"Ginny, sweetie, wake up." My hear my mother's voice break through my dream, "Ginny, it's time to get up." All of sudden there is a bright light shines through my eyelids. I shield my eyes from the light and focus on my mum who's fixing the now open curtains.

"What time is it?" I mumble into my pillow.

"About ten o'clock." She replies. I furrow my eyebrows; for once my mum let me sleep in? "George is coming over for his lunch break, he'll be here in the next couple of hours, so get dressed, but take your time, and I'll have a small snack out for you on the table."

"Thanks, Mum." I say, popping my shoulder back into place. For once, I had a good night's sleep, there was a slight soreness in my back but nothing compared to how my back felt every morning at St. Mungo's.

"Is Harry coming over again today?"

"I asked him to, but I don't know if he is." My mum nods as she empties my hamper that had one set of dirty clothes in it, "Mum, can I ask you a few questions?"

"Sure, dear, anything." She says, taking a seat on my bed with the clothesbasket on her lap.

I take a deep breath, "And you'll answer completely honest?"

"I'll do my best."

"Dominique, how old is she?"

My mum sighs and sets the basket on the ground, "About four months old."

"And Molly is around two months?"

"Her two month birthday is in a week." I nod, taking that information in.

"When did Percy and Audrey tie the knot?"

She seems extremely uncomfortable under my questioning gaze, "In December; they were pregnant with Molly halfway through their engagement." I was there for the first three months of their engagement, and then I disappeared. They must have gotten pregnant with her in October; from what I understand, I went missing in August.

"And George and Angie?"

"They announced their engagement shortly after Valentine's day." I smile at the thought of George of all people, settling down.

"And Charlie? Any girl for him?"

"No, still single." She looks a tad disgruntled at the fact.

"How have the Harpies been doing?"

She has a sharp intake of breath and shakes her head, "Definitely been suffering from a losing streak. I think for a while they didn't want to play because of their grief." I nod, "Is there anything else you want to know?" I shake my head, "Alright, I'll leave you to get dressed then." She walks out, closing the door behind her.

I slowly rise to my feet from my bed, and go to my dresser. Going through all of my clothes, I realize how much my body's changed. Nothing fits anymore; everything is either loose or frumpy-looking on my frame.

"Mum?" I call out of the doorway. She rushes up the stairs and runs into my room.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" I jump at her urgency.

"Nothing; it's just that all of my clothes are big now."

"Just shrink them, dear." She says in a breathy way.

"I can't; I don't have my wand anymore." She nods in remembrance.

"Sorry, dear," She pulls out her wand from her apron. She shrinks the outfit that I had lain out on my bed and then moves to the dresser to shrink the clothes in there, too. I change behind her as I hear the sounds of fabric getting smaller, "When Harry gets here we'll have to ask him if we can get your wand back from the aurors to have it fixed."

"They probably won't give it back; evidence and all."

"Well, it's not safe for you to be left wandless."

"I had a wand that night. Didn't seem to make a difference." I murmur. I hear the drawer close and I turn around, now fully dressed. My mum looks at me with teary eyes, "Forget I said that. Thanks for shrinking my clothes for me."

She nods and starts to walk out of my room; "I'll have the snack ready for you when you come down." I watch her leave as I finish getting ready.

"Gin." He says, opening his arms for me. I walking into his embrace and he kisses the top of my head, "Did you have a good first night?"

"Yeah, actually." I reply. His crooked grin shows onto his face, "How has work been today?"

"I don't consider it work, really. Not when it's been apart of my life for-well, my whole life." I roll my eyes.

"Even with the teachers' distaste."

"Hey, there was a job to be done, and we were there to do it." We walk into the kitchen, his heavy arm around my shoulders.

"Even if it meant breaking every rule in the book."

"You got it."

"George, would you like me to make you a sandwich? Maybe a salad?" My mom interjects.

"A sandwich is fine. Gin?" I shake my head, scrunching my nose.

"I'm not hungry."

"Ginevra, what do you want for lunch? You didn't eat the snack I left you and now you're going to claim you're not hungry?" I feel the gaze of both my brother and my mum locked upon me.

"I just don't feel hungry, Mum." I reply, taking a seat and immediately turning to George, "So, how's Angie doing?"

"Fine," he replies, obviously noticing my attempt to change the subject, "she actually has something to ask you when you see her next."

"Regarding?"

"I know, but I'm not telling you." He sends me his slyest smile yet.

"How about a hint?" I joke.

"No hints; every time I give you a hint you always figure it out within ten minutes."

"It's about your wedding, isn't it?"

George's expression doesn't change, he doesn't blink, he doesn't sigh; he just stares at me, "Even when I don't give you hints you still figure it out in the matter of minutes." He finally looks down at the sandwich Mum placed in front of him. "I need to learn how to keep my mouth shut."

There's a knock at the front door and Mum goes to see who it is. Finally, I have some alone time with George.

"George?"

"What's up, Ginbug?"

"Do you mind if I ask you something personal?" He coughs on his sandwich crust.

"What kind of 'personal'?"

"Just something personal about me that I need some help on."

"You're not trying to get away with murder or something, are you?" He quickly covers his ear with a hand, "Because I can't defend you if I know you did it."

"No, no, no," I say, grabbing his wrist, "It's a question about relationships."

He groans again, "Ginny, I really don't want to know about your love life."

"Fine, then." I say, disgruntled.

He watches me, obviously frustrated with himself for shutting me down. He sighs, "What do you need help with?"

I spare him a glance, "Last night...I kissed him."

He furrows his eyebrows and his eyes flicker between my eyes, "Who?" He looks completely clueless.

"What do you mean 'who'?" He keeps his confused look, "Harry. That's who."

"Well, that's good, right?"

"No!" I say, vehemently.

"It's not good?" He seems like a lost puppy in this matter.

"No, it wasn't good. He had been sending me signals for days; he had put his hand on my knee at St. Mungo's, he took the time to interview me during my interrogation, he hugged me like he used to. And then, just when we both leaned it, it's like something had changed. I mean, I kissed him anyway, but right in the middle, he jumped back and said that he couldn't 'do this' to me. I don't understand."

George sighed, and set his sandwich back onto his plate, "Isn't it obvious?" I shake my head, "He feels like he's overstepping his boundary."

"George, I kissed him."

"I know, I know, but as the bloke in the relationship, you're supposed to be the one who makes sure everything goes smoothly. I know, you guys aren't officially dating again, but he probably felt that kissing you, after everything that happened, after everything you're dealing with now, was going to add another nuisance to your list."

"But, he's not a nuisance; he's the one who's probably helped me the most."

"I won't take offense to that." I hold my hand up to stop him and apologize but he waves it off as a joke, "Knowing Harry, he thinks you should be with your family now, not with him."

"But, I do want to be with him now. It's not like I'm managing a career along with rekindling with my family. I literally have all the free time in the world. I don't even have a bloody wand!"

"Then do it again."

"What?"

"Kiss him again. And this time, don't let him jump back. And if he does, tell him how you feel; tell him what you told me; he won't be able to resist. Not after a year of missing you."

I nod, a smile playing on my face, "Thanks, George."

"Oh, and for the record, this conversation never happened, I don't know anything about your little escapades with your little boyfriend and I don't want to know. Anymore, and I'll lose my appetite." He says, with a smirk as he takes another bite of his sandwich.

"Okay, I'll just bother Percy with it."

"Now, that's an idea." He finishes off his sandwich and puts his dish in the sink, "And please don't tell Angie about me mentioning her question for you."

"Don't worry abo-"

"Ginevra Weasley," A strange man says from the doorway to the kitchen with my mum behind him wearing a weary expression.

"Yes?" I ask. George's posture changes and he seems on guard.

"You need to come down to the ministry with me. It's time for your meeting with Thomas."

"Thomas?"

"It's time to put a face with this criminal." I nod, and grab my jacket from the chair behind me.

"May I come with her?" Mum asks from behind him.

"You'll have to come separately and wait in the lobby; only aurors and specialized personnel are allowed on the Interrogation levels."

"It's okay, Mum. I'll be home soon." I whisper. The man takes me by my forearm and escorts me out of my house. It's a different auror from the last time, but he has the same coldness as the last.

Harry

"Robards," A man says from the doorway, "Ms. Weasley is here and is waiting for Thomas."

I look over to my boss, who nods. The young auror leaves us alone once more and Robards continues with his lecture.

"Are we not going to go watch in?" Ron asks.

"We are, but Thomas won't be for a while."

"Then why is she here already?" He asks.

"Because, Weasley, Potter, there are holes throughout Ginny's tale."

"Regarding?" I ask.

"A man, goes after her, stalks her as far back as the first three months in her career, for Merlin's sake he put Daily Prophet articles up on his walls. And then all of a sudden, he gets her right in his grip, and he just leaves her there in his basement. I know, she might be telling the truth that he never showed himself to her to her recollection. What if he did, she just doesn't remember?"

"What are you insinuating here?"

"She may not remember everything. She maybe was under the influence, or maybe charmed. But, there is no way he never took advantage of her presence."

I watch through the tinted mirror as Thomas sits down with Ginny. I'm sweating bullets here, especially after what Robards said in our meeting that a man could have taken advantage of Ginny? No; no way, no how. But, there still was always that possibility. Or maybe, just maybe, Ginny wasn't telling us everything.

There's that sliver of a chance that something happened she's too scared to tell us. Maybe she doesn't feel safe. Maybe she can't trust us. Or maybe she believes we're interrogating her as the criminal.

"Coffee?" Ron's voice comes from behind me, and the strong smell of the brew wafts towards me.

"Thanks, mate." I reply, taking the black coffee and drinking it straight.

"You think this is going to go well?" He asks, stuffing his hand in his pocket and surveying his sister listening to Thomas.

"With Ginny, who knows."

"That's what makes her so interesting."

"Boys, she's starting." Robards says as he places a charm on the mirror.

"Ms. Weasley, let's start with the face shape." Thomas starts, he lays out about ten different face shapes on the table for her to choose. She glances at all of the faces. It seems like it's taking her a long time to choose. "How about you eliminate the ones you're sure he didn't have?" Thomas asks.

She picks one up and studies it before looking at another still lying on the metal table. She puts it back down and touches another sheet as she studies it with the same amount of interest, "He doesn't look like any of these."

"Which one is the closest?"

She scans over the table once, twice, three times, maybe even four. She shakes her head, with lips pushed together, "I don't know."

"Just do the best you can."

She picks two pictures up, both with rounder faces; makes sense, she did describe him to be heavier. She glances between the two multiple times before finally setting one down.

"I think he's more like this one." She says handing him the photo.

"Are you sure?"

"I think so." He nods and starts to copy the face shape onto the large note pad.

"Okay, how about eye shape, yeah?" He sets out about eight different photos of eye shape. She closes her eyes for a second as though she's conjuring up an image of her attacker. Once her eyes open, she's immediately going after the photos. One after another, after another. Ginny searches through the photos until, like before, she comes down to two. She looks up at the man and then back to the pictures.

"I think it was like this one." Ginny hands him the photo.

"Okay, and now, what size do you think they were in comparison to this head size?" He places the notepad for her to see the sketched, blank face, and pulls out about three different sizes of the model shape of eye she chose. She glances back and forth from the sketched face to the example eyes until she finally chooses the smaller pair, "And how low would you say on the face were they?"

"Low on the face?"

"Yes; how big was his forehead?" She furrows her eyebrows and stares at the face. She traces a line with her fingertip on the paper.

"His eyebrow line was about there." Thomas immediately snatches the sketchpad and draws a light line across the paper.

"Okay, and how far were the eyes from the eyebrows?" She shrugs.

"I dunno, maybe shy of three centimeters?"

"And how far apart?"

"Maybe five or six centimeters?" Thomas nods as he starts to sketch in the eyes according to Ginny's description.

"Now, eyebrow shape?"

I watch as Ginny tediously goes through the same process with the shape of eyebrows, the distance between eyebrows, the thickness of the eyebrows; things you wouldn't think about when you're looking at eyebrows. Then they move on to the nose, and the ears, finally his mouth. By now, it's been about an hour and a half. Her answers always consist of a simple, "I think so" or an "I guess," which is starting to annoy the sketch artist.

They start on coloring the picture; sounds easy, right? No; it's worse than drawing the picture. Now, it's all about precision; like it wasn't before, right? Now, the two will go through an array of browns, blondes, greens, reds, and more. All until they find this Holy Grail color to color in only a square centimeter of space.

"Okay, Ms. Weasley, does this look like the man who held you captive over this past year?" Thomas asks, as he turns the sketchpad around for her to see the finished project. There seems to be no glint of recognition in her eyes but she nods. I glance at Robards who seems disgruntled. "Alright, Ms. Weasley, thank you for going through this process with me. It's been a pleasure; it really has."

Thomas leaves the interrogation room and meets with us in the chat room.

"Here's your man." He says, handing Robards the pad of paper. We look at it over his shoulder; there definitely is something off about this man in this picture. His eyes are small; very small, but not as though it's an artist error, no, more like a natural pair of small eyes that don't grace a face well. I glance back through the mirror to see Ginny sitting, twiddling her fingers together. I wish she wouldn't do that. In auror training, we learned that fidgeting is a telltale sign of either a lie or a half-truth.

Now, I know Ginny, she did that all the time. It's more of a nervous twitch for her, but it could be interpreted in any way by anyone who doesn't know her like I do.

"Run it. Go through every witch, wizard, and squib there is. Find this man." Robards' voice booms at a rookie auror. The young eighteen-year-old nods fervently before striding out of the room.

"Tails," Robards says to the auror sitting in the corner, "Take Ms. Weasley home, and don't let her in on anything." He nods before moving into the interrogation room and gesturing for Ginny to walk with him out of the opposite door. And without any gesture of goodbye, because I know she knows I'm here, she leaves.

Ginny

We apparate to the front of the Burrow's drive with the auror still holding me by my forearm with an iron grip. We start toward my house and he bangs on the door. Why am I being treated like a felon? I just had to recount of the most nauseating faces in my short life. My mum answers the door and lets out a sigh of relief when she sees me with dry eyes and all locks of hair still in my head. I walk inside and leave my mum to offer Tails a drink and some food. Upon entering the kitchen I see Bill and Fleur, looking up at me with serious faces.

Immediately I glance around the room for any signs of Victoire running around or maybe a baby carrier, but nothing appears. It's just the two of them, sitting at the kitchen table, watching me.

"Hi." I say with a cracked voice.

"Ginny," Bill says with a sympathetic smile, "we wanted to talk to you."

"Sorry for not being around, I was-"

"Meeting with a sketch artist, we know. How'd it go?" He asks, still with that gooey, sympathetic smile of his.

"Fine." I lie.

"Good." The tension is still palpable in the room. And I'm looking anywhere except at the couple in front of me.

"I know. If that's why you're here."

"We know you do. And yes, that's why we're here." There's another long silence before I break again.

"You could have just told me," I glance between Fleur and Bill, "I don't need to be treated with caution."

"It wasn't so much that as it was to be sure you were completely acclimated before we brought something new into your life." I furrow my eyebrows.

"You wanted to wait until I felt completely at ease with life so you could break the news to me and have everything erupt into chaos again?" Bill looks down at his hands sheepishly. I know, that's a harsh way at looking at it, but it's how I see it. "Plus, who knows, it could have taken me a whole year to finally get 'acclimated to my life'."

"We're sorry, Ginny." Fleur pipes up. I nod in acceptance, "That's why, we brought the girls over today; so, you can finally see Victoire again and meet Dominique." I crack a smile before nodding.

"Where are they?" I ask.

"Napping. We've been here for a while." Bill answers. I glance at the clock again, wow, I was gone for a long time.

"Sorry about that." I reply in an awkward fashion.

"It's not your fault; Mum told us that an auror just showed up and you had to leave. George left about an hour ago, he said that it seemed very urgent."

"The department definitely couldn't wait for it if that's what you're implying."

"Well, at least you've gotten that over with, yeah?" Fleur says, in her French accent. I nod and an awkward cloud falls into the room. Bill seems to have his stoic essence to him once again; the same stoic presence he had for months after the war. Fleur suddenly becomes interested with tracing the aged scratches on the surface of the kitchen table with her fingertips.

My mum walks back into the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, "So, Ginny, how did it go?"

"Fine, I guess." I reply.

"Do you think the sketch looked like the man?"

I shrug, "I guess." Her eyebrows scrunch together and she sends me a look of uneasiness, "Don't worry about it, Mum. It's just that my memory is a little fuzzy."

"Well, did the picture look anything like the man?"

"I thought it did. It probably does, but they asked me such specific questions about him that I don't know if I gave the right answers. He would keep telling me that it was okay if it was a little off every time I would go through the choices of features, but it's not that I was having trouble choosing, it was more that I was having trouble remembering."

Bill glances at Mum before cautiously starting, "Ginny, what do you remember of him?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused. He shares an unsure look with his wife and our mum before continuing.

"I guess, what I'm asking is, what happened to you in there? What did he do to you?" He doesn't seem like he's trying to pinpoint me as a criminal; he seems genuinely concerned because he's my brother, and apart of being my brother means that he loves me unconditionally, right? Unlike those aurors who only care because it means they'll get a paycheck every other Friday.

I take a deep breath, trying to decide if I should tell him or not. If I tell him, what do I leave out? What's too much to share? I look back at the others and they're staring at me with wrapped attention. Am I even supposed to tell anyone except the aurors? Isn't that a safety violation? I could be putting the case in jeopardy.

"You don't have to tell us everything." Mum says from beside me. I just shrug and shake my head.

"I honestly don't want to go through the story again." I say, quietly. They all look a little disappointed. I feel bad that I'm not putting them in the loop but, at the same time, I feel as though I shouldn't feel bad about it. It's up to me; it's my comfort that's at stake here.

Silence, once again, falls over the kitchen; probably for the best. We sit in silence until it breaks by a screech from upstairs. It's been awhile since I've heard a wail like that. Fleur immediately stands, saying she'll get it.

This is it. This is the moment. I'm about to meet my little niece for the first time. Butterflies in my stomach start to venture out to new parts. The crying starts to fall quiet, and the creaking of the floorboards overhead start. She's coming downstairs. The sound grows closer; the stairs start to squeak, a quiet French whisper comes into the distance, and a slight whimper of a baby starts to sound. I watch as my sister-in-law appears on the last few steps of the crooked staircase with a jumble of blankets in her arms. I can feel a smile form on my lips as Fleur walks to me.

"Meet your niece, Dominique Ginevra Weasley." Bill whispers from across me. My eyes immediately flash to him. Dominique Ginevra Weasley. I smile back down to the little infant in my arms. She looks back up to me with curious eyes full of wonder at this new, peculiar face.

"Do you want to her be godmother, Ginny?" Fleur asks from beside her husband. I feel tears well in my eyes as I think about what they just offered me. First, they name their child after me, and then they ask me to be her mentor, her guide, and her guardian if they can't be there. And I think back to watching Harry with Teddy for the years before my disappearance and him with the boy now. Teddy looks up to Harry, calls him 'Daddy', loves him unconditionally. Now, I know, their circumstance is a lot different than Dominique's ever will be, but I can't help but feel my heart swell as I think about it.

"Ginny? Will you?" Bill asks, his eyes full of plea.

"Hasn't one already been appointed to her?" I ask, quietly. They shake their head with a slight smile.

"We appointed you when she was born. We thought if you really were—uh—gone, you'd definitely watch over her, every hour of every day." Bill responds.

I nod, and look back down to the girl in my arms. She's one of the sweetest things I've ever seen. Her eyes are Bill's ice blue, her hair; a dark, strawberry blonde.

"We understand if you don't want the responsibility right now, we just—"

"No, I want to." I say, seriously, "I think it'll help me." She reaches out her tiny hand toward my nose. I put my fingertip on her palm and she grabs one. Dominique Ginevra Weasley.

"Mummy?" A little voice comes from the stairwell. I look up and see a young girl, the age of three, rubbing her eyes with a small bunny hanging from her hand. I know that bunny; I gave that to her for her first birthday.

"Victoire." Fleur says, holding out her hand for her to come over to her. The little girl grabs the railing and takes a step at a time before running over to her mum. Fleur pulls her onto her lap, "Victoire, this is Aunt Ginny."

"Aunt Ginny?" Victoire asks her mother confused.

"Yes, Aunt Ginny." Fleur repeats, bouncing her daughter on her knee. Victoire looks at me and shrugs. There is no sparkle of recognition in her eyes, and there's no smile playing on her face. She has no idea who I am.

I hold my hand out to her, "It's nice to meet you." It breaks my heart to say that. It breaks my heart that she uneasily places her small hand into mine and shakes it.

"Nice to meet you." She replies, cautiously. She squirms out of her mother's lap and runs out of the room, as if she's going to go play now. I watch her leave, sadness probably playing on my face. A hand lands on my shoulder to gain my attention.

My mum sends me another one of her sympathetic smile and removes her hand, "She's just young; she knows who you—"

"It's okay, Mum. I didn't expect her to." Bill and Fleur share a sad glance at each other. I look back down at the sweet girl in my arms. I won't miss any part of her life. This time, I promise.

"So, did you ask the aur—" The little girl who reenters the room and my mum's questions trails away. She has a picture frame in her hands and her eyes are locked on me.

"Victoire, what do you have there?" Bill asks as the girl walks over to me. I hand my mother the baby and lean my elbows on my knees to be eye to eye with her.

She pushes the big picture frame up onto the table; face up, "Aunt Ginny?" She asks, reaching up to point to the picture. It's a picture of Victoire and I at her second birthday party, shortly before my leave. Victoire has birthday cake all over her face, and she's sitting on my lap as we laugh, looking at the camera. I shift my eyes back to her, and she's wearing an unbelieving expression on her face. I nod with a sympathetic smile.

She stands up onto her tippy toes and wraps her arms around my neck. I pull her up onto my lap and hold her close. Maybe it wasn't recognition that was missing from her eyes, maybe her confusion clouded over it? She was probably told that I was gone like Uncle Fred, not that she would know who that was yet.

"Victoire, how did you get this photo off the mantle?" Bill asks, holding up the photo. She looks at him with her innocent eyes and shrugs. "Victoire, tell me; how did you get this picture frame off of Mammy's mantle without hurting yourself?"

"I didn't do anything, Daddy." Victoire says, snuggling into my arms.

"You're not in trouble if you tell us, Victoire." Fleur interjects.

"I just reached for it and it fell into my hands." Bill and Fleur's faces flush.

"Mum, does that mean that she just—"

"There's a possibility. Charlie's bit of accidental magic happened at age four."

"Victoire, do you know what this means?" I ask, excitedly. She shakes her head, "It means you're a witch! You can do magic just like Mummy and Daddy."

"And Aunt Ginny!" She replies with a toothy grin.

Things settled down shortly after that. For one, Victoire was treated to a whole bar of Honeyduke's chocolate that Seamus had sent me as a homecoming gift. Dominique fell cranky due to hunger and maybe a much needed nappy change. Bill and Fleur bid Mum and I a goodbye and left in order to put Dominique right before dinner and have Victoire unleash her energy searching for seashells on the beach at Shell Cottage.

It wasn't long until Dad had come home from work and Mum had supper made. I look out the window toward the apparation point at the end of the drive. Harry said that I'd see him today, I guess by that he meant at the auror department. And by I'd see him; he meant he'd see me. The moon has risen, the crickets have already started playing their nightly jam, and my parents have retired to their nightly routine of sitting in the living room, reading the paper or maybe a good novel.

I think about what George told me this morning. Do it again. Do it again. That seems dangerous and a little rash. Obviously, Harry didn't feel comfortable with it yesterday; what makes today any different? But, don't get me wrong, I have no objections toward the idea. If this had been a normal day, in normal-land, where I never went missing, Harry and I would have kissed hundreds of times today, even if we both were at work. But that's a land in another dimension. And in this dimension, at this exact moment, I'm trying to come up with a plan to kiss him again.

What would I even say to him when he pulls back? How would I explain to him that I'm completely sure that I want to be with him at this moment? I could tell him that he's the only one who seems to care about what happened to me. Of course, that's an extreme exaggeration, my parents have been amazing throughout this whole process, so have all my brothers and my friends. I could tell him that I miss how it used to be and It would help me more than he can imagine to be with him like that again. But, that sounds like one of those cheesy, dramatic scenes in romantic novels that I can't stand.

There's a loud pop from the outside of the Burrow, which means one thing. Someone apparated here. The question is who? I nod to my parents, telling them that I'll get the door and walk to the foyer. I peak into a window and see Harry striding toward the porch. I hide behind the door and hold my breath. Three knocks against the wood indicate he's here. I count to five and then slowly swing the door open.

"Oh, Harry, I didn't expect you to come today." I greet, giving him a side hug.

"Well, I promised to see you today, didn't I?" I nod in remembrance.

"So, how was work today? Anything new?"

"You know I can't tell you anything," He says, shrugging out of his jacket, "But in general, work was okay. How was your afternoon?"

"Fine," I say before locking eyes with him, "I met Dominique today." His expression faltered a little before he tried to keep cool.

"How did that go?"

I smile as I remember the little girl in my arms, "Really well. I'm her godmother."

"I know," Harry smiles at me, "You were the day she was born."

"That's what Bill said," A silence falls between us, and Harry's face turns a little pink at the awkward essence that fills the room, "I also got to see Victoire."

Harry nods, "I'm sure she was her bubbly self the whole time."

"Actually, at first, she seemed confused and then she left and came back with the picture of us on the mantle. Apparently, she reached for it and it fell in her hand."

"Accidental?"

"We think so. Looks like my niece is officially a witch."

"I'll send her some chocolates tomorrow." Harry jokes. I smile at him and he diverts his eyes awkwardly away.

"Um, Harry?" I ask; he looks up at me with concern, "Want to take a walk?"

"Ginny, it's night time; it's not safe."

"I have a full-qualified auror with me; I think I'll be okay." I say, grabbing his forearm and pulling him through the living room where my parents say their hellos and ask where we're going. I respond with a breathy 'outside' and leave through the back door. I know that's not how I should treat the matter of going outside for a walk at night with them but I don't have the patience to have them retaliate.

"We're not going far." Harry's voice of reason breaks through the crickets.

"I know; I just wanted to get away from eavesdropping ears." I turn around and face him. He looks at the area around us, as if he's surveying if it's safe for us to be out here. "Okay, I know you're not allowed to tell me anything about the case, or the sketch, or basically anything that I really want to know about. But, can you answer me about something related to my safety?"

His eyebrows furrow at my last question, "Depending, what is it?"

"I don't feel comfortable living wandless. I mean, I know it's evidence and what not, but what do I do if my attacker breaks through and tries to duel with me? I'm basically an easy target."

"We know you're wandless, but we can't get your wand back to you at the moment."

"So, I'm just going to walk around wandless? I'm not allowed to leave my house; therefore I can't very well go to Ollivander's to get a new one."

"No, it's not that; we've sent it to a wandmaker in Russia."

"What? Why?"

"We took pictures of your wand and did magical tests on it as soon as we brought it in as evidence. It only took a couple of days. But then, we sent it to Ollivander, who could only fix a couple of the fragments, so we sent it to France. Your wand was too stubborn for him so we sent it to Russia where the finest wandmakers are fixing it at the moment."

"But, is it that hard to fix a wand?"

"It's a pretty difficult process. Some wands are tricky and decide to cooperate with certain wandmakers and not for others." I nod as I listen to him speak.

"Do you know if it's going well?"

"I think it is; I haven't heard otherwise. But, once it's done, you'll get it back immediately."

Once again, the conversation falls to the silence. We look around, avoiding each other's eyes. I watch him closely, thinking about what George said. Kiss him again and don't let him jump back.

I finally rest my eyes on him, he's looking at the ground, as if he's in deep thought. I grab his forearm and his eyes snap to me.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Er, what-oh-nothing." I take a step forward and he immediately stiffens.

"Harry, I know you; you're thinking about something that's bothering you. What is it?"

"It's nothing, Ginny." He says, taking a step backwards.

"Oh bloody hell-Harry, stop trying to avoid me."

He raises his eyebrows at me, "I'm not avoiding you; I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

"No, not like that; I know what I did yesterday caught you off guard. I know you don't think you should be in my life the way you used to be before this all happened but I disagree. I hate this. I hate having to put a filter on because we're not as close as we used to be. I hate knowing that if I take a step toward you, you'll take a step away."

"Ginny, we both know that you're too fr-"

"Don't you dare call me fragile, Harry Potter." I feel my temper rise in my throat.

"I didn't mean it like that; I just don't think that this is the time for us to be involved."

"Well, I think it's the exact time to be involved. I miss you, Harry. I mean, I miss how it used to be."

"And you think I don't miss that too? Of course, I miss the old times. But, Ginny, you have to remember, we have a criminal to catch. You have a family to spend time with-"

"No different to how my life was before."

"No, Gin, it's completely different from what your life was before."

"Harry, I want to-"

"Well, I think we should keep-" But, I kiss him. I don't know what he was about to say and I don't care. I'm kissing him, with my hands wrapped around his neck; not letting him jump back, just like George said. After a slight jump, I feel his hands slip around my waist. Merlin, I've missed this. I bring my hand into his hair and deepen the kiss. The crickets sound around us. A slight breeze blows against our legs. And finally, I feel at peace.

The kiss slows and then we break apart, both still dazed from what just happened. I touch his cheeks with my fingertips and he rests his forehead on mine.

"I still love you, Harry." I whisper a little emotional over what just happened. He leans in for a quick peck before running his hand down my hair.

"I never stopped." I decide to let that comment go, even if it did sounded like the ending to a sappy chapter to a dramatic romantic story.