Not one of my best pieces of work but, I've had it boiling in the pot for a while and the longer I leave it in, the harder it'll be for me to finish it. So, I just threw this together and, it's not that I didn't try, because I did, but... I just don't feel like this is the best it could be. Maybe, if I weren't so excited about volleyball practice starting tomorrow and me stressing about finishing my other story, I may have tried a bit harder. Well, oh well.

Just, read this and review. Thanks.

The war had certainly ended with a bang. The journey and road he had traveled down had ended and had come out in a burst of new possible roads to embark on. The tyranny the Dark Lord had held over the Wizarding World could have been compared to something like a child spotlighting an anthill with his magnifying glass. And, comparing the little ants' savoir; Harry Potter had done what any mother would have done to control a misbehaving child—beat their little ass until they went away to cry, or, in Voldemort's case, fall, defeated.

He had fallen with a promise of change and new beginnings. An overwhelming weight lifted off the shoulders of all those present, and it had been more than reasonable to celebrate the joyous day. The man would be remembered, never forgotten, as he was what people liked to call 'the good'. Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, the Chosen One, would continue to serve the community as a sole form of righteousness.

After the prolonged silence, the Hall (as Harry remembered) had erupted with cheers in which he had paid no attention. Despite his urge to bust through the throngs of people, the mass surrounded him—thanking him for his courage and congratulating his success—and it had not been until everyone had settled that Harry had been allowed a reprieve.

Unseen by the reunited families and celebrating witches and wizards, the man slipped away, parting ways with the Great Hall, and clambered to the Gryffindor Tower with his invisibility cloak secured safely over him. Before so, he had spotted Ginny and, giving much thought to whether or not stop and whisk her away with him, embraced the idea of ultimately answering the questions she was bound to ask him and finally—and hopefully—resolving their status.

Upon arriving at the common room's entrance, Harry was surprised to see the door was open, admitting him gateway to rest. As all were down stairs, he gratefully flopped onto the red, comfortable sofa and turned to his side…

Flashes of the battle played in his mind and he wondered whether he would be able to face the Weasleys: Fred had died—Harry was sure they would blame him for their loss. Why would they not? Had it not been his fault, delaying the final battle by taking so much time to find the missing Horcruxes? He had not even told the Weasleys about the task Dumbledore had given to Ron, Hermione, and himself. Would they even believe him? Not that they would think it was just some fairytale type of journey, where we—I—really just hid, right?

When Harry had glanced into the Great Hall, examining the fallen heroes, the tears that threatened to spill had been pushed back. However, now alone, the tears ran down free, washing over the casualties. Accepting the responsibility, he commemorated Fred, Remus, and Tonks with the memories he held dear and let the tears bond him with them once more.

It had not taken him long to remember that it was usual to find casualties in midst of war. And, he knew he would get over it, but it just hurt so badly. Maybe, it was that he didn't want to except the idea of deaths because all of it. Partially because he wanted to blame himself, wasn't that right?

What if he had been stronger, faster, wiser, would they have lived to see his accomplishment?

Then, the thought passed and warped around Ginny; what if she hated him for her brother's death, blamed him? He could never live with her rejection, her hate. He needed her love and understanding if he was even considering to overwhelm his feelings and push them away.

His mind drifted off from the depressing thoughts as he looked to the windows located on the second floor balcony, dim light streaming through the colored glass. It shone down upon the shadows surrounding the man, and sighing in defeat, Harry sat up. The morning light would not allow him rest and after playing out various scenarios that could come to happen upon entering the Great Hall, he forced himself up, bracing himself for what was to come.

Rounding the corner, clattering forks against plates and the chatter of enthused wizards and witches deafened him. Before even leaving the common room, he had wanted to avoid a situation where he would make a fool out of himself as he joined with Ginny.

Harry entered the Great Hall and the crowd turned to face him as his presence was detected. Most, if not all, cheered gaily, showering their hero with affection and gratitude. The man was sure of the presence of a few Slytherins among the jumbled tables as blotches remained silent, wondering whether they belonged there. He could not help but smile, and with a single wave, the cheers dwindled.

A sea of red caught his eye, a group of people at the south end of the room continued to cheer and whistle; one face outshone the rest, glowing with a sort of happiness… longing.

Striding down the aisles, he collected his breath and readied himself for one of them to point at him, explaining his wrongs that it was his fault their would always be a open seat next to George because of him. That it was fault. However, The Weasley family's smiles did not falter as they greeted him warmly; Mrs. Weasley enveloped in a smothering hug. How could she greet him as she did one of her children when—it's all my fault, isn't it?

"Thank you, Harry. Thank you, thank you, thank you," whispered Mrs. Weasley. She grabbed his cheeks and looked into his green eyes. Tears came to her eyes and she sighed. "Come sit."

Before doing as he was told, Mr. Weasley stood and enveloped Harry in a warm hug he would have expected a son to receive from his father after a job well done. Catching Ron's eye, he spotted his best friend shrug halfheartedly and then grin. Then, as the Weasleys cleared room for Harry, fiery red hair came to view and he was crushed in a passionately charged embrace. He knew too well that it was Ginny. Even the fact of having her family present made no different to him: he hugged her back, wrapping his arms around her waist, placing his head upon her head as she rested upon the crook of his neck.

Suddenly, in the rush of the moment, he lifted her face from his shoulder and forced her into a passionate, strong kiss. The strong urge pushed him until she kissed him back. Much like the kiss they had first shared after Gryffindor's triumphant win of the Quidditch Cup, it felt much like heaven and he did not have the slightest clue as to how long it lasted. He hastily shoved his tongue into her mouth as she allowed his entranced and gained dominance easily. Their tongues continued to wrestle until air became a necessity and Harry pulled away.

This—their kiss, an assurance from Ginny? She would have stopped him if she hated him, no?

He had not expected to kiss her right away and he surely did not want to kiss her while her family was present. Harry was not sure they even knew their daughter had dated the Harry Potter a year ago and he was not surprised to see the shock and slight anger in parents and brother's faces, respectively.

He searched for Ron's face first, and gained a sorely impish grin. Under the control of Hermione, Ron would oblige to not killing Harry and Harry was very grateful to Hermione for her guidance. Then, after he looked around blindly, he felt a nudge to his ribs as Ginny pulled him closer. Instantly, he draped an arm over her shoulder.

"When did this—" Charlie pointed to them, "—happen?"

"I would very much like to know that myself, Ginny, Harry, care to explain," Mrs. Weasley asked, furrowing her brows. Though she tried her best to keep calm, the mask slipped as she smiled coyly.

"Well, you see, mum—Harry and I sort of… dated… last year." Harry nodded shyly in agreement with Ginny.

Mr. Weasley let out a small laugh and said, "As long as you both feel the same way about each other, I wouldn't mind having Harry as part of the family. He can help me with my collection of Muggle contraptions—"

"Dad!" Ginny hissed quietly, her face growing red.

"Yeah, Harry. You had better love my sister the way she loves you or you'll find yourself in a crate of to Cuba…" George quipped, earning a glare from the woman and a hearty laugh of approval from his brothers.

--

After a long hour of breakfast, Harry decided it best be then that he go off to bed. He excused himself from the table and before long, Ginny followed, fingers interlocked. They walked in a comforting silence until she slightly pulled his hand and lay her head on her shoulder, aimlessly letting him lead. He smiled foolishly, kissed the top of her forehead, and took to the task. He did not avoid eye contact and fully greeted people along the corridors.

He actually felt better than he had in days.

The thought of Ginny possibly hating him, blaming him for Fred's death had long gone and the cloud of shame and disturbance floated by without setting storm to his feeling.

Climbing the set of stairs before came to a challenge; refusing to let go of the other, both Ginny and Harry foolishly stumbled up toward the Gryffindor common room. Sleep began to weigh down hard, neither of them thinking clearly about their sense of direction.

The door, once again, to the Tower was open which made it much easier for Harry to stagger through the portrait hole with Ginny stumbling against him, giggling.

"Couch or bed, Gin?" Harry mumbled into Ginny's hair, the strands of red locks tickling his face. "Leaving the decision up to you."

He hoped she was thinking it over and not sleeping as he waited for an answer. Then, a sweet yawn escaped Ginny's lips and she mumbled, "Couch… less… suggestive. Don'tcha think?"

Taking in what she suggested, he complied and fell back onto the largest sofa surrounding the common room fireplace. The girl followed, falling on top of him, straddling her arms around his neck.

"Gin?"

She breathed in something close to a 'yeah'.

"Do you really love me?"

"Mmhmm."

"Don't you blame me for… Fred…?"

Despite the sleep reigning over then, she creaked her eyes open wide and Harry was afraid she'd start crying… or worse, hit him… or something. But, she did none of those things. Ginny only kissed him and whispered, "He fought to defend us, the rest of them, and the future generations. War, Harry , takes many lives. I thought you would know that. I thought I was going to be the one to bring up the matter first—don't worry. How could I ever blame you. Especially… Harry, he died in laughter, a smile on his face."

She kissed him again, gently and then nestled her head underneath his chin.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"I really wasn't planning on kissing you back in the Great Hall, not in front of your family at least, and not before I knew whether you hated me for… anything… everything. But, it just happened, you know?"

"Oh, do I."

Sleep finally overwhelmed the two, and expecting nothing but were disturbed into waking after a few hours. A very disturbed and Hermione-less Ron practically pulling Ginny off his chest. He too had expected her brothers to come up behind him and ensure him he had another adventure to live.

Author's Notes: Just a little something. I really hope you liked it, even a little bit. Please review. Give me something to read for once I get from practice at six thirty.