A/N: Part XIV has a few lines from the American edition of Deathly Hallows pg 115, which you all are already aware was written by JKR and not me. :)

XIII. Out of Luck

(Ginny)

As the stooped, white-haired man began the eulogy, Ginny slipped her hand into her pocket and felt around for the empty little vial. When she found it, she gripped it hard and glanced over at Harry sitting at the end of the aisle, her heart twisting at the sight of his face dripping with tears.

He had promised to pick her up from the library several nights ago, so that they might discuss this pull they had for one another and perhaps let themselves get lost in a kiss or two or dozen. She'd dreamt of the moment for years, wished for it with her whole heart. Instead, Harry had sent Ron and the last bit of Felix Felicis in his place, a selfless lifeline he'd thrown to her as the world proceeded to turn upside down.

As if feeling her eyes upon him, Harry turned and met her gaze head on, mirroring the longing look she sent him.

I'm here , Ginny wanted to tell him, I'm here, and I love you.

Their eye contact broke when a strong, sudden breeze blew her hair into her face. By the time she had it under control, Harry was staring out over the lake, his jaw clenched and his hands in fists.

She watched him for some time, committing his profile to memory, and when the service for Professor Dumbledore was over and Harry stood up and walked away, Ginny trampled down every urge to follow him, knowing that their chance at happiness had been lost once again.

XIV. No Happy Birthday Here

(Ginny)

It came out in a rush of breath. "Happy seventeenth."

She'd practiced what she was going to say to him, what she was going to do hundreds of times in her head, but now that the moment was upon her, Ginny's stomach felt as if it were being strangled by a Venomous Tentacula.

Could she do this? Could she push him into action? Or would she finally lose her mind here, alone with him, and act on all these feelings that were bursting to come out of her before it was too late?

"Yeah…thanks," said Harry, refusing to look at her, and gestured lamely out her bedroom window. "Nice view."

"But you aren't even looking at me."

The sound that escaped Harry was something between a laugh and a groan, and when he finally turned to her, he was running a hand down his face, cheeks ruddy, and shaking his head like he couldn't believe what she'd just said.

Ginny found this extremely funny. She'd been quite forward with him late last term, trying to get him to make the first move after promising herself she'd never chase him again, but She was getting so tired of waiting. Time was of the essence now that he was leaving to do wildly dangerous things.

"You and your bloody cheek," he said.

Ginny grinned at him and shrugged. "A girl likes to be admired now and again."

Harry snorted. "You've got plenty of admirers."

"But you're my favorite one," she said.

It was another blatant acknowledgement of the crush they had for one another, and the silence in the room became heavy, though not uncomfortable, and very warm, especially with the heated stare Harry leveled at her.

"Why did you pull me in here?"

She went on with her plan, hoping she could push her nerves aside long enough for this– them –to come to fruition, if even for a second.

Ginny took a step closer to him. "I wanted to get you something for your birthday."

Harry blinked at the subject change. "You didn't have to get me anything."

She ignored this and plowed on, "I didn't know what would be useful. Nothing too big, because you wouldn't be able to take it with you."

Ginny reached out her hands and gently took one of his. He let her marvel at how large it was, her fingertips on his pulse, blood rushing strong and steady, her thumbs swiping across his knuckles, across his scar.

I must not tell lies.

When she looked up at him next, his emerald eyes were darker and closer than ever. She could count every coal-black eyelash if given enough time.

"All I need is your safety," said Harry, his resolve melting as he tipped his face forward, their foreheads gently connecting and his breath fanning across her lips, so close . "Promise me that?"

Ginny closed her eyes, her heart thrumming a lovesick beat against her ribcage, sure this was it…

"Whatever you want," she whispered.

It was then that Ron chose to barge in, and Ginny's plan slipped between her eager fingers as she and Harry jumped apart.

"Oh. Sorry," said Ron, not sounding sorry at all.

"Ron!" protested Hermione just behind him.

Ginny turned her back on the lot of them, the unfairness of it all burning her up from the inside out. Tears seared her eyes, and the vision of the orchard and the bright white marquee outside was swimming.

"Well, happy birthday anyway, Harry."

XV. Past, Present, Revolt

(Ginny)

Life at Hogwarts started off bleak, then quickly nosedived into terrifying. Her brain tripped into survival mode and chose to play with fire, pushing past into present with no discernible end in sight…

It was somewhat alarming. Ginny saw him everywhere : on the bench across from her at mealtimes, his green eyes like a spark in the darkness; walking towards the Black Lake with his face tipped up towards the sky in hopes of catching a ray of watery sunlight; fast asleep in an armchair by the fireplace, the rise and fall of his chest a soothing, almost hypnotizing movement.

Harry was in her thoughts and streaming into everyday life like a bottle of spilled ink, and yet envisioning him here was the only way to keep the promise she'd made him. He was her harbor in this hurricane of evil and the fight in her, too; the easiest way to break off an Imperio, the surest way to survive a Cruciatus Curse.

Still, there was that nagging worry that these visions were all too similar to her first year, to the diary. One night after dinner, Ginny forced herself to tell Neville in the hopes that he might keep her from falling too deeply into fantasy (or insanity).

"But you aren't being possessed," said Neville, glancing over his shoulder even though they were in the Gryffindor common room and mostly alone. "You're surviving."

"I just want to be sure someone knows, incase I go a bit funny–"

"But you've already gone a bit funny."

Ginny reached out to smack him on the arm, but Neville tilted his chair back and out of her reach, grinning despite the yellowing bruise on his cheek.

"I'm being serious!" said Ginny.

"Yeah, alright," conceded Neville, the front legs of his chair thumping back into place. "I'll stab you with a Basilisk fang and make it all go away."

Ginny gaped at him. "Blimey, you're morbid now."

Neville graced her with an apologetic wince. "Sorry, Hogwarts has done me in." In his very next breath, he leaned closer and said, "By the way, I was thinking we should try to save the school."

"I– what ?"

"After that debacle with The Sword, maybe we should… I dunno. Recruit. We'll need help."

Ginny remembered Harry then, mouth only inches from hers. All I need is your safety.

But the memory quickly dissipated as she listened to Neville's plan, and her heart hammered against her ribcage like the drum solo of The Weird Sisters latest single when he pulled his DA coin from his robes pocket.

Harry was not here to lead them, but Ginny was more than willing to raise hell in his honor.

"Let's run this by Luna first," said Ginny.

Neville rolled his eyes. "You know she'll say yes."

"Of course she will," she replied simply. "A revolt is never a bad idea."