A/N:

Interlude: a Hinny chapter.

Chapter 24: RING

"I'm very sorry, sir."

This wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last for Harry to feel like this while sitting on hospital bed. Thought that kept haunt him, that maybe if he did something differently it wouldn't end the way it was.

He realised that maybe too hard to himself, it was his first raid which he was in charged to lead so few mistakes was prone to happen. At least there's no fatality, the most severe injury was his where his left leg had been completely crushed by collapsing wall. If he was in Muggle hospital they'd surely amputated his leg but thanked to Skele-Gro, an evening of pain re-growing his bone and he got his leg back.

They had made six arrests, seven if the comatose Hebertus Pucey was included. When he had found him, he finally understood Malfoy's words; they had kept him bleeding to maintain access to the estate. Considering that he looked as pale as ghost – barely hanging to life, the only possibility why he hadn't died from blood loss was regular intake of Blood Replenishing Potion. But their main target, their four most wanted fugitive, had managed to escape.

He wondered did he just act too rashly like what he had done in the past. Perhaps more briefing with the team was necessary to ensure that everyone understood what they should do or maybe he should had brought more personnel to make sure that every corner was covered. Would it bring different outcome? On the other hand, they hadn't discovered who the mole was and even within his own team, he still didn't know who to trust. He couldn't risk any leak.

"I gave you my approval for the raid, didn't I? The responsibility is on me," Robards stated flatly. He wasn't Dumbledore, there would be no patronising comfort from him. "Take day off, Potter."

"But, sir–"

"Kingsley has decided to issue public statement about the breakout," he cut his protest. "It will appear in tomorrow's papers and your presence will only create more ruckuses. I don't want to see you anywhere near the Ministry for the next three days. It's an order, not suggestion."

"Yes, sir," he abided.

When he spoke next, his tone was less harsh. "And I want you to be in a good condition when you're back Thursday morning, you'll have lot of work waiting on your desk. In the meantime, I guess it means I have to trust Malfoy to deal with the paperwork on his own."

Harry wasn't sure whether it meant to be a joke or grumble, but he voiced his opinion.

"I don't mean to overstep, sir, but I think he has shown enough proof that he's capable and can be trusted. Shouldn't we give him chance, sir?"

He scoffed. "I won't go that far, Potter," he warned him, enough to make him swallowing whatever argument he had. It also marked the end of their conversation as he tapped his shoulder, muttering a, "You did a good job," then left.

Once the door was closed Harry heaved a long breath, mix of frustration and disappointment. This raid was important for him, not only about capturing the four and stopping whatever evil plan they had, but it was his chance to prove himself.

Truth be told, he was very tired with this kind of life. Just because a maniac chose to make him a target over a questionable prophecy, not only his life was ruined, but he had been burdened of saving the Wizarding world since 11. Now that he was gone, the most sensible thing he should (and wanted to) do was to lead a normal and quiet life, not becoming an Auror and spent his days chasing dark wizard.

Although he had been the one who did the final blow, defeating Voldemort was not his own achievement alone. Many people were involved in many events leading to that final moment, he could even say that his own contribution was not that big. Then he was lauded as hero, a saviour of Wizarding world, for what was basically series of luck that pulled him through several unfortunate events with a lot of background help and support from friends and the Order. Yet it was his name that would always be attached to the fall of the most feared wizard in 20th century. It just didn't sit right for him.

Unfortunately, there's nothing he could do to change general public perception. Even after the refuse his Order of Merlin (he really didn't think that he deserved it) or if he went further to make a public complain to remove his face from Chocolate Frog Card, he would still be known as The Chosen One who defeated Lord Voldemort.

Instead of something he should be proud of, it was more like a burden for him. For that, he felt that he owed to those people, everyone who had made sacrifice – for some, it included their lives. And the only way he could think to honour their legacies was to do something that made him deserve the label he'd been given, hence working as Auror. Until when, he didn't know.

The clack of the doorknob broke his contemplation. Seeing who it was, his mood changed instantly.

"Ginny?"

"You're really here!"

Perhaps it was due to the angle of the sun or wind just swept the cloudy sky away, but as she crossed the threshold the room seemed to be brighter.

"What are you doing? Aren't you supposed to be in Ireland?"

"Back last night," she chirped flippantly. She stood next to the bed, observing him with a – disturbingly – mirth eyes and slight grin plastered on her face.

"Still, you're not supposed to be here. In fact, nobody should know that I'm here."

It was partly for security reason, news of Harry Potter been admitted to hospital after a raid would surely attract the media. On the other hand, he didn't want to worry anyone. It was only a broken leg and he didn't need Mrs Weasley or Hermione to fuss over him.

"Yeah, I know," she commented sympathetically. "This hospital's security is rather questionable at most. After all, just by being a Quidditch star, I can obtain certain connection who'd generously told me that she saw my known boyfriend been brought in here. It's easy after that, nobody will dare to forbid me visiting you. You didn't think that I will miss the chance to see you finally end in hospital bed, right?"

He eyed her apprehensively. His Auror instinct kicked in, something didn't feel right. "Somehow I find it unsettling to see you look so happy when you say it."

"Oh please, don't be such a hissy," she cooed. Her grin morphed into a full blown open-mouth smile. "Four years, Harry, four years! You never missed your chance to land in Hospital Wing in Hogwarts, but four years working as Auror? Merlin, I almost think you've lost your touch."

"Okay, now I'm concerned. My own girlfriend implies that she was hoping to see me in hospital, it's extremely disconcerting. Be honest, Gin, if this didn't happen, would you personally make sure that I'd be injured to the point that guarantee admission to hospital?"

Ginny opened her mouth but then paused, a frown appeared between her brows as she seemed to make a serious consideration. He blanched.

"No. It has to be work injury, not inflicted by one of us," she stated boldly, her tone was full of conviction.

"Us?" Realisation dawned on him. Although he already knew the answer, he still asked, "Please don't tell me you make bet on my well being."

Her unrepentant grin only confirmed his suspicion.

"No worry, I'll share. Since you're injured this year, it means I win the bet. How about 30%?"

He ignored her offer and let out an exasperated sigh of, "Who?"

"Initially me, George, Lee, and Ron," she said nonchalantly while playing with her finger, no guilt was seen in her demeanour. "Amy is too nice to make a wager on you, but Angelina also put Galleon later on."

"Even Ron?!" he cried. By this point in his life, he couldn't fathom how Weasleys' antic still surprised him.

"Yup. And he stupidly believed that you would more likely be sent to St Mungo's because of George's invention than your work. He's convinced that Auror job is way overrated, it's not as dangerous as it sounds and you'll rise within rank so fast that you'll no longer need to do any fieldwork in no time. Thus you'll go through your career unscathed."

He heaved a resigned sigh. "Does Hermione know?" This was his final question for his last straw of his faith to humanity and in this specific case, his lifeline.

She sniffed indignantly, visibly insulted. "Do you think we're that stupid?"

"Heaven's sake! It's official! I'm reconsidering my circle of friend, especially our relationship. No, I think I can decide now that from now on, Hermione is the only person I can trust."

His aggravated huff only made her laugh. She then scooted onto the bed.

"Whatever you say, Potter. You won't get away from us that long, you love us too much," she cooed, both her palm were cupping his face.

He tried hard to hold the twitch on his lip, but failed. To cover it, he murmured, "I do, especially you."

At least it managed to stop her laugh as moment later, she slanted her lip on his. He let her take control though, mainly to maintain the pretence that he was cross with her. Even when her hand started travel down to his neck, he managed to resist her temptation.

Likely sensing no indication that he would participate, she eventually pulled away, giving one short peck as her last try. Quietly congratulating himself for his winning, he expected to see her usual pout, but instead she pressed her forehead against his.

"Will this become habit, Harry?" she queried. Her voice was soft, completely missing the previous jollity. Her eyelids were closed and he felt her hands shaking before it clutched his shirt as if looking for anchor.

He's the one who reached for her cheeks now. Carefully he brought his lips to her nose, coaxing her to open her eyes.

"Four years." His tone still sounded solemn which was not what he intended so he cleared his throat. "Don't you think it means that I'm getting better avoiding trouble despite its unhealthy attraction to me? Not a bad start, right, and I think I can do better than that." He supplemented it with what he hoped to be a mischievous smile.

Her lips curved in a wry smile, but a flicker of relief was present in her eyes. She put her palms on his, interlaced their fingers, and brought it down onto her lap.

Her eyes were on their joined hand when she spoke, "Considering that my career involves the risk of being hit by iron ball and free fall from height, it will be a lot of bullock if I start to remind you to avoid danger, right?"

They both chuckled at her statement. She finally looked up, ready to return to their light-hearted joke.

"Well, I still can throw Hermione at you to put some sense on you, no hypocrisy if it's her. She can give you complete dressing down about acting reckless even without my assistance. Only if I can find her," she muttered briskly. "Can you believe it, she's my flatmate yet I see you more than her."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, musing, "That's why I date you and not her."

"Really?" She released her hands, putting it on her chest in a shocking gesture. "I thought it's because you love me."

He donned his upset mask again. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe it was. But after hearing about the bet–"

She cut him with a heavy smack of her lips on his. "I'll just have to make you love me again then," she whispered conspiratorially before pressing her lips on his again in a more leisurely pace. This time, he happily participated.

After awhile, both had enough of their fill, they untangled their hold of the other person.

"How's the match?" He realised that he sounded breathy but looking at how flushed Ginny was, he couldn't hold the smug smirk not to appear on his face.

Ginny was mindful enough to take a deep breath to regain her composure before talking.

"We won big. At this rate, we will definitely win the League so Reggie wants to experiment with the rotation. We can't afford to depend only on one line-up next year since we will also play in The International Quidditch Tournament."

"Which mean ..." he trailed off, waggled off his brows fishing for more.

"I'm on break for the week since I'm not playing in next two matches."

He knew that he had that stupid grin on his face, but he didn't care. "Robards gives me three days off," he told her.

"And?"

"Have dinner with me?"

She smiled, clearly amused. "Smooth, Mr Potter. Well, I do have to make you fall in love with me again, don't I?" She stood up, flicking her wand to fix her ruffled appearance. "I heard you can be discharged today. Let's see if I can speed it up a bit."

"Oh, I think I'm starting to fall for you, Ginevra Weasley."

"Good." She patted his cheek. "Just be ready, by the end of this day I'll make you head over heels in love with me."

Somehow, she made it sound like a threat and also a promise.

"I'll hold you to that."

.***.

Usually Harry would Apparate directly into his bedroom or kitchen if he was feeling hungry but tonight he landed outside, exhausted and filthy. He had spent the last five days moving from one place to another, where sometimes bed and bath were a luxury. Ron was right, Auror job was indeed not as dangerous as what people made off, but it didn't mean that it's not challenging nor tiring. Not many duelling occurred, instead it was mostly surveillance works and tracking any traces they could find.

Five days nonstop of those and he started to miss home, yearning for home. Thus even though he wouldn't find anyone to welcome him, by opening the door and strolling through the hallway he hoped he could get the impression of coming home, to be at home and not just be in another house. Absentmindedly he pushed the door, but just two steps inside the house, he was froze on where he stood.

Aroma of rich spices and meat assaulted his nose. It smelled inviting, and warm. Like home. Guided by those smell, he sought its source. The only thought in his mind when he crossed the kitchen was; he's home.

"Oh hey, Harry," she greeted him, glancing briefly at him before returning her attention to her potato. "Sorry, I don't know how to contact you but I presume you won't mind if I borrow your kitchen."

"You should ask Kreacher, not me. This is his territory," he noted dazedly, stunned and utterly mesmerized by the scenery before him. His legs moved on its own volition towards the kitchen table, throwing his cloak to the table before taking the stool.

"Oh, he has no problem at all. In fact, he never bothered this past three days. Once I stocked your food up, he's a happy Elf." She waved her wand, sending nicely sliced potato into the pan. She made another three more twirls then putting the pan into the oven.

A satisfied smile on her lip, he nodded at her work then turned to face him, her left hand on her hip.

"Do you know that you really have offended him? You have House-Elf who literally can cook you anything you want, Harry, all you need to do is provide him with the ingredient. There's really no need for you to eat beans on toast or canned soup all the time!"

She embodied her mother's persona perfectly that he almost took a step back and cowered.

"Er ... he might have mentioned it once or twice. I just keep forgetting what I want to buy every time I went to store," he offered a conciliatory grin.

"Ask him to make grocery list for you next time."

He knew better not to argue and nodded remorsefully, putting an apologetic smile on his face to pacify her. She dropped her hand onto her side and shifted onto the table.

"Why you need my kitchen?" he asked, steering the conversation from his eating habit.

"Remember when I told you about the game night on my New Year training camp?"

Harry nodded. Ginny was fuming for a week last year because she'd lost Gobstones game on the first round. As the only sister of the Weasley twins (the self-acclaimed 'master' of the game) and a Chaser herself, apparently it categorised as huge sacrilege, one of the most humiliating occurrence for her.

"This year will be cooking competition and I intend to win. It's not only about the taste but technique, so I need to practice which I can't do in my flat because Hermione will be mad if I break any electronic for using too much magic nor at the Burrow because Mum will keep pestering me about what I should or should not do, hence yours."

"Well, it's a good thing that I haven't had dinner then."

Her nose flared when she came closer. "Urgh, you stink! Go clean up or no dinner for you," she chided, making a shooing motion.

Dutifully he grabbed his cloak and went upstairs, shower was actually the first on his list in his original plan before he was diverted by smell of foods. He might be hungry, but he had to admit there's only so much magic could do to his body odour after 3 days without shower.

When he's back into the kitchen later, he found Ginny bending down in front of the oven. Took a seat on his previous, he spoke, "What do you plan to make for the game night?"

"Lancashire Hotpot." She took out the said meal from the oven. Another spin of her wand and cutleries also flew onto the table. "I've been playing with various spells to keep the same slow-cooked texture but only for 1 hour cooking time."

His eyes were on her as she served him a plate, somehow he couldn't remove the lopsided grin from his face. He was so transfixed on her that she had to nudge him, gesturing him to try her cooking.

"How is it?" She watched him expectantly. "Be frank, I don't need your flattery."

He swallowed a spoonful of the homemade treat, then licked his lip to buy time thinking the best way to convey his conclusion. But she told him to be honest, so truthful he'd be.

"The lamb is still a little bit undercooked and your potatoes are too spongy. I think I can taste burned unions too."

"I knew it!" And to verify his remark, she grabbed a spoon and sampled it herself. "Gah, it tastes even worse than yesterday."

He eyed her warily when she dropped her spoon and reached for her wand. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to vanish it," she said matter-of-factly.

"No. I won't allow it." He pulled the pot as if to protect it. "This is my kitchen so it's my food and I'm starving."

"You're really going to eat it?" she clarified in disbelief. At his nod, she put down her wand, staring at him with an incredulous look. "Up to you then," she conceded, then added, "I also made trifle for dessert."

"Good. Now let me enjoy my dinner."

Ginny took the stool beside him, watching him consuming her experimental cooking amusedly. He didn't mind it though, as far as he's concerned this meal was perfect. It's not about how it tasted, but more like how it made him feel.

"If only I know how to make Pig in Puff. Not that Mum will let me make it for silly thing like cooking competition, but at least I'll know the trick," she lamented.

"Pig in Puff?"

"The signature cuisine of House Weasley, it is like our family heirloom," she told him. The dejected frown in her face instantly disappeared, was replaced by delighted spark in her eyes. "Oh, you have to try it. It tastes heavenly, you can even use 'exquisite' to describe it! It's called Pig in Puff, but it's actually a big chunk of beef wrapped in puff pastry then baked."

"Sound like Beef Wellington to me," he noted, scooping more potatoes into his mouth.

"Similar, but different." She began to explain, "While Beef Wellington is coated with pâté and parma ham, we use cabbage or other fresh green vegetable to wrapped it. It's very tricky because you must have the dry and crusty pastry on the outside yet the vegetable should retain its crispness and juicy beef in the inside. It's impossible to achieve it with Muggle way. Timing and wand movement are very important to get the perfect result."

"Why don't you ask your Mum to teach you then?"

"It's family heirloom, Harry, it has to stay within the family – male line. A Weasley matriarch will pass down the recipe to a Weasley bride after she births a son. For generations, it becomes the pride of Weasley's bride, a family legacy. So unless I marry one of my Weasley cousin and bear a son, there's no way I will know the recipe. Mum will teach Fleur how to cook it if her baby is a boy and in Angelina's case, even if she also has a boy unless George marries her then no recipe for her."

"Wow, what a story for a meal."

Ginny nodded in assent, then continued, "The back story is more interesting. It's actually inspired by pangolin. So one of my ancestor – I forget his name – returned from his trip from Asia. He told his wife about how he had never tasted a meat so tender yet surprisingly the animal itself had such hard armoury scales over its body, how it would curl into a ball when defending itself. It gave her an idea to make a pie filled with steak but the husband mistook it as roasted pig when she served it. This story is always recounted every time it's served on the table, it's a tradition. On top of that, it's only been served for special occasion, you know, like for Christmas feast after birth of a son or when we host a very important guest."

She let out a soft chuckle, her eyes gazing into space dreamily. Like moth to a flame, his full attention was drawn to her, his plate was left forgotten.

"I only ever had it once, Christmas after Albert's birth. I was 7 and because Grandma passed away the year before, Mum was the one who filled the role. I remember staying in Ireland for a month with Mum to train Aunt Carole. Sadly I was too young to remember what she did."

"I want it too," he blurted out all of sudden.

"If Fleur has a son then you may be able to taste it on Christmas next year because I don't see George marry in near future." wave him off

"Not the meal, but the tradition," he clarified. "Let's have our own family tradition, Gin."

Her body stiffened hearing that, her back shifted so she sat straighter. It was only three seconds but the silence that descended between them couldn't be more pronounced. Then, slowly she turned her face to stare at him, giving him a perplexed look. Her eyes expressed both confuse and surprise.

"Sometimes I wonder maybe it's my fate that my life will never be far from danger, like the Death itself is always following me. But if there's one thing that I know for sure, Gin, doesn't matter how long my life will be, I want to spend it with you. So Gin, will you marry me?"

She only blinked, twice. Other than that, it seemed like not a single muscle on her was moving. It made him uncomfortable and uneasiness crept in him. Unconsciously his hand moved to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously.

"Er, of course I know you want to pursue your career and I love you for that and I'll always support you, but I want to be with you, but your parents will not let you live with me without me marrying you so let's get married," he rambled. All of it was said in an incoherent rush as each word seemed to mash with the next.

Eyebrows raised, she tilted her head. A brief twitch on the corner of her mouth suggested her amusement. Her lips parted as if wanted to say something only to close it again before her forehead creased indicating processing of thought. Which immediately made him panic.

"God, it does sound wrong! Let me rephrase it. I do want to marry you, Gin, but I don't want to force you to choose between me and your career," he babbled, wringing his hands in frustration at his inability to communicate his intention. "What I mean is, until you're ready, we can live like housemate. I love you, Gin, I–"

Whatever word he wanted to say was muffled as Ginny swooped in and claimed his mouth in a searing kiss. If it's not for his trained reflex as an Auror, he would be toppled from his stool and both of them would end up on floor.

"Yes, Harry Potter. I will marry you."

"You do? Wait, I have the ring somewhere." He extricated his body from her hold to summon a small black velvet box. It landed smoothly into his hand. Without ceasing their eye contact, he went down on one knee.

"Okay, Let's do it again." Taking a deep breath, he began, "Ginevra Molly Weasley, I–"

"I already said yes. Just put it on!" she exclaimed, eagerly proffered her left hand to him.

Barely able to hold himself from grinning broadly, he muttered, "This is not what I have in mind when I want to propose you." He opened the lid though, stumbled twice for his excitement, and slid the ring onto her finger.

"It's okay. You can take me to some fancy restaurant and propose to me again," she said cheerily, examining the trinket currently adorning her ring finger. "In fact, do that. But I will not return the ring, it's mine now."

Later that night they moved to the living room. An empty bowl of which had been full with trifle until two minutes ago sat undisturbed on the table while they both were relaxing on the settee. She was leaning against his side with her head on his shoulder and he had his arm around her. They just talked about nothing substantial, predominantly by Ginny of course since Harry was quite content to listen and simply focus on the warm body against him.

He watched her as she lifted her left hand in front of her. She tilted her hand back and forth like she had done numerous times for awhile ago, admiring her new ring again. He didn't really care about jewellery but when he saw it, he felt that it would be perfect for her. The ring had a coral-coloured ruby surrounded by halo of 10 diamonds, red for Gryffindor and he always heard that girl loved diamonds.

By her reaction, it seemed like his intuition was right all along. "You like it?" he voiced his thought.

She looked up at him and he was almost blinded by her brilliant smile. "I love it!"

"It's a family heirloom," he explained, just so he wouldn't do something rash like to pounce her. "I found it in my vault few months ago, the goblin said it's already there at least for five generations. It's not too contentious so you can wear it anywhere."

"Few months ago, huh?" she echoed coyly.

"Well, actually I already have several plans to propose you, like after you win the game at the pitch or taking you to fancy restaurant and propose. I even prepared the speech, but look like I mess it up."

"It's okay," she waved him off, but quickly followed by a mischievous giggle. "We can go through your plan later, all of it. I surely will not refuse fancy dinner or public love declaration. It would be a shame if I never hear the speech you've been painstakingly composed."

He groaned, regretting his slip-up. It's an open secret how he disliked doing speech.

"Do I really have to?" he implored. "What if I trade it with a fancy dinner and I write down my planned proposal so you can read it?"

"Hey, that's not the deal."

"It's embarrassing, Gin." There's no use to hide it, he might had better chance by being honest. Or maybe tried to negotiate. "A fancy dinner and bouquet of flower at least once every month for life?"

"For life?"

"Until I breathe my last."

She rubbed her chin, acting of pondering his offer but he knew that she'd agree.

"Fine, I'll consider it," she relented. "But no re-negotiation about waiting. You can't expect me to pop up babies right away, my career will be my priority for next couple of years."

He also hadn't settle in his job yet so he had no plan to start family in near future as well, but that's not what caught his interest. "Babies?"

"I come from big family, I certainly don't want my kid to be an only child."

"I'd love that." He grinned from ear to ear.

"But not in near future, at least 5 years," she warned him sternly.

"Whatever you want, dear." Surprisingly, it was so easy to say it.

"Oh, I love how it sounds. Glad I don't need to train you," she crowed. And to proved her appreciation, she gave him a brief chaste kiss.

"But let's keep this a secret for now. I want to concentrate on my match and I don't need Mum terrorising me about wedding preparation. Which mean, don't say anything to Ron and in fairness, Hermione as well."

He was being agreeable this night, too happy of how the night went. "If that's what you want."

"Give me the ring box. I can't wear this without alerting anyone, especially Hermione. Not that I can wear it when playing, so glamouring is not an option." Mirth returned to her eyes when she added, "And meanwhile, you can start to make reservation for your first promised dinner."

It would take a lot of planning, especially because of potential scheduling conflict between them, but it wasn't something he couldn't solve. Compare to his other problems, if he's willing to put more effort he could take it under control. And he's more than willing to do it. For after all this time, he finally felt at peace. He's home.

A/N:

Sorry, no Dramione. Well, I did tag Hinny as the side pairing so I dedicate this chapter for them.
This will be the only Harry POV throughout the story. Of course there'll be more about them, but after this we'll alternate between Hermione and Draco POV again.

Okay, let's check the timeline:
Chapter 11 = January 2001
Chapter 12 = Jun 2001
Chapter 13 = Jul 2001
Chapter 14 = August 2001
Chapter 15 = September 2001
Chapter 16 = March 2002
Chapter 17 = August 2002
Chapter 18-20 = September 2002
Chapter 21 = October 2002
Chapter 22-23 = November 2002
Chapter 24 = November-December 2002

Next chapter will set in 2003 (a little spoiler: there'll be 7 chapters for 2003).