A/N: I made a few changes to this chapter. It's always bugged me that Kingsley and the others just left Ginny alone to take care of an obviously very hurt Harry. I hope this way makes a little more sense.

The dread in Ginny's belly made her feel like she had just swallowed a Bludger. Picking her way through the rubble from the fallen roof was slow and she had to force herself not to simply blast it away with her wand; Harry could be anywhere. The light from the nearly full moon shown through the gaping hole in the ceiling but Ginny said Lumos anyway out of habit. She swung her wand quickly around the space, some tiny part of her hoping that she'd see Harry sitting in plain sight, maybe scratched up a bit but otherwise okay. But there was only devastation in every direction. The doorway to the front part of the bar was completely caved in and blocked, although Ginny could hear the sound of movement behind it.

"H-harry?" she whispered, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice. Too quiet. "Harry, can you hear me?" she said more forcefully. "It's Ginny." Still, there was no sound.

Ginny knew what she had to do next, what Auror procedure was in cases like these. The thought of what she might be about to learn made her stomach heave; she had to swallow hard to keep from vomiting. Raising her wand higher she swept it in a circle around the room.

"Homenum Revelio" she said as clearly as she could. There was a soft noise and Ginny felt a breeze swoop lightly over her. A second later, her wand vibrated once, identifying her. Ginny stood frozen, gripping her wand so tightly her knuckles were white.

Nothing else happened.

Ginny saw stars begin to shine in front of her eyes; the walls of the room were closing in on her as surely as they had on Harry, and still she couldn't move.

No-no-no-no-no-no.

Ginny's wand was sweaty in her hand. It was slipping out of her grasp and she didn't care. It could drop to the floor, get crushed to splinters or burnt to ash for all she cared. Harry was dead.

It vibrated.

Ginny jerked her head up and looked wildly around, half thinking she'd imagined the feeling of the wand buzzing in her hand. She whispered the spell again and almost immediately felt the first vibration. A pause, and then more feebly, but still there, another.

Alive. Harry was alive.

The relief Ginny felt was fleeting and almost immediately replaced with a sense of action. She had to find him, now.

As she rotated in a circle, barely daring to breath, a crash from the way she had come in startled her. Her head jerked up towards the very back hallway of the bar. Another wall had collapsed, one she had passed when she entered. Possibly it had been weakened when she had pushed open the back door to the pub.

Ginny ignored it and kept moving in a careful circle in the center of the room, refuseing to even blink. Finally, on her third rotation she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Part of a wooden beam seemed to shift; she heard the faintest scratching against the brick.

The beam was leaning against an upturned table. Ginny moved gingerly forward until she could almost touch it. A good bit of the ceiling had fallen here and was lying awkwardly against the beam. And under it, curled on his side against the table, was Harry.

Later, Ginny barely remembered how she lifted the wood and brick away so she could get to him. She knew a deadly calm had come over her and she had worked quickly and precisely so that by the time Kingsley's Patronus arrived, she was already kneeling beside Harry, assessing him for injuries.

Ginny, are you okay? That collapse in the back . . . did you find him? Is he. . .? Even by Patronus, Ginny could hear the tension in Kingsley's voice. We are working to get to you from the front and back; we had to set freezing charms to keep anything else from collapsing, but it makes it more difficult to get through the rubble. Send me a Patronus and let me know. . ." The voice faded away.

Swiftly, Ginny sent her own Patronus back to Kingsley. Harry alive, but unconscious. Need a healer. I'll . . . I'll do what I can.

Message sent, Ginny took a deep breath. Harry moaned and shuffled, and Ginny felt a tiny prick of relief that maybe Harry wasn't as injured as he first appeared.

She looked down, struck with a strong sense of déjà vu. "The things you get yourself into Potter," she muttered to herself as she gently pulled open the front of his robes and regarded the widening patch of blood on his shirt. "Didn't I just heal this after you decided to fly into a bloody tree?"

She probed the area lightly with her fingertips and was gratified when Harry flinched, although his eyes were still closed, his mouth slack.

"I know it hurts," she said conversationally, ripping away his shirt. "Honestly, I think you do these things just so I can have the chance to see you without your shirt on – not that I'm complaining, mind you. But unbuttoning them like a normal bloke works just fine too. You could avoid all the drama and I'd still want to . . . be with you."

It was much easier to talk to Harry while he was unconscious. Ginny began dabbing at his largest wound with a piece of his torn shirt while she continued chatting away.

"Because I do, you know. Want to be with you. And not because the shagging's fantastic. Although it is. Really, really fantastic." Despite herself, Ginny blushed.

Pulling away more torn fabric, she considered a long scratch on his side. "It's a good thing you're unconscious right now," she continued, "because I don't want anyone to hear what I'm going to say next." She took a deep breath. "You see, Ron was right. I did want you to take me to the ball. I don't know why I couldn't just come right out and say that . . . I sure bolloxed things up with that whole 'cute trainee' thing, didn't I?"

Leaning over, Ginny traced her wand down the scratch in Harry's side, muttering a spell as she went. His body jerked a bit as the wound healed and she nodded to herself, satisfied, before turning back to the bigger gash. It was still bleeding, and she closed her eyes for a minute, trying to remember the order of spells for larger injuries.

"And the thing is," she went on, "the thing is . . . I'm sorry. I'm sorry I got all crazy and sorry for pretty much everything I said to you at the ball, and at your flat. And, I'm especially sorry I yelled all that stuff in front of my brothers. I'll help you Obliviate them later, if you want." Ginny picked up one of Harry's hands and rubbed her thumb across the back of it where it was covered with tiny scratches and splinters of wood. Even after she said the spell to clean it, she couldn't bring herself to let go.

"I didn't just want to go to the ball to shag, Harry." His hand jerked in hers and she looked up quickly, but Harry's eyes were still closed. "I don't know how we got to that point, but I want you to know – that being with you . . . is more than just . . . well, it's more." Ginny shook her head to herself and looked back at Harry. She needed to focus on healing him, not talking him into even more of a stupor. She knit her brow together and pointed her wand at his chest.

"It's always been more for me too, Ginny."

Ginny's eyes snapped open. Harry had spoken quietly, but his eyes were open and clear. He tried to smile, but it almost immediately turned into a grimace of pain. Looking into his face more closely, she saw a large cut on the side of his head, snaking back into his hair. She put the cloth against it and pressed firmly.

"Did you hear everything I said?" she asked.

"Enough," he said. "And . . . I'm sorry too. For everything I said. Especially down in the courtroom. I should have known you wouldn't . . ." his voice died away in a wince of pain and he closed his eyes again.

"I told Kinsgley to get a healer in here, they are working on it," Ginny said quietly. There was a lot of blood ,and even though most of Harry's wounds seemed fairly superficial, she wasn't sure where to start. More than that, she didn't want to hurt him.

"I'm glad we have a second," Harry said. Ginny saw him swallow hard. "Are you okay? Your Patronus was kind of . . .it got everyone here quickly. That was a really good thing."

"I'm fine," said Ginny. "Just a little singed, but no big deal." She looked down at him again, a bit of the terror she'd felt was finally receding and the relief was making her a little giddy.

"You stupid, noble git. Why in Merlin's name would you run into a burning building after everyone else was out?"

HPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry moved restlessly, the broken bricks under him digging into his back. "I was looking for you," he mumbled. He was fairly certain they were past the anger and pettiness of earlier, but his thoughts were woozy from the pain and shock and he didn't want to make any more mistakes.

He opened his eyes again, searching until they found hers. "But," he said as firmly as he could past the searing pain in his side, "not because I thought you needed watching out for, and not because it makes your parents happy and not because it's my job."

Reaching up, he grabbed the hand that Ginny was moving across his stomach where she was still trying to staunch some of the blood that flowed sluggishly down his robes. She was absolutely still as she looked back at him; the terror Harry had seen on her face when he'd first come to had eased somewhat. Now her face was a mixture of concern and determination, and something else he felt that he was finally close to identifying.

"Why did you?" she whispered, running her fingers over the back of his hand. "Come looking for me, I mean."

Harry swallowed hard, the pain actually making honesty come easier. He had to do this right – say this right. After all the missed opportunities and miscommunication and just plain stupidity, he didn't want them to mess it up again. Not because he knew this was his only chance to say it; there would be lots more chances, and he intended to use them all. But he was tired of swallowing back the truth and denying what he really wanted. He was going to put it out there for Ginny to hear.

"Uhhh, Ginny? How is he?" Suddenly Kingsley was there, peering concernedly down at Harry, who felt slightly ridiculous all of a sudden, laying there on the floor.

That man must have a sixth sense about the absolute worst possible times to interrupt, thought Harry to himself. He tried to sit up but everything started to go black and he fell awkwardly into Ginny who had to help him back down again.

"I think he'll be fine," replied Ginny grimly. "As long as he doesn't try to do anything stupid like move on his own for a while." She made a sound under her breath that sounded a lot like 'idiot' and Harry grinned to hear something so normal from her.

"I'm fine, sir," he broke in. "Just a little dizzy. But I'm sorry I couldn't be more help with the crowd."

"Not a problem," said Kingsley. "I'm glad you found Miss Weasley, or rather, that she found you." The man raised his eyebrows and Harry felt himself flush.

"Is he ready to be moved?" Kingsley asked. "We need to start clearing this space and collecting evidence. There's a tent set up for first aid, and seeing that Potter here is the only one who hasn't been attended to, you should have some privacy."

Ginny nodded. "It should be safe, although the cut on his chest is still bleeding. I think he got hit across the front with that falling beam."

Harry felt himself being lifted into the air on a stretcher. He reached out his hand and almost immediately felt Ginny take it in hers as they began to move through the bar. From his position he could only make out the ceiling (what was left of it), and bits and pieces of the walls. It was a bit disconcerting, not being able to see what was coming, but lifting his head made him dizzy.

At the entrance to the pub, Harry heard Ginny mutter something and suddenly the ceiling went blurry. He squeezed her hand.

"Did you . . .?" he began, just as Kingsley said, "nice one, Ginny."

Ginny had cast an Obsfu charm over him and his immediate surroundings. As soon as they got outside, Harry understood why. From the sound of it, there must have been at least several dozen people around including (he suspected), the press. The charm prevented anyone from seeing him or Ginny; a large, hazy cloud covered them and the Aurors that walked on either side of the stretcher.

A minute later the stretcher bumped gently on the ground inside one of the first aid tents and almost immediately Harry was surrounded by a sea of red: Ron, Fred and George.

"Comfortable there, Harry? Do you need a pillow? How about a mug of butterbeer?" George was peering down at him, a grin on his face.

"We're just going to let eight or ten members of the press in here, you don't mind, do you mate?" Fred was appraising Harry frankly. "I think Witch Weekly would be particularly interested in getting a couple of photos of you without your shirt."

"Pull off his pants and he just might make the front page," George quipped back. "Ginny? Want to do the honors?"

"Enough, both of you," said Ginny. "Aren't you at least going to tell Harry that you're glad he's okay?"

"Nah, that's Ronniekins' job," said Fred. "He's the one that's been giving Harry advice these past weeks. It was probably his idea for Harry to go running into a collapsing building looking for you instead of, say, sending a Patronus."

"Hey, if Harry had listened to me in the first place he would have avoided all of this," said Ron indignantly. He looked at Harry. "Why didn't you just send her a Patronus, mate?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "It didn't occur to me . . . at the time," he said. What he didn't say was that, in his earlier panicked state, he was lucky to have remembered his own name, let alone the complex spell needed to send a Patronus. He looked up at Ginny. "But yours was great, Gin. It got everyone here fast."

He was pleased to see a real smile on face and it made him more anxious than ever to talk to her – alone. Ginny apparently had the same idea because in the next second she said, "Ron, Fred, George – I love you all. Now, get out of here. Go see your girlfiends and things. Tell Mum and Dad we're fine. Harry and I need to talk."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," said Ron plaintively. He clamped Harry on the shoulder. "Oops, sorry," he said, seeing Harry wince. "I'm glad you're okay mate. Even though you've been acting bloody mental." He glanced at Ginny and then gave Harry a significant look. "Just don't fuck it up again."

"Was that last comment for you or for me?" Ginny said to Harry as her brothers Apparated away.

"I think we can both take it to heart," said Harry. He looked up at Ginny. "Because I know I don't want to mess this up again."

"Me neither," said Ginny quietly.

"I've been lying to myself, you know," Harry continued. He looked up at Ginny and she nodded for him to continue.

"I'll be just . . ." she gestured down at his chest and began tracing the wounds with her wand, quietly whispering the healing spells. Harry felt the familiar coolness and then warmth that signified his skin was being repaired and he sighed as the pain began to recede.

"I've been telling myself that I was happy." Harry picked up the thread of his thoughts. Above him, he could see Ginny's mouth tighten slightly.

"But you weren't," she said.

"Not completely, not always," said Harry. "Not happy enough." He was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Ginny didn't say anything either, just continued to attend to his injuries. She pulled away more of his ruined shirt and ran her hand briskly down his side and Harry could not help but think of the last time Ginny had healed him. This time, he knew, she was not going to start anything else; they both understood that only words would fix things now.

"When I . . . when we broke up," he said, "I thought it was the best thing for you. The Harpies liked to . . . you know. They always . . . and we - I thought I was holding you back." The words would not come easily. It all seemed kind of unbelievable now, what he'd convinced himself was right, and now, saying it all out loud, it sounded even more ridiculous.

"I never . . ." began Ginny.

"No, I know you didn't." Harry rushed to reassure her. There was so much he needed to say, and any little bit of it alone could make things worse.

She seemed to hear the pleading in his voice and her mouth worked into a small smile. "Sorry," she said. "I'll listen quietly."

Harry smiled back at her, some of his nervousness easing at her words. It's Ginny, he reminded himself. "It's okay," he said. "I promise to listen to you too."

Harry took a deep breath and decided to just say it outright. "I always tried to make sure I wasn't getting in your way. And in the process, I ignored everything I really wanted."

"What is it that you wanted?" asked Ginny quietly. She'd stopped her wand movements above him and now the warmth Harry felt on his skin was from the shirt she'd conjured to replace his torn one.

"I wanted . . . I still want . . . to be with you. Completely – not just for . . . physical things. Although I want that too," he added hurriedly and was gratified to see another hint of a grin cross Ginny's face.

"And I think I can be. With you, I mean. And still not get in the way of your work. I know better now."

"Harry," said Ginny. The overly patient tone in her voice reminded Harry of someone talking to a small child. " You've never gotten in the way of my work. Quite the opposite, actually."

Hope flickered in Harry's chest. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean," said Ginny, "that I like knowing that you're around. It makes me play better, knowing that you're there cheering me on."

"I'll always be there to cheer you on Ginny, you know that," Harry replied. "But when you aren't actually playing . . ."

"When I'm not actually playing you still don't bother me. If you haven't noticed, I like being with you. More than I like being with pretty much anyone else. You can talk intelligently about Quidditch, you know when I need to talk about things other than Quidditch, you give me a good excuse to avoid all the blokes who just want to say they shagged a Harpy, and . . . (here, Ginny waggled her eyebrows suggestively), you give one hell of a massage."

"I thought you needed to be spending more time with your team," said Harry quietly. It was so glaringly obvious to him how wrong he'd been, but he needed to hear Ginny say it anyway.

Instead, she bit her lip.

"What?" he asked. Maybe I misread the situation.

"I thought you needed to be spending more time at your work too," she said. "And that you were only working for the Harpies because you'd promised my parents you'd look out for me."

Harry closed his eyes. Could they really have screwed things up so badly? He opened them again and grabbed Ginny's hands. "Not even close," he said. He reached up and put his hand on her chin, lifting it until her eyes met his. "Not even close," he whispered again.

Harry saw Ginny shiver at his touch. Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing only slightly from the lingering pain. She was looking at him with wide eyes, waiting.

"Ginny, I worked for the Harpies because I couldn't stand being away from you. I was so relieved I had an excuse to be there, because I worried all the time that I was keeping you from spending more time with your team. The other night, when I thought you were at the Cloak and Dagger, I almost lost it. And tonight . . ." He took a deep breath. "Tonight was even worse." Harry blinked rapidly against the sudden prickling of tears in his eyes. There was so much more he wanted to say, but the lump in his throat kept him from continuing. He ran his hand down Ginny's cheek and across her lips, waiting.

Ginny took a long moment before she answered, and Harry braced himself to hear her let him down easy. Not that he thought she was going to, not after all . . . well, everything, but he held his breath anyway, knowing that her next words could not be coming any easier than his own had.

"These past months," she finally began. "After . . . well, you know." She blushed, suddenly. Harry understood. Being here, now, on the other side of the months of pretending, of denying themselves everything that made sense, made even thinking about what they had done instead feel . . . off.

"I was actually proud of myself," she went on. "Because I could do this – just be your friend, I mean. Without . . ." She paused, took a deep breath. "I wasn't getting in the way of what you wanted, what I thought you wanted," she corrected herself. "I convinced myself that it was right. I actually believed it, that it was good just to be your friend. I couldn't hold you back, if I was just your friend. I didn't have to make demands on you that you wouldn't want to keep."

She stopped again, and Harry could see the tears, unshed, glistening in her eyes. He wanted to do so many things, say so many things to her, but he didn't. He'd had his turn, and she knew how he felt. They both understood the mistakes they'd made, trying to be too good for the other. He finally just took her hand, gently, and rubbed his thumb across it. Just the tiniest bit of contact to show he would listen, and hear.

"But then I realized, I have a lot of friends in my life already. Great friends, who've been so much for me, when I needed it, and whose lives are a part of mine, but who are not my . . . who don't . . ." She shook her head, almost to herself, before looking back up at Harry, the tears he heard in her voice finally snaking their way down her cheeks. "I have enough friends, Harry. I don't need any more."

His voice was almost a whisper when he asked, "What do you need, Ginny?"

Ginny took a deep, shuddering breath, and her voice was ragged with the emotion that she couldn't keep from spilling over.

"I need . . . I need to be us again, Harry. I need to love you every day without worrying about whether what I'm doing might be right in theory, but is all wrong for you and me. I need to stop ignoring what I really want just because I have some ridiculous view of what I think I should want."

Harry had started to cry too. The words they should have said to each other, that they should have understood about each other so long ago, finally made sense. Moving stiffly, he gathered Ginny in his arms and pulled her into his lap, tucking her head under his chin. But she wasn't done, and her next words made him shiver with feelings he thought had been lost in the past months.

"And Harry, I need . . . I need you to make love with me. Slowly. Thoughtfully. . ."

". . . Tenderly," he added, running his hand slowly down her spine and feeling her shiver herself. "When no one else is around, and we don't have anywhere to be . . ."

"Except together," she continued, and then twisted to look at his face. "Together in your bed, all night . . ."

". . . and part of the next day," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her, finally, on the lips.

It was a kiss like they hadn't shared since soon after the war. More sweetness than passion, innocent, and even a bit tentative. Harry knew he couldn't sweep away everything they had already done together, and truth be told, he didn't really want to. It was part of them, part of the fact that they had each cared so much about the other as an individual that they had lost themselves together. But it had also brought them back to each other, and Harry knew they were stronger than ever. Kissing Ginny there, in his arms, ignoring everything around them, it felt like the first time again. He was even a little nervous, he wanted to do it right. And looking in her eyes, he knew Ginny felt that way too.

"I want," he began. "No. I need, to give you all of myself. Because that's the only way I can feel whole. And, there has been a part of me missing, since we broke up. I did it on purpose, it made sense, at the time. To keep me from thinking too much, or questioning, or missing you." Ginny was looking at him questioningly, as if she realized he was talking about more than how he felt. "But it backfired," he concluded.