As Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley lied down together on the moonlit Quidditch pitch, neither of them said a word.

Both were thinking their separate thoughts, enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies and the thin blanket that they had brought with them. The night wasn’t overly chilly, but it was cooler than normal for mid-June.

It was Ginny who suggested this, knowing Harry needed a break from people and the constant questions that were being bombarded at him over the past week. At sixteen, she had become amazingly intuitive about the feelings of others, especially Harry’s. Besides, with them away for the evening, Ron and Hermione would be free to do some private “studying”. Exams were over, yes, but Hermione always found a way to study with Ron. It had taken them over five years, but hey had finally admitted their feelings they harbored for each other, and they had been together since their sixth year.

Harry stared at the tall Quidditch hoops, thinking about how much he needed this, wanted this. It’s all he could ask for. He was away from people, from questions, from hushed whispers, from nervous glances. He didn’t have to deal with any of it. Just him, Ginny, and the Quidditch pitch. For Harry, this was almost as close to paradise as possible. The girl he loved, and his favorite sport of all time. Things just didn’t get much better.

They loved each other, but they didn’t say it much. They believed their love was strong enough to speak for itself. Harry and Ginny had gone through so much, alone and together. Harry was still recovering from the final battle, and Ginny, even with the downfall of Voldemort, sometimes still had nightmares about Tom and the ordeal she went through at the young age of eleven.

Th ey had sneaked out beneath the Invisibility Cloak, under the guise of going to bed early. Ron and Hermione knew where they were going, but of course, they kept it quiet.

Harry and Ginny hadn’t done much, physically speaking, with each other. They had been dating for seven months, since Halloween of Harry’s final year at Hogwarts. They had had plenty of opportunities to fool around, but sex wasn’t the first thing on their minds. Some of the other Gryffindor boys made fun of Harry’s lack of “action”, but he didn’t really care.

Their relationship was mostly based on companionship and understanding. Harry had a special bond with Ginny that not even Ron and Hermione could achieve. They just knew each other. Harry knew when Ginny was upset or angry about something, usually without saying a word to her, and Ginny could get Harry to open up, instead of bottling up his emotions and blowing up at everyone. They had an emotional connection so deep, that nothing could destroy it.

Ginny stole a glance over at Harry. He looked content, but at the same time, he appeared to be troubled. His bright green eyes were transfixed on the night sky, and the light from the moon reflecting off of his handsome seventeen-year-old face made his scar more noticeable.

Harry leaned over closer to her, taking in her scent that was so uniquely Ginny’s. In the moonlight, he saw the time on his wristwatch that had been a Christmas gift from Hermione. He realized they should probably leave before they were caught. He woke Ginny out her reverie, and they started back to Gryffindor Tower, hand in hand, under the cloak.

The grounds were a little damp, so the pair had to be extra careful entering the castle, not wanting their shoes to squeak and alert Mrs. Norris or Filch. Not that it would matter a whole lot, but both of them didn’t really need the extra attention and embarrassment.

Ginny gave the password (fish whistle) to the Fat Lady, and as she swung open to permit them, they removed the cloak and crawled though the portrait hole. The common room was empty, thankfully, so they didn’t have to answer any awkward questions.

Harry walked Ginny to the entrance to the stairway that led to the girl’s dormitories. Then he stopped and just looked at her, taking in her striking beauty and maturity, her eyes locked with his. Ginny stepped forward, hesitated for the smallest moment, then kissed him lovingly, with real meaning and conviction. Then, without a word, she started up the stairs to her dormitory.

Ginny was nearly to the top of the stairs when she heard someone say, “I love you, Ginny Weasley.”

She rushed back down to the common room, only to see the door to the boy’s dormitories shut softly.

“I love you too, Harry Potter,” she replied, in a barely audible whisper, knowing he would hear her anyway. And with a comforting, satisfied air about her, she walked quietly up to her room, not wanting to wake the others.