A/N : Thanks to MFernandaGR for the review! Also to those who faved and followed this.

Disclaimer : Don't own Harry Potter

Title : Fire

Pairing : Harry and Ginny

Fire

She sat curled up against him in a comfy armchair in the sitting room. His fingers moved through her long red hair in a rhythmic to and fro motion, causing her to close her eyes every now and then, savouring the sensation. A fire crackled in the hearth, sparks flying out of its many blazing tongues, which sizzled little holes in the hearthrug.

Both Harry and she had a busy life; he spent much of his days and nights completing missions as an auror, and she hardly got any leave from the never ending cycle of trainings, matches and tournaments with the Harpies. Their distance and lack of free time made it difficult for them to keep up with their relationship, and yet, somehow, they managed, and neither of them had anything to complain. So there they were, having arranged a night together as soon as they had got a little bit of leisurely time.

A blizzard roared outside, sweeping the grey London in a cloak of white, but the cold did not seep into the room. Here there was only warmth, warmth which exuded from the fire and from his body.

She looked at him as he continued caressing her hair; he had been silent for a long time. This wasn't really very surprising, though; he was not a very talkative person, but there was something deeper beneath his lack of words today, some underlying thought or memory swirling beneath his eyes. The firelight reflected off his glasses, and his green eyes looked lost.

"You have been awfully quiet today," she said softly.

He snapped out of his reverie and looked at her.

"Sorry," he said half apologetically, "I was thinking."

Ah, thinking. When isn't he doing that? She felt a half-smile lift her lips as the thought crossed her mind.

"About the war," he added after pausing for a couple of seconds.

She froze; the war wasn't something which they talked about; it was a subject which, by some unspoken agreement, they all had ceased mentioning. True, it was a reminder of their victory, of the sway of good over evil, but it also brought back too many painful memories, memories of loss and grief.

She did not speak, unsure of how to respond. He apparently took her silence as a permission to continue, for his voice, once again, broke through the silence of the room.

"When I was going to give myself up to Voldemort," said he, "I saw you. You were reassuring a young girl. I was under the invisibility cloak."

She felt a mixture of emotions sweep though her at his words; she remembered the day as clear as crystal.

"I thought I felt someone pass by me," she said, remembering how she had looked up, feeling a pair of eyes on her back. "But I thought that the war had addled my senses when I saw no one."

"I wanted to show myself to you, to talk to you," he went on. "But I didn't, because then I wouldn't have been able to walk away."

She remained quiet for a second or two.

"I wouldn't have stopped you, you know," she said at last. "If I had known exactly why you were doing it back then, I wouldn't have stopped you. I wouldn't have told you to stay back."

"Really?" surprise shone in those green eyes which had once been Lily's. That was not an answer he had expected.

"Yes," she said, and after a pause, continued. "I would have gone with you. I'd have died with you."

He sat, stunned, as the impact of her words hit him. His voice failed him, but she understood, from the fervour, admiration and love that were shining through those emerald eyes. He opened and closed his mouth in failed attempts to speak, and she couldn't suppress a smile.

"You know, Ginny," he finally found his voice, "I never thought I could love you any more than I already did. But you keep proving me wrong."

Her smile widened and a plink flush spread through her cheeks as she leaned forward to kiss him, promptly dissolving any other thoughts from her brain as she let her lips speak in other ways than words. His arms encircled her waist, drawing her closer to him.

Outside, the blizzard continued to douse the city in icy cold. But here, wrapped up in the armchair, Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley were completely oblivious to anything other than each other. The fire crackled merrily as two ribbons of flame rose and became one.

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