The battle was over, the good guys had won. Harry struggled with the deaths of his friends: Remus, Tonks, Fred, Hedwig, and the others who couldn't live to see the victory. But the sun shined on the black lake and all the students basked in the glory of safeness, and Harry hadn't been able to help it. And besides, he had gained an enormous amount of closure from the Meeting of the Resurrection Stone.

Harry had wandered, trancelike, up to his dormitory, newly repaired wand in hand. He had a peaceful nap, uninterrupted by Voldemort's mind games. A delicious sandwich, animated talks with Seamus, Dean, Neville and Ron, Thanks, handshakes, hugs and tears with the Weasleys and remaining professors, and Harry found himself outside under a tree, waving serenely to the squid, and reading Quality Quidditch Supplies Edition: Tips and Tricks for Fantastical Flying.

Ron and Hermione were off, probably snogging, Harry thought with a twitch of a smile. He knew for sure that now they were together they would never be apart, no matter how much they may bicker. His brain shut down quickly, however, when they youngest Weasley walked across the grass, right towards him. Her dark red hair swung just past the waist of her light washed shorts. Shorts that, paired with her slender emerald green shirt, made Harry's brain go slightly fuzzy. Her hazel eyes were weary, but glowed in a definite relaxed state. Ginny half-smiled at Harry, obviously unsure of what to say due to the breakup. She looked down and began walking away.

As her bare feet swished the grass, Harry mentally kicked himself. For the eightieth time that day. Ever since he had broken up with her for her protection, he had had to fight and endless battle with himself not to go back to her, hold her, kiss her again. The only thing to mar his time between Voldemort's defeat and now was this. The fact that Ginny wasn't next to him now, sleeping on his chest, smiling into his eyes, their shoes kicked off and nothing to worry them. Ever. But now the threat to her was gone, over, and he saw no reason why—

"Ginny wait!" Harry clambered to his feet and ran a few steps, leaving his book, wand, and shoes under the tree. She turned around. Harry stopped

"I was just—I mean—I…I miss you!" He blurted out, and once he got going he found it extremely hard to stop. But he had the sensibility to breathe first.

"When I broke up with you last Spring, I was doing it because I knew if you died by Voldemort I wouldn't be able to do anything but follow your lead, die next to you. But every day I couldn't do anything but think about how I'd screwed this up. How, if I died first, my only regret would be you not being with me. I couldn't decide what to do but either way I miss you and I love you and would you consider…maybe…dating me again?"

Harry's speech was injected with pauses, stutters, and sighs. He finished with an exhale of air. Ginny's eyes were wide and brimming with tears. Harry was about to say something else, something modest, or reassuring, before Ginny took three strides to where he was standing and wound her hands around his neck, pulling his face down to meet hers and kissing him furiously. Harry, once recovered from his initial shock, clasped his hands behind her back; feeling her hair and responding so enthusiastically he actually lifted Ginny a few inches off the ground, her bare toes dangling over the green grass. When they pulled back for air, Harry found he couldn't stop smiling.

"Of course I'll go out with you" Ginny murmured against his lips

"I love you."

Harry felt Ginny tense and then relax at his words. She began to grin. And soon she was laughing until she cried. Harry began laughing too, crying along with her and smiling like an idiot. Ginny dipped her head down, her eyes up, and said, between giggles:

"I love you too."

An hour later, Ron and Hermione walked up to the lake, fingers entwined. Under the beech tree by the lake they first saw the two sets of trainers, then the book, the two wands, and finally Harry and Ginny. They lay on the grass, her head on his chest, smiling sleepily up at him, both of their sets of eyes closing periodically, drifting off into a beautiful daydream. No worries, and no shoes.