Hello!

It's been a while since I've posted a HP one-shot and I've been throwing this idea around for a while. It's another take on a super cliche scene, but I just had to write my version anyway. It kind of serves as a prequel to my one shot, Haircut, but is completely fine as a standalone fic as well. I'm honestly pretty happy with the way it turned out.

To give credit where credit is due, thanks to the wonderful ILikeReading1 for all the help with this one!

The hours since the battle ended had been a blur. Not that this was much different from the blur that had encompassed the days leading up to the battle, but Harry Potter noticed it more than he had then. It was a different kind of blur.

The Great Hall, while it was far less crowded on this, the second night since the battle, than it had often been over the course of the last few days, it was far from empty. Harry sat at one of the tables, the end of a line of people who had remained, as he had, to help out in the aftermath of the war.

The fighting had ended just before dawn on the second of May. Harry's time since had consisted mostly of sleeping, accepting praise and thanks from grieving witches and wizards, dodging reporters, and helping as much as he could with initial cleanup around the castle. In the time since the battle, just over a day and a half, a great deal of progress had been made throughout the wizarding world. The handful of aurors and members of magical law enforcement that remained after the battle had been hard at work rounding up as many remaining Death Eaters as they could and freeing the many innocent Muggle-borns and Harry Potter sympathizers that had been imprisoned during Voldemort's reign. It would be a while before things even remotely resembled normal again, but it was a start.

Much of the work had wound down for the night and Harry had reluctantly joined the others for a quiet dinner. He picked halfheartedly now at roast beef and mashed potatoes while subdued conversation rose up around him. Neville and a handful of other students sat just to his right, conversing amicably. He was thankful for Ron and Hermione's presence across from him, which spared him from having to socialize much. One or both would exchange a few words with him every once in a while, but they were so caught up in each other that he was paid little attention. This was all right by Harry, who wasn't much in the mood for it anyway.

He knew he should be happy; the war was finally over, Voldemort was gone, they had won. And in many ways he was, he was overjoyed at their victory and what it meant for the wizarding world, as well as the rather large fact that he was no longer walking around with a bit of Tom Riddle's soul inside him. However, there was also a weight of guilt that seemed inexplicably to crush him. It hung over everyone, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he was responsible, at least in part, for the deaths of so many. Hermione, having figured as much, had already chided him for this earlier in the day. "It's not your fault, Harry," she'd told him, "You know whose fault it is. And you stopped him. You got justice for everyone." Logically, he knew she was right, but the guilt still cropped up from time to time anyway. The grief too for those he'd lost himself.

His mind, however, was not, for the moment, on those who'd died, but on someone who was still very much alive. The rest of Ron's family had remained since the battle, helping, as Harry did, where they could. The loss of their son and brother was understandably hard on them, and he wondered if working served as a distraction from their grief. Ginny was, of course, with them.

Harry wasn't avoiding her exactly. He just didn't know what to say, or where to start, or how to even go about talking to her. He wasn't even certain she'd want to see him with the loss of her brother so fresh. And, after all, he had broken things off with her a year earlier, the events of his seventeenth birthday notwithstanding. Who was he to expect her to take him back after everything just because Voldemort was gone? Was he even in line to hope they could maybe still be friends?

He mentally shook himself. Now was not the time for that sort of thinking. The wizarding world was in shambles; people were dead. There were far more important things.

He was jolted back to reality by the sound of his name. Hermione was speaking to him. "Er—what?" he asked.

"Returning for our seventh year," she said, appearing the slightest bit annoyed that he had not been listening, "I asked Professor McGonagall about it earlier today and she told me that students who want to will be given the opportunity to return next year to complete whatever they missed this term. Isn't that wonderful?"

Harry glanced briefly at Ron, who seemed less than excited at this prospect. "Yeah," he said, looking back at her, "That's—er—great."

He must not have sounded very convincing. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you okay, Harry?" she asked.

"Yes," he said quickly, "Just—tired."

Hermione nodded. "Well, you have been working all day. Maybe you should go up to bed."

"Yeah," Harry replied, setting down the fork he'd been using to push the food around his plate, "Yeah, I think I will." He moved to stand. "I'll see you guys—" He'd stepped away and then froze when someone behind him grabbed his arm. He turned around and found himself face to face with red hair and beautiful brown eyes. "later." he finished lamely, blinking as his heart thudded irregularly in his chest. He swallowed and managed, "Hi."

"Hi," Ginny replied, her gaze unwavering. Harry was very aware of the eyes of Ron and Hermione—and surely many others—on them. "Have you got a minute?"

"I don't think he does, Gin," Ron piped up from behind Harry, sounding for all the world like he was grinning, "He was just heading up to bed to brood by himself."

Ginny spared her brother not a glance. Harry, after an unpleasant look shot at his best friend, looked back at her. "I was just—"

"You and I both know you aren't going to sleep any time soon," Ginny said sternly, "Now come on. You owe me this much." Harry sighed lightly but nodded and followed her out of the Great Hall with dozens of gazes watching as they went.

She walked until they were through the front doors and out in the ruined Hogwarts grounds. Harry ambled along beside her, stepping over and diverting around debris that had yet to be cleaned up. They passed the Whomping Willow and neither had said anything yet. Ginny, who had inside been so determined to get him to follow her was apparently in no rush to speak now that they were alone.

When he could take no more of the heavy silence between them, Harry spoke up. "So, er, how… are you?"

She stopped walking and looked at him in the darkness, the moon their only illumination. "Really?" she asked, her voice surprisingly cold, "That's what you're going to say?"

"I don't know what to say, Ginny," Harry said honestly.

"Really?" she asked again, "Because I could say loads. Honestly, I'm of half a mind to hex you where you stand, but you'd probably just deflect anything I threw at you."

Harry sighed. He knew he deserved this, but that didn't make it any easier to take. "I—"

"Do you know what it's been like? Do you have any idea at all?"

"I know it—"

"No, you don't! I'm sure whatever you were doing was no picnic and in your stupid, noble mind, keeping everyone in the dark made the most sense, but did you even consider—"

"Ginny, I want to tell you everything," Harry interrupted, "I do! I just don't know how. There's so much, I—I don't know where to start. It'll be morning before I've even told you the half of it!" He watched her in the dimness. "And I want to know everything from you, of course I do! Do you think I like the fact that you were all here suffering because of me? I hate it! I don't even know much at all and I hate it!"

Ginny was quiet for a second after he finished, and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter, if not nicer. "I don't care about that," she said, "I mean, I do. Obviously, I want to know where you've been, but that's not what I'm talking about. I want to know why you don't trust me."

Harry blinked at her, taken aback. "What?"

She stared at him in the moonlight. "I know you did what you did because you knew what was coming. The Death Eaters couldn't torture people into telling them what they didn't know. And I get why you broke up with me, even though it was probably more for your own false sense of security than any real effectiveness—it made no difference, by the way. You disappear with Hermione and my brother, go gallivanting to Merlin knows where. No one knows anything. You break into the Ministry and into Gringotts—which I do at some point want to know how you managed to pull off. It's obvious you're up to something but no one has the faintest clue as to what. I don't either but at least you're alive and that's all that matters. And then you show up at Hogwarts after nearly a year away, the fighting starts, and you side with my mother about letting me fight too."

Harry was dumbfounded. "That's what you're angry about?"

"Oh, I'm angry about a lot of things, but that's a pretty big one at the moment, yes."

"Ginny," he began, floundering, "I didn't mean to hurt you—"

"You didn't hurt me. You insulted me, which is worse, I think. I know I'm not Ron or Hermione. I'm not one of your trusted comrades that you tell everything to—I wish I was, believe me, but that's not the point. I'm not Ron or Hermione and I'm not an adult yet, but I've fought beside you enough times by now that I think I at least deserve a little respect. Maybe some confidence in my abilities."

It hit him then why she was so angry and he almost laughed. Of all the possible reasons for her to be mad at him. "You think I asked you to stay behind because I didn't think you were a good enough fighter?"

"Didn't you?" Ginny demanded, still fiery, though Harry detected the slightest waver, like maybe she wasn't so sure now of her conclusion.

"No! Of course not. Ginny, you're one of the best fighters I know!"

"Well then why—"

"Because I love you!" he nearly shouted, "Blimey, don't you know that? That's why I did everything I did. I had to do it, Ginny. I had to find the last—the diadem and I had to stop Voldemort. It had to be me and it seemed impossible, but if I was going to have any hope at all, I couldn't be worrying about you. It was so selfish, but I only ever wanted you to be safe. I needed you to be. And it didn't even work because you're so stubborn. I nearly ruined everything when Bellatrix threw that curse at you. If your mum hadn't stepped in… "

Ginny stood frozen, gaping at him in the darkness. "What did you say?" she all but whispered.

Harry blinked. "The… the Killing Curse. Bellatrix—"

"No. Before that. You… you said… you love me."

"Oh," he said, his cheeks suddenly hot against the cool night air. He had said that, and he did mean it—the long cold nights spent watching her dot on the Marauder's Map had taught him that much, but he rather hadn't meant for it to come out like that. "I-I do." What else was there to say?

It was hard to be sure in the darkness of the grounds, but Harry thought Ginny seemed less angry. She stared at him, utterly silent. He wished he knew what she was thinking. Before he could decide on something to say next, however, she had rushed forward, closing the distance between them, and her lips were on his. Harry's heart lurched almost painfully even while his brain immediately melted and he wrapped his arms around her, deepening the kiss.

It was like he'd been drowning, but his head had finally broken the surface and he now breathed fresh, clean, life-giving air. Like he'd been trapped in a never-ending nightmare and had opened his eyes to morning. It was the kiss on his seventeenth birthday, but better. The fear and dread he'd felt for so long vanished from Harry's mind. The heavy weight of guilt he'd carried since the battle finally lifted and he could breathe, even while his heart pounded away in his chest. Oh how he'd missed kissing Ginny!

They finally broke apart and she leaned into him, burying her face in his jumper. "I love you too," she breathed, and then stepped back and just looked at him again. It was a long moment before she sighed heavily, looking down and back again. "Wow. I'm sorry. I didn't drag you out here to yell at you." She sounded almost embarrassed, but only just.

"It's alright. I know I deserve it," Harry replied, his heart rate still above normal.

Ginny nodded without even an attempt at contradiction. "It's just…" She began and looked suddenly emotional. "I thought you were dead. And I mean, I'm obviously really very happy you're not—I don't think I could've handled it if you were. Especially after F-F—" She stuttered over the first letter of her brother's name before her voice broke. "After everything," she amended quickly. "So much has happened and—and I have no idea what we're supposed to do now. I mean, I've been trying to be strong, for George and especially for Mum, but…"

"I know," Harry said sadly, some of the guilt creeping back now. He felt suddenly awkward. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to comfort her in some way, but he wondered if it was his place. They'd just shared a passionate kiss, sure, but was it in his right to offer her support like that through her pain? Especially given his own inexplicable fears that all of this was somehow his fault? And after everything he'd done to her?

Ginny, ignorant of Harry's internal struggle, nodded, her eyes downcast. "I just… I feel like there's nothing I can do. I can't fix anything there. I can't…" She took a deep breath. "I can't bring him back." She risked a glance back up at him now, continuing. "And I feel awful. Because that should be the biggest thing on my mind right now. My—my brother died… and yet you've been in my thoughts at least as much as he has." Harry jolted a bit at that. He didn't know what to say, but she saved him from having to speak.

"I just… I can't do it anymore, Harry. I don't know if it's shock from the war or some coping mechanism for the grief, or still just the stupid crush I've had on you since the beginning of time, but I needed to talk to you, to see for myself that you were okay, and I was tired of waiting for you to get over yourself and stop avoiding me."

Harry immediately spoke up to defend himself. "I-I wasn't—"

"You were. And I get it. And we don't have to do all that right now. Talk about everything. In fact, I really don't want to. Not now." She took a shaky breath. "But I—I just…" She took another deep breath and seemed suddenly to be fighting for composure.

Harry understood, probably better even than she did herself, what was happening. One could only fight for strength for so long before it abandoned him to the aching rawness of the pain inside. He remembered losing Sirius, how much of a final straw it had been for him and how badly he'd taken it. It was hitting her and Ginny was finally breaking.

He didn't hesitate now, like he had before, to reach out and wrap her in his arms. And if he was honest with himself, it was one of the most natural things he'd ever done.

Ginny clung to him, her uneven breaths sounding close to his ear. She tried to say something, but he shushed her gently and held her. "I know." He didn't speak beyond that, but he somehow knew he didn't need to.

She calmed down after a minute, but did not immediately pull away. "I missed you, Harry," she said at last.

"I missed you too."

She pulled back now and looked at him in the darkness. "Promise me," she said firmly, "No more. From here on out, you tell me everything. No more sneaking off to be a hero and leaving me behind in the dark. Because if you don't, Harry Potter, I swear I might actually kill you."

Harry didn't doubt that for a minute. "I promise." He managed a wry smile. "But believe me, Gin, I don't plan on doing any more heroing."

"Did you plan on it before?" she countered, an eyebrow raised dubiously in the dimness.

"Fair point."

She managed a small smirk. He smiled in reply, staring at her in the dark. She held his gaze. Neither spoke in that minute, but a lot was said. Harry wasn't exactly off the hook yet; nor would Ginny ever let the subject of the past year drop before he told her every last detail of it. He wasn't quite forgiven yet, but it was a start. It was a promise. He would tell her everything, when he was ready, and she would do the same.

For a split second, a hint of the familiar sparkle returned to her brown eyes, obvious even in the darkness, and Harry was somehow certain it had been months since it had last been there. It was short-lived, however, as a moment later, a muffled crash sounded from inside the castle—from additional cleanup or maybe Peeves—and drew her attention away. Ginny stared toward the school for a few seconds longer than strictly necessary before turning back to look at him. She gave a reluctant sigh. "I should probably get back inside." She paused, studying him, "You should too, with the way Mum's been since…" She didn't finish that sentence.

Harry's heart felt like a Bludger in his chest. "I'm sorry," he told her, surprised himself by the emotion in his voice. She nodded slightly, looking down.

Ginny reached forward and grabbed his hand. The action seemed to provide her some comfort and she let it fall again after a moment. She finally met his eyes. "We're going to be okay, right?"

She didn't elaborate, but Harry knew she didn't just mean their relationship. She meant the both of them, and her family, and their friends; the wizarding world as a whole. "Yeah," he answered in the same quiet tone she had used, "I think so. Eventually."

Ginny took a deep breath and nodded, looking somewhat reassured, but Harry knew she believed him for different reasons than most everyone else did. They looked to him as a leader and a celebrity. Ginny was different. To her, he was a friend, a confidant, a partner. She had advised him nearly as much as he had her—she was certainly within her right to be angry with him. And for maybe the first time, his reassurance wasn't empty. He didn't know if he was completely confident in his answer, but he wanted it to be true. And the fact that it seemed to help Ginny even a little marginally lifted his own spirits too.

"Okay." She glanced toward the ruined castle again and then sighed, looking back. "We really should be getting inside." Her mouth curved in the tiniest of smirks. "You wanted to go to bed, after all."

Harry exhaled a quiet laugh, probably his first in in days. "Er, yeah."

"Come on, Mr. Hero of the Wizarding World," Ginny said, turning the way they'd come, "Let's go face your adoring fans together."

Still smiling, Harry followed her through the damaged Hogwarts grounds once more, his spirits significantly lighter than they'd been before. The magical community was still a mess, people were still grieving, dark wizards were still being rounded up, but from all the darkness of the past months, at least until they crossed the threshold of Hogwarts once more, things looked a bit brighter.

And someday, maybe soon, everything else would too.

Thanks for reading!