I hope you like this chapter too! Pleasepleaseplease review! If you do, I'll review one of your stories! Also, I don't own Harry Potter. Obviously. -said in snapelike voice :P

Chapter 2

When the trio arrived at the doors of the Ministry of Magic, Harry almost didn't recognize it, partially due to the enormous poster of himself draped over the doors, and partially due to elaborate decorations that transformed every part of the lobby. Harry looked around, and couldn't seem to keep his mouth closed. It didn't even look like the Ministry anymore, but rather seemed to be more like a catering hall, or a place that one would think to have a celebration.

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry turned around, holding in a groan. He knew it wouldn't be long before someone recognized him.

Harry turned around to face the voice that had called him. He didn't recognize the man, but he knew he was a reporter by the parchment streaming from one hand and a quill gripped tightly in the other. Another man stood beside him, holding on to a professional-looking camera.

"Mr. Potter," the man said again, shifting his reporting materials so that he could shake Harry's hand. "A pleasure to meet you, simply a pleasure."

"Pleasure to meet you, too," Harry replied politely, shaking his hand managing a smile. He turned to Ron and Hermione quickly. "You both can go; I'll be there in a minute."

"Would you mind if I asked a few questions?" the reporter asked. "And maybe took a picture or two? We missed the announcement, you see, and we would like to get some sort of story."

Harry bit his lip. He had not wanted to be answering numerous questions. In fact, that was one of the main points of the public announcement…so that he wouldn't have to. But what if the man had fought? What if he had lost family in the war? What if he had supported Dumbledore and the Order every step of the way?

Sighing, Harry nodded.

"Go ahead," he agreed.

The evening continued on in a similar pattern. Harry answered questions for reporters, and once he finished, stood around with Ron and Hermione before yet another reporter would approach and ask more of the same questions.

As a blonde reporter asked her first question, the Ministry doors opened yet again to reveal another guest. But this guest wasn't an ordinary witch or wizard who had done something important. This guest was much more special in the eyes of the Savior.

Harry almost let his butterbeer slide out of his hand as he stared, transfixed, at the guest who had entered. Her fiery hair seemed to burn as the last rays of the sun illuminated it, and her eyes sparkled, reflecting the crystalline chandelier along with their own unique beauty. As Ginny Weasley entered the room, Harry's breath caught in his throat and he absentmindedly put his butterbeer down on the nearest table.

"Mr. Potter? Er, excuse me, Mr. Potter? Mr. Potter?"

Harry turned back to the reporter, back to reality.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?" he asked, not allowing himself to turn his head towards the redhead again. If he did, he would surely never look away.

"Is that a friend of yours?" the reporter asked, nodding in the direction of Ginny.

Harry looked back at his former girlfriend, and his mind raced. How could he possibly get Ginny involved with the press? It would torment her.

"I…I, er, well…" he stuttered, desperately trying to think of what to say. Where was Hermione when she was most needed? "What question did you ask before?"

Harry almost slapped himself. That was quite clearly not an intelligent thing to say. His fixation on Ginny was obvious now.

"Is that girl who just walked in a friend of yours? She's quite pretty," the reporter said in what Harry perceived as an attempt to be conversational.

Harry almost scoffed. "Quite pretty" didn't even begin to describe Ginny's appearance. Her soft, flowing hair was the color of leaves in autumn, yet smelled like the flowers of the spring. Her eyes were like pools of melted chocolate, warm and completely mesmerizing. Her freckles dotted her beautiful, clear skin and the dress she wore complimented her perfectly.

"I…well, I—" Harry stumbled through nonsense again, but was cut short when the red-haired girl herself walked up to him.

"Hey Harry," she said with a stunning smile.

"Hey Ginny," Harry said weakly, wishing desperately for her to walk away.

"Oh, am I interrupting something?" Ginny blushed as she saw the reporter standing beside them. "I'm so sorry."

"No, it's quite fine, Mr. Potter seems to have lost his ability to speak anyway," the reporter said with a small smile. "You look quite beautiful, dear. What is your name?"

"I'm Ginny, Ginny Weasley," Ginny said kindly. "And thank you very much."

Harry couldn't hold in his grimace. They had Ginny's name. They had it. Now they could do whatever they wanted with it. Reporters were not to be trusted. Especially reporters with compliments up their sleeves.

"We actually have to get going now but I'm sorry I couldn't answer any more questions," Harry said quickly, grabbing Ginny's hand.

He pulled her towards Ron and Hermione, walking at a rapid pace across the lobby.

"Harry! Slow down!" Ginny said as they neared the couple. She stumbled forward a few steps, slightly tottering in her glistening high heels.

"Sorry," Harry apologized. "We had to get away from her though. She's a reporter, Ginny. You can't just give her your name like that. You can't trust her!"

Ginny bit her lip and looked back in the direction they had come from.

"I guess you're right," she agreed.

They fell into silence. Harry gathered up his courage and looked up from his shoes into Ginny's eyes. There he was, the guy who had saved the world, drowning in the chocolate abyss of his ex-girlfriend's eyes, without a thing to say to her. Or perhaps with too much to say.

"Ginny, I—"

But before he could get another word out, Ginny was kissing him, her hands running through his always-messy black hair. As much as Harry knew people were staring at them, and as much as he knew it was bound to be in the Prophet the next morning, and as much as he knew he probably had a line of reporters waiting for him, he kissed her back, tangling his fingers in her fiery tresses.

They broke apart after several moments, and Harry gazed at Ginny.

"I've been waiting for months to do that," Ginny admitted, biting her lip.

"Me too," Harry agreed. "I honestly thought I might never be able to."

"I was worried about the same thing," Ginny nodded, her brown eyes suddenly filled with sadness. "Especially when Hagrid came out carrying you when everyone thought you were…were..."

Ginny looked away, trailing off, tears pooling in her eyes. But before Harry could wipe the tears away, she regained her composure and faced him again.

"I was so afraid, Harry," she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. "I was so scared I lost you. I don't know what I would do if I lost you. Despite what Neville said…the battle felt over for me. With you gone…what meaning would life have anymore? I love you, Harry. I really, truly love you, and I can't lose you again. Do you promise me that?"

Harry looked at the red-haired girl and at the pain in her eyes. What he wouldn't give to be able to take that pain away...

"I love you too, Ginny," he said. "And I promise that you won't lose me again. Not if I can help it."

And with that, he leaned down and kissed her again. Who cared if the photographers saw? He had Ginny, he loved her, and best of all, she loved him. If only for a moment, life seemed perfect.