A/N: Wow it's been a while…a lot has happened since I last updated (grad school offers, Legend of Korra distractions) but I've been holding onto this short piece for a while. It was originally meant to be part of a bigger chapter, but I think it should stand alone. I never intended to write something like this for After, but it just sort of poured out of me so that's why I'm sharing it now. I really want to reconnect with this story and hopefully this will push me in the right direction. As always, thanks for reading. I love the reviews I've received, they really help encourage me to post more and more.

Chapter 7: Under the Glass Roof

Ginny opened her eyes and stared up at the canopy of her four poster bed. The thick darkness of the night was filtered with pale moonlight that flitted across her bedspread. She untangled herself from the sheets and sat up slowly. Her heart was beating unnaturally fast, and although she had already forgotten it, she knew she had just been woken from a nightmare.

The bed felt contaminated, dirty; sleep was the enemy now, and she spent most nights as of late tossing and turning and waking up abruptly for no apparent reason. She didn't want to lie there anymore so she slid out of bed sat on the windowsill. She leaned out the window and breathed in the fresh early morning air.

The moon gleamed down on her, and she let her long hair float out the window on the soft air. Though the days were warm, the night air was crisp and cool on her hot cheeks.

Something above her creaked and she leaned out precariously to peer up the height of the tower. Someone in one the rooms above her had opened their window too, and when they leaned out, her heart leapt, because of course it was him.

Harry peered down at her. He looked exhausted, but surprised to see her hanging out of Gryffindor tower, her hair wild and her eyes wide. She could feel him watching her and her grip on the stone wall tightened. An exhilarating thrill shot through her whole body sending shivers down her arm as she leaned out further, half inside the castle, half out.

Without a word, Harry disappeared. Ginny clambered back inside and slid to the floor, then grabbed her dressing gown and ran silently across the room and down the stairs. He was already at the portrait hole.

Wordlessly they walked through the castle, along the corridors, down the stairs, her hand comfortably in his. The portrait inhabitants snoozed on; one of them snorted in their sleep, and quick as ever Harry pulled Ginny in between two sets of armor and threw the Invisibility Cloak over her head. They were so close their breaths mingled together. A lump grew in Ginny's throat.

"I don't think anyone's around," she whispered.

"I don't want to risk it," he breathed back.

Her heart was beating wildly in her chest (couldn't he feel it pounding only inches away?) but her face was impassive as she pulled him away from their hiding spot.

They walked onward, still under the cloak. The castle had been patched up here and there since the night of Dumbledore's death, though traces of the fight still lingered like bruises on skin. Though the rubble had been swept away, gaping holes in the walls and in the stairwells still remained like the brutal scars on Bill's face. The thought pierced Ginny like fire and she felt her eyes burn as she thought of Bill, sleeping only floors above her in the hospital wing because of the unkindness fate had played on him. She was glad Harry led the way now because she could hardly think straight through the unexpected anger that coursed through her body.

They reached the doors of the entrance hall, which were mercifully unlocked. She needed to get out. She needed to leave the window she had hung out of in desperation, she needed a release.

Ginny left her slippers in the entrance hall doorway and walked through the dewy lawn with her bare feet squishing in the grass and mud. The moonlight guided them and they kept walking. Harry was silent, though every now and then he would look at her like he had something to say, then swallow and look away. It started to irritate Ginny, so she pulled the cloak off and walked a little ahead of him.

I am moonlight, she sang to herself in her head, holding out her palms to catch the morning air. I am everywhere and here. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to will away the anxiety and aggression she could feel building up. It didn't work. She covered her face in her hands and suppressed a sob. Dumbledore dead. Bill scarred and maimed. Harry covered in blood, sitting sadly in the dim light of the common room as she tried to clean it all away while still bloody herself.

Harry came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She didn't want him to see her cry, not here, not now, not when she knew they had precious little time together.

They could see Hagrid's hut, still damaged from the fire, and the sight made Ginny sad so she turned away and walked toward the greenhouses instead. She felt like a ghost, gliding along the moonlit grounds. I am moonlight, she repeated again. She could feel Harry's eyes on her. They had wandered these grounds so many times under happier circumstances. It felt like a different place now. She felt different now.

Ginny's feet were growing numb. She walked over to one of the greenhouses and tugged on the door, but it was locked.

Harry came up behind her and tapped the padlock with his wand. It unlocked with a click and he led her inside.

It was warm and stuffy and smelled of rich leafy greens. There was a gentle hum coming from a colony of bees in one corner. Dark green plants with enormous flowers waved gently even though there was no breeze inside.

The door shut with a finality and they were bathed in darkness. Ginny lit a lamp and climbed up on a work table to sit.

"You look tired," Harry said, pacing slowly around the tables. He pulled off his dressing gown and threw it at her, and the Invisibility cloak slithered into a pile in an empty chair. She wrapped the dressing gown warmly around her shoulders.

"So do you." The glow of the lamp cast shadows around the room, but Ginny wasn't afraid. She felt safe there with him in the early morning.

"So why'd you come?"

She smiled at him. "You know the answer."

He smiled back. "I'm going to miss these walks with you."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "It's going to be a long summer, I know."

He looked away and resumed his walk around the greenhouse. He didn't take the opening, though she knew what he was thinking.

"Have you packed yet?" she asked.

"No." He finished his lap and faced her, his hands on her waist. "Don't hang out that window again, you might fall."

"What would you have done if I did?" she asked scathingly.

"Jumped out after you."

She stared at his messy black hair, and her eyes slid down first to his lighting-shaped scar, and then his piercing green eyes.

"What would you do if I kissed you right now?" she said.

"Kiss you back," he said softly, smoothing her hair away from her face.

"Come lie here with me," she said, pulling him onto the table so they were lying side by side. She draped his dressing gown over them like a blanket and they stared up at the bits of black sky visible through the leafy greenhouse roof.

"He's really gone," she breathed out. She hadn't meant to talk about Dumbledore, but with the funeral only hours away, she found she couldn't stop thinking about it.

Harry didn't answer. She imagined he was tight lipped, frowning, trying to forget what she could not drive from her mind.

"I know you would have jumped out after me," she said softly.

"So?"

"But I wouldn't have fallen. I'm made of tougher stuff, remember?" She playfully punched him in the arm.

He laughed. "You weren't always like that. I remember when you were small and you squeaked."

"Excuse me? Squeaked?"

"You know, every time you saw me you got shy and ran away. And those cheeks." Harry chuckled again.

"My cheeks?" said Ginny indignantly, though she knew even now they were flushed.

"Yeah. I suppose you were always cheeky, even then."

It was funny how even now, he could draw her mind away from the darkness. How they could both look up at the little pinpricks of light in the sky and forget what really drew them there to begin with.

They fell into silence. His hand intertwined with hers, and she squeezed it tightly.

"Do you trust me?" asked Harry.

Ginny didn't need to think about it. "Yes."

Barely a minute had passed before Harry leaned over and kiss her. Her skin was dewy with the humidity of the greenhouse, and the fragrance of flowers and greens was relaxing her in ways that her bed in her dormitory could not. Her heart was pounding fast again, as steady as the humming bees and waving leaves. Her breath was caught in her throat.

"Don't be afraid," slipped out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She wasn't sure if she was talking to herself or Harry. She blinked. How very unlike herself she was being.

"I'm not," said Harry. She pressed herself to him, but he held her back. "Are you?"

She touched his check with her cold hand. She was always so fiery. Always strong. Always brave. Never afraid. Maybe it was because she knew everything was about to change, and she was going to have it all taken away from her before she could even really understand what was happening. And she was going to let it go. Let him go.

"No," she said. "I'm not afraid."

"Do you remember the night before Dumbledore's funeral?" Harry asked Ginny.

She rolled over and looked up into his soft eyes. "Yes," she said gently, a smile playing at her lips.

"Remember when we walked back to the castle, and the sun was rising?"

"Yes," she repeated, smiling at the blush that was creeping up his cheeks.

"That was when I knew you were the one."

If Ginny lived to be a hundred years old, she knew she would never forget this moment. She would remember the warm sunlight coming through the curtains, the softness of her sheets on her bare skin, the feel of Harry on every inch of her own body as they lay there together. His voice speaking quietly to her, his hands on her waist, his eyes watching her. A year ago she had been a young girl wandering the moonlit grounds, trying to find something to hold on to that could anchor her to the world. Now she knew such things weren't possible. She would always be free floating, she would always be moonlight, and she could only hope for moments like these in which she could reach out and feel another person and remember the earth was beneath her.

She tried to pinpoint the exact moment she decided she loved Harry but found she didn't remember anymore. She had always loved him, first as a child, and now as a woman. She felt like she had already lived a hundred years since she last held him like this, naked under the glass roof, watching the moonlight as she fought the urge to fall asleep nestled in his arms. She had cried at the funeral later that day for Dumbledore, for Bill, and for Harry sitting next to her because he had already felt so far away. As she sat on the train that afternoon she felt miles away from the closeness they had shared though he was only a few compartments away, and she lay wide awake with her head in Luna's lap trying to pretend that nothing had changed when in fact everything had changed. Everything was always changing, every day she was further and further away from Fred and the life she used to live. Harry was wrong. His future was clear too. They could be together now, close under the covers with nothing to worry them, undetected and undisturbed.

She had always loved him. And after that moment, she would never need to stop and think about her answer ever again.