July started with truly glorious weather. The sun shone uninterruptedly, the days hot and long, and Harry was spending almost every spare minute away from work either at one of London's parks with Teddy, or on the roof terrace of his and Ron's Whitechapel flat, drinking the night away with a cold beer (or three).

Tonight was going to be a welcome interruption to the lazy status quo, for Bill and Fleur had invited him to their house to celebrate it finally being summer – really it was any excuse for a get together these days, not that he minded in the slightest.

In typical fashion, Ron had forgotten who else was supposed to be going to Shell Cottage that evening, but it wasn't unusual that the whole Weasley clan and their partners would be invited to such a get together. George would almost certainly be there, given that there would be company and alcohol. Presumably Percy was invited, but he was rarely around these days – despite the 'busy with work' excuse he usually gave, Harry was sure it was Penelope, Percy's long-term, painfully shy girlfriend, that was the driving force behind their absence. As for Charlie, it would be a near-miracle if he showed up, considering he was still in Romania.

Then there was Ginny. Would she be able to get the time off to come? It was the beginning of the Quidditch season coming up, and as far as he knew, she'd been away since April virtually locked up on an intense and demanding training regime with the Holyhead Harpies.

Blimey… had it really been almost four months since he'd seen her?! He knew it had been a while, but four months felt like entirely too long – friendship-breakingly long, in fact. Hopefully she'd be there – it would be great to catch up with her.

Harry had had a blissfully free (albeit very mundane) day to himself, tidying his flat and making headway on the mountain of washing that had accumulated over the week. Ron and Hermione were going to meet him at Shell Cottage after they both finished work, so, at around 6 o'clock, he Apparated to the outskirts of Shell Cottage, landing abruptly on the soft sand.

Hopefully, it was early enough to catch little Victoire before she went to bed. Just like Teddy, Victoire never failed to cheer him up from the worst of moods. There was something about the little dimples in her cheeks and her infectious giggles that just made his day. She was absolutely adorable.

He trundled down the steep sandbank towards the house, taking in the breathtakingly beautiful surroundings.

One day, he would love to own a house by the sea… to bring his kids down to paddle in the surf on a day like today, or to walk along the desolate sands, just him and the dog against the driving rain, to watch the seabirds navigate their way through the weather… Just to be amongst nature, exercising her healing power unmatched by any man-made thing.

It would be absolute heaven.

A gust of sea breeze against his face provoked him to suck in a cleansing breath. Inhale. Exhale. There really was nothing better than the beach in summer.

Summer weather generally brought his mood to an all-time high. There was something about the blazing heat, the smell of the grass and hay in the fields, the swooping path of the swallows overhead… it left him feeling content and refreshed like nothing else could.

Free.

At the bottom of the sandbank laid Shell Cottage, in all its modest glory. It had a delightfully shabby, weathered sort of appearance, as he supposed anything would living in such a challenging environment. However, its wind-battered exterior had a charming homely vibe, with a pale blue painted front door adorned with a wreath of sea lavender and delicately woven rushes.

He stepped up to the sand-covered doormat and knocked. Immediately, the screams of Vic met his ears, but he couldn't tell if the screams were happy or otherwise.

The door swung open, revealing a frantic looking Bill. The screams were distinctly unhappy, then.

'Harry, mate, how are you?'

'Good thanks. Living the dream here?' he said, chuckling as he stepped over the threshold into the small kitchen. The room had the chaotic vibe that only small children could bring.

'Oh yeah, always!' he said with sarcastic cheer.

Harry laughed as he greeted Fleur, kissing her on each cheek, handing her the bottle of wine he'd brought with him. Not being a connoisseur of grown-up things such as dinner parties, he wasn't sure whether he should bring anything, so he'd ventured out earlier to one of the streets off Diagon Alley in search of a gift that didn't make him look like a complete moron. By the look on Fleur's face, which was, mercifully, grateful rather than bemused, he'd hit the right level of 'normal'.

Thank fuck for that.

An angry shout drew his attention, and he turned and set eyes on Victoire, who was sat in her high chair, absolutely covered in her dinner. Her face was a downright ridiculous Weasley red, as if she'd been screaming at the top of her lungs for some hours now. She probably had. She was only 2 after all.

She had obviously been crying, but had stopped wailing for long enough to stare at Harry suspiciously as he greeted her parents.

'Oh, Vic. What's the matter?!' he said with mock outrage as he approached the little girl. Her bottom lip trembled comically as she appeared on the verge of screaming again. 'Look who I found at work for you!' Out of his pocket he pulled out a tiny stuffed giraffe (Muggle, of course), that he'd bought earlier that day.

He was a doting sort-of-uncle, and no one could persuade him against buying them all gifts at every opportunity. (Reading into that would open a whole big can of Dursley-shaped worms, so he resolutely didn't. He just liked to buy them gifts. Simple as that.)

Thankfully, her little face lit up at the sight of the giraffe. Distraction was clearly the key to her heart.

'So this morning,' he started in his best storytelling voice – Vic's face was already enraptured. 'I went into work and Giraffe was just sitting right there on my desk. He said to me, "My name's Giraffe and I've been sent here to find a little girl called Victoire, can you help me?"' Immediately, she giggled at him, all tears forgotten. 'And so I brought him straight here to meet you! He's been so excited!'

Squealing with laughter, Vic reached for the little toy and hugged him tight, babbling to him as she did so.

'That is so, so nice of Uncle 'Arry, isn't it, ma petite pêche!' cooed Fleur. 'Thank you, 'Arry,' she said as she passed him, kissing him on the cheek in thanks. Fleur picked Vic up out of the high chair and turned to face Bill.

'It iz time for bed, I think. Say goodnight!' and she waved, encouraging Vic to do the same, but the little girl was too engrossed in Giraffe to notice. Bill went over to kiss Vic's head and the pair disappeared up the stairs.

'Sorry if I'm here a bit early, I just wanted to catch Vic before she went to bed.'

'Not at all! She loves it when you visit. I expect Giraffe will join the much-loved menagerie of stuffed animals she has up there. Very kind of you to get her something.'

'No problem. It's been ages since I've seen you all, so I wanted to make sure I was still in her good books!'

They laughed good-naturedly and Bill handed him a cold bottle of cider.

'I'm going to help Fleur get Vic into bed, then we can get this party started properly.'

'Okay, mate. I'll get the barbeque lit.'

With a quick salute from Bill before he scurried upstairs, Harry picked up his drink and made his way outside to the beach, which was a short way from the house down another, even steeper, sandbank. At the bottom of the hill was a barbeque, surrounded by half a dozen deck chairs and blankets.

After a few inexpert jabs of his wand trying to light the damned thing – he'd never actually worked a barbeque, Muggle or magical, before – he had it smoking and smelling somewhat like a barbeque should. Satisfied it wasn't going to immediately blow out, he set about arranging the blankets, picking one closest to the barbeque to plonk himself down on.

He kicked off his shoes and buried his toes in the warm sand.

The sun was starting to creep towards the west, readying itself to disappear below the horizon in a few hours' time. Although the light was very much still with them, it was starting to turn into that beautiful, late-afternoon hazy yellow that came only with long summer evenings.

He took a deep breath in; the smell of the sea and the feel of the sand between his fingers, immediately relaxing him to a level far beyond anything the inner-city air could achieve. Being here soothed his fucking soul.

A cheerful shout pulled him from his (very sappy) thoughts. He glanced over his shoulder and couldn't stop the grin from erupting on his face.

It was Ginny.

She bounced down the steep sandbank, beaming at him in greeting. She was wearing fairly short denim shorts and a white floaty top that intermittently moulded to her body in the breeze. But, as it always did, it was her hair that took Harry's breath away, the sight hitting him like a tonne of bricks. Framed by the sun which shone low behind her, it glowed an almost impossibly beautiful vibrant orange, fanned out messily as the wind took it across her face.

Christ alive.

'Hey stranger,' she beamed as he got up to greet her properly.

Without hesitation, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Entirely instinctually, he wrapped his arms around her just as tightly and spun her round, the pair of them laughing as she bent her legs up behind her.

The sight and feel of her had him feeling practically euphoric.

'It is so fucking good to see you,' he stated breathlessly into her hair as he set her back down. He couldn't quite bring himself to let go of her waist, as if letting her go meant that she would disappear for another four months.

Ginny leant away to face him, but didn't remove her arms from around his neck. Her face was glowing, her smile almost too bright to look at.

'I know. You too,' she said simply through her grin.

She stepped away from him and set about enlarging the blanket he had been sitting on, while he tended to the barbeque. In all honesty, he poked at the coals only to give him space to breathe, to try and control the heart that was now racing in his chest.

It had been so long that he'd seen Ginny, he hadn't realised how powerfully he had missed her… and it had hit him all at once at the sight of her, how much he'd missed her fierce, optimistic, hilarious, brilliant presence in his life. After all this time, he'd almost forgotten how beautiful she was…

Almost.

'So… what's new with you?' she announced as he sat back down next to her, clinking their bottles together in a silent 'cheers'.

'Ahh, you know. Nothing much. Just plodding along.' He took a sip from his cider.

'Wow, Harry, that sounds truly riveting! How ever do you cope with such excitement?' she teased sarcastically, although she was still smiling at him.

'I get by.' She sniggered. 'Although, the excitement in my life could never truly live up to that of a professional Chaser. I'll just have to live vicariously through you.'

'Is that so?'

'Most definitely. Come on then, I clearly need to live a little, what excitement have you been up to?'

Her head tilted and she pursed her lips, as if pondering the question. 'Hmmm. Well, I made the first team, if you think that's exciting enough?'

He exploded into cheers and clapped furiously in congratulations as they laughed together. Ginny had been a reserve Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies since leaving school, and although she was a spectacular player, it was an incredible achievement to make the first team after such a short time and relatively limited experience. That being said, it didn't surprise him in the least.

Soon they were both laughing hysterically as she exaggeratedly mimed bowing and put her hands on her heart, as if she was graciously accepting a standing ovation from a huge audience.

She proceeded to tell him the whole story of her promotion… and quite the tale it was. Apparently, one of their main Chasers, Julie Selwyn, had gone off on maternity leave after a rather shocking 'incident' with her best friend's husband. Although Julie had said she would be back sometime in the New Year after having the baby, word from the Harpies' manager was that Ginny's promotion was likely permanent.

'… It's going to be quite the scandal when the world finds out whether the baby is Gwydion's – that's her own husband – or Sullivan's.'

'Bloody hell. Although how would they know whose it is though, without a DNA test?'

'That's the thing,' she cried, getting more and more animated as she spoke. She was clearly loving this. 'Sullivan is a Fawley, and both Fawley and Selwyn are families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. So… any of their children will automatically be added to the family tree that lives in the Ministry somewhere.'

He wasn't usually one to engage in gossip, however juicy, for obvious reasons. But the look on Ginny's face – the one of wonder and intrigue that she had when she was telling a story – made him chuckle despite himself.

'Crikey. That's an almighty fuck up if ever I heard one,' said Harry amusedly.

'I know. It's going to be mad. Gwenog said there will be no stopping the inevitable fallout from this from affecting the team. She's apparently trying to mitigate it now.'

'Probably wise.'

Listening to her speak, he could not stop the feeling that a Quaffle had ballooned in his chest. After just 20 minutes of being next to the sea in Ginny's hilarious company, catching up with her and hearing all about her crazy life, it felt like the cobwebs in his mind that had festered there unnoticed for weeks, had just blown away. He felt a million times lighter already.

But then again, she'd always been able to do that.

'So now what then, Miss First Chaser?'

'The season obviously starts in a couple of weeks, so I have 10 days more training in Holyhead, then I'll be back in London with Hermione.'

'When's the first game?'

'The 31st of July. It's a Tuesday,' she said absentmindedly. 'OH WAIT! You'd know that because it's your birthday!' Her brilliant smile dazzled him.

'Yep. I'm supposed to be working nights, but I don't know if I can be arsed.'

'No, you cannot work nights on your birthday! That's not right!' she said with outrage. 'Can't you get it off?!'

He chuckled. 'Yeah, probably. I could ask someone to swap with me, but I never really had a reason to… so I didn't,' he finished lamely. It sounded pathetic even to his ears. However, if she thought so, she didn't let on.

'Come to the match. You've not come to one of my matches in forever – especially one where I'm actually going to play rather than sit on the bench for 90% of the match. It would be so good to have you there.'

'You want me to come?'

'Of course. Why wouldn't I?'

He considered her for a moment. He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for on her face… perhaps some inkling that she was joking, or that she was only asking him because it was polite or because it was his birthday. Whatever it was, he didn't find it. Instead, the confused look on her face, like she couldn't think of a single reason why he shouldn't attend, convinced him…

He would get the shift swap, no matter what.

'Well, I dunno,' he smirked into the neck of his bottle, 'You might be terribly embarrassed to have me see your dorkish victory dance.'

'Ha! Nothing I do is embarrassing, Potter. I am the epitome of awesome.'

'Ha!'

'Plus, my victory dance is on point, I'll have you know. It's been crafted over years of wins, lovingly moulded into an effortless masterclass in the art of the victory dance.'

'I'm sure it is,' he said, barely suppressing his laughter, although failing when she flung her arms around the air in some terrible imitation of interpretive dance.

The ridiculous of it all had them both laughing hysterically again, all thoughts of Quidditch match invitations long forgotten. Still laughing, he stood up to tend to the barbeque once more, which now smelled fantastic. Ginny absented herself to go and get some of the meat and alcohol ('What more do you need for a barbeque?!'), and to check whether anyone else had arrived yet.

The Quaffle in his chest burned slightly at the sight of her walking up the hill, long legs forgoing shoes as she strode up the sand towards the house. He mentally berated himself for (almost) forgetting how beautiful she was. It was utterly stupid of him to do so – this was not the first time he'd been struck by the thought, and the reminder had not been any less unpleasant today than it was the last time he'd seen her.

It ached… not in the way it used to after he'd broken up with her, or even when he'd been Horcrux hunting with Ron and Hermione, but in a way that he couldn't quite define.

Undefinable as it was, this ache was not unfamiliar. No, this ache, whatever it was, had started to manifest itself shortly after he'd started Auror training, when he'd only see her fleetingly over lunch at the Burrow, or snatch glimpses of her at her flat on the way to or from training sessions. Like when wearing that bloody locket all those years ago, the ache was almost undetectable until something brought it into stark relief, like there was something uncomfortable, an unfillable hole, that only really went away when she was near him.

A rather wretched-sounding sigh escaped his lips. He just missed her, is all. It wasn't anything more than that.


A short while later, the sound of voices from over the hill tugged him away from his thoughts. Bill, Fleur, Ginny and George all walked down the sandbank towards the barbeque, each carrying armfuls of food and drinks. He set to work arranging blankets for them all, and greeted George with a hearty handshake when they approached.

'Let's get cracking!' announced Bill as he levitated all the meat from everyone's arms towards the little table next to the barbeque. 'Get yourself a beer everyone!'

They all sat down in a rough circle on the colourful blankets. Ginny sat next to him, having an animated conversation with George, who was next to her, and Fleur was next to George, charming little paper fairy lights to float above their heads.

'I can't tell you how excited I am to have company that doesn't need entertaining with sparks and bubbles that come out of my wand, like my charming daughter does,' Bill announced, raising his bottle.

'Well, George is here, so I wouldn't put away your wand just yet,' snarked Ginny, though she raised her bottle too.

Bill snorted, something like 'True' muttered under his breath, while George flipped her off.

'Cheers!'

'Cheers,' they chorused, the clink of glass on glass echoing over the sound of the barbeque, which was now sizzling with fat sausages and burgers.

'Are Ron and Hermione coming?' asked George.

'Yes, I think so,' answered Fleur.

'Ron's working today, so I think they were coming here as soon as he's finished,' Harry added.

'So 'Arry, Ron tells me you are starting a new course or something?' Fleur asked him with polite interest.

He could feel his cheeks reddening under the new scrutiny of Ginny and George. In his peripheral vision, he could see Ginny's eyebrows high up on her forehead.

So much for Ron not telling anyone. Thanks, mate.

'Err, yeah I've just applied for a new course that's opened up.' His neck prickled, and he rubbed it to try and quash the uncomfortable feeling that accompanied a loss in privacy. He cleared his throat. 'It's a special Healer course, where they're training Aurors to be Healers to cope with certain types of medical cases. Should be quite exciting.'

All four of them cheered their congratulations and Bill clapped his shoulder. Their enthusiastic support (almost) quashed the nervousness he'd felt about telling anyone in the first place. It had seemed rather pre-emptive – arrogant, even – to spout off to others about the course before even being accepted… or not, as the case may be.

Out of all of them, Ginny was quietest, but as he turned to look at her, strangely seeking her approval, she had a blazing, almost proud grin on her face. Relief flooded through him.

'So when I say "What's new with you?", applying for a bloody career change, is the sort of thing I mean!' she teased. She fleetingly put her hand on his knee as they laughed, and her touch sizzled with a buzzing sort of energy.

'So when do you start?' said George.

'I haven't got on the course yet. I only applied a couple of weeks ago, but I should hear back either way fairly soon.'

More congratulations echoed around the group, and the conversation, thankfully, moved on to different topics. The atmosphere was happy and light, and once again, it made him feel blissfully relaxed. Tonight was clearly going to be one of those nights that he found himself painfully missing every time he went to work – nothing to do, nowhere to be.

Hermione and Ron arrived around 20 minutes later, bearing more gifts of alcohol. Bill and George playfully ribbed Ron for his impeccable timing – turning up as soon as the food was ready. They cheerfully handed out burgers and hotdogs, and conversation turned to Ginny as they all tucked in.

'When are you moving back in with Hermione?' asked Ron, mouth full of burger.

'You are so gross,' Ginny deadpanned.

'He only wants to know so that he can get the most quality alone time with Hermione as he can get before his little sister moves back in,' laughed George, clapping a coughing Ron on the back. Hermione looked like she was torn between rolling her eyes at Ron, and wanting the ground to swallow her up at George's comment. Naturally, she settled on the former.

Once Ron recovered, he was quick back on the mark. 'Yeah, there's nothing like your sister walking in on you to knock you off your game.'

Ron and George low-fived as the others (apart from Hermione, who rolled her eyes harder) laughed. 'Amen, brother,' he muttered.

'So… err… when are you moving back in?' a red-faced Ron asked again to fresh waves of laughter.

'Two weeks,' replied Ginny. 'Although you could just move in together, the pair of you. It's like Third-Wheel Central at rush hour when you two are about.'

'Think how I feel!' cried Harry. 'I've had 10 bloody years of this third wheeling!'

'We're not that bad!'

'Yes, you are. It's sickening,' came Ginny's reply, although it lacked any real venom. She and Hermione shared a look; clearly there was an inside joke there, shared between two best friends.

Laughter echoed around the group frequently after that, aided by numerous beers and shared anecdotes. Harry leant back on his elbows, relishing the feel of the sand against his forearms.

Fleur, Hermione and Ginny were chatting and giggling about something he couldn't really hear. The change in the trio's interaction was night and day compared with the last time he remembered seeing them all together like this at Bill and Fleur's wedding. Fleur, who he had struggled to warm to in the almost 7 years of knowing her, had mellowed dramatically since having Victoire. It was like being a mother had transformed her into a new, confident, friendly woman, so completely at odds to her former self. As for the effect Vic had had on Bill… well, it was like he was born to be a father.

He watched the quiet conversation between the girls, only to be drawn into making a small campfire with Bill, Ron and George.

It felt – his throat squeezed – like he was their brother. An almost overwhelming sentimental feeling suddenly rose up in his chest, hopefully just from the beer. It was nights like this where he cherished what his life had become, how they'd all had the chance to grow up and discover what life was all about.

He urged himself to swallow but the feeling didn't quite abate. So he contented himself with getting himself another beer.

Soppy bastard.


Much later saw a small interlude in their festivities. The sky had turned to the beautiful navy that came just before night set in, and the breeze had almost disappeared, leaving a balmy, warm evening. Bill and Ron set about putting the food and the barbeque away, while Fleur went inside to check on Vic. Across the fire, Hermione and George were playing a game of some sorts that George had taught her, and they were both drawing little patterns on the sand, their hushed conversation interrupted ever so often by bursts of laughter and a smoothing out of the sand for another game.

Harry took a sip of his beer and contentedly leaned back onto his hands. He turned to Ginny to say something, but the words immediately left him as he caught sight of her hair, burning the same deep red as the hottest logs at the bottom of the fire.

As much as he tried, he couldn't draw his eyes away from it. From her.

She turned to him, and before he had a chance to blink, ghost of a smirk played across her lips, but it disappeared as quickly as it had arrived…

She'd definitely caught him staring, then. Hardly ideal.

'I heard about you and Emma,' she said quietly.

Of all the things he expected her to say, that was pretty low down on the list. He chanced a look at her, but she was staring resolutely at the fire.

'News travels fast,' he replied hesitantly.

'You okay?'

'Yeah. One of those things, I suppose.'

She hummed a non-committal sound and fiddled with the sand in front of her, fingers drawing mesmerising little patterns then slowly brushing them over to start afresh. The silence stretched between them, interrupted only by the sounds of the fire crackling. Hermione and George seemed far away from them now, out of earshot, even though they remained sitting only a few metres away.

He didn't really know what to say to her… or what to think. All he knew was that he didn't want to be having this conversation with her.

'I never thought she was right for you anyway,' she said, a little louder this time, breaking him from his thoughts. She looked at him with an expression he couldn't read.

'No?'

'No.' She took a long drink from her beer. 'You're too interesting for someone like her.'

He snorted on instinct. There was no way she meant that. Was there?

After a beat, they both burst out laughing. The tension – or whatever the hell it was – was immediately broken. It was the first time in weeks he'd managed to laugh and hear Emma's name in the same conversation, and it was fucking freeing.

'Yeah… I suppose she just wasn't be able to keep up with how unbelievably interesting I am.'

'Poor girl. Must be hard living in the shadow of your vibrant social life.'

'It certainly is. I don't know how my friends cope.'

'Maybe they don't…'

'Maybe. I'll have to try hard to tone it down. Make sure I only ever leave the house to go to work and have barbeques on the beach. It's going to be such a difficult adjustment, after all.'

The whole sarcastic exchange felt so very normal with Ginny. She was so quick witted and deadpan, with a dryness to her humour that contrasted pleasantly with Ron's more obvious style. Laughing at themselves was something so uniquely them, and he hadn't realised how much he needed that sort of joking self-deprecation to counteract the seriousness in his life. He got this sort of dry, dark humour at work, but it wasn't the same as with Ginny.

'However are you going to cope on your new course?' she asked as she leaned back on the sand, mirroring his position.

'What, with my new dulled-down social life, or with the course itself?'

'Oh, don't be ridiculous, you'll be fine on the course, and you know it.' Her stern finality that reminded him very much of Molly.

'You really think so?' He tried to say it lightly, hoping very much that he managed to hide from his voice the anxiety he had been feeling about starting on a notoriously difficult (and not-to-mention competitive)course with not even a single NEWT to his name. Frankly it terrified the shit out of him, not that he would tell anyone that.

'Of course! Like I said, you're too interesting for Emma and this is just another string in the bow to prove it. You'll smash it, and you know it.'

He chuckled at her blind confidence in him. 'I hope you're right.'

'You're just fishing for compliments now,' she said as she grinned cheekily at him.

He smirked back at her. 'Oh, shut it, you.'

At that moment, Bill and Ron returned to the circle from the house, Ron holding another crate of beer over his head in triumph. In triumph at what, he had no clue.

'When did an innocent summer barbeque turn into a piss up?' called Bill as Ron handed another beer to everyone.

'Well, I'm on my sixth bottle, so…' George replied easily, appearing to do some calculations in his head. 'Probably around two or three hours ago, mate.'

They all laughed again, as they had done countless times that evening. There was a familiar buzz in his brain that associated strongly with tipsiness. He wasn't drunk, but he thanked Merlin that he didn't have to go into work tomorrow morning. Just one more, then he'd head home. (Probably.)

'Much dating opportunity in Holyhead, Gin?' called George across the circle.

'Nah. The boys there are pretty… boring.'

His hearted stuttered. Did he just imagine the way she said 'boring'? An echo of their previous conversation about Emma?

'Oh really? That sounds dull. What about when you get back to London?'

'Well the season is about to start.' After a beat, '… so I think dating opportunities are going to be pretty thin on the ground, to be honest.'

His involuntary gasp made him nearly choke on his beer. Instantly, his brain was flung back to a summer long ago, just before tonight's hosts' wedding. Memories flitted across the forefront of his traitorous mind… of them at the Burrow on a day not unlike today… them talking in her bedroom… the smell of her hair and the intoxicating feel of her lips on his.

Fuck.

He gaped at her. Her profile gave no indication at all that she'd noticed what she'd said – that she'd just teleported his mind back in time to a different fucking universe.

'Well, that sucks,' came a reply from someone, though he didn't know who. The conversation moved on around them, but he still couldn't bring himself to listen, because the moment her eyes darted to him, and quickly away again – the infinitesimal way her mouth twitched – he knew.

She was flirting with him.

The beer was a soothing antidote to the strange (but not unpleasant) burning feeling now brewing in his chest. It had been a Long. Fucking. Time. since there'd been any hint of this sort of behaviour, any whiff that they might have been, or might ever be, more than friends. He assumed that, like him, she'd locked away any feelings for him in a box and resolutely moved on. After all, it had been so long since they were together, and they'd both dated – she extensively, by all accounts – since then.

Not that he minded this new development when he really thought about it. He was single, she was single, and objectively, they had a great time together.

But this was a dangerous, potentially fatal road to walk, especially when nothing apart from two flirtatious comments had passed between them that signalled that the road even existed in the first place.

No. He shook his head. This sort of thinking would not be happening if they both hadn't had more than a few beers. She was joking with him. Banter between exes. Between friends. That was it.

Raucous laughter pulled him from his thoughts, and Fleur was gathering up empty bottles to take back up to the house. The night was coming to an end, then. They all stood up and shook sand off themselves, and Harry busied himself with shaking out and folding up the blankets, just to give his hands something to do.

Slowly, he made his way back up to the house to Apparate home with Ron – although it was a bit dicey given their intoxication, Harry and Ron's flat wasn't connected to the Floo network. The sand felt cool beneath his feet, and a gentle breeze hit his face as he crested the sandbank. He could hear Hermione and Ginny's loud voices behind him. Hermione, the eternal lightweight, was likely pretty drunk if she'd had half as much as the rest of them had. He stopped at the top of the bank and waited for them, watching amusedly as the pair trudged up the hill, with Ginny dragging a giggling Hermione by the arm behind her.

When they reached him, Hermione leaned forwards to catch her breath. Ginny winked at him.

'Come on, piss-head!' she shouted at Hermione. 'I have a date with my bed, and so do you.'

'You're a terrible influence on her,' he said as they started the short walk back to the house, though he didn't mean it a bit.

Both girls loudly protested his statement. They all knew that Ginny's influence on Hermione had been nothing but extremely positive in the last few years, and Hermione was much, much better for them becoming best friends. That was absolute, undeniable fact.

'I'd be nothing without her. She's the best,' Hermione said, slurring ever so slightly.

'Awww, you big softie!' she cooed.

As they reached the house, Harry pushed the front door forward to allow Hermione through, but Ginny lingered behind. Instead, she sat down on the rickety bench next to the door and slumped back against the building. With a relieved sigh, she shut her eyes.

A wistful smile played on her lips as she gestured wordlessly for him to join her, her hair once again mesmerising as it reflected the beautiful silver of the moonlight.

In the comfortable silence he could hear the sea, calming and quiet in the distance.

'Have I upset you?' she whispered, clearly not wanting to break the tranquillity of the moment.

He was confused. 'Not at all. Why would you have?'

She smiled humourlessly at him, her eyes betraying an uncharacteristic sadness. She fiddled with the hem of her shorts before speaking again.

'Hermione told me what Emma did to you. I didn't realise what she'd done, and that she'd hurt you. So I'm sorry if I was insensitive.'

He chuckled softly. Only rarely did Ginny apologise… much less for something that she didn't need to apologise for. 'You didn't upset me, Gin. If you've taught me anything over the years, it's that moping is a terrible colour on me.'

She snorted. 'That it is.'

He smiled into the renewed silence. Truthfully, he didn't want their moment to end.

'Thank you for tonight,' he said quietly.

'For what?'

'For coming here. I've missed seeing you.' Saying it out loud made it all the more true – he missed everything about her.

She squeezed the hand that was resting on his leg. The action was so simple, so genuine, that he could do nothing but stare at their hands. Automatically, his hand squeezed back.

'I've missed you, too.'

Noise from inside the house made them pull away and turn to the door, where Ron, Hermione and George spilled through, loud voices shattering the blissful quiet.

'Right, who's the least drunk? Their Floo doesn't work,' shouted Ron.

'I'm not too bad,' said Ginny, grabbing Hermione by the arm. 'George, are you coming with us too? You can walk to your flat from ours.'

'Yep.'

Goodbyes were exchanged between the group, and he shouted his thanks to Bill and Fleur as they waited in the doorway of their home. There was a collective groan as Ron and Hermione did their usual-when-pissed passionate farewells, and George faked exaggerated kissy noises beside the couple as they laughed.

Ginny came up to Harry and hugged him. Once again he was transported back to age 17, happy and carefree, as he buried his head in her hair and inhaled the soft, flowery scent. Fuck, he'd missed her. By the way she gripped him tightly, with her fingers pressing into his back in a way he tried resolutely not to focus on, she had missed him just as much.

'See you at the match?' she said as she pulled back from him. Even if he had already decided not to (which he hadn't, of course), the soft hopefulness on Ginny's face would have persuaded him that very moment. There was no way he wouldn't be there.

'I'll be there. I promise.'

Her grin was electric. To get her to grin like that again was absolutely worth the faff of getting the shift swap.

Just then, Ron flung his arms round his shoulders signalling he was ready to leave. He grabbed hold of Ron's arm and, with one last wave to the group (and one last look at Ginny before he could stop himself), he Apparated them back to their flat.


A/N: I've had a really rubbish day, so I thought I'd post a cute chapter for you all, in case it might cheer someone else up :)
As always, come and find me on Tumblr: sedge64
Love to you all, and THANK YOU for your kind words and comments 3