S: Please review. Okay, this chapter is really weird. 4th is on the way.

We stood there, just remembering. I thought about how Ron had died, how we had all been in the Three Broomsticks, how the Death Eaters had burst in out of the blue... I began to cry.

Fred forced me to look up. "Gin," he said, sounding exasperated, "bad things do happen. Sometimes they're really bad. But you can't let them destroy you. You can't let Voldemort win. Don't act as if you're dead too. Ron and Hermione died to save you. They wouldn't want you to waste their gift. While you're alive, live. Ginny, you really worry me."

I couldn't stop the tears from flowing, so I walked away, leaving Fred to stare after me. Finally, the person who I'd wanted to see most came up to me.

"Hey Ginny." He smiled hesitantly at me. "You okay?"

"Yeah, don't worry, I'm fine," my breath caught in my throat, "Harry."

"Sure you are." he replied, grinning.

I beamed back at him through my tears. "No really, I am."

Harry shook his head, "Gin, I know you better than anyone else. You're not."

Instead of making me smile like he thought it would, it just made me angry, "Look, I don't need anyone! Not Fred, not George, not Mum or Dad, or Bill, or Charlie, and especially not you! Don't you get it? Why do you all have lecture me, to tell me that its all ok, that you'll always be there? I'm not a child anymore. I haven't done anything wrong! You have! I hate it! More importantly, I hate you." I fell onto a couch with a sob, shaking with anger and grief. How could they talk to me like they did? Ron was dead, and they were ignoring it!

Harry sat down quietly next to me. When it was clear that I couldn't stop shaking, he put his arm around me, holding me tight. We sat there, staring into space for a while, me leaning into him, him hugging me. Finally, after what seemd like ages, he turned to look at me. His green eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "Ginevra, I know you're not a child." Harry whispered. "If you were, would I do this?"

Then he kissed me. I wasn't sure what to think at first. I had liked him for so long, without him knowing. Then, about a year after the attack, he had told me that he liked me too, in a letter. I still loved him, but I couldn't handle it then. We had continued owling each other, pretending to forget the whole thing. Except, her kept siging his letters 'love' or 'always and forever yours', as if he thought I need to reminder.

But he was right, I wasn't a child any longer. And I had healed some. So I kissed him back.