Harry rushed into the Ministry. He'd gotten an owl about the attack. Complete sentences eluded him.

Not her. Not them. My fault! Always my fault!

"Ah…Potter is here." He turned down the hallway leading to the Aurors' office and found all of his housemates held at wandpoint. He pulled out his wand to drop it and surrender…

"REDUCTO!" Hermione's head was blown clean off.

"NO!"

SPLASH!

Harry sputtered and thrashed about in bed.

"Harry! It's alright, you're fine, you were asleep," Ginny consoled him and applied a drying spell to counter the effects of her Aguamenti charm.

"Oh…sorry, Gin," he coughed while gulping in breaths of air. "I imagine I was…"

She completed the sentence, but maintained her kind tone. "Yelling your head off, yes. Though, to be honest, I'm glad I heard you, or else I would've just let you sleep for a while longer before dinner." Her eyes dimmed, and she gave Harry a serious look. "What was it?"

"Just stuff with the Nex," he mumbled. "Dreamt they kidnapped…well, everyone who lives here, then…" He hesitated, not quite sure why. For some reason, Harry didn't want Ginny knowing it was Hermione's death that provoked such raw emotion from him. "Err…I'm pretty sure they were just going to do all of you in, I screamed, and then…"

"Here I am," Ginny answered brightly. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Stay with me." He regretted blurting that out so quickly. It sounded so…weak, and needy, and desperate.

Surprise jarred his stomach when she answered, "Sure," and crawled into bed with him.

Ginny ran her fingers through his hair, traced his lightning bolt scar, and kissed him. Harry responded automatically, deepening the kiss a bit, but pulled back. The mood eluded him. Ginny pulled him closer, kissing harder, snaking her tongue into Harry's mouth.

Harry again resisted half-heartedly. Ginny Weasley could rile him up like no other witch he'd encountered, but even her outstanding kissing ability couldn't get a rise out of Harry.

"Sorry, Gin," he managed to whisper between kisses. "I'll give you a raincheck for some fun after you win your Quidditch semi-final on Sunday, though," he murmured in her ear.

"I'm holding you to that, Harry," she laughed and, after giving him a lingering kiss, slipped out of the bed. "Dinner should be ready in a bit, everyone else owled and said they'll be home soon. Big pasta dinner sound good?"

"Yeah, definitely." His stomach rumbled in agreement.

She laughed again. "Looks like you're inheriting the Weasley appetite by dating me." With that, Ginny retreated downstairs. Harry felt a bit better, but not great.

"Considering it is me, settling for not great is actually pretty good," he admitted to himself. A hint of a smile slipped onto his face, and his appetite for both dinner and companionship with his roommates led him down to the dining room.

He came downstairs to find Susan slumped down at the table, her head in her hands.

Harry frowned. "What's wrong, Susan?"

"The wizarding world," she grumbled. "It's just…so many people, both magical and non-magical, must suffer again. More than a few of my patients said…well, they've regressed since the Nex attacked. And they thought that with Voldemort gone…getting better would come naturally. It did for a lot of them." Her eyes darkened. "But now they're wondering: am I next? Is it my family?" Harry opened his mouth to try and answer, but Susan's glare cut him off. "And the worst thing is that the family and friends of Muggle born wizards—they know these things aren't accidents. They're being attacked, and our Ministry just watches," she hissed.

"You know I've never been the biggest fan of the Ministry, Susan, but it's a bit much, even for them, to worry about Muggles. There's too many of them compared to us!" Harry countered.

"Which is why we should be trying to make sure they know we're peaceful!" Susan shot back. "We can't hide forever, we can't put Muggle repellant charms on everything in Britain or other magical places."

They heard the music in the kitchen—a Weird Sisters' song—grow a bit quiet. "What's going on out there?" Ginny called. She liked to cast Silencing charms around the kitchen while she cooked—said it was one of the rare times she could enjoy peace and quiet in a house with six twenty-somethings. Evidently, Susan's voice had grown loud enough to penetrate the muted kitchen.

"Err…nothing," Harry called back. Susan lowered her voice, but maintained her passion. "So, does the Ministry know what they're going to do about the Nex?"

"At the moment, no. Would you mind not bringing this up in front of everyone else, please, Susan?" Harry tried not to snap. "I don't want to put everyone on edge."

Neville, Ron, and Hermione all arrived home around the same time. Hermione, per usual, had hurriedly stuffed a couple quills and rolls of parchment into her coat pocket before leaving—the cold had started biting, even though it was barely September. Ron sniffed the air appreciatively, then laughed at his girlfriend's state. "Really, Hermione, the work will be there tomorrow morning! It's not like you can't get the goblin wand request or the house elf thingy done on time, you work harder than anyone I know!"

"Good thing you're more detail oriented than Ron, though. I don't think calling a piece of legislation a thingy would go over well at the Ministry," Neville quipped. Since he'd broken out of his shell in his later years at Hogwarts, the Herbology enthusiast had developed a Weasley-ish sense of humor.

"Too right," Hermione agreed, laughing. "Still, thank you for the support, Ron," she added, kissing him on the cheek. "And this isn't work, I'm doing a tiny bit of outside research…"

Ron groaned and clapped a hand to his forehead. "Merlin, did you get another Time Turner, Mione?"

"You of all people should know what I'm capable of, Ronald," she answered primly.

Her eyes lit up upon seeing the table. "Ooh, spaghetti! Haven't had that in a while."

The group continued chatting as Harry placed a large salad bowl alongside the main pasta dish. Harry directed the conversation toward the start of the Hogwarts school year—Neville would be leaving in a week.

"So, what courses does Professor Sprout want you to teach?" he asked.

"Well, I'm teaching two sections of first and second years on my own—a mix of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors in one section, and Hufflepuffs and Slytherins in the other." He took a bite of salad and continued. "I'm also observing two classes and helping with research. Nice thing is, I get Fridays off, so I can come see you lot a fair bit."

"I just thought of something…what are we going to do about rent now that Neville's moving out?" Ginny asked.

Everyone turned expectantly to Harry. One of the drawbacks of being The Vanquisher of the Dark Lord—people still automatically looked to him for answers. "Err…I…" he stammered. No one would be particularly thrilled that he'd gone ahead and furtively paid for Neville's share out of pocket, but between his parents' fortune and the money Sirius had left him, he really had more coin than he knew what to do with.

Fortunately, Ron came to his aid. "Harry and I got our landlord to reduce the price since we cleaned up the place so well and made all those improvements when we first moved in without bugging him for even a Knut. So, rent will be the same price, even though Neville's leaving."

Everyone nodded. "Alright, that's settled, then. I had wondered about that," Susan remarked as she helped herself to more spaghetti.

Harry mouthed a silent "thank you" to Ron. Working in a rather volatile joke shop meant Ron had developed a knack for damage control.

Neville turned to Ginny. "So, miss world beating Seeker, what's the gameplan for Sunday?"

She blushed and giggled. "Well, Gudgeon recovered well enough from that Bludger a while back, so I'll definitely just be a Chaser. We'll have to put up a lot of points, though, and it won't be easy since we're going up against Wood."

"He's never seen you fly, though, has he?" Ron asked. She shook her head. "So you've got an advantage there. And you watched him for however long he was at Hogwarts."

"It's too bad Gudgeon's such an awful Seeker," Harry commented. "Can they try him at Chaser?"

"He's horrible there, too." Ginny snorted and rolled her eyes. "I've no idea how he's stayed on the team for so long…"

Ginny, Ron, and Neville continued talking about the match, and Harry did something unusual—he zoned out. It had happened a couple times lately, and he couldn't quite place why. He still liked Quidditch, liked watching matches and flying. He made a mental note to ask Ginny if they could do a few laps around the stadium after the match on Sunday if the weather was alright—it had been a while since he'd taken his Firebolt out. Still…

"Maybe I just don't think Quidditch is that important anymore?" Harry just couldn't talk about it for long periods of time, and it was one of the main topics that he and Ginny discussed ad nauseum.

"Well…it's kind of like small talk, and God knows I never had time to do that at Hogwarts. So…I just have to adjust, and get used to it." Satisfied with this line of reasoning, Harry rejoined their conversation in time to hear that, if the Cannons beat Puddlemere, it would be one of the biggest upsets in the last half century of League play.

"Wouldn't be a bad idea to put a wager on the match," Ron mentioned. A dreamy smile broke out on his face as he contemplated how he could improve the shop with a boatload of Galleons.

"Ron, betting is illegal! D'you want to end up like Bagman?"

"Relax, Mione, I was just kidding!" he answered indignantly. "Merlin, you don't have to take everything so seriously. And besides, that's a great show of support for Ginny, willing to bet money on her ability."

Everyone but Hermione laughed.

Ginny smiled at Ron. "Thank you for the vote of confidence, dear brother, but Hermione's right. I've heard they really cracked down on betting rules since that whole incident with the World Cup."

Finally, everyone had finished eating.

"Thanks so much for dinner, Ginny. It was delicious," Susan enthused.

"Yeah," Neville chimed in. "We'll have to help sometime."

"Oh, it's hardly a big deal," Ginny shrugged off the praise, but blushed at the compliments. "My schedule makes it a bit easier for me to do the cooking, but I wouldn't say no to being pampered."

The group magicked away the messy dishes. Harry retreated to his room with plans to owl the Ministry and catch up on any news he'd missed during the day.

"Harry!" a voice hissed.

He turned round—it was Hermione. Her brows were furrowed together, and she had her hands on her hips. Her standard "I know you're lying" pose.

"What's up, Mione?" he tried to remain casual.

"Don't give me that…"

"Look, I know what you're gonna say, but can we discuss it privately?" Harry jerked his head toward his room.

They closed the door. "Muffliato," Harry muttered.

"So, you went ahead and paid for Neville's rent in full, without asking any of us if it was alright. Why?"

"Well, the value of money goes down over time, according to Ron," Harry shrugged. "I figured the landlord would rather have all of it now…"

Hermione whacked him on the top of the head, but couldn't help laughing. "Very clever answer, Harry, but you know what I mean."

He sighed. "Hermione, you know I have more money than I could ever want or need. Just think of it as a giant present to all of you for helping save my arse at one time or another."

"It's just, I don't want to owe anyone anything. Even you, Harry." Something—not fury, but resolve—blazed in Hermione's eyes.

"You don't owe me a thing," he replied firmly. "Again…do we need to go over how many times you personally have saved my arse?" He started listing. "Devil's Snare first year. You knew how the basilisk was getting round in second year. If it weren't for you, that dragon would've eaten me in the first task. Just…forget it. If anything, I still owe you. You're an amazing witch, Hermione. Just as good as me, if not better."

She blushed at the compliment, then scowled. "You need to stop doing that."

"What?"

"Selling yourself short. You're a brilliant wizard, Harry. And I'm not just saying that, you know it," she added, seeing that he was about to interrupt. "It's nothing to do with the fact that you're…whatever they call you these days." He laughed at how she avoided giving him a title. Hermione continued, "You, Harry James Potter, led Dumbledore's Army. You held off a hundred Dementors when you were thirteen. You threw off Moody's—Crouch's—Imperious Curse-"

He abruptly pulled Hermione into a hug and whispered, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Seeing me for me…not The Boy Who Lived or whatever." Truth be told, Harry rarely doubted his abilities, but he could never shake the feeling that he'd been given things—like a position as an Auror—just because of his name.

"Course, Harry." She pulled away and fixed him with a glare, but her voice betrayed it as a joke. "You're also a prat who's far too generous with his money…but there are worse things to be in life, I s'pose."

"So you'll let this go, then?"

She smiled. "I guess, yeah."

"Thanks, Hermione."

She looked at the blank piece of parchment he'd summoned. "Who you writing?"

"The Ministry. Trying to find out what went on for the rest of the day there after I…uh…"

She looked away. "Right. I'll leave you to it, then." She made her way downstairs. Her absence reminded Harry of what had been missing earlier, when he'd woken up from his nightmare. The thing that could have made him feel even better than Ginny had.

It was Hermione.