Author's Notes: I know, right? Where have I been?

Well, suffice it to say, things have not been running smoothly in RL.

But that's neither here nor there. The last chapters are written. And now they are being posted.

Living through a catastrophe changes a person, in subtle or overt ways. The reactions run the spectrum from depression to elation, a new lease on life to post-traumatic stress disorder.

It was with this new schizophrenic outlook that Hogwart's Graduating Class of 1998 looked to the future. Some determinedly pretended that the worst was behind them, and imagined the time to come as a one of peace and adventure. Others, perhaps more realistic, realized that they were once more living in a grace period, a quiet before the storm.

Classes had pretty much ground to a halt. The students and professors that remained still showed up in the appointed rooms at the appointed times, but no one was really interested in work.

A team of four Ministry officials quietly arrived at the school two weeks after "the battle," as it was now being called. The seventh years sat their NEWTs, no one, not even Hermione, really expending much energy on them. However, with fighting for their lives, taking exams that would pretty much determine their future success, and trying to figure out how to live a life outside of school, the seventh years on the whole were a mass of exhausted, yet manickly excited, bodies.

With this in mind, Hermione and Draco threw themselves into the plans for the leaving ball for their classmates. They had procured a deejay's services in the fall and were deep in discussion over food and decorations.

Hermione found she could only spend half as much time forcing her brain to work as she used to. The other half of her time found her attached bodily to Ron in some way. Facing the Deatheater who had attacked her two years before and knowing that Ron would be leaving at the end of the month made Hermione a little clingy, even to her own eyes.

Not that she would change anything.

It was rather nice devoting so much effort to simply spending time with her boyfriend. She rather imagined this would have been what their summer would have been like in an alternate reality, one where their lives weren't in danger at every turn and one where Ron wouldn't be marching off to war.

The Wednesday after NEWTs, Hermione surprised her friends by suggesting going out to lay around in the sunshine. The vitamin D would put them all in a better mood.

"Whatever, Hermione," Ginny said at the reasoning for the invitation, giggling as she grabbed the other girl's hand to run outside.

Shortly thereafter, the Gryffindor Four were relaxing in the sunshine.

"Why is it that every major exam seems to coincide with a major catastrophe?" Hermione asked idly that afternoon, picking a blade of grass out of Ron's shirt from where she leaned against him.

"Isn't every major exam a catastrophe in its own right?" Ron asked, expanding the social grooming ritual to pluck some grass out of her hair.

"There's a major catastrophe at the end of every year; what difference does it make?" Harry retorted.

"It's convenient that the forces of darkness wait until school is basically over before setting out to get you, Harry," Ginny smiled and nudged him with her foot.

Each seventh year student was allowed to invite any student of their choice to the Leaving Ball. The whole concept of the thing had Harry chewing his lip until it nearly bled.

What to do?

He really wanted to ask Ginny to go with him.

Despite everything, his vow to keep away from her to keep her safe, his completely messed-up relationship with Luna, his completely messed-up relationship with her, he couldn't stop being obsessed with her.

He seemed to be obsessed with a lot of women, lately. Hermione's friendship…Luna's…, well, that,…and Ginny's…love. Ugh! Why did his life always have to be so goddamn difficult!

What's up, mate?

Harry sat up suddenly and looked around.

Don't make it so obvious. Just think something.

Ron. Damn, he was getting really good at this. Harry sat and thought for a moment, allowing everything, well, almost everything, to stream unrestricted to his friend's mind.

After a few minutes, Ron sat up and stretched.

"Merlin, I'm starved. Mione, you want to come with me to the kitchens? I could go for a snack…" Ron asked, rising and holding out a hand for his girlfriend.

"Sure, Ron," taking the outstretched appendage, she rose, then turned to look back at Harry and Ginny, "do you lot want anything?"

"No thanks," Ginny replied, not looking up from her magazine.

"Yeah, could you bring me something to drink?" Harry asked. The couple nodded and made their way back to the castle.

"I can't believe he's hungry again," Ginny muttered, "where does he put it all? I would kill for that metabolism."

"What?" Harry was confused.

"I wish I could eat as much as Ron and not get fat," Ginny explained, still keeping her nose in the pages of Teen Witch.

"You're not fat," Harry said, still confused. Ugh, what the hell was she going on about?

"Thanks," Ginny replied dryly.

Harry just sat there, arms crossed over his chest with a scowl on his face. How was he supposed to ask her to the Leaving Ball now? She was talking about people being fat and such.

Ron and Hermione's trip to the kitchens was all a ruse to give Harry some time alone with Ginny. The plan was for Harry to ask her to go with him, the other two would return, everyone would rejoice, and there you go. But somehow, things had gotten out of hand.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" Ginny asked, finally turning her sunglasses in his direction to look at him.

"What?"

"You obviously wanted them out of the way for something. Just spit it out."

"Ron told you that?!?!"

Ginny sat up and giggled, "of course not. And Draco said I was easily read. Here I thought you were the champ at blocking your emotions."

He just stared at her. He had let her walk him right into a trap.

"It was that obvious?"

"Well, normally, you don't want to be alone in the same room with me. Now, while we aren't exactly in a room, per se, this is the same basic thing. What's up?"

"Do you have a date for the Leaving Ball?" Harry decided that the direct approach would save him pain in the long run. Plus, it might throw her off a bit, since he usually took the circuitous route.

"Err…no, as I am not a seventh year, I hadn't given it much thought."

"Would you go with me?" courageous though he may be, Harry couldn't look at her. Instead, he focused on punishing some of the grass near him with decapitation.

"Why are you asking me this?" Ginny asked quietly, pushing her sunglasses up off her face to really look at him.

"Because I really want you to go with me."

"Harry…," Ginny hugged her knees to her chest, "I don't know if it's such a good idea for us to go down this road again."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that we had attended a Leaving Ball together before."

"You know, the sarcasm isn't helping your argument," God, he could get her right cranky with little to no effort, "this is exactly what I'm talking about. We can't even discuss going to a party together without fighting."

"You're the one who's making a huge deal over the whole thing. All I asked you for was your company. I'm not talking about getting married or something." He threw a rock in his irritation.

"Would you have asked me if Luna were still alive?" she could be blunt too.

"Would you believe me if I said 'yes,'" she shouldn't forget she was dealing with the champ.

"No," she answered honestly.

"I told you before, not that you were listening, that I didn't love Luna, I didn't fancy Luna, we were just friends. And that isn't just me being a bloke, she felt the same way. Would I have wanted to spend my last night at Hogwarts, the place that has been the closest thing I have ever had to a home, with the possible exception of your house, with her instead of you? I don't think so. So whatever, figure it out. Either you want to go with me or not." Tantrum gaining speed, he violently pushed himself off the ground and began stalking to the castle. He passed Ron and Hermione on their way back from the kitchens.

"I'll deal with that," Ginny heard Hermione say to her brother, "you take care of the other." She watched Ron walk toward her out of the corner of her eye. He plopped down on the ground beside her.

"So what happened this time?"

"Like you don't already know?" Ginny didn't want to talk to Ron about Harry. Ron was Harry's friend. She wanted to talk to Hermione. Hermione was clever with ways of torturing people, and she wasn't very forgiving either. At least, she pretended to not be forgiving to make Ginny feel better.

"How did you draw the short straw?" she asked sourly after a few moments of silence had passed.

"What makes you think you're the short straw instead of Harry?"

"Please," Ginny was downright disgusted.

"Why don't you just tell me what happened, instead of being such a big baby about the whole thing?"

Ginny gave him a nasty look, but decided to spill when it appeared that Ron was not going to care about her personal privacy.

"He asked me to go to the Leaving Ball with him."

"…and…?"

"And we had an argument."

"About what?"

"About Luna, about him asking me, about everything, I guess," Ginny huffed in defeat. It really did sound ridiculous when she said it out loud to another person. Why did she get all upset at Harry?

"Well, why did you?" Ron asked quietly, when it appeared that his sister wasn't going to verbalize or answer her own question.

"That isn't nice."

"No, but it is helpful," he said, sitting up and putting an arm around Ginny's shoulders.

"Does torturing him really make you feel better?"

"No, but he should suffer."

"Oh, I agree. But it doesn't really work if you're miserable too."

Ginny laid her head against Ron's shoulder. He really was her favorite brother.

"I knew it."

"Well, that was for your benefit," she looked up at him and smiled.

"Do you want to go to the Ball with Harry or not?"

"I don't know."

"Well, sweetie, that's what you've got to figure out."

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It seemed as though every single male Gryffindor seventh year was assembled in the entrance hall. Dean, Seamus, and Neville stood beside the gigantic doors waiting for Harry and Ron to finally arrive.

At last they appeared, slinking down the hall from the oddest possible direction.

"Where have you two been?" asked an irritated Dean.

"We were trying to make sure that Hermione wasn't around," replied Harry.

The boys were about to open the doors when a very familiar voice made them all groan inwardly.

"And just where do you lot think you're off to?" They all turned to face Hermione, arms crossed over her chest, right toe tapping.

"Err…." She raised an eyebrow.

"We were just going to run out to get some supplies for the graduation festivities," answered Ron, placatingly.

"What sort of supplies?" she continued.

"The liquid kind," said Seamus under his breath. Ron could have kicked him. Didn't he know that Hermione's hearing…

"Lovely, alcohol." She answered her own question. Damn. Dean gave Seamus a dirty look.

"Come on, Mione, ninety percent of us will be 18 by graduation. So there really isn't any harm in it," reasoned Harry.

"And where is this alcohol supposed to come from?"

"The fully stocked liquor cabinet at Grimmauld Place," laughed Neville. Hermione inhaled. Everyone else waited for the reprimand.

"Well, you all had better hurry before McGonagall catches you." Five jaws dropped open in shock. Ron and Harry looked at each other.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Thanks, Mione," said Neville, running for the door.

"Thank you," said Seamus, hands prostrate before he turned and fled.

"Mille mercis, kiddo," replied Dean.

"You're the best," indulged Harry, hugging his sister and placing a quick kiss on her cheek before he, too, headed for the door. Ron just looked at her.

"You know, I think Percy was right."

"Oh?" she asked, genuinely confused. He took a step closer until he was directly next to her and looked down at her.

"We are a bad influence on you." He took a step back. Hermione snaked her arm out and grabbed his belt loop, holding him in place. She looked at him wickedly. He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her.

"COME ON, RON," Harry called from the door. Ron reluctantly pulled away.

"Right, right…coming." He looked at her apologetically and ran for the door after his friends.

Draco came walking up beside her just in time to watch the boys leave the castle.

"What was that all about?" he asked a dreamy-looking Hermione.

"Oh, nothing," she turned to face him, "Want to go to dinner?"

"'Course." They turned and walked into the Great Hall.

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The graduation ceremony earlier in the day had seemed interminable to the 15 remaining 7th years. As the event was sponsored by the Ministry, no mention was made to the battle that had taken place, despite the wounds that were still obviously healing on many of the students.

Not that they particularly cared.

Every single one of them seemed intent on watching the clock, waiting for 7 p.m. to roll around so that they could "get their groove on," as Hermione had put it.

The magic hour was finally there and all the graduating students, and their dates, gathered in the main foyer, waiting for the Head Boy and Head Girl to officially open the festivities.

Ron pulled at his collar again, as Ginny slapped his hands away. Reaching up to fix her brother, again, she whispered to him, "what is your problem? You're acting like a nervous wreck."

"I'm not nervous," he made a face and pushed her hands away, "I'm just uncomfortable."

"This seems like more than discomfort." Maybe he's going to ask Hermione to marry him, and that's why he's nervous.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Gin, but Mione and I won't be getting engaged any time soon."

"Well, thank Merlin for that," Draco drawled, walking up to them.

"You have a vested interest in Hermione's marital situation, Malfoy?" Harry asked, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to look more suave and confident than he felt. He didn't have that great of a track record where Balls were concerned.

"Hardly," Draco sneered, "I just think we all have other, more important things to worry about right now then big, flashy weddings."

"How right you are," said a new voice. Four heads turned to see Hermione standing at the bottom of the stairs, "Sorry I took so long…my hair." She shrugged.

In order to have some sort of "theme" for the night, everyone was told to wear their house colors. For the boys, this was easily done by wearing their ties. The girls got to be a little more creative. Hermione and Draco, as the Head Boy and Head Girl, had decided to just don black attire, with small accents of their house colors. Therefore, Draco had a small silver and green pocket square peeking out of his black jacket. Hermione, on the other hand, wore a simple black dress, but she carried a scarf whose muted colors traveled back and forth between scarlet and gold.

"About time you showed up," Draco said, offering Hermione his arm. They walked to the doors and officially started the Ball.

"You know, just once," Ron groused, walking in behind the herd with Harry and Ginny, "I would like to enter a party with my own girlfriend."

TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL

"Shite," Neville muttered as Seamus bounced the ping pong ball into the center cup again. Five hands reached out and grabbed the cups in front of them, desperately trying to drink the contents and get the cup back on the table before the others. Harry was slowest this time, as the amount of alcohol he had consumed (Dean and Seamus were out to get him, he was sure of it) and his inexperience with drink were wreaking havoc on his reflexes.

"Oh, sorry mate," Dean smiled cheekily, "looks like you have to chug the center." Harry made a face, but did as he was told.

"That's right, bitch," Seamus was being a bit of a jerk, "drink up."

Hermione caught the last of Seamus' comment as she walked up behind Ron and wrapped her arms around his stomach.

"So, how are the festivities going over here?" she asked, nudging Ron's arms with the side of her head.

"Oh, shmashing," Harry answered, barely coherent at this point. Hermione looked at him and then turned eyes back to Ron.

"You had better take it easy there, or you'll be no use to me tonight at all," Hermione attempted to whisper into Ron's ear, but that completely backfired, since she had to speak loud enough for him to hear her over the music, which meant that everyone else could also hear her.

"Yaoza," Seamus said, staring at Hermione with new respect. Ron gave him a dirty look but turned indulgent eyes on his girlfriend.

"Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint you," he smiled, just a tad drunk, then looked around, "Oy! Malfoy! Get over here."

Draco looked over from where he stood on the dance floor, sandwiched between two blondes. Easing past the two girls, he walked over to where the Gryffindor males stood.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Take my place, yeah?"

"Err…," Draco hesitated, looking at the three other boys, and Harry, "are you sure that's fair? I mean, it's obvious that they're all pretty pissed already. That isn't much competition for me."

"I can drink your pasty English arse under the table any day!" Seamus retorted belligerently. Ron just chuckled to himself and Draco stood up taller.

"Fine, then, Paddy," Draco bellied up to the table, "let's play."

Ron took that opportunity to drag Hermione away and back out onto the dance floor.

"That was a rather clever trick," Hermione commented once they were a few feet away. She slid her hands up Ron's chest and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close.

"Yes, it was," he replied, laying his head on top of hers and breathing her in, "you know, sometimes I even amaze myself."

Meanwhile, Harry had become bored with the game, since Draco seemed to be making it his life's pursuit to land the ping pong ball into Seamus' cup at every opportunity. Served the wanker right. He wandered away from his mates and went to look for his date. He saw her over by the Patil Twins and Ernie MacMillan, who was dancing up a storm.

"Hey Ginny, wanna dance?" now, to Harry's ears, this sounded perfectly spoken and grammatically correct. Everyone else, on the other hand, only heard nonsensical syllables. Ginny just stared at him for a moment.

"Are you asking me to dance?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, reaching forward and taking her hand. He then proceeded to drag her onto the dance floor. Thankfully, a slow song was coming on, so all he really needed to do was stand there. He wrapped his arms around Ginny and pulled her as close to his chest as he could get her, resting his head beside hers.

Ron had the unfortunate experience of watching this whole thing, and turned nauseous eyes to Hermione.

"Oh, Mione…"

"No, Ron, I don't think anyone will notice if we leave."

"You read my mind," he smiled slyly down at her. Looking around to make sure that every else was otherwise occupied, they snuck out the door and up to the Head Suite.

Harry swayed, enjoying the feeling of having Ginny back in his arms.

Where she is meant to be, a little voice inside his head whispered. Harry slapped at his ear to get the voice to just shut up and let him enjoy this.

"Are you alright?" Ginny asked, nervous that she would accidentally be on the receiving end of the slapping.

"Yeah, just had an itch," he was a little more coherent now.

"Ginny, I'm so glad you're here with me."

"Wow, thanks Harry," Ginny replied, genuinely shocked, "although, I'm not sure how important my presence is."

"It's really important. It's the most important," Harry muttered.

"Then why did you throw me away?" she just couldn't help herself. DAMNIT!

Harry stopped, pulled back, and looked at her. "Is that what you think happened?"

She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"How many times do we have to go over this?" he sounded exasperated, like he was a parent who was going over shoelace tying for the thousandth time.

"If you just wanted to keep me safe," Ginny swallowed the lump in her throat, she would NOT cry, "then why did you go out with Luna?"

Harry ground his teeth. "I did NOT go out with Luna, ok, we were…I was just…ugh! I was fucking her, ok? That's it. We were using each other to get our jollies."

Ginny pushed her face into his chest so he wouldn't be able to see the fact that some tears were escaping, no matter how hard she tried to keep them in check. She whispered something without realizing it.

"What was that?"

Uh-oh, busted.

"Ginny?"

"Why her and not me?"

Harry pushed her away from him a bit to look her in the eyes. She was a mess and she couldn't help it. He quickly pulled her back again.

"Would you really have wanted that?" he asked after what seemed like a century.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Really?"

"I would have liked the choice," she amended, after thinking about it for a minute.

They silently swayed back and forth to the music for a few moments.

"It backfired anyway," Harry was saying.

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't love her, and it cost her her life anyway."

"They didn't kill her because of you."

"Didn't they?" Harry sighed, "it's been really hard, accepting that she's gone. And in the back of my head this really horrible idea keeps floating around."

"What idea?"

"That I'm glad."

"What?" Ginny was shocked. She stood back from him to stare at him, not sure who he was at the moment, "Harry, how could you say something like that?"

"I'm glad that it was her…and not you."

Ginny just continued to stare at him.

"As hard as it is, accepting that she's gone, I didn't love her, so the pain isn't as bad. But when I think that they might have gotten you…it scares the hell out of me. It would have destroyed me."

"Why?"

"Because I love you." He couldn't take it anymore. Ginny continued to stand there, staring at him in shock, but still so beautiful, it almost hurt his eyes to look at her. He reached forward, placing his hands in her hair behind her head and pulled her forward. His mouth found hers, again, finally again, and he kissed her with everything he had been holding in check for the past year. Every frustrated kick against a wall in the Burrow during the summer, every time he had wanted to smash something in his anger at her being unreasonable, every time his heart broke when she looked at him that way, even after he had told himself that he hadn't wanted her to. Everything flowed from his mouth to hers.

It was a hell of a kiss.

Ginny couldn't breathe. She was suffocating because Harry Potter's tongue was choking the life out of her.

Not that she would change anything.

She just wrapped her arms more tightly around him and let her senses guide her. His kiss was different from before…neater, she guessed. She decided not to dwell on all the practice he had gotten over the past nine months.

Finally, Harry backed away to catch his breath. He took her hand firmly in his.

"Let's go."

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She was still in shock. She hadn't said one word since Harry had begun dragging her from the Leaving Ball. She had just blindly followed.

Blindly followed him through the silent hallways. Up the changing staircases. Past the portrait of the Fat Lady. Into the Gryffindor Common Room. And then up the stairs…

…to the 7th year boys' dorm.

Oh God, this was really going to happen. She was going to lose her virginity. To Harry. In his dorm.

Wow, who knew those fevered dreams would be prophetic?

Before she could blink they were standing in his dorm. Harry turned toward her and kissed her again.

Oh God, he was really good at this now.

He maneuvered them until the backs of his legs came into contact with his bed. Harry then proceeded to sit down and push himself back to the pillows. She remained standing at the foot of the bed. He laid down on his back and reached a hand out to her. Taking the invitation, Ginny crawled over to him. She reached forward, cursing her hands which were shaking with nerves, and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. She had gotten about three open, when his hands closed over hers and stopped her movement.

"Wait," he said.

She looked at him. He was staring at her strangely.

"Just…come here," he pulled her down and kissed her again. Then he settled her position so that she was laying beside him, her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, preventing her from moving.

"Harry?" she whispered.

"Shh…just go to sleep."

At the power of his suggestion, she started to feel her eyelids get heavy. Although she tried valiantly to fight it, before too long, Ginny had fallen into a deep sleep.

TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL

Ron reached down to lace up his trainers. Righting himself once more he had to shake his head to clear the cobwebs out. He was still really tired. It wasn't his fault that they had been up all night.

Oh, wait a minute, he smiled smugly to himself, it had been all his fault. Well, his and Hermione's beautiful, luscious body, anyhow.

The shaking of his head proceeded to make him dizzy. He laid back on Hermione's bed.

This will be the last time I look up at this ceiling.

This will be the last time I lay on this bed.

He was starting to get a little upset.

Sitting up again, he noticed Draco pacing in a very nonchalant way outside Hermione's door.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

Draco seemed surprised that Ron was speaking to him.

"Oh, nothing, you know, just wondering when you lot were going to the train and everything…" what the hell was wrong with that boy lately? He had been acting, almost…human…

Ron sighed. He couldn't believe he was actually going to do this.

"You know, there's a group of us who are going to go out to brunch or lunch or something in Hogsmeade before we catch the train. You should come."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you know, kind of a 'last hurrah, we're not quite sure we're happy to be graduated' thing."

"Oh, well…yeah, that could be good," Draco stood there nodding in a completely ridiculous way, "when are you going?"

"Well, Hermione and I are going to head down as soon as we double check that all our stuff got sent to the train."

"Oh, err…I'm all packed now," Draco mumbled quickly.

"You're more than welcome to walk down with us, Malfoy," why the hell was he feeling so indulgent?

"Oh, well, smashing then."

TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL

Amazingly, they had amassed a group of about 20 people for lunch. Draco felt a little better when he arrived to find Blaise Zabinni sitting next to Ernie MacMillan, talking about…something.

He was feeling pretty relaxed and actually found himself contributing to the conversation. People were a little hesitant around him at first, and Finnegan kept giving him death glares over his toast, but it wasn't too bad.

Ron spent most of the lunch silently eating and observing those around him. Not that he was retaining all that much, since Hermione's left hand was placed firmly on his thigh. How could he be expected to concentrate when she was touching him?

One thing he did notice was that Harry and his sister were sitting very close together. Like couple close. He felt Hermione notice it too, but they wisely decided not to comment.

At least until they were at the Burrow and away from gossip hungry ears.

Ron looked around the table at the people that he had spent the better part of a decade with. People that there was a good chance he would never see again. He was marching off to war. Even if he survived, there was no guarantee that they would.

Hermione seemed to sense he was sad. She squeezed his leg and looked at him.

"Everything alright?" she asked.

"Sure, why wouldn't it be?"

"You've hardly eaten anything."

"Oh. Do you think you'll miss it?"

"What, school?"

"Yeah."

"I already do," she sighed sadly.

Well, at least he wasn't the only one.

TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL

The train ride seemed to go by so fast. Before they knew it, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Draco were standing on the platform at King's Cross.

"So, two weeks then?" Draco asked, eyeing the two Ministry officials who were there to escort him to a safe house.

"Yeah, you should floo to the Burrow on July 1st. We'll go to the train together. It's just easier that way," Ron was saying.

"Sure, sounds good," Draco shouldered the strap of his bag, "so, see you in two weeks, then."

They all turned to leave. Draco going off in one direction, Harry and Hermione in another, and Ron and Ginny in a third.

Two weeks was not a lot of time.