"Are you done yet?"

"Sh!" The thin-lipped shop assistant came out of the change-rooms and glared at him, a finger to her lips. Harry made an apologetic face, but he didn't feel very sorry really. He'd been waiting outside for fifteen minutes, and hadn't heard a sound from Ginny in all that time.

"Is she done?" he asked the lady, and, relenting a little, she nodded.

"So?" Harry prompted, but then Ginny came out, carrying her wedding dress over her arms. He went forward immediately and she held it out to him.

"What do you think?"

It was lovely, even he could see that. Made out of some kind of silky stuff, and white as milk. Slender. Simple. Not a bit of lace in sight. It was entirely – her.

"I like it," he said finally, looking up.

"Just 'like'?"

"It's great, Gin. Can't I see you in it?"

"Of course not," she frowned. "It's bad luck, Harry."

"Who says?"

"Everybody."

"Oh. Right."

"You'll see it on the day."

"Mm," he said, and managed a half-nervous grin. Two weeks had passed since Malfoy's brief visit, and the wedding was a month away. Four weeks. Twenty-eight days, or thereabouts. In twenty-eight days, he would be different. Not a different person, but living a different life. It was the life he wanted – the one they'd chosen for themselves – but it was still a bit frightening.

"You alright?" she asked, and he nodded. He was. He was alright. Whenever he saw Ginny, or hell, even thought about her, he knew that marrying her was what he wanted.

"OK. I'll wait till the day," he said. "And you'll be beautiful."

He leant forward to touch his forehead to hers.

"Thanks," she said softly. "And thank Merlin it worked out."

"Ahem." It was that woman again. She sounded enough like Umbridge to make him want to slap her, but he controlled himself and looked up politely. "Shall I put the dress away?" she said stiffly. "We wouldn't want it to be damaged."

I'm not going to damage it, he protested inwardly, but Ginny simply nodded and carefully slid the dress from her arms to the shop assistant's.

"Thank you for that," she said. "It's brilliant. Just what I wanted."

"At Bridal Business," the woman said, eyeing her beadily, "we always provide what customers want."

"Really?" Harry muttered. "Because what I want is to give that lady a kick up the –"

Ginny elbowed him fiercely, and he fell silent, mostly from the unexpected pain assailing his ribs. She had a vicious aim with that thing.

"Paper?" the assistant asked.

"Plastic," was Ginny's sweet reply.

They left with the shop with promises to come back for the dress at the end of the day. Ginny, understandably, did not want to be carting it all around London. Out on the pavement, they stopped to survey the street and decide where to head next. It was a busy day in Diagon Alley. The bridal shop was in an obscure area, but Harry was pretty sure of his bearings. After all, he lived here when he wasn't at Hogwarts or The Burrow.

"Shall we drop in on the twins?" he said, and Ginny made a face.

"Oh, do we have to? Fred's in such an awful mood these days, and George isn't much better."

"Good point," Harry acknowledged. The twins were still living in their room in The Burrow, at Fred's insistence, because he apparently hadn't made it up with Angelina yet. George was growing more and more frustrated by his brother's snappishness, to the point where even they were beginning to argue. Every other day they'd come into the store (which they'd left temporarily in the hands of Lee Jordan, yet again), but it was probably best to stay out of their way.

"So where to?" Harry continued, and Ginny squeezed his hand hopefully.

"Shoes?"

His heart sank. Girl shopping. Be strong, man. He gritted his teeth.

"Shoes? Sure. For the wedding?"

"I have my wedding shoes. Just general, you know, shopping."

Oh, he knew. He'd once made the mistake of taking Hermione and Ginny out shopping. It had been close to the most boring three hours of his life.

Then again, this was the love of his life. And at least he was spending time alone with her.

"OK. Shopping. For shoes."

"Really?"

"Really," he said firmly. "I love – shoes."

Her hand slipped out of his and around his waist, and she hugged him sideways.

"I know you don't. Thanks."

~

It was rather nice wandering about with Ginny, actually. Diagon Alley was a changeless sort of place. Every time he walked it with her, he found himself remembering the last time they'd done it, and the time before that, until all his memories sort of became one, and that one memory was the present moment as well. It was an odd feeling, but comforting too.

He liked the way she smelt, and the way she fit perfectly under his arm.

She bought two pairs of shoes, one for quidditch and one pair of high heels, and then made him buy lace-ups for the wedding when she realised he hadn't purchased new ones yet. They ate lunch at a café, and then had ice-cream, and watched people passing. He recognised a few Hogwarts students, and some of them waved, but most went right on by.

He really liked being normal too, for once in his life. All the hype about Voldemort and Harry's part in his downfall had finally reached a lull, and it was sweet to just sit with his fiancée as though he'd never killed a Dark Wizard or fallen into a diary, or any of those things.

He knew those events were part of him. It was just nice not to be reminded every moment by strangers' stares and mutterings.

After eating, they made their way over to Harry's apartment (our apartment, he corrected himself). It didn't take long – it overlooked Diagon Alley. Harry had managed to get the place in his first holiday from assisting at Hogwarts, over Christmas. The landlady liked him so much that he didn't even pay rent when he wasn't living there. He suspected that she wanted to be able to say she chatted to Harry Potter more than anything else.

When he opened the door, a wave of dust hit him and he coughed. Ginny waved her hand in front of her face.

"Bit musty, isn't it?"

"Haven't been here for months."

"I'll fix it," she said determinedly, and marched in with her wand outstretched. He watched her hit every corner with a potent Scourgify charm, and the grime and dust literally evaporated. She murmured something else, and the room was suddenly sweet-smelling too, like fresh flowers.

"There," she said with satisfaction, pocketing her wand. "A bit better."

Harry came all the way in and spun in a brief circle. "Much better. I can see my hand in front of me now."

She smiled and went to the window, opening it halfway. He followed her, and looked down at the street from over her shoulder.

"So nice here," he murmured.

It really was an excellent apartment. Fantastic view. Convenient, cosy. A fireplace with Floo connection, kitchenette, two bedrooms. Some of his photos were hanging on the wall – Hermione had put them into frames for him on his last birthday. The place was potent with possibility.

He was just about to say this to Ginny when she spoke.

"I'm sorry about spending the summer at my house."

"What?"

"I know you didn't want to."

"I thought I told you."

"Yeah."

"I know I told you. I don't mind. I love the Burrow."

She turned so that her elbows leant against the window frame, and didn't meet his eye.

"Yes, you said. I know. But we could have been spending time here like Christmas, and we wouldn't have mum walking in on us, or the twins with their bloody explosions and rampant girlfriends, and we wouldn't have – oh, I don't know, Ron and 'Mione bickering. All of that. It would have been just us …"

"We've got plenty of time for just us," he said firmly. He hated that she was agonising over this.

"I know, I know," she repeated. "Just – well it's not easy for us at Hogwarts either, is it? And being at home doesn't help."
Was this about Hogwarts now?

"We manage," he said, rather warily, and she nodded.

"Of course."

"And next term we'll be married and we'll share quarters, and things'll be fine."

"I know Harry. I mean – oh, I don't know what I mean. I suppose – I feel bad about making you come home with me."

"You didn't make me," he said, laughing a little in bemusement. "I came to be with you."

"Right," she said. "Well – I'm sorry if it's not what you wanted."

This was sounding more and more serious, and he didn't like it. Determined to bring an end to this odd conversation, he put his hands on her hips and kept his eyes on her face until she glanced up.

"Don't say you're sorry," he said. "There's nothing to be sorry about. I love the Burrow, and I love you, and I'm having a good time, no matter what you think. I don't care where we stay, as long as both us are there – and your mum doesn't see us having actual sex."

She broke into a smile again and nodded once. "OK."

"OK." He kissed her, and when he pulled back, had to ask: "What brought all that on?"

She shrugged. Her expression was as puzzled as his own.

"Don't know. Just thoughts floating around in my head. I feel a bit funny. Emotional, you know, with the wedding, and the dress."

"My shoes," he added solemnly, and she hit him on the shoulder.

"Don't tease. I do. It's a girl thing, I think …"

"And I wouldn't understand," he finished for her. "Right."

There was a long silence, and then he found himself moving closer. She made him want to carry her off without even doing anything, just by standing against a window and tucking her hair behind her ear, and saying sorry when she didn't need to. Did she know she was doing this to him? How exactly did she have him so wrapped up in her?

One of life's ultimate mysteries. He'd probably never know the answer.

They didn't need many words after that. They were completely alone, for the first time in weeks, and they were getting married – there was really only one way to celebrate, and it involved far fewer clothes than they currently had on.

Within five minutes, she wasn't wearing anything, and he couldn't be sure, but he thought he might have lost his boxers out the window.

~

Lying in bed, with orange light cutting across the room, Harry did not want to get up. Merlin, it was nice sleeping with her in the afternoon. It made him feel lazy. He shifted slightly to look at her, and she was looking at him, the side of her face squashed against the pillow.

"Hello," he smiled.

"Hello."

"I thought you were asleep."

"I thought you were."

"I'm awake."

"I see."

Long pause as he absently pushed hair out of her eyes. He wondered if they'd resolved the whole apologising-for-staying-at-the-Burrow-this-summer issue, and thought he should round up the conversation – it had come to rather an abrupt end earlier.

"You know," he said, "I mean it when I say I don't mind staying with your family. And when we're married, we're coming back here anyway."

"So we are."

"It'll be our place every holiday."

"And then to Hogwarts."

"Yeah. It's like having two homes."

"Mm," she said – but the 'mm' didn't sound content. It sounded a bit strange. Forced, even. He wanted to ask what the matter was, but she was sitting up now, pushing away the covers. He watched her stand and search for her clothes.

For the very first time, he wondered if Hogwarts was really where she wanted to be.

He'd never questioned it before. She seemed very happy going from the Quidditch team to her assistant coaching duties, and had never complained earlier. But then again, he hadn't thought to ask if she wanted something else. Something different, something more. He'd assumed that she loved the place he loved, and with as much fervour.

Was he reading too much into this 'mm'? The strangeness he'd sensed could have been weariness or a stifled yawn or gas. He didn't have much faith in his intuitive abilities, and knew his best bet was to just ask, but that seemed even harder at this moment, because he didn't want to know if there was something wrong. He loved his job and he loved Hogwarts. He didn't want any complications.

Well, inner monologue pointed out, if she really has a problem, she'll tell you.

That was true. Ginny wasn't one to keep the truly important things to herself. If she didn't like the current situation with their staying at Hogwarts, she'd sit down and explain her feelings.

Or maybe there were no feelings to explain. Maybe the 'mm' was just an 'mm', and he was going mad with too much sex and heat.

"Gin …" he began, and she glanced over shoulder at him, having just wriggled into her shirt.

"Yes?"

She was completely normal.

"I – nothing," he said faintly.

She half-frowned, half-smiled. "Are you OK?"

"Fine."

"Worn out?" she continued, rather cheekily, and he got out of bed himself.

"A bit. Why, aren't you?"

"I'm an athlete, Mr Potter. Not much can wear me out."

Harry grinned. Let her have that one.

"Have you seen my boxers?" he said, scratching his head, and she nodded her head at the window-frame.

"They're hanging in there, just barely."

They were hooked on the open window's latch, dangling like a flag for the population of Diagon Alley to admire.

He thanked God they hadn't landed on the street when he was fetching them, because Oliver Wood was passing outside. He whipped his underwear back into the room, and shouted down to him.

"Oi!"

Wood ducked wildly.

"Oi!" Harry shouted again. "Up here!"

This time, the former quidditch captain looked up, squinted, and then realised what he was seeing.

"Well, if it isn't Harry Potter," he said wonderingly. "What are you doing there?"

"My apartment," Harry called. "Mine and Ginny's."

"Was that your underwear I spotted?" Oliver said, and shook his head at Harry's immediate blush. He willed it to go away.

"We're just coming down. Meet you at the door."

~

"Merlin's knees, look at you two," Oliver laughed, gripping Harry in a brief and uncompromising bear hug that he recognised from Gryffindor Quidditch wins. When Wood released him, he leant over to Ginny and kissed her cheek, and then stepped back to survey them both. Ginny snuck her hand into Harry's, and they both began to laugh, rather nervously. It was so much like being sized up at an audition.

"You look marvellous," Wood commented finally. "And you're getting married."

"Invitation went out two weeks ago," Ginny agreed. "You got yours, didn't you?"

"I did. I've my RSVP here, believe it or not." He pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and thrust it into her hand. "Kept meaning to owl it, but things are mad with the club at the moment."

"Oh, why?" Ginny asked. "Is it anything to be worried about?"

"Not for you lot," Wood said, his tone descending suddenly into gloom. "But we're in the shit – excuse me, in a lot of trouble. We were doing so well, and then we lost our Seeker last week, Wiltshire –"

"I heard," Ginny interrupted. "Nasty fall."

"I thought he was alright, though," Harry said, confused. "The commentators said he'd make a full recovery."

"A full recovery within three months!" Wood fumed. "Couldn't he have been injured in the early games, when we might have brought another player in? The git. Absolutely no warning for us."

It was typically Oliver to demand that a player know when he is going to be hurt, and preferably inform his team captain beforehand. Harry grinned; he had such strong memories of Wood's particular brand of quidditch-mania in his years at Hogwarts.

"It's not funny, Potter!" Wood protested, and Harry wiped the smile from his face.

"I know. Sorry."

"What about the reserves?" Ginny asked, but Wood shook his head again.

"They're both injured."

"Both?" she repeated incredulously. "How can they –"

"They got into a fight," Wood cut in. "With each other. They're in simultaneous comas. Prats."

"Are they alright?"

"Oh, of course they are," Wood said impatiently, waving a hand. "Not important. What's important is the fact that –"

Here he trailed off, staring at Ginny. She met his gaze for some time, then glanced uneasily at Harry, and back to Oliver.

"What?" she asked slowly, and Wood blinked.

"Come try out for our team."

"What? Don't be silly."

"What's silly? You could."

"I've got a contract."

"It expires soon, though?"

"Well – soon enough. But anyway, I'm going to renew it. They're flexible with my hours and things."

"Flexible!" Wood said derisively. "Who needs flexible? You could go places with us, Ginny. And you're one of the best Seekers in England at the moment."

"Shut it," she said, ears reddening. "Anyway, I can't. I've got my Hogwarts job too."

"Oh? What job?"

"Assistant coaching, part-time."

"Oh. Right, I see."

"Yes."

There was an awkward silence, and then Wood shrugged.

"Well, think about it. We might be able to work around the Hogwarts thing, do a sort of part-time deal. Maybe. You'd have to try out to find out."

"I suppose."

"Got to be in it to win it."

"Yes."

"Think about it."

"I will."

Oliver glanced at his watch, and then put his hands on his hips.

"Lovely to see you both. I'll be at the wedding."

"Good to see you too," Harry said.

He raised a hand 'goodbye' at both of them and strode away.

"Take care, Oliver," Ginny called to his retreating back, and he waved again before disappearing around the corner.

"God," Harry said, letting out a breath. "He's exhausting, isn't he? I'd forgotten." He paused, and nudged her. "What do you think about this try-out thing?"

"Don't know," she said, biting her lip. "Don't know what to think about it."

Another silence, and then she squeezed his hand once.

"Come on. We'd better get going."