Hello Everyone!

Epilogue, here. I hope you enjoy.

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xxxxx

"Harry! Dear what a wonderful surprise!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air in excitement. I was quickly enfolded into a hug and ushered to a seat at the table. "Sit, sit! I'll make you a little breakfast dear, my, you are here early, aren't you…Arthur! Arthur, Harry is here, come read your paper at the table!"

"Now, Harry dear, I expect you'll want three scrambled eggs and bacon, yes? I'll get some toast started, I bought some of that special marmalade that you like from the market just last week, the jar should still be fresh—"

"Morning, Harry," Mr. Weasley interrupted, having just coming in from the sitting room. He plucked the newspaper from the side table before patting me on the back and settling into his chair. "How's the Academy been? Perkins getting ready to advance you like he should?"

I nodded, thanking Mrs. Weasley for the laden plate that suddenly appeared in front of me. "I ran into Kingsley the other day, he said Perkins was getting ready to advance my status to second-year."

"That's excellent, dear," Mrs. Weasley said as she put another plate in front of her husband. He looked down at it, slightly disappointed at its lack of contents. "Oh don't give me that look, Arthur, you know that you're supposed to be watching your weight for the sake of your heart. Do you want to give yourself cardiactia?"

"Molly, dear, the doctor said I was on track—"

"On track, not out of the woods, Arthur," she reprimanded, pointing at his plate once again. "Eat. Now, Harry, tell us all about your news."

I suddenly found myself faced with two pairs of curious eyes.

"Erm…well, I've, erm…Perkins is planning to advance me to second-year," I repeated, feeling incredibly slow for doing so. I gulped and put my fork down.

"Yes, I heard from the stove," she said, encouraging me to continue.

I wiped my hands on my pants.

"Well, I, erm…went shopping the other day…"

"Oh really? Diagon Alley?" Mr. Weasley asked, pointing at his newspaper, "Says here they're having a sale at Madam Malkin's—"

"Oh, we should really make a trip, then, you could use a new set of formal robes, Arthur."

"Dear, when do I ever need formal robes?" He sighed, picking up his rather large mug of steaming tea.

I cleared my throat and tried again.

"Well, actually, I didn't go to Diagon Alley. I, erm, found this quaint little shoppe in London, and, erm…well, I bought this," I blurted, pulling out the little satin box and setting it on the table.

They both just looked at it.

Another moment of silence and I thought to actually open the box.

"It's lovely," Mr. Weasley said, Mrs. Weasley nodding along. "Why isn't she wearing it?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Why isn't she wearing it?" He repeated, looking across the table at me, "I can't imagine that she would be willing to show it to us any other way than on her finger."

"Oh. Erm, well, I haven't actually asked her yet, wanted to do it properly and all…" I trailed off, realizing that I sounded like an utter buffoon. And if Ginny, of all people, found out that I was asking her father for her, she was likely to hex me before saying yes.

They actually laughed. "Harry," Mr. Weasley said, putting down his mug and looking squarely at me, "the ring is lovely. And we'd be happy to make you an official part of the family."

Well, that's a relief.

Two down…five to go.

And then, of course, Ginny.

"—come back at noon so we can make that sale at Madam Malkin's," Mrs. Weasley was saying to poor Mr. Weasley when I tuned back in to the conversation. "No husband of mine will be going to a wedding without nice dress robes…"

xxxxx

Leaning up against the wall, I muttered to the map as quietly as I could. Instantly the lines began to form, and the dots started to appear a moment later. I waited until I could actually read the labels before even breathing—I could swear I heard Filch's bad leg banging on the floor not a second ago…

What was that?

Oh, just a rat.

Oh…I hope Mrs. Norris isn't about to come chasing after it…

See, that's the one thing that this map doesn't do. It will show you every single person in the castle, but animals don't count. Honestly, wasn't Mrs. Norris around when these people made this map? She's about a century old, she might still be on her first life, I mean, really…

But either way, berating people who are usually rather helpful, and, in any case, are likely to be long dead, isn't going to keep me from getting caught. So I glanced down at the now fully-operational map and saw that, thank Merlin, Filch is happily ensconced in his office.

But I get the feeling that Anthony Bundale is not so happy to be in there with him.

Oh well, can't win them all. But thanks, Anthony Bundale, for keeping Filch busy for a few minutes. I should remember to buy him a butterbeer some time, or perhaps a pumpkin pasty on the train ride back home…

Giving the map a second once-over, I decided that my path across the Entrance Hall was clear and made a bee-line for the large doors.

xxxxx

I flopped rather loudly onto the chair.

That was unintentional.

I mean, the loudly part, not the flopping part, that part was entirely intentional, I don't just go flopping about accidentally, even if I had been pacing for the past twenty-eight minutes straight before I had the nerve to floo into the Three Broomsticks.

Well, twenty-eight minutes and forty-five seconds, so I suppose I might round up to twenty-nine minutes, but who's really counting…

Oh bloody hell, what have I gotten myself into?

I pulled it out again.

It was nice.

It was more than nice, really, it was…Ginny.

It was unmistakably Ginny.

And that was a good thing.

Unless, of course, she decides she doesn't want it, in which case I'll have absolutely no idea what to do with it…or what to tell her family, all of whom are currently at the Burrow setting up for a party…bloody hell, what have I gotten myself into?

Nearly an eternity later I spotted her red hair at the door and had to wipe my palms on my robes.

I had to do it again before she finally fought through the crowd and reached the small table I had found. I nearly tripped over myself when I tried to stand to pull her into a hug.

"I missed you, beautiful."

Merlin her hair smells so sweet.

Oh, not as sweet as your lips taste, excellent point, Ginny, darling…

When she eased away from me a moment later, I had to rearrange my features into a smile—all too often they slipped into a pout after being separated from Ginny's soft mouth.

"I missed you too, handsome. How has the Academy been?"

I wiped my palms on my robes as discretely as I could. "Good. Hard work, as usual, but Portkins is taking more interest. Kingsley says it won't be long until I'll be promoted to the next year's standing."

"That's great! What is that, five months early?"

"Erm, six," I corrected, counting in my mind. Easter was at the end of March this year, a couple weeks away, so that meant six months.

I swallowed thickly and resisted the itch to touch the box in my pocket.

"That's fantastic! If only I could get out of Hogwarts early," Ginny giggled. "Well, at least I have it easier than the younger ones. All I have to do is finish the summer and then I will be fully up to McGonagall's standards as a seventh year Hogwarts graduate. Those poor kids are going to be here until next June."

She shook her head sadly.

I shrugged. "They're learning everything they missed, and they get to go home on holidays, just not as long as usual."

"That's true," Ginny conceded, "It's just that they're kids. I mean, I could never have handled being away from Mum and Dad or the Burrow for such a long time…"

Oh no—she doesn't want to be away from the Burrow for a long time? That doesn't bode well…

"—end of the summer," she was saying, looking at him expectantly.

"Erm…" it's times like this that I wished Lockheart had taught us a charms lesson or two, somehow I think he would have been more suited to that post than Defense against the Dark Arts.

But Ginny just giggled at me.

"You're lucky I'm happy to see you, and am willing to let you think about snogging me rather than paying attention to me. Now, what are you going to feed me?"

"Oh, erm," I said again, this time amazed at my luck, "whatever strikes your fancy, sweetheart."

"Oh?" She teased, pulling the small menu towards herself, "Would you still want to kiss me if I ordered the pickled toad legs?"

"I'd want to kiss you even if you were a Slytherin," I told her, smiling, "but I have to advise against the toad legs—they're highly poisonous and I doubt they're actually on the menu."

Ginny laughed. "How do you know they're poisonous? Fred and George always used to tell me that they tasted delightful. Then they tried to convince me that muggle girls liked to kiss them, which I didn't really believe."

Harry smiled. "Muggle girls kiss frogs, not toads, and they do it sparingly. As for knowing they're poisonous—well, I suppose that's why you need to finish your seventh year."

"Codswap," she declared, "you never even started your seventh year."

"You're forgetting that I went on a year-long camping trip with a human library, who also saw fit to bring a real library with her. Don't tell Ron, but…I was bored."

Ginny laughed again.

Merlin, that's a beautiful sound.

"Alright, your secret is safe with me. I think I'll settle for a butterbeer and some savory cauldron cakes, sweetheart."

"Sounds great," I told her, hopping down from the raised booth and pecking her cheek softly. "I'll be right back."

"Elderberry syrup on the side, please!" She called after my retreating form.

I nearly laughed at the thought that she thought I might forget.

xxxx

Standing in line for the floo isn't my favorite thing to do.

It honestly isn't.

And this line was taking forever. Apparently there are people coming into Hogsmeade and going out of it, and this is the only grate connected to the floo in the entire village for some reason—essentially we are stuck in the middle of a mess.

And Harry wasn't being the slightest bit entertaining for some reason. He's just standing around rocking on his feet. And he's seemed to have developed a tick about wiping his hands on his robes every so often.

Don't know why, he certainly wasn't doing that last week. Maybe it's some technique he's learned at the Academy to seem nervous and put his opponents off-guard?

By the time it was our turn at the grate I nearly sang with relief. Another minute or so and we were back at the Burrow.

I grinned at Mum, waiting for us in the sitting room. "Hello, Mum."

"Hello, dear," she said, pulling me into an enthusiastic hug. "Oh, you've been at school for so long, promise me you'll come straight home at the end of the summer?"

"Mum," I tried not to whine as I eased out of her arms, "You know that I'll be looking for a flat."

"Yes, yes, I know, Ginny, but you can come home for a few weeks first, can't you? There's no reason to go running off right away."

I gave a non-committal noise. Sometimes the best way to argue with Mum is to avoid the question.

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately for him, she spotted Harry next and squashed him into a hug. I took the opportunity to slip out of the room and out into the backyard.

I was very surprised to find some crepe streamers festooning the trees and an altogether lovely table arrangement, and all my brothers already meandering about. Harry and I weren't often last to these Saturday lunches. Curious but not overly concerned, I wandered over to where Hermione was already sitting with Ron.

"—he's what? That's bullocks, I wanted to go ring-shopping with him—"

Ron suddenly quieted as his head rather comically flashed toward Hermione's face, then looked up to see me, then focused beyond me. Curious at his red face, I turned to the sound of an exasperated sigh and found Harry and Mum standing behind me, both wearing murderous looks.

Why do I feel like those glares have something to do with the decorations that are hung about?

I turned again to a tomato-red Ron—and a beaming Hermione—to find that all my brothers were suddenly paying a great deal of attention to me. Bill cleared his throat and motioned subtly for me to turn around.

So I did, with much more caution than I had used so far today, and thank Merlin I did.

Because what I found was Harry-Freaking-Potter on one knee.

With a little black box open in his hand.

And something that was rather sparkly inside it.

I reminded myself to breathe, and it seemed that Harry was attempting to do the same.

"Ginny," he said, his voice slightly shaky, "I…I meant to do this a little later, but—"

He blushed, shrugged, then he took a deep breath and started again. "Gin, all this time without you just makes me think about how I don't like being without you—in fact, I hate being without you, and, if it's okay with you, I don't want to be without you ever again." He locked eyes with me and offered the ring. "Marry me, Gin, please."

"I…erm…yes," I said, fumbling for the word but nodding for good measure.

Nothing was better than the smile that graced Harry's face at that moment.

It was so amazing that I couldn't help but smile in response, and I didn't even notice that he had slipped the ring onto my finger.

When I did notice, I had to giggle because he had slipped it onto the wrong hand out of nervousness. I fixed it as he turned bright red and Dad started snapping pictures.

Sometimes I really am glad that I got him that new muggle camera.

The grin was plastered onto my face as the rest of the day passed in a blur of family, food, and showing everyone my beautiful new ring.

Although I think Ron may have been studying it for more reasons than just how it looked on my finger.

Of course, I might have gotten that impression from how Hermione commented six times on her preference for princess-cut diamonds.

xxxx

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