Hermione smiled to Travis as he held the door open for her, and they both entered into the Leaky Cauldron from the London side. He was a Muggle, after all. Lucky for her, he was very accepting, and well, like most her friends said, he was perfect. That’s why she had said yes when he proposed.

So why didn’t she love him?

Hermione brushed the thoughts aside as she lead him up the flight of stairs near the front of the pub, the ones that lead up to private rooms. Most of her magical friends had only heard of Travis, although her closest ones, Ginny and Harry, had met him.

Travis was observant, among other things, and found it a bit odd the amount of tension between two people that hated each other. He was a smart man, Travis Hodges, a Barrister in the Muggle world, wealthy, both independently and by family ties. He was Oxford educated, and they often had great intellectual discussions, and his social circle was the one she had grown up in, the one her parents were thrilled that she was going to marry into, just as they had always planned. For once, the plan she and her parents had made before she had left to Hogwarts was on track.

So, why wasn’t she happy?

Hermione opened the door, and was bombarded with congratulations from a number of her friends and co-workers. She put on the mask of a happy fiancée and introduced him to everyone in the room. The Patil twins were there, along with Lavender Brown. Luna was there with her husband, Raul. Neville was leaning up against the back wall, Harry next to him, along with Dean. Oddly enough, most of the Weasleys were there, as well, and were very kind to Travis. She had not expected for any, except George, Angelina and Ginny to be there, considering what had happened. Yet Molly and Arthur were also there, along with Bill (Fleur was home, taking care of a sick Vicky). Charlie was absent, but Percy and Audrey were there, Audrey with a round belly, six months pregnant.

As the night wore on, Hermione finally sent Travis off to talk to some of her co-workers whom he was most comfortable with, so she could finally have some alone time with her girls. As soon as he was out of earshot, Padma, Pavarti, Ginny, Lavender, Angelina and Luna waved her over to a secluded corner of the room. Most of them were gushing over Travis.

“Does he have any brothers?” Lavender asked in a hush whisper, one that was heavy with the scent of alcohol. “I need a man like that. Money, looks, intelligent, what a catch, Hermione!”

“Is he as good in bed as he looks?” Padma asked, and Hermione was shocked to see the look of longing in her eyes.

“I don’t know,” Hermione answered truthfully.

“You don’t know if he has any brothers?” Lavender asked, perplexed. “Because that is the only question anyone asked that allows that type of answer.”

“No, Lav, he has no brothers, but I don’t know how good he is in bed. I haven’t slept with him yet,” Hermione answered, her cheeks blushing.

“Why in Merlin’s name not?” asked Pavarti, who was looking at Hermione like she was insane.

I don’t love him, the thought came, but Hermione couldn’t say that. It wasn’t true, after all. He was perfect, she should love him.

“He is quite dreamy, Hermione,” Luna said, the airy quality in her voice had nearly disappeared after the war. She had suffered a lot through it, nearly as much as Ginny or herself. “And we all know you are no virgin, so why haven’t you?”

Hermione looked at Luna in shock. How could she say that? How could she know?

“Oh, Hermione, we all know. Even Molly knows. It was after the war. Everyone was doing it just to feel alive, to wash the pain away. You and R–” Hermione quickly shut Angelina up.

“It doesn’t matter. I am engaged now, and I might as well wait for the wedding. Travis has no clue what happened after the war, he barley knows about the war at all,” Hermione stated, glaring daggers at Angelina.

“I know what it is,” Ginny said, her voice quiet. Hermione and Ginny had lost a lot of ground in their relationship. That’s what happens when two best friends date each other’s brothers. When the relationships go sour, so does the friendship. “He’s perfect.”

“What?” Padma asked, honestly confused.

“He’s perfect, and Hermione and Travis probably don’t fight,” Ginny said, the smirk on her face eerily similar to the ones the twins had. Angelina recognized it right away, and saw where Ginny was going.

“Yup, they don’t row. No fights, no heated arguments, nothing to get Hermione’s blood pumping,” Angelina said, nodding sagely, as if Hermione wasn’t there at all.

Lavender caught on, and smilled wickedly as well. “He’s smart enough, and he buys her flowers; he doesn’t need reminders about simplest of things, and he doesn’t yell back, I bet. He’s perfect.”

Luna smiled. “And he’s not a redhead, who cried and screamed to take her place in the darkest moment of her life, and willingly took the abuse she gave him afterwards, and I bet he’s not jealous, or possessive in any way.”

Hermione was blushing, but couldn’t help realize they were right, more right then they had any right to be.

Ginny rose from the table. “I’ve got a date, so I am going to head out, but I think you girls are right, he’s just too good. Hermione needs a project.”

Hermione glared at her friend. “And you need to hurt people.” The anger towards Ginny that was too close to the surface these days, burst out. She hated what Ginny had done to Harry nearly a year ago. Part of it was because Ginny had destroyed her closest friend, someone whom she loved like she would have a brother. Another part was because it had destroyed her own relationship, as well.

Ginny looked at Hermione, and then towards the back wall. Harry was leaning up against it, but it was clear it was more because of alcohol than of laziness. Harry was silent as Travis talked to the rest of the boys against the wall. Ginny turned back to Hermione, and she had a mask on, one that betrayed no emotion. “I had to wake him up, Hermione. I did what I had to do. It wasn’t just me, but we will both survive, if just barely.” Ginny gave a wave to the girls, and left.

Hermione relaxed a bit in her chair, and then snatched Ginny’s half full tumbler of Firewhiskey, and downed it. The burning felt good. The other girls, noticing the shift in Hermione’s mood, began to talk of other things, things that Hermione didn’t need to comment on.

A few minutes later the door opened, and two men in dark red Auror Robes walked in. Hermione’s heart stopped as she recognized one of them. It was someone she hadn’t seen in nearly a year; his red hair was long, curling slightly at the ends as it hung loose. His blue eyes where the colour of ice, and had the same feel to them. He walked with confidence, the muscles of his body evident even in robes, his partner followed behind, a nondescript man who seemed to blend in with any crowd. A useful trick for an Auror, she thought.

Ron didn’t acknowledge, or even notice her. His eyes found Harry, and he made a line straight for his best friend. Hermione couldn’t believe the anger in his walk, and couldn’t believe that she could still tell his mood from across a room.

“Auror Potter,” his voice was strong, in command, “Why did you not report in again?”

Harry tossed back his glass of Firewhiskey and tried to stand, his legs only wobbling a bit. “Didn’t feel like going in today, Ron.” Harry went to reach for another glass of Firewhiskey on the table, but Ron’s hand stopped it.

Ron’s voice was softer now, full of concern for his best friend. “Harry, you need to stop. You need help. Come with me now, and we can get you help. This is your last chance, mate.”

Harry snatched his arm away from Ron, and shook his head. “I don’t need any help.”

Ron just shook his head. “Then hand over your badge, Harry. You’re suspended for two months. Head’s orders.” Ron held out his hand, and Harry dug into his back pocket, and placed a black leather wallet into Ron’s hand. Ron handed it to his partner. “Michel, take this to Head, and then go home. We’re done.”

“What about you, sir?” the other Auror, Michael inquired.

Ron never let his eyes leave Harry. “I have a friend and partner who needs help and it’s my day off. We’re done. Go drop that off and go home to your wife and kid, Michael.”

Hermione’s eyes watched as the Auror nodded and left. Hermione also noticed how quiet it had become. Nearly everyone in the room was loyal to Harry, his friends from Hogwarts and the DA. They, like her, worried about him, but most thought he had finally recovered from breaking up with Ginny. Apparently he had gotten worse without anyone knowing, even her.

“That was probably highly illegal, what you just did, Auror,” Travis said, going to Harry’s defence. He knew how close Harry and she were. Another point to him.

Ron looked at the man, not in disgust, more with a look of indifference. “No, it’s not, but how would you know, anyway.

“I am a Barrister. It looks inappropriate to do that in front of a crowd, and probably grounds to contest his suspension,” Travis replied, his tone as steady and normal as always. His voice never changed tone, or pitch. It wasn’t monotone, but it wasn’t exciting, either.

Ron looked at the man. “I know all the Barristers in the Ministry, and you aren’t one I recognize.” Ron’s voice was curious, laced with caution. Again, Hermione berated herself for noticing.

“You wouldn’t know me. I am a Muggle Barrister.”

“WHAT!” Ron exclaimed, and then his eyes swept the room. He didn’t notice her, but turned back to Travis. “How did you find your way into the Leaky Cauldron? Who brought you here?”

“My fiancé, she is a very intelligent, quite beautiful, and I am pretty sure she knows what she is doing. She is quite famous in your world, as well, and anything that she loves, I want to be a part of it,” Travis replied, again, with the same steady voice.

Ron’s eyes flashed. “Famous or not, she had better made sure everything’s in order to bring a Muggle around. Who is she, so I can check up the paperwork?”

“I doubt you know her-” The rest was cut off by Harry’s snort.

Ron’s eyebrow arched as he looked at Harry, and Hermione felt her stomach drop, and for some odd reason, her heart began to race.

“Oh, Ron knows her, alright. Travis, this is Ron Weasley. Ron, this is Travis Hodges, Hermione’s fiancé.”

The room seemed to part, and there was no way Ron missed her this time. His blue, shocking blue eyes caught hers, but before he could speak, his attention was drawn back to Travis.

“So, you are the one I have to thank.”

“Thank?” Ron asked, his voice filling with anger. She saw his hand twitch to the side, but his wand didn’t appear. Apparently he had learned some self control in the last year.

“If you hadn’t been such a heathen, she would never have run into me.” Hermione was shocked to hear smugness in his voice. Odd, she thought, he is smug about winning me, not about all my achievements.

Ron’s voice full of anger, yet disgustingly polite, set her blood boiling. “Well, then I hope she is as heathenistic,” he emphasised, “in the bedroom with you as she was with me. Then yes, I can see you thanking me.”

Hermione watched as Ron stormed out. She was so mad that she stood, snatched Luna’s full drink, downed it, and followed him out, her wand already in her hand.

She saw him walk outside a moment before she did, and she knew she had only a few more heartbeats to stop him from apparating. As she cleared the door, she silently disarmed him just as he was getting ready to spin. She caught both wands, and tossed them into the muddy ground that was the back of the Leaky.

“What do you want?” he asked her, his hair damp from the rain that she had not noticed was coming down.

“What the hell where you thinking!” she yelled at him. She felt her face flush, her blood pumping, her magic swirling in her. The sensation was maddening.

“Nothing, why?” he said, but she could tell by the tone in his voice, a voice she had heard nearly every day for just shy of a decade, that he was angry.

“I never told anyone, not a soul about us!” she screamed at him.

“Ashamed! Ashamed that it was me you gave yourself to for the first time!” he snapped at her, his eyes flashing, the rain starting to dance in circles as both lost a complete control of their magic. The rain danced around them, a maelstrom to meet the magic that rolled off them. It defied gravity, logic. Hermione felt her rain soak dress flush against her skin, and noticed how the Auror robes he was wearing clung to him.

“I was never ashamed of you, Ronald! I seduced you! I wanted you, in every sense of the word! I kept it quiet because it was something special! One of the few things that was just ours! Something that only you had!” Her temper was going wild.

“And then you walked away from me!” he yelled back, taking a step forward so he could yell at her over the background noise of the storm that was crashing around them.

“Of course I did! I found someone who is perfect. He is your antithesis, your complete opposite!”

“Really? Hadn’t noticed!” his sarcasm enflamed her. “He’s a pretty boy perfect, the man your parents want you to marry. But was he there for you when-” he stopped, and the anger faded from his eyes. “You know what, forget it. Congratulations. I hope you two are happy.” Ron walked passed her. And bent to pick up his wand.

He was walking away from a fight? No, not if she could help it. She didn’t want to think why she was fighting with him, but she knew she was going to continue the fight. So, she pushed him, literally.

Ron fell face first into the mud, and he turned, looking up at her from his back She stood over him, recognising the flash of desire in his eyes, the longing it send through her, but she ignored it. “No, you are not walking away from me, Ronald.”

“Why not!” he yelled. Good he was angry again. “Why shouldn’t I! He’s perfect for you. Yeah, I took care of you when hell was all we knew, but you got out of it. Why should I drag you back into it? I can take care of them. I don’t need you!”

“What are you talking about!” she yelled as he stood, his wand forgotten on the floor.

“I took care of you right after the war. It was me who was with you when your parents refused to forgive you. It was me who held you for those months you cried, breaking into Hogwarts to see you, knowing I could be fined for it. It was me who spent nearly a year of my life running between you, George and Harry. I had to make sure, all too often, that George didn’t succumb to grief and kill himself. It was me who stopped Harry from taking his own life when the guilt he carried got to be too much. It was me who sat with you as you tried to put back together your life. It was me who made sure Dad went to work in the morning and Mum didn’t spend her day staring at a picture of Fred. I took care of my entire family for over a year, including you. Then, as everyone got better, I joined the Auror Corps, because the damn Death Eaters started stirring up trouble again. I spent another year dealing with your fears about me being out there, making sure you were okay in the Ministry, a place that still creeps me and Harry out, so I know it still does for you. Then I had to help Harry put his life together after Ginny left.”

“What does that have to do with anything, Ronald? That doesn’t explain why you became so distant, why you stopped talking to me, stopped coming home. You just walked away!” she yelled, her tears now mixing in with the rain. She hadn’t known what he had done. She knew what he did for Harry, for her, but not for George, or for anyone else.

“Did you notice,” his voice tired, soft, defeated, “what I didn’t do? I never grieved for my brother, Hermione. The brother I saw die. I never got a moment to grieve, to go over why I went to protect you, instead of him. My nightmares where becoming too much for me to handle, ‘miney” She hated that nickname. It was the nickname he gave her after they first made love. It was what he called her to let her know she always had a home with him even when her parents refused to forgive her.

“I am still stuck in the War, ‘Miney.” She felt a tingle race down her spine as he said that. Her blood was still pumping, even if they had stopped arguing. This was a new dynamic to their fight, something that only happened after the war. He was being dead honest with her, his heart open for her to do with as she pleased. The last time he had done that, she had left him. “You managed to escape it. Harry and I, well, we never will. So go, be with Travis. As long as he treats you like the queen you are, I can’t and won’t fault him.” He knelt and handed her wand. The slight brush of skin on skin sent her heart beating into overdrive.

“Just one question,” he said, “Do you love him?”

Hermione was shocked. It was the first time anyone, including her parents, had asked her that. She thought for a minute, looking down at the wand in her hand, then shook her head, her rain soaked hair slapping her checks slightly.

“Then why are you with him?” The voice, Ron’s voice, was right in front of her. She looked up, and felt her knees go weak looking into his deep blue eyes. She knew that colour. It was the one his eyes turned to when they had made love, when he was feeling particularly passionate.

“Because he’s perfect,” she answered her voice a whisper she could only faintly hear herself over the sound of blood thumping in her ears.

“Do you want perfect?” he asked, the tension in his face, in the space between their bodies growing so thick Hermione swore she could feel it.

“I want you,” she replied, and she knew what he was going to do. With a familiarity that was still there, his hands wrapped around her waist pulling her up to his lips, and she felt them descend on hers. It was passionate, wonderful. That one chaste kiss, one that had lasted for a few of her rushing heartbeats, sent more pleasure through her system than any kiss she had had with Travis.

“I want you; I want every single one of your imperfections, your quirks, your annoying habits. I want your passion, your loyalty, your bravery. I want that temper, that fire. I want you, and to be there with you, to help you out of this war,” Hermione said her lips just inches from his.

“Why? Give me a reason.” He asked, his breath tickling her lips.

“I miss this!” she huffed, backing away from his arms. “I miss our arguments, I miss our honesty. I miss the fact that with one argument you can get my blood going faster than Travis ever could. I miss that with one kiss; I want to take you into bed and make love to you, letting my passion meet yours, feeling the rush of emotions that only you can bring out of me, that I am afraid to let anyone else see. I miss you, Ron.” Hermione slid off the engagement ring, and with a flick of her wand, banished it to Harry. He would know what to do with it, drunk or not. She then closed the gap between them, and fell into his arms, this kiss more like the ones she remembered, full of passion and an intensity that she could hardly believe. She felt him spin, and then, they were gone.

Ginny stood, the rain soaking through the coat she wore over her sleek black dress. Her hair, so full of body not two hours earlier, was plastered against her head. She noticed flakes of snow falling in between the raindrops, and shivered. She didn’t know why she was in front of this house in London, a home she had lived in for most of a year. She nearly laughed at herself for even trying to believe that. She knew exactly why she was there. Harry had been on her mind, again. Yet it wasn’t the normal night time musing of a woman reliving wonderful moments with the first and only man she ever loved, or the hot passionate dreams that normally invaded her once or twice a week.

It was the worry of a woman who finally realized she had made a mistake.

She had spoken to Ron as he walked into the Leaky Cauldron earlier that night. She was left so stunned when her brother had told her why he was there, what he was going to do that she was nearly late for her date.

The house was still picture perfect. It was cosy, and most importantly, it was theirs. Harry and Ginny had spent time painting the front of the house, but more importantly, was the white rose garden. Harry had started working on the rose garden the moment he had bought the home. He had spent hours and hours working on that garden. He had confessed one night, in one of the few moments his defences where down, that bringing life, bringing beauty into his life helped him heal. Right before she had left him, right before he fell apart, the roses had died. Now, the beautiful white roses had been replaced with deep red roses.

That soft side, that wonderful part of him, only came out in their house. He had warded their home so tight that both her mother and Andromeda had complained how difficult it was to get to the house. So when she passed through the wards in her walk towards the house, she was shocked it had let her in. She stood in front of the door, her hand ready to knock, but she fought it. She knew she couldn’t do this, shouldn’t do this. She had promised she wouldn’t come to the house, wouldn’t torture him. She had promised her parents, Ron, Hermione. Harry, she couldn’t promise anything to.

She had already broken her word once to him.

She wondered if she, like Hermione, still loved the man that had hurt her so much. Yet, unlike Hermione, she hadn’t left Harry because she was hurting. She had left to hurt him.

He had broken her heart, he had kept secrets, and he had been, well, Harry. She had hoped, for some stupid reason, that he would be different after the war, better. Yet he only got worse. He had pulled further and further away from her. He kept his nightmares a secret, he gave himself over completely to his work when she was off training, and ignored calls to go in when she was there. Harry was trying to be two people, and she didn’t want that. What she had wanted was him to be the Harry that had fallen for her in her fifth year. Instead, he was barley maintaining.

Ginny wanted him, wanted him so bad, that she wore his coats to dates, wore the jewellery he had given her when she was going out. She never wanted her dates to succeed; she only wanted one man’s lips on hers.

With that thought, her will power broke, and she knocked on the door.

Harry Potter looked up from the lone glass of Firewhiskey sitting on the table. His mind was on a beautiful redhead that he had seen for the first time up close in nearly a year. It was so hard for him to keep up the façade he was trying so hard to maintain earlier that night. A light flashed near his door letting him know something was entering his wards, but very few people, and even less owls could. He wrote it off as Ron or Hermione’s owl, letting him know they were safe. He was so happy that they had run off together. Harry would love to claim that he had chosen that night just so Ron and Hermione could come to their senses and run away together, but he hadn’t.

Harry had chosen that night so he could see his Gin.

This time, the noise that Harry heard was a knock on his front door. Worried, Harry drew his wand out and slowly approached the door. There were very few people that could get through his wards, and he truly doubted that Ron or Hermione would be anywhere but in each other’s arms right now. As he swung the door open, he prepared to fire a stunner off. What he saw stunned him instead.

The redhead of his dreams, Ginny Weasley, stood in the sleet, snowflakes a stark contrast to her red hair, as if they should melt resting on such a fiery surface. Harry’s mind could not function, let alone say anything. At the moment, he felt as drunk as everyone believed he was not a few hours ago. She was wearing the stunning black dress she wore early that night, the stark black, silky smooth material (and he knew that from experience), was a stunning contrast to her porcelain skin, the dusting of freckles along the sinking neckline. Looking as delicious as they always had. She was wearing a man’s suit jacket. For a moment he was jealous that she had another man’s jacket, until he recognized it as one of his, one that had gone missing at The Burrow several months back.

“Normally, I would be comforted that I can still leave you senseless, but since you’re drunk, and it’s freezing out here, could you recover quickly and let me in?” Her attitude and demeanour was as welcomed of a memory as her beauty. Harry took a moment and then moved back to let her in; as she entered, their bodies brushed up against each other. She seemed to shiver, and Harry, regardless that he knew it was from the cold, felt his blood run faster, and his body moaned in pleasure, but he managed to keep the noise only in his mind.

“Forgive me, Ginny. It’s been nearly a year since someone that beautiful has been at my door. You caught me off guard.” He saw Ginny turn as he spoke, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Harry, we haven’t been together for over a year, please, don’t lie to me. I thought we left on good enough terms to not lie to each other.”

“Gin, we didn’t leave on any terms. You left me, walked away from me. I had no say in it.” His anger, something he had much more control over since the war, was being stoked up to a flame. He reined it in enough not to yell. “Regardless, I doubt you are here at a quarter past one in the morning to remind me why the woman I love left me.” Okay, maybe all the anger wasn’t reigned in completely.

He felt guilty when he saw the look of hurt on Ginny’s face. He sighed, and then mentally steeled himself as he took a few steps towards her. He cautiously reached out and stroked her check lightly. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You meant it, though,” she accused, her bright brown eyes shining.

Harry sighed, and nodded slightly. “That doesn’t give me reason to brush off whatever brought you here so early in the morning. You need help, and I promised you years ago that I would always be there for you, no matter what. So, what’s up, Gin?”

Ginny looked at him for a moment, and then she let her face lean into his hand. “If you’re okay, then I am okay.”

Harry pulled her in close, and she hugged him. The attraction was obvious, but they tried to keep it friendly.

Ginny pulled away a little quickly and smirked at him. “So, did Hermione sober you up before she left with Travis?”

Harry rolled his eyes and walked toward the kitchen. “There is glass of Firewhiskey on the table, if you want it, but if not I have some butterbeer somewhere. I have some work I should be doing, so come find me in my office when you’re ready to talk. Take your time; I really have plenty to do, so I will be up for a while.”

As Harry walked towards his office, he smiled. He knew his Ginny, and he knew she wouldn’t leave him waiting for long. He quickly reprimanded himself. She wasn’t his anymore, and it was just too much to be in close contact with her. He needed to help her and stay away, because he couldn’t bear having her around for too much longer. Another thought came up, and he turned to her. He was stunned that she was looking at him, still stuck in place, as if not sure she should follow him or go into the kitchen. Again, he saw her shiver, and something clicked in his mind.

“Gin, what are your plans for tomorrow?” he quickly added when he noticed her eyes widen. “I have a note I need to give to Hermione, but I may be working and she could be a little busy early in the morning, so, could you give it to her?”

She looked at him for a moment, and then nodded.

“It’s on the dresser. You can read it.” He looked at her for a moment, and then added, almost a bit reluctantly, “You might as well shower and change. Some of your old stuff is there.”

“Harry, I can just...” Ginny started, but Harry just cut her off.

“No, you can’t cast a charm, because you would have done it already. You either don’t have your wand, something I can’t fathom happening without something really bad going on, or your magic isn’t working properly, I guess from the fact that Hermione just ran off with your brother. Nearly threw me for a turn, too, but I am used to shocks like that. Being an Auror is good for something. You would tell me if it was something more than just wonky magic, right?” She nodded, and Harry turned and started to walk away, but Ginny’s laugh caused him to turn back around.

“Ron and Hermione ran off together, and you think that’s what surprised me? Do you really think that the only reason I would come to you is because there is something wrong with me?” she asked, snorting back a laugh. She had done that often and Harry found it adorable.

Harry sighed “Gin, it’s nearly 1:30, I have something to do. I would love to chat about how you, like every other person in the world, saw that coming, but I can’t. Come get me in my study,” Harry paused, long enough for her eyes to find his. “After you take a shower and warm yourself up. If you catch a cold, Molly would have my head in a flash, and I have a mission I am working on. So I can’t afford that right now.”

Harry turned, and with a sigh, walked into his study, where his communication mirror was glowing, letting him know that they were waiting on the line.

Ginny Weasley watched Harry walk off towards his study. She felt her heart break for a moment, and then rejoice slightly. He had apparently recovered; he had apparently gotten over the hell that she had put him through.

But some things weren’t adding up, she thought as her body, who knew this path well, walked her towards what used to be their room. As she thought, she went through the routine of gathering clothes out of the same places they had always been without thinking, back when she lived in the home with Harry.

He has a mission? Hermione didn’t sober him up? How could that be? He seemed extremely drunk when I left the Leaky Cauldron? But I never saw him actually drink. Ron, well, he did tell me not to worry, in the gentlest way he could. He knows I still care for Harry, hell, Harry knows I still care for Harry.

The stream of hot water on her face pulled her out of her thoughts. She couldn’t believe how natural it felt for her to be showering here, in this little bath that they had shared. Harry had promised her he would eventually expand the bath, or if they moved, they would find a home with a proper bath and shower stall. She remembered that night, and Ginny had to hush him, telling him it was perfect and that after sharing a bathroom for her entire life, this one was fit for a princess. Harry had taken her face into his large, callused hands, and with fervour, and honesty that had sent shivers up her spine, told her it needed to be fit for her, and that it wasn’t enough.

That was the Harry she had fallen in love with. He was so honest, so open. With his love for her. He had, at first, taken time to open up, but once this small house had become his home, the first place that was home to him and only those he chose to share it with, he had spilled everything out. He had told her everything from his first day at Hogwarts onward.

But there were certain things he had kept to himself. Ginny hadn’t though it a problem at first. She knew from experience that some memories were better kept as that, but seeing him keep thing to himself. Seeing how much he was in pain over things he could not control, could have never done anything about, had driven her to pry. Then, in order to try and shock him into coming back to the land of the living, had left him.

Apparently it had worked, and she would have to console herself with the fact that he was better now.

Ginny quickly pulled on one of Harry’s old training tee-shirts, the same one she always stole from him, one that he had only worn once, and a pair of jogging bottoms that she had thought she’d lost, but apparently had been here the whole time. As she dried her hair with a towel, she let her mind wander to all the lovely memories she had in the home, and they kept her occupied for the long minutes it took for her to dry her hair without magic. She didn’t know why her magic was off, or at least, she tried not to think of why it was. Her fear, her worry that Harry was on the brink had been washed away at the look in his eyes just a few minutes ago, when she saw him angry, then forced it down. That, above all else, was evidence that he was better.

Ginny quickly made her way to Harry’s study, and was about to walk in when she overheard him in the middle of an argument. She cracked open the door and saw Harry in front of a full size mirror, one that did not reflect him, but showed two people and the room behind them. One was a face she recognized, the other wasn’t.

“I don’t give a damn, Kingsley. The mission was to have Ron in London while I went searching. Everyone needs to believe I am broken and useless. The damn Death Eaters will start making more moves if they think I am out of commission. Ron is the only person that I trust to imitate me, and now, he has all reason to stay in London. It won’t be safe, there is a good chance they will try to take me out first, and Ron imitating me could prove troublesome, but he can handle it.”

“That’s why I want him with you. All active Aurors need a partner when on missions. You know that, Harry. I can assign a team to impersonate you, and you and Ron can try and chase down,” Kingsley was cut off by a growl from the older witch standing next to him.

“Auror Potter,” she growled, Harry looked at her directly.

“Yes, Head Auror Roberts?” Harry growled right back.

“You must follow regulations. If this is going to be a proper manhunt, if they are going to be properly convicted and sent to–” the woman was cut off by Harry’s bellow.

“They won’t be taken alive, and I have no problem fulfilling that request! They have threatened my family, they have started killing! I have no doubt that this chase will end up in a duel, and if it does, I will make sure they cannot escape again to try and harm the only people that have treated me like family!”

Ginny saw Harry take a deep breath and then looked at the women again. This was a calmer look, a look of Harry in control. “Regardless, if I can capture them, and I will make every reasonable attempt to do so, my being alone without back up will not disrupt the case. I am willing to take the stand, under Veritaserum, if necessary, to put those three peices of scum away.”

Kingsley looked at Harry, “Even if the only reason you volunteered is because they threatened Ginny?”

Harry looked Kingsley back in the eye. “Yes, Kingsley.”

“Auror Potter!” the witch yelled, and Harry looked at her with only mild interest. “You cannot use Auror resources for vendettas! This is wholly unacceptable. You will bring this mission under review or I will scrap it. I don’t care that you passed Auror training in 18 months. I don’t care that you have the Minister’s ear, or that you and Auror Weasely have brought down more Death Eaters and Dark wizards in the year you have been working for us full time than some Aurors do in their career! You will follow procedure or will leave this department!”

Harry’s eyebrow rose, then fished into his pocket and held out his badge. “You sure about that? All I need to do is turn in this Badge, and I can go? I have no problem working on only protecting my family. I don’t want Ron on too many dangerous assignments for a while, so I can take a leave of absence instead, work this case on my own.”

“You would become a vigilante, a man outside the law!” yelled the older woman, and Ginny had to suppress a snort. Harry only worked outside the law when it didn’t coincide with justice.

“Harry, please,” Kingsley interrupted, “I will assign guards to all the Weasleys, I will personally protect Ginny if that what it takes to get you to take Ron, or even someone else to chase after these men, and for you to wait for the original date to commence the plan. They are liable to kill you, Harry.”

Ginny’s heart stopped when Harry shook his head. He knew this was a suicide mission? Of course he did, and now, with Ron and Hermione back together, he wanted to rush the date, so Ron wouldn’t join him, and would stay safe with Hermione.

“I really don’t have much to live for, anyway, Kingsley. You know that. I don’t want to die, but if I do, you are going to tell the Weasleys why I went.”

“What about Ginny, Harry?” Kingsley asked, and the old lady snorted.

“He’s just being the hero. They aren’t together, anyway. Why should she be a factor?”

Harry growled, and she knew if he could curse her, he would, but instead, he said, rather resigned, “It doesn’t mean I don’t still love her.”

Ginny’s breathing stopped, her whole world stopped. Harry loved her? After all she had done, and he was about to do, he loved her?

“You idiot!” Ginny screamed, and barged in. She saw Kingsley’s raised eyebrow and was about to comment on it, but Harry’s waved hand cut the image off. Good.

“Excuse me?” Harry asked a mild smirk on his face.

“Why are you going to off yourself? again!” Ginny yelled, and Harry did pale slightly.

Yet instead of looking embarrassed, he just shot her a cold look. “Listening at doors, Ginevra?”

Ginny growled and stepped closer to him, but he didn’t back away. She was an arm’s length away, and he just smirked. “Don’t change the subject. I don’t give a damn if Tom himself showed up again and had me by wand point, I don’t want you to go and sacrifice yourself. We are Weasleys,”

“Hermione isn’t,” Harry pointed out, smiling more normally this time.

“She’s probably being Weasleyed right now, hush,” Ginny said, but couldn’t help the smile that forced its way up as Harry seemed mildly disgusted by that though. “Regardless, Harry, we can defend ourselves. Just go and let my brothers know, and all of us can take these,” she was cut off by Harry’s bellow.

“NO!” He screamed at her. “Your family, your parents, you, have suffered enough with me in your lives. The least I can do, since I am too much of a coward to walk away, is to protect you, all of you. I don’t deserve love or happiness.” His face got cold for a moment, and he looked directly into her eyes. “You taught me that, Ginny.”

Ginny reeled. “Me?” she gasped, “I, I didn’t, Harry.”

“Yes you did,” he spat at her. She could tell he was angry, but worse was the look in his eyes, a look of pure longing, and betrayal. “When I needed you, when all I needed was someone to remind me why I had fought for; why every single death wasn’t directly and inequitably my fault, even if I wasn’t the one holding the wand, or knife, you left. I nearly drowned those few months, Ginny, but you never cared.”

“I was trying to shock your system!” she bellowed, “I wanted you to get into that no nonsense mode that you had during the end of the war.”

“You mean the one that I took once I realized that my life was measured in days?” he asked, mildly sarcastic. He turned his back on her, and walked to the window. After a few moments, he spoke again, softer, defeated. “You can’t shock the system of a drowning man, Gin. It forces him down faster. Ron lost Hermione by trying to keep me alive.”

Alive? Ron had tried to keep him alive? “Harry?” Ginny asked, and she was almost ashamed about how weak her voice sounded. Harry turned around, his brows bunched together. “Harry, I, I...” she stammered, and then, the reason for her coming to this house tonight, the reason for starting this whole mess, solidified her. “I am sorry. I made a mistake,” she said, her voice just as soft, but no longer trembling. “I was just so scared, and I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to help, but you pushed me away. I sent Ron, Hermione, Mum, Dad, Neville, and everyone else I could think of. I asked Snape’s and Dumbledore’s portrait, I went to McGonagall. I was so tired, so defeated. I should have stayed, though. I should have sunk with you, I was just, well, I was worried neither of us would make it out. I had to leave, I had to keep going, but I should have forced you with me, not abandon you. I am sorry, Harry. You placed your trust, your love in me, and I failed you.” There was a moment of silence, and then, she whispered, “I have no idea why you still love me, but I still love you, too.”

Wind blew at the window that Harry was leaning against, and for a moment, Ginny thought it was going to burst open. There was a time, not a few minutes ago when she harboured a small hope that her life could go back to how it was before it started crumbling. That golden time after the war where she spent her nights cuddled up with Harry in a bed they had chosen together. In a house they had made into a home, but that possibility was gone, blown away like a leaf in that storm outside.

“Do you understand why I came back, Ginny?” Harry’s voice was almost hollow. “Do you really understand? I have spent every moment of my life sacrificing myself for people that I thought cared for me. Do you know the first person to touch me without hitting me was Hermione? Do you understand that the first time I touched someone back, in a way that meant I would do anything for them, was for you? I have spent my entire life fighting, loving people who would leave me in some way, shape or form, and only two, Ron and Hermione, did it for the right reasons, and are alive for it, reasons I can be okay with?” He was rambling now, but she didn’t stop him. He was letting things out she had never heard before, secrets he carried, “Sirius died because of me, Dumbledore died in order to help me fulfil my destiny. You left me because I treated you like a buoy instead of the woman I love. The woman that, at the end of the day, was the reason I came back, came back to a world were war existed, instead of moving on, meeting my father, who fought without a wand to protect and free my mother and me. To meet my mother, who with all this, would not have made things possible. Instead I came back to fight, to risk everything, in order to be with you, to protect you.

“Don’t think I am telling you this to trap you into staying with me, or make you feel guilty.” Ginny looked up to see him starting at her. She nodded that when understood, and he continued. “I am telling you this so you know why, after nearly a year; I still and always will, love you. I learned a long time ago that it’s okay to love people with them not loving you in return. Look at Professor Snape. He did it, and it made him a man strong enough to fool Riddle, something neither Dumbledore nor I can claim to have done.”

Ginny just stared into his eyes, eyes that seemed to be in a torment that he freely endured. She wanted to tell him so many things, but she didn’t know what to say. So she did the only thing she knew would help him, and help her. She crossed the distance between them in a couple of strides, and wrapped her arms around him. Wrapped her arms around him so tight, that it felt like she was wrapping her soul, her tortured, damaged soul, around him, willing to protect him from everything he had gone though, and everything he still wanted to put himself though.

“I don’t deserve your love, your loyalty, you know that?” He said, but he wrapped his arms around her. “I know I have to be strong, that I have to live my life without you, but I can’t push you away right now.”

Ginny looked up at him, her face full of fear. “Please, Harry, don’t push me away. You have done that for so long. Please, just let me in. Truly, this time.”

He looked at her, surprise evident on his face. “This time?”

She nodded against his chest. “Please,” she whispered, “let there be a this time. ”

Harry pulled her chin upwards so he could see into those brown eyes, eyes that had always entranced him, and kissed her. When they broke apart, much to Ginny’s apparent dismay, Harry whispered, “This time.”

Ron lay on his back, his breath coming in easier after the panting he had done. Hermione had always gotten him short of breath. Back in their school days, he noticed that sometimes, he felt like fighting her. She was always getting him going, his breath coming up in gasps, in short breaths. Now, after the war, their lovemaking was the same. No matter how much he tried, he always lost control. The best part was that she did as well.

Hermione moved a bit, putting her head on his chest. Ron watched her breathing even out, the flush that ran from her face all the way down her back was fading slightly now. He closed his eyes and marvelled at the very familiar and very desirable position he was in. He loved her, more then he could ever admit, more than anyone would ever know. Not because he hid it, or wouldn’t tell anyone. He would shout it from the rooftops, if Hermione would let him.

He just couldn’t tell her, with words.

Oh, sure, he told her he loved her, but it was so much more. He just had no idea how to tell her.

He felt a hand start snaking over his eyes, his face. It was something she had done since the very first time they woke up together in the same bed. They hadn’t made love that night, but she was crying, and the tiny room in Australia had only one bed. He had figured, and so did she, that she would be staying with her parents, yet when they threw her out, he had held her, and she had cried herself to sleep. He would have slept on the floor, but she had asked him to stay with her, and he had. He had woken up to her tracing the lines of his face, burning them into memory, she had told him. He almost always woke up to that sensation when he was in bed with her.

“Ron,” she asked him, her voice so small, and her heart on her sleeve, he knew. He knew all her tones. “Ron, do you want me back?”

His brow wrinkled in the confusion.

“Now, why are you asking me that? I figured you knew that was a given,” he asked her.

“No, it’s not,” he was using few, quick words. Not good.

“Have you looked around?” He asked her. He felt her lift up her head and look around the small bedroom in his flat. He had moved out right when she had graduated Hogwarts, and it was effectively theirs, though she had put up the pretence of living with her family when they had returned to England right before Graduation.

“It looks the same...”

“Exactly the same,” he told her. “I kept your books, the paintings, even your study, the same. I can’t live without some of the reminders of you here. I let you go, no fight, no nothing. I knew I didn’t have the softest touch, I know I am a rough guy; a hard life will do that to you. I may not look like much, I know; I know I don’t have very much to offer, but I am yours, Hermione, and wanted this home we made to be the same if you ever came back.”

He kissed the hand that had found its way to the side of his face. He looked down at her, and saw tears filling up her eyes, and a smile on her face. He kept going, not knowing why he was able to tell her everything he felt for her, but he was damned if he was going to stop now. “I need you to help me heal the scars that war left me. You are the only person, bar Harry, that has seen me at my weakest; has seen what my soul laid bare looks like, and it’s horrible, yet you accept me. You love my soul, my mind, though I don’t know why. You were the angel in my life. When we saw our best friend dead, you saw me cry, and yet, you held my hand, knowing that our chance of winning was gone, but that didn’t change anything. You know I am a fighter, you know I value being strong in front of everything else, yet when I am the one I still am, fighting on the battlefield, still in this war. I am in love with you, and I am yours in every way possible. My body, as scarred as it is; my mind, as weak and slow as it is, filled with Cannons fact and nightmares galore, and my soul, the soul that is stripped of its joy without you here. I know I am flawed, and damaged from the war, but I am yours, Hermione, and I will always be.”

He looked down at her, and her eyes were looking back up at his, a smile on her face.

“I have always wondered why you love me. You are not one to be very articulate often, Ron, and less so when we talk about emotions,” she told him, leaning up to kiss him softly on the lips. It was gentle, reassuring, and more intimate then the kisses they shared before. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I like it.”

Ron smiled and pulled her closer, closing his eyes, ready to sleep. “Don’t get used to it. I doubt that it will last.” He felt the smile against his chest, and he let go of his worries, and fell asleep, knowing that in the morning, his Hermione, his home, would be there in his arms.

Harry slowly detangled himself from Ginny and the mess of covers they had made. There was something to be said about a night of lovemaking after being nearly a year apart. He was mildly surprised it had happened. Ginny had confessed that in the numerous dates she had had, no man had kissed her. She had been his, but like him, had sacrificed her happiness in order to save him, though the threats to him were much more different than the threats he protected her from. Harry quickly got dressed, pulling up his black Auror’s pants, and then the black socks and boots. As he stood, about to grab a shirt, he looked down at the picture spread out on his bed.

She was lying in a sea of white, the single sheet draped over her naked form. The duvet was long gone, but she seemed warm, content. Her pale skin, no longer flushed from their passion, stood out against the sheets. He smiled to himself. He teased her about being as pale as a sheet quite often, but now, the contrast was just ironic. The dusting of freckles all over her body gave her a slightly exotic look to him, though in the way she laid, curled up on her side, clutching a pillow, only her shoulder, slender neck, and beautiful face where exposed. That wild hair, hair that looked like the fire of their passion not long ago, seemed at peace, too. It spread around her like a halo, and he just smiled, restraining himself from brushing it behind her ear.

Harry quickly composed himself and pulled on his shirt. As he finished getting ready and was about to leave, he looked down at the note he had left her at the side of the bed, and then, on a whim, conjured a white rose, and left it on the table next to the letter, and then walked out of his room, their room, ready to take on the threat.

He was only mildly surprised to see Ron waiting for him, his feet on the coffee table, a mug of tea and a scone in his hand. When harry walked in, Ron stood up. They said nothing to each other, but they both knew. This was a threat to their sisters and now, lovers. They would both hunt them down, and then, only when the last remnants of the war were safely locked away, would they allow the women they loved to pull them out of the war, and into the light.