A.N: So this chapter is centered mainly around Dean and Ginny, but is still Hinny based, if that makes sense. I feel a little cheeky slipping this in, but I've had it written for a while now, and I've been debating what to do with it. I think it's sweet, but I could get mixed emotions. If you're not a fan of Dean and Ginny, then I suggest skipping this chapter, however I'd read on, because you never know what could happen. If you need motivation to continue, I suggest Googling 'Alfred Enoch', and then reconsider. You know you want to.

Wine stained lips. That's what he first noticed. Her once peachy lips, peachy lips he had once kissed in secluded corners, now smudged an alarming crimson colour. This only made her face seem paler.

Dean preferred to say wine-stained, than blood-stained.

Tears peppered her eyelashes, her hazel eyes fixated on the view outside the Astronomy Tower, which was disfigured by the haunting outlines of dementors, scattering the skylines. Trembling fingers gripped onto a piece of blotchy parchment, knuckles white, splattered blue, a scarlett substance collected under the fingernails. In a world of her own, she flinched when Dean's shadow cast over her, unaware he was there. Auburn hair flying, she snapped her head round, only to find her friend gazing at her, with a look of pity evident on his face.

Ginny admitted that she was relieved it was only him, but some part of her wanted to be alone, left to dwell on her thoughts, undisturbed, however disturbing her thoughts were.

Sliding to the left, she made room for her new companion, patting the cold stone. Without hesitation, Dean took the seat. Immediatley his body heat radiated off onto her, and gave her some comfort. She was numb, for all the wrong reasons. Sensing this, Dean draped his moss coloured jacket over her shoulders, the furry hood tickling her neck. Flashing him a wavering smile, she whispered her thanks.

Moonlight highlighted the left side of her face, as she turned to look at him. Her eyes were unable to meet his, fluttering as she stared intently at her hands. Dean placed his fingers under her jaw, tentatively lifting her head, and trailed his thumb along a purple bruise that decorated her cheek. Whincing, she drew a sharp breath. Gritting his teeth, his eyes roaming over her bust lip, and bruised knuckles.

"Who did this, Ginny?" he asked, softly. His chocolate eyes stared steadily into her own, determined for answers. Ginny merely looked away, as a tear slipped down her face. Wiping it away roughly, she chewed on her nails, exhaling heavily. Desperate to help, he carefully laced his fingers through her own, drawing in her attention.

"Please, let me help you, Ginny" he begged, frantically searching her face for hints. The injuries had been inflicted by hand, which meant that this person had relished in hurting her. Anger coursed through Dean's body. "Who hit you?"

Choking back sobs, Ginny swallowed, and held up the piece of parchment. Ink had been smudged across the page, and tear stains only made the sluggish writing even more incomprehendable.

"I got a letter from Tonks this morning" she began, her voice shaky. "Apparently, Death Eaters have been bragging to anyone and everyone about finding Harry in the Yorkshire Dales. That bastard Thorfinn Rowle let slip that they'd murdered Harry on the spot, along with 'that red-headed and foul-mouthed blood traitor and the filthy, know-it-all mudblood'."

Feeling his stomach drop, Dean tried to not let the disappointment apparant on his face.

"The Death Eaters are growing desperate, of course they're going to be throwing rumours around left, right and centre" he assured her, despite knowing his efforts were fruitless.

"Why would Tonks tell me about it then?" Ginny sighed, her expression so crestfallen, it broke Dean's heart.

"I think she was trying to warn you, give you a heads-up for when the news leaks throughout school" he explained.

Simply nodding, Ginny tried her best to believe in his words. Tried her best to believe that out there, her brother, best friend and love of her life, were safe.

"It seems impossible" she breathed. "That Harry could be dead. I thought he'd live forever, after everything he's been through. That after seventeen years, Voldemort could of just won."

It did seem impossible. Impossible, because never once had Dean allowed himself to wonder what would have happened if Harry had died as a baby, or in his first year, or in his second etc. But it was happening. They'd gone nearly four months without his prescence at school, and it was deafening. Everybody was aware of it, feeling his abscence as sharply as a cut. For some, the pain had lessened, for others, like Ginny, the pain was unbearable. And it was hurting Dean to see her like this, everyday. Gallantly, she carried on, putting on a brave face. Dumbledore's Army was what many had stayed for, because of her. It was beyond admirable.

Contorting her face into that of someone in pain, she gave up and sobbed. "I miss him so much, that it hurts. It physically hurts me. I think about him, laying in a ditch somewhere, and I ache all over" she confided in him, as he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders and drew her in close. "I'm so scared, Dean. I don't know what to do."

Feeling his heartstrings tug a little, he gulped.

"You love him, and that's okay to admit. He loves you too. And how you're feeling now, is okay too" Dean told her. "You don't need to do anything, but breathe. Breathe, and remember the good things. Don't dwell on what could be, think about things that make you smile. Because that's how you're going to get through this. You're the stongest person I know, and if anyone is going to survive this, it's you."

Breaking free from his hold, she nodded, her sobs subsiding.

"I have confidence that Harry's alive, and whatever he's doing out there, he's doing it for all our sake's. To save us all" Dean admitted. "And that there is no way on this earth that he would leave us to fend for ourselves. He's too damn noble for that."

Despite herself, Ginny couldn't stifle her giggle. Music to Dean's ears, he smiled. Looking up at him, for he was quite a few inches taller, she found herself drowning in his eyes, his musky scent enveloping him.

Snapping herself back, she mentally slapped herself. What was she thinking? Harry was out there, fighting for them, if he was out there at all. She couldn't allow herself to even consider Dean, whilst still harbouring feelings for Harry.

Suddenly, as Dean graciously handed Ginny a pale blue handkerchief, so that she could tend to her lip, she realized; Harry had broke it off with her. Telling her it was because he feared what would happen to them both if Voldemort found out about them. Mourning and grieving his abscense the past few months couldn't have made it more obvious how she felt about Harry, and that wasn't going to do her any good. She needed to move on.

"You're nice to me, Dean" Ginny muttered, softly, as she dabbed blindly at her lip. "Really nice. You're a good friend."

Gently taking the handkerchief from her hand, his touch sending shivers up Ginny's spine, he cleaned the blood off her lip for her. Half-heartedly smiling, he sighed "That's me, your friend."

The flat tone in his voice and disappointed expression made it clear to Ginny that Dean wasn't happy, being just her friend. And for some reason, this caused butterflies to flutter around in her stomach.

Running his tongue along his lips, Dean smiled, bringing the handkerchief down from her face. "There" he breathed. "Beautiful."

Breath hitching in her throat, Ginny watched as Dean slowly brought his hand to her face, and tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "You're beautiful."

With those words, Dean leant forward and kissed Ginny passionately, his hands cupping her face, gripping it almost, however cautious of her bruises. Placing her hands on his chest, she reciprocated the kiss, almost hungrily.

Suddenly she pulled away, their foreheads touching, eyes still closed.

"We shouldn't do this" she muttered, breathing heavily.

"You're right" Dean replied, his bare hands still on her cheeks.

In those spare few seconds, Ginny had enough time to decide that she wanted to be happy, and kissing Dean, it made her happier than she had been in months.

"Or maybe I'm wrong" she said, and kissed him, dropping the letter to the floor.