Thinking Out Loud

December 11th, 1999

With the end of the war came peace, and with peace came the reconstruction of the Ministry.

Harry Potter was a busy man. Becoming an Auror took lots of training - and while Kingsley insisted he skip it, pronouncing him qualified, Harry had refused, being both brave and a little bit stupid. But she knew he had to do it, and although she didn't want him to leave, she let him go.

For the last bit of Auror training, the trainees were stationed deep in the forest, where they worked on team skills, defence, and attack. They'd previously completed the written part of the training - a course and an exam - and now the physical part of the training took place.

Ginny had been sitting at the window for a while, waiting for a letter to come with her name on it. Harry was fairly regular with writing, twice a week on Tuesdays and Fridays, and today was Tuesday.

Her heart leaped up to her throat when she saw Harry's new owl sweep through the window of the Burrow, dropping a letter on her lap. Eagerly unfolding the parchment, she read.

Ginny,

Kingsley says for the first time he remembers, the Aurors have run out of food. He Apparated to London to pick up more.

I'll bet you it was Ron who ate it all. I know he gets up twice a night for nightly snacks, and once you're out of food, you can't summon or duplicate or transfigure more.

The training is going great. Today's morning was the first free morning in a long time, and I indulged Ron in a game of chess. Poor lad misses beating me, of course.

I sent a letter to Hermione, and your mum, too, but I wrote you a longer one. It's not very long until I come back. Only six weeks, really, and I'd like to make the best of it.

Keep looking around Godric's Hollow for houses - I heard through another trainee Alchiba Dennings may be putting hers up for sale.

There's no wireless. Please tell me the Quidditch standings. I'm begging you. I asked Hermione, too, and so did Ron, but she thinks that's cheating.

Love,

Harry

P.S. If the Cannons are winning (a miracle, but you never know) don't write it. I have a bet with another Auror I'd like to win.

P.P.S. We've been working on the Avada Kedavra lately - not using it, don't worry. I was thinking about you, though, when I was using it - I lost my concentration more than once. I accidentally Confunded a tree - your brother is laughing at me about it. Git.

Ginny rolled her eyes but smiled at the post-script; how typical of Harry and Ron, wanting to know Quidditch standings when the main purpose of their exile was most definitely not Quidditch.

Ginny scrambled around for parchment, a quill, and ink, finally finding a half-empty bottle of purple ink, a quill with most of the little feathers plucked out, and a dusty-smelling parchment. Oh well. It would do.

She didn't fail to notice the Love, Harry signed at the bottom in chicken-scratch, and she grinning, feeling heat in her cheeks as she wrote her response. She loved him too, and of course it wouldn't hurt to let him know that.

Dear Harry,

Watch Ron with the food. Mum used to cast a user-specific Impervious charm on the cupboards. That's always a possibility. Hermione was telling me something or the other about osmosis the other day, and I fully believe if Ron eats enough he will split into two Rons.

We'd have a whole other problem on our hands then.

Just because I play for the Harpies, Harry, doesn't mean you get insider access. Nice try. Maybe if you pester Charlie enough he'll give you something. I find promising him a batch of Mum's brownies always works.

One of his few talents. (I'm kidding, Ron, just in case you're reading this over Harry's shoulder. If not, I'm not kidding. Really.)

I'll look around, Harry, if Mum doesn't keep sticking to me like a leech.

Love, Ginny

P.S. Well, I can tell you one thing about the standings - there's still 13 places. Ha.

December 24th, 1999

It was nearing eleven o'clock at night on Christmas Eve when Harry stumbled into his tent, drained mentally, emotionally, magically, and physically. He felt like he was walking on two bags of sand, and slumped to the couch before Ron could steal it.

His best mate made it to his bedroom, and moments later he heard the soft snores. As Harry's eyes were fluttering shut, something caught his eye - a letter, on the windowsill of the tent.

He debated internally with himself. Sleep. Ginny. Sleep. Ginny… He rolled off the couch, half-dragging himself to the letter and reading it with sleepy eyes.

Dear Harry,

I would understand, actually, considering I'm on the Quidditch pitch eight hours a day, seven days a week. I think my hand is permanently curved from holding a Quaffle too long - the Harpies want lots of training in before the season starts up again.

I got you tickets for the game when you get back! We can go together, and you know, we'll have a whole booth to ourselves, just the two of us…

And no, I'm not telling you who won. Wouldn't one of the other trainees know, anyway?

Sorry for the short letter - not for a lack of wanting to talk to you, but because Mum has dinner ready and I'll never remember to finish this.

I can't wait to see you!

Lots of love,

Ginny

P.S. Tell Ron that the Cannons haven't won - although you'd think by now he'd expect that.

P.P.S. Merry Christmas! Did you get the mistletoe that was enclosed with this letter? I hope Errol didn't drop it. I wish you were here, so we could share the mistletoe.

His droopy eyes perked up slightly when he read her letter. Well, that wasn't too much of a hint.

Although lately, Harry had been dropping other hints in his letters. Maybe she had caught on, maybe she hadn't, but he knew he was counting down the days he got back from training and could ask her the question that was caught inside his mouth. Four words.

He could imagine they'd say yes, and they would hug and kiss (and he'd never, ever admit it but maybe he'd cry a little bit, pure happiness because he would be spending the rest of his life with her) and his whole family would pat him on the back. The girls would admire the ring she would sport, and Molly would cook up a whole dinner out of joy.

He rolled back onto the couch, feeling the heaviness evaporate after seeing her writing, her words. Her hands had touched that. Auror training was great, Harry was learning lots, but he couldn't wait to get home and see Ginny. If he thought hard enough, he could feel her soft lips, her touch feather-light when they were kissing and rough when they played Quidditch in the garden, laughing so hard they couldn't breathe.

Oh, Merlin. He missed her. He knew he'd take anything, do anything for her - he'd take an Avada, battle Voldemort threefold if it meant she'd be by his side.

January 18th, 2000

Dear Ginny,

We are in the last days of the training. The physical exam is tomorrow, and after that, it's just review.

And then I'm back, of course. (And we can see that Quidditch game, too. Ron asked if he could tag along and I said you can ask Ginny yourself, mostly because I know you wouldn't want him coming along, and neither would I.)

One more week.

I'm almost out of ink, and nobody else has any - we've all run out. I will owl you again if I find any.

Love,

Harry

January 25th, 2000

The Floo came alive exactly at two o'clock. Two figures stumbled out - Ron first, and Harry after, tripping over each other and very nearly running into the wall.

There was a thump from upstairs, followed by a very loud crack. Instantly, a figure with flaming red hair appeared.

"Ginny," said Harry. Ginny threw herself into his arms.

"Harry," she breathed, "you're back."

Ron coughed, and Ginny lifted her head. "Oh, you know I'm glad you're back too. Do you want a hug, Ronnie?"

"Er, no. I'm good. You know, I should probably tell Mum and Hermione we're back…"

Ginny shifted in his arms, leaning back a bit. Without a word, she pressed her lips to his.

Harry responded immediately, letting his fingers weave into her hair as he revelled in the feeling of her in his arms, once again. All of a sudden, he let go, and stepped back. Ginny looked confused, but said nothing.

"I've already asked your father," he said, and with that, dug into his pocket for the ring he'd had in his pocket for months.

Harry got onto one knee.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, will you marry me?"

a/n - One thing: ffn's word counter is seriously messed up - Word has assured me that this fic is exactly 1499. For some reason, the counting is v messed up when one uses italics in their fic. :) For Round 8 of QL, using the prompts word count (1499), writing style (letters), and the quote "You can't live your life for other people. You've got to do what's right for you, even if it hurts some people you love." (Hence, Harry leaving Ginny to go to Auror training for himself.)

Second thing: also for various competitions on HPFC.