Harry left the Burrow in a better mood than he'd been in days or in weeks, perhaps. He hadn't any idea how long he had stood there, under the starry sky, the leaves whispering quietly in the trees overhead. Ginny had felt so warm and soft and wonderful in his arms that the thought of letting her go seemed like a betrayal of the heart. The thought of leaving her was the last possible thing he wanted to do, but he had already promised himself that he would not rush or make hasty decisions and spoil the possible reunion they could have.

With his arm wound around her waist and her head still resting on his shoulder, Harry escorted Ginny back up to the house. Leaving could not have felt more awkward. Harry was glad the darkness of night was his cover as he was sure he was blushing as he stammered out a hesitant and regretful goodbye. He promised things would be different and he would be different, if she would only promise to sit down and talk things over with him and tell the truth from now on. Any future they would or could have depended on it.

He couldn't imagine what all the Weasleys thought, and a part of him didn't care. Molly, Arthur, Ron, and Hermione knew what was going on, but he didn't know if the other Weasleys had been informed, but they were probably wondering where Ginny had gone and had noticed Harry's absence, as well. The last thing the brothers and their significant others knew, he was snogging Olivia Ollivander at his birthday party. He supposed his behaviour seemed a rash change of heart, yet again, but Harry was determined that the rest of the family would know Ginny's truth and that her feelings of isolation would stop.

The light was on in the kitchen of the Burrow, and he could see shadows moving around the room. More than once, he saw Mrs Weasley peek out the window in an Aunt Petunia like fashion as he continued to hold Ginny close. As much as he adored the feeling of having her back in his arms, prolonging the inevitable separation would be worse.

"I have to go," he whispered softly, caressing her skin with his breath.

She held on tighter, burying her face in his chest. "I don't want you to go."

Harry carefully smoothed the loosened coppery strands of hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. "I can't stay, you know that. If we're going to make this work, we have to be logical; if we rush right back to where we started from, that would be a lie. You've changed in five years, and I need to see those changes. You aren't the girl I fell in love with anymore; I need to fall in love with the woman you've become."

Ginny let out a long, drawn out sigh and pulled away slightly, looking up into his emerald green eyes. "What if you can't fall in love with her?"

He supposed he could have told her it was their fate to be together, but that probably would have made the effort of getting to know each other again futile. He stared right back at her, trying to let her see the intensity that he felt. "And what if I fall in love with you all over again, even faster than I did the first time?"

"When can I see you again?" Ginny knew it sounded desperate, and she didn't care; if she had to fight tooth and nail to get Harry back, she would. The problem was she had to fight herself: No more lies, no more feigned innocence, no more moonlighting as the girl she used to be.

"Can you meet me tomorrow at the Three Broomsticks? Say 6:00. We'll chat a bit and maybe I can show you my new house."

Eighteen hours was too long, but truthfully, if he had said eighteen minutes, it still would have been too long. "All right."

Harry forced a smile and gathered up her hands in his. "It will be OK. We'll just talk." He intertwined their fingers and rested their hands on his chest. "Now go inside, somebody's waiting up for you."

Ginny turned and looked over her shoulder, seeing her mother's eyes widen in surprise as she ducked away from the kitchen window. She'd been caught red handed. What was it with eavesdropping, anyway? She clasped his hands tighter. "Until tomorrow, then."

"Yes, tomorrow," he replied as Ginny hesitantly took a step toward the house, extending the span between them, but keeping a lingering grip on his hands. Harry wasn't sure which was harder: leaving her tonight or on the day of the final battle. She bit her lower lip and took another step away, widening the distance even further, still grasping Harry's hand. Ginny could feel Harry's fingers beginning to slip away from hers, as their outstretched arms ultimately broke apart, finally separating them. Ginny watched Harry slowly back away from her and retrieve his wand from his suit pocket. He gave her another small smile before Disapparating away.

With a slow, purposeful sigh, Ginny entered the kitchen of the Burrow and found her mother sitting at the kitchen table with two cups of tea poured.

"Can I assume those are good tears, then?" she asked, indicating for Ginny to take the seat where the extra steaming cup sat on the table.

She slumped against the wall and closed her eyes tight, forcing the remaining tears to spill out. "They're tears of relief. It's all out in the open, Harry knows the truth, and we're going to talk. It's the best I could hope for, after all I've done."

Molly nodded and poured some milk into her tea. "The truth is quite liberating."

Ginny had to agree. The heaviness had all but disappeared from her chest. The tightness, discomfort, and suffocation were evaporating little by little and being replaced by a cautious hope.

Mrs Weasley took a small sip of tea as Ginny took the seat next to her. The house was still and quiet. "Do you want to talk about it?" Molly asked hesitantly.

"Oh Mum, he was –" Ginny cradled her head in her hands as her emotions threatened to surface again.

"He was Harry, wasn't he?" her mother questioned.

Ginny opened her mouth to say something but was astonished. "Yes. Exactly!" she finally articulated. It was true; his behaviour could be summed up in one word. Harry.

"He acted like the same Harry you've always known," Molly offered, taking another drink of tea and glancing at her only daughter.

"Yes," Ginny whispered in agreement. She instantly realized it was wrong for her to think of Harry that way. He wasn't seventeen, anymore, and neither was she.

"He's matured a lot in these last few weeks, don't you think?"

Ginny nodded, finally sipping her tea.

Molly was glad her daughter could at least open her eyes and see what was right in front of her. "Well, then it's time you recognized it and begun acting that way yourself."

"Mum!" Ginny censured, setting her cup down on the table a little too firmly and sloshing some of the tea over the sides.

"Ginny, be honest with yourself. If you're going to mend your relationship with Harry, you've got to do more than admit your faults. You've got to be willing to face your mistakes and honestly promise that you won't repeat them. You've got a lot of work ahead of you. Harry is a proud man; he won't ask for help; he'll probably share his feelings only once, if at all. You've got to be there to listen to him, taking his feelings into consideration, and not worry about yourself. He's the one who's been hurt, Ginny; your wounds are insignificant in comparison." Ginny felt the unmistakable sting of her mother's words and hung her head shamefully. "And, Ginny, if it were Harry or any of the boys in this situation, I'd be telling them the same thing. Dad and I love you, even when our advice seems unkind."

Ginny let out a broken sigh and nodded acceptingly. "I know, Mum. I just don't know what to say or how to act. I'm going to meet him in Hogsmeade tomorrow, and I'm absolutely terrified."

Molly reached across the table and took her daughter's hand. "There's nothing to be afraid of. Be mature, show Harry the person you've grown up to be; be honest, answer the questions he needs to ask; and by all means, be yourself and I can't see a reason why Harry wouldn't like the woman you've become. It won't be easy, Ginny, but by all means it's got to be easier than wondering if he'd come out of that coma."

"No, nothing is that awful, but I feel as though I'm eleven years old again, trying to get the Boy-Who-Lived to notice poor little Ginny Weasley: the girl with red hair and freckles, Ron's ickle sister, the silly girl who was stupid enough to write in the enchanted diary of Tom Riddle," Ginny criticized, digging her fingernails into the front of her hair, unsettling the lovely chignon at the base of her neck.

"Ginny, feeling sorry for yourself is the last thing Harry will want to see tomorrow. Remember, he fell in love with the red head with freckles, and you never would have met, were you not Ron's sister. Stupid or not, Harry risked his life for yours down in that awful Chamber of Secrets and, in effect, bonded your lives together."

Ginny nodded shamefully. "I know. It's just that I love him so much, I have my whole life, and I was foolish enough to risk that. Now I have to make amends and redeem myself."

Molly finished her cup of tea and rose from the chair. "Yes dear, and you'll do a brilliant job. I have faith in you. If he's what you've always wanted, then you know what you have to do." She leaned over her daughter and kissed the top of her head. "I'm going to bed now, dear; you should do the same. It's been a long day, and you need your rest."

Molly disappeared from the kitchen leaving Ginny alone at the table. The house was silent. Ron and Hermione were back at home on the other side of Ottery St. Catchpole, Fred and George had returned to their flat on Diagon Alley, Bill, Charlie, Fleur, and Ekaterina were all asleep upstairs and the little twins were sleeping in the Burrow's nursery so their parents could have a night to themselves. The creaks and cracks of the house were a sudden comfort as Ginny climbed the stairs and entered her room on the third landing. Her room. The old blue room with the blue gingham check duvet. And now it was her room – again. As today was the first of the month, all her belongings had been moved out of her flat in London and back into the Burrow. She could have depleted her savings and lived in London an extra month or two, but she had decided not to risk it, in case her new job didn't work out.

She retrieved her nightdress from the back of the door and closed it behind her, shutting herself in the little blue world. She suddenly remembered the first summer Harry had visited them at the Burrow. The brief moment they had caught each other's eyes when he had peered into her room; it had probably seemed inconsequential to him, but to Ginny, it had been magnificent.

She took the lapels of Harry's dress robes and closed her eyes as she caressed the silky fabric between her fingers. She fought to keep him from invading her every thought as she slid the robes off and hung them up so she could return them to Harry, but it was almost impossible. He had been ingrained in her thoughts for so long; he was all she had ever wanted. Their love had burned brighter than anything she had ever seen or known. They had a sense of knowing when the other was nearby or in need. It was something Ginny knew she would never share with anyone else. She removed her own dress robes and slipped into her nightdress before peeling back the covers and crawling into bed. The sheets were cool and crisp as she cuddled up in the lonely bed and shut her eyes. For the first time in weeks, she didn't cry herself to sleep.

Harry had slept badly after leaving the Burrow. He had not intended to blurt out that he knew everything, but the opportunity had just presented itself. He was hoping for it to have been a little more organized and that he would have been a bit more debonair. No such luck.

And now that he was fully awake and working in the room he had designated as his study, he still could not concentrate. It was turning out to be a chilly day compared to the day before, and he was suddenly very glad he was wearing a jumper.

Harry tossed his quill down and huffed while running his fingers through his hair. He wasn't going to get any work done this morning. Admitting defeat, he rose from the chair and decided that it was time to pay Remus a visit.

"I'm, er, sorry I didn't get to speak with you last night. I got a little preoccupied.

Remus beamed from where he sat on the sofa in the drawing room at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. "And is there a reconciliation to celebrate?"

Harry felt his face colour warmly and replied cautiously. "No, not yet. We just agreed to meet and talk today."

"And you aren't happy with that?" Remus asked, picking up on the obvious dissatisfaction in Harry's voice.

Harry pulled a face while trying to think of what he truly wanted to say. "A very distinct and substantial part of me did not want to agree to that at all, even though it was me that suggested it. The irrational parts of me wanted to agree to much more, but I am trying to be realistic and less impetuous than I used to be."

Remus nodded in recognition of Harry's words and was pleased. "That's very mature of you. I wish I could say I've behaved the same way. I must apologize."

Harry raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"I knew about Hermione's plan to get you and Ginny together, and I agreed to help in the event she needed it. Over the summer, I have seen you soften toward Ginny, and I finally Owled Hermione and let her know it was time to put her plan into motion. I'm asking for your forgiveness."

Harry swallowed with difficulty. He wanted to be fair to Remus, but to say what was on his mind and speak his peace. His entire life had been meddled in, and it was quite obvious that the end of it was nowhere in sight.

"I'm not going to pretend that I'm not good and ruddy hacked off about this, because I am. You, Ginny, Mrs Weasley, Hermione, and to a much lesser extent, Ron all do it. I understand that you all are concerned about me, you care about me and want the best for me, and I care for all of you, too, but I am quite capable of living my life for myself."

Remus listened patiently and with a great degree of embarrassment. Why couldn't Sirius have been here for something like this. Sirius never would have coddled him or treated him differently. He would have been completely irrational, but fair, and would have told Harry all of the things he needed to hear. Lupin finally smiled. "Do you know what it is, Harry? Why we pry into your life and why we overprotect you? It's not because we don't trust you, or think you can't handle yourself. No, it's because of our own guilt. We feel we have or will have let you down when you need us most. We knew for years that you existed, and we wanted to be with you and to give you the family you didn't have on Number 4 Privet Drive; meanwhile, you felt abandoned and probably wondered what kind of people would leave you with such relatives. So instead of apologizing, we mollycoddle you against your own will and think we know you better than you know yourself. I apologize."

Harry pondered Lupin's words before jumping in and speaking his mind, once again. It was a touching sentiment. "I accept your apology, but I am still irked. Maybe things would have been different if Mum and Dad were here."

"Or Sirius," Remus interrupted. "Sirius would have said all the wrong things, as usual, but somehow they would have been right."

Harry let a smirk escape his lips, and his eyes fell upon the Black Family Tree on the far wall. Lupin was right. As kind and generous as Remus had been, he was no Sirius. Sirius was irreplaceable. "Yes, he would have been all right. Just please let me reconcile with Ginny on my own terms. Advice is good; meddling is not appreciated."

"Deal." Remus sealed his agreement with an affirmative head nod. "Regardless of Ginny, you were quite the talk of the party last night. Everyone I met is thrilled about your new job and your new house, as well. You should think about having a small housewarming party. I know Molly Weasley would be overjoyed to help you with anything you might need."

Harry entertained the thought for a moment. "It's not a bad idea."

Harry prayed as he prepared to Apparate into Ottery St. Catchpole that Ron and Hermione's honeymoon would be over for the day. He found them clothed, thank Merlin, and spending some time with the boys before departing by Portkey the following morning for Paris, and they happily welcomed Harry in. Hermione was already dreading leaving the boys 'with strangers' and was asking Ron if they should bring they boys with them.

"Are you daft, woman? You do know what the point of a honeymoon is, don't you? The kids aren't coming. Besides, my family and Harry aren't strangers."

Harry snickered from where he sat on the floor, charming some of the twins' toys to float above the blanket they were laying on.

Hermione put her hands on her hips and looked pointedly down at him. "It's not funny, Harry! Just wait until you have children and have to leave them for the first time. It's horrendous."

"We'll take good care of them, Hermione. There's nothing to worry about."

Hermione pouted and crouched down next to her boys on the floor. "But they're my babies," she protested. "It's not that I think they'll be mistreated in any way, but I've never spent so much as a few hours away from them."

"Think of how much time they've spent with Ron's parents and Ginny. If anything happens, you and Ron are both excellent at long distance Apparition. Don't worry."

Hermione's expression changed rapidly. Her eyes widened and she arched her eyebrows high. "Now, about Ginny; what's going on?"

In response, Harry narrowed his eyes and looked upon Hermione with great scepticism. "And why should I tell you?"

She winced instantly and slapped Harry's arm. "Oh, c'mon! I apologized for my meddling. Ask Ron, I even went over to the Burrow first thing this morning to get the boys and sit down and talk with Ginny. Really, I did. I told her everything and said how very sorry I was."

Harry folded his arms across his chest and stretched out his legs in front of himself. "How is Ginny?" he asked quietly.

Hermione smirked at her husband as Ron answered. "She's all right. Didn't sleep well last night and said she had a lot of her mind, but that haunted look is starting to disappear, a bit."

"She mentioned that you were meeting today to chat. That's really good, Harry. I'm glad that the two of you are willing to talk things through without rushing into what you already had. Are you beginning to feel a little better, now that you know the truth?"

Harry pondered that question. The truth. What exactly was the truth? Lying, because you loved someone? Being spiteful to make your love jealous? Eavesdropping, not once but twice! No, at this rate and with this level of childish behaviour, rushing wasn't an option.

"I'm glad I know the truth, and I'm not rushing back into things. Pretending we weren't apart for five years because of the coma was pretty foolish but for me it was unavoidable, but pretending the last six weeks didn't happen is ridiculous. Ginny and I both made mistakes, and we need to own up to them. I don't know if I know her anymore."

"What about you?" Hermione countered. "Haven't you done some things that seem a bit out of character? Olivia Ollivander perhaps?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but was at a loss for words. As usual, Hermione was right. While there was nothing wrong with Olivia, she certainly was not his type, and he really wanted to move on, just to show Ginny he could do it. "I –" he stammered, before scowling at Hermione's 'know it all' face.

"I'm not trying to be cheeky, but I wonder if you realize that you haven't exactly been yourself, lately."

Harry said nothing. He had changed a bit, but it had been a forced change, one that had not made him any happier than he had been without Ginny. It was a diversionary tactic and nothing more.

"You're a good man, Harry; just promise me you'll keep listening to what Ginny has to say – and don't go accusing me of taking sides, because I'm not. I want you both to win. I had the same conversation with Ginny this morning. I want her to hear you out and hear how she made you feel. Be honest with her, and I know she'll be honest with you. She's got nothing left to lose."

At five o'clock, Harry prepared to Disapparate from Ron and Hermione's after wishing them a safe and happy trip to Paris. They informed him he would probably have the twins next weekend. He was ecstatic – Hermione had failed to mention anything about his house elves, but as he removed his wand from his back pocket she cleared her throat. "What's this I hear about you having house elves, Harry?"

Damn. Harry quickly ended their conversation while Ron doubled over in laughter. "Sorry, Hermione, I've got to go get ready to meet Ginny. Bon voyage!"

Harry was trying not to be nervous as he prepared to meet Ginny at the Three Broomsticks. He rushed into his office, throwing his jumper over the chair and hurried upstairs toward his bedroom. Harry had mandated that his house elf family take weekends off for personal matters and found himself suddenly glad for that as he tore clothes from his body and fumbled toward the shower.

Thankfully the water seemed to soothe his nerves, and he took a deep breath, relishing the calm before the storm. Lupin and Hermione had been right. He should have some sort of a party, and he had been behaving differently. Not good. Not bad. Just different.

Harry hurriedly dressed in a pair of jeans and a long sleeved button down shirt, and he decided to walk into the village. He wasn't sure why his fingers fumbled with the buttons or why it felt as though Chocolate Frogs were hopping in his stomach. He found himself continually glancing at the clock in the hall, not wanting to arrive too early or too late. He didn't want Ginny sitting there alone, but he didn't want to appear to eager, either. Maybe he would just wait outside.

As dusk loomed, Harry left the house and set off toward the Three Broomsticks. It was beginning to get chilly, and Harry thrust his hands into his pockets. Street lamps magically ignited of their own accord and the small village seemed overwhelmingly silent. His shoes crunched on the rocky dirt road, but the sound was mute compared to the rapid pounding of his heart in his ears. Harry began taking shallow breaths as he reached the pub, and the familiar feeling of butterflies swooping through his stomach returned.

The square-paned windows, stained by years of smoke and ash from the fireplace, furbished the façade of the old building. Through the sooty windows, illuminated in the warm glow of a white candle with wax dripping slowly down the side and onto the table, was Ginny. Her elbows were propped on the table's surface, and her chin rested gently on the palms of her hands. Her warm, copper-red hair, delicately framed her face and she casually brushed a shorter lock of hair away from her umber coloured eyes – eyes that looked saddened and tired by her admitted lack of sleep and fretfulness. She pressed her rosy lips together once and parted them to let out a quiet sigh.

She was wearing a finely crocheted black shawl over a long sleeved black shirt. Harry was overcome by her unassuming beauty as she sat daydreaming, and instantly found himself much more flustered than he had anticipated by being in her presence. What was he going to say? What if they sat there, just staring at each other in an uncomfortable silence? What if her made her cry? Oh, Merlin's beard, this could be absolutely disastrous.

Ginny's eyes darted upward, toward the dull, grey windows and locked upon him, standing dumbfounded outside the Three Broomsticks.

Harry knew he was blushing as his face warmed into a hesitant smile, and he reached out for the door with trembling hands. The hinge squeaked loudly as Harry pulled open the heavy oak door, took a deep breath, and stepped inside the pub.

Ginny straightened in her chair and pulled her hands from the table and set them to fidget nervously on her lap while she watched Harry navigate his way around the tables that dotted the creaky, wooden floor.

"Hi," Harry replied to her silent greeting quietly as he reached the table and let his eyes fall directly on Ginny.

Ginny tilted her head downward but lifted her eyes to meet Harry's. "Hi," she breathed cautiously, watching Harry pull the chair away from the table and sit down. "I'm glad you're here; I almost had myself convinced this was all a joke, and you weren't coming and this was my punishment."

Harry slowly shook his head. "I would never do that to you. Never." He made a move to reach across the table, but wondered if it seemed too forward and thought better of it instead.

"I know you wouldn't," Ginny responded, "I was just being paranoid, but I'm still glad you're here."

His face broadened into a genuine grin. "I'm glad I'm here, too."

Madame Rosmerta appeared at the side of the table and asked if Harry and Ginny wanted something to eat or drink. They both ordered and sat in the silence until Rosmerta brought a pot of tea with mismatched cups and saucers.

In Rosmerta's absence Harry cleared his throat and spoke first. "I saw Ron and Hermione this afternoon; she mentioned seeing you this morning."

Ginny poured herself a cup of tea and replaced the pot back on the table and turned the handle toward Harry. "You know Hermione: Miss Nosey. She had to come over first thing this morning to apologize for interfering in our lives, ask how I was doing, and offer me her advice, of course."

"Oh, of course," Harry replied. "Er, what did she advise you on?"

Ginny's reply was vague and flat. "Telling you the truth."

Harry poured his tea, holding his free hand over the teapot lid as he did so. "And will you?" he asked. "Tell me the truth, that is."

Ginny's eyes glazed over as she locked onto Harry's vividly green eyes. "Yes, about anything you want to know or need to hear."

Harry's reply was immediate, "How will I know you're telling the truth?"

She continued to gaze into his eyes as tears threatened. "Because I have nothing left to lose. You are the only thing that mattered to me, so if I don't have you, what does it matter if I have anything else. I lost myself a long time ago so –" Ginny suddenly realized she was doing what Hermione had warned her not to do; focus on herself. "Anyway, I'd do anything for us to make amends."

Harry immediately jumped in, asking the hardest question first. "Did you mean it when you told Hermione that you never made love to Dean?"

"I swear," Ginny professed in a whisper, refusing to break the dynamic eye contact they had just forged. She was being honest and wanted Harry to know he could believe every single word she said.

Harry countered immediately, his eyes burning with an angry intensity that the candle flame augmented, "Did you kiss?"

Her voice was hushed. "Yes."

Harry sighed and dug his fingers into his dark, thick hair, pulling it tight as though trying to pull the image of Dean and Ginny kissing from his own head. "D-Did he sleep with you?"

Ginny lowered her eyes and her voice simultaneously. "Sometimes," she whispered, trying desperately not to look Harry's way. She couldn't bear the look of disappointment or anger on his face, but felt compelled to steal a glance from the corner of her eye.

Harry steeled his jaw and wrapped his hands around his cup of tea. His hands felt very hot, suddenly, and he quickly recoiled, removing his hands from the porcelain cup. The tea inside it was boiling – just like his temper had been. He'd performed magic and not known he had done it.

Ginny leaned forward over the table as Harry pushed the saucer away from himself with one finger. It wasn't drinkable now, anyway. She hesitantly reached out for him and caught his hand in hers.

"Every time he held my hand, every time he kissed me, and every time he slept next to me, I imagined it was you."

"Gin –" Harry protested, trying, without luck, to pull his hand away.

"I mean it," she replied as the volume and intensity of her voice seemed to grow. "Give me a dose of Veritaserum, if you don't believe me; Polyjuice yourself as my mother, and I'd tell you the same."

Harry blushed and looked over his shoulders, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring manner at the few patrons who were sitting at various tables in the Three Broomsticks and staring in their general direction. He turned around, facing Ginny once again and extended his hands, pleading with her to stop. "All right, all right, I believe you." There were several moments of silence between them before Harry spoke with a painful break in his voice, "Did you want to make love to Dean?"

Ginny let out a broken sigh and paused to collect her thoughts. She felt herself colouring warmly, this wasn't exactly a conversation she was comfortable having in the Three Broomsticks. "I wanted the idea of it; I wanted you."

Harry scoffed as if he didn't believe her, but it only intensified Ginny's emotion. "I can still remember every detail from the last time we made love. I remember what you wore that day, the way your hand felt in mine, the words you said, every single kiss, and that look in your eyes when you held me close. I remember it all, and I ached for those moments and I relived them every day in my mind. Those are the memories that got me through five years without you. You have no idea how horrible it was to see you, lying there day after day – both of us fading away just a little at a time. Trying not to listen to The Daily Prophet and everyone else who told me you'd never wake up or you'd never be the same." Ginny realized she was centring on herself again and let her last few words almost fade away.

"Do you know what I know?" Harry spat, narrowing his eyes and leaning in toward her. "I know what it's like to overhear the person you lived and almost died for say that she had agreed to marry someone else. I know what it's like to have the person you love with every fibre of your being telling lies straight to your face for six weeks. I know what it's like to have every dream and hope for a life ripped from your grasp and wonder what the rest of your life will mean without her presence by your side."

"I know that, too. I felt it every day for five years," Ginny whispered, looking away from the burning intensity in Harry's eyes and looking down at the table where the candle had burned down lower. It suddenly occurred to her that their hands were still grasped around one another's. She meant to pull away, but this time it was Harry that tightened his grip.

"Ginny, I'm sorry. I guess I can't imagine carrying a secret like that for so long, but you can't imagine what it felt like to be me, either. I was angry with you, and I was angry with myself. I wasn't sure if I wanted to forgive you."

She shook her head. "No, it's OK. You're right. I wouldn't blame you if you could never forgive me. I am truly sorry, though."

"You're not the only one who has committed faults in this disaster," Harry admitted, shamefully. "I'm not innocent, either, I've done awful things to you out of spite and a seriously hurt ego. Nothing more. I'm sorry, too."

Ginny thought about the repercussions of what Harry had just said. A horrid, horrid image filled her mind. She had already seen Harry and Olivia kissing, but had it gone any further?

"Can I ask you something?" she asked as a worried expression began to creep over her face. Her hand began to shake, and she quickly pulled it away from the relative softness and warmth of Harry's, holding it tight to her own chest.

Harry had known this moment was coming. He had known it long before he had arrived at the pub that evening. As far as he could tell, Ginny was speaking with the utmost honesty, even though it was tormenting, Harry could tell it was just as difficult for her. "You can ask me anything," he replied, suddenly wishing her hand would be back in his.

"Did, did you, I mean, did you and Olivia –" Ginny's lips were trembling and her eyes were wide with fear.

Harry exhaled and smoothed his hands very firmly over his face, pushing his glasses askew. "No, I didn't," he finally confessed, hearing Ginny breathe her relief. "To be quite honest, I had the opportunity one night when she invited me over for dinner; I hadn't intended things to go in that direction but they descended to it pretty quickly. A very real part of me was prepared to, erm, you know, do it – to hurt you as badly as you hurt me. I knew it would get back to you; hell, I probably would have told you myself, but I couldn't do it. I didn't want to. Do you know why I stopped? Do you know why I got up that very second and walked out the door?"

Ginny bit her lip and slowly shook her head. "No," she mumbled.

Harry stood up abruptly and slid into the chair next to Ginny, completely taking her by surprise. She flinched as her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. Harry's eyes were impassioned and his face was mere centimetres from Ginny's. "Olivia slipped her fingers into the gap in my buttonholes when she was kissing me! It was so wrong and so strange, but so familiar at the same time. I couldn't stand it. All I could think about was you! I realized you were the only person allowed to do that; you were the only person I wanted to do that. I had to stop things; I had to break things off right then. I had been willing to do it to hurt you like I thought you had done to me…but when the chance came, I just couldn't do that to you, at least not as long as there was a remote chance that things could be healed between us."

Harry could tell Ginny didn't know what to say. She was frozen. "D-Do you mean it?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes, of course, I mean it. Why would I be here if I didn't? We have to start somewhere, don't we?" Harry asked with a smile.

Ginny's expression softened and she couldn't help but laugh a little. "I suppose so."

He inclined his head toward the door. "OK, do you want to get out of here, then? Come see the house?"

"All right." Ginny stood up as Harry deposited a Galleon on the table and followed him from the Three Broomsticks.

The fall air was cool and crisp and Ginny shivered beneath her thin shirt. As they passed under a street lamp Harry turned to see Ginny shivering. He took a deep breath and reached out for her, taking her hand in his. She turned her head sharply as he interlaced his fingers between hers. He stopped in the middle of the street and looked into her eyes. "This OK?"

Ginny felt as though her heart might burst when Harry's palm pressed against her own. "It's lovely."

They continued to walk in silence toward the end of the street where Harry's house was situated in front of the mountains. His voice suddenly broke the silence. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Mmm hmm."

"What would you have done if a wedding date was set?" Harry questioned, trying to keep his voice even so as not to show the pent-up emotion that seemed to be building up.

Even in the dark, Harry could see her shaking her head. "I don't know. I wouldn't have gone through with it, though. I couldn't have promised those things to anyone but you."

The silence encompassed them once again, as each of them pondered the thoughts swirling inside their own heads. Faith, friendship, longing, forgiveness, regret, shame, and true love.

Ginny suddenly gasped as they rounded the bend and Harry's cottage came into view. "Oh, Harry, that's beautiful!"

Harry stopped walking. He first looked up ahead at his house, bathed in the soft yellow light of the lanterns and then turned to look at Ginny. It was rather nice, and Ginny's reaction to it was all he could have hoped for. Even in the dark, he could see her eyes were wide and her mouth was open in awe. "Yeah, I'm rather fond of it, too." It was the truth, but Harry felt as though something was missing from the new home.

They approached the cottage, and Harry led Ginny under the ivy-covered trellis that arced over the cobblestone pathway leading up to the porch. Despite the chilly September air, a few blossoms lingered on the small tree in the front yard. Harry regretfully let go of Ginny's hand and removed his wand from his back pocket. He quickly murmured the incantation to unlock the door and pushed it open ahead of him as he gestured for Ginny to step inside.

She ducked under Harry's arm and stepped into the reception hall, which featured the staircase leading to the upper floors. Ginny turned around in a small circle drinking in her surroundings. Her footsteps echoed against the walls, and Harry stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "C'mon, I'll give you the tour."

Harry slipped his hand back into Ginny's almost instinctively and led her toward the drawing room. "Harry, when you said you bought a cottage in Hogsmeade, I had visions of one of those little wooden cottages in town with the shutters and peaked roofs. Merlin, I never imagined all this!"

A beautiful fireplace with an ornate wooden mantle and marble hearth was the centrepiece of the Drawing room. The walls were painted a beautiful uplifting yellow that reminded Ginny of the yellow jonquils growing at the edge of the field by the Burrow in the summer. Crown moulding completed the look. The furniture was cosy and plush in various complimenting shades. Ginny could see the French doors at the end of the room that led out onto a terrace.

"I didn't do all this," Harry quickly admitted, contradicting what he thought Ginny might be imagining. "Remus directed me to a shop, and they had a woman to help me. I just told her what I liked and what I didn't. So I can't exactly take credit for any of it. I just paid the bill."

Harry took Ginny out into the reception hall again and pointed out the large dining room, the kitchen complete with Wizarding and Muggle appliances, the laundry room, and the door to the basement. Opposite the drawing room was the only room on the first floor Ginny had yet to see. "What's in there?" she asked inquisitively.

"Just my study, but you're more than welcome to take a look," Harry answered offhandedly. He casually guided her over to the door and opened it before magicking on the lights.

A large claw footed desk sat near the windows, giving Harry a view of the mountain vista behind the house, and of the study itself, which was painted a deep, warm burgundy. A variety of chairs and sofas gave the room a homey feel. Ginny was pleasantly overwhelmed with the comforting sense of masculinity that the room seemed to emit. She imagined Harry spending a great deal of time in here. Shelves of books lined the walls, along with a collection of Dark Detectors, some of the wizarding photographs Harry had inherited over the years, Cannons memorabilia from Ron, his old Quidditch uniform, and the Firebolt he received from Sirius. In all the dark, rich colours of the room, something light caught her eye. Ginny walked slowly across the room to the high backed chair sitting behind Harry's desk. Draped casually over the arm of the chair was the Weasley jumper Ginny had knit for him.

She picked up the jumper, holding it close to her chest. She could smell the spicy scent she knew to be Harry and inhaled deeply before turning around. "What's this doing in here? I figured this was doomed for the rubbish bin."

"Are you kidding?" Harry asked incredulously. "I love that jumper. Sometimes I come in here, and I don't realize how chilly it is or that I've forgotten to light a fire. I wear it almost every day."

Harry crossed the room and looked down at Ginny; she was blushing. "I'm touched, Harry; really, I am. I'm, um, glad you like it."

In turn, he blushed, too. "I wouldn't trade that jumper for anything."

They were standing close. Harry hadn't realized how close until he tenderly took the jumper from Ginny's hands. Their skin brushed against each other's as he gathered the bundle of wool into his arms. Harry's eyes darted up from where his hands claimed his jumper and instantly sought out Ginny's. It was too much to ask for Ginny to keep any sort of composure, and she was convinced at any second her heart might rupture, so she held her breath as Harry's vivid green eyes bored deep into hers.

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

Five…

That's all the longer Ginny could stand before she blushed profusely and had to look away. Harry wasn't sure if he had ever wanted to kiss her more than at that moment.

"I'm, um, I'm flattered," she stated abruptly, shuffling back across the floor and standing out in the hall to wait for Harry to join her.

Harry chuckled quietly at her obvious nervousness and draped the jumper back over the arm of the chair. He rejoined Ginny in the hall where she was wide-eyed and chewing on the edge of her fingernail. "All right, Gin?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

"Um, yeah," she answered, afraid to look at Harry's eyes. She would have just as soon looked into Medusa's eyes. She was afraid her own eyes would betray her and tell him just how badly she had wanted to kiss him just now.

He smiled. "OK, we'll just go upstairs, then."

Ginny followed Harry up the staircase, clutching the banister as if it were life support. With the exception of last night, while she and Harry stood on the lawn at the Burrow, she hadn't been in such close proximity to him in weeks. She was sure Harry could hear her heart thundering inside her own chest.

At the top of the stairs, Harry swung around the newel post and turned toward the room with two large, ornately carved wooden doors. He pushed them open and with a quick flick of his wand, magicked the candelabra in the centre of the room to illuminate and stepped out of the way to reveal the most beautiful room Ginny had ever seen.

To say that the bedroom was grand was an understatement. Not only was it a large, spacious bedroom, larger by far than the room Ginny had grown up in at the Burrow, but it was also beautiful and posh. Harry stuffed his hands inside his jean pockets and sheepishly strode into the room, leaving Ginny to follow along behind him.

Ginny didn't know where to let her eyes rest first; there was so much to see. The most eye-catching thing, by far, was the enormous bed in the centre of the wall, but Ginny was trying not to look in that direction. That brought up a lot of memories.

"So, yeah," Harry began, pointing toward the sitting area to their immediate left. A burgundy coloured, rectangular Persian rug lay on the floor beneath a sculpted wooden table with a fluffy sofa and overstuffed chairs flanking it on either side. "I never really sit here, except maybe to put my shoes on or something."

"I like it," Ginny quickly defended. "It reminds me of the Common Room."

Harry smiled a reminiscent smile. The truth was that he was flooded with memories of the Common Room every time he sat there, spending evenings with Ginny, snogging on the couch. "I hadn't really thought of that," he chuckled. "Although, I suppose it's different sitting by oneself. You, Ron, and Hermione aren't here with me."

She shrugged. "I suppose not, but I like it, all the same." Ginny's eyes couldn't avoid it any longer. "That is, the biggest bed I have ever seen."

"Disgraceful, isn't it?" Harry asked with a sinister grin.

A large, Georgian four-poster mahogany bedstead butted up to the right wall and faced the fireplace. It was easily three metres high. Each post was carved into a spiralling design that coiled its way up to the four cornices, which supported the elegantly carved wooden canopy. Velvet curtains were gathered at each of the four corners that could enclose the bed in privacy.

"It's amazing," Ginny uttered, looking up at the chandelier above her.

"The dressing room and the loo are through there," Harry declared, pointing toward an alcove near the bed. "And there's a window that looks onto the balcony."

Ginny turned to her left looking at the wide window and window box, where several pillows rested on the bench. "I always wanted a window bench," Ginny admitted reminiscently, looking over her shoulder as she walked toward the window. Even in the dark, the view of the mountains behind the house filled her vision, along with the stone balcony extending off the bedroom. "It's beautiful, Harry, simply beautiful," Ginny admitted quietly, feeling the pounding of her heart resonating in her chest again.

Harry's bedroom took up the majority of the first floor, but there was a large bath and linen closet across the hall. The bathtub was elevated on a platform with a lovely view of the side yard.

Visiting the only other room on the first floor, Harry magicked on the lights. "I don't rightly know what this room is for," Harry offered, looking around at the cardboard boxes. "I've been using it for storage."

To Ginny it was instantly it was instantly obvious what the big, square room with another small room in a recessed alcove was. "It's a nursery and a room for a nanny," Ginny replied, imagining the room serving its intended purpose.

"Oh," Harry answered, feeling rather dumb. "Hey, how do you know that? Neither one of us grew up with a Nanny or a Nursery."

Ginny smiled. "Harry, I'm a Medi-Witch and a mid-wife."

He blushed and pushed his glasses up further on his nose. "Oh, yeah." Suddenly there was a whole new feeling to this room.

On the second floor of the house were two more bedrooms, only one of which Harry had furnished. Ginny was regretfully beginning to think that her tour was finished, but Harry quickly contradicted her thoughts.

"The observatory is in the attic; care to see it?"

Ginny's eyes twinkled beautifully. "I'd love to."

He led Ginny up a narrow, wooden staircase up to the attic. Ginny inhaled, breathing in the stale, sawdust-like smell, recalling the days before the ghoul inhabited the Burrow's attic. The only girl…. Always the only girl. She would often creep up to the attic to watch the boys playing Quidditch in the field behind the house or to play 'dress up' where the sun filtered in through the windowpanes. Lonely moments; when she imagine she was the damsel in distress. Not that she couldn't take care of herself, of course, rather that someone could comfort her during these lonely times. It had always seemed that everyone had his or her own place. Bill and Charlie had carved a niche at Hogwarts, Percy always had his books and parchments, the twins had each other, and Ron tagged along with anyone who would tolerate him.

Ginny often helped her mum, but Molly was a busy woman and often Ginny complicated her work. Just when Ginny thought she might start making friends at Hogwarts, Tom Riddle's diary surfaced and from then on, things had never really been what she hoped they would be. She would eventually make friends but those lonely days never really went away until Harry slipped his hand in hers for the first time. She'd gone from the only girl, to Harry's only girl. All the loneliness began to fade away.

"All right, Ginny?"

She finally realized she had been daydreaming and Harry was talking to her. "I'm sorry, just drifting," she answered, looking around the attic. "It's nice here."

A russet coloured leather couch and matching chairs decorated the sparse attic and provided the only seating. Hedwig's perch rested in the far corner, but she must have been out hunting. Two large windowpanes from the partial glass ceiling had been removed and a telescope was set up.

Harry was watching Ginny wring her hands nervously. "Gin?" he asked hesitantly.

"Oh, it's nice in here," she replied absentmindedly.

"You already said that."

"Did I?"

"Mmm hmm," Harry declared, gesturing for her to sit down. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Ginny sunk down onto the sofa and raked her fingers through her hair. "I guess I'm just confused and overwhelmed. I don't know whether I'm coming or I'm going. I just want you to make sure that you want to fight for what we had, because I couldn't take it if you decided to walk out a month from now. I'm not asking you to rush your feelings; I'm not asking you to feel something you don't feel; I'm just asking what is it that you want?"

"What brought this on suddenly?" Harry asked, sitting next to her on the couch.

Ginny shook her head. "I don't know. Just being up here in this attic. It reminded me of when I was a little girl and I felt so –"

"Lonely," Harry answered, looking over at her. "Who would have thought that loneliness brought us together in the first place?"

Ginny nodded. Harry had trusted her enough early on in their relationship that he had told her about how he had slept in the cupboard under the stairs for eleven years. Naturally, Ginny had been furious with the Dursleys and sympathetic to Harry. She shared the memories of the Burrow's attic, her loneliness, and occasional preferential segregation. Their solitude had been something that seemingly no one else around them understood, and it just so happened to be something that they could heal in each other, just by their simple presence and a listening ear. The first time they kissed, they knew they'd never truly be alone again. They were what each of them had seemingly waited a whole lifetime for.

"Gin, I'm trying. I know my emotions are up one minute and down the next. I'm having a hard time rationalizing what I know is the right thing to do and what just seems, um, natural," he answered as he thought about snogging her right then and blushed a warm shade of crimson. "We have a lot of work to do. Merely talking about our problems won't fix them."

"Tell me what I have to do," Ginny said suddenly, turning to face Harry and catching his hands up in hers.

"Be honest, be contrite, and be yourself. I can't ask for any more than that, and I promise you that I'll do the same," he offered, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "If I haven't already, I'm not going to walk out on you, now. I'm willing to fight for us."

Tears welled up in her eyes, once again. "Me, too," she mumbled through quivering lips. "I promise." Ginny returned the hand squeeze, finding it impossible to turn away from Harry's eyes. She found that Harry was already so close to her that their knees were touching. It felt as if she were fifteen all over again. Her heart was racing, her lungs were empty of air, her palms were sweaty, and Harry bloody Potter was paying her some attention. Their clasped hands rested casually on Ginny's thighs, and she found herself leaning in closer to narrow the angle between Harry and her.

She could see every eyelash and the variegation of colours in his emerald green eyes, and his breath was starting to mingle with hers. Ginny swallowed hard as Harry licked his lips and closed the remaining distance.

"Mr Harry Potter, sir. Mr Harry Potter! Dobby is sorry, sir, that he is late returning. Sir! Lady Wheezy!"

Harry and Ginny instantly gasped and put space between them as Dobby scooted into the attic.

"Eh, Dobby, it's all right," Harry stammered as Ginny blushed and turned her attention toward the little house elf.

Dobby clapped his hands excitedly and jumped up and down at her favour. "Lady Wheezy, it is good to see you! Dobby is so sad when Harry Potter is saying Lady Wheezy isn't his, anymore."

Ginny smiled at the elf. "It's OK, Dobby. It's so good to see you. You're working for Harry, now?"

Dobby nodded quickly. "Oh, yes. Dobby's family is happy working at Harry Potter's house. Winky and Dobby's little elves is here, too."

His words dawned on Ginny. "Oh, you and your family?"

"Yes, Miss. Jo-Jo and Gabby."

She couldn't help but smile up at Harry. Saying that Dobby was a handful was an understatement, but taking on an additional three elves was just saintly. "How lovely."

He smiled wide. "I is sorry, Harry Potter," Dobby offered, wringing his hands as he backed out of the room.

Harry chuckled. "It's all right, Dobby. I'll see you in the morning." With a wave, Dobby disappeared.

Harry shook his head in disbelief at Ginny; she had been amazingly patient and kind with Dobby. Harry often found himself biting his tongue and hoping he wouldn't say something offensive.

"I should go," Ginny declared, rising from the couch, horribly disappointed that they had been interrupted. She had been mere centimetres away from kissing Harry. "It's, um, getting late, and you have to work in the morning."

Harry smiled. He was looking forward to it; all his nervousness had vanished.

He escorted Ginny back through the house and down to the main floor. She was already dreading saying goodbye.

"I'm glad we talked," Harry began. "We've got a lot more to do and say, but I think the truth is out and I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders."

Ginny nodded. "To my everlasting shame, I will always be sorry for what I've done. I never intended to hurt so many people with my lies."

"I know," Harry answered sombrely.

Ginny reached into her pocket and removed her wand. Instantly, Harry's hand was at her forehead, brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen across her freckled face. He softly tucked it behind her ear and let his palm cradle her face.

Ginny closed her eyes and pressed her lips together as she leaned in against Harry's hand. She gently covered his hand with her own palm and disappointedly pulled his hand away from her cheek. "Again, the house is beautiful; I should go."

Harry too felt the instant ache for his skin on hers, but complied. "All right. I imagine this week will be quite busy, but I'll send you an Owl. If you don't have any appointments, maybe we could meet on Friday. I'm, er, planning a house-warming party, and I have no clue what I'm doing."

A smile finally graced Ginny's face. "All right. Have a nice day tomorrow, and good luck."

With a soft POP she Disapparated from Harry's sight. Maybe she hasn't changed that much, after all. Harry pondered, and he instantly knew what his house was missing.

Author's Note: Hi, all. I just wanted to let you all know that I updated the homepage section on my author page to my new Live Journal account. I'll try to keep everybody up to date with my writing progress and just the general going's on in my life. I'd be thrilled if you all stopped by. Incidentally, if anyone is interested, Google pictures of English Cottages. They're amazing! Thanks, as always to all of you for reading and reviewing and to Karen, my super beta.