DAY SEVEN

"I can't believe it's still intact."

"Perkins will be happy," said Arthur.

"Blimey, I thought it was a fool's errand to go try to look for it."

"Look for what?" Ginny pushed open the back door of the Burrow, breathing in the first taste of fresh air that she'd had all morning. Harry, Arthur, and Ron were standing about, peering at something she couldn't quite see, except it was made of dark blue cloth.

Harry didn't quite meet her eyes. "The tent," he said briskly. "The one we stayed in all last year."

Ginny paused, not certain where that tone had come from, and why it was directed at her. "So this is the infamous tent," she said coolly. "I'm surprised you three didn't burn it down."

"I thought you were coming with us to find it," said Harry, just as coolly as she did.

Ginny blinked. Had he mentioned that? Vaguely, she remembered him mentioning he thought they might have a go at finding something on some forest, but Ginny had been distracted, thinking of the Battle of Hogwarts, and how much she'd dreaded flooing into McGonagall's office to hear what she'd suspected — there would be no more school until September 1. Searching for a small tent in a forest sounded much more fun. "Perhaps you should have chosen a time when I didn't have another commitment," she said.

He blinked at her.

"I had to go to Hogwarts," she said.

"That's fitting," he said.

Ron and her dad were inching away, clapping each other on the shoulders, speaking overly loud about what they might find for an early lunch.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ginny demanded.

Then, as though his strings were cut, his body loosened and slumped. "Nothing," he said, pressing his fingers against his glasses. "Nothing, Ginny. I'm sorry."

Ginny marched up to him until there was very little space between them. "No," she said, "tell me."

"I did ask if you'd come," he said. "I thought I said it was this morning, but when I came down, you had already left, your mum had no idea where you were off to—"

"—I told her where I was going," Ginny interrupted. "I had to go, McGonagall is talking to all of us about where we go from here. I didn't know you meant this morning... I would have told you."

The pale skin under his eyes still had a bruised look: dark and hollow. "I hate this tent. I didn't even really want to find it. I spent six months hating that I was there and you were—"

"—at Hogwarts?" she supplied, when his voice faltered.

"Yes," he said.

"You didn't really need to be so shirty," she told him.

"I know," he said. "I am sorry. That was me being a prat."

Ginny thought of Percy. "Well, I wouldn't go that far." She wrapped her hand around his arm. "Why don't you show me the tent? And tell me about your year? Or... parts of it... anything you can tell."

He grimaced, then nodded, and then — to her surprise — a little light of humor kindled in his eyes. "I'll show you the tent, but just a warning — it probably doesn't smell amazing. Ron and I were not fastidious."

"Shocking," said Ginny, but now she was smiling up at him. "I grew up with six brothers, I know how slovenly you boys can get."

His lips twitched upward.

"And you don't have to tell me," she said. Nerves had struck and her chest was tight. It's the word, she thought. 'Boy' no longer fit Harry; some time in the last year, he'd outgrown it. Her gaze flickered over him. His shoulders were broader, even, but it wasn't a physical change. Her heart gave a painful little thump.

"I want to," he said, quiet and earnest. "I want to talk to you."

The pain went away, wafted away, leaving only a slight twinge. "Good," she said. "Well, lead the way, then."

He gestured her inside, almost smiling, green eyes never once leaving hers, not as she walked past him and lifted the flap, entering the space he'd lived in for his months on the run.