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SIYE Time:17:24 on 28th March 2024
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The Ending of Harry Potter's Therapy Sessions
By iluvfanfics

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Category: Post-HBP
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley
Genres: Drama, Fluff, General, Romance
Warnings: Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 49
Summary: SEQUEL to "Ginny Weasley's Particular Brand of Therapy." Harry decides he doesn't need any more therapy.
Hitcount: Story Total: 16828



Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.



Author's Notes:
I hadn't planned on a sequel to "Ginny Weasley's Particular Brand of Therapy" but so many of the readers insisted there had to be more to the story. Turns out you were right! Thanks to my beta, Indie, who is encouraging and keeps me British.




ChapterPrinter


Everyone wanted a piece of him. He had done the impossible and survived, and now they wanted to know how; they wanted to know why and where and with what. They wanted him to talk, to narrate, to describe, to explain. The Ministry, the press, the reporters, Tom who owned The Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley…even his friends, who were actually his family–they all wanted to know.

It wasn’t that they were ungrateful, he decided. He could tell that everyone, even those who were scrambling hardest for a piece of him, was relieved by what he had done. They were relieved that he’d lived up to their expectations; that he hadn’t let them down, that they could live in peace. Mothers stopped him in the street and thanked him with tears in their eyes. School children sent waves of handmade thank-you cards to the Burrow complete with childish drawings of Harry defeating “He-who-must-not-be-named.” The Ministry bestowed more awards and money on the three of them than anybody knew what to do with.

The Ministry wanted to display him like a prize but he instead retreated to the Burrow where the Weasley’s protectiveness chased off more than one insistent fan. But even inside the Burrow–that haven of normalcy–people wanted to know. Ron and Hermione had done their best to explain it for him but it was never enough. He had stood in front of the Order of the Phoenix and had a meeting with the Minister of Magic; both sincere attempts to describe his final battle with Voldemort. He’d done such a poor job of explaining that he’d left his listeners with more frustration than comprehension.

Everyone wanted him to act like the hero they thought he was but he didn’t know how to be that person and never had.

The only person who gave him anything was Ginny. She offered herself and didn’t ask for anything in return. She’d let him go when he needed to go and hadn’t tried to stop him. She gave him the one thing she could only give once and had done so freely and without reservation. She was the anchor.

Years later, an explanation of the whole sordid mess would come to Harry in a one bright epiphany. He would be in such awe of his own understanding that he would immediately reach for a quill and write it all down so he wouldn’t forget. Memories of that yearlong hunt and final battle appeared to him in colours. The beginning of their quest for Voldemort’s Horcruxes was a soft yellow colour tinged with grey–hope mixed with dread. As the hunt went on, the grey slowly took over the yellow until the colour appeared only intermittently. Sometimes the world was red with fear or green with envy as he watched Hermione and Ron comfort each other–jealous that he’d left HIS comfort behind. Thoughts of Ginny had been bright shots of gold in his grey world but they were fleeting because he felt guilty for having them. Then, the final confrontation–a receding blackness pierced by a golden light that grew and grew until it was a blinding white.

After it was over, after he’d dragged the three of them home and told the world what had happened–that was when things turned blue. He’d known his friends were worried about him; they’d made that clear enough. Truthfully, he wasn’t quite sure what was wrong with him. He just knew that he was grieving. He’d killed someone–or something–and he felt detached, like he couldn’t face his own ugliness. He didn’t want to face the fact that a part of him was relieved to have killed. It had been necessary, he argued with himself, and he would silently list all the people whose Voldemort’s death had avenged.

He confessed his ugliness to Ginny who looked at him thoughtfully before saying, “You know, I expect killing someone–even someone who was as inhuman as Tom Riddle–changes a person. You’ve taken a life; you’ve made a decision to end something unnaturally. But, Harry,” and here she had placed both hands on his face, gripping it so he would look at her, “it really was necessary. You made a hard choice but it was the right one to make.”

She’d smiled at him then, and he’d lost himself in the dazzle of her smile and the brightness of her eyes. He always saw so many things in her eyes. They were bright and clear, and he felt like they saw straight to the soul of him. And sometimes, like right now, he could see himself in them–him, the way he always wanted to be and maybe sometimes was.

Ginny let him mope for a few weeks and then took matters into her own hands. Her particular brand of therapy, which involved shagging everywhere, had shocked and intrigued him at the same time. Because of course he was interested in that–specifically with her–but he was sceptical of it being therapeutic. He should have known that she would be right. Being with Ginny was like drowning in a pool of sunlight or fire; it was warm and sensuous and when he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, she simply melted into him, until he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began.

When they were together, he wasn’t the Boy-Who-Lived or the Boy-Who-Conquered or “The Chosen One,” he was simply Harry. When Ginny gasped his name, she was saying the name his parents had given him–not the name the press had given him. When she loved him, she was loving just Harry. And when she moved underneath him, trembling with anticipation and pleasure, he could feel her slowly chasing the blue away.

So they shagged. They shagged a lot, and they weren’t picky about where. The first time had unlocked the monster inside of his chest again, and it was a blessed relief to focus on something else other than his own self-doubt. They were very careful to not get caught by her parents, and if her brothers knew or suspected, they did not say. He caught Bill eyeing them once with a suspicious look on his face before turning away resignedly and he happened upon Ginny having a fiercely whispered conversation with Charlie at one point but neither of them said anything. Everyone was so relieved he’d snapped out of his blue funk, they didn’t question much how Ginny had done it.

Harry found himself changing slowly. He found more reasons to laugh, to tease; it became easier to talk about things that had been difficult to even think about before. He sought out Remus and asked endless questions about his parents and Sirius. It was almost as if something had been released inside of him. Every night, Ginny would sneak into his bedroom and–despite the fact that they’d made love the night before or that morning or that afternoon–he’d tackle her like a starving man.

Ginny had said they would drown his sorrows in sex and she’d been closer to the truth than she knew. Except instead of drowning, he was coming alive; the real Harry was swimming to the surface. Her love for him had awakened parts of the world he’d never experienced before.

Before he had left to hunt down Voldemort’s Horcruxes, the fact that he was in love with Ginny Weasley had been something scary, something to hide, something to be protective of. Now it was something to celebrate, to shout from the rooftops, to be silly about, to spend hours proving to her. He would watch her sleep next to him and let all the love he felt for her fill him up so that he imagined he could feel it spreading from his fingers and toes towards his heart. When it reached his heart, he imagined he could feel the organ swelling until he thought it would burst.

When the notice from Hogwarts came that the school would be reopening, Harry hadn’t known what to feel. He was happy of course, for the school and for Professor McGonagall, but the longing he usually felt for the castle was gone. It didn’t feel like home anymore and he simply could not imagine returning. It would be like…going backwards. He felt only a brief nostalgia for Gryffindor Tower and his dorm mates. But he knew that if he returned things would not be the same and he was afraid it would ruin the memory of the good times. He wasn’t a kid anymore and he didn’t want to pretend.

He’d wandered out to the pond behind the Burrow, the letter clutched in his hand. Ginny found him there, and without speaking, spread his bent knees so she could sit between them and leaned back against his chest. He’d dropped an absentminded kiss on her head and propped his arms up on his knees, caging her in. They stared out at the pond for a long time in silence.

“I got one too,” she said finally, holding up her own Hogwarts letter. “McGonagall included a postscript that she’d like me to serve as Head Girl this year. I guess Hermione wasn’t eligible because she missed last year.”

“I can’t go back there, Ginny,” he said simply. “I’ve been thinking about it and trying to convince myself that it would be okay but it wouldn’t. It’s not the same. I’m not the same. It doesn’t feel like home anymore.”

Ginny took his hands and placed them on top of one another over her heart. “That’s because your home is here, Harry. It’s here, in my heart, with me. I’m your home now.” She sat up and twisted around to face him. “We’re each other’s home.”

He traced the line of her face and knew with a sudden clarity that she was right. His sense of home, of belonging, had shifted and all he really wanted was to be with her. He folded her in his arms and buried his face in her hair. “You’re right,” he said, his voice muffled by the long red tresses. “Home is where you are.”

“So, where do you want to be?” he asked softly, lifting his head so that his forehead rested on hers. “I’ll go wherever you want to go.”

Ginny shook her head. “No, it’s time for you to be selfish. I’ll do what you want to do,” she said firmly.

Harry leaned back against the tree, bringing her with him. “Well, I’d still like to get my NEWTS,” he mused. “And I know you’ve been studying for them for ages.”

“Seems a shame to waste all that hard work,” Ginny said slowly. “So we want to get our NEWTS but we don’t want to go back to Hogwarts. What other option is there?”

The answer came to him in a flash. “Remus,” he said suddenly. “He’ll tutor us.”

Harry approached Remus that night after supper. Remus had always urged him to ask for anything, at any time, but Harry had never really needed anything until now.

“I’ve got a favour to ask,” Harry began carefully. Remus brightened. “Ginny and I, we don’t want to go back to Hogwarts but we still want to take our NEWTS.” A look of understanding was dawning across Remus’ face. “You’ve taught before,” Harry said, “so you have the credentials and well…we wondered if you’d be our tutor. I’d pay you of course.”

Remus put both hands on his shoulders and looked at him for a long moment. “You’re sure,” he asked finally. “You’re sure this is what you want?” Harry nodded.

“I…I can’t go back, Moony,” he said, his voice breaking. It hurt to say it out loud, he almost felt like he was betraying the school that had provided so much for him, but it was the truth.

Remus nodded. “I understand. Of course, I’d be happy to tutor you both, provided Molly and Arthur agree.”

“There’s one more thing,” Harry said. Remus’ eyebrows lifted. “I’d like to move into Grimmauld Place with you. I need a place to stay and I can’t stay with the Weasleys forever. So I’d like the tutoring to be there-“

“Of course, Harry,” Remus interrupted. “It’s your house; I’d love to have you with me.”

“-and I’d like Ginny to come with us.”

Remus took a deep breath. “That’s going to be difficult.”

“It just makes sense,” Harry insisted. “She’d be over there all day anyway; it’ll be easier if she has her own room there. She can floo back over here for a visit any time she wants. She’ll see her parents more than if she was at Hogwarts.”

“I’m not sure how Molly is going to feel about this,” Remus said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’ll be there as a chaperone,” Harry pointed out. “And I know you–you can talk her into it.”

“Me? You want me to go up against Molly Weasley to convince her to let her only daughter attend private tutoring and live in the same house as her boyfriend?”

“You can do it,” Harry smiled. “Be professional. Appeal to her educational ethics. It’s what is best for Ginny–tell her that.”

Remus shook his head and waved a finger in Harry’s face. “I only do this for you,” he said warningly. “Only because I loved your father like a brother and because I love you and because if anyone deserves to get what he wants it’s you.” He shook the finger again. “But you’re only going to be able to milk this ‘Boy-Who-Defeated-Voldemort’ thing so far you know.”

“I need her, Moony,” Harry said quietly. “I need her with me.”

Remus sighed and clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I know pup, I know.”

The confrontation came two days later. Remus came over for lunch on a Saturday when Harry had assured him he could speak to Molly and Arthur privately.

The explosion from Molly Weasley when Harry and Ginny explained they did not want to go back to Hogwarts and when Remus proposed that in order to effectively teach Ginny, she would need to move into Grimmauld Place, was monumental. Remus spoke firmly and confidently but it did nothing to quell the desperation in Molly’s voice. Arthur remained silent, as if he was thinking very hard.

Finally Ginny stood up, her eyes flashing. Harry thought he had never seen her look so…regal. She stood straight, her expression calm and her voice clear and strong, but the look in her eyes was blazing as she looked at her parents.

“I have done everything you have ever asked of me,” she said quietly. “I stayed out of this war as much as I could. I went back to Hogwarts like a good little girl while my brothers and my friends fought for something that I had every right to be a part of.” She put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “And I stayed behind when the man I love left; partly because I knew that it would break your heart to have two of your children going after Tom Riddle.”

“But I am not a child,” she said, her eyes locked on her mother’s. “And I haven’t been for a very long time. I have chosen not to go back to Hogwarts because the right thing for me is to be with Harry. The right thing for me is to make my own decisions. And the right thing for you is to realise that you cannot keep me from growing up.”

Her parents were silent. Molly was staring at her as if she had never seen her before and Arthur was looking at his daughter with what Harry swore was a gleam of triumph.

“I will be of age by then,” Ginny said softly. “I do not need your permission to do this. I ask for it because I respect you both, and because I will always want your support of my decisions. But I do not need it.”

Arthur turned to Remus and stuck out his hand. “Thank you for your offer, Remus. We are honoured that you would take Ginny on as your pupil and we know that she will be in good hands.”

Remus shook his hand, a wry smile on his face and Harry felt a grin stretch from ear to ear. Molly and Ginny stared at each other and Harry could see the realisation creep into Molly’s eyes.

“Oh, Ginny,” she finally wailed, and burst into tears. Ginny rolled her eyes and stepped around the table to hug her mother and lead her from the room. She told Harry later that they had a good talk and she thought her mother was beginning to understand.

Telling Ron and Hermione of his decision was a bit harder for Harry. He thought Ron understood better than Hermione and this surprised him. Hermione usually caught onto things rather quickly, and he thought she would have understood his feelings about Hogwarts.

“It’s like…like a childhood memory.” He struggled to explain himself. “It was lovely, you have fond memories that comfort you, but you can’t ever go back to the way it was, not really. Even if you recreated the situation–it wouldn’t be the same, because you weren’t the same.”

Hermione looked down at her feet and Harry saw with dismay that she was crying. “Don’t cry, Hermione,” he pleaded. He looked at Ron who rolled his eyes and scooted over to put an arm around his girlfriend. Harry moved over to the other side of her and both boys hugged her. Harry put his head down on her shoulder and Ron stroked her hair.

“I hate change.” Hermione sniffed. “It just feels like…like something is ending.”

“It is,” Ron pointed out. “But that doesn’t mean something better won’t come along to replace it.”

Harry nodded. “We’re always going to be friends, Hermione,” Harry said. “You guys…you’re my family, my real family anyway, and that will never change.”

“It’s just a year,” Ron said reasonably. “And we’ll be together at Christmas.”

“I think growing up is very difficult,” said Hermione, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Sometimes I wish we could go back to our first year and do it all over again. Things seemed so simple.”

“By ‘simple’ you mean, fighting a troll, escaping from a three-headed dog and trying to keep Voldemort from the Philosopher’s Stone? That’s your idea of simple?” Harry looked at her in disbelief.

Hermione laughed shakily. “I guess we’ve never been very normal or simple.”

“No,” Ron said, taking her hand. “But then families never are.” He looked at Harry and smiled.

“I guess not,” Hermione said, slipping her other hand into Harry’s.

“I wouldn’t know,” Harry said truthfully. “You guys are the only family I’ve ever had. And the only thing I have to compare it with are the Dursleys. I think we’re normal compared to them.”

Hermione looked at him. “And now you have Ginny,” she said softly. “She’s your family too.”

”Yeah,” agreed Harry. “Guess my family is growing.”

Hermione looked at Ron. “And we have each other,” she said. “So I guess it worked out okay.”

Ron stroked a curl out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. “He’ll be fine, Hermione,” he said. “We’ve got to let our little Harry grow up sometime.”

Hermione laughed, and Harry reached around to punch him on the shoulder.

“You don’t need me to give you the little wizard’s talk do you Harry?” Ron grinned at him while rubbing the spot where Harry had punched him. “Do I need to teach you how to shave and tell you where babies come from?”

“No thanks,” Harry retorted. “I wouldn’t think you’d want to, considering you’d be talking about me doing those things with your sister.” The words came out before Harry could stop them and he winced when Ron’s face froze. The last thing he wanted was for Ron to get suspicious and find out that not only was Ginny spending every night in his bed, but that they were also shagging like rabbits whenever they were alone.

“Harry-“ Ron began in a threatening tone but Hermione hit him on the arm, effectively stopping him from completing his sentence.

“Harry and Ginny are adults Ronald,” she said sharply. “They can do whatever they want.” She looked at Harry pointedly. “As long as they’re careful.”

“You’re not helping Hermione,” Harry said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Ginny is only 16,” Ron said, still glaring at Harry.

“She’ll be of age in less than a month,” Hermione told him. “And those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

This shut Ron up more effectively than anything else, and Harry pressed his fingers to his eyes. He had never wanted to know this about Ron and Hermione.

“That’s an image I’ll never get out of my head,” Harry muttered.

“Oh, and I’d like to think about you with my sister?” Ron retorted. “Talk about disturbing.”

“There’s nothing disturbing about any of this,” Hermione insisted. “We’re friends; we should be able to talk about sex.”

“No, we shouldn’t,” the boys said in unison. Ron shuddered and Harry rubbed his eyes harder, as if he could rub out the images he was seeing in his head.

“Fine,” Hermione huffed. “Harry, tell us what Ginny did to make you feel so much better. She’s been very tight-lipped about it.”

Harry couldn’t help himself and he blushed. “Um…well…she’s just been, you know, very supportive and…er…she lets me talk things out and makes me laugh…”

“We tried to do those things for you too,” Hermione pointed out. “But they didn’t work.”

“Trust me, Hermione,” said Harry. He stood up and held out a hand to help her up from the ground. “Her methods are a lot more effective.”

“What, does she kiss you every time you tell her how you’re feeling?” Ron teased him as they began to walk back to the house.

Harry grinned at him broadly. “Something like that. Believe me, you don’t want to know.” He clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’d be happy to show you some pictures though.”

Ron stopped walking and glared at Harry. “Git.”

“Prat.”

“Wanker.”

“Idiots. Both of you,” Hermione said dismissively. She walked on ahead.

Ron and Harry looked at each other and looked at Hermione walking in front of them and then back at each other. A slow grin came over Ron’s face and Harry gave a sharp nod. They ran up behind Hermione swiftly and silently. Hermione squealed when Ron grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the ground. Her legs flailed until Harry captured them after deftly removing her wand from her pocket. Laughing, they carried her back to the pond, ignoring her protests.

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione yelled. “You put me down this instant!”

“Sorry, Hermione,” Ron said cheerfully. He gave a soft slap to her rump. “It’s got to be done.”

“Oh!” Hermione gasped. “Don’t you dare! Harry Potter, if you throw me into that pond, I swear, I will use every hex I know to make sure Ginny never touches you again.” Her eyes narrowed. “And I know some pretty good ones too.”

Harry shook his head, struggling to hold onto her legs. “Sorry,” he said, grinning at her. “Ginny loves me for who I am, not my body.”

By the time they reached the pond, Hermione had begun pleading with them. Ron and Harry just laughed and tossed her unceremoniously into the water off the dock. They high-fived as she came up for air, spluttering and dripping. They were too busy congratulating each other to notice her wading up to her knees and stretching out her hand.

“Accio wand!” Harry took a moment to be amazed at Hermione’s display of wandless magic but the moment was quickly overshadowed when she snatched the wand out of the air, and pointed it at them menacingly.

Harry and Ron gulped and scrambled over each other to get off the dock and out of her range but they soon found themselves gulping water as Hermione triumphantly flung them into the lake. A water battle of epic proportions ensued and Harry emerged, panting from the water only after Ron had declared a truce by capturing Hermione and snogging her senseless.

Harry dried himself off with his wand and looked back at his friends, now silhouetted against the setting sun. They were lost in each other and for once, he didn’t feel a twinge of jealously that they had each other. He turned towards the Burrow and smiled. Ginny was there and she was waiting for him. The world was yellow again.

******

Living with Ginny was more incredible than anything Harry had ever known. He’d never known what it was like to have a partner before--to have someone that was just his. It was amazing and the difference in the house once she got there was almost physical.

He’d moved into Grimmauld Place at the beginning of August and Ginny hadn’t moved in until the 1st of September so he’d a complete month of relatively few “therapy sessions.”

That first night would stand out in Harry’s mind as one of the more urgent times they’d been together. As soon as they’d both heard the door to Remus’ room shut, they lunged for each other, mouths meeting, teeth clashing, tongues stroking. Ginny had straddled him and pressed him back into the newly-recovered couch cushions, her red hair forming a curtain around him so the only thing he could see was her face.

He’d gripped her and managed to stand up, her legs going around his waist and he carried her up to his bedroom, his mouth still fastened onto hers. He slammed the door shut behind him with his foot and dumped her on the bed before stepping back to remove his clothes.

She grinned at him as she whipped off her own shorts and shirt. They had never undressed so quickly before. When he finally covered her body with his own, electricity sparked in the air and Harry lost himself in the feel of her skin underneath his hands and the way she seemed to return every pleasure he gave her.

Ginny told him the next morning that they would definitely be continuing with the therapy sessions as she was certain that he wasn’t quite recovered from his ordeal yet. She’d said this cheekily at the breakfast table while Remus watched them suspiciously and Tonks covered up her laugh with a cough.

Harry had blushed and kicked her under the table but Ginny had just smiled serenely and placed more bacon on his plate.

She was as good as her word. Remus left them alone a lot more than her family did, and Harry took full advantage of the privacy. Ginny decided that shagging in every room would chase away the gloom of the house. Harry agreed, but only after she convinced him that Sirius would have appreciated the gesture. Just as they had done at the Burrow, they shagged everywhere, and Harry, after collapsing on the steps one day having just made love to her against the stairwell wall, decided Sirius was probably smiling at him from wherever he was.

Harry had never known what it was to feel so complete. Ginny–she was warmth, and comfort and fire and passion all rolled into one package. She touched him constantly, almost absentmindedly, like she didn’t realise she was stroking his hair or rubbing his shoulders. He wasn’t sure she realised what these little touches did to him. He’d spent the first eleven years of his life without any sort of loving contact at all. Every time Ginny touched him, she took away a little bit of the emptiness that was left inside of him.

They loved, they learned and they fought. Even when they were screaming at each other, even when Ginny was angry with him or he was irritated with her, Harry knew without a doubt that the fiery redhead brandishing her wand at him loved him. When they went to bed angry, he knew she would still turn to him in the night. They often made up without words the next morning when they woke up entwined with each other. Ginny would look at him with regret in her eyes, an unspoken apology on her face, and he would move over to her, pull back the sheet and smooth up her nightgown. They would love tenderly and slowly, eyes locked only on each other.

Remus was a thorough teacher, and Harry was learning more about magic than he ever had before. Remus treated them like adults, even when Ginny essentially moved into Harry’s bedroom. They were of age, he said, and they could do what they wanted. He’d pulled Harry aside later and cautioned him to be careful, but had left them alone after that.

If Harry thought home tutoring would be easier than attending classes at Hogwarts he was wrong. Because he only had two students, Remus was able to pay particular attention to them and he was very demanding. He cleared out the downstairs ballroom and turned it into a Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Defeating a Dark Lord did not get you out of learning Defence, he informed Harry. There were still a lot of things he had to learn in order to pass a NEWT. He insisted on duelling practice and forced his students to duel each other.

The first time Harry and Ginny stood across the duelling mat from each other they had stared at each other for an insurmountable amount of time. Ginny dared him with her eyes to throw the first curse and Harry watched her warily, not sure if he could hex her. He’d let his wand drop to the floor and told Remus he just couldn’t do it. Ginny had taken advantage of his weakness and stupefied him as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

He’d woken up a few minutes later to a grinning Remus and a smug Ginny. He hadn’t had any problem duelling her after that. In fact, the duels became an incredible contest of wills, often ending in a draw with Harry and Ginny both pointing wands at each other’s neck, breathing heavily. Ginny was gorgeous when she was duelling him. Her lithe body moved like a dancer, and her red hair flew around her like a fan.

More than once, the duelling sessions ended in a heavy snog after Harry would throw his wand to the mat and yank her towards him, not caring that Remus was watching them. Harry would eventually lift his head from Ginny’s mouth and tell Remus to get lost. “We’re taking a lunch break,” he would tell him before fastening his mouth to Ginny’s neck. Remus usually became convinced they were serious around the time Harry’s hands would start pulling Ginny’s shirt out of her trousers.

He missed Ron and Hermione, occasionally feeling like something was missing, but they kept in touch with letters. Hedwig got quite a workout flying back and forth between Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts. Ron made Harry laugh with his descriptions of Hermione’s panic over NEWTS and Hermione made him laugh even harder when she related Ron’s apathy towards NEWTS in her own letters.

They spent Christmas at the Burrow and Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione were up all night catching up. They eventually fell asleep in the living room, Harry and Ginny curled up on the couch and Ron and Hermione together in front of the fire. A screeching Mrs. Weasley woke them up the next morning and Ginny wouldn’t meet Harry’s eyes as her mother shooed them all upstairs. Harry wondered what her mother would say if she knew the two of them were sharing a bed back at Grimmauld Place. He decided he didn’t want to find out and spent the rest of the Christmas holidays in his own bed in Ron’s room. He found it was harder than he anticipated sleeping without a warm body pressed against him.

Winter passed into spring, and Remus announced one day in May that he had arranged for them both to take their NEWTS at the Ministry the following week. Seven days of late night cramming and practicing wand movements meant very little “therapy” for Harry, and he realised that at some point over the past year, it had stopped becoming therapy and turned into something else. He didn’t need to shag Ginny to feel like a normal teenager anymore because he already felt like one. They made love now because they wanted too, not because they were trying to chase away his demons. And if it was sometimes rough and sometimes slow, well, that was because they were both incredibly passionate people who were also in love. Harry knew there would never be another witch for him. He’d known this for some time of course, but it was gratifying to reaffirm it. He was more certain than ever that the only thing he wanted out of life was to live it Ginny.

One week after they’d taken their tests, Harry told Ginny and Remus he was going into Diagon Alley. He put a cap over his hair to hide his scar and kept his head down while he ran his errands. No one recognised him, and for that he was eternally grateful.

He returned home to find Remus and Tonks gone and Ginny humming quietly as she prepared supper in the kitchen. He leaned against the doorway and watched her as she moved fluidly from stove, to counter, to sink…she was beautiful. She was wearing his favourite pair of cut-off jeans and his old Gryffindor Captain shirt; her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she had wrapped her mother’s old red-checked apron around her waist. He watched in silence as she kneaded bread dough, her arm muscles flexing and her calf muscles stretching as she lifted up on her tiptoes to push down the dough.

He couldn’t take it anymore and moved up behind her, announcing his presence by sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her against his chest.

“Mmm…if you’re not Harry, you’d better get out before he sees you,” she said, relaxing against him.

“Yeah, I heard your boyfriend was pretty possessive,” Harry said. He kissed her neck and hugged her to him.

“He defeated a Dark Wizard you know,” Ginny said, still kneading her dough. “He could kick your arse.”

Harry chuckled and turned her around to face him.

“Hi,” she grinned at him. She held her hands up so she wouldn’t get flour on him and put her elbows on his shoulders as she reached up to kiss him. “Did you get everything done you needed to get done?”

Harry nodded slowly.

“Harry?” Ginny said. Her eyes searched his. “What is it?”

Harry let go of her and ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t ever hide anything from you, can I?”

“No,” she said shortly. “And don’t you forget it.”

He ignored the fact that her hands were covered in flour and grasped them in his own. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this. “I just wanted to tell you that I think my ‘therapy sessions’ are over.”

Ginny froze, wide-eyed. He almost laughed. She probably thought he was trying to break up with her.

“What I mean is,” he said hurriedly, “that I’m better now. Your therapy worked. Well, I don’t know if it was so much the shagging as it was you…and we don’t have to call it therapy anymore. I want to call it what it is.”

“And what is it?” she asked softly.

Harry smiled and stepped closer to her, bringing her hands to his chest and holding them over his heart. “It’s love,” he said. “It’s you and me and it’s us and it’s the way we fit together. It’s the fact that we’ve got the rest of our lives to be normal and happy, and I want to do it all with you.”

He lifted one hand, still keeping a grip on her hands with his other, and tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Marry me, Ginny,” he said simply. He looked down at her hands over his heart and lifted them so he could place a soft kiss on the ring finger of her left hand. “Please.”

He looked up to find tears in her eyes. Eyes that were smiling at him. He wiped away a tear with his thumb and left his hand on her cheek, waiting for her answer.

“Yes, you giant prat,” she said, blinking back the tears and smiling brightly at him. “I’ll marry you.”

He whooped and grabbed her around the waist, swinging her up in the air and spinning her around while she laughed in his ear and wrapped her arms around his neck. He set her down and kissed her then. She melted into him and he finally pulled away, more than a little breathless.

“I’m going to be Ginny Potter,” she said in a dazed voice. “My mum is going to go spare.”

“Oh,” Harry suddenly remembered. “I nearly forgot.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a black velvet box and handed it to her. “Open it,” he urged.

Ginny looked at him shrewdly. “Is this what you went into Diagon Alley for today?”

Harry grinned and shrugged. “Among other things.”

She opened the box and her mouth dropped open when she saw what lay inside. “Oh Harry,” she said, wiping at her eyes again. “It’s just beautiful.” She took the emerald ring out of the box and slid it on her finger. “It’s perfect.”

Harry kissed her soundly on the lips. “You’re perfect,” he said. “Perfect for me at any rate.”

She reached up and pulled his head back down to hers and before he knew it, he had pressed her against the counter and was snogging her silly. His hands trailed down her sides and he bent his knees and lifted her up. He grasped her thighs as he wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Time for one more therapy session with my healer, I think,” he said, carrying her out of the kitchen.

Ginny pulled her wand out of her pocket and waved it at the stove to stop the cooking charms she’d placed on the food. She wrapped her arms around his neck and began trailing kisses on his jaw line. “It’s not therapy, Harry. Remember?”

“Oh, right.” His eyes rolled back in his head and his step faltered on the stairs when she began tracing his ear with her tongue. “It’s just great sex then. Time for more great sex.”

He carried her to their bedroom and set her down. “One question.” He spun her around so he could untie the apron from around her waist. “Will you still be my healer?”

She smirked at him over her shoulder. “Depends on what you need healing.”

“Well, let’s see,” he began, spinning her back around so he could work the fastenings on her shorts. “You’ve healed my mind. And you’ve healed my spirit. My heart seems to have mended the moment you took me back last year so the only thing left is…”

“Your body,” she guessed. She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Exactly!” Harry said delightedly. “And you know, I’ve got this ache that just won’t go away.”

“Ah, I’ve just the thing for that,” Ginny said knowingly. She waved her wand and the bedroom door slammed behind them.

******

Remus and Tonks returned home to find Grimmauld Place strangely quiet. “I wonder where they are?” Tonks said, walking into the living room.

Remus stuck his head in the kitchen, noting the unfinished dough on the counter and the half-cooked food on the stove. His eyes fell on a black velvet box on the floor. He picked up the box and fingered the slit where a ring must have gone. A slow smile spread over his face as he put the pieces together.

“Do you think we should look for them, Remus?” Tonks asked worriedly. “There’s no note or anything.”

“No, I think they’re fine,” he said. He held out the ring box and she took it, a puzzled look on her face.

“What-“

“Shh,” he said, holding up a hand. “I heard something.” They listened and the noise it repeated itself.

“It sounds like…moaning,” Tonks said. She gasped and covered her mouth. Her eyes widened and went back and forth from Remus to the box in her hand. “Merlin!”

“Um, perhaps, it’s best we go back out,” Remus suggested. He took her elbow and steered her towards the front door. “I’m sure they’d like to be alone.”

“Sure sounds like it,” Tonks snickered. They could hear the moans getting louder as they moved past the stairs and as Remus handed her back her jacket, a rhythmic thumping began that echoed throughout the house.

“I’ve got to teach that boy a better silencing charm,” Remus muttered, shoving his own arms into his coat and wrenching the door open.

“Nothing wrong with a little celebration,” Tonks defended as Remus practically pushed her out the door. She held up the ring box still in her hand. “Looks like they’ve got something to celebrate after all.”

Remus looked at the box exasperatedly. He took the box, opened the door back up and tossed the thing back inside. It rolled until it hit the bottom of the steps and landed, upright, still open, at the foot of the stairs. Harry and Ginny would probably wonder how the box got there when they finally came back downstairs for supper, but Remus decided he didn’t really care.

“Wonder what kind of ring he bought her,” Tonks said as they walked down the sidewalk away from the house.

“I’m sure she loved whatever he got,” he said casually.

Tonks tsked and elbowed him the ribs. “You think just because a bloke buys the ring that a girl is going to automatically love it?”

Remus looked at her doubtfully. “No?”

“No,” she said firmly.

“Ah,” he said, his brow furrowing. “So then-“

“A guy should buy a ring that he thinks is right for the girl. That fits her personality.”

Remus slung an arm over her shoulder and pulled her against him. “So, if I were to buy you a ring it should be something that fits your personality? How about a ring that changes colours then? Would that work?”

“How ‘bout something that glows in the dark,” Tonks suggested.

“I’d love that.” “Hmm…” said Remus. “We’ll see.”
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