Harry was up early (as usual), putting food into a backpack. He wasn't as good at conjuring charms as Hermione, so he thought he ought to stock up before they left. The Weasley's house was full of food, as well, and he was having a marvellous time choosing the menu.

He was just tipping the contents of a half-empty packet of cream biscuits into a container when George walked in through the living room.

"Hello Harry," he said through a yawn. "What are you doing up at this ridiculous hour?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Peeing," George said promptly.

Well, there you go, thought Harry. George had come over to the counter and was peering at Harry's bag. "Going on another picnic? I thought you usually just conjured those things."

Harry wracked his brains for a decent lie, but couldn't think of one. He had no idea how the Weasley brothers would react to him and Ginny, but they'd have to know sometime. He just wished it wasn't now.

"Er – Hermione always does that," he said eventually. "But her and Ron are going off today, so it's just me and Ginny."

Please don't hit me, he thought, almost wincing already in expectation.

"Oh right," said George, nodding. "Those two. Typical randy teenagers. Well, hope young Gin doesn't cramp your style too much, Potter. Ta-ra."

He wandered upstairs in the direction of the bathroom.

That had been very unexpected, but was a pleasant twist in circumstances. It meant he could put off – well, it was asking permission, wasn't it? – until he'd had time to compose his plea.

Once he'd packed, it was still early, and he had a feeling Ginny wouldn't be up for a little while. He thought he'd go and give his Ascendant the once-over, but once he was upstairs, couldn't resist a peek into the girls' room.

Hermione he could barely see – she was wrapped up tight in her duvet, despite it being the middle of summer, and surrounded on all sides by what looked like a book fort. He wasn't looking at her anyway. Ginny had thrown her covers off in the night and was lying on one side, her arm outstretched and her fingers gently curled. Her hair was spread wildly over her pillow, and her mouth was slightly open.

He smiled at her. He couldn't help himself. His insides felt kind of warm and squishy. He wanted to go and brush her hair back, and talk to her in bed, but knew it might scare her if she woke up to him standing there. Instead, he shut the door and padded back to his own room.

Once he was there, he gave his broom a full service, using every implement in his Repair Kit – but all he really saw was sleeping Ginny.

~

At about nine, he was in the air, testing his Ascendant for balance, when Ginny came out of the kitchen. She was wearing shorts, a singlet and her usual, worn sneakers. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, which he loved immediately, mostly for the little bits that were sneaking their way out of the hair-band.

She waved up at him, and then pushed those same little bits back with her other hand, quite irritably. He swooped down to her, feeling self-conscious.

"Good morning," he said. She shook her head at him as if to say, 'You show-off.'

"Harry Potter," she said instead. "How long have you been up?"

He was still hovering, and slowly touched down as he answered. "Ages. I'm always early since …"

Since I killed Voldemort whispered inner monologue. He thrust the thought away. He almost never thought of Voldemort these days, suppressing the memories fiercely and constantly. He didn't want to spoil this new-found happiness.

Ginny understood, and changed the subject.

"I don't know if I can conjure a picnic basket as good as Hermione's," she said doubtfully.

"It's alright," he said quickly, glad to be on easier conversational ground, and dismounted. "My backpack's loaded with food. We'll be sick."

She giggled. He grinned when he heard it – she had one of those laughs. "Excellent," she said. "I like the sound of that."

"Do you want to take one broom or two?"

She looked back at the house, and then at him. "Better be two," she said reluctantly. "In case Mum spots us. She thinks flying tandem is dangerous."

"She let's Ron and Hermione do it," Harry pointed out as they headed for the broom shed.

"Yes, but Ron's a boy," Ginny said (a little bitterly, he thought). "And Hermione's not her only daughter. I'm lucky she's been letting me fly at all after what happened with my broom."

"Oh," was all Harry could say. He waited outside while she fetched Bill's old broom, and looked at the sky. It was a beautiful day, thank Merlin. Just the right amount of breeze and sun to be comfortable. There'd be some nice updraughts for the brooms as well, as far as he could tell from the clouds.

She came out, saw him standing there, surveying the sky so seriously, and laughed.

"What?" he said, jumping.

"Nothing. You just look like a pirate or something, watching the weather."

"A pirate. Thanks."

"Pirates are cool," she said, laughing again. Impulsively, she kissed him. He immediately forgave her for calling him a pirate, and leant into her. This morning she tasted of mint toothpaste, and he liked it. She sighed into his mouth, and after several seconds broke away.

"What?" he breathed.

"We're right in view of the house."

"Ah." This was starting to frustrate him. Maybe they should just break the news and get it over with. "That was your fault, you know."

"I know," she said, half-smiling. "But I wanted to."

He kissed the tip of her nose. He'd been wanting to do that for a long time, but had never found the right moment. When he pulled back, she bit her lip in that way she did, and he had the overwhelming need to mount his broom and fly away before he jumped her.

"Come on," he said briskly, swinging a leg over his Ascendant. "Let's go."

He kicked off the ground, and moments later saw her rise up on his right side until they were level. They didn't try any fancy flying this morning. They just sailed along next to one another. Harry felt warmly, oddly content.

He should have known it couldn't last.

~
Ginny saw a spot they hadn't been to before, in a shady, deep-set place along the stream they'd become so familiar with.

"What do you think?" she called, suspended over it.

"I like it," he replied. "You want to go down?"

She nodded and dropped. It always scared him a bit to see her do that – the look on her face was so fearless. He wondered if he looked like that when he did the Wronski Feint. He suspected no. He suspected he looked like he was going to crap himself. But Ginny – well, Ginny was graceful all over.

All over chuckled the inner monologue.

Stop it, Harry ordered his thoughts, quite fiercely. We're going slow, remember?

Once they had their feet on the ground, and the brooms in a safe spot, they stood next to one another at a momentary loss. Harry didn't think they'd been this alone since their first broom-ride.

"We haven't been this alone …" Ginny started.

"Since our first broom-ride, I know," he finished. "I was just thinking that."

She slid an arm around his waist. "You know how I said I didn't think we should be alone?"

"Mm?"

"I'm really glad we are." She hugged him sideways, and he tried to hug her back, but they were in such an awkward position that it was difficult, and pretty soon she was laughing and shoving him with her shoulder. Her arm slid away. He wished it would come back again but she was heading for his backpack, which they'd left with the brooms.

He sat down where he was, pulled out his wand, and concentrating hard managed to conjure a very mediocre rug. It had holes in it, but it would do. Ginny came back carrying the bag.

"It's so heavy," she said.

He stood to take it from her, but she ignored him and lugged on with it, dropping it on the new rug. He sat again, and she did the same. She unzipped it.

"Careful," Harry warned. "There's about fifty things in there, and I don't know what'll still be intact."

"I'm always careful," she said archly.

It turned out just about everything was intact, apart from a few cupcakes which were squished to the point of being unrecognisable. Ginny ended up digging out two apples. She threw one to him, and he caught it.

"Smooth," she laughed.

He shrugged in mock-modesty. "Can't help being brilliant," he said.

She hit him on the leg, quite hard, and then lay down, putting her head in his lap. He was struck with vivid memories of Hermione doing this to Ron, and how much he'd wanted that. He felt a pleased jolt – and then a jolt elsewhere as her head shifted. He cleared his throat and forced himself to concentrate on other things – boring things, like grass growing – while he regained control.

"Right," he said, when he could speak again.

"What?"

"Nothing." He smoothed her hair back from her forehead. "You're beautiful, Ginny," he said, with a clear awareness of the truth of this.

She wriggled uncomfortably. "No, I'm not," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not, so you don't have to pretend. It doesn't matter."

He couldn't believe this. He sat her up and she turned around to face him.

"What are you talking about?" he said incredulously.

"Harry." She touched his cheek and smiled ruefully. "It's sweet of you."

He shrugged off her hand. "Ginny," he said firmly. "Take it from me, OK? You're beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful."

"I –" she began, but he clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Shut up," he said.

They sat like that for a few moments, and then she put one hand up to pull his away from her mouth. He didn't budge.

"Are you going to say you're not beautiful?" he asked suspiciously.

She shook her head.

Slowly, he took the hand away. Her eyes were shiny, like she was about to cry. Harry wasn't sure what he'd done, but hoped it was nothing serious.

"Harry," she said finally. "That was a very nice thing you just said."

She stood up.

"Well," he said, leaning back. "OK."

"But I'm not," she blurted, grinning now.

He leapt for her, but she was already running away. He grinned himself, stood up and jogged after her.

~

It was a great day. The weather held, and they spent a lot of time exploring the little spot they'd set up camp in, snogging at intervals and talking about all the things they hadn't got to until now, and rehashing the things they had. They ate all day too, going steadily through Harry's store, until by the late afternoon (half past five, and the sun beginning its ease down), there were only two raisin-bran biscuits left which he'd put in thinking they were chocolate-chip.

Harry was lying flat on the grass, and Ginny was on her side, with her back to him. His arm was around her and he was playing with her hair absently.

"Harry," she said hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

She didn't say anything for a moment. He turned slightly, but he could only see the back of her head. When he looked more carefully, her ears were red, like Ron's when he was embarrassed.

"What is it?" he said again, pulling her a bit closer.

"Have you been with anyone before?" she asked suddenly, the words spilling out in a rush.

"Been with anyone …" he repeated blankly, and then understood. "Oh! Right. Been with. I see." He was blushing himself, and was glad she was facing the other way. "Erm – yes."

She rolled around to look at him, frowning. So much for facing the other way. "Who?"

"Susan."

"Bones?"

"Mm."

"Right."

She seemed a bit troubled by this and he nudged her. "Why, have you?" he said teasingly, trying to lighten the mood.

She shook her head.

"What?" he said, surprised. Immediately, he wished he hadn't chosen that particular tone of voice. Now she really frowning.

"What do you mean, what?" she said dangerously.

"I don't mean anything."

She raised herself up on one hand. "Harry!"
He hesitated, but knew that she wasn't going to let up until he answered. "Well," he said unwillingly, "it's just – I heard you had."

"You heard I had?"

"Yeah. Because you had quite a few boyfriends, you know, and I just heard you'd – you know, with a few of them."

"With a few them?" she said icily.

"Will you stop repeating everything I say?" he murmured, sitting up and putting a hand on her hand. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

"Don't touch me," she snapped. He jerked his hand away. "You think that about me?"

"No!"

"You thought I was the kind of girl who slept around."

"No – yes – no, not slept around. Slept with a couple, I heard. Ginny, you're taking this way out of hand."

"Out of hand?" she shouted. Harry could suddenly see Mrs Weasley in her, and was scared. "What, is that all I am to you? You thought I'd give you something, Potter, is that it?"

"Hang on," he protested angrily, even as his inner monologue winced at the reversion to his last name. "Now that's not fair. You know that's not true."

"Well you didn't know I wasn't a slag, and you still thought it, didn't you?"

"Ginny, I don't think you're a slag. It was just a stupid rumour –"

"That you were stupid enough to believe," she cut in, standing up and marching towards her broom. She was clearly trying not to cry.

"Ginny!" he shouted, and followed her. He put a hand on her shoulder as she went (his legs were longer than hers, so he caught up easily), but she spun around and spat at him: "I said, don't touch me!"

He felt like he'd been winded, and stopped right where he was. She mounted her broom clumsily, kicked off from the ground, failed to rise, and then, with a string of swearwords, launched herself properly. At first, Harry couldn't think what to do. His perfect date had come crashing to a halt, and all in a matter of minutes. Then he realised that Ginny had flown off all on her own.

He quickly grabbed his backpack, ran for his broom, and went up. He could see her in the distance, and caught her easily with his Ascendant.

Once beside her, he tried again: "Listen, Ginny …"

She ignored him sternly. He didn't try again – he knew it was hopeless until she calmed down. He fell back a bit instead, and waited until she'd reached home, put her broom away and run inside before he descended.

Shit, he thought, running a hand through his hair as he stood outside the kitchen door. How in Merlin's name did this happen?

The worst thing was – he had a feeling it was his fault.