Harry walked down the corridor, enjoying the freedom the Invisibility Cloak gave him. Students would be looking at him, pointing, whispering about his last run in with Voldemort. The Invisibility Cloak gave him the anonymity he desperately craved right now. He wanted to go back to his room, but Ron would be there. No, Harry needed solitude right now. He needed the Room of Requirement.

He went up to the seventh floor corridor, pacing. I need a place to be alone, he thought, repeating the words mentally three times. A door appeared. He ducked in before anyone came in the hallway. The Room reflected his inner feelings. A lone couch sat in front of a crackling fire in the hearth. A table and a box of tissues were the only other pieces of furniture. "Room's lost its touch," Harry mumbled to himself. "Thinks I'm going to need tissues…"

But the Room had not lost its touch in any way, shape, or form. When Harry sat down, he noticed a picture on the floor. Upon inspection, he saw that it was a picture of Ginny and Dean on the latest trip to Hogsmede – they were hugging and smiling. Harry was enraged. What was this doing here?! He bent, ripping it to shreds and threw its pieces into the fire. Ginny's face was the last to burn: just before the flames licked up the photo, she turned to the camera and beamed. That did it. Before five minutes were up, Harry was in fact making good use of the tissues. Why Dean? He asked himself. Why not me? I thought I meant something to her…once...

Just then, the door banged open. Harry whipped around to see none other than the object of his affection, gasping for breath. He leapt to his feet, too worried about her to remember that he must look a fine mess himself. "Are you alright?" He asked.

Ginny, who had been looking around the Room and yet at nothing, started at his voice. "Harry! What are…" but she broke off. "Harry, have you been crying?" she asked, a little incredulous.

Hastily he wiped his nose on his sleeve and sniffed. "Of course not! I just sat too close to the fire. Erm, heat made my eyes water."

She eyed him, a small smile playing at her lips. "Whatever you say, Harry." She went over to the couch and plopped down. She seemed somehow unsurprised to see him in the Room, Harry realized. He came over and sat with her. "Erm, how did you get in here anyway? I didn't know if the Room allowed people in when other were here."

Ginny flushed. She was silent a moment, but finally said quietly, "Well, I guess it was you I was looking for." She looked up at him, her eyes now the ones that shone. "Harry, I need to talk to you. I…I… bloody hell, I can't do this." She stood up, voice raised in exasperation.

Harry, confused, remained silent. He knew not what to say, so he just watched her stand in front of the fire. She was beautiful, bathed in the orange and red flickering glow. Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet. He was holding her, kissing her. He stroked her hair. Ginny did not protest. Rather, she held him closer.

When the two parted, there was a silence, broken only by the snapping air pockets in the fire. "Sorry," Harry murmured, extricating his hand from Ginny's hair. "I shouldn't have –"

But Ginny cut him off. "No, you should have! Harry, that's what I wanted to tell you. Harry – I think I love you." Her small brown eyes were wide and fierce with intensity.

Harry couldn't think of what to say at first. "But, but what about Dean?" he managed.

"Hell with Dean! He… he isn't you," Ginny said. "It's you that I've always loved, Harry." She slid her small hand into his larger one. "Does… does that kiss mean my feeling is reciprocated?"

In answer, Harry pulled her to him and kissed her lips, then her forehead, murmuring, "I think I've always loved you too, Ginny, I just never knew how much."