Disclaimer: I'm not English, if I was, I probably wouldn't be so fascinated with the word "Blimey".

The Perfect Catch

He was sweet. He was protective. He was the best quidditch player Hogwarts had seen in years. He was a great dueler, and an overall powerful wizard. He was kind. And, Oh Merlin, was he handsome.

He was a carbon copy of his father, who'd single-handedly managed to make almost every girl in Hogwarts swoon, at least once, in his day. The few features that distinguished him from his father only served to make him even more attractive. His brilliant emerald eyes, so like his mothers, showed just how caring he could be. His lightening bolt scar marked him as a hero. At sixteen, Harry was already more attractive than his father had been. (The fact that he wasn't an arrogant toerag may have helped as well)

But that scar. There in lies the problem.

That scar was the perfect catch, the only reason he wasn't the envy of every guy at Hogwarts, and the only reason he couldn't date every girl within a twelve-mile radius.

At one, he'd saved to world from Lord Voldemort. At eleven, he'd defeated a troll, and again Lord Voldemort. At twelve, he'd saved his best mate's little sister from Tom Riddle, and unknowingly killed a part of said evil maniac's soul. At fourteen, he'd won the Triwizard Tournament, saved Fleur Delacour's little sister from a watery grave (or so he thought) and survived yet another encounter with You-Know-Who. At fifteen, there was the department of Mysteries fiasco. He was a hero, many times over. And after all this, most people (himself included) felt he deserved a break, or even a retirement from this saving the world business altogether. Harry wasn't going to get a break. In fact, what he had already done could be considered child's play when compared to what would come. He had to defeat Lord Voldemort once and for all, or die trying.

At sixteen, Harry Potter was fairly certain he wasn't going to make it to seventeen.

It was a hard burden to bear, and a lesser man would have cracked under the strain. As it was, he was counting his blessings. He'd managed to stop Bellatrix before that fatal blow. Sirius Black was still alive.

The lesson had been learned, however. Voldemort would use whatever means necessary to get to Harry. And he'd already figured out Harry's greatest weakness. Harry would do anything for someone he cared about. No one close to Harry was safe. Girlfriends were out of the question; they'd be the perfect bargaining chip.

So when Sirius got a letter from Harry asking about a certain very powerful love potion, he should have been surprised.

He wasn't.

Harry needed a girlfriend, someone to take the pressure off him, to get him to relax a bit. Although he already knew (he wasn't stupid, he could tell, even if Harry couldn't) he had decided to ask Harry whom exactly the potion smelled like.

That wasn't the response Harry had been expecting. A simple "Who?" had been his reply, the one thing he didn't want to tell his Godfather.

In his returning letter he mentioned Ginny Weasley only once, and included a lot of other things that would hopefully distract the easily distracted Sirius.

It didn't.

"Dear Harry,

When you saw your family in the mirror of erised, you may have noticed the many ginger women looking back at you. Of the three Potter blokes I've met (you, your father, and your grandfather), all three of them have fallen in love with redheads. Even if they haven't realized it yet.

It's a love potion, Harry, what do you think it means?

Love, Snuffles

He hadn't been able to look Ginny in the face for weeks after that letter. (That had proved to be quite a problem during Quidditch practice) He still hadn't responded to that letter. As a matter of fact, it had been hidden in the bottom of his trunk for the past year and a half.

Sirius had been right, though. Harry had fallen in love with her. If only he'd listen to Sirius, and admitted he loved her then, he would've had more time with her. And now, well he very well couldn't ask her to take him back now, now could he? He brother had just died. In fact, almost everyone in the castle was mourning a loved one. The Battle of Hogwarts had just finished, and Harry found himself replaying his whole history with Ginny. Merlin, he missed her. If it weren't for the fact that such a thing would be incredibly insensitive, he'd be asking her to take him back right now. Begging, even.

It seemed that was exactly what Padfoot wanted, too. At least, that's what Harry thought his excited hand gesturing meant.

He wasn't going to take the chance, he'd regretted not listening to him the first time around. He walked over to where her and her family were, at the end of the Gryffindor house table.

Suddenly he realized just how hungry he was. Maybe Ginny could wait just a minute… "SLAP!"…or not.

Of course she was mad. He didn't blame her, he'd be mad too. There goes his dinner.

He sighed.

And then Ginny was in his arms, crying. He didn't know what to do. But this was Ginny, and he needed to make her feel better. He settled for silence, and an awkward back pat. It seemed to help a little, but Harry had a feeling she was just happy he was here. She stopped crying quickly, and Harry was grateful. He'd never really gotten used to the crying thing. He sat down, and she sat next to him, wrapping her arms around him, and mumbling into his shoulder, rather incoherently.

She was rambling, that much he could tell. From what he could decipher, she was telling him he was a "noble git" for leaving, and she was afraid she was going to "lose" him.

Harry felt really bad. Both for what she was saying, and because of the look Mr. Weasley was now giving him. Mr. Weasley appeared to be working something out, and Harry realized just how in the dark the Weasleys had been. They didn't know about him and Ginny, and they definitely didn't know what had been happening the last few months. Ron, their own son, could have died, and they wouldn't have had a clue.

Then Mr. Weasley got up, whispered something to Mrs. Weasley and disappeared.

He'd shown up later in the common room, some time after Harry had been subjected to fifth helpings of everything from potatoes to treacle tart. Mr. Weasley then told everyone, after a joke from Percy (Percy of all people!) of a story that, while very heartwarming, caused nothing but trouble for Harry. For starters, everyone in the common room now had his or her attention focused on him, something he generally tried to avoid. Secondly, the story involved Harry's relationship with Ginny, a subject that, as a teenage boy, he was uncomfortable with. And finally, and most importantly, it was the reason that every one of Ginny's brothers was looking at him as if ready to strike. Considering even he was unsure of exactly what was going to happen between him and Ginny, he didn't think he could survive the inquisition right now. So instead, he went to bed. Immediately.

As he was about to fall asleep, he realized that if you wanted to, you could find a catch in everyone. There's always some reason, some flaw, some issue that can stop you from being happy with someone you love. His was his over-protectiveness; Ginny's was that she had six very scary older brothers (that weren't half as scary as her when she was angry). If you let those things get in the way, you'll lose what really matters. Love isn't about perfection. Love is about finding someone you'll do anything for, even if it's facing her six older brothers. There's no such thing as a "perfect catch". This is nothing important enough to stop you from being with someone if you truly love them.

The next morning, when Harry found Ginny, he swore to her that nothing would ever keep them apart again.

Fin

Not as good as my last story, or as long, I know, but reviews are still much appreciated!

Okay, I deleted this originally planning to do a major do-over, but I ended up just changing a few things. The parts that I thought were horrible, weren't as bad as I had originally thought, soo.. here it is!...again. :)

M-M17