Author's note:

Disclaimer: The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

Quidditch League: Holyhead Harpies, Seeker: The Innocent- Goal: happiness

Hogwarts: Assignment #7, Muggle Art: Write about something or someone falling apart, figuratively or literally.

Warnings: Survivor's Guilt

Selfishness is Encouraged

He didn't mean to slam the door to Ron's bedroom behind him, but slam it did—which made Harry even more irritable, just as his frustration conveniently frustrated him even more.

He'd had enough of the world today. This was maybe because he'd missed lunch in order to make his meeting with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, or maybe because of the meeting itself. He didn't understand why they needed his help to lift the taboo on Voldemort's name; everyone always seemed to need his help nowadays.

There was a knock on the door and Harry sat up in bed, expecting a worried Mrs. Weasley or a concerned Hermione who also needed a break from things or maybe Ron. Instead, it was Ginny, wearing her regular summer vacation uniform—a Holyhead Harpies jersey and a pair of jean shorts she'd cut herself, since short length was an ordeal of an argument between her and her mother. She didn't wait before opening the door and Harry scrambled to sit up again.

"Hey," Harry said.

"Hey," she said. "The others said they wanted to give you space."

"Okay," Harry said. "Sorry, I mean, about the door. I didn't mean… Sorry."

"I don't care about the door," Ginny said. "I just wanted to make sure you had the right kind of space. Sometimes you dig yourself a hole and sit in it and let things fester."

"Sometimes," Harry admitted. He rubbed at his cheek, aware that the blanket he'd squashed onto had probably left a mark on it. "I…"

"It's fine," Ginny said. "I'm sorry that the meeting was shite, whatever it was. You don't have to keep going if you don't want to."

"Of course I do," Harry said.

"These aren't Horcruxes, Harry, other people can do things," Ginny said.

"I know, but I… I've been lucky, all things considered."

"Lucky?" Ginny said incredulously.

"I came back to life," Harry said defensively. "Life, Ginny."

Ginny didn't shrink back, but the furrow that appeared between her eyebrows when she worried made itself known. He hadn't mentioned that part to anybody other than Ron and Hermione, so far. And Hagrid, since he had seen it happen and deserved to know too. As far as anybody else knew, Harry had simply survived another killing curse and played dead.

Ginny didn't ask for more details, she just crossed the room and came towards him. She stood closer to him than she had in… well, months, frankly. Nearly a whole year

"You're not supposed to want anything," Ginny said, running her fingers through his hair. Her hand came to rest at the nape of his neck and he leaned into her touch. "You're not supposed to want to accept invitations, you're not supposed to want to talk to the press about everything that happened, you're not supposed to want the attention and the thank-you letters… you've done enough for other people, Harry. More than enough. Be selfish, and if you can't do that then be selfish for me—because that's what I want. I want you to be selfish and to have what you want."

"What I want…" Harry said. He looked up to her. It wasn't as though he'd never thought of what he might want in life before.

He'd thought he'd wanted to be an Auror, he'd wanted a new broom to replace the Firebolt when all this was over, he wanted to go to a professional Quidditch game and those wonderful after parties he read about in Quidditch Weekly, he wanted a house as warm and cozy as the Burrow, he wanted to read more because it seemed like fun (though Hermione could never know).

He'd wanted things before, but it was just that when he was looking at Ginny and the smell of her hair, warm with cinnamon and lemon and honey… well, he tended to think of all those things less. There didn't seem to be much of a point when he could reach out and she was close enough to touch and hold and…

"I can be selfish," Harry said, getting up and putting a hand on her hip to test the waters. This wasn't just about him, this would be about them. And for that to work…

She slipped her arm around him and her hand came to rest on the small of his back. He just about shivered.

"I wish you would be," Ginny said, arching an eyebrow. If she'd had a broomstick in hand, Harry knew from the teasing glint in her eye that she would be about to steal his glasses, and kick off the ground, and fly away. Every time she did that, he followed her, and he could do that now.

He leaned in and kissed her. The hand he'd put on her hip tightened and pushed her against him, and Ginny responded with a gasp before refocusing and pulling herself against him again. She pushed him back down against the spare cot and straddled his hips as she kissed him again, a curtain of hair and a whiff of lemon overpowering what few of Harry's senses remained functional. That was when the door opened and there stood Ron, whose shocked face Harry saw as soon as Ginny sat up.

"Merlin," Ron said. "This again? At least start locking."

He pulled the door shut with an unceremonious slam and left. Ginny turned away from the door and looked down at Harry. They lasted about three seconds before bursting out laughing and Ginny rolled off of him, collapsing on the cot.

"No way," Harry said. He climbed on top of her and kissed her temple and down to her cheek. "I'm being selfish, remember?"

Not quite; Ginny seemed onboard with his plan and kissed back just as enthusiastically, if not more. He was being happy.