On Mrs. Weasley's insistence, all of them had returned to the Burrow. She kept repeating that they must, since Harry and Hermione didn't have homes to return to, though it also felt that there was a second, unspoken reason, which was to do with staying together in the face of Fred's hollow non-existence.

Though it was crowded at the burrow, they found space. Bill and Fleur stayed in Bill and Charlie's old room, and Charlie stayed in Fred's old bed. Percy slept in his own room. It was agreed, wordlessly, that Hermione would take Harry's place on the camp bed in Ron's room. Mr Weasley began making noises about putting out a bed for Harry on the sofa, but Ginny stepped in, defiantly.

"Dad, Harry's staying in my room. He'll be up there anyway, whether there's a bed out in the living room or not." It suddenly seemed ridiculous for them to play the part of sneaking children after what they had faced, and love was a great tonic for the pain.

Harry looked at the floor, feeling awkward, his face flushing, but Mr Weasley simply nodded wearily but not unkindly, and walked upstairs behind his wife.

Feeling a sudden hotness which was an acute antidote to his tiredness, Harry lifted his gaze to look at Ginny. They were now, unexpectedly, alone in the kitchen. She was standing there with that blazing look on her face that he had missed so deeply during the dark winter nights of this year. He almost smiled as she turned upstairs, indicating that he should follow.

As the door shut behind them, the first rays of dawn were straying through the thin curtains on Ginny's windows, throwing slivers of pale light across the room. As Harry entered, Ginny turned and pressed her mouth to his, both of them leaning against the closed door, the warmth of her body igniting a roaring fire within him.

The kiss was sweet and deep. One of his hands held her face, feeling the soft weight of her long red hair, and the other found the small of her back, pressing her to him, again mirroring a distant memory that seemed a lifetime away. She pulled away, looking steadily at him, unfastening the clasp of her robes and letting them drop to the floor. Then she met his lips again, her fingers moving lightly to his clasp. Without breaking apart this time, his robes came undone. The pair fell easily into a rhythm, it felt natural, as though they already knew the intricacies of each other's bodies.

Moments later, their clothes strewn around her room, they stopped to look at each other. He could feel the wetness of her tears on his own face. There was so much pain and grief, but the during the pleasure of their embrace, they could momentarily escape, feeling the power of their connection overtake them. He could step out of his mind and be entirely in his body.

He pulled her to him again, kissing her on the neck. "Ginny, is this definitely what you want?" She looked at him hard, passionately, seriously. "I've wanted this so badly for so long, it feels like a part of who I am". He was surprised by the frankness of her words. She let out a shudder of pleasure as his fingers grazed the skin of her lower back.

They moved together to her bed. He bent down on the way to grab his wand, and, pointing it at the door, he uttered charms to silence and lock the room. They stretched out together on her bed, feeling the weight and warmth of their bodies, the softness of exposed skin, the shivers of pleasure from each other's exploring touch, and the oblivion of their love.

Afterwards they lay intertwined on her bed, warm rays of sunlight now slanting across their bodies, chests heaving from the pleasure and the pain, the love and the grief. Harry looked at Ginny, and, tilting her face up gently to his, he kissed her deeply, sweetly, as though drinking her after a great thirst.

Then, propping himself up on his elbows, he whispered "I love you Ginny". He had said it naturally, without thinking, and as the words escaped his lips, he knew them to be true. Admitting it so suddenly and soon was the kind of thing he might have agonised about before, but now things felt too precious, fleeting, fragile, to let a moment like this pass him by and not act.

For the first time since they had met outside the great hall, she smiled at him, and then whispered, "I love you too, Harry Potter". Leaning up to meet him, she found the lobe of his ear with her lips. He felt a warm rushing sensation swell his chest until it felt close to exploding. He almost couldn't bear it, but then she was kissing him again, and the feeling of their bodies against each other awoke his desire once more.

Biting down on her lip softly, he moved his hand across her body. The rhythm of her breath changed as she moved to meet his hand. Feeling her arousal caused him to tauten, and her hands found him too, as he gasped in pleasure. Entwined, they rolled until he was sat upright, leaning against the wall. She kissed him deeply as she guided him into her.

They both let out deep moans as she sat astride him, leaning back on his knees and rocking deeply back and forth. He looked up at her sunlit face, holding her body in rhythm with his own, gently biting her nipples, licking from her naval to her collar bone as she moved. Then more gradually but more profoundly, he felt his climax rise again inside him. She could feel the change in his body, his breath, and drew his face towards her for another deep kiss. The shift of the motion was enough to bring Harry to breaking point, suddenly, and explosively. She moved on him slowly while he breathed heavily.

When his panting had slowed, he rolled her onto her back, and moved his mouth to meet her. She let out a cry that could have been surprise but he knew to be pleasure, and he continued, moving his tongue across her warm folds. When she came, it sent shudders through her body. During this slow, deep, release Harry held her in his mouth and stroked her body with his hands.

Gazing at each other, half smiling and half shocked at what had passed between them so quickly and intensely, they fell asleep as the sun rose high in the sky.