Time Enough Chapter 17: Lesson Learned, a harry potter fanfic

The chatter in the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a happy noise that Harry hadn't realized he had missed. The regularity and circumvolution of life had returned with the noisy students. Life did indeed go on, even if you had spent five years of your life in a coma and missed it. The world did not stand still, not for anyone, and each day, every person on the planet had the same 1440 minutes to do with as they pleased. Would they be wasted or spent fruitfully? Would they be spent complaining about life's unfair moments, which everyone experienced, or would they be spent making the best of every single opportunity and living life for what it was worth?

Harry tried controlling the smile that was aching to get out as he strolled into the Great Hall amid whispers, widened eyes, and giggles. As he had been his entire life, he was once again the centre of attention. It was something he realized he would need to come to grips with. He would always be in the spotlight until some other hero stepped up to take his place, and when that time came, he would gladly vacate the pedestal, upon which he had spent the last twelve years.

He flashed Snape a sinister smile as he stepped up onto the platform where the head table was located and took his seat next to Neville. Harry still had something planned for Snape; he would not easily forget what Snivellus had said about Ginny, and paybacks were due. Of course, he would just provide the idea regarding the matter; he would let someone else take the glory. As a professor at Hogwarts, he could be disciplined if McGonagall were to discover he had been the one who had committed the prank; however, no one could blame him for just merely thinking one up. He knew exactly who could help him pull off his idea and with that, settled in for the welcoming feast.

The morning bell rang at nine o'clock sharp on Tuesday, signalling Harry's first teaching opportunity. He was pleased to find himself more excited than nervous as students began filing into his classroom. It wasn't anxiety, but a more familiar feeling that pooled in the pit of Harry's stomach, almost like déjà vu. Shades of Ginny immediately entered his mind, but that was farfetched; Ginny wasn't here. The feeling was only the memories of Hogwarts Halls haunting him. Harry shook it away; before him, the young faces were mingled with excitement, disbelief, and admiration. Harry could hear the hushed whispers of the wide-eyed students as he waited for the final bell to ring:

"Do you think he'll be any good?"

"I thought it was just a rumour that Harry Potter was teaching here."

"I wonder if he has a girlfriend?"

Harry shook his head and smiled; to him, sixth year seemed like only yesterday. The second bell rung, alerting all present that the day had officially begun.

Harry cleared his throat and stood in front of his first class. "Good morning class, I am Harry Potter your new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. As all of you probably know, I've not taught before; this is my first year. I know you all think you know who I am, and think you know what I've done and where I've been. If you've read the Daily Prophet, chances are you've received a very jaded version of the truth. I'm here to tell you I'm a regular wizard; I'll treat you with the same respect your other professors treat you with. I may not be a Head of House, but I'm always available, and my door is always open. I'm quite familiar with Professors Flitwick, Longbottom, Branstone and – " Harry cleared his throat and tried not to smile, "Snape. I'm more than happy to help anywhere I can."

Harry had decided when he'd taken the job at Hogwarts that there was something he needed to begin his classes with, to clear up any misconceptions courtesy of the Daily Prophet.

Harry strolled across the front of his classroom as he began to speak. "This will be a one time opportunity; I will give you ten minutes to ask me any questions regarding my public life; I would rather you get the truth from me than the Prophet or your friends."

Harry ceased his pacing, sat on the edge of his desk, and folded his arms lightly across his chest. He pushed his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose and looked at the clock. "You've got ten minutes…" he began, watching the second hand sweep across the face, "… starting now."

Dozens of hands instantly shot into the air and waved madly, reminding Harry of Hermione's volunteerism. He chuckled happily and point to a girl at the back of the room.

"Name?"

"Jenna Ashbourne."

"OK, Jenna, go ahead," Harry replied, noting by her tie that she was a Ravenclaw.

"Did you really defeat He Who Must Not Be Named single-handed and spend five years in a coma at St. Mungo's?"

Harry smirked, that was one of the few things the Prophet got right, but he really hadn't done anything alone. "I had a lot of help defeating Voldemort." There was a collective gasp from the students. "Next," he said, pointing to a sandy-haired boy to his left.

"Sam Waterstone, Professor."

Harry smiled at the Hufflepuff. "Sure, go ahead, Sam."

The tall, thin boy reminded Harry a bit of Ron. "Can you really perform wandless magic?"

Harry nodded pensively. "With some spells. It takes a great deal of practice and patience. Fortunately, I had the best teacher." Harry's thoughts instantly forced him to recall the daily practice sessions with Dumbledore; they had spent time together each day for the better part of two years. "Next."

Harry then nodded to a blushing Gryffindor girl, beaming at him with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. "Hi, Professor. I'm Shannon O'Shea."

Harry returned the smile. "Good morning, Shannon."

"Um," she giggled. "I heard you started your own Defence Club or something while you were at Hogwarts; is that true?"

A smile of reminiscence spread across Harry's face; it had been a right pain in the arse when Hermione had first suggested it, but he had soon found himself looking forward to the 'lessons' as much as anyone. The DA had continued into sixth year, which was a great excuse to spend time with Ginny, and it had obviously given him his first taste of teaching, as well. Realizing his students were staring at him, Harry quickly answered the question.

"It's true; my friends and I suffered under one of the worst Defence teachers in the history of Hogwarts when we were fifth-year students, so we decided to take our 'education' into our own hands. The club met regularly for about three years."

Several other questions were asked, including one by Wade Wainwright, a Slytherin, about Dumbledore's death. Harry refused to go into details, but found the students' attention was rapt as he spoke kindly of his Headmaster. Harry's ten minutes had finally expired, and he clapped his hands together, preparing to get down to business.

"All right, I hope that clears some things up. Now it's time to begin. As sixth-year students, my expectations for you are high; you're in between your OWL and NEWT years, but that doesn't mean you should skive off. I won't be a professor that assigns a lot of homework; most of our time spent together will be in practicing what you've learned. I'll expect you to keep up on your reading on your own time, and we'll use class time for exercise and application. Despite what I just said, we'll begin today by looking over the table of contents, which will be our syllabus for the year. I trust you all have the assigned reading, Pragmatic Procedures in the Art of Defence by Amelia Blythe-Gaze? Please, open your books to page three."

Harry ascended the stairs up to his office with a rare contentment. Not only had he survived his first day as a teacher, but he had also loved it! He had learned almost as much as he'd taught, and he could hardly wait to share the news of his day with – anyone!

He had barely settled into his office when there was a knock at the door. Harry furled his eyebrows quizzically and rose from his chair behind the desk. He opened the door cautiously and peered out into the hallway.

"Headmistress!" Harry gasped, widening the opening of the door, and invited McGonagall into his office with a sweeping hand gesture.

"Good afternoon, Professor," McGonagall began as she gazed around the office full of Dark Detectors, books, and some personal effects. "How was your first day, Harry?"

Harry sighed with relief, thinking McGonagall was here to chastise him on his first day. He quickly invited her to sit down in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk.

"It was great, Headmistress! It was absolutely fascinating," Harry answered, moving around behind the desk and resuming his seat.

McGonagall smiled in return. "I've heard nothing but praise all afternoon from students in the halls and through lunch and dinner."

Harry blushed. "I'm flattered, really."

McGonagall smirked as she rose from her chair and fixed her beady eyes upon the wizarding photo of the DA that hung on the concave walls of the circular office. "As soon as I was informed that you started the DA so many years ago, I knew you'd be a natural. Sirius, Dumbledore, and your parents would be so proud of you, Harry."

He lowered his eyes to his desktop, thinking fondly on their memory. "I hope so," he whispered.

"And Ron and Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys: what do they think?"

Harry pondered the question for a moment and then finally shrugged. "They've been uncharacteristically quiet about it. Of course they've all had a lot on their minds. I expect Hermione will press me for details when she and Ron arrive home next weekend. Everyone offered their congratulations, and that's good enough for me."

McGonagall raised her eyebrows in contradiction. "Miss Weasley wasn't very quiet about it when I spoke with her earlier this afternoon."

"You saw Ginny this afternoon? Where?" Harry asked interestedly, his mind instantly retreating back to the odd feeling he had experienced in his stomach earlier that morning.

"In the Hospital Wing – she wanted to thank Madame Fenwick and myself for the Midwife position in Hogsmeade; she was on her way back from meeting a new client."

Harry suddenly found himself wishing that Ginny had stopped by to say hello or to meet him for lunch or something… anything… just to see her. "Oh," Harry replied vaguely, looking over his shoulder at McGonagall, who still looked at the DA photograph. "Can I ask you something, Headmistress?"

"Of course, Potter," McGonagall replied politely, returning to her seat in front of Harry's desk.

"Well," Harry stammered, "It's about something, you, er, said the day you offered me the job here at Hogwarts. You told me that I had never lost Ginny. Why did you say that?"

The Headmistress folded her hands in her lap and seemed to consider the question heavily before speaking. "You are not the only one with whom Professor Dumbledore's portrait communicates, Harry. I knew the day you saved Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets that the bond had been formed between you. You saved her life, risking your own in the process, Harry. That's not a decision to be taken lightly. I could see the concerned look on your face that afternoon as you debated telling Professor Dumbledore and myself the truth. Dumbledore was right when he told you wizard bonds were deep and impenetrable. It was no secret how Ginny felt about you; it never was, and when you realized it, the two of you were practically inseparable. Both of you had a twinkle in your eyes I have not seen before… or since. I saw Ginny several times over the course of your stay at St. Mungo's, and in all that time, that brilliance was a faint reminder of what it used to be. Dean Thomas hadn't been able to instil that glow within her, nor had Michael Corner, and Cho Chang did not add that sparkle to your life, either. The day I came to visit you, after you'd awoken, that radiance had returned; it was obvious. I knew then that you'd never really lost her, and I consulted with Dumbledore's portrait at the earliest convenience."

Harry had no idea what to say; yet he knew it was the truth. He had seen that desperate, haunted, and vacant look in Ginny's eyes from the precise moment that he had overheard she was engaged to Dean. She had been an empty shell of a person without him, and he had not been himself without her presence, either.

Harry was suddenly rather embarrassed to be considering his love life in front of Minerva McGonagall.

"I didn't intend to put you on the spot, Harry. I just thought you ought to know what's easily observed by an outsider."

Harry nodded but did not look up. "We're, er, working on things."

The Headmistress smiled discreetly. "I'm glad. You and Miss Weasley are both experiencing new changes in your lives, I'm sure the outcome will be as high as your expectations."

Harry Apparated directly home after his first full day of teaching and hurried into his study. He threw his attaché down in the chair and frowned as he had difficulty wriggling from his cloak before carelessly tossing it over his briefcase. He crossed the room in long strides and retrieved three pieces of parchment from the drawer as he sat down at his desk.

Dobby, upon hearing his master enter the house, scooted into Harry's study.

"Is Harry Potter needing anything?" he squeaked, removing Harry's cloak from the chair and draping it over his arm.

Harry's eyes darted up from the desk as he removed the top to the bottle of ink he was about to use. "No. Um, wait, yes! Is Hedwig here?"

"Dobby thinks so."

Harry picked up a long, resplendent feathered quill and dipped the nib into the ink, careful not to let any drips splatter onto his parchment. "Could you bring her downstairs, Dobby?"

The elf nodded happily and disappeared before Harry's eyes.

Harry's quill scratched noisily on the paper.

Dear Luna,
Would it be possible to meet on Friday evening to discuss the matter we originally discussed at Ron and Hermione's wedding? I can meet you at the Three Broomsticks or the Leaky Cauldron any time after six o'clock. Please send return Owl as soon as possible.

Harry

Harry sealed the letter with a flick of his wand and wrote Luna's name on the outside. He set the letter aside and quickly moved on to the next.

Partners in Crime,
I have a proposition for you. I am in need of some of your expertise and assistance in a matter regarding our favourite Hogwarts Professor. If you're in Hogsmeade this week, can we meet?

Your Financial Backer

Harry sealed the second letter and set it with the first one. He sat in silence for a moment, staring down at the honey coloured parchment, his quill poised as he heavily considered the words he was about to write. The fact that Ginny was in such close proximity to him today was gnawing at his insides. He had sensed her presence – had known she was there – and now he ached to see her.

Harry re-dipped his quill in the ink and hastily began to write:

Dear Gin,

I need to see you. What's your schedule this week? I have a pending appointment Friday evening and another potential meeting with your brothers one night this week, but I'll change anything to see you. Hedwig will await your reply.

Harry paused, debating how he should close the letter. The two halves of his brain wrestled in futility. Sincerely? That would never do. Yours unconditionally? With warmest regards? Yours truly? I long for your touch…. Love?

Harry slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand as his frown etched deep lines of disgust into his brow. He could hear Dobby scurrying back down the stairs and Hedwig screeching angrily; he needed to hurry and get these letters out. He shook his head; he didn't want Ginny to think he was being too indecisive; after all, he had flip-flopped emotions about ten times since he'd seen her Sunday night; but he wanted her to know just how much he was thinking of her, as well. His eyes widened and he dipped the quill in ink and scrawled the letter's closing:

Thinking of you,
Harry

Harry sealed the letter just as Dobby huffed and puffed into the study. Hedwig looked rather unsettled until Harry extended his own arm, encouraging her to perch there instead of her current position. The snowy owl gently gripped Harry's forearm with her talons and listened carefully as Harry spoke.

"Now, Hedwig, I want you to take this letter to Luna Longbottom; she and Neville live here in Hogsmeade, right?" Harry half expected her to answer him as he searched her amber eyes for a sense of understanding. When he was satisfied, he spoke again, "Next, take this one to Fred and George's shop at number Ninety-three Diagon Alley, in London. Finally, take the last letter to Ginny at the Burrow. Got it?"

Hedwig finally hooted with comprehension when Harry moved across the room to open the window that faced the town of Hogsmeade. "Wait for Ginny's reply, OK?" Harry questioned again as a draft of cool air from the opened window blew the curtains all around him. He pushed them out of the way and felt Hedwig lift soundlessly from his arm as she swooped out into the night.

Hedwig still had not returned by the time Harry arose for work the following morning. He wasn't sure if he should be concerned or not. The letters were not of utmost importance, but he wasn't keen on them falling into the wrong hands. Who would intercept them, if they weren't important? Then again, maybe nothing had happened at all. Maybe Hedwig was tired from flying all the way to Ottery St. Catchpole and had decided to rest a spell.

As Harry left the house that morning, he asked Dobby to bring any letters that arrived by Owl Post that day immediately to him at Hogwarts. Harry Apparated up to the school gates and walked up to the Castle, lost in thought. He couldn't help but wonder if something was wrong. Should he Owl Remus? Mr Weasley at the Ministry? Ask McGonagall to use her influence? Or just wait and see if Ginny wrote back that afternoon? He took a deep breath and vowed to himself to try and go on with the rest of his day.

An hour later, Harry had heard from Luna and the twins, but nothing from Ginny. Harry instantly deduced that the letters had arrived in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley without fail, so, if there were a problem, it had been between London and the Burrow. Fred and George had replied that they could meet Harry on Thursday night at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes Hogsmeade branch, but had mentioned nothing in their letter that anything was out of sorts at home.

Luna's message had launched into a long story about Mortie Rosenberg, some reclusive Business-Wizard, who was allegedly amassing a legion of Fire Imps to overthrow the Professional Quidditch League, and had only included the answer to Harry's questions in the last line: She would meet him on Friday at the Three Broomsticks at 6:30.

The second-years in Harry's classes that day forced him to keep his level of concentration fairly intact, and he didn't have much of an opportunity to dwell on the fact that an Owl had not yet arrived from Ginny, but during each break throughout the day, his thoughts inevitably drifted to the redhead. He hoped that if something were wrong with Ginny or with Ron and Hermione, Mrs Weasley would have Owled him. He was reaching the point where he was close to just making a Floo call or Apparating over to the Burrow, but he didn't want to seem silly or overprotective, and above all, he wanted to show Ginny that he trusted her.

By dinnertime, Harry's thoughts were consuming him once again, and he was on his way up to the Owlery at Hogwarts. He had scrawled a quick note to Molly Weasley after his final class for the day and was hurrying up the stairs of the West Tower. Inside the Owlery Shannon O'Shea, the sixth-year Gryffindor Harry met in class the day before, was standing with a small group of girls.
"Oh, hi, Professor," Shannon greeted him, blushing furiously and tucking a lock of her long, mahogany coloured hair behind her ear. The small crowd around her giggled nervously and covered their mouths as they laughed.

"Erm… Good evening," Harry answered, glancing around for an eager looking owl.

Shannon beamed up at Harry. "Oh, I was just writing my mother to tell her how much fun class was yesterday," she answered, attaching her letter to the owl her friend was holding.

"Well, we didn't get much of a start, yet. Next class, we'll actually get into something fun."

The girls all giggled and watched Shannon O'Shea's owl fly out the window of the tower. "Well, we best be getting on then; Potions Essay to write, already."

Harry smirked. Ah, the good ol' days. "Good night, and good luck with your Potions Essay."

You'll need it. Harry thought as he watched the girls leave the Owlery and he returned to the task at hand.

"Any of you lot eager for a job?" he asked the owls, looking up to see them sitting on their perches in the lofty room. A tan and chestnut mottled Tawny Owl flew down and landed on his outstretched arm. The bird's large, dark brown eyes were haunting and momentarily distracted him from his business.

"Right," Harry mumbled, tying the letter to the owl's leg. "This is going to Ottery St. Catchpole, OK? To a house called the Burrow."

The Tawny hooted mindfully and stretched its wings once before gently pushing off Harry's arm and taking off into the loaming.

The house-elves were on edge as Harry stormed around his cottage, awaiting the reply from not one, but two owls.

Harry had foregone dinner in exchange for pouting and swearing instead. He was currently sitting on the chair in his study, feet propped upon the desk, and fingers drumming on the desktop as he gazed out into the night. He was once again on the verge of Apparating over to the Burrow, when an owl tapped on the window of his study.

He launched himself out of the chair, scrambling toward the Tawny owl hovering outside the windows. Harry threw open the window, in effect inviting the owl to set on the window's ledge.

"Took you long enough," Harry grumbled, crouching down to be on an even plane with the bird. His fingers fumbled to untie the reply as the cool night air rushed in through the open window.

The owl lifted her proud head high, awaiting praise. "Er, thank you," Harry offered, gently scratching the top of the owl's head. The Tawny awkwardly turned around and set off in flight.

Harry instantly tore into the envelope, discarding it on the floor while not bothering to close the window. His heart was thundering rapidly inside his chest as he unfolded the crinkled paper. His eyes quickly scanned the page for any signs of tear splotches on the ink, but he saw none. With a sigh of relief, Harry began to read:

Dear Harry,
No worries, dear; everything is just fine here at the Burrow. Last night baby Benjamin caught his first cold, and Ginny offered to stay up all night with him while he fussed. (We didn't dare bother Ron and Hermione, who are having such a nice time in Paris, for just a little sniffle, and I wouldn't be offended, if you rethought your commitment to care for them this weekend.) On Tuesday, Ginny cared for a young mother having troubles in her pregnancy, so after the past two busy days, I decided to let the poor dear sleep all day today. Hedwig is here and refuses to give your letter to anyone but Ginny. I'll send Hedwig home with Ginny's reply, as soon as she wakes up.
I hope everything is going well, dear. I've heard lots of wonderful things about your new house; can't wait to see it.

With Love,
Molly Weasley

Harry let out a sigh of relief and chuckled in embarrassment. Ginny was at home, safe and sound, and sleeping. That thought, itself, brought up a much lovelier image than the one that had been in his head just moments before: Ginny's head resting peacefully on the pillow, her hair splayed out all around her like a halo, and her chest slowly rising and falling with each shallow breath she took. The notion brought forth pleasant memories of falling asleep in each other's arms for the first time on the couch in the Gryffindor common room; and parting with a chaste kiss when they awoke at 5 o'clock in the morning to hurry upstairs to their respective dorm rooms. Harry was startled out of his memory by Hedwig's presence outside the window.

He tossed Molly's letter down onto his desk and watched Hedwig fly in through the already opened window and land on the back of his chair. "I was worried about you," he began, stepping over to retrieve the letter tied to the Snowy Owl's leg.

Hedwig hooted contritely as Harry removed the letter and began to nuzzle the small tuft of feathers at the base of her beak. There was no reason to be upset with her; she had done her job faithfully. "It's all right. You're probably hungry," he added, looking down at the familiar handwriting on the envelope. "Go hunt up something." Her amber eyes seemed to glow even brighter at his words, and she nipped fondly at his finger and soared out through the window.

Harry closed the window behind her, before falling into his chair with a dazed smile plastered on his face, and tore into the letter.

Dear Harry,
Is everything all right? When you said you wanted to see me, I got a little worried. I'm sorry I didn't stop in and say 'hello' while I was at Hogwarts on Tuesday; I did peek into your class, however. You're a complete natural, and I couldn't be prouder of you.
As it's already Wednesday evening, I don't want you to change any of your appointments; it's rather short notice. I'll be making my rounds in Hogsmeade tomorrow; maybe I could stop into WWW after your meeting with Fred and George? My first week at the new job has been exciting, but exhausting, as well. Ben's cold has only added to my tiredness, but Mum gave him a drop of Pepperup Potion, and I think he's feeling better. (It is rather funny to see the steam coming out of his tiny ears!) The only time Benjamin was content was when he was being rocked. Sorry to prattle on, proud Aunt and Godmother that I am.
I hope your week is going well. Please let me know if I've misinterpreted your letter, or if something is wrong.

All my love, all my life,
Ginny

Harry was aware of the smile stretching across his face as he set the pale blue paper down on his desk and stretched back in his chair. If he closed his eyes he could imagine Ginny, cradling Benjamin in her arms, humming softly, and slowly rocking back and forth in the nursery of the Burrow. His mind quickly retreated to the evening he couldn't sleep at St. Mungo's and had gone for a walk in the hospital. He had ended up in the Birthing Ward and had stared down at the dozen or so faces of children who had just been born. At that moment, all he wanted for his life seemed so simple: Get married, have children, and live happily ever after.

How naïve he had been. How many people got their life handed to them on a silver platter? Not many, he rationalized. Maybe wizards like the Malfoy's, who had more Galleons than they knew what to do with, but most people fought or worked for everything they had. He wasn't sure why he'd expected his life to be so easy. If life were always easy, what point would there be to any of it. He and Ginny had already survived the worst thing he could imagine. They had faced death head on, almost lost each other, not once but twice, and had somehow still managed to recover. Ultimately, she'd been worth fighting for.

Despite the fact that she had lied about more than one thing, Harry had always known Ginny loved him. Always. He had seen it in her eyes. No matter what words of betrayal her lips had uttered, those brown eyes were windows to her soul, and he had seen deeper inside that soul than anyone else ever had. Harry had worried that she'd changed during the five years he'd been comatose… wondered if he even knew her anymore, but he was beginning to see that maybe she hadn't changed that much at all. Her purpose was still the same; the way she made him feel was still the same, and it really didn't matter if she still liked daisies or hated the colour pink.

He picked up his quill from the stand on his desk and prepared to write Ginny back to let her know everything was just fine. Harry sighed with contentment, realizing he'd fallen in love all over again.

Harry hurried out of the Great Hall just as dinner was finishing. He was due to meet Fred and George in only fifteen minutes and some days it took that long to walk down the long hill just to get to Hogwarts gates, let alone into the village. He'd made it through the longest day imaginable on the knowledge that tonight he would meet Ginny at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

Harry hastened his steps; he, Fred, and George had to devise a plan before Ginny came into the shop. He wasn't sure what he was going to tell the twins regarding how Snape had angered him. Maybe he would just mention that Snape had verbally compromised her integrity, but not go into specifics about what had been said. That seemed like the fairest thing to say; besides, he was not keen on saying the actual words Snape had disgustingly uttered.

Harry would have rather met Fred and George at the Three Broomsticks, but due to the 'delicate nature' of the plan they would be devising, secrecy was of the utmost importance, and there was nowhere more secretive than the workshop in Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Fred and George guarded their inventions with the highest precautionary measures available. Even when they lived at the Burrow, there were always booby traps and jinxes protecting their bedroom from their mother's prying eyes.

Harry rushed into Hogsmeade, guessing he was at least a minute or two late. He thought to himself that he probably looked funny, running through the streets in work robes to get into WWW As he neared the shop, he could see Fred standing in the front window, magicking the glowing Open sign off for the day. When Fred saw Harry, a smirk began to spread across his lips.

"Sorry, I'm late," Harry apologized as he wrenched open the front door. In place of the typical chiming sound was a foghorn blast. "Nice touch," he added, seeing the pleased look on Fred's face.

"Not a problem, Harry; we were just closing up for the night, anyhow. George is downstairs. We can't wait to hear about this mission you have for us."

Harry waited for Fred as he magicked off the lights and locked the door, before following him down the narrow, spiralling staircase to the basement workshop, where a hazy, blue smoke was creeping up the stairs.

"Ah, Harry, glad you're here; I thought Fred was upstairs talking to himself," George commented when he heard the creaking stairs.

"Ha," Harry replied, fanning the wafts of smoke away from his face. "Well, we've always known you two were a bit spare, but we've always let it go. Mad geniuses always do things like that, don't they?"

"Right you are, Harry. That's the nicest compliment we've ever gotten, isn't it George?"

"Indubitably, and we don't get many compliments, do we Fred?"

"Heavens, no," Fred answered, magicking a nearby stool over to a large table covered in beakers, vials, and small and large cauldrons bubbling away, which were sending green and blue curls of smoke up toward the ceiling. Fred gestured the seat toward Harry, and Accio'd one for himself, as well.

George smirked, leaning forward on the edge of his chair, and peered across the table at Harry. "All right, Partner. Spill it. What's this mission you have for us?"

Harry cleared his throat nervously. "Erm, well, it's Snape."

Gales of laughter filled the small basement workshop as George and Fred clutched their stomachs and stomped their feet on the floor.

"It's only his first week, Fred, and he's already gunning for Snape," George said, trying to gain his breath.

"What's he done to you?" Fred snorted, "Other than being his normal git-self."

Harry watched as the twins continued to laugh, and he screwed up his face in indignation. "He insulted Ginny," Harry spat, watching their reaction.

There was instant silence.

Harry waited for the deluge.

"What did that slimy git say about Ginny?"

"That no good son of a hag! Who does he think he is?"

"What did he say, Harry; what did he say?"

"Oh, he's got it coming!"

Harry nodded, raising his eyebrows. "I know, I know. Take it easy. He needs some comeuppance, though. I don't particularly want to go into specifics about what was said, but he insulted her virtue," he added, blushing furiously. "It took two people and Professor McGonagall to keep me from going over the table to get at him. He's got it coming. I'm trying to create a policy of honesty with Ginny, but I'm not exactly comfortable telling her why I'm teaching Snape a lesson. She's been dragged through the mud enough."

Fred and George were both scowling, and Fred was repeatedly punching his clenched fist into his opposite palm. "Got a plan Harry?" George asked.

Harry only shook his head. "Not really; I only know that I want him to know the humiliation that the Prophet has put Ginny through. Something public… and awful."

George raised one eyebrow and stroked his chin between his thumb and forefinger as he delved into thought. "Got any ideas how you want to pull this off, Harry?"

"Well, the first Quidditch match versus Slytherin is coming up in about six weeks or so. He'll make a big speech before the match which would be a pretty easy opportunity. He'll be nice and pompous, having won the Quidditch cup last season."

Fred nodded, thinking over the idea. "Not bad, Harry. It would definitely give you maximum impact. The Great Hall during breakfast or dinner would be your next best bet. George and I have a prototype we're working on for Halloween this year. I think something similar could be beneficial."

"Good call, Fred," George answered. "Can we think about this for a week or so, Harry?"

Harry grinned. "I want this to be good; take all the time you need."

Upstairs the foghorn sounded and the door closed. "You expecting someone, George?" Fred questioned, rising off the stool he was sitting on.

"It's Ginny," Harry answered bashfully.

"Ooh!" Fred and George exclaimed with mocking interest. "I wonder if Harry and little Ginners are back together?" George pondered aloud, tapping the side of his head.

"I wonder," Fred added, just as the stairs creaked and Ginny began to descend them.

Harry knew he was blushing and didn't really care as Ginny came into view. He wasn't sure what their plans were, but it didn't matter as long as he was with her.

A soft, squeaky, cat-like sneeze broke the awkward tension as they all waited for her to arrive in the workshop. Ginny stepped into the laboratory with bloodshot eyes and hair bushier than Hermione's, with a handkerchief pressed to her face.

"I feel as though I've been run down by the Hogwarts Express," she uttered in a nasally and raspy voice, clutching her head at the sound of her own voice. "I feel like hell."

She was sick. She must have caught Ben's cold, Harry rationalized, and yet she was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He couldn't resist the temptation to want to take care of her.

"Sick, Ginners?" Fred asked sarcastically as she sneezed again.

"No, git, this is fun," Ginny replied with equal cynicism before turning away from her brothers. "Hi, Harry," she added with a blush in her cheeks. "I'm terribly sorry if you had plans."

"Plans?" George questioned. "What kind of plans would you have with our sister, Harry?"

Harry couldn't contain his smile any longer. "Let's get out of here, Gin. Hey, guys, get back to me when you've come up with an idea, OK?"

Harry rolled his eyes and gestured for Ginny to climb the stairs ahead of him, as Fred and George burst into laughter again and began making kissing noises.

"I'm sorry if I've ruined anything," Ginny began, as they stepped out onto the lamp-lit street. "This just sorta came up on me quickly. I've take two doses of Pepperup Potion but – " She instantly stopped talking when she felt a hand slide into hers.

"Shh, you've ruined nothing. I'm just happy to see you."

Ginny stopped walking and turned to look at Harry. "Y-you are?" she questioned innocently.

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before speaking again, "I knew you were at Hogwarts that day. I just knew it. I could feel your presence, and I wish you would have stopped to see me."

Ginny smiled. "You were marvellous, really, you were. Lupin will be thrilled to know his star Defence pupil has done so well. I just didn't feel right barging in on your class or ambushing you in your office, so I just peaked in and left. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry; it's all right," Harry reiterated. "Just since that moment when I knew you were there, you've been on my mind."

Ginny bit her lip, trying not to smile as she began walking again in the direction of Harry's house. "I was a little scared when I got your letter; I almost had myself convinced that you were asking me here to tell me that you never wanted to see me again," she said, fingering the gold heart locket hanging on a golden strand around her neck.

Harry shook his head and pulled her hand, bringing her a little closer, so that their shoulders were touching. "If I never wanted to see you again, my letter would have said 'Dear Ginny, I never want to see you again. Bugger off! Sincerely, Harry Potter'."

Ginny laughed softly and nudged Harry's side with her elbow. "Stop," she teased. "You know what I mean." She sneezed again, this time more forcefully and followed it with a groan of misery. "So, um, what were your plans anyway?"

Harry sighed as his they stepped under the trellis at his sidewalk. "You know, I didn't really have any set plans; I just knew I wanted to see you. Do you, er, want to come inside for a little bit?"

Ginny stood completely still – afraid to move, afraid to speak, afraid to breathe. Just in case it was a dream. She wondered if her heart might burst at the thoughts betraying her mind. She closed her eyes, as if trying to gain strength to say what she was about to say.

"Harry, I'd really like that, but I honestly feel horrible."

Harry looked down at his feet, feeling utterly defeated for a moment; after all, he didn't want to make her stay when she obviously felt ill. Suddenly, an idea surfaced in his brain.

"Well, um, what about this?" Harry suggested sheepishly. "I could Apparate back to the Burrow with you and see that you properly get your Pepperup Potion and get tucked into bed."

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she quickly tried to recover her emotions. "I wouldn't want you to get sick, Harry."

"If you don't want me to – "

"I didn't say that!" she quickly contradicted him, covering her eyes in embarrassment. "I just don't want you to get sick."

Harry smiled down at Ginny and slowly reached up to cradle her face in his hand. "I want to… not get sick, obviously… but come home with you," he whispered, drawing the back of his hand down her cheek and letting it rest against the side of her neck.

Ginny immediately found herself shaking. She knew it wasn't from the cool fall weather, but it was courtesy of Harry, who was currently looking at her with such intensity in those emerald green eyes that it literally made her knees feel weak. She let out a broken sigh and hesitantly rested her free hand on Harry's bicep, giving him a gentle squeeze. "OK."

Harry and Ginny Apparated into the living room at the Burrow, startling Molly and Arthur Weasley.

"Ginny! Er, Harry! What are you two doing here?" Molly Weasley gasped, agitating one of the babies who was taking his bottle. His twin lay in a bassinet, watching an enchanted mobile hang above him. "Scared me half to death!"

"Sorry, Mum," Ginny sniffled, after sneezing again. "Hi, Dad."

"Hi pumpkin," Arthur answered, looking over a small remote control car. "Evening, Harry."

"Good evening, Mr and Mrs Weasley," Harry replied, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "I hope we, er, haven't disturbed you."

"Not at all, dear," Molly answered, watching her husband go back to his Muggle contraption. "It's good to see you. What are you two doing here?" she added, her eyes darting over toward Ginny. "Feeling any better, Ginny?"

Ginny shook her head. "Not really. I met Harry in Hogsmeade, and I guess we tentatively had plans, but since I didn't feel well, Harry said he'd come and tuck me in and give me a dose of Pepper-Up."

At this statement, Arthur quickly jerked his head toward his daughter. "What?" he asked, vaguely.

"Oh, honestly, Arthur; if you don't know the goings-on inside the house, then stay out of it, dear. Play with your Muggle toy."

Ginny sputtered out a snicker. "I'm going up to put my pyjamas on."

Ginny's exit from the room left Harry standing uncomfortably in the living room. Arthur stared at him with a thoroughly confused expression, while Molly just beamed. He wasn't sure which appearance was more nerve-wracking. He stepped over to see Liam, who was watching the mobile hover above him. "I have a meeting after classes tomorrow; will it be all right, if I pick the boys up in the evening?"

"Oh, Harry, it's up to you, dear. I can handle them, if you're too busy."

Harry smiled. "No, I'd like to take care of them, Mrs Weasley. We'll be fine."

Molly continued to feed Benjamin, but smiled pointedly at Harry. "I'm sure you will, dear."

Harry smoothed Liam's fringe off his forehead and smiled down at the infant. "How's Ben?"

"Much better."

Harry fidgeted awkwardly as he listened to Molly humming, Ben sucking his bottle, Arthur muttering at his remote control car, and Ginny rummaging around upstairs.

"I'll, just go, er, make Ginny some tea," Harry said, excusing himself to the kitchen. He ducked into the other room and went about preparing a cup of tea, silently cursing himself for behaving so anxiously in front of Mr and Mrs Weasley, but they weren't just Mr and Mrs Weasley anymore; they were Ginny's parents, and he was trying to impress them, just as he had when he was sixteen. Harry wanted to reassure them that his intentions were, for the most part, noble, and he wasn't there to take advantage of their daughter in their own home.

He finished brewing Ginny's chamomile tea and returned to the living room. "I'm just going to take Ginny her tea," Harry stammered, as he prepared to meet Ginny upstairs.

"Fine, Harry; make sure she takes her Pepper-Up, too," Molly called, making Harry blush and mumble an 'OK' as he carefully walked up the narrow, winding staircase toward the third landing.

He swallowed with difficulty and rapped on Ginny's bedroom door. He distinctly heard her cough once, and her soft, yet raspy voice called out, "Come in."

Harry pushed open the door with his left hand, steadying the teacup in his right, and stepped inside the bedroom. He smiled nostalgically at the blue, gingham-checked duvet as he entered the room, recalling his first visit to the Burrow.

He was only twelve, and Ginny's room had seemed like forbidden, exotic territory. The most he had ever seen of it was a narrow slit through which Ginny's eyes had peeked out, watching Harry ascend the stairs that first day. That was the most he had seen of the girl's bedroom until he was sixteen. Then the proverbial door had been opened; he had been invited into a girl's bedroom. It had been completely innocent, at first. No more than a tour, really, but that soon escalated to lingering hand holding, stolen kisses, and finally, calculated opportunities for pinning Ginny down on her bed and …

"Is that for me?" Ginny interrupted, reaching inside her closet for a hanger and draping her robes around the formed wire.

Her voice startled Harry back to the present, and he sloshed a bit of tea over the edge of the side of the cup. "Yeah, sorry, it's tea." He set the tea on the small table near her bed.

She smiled warmly. "Thanks." She manoeuvred around behind Harry and retrieved her nightdress from the hook on the back of the door.

"I should leave," Harry announced, feeling himself blush at the thought of her undressing.

"Harry," Ginny chastised, resting her hands on her hips. "We've seen each other in a lot less. If you want to be gentlemanly, just turn around."

"But your Mum and Dad – "

Ginny stifled his protest, " – are occupied with the twins. If you want, you can leave," she finished, in an almost daring voice.

Harry's eyes widened as he swallowed, and he slowly turned around, clenching his fists as he did so.

It was exciting to merely hearing her undress. Sounds that he never cared about or noticed before, now became firmly etched into his mind. The soft Zzz sound as she unzipped her jeans, the hushed rustle as she slid the denim off her body, letting it pool on the floor at her feet before kicking the fabric out of her way. The shushing sound as she pulled one sock off, followed by the other, before tossing them to land on the jeans she had just discarded.

Harry clenched his teeth, trying not to dwell on the image she unknowingly created in his mind. He exhaled softly and began to let his eyes roam throughout the room, attempting to distract himself from her presence. Even the image of McGonagall lounging lakeside in a bikini at Hogwarts wouldn't help him now.

Unfortunately he found the biggest distraction of all. He could see her reflection in the mirror hanging above her dresser. Harry stole a hesitant glance as Ginny curled her fingers under the hem of her jumper in preparation of lifting it up over the curves of her body.

Harry's eyes quickly darted to the ground and back to the mirror again as he took in the sight of her long, creamy, freckled legs, which ended at the amazing curve of her bum, currently clad in the tiniest knickers he had ever seen her in. He blinked deliberately, very aroused not only by the beauty of her body, but the voyeuristically taboo aspect in covertly seeing it, as well.

The navy blue jumper rose painfully slowly, revealing her back inch after agonizing inch, dusted in tiny freckles. When he was younger, Harry longed for the day when he could afford to spend a whole day in bed, counting every single one without fear of being caught.

She turned abruptly, possibly feeling his eyes burning her skin with their intensity and desire, but if she had known, she did not let on. Harry had, thankfully, looked away in the nick of time, but he still knew he was colouring red. By the time he had the fortitude to look back, Ginny was standing only in her knickers, having just discarded her brassiere to the floor, as well.

She reached over to pick up the nightdress she had laid out on the bed, and in so doing, aroused Harry even further. The perfect swell of her breasts reflected in the mirror, instantly reminding Harry that she was physically no longer the girl he had known at Hogwarts. Her waist was still slender, but her hips had widened, and her breasts had matured. She wasn't girly anymore; on the contrary, she was womanly now, and it suited her just fine.

As if she had momentarily forgotten, Ginny slowly reached up, removing the hair pins that held the simple chignon in place, letting her red locks cascade down to cover her shoulders and her breasts, coming to rest in the middle of her back.

Harry's heart thundered loudly as she slipped the nightdress on over her head, letting it fall over the curves of her body and finally ceasing it's cover halfway down her thighs. He exhaled softly, not bothering to un-grit his teeth, and let out a soft whistle. Ginny wheeled around as she gathered up her hair in her hands, pulling it out from the neckline of her nightdress and bringing it around to rest over her left shoulder.

"Um, you can turn around now," she declared, smoothing out the wrinkles in the nightgown.

"OK!" Harry's voice cracked, divulging his arousal at the sight of her. "Ahem, OK," he repeated, turning to face her. She was smirking, but her face was full of scepticism.

"Let's get in to bed. I mean, let me get you into bed; wait, bollocks, you know what I mean. You need your rest," Harry stammered nervously, wincing at every word.

Ginny couldn't help but smile as she watched the blush creep across his face. She peeled back the covers to her bed and sat down on the edge, with a soft sigh. "Thanks, Harry."

"For what?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "For just being you, and for not changing, despite everything I've done. I always knew you were good, honest, and kind." She looked just like a little girl sitting there, her feet and knees tight together and her elbows resting on the tops of her thighs while her chin settled on her knuckles.

Harry realized that she knew more about him than anyone in this world, maybe even more than Ron or Hermione did. She knew the inner workings of his heart because she had experienced it first hand. She knew that he hated onions, she knew all the places he was ticklish, she knew he hated it when people gaped openly at his scar – but that he didn't mind it when she traced the lightning bolt with her fingertip. He knew that he had to tell her he forgave her, no matter how hard it would be.

"Ginny," he began, moving to sit next to her on the bed. "I don't know why we chose to do unspeakable, cruel things to one another, but we did, and we shouldn't forget them. With any luck, it's a lesson learned, one that we won't need to be taught again." Harry sighed contemplatively and reached over to take her hand in his; it felt warm and natural there. "Gin, I understand why you felt you had to lie, but for the life of me, I can't understand why you just didn't tell me the truth. Am I that awful? I can't really imagine how I would have reacted, if you had just told me the truth, but – "

She interrupted, "That's just it, Harry; when was I suppose to tell you? The minute you woke up? Just after you kissed me for the first time? Just after the two of us had been figuratively reborn? When? Just as you were starting to feel better, and we came close to making love not once, or twice, or three times? Every moment I spent with you, I felt a little more like myself. Like how we used to be. I was very selfish and very scared."

Harry recalled a moment several years before, just after he had nearly destroyed the Headmaster's office, when Dumbledore had told him that he had known about the prophecy for the whole of Harry's life. Dumbledore had delayed several times in telling Harry the truth, because he cared about him and hadn't wanted to burden him any more than he had already experienced in his young life. It wasn't the right thing to do, but it had been done out of genuine love and concern.

He shushed Ginny by pressing his finger to her lips. "I didn't mean to upset you," he began, moving his hand to her cheek to cradle her face. "I'm only trying to understand. I'm asking you to forgive me for the things I've done to you, because I'm ready and I want to forgive you, too."

Harry watched as Ginny's lips began to tremble. "I don't deserve that, Harry," she uttered, letting her chin fall in defeat.

"Yes you do, Gin," he retorted quickly, moving his hand to tilt her chin upward. "You thought you were doing the right thing, you were concerned, and you did what you did out of love. You'd been manipulated and made guilty about feeling a certain way, and I intend to set things right. Ginny, I know you love me; please, let's forgive each other and move past all this nonsense. Please?" Harry asked desperately.

Ginny's eyes were tearing up as she stared at Harry through the dim light of the little blue bedroom she had grown up in; the room in which she had dreamt day and night about a boy with messy black hair, glasses. and a lightning bolt shaped scar; the same man who sat next to her, looking unchanged.

"You don't need to ask me for forgiveness; you didn't do anything I didn't deserve as payback."

"No, Gin, I don't want more paybacks; we're starting over, remember?" Harry cut in as he slowly grazed the pad of his thumb across her cheek.

She let out a noise that sounded like something between a laugh and a sob. "Thank you," she whispered. "And although you never needed to ask it, I forgave you when you agreed to take the jumper as your birthday present. There was a look in your eyes that said – "

"That I was still head over heels in love with you?"

Ginny smiled and blushed. "Yeah, something like that." She then went into a fit of coughing, sending Harry reaching for the cup of tea and the Pepper-Up Potion that lay at her bedside table. "I'm sorry," she sputtered between fits.

"It's OK," Harry corrected her. "Just lie back and get some rest now, all right?"

Ginny nodded in understanding as Harry carefully poured some of the potion from the bottle onto a small spoon he had picked up from the table.

Ginny snuggled into her bed, tugging the covers up around her. Harry smirked and held out the spoon at arm's length. She winced, wrinkling up her nose and begrudgingly opened her mouth, like a little bird, and took the potion from the spoon he offered.

"Ugh!" Ginny grumbled, swallowing the sour tasting potion. "That's bloody disgusting."

"But you'll feel better. See, look," Harry indicated. A silvery-grey vapour was emanating from her ears.

Harry cast a Scourgify Charm over the spoon and replaced it on the table. "Settle in," he instructed, gingerly handing Ginny the cup of Chamomile tea.

"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely, taking a small sip of the steaming tea.

Harry smiled and leaned across her body to carefully tuck the covers in around her. It was such a devoted and intimate gesture that it caused them both to blush. "OK?" he asked, looking down at her tiny frame, snuggled warmly in her bed, suddenly wishing he could crawl in and occupy the spot next to her.

"You aren't leaving, are you?" Ginny asked suddenly, sitting up with such a sudden abruptness that it left her light headed. She reached out for Harry's hand in effort to stop the vertigo.

"Lay back down," Harry prescribed, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I don't have to leave, yet."

Ginny smiled, settling back under the blankets. "I forgot you have to work tomorrow, and you mentioned a meeting, as well?"

"With Luna," Harry whined playfully. "It won't be long," he added, eager to change the subject. "Will you be here when I pick up the twins?" He leaned across the tops of her thighs, resting his elbow on the bed and propping his head on his fist.

"I don't know," she yawned and coloured in response to his cosy gesture. She took a sip of tea to distract herself from the feeling of his arm draped across her legs. "Did you still want to plan your party on Saturday?"

"Yeah, that would be nice," he admitted, watching Ginny yawn yet again.

"Mm hmm. Come over and I'll make us some lunch or something. It'll give Mum a chance to see that the boys survived spending the night with you and to eavesdrop on our conversations." She sneezed again and while reaching for her handkerchief spilled some of the tea over the cup's edge and onto the saucer. "Oops."

Harry smiled and extended his hands for the tea. "Try to sleep." he responded, transferring the saucer and cup to the nightstand.

As Harry tended to the spilled tea, Ginny was missing the warmth of his body drawn across hers. "Stay just a little longer, please?"

"Only if you close your pretty brown eyes," Harry bargained, magicking off the lights with a snap of his fingers and resuming his previous position.

In the darkness, he heard her sigh contentedly in a rasping voice as she whispered, "Goodnight".

"Goodnight, Ginny," Harry sighed, feeling a smile stretch across his face.

Harry stayed with her until after she'd fallen asleep, finding himself perfectly satisfied to sit and watch her dream. In the light of the crescent moon, suspended like a white, slivered almond in the sky, he came to many realizations. She hadn't changed. Not too much, anyhow, and some change was natural, positive, and necessary. He didn't want to spend his life trying to get to know someone all over again; he had lost enough time. He knew Ginny. Knew her like the back of his hand, like the deepest corners of his own mind, and like the chambers of his own heart. And, in return, she knew him.

She knew things without having to hear them, before he could tell her, as if she could read his mind. It was comforting and daunting, all at the same time. He had never met another person in his entire life that could just sense him that way. Ginny knew the secrets that he was too afraid to admit to anyone else but her, and she never reacted by gasping, like Hermione did. She never reacted by pasting a falsely hopeful expression over a genuinely terrified one, like Ron did, and she didn't instantly baby him, feign naïveté, or protect him, like Mrs Weasley, Lupin, or Dumbledore did. Ginny said all the right things, always with the right demeanour. When she comforted him in his fifth year by sharing her memories about Voldemort possessing her, she did so with sarcastic humour and gentle honesty, and it had worked. If Hermione or Ron had done it, he probably would have been upset by it. When Ginny agreed, no, demanded to go to the Ministry with him to rescue Sirius, she'd been strong, proud, and forceful. When he faced Voldemort that overcast June day, she hadn't cried; she simply told him that she loved him and believed in him with all her heart.

Ginny's breathing was soft and even, now. Her fiery red hair was splayed out onto the light blue pillowcase like an angel's halo. She was by far the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Harry wanted nothing more than to just stay here and dream with her, but that wasn't an option. He doubted Mr or Mrs Weasley would appreciate that very much. With great reluctance, Harry gently sat up, careful not to disturb Ginny's sleep, and cautiously re-tucked the covers around her.

Harry stood over her, smiling, and softly brushed the narrow wisps of hair away from her face. He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You're still my Ginny," he whispered against her skin, letting his eyes close as he inhaled, breathing in the soft scent of her. Disheartened, he finally moved away, gathering the teacup as he prepared to leave the room, but something on her dresser caught his eye – a blue box with a white ribbon.

Harry set the cup and saucer down on the dresser and picked up the small jewellery box. He opened the lid and saw Ginny's engagement ring shining brightly inside it. He had told her he didn't want it back, but he wondered if she would miss its presence.

Harry quickly put the thought out of his mind, grabbed the teacup and saucer, and discreetly exited the room, casting a caring glance over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him.

A soft glow illuminated the living room as Harry avoided the squeaky stair on the way down, on his way to return the dishes to the kitchen. He could hear the soft murmurs of Mrs Weasley, talking quietly to the boys.

"Er, Ginny's asleep, now. She's taken her potion, as well," Harry offered, looking around the living room. Mr Weasley had gone to bed, and Molly was alone with the twins.

Molly spun around from where she was fussing over the twins in their bassinettes. "Good. She's already doing a bit better than she was yesterday. Thanks for getting her to take that Pepper-Up; she's always hated it."

Harry smiled nervously. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me, knowing Ginny."

Molly smiled, too, but her smile was forced and not genuine. "Do you know her?" she asked, turning away from the twins and settling into the nearest chair.

Harry nodded slowly, understanding the question that was being posed to him, lowering his eyes as he decided to take the seat next to Mrs Weasley. He clasped his hands and rested his elbows on his knees, looking down at the floor. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and thought carefully about his words before speaking them.

"I think I do," he answered, finally meeting Mrs Weasley's eyes. "I was terrified to think that Ginny had changed so much when I was in the coma. I couldn't understand how she could seemingly move on and yet devote herself to me at the same time. It was like she was two separate people, and the thought scared me half to death. I thought she wasn't the girl I, um, you know, fell in love with, anymore."

Molly studied Harry for a minute, taking in his blush and his fidgeting fingers. "I know my daughter, Harry. She may like to try and prove me wrong concerning that, but it's true, I know her. She's more fragile than she cares to admit. She can't take being filled up with hope, only to have it deflated again. Ginny loves you, Harry. Despite everything, she's been consistent in that love. Now, don't misunderstand me; she did some despicable things to you, and I let her know how I felt about that, too. All I'm asking for is your honesty with her, and I've told Ginny the same thing. I love the both of you and want to see you happy."

Mrs Weasley had been the closest thing to a mother he had ever known, and he had always known her love had been unconditional. "I appreciate that, Mrs Weasley. I don't intend to hurt Ginny, intentionally or otherwise. We're being very honest with each other, and I think we've made a lot of, um, progress."

Harry silently cursed himself. Progress? What in the hell did that mean? What did Mrs Weasley think he meant? Surely not…

Molly smiled at him in return and reached over to pat his knee. "Good. I'm going to get some sleep now, dear. If you'd feel more comfortable leaving the twins here for the weekend, that would be fine."

"No, I should be here by 7:00. Thanks." He quickly picked up the hint that Mrs Weasley was waiting for him to go home before turning in. He whispered his goodnight and Disapparated away.

"Luna, if you aren't comfortable with this, I really need for you to tell me now," Harry whispered, leaning over a round table in the Three Broomsticks.

Luna's bulging eyes blinked slowly as she leaned in across the table toward Harry. "I wouldn't move, if I were you," she whispered.

"Why?" Harry demanded, resisting the urge to turn around and see what horror might be lurking behind him.

"Because, I think that's Xenos Latro; he's a wanted Head Hunter, Harry. One of my reporters did a series of stories on him."

Harry slowly turned around to look over his shoulder. "Where?" he asked, seeing only a little old man in a wool cap and a young family eating dinner.

"Right there, in the hat!" Luna hissed, subtly pointing at the wizard in the woollen hat, who had to be nearly 110 years old.

"Him?" Harry asked, jerking his thumb over at the grandfatherly looking wizard who sat slurping a bowl of soup.

"Yes! Really, Harry; you ought to subscribe to the Quibbler; you're missing out on a great deal of news in the wizarding world. I'll set you up with a free subscription. Just call it a favour from a friend," she finished with a wink.

Harry forced a smile, but shook his head distractedly. "So, Luna, about the article. Can you do this? It's very important to me."

"I know," she admitted. "Because you love Ginny."

Harry had never been able to deduce why she could be so aloof and yet so intuitive at the same time. "Erm, yes, because of Ginny. Will you help me?"

"Are you going to be intentionally malicious to the other party? I could find myself in a law suit, Harry, and I can't risk the upstanding reputation of Daddy's newspaper," Luna asked, squinting her eyes and scrutinizing Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Luna, I promise that I won't ask you to report anything that the person doesn't directly reveal himself."

She tilted her chin up and seemed to be pondering Harry's remarks. "All right, fair enough."

"Good!" Harry exclaimed, clapping his hands together and startling Luna and the other nearby patrons, including Xenos Latro.

"Harry, I don't mean to cut this meeting short, but I think you should leave here immediately. You might find yourself next on Xenos's list."

Harry nodded, feigning worry. He didn't need more than on offer to exit a meeting with Luna. "You're right, Luna. I'd better go. I'll be in contact soon."

Harry was disappointed to find that Ginny had been called into work before he arrived at the Burrow, after his meeting with Luna. Mr and Mrs Weasley were just finishing up supper and insisted on helping him gather all the twins' belongings that he might need for the weekend. Arthur used a simple Reduction charm on all the items, allowing Harry to pack them all up in one bag. Harry asked Mr and Mrs Weasley to remind Ginny that he was coming over at noon the following day to plan his party and to have lunch with her, and to Owl if anything unexpected came up. Harry then slung the twins' bag over his shoulder, held the two infants in his arms (wondering how Hermione did this everyday), and Disapparated to his home in Hogsmeade.

A restless night plagued Harry. If Benjamin wasn't awake, then it was Liam. Neither fussed too terribly, but were just letting their godfather know they were awake, alert, and curious about their surroundings. Desperate with exhaustion, Harry finally lay with both of the twins on the big bed in his suite, and cast a charm around the bed to keep them from rolling out. Thankfully, sleep came eventually, satisfying Harry with a few brief hours of rest before it was time to feed the twins their morning bottle and bathethem, before getting them dressed to go see Ginny.

He still had to admit that caring for the twins had been fun; a lot of fun, actually. It was physically demanding, tiring, and even frustrating, at times, but when their little eyes blinked with a sweet innocence, any annoyance he had been feeling just vanished away, as if by magic. He couldn't help but wonder how Hermione did this day in and day out. Then again, even though Ron was just as much of a child as the twins were, she could always count on him – just as it should have been.

Frankly, Harry reckoned he had done an excellent job caring for his godsons overnight and felt quite proud of himself for doing so. In his humble opinion, Ron couldn't have done any better.

Harry put the squirming babies in their carriers and Apparated over to the Burrow shortly before noon.

"Oh, my boys!" Molly Weasley gasped as Harry Apparated into the living room at the Burrow. He could feel the twins' carriers being taken from his grasp.

"Er, hello, Mrs Weasley."

Molly knelt down at Harry's feet, taking the boys out of their carriers and looked them over, as if to see that they were unharmed, healthy, and happy.

"I reckon they're fine, Mrs Weasley."

Molly's head jerked upward, not yet acknowledging Harry's presence. She blushed shyly, noticing the smirk on Harry's face. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear. I didn't mean anything by it. I was just worried about all of you."

Harry chuckled. "It's all right; I won't lie and say they didn't wear me out, a bit. I don't know how Hermione does it." He stooped to help Molly settle the twins and wondered about the silence that engulfed the house. He guessed Ginny was still feeling poorly, but his assumptions were quickly proven wrong. The sounds of pots and pans crashing to the floor filled the kitchen, followed by "Son of a – "

"Ginny!"

There was another, less cacophonous crash and the swinging door between the kitchen and the living room was flung open.

"Ginny!" Molly hissed, pointing down at the twins. "Don't use that kind of language in front of your nephews."

But Ginny hadn't heard a word her mother said; her face had immediately brightened upon seeing Harry.

"Harry!" she exclaimed brightly, grinning from ear to ear and dusting off her hands on the faded denim jeans she was wearing. "When did you get here?"

He smiled in return, feeling a blush creep over his skin and noticing Mrs Weasley watching them intently and suspiciously. "Er, just now."

Molly watched Harry and Ginny facing each other from opposite sides of the room, both smiling bashfully and colouring warmly. "I'll just put the boys in the nursery," Molly replied, disappearing from the room and trying to restrain a smile.

Ginny bit her lip nervously as Harry approached her. "Feeling better?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Not perfect, yet, but a lot better than yesterday. At least I'm not sneezing every five seconds. How'd it go with the boys?"

Harry sighed, but kept the smile on his face. "All right. Didn't get much sleep, though. The boys weren't awful; just knew they were in a strange place."

Harry was standing very close, now. "Oh," she giggled, suddenly feeling self conscious that her ponytail was a bit lopsided, her jeans were dusted with flour from the Shepherd's Pie she was making, and she was sure she still looked a bit peaky.

"It was fun, though," Harry admitted, unable to contain his smile.

"What's so funny?" Ginny demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and trying not to let Harry see the corners of her mouth twitching.

"You," he laughed. "You have flour all over your face."

"What? I do?" Ginny gasped, rubbing her nose in mortification.

Harry was almost doubled over in laughter as Ginny continued to guess where the flour powdered her freckled face. "Here, let me do it."

Ginny lamented, biting her lower lip and fidgeting nervously, as she mumbled words like "so stupid" under her breath.

With the pad of his thumb, Harry gently wiped off her brow, the apples of her cheeks where the pink blush crept through the dusting of white flour, and her chin underneath those gorgeously pouting lips of hers. He leaned in and, upon closer inspection, noticed a sprinkling of flour clinging to her eyelashes, as well. "Close your eyes," he whispered.

Ginny hesitantly did as she was told, letting her eyes flutter closed, and suddenly flinched as she felt Harry's soft breath caressing her skin, whirling the last traces of the particles away from her face. Her heart was suddenly beating very loudly, and she even wondered if Harry might be able to hear it. It didn't seem like there was enough air in her lungs to sustain her much longer, and she felt weak and knew it wasn't from the cold she was getting over. "Thank you," she panted, unable to say anymore and afraid to meet those dynamic green eyes in front of her.

"Sure thing, Freckles," Harry answered, reaching blindly for her hand and giving it a teasing squeeze.

Ginny snickered and looked down at their clasped hands. "It's been a while since you've called me that."

"Too long."

Molly, Ginny, and Harry sat together at the kitchen table finishing up the Shepherd's Pie Ginny had made for lunch; it was a Shepherd's Pie that could have easily rivalled her mother's, but Harry wasn't about to say that in front of Mrs Weasley.

The more Harry had considered it, the more he realized what was needed to host a party. Food, drinks, decorations, entertainment, invitations, and Merlin only knew what else went into a little party. Molly was rapidly rambling off ideas.

"Are you writing all this down, Ginny?" Molly asked shrilly as she cast a Scourgify Charm over the dishes.

"Yes, Mum," Ginny answered quickly, knowing it was a lie. She had been staring across the table at Harry, watching him scribble some notes on the parchment in front of him. The determined look on his face. The way his tongue darted out of his mouth and licked the corners of his lips without him even noticing it. The way he still ruffled the back of his hair when he was lost in thought. Things about him that were utterly irresistible. Things her mother had no idea about. Harry had called her Freckles.

'Freckles' was the name Harry had given her when they had first begun dating at Hogwarts. It wasn't a name he used frequently, but he used fondly, all the same, which made it even more special to Ginny.

"How many are on the guest list, Harry?"

Harry's eyes darted across the table toward Ginny. Her ponytail was loose and several wisps of hair had softly framed her face. "About fifty, I'd guess," Harry mumbled, suddenly aware that Mrs Weasley was talking to him.

"And is the house ready?"

Harry shrugged and set the quill down. "As ready as it's going to be. I have too many bedrooms in the house, and it's rather senseless to furnish them all. I didn't even know I had a nursery."

Molly Weasley smirked. "Well, I'd never presume to speak for anyone else – "

Ginny snorted quietly.

"– but I think the girls and I could do a lovely job. Ginny was always artistic; maybe she could help you with the invitations."

Harry was thinking this little housewarming party that Remus had suggested to him was beginning to sound a bit complicated. "Um, all right. I suppose I need some sort of address or name to put on the invitations, so people know where to Floo or Apparate to."

They all went deep into thought. Ginny bit the edge of her fingernail while she looked up at the ceiling. Molly put her hands on her hips and sighed. Harry instinctively ruffled up the back of his hair.

"I've got it!" Ginny exclaimed. "I noticed that Harry's property is dotted with rose trees; why not call it that?"

Rose-Tree? It did have a certain ring to it, and the blossoms did have a lovely shade of reddish-coral, which somewhat reminded Harry of Ginny's hair. Ginny had thought of the name, and he had to admit that even if she had suggested Harry's Hellhole, he probably would have thought it equally wonderful.

Harry now had a zillion things written down on his To Do List, and only hoped he could incorporate his house elves without Hermione finding out. He had also volunteered Dobby and Winky to help Mrs Weasley with the cooking for the party, too, but secretly Harry knew that Molly Weasley was in her glory helping to plan this party. So he humoured her. Hermione had been good at bossing people around, but Molly Weasley was an expert.

Harry was vaguely aware that he had listened to the clock chime several times, now, and he, Ginny, and Molly were still sitting at the table. Arthur had come in from his shed a couple of hours ago and had been entertaining the twins for some time.

When Mrs Weasley had realized it was late afternoon and she had done nothing about dinner, she had set everyone into motion to make roast chicken and potatoes. Harry stood next to Ginny at the sink, washing potatoes and smiling over at her from time to time. He wanted to invite her back to his cottage later that evening, but wondered if she thought it would be too forward. Unfortunately, he wasn't given long to think about it; Molly barged between them at the sink and Levitated the potatoes over into the large pot on the stove. Harry and Ginny both giggled and turned their heads down, but caught each other's eyes as they snickered.

While they all sat down to eat, Harry told Ginny and Mr and Mrs Weasley about his first day as a teacher and how he was really enjoying his new job. Ginny, thankfully, spared them the details of her job while they were eating, but shared news about some of the families she attended to. Arthur asked Harry if he knew where he could get a Muggle George Foreman Grill (with bun warmer, please) that he'd heard so much about. Looking across the table at Ginny and stifling his laughter, Harry promised that the next time he was in London, he would personally pick up a grill for Mr Weasley.

Harry and Ginny were banished to Dish duty and cleaning the kitchen. "I think I'd better be going, soon," Harry declared, casting a Scourgify Charm over the tabletop.

"Oh," Ginny replied quietly, putting the dishes back in the cupboard.

"Well, I was kinda hoping you'd come with me," Harry returned, tucking his wand in the back pocket of his jeans and casting a look over his shoulder at the door to the living room.

Ginny's eyes widened as a smile crept across her face. "Um, OK."

Ginny had skived off doing the dishes her whole life. She had always rushed through them for a variety of reasons; like Quidditch or a favourite program coming on the Wireless, but she had never hurried through the dishes like she had today. Harry had invited her over to his cottage. For what, exactly, she didn't know, but at this point, it wasn't her concern. Harry had a mischievous look in his eyes and a sound to his voice that told her what was in the dark, lustful recesses of his mind. It was almost comforting, like old times.

Throwing the last dish into the cupboard, Ginny raced upstairs to her bedroom to change her clothes, while Harry readied their godsons. Her mother would be suspicious, if she changed into something too nice, but she did want to clean up a little bit. She entered the room, closing the door behind her and stood before the closet.

"Nothing to wear, nothing to wear," she grumbled, rifling through the clothes, pushing them from one side of the closet to the other. She pulled off the T-shirt she was wearing and tossed it over her head, hearing it hit the floor behind her. Ginny stood in only her bra and jeans, pulling jumper after jumper from her closet, finally deciding on a black 'V' neck jumper that, in her opinion, showed off her figure nicely. She pulled the jumper over her head and smoothed the fabric over the contours of her body.

Next, she gathered her long red hair into her hands, trying to decide what to do with it. Ultimately, she used a hair slide to pull the front of her hair up, letting it hang down her back. Ginny stepped in front of the mirror to gaze at her reflection. "Just lovely, dearie," the mirror declared. Ginny smiled and let out a small, happy sigh.

She descended the stairs two at a time and burst into the living room, where Harry was crouched on the floor, putting the twins into their carriers.

"So, where are you off to?" Molly asked, feigning innocence.

"Oh, um, Harry just invited me over to, er, settle the boys." Ginny's eyes darted over toward Harry, who smirked and winked.

"All right, then; well, have a nice time." There was an inflection in her voice that Harry had picked up on immediately. Humour? Insight? Sarcasm?

"Um, thanks, Mum," Ginny replied nervously, bending over to pick up Liam in his carrier. "Er, goodnight."

"Oh, so, you'll be out all night, then?" Molly continued, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

"Um," Ginny blushed. "Well, you know, I'll probably be late. You don't have to wait up or anything."

"All right, then. Have a lovely evening, dear."

Ginny risked a glance over her shoulder at Harry, unsure of what exactly he had in mind, but knew any time they spent together would be therapeutic for their relationship. "I will, Mum."

Ginny and Harry Apparated into the main hall of his newly named cottage, encountering only silence in the house.

"It's a weekend," Harry replied, answering Ginny's unspoken question. "Dobby and Winky have the weekend off, at my insistence."

Ginny giggled, looking around at the dimly lit hall, marvelling in its beauty. Harry, however, was marvelling at the innocent beauty Ginny exuded. "Where are the boys sleeping?"

Harry shrugged out of one sleeve of his cloak, transferred the baby he held to the other arm, and let the other side of the cloak fall to the floor. "Well, we all slept in my big bed upstairs, last night. They weren't exactly fussy, but they did keep me awake most of the night."

She pouted playfully. "I'm so sorry," she teased. "Poor ickle Harry didn't get a good night's sleep?"

Harry scowled in mock anger. "Shut it, you."

Ginny threw back her head in laughter, exposing her neck in the process. Harry suddenly found himself wanting to step over and kiss her right below her left ear and let his lips trail down her neck.

"I'll help you settle them in, tonight. Don't worry," she declared, knitting her brows together and sceptically studying Harry's curious expression.

Harry didn't wait for her to ask any questions that he didn't have any answers to, so he stepped closer to Ginny and took Liam's carrier, so that he now had both children, and headed up the stairs.

Ginny slowly ascended the stairs behind Harry, noticing that her stomach suddenly felt as though a Golden Snitch had taken up residence inside her body. This was a familiar feeling. This was the feeling she experience every time she had seen Harry since the day he first visited the Burrow and Ginny had put her elbow into the butter dish. How embarrassing. Thinking back, Ginny didn't exactly lie when she had told Hermione that she had given up on Harry after the Yule Ball; it was just a white lie that suited her situation. She had given up of her childish expectations of Harry as someone without faults, as someone whom she could make love her. Just when she had given up that control, released the very thing she shouldn't have tried to dominate in the first place – it happened.

Liam and Benjamin's cots were set up in the corner of Harry's room near the fireplace, where they would be warm and cosy. A handful of toys, tiny baby clothing, and little nappies were scattered about the floor. Harry's huge bed was unmade, making the spacious bedroom look more like a home than just some rambling cottage where Ginny imagined its only occupant brooded around.

"I reckon they're properly tired; your Dad wore them out," Harry declared, setting their carriers down near the small living area in the bedroom and unbuckling them.

"Oh, yes. Dad is in his glory. Tells them all sorts of Muggle nonsense," Ginny answered, stepping behind Harry toward the bag sitting on the floor near the babies' cradles.

Ginny rejoined him with two identical sets of pyjamas in sea foam green and scooped one of her nephews out of his carrier. Harry watched as she sat down on the couch, laying the baby on her lap. Her voice was cheery and soft as she talked to him as she undressed him to put him in his little pyjamas. She blew little raspberries on his tummy and smoothed his russet coloured hair with a delicate touch. Harry could only stand, open-mouthed, gaping at her.

"I just want you to know that took me almost half an hour last night."

Ginny laughed. "What? Putting their pyjamas on?"

"Yes!" Harry answered incredulously. "I'm serious. How did you do that so fast?"

Ginny shrugged and rose from the couch. "I do it all the time, I guess. Here, give me Liam."

Harry traded her one baby for the other and laid Ben on his cot. He quickly joined Ginny on the couch, studying her again.

"Here," she began, placing the baby on Harry's lap. "The trick is just to keep him happy." She leaned in toward Harry and pulled off Liam's little socks and blew out a cool breath on his tiny foot. The little face below her warmed into a tiny smile while his reflexes kicked in and he curled his itty-bitty toes. The cute little voice returned as she carefully worked his miniature jumper off his body. She was telling him how handsome he was, how much all the Weasleys and Harry loved him, and how he was such a good baby, and he sat quite still as she wriggled the clothes off him. "He doesn't understand the words, but he doesn't have to; he understands the tone of my voice. If I were saying the same things to him in an elevated, angry voice, he would cry. He's just happy to be the centre of attention."

Harry shook his head as Ginny snapped up his little pyjamas. "I think they just like hearing your voice, and who could blame them?"

Ginny blushed. "Bottles?"

"Oh, yeah." Harry quickly summoned two bottles up from the kitchen below and cast a warming charm over them. He dimmed the lights until only the fire crackling in the hearth lit the room. He and Ginny each took one of their godsons in their arms and sat side by side on the couch to put the twins to sleep. The day had been long, and soon, their little chests were rising and falling rhythmically with their hushed breathing, leaving their bottles half-drunk.

Ginny eased off the sofa expertly, not disturbing the infant in her arms, and laid his tiny body in the cradle and tucked the blanket around him. Harry did not enjoy the same luck, waking Liam and having to jiggle him back to sleep as he approached the cot.

"You're learning," Ginny whispered, watching Harry shake his head with frustration. "You'd never even held a baby until the boys were born. You're doing great, and don't forget, I do this for a living and have done so for quite some time now." Her smile was encouraging and made Harry feel significantly better about his position as Liam and Benjamin's godfather.

Ginny stepped away from the two cots and thrust her hands into her pockets as an uncomfortable silence engulfed the room, marred only by the sound of the twins' breathing. She heard Harry's footsteps come up behind her but stop just short of touching her body. "Gin, I want you to stay the night."

Ginny's breath hitched and her eyes widened at the sound of his voice. Did he mean it? "I, er, don't have anything here with me," she replied hesitantly.

"Please, don't make any excuses. I mean, we don't have to do anything. I just really want you to stay here with me, tonight."

He took a step closer and rested a hand on Ginny's left shoulder. She could feel the soft pressure there, but was too afraid to look, fearing it was a trick her mind was playing on her with deviously cruel intentions. She slowly removed her hands from the pockets of her jeans and reached up with her right hand and laid hers upon Harry's, ensuring that it was not a mirage. "Ah, OK," she breathed, closing her eyes, trying desperately to burn every particle of this memory in her mind, forever.

"I'll get you something to wear to bed, if you want."

She swallowed with difficultly. "That would be nice."

Harry squeezed her shoulder as Ginny let go of his hand, and she felt the closeness of his body disappear as he strode over to the large wardrobe and quickly pawed through the drawers. Immediately, she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to mimic the warmth she had just felt with him standing behind her – the simple warmth of another body so close, radiating it's own heat and mingling with the heated emotion she felt for the man in the room.

"Is this all right?" Harry suddenly asked, finally forcing Ginny to turn around and look at him.

He had pulled a blue nightshirt from the drawer and held it up to his body.

Ginny nodded. "It's fine."

Harry shut the drawer and crossed the room again, peeking at the twins in their cots as he did so. He handed Ginny the nightshirt and inclined his head toward the bathroom in the corner, magicking the lights on with the snap of his fingers.

She licked her lips once and nodded again, hoping she didn't seem like she was going spare or something, and slipped into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Harry brought his fist up to his face, pressing the back of his hand against his lips. Had he just talked her into something she didn't really want to do, or was she just nervous? He located his own nightclothes and quickly changed out of his jeans and stumbled into the legs of the pyjamas. He cursed himself silently as he pulled his jumper over his head before slipping his pyjama shirt on and fastening the buttons. He hung his robes up and wondered what was taking Ginny so long.

Ginny leaned against the door of the loo and pressed her hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes. Her heart was thundering so loudly, it sounded like a herd of Hippogriffs. Hesitantly, she stepped away from the door and began to undress, folding her clothes and laying them in a nice, neat pile. She couldn't help but wonder what Harry really wanted. Did he only want her to spend the night for her company and her child minding expertise? Or did he want to shag her senseless, as she wanted to do to him, right this very second? She exhaled loudly and pulled Harry's dusty blue and navy striped nightshirt over her head, watching it come to a rest below her knees. She reached up and unfastened the antique silver hair clip from her hair and carefully tucked it into the pocket of her jeans. If she lingered any longer, Harry would wonder what was wrong. Ginny took a deep breath and opened the door.

Harry was sitting on the edge of the chair by the couch; his elbows were resting on his knees and his palms were pressed to the back of his neck, forcing his gaze down at the burgundy Persian rug beneath him. His neck snapped up when he heard the lock click open on the door, and Ginny stepped out of the loo. She looked so small and demure; her shoulders were rounded inward, she was biting the corner of her bottom lip, and she was twirling a lock of hair around her index finger. Harry cleared his throat and rose from the chair; his arms fell to his sides, and he was trying not to stare at Ginny, not wanting her to feel any more uncomfortable than she undoubtedly already was. "Um – " Harry began, but Ginny quickly interrupted.

"Let's just sit on the couch."

Harry nodded eagerly; he wasn't sure what he would have said, but her suggestion seemed appropriate. He moved over and sat down on the couch, watching Ginny walk toward him. She slowly sat down on the cushion next to him and pulled her knees up, yanking the nightshirt over them and wrapped her arms around her legs.

"You look really cute in that," Harry admitted, feeling himself redden as he took in Ginny wearing the nightshirt.

Ginny giggled with nervous laughter and turned her head slightly to look up at him. "Thanks."

Harry stretched his legs out in front of him and shifted his body to rest in the very corner of the sofa, and he motioned with a head jerk for Ginny to move closer as he softly patted his chest.

Ginny was sure her breath hitched again as she manoeuvred closer to Harry, wriggling down into the sofa and apprehensively rested her head and her left hand on Harry's chest, feeling his arms wrap around her.

"Thanks for helping me, today," he declared. "You know, with the kids, making me lunch, and planning the party. I couldn't have done it all without you." Harry smoothed the stray red wisps of hair away from Ginny's face and carefully tucked them behind her ear.

"Don't mention it," she whispered, loving the feeling of the moment she currently found herself wrapped up in, but nevertheless shivered with a slight chill. "It was my pleasure."

"Cold?" Harry asked, and without waiting for a reply, Accioed the blanket from his bed and draped it over himself and Ginny. "Better?"

She nodded, burrowing into his chest. "Yeah, it's nice."

"Did I mention how cute you look in my shirt?" he asked, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Ginny chuckled and raised her head to look up at him.

His green eyes were twinkling with intensity; he wore a smirk, but his jaw was set firmly. His hand moved to caress her face and came to rest under her chin, tilting it up toward his determined face.

"Ginny," he whispered, drinking in the sight of her resting against his own body, her eyes gazing directly into his. Somehow she managed to read his mind and slipped her fingers between the buttons of his shirt and inched up, pressing her lips to his and captured him in a kiss.

Harry instantly noted that this was the best thing he'd ever felt in his whole entire life. Not the best kiss, no; Ginny had reserved that some years ago, but the best swell of emotions. Ginny's lips were soft and warm, and the way her hand instinctively found the gap in between the buttons in his pyjamas was comforting and tender.

As Harry drifted to sleep with Ginny still wrapped up in his arms, he pondered the things he had learned in the last week. It was obvious to their friends and acquaintances that he and Ginny shared a love for each other by their overall appearance and demeanour. Ginny hadn't changed; she had only grown up, and he was in the process of doing the same. Forgiveness was a deep, trusting, and impacting gesture, and Harry knew Ginny was worth all the forgiveness that he had to give. After all, if they could make it through these last few months, Harry felt they could make it through anything.

Every person on the planet had the same 1440 minutes each day to do with as they pleased. Harry determined that he would make a life, go out and get the things he wanted and make an effort to be happy, but he soon realized that the thing that made him happy was sleeping peacefully in his arms with two fingers tucked inside the front of his pyjamas.

Authors Note: Hey all. Sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter out to you. Real life sucks. This is, so far, the longest thing I've written for one intent and purpose. Chapter 18 is finished and Chapter 19 is underway.

Thanks goes out to my patient Beta, Karen, and to all of you who read and review. Also, thank you to whoever nominated me for the Accio Fan Fiction Awards. I am humbled, and I apologize for not thanking you sooner. It's definitely not for a lack of appreciation. I'm blown away to be even considered when I look at my very stiff competition. Thanks.

I wanted to add that my Live Journal account allows anonymous comments, so even if you're not signed up with a journal – feel free to stop by.