A/N : Drew a pic for this. Well, actually the drawing came first, and inspired the story. Here it is on deviantart- .com/art/Always-118585333

And if you're nice, you'll check out the rest of my gallery. hint hint And at the moment, Betsy is criticizing my drawing for this. She says Harry's shoulders are unproportioned. Forget YOU!!!!!!

Anywhos-here's my oneshot. I always said I would never do oneshots since they are really annoying and mean cause they are short and oneshotty. But I also get mad when people don't update and I never update.

Harry couldn't sleep. The following day he, Ron, and Hermione would be leaving to fight Voldemort. He couldn't stop thinking about Ginny. He realized with a grumble at the way his jeans were scrunched up in a rather uncomfortable way, that he had fallen asleep in his clothes. But, now, there wasn't any sleeping going on. Reaching for his glasses on the bedside table, Harry discovered they were nowhere to be found. Cursing, he sat up and squinted at the little stand. Nothing. He crawled out of bed and stopped at the bathroom. He then went down stairs to get some tea. Hearing soft breathing, he wished his wand was in his pocket as normal, but then the thought vanished as he recognized the breathing and it's owner.

Ginny.

Forgetting about his tea, he strolled over to where she lay sleeping on the very huge couch of the Burrow's, her green nightdress revealing smooth, pale, freckled legs.

He now remembered last night. Copious amounts of Firewhisky had been consumed by everyone except the girl he looked at now (Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had previously gone to bed). She had been laughing at Fred and George stealing Harry's glasses, and breaking out into their favorite slow version of Hogwart's song. They were quite buzzed, he remembered with a smile. He remembered cheering as Bill began to drunkenly kiss his newly-wed. Ginny had helped everyone to bed and walked Harry up last, coaching him since he still hadn't found his glasses. She must have gone back downstairs and fallen asleep.

"Harry is that you?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Morning, beautiful," he smiled.

"Are you still hung over?" she opened her eyes.

He picked up her legs, sat down and replaced them on his lap. "Not really."

"Good," she grinned at him, "I know where your glasses are," she said in a sing-song voice.

"Ginny, you know how blind I am."

"That's what makes it so fun," she sat up. "Let's play hot and cold."

"Gin, just tell me," he said tiredly.

Her face turned serious, "Please, Harry. This is the last night I have with you. Yes, I heard you," she added at the look of confusion on his face. "I want to have fun one last time."

"Am I warm?" Harry asked getting up and walking toward the kitchen.

Ginny smiled, "Not in the slightest."

He rolled his eyes and moved a few steps toward the family room where she was sitting, and to the left. "How about now?"

She contemplated the situation, "You are nearing room temperature."

"Don't I feel special. 'Nearing room temperature.'" He walked in the same direction, but she shook her head. He went to the right, and toward her more, manueavering around a lumpy foot cushion. She smiled. He continued to walk towards her.

"You do catch on quickly," she mused.

"I have wonderful inspiration." He moved further to her and sat down pulling her with him so that they lay side by side along the over-sized piece of furniture. She smiled and pulled out his glasses. Harry reached for them.

"Don't put them on," she said pulling them away a little. "I can see your eyes better like this." Harry took the glasses and rested them on the back of the couch. Then, he kissed her tenderly as she gazed into the eyes she loved to stare into for hours. "Must you leave?" she wondered quietly, half to herself.

"I promise you," Harry said, gently lifting her face so she looked at him again. "I promise you I will come back. And we will have all the time together that I wasted all these years. I promise." She nodded solemnly and fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I love you," she whispered.

His insides did flips and turns of joy, sadness, and love. "I love you, too," he whispered back. Ginny turned onto her back.

"Do you ever think Ron and Hermione will get together?" she mused.

He laughed at how she could turn seriousness into hilarity in just a few words, "Oh, I don't know. Something about the two of them being the only people in a tent –besides me- gives me the feeling something will start. But, then again, considering how shy they've been the last 6 years, perhaps maybe not."

"They're idiots," she said smiling. "Of course, you were no different. Waited until your 6th year, and you did it horribly, too." Harry rolled his eyes. "I mean, kissing a girl in front of her own brother, let alone half the Gryffindor students. I was completely not expecting that."

"And you couldn't have wished for anything better."

"No, I couldn't have," she leaned her head over to him and kissed him.

"I remember the first time I met you," he said grinning.

"Oh, you rat," she scolded, turning away in embarrassment.

Harry laughed, "Eleven years old and the most nervous thing I'd ever seen. You came downstairs in a robe and pajamas and your eyes went wide. You looked as if you'd seen a ghost. But all you'd seen was me. The twelve-year-old Harry Potter."

"You're wrong." She stated. "That was the second time you'd seen me. The first time was when you were in your first year. You had no idea how to get onto the platform. You heard my mum say 'muggles', and you saw we had an owl, so you approached –most politely. You probably didn't notice me. I was standing practically behind my mum complaining about how I wanted to go to Hogwarts too. I was very annoyed at the idea that I had to stay behind with my parents all by myself. And, considering we live in about the middle of nowhere, all my friends lived ways away."

"Yes, I can imagine how that would be terrifying to a small child. Staying home with Mrs. Weasley all by yourself," he said sarcastically, "Horrifying!" She hit him playfully, and rolled her eyes. "But I do remember that. It was forever ago."

"I also remember when you first started talking to me on an everyday basis."

"Oh, come off it, I've always talked to you!"

"Well, sure, if you count 'Hi, Ginny; Pass the gravy, please; Have you seen Ron or Hermione?' . Things like that. But you only started really talking to me in 5th year when we started the D.A. And over the summer after that we hung out a lot. And then there was the famous 6th year."

"I never liked Dean Thomas the same after those first months. I hated letting him sub for Katie at Quidditch.

"Well, at least he wasn't as bad as McLaggen," she said seriously. "I remember jinxing him so many times after he hit you in the head with that bludger."

"I was so pissed at him for that. He kept on trying tell my players how to play their positions instead of playing his own. That was I think our biggest loss."

"What, McLaggen?" she looked confused.

Harry laughed, "No, our biggest loss as a game. It must've been 200-something to 30 or so."

"I don't know what we'll do without you this year. Especially with Dumbledore gone…." She said quietly.

Harry was struck by sadness at the mention of his name, "Just give Snape trouble for me, will ya'?"

"Always," she gave a small smile.

"Always." Harry repeated at a whisper. The way she said it made it seem like something more. As if she was saying she would always be…always be Harry's. It was a lovely but heartbreaking thought.

They both fell into a comfortable silence thinking about how their lives would change after the following day. They would definitely be quite a bit lonelier.

. . .

Harry woke with a start as Ginny shifted. He checked his watch: 3:19. Not more than an hour had passed since they fell asleep. He carefully pulled himself off of the sofa making sure not to wake her.

"You will wait for me, I hope," he whispered to himself.

"Always, Harry." Ginny mumbled. He didn't know if it was in her consciousness or in her sleep. He slid his arm under her legs and his other under her back and neck and picked her up. She shifted in her sleep so that her head rested on his shoulder and her hand rested against his chest. As he walked around the sofa, he remembered his glasses, and, moving two of his fingers out from beneath her legs, he picked them up and walked to the stairs. He closed his eyes as they started to moisten. This would be the last time he would hold her for a very long time, if not ever. When he reached her room he laid her gently onto her bed and pulled the blankets over her.

"Goodbye, Gin," he said quietly. As he reached the doorway, he paused and looked back, "I love you," he whispered, and left.

. . .

Ginny woke to the sound of her mother crying, and went downstairs to find her father rocking her in his arms as she cried.

"Is he gone?" she asked.

"Yes, your brother is gone, Ginny," her father answered. Though this was not the 'he' she had meant, Ginny realized with a start that Ron and Hermione had also gone. She walked back up to her room, closed the door, and sunk to the ground in silent sobs.