A/N: I usually don't post author notes at the start of the story, but I just wanted to let you know that this is a nice companion to A Scary Story. This isn't the sequel, though. It can be read on its own. This is only going to be about three chapters total, so it's just a fun little ficlet :)

After the war, it was very easy for the witches and wizards of Britain to fawn over Harry Potter. Defeating Voldemort would give anyone fame and fans, and since Harry was nowhere near an ugly young man, it was much easier for him to have a certain type of fans: fan girls. They began writing love letters to him a few weeks after the war ended, and every resident of the Burrow seemed intent on reading every one of them. Out loud.

"'Dear Harry,'" Ron read. "'You've never seen me—'"

"Always a great start to a relationship," Bill said to Harry.

"'—but I have seen you. I would like to thoroughly change my being a stranger to you and meet you for sip of coffee sometime. Please enjoy these...photos...'"

"That's enough!" Mrs. Weasley said. "This poor woman doesn't need any of your teasing."

"That isn't a woman," George said. "What d'you know, Harry really does turn people around."

Harry found the letters—particularly the people behind the quills— funny in the way that he thought that they were all delusional. They don't find me attractive, he thought. They find my name attractive. He wasn't completely wrong; but he was very far from correct. Ginny was the most aware of his misconceptions.

"You think that these women don't think you're sexy?" she asked him in disbelief. That morning the Burrow had just received a boatload of fan mail from women very interested in him, or rather, specific parts of him.

"They just like my name," he said. "Like you when you were a kid. You didn't know what I looked like or how I acted, but you still wanted to marry me."

"I never thought I'd say this, but these women want to marry you more than I did when I was eleven."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," Charlie said. "I was one of the ones you confided in most. 'Do you think he'll love me, Charlie?'" Charlie was now running around the kitchen table in order to dodge his sister. "'D'you think he'll marry me?'"

"Charlie, if you wish and try with all your heart, I know that you'll land the bloke." Bill said. After a few shut ups and make mes, their playful fight was taken into the living room.

"Seriously, though; aren't you even a little flattered by these women?" Ginny asked.

"Eh, not really."

Ginny couldn't believe that. She looked up at him in utter disbelief.

"'Dear Harry Potter,'" she read out loud from one of the letters. "'My name is Helga Winehurst, and I would love to invite you to my winter cottage for the weekend. I'm sure that we will have a delightful time, snuggling by the fire together—'"

"She didn't write that!" he exclaimed. Positive that she was joking, his face fell as he read the letter to himself. "Bloody hell, who writes that?"

"Helga Winehurst, your 'devoted, soon-to-be lover' writes that."

"You aren't taking all of this seriously, are you?"

"Well, that Helga is a bit frightening," Ginny admitted. "She's probably writing from St. Mungo's or something. But there are others who are probably a lot more persuasive."

"Wait, you think that I would actually contact these people?"

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe," she said without looking at him.

Harry didn't have the chance to respond thanks to Hermione's urgent call for Ginny. Not that he would've said anything to improve the situation, but this time it was taken from him.

Ginny and Harry's relationship was complicated after the war. He wanted to give her time to mourn, which made her believe that he was done with her. She was more disappointed than angry, albeit there were nights where she imagined cursing his bits off. At the end of the day, she just wanted for him to find the one he was looking for, even if that woman wasn't her.

He was so close to telling her how he felt. He'd rehearse it in his head. Ginny, just tell me when you're ready, because I've been ready for over a year now. Another, I know that you think that I'm a git, and you're right, but....Well, he never finished that one. Either way, he knew from spending over a year missing her and thinking about her that he wanted to be with her.

The weeks turned into months, and before anyone knew it, the leaves changed their colour and suddenly fall was upon them. Ginny and Hermione returned to the rebuilt Hogwarts for their seventh year; Ron started working in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with George; Harry began his Auror training; Charlie returned to his dragons; Percy got a new job at the Ministry, and Bill stayed working at Gringotts. Nothing would ever return to normal, though the daily routines seemed to ease everyone out of their war-driven minds.

Molly was insistent on making sure that nobody forgot about each other. One Sunday in October, she hosted the first Weasley Sunday. She even made sure to bring Hermione and Ginny out of Hogwarts for the weekend so they could attend.

Naturally, the kids ended up playing Quidditch together. It was also the day where Harry feared for his life while playing, specifically while playing against Ginny. Something in her eyes when they took flight scared him. They were both playing as the seeker, though he was afraid that he wouldn't be very good if he had to race Ginny.

Eventually, his horrible luck became even worse. The snitch was right above Ginny's head; get the snitch or risk being pushed off of your broom? Harry asked himself. Ginny met his eyes, and that something in her burst aflame. She raced toward him, unaware that the snitch was near her. Harry acted out of impulse and dived down. Ginny ended up chasing him around the Burrow a few times until she landed on the roof.

Harry knew that he was thick. However, he wasn't so thick that he would be able to constitute leaving Ginny on the roof. He landed and sat down beside her.

"What are we doing, Ginny?" he asked.

"We're wrecking the Weasley Quidditch match."

"You know what I mean,"

"Yeah," she said. "I honestly don't know anymore."

"Then I'm not the only one?"

"No," she said through her slight laughter.

Her smile pumped up his confidence. "So," he started, "who're you dating these days?"

His instincts probably saved his life. One second he was sitting on the roof, the next he was clinging to the roof with all his might.

"What do you ruddy mean, 'Who're you dating?' Are you really so thick that you think it isn't at all insensitive to ask about my dating life?"

"I-I was just curious," he sputtered out as he tried to climb up. She gave him her hand and pulled him up. He assumed that she wasn't as angry at him as a second ago. He assumed wrong when she none too gently punched his shoulder.

Before she could get out any of her anger, Harry said, "Sorry."

"Sorry for what?" she asked.

"Everything," he said. "I'm sorry that I haven't written you at all or talked to you like a person after the war. I'm just so sorry that I've hurt you."

It was silent. The roof seemed to be in a world of its own; he could clearly hear the Weasleys on the ground, but he seemed to be able to ignore them without at all trying. Harry thought of it as a still version of flying.

He didn't want to disturb the silence, yet he was growing anxious of Ginny's response. She was thinking with clear focus, though the fire in her eyes had gone out when she looked up at him. He liked her eyes better when she wasn't about to kill him.

A second passed when they were just staring at each other, and Harry was nearly positive that she wasn't going to push him again. He was even more positive when she brought their lips together.

The rooftop did bring a certain type of serenity, though even the Weasleys could break that. "Oi, get a room!" and "Bloody hell, that's my sister!" infiltrated his senses. Ginny broke off the kiss with a wistful smile, then hollered down, "Oi, shut up you lot!"

It was now December, and Harry and Ron were visiting Hermione and Ginny for their Hogsmeade trip. Harry and Ginny had been dating smoothly for a few months now, with letters in full swing. Hermione and Ron had been dating for about the same amount of time, and appeared to be getting on well when they weren't fighting their heads off. Nobody worried about them; it was in their nature to fight.

They found a table at the Three Broomsticks and talked happily with each other. Hermione and Ginny were bubbling with anticipation over something. After a while, Ron couldn't stop from blurting out, "What's so important that you two are jumping in your seats?"

"Well..." Hermione said with relish. "Witch Weekly just announced who their Bachelor of the Year is."

"And...?" Ron asked.

Ginny brought out a magazine from her bag and showed the table the cover. Harry almost spit out his butterbeer and Ron choked on his food.

"Harry's bachelor of the year?" Ron asked; whether in disgust or surprise Harry would never know.

"Don't worry, he doesn't get all the attention," Hermione assured him. She flipped a few pages and showed Harry and Ron a list of the eligible bachelors.

"I'm number three?" he asked in shock.

"Neville's number two," added Ginny. "It seems like all the Gryffindors are popular among the witches."

"That's a load of rubbish," said Harry. Ron reading the pages with interest didn't help his point.

"Harry, you can't deny it now," said Ginny. "Women like you. They would very much like to—"

"Aargh, no they don't." He said.

"Harry," Hermione said in a very solemn tone. "As an Auror, haven't you noticed that most of the women here are staring—excuse me, drooling over you and Ron?"

"I see them, but they don't find me physically attractive. We killed Voldemort, so of course we'll be popular among the witches and wizards."

"Particularly the witches," said Ginny.

"It doesn't matter," he insisted. He looked over to Ron for backup, but Ron's nose was buried in the magazine.

"What do you think, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"Huh? Oh, er, it's very nice."

"Nice? You like that thousands of strange women are fawning over you?"

Ron apparently didn't respond fast enough, for Hermione's face grew red with anger and her voice became acidic. Harry and Ginny were used to their arguing and knew that in a few hours, at the most a few days, the two would be back to normal. However, it was not fun to be witness to the evolution, so they both silently agreed to slip their part of the cheque on the table and leave.

As the duo walked through the snow splattered streets of Hogsmeade hand in hand, Harry felt quite content. He was in a much better life than the one he had a year ago. It reminded him of his sixth year, except this time there was no looming threat to ignore.

"You really don't care about that Witch Weekly, do you?" she asked.

"No," he said.

"You're so weird sometimes. Don't worry, that's a compliment."