she can cope with my moodiness as well. She stood before him, hands on the waistband of her jeans, a sly grin on her face. He could see the briefest glimpse of the underwear he was claiming so determinedly just a few moments ago. Over the last few years, there had been very few overtly sexual moments in their relationship and each time he had never worked out whether Ginny was indicating that she was ready to move things onto a more physical nature, or if she was just as unsure as he was. In his mind he'd always imagined waiting until they were married, but tonight with her underwear exposed, he was having second thoughts. "So, Harry," she challenged, her hands fingering nervously with the waistband of her jeans, "what's it to be?" For all her bravado and all her teasing, he could see from her body language that she wasn't ready and that was all he needed to know. He picked up her belt and held it out to her. "Ginny, you'll always be more than a fan girl to me. You've always known what I thought about all that, right from when you stood up to Lucius Malfoy all those years ago." "Oh please, don't remind me." She did up her fly before taking her belt from his outstretched hand. "Thanks." The look she gave him told him that she was grateful that he hadn't pushed it. "Anytime, Ginny, anytime." Once she'd finished dressing he took her hand and led her back to the rug. They sat holding hands, enjoying being a couple, knowing that these moments were going to become rarer over the next few weeks and months. "Did I tell you they've asked me to stay up there until the end of the month?" "No, Harry, you haven't told me anything since, well, you know." "Well, they have. They've put me up with the Kit Manager and his family. I won't be back at The Burrow until first of September at the earliest. So, I'm not going to be able to spend a lot of time getting to know you, am I?" "Well, you have got a whole year." She smiled as she spoke causing her eyes to sparkle and that made Harry smile as well. "I want to do a thorough job. Leave no stone unturned, no Avenue unexplored." "You make me sound like a place, not a person," she laughed. "Sorry dear, I'll put the guide books away, then." "Apology accepted, Mr Potter. The book about me is still waiting to be written." "Well, hopefully I'll be the one to write it." She gently laid her hand on his arm. "In your dreams, Harry James Potter, in your dreams." "Very pleasant dreams, Ginny, very pleasant dreams." He looked at her with such intensity that she had no doubt as to what sort of dreams he meant. "Well, what I was proposing..." Laughing, she interrupted him. "You don't give up easily do you?" "What I was proposing," he said, pushing her playfully, "is we go away for the weekend, if your parents will allow it." "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm of age. I can make my own decisions… in everything," she said knowingly in a voice that was lower than normal. "I'm not a little girl any more," she teased, batting her eyelids at him, "in case you hadn't noticed. We don't need to ask them. You never know, whisk me away and some of your dreams might come true." He coughed nervously. "I know, but I'd feel happier if they were okay with it." "Okay, have it your way. When were you thinking of?" "September twenty-fourth to twenty-eighth, we can make a long weekend of it. It's an international weekend so there'll be no game or training." "Okay," she said, "it's a date." They had reached another lull in their conversation and so they sat there in silence. Harry was pleased that he had found the courage to ask her to come away with him for the weekend, but he couldn't help but wonder about all the unasked and unanswered questions. Like waves on a beach, their conversation had rolled back and forth. He longed to take her in his arms but he wasn't sure how she would react. A lot, it seemed, had changed since Wednesday. It was Ginny who finally spoke. "So what about us then, Harry?" she asked. He saw that her gaze was steady, but she nervously bit on her bottom lip. "Didn't we talk that through before?" "We did, but…" "But what?" "What am I, Harry? Girlfriend, mistress, successful stalker?" He looked at her nonplussed. What, he thought, does she think we've been for the last three years, and did she contemplate showing her knickers to someone who wasn't her boyfriend? Girls! "That's erm… a bit of a strange question," he said, keeping his true thoughts to himself. "Why is it so strange? Doesn't a girl have a right to know these things?" Her voice was chilly, even accusatory, and he knew that he was back to square one. He looked at her, genuinely puzzled. He had never claimed to be an expert when it came to the fairer sex, but he was rapidly running out of patience with her tonight. That and his rumbling stomach told him that Mrs Weasley would be dishing up right about now. "Ginny, are you premenstrual? Because I'm struggling to find a reason for this emotional rollercoaster we've been riding tonight. I am not the enemy so please stop treating me as if I am!" Harry knew that his comment would only going to increase Ginny's ire, but he was getting to the point where he didn't care. Being patient and mature had only got him more grief, and he was beginning to wonder if it was worth it. Ginny's face said it all and she practically spat her next words at him. "I shall treat that comment with the contempt it deserves, Potter. Now answer my question!" "I thought I made my intentions clear." "And I made mine clear." "You're not my girlfriend." "Not your girlfriend?" she asked incredulously, "then why did you ask me out?" "Because I want more than what we've had." "So what am I?" "You're my friend, my closest friend. And," he said hesitantly, "the woman I want for my wife." "You don't keep secrets from your closest friend." "You do." "I do not." "Don't try and lie to me, please." He took her hold of her hand and grasped in firmly in his. It felt so small, she felt so small and now he knew that she was afraid. "We've always kept secrets from each other," he said softly. "It's how we kept sane during the war." "I know." She didn't look at him. Instead, she focused on his hand as if seeking comfort from his touch. He knew what was coming next, but it still broke his heart to hear it. "I just thought that, well some things in my past are too horrible to share. I wouldn't want anyone else to go through what I've been through." "I have to know all of you." "No," she growled, "no one is going to see what that monster did to me." "Why let him live on in your pain?" "You're no better; it's not as if you've gone running to St Mungo's for help either." "Don't change the subject..." "Why not? Isn't it up to me what I tell to whom? " "Ginny, I want to help. You've helped me so much, I want to …" "I don't need your sympathy and I don't want your help. Let's just drop this." "No, I don't want to." "Well I do. And that's the end of it." She stood up and walked towards the house before stopping on the edge of the oak tree's shadow. She stood with her back to him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, shaking violently. Whether it was anger or tears Harry couldn't tell, either way, he knew from past experience he had to let the storm blow itself out. It broke his heart to see her like this and he wished he could just wave his wand and make it all go away. Even from beyond the grave Tom Riddle's shadow polluted their lives. All the anger and frustration he had been feeling towards her disappeared and focussed instead on Voldemort. When would she be free of him? Free of the scars he had left on this beautiful woman. All he wanted to do was hold her; hold her in his arms until all the pain, all the hurt and all the dirt was gone. Rising slowly to his feet, he walked the few yards between them until he stood behind her now still body. Taking his courage in his hands, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. He felt her tense but she didn't push him away. Encouraged, he kissed her gently on the top of her head before letting his chin rest on her head She took a long deep breath and, as she let it out, he felt the tension leave her body. "So, what are we going to tell your family?" he said quietly. "You can tell them whatever you want," she said wearily, "I don't care." "So I can tell them I asked you to marry me, and you turned me down?" She turned around to face him resting her hands on his outstretched arms. "No, you bloody well can not," she laughed. "It's good to see you smile." "It's good to be smiling." "Well, what do we tell them? Your Mum keeps giving me looks as if she knows something and the twins have been very un-twin-like. Normally they tease the hell out of me, but they've been very quiet about it. I'm sure they know, and if that's the case we need to tell them." "No. I won't. Look Harry, they all think we're as good as married anyway. My Mum thinks I've slept with you, heck all of Hogwarts thought I was sleeping with you." "You were." "Yes, but you and I know that's all we did. Everyone else thinks we were at it like rabbits, and that's why we were tired all the time, when the truth was that we'd kissed and only kissed, what, half a dozen times? I had half the older girls in Gryffindor asking me if you were good in bed and the other half asking me for technical advice." "So what did you tell them?" "I gave up trying to convince them otherwise and so I just told them that you were a perfect gentleman in bed and I couldn't be more satisfied with how things were." "So you kept my reputation intact whilst ruining your own?" "Yeah, another thing you owe me for, Potter." "I owe you quite a lot, don't I?" "Well, I suppose you did save my life and I have a vague recollection of you saving the whole wizarding world once or twice. So we're nearly even." "I don't think we are. I will always been in your debt, Ginny." "Is that why you asked me to marry you?" "No. I asked you to marry me because I love you and I can't bear to think of a life that you're not part of. You complete me, Ginny. Without you I'm just that sulking broody guy you knew in school." "That's very sweet. So are you going to follow me round like a puppy dog until I say yes?" "If I thought it would work, yes, but I know you too well. I'm going to get on with my life. Play Quidditch, have some fun, play court to a beautiful redhead I know, that sort of thing." "Anyone I know?" "Well," he said placing a hand on his hip, "I hear that Ron's feeling a bit lonely recently!" Ginny burst out laughing and proceeded to tell him about the run-in she'd had with her brother on her way to meet him in Diagon Alley. "You know, Ginny, we could really wind them up something chronic with this, couldn't we?" "Much as I like to wind Ron up, I'm as straight as they come, but if that's your thing don't let me stop you." "Don't worry Ginny, I'm only interested in the opposite sex and I'm rather particular, I'm not interested in just anybody, you know." She looked at him rather pointedly, as if expecting him to say more and when he didn't, she quirked an eyebrow at him. He knew that she was waiting for him to make the next move, but now that she finally seemed ready for him, his own shyness and self-doubt had returned. He hadn't felt this nervous around her since the summer before his sixth year. Then, like now, he was unsure of how she felt. Then it had taken him three weeks to summon up enough courage to kiss her and now he didn't even have three hours. He had to know what she felt, he couldn't leave without knowing. There was only one thing to do. Time to stop pussy footing around, Potter. "Can I kiss you?" His voice betrayed the uncertainty he felt. She looked at him, peering as if to understand what he meant. "You've never asked me before. What's changed?" "I've never felt I needed to. Your eyes always told me what I needed to know." "And what do they tell you now?" "I don't know, and that scares me." "Why?" Her voice was soft, the question full of concern. "Because I'm leaving tomorrow and I won't see you for at least two weeks. The last time we were apart for that long was three years ago. I don't want to go if I don't know how you feel about me." "Harry, you know how I feel about you," she said, a hint of exasperation in her voice. "Do I, Ginny? Do I really?" He began to pace, running his fingers through his unruly mop. "Harry?" "What?" "Where are you going?" "Nowhere, I'm just…" "I thought you said that you wanted to kiss me" "I did, it's just that I thought..." "I know you've tried hard to curb your impulsiveness, but now is not one of those occasions. Sometimes it is okay to act on your feelings." He stopped pacing, but still nervously ruffled his hair. Then biting his bottom lip nervously, he walked slowly towards her, his eyes meeting hers, searching for the warmth that told him it was okay. He relaxed as her chocolate brown eyes returned his gaze, and the love he doubted was there earlier in the evening, was plain to see. "I'm sorry, Ginny," he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her close to him. She slid her arms around his waist. "What for this time, Harry?" He kissed her on the top of her head and breathed in the smell of her herbal shampoo. "For being a fool… again." "You've apologised once, and I did say that I forgive you, and I meant it. Just please don't do it again." "It's just that …" "Harry, it's done, it's over, forgotten. I forgave you, now can we move on please?" Harry offered a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity had blessed him with Ginny and slowly began to move his arms down her back until they came to rest on her backside. "So Potter," she said, a roguish smile decorating her face, "do I get this kiss or not?" Harry's hands began to slide over her bottom, enjoying her curves. "Only one? I'd planned on more than that!" She began to move her hips in response to his caresses, letting out a long sigh as she did. She slid her hands into his jean pockets and pulled him closer so that his hips ground into hers. "Kiss me, Harry, now." His lips found hers and soon they were lost in each other's arms, giving themselves to each other, letting the tension of the evening melt away. All doubt as to where they stood gone so that only the certainty of their love remained. Finally, reluctantly, they parted. "I love you, Ginny." "And I'm quite partial to you, too, Mr Potter." And with that simple declaration, they walked back toward The Burrow, Ginny's arm locked in Harry's, her head resting on his side. Harry was at peace with himself and ready to face whatever the world was ready to throw at him. A/N The line "I'm not God I'm a girl, and I don't have a sea of forgetfulness" is taken from the song All Right Here by Sarah Groves. The full line is "And I'm not God I'm a girl I confess that I don't have sea of forgetfulness".
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