Author's Note: I didn't plan on continuing this, but the following was part of the original idea. I just liked the finishing line on the first chapter. I've been trying to write on my other story, but I became stuck on this one. So: "write when you can."

...

"Move over, Potter," you hear her impatient voice through your dreamy state. She was back. Opening up your emerald orbs, you see the familiar sight. The fuzzy edged and exhausted Ginny Weasley, in her white nightdress, standing at the edge of your bed. It must be around midnight.

Not needing to respond, you scoot your exhausted body over on the bed, leaving just enough space for her. With her standard huff, she crawls in, under your sheets, under your blankets, and into your bed. But your not surprised. This had been going on for weeks now. Ever since the incident in her bedroom. You left her, feeling as if you made no progress. But that night, around midnight, the words you've grown to love and loathe were uttered, "Move over, Potter."

You were pulled from your solitary sleep at Grimmauld Place, that first night. The only place you could get any true rest these days. You bolted up in bed, your Seeker reflexes having your wand in your hand, and to the intruders throat in seconds.

And when your eyes finally focused, and your heart stopped slamming against your rib cage, you swore you recognized that gasp. And the blurry of your eyes discerned the familiar long head of red hair, and that flowery scent that holds you captive.

"Ginny?" you asked, as you let the girl go, and grappled for your glasses on the night stand.

"Move over, Potter," is all she said, before you felt her sitting on the bed next to you, pushing you over with her body. With your heart still racing, and the adrenaline that was so familiar to your veins, humming, you found yourself a slave to her every whim. You moved over, giving her room, which she used to snuggle down against your pillows.

"What are you doing here?" You asked her, and you really didn't know why you were questioning Ginny Weasley crawling into your bed on her own accord. And you weren't sure you would get an answer anyway, because her eyes were already closed, as if sleeping. "Ginny, does your family know you're here?"

She opened her lips, "Shut up, Harry. I'm so tired."

You didn't say another word. You laid there late into the night, watching her sleeping form. She was so beautiful, caressed by moonlight. Her white night dress making her look ethereal. Some creature God sent down from heaven to remind you of all the things you didn't deserve. She didn't sleep long before her breathing started to pick up, and her once still body started shaking in what could only be a nightmare.

"No, please," she whimpered, eyes shut tight, and her head tossing back and forth on your pillows. Her plea roused you from the trance you were captured in. "Stop...not dead...no..." she pleaded again to the horrors in her mind.

And the noise ripped your heart out. And that instinct deep inside of you, that basic pull, that tells you Ginny Weasley is yours, put you into motion.

Closing the distance between your body and hers, you scooped her up and pulled her to you. Your hero complex in over drive, as the one girl who could undo you; the one girl who refuses your rescue, needed a savior. You only meant to wake her from her haunting dreams. But you found you needn't, because the moment you brought her against your chest, her small hand came to rest above your beating heart, and she immediately quieted.

She cuddled herself against your always tense body, and suddenly you weren't tense anymore. As she nestled her head against your shoulder, the surprising pull of comfortable sleep finally returned to your bones. It was the first night, since the Battle of Hogwarts that you slept through the night.

When you woke the next morning she was gone.

You didn't mention it to her the next day. She was still refusing to talk to you. But you started to notice things. Things like she didn't look as ragged as she had for the last few weeks. The dark circles beneath her eyes, fading. You wondered if she'd been having those nightmares every night, and if your shared bed had brought her the rest she needed.

You also notice that she follows you -everywhere.

Not like a puppy dog waiting for some attention. Merlin knows, she doesn't want your attention. Her cool indifference had yet to change. But if you're in the sitting room playing a game of wizard's chess with Ron, then she is in the sitting room reading a book. If you go to the kitchen to have a snack, then she goes to the kitchen for some tea. A walk through the gardens means she'll be sitting in the sun, soaking up the heat. She always seems cold these days.

You've even accidentally overheard Molly talking about it with Arthur. Worried that Ginny is never going to pull herself out of her sad state. That Molly can't figure out if Ginny loves or hates Harry. You can't really either.

But she comes to your bed every night, and you both fight your demons that haunt you. She won't let you touch her, but she always ends up in your arms by morning's light.

So, "Move over, Potter," is a phrase you love because that means she still needs you, and you loathe it, because September is fast approaching, and you will cease to hear them again. And as you lay in bed, next to the girl you love, thinking of absolutely broken things are, you are surprised to feel her move herself into your arms.

"Ginny?" you ask, quietly. Worried you will scare her away. Your arms locking tight around her slight frame. She would have to fight you off, now that she's here.

"Harry..." she trembles, and you can tell that she's crying. In a breath, you are pulling her under you, securing her, so you can be sure no one can take her away from you. She lets you and she cries on as you take her face in your hands.

"Talk to me, Ginny," you implore, as you set about kissing the tears away from her cheeks. Her hands gripping the front of your shirt.

"Please Harry," she begs, pulling you closer.

"Anything Gin. I'll do anything. Just talk to me. Tell me what you need," you whisper desperately in the dark. And you would. Her sad brown eyes holding you captive, as she writhes underneath you. And then her small hands come to the hem of your shirt and she's pulling it up over your head. The moment the material clears your head, her lips are on yours.

She kisses you hard and desperate. "Make it stop Harry," she whimpers, "Make the emptiness go away."

And you'll do anything.

That night she gives herself to you. She holds onto you tightly, as you do your best to fill the void. Your gazes locked deep into the night. Neither of you the children you used to be. You have been battering a much more fragile part of her heart, and she in turn is holding onto a piece of yours that could crumble your entire being. And when your hard length pushes through her precious virtue, you lips whisper praises that she has only been yours.

And when you wake the next morning she is gone.