–o–

Chapter Two
Regrettable regrets

Mrs. Weasley didn't show any idea that she had found out about Harry and Ginny's feelings for each other. If the twins ever told her anything she was keen on not reacting. There was, though, a new and radiant smile whenever she spotted the couple together.

The planning for the wedding had reached a tense breakpoint. They had crossed what the twins had cheerfully named 'the Point of No Return', meaning now there was nothing Molly could possibly do to postpone the event and now it all depended on either Bill or Fleur's decision on whether the wedding was going to be ruined. Sometimes Harry wondered if Mrs. Weasley was hoping Fred and George would do something at the wedding. In spite of she and Fleur's reconciliation in the hospital wing, there seemed to be hints of reborn conflicts and whispered opinions, none of them seen nor heard during Harry's stay, but only because Fleur was away.

Harry had his own thoughts. Ron and Hermione caught him sending Hedwig off when nobody was supposed to be watching him.

"To the Order," Harry excused himself. "I don't know if Mrs. Weasley knows of Dumbledore's letter, so . . . I thought I'd just send this in secret."

It happened to be a very good excuse, since Molly still didn't know the current facts. It brought Ron a new wave of concern at the thought of him departing in the search of the missing Horcruxes.

"How in blazes I am going to tell her . . .?" he often said. Harry noticed both Ron and Hermione spent a lot of time together, thinking up methods and ideas for their escape. On the bright side, that gave Harry and Ginny a lot of time for themselves.

They were helping Mrs. Weasley with some arrangements and decoration options. Harry thought that in all his years of magic, especially after having fought the Dark Arts so many times, the last he was expecting to come from his wand was a series of multi–colored paper streamers. Mrs. Weasley had found a collection of Wedding Wizardly charms in an old issue of Witch Weekly and was hoping to moderate it for silver–white instead of multi–colored.

"Cintas!" she said. A long, extended paper streamer shot from her wand. It was blue and red.

"Cintas!" Harry gave it a try. His streamers were red and golden, the colors he was fond of.

Fred and George were laughing hard, so was Ginny.

"I'd pay to see Fleur's face if she ever steps into a multi–colored wedding party," said George.

"That gives me an idea, brother!" said Fred. "How 'bout some sort of Paper Panic Prank, like, a little candy box that hurls loads of multi–colored paper streamers everywhere—"

Now George and Ginny were paying full attention to Fred. Harry would have also loved to hear it all, but Mrs. Weasley was talking to him.

"We should try it some other way. Maybe with a different twist of the wand? Oh, I so wish those two could quit thinking of jokes for a moment and focus on their brother's wedding . . ."

"Oh, but we are, mother!" smiled Fred.

"Yup, we're thinking on it very much!" smiled George.

Harry saw the glee on their faces. So they were planning something for it, after all. And Molly's mothering instinct easily detected it.

"Don't you dare doing anything at the wedding," she said, slowly. "I might not be fully in favor of Fleur, but I'm currently thinking of my son's happiness. And if you two try anything—"

"We solemnly promise we won't mess up at the wedding," both Fred and George said, and Harry noticed the serious change in their voices. However, when Mrs. Weasley left the room several seconds later to look after more issues of Witch Weekly, George added, grinning: "Not at the wedding, anyway."

"You two better be careful," said Ginny. "I think mum has been tolerant with you lot, but even she has limits, you know. It's not the same to prank Bill on his wedding than on a regular day. Not that I wouldn't love to see Fleur covered with wedding cake," she added, not being able to keep it to herself.

The twins' faces beamed. "That's our little sister, so very fond of her older brothers."

"I mean it," she said, still smiling. "Don't."

The twins left the room muttering something about 'paper streamers' and 'collapsible wedding cake', leaving Harry and Ginny alone. As it had happened since the night of the confession, every time they were alone in the same room there was something else in the air.

Harry was practicing his Cintas enchantment, but he still couldn't perform silver–white streamers. Ginny giggled behind his back, making Harry feel warm. They knew they were thinking on the same thing.

"I—"

"I'm still saying no," she grinned.

"How can you know what I'll ask?" Harry turned.

"You were a bit still before opening your mouth," she said. "When you get that still you're usually thinking something serious."

Harry turned and invoked Cintas again. This time the streamers were solid pink.

"What will we tell Ron and Hermione, then?" Harry asked. "You know what their plans are."

"I've been thinking on that, yes," said Ginny, her voice trailing from a distant place. "I know he'll go mental. Hermione, well, she will feel scandalized, of course. But, at the end—"

She got quiet.

"Having regrets?" he asked while releasing plain white streamers from his wand.

"Not regrets. Just a bit of guilt. My family, you know . . . But anyway, I'm not a little kid—"

"Neither are you an adult," Harry added. "Not under wizard rules, anyway."

There was a dead silence following. Harry attempted some more Cintas, but his sudden thoughts of concern made his streamers become pitch black.

"Imagine—", she suddenly whispered, "—I am dead by the time you return."

Harry's wand flick froze in mid–movement.

"Imagine—" she added, slowly, "—they make their way here."

Harry turned, slowly, until his eyes met hers.

"Imagine I never reach my next birthday and become of age . . . Not under wizard rules."

"Don't — ever — say that," he whispered, and his worries could be felt quicker than seen. "I know the actual situation is awful, but—"

"There won't be a Hogwarts to protect students, this year," she said. "I know you are concerned and so will I, but think of it once and for all: how could you be a little less concerned? Having me staying here or—"

She stopped abruptly when the door opened and Mrs. Weasley walked in, holding a pack of old Witch Weekly editions.

"These have lovely Decoration Charms, Harry, dear. Why don't we — What's wrong?"

She had caught both Harry and Ginny's eyes.

"Nothing, mum. I'll be cleaning my bedroom. Guests will be coming soon and, well . . ."

She left. Mrs. Weasley gave Harry a strange look. Harry flipped his wand almost unconsciously and whispered 'Cintas!' The sight of a large silver–white paper streamer made Molly forget of everything else.

–o–

Ginny didn't speak to Harry for the rest of that day. Whenever he found her she rushed out of his path. Harry was sure she was avoiding him, and couldn't decide if that made him angry or sad.

Ron and Hermione came to aid with the decoration. Hermione had no problem at all with the silver–white streamers, but Ron only managed green tulips out from nowhere. He was happy the twins weren't there to witness his skills.

Neither during lunch nor dinner Ginny showed any interest in Harry. She distracted herself by talking to Tonks or with her twin brothers, who seemed more enthusiastic on the topic of pranks during the wedding. Mr. Weasley, who had arrived late after a hard day of work, said they were now responsible for their actions and that they should behave, which of course the twins took as a sort of personal challenge.

Harry couldn't sleep that night, neither. He was thinking hard on Ginny, worrying for her. There was no doubt she was much stronger than most people her age should be. So was he. He had been much stronger than the average boys he had seen in his earlier years. How couldn't he understand Ginny's wish, then? Especially when—

But she had helped them back at the Ministry, hadn't she? And she was a year younger than she was now. But still, this was much more different. They weren't at Hogwarts, as she had pointed out, and so she wasn't able to perform magic. Or perhaps she could, given the circumstances of defensive spells against an incoming danger? Thinking it over, the Ministry should have allowed underage wizards and witches to cast spells at will if they seemed in danger.

Harry turned on his bed. He didn't want to let his feelings toward her interfere. If it was for his feelings he would grant her wish at once, but right now his brain and reasoning were battling fiercely within his skull and so far they'd annoyed him on standing against her wills.

But the owl had been already sent, he thought next. Oh, well, it wouldn't matter anyway because that was a neat idea either way.

He turned over the mattress. It was awful not to sleep well. Would Ginny be awake, too? Maybe she was at the kitchen, just like the night after he arrived, and—

And what, then? What would change? Ginny was right: they both knew how to be stubborn. Harry sighed deeply. For a split second the resolution came to his aching mind, and he was keen on grabbing hard on it, not letting it go and keeping it very close to his heart.

At last, he was resolved.

The following morning Harry woke up earlier than anyone else, or so he thought before climbing down the stairs and seeing Ginny's open bedroom door. He let his curiosity take over and he peeked into the silent room. There was Hermione sleeping in a second bed, but Ginny's was empty.

Harry climbed down to the kitchen and found not only Ginny there but also Tonks. She was cooking breakfast.

"Wotcher," Tonks whispered. Ginny turned her head toward the stairs and then back to the table when she saw Harry. "Morning bird, Harry? I'll have breakfast done in a minute. Have a seat, will ya?"

Harry nodded to her back and softly walked to the table, sitting across Ginny and fixedly gazing in her eyes. She gazed back.

"How're ya feeling for fried eggs? You want some, Harry?" asked Tonks.

"I do," Harry whispered, and Ginny's eyes widened when realizing he wasn't talking to Tonks.

"Very well, fried eggs and toast for 'The Chosen One', then . . . I also learned a new spell to make marmalade. Mind if I try?" Tonks said.

Ginny leaned a bit forward on the table, staring at Harry through amazed eyes. "Are you sure?" she whispered, her voice trembling a bit.

"Yeah, it's not difficult at all," said Tonks cheerfully, totally oblivious to the scene behind her. "I just hope you guys don't mind if I mess it up a bit—never really tried it, see."

"I won't regret it," Harry smiled, and again his answer was not for Tonks, no matter what she believed.

Harry and Ginny smiled and extended their arms on top of the table and held their hands tightly closed, one with the other.

"Mum will be so outraged," she nervously giggled. Harry nodded.

"No, she won't," mumbled Tonks. "This time I'll make sure not to make the eggs explode or anything. Let's see, now, how did it go . . .?"

Harry and Ginny leaned forward and kissed over the table. It was then that Tonks shouted an incantation. The couple of lovebirds reacted just in time and jumped away. The eggs didn't explode, but the rest of the breakfast wasn't so lucky: the toast cracked into bits, the sausages swelled until they blew away with a shrieking pitch, the pots and saucer pan shot up and stuck on the ceiling.

And the eggs stood there. Coated in strawberry marmalade.

There was much to be said from Mrs. Weasley's point of view. The whole house had awoken to the sound of the explosion and the thought of Death Eaters filled every corridor. It was a laugh when they find out about Tonks' failed marmalade enchantment; the twins immediately thought on a 'Birthday Breakfast Blast–A–Way' kit for birthday surprises (it was like any breakfast delivery service, only the greeted one happened to have a nice start–up for a birthday breakfast), Ron laughed like a maniac and Hermione gave him a hard glance.

Harry and Ginny skipped Molly Weasley's long ranting on Tonks and her own promises of better cooking spells and went out the house without anyone else noticing. The sky was cloudless and promising high temperatures. They held hands as they strolled around. Then they turned and head to a patch of fresh grass and sat there, watching the horizon. Ginny chose that moment to break the silence.

"Thanks," she just said.

"Don't thank me," Harry said. "I said I wouldn't regret it, but you probably will. I recognize you have talent, but you are not yet allowed to do any magic."

"Not yet, you said. I'll be turning sixteen next August, and then it's only a year after that before . . ."

"Yeah . . ."

Harry looked from the horizon as he felt her hands hugging him. He returned the hug and sighed.

"You are right. I will be less worried if you come along with us," Harry admitted. "But your mum—"

"Indeed. Mum will be so angry," Ginny nodded. "I don't even know if I'll say anything to her. I will probably just slip a note somewhere . . . so she can find it. I dunno."

She was sounding concerned. Harry didn't find it surprising at all. He simply tightened his hold on her.

They weren't seen again until almost lunch. Mrs. Weasley was upset and very worried, so were Tonks, Hermione, and Ron. Fred and George, however, noticing Ginny accompanying Harry, just smiled and winked at them.

If only everybody would be like Fred and George, thought Harry. They do take things seriously, but in their own, twisted way. They can find a joke at the end of a disaster and make it sound dignifying at the same time. They are probably the only ones who can see the real worth of a person up front.

Harry thought on that and remembered that the twins have given the Marauders' Map to him, and they knew Harry would use it. Yet they trusted it to him and it turned out to be a great ally in his — using the word as any other — mischief. And they had already admitted Ginny was not weak in any sense.

If only more people could be like Fred and George Weasley . . . This ought to be a funnier, more amusing world.

–o–

"Bill's coming today!" said Mrs. Weasley anxiously. The house had become a whirlwind all around her. She was so thrilled at the thought of seeing her first son again that she stumbled over more things in one morning than Tonks in a week. "Fred, George, get properly dressed!" she snapped.

"We're wearing shirts and trousers and shoes and socks!" said Fred.

"Even underwear!" claimed George.

"That means you have to combine them!" Mrs. Weasley protested.

Harry couldn't help to laugh. Despite the fact the twins were wearing all what they claimed to wear, it didn't mean the colors would match: Fred had a brown left shoe with yellow sock and a blue right shoe with a purple sock, not to mention the extra–wide clown trousers and red–and–yellow–striped shirt. George was wearing a similar outfit, only in a different, more extended range of colors.

"Ginny, Ron, and you too, Harry, quit laughing!" Mrs. Weasley furiously. "And about you two—" she added in the twins' direction "—Bill will arrive with Fleur and — and her family," she shuddered. "I want you all to be presentable. Fleur's family is much too different from us: they're well–positioned in society and they don't really live in a country house, so I am expecting you to behave and absolutely not trick anyone with your jokes. And I don't think most of them even speak English!"

"That'd be a shame if they don't understand out jokes," George smiled.

"I mean it! Now, I've seen you wearing fine dragon jackets. That's a much better outfit for you two, so move and get to it!"

The twins grinned and spun right before Disapparating. Mrs. Weasley sighed deeply.

"What will we wear, then?" asked Ron.

"Oh, don't worry. You'll wear your dress robes."

"What, like, all the time?" Ron coughed.

"Of course not! Only during the wedding. You can wear your regular clothes if you wish until then. I just forced those two whippersnappers to be decent before the guests arrived!"

It was obvious to everybody that Mrs. Weasley would have an eye (in not both) constantly on the twins. No one dared annoy her during the whole morning, especially after Fred and George came downstairs inside a hilarious two–person dragon outfit.

"What do you probably think you're doing!" Mrs. Weasley's rage was audible even over Ron, Ginny and Harry's laughter.

"But mum!" said Fred's mockingly–surprised voice from within the dragon's head: "You said it yourself! 'I've seen you wearing a fine dragon costume. That's much better than your jackets'! Owchies!"

Fred's half of dragon costume had ripped apart from George's when Mrs. Weasley's Diffindo spell hit it. George, peeking from the rear piece, didn't seem terrified at all.

"Don't you change my words! Now, get lost and dress properly before I get really mad!" she yelled.

"Let's go, George!" Fred grinned.

"I'm moving my dragon buttock, brother!" George answered.

Ron, Ginny and Harry stopped laughing the moment Mrs. Weasley aimed her "Knock It Off. Now." Look on them. Fortunately, Fred and George returned looking more presentable, now properly dressed with their dragon–skin jackets and trousers. They were the most luxurious–looking thing in the whole Burrow.

Bill was expected to arrive by noon via the use of a Portkey. He had sent an owl indicating when and where the materialization would take place, so Mr. Weasley made sure to keep the arriving spot clear by surrounding it with some poles and a yellow tape around it. Harry didn't know where Mr. Weasley had obtained an American Muggle Police Keep Out Tape, but he was surely thrilled of covering a large area of his backyard with the legend 'KEEP OUT – CRIME SCENE – POLICE AREA'.

"Arthur! You said you got rid of that horrible thing!" snapped Mrs. Weasley.

"I didn't have the heart, Molly, dear. And you see it can be useful."

The idea of seeing his son materializing within a 'CRIME SCENE' was not among Mrs. Weasley's thought of an useful thing, but she was fairy busy watching over the twins as for paying enough attention at what her husband was doing, so she left the place before she had stronger regrets. Along with Mr. Weasley, Ron was also finding the tape amusing, but Harry and Hermione didn't dare exchanging a glance. They knew they'd laugh too loud if they ever did.

"You think it'll be a warm welcome, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked, grinning at the finished work with the tape.

But Harry didn't have time to reply. There was a loud CRACK and a faint glow and then Bill and Fleur and some other people were standing in the center of the 'CRIME SCENE'.

Harry gasped. He hadn't forgotten Bill's appearance the last time he saw him, back when Fenrir Greyback practically designed a crossword grid out of Bill's face, but he had suspected his face would have healed better. Even Mad–Eye Moody had lesser scars, and his weren't as visible as Bill's.

Bill smiled. It made his scars look worse.

"Bill!" said Mr. Weasley, jumping over the police tape and hugging his eldest son. Behind them Fleur began to speak to the other persons in hurried French. There was a little girl next to her who was watching at Harry. He recalled her to be Gabrielle, Fleur's little sister.

"Harry, Ron! Hermione!" said Bill walking toward them. He crouched below the police tape without really noticing it and then he hugged the tallest of his little brothers. Hermione elbowed Harry so he could react and, possibly, stop staring at Bill's wounds.

"Hi, Bill," he squeaked. It was not a good start, but luckily Bill didn't notice.

Fleur's voice came floating and Harry now looked at her. She was gesturing at him with a delicate wave of her hands and talking to the other people, they being a tall and absolutely beautiful woman from whom Fleur got all her charms, a good–looking man with thin, blonde moustache, and little Gabrielle. They were now looking amazed and Harry realized it was because they were in the presence of 'The Chosen One'.

"'Arry!", Fleur said next, walking steadily at him and avoiding the police tape with a swift wave of her hand. Her family followed after her, leaving behind an old and tarnished bed knob. "Theez eez my fam'ly," she haughtily said, gesturing now to the newcomers. "My mother Monique, my father Pierre, and I beleeve you already know Gabrielle."

Harry bowed in what he thought was a respectful matter. Monique bobbed in return and Pierre stepped forward for a hand–shake. They both spoke a hurried French Harry didn't really understood, but was sure they were excited to meet him. Bill and Mr. Weasley headed to the house, so Fleur spoke again and guided her family out of the 'CRIME SCENE' and followed after his fiancée, introducing Hermione and Ron to her parents at their respective time.

Harry looked at Ron. He seemed charmed to see Fleur again, which made Hermione look stiff and grouchy. Harry, knowing an imminent discussion was at the doorstep of the events, excused himself with a hurried 'I'll go check if Mrs. Weasley has something for us to do' in the precise moment Hermione began to say in a familiar tone, 'Ron, I think we should talk—' and escaped the scene so fast he actually Disapparated.

Surely he didn't mean it, but his mind had been somewhere else. Not only was his mind focused on a desired Destination but his Determination and Deliberation were beyond the normal borders of reasonable thought, deeply buried within his subconscious, a most dominant zone whenever he stopped thinking and acted purely on instinct.

It all meant that he got surprised. One moment he was at the back garden and when he stumbled over his own feet he was in Ginny's room, watching his beloved one staring at him and yelping two seconds later, covering herself with the nearest piece of clothing she could manage to grab (the bed blankets, in this case).

"Harry! What—How dare you?" she turned scarlet, however not the deep tone Harry had achieved. Surely Ginny wasn't expecting anyone while she changed clothes in the privacy of her own bedroom. Harry tried to move, but his mind was hopelessly lost in a sudden mix of forbidden passion, secret and utmost desires and, above it all, absolute embarrassment.

Ginny was also stunned. Despite her shocked and furious expression Harry could feel the glimpse of a smile on the corner of those beautiful lips. He tried to speak. All that came out was a pathetic 'Grr…' that, on the whole, sounded even worse. It had been only one second, but the image in front of him before she could make good use of her blanket was now occupying an important and notorious place in his mind and, Harry knew, would now never depart from his future dreams.

"Out," she whispered. Was that the vaguest hint of an amused tone? thought Harry. "We can . . . discuss this . . . later," she added.

Harry nodded. He wished he could have at least blinked in all that time. He was sure his eyebrows had reached the ceiling. He tried his best to focus on the back garden and the tried and true Destination, Determination and Deliberation.

"—not that I mind, do you understand?" finished Hermione. Neither she nor Ron seemed to have realized Harry had Apparated a few feet from the point he Disapparated, seconds ago.

"Well!" said Ron turning red on his ears. "Well!" he repeated. "If you could just make up your mind—!"

"If I could just make up—Oh, that's so lame! How about you, then?"

"What about me?" asked Ron, agitated. "I mean, what about me? I have nothing to say."

"Oh, you don't, do you," Hermione snorted. "What happened to old Won–Won?"

"Don't—" he panicked.

"Oh, yes, I do!" Hermione stomped one foot on the grass below. "I believe we have grown enough to trust each other. I say we can stop playing around and act according to our age and situation. We're going on a very serious journey and all you think is whenever Fleur will kiss you again!"

"She's sort of a Veela!" said Ron, cowering a bit.

"And that's sort of a pathetic excuse to hear over and over!" she almost shrieked, her eyes starting to water. "Don't you see — Can't you realize — Why can't you—"

She let a loud but short yell of frustration and then her hands grabbed Ron's shirt, pulling him all of the sudden to a tight embrace and a deep kiss. Ron's eyes grew huge at first, but once shock, horror, and surprise went away he closed them and wrapped his arms around Hermione, joining in the kiss in a more relaxed way.

Harry stood there for a few seconds. Then he slowly, very slowly turned and looked up at the sky. Life was so simple some seconds ago . . . How had it turned so insanely mental all of the sudden?

–o–

Fleur's family were actually very kind people. The Delacours were very polite in response to the Weasley's hospitality. Mrs. Weasley went far beyond her culinary skills and was ready to surprise the newcomers with French food. Ron didn't find it amusing to have to digest something he wasn't even able to spell correctly, but the Delacours were certainly delighted.

Mr. Weasley had borrowed from some contacts at the Ministry what seemed to be a large briefcase. He placed it on the grass, several meters away from the formal house, and produced his wand.

"Step back, boys. This will expand," he said, and then he tapped the briefcase with the tip of his wand.

Harry had only seen similar effects in the Muggle cartoons Dudley had sometimes watched. The briefcase leapt, shook and trembled in a terrifying way, then opened. And opened again, and again, and again. It was actually unfolding itself into something large and cubic. Harry caught the sight of inner walls and doors and even a fireplace. Mr. Weasley, Ron and Harry had to retreat slowly as the thing that had once been an ordinary briefcase decided it had always wished to be a small house. Then, with one last, loud jump, the house landed heavily on the grass, making the ground tremble.

"Wow…" said Harry. It was his most honest remark on it.

"Carry–Able Cabins," smiles Mr. Weasley. "Very expensive, I grant you, but very reliable as well."

"Has anybody ever stayed in when it folded back into a briefcase?" asked Harry.

"Oh, yes, Julius McMorris, of the Ministry of Mysteries, once got stuck in one of the older models," said Mr. Weasley in a casual tone, just as he would be talking of last night's lovely weather. "Luckily, these new ones have a Lodger Detector built in that prevents the house from returning to its original shape if there're living things inside of it."

He opened the door and walked in, followed by Ron and Harry. As it often happened with Wizard Houses and Accommodations, Harry was fooled by the outward size of the cabin. It was much larger on the inside. It reminded him of the camping tent Mr. Weasley had borrowed for the Quidditch World Cup, several years back. Only this house had much more class.

They explored the inside to check that everything was in perfect condition. The house had formed a large sitting room with that fireplace Harry had squinted at while the house was unfolding, there were two bedrooms, a small kitchen with dining room, and a rest room. Harry decided not to ask how the toilet, sink, and bathtub connected to the sewer system . . . he didn't really want to know. Magic was the best reason he could come up with, and he hoped he was right.

"Very cool," said Ron as he closed a tiny cupboard. "How much do these things cost, again?"

"Thousands of Galleons," whispered Mr. Weasley. "I'd say at least three thousands for this small one. I've seen Carry–Able Mansions as well."

"Why is there a stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling?" asked Ron, deviating Harry's thought from the idea he has just formed within his skull. He looked up and there was, in fact, a large and stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling.

"Oh, that," said Mr. Weasley. "Wizard Fashion just west of here. We can't help showing off."

The Delacours found their little home rather comfy, after the stuffed alligator had been removed and stored up in the attic of the Burrow, which Harry was sure the ghoul living there wouldn't find funny at all.

The day after the newcomers arrived was Ginny's birthday. She woke up with a stack of presents at the end of her bed. She thanked them all, but she didn't tell Harry what she thought of his present until evening came. Ginny and Harry had gone out for a walk, Tonks watching them from a respectful distance.

"Thanks for your present, Harry," she had said. "I love these earrings. Little hanging Snitches… They flutter their tiny wings and everything."

"Glad you liked them," he said.

"Though it was not what I was expecting," she added.

They had sat on the grass. The top of that particular grass hill had unconsciously become their favorite spot.

"What were you expecting, then?" he asked.

"I dunno. Something more . . . private?" she suggested with a slight purr.

There was a faint click within Harry's mind when he heard that tone, and all conscious thought was lost. He felt her body sliding closer, side by side with his.

He turned crimson.

"Have — Have I said sorry for Apparating in your bedroom when you—"

"No need."

"Only you were—"

"It was an accident," she smiled.

She hugged him. He hugged her. It was a smooth, synchronized movement.

"Bill's wedding's in three days," Harry whispered. "I wonder if Hagrid will answer my letter."

"He will," Ginny whispered back. "He knows of your mission and won't suspect anything."

They stayed in that position, hugging and watching the fading sun on the horizon. There was something Harry just had to say.

"It'll be the night after the wedding," he quietly said. "The first night after Fleur's family leaves."

She vaguely nodded. "Any reason in particular?"

"Yes. If we do it before the wedding we would cause some commotion."

"Indeed."

He was itching to add something, and Ginny sensed it before he even opened his mouth.

"I'm not regretting my decision," she said.

"I wasn't going to complain about it!" he claimed.

"Oh?"

"It was something else — uhm — yes, something else."

"What would it be?"

Harry hesitated. Crimson was too soft for his current color. Scarlet sounded better.

"I just couldn't help thinking that — well . . . we will be sort of living together."

"That is true," she smiled.

"And — And since . . . Ah, uhm, I mean—"

"Does it have to do with Apparating into my bedroom while I was changing?" she asked, and Harry's cheeks went scarlet as he sensed the amusement in her voice.

"Isn't it obvious?" he stuttered. "What with us living together . . . I mean, the temptation — I mean, what I mean is—" He stopped and got quiet. Ginny was giggling. "What's so funny?" he asked, now a bit irked.

"You've faced death so many times . . . and yet you get more nervous in front of a woman you want to be with . . ." Ginny giggled again. Harry's face retired the scarlet glow and moved on to a new gamma of previously undiscovered red.

"Well," he said, not helping a loud–pitched intonation that made Ginny giggle louder, "there is that, okay. Just — Just think on it for a moment, will you? There we will be, alone. You're right, I admit it, I want to – to – to be with you, but you are—"

"—too young?" she grinned. "Or perhaps you are too noble?"

"Er . . . I—"

She tightened the hug. "It is difficult to discuss, isn't it? I also want to be with you, and I'm not ashamed of that. And about my age, I believe I have grown faster as I learned how the world was, how it worked, and how people could be so nasty in an incredibly short time. And if they can even kill when they're young, why can't we love instead? Why can't I? Why can't you?"

Harry also tightened the hug. He was so amazed. The moment she decided to open up and start talking was when he began to realize how amazingly strong she was. Behind the quiet girl there was a brave warrior hiding, and he had seen much of both in the past six years.

And he wanted to see much more.

"Anyway," he said, trying in vain to keep his voice soft and calm, "Ron and Hermione will be joining us shortly after we move. They'll surely catch up with us in, say, a week?"

"Then we better use that week wisely," she smiled, cuddling Harry to his melting point.

He sighed and just hugged her. He wouldn't be able to sleep that night: his mind was crammed full of soft, pink thoughts.

–o–

(To Be Continued...)