August 2025
Ginny crept up to bed, after a long day of editing the Quidditch section of the Daily Prophet. A quick glance at the clock informed her that it was 12:15am, thus the start of the twelfth of August, 2025.
Twenty five years of marriage. Twenty five years with the man she loved most. A quarter of a century. Twenty five years of a solid connection with her significant other. More like a part of her that she couldn't live without. Almost inseparable.
Their relationship, she mused, had truly started after Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup in her fifth year. She'd been standing in the common room, and he'd just kissed her. In front of everyone. It had been one of the best kisses of her life. Up in the Top 3 with the one on Harry's seventeenth, and of course, the one, or the many, on their wedding day.
Ginny remembered the days after the war. Harry had been slightly depressed; no, he'd been steadily sinking into a clinical depression. The nightmares and guilt still plagued him after all these years. They weren't as frequent as they had been, but still…
Three children. And a half, as the running joke went. Harry's capacity to love still amazed her, knowing what she did about his past. Yet he had raised Teddy, James and Albus so well, with her help. And Lily, Lily was so like her mother, and, according to McGonagall, her paternal grandmother.
She remembered how upset she'd been after Dumbledore's death, even though she'd seen their break up coming. Harry had slightly gotten over his 'saving people thing', but then again, he hadn't had many people to risk his life for in the years since the war, and for that Ginny was eternally grateful.
Oh yes, Harry's job as Head Auror, and the years before he was appointed Department Head, had brought him field work, but they were far from the dangerous situations Harry had found himself in as a teenager.
And Ron and Hermione had been with him almost all that time. She'd never really thought there was anything going on between Hermione and Harry, having seen the way the two interacted with each other. They were like brother and sister. Yet that was almost precisely it. In the early days of their relationship post-war, when Harry absolutely refused to talk about his experiences, she'd been almost insanely jealous of what Ron and Hermione knew. Yet, as time went on, and Ginny herself had matured, she'd realised that Ron and Hermione were in a rather different category from Ginny. And rightly so, considering she was Harry's wife.
Yet, through everything –war, jealousy, three rather mischievous children, one Metamorphagus godson, injury, her career, their fame and dislike of the limelight, Harry and Ginny were still as in love as they had been on their wedding day. Nothing had been able to break that connection which, literally, and figuratively bonded them together. They truly had fulfilled what was said in Muggle wedding ceremonies.
Until death do us part, Ginny thought, twisting her wedding ring around her finger.
A/N: Rather short, I know, I was having quite a few problems with this. But, there's a bit of a lull now, between studying for our mid-years and the seemingly endless homework, so I wanted to get this up ASAP.
Written for the [Varying Degrees of Famous Musicians] Inspiration Challenge