Harry Potter just needed sleep.

As he wandered up the broken marble staircase and down the ruined corridors of his first home, he was sure of this one thing. The past few days had nearly killed him, and as he looked around at the once beautiful castle that now lay in ruins, he couldn't help but chant, over and over in his head, This is all your fault. Now that Voldemort hadn't murdered him, the guilt nearly could have. He just wanted to fall into an unconscious state, where his remorse could stay locked outside. He didn't even want to think about the pale stone face of Fred Weasley, motionless on the granite floor...

The Fat Lady had never looked happier to see him. "Bless you, son, you've saved us all," she chortled. Harry knew she was right, but the rubble of Hogwarts made him feel differently.

The common room lay virtually untouched. A few chairs were turned over in efforts to escape quickly and lost pocessions were strewn upon the floor, but there was no real damage. Harry breathed in the familiar smell that gave him comfort, and let it carry him up the spiral staircase, thinking wistfully of his four-poster and of being alone.

But as he pushed open the door, he heard the sound of stifled sobs and saw a thin, red haired girl sitting in fetal position on his thick maroon blankets.

As she turned to look at him, her face lit up like she'd never wanted to see anyone more.

In that moment, he forgot about his guilt and extreme fatigue. He ran to Ginny and in the same moment she fell into his arms, her tears erupting into wails as Harry rocked her, back and forth. His own demons meant nothing to him now; they didn't cause him any pain. He would even gladly take hers from her now; anything to stop her from crying. She deserved to be happy always...he wanted to give her that...

After an uncountable amount of time, her sobs conceded, and she spoke quietly into his chest.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"No, Ginny. I'm sorry." She slid away from him so they faced each other, both cross-legged on Harry's bed. "I never wanted to leave you, it nearly killed me—those days away from you, I couldn't bare it. Some days I would just stay up late in bed, watching you on the Maurader's map—it was all I could do to keep me sane...I missed you so much, I could barely stand it...knowing that you thought I didn't love you, that was the most unbearable thing...I never wanted to leave you, never, being away from you, I couldn't stand it—"

"Harry." Ginny spoke quietly, deliberately. "Please. I know you had to do it. I know you didn't want to. I knew you loved me. It was just a matter of me waiting. And now it's over."

Harry was always awed at how much Ginny understood him without him ever having to explain it to her. It was as if she could just look into his eyes and know everything Harry wanted to say to her but couldn't.

Ginny closed her eyes, sighed, and leaned back to rest her head on the pillow, her legs resting in Harry's lap still.

"I want to put it behind me," she whispered, "but...I don't think I'll ever be able to get over Fred..." A tear leaked silently from her closed eye. "It hasn't even registered yet, Harry. I can't even feel anything."

Harry shifted and lay next to her, rolling over on his side so they faced each other. He stroked her hair absently, mind a thousand miles away, listening only to Ginny's soothing voice that he had missed so much.

"But I'm glad I'm here," she said softly.

Harry turned to his back, and pulled Ginny so her head rested on his chest. She wrapped her thin arms across his waist tight, finding comfort she hadn't felt since he left her.

Harry pushed his face into her fiery hair, breathing in the familiar scent of wood and flowers. She smelled like home to him. He never wanted to leave her. Even in the midst of death, pain, and lost love, he felt nothing but bliss when he held Ginny in his arms. He wanted to be with her forever and there was nothing that was going to stop him.

"Ginny," he murmured, "will you marry me?"

"Yes," she whispered.

They slowly fell into a deep and much needed sleep.

The Great Hall was a blur around him. The only thing he was aware of was the soft warmth of Hermione's hand and the blatant memory of his brother's lifeless face that couldn't leave his eyelids.

"Do you want to go home?"

Hermione's voice awoke him from his reverie.

"Ron, let's go home."

He nodded helplessly. He realized that really was what he needed, to be away from the ruin and death that was all around him.

Hermione flitted around the Great Hall and before he could even register what was going on, he was in a fireplace, and with a rush of green smoke he smelled the familiar woodsy scent and chestnut wood floors of the Burrow.

The sun was high in the sky outside. It was such a beautiful day. Complete contrast to how Ron felt then.

"Want tea?" Hermione walked across the kitchen to Ron's side. She tenderly held his head between her soft palms.

"I just want to sleep, Mione," said Ron softly. He took her hand and they made their way up to Ron's bedroom, where they lay down beside each other. Ron took her hand in his and she rolled onto his chest on top of the covers.

Warm, humid air blew in through the open window. It ruffled their hair softly, blowing delicately on their closed eyelids.

"Mione?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. You know that, right? I've always loved you."

"I know, Ron," said Hermione quietly. "I love you too."

Ron pulled her even closer, kissed her forehead, and they fell asleep.

The next few weeks passed somberly and slowly. Fred was buried at the Burrow, and the funeral was possibly the saddest thing Harry had ever witnessed. George had crumpled on the ground, Ron's face had been scrunched in an expression of unimaginable pain, and Ginny looked like an Inferi; her expression was blank, dead, staring off at one place like she didn't fully understand what was going on.

But everyone took comfort in the fact that it was finally over. Before long, the pain of losing the dead was forgotten and the family was almost back to normal.

The Burrow was bustling and bright once again, with Molly flitting about the kitchen, Ginny, Ron and Harry zooming around playing Quidditch in the back field, and Hermione cooped up in the house studying for her Ministry job interviews.

"I honestly don't know why Hermione doesn't just take some time off like the rest of us," said Ginny one sunlit morning as she folded freshly washed clothes into her chest of drawers.

"Me neither," said Harry, laid back comfortably on Ginny's bed with one arm behind his head. "There's all the time in the world. Right now we should just celebrate and relax."

Ginny folded the last of the clothes and sat at the edge of her bed. "So," Ginny said softly, "we haven't really talked about the promise we made the night after the War ended. Remember?"

Harry smiled, leaned forward and pulled Ginny toward him by the waist. She lay next to him on her side, propped up on her elbow, looking at him with the blazing look he knew so well.

"I remember," he said with a smile. "And you don't regret saying yes, do you?"

Ginny smiled. "Of course not. There's a problem, though."

"You haven't graduated yet."

"I've still got another year to go, Harry. And I know you're of age and everything, but I'm not, and won't be for awhile."

"I know, I know," Harry said. He knew it was true, and it really made no difference to him. "But there's no rush. The getting married thing wasn't up in the air anyway. At least, I knew I was always gonna marry you."

"Well, me too, obviously."

"It doesn't matter when, and we don't even have to tell anyone at this point either," said Harry, pulling her closer and kissing her forehead. "But as long as I marry you someday, I'm happy."

"Me too," said Ginny, pushing herself up to give him a sweet kiss, which soon turned into more a more feverish kind of kissing.

Harry could definitely get used to this for the rest of his life.