Note: I was browsing through the fanfiction archive at SIYE and I saw a challenge about Lavender, Seamus, Luna, Ron, Neville, Hermione, Harry and Ginny in the Hogwarts Express train compartment, where they talk about their dreams if money, skill and time was not an issue. As you can see in this story, I have tweaked it a bit, because the challenge was long over and I thought I might write this for fun. I just love Harry/Ginny fics!

DISCLAIMER: Not conceived by me but written for the greater good.

Red

The firelight danced upon the walls, creating shadows and casting a red, warm, happy glow upon the room. And around the fire, six former students sat in companionable silence, the light on their faces mocking the sorrow in their hearts. Finding respite amidst a war was difficult, but they managed to take the time. It was amazing how crises could pack the trivial with so much gravitas.

The flaming, red-headed girl sighed, pulling her knees in closer to her. Ginny studied the faces of her dear friends and comrades closely. Each had lost so much in the ongoing battle. Each had sacrificed their time, lives and skill to aid in the Second War. At each death, they would weep, they would remember, but then, they would move on, as was what was asked of them; to have the courage to do what was necessary.

Beside her, the bookish, highly gifted, incredibly wise and intelligent brunette twisted her fingers together and wrung her hand, silently, repeatedly, a sign that Hermione Granger was nervous, or full of anticipation, or anxiety, or worry. Ginny couldn't really tell, for maybe it was all of them.

Next to Hermione was Ron, the tall, lanky boy with a shock of Weasley Red hair to match Ginny's. He was lying flat on his belly, propped up by his elbows, staring deep into the fire. After a moment or two he would shyly, slowly avert his eyes to Hermione, having a distant, faraway look in his eyes, a look that she knew all too well. It was of longing.

Thick-headed git, she suppressed the urge to snort. It was so blatantly obvious that he fancied her. But he was always shy, and he never could get around admitting his feelings. She thought that with the war people would be spurred on to do the things that they always wanted to do, similar to when someone was dying. Well, he had better her before he well…died. She shuddered at the thought of her brother dying.

Beside him sat Neville, the shy, sweet boy who had lost so much to one man's greed for power. He was sitting cross-legged; staring calmly into the fire, his hand entwined with Luna's who was beside him. He had been brave to choose her as his source of comfort, many others often found her flights of fancy alarming, but there was a hidden rationality behind her simple if yet strange logic. Only he could perceive it, and only he could discern the dreamy beauty that was Luna. She was happy for the pair, but she couldn't bring herself to look upon the last person, the one who had given her so much heartache.

As if he knew she was watching him, he looked up from staring at the ground, and emerald orbs slowly drew her into their rapturous gaze. They caught her eyes, and held them there, wishing, waiting, wanting for a whole eternity…

She broke their contact, wishing no more for wanting something that she could not have. Oh, damn those green eyes and those raven locks, with a face so handsome and yet so sorrowful she wanted to run over and kiss him, and tell him that he need not carry his burden alone. She wanted just to share the weight of the world with him, to live with him, to love him, to die with him.

Oh, damn that Harry James Potter.

She needed to take her mind off him. Already she was exhibiting the tell-tale signs of intoxication: heavy breathing, roving eyes anywhere but him, nervous fidgeting, or tapping, or wringing of hands, or all three. She couldn't forget him, not yet, not ever. He was the one who stole her heart.

How had they become so silent? Was it something she said, or Hermione, or Luna? Or was it just Harry and his taciturn mood that infected everyone with the sudden urge to fill the air with nothing? It was supposed to be a reunion; not a funeral. Why could they not at least say something, or have some sort of conversation? Why could they not just leave Voldemort, or the War, or Death Eaters behind for a while, and be as old friends were?

She cast around anxiously for something to occupy her mind with. Or maybe something that they could do. The silence was becoming a little unbearable. Something that would make them talk, something that would make her forget him. Anything.

"Tell us your dreams," she said abruptly. When everyone looked at her questioningly, she continued, "Let us share our ambitions, our aspirations, things we have always wanted." She stood up, the light of passion in her eyes, "Unlock your dreams for today, and imagine what if we never had this scourge upon our backs?"

Hermione cut in, "give us one more reason to fight the weary battle. Give us another motivation to face another day."

"For if we share our dreams," Ron said, "We fight for something good and true! Think; if this war is fought and won, we might live to see these days renewed!"

"May I have the honour of going first?" said the dreamy Luna. Everyone nodded.

"I have a dream," she began, "I am sitting upon the back of the Mighty Lawanda the Elephant. We both have a mission, a desire, a destination to get somewhere! But," she whispered conspiratorially, "We don't know what or where it is! We have to keep searching, and when we find it our hearts will be at peace." She paused, as if unsure, and everyone almost muttered, "Go on!"

"Lawanda, the Mighty African Elephant, (oh, you don't know what an elephant is? It's a huge animal Ronald, with a long trunk) my long time friend, has carried me through many adventures. We have explored hidden realms, uncovered lost treasures, found the Crumple-horned Snorkack, (at this Hermione had great difficulty trying not to snort) but this adventure will be the last for the both of us. I want to settle down and have a family, and Lawanda wants to retire to the great Jungles and eat the lovely Golden Mangoes all day." At this Luna took a deep breath.

"The Journey is wrought with peril. We braved the great and stormy Sea, fought countless monsters, went through many a hot desert, and when we passed through a country there was a war going on we were dragged into it!" at this Neville imperceptibly squeezed her hand tighter. "But we always came out safe, as if there was a God who protected us and wanted us to reach the peace we so desired. So we plodded on."

"Finally after traveling for seven months, seven weeks, seven days, seven hours, seven minutes and seven seconds," (at this Hermione wanted to protest that it would be eight months and three weeks as seven weeks was already more than a month, but Ron silenced her) "we come to a great expanse of Nothing," at this everyone flinched, "And right at the border was a man so small and stout like Professor Flitwick. I dismount Lawanda gracefully, and he asks us what the object of our desire is. We both answer that it is to be at peace. As soon as we say it, the Nothingness dissolves, or falls away, or melts, and in its place is the Great and Verdant and lush Jungle. Lawanda lets out a trumpet of joy and charges in; she is at peace. But I am not, so I say farewell to her, and wander around in the Jungle, tasting, seeing, feeling, touching, and smelling. The more I wander, the darker it gets, when I see it."

She paused. Everyone said, "See what?" she smiled a little, and then she said, "The White Orchids, of course. They are renowned for being able to heal any sickness or affliction in the world. Reaching out to grab it, when I touch it I am transported to a different place. I look around; it is St. Mungo's. I see the White Orchids in my hands. I start walking, never really knowing where I want to go, only my desire for peace leading me on. Then, when I enter a ward, I see Neville, and Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom, his parents. I rush forward, my desire dictating my movements, and I boil the Orchids in hot water, and I give it to his parents to drink. They get up, healed, and hug Neville, saying how proud they are of him, and there are tears all around, and," at this she sighed dreamily, "I am at peace." Looking at all of them serenely, she said, "That is my dream."

Ginny could see that Neville had tears on his face. Luna was rubbing his back in slow circles, comforting him. Then Ron spoke.

"My dream," he said haltingly, "Is to play for the Chudley Cannons. I am their Keeper, and their team captain, and through rigorous training and much hard work, I will restore to them their former Glory. We will be the top of the league, and we will have win after win. And at the match for the Quidditch Cup, the final match, we are playing against Bulgaria, against Viktor Krum!" everyone rolled their eyes at this.

"I assure my team that we will make it. We fly out onto the pitch; everyone is screaming and cheering for us, and I spot Harry, and Mum and Dad, and Bill, and Charlie, and Percy, even he came round, and the twins are promoting Weasleys Wizard Wheezes again and Ginny too! My whole band of supporters. And of course, there is Hermione. She is my most faithful supporter, coming down for every match and almost every practice, despite the amount of work she is doing for spew, (at this Hermione said, 'it's S.P.E.W!', her face red in embarrassment or indignation) and every time I see her face, shining with pride, I know I can do it." At this Hermione blushed deeply.

"We win, and at the party, everyone is cheering and clapping us on the back and are so proud of us. But I don't see 'Mione anywhere. So I go to the garden, and she is there, smiling, and waiting for me to come out. Then, she hands me a scrapbook detailing the history of the Chudley Cannons, and our wins, and the pictures of us in the air. And I know how much work she had gone though to painstakingly put it all together, and only Hermione is capable of doing that. And then she hugs me, and she says, "Ron, I am so proud of you."

And hearing that, I realize that it's probably one of the rare times she has said that to me, and I love hearing it. And then, nothing else matters, not our winning of the cup, or the fact that everyone loves us now, but only that Hermione Granger hugged me and said that she was proud of me." Then Ron, looking up from the ground, looked at Hermione in the eyes and said, "That is my dream." He quickly ducked his head to hide the blush that was creeping across his face by his straightforwardness.

Hermione looked at him, wonderment in her eyes, and a faint, soft smile tugging at her lips. She put her hand tentatively on his, and he grasped hers quickly, as if fearful that she would go away. Ginny smiled, one thing echoing in her mind, "it's about bloody time.

Hermione spoke up, light shining in her eyes, "My Dream would be to have unlimited access to all the archives and records in the Halls of Learning in Paris." The Halls of Learning were the largest collection of magical texts and records in the whole world, and only those with pressing questions that needed answers could enter there, and it was only a select few. "I would be given admittance for life, and with gusto I would delve into the great collection of books and to my beloved research. I would research about the house-elves, and how they could be set free," everyone rolled their eyes at this, "And then I would take my time reading through the countless books they have there. But every time Ron has a match with the Cannons I would without fail go to each and every one of them, not wanting to miss them for the world, for people are dearer to me than books and learning. That is my dream." Ginny could see her blinking back tears, and Ron squeezed her hand tighter. She whispered something to him, and he announced to the group that they needed some time alone. Everyone watched them go, with a warm feeling fluttering in their hearts that at least the two of them had indirectly acknowledged their affection for each other.

Now if only Harry would feel the same way. Ginny could feel the same ache that longing had worn into her heart. It was familiar, an old wound that never really went away, but she would rather have the heartache than not have any emotion at all. She willed herself to listen to Neville as he told them his dream.

"My dream is simple," he said. "I've always wanted to meet my parents and actually be their son. But they were always… you know," he hung his head at this. "So, when Luna cures them, she has given me everything I have ever wanted. I will spend all my time with them. We will go traveling, spend time with each other. Luna will come, and I will tell them about how wonderful she is, and I will be able to do all the things I could never get to do with my parents." Ginny looked at Harry concerned, but his face betrayed no sign of any sorrow. "You know what I have always wanted to do?" asked Neville. "I want to lie in the grass at night with them, with a full sky of stars overhead, and together we would name all the constellations and joke and just spend time together. And then, they will turn to me, and with love shining in their eyes, they will say, "Neville, we are so proud of you." If only I c-could hear them say that, just once, I would be so happy." Neville looked up, tears in his eyes. Luna hugged him tenderly.

Then, for the first time in the whole evening, Harry spoke, "Neville, I promise you, I will do everything I can, until there is not a breath left in me, to defeat Voldemort." His eyes were a flaming emerald. He spoke so tersely and determinedly that it made Ginny start.

"Thanks Harry," said Neville. He turned to Luna and together, by mutual consent got up. Turning to Ginny he said, "Do you mind if we had some time alone?"

"Sure, not at all," she said. Sure, just leave me alone with Harry Bloody Potter. Why do I feel that…

Her internal ranting was interrupted by Harry's quiet voice saying, "Your turn, Ginny."

Normally she would refuse to be cowed by anyone, much less a boy. But when she saw how he had drawn his knees up to his chest and was staring into the fire vacantly, she had not the heart to refuse. Taking a brave step she stood up and sat down next to him, hoping that her presence would comfort him. Instead, he flinched slightly. She felt hurt, but dismissed it. She gazed into the fire, watching the dancing flames flicker and prance. If only she had their confidence.

"I want to travel the world. Maybe have a job full of excitement, a curse-breaker like Bill," she said, looking at him. "I want to see Europe; France, Germany, Italy, Venice, and then I want to go to India, see the land that holds so many colours and treasures. Then I want to see Egypt again, all the tombs and the pyramids and the history and myth," she lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. "But then, after a while, I will get tired of all this glamour and emptiness. It's just… meaningless. I'm just earning Galleons and neglecting my life, my heart! So I will return home, take leave from my job, and be allowed to be fussed over by Mum. I would eat her marvelous cooking once again, and once again I will proclaim that it is the best food I have ever tasted. I will lie, content and happy, under the stars in the field, and like Neville said, watch the constellations." At this she dreamily used her finger to trace imaginary trails in the air. "I will see Cassiopeia, and Sirius, (at this the breath in both their throats hitched) and I will see Capricorn, and Orion, Sagittarius, and Gemini, and all the others I have forgotten. I will curse in frustration, because I cannot remember them all, and then he will come, and he will lie down next to me, and in a soft voice he will name the rest of the constellations with me, and I will look into his emerald eyes and fall in love all over again."

She knew it was a foolish thing to tell him, especially when the emerald eyes gave away that it was actually him that she was talking about. She did not want to look at him right now, especially after such a heart-on-sleeve (as her mother would call it) outpouring. For every time she looked into those shocking green eyes her heart would involuntarily flutter. She was still in love with him, after so many years. At last she managed to choke out in a broken voice, "That is my dream," she sighed, willing the heart-ache to disappear.

"You're last Harry. Spill," she commanded, in a tone reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley. He looked at her for a moment, searchingly, and she toyed with some of her hair nervously. To her immense shock, he lay down next to her, and he breathed in the scent of wildflowers, her smell. Then, he turned to face her, and she looked into his eyes and was captivated.

"My dream probably wouldn't even come true, even if we fight the war and win. But this has been my dream for the longest time. I want to share it with you," suddenly, hearing those words come from him, it sent a tingle down her spine. She shivered, not wanting to break their gaze.

"I am walking down Diagon Alley, and I am just plain old Harry. No one notices me or gives me a second glance, and I blend in with the crowd, perfectly normal, for I am not known for conquering Voldemort, or being the Chosen One, Or the Boy-Who-Lived. I'm perfectly normal, and loving it. I love the way the crowd pushes against you, not knowing who another is, instead of giving me a wide berth. I love the way the shopkeepers are so friendly, not because I am Harry Potter, but because they are. I don't suppose that could happen now," he said with a wry grin. She looked down, wishing she could take it all away. He was never supposed to face the Dark Lord, not one so young! But with a tender hand, he put it under her chin and raised her head.

"The din is tremendous, but I prefer it to deathly silence any day. But then," he propped himself on one elbow as he said the words, "The world around me is muted out, and suddenly, everything just becomes a swirling gray. The smell of wildflowers invades the air, and I am drawn to it. There is silence yes, but silence of a sweet kind, like the soothing balm of the forest at dawn just before the sun begins to rise," she felt her heart beat faster at his poetic words. "For I see her, a vision of loveliness come down from the heavens above, to bless and grace this earth with her beauty. In my world only she is there, dancing, laughing, fire in her eyes, silver in her voice, ringing out clear and beautiful across the land. And with out thinking, I run after her." Ginny felt a pang in her heart when she heard him describe his angel. His voice was quiet, his breathing was labored, but his expression was unmistakably fervent. She wished she were the one to be able to make him feel that way.

"I run, but she is ever before me, and I cannot catch her, and I cry out in anguish. She is gone! I wander dejectedly around the world, searching, needing, wanting," at this he trailed off, and he smiled faintly. She cocked her head, wondering why he would stop, but he continued.

"I push open a door, and I walk through a kitchen where a woman is cleaning up after dinner. I follow the smell of wildflowers, and when I go out the back door, and I see her. She is lying in the field, and she curses, for she cannot remember the names of all the constellations. She does not run; she does not notice me at all. So, I lie down beside her, and slowly, together, we name all the constellations. And I know that I have fallen in love," he said.

"But how do you know it is her? How do you separate her from the throng of people?" asked Ginny. It was a question asked mostly with bitterness, laced with yearning. That and that she was trying to kill the time until the others got back. But she never expected his answer.

"It's her hair," he confirmed. "It has a mind of its own, like the flaming breath of a dragon, like the fire that rages in her eyes," at this he looked at her in the face, and he sat up, so that he was leaning over her. And, like so many times when she had found herself in close proximity with him, her heart skipped a beat.

"Her hair," he said, reaching down to toy with a lock of Ginny's hair. "Its red. Weasley hair red."

Her mind reeled and stumbled. Dare she hope? Dare she believe? Dare she dream? Everything she had ever wanted was coming true. Could she? Would she have the courage to claim it? What if he did not mean it? What if... what if it was someone else? But there was no mistaking the passion in his eyes. The passion and love.

For her

Summoning the courage that had always been her trademark quality, she reached up to caress his face. He seemed to lean into her touch, hungrily, reveling in the warmth of her skin, in the softness of her flesh, in the beauty that was hers. Her finger brushed across his closed eyes, and he had to suppress a moan at her caress.

"Your eyes…they are emerald," she said breathlessly. He opened his eyes and looked on her with so much love that made her melt inside.

"Your hair," he said, "It is red."

And together, they both said, "Dare I hope?"

"Yes," said Harry, as he leaned down over her.

"Yes," whispered, waiting for what was to come.

Their lips touched in a gentle, shy declaration of love. Both were unsure of the other's reaction, but when Harry kissed her, she felt it was so simple, yet so surreal, that it could not be her imagination. The world around her melted and melded into one, and as he tenderly held her in a gentle embrace, she would not have minded if that moment had lasted forever.

But eternity was not to be determined by a lover's kiss, and so they parted, smiling softly, both realizing what the other had done, and to them the world seemed to shine the brighter. There was another reason to fight the war, and they would not do so with heavier hearts.

"You have made my dream come true," she murmured into his ear. He laughed a bit, but then he muttered back, "I thought that your dream involved traveling the world, and lying in the field behind the Burrow, and looking up at the stars, and together we would be naming all the constellations?"

"Yes," she admitted. "But dreams pass in time, and this is a new one. And I like it better than the previous," she said, smiling that enchanting smile.

"In that case," he said, "So has mine."

Harry lay down next to her, and he held her in his arms. If he could not have eternity, then he would at least have a while.