SUMMARY: Post-Hogwarts. The war has been won, although not without some sacrifices. Harry has few friends left, but what he has are near and dear to him. In the aftermath of war, can he find love as well?

SPOILERS: SS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP, QA, FB

SHIPS: Harry/Ginny

RATED: NC-17. Use the honor system – if you’re under 18, don’t read it!

It had only been a year since the war had ended, but Harry had already begun to move on with his life. He had cried his tears over the losses he’d suffered, although sometimes the deaths would come back to haunt him. On those nights, he would stay awake with his flatmates and get piss drunk to help numb the pain. His flatmates more than understood his pain; they shared in it with him. After all, they had loved Ron and Hermione, too.

The mornings after those nights were always interesting to sort through. Dean and Seamus always wound up in bed together, and he and Ginny always awoke in one another’s arms. While he and Ginny had never done anything remotely sexual, the same could not be said for Dean and Seamus. After a while, they became comfortable in their newfound relationship, and proclaimed themselves to be a couple.

Harry wondered at Ginny sometimes. She was extremely outgoing and sunny, which seemed to draw him like the proverbial moth to the flame. It had been a long time since he’d had a part of anything so pure and uncomplicated, and Ginny offered him friendship with no strings attached. She seemed genuinely uninterested in him romantically, which he wondered at. He loved her dearly as a friend; she had quickly stepped up and filled the void that Ron had left in his life. She was a constant companion, even playing Quidditch on the same team as he – the Chudley Cannons.

He was still feeling a void where Hermione had once been, however. They hadn’t ever revealed it to anyone, but scant months before Voldemort’s attack and the last battle, he and Hermione had become lovers. It was something that had happened completely by accident – she had accompanied he and Ron to an after-Quidditch party to celebrate their victory over the Montrose Magpies.

He had thought Ron would be all over Hermione, but as the night progressed and Ron imbibed more and more alcohol, it became painfully obvious to Harry that Ron much preferred Neville’s company to Hermione’s. Hermione didn’t seem at all surprised, and Harry wondered if Ron had confided to her, and if he had, why he hadn’t confided to him, as well.

Several shots of fire whiskey and two slow dances later, Harry had been locked in very sensual kiss with Hermione. Things had progressed from there, and the next morning they had awoken with stupid smiles plastered to their faces, each proclaiming long pent-up feelings for the other.

Harry sighed and tried to focus as Ginny prattled on about something inane, but he couldn’t. His mind was wandering around, floating from topic to topic of its own volition. She stopped talking and arched an eyebrow at him.

“Alright there, Harry?” she asked concernedly. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to wake himself up.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Gin,” he nodded, replacing his glasses on his face.

“So, how was Miranda last night?” she asked, a wicked gleam in her eyes. He could feel the color rising in his cheeks. Luckily, before he could answer, Seamus plodded out of his bedroom and plopped down at the breakfast table.

“So, Harry,” he grumbled good naturedly. “Care to tell me why it is that you bothered going to Hogwarts to learn magic, if you weren’t ever going to use it in your day-to-day life?”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, bewildered.

“You and that chestnut haired bint kept me up until three a.m. I know you know silencing spells, you randy bastard. Why don’t you use them?”

“Because he enjoys having the whole house know what a stallion he is,” came Dean’s sleepy voice. He emerged from his bedroom, his hair sticking up wildly, and Seamus greeted him with a quick kiss on the forehead. Ginny smiled and looked back down at her copy of the day’s Daily Prophet.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, his ears burning. “I thought she’d cast the charms before …”

“No need for apologies, mate,” Dean said, holding up a hand to silence him. “We’re all adults here. Speaking of which,” he said, turning curious eyes to Ginny, who tried to retreat behind her newspaper. “Why is it that Harry has dates to spare, and yet we’ve never seen you bring a bloke home?”

“Maybe she doesn’t like men,” Seamus offered, sinking his teeth into a piece of toast. Ginny promptly spit out the mouthful of coffee she’d been attempting to swallow. Harry grinned and handed her a napkin.

“Of course I like men,” she protested, wiping her chin. “But that doesn’t mean that I’m going to shag every man that hits on me.”

“Why not? Harry shags every girl that hits on him,” Dean pointed out. Seamus eyed Ginny with growing interest, and Harry took the turn of conversation as his cue to leave. He had no desire to hear about Ginny’s love life; the thought of her sharing a bed with a man made him want to lose his breakfast.

Seamus watched Harry leave, then turned back to Ginny.

“When are you going to tell the poor bloke that you’ve no desire to share your bed with anyone but him?”

“Because that’s not-“

“It bloody well is how you feel, and you know it, Gin,” Dean hissed quietly. “You know you’re being totally unfair to the both of you by keeping it to yourself. I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not looking.”

“Piss off,” she snapped, standing abruptly. She didn’t like his teasing, and she wouldn’t stand for it. “I’ll talk to the both of you later, when you’ve pulled your heads out of your arses!” She stomped off to her room and slammed the door behind her.

Harry stepped beneath the hot spray of the shower and closed his eyes, letting the water wash over him. A sigh escaped his lips, and he rubbed his closed eyes with his fists. Why was it that, once he knew Ginny had moved on from him, he decided to fall in love with her? Why was it that he insisted on sleeping with any girl that showed him even the most remote interest, when he really desired nothing more than to be with the girl who was waiting for him at home?

He’d slept with Ginny before. Nothing that involved sex, but he’d actually slept in the same bed with her, many times. She would hear him cry out in his sleep during one of his frequent nightmares about Hermione and Ron, and she would crawl into his bed and hold him, brushing his hair off of his sweaty forehead and whispering soothing words to him, until he fell back asleep.

She was always there in the morning, unlike the women he brought home so often. He would always make the women leave, feeling ashamed and not wanting Ginny to see that he’d done it again; he’d brought someone new home. He didn’t know why he didn’t just tell her how he felt.

Yes, he did.

He didn’t tell her because she had finally gotten over him and moved on, and he didn’t want her to know. It was as simple as that.

Ginny didn’t know how much more of this she could swallow. She stood at the side of the pitch, watching as her best friend was mobbed by beautiful women. He stood there in all his sweaty, glorious beauty, and turned to shoot her a dazzling, painful grin. She smiled back, then turned and headed towards the locker room for a shower.

She cried the entire time she stood beneath the scalding spray.

When she emerged clean and scented from the locker room, Dean and Seamus were waiting with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. She gave them a soft smile as she took them. Dean linked his arm with hers.

“Happy birthday, Gin.” She burst into tears, and Seamus wrapped her in a soothing embrace.

“He forgot, didn’t he?” he asked softly. Ginny said nothing, totally unaware that a pair of emerald eyes were watching her very closely from across the pitch. She nodded miserably, and Dean wiped her moistened cheeks with his thumb.

“Well, you can just cheer up right now, because I refuse to take you out for a night on the town like this.” She laughed through her tears and planted a grateful kiss on each of their cheeks.

“You are two of the best friends a girl could ever hope for,” she said, giving them a watery smile.

“You won’t be saying that tomorrow morning, when you’re experiencing the hangover from hell,” Seamus laughed, reaching for her hand. She threaded her fingers through his and made a valiant attempt to ignore the fresh tears that made their way down her cheeks.

“As long as for one night, I don’t have to be conscious of the fact that I’m not the one sharing Harry’s bed, I won’t mind it in the least.”

Harry watched the interaction with growing interest. While it wasn’t unusual for Dean and Seamus to bring her flowers after winning a match, it was unusual for them to bring such a large bouquet. Usually they brought a simple array of daisies and baby’s breath, two of Ginny’s absolute favorites. For some reason, though, today they’d brought her an armful of roses each – yellow from Dean, and peach from Seamus. Why all the fanfare? He wondered.

When she burst into tears at the presentation of the flowers, he was beyond bewildered. She’d never done that before, he mused. Flowers were the one sure way to make Ginny happy; she loved flowers. She would sit for hours and just sniff them out of the vase – something that Harry had teased her about on many an occasion. What in the world about two armfuls of roses would make her cry?

The realization hit him like a ton of lead.

It was her birthday, and he’d forgotten! He hadn’t so much as said Happy Birthday to her all day! Shame and embarrassment flooded over him as he watched his friends embrace her, then walk away. He had to do something extraordinary to make up for his stupidity, but what?

“I think we should stop drinking now,” Seamus slurred at Ginny. She blinked, trying to force her eyes to focus on him.

“And why is that, Mister Finnigan?” she drained the last of her whiskey and tugged her eyes up to look at him.

“Because I have no more money,” he hiccupped. Dean burst into laughter, and Ginny gave him a silly grin.

“All right, but how are we going to get home without splinching ourselves?” She asked, blinking again.

“Wait,” Dean said, plunking his empty glass down on the table. “Wait just a minute. I want to know what you intend to do about Harry.” Ginny groaned.

“I’m not going to do anything,” she said, shaking her head. The room shook with it. “If he forgot my birthday, it’s his own sodding fault! I’ll just have to try and remember to forget his next time, too.”

“You’d never do such a thing,” Seamus accused laughingly. “You adore him too much.”

“Okay, so what!” she acquiesced, shrugging. “So I do. Big deal. What’s it to you?”

“Nothing, except that we’re tired of seeing you get upset over every new conquest he brings home!”

“He’s not doing it because of me,” she said, a sad note invading her otherwise calm voice.

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you noticed who all the women look like?” she asked. Both men stared blankly at her, and she sighed, wishing she were a bit more drunk than she was at the present time. “They all have hazel eyes, brown curly hair, a rounded figure. Ring any bells?”

“Holy hell,” Seamus swore, shaking his head. Dean gave him a puzzled look.

“What? What am I missing? Who do they look like?”

“Hermione,” Seamus hissed, his eyes focusing on Ginny’s face. Dean’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. “When did you make that connection?”

“After about the third girl he brought home,” she shrugged. She stared down into her empty glass, silently thanking Dean as he ordered another round for them. After a few moments of silence, she looked up, surprised to find that Seamus was staring off onto the dance floor. A quick elbow to Dean’s side, and his eyes had focused there as well.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, turning to look. She saw nothing of consequence, and turned back to her friends. Seamus’ eyes darted to her for a split second, then back to the dance floor.

“Nothing,” he lied, taking a swig of his drink. “Just thought I saw someone that I knew.” They finished their drinks and flooed back to their flat. They hugged her and she watched, amused, as they both disappeared into Dean’s room. She went into her bedroom and shut the door behind her, then disrobed. She rummaged through her dresser drawer and pulled out one of Bill’s old shirts. It was long enough that the hem brushed the tops of her thighs. She pulled it on over her head and sat on the edge of the bed, savoring for a moment the heady feeling of being drunk.

That lasted all of thirty seconds, which was the precise moment that she heard a distinctly female giggle.

“Did you see Harry at the club?” Dean whispered into the darkness.

“Yes, I saw him. I saw the girl he was with, too.” Broad hands reached out and stroked Dean’s arms, and he sighed contentedly.

“Her hair was the wrong shade.” The mattress shifted as they moved closer together.

“And she was too short.”

“Yes, she was short. She looked an awful lot like Ginny, though, didn’t she?”

He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t do it.

The girl had glared menacingly at him when he’d asked her to leave, but he couldn’t do it, and she’d left. Why had it been so easy to try and replace Hermione with all of these women, yet when he attempted to do it with Ginny, he found it damn near impossible?

Perhaps it was because he knew Hermione was dead and gone, but Ginny was warm and alive and in the next room.

He sighed, and laid back on his bed in the darkness, welcoming it. He lay there in the silence for a moment, relishing the fact that he had his bed to himself for one night, when he heard it.

A heart-wrenching sob.

And it was coming from Ginny’s room.

He stood and went to her door, listening for a few moments. He pushed the door open and heard the rustle of the blankets on her bed as she sat up.

“Who is it? Dean? Seamus?” she asked, her voice sounding thick from crying. He was cut to the quick; she had automatically assumed it wouldn’t be him. He moved towards the bed, feeling around blindly with his hands until he caught her silky coverlet between his fingers. He lowered himself beside her and wrapped her in his arms. She stiffened immediately.

“Harry! What are you doing in here?” he wondered if he should be surprised that she’d known it was him, then decided he was right in not being surprised at all. After all, how many times had she held him in the middle of the night? She was bound to know how he felt, just as he could remember every time she’d been there for him. He could call to memory immediately every touch, every accidental meeting of their fingers.

“Ssh, it’s okay,” he soothed. At this she relaxed in his arms and burst into fresh tears. Not knowing what else to do, he began to stroke her hair, smoothing it away from her face, and whispered soothing things to her. Some time later, she had calmed down, and they lay on her bed together. Her back was pressed to his front, and his right arm was draped possessively over her weary form.

“Gin?” his whisper broke their silence.

“Mmm?” he could tell she was on the verge of sleep, and he felt bad for keeping her awake, but he had to know.

“Why were you crying earlier?” She stiffened slightly in his arms, then relaxed with a sigh.

“Because I was happy.”

“Bullshit. What’s going on, and why won’t you tell me? I thought I was your best friend.”

“You are,” she said quietly, the hurt tone of his voice making her feel guilty. Her head was still swimming from the alcohol she’d consumed earlier.

“Then why were you crying?”

“I just…” her voice trailed off, and she tried in vain to find the words she was looking for. “I’ve been thinking a lot about a certain guy, is all.”

“You cried over a guy?” he asked incredulously. She nodded, and his throat constricted painfully. “Who?”

“You don’t know him.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“He always does,” the words had slipped out of their own volition, and she swore silently.

“He always makes you cry?”

“He doesn’t mean to,” she amended quickly. “He makes me smile more than he makes me cry.”

“Are you in love with him, or something?” he feared her answer.

“Yes.” There, it was out in the open. Now Dean and Seamus would have to leave her alone. She bit her lip and hoped he would end his questioning, knowing at the same time that he wouldn’t stop until he knew everything.

“I’ve never seen you with any guys,” he pointed out, his heart racing. She laughed; a bitter, hollow laugh that made him cringe.

“Well, I expect you won’t, either. He doesn’t seem to have any interest in me.”

“Then why do you love him?” His mind was racing almost as quickly as his pulse. He had overheard part of her drunken conversation with Dean and Seamus earlier; had heard his name mentioned, but his date had swept him away before he could hear the context in which it had been used. “Was he the one you were talking to Dean and Seamus about earlier?”

“What?” she asked, surprised. “How did you know-“

“I was at the bar. Didn’t you see me?”

“No, I didn’t,” she answered honestly. So that’s who Dean and Seamus had seen on the dance floor, she mused.

“Why do you love him, if he makes you cry?”

“He’s funny that way,” she said, her voice sounding wistful. “He could hurt me in a million different ways, then wipe it all away with a smile.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I don’t think he hurts you on purpose.”

“Probably not,” she whispered, closing her eyes. She was sufficiently convinced from the tone of his voice that he had no clue she was talking about him.

“You should tell him when he hurts you.”

“He’s better off not knowing.”

“How can you say that?” he asked, his voice turning angry. “How can you love someone and not tell them that you feel that way? Life is too short for that kind of selfishness.” She opened her eyes, surprised at the vehemence of his words. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, she sighed.

“I don’t tell him because he’s really better off not knowing. I wish I didn’t feel that way about him, because then my life would be so much easier. His is easier not knowing.”

“Do you think he’s in love with someone else?” he asked, hurt and confusion obvious in his voice.

“I know he is.”

“Who?”

“Harry, I don’t know. Why the sudden interest in my love life, or lack thereof?” she asked, exasperated.

“Gin,” he said breathily. “Is it me? Are we talking about me?” She went rigid in his arms.

“That’s an awfully funny thing to ask.”

“Is it?” he persisted. She let out a long breath.

“Would it matter if it was?”

“Of course it would matter,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “It would matter a hell of a lot.” She tried to pull away, but he held fast.

“Harry, I think you should go back to your room.” Her voice was trembling.

“No, damn it, I won’t! How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long have you felt this way about me?”

“Harry,” she started.

“Tell me.”

“A long time,” was all she would say. He exhaled slowly. Then, “Was it that obvious?”

“No,” he said. “You’ve kept it well hidden.”

“Then how is it that you seem to have guessed so easily?”

“I overheard you and the guys talking earlier tonight,” he admitted.

“Oh.” She was silent. He waited for more, but she didn’t speak. Finally, he realized he was going to have to break the silence and say some things he’d been holding back, if they were ever going to get anywhere.

“Who do you think I’m in love with?”

She hesitated before answering. “Hermione.” He sucked in a deep breath.

“I didn’t love her.”

“You didn’t?”

“I was fond of her. I loved her as a friend. We slept together, and we had feelings for each other, but I never loved her. She never told me she loved me, either.”

“Oh.”

“Would you quit saying that and really talk to me? We need to clear some things up, right now.”

“Like what?”

“Like me hurting you,” he breathed. She shivered; his breath was hot against her ear as he spoke. His fingers began stroking the exposed skin on her arm, and she felt something warm on her shoulder through the nightshirt. Was that – no, it couldn’t have been – his lips?

“Forget about it,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.

“No. I never meant to hurt you. I never thought for a moment that you had any inkling of feeling toward me, other than friendship. You never said anything; never gave me the slightest clue.”

“Then I did well, until tonight,” she lamented.

“You should have told me,” he said firmly. “How did you know I wasn’t taking all of those girls to bed because I couldn’t have what I really wanted?”

“Do you realize all the girls you’ve brought home looked like her?” she asked, not daring to let herself hope. She shivered as he brushed her hair away from the back of her neck and pressed his lips to the warm skin of her neck.

“I never saw a girl who looked like you, until tonight,” he whispered. She gasped as his tongue darted out and tasted her salty flesh. “And once I got her home, I realized that it was a mistake, which is why I told her to get out.”

“She’s gone?” she asked, dumbfounded. She realized that she hadn’t given a second thought when he’d come to comfort her, and she’d known he’d had someone else with him.

“She’s gone,” he whispered, pressing another soft kiss to the nape of her neck. “I should have told you how I felt, Ginny. I’m just as guilty as you in that regard.”

“What are you talking about?” she murmured, biting her bottom lip. His hand slid down to her outer thigh, moving the fabric of the nightshirt aside. He touched the soft curve of her stomach, feeling the muscles quiver beneath his hand.

“I want you,” he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “I have loved you for a while now, and never had the guts to tell you.”

“You what?” she asked, rolling onto her back. She squinted into the darkness, trying to see him, but to no avail.

“Lumos,” he whispered. A soft light filled the room, and she found herself staring straight into his emerald eyes. “I love you.”

Before she could voice her surprise, his lips had descended on hers, capturing them in a sweet kiss. His lips were surprisingly soft, and their presence on hers was making her feel lightheaded. His hand was still resting on her stomach, and warmth radiated from it, making her tingle with excitement.

His tongue swept across her lips, begging entrance. She hesitated only a moment before opening her mouth to him, allowing him to claim her mouth in a searing kiss. The hand that had been resting on her stomach moved upwards to cup her cheek and hold her in place. His thumb brushed lightly against her cheek, and shivers ran down her spine.

He kissed her until her mouth was sore and she was totally breathless. She was just beginning to wonder if she might pass out from lack of air when he pulled away. He was panting just as hard as she was, and his emerald eyes were nearly black with desire. His eyes were still on her lips as he caressed the side of her face gently.

“Wow,” he breathed. At a loss for words, all she could do was nod. She struggled to regain her composure, but it was not to be. He pressed tender kisses to her temple, both cheeks, her chin, and finally, to the tip of her nose. She smiled at him then, eliciting a heart-stopping grin in response.

“You’re cracked,” she said playfully. “I must look awful, after drinking and crying all night.”

“You’re the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen,” he said seriously. He brushed a strand of copper hair away from her face. “Would it be too much to ask if I wanted to stay in here with you tonight?” Her heart very nearly stopped.

“Why?” she blurted.

“I want to hold you,” he said simply. She searched his face for any sign of teasing, but came up empty handed. Finally she nodded her assent and rolled back over onto her side, allowing him to press himself against her back. When he did, she could feel his arousal pressing into her bottom.

“Harry?” she asked tentatively.

“Mmm?” he murmured into her hair.

“Are you only planning on sleeping in here?”

“What else would I do?” he asked, his voice thick with amusement. She shifted against him so that his arousal was pressed firmly between her cheeks, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“You don’t feel sleepy,” she said breathlessly.

“I can ignore that,” he said, his voice strained. “If you stop moving like that, I can ignore it and go to sleep.”

“What if I don’t want to ignore it?” His arm tightened around her.

“Gin, I’m not going to ask you to do anything with me. It’s late, you’ve had a lot to drink, and I know you’re exhausted. Besides,” he added ruefully. “I’d be surprised if you ever wanted to touch me again, after all of the women I’ve had.” Her hand moved up to his, and she caressed it for a moment before moving it up to cup her breast. He let out a low hiss.

“I don’t care if you’ve shagged the entire female population of Hogsmeade,” she said, anticipation coursing through her. “And you still owe me a birthday present, anyway.”

“Gin,” he moaned, gently squeezing the handful of flesh. She arched her back, effectively grinding against him. He released a feral growl and began kneading the soft mound in his fingers as he kissed the back of her neck wildly. She whimpered in protest when his hand left her breast, but was mollified when she felt him touch her again, this time without the barrier of her shirt. She reached behind her and grabbed his hip, squeezing it as his thumb and forefinger found her already erect nipple.

He pinched gently, and she gasped; then he had shifted from his position beside her to tug on her shirt. She complied by raising her arms, and he pulled it over her head. He dropped it on the floor, then crawled forward until his face was above hers.

“Are you sure you want this?” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “Because if you’re having doubts, this is a good time to stop me.” She reached up and traced his lips with her forefinger, then pulled him down for a kiss. When her tongue touched his, he groaned.

Tongues dueled and teeth clashed as they kissed. His hand found its way back to her breast, stroking it gently. She gasped, and he took the opportunity to move his mouth down to her throat. His teeth grazed her collarbone, and she gripped his shoulders as he tasted the skin of her throat. His tongue moved in slow circles across her skin, until he found the sensitive spot in the hollow of her throat. He sucked gently, and she moaned.

Encouraged, he trailed a path of fiery kisses down through the valley between her breasts. She dug her nails into his skin as his mouth closed over a rosy peak, pulling it into his mouth and sucking gently. Warmth embraced her, and she could feel wetness flood her knickers. As if he sensed what she was thinking about, his hand moved down across her stomach and came to rest between her legs. Her eyes flew open and she bucked her hips as his fingers pushed the damp material aside.

“Oh, Gods, Ginny,” he murmured against her skin. His fingers stroked her gently as he raised his head for another kiss. He plundered her mouth ruthlessly, and it was his turn to moan when she sucked on his tongue. His finger slid inside the wet folds, and she stopped kissing him long enough to cry out his name.

“Harry!” He plunged his finger in and out slowly, his thumb massaging her sensitive spot the entire time. Before Ginny could revel in the feeling, she was climaxing. He took a nipple into his mouth as her orgasm washed over her. When she had stopped moving her hips, he withdrew his fingers slowly and kissed her again.

Her hands moved up to pull down on his pyjama pants, and he complied by wriggling out of them. She was too anxious to even remove her knickers, and instead simply pushed them out of the way as he slid into her. He closed his eyes to savor the sensation of being inside of her; she was hot and wet and oh, Gods, if she did that again he was not going to last another second!

She was contracting around him, squeezing his flesh with hers. He didn’t know if it was from the orgasm she’d just had, or if she was doing it on purpose, and what was more, he didn’t care. He pulled out almost completely, then thrust back in. A soft cry escaped her, fueling his desire, and he began thrusting harder. Perspiration beaded on his forehead, and she wanted nothing more at that moment than to lick it off of him, but then she was about to climax again and forgot about everything else.

Her walls tightening around him sent him over the edge. One last, rough thrust, and he spilled his seed inside of her. He collapsed on top of her, resting his head on her chest. After several moments had passed and her breath was steadier, she lifted her hand to stroke his hair. He tilted his head to look at her.

“Happy birthday, Gin.”

“Thanks, Harry,” she smiled. He pulled out of her, despite her whimpered protests, and pulled her close to him. She fell asleep with her head resting on his chest.

Ginny heard voices approaching her door before she even opened her eyes. She grumbled to herself, then automatically raised a hand to cradle her throbbing head. She had a hangover, but at least she’d had that vivid dream about Harry to compensate for it. She smiled to herself as she remembered her favorite part of the dream – the part where he’d told her he loved her.

“…got to tell her, Dean! Maybe she knows where he is,” Seamus’ voice came. She groaned and tried to sit up, but found that she couldn’t. Her eyes flew open to find an arm draped across her stomach, and she gasped. She turned her head slightly and found herself looking directly into a pair of the most startling emerald eyes she’d ever seen.

“Morning,” he whispered, his lips curling up in a grin. Her heart began pounding wildly, but she smiled.

“Morning,” she whispered back. It was at that moment that her door flew open.

“Gin, wake up, Harry’s…” Seamus’ voice died as his eyes fell on the raven head that lay on the pillow beside Ginny.

“With you,” Dean finished, his eyes wide. Ginny’s face turned scarlet, but Harry didn’t seem bothered. He stretched languidly and fumbled on the floor for his glasses. After they were in place, he looked up and grinned.

“Morning, guys,” he said, sitting up. “Was there something you wanted?” Dean’s eyes shifted to Ginny, who was biting her lip in an effort not to smile.

“No,” Seamus shook his head. “Why would we want something?”

“Well, you busted into Ginny’s room to wake her up because I wasn’t in my room, right? You must have wanted something.”

“Uh, no,” Dean said, taking a step backwards. “We were just worried that something might have happened to you, and we were going to ask if she knew where you were.”

“She does know,” Harry said, raising his eyebrows. “I’m right here, beside her.” Ginny couldn’t contain her laughter any longer, and three pairs of eyes turned to look at her.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed, wiping tears from her eyes. “But this is all so ridiculous! Harry’s here and he’s alright, so you can go now.” Dean and Seamus gave her stupid grins before turning and leaving the room, closing the door behind them. Harry watched her for a moment.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m laughing at them. You could just tell by the looks on their faces that they’re dying to know what happened, even though they didn’t want to ask.” She yawned and stretched as she lay there, and Harry lay back down beside her.

“What would you say to staying in bed all day?” he asked hopefully. She laughed again, and he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on her swollen lips.

“It’s a lovely idea, but we have practice tonight,” she pointed out. His face fell slightly, and her smile faded. “You know, when I woke up, I thought this was all just another one of my more vivid dreams.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to him.

“I had that same fear myself,” he admitted. “Until I saw your hair fanned out on the pillow. Then I knew I was dreaming.” She gave him a soft smile as he brushed several wispy strands of copper hair away from her face.

“How can two people have the same dream at the same time, Harry?” she laughed softly.

“I don’t suppose they can,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her shoulder. "I guess it’s real, then.”

“Mmm,” she agreed, closing her eyes.

“Gin?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“I love you.” Her eyes flew open and she stared breathlessly at him. He’d said as much to her last night, but somehow it seemed different, uttered in the light of day rather than the darkness of her bedroom.

He stared at her face, waiting for an answer. When none came, he began to shift nervously. “Are you okay, Gin?” She nodded, trying to clear the cobwebs from her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just – it’s a lot to adjust to, hearing that from you. It’s hard to believe that you’ve said it, let alone think that you might actually feel that way.”

“I do feel that way,” he said, gazing intently at her. “I have for a while, now.”

“Oh,” she breathed, returning his gaze. Then, “You already know that I love you.” His head dropped to her shoulder and he gathered her close.

“It feels so good to hear you say that,” he whispered, his voice breaking with the emotion he felt. “Say it again,” he begged, tugging his eyes back up to meet hers.

“I love you, Harry Potter,” she breathed. He crushed her to him, crying silently at finally hearing those sacred words from someone.