Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is responsible for creating this world, I'm just living in it for a little while.

Chapter 2

Ginny wakes up to a sharp pain in her right hand and reacts accordingly.

She shrieks loudly, sitting up and flailing her arms reflexively. She hits something small and round with her right arm, and it goes flying off of her bed and into the nearby wall. When Ginny's regained her senses enough to realize what's happened, she shoves her covers off and gingerly walks over to where a tiny owl is chirping fearfully on the ground.

"I'm sorry, Pig," Ginny apologizes, gently picking up her brother's owl, Pigwidgeon, and petting his head. "I didn't mean to hit you."

Pig hoots feebly in response and holds out his leg dutifully. With a tired sigh, Ginny retrieves the attached letter and reads it with sleepy eyes.

Ginny,

It's written in Hermione's handwriting rather than Ron's, she notices, which might explain why Pig is delivering letters before Ginny's awake.

This is terribly last minute, but I was hoping you could meet me for lunch today at eleven-thirty? We're going to meet Harry and Ron at Bloxam's Bistro in Diagon Alley, if you can make it. Please send Pigwidgeon back with your answer as soon as possible!

Love,

Hermione

Ginny's surprised by the letter's contents—Hermione, Ron, and Harry, all three ministry employees, typically spend their lunch hour together on the ground floor of the Ministry, and Ginny very rarely joins them. Ginny's always understood that the three of them share something that she'll never quite be a part of, and that's okay. She wouldn't dare try to mess it up.

Ginny jots down a quick affirmation on the back of Hermione's letter and sends the note off with Pig. Collapsing back on her bed, she glances at the clock on her wall, and then groans when she realizes it's only half past seven.

Since she was officially moved up to a starting position on the National Team three weeks ago, Ginny's been spending her mornings and afternoons with the Harpies and her evenings with the English. But, due to three Harpies being out with Scrofungulus, this was Ginny's first morning in months without any sort of conditioning or practice. She'd planned to sleep in until noon today and to maybe go visit her mum for tea. Even though her plans are pretty well shot now, Ginny still burrows herself into her bed in hopes that she can go back to sleep for a couple more hours at least.

Ten minutes later and she's resigned herself to being wide-awake. She quickly showers and dresses, then makes her way to her tiny kitchen. Grabbing a muffin and the Daily Prophet from the previous day, she sits down at her table. Now that the Second War's over, the popular paper has become much more reliable and much less biased in its reporting. The Prophet doesn't cover up Ministry blunders or release libelous exposés on famous wizards anymore; it surprisingly just reports the news like it's supposed to. While the paper's still fixated on Harry Potter and his personal life, it doesn't try to paint him as mentally unstable like it used to, at least.

Nibbling on her muffin, Ginny opens the paper and her attention is immediately seized by the front page article. Wiles Wrestles with the Wizengamot , the headline reads.

Next Sunday, the 6th of April, Calista Hopkins, the witch recently found responsible for the deaths of the Fawley family last year, will receive the Dementor's Kiss. The Kiss has been administered to five individuals in the past year, all of which were convicted for murder. An anonymous source, however, recently brought some interesting information to the Daily Prophet's attention: not a single recipient of the Kiss in the last two years has used a barrister to defend them. This reporter confirmed this information by personally writing Gaius Marchbanks, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. "The anonymous tip you received was accurate," he wrote, "But it's worth noting that the criminals in question all chose to represent themselves in their respective cases." Rebecca Wiles, president of the Anti-Kiss Alliance, argued otherwise when interviewed yesterday. "This is just another example of our broken legal system," she said, "The Wizengamot is fundamentally biased, and it's time we did something about that." When this reporter asked what Wiles suggested it is we should do, she merely smiled and said, "If you show up to Azkaban on Sunday, you might see." The A.K.A. will be protesting outside of the prison all day according to Wiles, and the Kiss is scheduled for ten o'clock sharp.

Ginny sets the paper back down once she's finished, rather surprised by the article. She's thankful that there was no mention of her boyfriend, which she had expected upon seeing the headline, but the information about convicts not receiving proper legal defense is troubling. She hates agreeing with anything Rebecca Wiles says, but she did have a point about the broken legal system. Even four years out from the Second War and so many aspects of the Ministry are still problematic. Kingsley Shacklebolt has done his best to reform it, but evidence like this demonstrates how the Ministry remains corrupt at its roots.

With a shake of the head, Ginny picks the paper back up and flips to the Sports section, hoping reading about Quidditch will distract her from worrying. The League standings make her smile—the Harpies are at the top of the page, just underneath the undefeated Appleby Arrows. Ginny's proud of her team; it had been a tough adjustment without Arista Quigley's methodical and precise chasing, but their energetic reserve chaser, Bianca Baddle, fit in well with Ginny and Nadia's more physical styles. Quidditch experts had declared that Holyhead could never come back from the loss of a player like Arista, but the Harpies hadn't lost a game since her death.

Ginny knows she shouldn't be this happy with Arista's death still looming over her, but the on-going Auror investigation hasn't quite let reality set in. It's almost like Arista won't really be gone until her murderer is brought to justice, until Ginny can make sense of it all.

Harry has yet to make any real progress on the case. Forensic Aurors found a used cauldron in Arista's flat, and traces of liquid inside matched the poison found in her system. The poison itself was still unknown, but Harry had recruited a potions specialist from the Department of Mysteries to identify its ingredients. The suicide note had checked out as well. There was no evidence of a forging charm being used, and Arista's mother had personally confirmed the handwriting as her daughter's. Ginny feels pretty useless when it comes to the whole mess, just sitting around and waiting for Harry to update her, but it's not like she can do any investigating of her own.

Shaking the frustrating thoughts from her head, Ginny decides that since she's awake and in want of a good distraction, she might as well give her flat the deep cleaning it's been needing for weeks. Especially since she's expecting Luna Lovegood and her new boyfriend, Rolf Scamander, over for dinner the next night. She still can't believe that Luna managed to find someone as eccentric and passionate about rare animals as she is, but Ginny's happy for her strange, kind friend. Harry's been looking forward to the dinner for weeks, and Ron's still put out that Ginny didn't invite him and Hermione over as well. "Luna's always a laugh," he had said, "And she and Hermione are bound to end up bickering at some point." Ron's arguments had done nothing but validate Ginny's reasons for excluding them.

By the time her flat is spotless and she's returned a couple owls that have been piling up on her desk, it's time to meet Hermione and company for their lunch. Being careful to lock up her flat—Harry had gotten angry with her the week before for accidently leaving her door unlocked—Ginny apparates to Diagon Alley. Making her way through the lunch-hour crowd, Ginny searches for Bloxam's Bistro which she's never actually heard of before. Finally, after asking the clerk at Madam Malkin's for help, she finds the restaurant in a section of Diagon Alley she hardly ever visits. Bloxam's Bistro is a ritzy, expensive type of restaurant; the staff of wizards and witches dressed in fine robes makes Ginny feel self-conscious and underdressed in her muggle jeans and shirt. It's the type of place that Ginny would never willingly visit, and she's surprised that it's what Hermione chose as a meeting place. While Ginny and Harry both have rather glamorous jobs, neither are very glamorous themselves, preferring simple, more comfortable places for dates.

As she steps into the restaurant, she spots Hermione directly, by herself in a secluded booth. Eager to avoid curious stares at her muggle dress—or worse, be caught by the press—she walks over to Hermione hastily and seats herself on the opposite side of the booth.

As Hermione greets her brightly, Ginny treats her with a glare.

"Seven-thirty, Hermione?" she says bitterly. "Seven-thirty?"

"What?" Hermione asks, nonplussed. "Were you still in bed?"

Ginny's about to tell her that yes, she was still in bed when that ruddy owl attacked her hand, but then she sees the look on Hermione's face. It's that familiar look of half disbelief, half disappointment, the one that always manages to make Ginny feel guilty, feel like she should be doing something more meaningful with her life.

So, instead, Ginny just sighs. "Yes, Hermione, but that's all right."

"Brilliant," Hermione smiles, and Ginny has the sense that she knows exactly what she just did. "How's Quidditch?" she asks, changing the subject smoothly—the fact that Hermione rarely asks her about the sport confirms Ginny's suspicions.

"Exhausting," Ginny answers truthfully, "But it's worth it."

"Are you doing all right switching between two teams?" Hermione asks, time-management being a comfortable topic for her.

"It's not easy, but I think I'm getting used to it. Besides, there are only a few more weeks left in the Harpies' season."

"That's right," Hermione says, "Ron mentioned something about getting tickets for the League Finals." Upon alluding to her boyfriend, Hermione checks her watch. "Where are Ron and Harry?" she demands, irritably.

"Oh, you know those two," Ginny says, waving a hand lazily, "They're always a couple steps behind."

"Excuse me?" says a curt voice beside them. Ginny starts and then grins when she notices that Harry's snuck up on them. His arms are crossed and one eyebrow is raised above his glasses.

"Don't be such a baby, Potter," Ginny teases, grabbing his hand and tugging him into the booth beside her.

Harry opens his mouth to retort, but Hermione cuts him off—"Where's Ron?" she hisses, glaring at Harry like it's his fault her boyfriend is the last to arrive.

"He got held up with some paperwork," Harry says with a shrug, unaffected by Hermione's narrowed eyes, and then smirks. "And he sent me along to 'calm you the hell down,'" he adds, making quotations with his fingers and laughing at Hermione's outraged look.

"This is love, Harry," Ginny pipes in, seeing as Hermione looks ready to turn her wand on everyone in the restaurant, "The ability to infuriate one another to the point of homicide. You and I should really work on that."

"I could miss your next match?" he suggests with a quirk of an eyebrow.

"I could leave my door unlocked all night?" she counters.

Harry laughs and presses his lips to hers, smiling through the kiss.

"Oi!" says a loud voice. "I just got here and you're already snogging," Ron pouts, seating himself next to Hermione. He's red in the face and his jaw is clenched, the way he always gets when Harry and Ginny show affection—like it's taking all his concentration not to punch Harry in the face. They've been together for years now, and Ginny frequently wonders how much longer it will take him to get used to it.

In protest of her brother's ridiculousness, she kisses Harry again, and then leans back in her seat. "You're late," she points out, grinning as Hermione turns her glower to Ron.

"Of all the lunch dates to be late to . . ." Hermione mutters, crossing her arms in a huff.

Ron winces, and Ginny narrows her eyes in suspicion. Why exactly was this lunch so important?

"I know," Ron says, wrapping an arm around Hermione and trying to get her to look him in the eye, "I'm sorry."

At Ron's honest apology, Hermione rolls her eyes but her gaze gets softer. "Alright," she says, shifting a little closer to Ron, albeit begrudgingly. "Today's supposed to be happy, anyways.

Suspicion turns to premonition, and Ginny has to fight the urge to beam at the completely unsubtle pair in front of her. She turns to look at Harry, wondering if he's caught on as well, but he's glancing around the restaurant instead of paying attention to his best friends.

Ginny clears her throat loudly. "What's going on?" she asks, trying to feign ignorance with a lightness to her voice. Ginny's always been a good actor.

Hermione jumps slightly at Ginny's interruption and nervously begins tugging at her hair. "I wanted to wait until after we've eaten," she says, glancing at Ron and giving him a meaningful look. When he shrugs, Hermione turns back to Ginny. "But, I suppose now is as good a time as ever."

Ginny elbows Harry, making sure he's paying attention, and then holds her breath.

"We're getting married!" Hermione practically squeals. Even Ron is grinning, blushing terribly, but looking proud and excited nonetheless.

"Hermione!" Ginny exclaims, immediately reaching across the table to pull her into a tight hug. "I'm so happy for you," she says into Hermione's bushy hair. Ginny pulls back, and the two beam at each other for a moment before turning to Harry and Ron who are clapping each other on the back and grinning almost as widely as the women.

"Blimey," Harry says, looking to Hermione. "It's finally happening."

Hermione looks ready to cry as she pulls Harry into an embrace. Ginny grins at her brother over their shoulders and raises an eyebrow, "About time, Ron."

After a few more congratulations and embraces, and after Hermione's ordered a bottle of champagne to share, the four settle back into the booth.

"When did he pop the question?" Ginny asks while admiring the ring that Hermione had disillusioned and admitting that Ron's taste wasn't too bad.

"Last night," Hermione says, planting a kiss on her fiancé's cheek. "At King's Cross."

"Where you first met?" asks Harry, grabbing Ginny's hand under the table and giving it a squeeze. It's where they first met too, after all, those ten years ago.

"While, technically we met on the train," clarifies Hermione, "but it was close enough. It was perfect," she corrects. She beams at Ron who looks slightly green in the face. But, he leans in to kiss her anyway.

"The reason we wanted to tell you two first," Hermione says, after they've pulled apart, "Well, beside your being our best friends—is because we wanted to ask you both something."

Hermione elbows Ron in the side meaningfully. "I know," he says, a little grumpily, but sits up straighter anyways and clears his throat. "Harry," he begins, not making eye contact with anyone at the table, including Harry. "I thought—well, I wondered if you wanted to be my best man?"

"Did you think I'd say no, Ron?" Harry laughs, "I've only been expecting this question since fourth year."

Ginny smiles with affection as the two boys grin at each other, albeit a little bashfully.

"And Ginny," Hermione says, "Will you be my maid of honor?"

Ginny places a finger over her lips, as if thinking it over. "Well," she says, "Seeing as the last time I was in a wedding party Death Eater's crashed, I wouldn't miss it."

"Alright, Weasley, take your shot!"

Ginny hears the shouts of Clarisse Chen, captain of the English National team, and zooms towards the goalposts, Quaffle tucked securely under her arm. As she approaches, she can see the keeper, hovering right in front of the middle hoop, and some part of her brain remembers that he'd broken his right arm earlier in the practice. The team healer had mended it right away, of course, but experience tells Ginny that she can still exploit the injury. Now within scoring range, Ginny rears her arm back, aiming for the Keeper's left side, but at the last minute throws a wide shot to the right instead. It's a risky shot, just barely inside the hoop, but her intuition pays off when the Keeper is too scared to extend his right arm completely.

As the Quaffle soars through the hoop, Ginny lets out a loud whoop of joy and flies down to the where her fellow chasers are waiting on the sidelines for their turn to practice penalty shots.

"Not bad, Weasley," says Rowan Davies, a young, blonde-haired man from Tutshill. His arms are crossed over his chest as if he's unimpressed, but he's grinning at her with a mouth of straight, white teeth.

"She'll fit in alright," adds the other chaser, Shane Sato, who plays for the Tornados as well. He holds out a hand for a high-five, which Ginny does enthusiastically.

"Damn right," she says, earning laughter from both men.

Ginny was worried that the two would have a hard time adjusting with Ginny joining so late in the game, but the three chasers already seem to have natural chemistry on the pitch, much to Ginny's relief.

"Weasley! Davies! Sato! What the hell are you doing? Get your arses back on the pitch!"

Rowan gives Ginny a wink and Shane laughs brightly before they both get back on their brooms and fly away. Ginny hasn't played Quidditch with men in ages, being on an exclusively-female team, and she hadn't realized until just now how much she's missed it. Growing up in the Burrow with six older brothers meant Ginny was around men all the time, and it feels good to be on a team with them again. It reminds her of Quidditch at Hogwarts and all the good times she'd had with the Gryffindor team.

Ginny started practicing full time with the English team a month ago, and she's only just starting to feel good about it. She'd been worried about resentment from the loss of a great player like Arista, but Ginny's been getting along with her teammates better than she could have hoped. And she's finally let herself feel excited for the World Cup, which was due to start in late July. Ireland was hosting this year, and Ginny's family had already bought tickets to their opening match against New Zealand, a match the English were heavily favored to win.

"You did all right, Weasley," says Clarisse once they've finished their practice. She'd let them out a few minutes early today. "I can't stand to look at any of you anymore" is what she'd said in her abrupt way of speaking which seemed to mirror the harshness of her short, black hair on her angular features.

"Thanks, Chen," says Ginny, cherishing the compliment which is probably more rare than those from Gwenog, even.

Clarisse merely nods and walks away to the locker room.

"Hey, Weasley," says Rowan, taking the captain's spot next to her. He's accompanied by Shane, which seems to be a common occurrence. She'd heard rumors that the two were best friends on and off the pitch, and their actions the past couple of weeks have confirmed it.

"Hello, boys," she greets with a grin.

Rowan throws an arm around her shoulders casually, "Wanna join Shane and me for some drinks?"

In the short time she's known him, she's found that Rowan's incredibly direct, says everything with a flirtatious undertone, and isn't to be taken seriously. Shane isn't quite as loud as his friend, but he has a wicked sense of humor that's already gotten Ginny in trouble for laughing during practice on more than one occasion.

Ginny's temped to take Rowan up on his offer—she enjoys the company of both men and she knows it's important to bond with her teammates, but she already has plans with Harry tonight. And her boyfriend probably wouldn't appreciate it if she showed up to their date completely smashed after drinking with two other men.

"I wish I could . . ." Ginny says, trailing off.

Rowan removes his arm from Ginny's shoulders immediately, his face a mixture of artificial affront and genuine amusement. "Come on, Weasley," he says, "What's more important than hanging out with your new best mates?"

"I can guess," says Shane, smirking slightly. "She's probably got a date with that boyfriend of hers."

When Ginny merely raises her eyebrows in response, both men laugh.

"Looks like you're right, mate," grins Rowan.

"It's hard to compete with the savior of the Wizarding world," sighs Shane.

"True," echoes Rowan, sullenly. "Next time, eh, Weasley?"

"I'll buy a round," she agrees, rolling her eyes at their dramatics, but smiling all the same.

"Hear, hear!" cries Rowan, his sulking forgotten.

"We'll hold you to it," says Shane seriously as the two head off towards the locker room, brooms slung over their shoulders.

Ginny glances around as they walk away and realizes she's the last one on the pitch. Tossing her own broom down, she collapses onto the ground next to it and stretches her arms out on the short grass. It's been a good day, but it's been a long one too, and Ginny can't resist the urge to just sit still for a moment and rest.

Ginny's been feeling stretched thin lately, playing for two separate, fundamentally different teams, juggling between her role as a girlfriend, an aunt, a sister, a daughter, a friend. And Hermione has been stealing all her free time the last week, talking excitedly over wedding plans. After telling the whole Weasley clan, they'd decided on a date, and it's only three months away (neither Ron nor Hermione wanted anything big that needed excessive planning). July the fifth is the day they chose, the Saturday before Ginny has to report in Ireland for the World Cup. She'd be there for nearly two months, cut off from everything in the world besides Quidditch and her teammates.

Unconsciously, her mind moves to contemplating a more distant future—one she hasn't been able to stop thinking about the past week. Ron and Hermione's engagement had been a pointed reminder about the stagnation in her own relationship. Ginny loves Harry, she really does, but a dark part of her is frustrated that they've been in the same place for so long—clearly committed to one another but unable to discuss a more permanent arrangement. They've yet to talk about marriage or even moving in together (although she's not certain her old-fashioned mum or her brothers would be too happy about the latter option).

But, she supposes the whole thing is kind of moot. She can't imagine starting a family any time soon—she's only twenty, after all, and she and Harry both lead very busy and separate lives. Twelve hours of her day are devoted to Quidditch, and she travels more often than not. And Harry disappears for days on end without so much as a warning or an owl letting her know he's all right. But both love what they do, and Ginny knows she could never ask Harry to give up his profession when she couldn't give up hers.

And did Harry even want kids? Did Ginny? When she was younger, she'd sworn that she'd never be a mother, never be like her mum. The mother of seven, Molly Weasley was perpetually exhausted when Ginny was growing up, always cleaning up after someone else or spending sleepless nights worrying in front of that clock of hers. Her mum never complained, but Ginny still wonders if she'd ever wanted more for herself besides being a mother.

Ginny had always craved independence, space, something that was only hers—no toddlers to keep track of, no husband to nag. Now, she doesn't quite know what she wants anymore. The idea of having children isn't quite so repulsive, but she's just not sure she has it in her to be a mother.

After considering her inner desires for a little longer and coming to no clear conclusions, Ginny gathers her things and returns to her flat. Taking her time showering and getting ready to meet Harry, Ginny decides that she might as well fix her hair more nicely than normal. Harry loves her hair, she knows, and she feels in the mood to please. By the time she's applied a few curls with her wand and pinned up the front, Harry still hasn't arrive and it's starting to worry Ginny. They'd agreed on seven—Harry typically gets off at 6:30—but it was already a quarter past.

Wondering if perhaps Harry got held up at the office, she quickly resolves to apparate to his flat, just in case. After pacing around his sparsely-furnished and decidedly-empty loft for fifteen more minutes, Ginny gives in and reasons that a quick visit to the Auror Office can't hurt.

When the lift stops on the second floor and Ginny is immediately greeted with a vision of too-many-bodies-in-one-place, she knows something's gone wrong. Desperately trying to see over the heads of several reporters being held back by security officials, Ginny makes eye contact with someone who's just exited the Auror Department.

Camden Murray, or Cam as she prefers to be called, makes her way to Ginny quickly, grabbing her by the elbow and dragging her back into the lift. "You shouldn't be here," she says in a quiet, singsong voice.

Cam, a couple years older than Harry, has been his partner since he graduated from the Academy two years ago. She smiles easily, laughs embarrassingly loud, and is always quick to call Harry out on his shit—she and Ginny get along swimmingly. Harry hates being around the two of them; they tend to tease him mercilessly and exchange embarrassing stories all at his expense. Ginny couldn't have asked for Harry to have a better co-worker. And it's always helped that Cam's married and isn't attracted to Ginny's boyfriend in the least.

"Where's Harry? What's going on?" Ginny asks after Cam has secured them in the descending lift.

"Harry's busy. As is the entire Auror department," Cam says unhelpfully. Seeing Ginny's unamused glare, she sighs, "Well, it's two things, actually. Two pretty big things."

"Just tell me, Cam," Ginny says, trying to keep the worry out of her voice.

"I'm getting there." the older woman says, opening the lift once they've reached the ground floor. She tugs Ginny off after her and leads her to a secluded corner where they can talk uninterrupted. "Less meaningful for you is what happened at Azkaban this morning."

"Azkaban?" Ginny asked, furrowing her brow and trying to recall if she had heard anything about the prison lately. She remembers quickly. "Callista Hopkins was supposed to get the Kiss today wasn't she? Did something happen with the protestors?"

Cam shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "No, they just got in the bloody way. It's the Dementors—they're gone.

"Gone?"

"The whole lot," Cam confirms, blowing a strand of blonde hair out of her face. "No one's quite sure when it happened. Apparently the guards aren't too keen on checking up on the Dementors. Someone could have released them weeks ago and we would've had no idea."

"Are you sure the A.K.A. didn't have anything to do with this?" Ginny asks. She's never been one to believe in coincidences, and this seems like just the stunt they'd like to pull.

"We're not sure of anything right now," Cam replies, and Ginny can see how tired she is—she's probably been working nonstop today, "but we're looking into it."

"And the other thing? The one that's more meaningful for me?"

Cam looks around the lobby once more, as if to confirm no one's listening in. "It's the Quigley case, Gin," she whispers.

Icy water trickles down her spine, and Ginny suddenly can't breathe properly. She leans heavily on the wall behind her, willing her nerves to relax and her lungs to work.

"Was I right?" she asks, needing to know the answer more than she needs air. When Cam nods slowly, a breath escapes Ginny's chest in one whoosh and her heart stops beating so rapidly. It's strange, she thinks, that finding out someone's been murdered brings her such relief.

"We had a charms specialist examine the body," Cam explains, her voice low. "She found evidence that it had been tampered with—Arista Quigley died hours before you found her in the locker room."

"Which means someone put her there . . ." Ginny nods in understanding, even as her mind becomes more befuddled with the why of it all.

"Right," Cam agrees. She grabs Ginny's arm firmly. "But, Ginny, do you realize what this means? None of the Harpies have alibis anymore—you included."

The reality of it strikes Ginny in an instant. "I'm a suspect now," she says. At Cam's reluctant look, Ginny's eyes widen. "I'm the suspect?"

"No one actually thinks you did it," Cam says quickly. "But it's department policy you know, 'pursue all options' or whatever."

"I guess I get it," Ginny says, shrugging with a humorless laugh. "I'm the only person with something to gain from her death, after all."

When Cam winces, Ginny narrows her eyes. "What else is there?" she asks, putting her hands on her hips in that intimidating way she'd learned from her mother.

"Well, someone might have let that little detail slip to the press . . ." she explains slowly. "And your boyfriend might have been less than pleased about it . . . And he might have jinxed a fellow Auror or two . . ."

Ginny can't help but let out a laugh at that, even though the revelation about the press makes her feel like throwing something across the room or hexing someone herself. "So that explains why he stood me up."

"That's Harry Potter in a nutshell: defending his girlfriend at the expense of his girlfriend," Cam agrees with a smirk. "Last I saw he was arguing with Williamson."

Quagmire Williamson was the department head, a stickler for the rules whom Harry tended to clash with.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny rolls her eyes affectionately.

"You should probably get out of here before you're spotted, but I'll let Harry know you stopped by when he's done," Cam says, steering Ginny out of their corner and towards a fireplace. "He'll probably pretend to be angry that I didn't tell him right away, but secretly pleased he didn't have to be the one to fill you in on all this mess."

Ginny smiles, knowing Cam's probably right. "Tell him I'll be at his place."

"Are you going to stay up and reward him with sexual favors when he gets back?" Cam teases, elbowing Ginny in the side.

"It's more of a reward for me, actually," Ginny retorts, raising an eyebrow suggestively. "Your partner's a good shag, Murray."

Cam laughs and pulls Ginny in for a quick hug. "I did not need to know that, Weasley."

Ginny laughs as well, "You started it."

Later that evening, after she's given up on waiting for Harry and eaten by herself, Ginny curls up in his bed, inhales the smell of him, and thinks about the future again. She calls her small, cheap apartment home, but inside she knows that her real home is right here. Not in Harry's practically barren flat itself, but in this space, cocooned in the smell of the man she can't imagine life without. Someday, maybe, they'll buy a house together and fill it with children and memories, but for right now, this is good enough.

A/N: Here's the second chapter; I hope you enjoy it. Just a caveat, my updates might be sparse. Writing is something that I do purely for fun, and my classes this summer take precedence. But, either way, thanks for reading and sticking around!