Harry, as was his utmost wish at that point in time, had retired to his four poster bed in his old dormitory and was currently staring up the ceiling, blinking like a blind man; incidentally, Harry's glasses were thrown haphazardly on his bedside table.
He groaned loudly and rolled onto his side, eyes slamming closed as he tried to block the images swimming through his mind; Fred… Lupin… Tonks… all set to the lovely background music of screaming, buildings crumbling and spells spinning past his ears. His fault. His.
While Harry was mentally berating himself, the door of the dorm creaked open and a slight, bruised and cut figure slipped through. Holding the door with her fingertips, she watched his back silently for a few moments, still so, so, so thankful that he was alive. However, upon remembering his trick and her fury, she let the door slam shut and drew herself up to her full height.
With the sound of the slamming dormitory door, Harry shot up and whirled around, grabbing his wand in one fluid motion; an acquired instinct after months on the run and years fighting. She didn't even pause, stomping across to the side of his bed; she pulled his curtains back fully and glared at him. His wand lowered slightly and his posture relaxed.
Her voice heightened. "HARRY JAMES POTTER!"
She saw him wince, still delicate after all of the fighting. She plowed on. "What on EARTH were you thinking?" She realized she sounded like a bit like her mother; grimacing, she saw Harry's shoulders sink in defeat.
"Hey, Gin." He looked morose and confused and horribly victorious. But he wouldn't dare.
"DON'T call me that. Don't you dare," she whispered. His head fell, so that his chin hit his chest. She appraised him. Then, she took in a deep breath and exhaled loudly.
"I'm going to yell. I'm going to get it all out. And you are going to listen. Then, I'll be done. And we'll go from there." She warned him and he nodded; his hands fisted in the sheets as a brace.
"Harry James Potter," she started in a deadly whisper. "How dare you? How dare you make me think that you had died? I spent WEEKS praying and hoping and wishing to see you again… and finally, I DO manage to see you and you go and DIE on me! You CANNOT do that to me! You CAN'T do that to US! You should have seen everyone – Ron and Hermione and McGonagall and Hagrid… and ME! I thought you were DEAD – you CAN'T DO THAT TO ME! YOU CANNOT LEAVE ME LIKE THAT, HARRY!"
With those selfish, blaming words, something inside Ginny broke; she had been holding on for so long and now, there wasn't any reason to continue with that struggle. So, she broke, as all heart-broken, war-torn girls are apt to do.
The tears that had been held in for years - Chamber of Secrets, Yule Ball, Percy, Cho Chang, Dumbledore, Fred, his parents, Bill, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, the D.A – poured down her face. Her knees buckled and she grabbed Harry around the neck, sobbing into his shoulder.
Harry, with reflexes acquired by a life full of fighting, wrapped his arms around Ginny, balancing their weights on his bed. He hadn't ever encountered a sobbing Ginny and if Ginny had been aware enough to do so, she would have congratulated him at how well he was handling it.
They sat there awhile; her tears soaking his shirt and his tears dripping into her hair, both blissfully sad and angry. After a while, Ginny's sobs became gasping hiccups and he started rubbing her back slowly. Oh, so slowly and gently.
Ginny lifted her head from his chest, and sat back on her haunches, looking at Harry's face, tear-streaked but handsome. Harry thought he'd never seen anyone look so beautiful – even after crying, with red nose and red eyes and mussed hair. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned into his touch.
"Harry, you just can't do that to me. Not ever again" she told him sternly, locking eyes with him. He nodded.
"I'm so sorry, Gin. I not trying to justify what I did… but I had to," he whispered.
"I know. It was just… hard" she sighed, eyes sliding shut as a wave of exhaustion and finality hit her. It was over. It was over. It was over. But it was hard.
His hand found its way to her hair again and she gasped at the sensation because it was still too gentle and too new and too right. Suddenly, the hand was gone and her eyes flew open, begging for it to come back. Ginny watched as Harry moved away from her.
Harry propped himself up against the headboard, looking down at Ginny who was still sitting on the end of his bed. Quickly, Ginny crawled up and nestled into his side, placing her head on his shoulder. His hand stroked her back and hair; she traced circles on his chest, noticing when he winced and realizing this was where he was hurt. She wanted to kiss it better. But she didn't act on it.
"So... how are you, Gin?"
Ginny laughed, a somber laugh, but still how could he always make her smile? "Bloody miserable, Harry."
Harry chuckled lightly and pressed a light kiss to the crown of her head. "I know."
Ginny froze at his touch. Harry noticed. "Gin…?"
"Are we… that? Are we… together?" Ginny's voice was weak; she wanted him to say yes and she though the war would change everything but maybe not. Maybe not.
Harry dropped another kiss to her head and said, "Of course, we are, Ginny. You know, if you still want me."
Ginny smiled big and bright and propped herself up on his chest, so that he could see. He smiled back. "You know I shouldn't want you… what with your hero fits and the dying and Ron's going to be an absolute pain in the arse…"
Harry's eyes searched hers. "But…" he prompted her.
"But I do want you." Ginny smiled brightly, watching as Harry's exhausted face mirrored her own. "As long as you promise not to die again." He chuckled brightly, toying with a red curl.
Then she kissed him. It was short and chaste but oh so sweet and wonderful and sad and brilliant and completely them. So, so them.
It was perfect.
Then, Ginny pulled back and Harry growled, frustrated with his minx of a girlfriend. But she was there (and he was too) – alive and well – and that was all he could ask for right now.
Ginny snuggled into her boyfriend's side, intertwining their legs and pressing kisses to his chest, urging the bruises and cuts away. Harry sighed, hands moving across her back and into her hair.
They fell asleep like that. Exhausted and guilty and triumphant and so, so in love.