A/N: More than one person died in my year when I was in Secondary School and around the age of 17. Accidents. Both on the road, unfortunately. The funerals were horrible, and yet I couldn't help but love the way every single person that knew them was there, even the teachers, and they were all dressed in such bright colours, celebrating their life rather than the fact that they were dead. And, of course, having a raging party and getting drunk in their honour. I don't know if dressing brightly or throwing a party in their name and getting drunk is offensive or seen as wrong in other countries, or cultures, but in the UK, or the part of England that I'm from at least, it's perfectly acceptable and seen as a better way to say goodbye to a teenager than the alternative. Just thought I'd mention where my inspiration came from and... why I wrote it that way, in case I happened to offend anyone.

Yesterday Can Wait

Ginny sat down heavily, among her friends though she was, she disliked the day as it were. The day of her brothers' funeral.

She was dressed in yellow. Her feet bare and her hands holding yellow flowers. Tulips. It felt inappropriate for a funeral, being dressed in a pastel yellow gingham summer dress that didn't particularly cover her shoulders and being without shoes. But they were stood on the grass, and the heels her mother had picked out for her would only have sunk through the ground. Were tulips even the right flower for a funeral? They were the only flowers that she could find in the garden without having to go out into the forest and get her dress muddy, much to the chagrin of her mother.

She was surrounded by equally inappropriately brightly dressed guests, purples and greens, burgundies and vermillion. All melding into one another to create a rainbow whirling around the garden as it danced to the music and laughed drunkenly in the sun. Celebrating his life, rather than mourning his death. And what a colourful life he had led.

Placing the flowers down in the middle of the table, her eyes caught sight of the trio themselves, the ones that had single-handedly brought down Voldemort and his men fairly recently. They were smiling, at peace, wearing battle scars proudly that they hadn't had before the year that had passed. Hermione in a lilac summer dress and Ron in green robes. And Harry in a suit. A muggle suit, of all things. Or at least black trousers, and a shirt. An orange shirt to be exact. And a purple tie. Wizarding Wheezes colours. She did approve, so did George, it seemed, as he wandered by, drunkenly leaning down to kiss all three of them on the cheek in turn, a slurred 'I love you all' shouted behind him as he wandered off into the crowd. The alcohol and general party atmosphere numbing the pain that he felt for the loss of his other half. The pain that we all felt.

She smiled, unbidden, as she watched George talk to his friends and tried not to notice how if she only saw him from behind, when his hair covered the hole where his ear had once been, she could mistake him for Fred. Feeling tears that she had not and would never approve of burning down her cheeks as she saw the tulip patch she had picked the flowers from, and remembered those long days in the sun when she had been young enough for her brothers to want to play with her, and they had played commando games in the tall grass and flowers, fattening lines of tulips into paths of squished petals in the wake of our shuffling elbows and legs. How mum had yelled for us running lines in her flowers and at coming in covered in grass stains and mud, for playing games were we pitched against each other in mock wars.

And how Fred would argue that she shouldn't have had enough kids for them to be able to have groups big enough for 'war'.

The talking stopped around her as Luna touched her hand. 'Has a grotterby got you, Ginny? Your eyes appear to be watering.'

When her head slowly turned to face the table of people around her, she saw the looks of concern and felt anger well up inside her at her inability to keep her emotions in check.

'Must have done, Luna. Didn't even realise.' She tried to smile, but her mouth didn't seem to want to bend that way, and it must have made her face look strange.

She stood up suddenly, taking a deep breath to keep her voice from shaking. She looked up and wiped her eyes, but more tears came down to replace them when she looked across her friends worried faces. 'I'm going for a walk, it's too hot out here in the open.' She picked up her tulips and dashed off before anyone could protest, stopping only to place the tulips on the freshly turned soil where her brother lay before weaving her way into the forest.

She didn't stop running until she hit the pond, grabbing her hair and the tie around her wrist; she pulled it all back in one swift motion into a messy and uneven bun. She threw her wand into the reeds by the bank, awkwardly unzipped the dress down the side and threw it over a low tree branch. She took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut and took a run and a jump into the cool water.

Humid and hot the air may be, but the pond water certainly wasn't. Her thighs went numb and she couldn't feel her toes, but she was cool, and no one would dare come out here, weaving through all those close nit trees, with the risk of ripping their clothes.

Or at least that was what she thought, as she swam a couple of lengths along the mass of water, mindful of lily pads and trying not to think about the tadpoles and various other creatures lurking below her that she didn't like to think about.

The water was cold enough to hinder her thought process and stop her from thinking about memories that made her throat swell up and her eyes sting. Exactly what she needed. She closed her eyes and rolled onto her back, gently flicking her arms and legs to propel her leisurely across the pond.

There was a soft thud nearby, which she mindlessly ignored, thinking it was a hare, until the shudder it caused went up the tree her dress had been hanging on and caused a leaf to shake loose onto her stomach.

She opened one eye. There was an orange and purple blur just out of her range in the corner of her eye by where her dress was.

She squeezed her eyes shut, halting her movements. Please don't let that be Harry… she pleaded silently.

'You shouldn't run off like that you know, they'd worry less if you were crying in front of them than they would knowing you were in the woods crying.'

She sank her body into the water and hid her bare, underwear clad skin in its murky depths. Being as short as she was, and in the very middle, her feet were a foot from the floor. She had to paddle to keep up right. Adding that to her soaked hair and tear streaked cheeks she didn't like to think how unattractive she must seem at that moment.

Grief momentarily forgotten, embarrassment and awkwardness seeped in instead. Unsure of what to do with herself or how to reply, she did the only thing she could do. She got angry.

Swimming out of the water as fast as she could, almost slipping in the mud around the side of the pond as she grabbed her dress and used both hands to try to get back into it awkwardly.

'You've been avoiding me.' He said simply.

'Yeah, well I've had a lot to deal with.'

'So have I.' He replied in the same calm, placid tone. In all the business with burying her friends and brother, she had completely forgotten that in the week since Voldemorts fall, he'd been running around the country after remaining Death Eaters and assisting the trustworthy people we had left in clearing out the Ministry. 'Who did that?'

She looked up. He was pointing at a fully healed, but still pink scar running from her ribs to her hip. She opened her mouth to fabricate a lie but he cut her off.

'Don't say it was a Quidditch or childhood thing, because I've seen you, and it may have been a while, but it certainly wasn't there before.'

She got annoyed with how hard it was to get her dress on over wet skin and threw the tangled dampened mass back onto the grass. 'You have no right to ask the truth of me anymore. You left me here. To rot. For a year.'

'I thought you'd be safe at the school. I thought McGonagall would become Headmistress. I thought you'd be okay. How was I to know that Snape would take over and Death Eaters would come in to torture the kids?'

He sounded angry too now and she was starting to regret her decision slightly. But not enough to calm down and stop before it got worse.

'We were in the middle of a war, Harry. Both of the people who were stopping Voldemort from going there were gone. Dumbledore dead. You off hiding Merlin knows where. What did you expect?'

'Well, not that, obviously. Ginny, I know it's Fred's funeral, but-' he reached out to her, he had that face on that he got when he wanted to calm her down.

She didn't want to calm down. She took a step back. 'No! Harry, you left me here for a year. You… spent those weeks loving me and telling me how you'd wished you'd realised sooner and how you were going to make up for it in the years to come and how you could never…' she took a deep breath, her throat was starting to swell again. For fucks sake. Her voice rose to counter it, not that it worked, and she was certain that people from the party could hear, but she didn't care anymore. Her brother was dead. And so were so many of her friends. The world was in ruins, and that was the price to pay to be able to live in peace. And then here he was. Like nothing had ever happened. She may have avoided him but it's not as if he tried to speak to her either.

'Not even a letter.' Her voice was stronger now. 'Ron came home for a bit. I thought maybe he would have a message. But no. You'd had a fucking falling out. Like children. Why couldn't you have gone home with him? I know he went to Shell Cottage, but dammit I was THERE I went to visit for the holidays. It seemed like fate. He was there. But you weren't. Just my bloody luck. The one chance I had and you lot were so fucking stubborn and messed up you carried on without him instead of going to the one place he could have to look for him and sort it out. Like a normal person would. You can say it 'wasn't safe' all you want but he managed it, and he's bloody Ron.' She ran out of breath and had to heave in a big one and try to calm her nerves as her hands started to shake with incandescent rage. 'I mean where is the decency in that? You just upped and fucked off without telling any of us where you'd gone. We could have HAD that summer, before you left. We could have had that time. I thought we'd have longer. But no. You just disappeared in the middle of a fight without a word back to say you were okay. I mean you barely said a word to me all summer. You broke up with me at a funeral and said that you had to go.'

'You didn't stop me.'

There was a resounding slap as her palm collided with his cheek without her ever realising she'd lifted a finger.

He ran his hand across the side of his face. 'Sorry. Deserved that, I know.' He cleared his throat, watching her mindfully. 'But you did say that you understood.'

Her brain suddenly stopped working, because he had her there and he knew it. She could be as angry at not seeing him for a year as she liked, but she didn't exactly fight for them to stay together for longer. Though, to be honest, that thought didn't hit her until well afterwards and by then it was too late. She had nothing she could reply with, so instead of speaking, she launched herself forwards and kissed him. For the first time in a year.

She'd thought about this for months. Worried that she'd forget how to do it and make a fool out of herself. That he wouldn't love her anymore and wouldn't want her when he got back. But of course those thoughts hadn't registered in her mind before she'd done it and by the time they could have, his arm had slid around her back to pull her closer as he damned well kissed her back, and she fell back into loving him like a musician did his music.

The anger dissipated as all the feelings she had thought she'd forgotten came flooding back and she remembered exactly why she'd fallen in love with him in the first place. He was brave enough to leave behind everything he loved to kill a man who wanted him dead. He put the entire world's needs before his own. He was willing to hurt her in order to keep her safe. And he most definitely did like her as much as she did him. Which was always a bonus when you've been in love with someone for a couple of years and you find out they happen to like you a fair bit too.

They both crash landed back in the forest when someone came bursting into the clearing, out of breath and covered in leaves. Ron. His unwilling partner, Hermione, appearing much more gracefully by his side, having magically 'moved' the trees out of her way.

Ginny jumped behind Harry to hide her state of dress from them both, feeling warmth trickle down her back as Harry cast a hasty drying charm on her so she could get her dress back on from behind him.

Ron was slightly pink in the face as he looked to the tree canopy when he realised what he was seeing. 'Okay… I'm going to ignore… that. So long as he's dressed… and you're not massively upset… and he's… ' he cleared his throat awkwardly, hand gripping his wand far too tightly.

Hermione was smiling. 'You speak to him, Ginny?'

'Yes…' she said impatiently as she pulled the dress up over her chest and began to hastily zip it up.

'And the two of you…?'

She jumped out from behind him, hair completely out of the bun and her dress covered in mud but her face plastered with a smile nonetheless. 'Sorted.' She glanced nervously over at the man in question, wondering if that was the wrong answer. Was it sorted? He smirked down at her.

'Mostly.' He amended. 'I have a few things I'd like to talk to her about alone, actually. Promise I won't let her jump in the pond again or hang herself from a tree in despair.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Fine. See, Ron. I told you they would work it out just fine.'

He scowled. 'I'd rather check than find my best friend dead.' He pointed at the trees. 'You can go first this time, cleaver clogs.'

She curtseyed and waved her wand, the trees parting in her wake.

Ginny waited for the trees to jump back into position before turning to face her ex-boyfriend, shrewd expression in place. 'What 'things' exactly, do we have to discuss? You know, other than me yelling at you and kissing you and-'

He kissed her again, this time backing her into the tree opposite them. 'I wanted to ask a favour of you.'

She raised an eyebrow at him, managing to situate herself against the tree in a way that made it somehow harder to get away. Not that she'd want to. 'Oh? And what would that be?'

'Your forgiveness, for leaving you while I, might I add, was fighting an evil dark lord. In exchange for my promise to never bugger off for that long again without taking you with me.'

She lifted her chin, narrowing her eyes at him as though considering the offer. 'To be honest, I think it's rude. We're at a funeral.'

He smiled. 'Not a funeral. A send off. Fred would have hit me by now for not dragging you off to elope or something if he was alive. George already has. Bill laughed at me yesterday when I told him that the reason why I hadn't told you I still loved you and still wanted to be with you was because I was scared you would yell at me. Charlie told me to distract you with some food at the buffet table then whisper it in your ear and high tale it before you could hit me… And of course Hermione told me to just tell you how I feel and what I want to happen. All I want to do at this point is just…' He trailed off, looking up at the trees as if they could give him the right words.

She couldn't stop the smile from forming on her face. It was a bad day. The worst day, in fact. But Fred would have wanted her to celebrate his life, and her future, the fact that the world was free from Voldemorts constraints. In fact, she had to admit that by now he probably would have hit her too if he knew that she'd waited this long to confront Harry.

And now that they had, in a roundabout way. The entire world felt brighter.

'Just what?'

'Honestly?'

'Honestly.'

'I just want to take you back out there and get drunk, dance, say one last goodbye to Fred… and spend the rest of my life making up for the time that I've lost not being with you. Be it through stupidity or dark wizards. Because honestly. You are the… most spectacular woman I have ever known. You're so brave, and smart, and passionate about everything you do, friendly to everyone you meet. You have a raging temper. But I love that. And I've missed it, to be honest, in this past year. There were times where I honestly considered running back home so I could see you and just sit there and let you yell at me for the lack of contact because at least then it would have been a little bit more normal and less… Horcruxes and hiding in forests.'

He pulled a face. Like he wasn't sure if he had explained himself properly. She ran a finger down the side of his face and smiled up at him challengingly. 'I thought you didn't dance?'

He took a deep breath of relief, looking up to the sky as if thanking some unknown deity for all of this having ended well. 'I would if I was drunk.' He said, letting it out.

She grinned, grabbing his arm and somehow managing to manoeuvre her way out from the tree.

'Let's get you drunk then. I've never seen you drunk. In fact I don't think you have been drunk…' She smirked at him. 'You're going to have fun tomorrow.'

Yesterday, and wall the pain that came with it could wait. Tonight was the night to celebrate what is, will be and can be. To forget the sadness of those she'd lost in the past weeks, instead remembering them as they were, looking to her future and living for them as much for herself. She wanted to play Quidditch professionally. And now that Voldemort was gone and the Wizarding world was on the mend, that most certainly could happen. Harry had survived it. And he still loved her. Their feelings for one another may have jilted a bit over the past 12 months but they had hundreds more to fix that. She couldn't wait.

It was with that thought in mind that Ginny Weasley walked back into that party with a smile on her face. Only this time she meant it, and this time she was going to remember all of those good times with a smile, not a tear.