It is cold the first time they kiss. The snow is seeping into her shoes, making her socks wet. They stick to her ankles as she pulls away and steps back, telling him 'no, we can't, it's not right, not fair.' He gives her a sorrowful look and reaches for her hand, trying to pull her back into his warmth. She resists and his sorrow turns to hardness, cold and frozen as the snow beneath their feet.
She turns and leaves, walking slowly away. It's all for the best and she's sure she's doing the right thing. He'll thank her later. She's lived here all her life and she's seen many cold days, but she's never been as cold as she is right now.
The winter moves sluggishly forward, and she's sees him less and less as they inch towards spring. Research keeps her busy, and his family and Harry and everything else keeps him away. Her heart feels as barren as the trees outside the windows.
Spring comes slowly but surely. The snow melts, leaving everything smothered with mud and the remains of last fall. They are out shopping for supplies when it begins to rain, and they wait out the storm in the doorway of an abandoned building a few blocks from Grimmuald Place.
It smells of worms and new beginnings the second time they kiss. His lips are warm and hers are chapped and she drops the bag she was carrying when his lips touch hers. Apples and pears are spilling out onto the ground, but she doesn't care. Her heart is warm again and she twines her fingers in his copper hair.
The rain stops and the sun comes out again and she picks up the bag, placing the fruit inside, because dirt never hurt anyone and they can only go out for supplies so many times without putting themselves and the whole operation in danger.
When they get back to the most ancient house of Black he helps her put the groceries away and gives her a tentative smile that she answers with a shy blush of her own.
"I'm sorry, Ron." She says, and her heart breaks all over again. "We…we can't. You know that. It's not fair."
He tightens his jaw and nods, then heads off upstairs and she hears a door slam in the distance.
It feels as though winter has come again.
Spring is the season of growth. The trees bloom, the flowers return to their lively glory, and she catches Ginny behind the broom shed with Harry during a visit to the Burrow. War is a stressful time, and it's even more stressful when a whole world is depending on you to win, so she stays quiet and does not mention her own sacrifice to ensure that she is completely focused on helping Harry win.
The third time they kiss it is warm and the grass is lush and soft. It's May now, and the Order has received word that Voldemort is planning to stage a coup in a fortnight, and no one is sure if this will be the end or not.
They are in the backyard of Grimmuald Place, and she doesn't bother to protest since she might die soon and why shouldn't she have fun. When he pulls back and looks at her, the question he's been asking since last winter in his eyes, she nods slowly and smiles. He lets out a relieved sigh, and leans in to kiss her again.
The fortnight comes and goes, and the end does not happen. It ended up just being a mild skirmish, with only three casualties, all of them belonging to the dark. She celebrates with the rest of them, and wonders how much longer they have till the end really does come.
It is summer the first time she kills someone.
It's the end of July, and Harry is eighteen, and he celebrates his birthday by saving the wizarding world. With the help of dozens, of course, many of who will never be remembered in books and poems and awed retellings of the day.
She will be remembered, though. She will be remembered for killing Peter Pettigrew, man responsible for making Harry Potter an orphan and sentencing Sirius Black to a life of hiding and running and never really getting to know his godson.
After Peter stops convulsing and lies still on the battlefield pockmarked with holes and patches of blood, she vomits. She feels as though a part of her soul has just been torn away, and somewhere in the back of her mind she know it has. She soldiers on, and is at Harry's side along with Ron when Voldemort is killed.
There's a statue of that moment in the lobby of the Ministry today.
The days that follow are full of celebrations and hot, sticky weather. There's barely any breeze, like the world has stopped moving. She spends her nights drinking and dancing and crawling into bed with Ron and holding him close while she cries and mourns those lost and those who have to live with what they've done to win. He holds her and mourns with her and doesn't push her away even though it's almost unbearably hot when they're pressed together like that.
It is fall when she stops crying.
The leaves are turning orange and brown and red and falling from the trees, blanketing the sidewalks and the yard of Grimmuald Place, where they're all still staying together simply because they can't imagine being anywhere else. They didn't think they'd have to.
Harry's not as quiet as he was after the battle, and he's been making trips out to Hogsmeade to visit Ginny on the weekends. Ron doesn't say anything and tries to pretend he's perfectly okay with his best friend doing…things…with his sister.
On Halloween they sit up all night and eat chocolate frogs and every flavoured beans and watch old horror films on the telly she's rigged to work with all the magic in the house. She pretends to be afraid just so she can cuddle with him and feel his heart beat beneath her ear.
Fall turns to winter, and they spend Christmas at the Burrow. On New Years Eve he asks her to move into his bedroom, even though they've been sharing a bed since summer, and all that there's really left to do is put her clothes in the bureau. On New Years Day they make love for the first time, and it's pure and innocent and wonderful in the sleepy dawn on the first day of the new year.
It is winter when he proposes to her.
Five years have passed, and they've left Grimmuald Place for a small, cozy flat in a wizarding neighbourhood near the shelter he works at and the library where she spends all day among books, and gets paid for it.
She says yes and they are married in the summer. That fall she finds out she's pregnant, and their baby is born in the spring.
Throughout all of the trials and tribulations, she has discovered one thing:
Theirs is a love for all seasons.