That night, Harry was lying in bed, still kicking himself, and wondering where Ron had gone. He suspected that he and Hermione had snuck off again, but this time it didn't annoy him. It would give him time to think.

He considered Ginny, alone in the girls' room.

More than time to think, this would give him time to apologise, properly. He didn't want to spend the summer with this over their heads. I should end it now, he thought, and suddenly he was standing up, and walking softly out of his room and down the hall. It was quite dark out, almost eleven o'clock, and moonlight glistened lightly on the floorboards.

Outside Ginny's door, he paused a moment, working himself up to it, before knocking.

He had a brief thought as she came to answer the door: What if she doesn't want to hear another apology? The notion panicked him a little, but then she was opening it and stepping back in surprise when she saw it was him.

"Erm – hi," said Harry awkwardly.

"Hi," she said.

"Can I – come in?"
Wordlessly, Ginny turned and walked into her room. Harry followed, shutting the door behind him. Ginny leant against the windowsill and faced him.

He looked around the room, momentarily distracted. It was typically Ginny – quite practical and natural, but with feminine touches here and there, like the soft, white curtains and flowers on the mantelpiece. He knew which bed was Hermione's – it was surrounded by book-piles.

"How does she get into that thing at night?" Harry grinned.

Ginny shrugged, smiling reluctantly. "What do you want, Harry?" she asked. She didn't sound angry, exactly – more distant.

"Ginny," he said, stepping forward a little. She seemed uncomfortable, and shifted on her window-sill-ledge. He stopped moving. "I know I've said this already, but I'm sorry. Really, really sorry. For what I said outside, and then what I said in the kitchen. It was – I don't know, it was stupid of me." She wasn't looking at him, and the more he thought about what he'd said, the more wretched he felt. "You're right. I am inconsiderate. I don't – want to be. But it's like it was back in fifth year, where nobody told me what was going on and I was always angry … except this time, it feels like I've got all these things stored up in me that have happened, and I can't tell anyone."

And then he couldn't look at her anymore. He didn't know what she thought of all this, but suspected she'd throw him out soon.

He jumped in surprise when she spoke next, because she was standing directly in front of him.

"You don't have to pretend, like you said downstairs," she murmured.

"I – I feel like I do," he said, after a pause.

"You don't, not with us. It makes me so angry when you start brooding, because it's pointless. We're all here for you to talk to. You should just let yourself be happy, and not question it. Like this afternoon. You were happy then, weren't you?"

"Yes. Just, I feel – guilty," he said. He had to swallow hard. Usually he hated sympathy, but this – this was gentler, less patronising. This was Ginny, and it made him feel weak. Please don't let me cry in front of her, he thought fiercely. 

She touched his arm, and he could smell her hair again. It was a soapy smell, and some kind of flowers. "Sirius wouldn't want you to feel guilty," she said firmly. "Neither would Lupin, or any of them. They'd hate it."

"Can't help it," he said, in a strangled voice.

"You have to, if you're going to keep on living."

He breathed out heavily. "Fuck," he muttered. Then: "Sorry."

She smiled wryly. "It's OK. I've got a houseful of brothers, remember?"

He laughed shortly, and then forced himself to meet her eye. She was looking at him, and he felt a swooping in his stomach.

"So will you try?" she said finally.

"I guess – I will."

"Well, good. Good."

Now neither of them was looking at the other. Finally, Harry said: "Thanks, Gin."

"That's alright," she said, and then, quite suddenly, slipped two slender arms around his neck to hug him.

He didn't know what to do at first, but in a few moments had caught on and was holding her, very carefully. Ginny always seemed so tough, but when he touched her he felt how little she was, how fragile. He always felt that way about girls, but Ginny, with her 'houseful of brothers' and practicality … she was different altogether.

And now the hug was stretching a little too long, pushing the boundaries of appropriateness for two good friends. Her hands were touching his neck, and his were around her waist, and he knew he should let go and end this now, but quite frankly he didn't want to. He found that, despite himself, he was holding her closer. She sighed into his shoulder.

And then there were two sets of footsteps on the stairs, and laughter, and Harry and Ginny's hands slid off one another immediately. Ginny moved back to her window-sill as the door opened.

Hermione stopped where she was. Ron was still behind her in the corridor.

"Ah – I'm sorry. I'll come back later," she said.

"No, no," Harry said quickly, moving to the door. "I'm just going."

Hermione came all the way in, and Harry stopped in the doorway.

"Thanks again, Ginny," he said, and then pushed past a staring Ron to go along the corridor to their room.

Ron didn't say anything when they went to bed that night, but Harry thought long and hard about that hug. She'd put her arms around him, hadn't she? She'd hugged him. But maybe it was just a friendly thing, and he was reading too much into it.

Because why, he thought, turning uncomfortably on his mattress, would Ginny Weasley, rarely without a boyfriend, pretty and funny and smart, want me?

He tried to tell himself that he was being ridiculous, but still he couldn't shake the feeling of her hands on his neck – and then the ride on his broom earlier, with her pressed up behind him.

Harry forgot his dreamless sleep potion that night, but it didn't matter. He dreamt that he and Ginny were crossing a river together, and on the other bank, Lupin and his father and his mother and Sirius and Tonks and everyone who'd died were standing there, smiling at him.

~~~

*Sorry. Bit of a shorter chapter. Promise more fluff to come! And please review! You'll be glad you had – because you'll be making me glad ~no more 3x5s~ Love Shez   PS – I don't think I'll be outlining the plot for you, MarkoQuill, because I'm not even sure what's going to happen yet… you'll just have to wait and see.