With a hushed gasp and an upwards jerk Harry awoke, finally escaping from his nightmares.

Not to worry, though, Harry was used to it by now.

Ginny rustled next to him, pawing the sheets where his body once lay. "Harry…" she mumbled sleepily, "are you awake?"

"Go back to sleep. I just need some water."

Harry stumbled down the dimly-lit hallway of Grimmauld place to the kitchen and grabbed himself a cup. Making his way over to the sink, a half-empty bottle of scotch caught his eye. Upon further consideration, he poured himself the liquor and shot it down, wincing at the burn.

He sighed deeply and turned on the tap, running his hands under the water then over his face. On the counter stood a picture frame with a dark-haired man in a tux and a beautiful redhead in a flowing white gown. Harry smiled in memory of their wedding just a month ago. He couldn't imagine what life could be like without her, though, it was such which tended to haunt him in his dreams. Ginny, in her beautiful wedding dress, being stained with blood as she lay dying in his arms.

"Just a dream…" he muttered to himself reassuringly.

His heart sank- a creak down the hallway had his heart and mind racing. He froze, unsure whether to arm himself, or even to think twice about what it was.

A hand on his shoulder caused him to whirl around with a shout and nearly knock Ginny on her feet.

"Bloody hell, Harry, it's just me!" Ginny confessed.

Harry sighed in relief and rubbed his head. "I'm sorry… I just… I was just a little spooked. Are you alright?"

Ginny nodded, gently framing his face with her hands. "Are you?"

"Of course I am. Just needed water, remember?" He reassured her by pulling her close, her copper hair against his chest.

The corner of her mouth twitched into a half-hearted smile before she kissed his bottom lip, light as air.

"Is that why you taste like scotch, then?" she teased.

"Hm… that must be why the water bill is so high…" he let his mouth graze hers while tracing circles on her back.

Ginny chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Come back to bed?"

Harry grimaced. "I don't want to sleep…" Truthfully, he did want to sleep, ever so badly. The thought of drifting back into the haunting realms of his mind, though, kept him from attempting sleep often.

Ginny smiled mischievously, "We don't have to sleep…"

Harry cracked a smile and snuggled into her soft hair, "I think I'd like that."

"Ohh would you?" she crooned as her hands roamed his chest, a gesture to remind him of his masculinity.

His eyebrows elevated and mouth agape, he groaned at her sudden boldness.

Damn. Griffindors.

"Ginny…" he breathed.

Her long, thin fingers tugged at his long flannel pajama pants as his breath caught-

"Wait."

She kissed his neck, softly sucking as he protested.

"Ginny, seriously."

"Mm, you think I'm going to buy into that? Harry Potter plays hard to get, does he?"

Harry tried to detangle himself from her, "Ginny, I'm serious, I heard something."

Sure enough, a few seconds later, a light tapping introduced itself.

Ginny frowned, puzzled. "Moe?" Referring to their relatively new Barn Owl, of course.

Harry, disgruntled at the interruption, made his way to the window.

"Who could be sending post this late at night?" he mused as he pushed the old window open.

Ginny crossed her arms over herself at the chill of the January night air. "Could be Bill and Fleur. The baby's due any day now, you know."

Harry pondered. "Let's hope so."

Though 4 a.m. mail was not unheard of, it rarely brought good news. Everyone needed good news these days. Too much death, not enough life. A new baby was exactly what everyone needed.

Harry welcomed Moe in with some food and water and shut the window. He hesitantly unwound the parchment as well as a small black box from Moe's foot and searched for the name of the sender.

Regrettably, there was none. Just a blank envelope attached to an unmarked box.

"Who is it from?"

"I don't know…"

Ginny took curiosity, "What do you mean you don't know?"

Harry looked up at her with the same confused expression. "Well… should we open it?"

"Yes of course, it was send to us."

"What if… what if it's a trap? Or something unsafe?"

You could never be safe enough. Even though Voldemort was dead, many of his true followers sought revenge on Harry and the other "blood traitors." Just last week, a notable Auror was sent deadly spores through post and nearly died. Thankfully, Neville was a trained herbologist and kept antidotes ready at all times.

Ginny nodded at the memory but whispered, "Oh hush, just open it. We'll be careful."

Harry slipped his finger under the flap of the letter and broke the seal. He tugged out an aged piece of parchment- at least a couple years old, to guess. Harry opened it and read aloud:

"Dear Harry,

There are still so many things you don't know. Things only I can tell you. If you so wish, I can do so. But I must warn you, you may not want to believe me. You may as well be happier without it. For this reason, I wish to give you the choice. Live as you were to without my answers, or seek the truth. You may have until tomorrow evening to decide.

Sincerely,

Perhaps you will find out one day."

Ginny's eyes were grave. "Harry… do you have any idea who this could be?"

Harry's mouth went dry. "I… don't know."

Their eyes met, joined in shared confusion ad hesitancy.

Harry grabbed for the box.

"Wait, Harry, I don't think we should… whoever this is, I don't trust them." Ginny's hand restrained Harry's.

"Why not? Whoever it is, they don't sound like they are trying to get anything from me… if they wanted me dead, they would have poisoned the parchment or something. It's fine."

Ginny took a wavering breath and nodded. "Okay. Go ahead, then."

Harry picked up the black, wooden box and wiggled it around. He heard something hard and metallic bouncing off the walls.

"Here goes nothing."

He pried the box open to find a single silver key. It was adorned with strands of silver, wrapping around the handle like an Irish knot.

"It's… quite exquisite, don't you think?" Ginny commented.

"Yes, but what does it go to?" Harry questioned.

"I don't know. Harry, are you going to try to figure this out? What do they mean, there are things you don't know?"

"I don't know, Gin. They said I might be better without it."

They sat silently in the living room, pondering their choice.

"I think I want to know." Harry confessed. "I've spent a lot of time searching for answers. Stopping now would be… well, that would put to waste everything I've learned his far, right?"

"No, Harry… it's okay to not know everything. I'm not saying don't do it. I just mean… you're happy now, right? We're happy. If you'd rather not disturb it, you don't have to."

Harry thought about this. "No. I want to know the truth. What could it possibly be anyways?"

Ginny shrugged, "I don't know, love. Let's go to bed, okay? We can talk about it tomorrow."

Harry tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Okay, let's go."

Hand-in-hand, they strolled back to bed. Within minutes, Ginny was asleep. But once again, Harry lay awake in the darkness, pondering life's mysteries- especially the newest one which had made itself inescapable from his mind.

Who was this person? What is it that Harry doesn't know? And why does this person care whether or not Harry knows it?

After a few hours of endless questioning, Harry slipped into yet another restless sleep, eager to face the next evening's answers.