Ginny was exhausted—both mentally and physically. She'd just fought Bellatrix (Bella-bitch), she'd just learned that Fred had not survived the battle, and she'd just been reunited with the love of her life, only to lose him again.
Needing to see Harry, Ginny excused herself and headed upstairs to the Gryffindor common room. As she approached the Fat Lady, she wondered what she could possibly say to Harry. She loved him more than life itself. When Voldemort had taunted him, saying that there was no one willing to shield Harry and take Voldemort's killing curse, Ginny had been incensed and ready to do just that—if only her mother had not held her back.
The Fat Lady let Ginny in without a password, telling her that anyone brave enough to fight in the battle against Voldemort was welcome inside.
Ginny crept in cautiously, afraid of startling Harry. She saw him staring into the empty fire grate, coated in dust and grime with his clothes caked in blood. Upon hearing her enter, he turned. For just a moment, she saw the utter defeat in his eyes and sorrow for those who'd been lost, before his face was transformed, lighting up like a Christmas tree at the sight of her.
Ginny was overcome with love for her hero, the one who had saved her life when she was eleven and the one she had given her heart to, completely. Yet, at the same time, Ginny's blood boiled at the sight of him. How dare he sneak off and sacrifice himself. Everyone had been ready and willing to die for the cause. There'd been no need for him to die, nor was there a need for him to trick everyone into believing he was dead. At the sight of Harry's limp body in Hagrid's arms, Ginny had been ready to give up. However, it had been Ron and Hermione, who were standing nearby, who told her that he wouldn't want anyone, least of all her, to give up. They had to keep fighting, for his sake.
Harry watched Ginny approach, eyes raking over her body as he took in her appearance and looked for any sign of injury. Once she was close enough, she swung her arm back and slapped him hard across the face.
"You noble git," she yelled. "How dare you make me think you were dead? Do you have any idea what you did to me, to your friends? There was no need for you to sneak off and sacrifice yourself like that!"
As Ginny yelled at him, she began to beat her fists against his chest. Harry made no move to stop her, as he felt deserving of her wrath.
Ginny finally stopped and collapsed into Harry's waiting arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
Harry simply held her, allowing her to pour out her feelings that had no doubt been hidden deep inside for the past year.
When Ginny was significantly calmer and no longer crying hysterically, Harry pulled away. Ginny gave an involuntary whimper at the loss of contact, but Harry hadn't gone far. He merely got down on his knees in front of her and took both her hands in his.
"Ginny," he began, his voice choking on her name. "Ginny, I love you so much. I am extremely sorry for the pain I have caused you and your family. I never wanted to hurt you. When I broke up with you, I thought I was protecting you. I didn't account for the fact that being a Weasley, a supposed 'blood traitor,' would hurt you as much as being my girlfriend, as well as that your family has been like my own for many years now. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness—I've hurt you too many times. First, by being incredibly dense and making you wait all those years for me. Then, once I had you, I broke up with you. And now, Fr-Fred's death rests on my shoulders. You and your family must hate me."
Ginny tried to stop Harry's mad ramblings, but he'd been silent for so long that he needed to speak.
"Ginny, I know I don't deserve your love. You are too good for me. I've been a marked man for so long that I don't know how I'm going to live or act normally. I don't know what I can offer you. I've got blood on my hands—I'm responsible for so many deaths: Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Colin…Sirius, Cedric, my parents, the list goes on and on. How can I face their families? I'm worthless—"
"HARRY!"Ginny finally yelled to get his attention. "Harry," she began again. "You are not worthless. Who told you you're worthless? And as for having blood on your hands, when are you going to realize that no one blames you? Everyone who died tonight, everyone who has ever died at the hands of Voldemort or his followers, did so knowing full well what they were getting themselves into. This has never been about you. It's always been about defeating Voldemort so that everyone can go back to living normal, ordinary lives, rather than living in fear that each day would be their last. You're merely someone who Voldemort saw as being in the way. By trying to kill you, he brought about his own downfall, for you became the symbol of all that we stood for. That's why everyone has always been willing to lay down their lives for you, myself included."
Harry stared at Ginny, the silence stretching on. He finally spoke, "Even after being apart for a year, you still understand me better than anyone, apart from Ron and Hermione."
Throughout her speech, Ginny had been lowering herself to the ground so as to be level with Harry. Their faces were now inches apart.
"And for the record," Harry whispered, before leaning further in, "I never wanted anyone to die for me, you least of all."
Ginny didn't have a chance to respond, as their lips met. Sparks flew and she pulled Harry closer, kissing his lips hungrily. Both were reminded of their hurried kiss on the stairs, full of so much need and desperation. This one was no less, and yet so much more.
Harry had thought Ginny was beautiful before he left. Now that he'd been gone, he appreciated her all the more. In the lamplight, she was positively radiant. Their hands began to travel, Ginny burying hers in Harry's hair, while Harry rested his hands on her back. Ginny gasped at his touch, pulling away slightly as his hands found an old wound that had yet to fully heal.
"Ginny, what's wrong?" asked Harry, concern for her evident in his voice.
"It's nothing, Harry," said Ginny, doing her best to mask the pain in her voice.
Harry's wandering hands had rumpled Ginny's clothes. Her shirt was askew, leaving her shoulders bare.
"That doesn't look like 'nothing' to me," said Harry, pointing to a prominently displayed scar that started at the top of her back and disappeared below her shirt.
Ginny sighed. Now that they'd once more established their love, she figured that they'd now talk about what had transpired over the past year. Realizing that for such a conversation they would need privacy, Ginny pulled Harry to his feet.
"Let's go to your dormitory," she said. "It's more private."
Suddenly afraid of what Ginny had to tell (or show) him, Harry allowed himself to be led to the boys' dormitory.
As they were leaving the comfort of the common room, Harry glanced down at their entwined hands.
"Ginny!" he exclaimed.
Startled, Ginny turned, breaking their contact. Harry snatched her hand back.
"What happened?" he asked, motioning to where a scar saying 'Harry Potter is undesirable' was carved into her hand. He held up his own hand for comparison. Ginny's scar was still fresh, red and jagged around the edges, while Harry's was going on two years old and had faded to white.
"Detentions were rough this year, Harry," she said, shrugging nonchalantly, as though she were untroubled by the pain she had suffered over the past year.
"Is that where you got that scar?" asked Harry, hesitantly pointing to the scar on her back.
Ginny nodded, wordlessly. She took his hand again and led him to the foot of the staircase. She turned to him, "I'll make you a deal: I'll tell you about my year, if you'll tell me about yours."
Harry nodded. "Of course. I feel you deserve to be the first to hear my story, considering I couldn't take you along, however much I wanted to."
Ginny kissed his hand, the one with the scar, before continuing their journey to Harry's dormitory. As they moved up the winding staircase, Harry returned the favor, kissing Ginny's wounded hand as well.
Hands interlocked, Harry moved in front of Ginny to open the door. He led her inside, motioning to his bed. Ginny crawled up and took a seat at the foot of the bed. Harry followed, facing her from the head of the bed.
"Well, Potter," said Ginny, with a smile. "Start talking."
"Why me?" asked Harry.
"Age before beauty, Harry. You're a year older, therefore you go first."
"Alright," said Harry, smiling at Ginny.
And so, he told Ginny about his year on the run, including his part in the Battle. When he told her about walking into the forest to his death, Ginny gasped and threw herself at him. He shifted his body so that he was lying on his back with his arm protectively around her. He kissed the top of Ginny's head and told her how his last thought had been of her—the blazing look in her eyes and what it felt like to kiss her.
Here, Ginny lifted her head and initiated a kiss that left Harry speechless and struggling to regain his train of thought.
He soldiered on, telling Ginny how, in the Great Hall, he had been running to attack Voldemort but had changed course after seeing her miss Bellatrix's death curse by an inch. He shared how terrified he'd been while circling Voldemort and the numbing shock he'd felt when it was all over. He finished his tale with how he'd repaired his old wand with the Elder Wand and gone downstairs with Ron and Hermione, before realizing how exhausted he was and how much he needed to see Ginny.
"So I went upstairs to the common room to wait. I knew you would come."
Throughout Harry's story, he had mentioned various injuries that had scarred him. Ginny insisted on seeing them. Harry had bared himself to her, taking off his shirt. Most prominent was a blossoming bruise over his heart, where Voldemort's killing curse had struck him. His body on display, he had watched in amazement as Ginny had devotedly kissed every scar, as though trying to erase the pain and the memories behind the various marks, rather than run, as he'd expected her to. Once done, Ginny settled into Harry's strong arms. She'd missed the feeling of being held by him. In his arms (and only in his arms), Ginny felt safe and protected.
Harry held her close and breathed in her flowery scent, a smell he had grown accustomed to and had missed while on the run.
"Your turn, love," he finally said, breaking the comfortable silence that had been blanketing them.
"You're not gonna like it," Ginny warned him.
Harry shot her a look that clearly said, "Tell me anyway."
"Okay. Here goes," said Ginny, suddenly nervous as to Harry's reaction. "Death Eaters took over the Hogwarts Express, looking for you. Neville stood up and told them quite plainly that you weren't there."
Harry held her, rubbing comforting circles on her back to calm her down as she began to relive her memories of the past year.
"Snape was headmaster. Two Death Eaters, the Carrows, were teachers. One taught Muggle Studies, except the class was more about how Muggles should be wiped out. The other taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, though really it was just Dark Arts. We were taught to use Unforgiveable Curses and had to perform the Cruciatus Curse on students who had earned detention."
Harry tightened his grip on Ginny as he emitted a low growl at the pain inflicted on the students of Hogwarts over the past year.
"If a student refused, they were put under the Cruciatus Curse themselves. "
"Were you ever…?" Harry's voice trailed off, unsure as to whether he wanted an answer or not.
"Yes, Harry, I was, for I'd never purposely hurt another student."
"If they wanted you to torture other students, why didn't they put you under the Imperius Curse?" asked Harry.
"I suppose they wanted us to be fully aware of what we were doing. I think they also thought that many would put themselves first, torturing others to avoid being tortured."
There was nothing for Harry to say, but as Ginny continued her tale of woe, recounting the numerous punishments that she and the other students had experienced, he held her closer and offered what comfort he could.
When she had finished, they lay in each other's arms, basking in the joy their reunion, as well as the end to Voldemort's reign of terror, brought.
A short time later, Ginny turned to say something to Harry, only to find herself trying to stifle a yawn.
"Sleep, Gin," said Harry encouragingly. "We have plenty of time to talk, now."
"Yes, thanks to you," Ginny murmured sleepily, settling herself back in Harry's arms.
"Good night, Ginny Weasley," whispered Harry.
"Good night, Harry Potter. I love you," Ginny whispered back.
Although startled for a moment, a smile quickly spread across Harry's face. "I love you too," he replied.
As the steady rhythm of Ginny's breathing cast its spell over Harry, and he closed his eyes, he thought to himself how long peace had been coming and how he fought for the girl in his arms, to ensure that she would have a long and happy life with whoever she chose. And, he thought to himself, he would continue to count his blessings that she had chosen him and had continued to wait for him.
When Mrs. Weasley burst in the next morning to discover her only daughter in the arms of Harry Potter, she quietly backed out, leaving them to enjoy each other's company. As she went down the stairs, she thought how she couldn't do much better for a son-in-law.
In the years to come, Ginny and Harry shared all. Harry shared with her the truth of his years growing up in a Muggle household, and Ginny set about to reassure him of his worth. Ginny shared her family with Harry, giving him a home to call his home and reminding him of the power of love, a power that Dumbledore had wisely pointed out was Voldemort's weakness just as it was Harry's strength.
And so, when the time came for Harry and Ginny to leave the world of the living, they looked back on their life together and smiled with tears of happiness in their eyes, for they had come full circle.