Chapter 1:

Enough Trouble for a Lifetime

The Hogwarts grounds were devoid of people. Rubble was scattered all over, occasionally accompanied by the corpse of some fallen friend or foe. The scarred landscape was unrecognizable. Harry kicked a pebble down the front steps. They too, had suffered through the battle. Chunks were missing here and there. The odd dark burn of a long-forgotten spell embedded into the cold stone. Harry kicked the pebble with a touch more force than he had previously, and sighed in annoyance as it flew out of view, and away into another irrelevant pile of rubble.

His thoughts were scattered and distant. Nothing was coming together to form any coherent thought. Nothing save the names of those that had fallen.

Fallen because of him.

Fred, Remus, Tonks. Even Colin, someone Harry had always painted as an annoyance, was lost.

Harry felt those losses.

He felt them deep within his very being. Like a constant ache scratching at his lungs. Desperate to get out in some way. Desperate to be expressed.

Grief.

His worn shoes reached the grass of the grounds properly. Harry took a deep breath. The moment his body had left the stone, the castle, the death, the pain, the battle… the moment his foot touched the earth he felt as though he could breathe again. His eyes fluttered shut, and he stood there. His breathing slowed along with his heart rate. He allowed all the smells, both familiar and otherwise, to fill him up. A calm breeze came from the forest and swept across his face.

He'd slept for a full day. His body had felt like it'd been run over by a hundred thousand centaurs then doused in freezing cold water and thrown out into a snowy mountain pass. Perhaps he was being slightly overdramatic with that self-description, but it was how he felt. Cold and shattered.

He clenched his fists, stealing himself, before making his way down to the reason he'd snuck out early in the first place.

Dumbledore's cracked marble tomb lay before him. The lake stretched out behind it, small burning fires reflected on its smooth glassy surface.

The sun hadn't risen yet. Instead, the faint purplish pinks of dawn were just now beginning to cross the horizon.

He was only a few meters away now. He could feel goose-pimples bubbling up all across his body. His neck felt as though it had been touched by cold iron.

He swallowed and took the first step. He could still see it in his mind. Voldemort's bone-white hands tearing the tomb apart.

He wasn't Harry, though; and Harry wasn't him. More so than ever, Harry could believe that. The Horcrux he hadn't known was there had been destroyed. Gone forever.

He absent-mindedly rubbed at his chest, where the killing curse had struck a second time.

Harry's foot caught on something and he nearly fell onto Dumbledore's tomb. He hadn't quite acknowledged how fast he'd been walking.

Straightening himself, Harry rolled his shoulders back and withdrew the Elder Wand from the pocket of his robe. Its power radiated through his fingertips. Like when he pressed his hand to Dudley's television set. That odd crackling and ringing.

Dumbledore's exposed body had an odd effect on Harry. Death was an inevitability, and as he stared down at his fallen mentor... friend, even, he didn't quite know what to think.

Here he stood, alive, breathing, and feeling, by nothing but luck and miracles and careful planning on the parts of greater men. He, Harry, had accomplished nothing. He'd failed in every branch of his life. His family was gone because of him, no matter how young he may have been. He'd never truly finished school and had no real plans on returning. His relationships had all been doomed from the start. He'd been marked for death at birth and had lived through it.

He shouldn't have.

Dumbledore should've been here, standing over his grave. Remus, Tonks, and their son. Hell, his parents and Sirius should be here. Ron and Ginny should've been here, grieving him over their brother.

Harry turned the Elder Wand over in his hand. He owed it to them, the fallen, to make real change. To ensure that their sacrifice, their accomplishments were not in vain. Harry gently lowered the wand to Dumbledore's chest. The power of the wand swept through his system, as though it belonged. Fighting Harry's decision.

"You do not belong to me," said Harry, calmly. "Let go,"

The Elder Wand seemed to grow lighter in his grip. Harry let the wand go and straightened up. With his right hand, he drew his holly wand and swept it over the white tomb. The scattered rubble flew together, rejoining to form an untarnished grave.

Harry let out a long breath. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

One weight of many.

He turned around and looked up at the castle. Its many turrets had stopped smoking, but there were noticeable gaps in the skyline. The Astronomy Tower was the only untarnished portion of the castle. Like a flower in the center of a battlefield.

He had no desire to return to the castle. Not yet. Instead, he walked off towards the forest. Away from the tomb, and away from the castle.

The moment he arrived at the forest's edge, however, he changed his mind. He wasn't quite ready to face the place of his death.

He stood there for a while. Thinking of everything and nothing. His thoughts were a swirling storm. He needed a place to relax. Somewhere he could always find comfort.

And so he set off for the tree by the lake. A lonely relic of an older treeline.

Snape had been humiliated here. In a terrible memory Harry wished he'd never seen.

He was dead now too. Snape. Having fought a selfish battle and gone in selfish sacrifice.

That was another strange matter of the past 48 hours. Snape's love for Harry's mother, and how that reshaped Harry's perception of the man. It was all so much. So many difficult decisions and thoughts.

Harry reached the lonely tree and collapsed to the ground. He fit right between two protruding roots, creating a sort of seat.

A year ago today, he would have sat here with Ginny sitting between his legs, leaning back against his chest. He sighed. That was a much simpler time. Where the war was far off and the prophecy somehow less… real.

Ginny had been the only real thing at the time.

He picked at the grass around him and thought.

There was so much to do now. The funerals, the Ministry, an explanation to Ron and Hermione. They had stuck with him until the very end. They deserved a full explanation of what had happened in the forest, the Elder Wand, King's Cross, everything.

Then there were other matters. Narcissa Malfoy, and by extension, Draco, deserved some sort of recompense for their actions towards Voldemort's defeat.

Then, there was the matter Harry himself was avoiding acknowledging.

The fact that even with the Horcrux supposedly gone, there was still a nagging weight on his conscience.

His mind was still connected to something.

If he'd have to die properly to fully remove the Horcrux, or whatever was in there, then so be it. It was one of the many reasons he was avoiding contact with anyone.

None of it was worth thinking about at the moment. So, Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His arms folded across his chest as he drifted off to sleep.

The cracking of twigs and the gentle press of boots on wet grass met Harry's ears. He kept his eyelids closed, feigning sleep.

Whoever or whatever it was drew nearer. Their walk was light and quiet, but clumsy. It reminded Harry of Tonks, a bit. The thought only sent another pang of remorse through his body and mind.

Harry heard the person, for he was sure of that fact now, brush away the sticks and leaves that populated the tree bed.

Their motions halted and Harry's left hand wrapped around his wand, out of view of whoever stood beside him.

Then, the wind, which had been blowing towards the stranger, switched directions. Blowing towards Harry.

Dirt, grime, and body odor met Harry's nostrils. An undercurrent of iron followed. Whoever it was, was bleeding.

Harry's grip on his wand tightened. His adam's apple bobbed uncontrollably. He was fighting his breathing from speeding up. His heart pounded in his ears.

Then, he heard the stranger sit down. Felt the air get pushed out from under them. Heard the fabric of their clothing come in contact with the bark of the tree.

"A confusing move," Harry thought idly. His grip on his wand remained firm.

Many minutes passed. Nothing but the wind and the light growing brighter through Harry's eyelids.

The game of whether or not Harry was truly asleep was likely up. He could swear that whoever was sitting by him could hear his heart beating.

Just as he was going to open his eyes and see who had joined him, they spoke.

"So, I suppose it was for some stupid noble reason," she said. Harry could hear the smile in her voice.

His eyes shot open on instinct. The last time he'd heard her voice was as the killing curse flew towards him in the forest. His very last thoughts.

"I came here to be left alone. I don't want to talk." Harry said quietly. He didn't mean to come off as rude. It was the truth. He didn't want to say something he didn't mean. Especially while his emotions were so all over the place.

He refused to look at her, even now.

"I know… which is why I came down here," she said, the smile in her voice gone. "So you know you aren't alone."

And then there was silence, and Harry couldn't help but look at her. There was dirt on her face. Blood streaked down from her temple to her jaw. There was a large bruise around the base of her neck. Scrapes and scratches littered her arms.

Yet she was just as beautiful as always, if not more so. She'd grown since their short stint in a relationship. Not necessarily in height but in other areas. She was more mature.

Living through a war would do that. Harry couldn't dwell on the thought of what may have happened to her at school. The brief explanation they'd received from Neville had been enough horror before the battle.

Her eyes were closed, her head lay against the tree. Her beautiful red hair blew gently in the wind.

Ginny understood him. Sometimes he felt like she understood him better than he did. It wasn't a knowledge of his great feats, or his parents or whatever events had transpired around him. It was a deep understanding of who he was and what he could be. She'd always exhibited it. Even from the tiniest of interactions before his sixth year.

It was subtle, too. Unlike Hermione's battering ram grace with anything emotional.

She just knew.

"Thanks… that's exactly what… thanks." Harry stuttered out.

Ginny laughed quietly. "I thought you didn't want to talk,"

Harry let out a snort of laughter. The first true smile he'd had since Remus had come to Shell Cottage with an exuberant grin and hope for the future. Suddenly, the light that had returned to his mind with Ginny's presence seemed to dim somewhat.

"Yes, well…" Harry trailed off. There wasn't much to say. Then, a thought came to him. "I'm sorry abo-"

"If you say you're sorry about Fred I might kill you," Ginny said, her eyes opening and glaring in Harry's direction. "And I'll make sure you stay dead this time."

Harry frowned, entirely thrown off by Ginny's behaviour.

Ginny sighed and sat up, leaning towards Harry. The weight on his mind, like the Horcrux before it, seemed to twitch. "I know you probably feel like everybody in there," she pointed to the Great Hall, "is blood on your hands. I know you feel guilty, and I know you think that every tear spilled is because of you."

Harry swallowed, exhaling raggedly.

Ginny gripped his shoulders and stared directly into his eyes. "None of it is your fault. Not your mother, not your father, not Cedric, not Sirius, not Remus, not Fred. None of them. Not a single one."

Harry felt the pressure at the back of his eyes grow. "You don't understand you just don't."

Ginny pressed her lips together and bowed her head, acknowledging his point. "You're right… I don't understand. But I can offer you the truth. Unimpacted by fate or guilt," she let go of his shoulders and sat back against the tree, still holding eye contact. "Did you kill them?"

"I might as well have-"

"Did you cast the spell?"

"No, but-"

"Did you force them into a dangerous situation? Did you, personally, drive their decision? Did you intentionally wish ill upon them? Hope they'd die?"

"No of course not!" Harry shouted, his voice echoing across the eerily silent grounds. His breathing was heavy, and he took a moment to calm down. "Of course not but that doesn't make it any less my fault."

Ginny smiled sympathetically and stood up, offering her hand to Harry. "Walk with me?"

It was a question, not a demand. Though Harry knew he had a choice in the matter, he wanted to hear what she had to say. He knew quite well that there was a fairly good chance that whatever they'd had last year was over and done with. So it was a decision made on selfish intent that he reached up and hauled himself off the grass, so he could listen to her voice just a little longer.

They walked in silence, distancing themselves from Dumbledore's tomb, the castle, all of it.

"You are an infallibly good person, Harry," Ginny began, and Harry cringed. He reached back and scratched the top of his head uncomfortably. "You despise flattery. You don't think you deserve any of the compliments you receive because the only thing you're genuinely proud of is your seeking abilities," she smirked and Harry hid his smile behind his hand as he rubbed the stubble that had made its way back on his face. "And even though you're going to hate every minute of this conversation I feel like you need to hear it."

"You have suffered more than anyone I could name. You have lost more, you have struggled more, you have lived more… and yet through all of that here you stand, strong and as yourself. That is not something many could say."

Harry sighed. This sounded far too familiar to something Dumbledore had said to him a couple of years ago. "Why are you talking to me like this?" Harry asked, cutting off whatever Ginny would stay and forcing their walk to a grinding halt.

Ginny bit her lip and shrugged, averting eye contact.

"You're talking to me like… like I'm your student… or nephew or something." Harry wiped his mouth and looked over her shoulder, across the lake. "Talk to me like Ginny,"

Ginny blinked rapidly and nodded. "Why do you feel like it's all your fault?" she asked. Harry could've smiled at how straight to the point it was. "I feel like I understand why. I've always figured it was because of the way you were raised, even though I know practically nothing about it. I can tell you feel inadequate but why? I want to know,"

Harry, on first thought, didn't know how to respond to that. He hadn't expected to have a conversation such as this on the morning after Voldemort's death. "I don't… I don't know."

Ginny nodded slowly and took a step up to him, their shoulders touching as they both faced the lake.

"I just feel…" Harry started and stopped, his voice cracking. "I just feel like if my parents were here… right now… they'd be disappointed. Like… like I just… that their sacrifice or love for me was misplaced… that no matter what I do it just isn't enough to merit… well, that." Harry gestured to the ruined castle.

Ginny turned to him and forced his body to face hers. She moved her hands from his shoulders to his face and brought his eyes to hers. "Harry, I want you to listen to me very carefully,"

Harry felt the tears make their way to the front. His vision blurred.

"Wherever your parents are… and I know they're watching you, I'm sure of it," her voice was full of emotion as Harry blinked and felt the tears streak down his face, unhindered. "They are not ashamed, Harry." Harry closed his eyes, his face crumpling as he thought of all of them. Sirius, Remus, his parents, and all the others. "They are proud. They're proud to have known you. They're proud to have spoken to you. They're proud of the brilliant man you've become."

Harry let out a ragged breath.

"And it may feel strange hearing that from me," Ginny observed with a delicate smile, quite unlike the playful grin she tended to put on. "But it's true, Harry. I'm sure of it."

Harry nodded as more tears fell down his face. His nose was blocked and it was difficult to breathe. He thought of the stone in the forest. They had all been there for him, in the end.

But the end had come and gone, and now there was the girl in front of him. There were the people up in the castle waiting for him. There was a world open to him now. A life ahead of him, full of opportunities and adventure.

Harry laughed quietly through his tears. "I really missed you, you know," It was a risky thing to say. He didn't know what that year apart would mean. Their 'relationship' was little more than an escape. He didn't know if Ginny would be someone he could spend time with on a more personal, real level. He didn't even know if she'd grasp his meaning with those words.

Ginny dropped her hands from his face and instead, encircled them around his middle, their bodies pressed together. "Yeah… I did too,"

She was shorter than Harry remembered. Or perhaps he had grown. She pressed her face to his chest. It was easy to go back to this. Comfortable, even.

Harry rested his chin on the top of her head, his left arm wrapped around her waist while his right wiped his tears away.

"Harry, what's this?" Ginny asked, pulling away from him and staring at something on his neck.

"What?" Harry asked bringing his hand away from the small of her back to feel his neck.

"Here," Ginny said, guiding his hand to the spot she had her eyes on. Harry could feel the ragged bump of a fresh scar.

Harry thought back to the battle. Trying to think of anything that could have caused the thing. It was a couple of inches below his ear. "It wasn't there before Gringotts… Do you think it could be a burn?"

Ginny maneuvered around him to get a better look at it, brushing his hand aside and standing on her toes. "You're going to have to tell me that story," she murmured distractedly. "It doesn't look like a burn… If I didn't know any better I'd assume it was one of those blood quills," she grabbed his hand and inspected the lines Harry had written so long ago. Before the war, before Sirius.

I must not tell lies.

"It looks… exactly the same," Ginny whispered.

Harry frowned. "Do you have a mirror?"

Ginny glared at him. "Who in the hell carries a mirror on them on all occasions," a sudden thought occurred to Harry. While Ginny was talking, he reached into his moleskin pouch- "Especially in the middle of a battle!" and withdrew the broken piece of the two-way mirror. "I mean I know I'm a girl but, Harry, for Merlin's sake, a BATTLE!" Harry brought the mirror up to his face and turned his head. "Oh," Ginny rolled her eyes. "So you're the person who carries a mirror on them,"

Harry inspected the scar in his reflection. He could've sworn he'd felt his heart stop.

Cold darkness swept over his body, and time seemed to slow down. Sound was both amplified, and muted. Certain sounds, like his breathing, the lake, and the forest were louder. While the wind and Ginny were quiet.

A distant creaking, like a tree in a storm, echoed all around him.

Then, he blinked, and all of everything returned to normal.

"Harry? Harry are you alright?" Ginny's concerned voice breached his stupor.

Harry tossed the mirror back into his pouch. "Yes. Yes, I'm alright I just had a strange…" What was it? A vision? A memory? It was familiar yet alien. "I don't know."

Ginny raised an eyebrow but didn't inquire further. "Do you recognize it?"

Harry nodded, rubbing the scar with his fingers. "Yeah. It's… well it's a sort of… myth… I think," he frowned. Usually, this would be a conversation between he, Ron, and Hermione.

"Are you able to tell me?" Ginny asked. There was an odd undertone in her voice.

Harry bit the inside of his cheek. "You…" he couldn't really come up with an excuse to hide it from her, and on top of that he was rather adamant on finding a way to secure himself a way into Ginny's good graces. "Have you ever heard of the Deathly Hallows?"

Ginny nodded in amusement. "Luna's favourite as of late… or rather… before she'd been taken," her face fell.

Harry nodded. "Right, well, they're real."

Ginny's eyes widened but she remained silent.

Harry performed an obligatory check of his surroundings before elaborating. "They're real, and… well, this scar is their mark," he brushed his hands over the triangular rune etched into his skin. He couldn't remember when it would have happened.

Ginny peered up at him, her eyes darting down to the scar and back. "We should tell the others,"

"Others?" Harry asked.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Ron, Hermione, whoever."

Harry bit his lip. "I'll tell them… not now, though. I don't want to..." he spun his hands around themselves. "...start another mystery or… distract them."

"You mean Ron," Ginny remarked.

Harry let out a hollow laugh. "No, no actually it's Hermione who's the issue. She'll need something to, erm, occupy her mind."

Ginny snorted. "I'm pretty sure Ron's in that position at the moment,"

"What, occupying her mind?"

Ginny nodded. "Whenever Ron isn't with the family he's off with her in their 'secret' little meetings."

Harry couldn't help himself. He laughed. Long and filled with joy. When he'd finally calmed down, and looked at Ginny, he said, "Bloody hypocrites."

Ginny laughed then. "Yes, well…" she sighed and smiled up at him. "The elves ought to have prepared breakfast by now,"

Harry nodded fervently. He'd stomached one of Kreacher's sandwiched the night before, but that was about it. Not that Kreacher's cooking was awful or anything. More the fact that Harry just wasn't hungry.

Now, well, there was only so long you could go on without eating.

Side by side, they made their way up to the castle.

Harry and Ginny approached the Great Hall. They froze at the door.

"I don't care what the Prophet wants! I don't care what the Ministry wants! No offense to you, Professor, but I don't even care what you want. He is my son, he is my boy, and he is coming HOME!"

Molly Weasley's voice echoed throughout the hall. There weren't many present. The Weasleys, Hermione, Kingsley, McGonagall, and a man in auror robes stood in the hall.

"Molly, dear," Mr. Weasley interrupted, resting his hand on his wife's shoulder. "It is meant to commemorate. The least you could do is hear them out."

Mrs. Weasley rounded on her husband. "Hear them out? Hear them out? They want to make some… statue? Some… big show of our loss? I will not- I will not have it! I don't care what-"

"Mrs. Weasley, with all due respect… it is what Mr. Potter would want, don't you think?" the man in auror robes said softly. "These deaths… they'll weigh heavily on him…"

"Get his name out of your mouth," Ginny snarled, catching Harry off guard.

The group whirled around to face her. The auror's face paled. The Weasleys seemed happy to see him, while Kingsley and McGonagall both attempted to conceal their smiles.

"Mr. Potter…" the auror trailed off awkwardly. He seemed to steel himself before walking towards Harry, extending his hand. "Gawain Robards, head of the auror department,"

Harry cocked his head to the side and took his hand. "Pleased to meet the latest mistake in a long history of Ministry disappointments," he said with a feigned smile. "Tell me, how's Umbridge,"

Robards's face dropped while Ginny tried her best to stop herself from laughing.

"Actually, Harry," said Kingsley, stepping forward. "Madame Umbridge is no longer at the Ministry,"

"Did she decide to finally run off then? Live a life of love and tradition in the Forbidden Forest," Ron joked from behind Robards and Kingsley, he too stepping forward. He put a hand on Robards' shoulder and pulled him back. "What was it you thought Harry would want?"

"Well, I-" Robards stuttered.

"This goes for all of you," Harry interrupted. He eyed Ron, then Kingsley, then Robards. "Don't speak for me."

Ron let go of Robards' shoulder and backed off, nodding to Harry.

"Right then," Harry popped a knuckle. "You will not dictate the burials. Not a single one."

Robards sighed. "I understand your… determination. But what you fail to understand, Mr. Potter, is that we need a fresh start. A good start. A… sort of monument would be a wonderful step in…"

"Bringing everyone back to support your," Harry pointed to Kingsley, "new Ministry."

Robards smiled. "Precisely!"

"No."

Robards' smile remained, but it didn't meet his eyes. "I'm sorry?"

"You earn trust… respect… through your actions, your choices." Harry ran a hand through his hair in irritation. Thinking about Dumbledore and Snape. Respect through action. "You don't get everyone on your side by making a show of your victory," Harry stuck his finger in Robards' face, "And you sure as hell won't use me as your little propaganda leader. I won't support you, like the others won't support you, until you prove to me, to us, that you're different." he rounded on Kingsley. "And you should know better."

Robards eyed him up and down. A sneer worked its way across his face. "Seems Alastor was right," the sneer turned into a smirk as he pushed past Harry, walking out into the grounds. "You're disrespectful and far too headstrong."

Kingsley sighed. "I'll be in contact, Harry," he said, patting him on the shoulder and following his employee out into the sunrise.

Harry turned and watched them leave. "Yeah… I reckon we will."

He saw Ron and Hermione come up to his right, Ginny on his left.

"Honestly," Hermione breathed. "You'd think they pulled him from the old Ministry!"

"They did," said Percy from behind them. They all turned to face him. "Robards is… a good auror. Efficient." he stood from his spot at one of the long tables and sank his hands into his pockets. "Efficiency doesn't change the fact that he's a prat."

George let out a dry laugh. Devoid of any good humour. Everyone looked at him. He stared up at them, his eyes red-rimmed. "What?" he coughed. "It's ironic."

Everyone nodded, the weight of the hole in their family standing between them.

Slowly, everyone cleared out. Off to their own forms of avoidance. Even George left. Off to the Gryffindor common room.

Ginny still stood beside him. Far enough away to be out of reach.

"Why didn't you look at me?" Ginny asked after a long silence of Harry staring at the ruined grounds.

"What?"

"When you told them not to speak for you. You looked pointedly at Ron, Robards, and Kingsley… but not me," she said, taking a step toward him. "Even though I'd done that exact thing not a minute earlier."

Harry fought a smile and shrugged. "You tend to have my best interests at heart."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You're sucking up a bit but it's okay. You're still cute," she stepped up onto her toes and went to kiss his cheek.

Except Harry didn't know that. He didn't register her standing on her toes as anything more than her leaning into him, or inspecting the Peverell mark on his neck.

So he turned to face her, and just as her lips were supposed to meet his cheek, they met his own.

There was a shock of magic that burst from the center of his being. From his body and from his very soul. Like an explosion of everything he was, is, and could be.

His eyes shot open to find Ginny standing about a foot away from him, her eyes wide with shock. A flurry of red and blue magic swirled around and between them.

The pressure in Harry's mind that he'd felt all day long seemed to heat up. At least, that was the best way Harry could describe it. It felt like it had whenever his scar had hurt. A blinding pain at the front of his head. Only now, it wasn't on the surface of his skin. It was within his mind itself.

A beam of light stretched between them, binding them. The world around the two of them was entirely blocked out. He couldn't see out. There was no sound. No taste or smell. Nothing but a pain in his head and the sight of Ginny before him.

Then, it was over. The pain, the magic, all of it.

It was just he and Ginny. A foot apart, their eyes boring into each other.

She rounded on him. "Harry Potter I swear on Merlin's saggy-"

"What is all this commotion?" A voice interrupted Ginny from the Great Hall. They turned to face it and found Professor Binns standing – or rather, floating – in the entrance to the Hall with a perplexed expression.

"What are you doing here?" Ginny countered, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at the History professor.

"With a disturbance like that… anyone would've come running."

"Funny…" Ginny remarked, turning on the spot. "No one seems to have noticed… except you,"

Harry had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It always happened before some ridiculous adventure of theirs. Like the Third Task, the Time Turner, or the Ministry last September. Binns was a ghost, and he'd heard, or felt, whatever had just happened between him and Ginny.

Something was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

"Why… do you two know what's just happened between you?" Binns asked, hovering towards them.

Ginny swallowed, taking a step in front of Harry. "No… we don't."

Binns nodded in understanding. "I can't imagine you would. It has been centuries. In fact, I dare say, I doubt it has ever truly happened!"

Harry rubbed his chin in irritation.

"Bloody brilliant," a voice echoed through his mind. Ginny's voice.

Harry's head nearly fell off to face her. "Did you..?"

Ginny's eyebrows shot up her forehead. "No."

Harry swallowed. He'd lived through plenty of…

"…Ridiculous situations. We'll be fine."

"My… is what I see before me true? Do my eyes deceive me?"

"Even when something mind-blowing and unheard of is happening, he still can't get to the damn point," Harry thought absently.

Ginny snorted from beside him before her eyes widened in shock. One of her hands shot to her mouth. "Oh no," she breathed.

Harry took a deep breath, taking a few steps away from Ginny and Binns. Voldemort dies, the war is over, and yet still he remains an anomaly. A magnet for terrible fates and dragging those closest to him in with it.

He leaned against the wall, breathing hard. He wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready to be thrown right back into being led by the nose and manipulated by some force out of his control. He respected Dumbledore, he respected even Snape, but he was done with that. He was finished.

Taking a moment to calm his breathing, he let the conversation Ginny was having with Binns meet his ears.

Their conjoined minds, thoughts, speech, or whatever the hell was happening was inconsistent. Like a flickering streetlamp.

"… how has it never happened before. Nothing's never happened."

"My dear girl, do tell me you're smarter than that? If nothing's never happened, how has anything ever happened for the first time?" Binns peered curiously over his spectacles.

"She isn't stupid," Harry defended. "She's stressed, and she isn't…" he paused, taking in the glare Ginny was sending his way. "We… aren't thinking straight."

There was a tense silence. Ginny's frustration was not at Harry. At least, he didn't think so. It was just how Ginny managed these sorts of situations. Quick to anger before grief.

"Your brother… William, was it?" Binns inquired.

Harry's jaw dropped. "You remember your students?"

Ginny seemed equally surprised while Binns nodded, as though this wasn't a first-time thing. "Yes, yes… he was always quite taken with my subject. Must be… two, three years ago?"

Any hope Harry held of Binns ever remembering him flickered out like a match. The ghost's concept of time was completely off.

"Do you even know what year it is?" Ginny asked in annoyance.

"Needless information, my dear," Binns waved her off. "Now, as I said, your brother aspired to be a… what's the current term… curse-breaker?"

"He is one, yeah," Harry replied.

Binns smiled. "Well, I'm sure he'd be able to help!" the ghost began to descend through the floor. "Fascinating events! Fascinating!" then, he was gone completely.

There was another prolonged silence.

"Harry, I really like you, but if this…" Ginny trailed off.

Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah… I know…"

He collapsed against the castle wall, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He heard Ginny follow suit. She didn't sit against him. Making sure to keep some distance. Honestly, Harry couldn't blame her. He doubted simply touching made any difference, but it was still something to worry about. Whatever had happened, Harry dreaded it repeating.

Which, as selfish as this was, put a damper on Harry's pseudo plans. None of it had been set in stone or even thought out. He just knew that he wanted whatever he'd had at the end of his sixth year, only longer.

"That isn't selfish," Ginny whispered, hearing his thoughts, obviously. "And even if it is… Merlin knows you've earned a selfish thought."

Harry groaned. Cupping his face in his hands. She hadn't moved any closer to him. She was remarkably good at keeping her thoughts hidden.

Even after having enough trouble for a lifetime, it seemed fate hadn't had enough with him.

A/N: Yeah a new story. Regretfully Uncaring is NOT ABANDONED. I know authors say that about their work all the damn time. I've just hit a block in the story and don't really know how to get passed it. So I figured I'd post this chapter of a story that came to me the other day. I can't promise frequent updates, but I do hope you can enjoy this very... slice of life Soul-Bond story. There's plot, obviously, but the relationship angst won't be too much I hope. We'll see. Depends on how much trauma I'll throw their way. I sort of wanted to use this as a somewhat canon-compliant opportunity to really develop Ginny as a character, even if my post-war is not at all like JKR. There won't be any bashing in this fic, and the couples will continue to be those from canon, sorry dramione fans.

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