Ginny Weasley was tired, sore, and, (though she tried to shut it down whenever her mind went down this path), actively considering this being her last season on the pitch.

It wasn't that she hated hard practices, those were a part of the trade. Being a professional Quidditch player wasn't glamorous by any means. While no one ever talked about the long practices, the aggravating press, the painful limbs (and arse), or the shouting captain, none of those things were enough to make her want to quit normally. Although today Gwenog had had an ax to grind after their near loss to Falmouth a couple weeks prior. If Ginny hadn't been raised the youngest of six brothers who were determined to make her one of the boys, today might have been the end of her Quidditch career.

She trudged out of the changing room, sweaty clothes still on, and her arms too sore to even consider taking a shower before heading home. She just wanted to put more distance between herself and the pitch and less distance between her and the floor of the flat she shared with Harry.

The wind whipped her hair as she walked to the end of the anti-apparition zone, (Gwenog didn't like reporters being able to come and go as they pleased during practice, which Ginny appreciated) and the moment her feet cleared the line she was twisting on her heel with a pop.

Ginny landed, grasping the little wrought iron fence in front of their flat, a little more wobbly than she usually was, the three small steps to the door seemed like a mountain today. She grumbled under her breath, gripping the railing tightly and dragging herself up the stairs and inside, stomping her boots on the welcome mat.

It moaned at her; she gave it an extra stomp, "Harry?" she called, shutting the door behind her. With a loud groan she removed her jacket, peeling the sleeves down her arms and dropping it on the floor. She used her wand to unlace her boots, toeing them off with another groan of satisfaction, her feet practically sighing in relief.

"I'm in here." She heard him call back from his office. He sounded distinctly lackluster, and with a sinking realization Ginny looked over the calendar they kept hung in the entryway. In little letters along the bottom of the weekend it read, "Day shift; Azkaban."

Harry's typical brooding behavior aside, his despondency after a shift patrolling Azkaban remained unmatched. It wasn't his fault really. Well, technically yes, it was, he'd spearheaded the movement to purge dementors from the place, leaving the responsibility to man the prison to the MLE blokes and the Aurors, regardless, it was a miserable place full of hateful death eaters and other criminals.

Ginny padded her way to the doorway of his office, leaning against the frame, grumpy mood or not coming home to Harry always lifted her spirits. As usual his hair was an impossible mess, and his upper body hunched over the desk where he scribbled away on a piece of parchment, she gave a low whistle.

"Merlin, if Hermione could see you now." She tutted, coming further into the room to perch on his desk, "she'd never believe me if I told her."

Harry smiled at her, it was small and didn't reach his eyes, he had the pinched look of someone who hadn't had quite enough rest trying to power through life anyway.

He sunk back in his chair rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses, the parchment on his desk half covered in what looked to her like an incident report. "Yet another Greyback incident," he muttered, gesturing wearily at the papers on his desk. Barely loud enough for Ginny to catch, he added, "Makes you wish he'd gotten off'd at the battle."

Ginny leaned forward, dragging his hand away from his eyes, she kissed his palm, "Another MLE nub standing too close to the bars?" she said lightly, squeezing his hand, "Can you take a break for a bit? I'm famished."

Harry pushed back from his desk, stretching as he stood, "A bit," he allowed, "They only let me bring the report home because I looked like I was about to fall over." He pushed her legs apart so he could stand between them, wrapping his arms around her and dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "How was practice?" Ginny relished the ability to completely relax against him. "Exhausting but...satisfying? I probably smell a bit gamey. I didn't feel like stopping to shower before I left," she tilted her head up to look at him, "Every muscle in my body has a name and it's 'sore'."

They both chuckled, and with what seemed like great effort, Harry pulled away from her, her hand grasped in his as he led the way to the kitchen. She slid onto a chair at the table as Harry reached into the cold cupboard for two butterbeers. With a flick of his wand the tops popped off, and Ginny took several satisfying gulps, leaning forward on both elbows. Harry raised his eyebrows at her, "If I look done in, you're one foot from the grave. Gwenog trying to weed out the weak?" he joked.

Ginny shook her head, a short laugh escaping her, the movement made her abdominal muscles ache, "She didn't like the close game with Falmouth, she said 'If those brutes beat us I'll break my broom' and then proceeded to run us through every speed drill ever created." Ginny took another gulp of butter beer, shaking her head. The Falmouth Falcons were certainly brutish, with a team of large, muscular men, (exclusively men, they flat out refused to allow women on that team) they had a reputation for being...rough.

"What we lack in musculature we'll make up for with speed and strategy," she muttered, glancing over at Harry who had finished his butterbeer and was holding one of her hands with both of his apparently lost in thoughts of his own. "Do you ever think about taking some time off?" she bumped her shoulder into his. "It's been three years, Harry," she said softly, Harry lifted her hand to kiss it, "You've maybe had a few days here and there in the last two."

Harry shook his head, "There's always something, or someone. Right now it's more the department than dark wizards. We're doing our best but without Ron and Neville there's a big push to get some of these junior aurors qualified, but the department was pretty much nothing three years ago. I'd feel guilty leaving while we're still trying to rebuild, y'know?"

Ginny resisted the urge to launch into a diatribe about how there was a head of the department to worry about all this, and that Harry had done more than his fair share after the war, knowing it would be rude to brush off Harry's legitimate concern, but feeling powerfully annoyed that three years later he still felt responsible for the department.

He squeezed her hand, "I know, you don't have to tell me," he said, pushing away from the table and dropping her hand. "I think we've got some leftover curry from dinner the other day." Harry pulled the leftovers from the cold cupboard, and two bowls from the cupboard beside it.

Irritation prickled at her, but she shoved it down hoping they could have an actual conversation about this. In hindsight having this discussion while they were both exhausted wasn't the best decision she could have made, but blimey if Harry couldn't be a berk about this sort of thing.

Ginny turned sideways in her chair to look at him, "Harry, I really do think you should take some time off. When was the last time you had a few days of no Auror stuff? And I mean paperwork too, not just fieldwork." Harry's shoulders were stiff, he kept his back to Ginny under the pretense of warming their bowls and fetching cutlery.

"Listen," Ginny urged, when he turned back to her, offering the bowl of curry, "I know you have this need to fix the department because the last three years have pretty much been you doing exactly that, but things are different now you can-"

Harry cut her off, "It's not a thing, Gin, it's a job." He wasn't seething, at least, but he was obviously growing in frustration, "I'm not running around out there throwing myself in front of killing curses and playing hero. There aren't enough of us for me to just bugger off on holiday."

Ginny rolled her eyes, physically shaking her head to stop herself from matching his tone, "We barely see each other, Harry, you bring work home more often than not. I know it's not just your schedule, it's mine too. If you don't need a break, I do."

She reached over and put her hand on his, his eyes were downcast but she could tell he was listening, "I'm trying to remind you that you're human and you deserve a break." He looked up and they stared at each other in silence for a long minute. She shoved a couple of bites down, pushing back her chair noisily as she stood, banishing her bowl to the sink with her wand, "I'm going to have a shower, thanks for supper." She dropped a kiss on the top of his head before she left.

Gritting her teeth against the soreness in her arms, Ginny stripped off her clothes, wishing she had just showered in the changing rooms because now she'd have to remember to bring her dirty kit back to the pitch with her or wash it beforehand. Despite the distraction of her aching body, her thoughts drifted back to Harry. She loved him, more than she could probably ever put into words, but he was insufferably self sacrificing.

She stepped into the hot spray, muttering to herself under her breath something along the lines of, this is what you get for dating the boy who lived, you'll never take a holiday together for the rest of your rotten life.

"I'm sorry."

Ginny nearly jumped out of the shower in shock, "Bloody hell, warn a girl next time will you?" she all but screeched. Harry stood outside the shower door, eyes wide, clearly not expecting the reaction he got. "A little on edge?" he asked, blinking at her owlishly, his glasses already removed, clearly waiting for her to scoot over so he could get in the shower.

She moved over begrudgingly, "Shut up," she mumbled, "You know how I feel about being surprised in the shower." She purposely flicked him with her hair. Harry slipped his hands onto her hips, "I know, I'm sorry," he said repentantly, he kissed her forehead, lips brushing her hairline. He pressed his forehead to hers, "About earlier too. Azkaban doesn't make me the best sort of bloke to be around."

Ginny sighed, releasing the tension collecting in her shoulders, she pulled Harry closer, pressing their bodies together and letting the water spray between them. She traced her fingers up and down his back, "Just think about it, alright? I'm not saying it has to be tomorrow, but at some point you have to distance yourself from the weight of taking down Voldemort. It's not just up to you anymore."

Harry's head dropped to her shoulder, arms tightening around her waist, she could feel the stiffness leaving his body, "Maybe I can take some time during your off season?"

"Go on some barmy trek across Switzerland?" she suggested, he laughed, his body shifting against hers.

"No treks," he said in her ear, "Or camping."

Ginny separated their bodies a little to reach for the shampoo, squeezing the bottle directly over Harry's head. He tipped his head back out of the water to let Ginny suds the soap in his hair. It was an exchange, Ginny hated moving away from the steady pounding water, so she felt it was only fair to spoil him with hair washes and head massages.

"Okay, no camping or trekking. What do you want to do?" She tipped Harry's head forward back under the spray, sluicing her fingers through his hair several times until the water ran clean, she smoothed his hair back and lifted his head.

"What about Mallorca?" His eyes popped open, he bent forward and kissed her lightly, water caught between their lips. "Spain?" she asked, surprised. They had never talked about Spain before, but from what she knew about Mallorca it sounded heavenly. Uninterrupted time alone by the sea with Harry? Far away from work, broomsticks, chores, the press...

Harry reached for the loofa hanging behind the shower head, lathering it with a bar of soap. He turned her around to scrub her back and neck, "My aunt and uncle used to go. They always left me with our neighbor, but Dudley always bragged about it when they got back. I guess it's the only place I know of people going on holiday," he lathered the loofa again, soaping himself this time, "Well, aside from your family's trip to Egypt before my third year."

Ginny snorted, taking the loofa from hair and turning him around so she could reach his back, "Egypt was amazing, but going on a trip with you is far superior to one with the entirety of my family. Mallorca sounds perfect." She turned him back around, pinning him with a look, "Off season then?"

Harry reached behind her and turned off the water, "Off season sounds perfect."

0000

"Well that's done then," Ginny muttered to herself as she exited the International Travel offices of the Ministry of Magic. Her last practice with the Harpies had ended just an hour before she was due for an appointment with Mr. Hornby, the weedy, soft spoken wizard who was helping arrange the portkeys and cottage by the sea she and Harry would be staying in when they got to Mallorca. She clutched the parchment with the portkey times and apparition addresses, barely containing her excitement as she made her way to the lifts, fully intending to march right into Harry's cubicle and brandish it in front of him victoriously.

As it turned out, Harry's cubicle had some sort of privacy shield at the entrance so Ginny had to wait patiently until another auror came along with the ability to contact him.

"Mrs. Potter! What are you doing here?" It was Neville, who, like Harry, felt a deep seated responsibility to round up every single death eater and dark wizard in the aftermath of the war. He hadn't been promoted straight to being an auror like Harry had in the days following the war, but Kingsley had authorized Neville an abbreviated version of training and tests to ensure he was qualified.

Ginny rolled her eyes, "I can't believe you just called me that," she said, returning Neville's hug regardless, "You're looking very chipper, isn't your line of work supposed to be depressing?"

Neville laughed, shaking his hair out of his eyes, "It's a good day, and I call you that because it annoys you so much." He smiled at her, "Need someone to get Harry for you?" he asked, "I'm sure he's just in there having a kip"

"I am not, and I'll thank you two for not suggesting so right outside my door."

Harry's head peaked out from behind his cubicle wall, his hair looking as though he'd run his hands through it several times. "Sorry Gin, didn't hear you out here, got wrapped up in some paperwork." He pecked her on the cheek.

"I'm off then," said Neville cheerfully, he gave Ginny another hug and bade them both goodbye. "Come round for dinner sometime, eh? And bring Hannah!" Ginny called after him, and followed Harry into his office. "How much longer will Neville be here then?"

Harry pulled out the chair in front of his desk for her, "He gave us a lot of notice, about three months," says Harry, taking his seat behind the desk. "Everything alright? You never come up here."

"This!" said Ginny, waving their travel papers triumphantly. "I hope your arse is ready for two weeks straight of soaking in the sun." She crossed her arms smugly, awaiting the praise she felt she deserved for not procrastinating or forgetting. The expression on Harry's face went from confusion to understanding then, and Ginny nearly expected this though she hadn't wanted to admit it to herself, dread.

"Gin-"

"Don't"

They stared at each other, Harry swallowing nervously and Ginny trying to control the rise of her temper, she could feel the back of her neck becoming warm and likely red. She pressed her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose, "Harry, tell me you took the time off and that you're not about to try and cancel our holiday right now, please tell me you're not about to give me some sort of workaholic, flobberworm excuse about why in Merlin's name you didn't take time off?" By the end of it her voice definitely rose, she could see the panic in Harry's eyes and it only served to make her more irritable.

"Well-"

"Harry!"

"Ginny. Just let me explain," said Harry, clearly wary of an explosion. They really didn't fight often, in fact the most they did was rib each other good naturedly now and then. Despite both their rather volatile tempers, peace in their home and in their relationship had always been a key part in the structure of them.

Except about Harry's ridiculous inability to leave the saving people to someone else.

"Please do, I'm sure it's a riveting story." Her mother always told her she could wilt a flower with words alone, Ginny had never quite learned how to not jump straight to pure waspishness when threatened.

Harry inhaled sharply, "I'm in the middle of a case. I can't tell you everything- don't scoff, Gin, you know I would if I could, that's not the point-, look, you know I love you, you know I'd love to go to Mallorca with you, Gin, really, I'd love nothing more, but you know how long we've been trying to catch the rest of Voldemort's lot, and I really think this time we've got a good chance." Harry reached across the desk, taking one of her hands, despite her exceedingly peevish expression. "Listen, I know I always do this, but I just need a couple days to wrap this up before I run off to another country."

Ginny exhaled loudly, "Our trip is in a couple days, Harry, if you really think you can wrap things up that quickly." She leveled him with a look, "But the last time we had to put something off because one of your cases it was a month, and honestly I don't feel like this is one of those times I'll be happy to wait. You need a break Harry, bloody hell, I need one. You need to talk to Robards about someone taking over this case."

She could see Harry's mind spinning, at war with himself over the idea of giving up chasing a death eater to someone else or getting into a row over it with her. It wasn't that Ginny wasn't used to this, or hadn't made compromises in the past, but with Harry it was always something or someone. Even Hermione had encouraged her not to let Harry do just exactly what he was doing now, certain herself that this would come up. "I'm really asking you, Harry, please, talk to Robards, ask for the time off." She squeezed his hand and stood, leaving the parchment with their travel itinerary on his desk "I know it's difficult, I want you to know that's not lost on me, I'm just asking that you try. I'll see you at home." She ducked out of his office before he could get up or say anymore, embittered but determined not to have a row in his office and sour their holiday if Harry did manage to get the time off.

Ginny was home not even an hour before Harry walked straight into the kitchen, hair windswept and looking as though he'd ran the length of the Ministry of Magic. She put down the spoon she was using to stir the pasta she was making for dinner, "You're a mite earlier than I was expecting," she said, bemused.

Harry shrugged casually, "Decided to let the trainees finish the paperwork today," he said, boxing her in against the counter beside the stove. He placed one hand on her waist, the other on her chin, tipping her face up to kiss her cheek, "Thanks by the way," he whispered in her ear, kissing her just underneath it. Ginny felt a thrill run up her spine, she smiled up at him, her hands finding themselves curled in the front of his robes, "For what?" She loved when Harry was like this, happy, silly, sure of himself.

Harry kissed her cheek again, her forehead, her nose, and finally her lips, "The kick in the arse, Robards approved the leave time."

Ginny positively beamed at him, or tried to anyway, not much could be done with her lips while he was busy kissing them. He pulled away moments later, but only because the sauce on the stove had begun to bubble and pop, both of them getting splashed with hot liquid. Ginny dug her wand out of her pocket, casting a charm to finish the cooking, and went right back to kissing Harry.

Eventually Ginny pulled herself away from Harry, pushing him away and towards their room, "Go and shower, dinner's almost done," she said, dodging his attempts to turn around and continue kissing. "Go!" she shooed him, returning to the kitchen with pink cheeks.

Not even a half hour later they sat across from each other at their little kitchen table, Harry enthusiastically attacking the spaghetti and meatballs Ginny had made. "I swear you're a magician in the kitchen," he said, hopping up to get seconds from the stove. Ginny snorted, "A magician? What is that, some sort of kitchen wizard?"

Harry returned to the table, "No, it's a muggle person who performs magic tricks for entertainment, but sometimes the phrase is used to say someone is so good at something they must be magic."

"Sounds barmy," she said, rising from the table to stash her dish in the sink, she squeaked in surprise whirling around to look at Harry, her eyes narrowing when she saw his feigned innocent expression. He had reached out and pinched her bum; something he often did when she least expected it. The most annoying side effect of living alone together. "You'll pay for that one later, Potter," she warned.

Harry gave her a lascivious look, his eyes purposefully trailing up and down her body, "I hope so," he said with an impish grin.

Ginny turned back to the sink, giving her dish a quick rinse, "You're randy today," she said, almost conversationally. She heard scraping behind her as Harry pushed his chair back, she glanced over her shoulder to look at him, "Basking in the glow of potential time off?" she asked. Harry's lips tipped up in a little smile, "I suppose," he allowed, "But I think it's more because you look absolutely stunning in that shirt."

Ginny looked down, she was wearing a loose camisole, the tie in the middle slightly undone and the lilac color fading from it's many runs through the wash. "You see me in this nearly every night," she said wryly, turning and leaning against the edge of the counter.

Harry laughed, "Can't I just think you're beautiful?" he asked.

She stuck her tongue out, "No."

Later that night, lying in bed, Harry's arm over her hips, his fingers trailing softly over the skin beneath her breasts, his breath tickling the back of her neck, Ginny let it sink in that they were truly, finally going away together. "Are you excited?" She asked softly, not sure why this moment felt delicate and like she needed to stay quiet to leave it undisturbed.

Harry's hand flattened between her breasts, his lips pressing against the base of her neck, "Unbelievably so. Two weeks with no bloody work, no familial interruptions, no quidditch practices, " He kissed the top of her shoulder punctuating each phrase he murmured with another kiss, his arm tightening around her, pulling her ever closer to him. Ginny wished she could absorb moments like this and often found herself reflecting on her younger, 15 year old self, who barely dared to dream of a love so immense it encapsulated her soul. She refrained from rolling her eyes at herself for being maudlin, choosing instead to turn in Harry's arms until she was facing him, kissing him. His hands gripped her hips. They stopped talking after that.

Lunch at the Burrow that Sunday was unusually casual, thought Ginny, sitting with Harry on the tattered sofa in the living room. She had tried to help out in the kitchen, but with Hermione, Ron and her dad in there with Molly preparing sandwiches, she figured they'd be fine on their own. Harry kissed the side of her head, his arm resting along the back of the sofa behind her. Ginny pressed her cheek against his shoulder, peering up at him, "Sickle for your thoughts?" she asked, wrapping the arm that wasn't trapped between them around his waist. He had been quiet since their arrival, choosing to sit in the sitting room and escape the rowdiness of the Burrow kitchen on a Sunday afternoon.

Harry smiled at her, "Not worth that much, I'm afraid. It's just this case at work, I left it with Proudfoot, and, well," he paused, scratching his chin, "If Proudfoot isn't retiring by choice this year Robards may have to force him." Ginny laughed, "Surely he's capable of finishing it up though with some of the junior aurors?" she wondered.

He squeezed her shoulder, "Yeah..yeah I'm sure."

"You're a worry wart, love," she said, "Who is it anyway, can you tell me?" Harry shrugged his shoulders, but Ron interrupted before he could respond.

"So Mallorca, eh? What sparked that?" Ron plopped beside them on the sofa at the Burrow, one of their mum's loaded sandwiches in hand. He took a massive bite, eyeing them, "Not having trouble in paradise, are you?" he said, between chewing and swallowing.

Ginny grimaced, "No, you plonker, it's normal for two people who love each other to go away together. Maybe you should consider taking Hermione somewhere instead of contemplating the quality of our relationship." She reached over Harry who sat between them and snatched the sandwich from his hand taking a large bite.

"Oy!"

Hermione came into the room just then, her eyebrows high on her forehead, "Whatever happened I'm sure it was Ron's fault," she said indifferently, and sat in the armchair by the sofa.

Ron grabbed his sandwich back from Ginny, ignoring Harry's "Hey mate, watch your elbows!" As he leaned over him to do so. "I'll have you know I did nothing, Hermione, and I don't appreciate your lack of loyalty. I'm your husband for Merlin's sake," he cried indignantly.

Harry cleared his throat, "Ron is suggesting our trip to Mallorca is because Ginny and I are having a rough patch. We're not," he clarified.

"Alright you lot, lunch is on," said Molly, bustling in from the kitchen with Arthur, a platter laden with roast beef sandwiches for each of them floating in and setting itself down on the coffee table.

"Thank you, mum," said Ginny heartily, immediately picking one up to pass to Harry and another for herself. "And Ron," she said, turning back to him with her eyes narrowed, "Do you really think if Harry and I were having a row we'd be having an open discussion about it over Sunday lunch?" She noticed her mom looking over them, confused and concerned. "Don't worry, Mum, everything's fine, Harry and I were just telling Ron we had plans to go away to Mallorca next week and he thinks the only reason for us to go away is because we're fighting."

Molly clapped her hands together, "Oh how lovely! Mallorca! Your father and I had always meant to go away, hadn't we dear, but things just kept coming up I suppose."

Ron snorted, "Yeah..right, things. Like Bill, Charlie, Perce- Ow!"

Molly had picked up an old copy of the prophet and whacked him on the head. "That's enough from you, it's wonderful Harry loves your sister so much he's taking her away on a romantic vacation. You'd do well to learn from him."

Ginny could feel the heat from Harry's flaming face without having to look at him, she leaned back against his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. He never could quite stand the ribbing in the Weasley household when it pertained to their relationship. "Yes, Harry's a charmer, isn't he mum?" she simpered, shooting Ron a triumphant glance.

Harry elbowed her. "You're the one who had the idea, Gin, and the one who arranged everything," he said, shifting uncomfortably.

Molly clucked her tongue, "No matter, dear," she soothed, "I'm sure you would have helped if you weren't always so busy with work. It's about time you spent some time away from that office of yours." She reached over to pat his knee, "Ginny dear, I know you've been taking good care of him, but he is looking a bit peaky. Some sun will do you both some good." Ginny watched as her mum exchanged soppy expressions with her dad, "Your father and I always thought we'd go to Iceland or Greece, perhaps with you lot out of the house we will."

"Oh Greece! How lovely!" Hermione piped up, she gave Ron a look, "We really should plan a trip soon," she said, "We haven't done any traveling since-" she cut herself off, but Ginny knew she had been about to say since we went searching for horcruxes.

The silence only lasted a moment before Ron cleared his throat awkwardly, "We went to Australia to get your parents, 'Mione. Remember?"

Ginny threw him a grateful look. Four years may have passed, but there were still large portions of that year they all avoided bringing up, especially in relaxed moments on Sundays at the Burrow when George was actually in good spirits and present. She felt Harry's arm slip around her shoulder and knew he felt the silence too.

"What are your plans while you're there?" asked her dad, smiling at her and Harry, "I hear the water there is lovely this time of year."

Harry seized the opportunity, "We have a couple things booked actually, a wine tour, a cooking class, and I think we're going to go tour around some sea caves too, right Gin?" She nodded but before she could speak her dad leaning forward in excitement said, "A muggle cooking class? My word, that sounds absolutely marvelous! You'll have to tell us all about it when you get back."

"But you both already know how to cook," blurted Ron, shaking his head in bewilderment. Hermione rolled her eyes, "It's a romantic date, Ron. My mum and dad did one while they were in Australia, they learned how to cook something local from a trained chef. I think it was a couples class too, they said it was great fun." Ron shook his head again, but said, "I suppose that might be a good idea for you, Hermione, cooking never was your strong suit."

Harry, Ron and Hermione laughed together at what Ginny was positive had been some sort of shared experience between the three of them. She ignored the pang of envy, the insecurity she had once felt about being left out had faded, but it seemed there was nothing she could do about missing an entire year of moments and knowing they would always have loads of memories together she may never be aware of.

They left the burrow in the early evening, fending off Molly's offers of making them sandwiches to take home, and promising Ron and Hermione a night out with them before they left for Mallorca.

Ginny hugged her mom longer than usual and kissed her dad's cheek for good measure. They wouldn't speak of it, but three years since losing Fred wasn't long enough to heal the scars left behind. Molly normally did a roast on Sunday, but the anniversary of losing her Fred was fast approaching, and Ginny could see the emptiness in their eyes already.

"Ready?" asked Harry, his hand held out to her as they approached the end of the wards surrounding Ginny's childhood home.

She took it, gripping his fingers tightly and nodding gratefully. Even if he couldn't tell that her parents were feeling the weight of May 2nd approaching, perhaps he could sense she was feeling out of sorts too. Or perhaps his own demons had already begun to seep into his dreams.

They spent the rest of their evening waffling between dozing together on the couch in an overstuffed heap and reading. Ginny knew they should start packing. They were due for their first portkey just a day after her last match of the season, but it was sinking in for her as well that three years truly wasn't enough time to heal from losing her brother.

Harry shifted, his chest rising and falling beneath her ear. He had his book balanced on her back, lifting it occasionally to turn a page. Ginny opened her eyes, blinking hard in an effort to escape falling back into a doze.

She turned her head to rest her chin on Harry's chest. He looked down his nose at her, "Good nap?" he asked, she felt his book fall to the side, his hands flattening on her back. Ginny shrugged her shoulders some, "Alright, I suppose." She wanted to tell him that she had just realized how close they were to the anniversary. It surprised her every year. She often chose to focus on the quidditch season, or more recently, the coming of her niece, Victoire's birthday.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" Harry rubbed his hands up and down her back, "You seem like you're far away."

Maybe she doesn't need to tell him, he probably already knew. Harry had always been perceptive that way.

Ginny shook her head, chin still digging into his chest, "It sneaks up on me," she mumbled, eyes focused on a spot on Harry's shirt. His hands twitch on her back. Talking about that year with Harry is not a regular occurrence. In fact, the most they ever speak of it is in the darkness of their room when he jolts awake from a nightmare.

"I'm sorry."

She looked at him again, "What for?"

He sighed, "I know it's hard for you. I feel like a lot of the time I'm so stuck in my own head trying to fend for myself I can barely be there for you."

Her eyes sting, perhaps the realization that Harry, though often in a haze that lasted from April into mid May which included long absences to Hermione and Rons, longer hours at the Ministry, and sweaty nightmares, had noticed Ginny's silent grief.

Her heart gave a weird sort of flutter, even after three years together Harry's gentle way of loving her made her knees weak. He'd been like that during their brief time together in her fifth year, always brushing a bit of her hair back, playing with the ends of her braid, touching her hand or her shoulder when they were with Ron and Hermione. Almost as though he wanted her to know he was thinking of her even when they were together. After the war, after the weeks of grief and funerals and strings of silence at the burrow, when they had found their way back to each other, Harry had taken to walking with her to the small stream, spending hours answering her questions and occasionally telling her something she wouldn't have thought to ask, kissing her hand whenever they drifted into silence.

Ginny placed her hands on either side of his chest, lifting herself enough to kiss him. "I love you," she whispered against his lips. She wasn't the best with words or emotions, in a lot of ways she felt more repressed than Harry seemed to be. "It'll be good to get away," she said, kissing him again.

Harry nodded, patting her back, "It will be- budge up, I've got to go to the loo."

She sat back on the settee, physically shaking dark thoughts away. She blew out a sharp breath, you aren't falling into this again, Ginevra, she thought sharply. They were due to leave in three weeks. Her last match against Puddlemere should be her main focus. She didn't have time to fall into a depression. That wasn't her way of coping. "Right," she said decisively, "Harry I'm going for a run!" she called out on her way into their room.

That's what she needed. A nice long, leg punishing run. She pulled her in a rough plait and dug around in her chest of drawers for her joggers and a top, yanking them on quickly.

"Want some company?" Harry asked from the doorway, but Ginny shook her head. She kissed him quickly as she moved past him to the front door to put her trainers on. "I need to clear my head," she said shortly, not wanting to think of anything more than the route she wanted to take.

Harry traipsed behind her, catching her hand and pulling her back to him, he placed his warm hands on her cheeks, tilting her head back, "Alright?" he asked, eyes flitting back and forth between hers.

She twisted her lips in a small smile, "I will be," she said. There really wasn't anything that would ever be alright with losing your brother, but after three years you become familiar with the ache, and that she supposed, was as alright as you could be.

Harry kissed her, his forehead pressing to hers briefly, "Be safe, alright? It'll be dark soon."

She nodded, grateful he didn't say anything else. The need to run as fast and as hard as she could away from the yawning pit of grief inside her was urging her to get out quickly.

Her pace is grueling, but as she flies down the sidewalk, her hair thudding against her back, feet pounding the pavement, she can feel the hole inside begin to close again, the intensity of grief, of missing her brother, receding.

She kept close to their flat, running in a long loop around the block, repeating the route twice. Her lungs burned, her legs protested, and still she pushed, until her shirt was soaked with sweat and even her shoulders ached from holding her arms up.

Ginny propelled herself up the stairs before she truly stopped running, knowing if she came to a stop beforehand she'd be crawling up those steps. She all but fell through the door, panting and struggling, her lungs refusing to be controlled. She eased herself onto the ground, leaning against the door behind her, kicking off her trainers. She focused on slowing her breaths, eventually regaining control of herself.

She could hear Harry moving around in the kitchen though she couldn't find the willpower to move herself in that direction. Instead she bent in half to one side and then the other, stretching her legs out and forcing herself to continue taking slow steady breaths.

Harry entered the hallway, raising his eyebrows when he spotted her on the floor, "Outran even the thestrals, then?" he said brightly. Despite the ache in her legs Ginny chuckled, she held out her arms, "Well come on then, give us a hand."

He crossed the space between them, hauling her off the floor and kissing her once her lips were close enough to reach, "Go on and have a shower, I'm cutting up some fruit and cheese."

Thirty minutes later, feeling slightly less haggard, Ginny sat cross legged on their bed all but shoveling bites of strawberry and cheddar into her mouth.

"If I weren't a committed woman, I'd be having a scandalous love affair with this cheese," she said around her fourth mouthful. Harry choked on his own bite as he laughed, "I suppose I'll count myself lucky then."

He nudged her with a toe, "Feeling better?" he asked with a small smile. Ginny blew out a gusty breath, "Yeah," she said after a beat, "Yeah a bit. I might go round mum and dad's more till we leave." She smiled weakly, "I dunno if it's to give them support or for them to support me."

Harry scooted closer to her, wrapped his arms around her and kissed the side of her head, "Either. Both."

She let out another shaky breath, squeezing her eyes against the stinging, "I just miss him- them. Everyone, really," she said, thinking of Remus and Tonks. She blinked several times, shaking herself, "Sorry, I don't know why it's hitting me so hard today." Harry kissed her head again, pulling her back to lean against the pillows propped on the headboard.

"I think this is just the first year we've really lived our lives without thinking about everyone we lost every single day, maybe this is just what moving on looks like," said Harry, giving her a squeeze. "Sorry," he said, "I've never been good at this sort of stuff, but this is kind of how it felt with Sirius and Dumbledore. I remember the first time I realised I let a whole day go by without thinking about Sirius after he died. Made me feel like a prat, but I think that's just the way it works. You don't forget, you just learn to live in companionship with it."

She turned to look at him, "Has anyone ever told you that you're one of the most emotionally cognizant men in existence?" It was an attempt at levity, but she did mean it. Harry had always been an introspective person, maybe from years spent living with the Dursleys and forced to stay silent up in his room, or perhaps from years of dealing with death. Neither prospect was particularly nice.

Harry snorted loudly, "Please say that in front of Ron and Hermione the next time we're round theirs for dinner."

Ginny chortled, stretching towards the bedside table to grasp her wand and banish dinner, "We better get to bed," she said, "Busy day tomorrow, and we've got Teddy this week," she reminded him.

They made quick work of cleaning up dinner, Ginny crawled under the covers after giving her teeth a cursory brush, too tired to take anymore effort.

The last thing she heard before passing out was Harry telling her he loved her.