The Burrow was bustling with activity, alive with the sounds of laughter and clinking dishes as the Weasley family prepared for Bill and Fleur's wedding the next day. It was a rare moment of joy and celebration, a bright spot amid the darkness of the war looming over them. But today was also special for another reason—Harry's birthday.
Despite the festive atmosphere, Harry had felt a bittersweet pang in his chest throughout the day. Turning seventeen was supposed to be a milestone, a gateway into adulthood, where he could finally use magic outside of school without fear of reprimand. Instead, he found himself longing for the simplicity of past birthdays—ones where the biggest worry was whether Ron would remember to get him a present or if Hagrid would send him a cake.
Ginny Weasley moved through the kitchen, helping her mother with the final touches for tomorrow's festivities. The preparations had been all-consuming, a welcome distraction from the tension that had been building inside her since Harry arrived. The house was filled with chatter and the clatter of dishes, but Ginny's mind was elsewhere.
Carrying a tray of glasses into the dining room, Ginny nearly collided with Harry. He was coming in from the other direction, his hands full with a stack of plates, and they both stopped abruptly, their eyes meeting.
"Sorry," Ginny mumbled, feeling her cheeks flush. She hadn't been alone with Harry in weeks, and now, standing so close, she was acutely aware of how much she had missed him.
"No, it's my fault," Harry said quickly, setting the plates down on the table. His voice was awkward, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I didn't see you coming."
Ginny nodded, setting the tray down beside the plates. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them filled with the noise of the party drifting in from the other room. Ginny could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken words that hung between them, but she didn't know how to bridge the gap.
Harry cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "So, everything's ready for tomorrow?" he asked, his voice strained.
"Yeah," Ginny replied, forcing a smile. "Just a few more things to finish up, and then we're all set."
They stood there, side by side, neither knowing what to say. Ginny could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the proximity to Harry making her acutely aware of every breath, every movement. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, noticing the way his shoulders were tense, the way he kept looking anywhere but at her.
Finally, Harry turned to her, his eyes meeting hers with a vulnerability that took her breath away. "Ginny, I…" he began, his voice filled with hesitation.
Ginny knew where this was going—the hard conversation about why they had to stay apart, about the dangers and the fears. She didn't want to hear it, didn't want to be reminded of all the reasons they couldn't be together. Not now. Not tonight. She wanted something else, something simpler.
Before Harry could continue, Ginny interrupted, her voice quiet but firm. "Harry, can we just… pretend everything is okay for the next few days? Just until the wedding is over. Let's just enjoy this, without talking about… everything else."
Harry looked at her, the conflict in his eyes clear. He wanted nothing more than to keep her safe, and that meant keeping his distance. But in her eyes, he saw the same fear and longing that he felt—the need for something normal, something good, amid all the darkness.
He nodded slowly, his hand moving to cup her cheek. "Okay," he said softly. "We'll pretend."
Ginny leaned into his touch, her heart racing. His fingers brushed against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face, finding the same vulnerability and need she felt. They stood close, the distance between them shrinking as the moments passed.
Neither of them moved, yet the air between them crackled with tension, with the unspoken desire that had been building for months. Ginny could feel the heat of his body, the steadiness of his breath. She saw the way his eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to her lips before flicking back up to meet her eyes.
Harry's thumb gently traced the curve of her jaw, and Ginny's breath hitched, her pulse quickening. The touch was light, hesitant, as if he was afraid to break the fragile moment. But it was enough to send her heart racing, to make her lean in, closing the small gap between them.
Their lips were just inches apart when a noise from the kitchen startled them both. They jumped apart, reality crashing back down around them. The sounds of the bustling house filtered back into their awareness, and they remembered where they were, what was happening tomorrow.
Ginny took a step back, her cheeks flushed. "We… we should probably get back to work," she said, her voice shaky.
Harry nodded, his hand dropping to his side. "Yeah, you're right. We've got a lot to do."
They shared a brief, awkward smile before turning back to their tasks, the moment between them lingering in the air like a promise left unspoken.
As the day wore on, they kept busy with the wedding preparations, stealing glances at each other when they thought no one was looking. The tension from earlier stayed with them, a constant reminder of what had almost happened.
Despite the busyness, the Weasleys had not forgotten Harry's birthday. That evening, as the sun began to set, Molly called everyone together. They gathered in the living room, Harry standing awkwardly as the others sang a rousing version of "Happy Birthday." A small cake, hastily decorated with icing and candles, was placed in front of him.
"Happy birthday, Harry," Ginny said softly, her voice cutting through the others. There was a warmth in her eyes, a look that said more than her words. Harry felt a surge of emotion, a mixture of happiness and sadness that caught him off guard. He managed a smile, blowing out the candles with a silent wish for safety, for a future he could share with Ginny.
That night, after everyone had gone to bed and the house had fallen silent, Harry lay awake in Ron's room, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't stop thinking about Ginny, about the way her eyes had looked into his, the way her touch had made him feel alive. He knew he should let it go, should try to sleep and focus on the mission ahead, but the thought of leaving without telling her how he felt was unbearable.
Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Harry slipped out of bed and crept quietly through the house. He made his way to Ginny's room, his heart pounding with every step. When he reached her door, he hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and knocked softly.
The door opened a crack, and Ginny peeked out, her eyes widening when she saw him. "Harry," she whispered, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"Can I come in?" he asked, his voice low.
Ginny hesitated, then nodded, stepping aside to let him in. She closed the door quietly behind him, turning to face him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "What's going on?"
Harry ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. "I just… I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about today, about us. I know we said we'd pretend everything is okay, but… I need to talk to you. I need you to know…"
Ginny stepped closer, her eyes softening. "Harry, it's okay. You don't have to say anything."
"But I do," he insisted, his voice rough with emotion. "I might not get another chance. I don't know what's going to happen, and the thought of leaving without telling you… it scares me, Ginny."
Ginny reached out, taking his hand in hers. The touch was simple, but it sent a wave of comfort through Harry, calming the storm inside him. "We don't have to talk," she said softly. "We don't have to figure everything out right now. Just… stay with me. Let's pretend everything is okay, just for tonight."
Harry looked into her eyes, the fear and uncertainty that had been haunting him fading away. In this moment, with Ginny's hand in his, nothing else mattered. He nodded, pulling her into his arms, his lips finding hers in a kiss to replace what he wouldn't say.
The kiss was slow at first, tentative, a gentle exploration. Harry's hands moved to Ginny's waist, drawing her closer, and Ginny's fingers threaded through his hair, holding him to her. The feel of his body against hers was both familiar and new, a comforting reminder of what they had shared and a thrilling promise of what they were about to.
As their kisses deepened, the world outside seemed to fade away. There were no more words, only the press of lips, the warmth of skin, the quiet gasps that filled the room. Harry's hands moved under Ginny's shirt, his fingers grazing her skin, and she shivered at the touch, her own hands sliding up his back, feeling the muscles tense beneath her fingers.
They had never gone this far before, never crossed this line, but now there was no holding back. The fear and uncertainty that had kept them apart dissolved in the heat of the moment, replaced by a desperate need to feel alive, to find comfort in each other.
Clothes were discarded, each piece falling away in a slow yet urgent dance. Harry's hands were gentle, reverent, as he explored Ginny's body, and she responded equally, her touch soft and sure. They moved to the bed, the small space barely accommodating them, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the connection, the feeling of being whole in a world that was falling apart.
They moved slowly, tenderly, each touch and movement a silent conversation, a promise that went beyond words. It was as if time had stopped, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in the warmth of their embrace. Every kiss, every touch, was a reminder of what they were fighting for.
As their breathing slowed and the intensity of the moment ebbed away, Harry and Ginny lay in the quiet darkness of her room, still entangled in each other's arms. The reality of what they had done began to settle in, but neither of them moved, neither spoke, as if acknowledging it might shatter the fragile peace they had found.
Ginny's head rested on Harry's chest, and she could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, a comforting rhythm that made her want to stay like this forever. She could feel his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her back, his touch light, almost hesitant, as if he, too, was unsure of what to say, or if anything needed to be said at all.
Harry stared at the ceiling, his mind a chaotic whirl of thoughts. The warmth of Ginny's body against his was a comfort, a fleeting moment of normalcy in a world that had become anything but. But beneath that comfort, a knot of guilt twisted in his stomach. He shouldn't have let this happen. He had tried so hard to keep her far from the danger brought by his very presence, to maintain distance between them, knowing what lay ahead. And yet, in a moment of weakness, he had allowed himself to forget, to let go.
He tightened his arms around Ginny, his heart aching with the weight of it all. He knew why he had to leave, why he had to keep her safe by staying away. The thought of something happening to her because of him was unbearable. But as he lay there, holding her, he couldn't help but wish for a different life—a life where he could be a normal seventeen-year-old boy, worrying about school and Quidditch, about dating the girl he liked without the weight of the world on his shoulders.
The simplicity of it, the normalcy, felt like a distant dream—one he could barely remember. The reality was, he was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, and his life would never be simple, never be normal. He had accepted that long ago, but lying here with Ginny, he felt the loss of that normal life more keenly than ever.
He looked down at her, her face peaceful against his chest, and felt a pang of regret. This was what he had always wanted—a chance to be close to someone, to be with Ginny, without the shadow of war hanging over them. But that wasn't his reality. His reality was full of dangers and responsibilities, and the choice he had made tonight might have put Ginny at even greater risk.
Gradually, Ginny's breathing evened out, her body relaxing against his as sleep began to claim her. Harry felt her slip into unconsciousness, her fingers loosening their grip on him. He watched her for a moment, his heart heavy with the fear that this might be the last time they were together like this.
He stayed with her, holding her until he was sure she was deep in sleep, her face peaceful in the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. Gently, he extricated himself from her embrace, his movements careful not to wake her.
Harry stood by the bed for a moment, looking down at Ginny, a wave of conflicting emotions washing over him. He bent down, pressing a tender kiss to her temple.
He opened his mouth, wanting to tell her how he felt, to say the words that were lodged in his throat. But he stopped himself, the fear of making promises he couldn't keep holding him back. He couldn't say it—not now, not when he didn't know what the future held.
Instead, he whispered, "I'll come back," his voice low and steadier than he felt, as if he willing himself to believe it.
He knew that leaving her was the hardest thing he would ever do, but he had to believe it was the right thing. He had to protect her, had to make sure that she and everyone he cared about had a chance at a future, even if it meant he might not be a part of it.
With a last lingering look, he turned and slipped out of her room, closing the door softly behind him. He made his way back to Ron's room, each step feeling heavier than the last, the weight of his decision pressing down on him.
As he crawled back into bed, the early morning light casting long shadows across the floor, Harry's mind was filled with the memory of Ginny's touch, the feel of her against him. He knew the risks they faced, the dangers that lay ahead, but for now, he held onto the memory of their night together, a bit of warmth to guide him through the dark times.
Sleep came fitfully, filled with dreams of Ginny and the life he wished they could have. In the quiet of the early morning, Harry allowed himself to hope, just for a moment, that he would be able to keep his promise, that they would both make it through what was coming, and find a way to be together, even if he couldn't bring himself to say the words out loud.