Once Upon a Sunset

At the end of her sixth year, at the very beginning of summer break, Ginny Weasley stood under an old Willow—not of the Whomping variety—in the backyard of the Burrow, sipping on a bottle of butterbeer as she watched the sun slowly set. A cozy orange glow was barely settling across the yard as the sun slid below the horizon, and a light wind blew her fiery hair back from her shoulders.

She heard soft footsteps on the grass, and her heart leapt in her chest. It had been months since she had seen him, but she couldn't look just yet. She wanted to keep her imagination in control for as long as possible. In her dreams, he always lifted her up and twirled her around. In her dreams, he was happy. This Harry in real life didn't live up to those expectations—at least, he hadn't in the past year.

"Ginny?"

She turned to look toward him. His hair was a bit longer and more windblown than usual, but his eyes held a spark she hadn't seen in so long. She smiled warmly in spite of herself.

"Could I join you?"

"Of course. Should I get you a butterbeer?"

"No, no, I'm not thirsty." He paused. "I have something to tell you."

She set her drink down next to the tree but tried to keep her expression neutral. He was probably going to say that he was moving to Bulgaria to fight some sort of dark magic. Or maybe he had fallen in love with another girl in his travels the past year. Or maybe he just needed help decorating. No, that was just silly. She realized she had been staring at him wordlessly for quite longer than was necessary and spat out, "What is it?" Then she said, more quietly, "I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean for that to sound so snappish. What did you want to tell me?"

"I—I just apparated here to tell you first." Harry's words came tumbling out of his mouth, and, as he spoke with hands, she noticed that the flying glove on his left hand was soaked with blood. He was missing his pinky finger.

"Harry! Your hand!" She gently lifted his hand to look at it. He winced. "We need to get you medical attention!"

"Ginny—don't you see? It doesn't matter!" He sounded so giddy she was almost worried.

"What are you talking about?"

"We've won! Ginny, we've won!" Ignoring the pain in his hand, he hugged her and twirled her around. "He's dead, Ginny! Voldemort is gone!"

His enthusiasm was infectious, and Ginny couldn't help but smile. "He's really gone?"

"Gone, gone, gone!" He beamed from ear to ear. "Do you know what this means?"

"Wha--?" Her words were cut off as he kissed her excitedly, caressing her cheek with his uninjured right hand. At first, she was taken aback, but then she kissed him back with equal enthusiasm.

He pulled back for a breath, his forehead leaning on hers, and he said, "I love you, Ginny Weasley. I know this is quick and that I haven't seen you in so long, but—well, I've been wanting to tell you that since last summer after Dumbledore's funeral. Maybe since the moment I kissed you for the very first time." He paused, then asked, "What are you thinking?"

She studied his green eyes, very pensive at the moment, and then, smiling, said, "You talk too much, Harry Potter," and kissed him with enough sincerity to keep him quiet for quite some time.

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P.S. If you liked this HarryGinny fic, check out my in-progress post-HBP fic, "Chasing Fire."