Harry thought for sure that a night of passionate lovemaking would re-ignite his feelings for Ginny, the way it had the very first night, after the party the Gryffindors had to celebrate her winning them the Quidditch cup; instead it did the opposite and further complicated his feelings. He knew one thing was for sure, though, he really didn't feel right having sex with Ginny, and they weren't meant to be together like he had once thought. It didn't make him sad to have come to this conclusion; in fact, he felt like a fifty-pound weight had been lifted from his shoulders having come to a true understanding of his feelings. What was bothering him now was how to tell Ginny. Harry knew she was still in love with him, and he really didn't want to hurt her, but he didn't want to be romantically involved with her either.

Fortunately, Ginny Weasley was mature enough to allow Harry his space, even after their encounter on his birthday. She acted no different than she had before, and Harry appreciated this more than she would ever know, but he knew he couldn't go on avoiding her forever. When the right time presents itself, he thought, and it will, we'll talk.

The day after his birthday, Harry sent McGonagall's owl back with a response that said he couldn't wait to come back, and that he would be flooing in to speak with her in person in a week, if that was OK with her. Along with his list of supplies for his seventh year, he received a response back from McGonagall that she would have tea ready at 7:00 p.m. on the 8th of August.

When the 8th came around, Harry went to the Weasleys' fireplace and removed the satchel of floo powder that hung on a hook off of the mantel. He threw a handful into the crackling fire and watched it turn from a warm orangey yellow to a cool green. Harry stepped into the green flame and said, "Minerva McGonagall's office, Hogwarts." He felt himself being pulled through the floo system and before he knew it he was standing, slightly shaken and covered in soot, in the Headmistress's office at Hogwarts. He reflexively pointed his wand on himself and thought "scourgefy" before touching anything in the office.

Dumbledore had always maintained the office nicely, but, Professor McGonagall still had that undeniable woman's touch. Everything was polished and Harry could see his reflection in her desk. She'd replaced the carpeting with an oriental rug of deep scarlet and brilliant gold paisley. Harry smiled to himself as he noticed the Gryffindor colors that seemed to be the dominating motif in the room. "Absolutely delightful," a voice said from Harry's right. He turned around to face a winking portrait with a nameplate that read "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry was so happy to see him, he wished he could have hugged the portrait.

"I'm very glad that you've decided to finish out your education, Harry. It was a wise decision, and you know that. You have a bright future ahead of you. I also never got a chance to formally apologize to you, Harry. I was dishonest with you at times that maybe I shouldn't have been. I only hope you can forgive me." The way he said it was so casual, so trite, he might have been asking Harry whether he liked his new earmuffs. Harry had to smile.

"Of course," said Harry. "Everything worked out, and I hope it's OK if, well, if Professor McGonagall says, of course, if I could still come in here every so often and talk to you."

"Of course you can, Harry." Dumbledore's portrait smiled and Harry thought he saw a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"If you're the same Potter who was roaming these halls two years ago causing mischief everywhere he went, I imagine you'll be in this office quite frequently in any case," came the voice of Severus Snape from a neighboring portrait.

"Severus, is that really necessary?" Headmistress McGonagall had just entered the office.

"You know it to be true, Minerva. Well, welcome back, Potter," said Snape's portrait in that deep, slightly nasal and oddly soothing voice. "Hopefully you can improve your Potions skills from what they were when I taught here," he continued.

"I'll try, sir," said Harry with a slight smile. Snape's portrait raised an eyebrow as McGonagall escorted Harry to a set table and sat down across from him.

"What kind of tea would you like, Potter?" McGonagall asked.

"Whatever you're drinking will be fine, thank you," said Harry. He took a tea bag from the dish on the table and put it in his cup to steep. It looked like regular black tea, but the smell was light, sweet and almost flowery.

"My own blend," said Professor McGonagall.

"It smells delicious," Harry said. And it really did. "I came today to tell you that I am really excited to be Quidditch captain again," he began, "but I will have to decline your offer to place me as Head boy."

"Oh?"

"You see, Professor, I've spent the past seven years in the spotlight in one way or another, and really I would much rather be just Harry. Not the Chosen One, or the Boy who Lived, or even Head Boy, I just want to be… like everyone else. Besides, I think there's someone else who would be more than willing to accept the responsibility."

"I see. That's fine with me, Mr. Potter, as long as you pick us -- I mean, of course, Gryffindor -- a good strong Quidditch team this year." McGonagall, as headmistress, could no longer be head of Gryffindor house as a result on an age-old statute to prevent bias over one house. "I'll send an owl to Mr. Weasley after I see you off," McGonagall said, smiling slightly.

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall."

"Before you go, I also wanted to compliment the spell you cast when you walked in here, to remove the soot. I was in the doorway, waiting to give you a moment with Professors Dumbledore and Snape, should you have wanted it, and I noticed you cast it without speaking. Scourgefy, I assume?"

"Yes Professor, thank you. I… I guess I didn't really know I could do that, I just sort of did it," Harry replied. He had cast that spell without speaking, hadn't he? This could be fun, thought Harry.

"Well Mr. Potter, I have some Hogwarts business to attend to, and I'm hoping to get to bed as early as possible tonight, so I'm afraid I'll have to cut this meeting short. One last thing: now that you're of age, if you'd like to Apparate into Hogsmeade village the night before the start of term, I'll be happy to arrange for lodging for you and Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger. Some students in your year have opted to stay the night in the Three Broomsticks Inn."

"Thank you, Professor, I'd like that," said Harry. "Ron and Hermione will probably want to find another way to get here though. Hermione doesn't like flying, and we had an incident last year when we were looking for, er, when we were in hiding. Hermione had to Apparate us out of a bad situation in a pinch, and Ron splinched so bad, he almost bled to death."

"My goodness!" gasped McGonagall. "Well, they know when and where to catch the train, I presume?" she asked, recomposing herself.

"Yes, Professor, I'll let them know." Harry turned to walk out, but first went over to the former Headmasters' portraits. "Good night, Professor Dumbledore. Good night, Professor Snape."

"Good night, Harry, I hope to see you again soon," came Dumbledore's reply. Snape said nothing; his portrait was empty.

Three weeks later, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny flooed into Diagon Alley to pick up some supplies. Ginny had most everything she needed, having attended Hogwarts last year, and Hermione had her books -- but for the most part, the three older Gryffindors had a lot of shopping to do. After a long day of shop-hopping from Gringott's Bank to Flourish and Blotts to the Apothecary and the Cauldron shop, they were ready to go home. Harry had one more thing to do, so he told them he'd catch up with them at the Burrow. Ginny had apparently taken this as an opportunity to catch Harry alone for a moment, and ran to catch up with him once the others had flooed out.

"Harry!"

Damn, Harry thought. I'll have to put off getting myself a good broomstick and face Ginny. It was now or never; it had been nearly a month since the night they hooked up and Harry was growing tired of worrying about what to say and when to say it, so he just turned to face her and went ahead and said it.

"Gin, it's not going to work."

She looked at him with pure melancholy in her eyes. He almost flinched, not knowing whether she'd be angry, or burst out in tears like Cho always used to, or feel taken advantage of because he'd slept with her while they weren't together…

"I know."

"Ginny, I'm so sorry, it's just that -- wha?" Harry had, in the moments after he told her it was over, prepared an impromptu speech in his mind, consisting of "it's not you, it's me" "I love you like a friend," and possibly "you came on to me, you know" or "please don't hit me"; he had been prepared for every possible reaction from Ginny except for this one.

"Harry, I love you, and you know I always will. But when I look in to your eyes, I know you don't feel the same as I do." Tears were trickling down her cheeks, and she seemed almost embarrassed about it. "I'll be OK." With that, she turned and walked away.

Harry stood there for a moment gawking dumbly at his feet. He felt like a complete arse, but at the same time an immense relief flooded over his entire being. Ginny took it as well as could be expected, and he was sure she was right, she would be OK. Probably better off than with him. For the first time in his entire life, Harry felt free of burden. He was indebted to no one, he was obligated to nothing, and he was going back home to Hogwarts. When the surprise wore off, he had to refrain from skipping down Diagon Alley to Quality Quidditch Supplies, where he bought himself a brand new Firebolt.