A few days after Harry's visit to the Ministry, a Witch Weekly reporter contacted Ginny for an interview. Harry suspected that Hermione had had something to do with it. Ginny was nervous about talking to the press, and Harry couldn't really blame her. She'd suffered enough embarrassment at Rita Skeeter's hands.

However, there was something reassuring in the air about the woman who turned up at The Burrow to talk to Ginny. There was nothing artificial or garish about her, and even more telling to Harry was the fact that this woman seemed to possess all her teeth. He'd always wondered if Rita Skeeter had been obliged to get gold teeth as a result of insulting someone through her questionable journalistic practices.

The article itself, when it came out the following month, only served to confirm Harry's impression. The reporter had evidently done her research and talked to Ginny's teachers. Those who had been quoted -- Professor Snape, unsurprisingly, wasn't among them -- all mentioned Ginny's potential before her unfortunate accident over the Christmas holiday. Professor Stone, the Ancient Runes teacher, was particularly enthusiastic, mentioning that Ginny had managed to work out an ancient text that no one else had ever been able to decipher properly in the past.

The article had gone on with a rather long quote from Ginny, explaining that she didn't see much hope in being able to put any of her abilities to use, since no one would want to hire her without her NEWT results. She understood she'd broken school rules, but she felt her reasons for doing so justified her actions. She was willing to do it again, because Harry deserved that much. It was too bad the Board of Governors didn't see things in the same light as she did -- that she was trying to right a terrible wrong -- but in the end it was the Board's decision, and she was just going to have to live with it.

Evidently, Ginny had said the right thing. Three days before her birthday, she received an owl, in which Professor McGonagall asked Ginny to come see her at Hogwarts the following afternoon. When Harry came over to see Ginny that day, she was worried about the appointment getting in the way of his plans. He'd told her he had a few errands to run before her birthday, and he knew she'd assumed they were all in Diagon Alley. Mr Weasley had changed the charm on Harry's watch so that it no longer sent him to the Ministry of Magic's Apparition point but simply to Diagon Alley itself. Harry had told Ginny he had to attend to some business at Gringott's among other places.

"It's not a problem," he told her. In fact, it was perfect, but she didn't know that. "We'll just have lunch at the Three Broomsticks before you go and see Professor McGonagall, and once you're finished there, we can take care of the rest."

The following day they Portkeyed to Hogsmeade. Harry could see that preparations were being made for the memorial in June. There was nothing like a stone in place yet, of course, but a place had been cleared at the end of town where most of the fighting had taken place. Harry had heard that the stone was being prepared off-site and would be moved into place by mid-June.

The shops and houses looked rather sad and shabby to Harry as they walked back through the village to the pub. The once-colourful signboards along the High Street seemed to have dulled, and not even Zonko's looked as carefree as it had the year before. Harry told himself he ought to be used to seeing this by now, since he'd been coming on a regular basis to talk to the twins, but there was something wrong about it, something that his mind just refused to take in.

They arrived at the Three Broomsticks to find very few customers seated at the tables. It was noon, and it ought to have been noisy with patrons demanding refreshment. As empty as it was, Harry knew Madam Rosmerta would have gladly come to wait on him and Ginny at their table, but he wanted to avoid that. He had something else he wanted to discuss with her out of Ginny's hearing. He pointed Ginny to a table and told her he'd bring them Butterbeers from the bar. She looked at him a bit suspiciously but made no comment, winding her way through the tables until she found one to her liking.

"Two Butterbeers, please. We'd like some lunch, as well. Whatever you've got," Harry said to Madam Rosmerta.

"Go have a seat, and I'll bring it to your table directly," she replied.

"Well if you don't mind," Harry said, lowering his voice, "I have something I'd like to ask you about. It's sort of private."

The landlady straightened from where she'd bent to fetch two bottles of Butterbeer. "Oh?"

"I'd, erm, well, I'd like to reserve a room."

To Harry's utter embarrassment, Madam Rosmerta looked past him to the table where Ginny was waiting for them. His face heated. He wondered if Ginny was looking in his direction, wondering what was taking so long, but he didn't dare turn and look. A knowing smile spread over the landlady's features.

"Will you be wanting that right now?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry gaped for a moment. "Um, no. I thought Friday night. Maybe Saturday, as well."

"So you'll be wanting it for more than an hour or two then."

When had the room become so warm? "Yes, that's right," he replied, fighting to keep his voice steady. "I, er… I'd like it to be special. The nicest you've got."

"I take it you won't be wanting twin beds." Madam Rosmerta had a glint in her eye now, and Harry had the impression she was enjoying his discomfiture.

"Not if you've got something bigger. I'm willing to pay extra."

"I'll see what I can do, Mr Potter. Will you be wanting any extra services? I can enlarge the bathtub and make it heart-shaped if you like." Oh, she was definitely enjoying herself.

"Erm, I thought supper in the room would be nice. Can you arrange that?"

"Of course. I think I can get you some oysters. Breakfast, too, if you want."

Harry wasn't too sure what oysters had to do with anything, but Madam Rosmerta was expecting a reply. "Erm, all right."

"I can also arrange for some protective charms."

Harry swallowed. "Protective charms?"

"Oh the usual… Silencing charms, special wards to keep unwanted family members away."

Harry had to wonder now if she knew what had happened at Christmas. "Actually, any redheads come in on Friday, could you just make sure they stay in the pub? Better yet, anyone turns up and asks for us, you haven't seen us."

Madam Rosmerta looked keenly at him. "I can only do that as long as I've got proof you're both of age."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You know I finished school last year, and Ginny's been in the papers enough, you've got to know she's over seventeen. In fact she'll be eighteen on Friday."

"So you thought you'd make a special evening of it?" She paused and smiled at him, letting her eyes twinkle. Harry felt much more at ease now. She'd finished teasing him. "No worries, Mr Potter, I'll see what I can do. Go back to your girlfriend, and I'll bring you your meals."

Harry turned to find Ginny drumming her fingers on the table and staring at them. "What was that all about?" she asked when he walked to join her. "Why are you so red?"

"Oh, erm, well Madam Rosmerta was talking about the memorial coming up in June, and making it sound as if they were going to turn it into a big honorary thing for me. I told her I didn't want anything like that. I had that in October, and this shouldn't be about me. But she got a bit enthusiastic, anyway."

Ginny didn't look entirely convinced, but she made no comment. She might have shot him a glance or two after that, which suggested to Harry that she was wondering what he was up to, but once they were served their plates of chopped ham and salad, she began pushing her food about rather morosely.

"Nervous?" Harry asked after a while.

Ginny looked up at him. "Hmm?"

"I asked if you were nervous."

"About…" She was evidently unsure if he was talking about meeting with Professor McGonagall or tomorrow. For that matter so was Harry.

"I don't know. Everything."

"I suppose I'm not really all that hungry. It doesn't matter. Let's get this over with."

Apparently she was worried about her meeting at Hogwarts, although Harry couldn't understand why. Although the owl Ginny had received gave no hint of what the meeting would be about, Harry couldn't imagine it was anything bad. Professor McGonagall wouldn't have asked to meet with Ginny unless there had been some sort of reversal in the Board of Governor's decision, although Hogwarts was now well into the summer term. She surely wouldn't be allowed to attend classes at this point.

"Harry…" she began suddenly.

"Yes?"

"Erm… Never mind."

For a couple of weeks now, Harry had had the impression that she'd been on the verge of saying something to him only to back off at the last minute. "Are you sure?"

Ginny pursed her lips, and it looked to Harry as if she wasn't sure at all. "Yes."

"Ginny…"

"I'm sorry. I'm being daft. Actually, I do have something to say, but it never seems to be the right time, and I can't get it to come out the way I want. I'll tell you soon, I promise. Just not now, and not in public. Forget I brought it up."

"All right," Harry agreed reluctantly. At the same time he wondered what could possibly be preoccupying her so. Perhaps it was simply their plans for Saturday… The prospect was rather daunting.

After lunch they walked up the road to the castle hand in hand, Harry thinking about the last time he'd walked this path with Ginny. It had been the day she left for Norway, and four months had passed since then. For a good bit of that period, time had been meaningless to Harry while he'd waited for her to recover. Even now, existence was still taken one day at a time as each of those days brought new challenges while they both adjusted to life in a magical world when they themselves possessed none.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for Ginny in the entrance hall. Black-robed students issued from the Great Hall on their way to their afternoon classes, flowing around the headmistress like water over stone, many of them turning to stare at Harry and Ginny for a moment in passing.

"Miss Weasley, Mr Potter," the professor greeted them. "If you'll follow me, please, we'll get straight to business."

They trailed behind Professor McGonagall up the marble staircase and on to the second floor where the stone gargoyle guarded the entrance to the headmistress' office. Harry just caught the password. "Tossing the caber."

He exchanged a look with Ginny who shrugged. "Last time I was here, it was the botanical name for catnip," she whispered.

Harry let Ginny precede him into the office. He felt a bit reluctant about going in now. The last time he'd been in here was over a year ago when Professor Dumbledore was still alive. He knew from what Ginny had told him that the former headmaster's portrait was now on the wall among those of all the other past headmasters.

He finally crossed the threshold and found that while Professor McGonagall had put her own personal touches on the room, they were not enough to completely cover the traces of its former occupant. While Professor Dumbledore's array of spinning gadgets was now missing, there was something in the very air about the room that exuded the old man's presence.

And of course there was the portrait itself. Harry saw it now, hanging directly behind Professor McGonagall's desk, as if he was overseeing everything still. Harry couldn't take his eyes off it. He looked so lifelike, so real. Harry could see Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkling at him from behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Now, Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall said when everyone was seated. "I've asked you to come here today because I have a serious matter to discuss with you. It concerns the end of your schooling."

"But I thought I'd been expelled," Ginny protested. "That's what Mum told me the Board of Governor's decision was."

"Yes, that was their decision. However, they've softened their position somewhat since then. You will still not be allowed to attend classes here at Hogwarts, but the Board has given me permission to allow you to take those parts of your NEWTs that you're able."

"But that only gives me two months to prepare for them."

"You would only have two months under normal circumstances, but I am willing to allow you special consideration in light of your reasons for leaving school. I believe if you are serious about wanting to complete your schooling, you may be permitted to take your examinations separately from your classmates. In September, perhaps?"

Ginny stared, open-mouthed, for a moment. "Th-thank you."

"You understand that if you accept, we expect you to be entirely serious about this undertaking. The school is doing you a special favour, and you wouldn't want to give us any reason to regret our decision."

"No, of course not. I know I've got a lot of work to make up, but I can do it. And I will. Otherwise, what sort of chance will I have in life?"

"I'm pleased to hear you say that." Professor McGonagall rose. "If you'll come with me, Miss Weasley. Professor Stone has taken it upon herself to compile all the material you've missed for your classes. I must say Professor Flitwick had some interesting comments as well."

"Professor Flitwick?" Ginny asked, sounding surprised.

Professor McGonagall pressed her lips into a disapproving line. "Indeed. He was apparently quite impressed with the creative use to which you put his Charms lessons in that incident with your brothers last autumn. While he found your methods to be rather unorthodox, he was still impressed with your prowess."

Harry let out a snort of laughter, which he ineffectually tried to turn into a coughing fit. He was thinking of Professor Flitwick's alter-ego, Dr Zog, who would without a doubt find a great deal of amusement in the Zonko's explosion. Professor McGonagall had been a teacher too long to be fooled by Harry's act and shot him a quelling glance.

"Professor Snape, on the other hand, was quite unimpressed," Professor McGonagall hastened to add. "Obviously," she went on, "there are some things you will not be able to do, but you can at least study the theoretical side of matters in courses like Transfiguration or Charms. Some of the Board members are also here to see you, to ascertain that you are indeed serious about completing your NEWTs. Mr Potter, you may wait for us here. We shouldn't be overly long."

When Ginny and Professor McGonagall had gone, Harry sat for a few minutes, wondering what to do with himself. In the past there had been all sorts of interesting things to poke one's nose into, but those same things had sometimes come close to getting Harry into trouble. He remembered prying into Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve in his fourth year, and thinking he'd be blamed when Fawkes had burst into flame before his very eyes.

As if in reply to Harry's thoughts, a familiar trill sounded in the room. Harry looked up at Dumbledore's portrait and saw that Fawkes was portrayed in the background sitting on his perch. He looked as fine as ever with his red and gold plumage, and Harry wondered if the painted rendition would burn and come alive again. Fawkes let out another tone, and Harry almost felt as if he was being summoned.

He got out of his chair and approached the portrait. The headmaster's eyes seemed to have drifted closed while Professor McGonagall had been talking to Ginny, but they opened again now. "Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice a bit thick, "you've just caught me. It's almost time for my nap. How have you been?"

Harry wasn't sure how to reply for a moment. "I've… I've been doing better, actually."

"That's good to hear. I'd be quite concerned if you'd told me otherwise."

Harry wondered at the old man's words for a moment. It was almost as if Dumbledore knew. But then Harry remembered that Dumbledore did know: Ginny had discussed her plans with the portrait before setting out on her journey.

"You're wondering how I know what's happened to you," the portrait commented. "Even though it happened after my death."

"Ginny talked to you about it."

"I also had a feeling you'd found that spell before the battle. I saw the books you and your friends were working on."

"But nobody knew what was in them until Ginny and Hermione worked it out," Harry protested.

"That's true. I didn't know what exactly you'd find, but I knew you were on the right track when I saw those books. And I also knew that anything that would truly vanquish someone like Voldemort would only come at a price. I tried to do what I could to save you from having to act. Unfortunately things did not work out the way they were supposed to. Or perhaps they were…" He trailed off on a yawn.

Harry was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Let me tell you a story, Harry. You see, when you were first born, I consulted a seer about you."

"A seer?" Harry repeated incredulously. "I didn't think you took Professor Trelawney seriously."

"This wasn't Professor Trelawney. This person was a true seer."

"But why did you consult a seer about me?"

"Because of something Professor Trelawney said. I've told you before she'd made one true prediction before your third year here. That happened before your birth, when she said that someone from the Potter line would be the one who defeated Voldemort. Normally I wouldn't take stock in anything her inner eye told her, except, as you've seen yourself, she doesn't quite have the same delivery when she's making a proper prediction. So when you were born, I consulted someone whose reputation was a bit more reliable than Sybill's."

Harry had to wonder why Dumbledore hadn't hired this true seer to teach Divination, rather than an obvious fraud. "The seer I consulted confirmed Professor Trelawney's prediction, but she also told me much, much more about you. She saw you having several brushes with death in your youth, beginning when you were a baby and continuing until you grew to be a man. Each time someone would step between you and death and prevent it. The first person to do so was your mother."

Dumbledore paused and yawned once more. "Excuse me. Now where was I? Oh yes, then you came to school here, and met your friends Ron and Hermione, without whose help you might not have even survived your first year. In your second year, someone else intervened to save your life."

"Fawkes," Harry said.

"Fawkes' tears did save you from the Basilisk venom, but someone else saved you from Tom Riddle."

"Who?"

"Ginny."

"How did Ginny save me from Tom? She was unconscious until it was over."

"She saved you by resisting him till the end. She fought him even though you couldn't see it. She didn't let him drain her life force entirely. As long as he resisted, Tom could not become fully material. If he had, I don't think you would have survived the encounter. Then in your fourth year it was your mother again. Your father, too…"

Harry was having trouble taking all of this in. "Are you telling me this was all decided for me in advance? That I didn't have anything to do with the way my life went? You've always said it's our choices that are important. And now you're saying things would have worked out the way they did no matter what?"

Dumbledore actually gave him a sleepy smile. "Yes, I have always thought choices were important. This doesn't change any of that. You see, Harry, it's not quite that cut and dried. When a seer looks into the future he sees possibilities. A true seer sees the most likely outcome of all, but even then there are choices involved that can change everything.

"After your parents were killed I went back to this seer. You were the last Potter, and in order for the original prediction to come true, the entire weight of it all fell upon your shoulders. But you were only a baby at the time. So I went back and asked about those who would aid you along the way. That's when I learned that your parents would save you from beyond the grave. And that's when I learned more about Ginny."

Harry was liking this business less and less. Hadn't Hermione always said that Divination was a very imprecise form of magic? "What about Ginny?" he asked, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"I was told Ginny would save you from a form of the Dark Lord. She saw two possibilities, but in either instance, the outcome was the same for Ginny. Either she would die too soon and the Dark Lord would be strong enough to overcome you, Harry, or she would help save you but die in the effort."

"I knew this Divination stuff was rubbish! Neither one came true! So how can you credit anything this person told you?"

"Because most of it did come true. Harry, no seer, not even a true one, can predict all possible outcomes. In Miss Weasley's case, she saw nothing beyond the age of twelve for Ginny. She was supposed to have died, yet she didn't. Everything she has done since then could not have been foretold. She was never supposed to make you a talisman. There never was supposed to be a Jewel-wright. Yet those things happened, and they affected Voldemort's fall."

"But I don't understand. How was any of this my choice?"

"Your fate was not tied to Ginny. She wasn't supposed to have survived. And she was a choice you made, wasn't she? You chose to accept her gift when you put on her talisman, didn't you?"

"Yes, I suppose. It never occurred to me to refuse it. I didn't even know what it was at the time. And yet… It did save my life."

"How did that come about?"

"After I banished Voldemort, I fell back and I couldn't move. Lucius Malfoy came up and tried to use the killing curse on me, but the talisman turned it back…" Harry hadn't thought much about that day lately, but the memories were flooding his mind now. "It even played a role in the defeat. Voldemort trusted his talisman enough to allow me a shot at him. He wouldn't have done that if he didn't have his own protection, and I don't know if I'd even have had the chance of using that spell on him then." Even to Harry's own ears, his voice sounded distant.

"You see? None of that was foretold. The life you have with Ginny now has not been written. You chose to make her part of your life, and she chose you." Dumbledore gave another mighty yawn. "You'll have to excuse me, Harry. With each day that passes, I feel more and more sleepy."

Harry took a step closer to the portrait, the suspicion that if Dumbledore should fall asleep the old man wouldn't wake up again, gnawing at his mind. He wondered what would happen if he were to reach out and touch it. Would Dumbledore feel human? Tangible? Or would he simply be flat: oil and pigment on canvas?

"I never did get a chance to say goodbye, sir." Harry had to force the words around the lump that had formed in his throat. "When I came upon Voldemort, you were already gone. Then I was out for several days, and after that I wasn't up to much."

"This past year can't have been easy for you, Harry. There's been much to celebrate in Voldemort's defeat, but there's been much to mourn as well."

"People seem to want to concentrate on the celebrations and forget about the rest," Harry said bitterly.

"That tends to be the way of it, on the surface, at least. I've found that people prefer to do their celebrating in public and keep the mourning private."

Harry nodded, even as he asked himself if he'd ever properly mourn his former headmaster's passing. The lump in his throat swelled uncomfortably.

"I'm afraid I shall have to say goodbye now, Harry. It's been an honour to know you. Just remember, you are worthy of all you receive. Don't begrudge people's need to thank you, but don't stop being your humble self."

"Wait," Harry cried. "I need to say thank you for all you've done for me. You've taught me so much."

"As I said, Harry, it's been an honour. It's also been my pleasure."

"Will I ever see you again? You or Fawkes?"

"I imagine you'll be seeing Fawkes again when you least expect it. He's with a guardian. As for me, you may indeed. We may meet again in the next great adventure."

Even as Harry whispered a last goodbye, the old man fell asleep. Harry didn't know long how long he stood there, staring at the portrait while tears slipped out silently, and he thought about the times he'd spent in this room with Professor Dumbledore. At length, he realised that Ginny and Professor McGonagall would be coming back sooner or later, and he tried to compose himself. It wasn't easy.

He'd managed to wipe his tears with his sleeve, but he knew his eyes would still be red, when the door to the office opened and Professor McGonagall came in. "We've finished, Mr…" she began, trailing off once she'd got a good look at him. "Is anything the matter?" she asked more gently.

Harry took a shaky breath. "I was talking to Professor Dumbledore's portrait, and he fell asleep. I don't think he'll be waking again." His voice sounded oddly husky.

"Oh dear, I should have expected that," she replied. Then she turned suddenly, bowing her head, and Harry was sure she was dabbing at her eyes. "If you'll excuse me. You may leave whenever you're ready."

The headmistress walked out, leaving Harry alone with Ginny. Harry wasn't ready to leave quite yet, and Ginny seemed to understand. She didn't say a word to him, but he felt her slip her arms around his waist and lay her cheek against the back of his shoulder. Harry placed his hands over hers, as he continued to stare at the portrait and remember.

*

Mrs Weasley invited Harry to stay to supper that evening, but he declined. He and Ginny had completed their errands, but Harry had felt distracted most of the afternoon. He felt he needed to be alone to think about what had happened at Hogwarts, and perhaps have a talk with Remus and Sirius. They had far more bitter experience with this sort of thing than he did.

He felt much better about things the next day. He'd been very fortunate, he realised now, to have the opportunity to say goodbye to Dumbledore face to face, in a sense. He'd missed his chance a year ago, and he hadn't really expected to get another.

Harry went back to The Burrow after supper on Thursday evening, and asked Ginny to take a walk with him. He was going to see her the following day on her birthday, of course, but he needed reason to pick up a few things, and this seemed as good an excuse as any.

"Did you get your things out of the house?" he asked, when Ginny had got into her cloak and closed the kitchen door behind her.

"Yeah, it's all packed in a couple of bags in Dad's shed. I hid them in that old washing machine."

"I'll pick them up on my way home, then," Harry replied, taking her hand and starting off with her through the orchard.

They kept going until they were well out of sight of the house and almost at the end of the Weasleys' property. The landscape had changed from when they had stood on this spot last winter, the harsh whites and greys softening to the warmer greens and yellows of spring. The fields on the other side of the hedge were dotted with wildflowers, which stood out in bright contrast to the new grass, caught as they were in the level rays of the setting sun.

They both stopped at the same time, not needing words to communicate what each wanted to do next. Harry pulled Ginny into his arms and began to kiss her softly. He intended to keep things light -- this was the last night of waiting, he reminded himself -- but as his heart rate increased, a roaring in his ears began to drown out his reason. Instinct began to take over, and their kisses became more intense.

Harry broke off for just a moment, realising he had somehow pressed Ginny up against a tree. He stared into her darkened eyes for a moment, taking in her parted, swollen lips, and her breath that came out in short puffs.

He wanted her. God help him, he wanted her.

He bent to her again, and she met him half-way meeting his lips with equal enthusiasm. Her hands were underneath his cloak, and he felt her pulling at his shirt tail. She wanted to touch bare skin. So did he.

Not breaking the kiss, he brought his hands up between them, deliberately skimming over the curves under her cloak until he was caressing the softness of her neck. He could feel the flutter of a wildly beating pulse, and she tilted her head back against the tree. He let his lips slide from hers to trace along the underside of her jaw, while he continued to touch her lightly.

She sagged against him, a low moan coming from the back of her throat. Her hands had worked their way beneath his shirt, and he felt her nails dig into his back as she clutched at him for support. Heat spiked through him, and he pushed closer to her, allowing her to feel the full extent of his need. Not caring if she did.

One hand slid down her neck to the top button of her shirt.

"Harry…"

The way she'd breathed his name only served to encourage him, but he was having trouble concentrating. His brain didn't seem to be working properly, and one tiny button became a struggle.

"Harry…"

Somehow his bemused mind registered she'd sounded more insistent that time. He raised his head, but did not drop his hands. "What?" Even as he asked the question, he ran his thumb along her neck down to her collar bone and was rewarded by a shiver.

"We have to stop."

"Why?"

"Do you really want to do this outside? It isn't exactly warm out here."

"We don't have to do everything… Just a little…"

"That's the problem. I don't want to do just a little. I want everything. But not out here. Not like this. We've had to wait so long as it is. This has to be special. Tomorrow it will be. It's only one more night, Harry. It's not going to hurt you to wait one more night."

He knew she was right, but the way his body was protesting at the moment was nearly impossible to ignore. "It does hurt at the moment." He knew he sounded desperate, but he didn't care. He also couldn't stop himself from pressing his hips against her. "It's so difficult. I don't think I can ever get enough of you."

Ginny's eyes glinted dangerously at him, and she pushed at his chest. "If that's the way you want it, fine." Her hands were on the fastenings of her cloak.

"Ginny, what are you doing?"

"I'm doing what you want. You said you wanted it, so all right. Let's do it."

"Ginny…"

"What's your problem? Can't you make up your mind?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. As much as he wanted her, he knew she was right. They really couldn't just lie down on the ground and… "I don't want to do it, I want to make love to you. You're right. I got carried away."

He didn't expect the tears that began to leak from her eyes. He looked at her in shock and panic for a moment, before opening his arms to her. She came into them willingly, and he stroked her hair for a few minutes.

"Ginny, what's wrong? You've been preoccupied for a while now. Do you…" He was having difficulty getting the words out. He stepped back hoping to find a clue in her eyes to what she was feeling, but he saw nothing except confusion and fear written there. "Do you want to cancel tomorrow? Is that what this is about?"

"No… I don't know… Sometimes I think we're too young. It's scary."

"I get scared, too, but I'm not scared of you. Are you scared of me?"

"Perhaps you should be," she said smiling wanly through her tears. "I blew up Zonko's single-handedly and defied a goddess." At the moment she didn't look the least bit intimidating.

"Ginny, tell me what the real problem is, please? You said yesterday you wanted to ask me something. Do you think you can ask it now?"

"I have to. I have to ask you this before tomorrow."

Harry's heart began to beat wildly as a sickening fear rose in him that she was about to ask him to cancel their plans for the next day. But it was better to know now… "So ask me. I'll tell you anything you want to know."

He felt her take a deep breath. "I have to know… When I say I love you, do you believe me?"

He smiled in relief. He'd been expecting something much more dire. "Of course I do."

"No, Harry, I want you to think about it. Not just give me an automatic reply."

"What's there to think about? I love you, and you… You still love me, don't you?" His fear was coming back, but it was best to know.

"Yes, I do, but I need to know if you believe that, deep down inside."

He ran his hand through his hair. "I'm not sure how to answer that, but I'm getting the feeling if I say the wrong thing, something terrible will happen."

"I just need to know your honest answer, and I want you to think about it."

Harry took another step back and looked into the trees beyond her, back in the direction of The Burrow, although the house was out of sight. It wasn't so much that he didn't believe her, it was more that he didn't understand why she loved him. He thought of his conversation with Dumbledore yesterday. Had it been preordained after all?

He knew Dumbledore would have told him no, that Ginny hadn't even been meant to survive this long, but Dumbledore didn't know everything. An image of the Lover's Card came to his mind, and he remembered Parvati reading his tarot cards at the beginning of seventh year. That had been predicted long after Dumbledore's seer.

But Harry had already begun to have feelings for Ginny before school had started, another part of him argued. He'd already made his choice. And it wasn't as if their relationship had run smoothly up to this point. They'd broken up and been separated. If they were still together in spite of all that, it had to be because they were truly committed to each other. He'd never acted to repair their relationship with the thought in the back of his mind that Ginny was his one shot at love because the cards had said so.

He looked back into her face. She looked terrified. "It's not that I don't believe you love me, because I do. I know it. I feel it. I know you love me. I just don't know why. I know why you're asking. In the past I didn't believe it, but I was a fool and I almost lost you because of that. I'm sorry for that. I thought you'd left and it shook my faith, because if I had believed deep down that you loved me, I'd have known that you'd never truly leave me. You'd be right if you were angry with me because I doubted you. I kept telling myself you'd never leave, but then I found you'd never gone back to school, and I just couldn't make myself believe it anymore. I was wrong, and I know that now. And if you feel we shouldn't be together because I doubted you, I'll understand. But I won't lie to you. It would kill me…"

"Stop, Harry. You're doing it again. You don't believe you're worthy."

"I can't help it, Ginny, but just because I don't think I'm worthy, doesn't mean I don't know you love me. I know you do, and I hope you know that I love you. Maybe if I had been raised in a family like yours or by my real parents, things would be different…"

"I just want you to know that I think you're worthy of my love. I've chosen you. Can you accept that?"

Harry stared. She'd chosen. As he had.

"Yes," he said at length. "If you think I'm worthy, then I must be. Because you wouldn't lie to me about that, and you're the cleverest woman I've ever met."

Ginny gave a small laugh. "I'm not cleverer than Hermione."

"She's clever about facts and things like that, but she's not always clever about feelings, is she? That's where you have her beat. She can't read people the way you can. And when you do something, it's out of love, not because you want to prove a point."

Ginny sank back into his arms. "You know," she murmured against his shoulder, "for years I thought you'd never notice me. I wondered if there would be a time I'd be worthy of your notice. And now you don't feel you're worthy of me. It's strange…"

"But you are, Ginny. You are worthy of love. Why wouldn't you be?"

"And that's just how I feel about you."

"Perhaps one day I'll understand. We'll get through it. We've been through so much together, there's no way we won't get through this as well."

They held each other a while longer until it was fully dark, and a few stars shone overhead, winking among the tree branches. At one point, Ginny turned to him and began to kiss him gently. Harry followed her lead, keeping a tight rein on his passion this time. If things got out of control again, he knew she'd stop them once more, and while it could be torture at times, he still wanted the closeness and affection with her.

Her hands found their way beneath his shirt tail once more, as she sought to bring them closer together. Harry had to fight to keep his hands still. They wanted to become mobile as hers now were, but he wanted to experience soft curves, not the flat plane of her back.

His hands clenched into fists when her lips left his to trail gently over his cheeks and on to his throat. An involuntary noise issued from his throat, but it only served to encourage her. He felt her teeth graze his skin, as she sucked a patch of it into her mouth.

He pressed his hips against her. He couldn't help it. It was a reflex. At the same time his arms tightened around her. He didn't really want to hold her still, but it was better for his sanity if she was.

Ginny seemed to realise they'd reached the limit once more, and she pulled back. Even in the faint starlight he could see the promise in her eyes. "Tomorrow," she whispered. It was time to go back.

Harry kissed Ginny goodnight outside the kitchen door. "I'll come by for you in the afternoon," he said just before she went in.

She gave him a smile and was gone. Harry turned towards the shed, thankful it was dark. He didn't know what sort of excuse he would have used if Mr Weasley had decided to tinker with something tonight. He felt his way inside until he encountered a large metallic object. Lifting the cover, he found a large, soft-sided bag, along with what felt like a worn leather book bag. Feeling around to make sure he'd retrieved everything, he hoisted the larger bag behind his shoulder and tucked the smaller one under his arm, before activating his Portkey and returning to Sirius'.

He opened the front door quietly, hoping to pass unnoticed so he could stash Ginny's things in his room. Luck wasn't with him. Sirius was standing in the kitchen in full view of the front door as Harry came in.

"Harry," Sirius said crossing over to the entryway, "let me help you with that." Sirius made to take the smaller bag from Harry.

"No, that's all right," Harry said quickly. "I've got it." He wanted nothing more than to escape before Sirius started asking too many questions.

"Well, come into the kitchen. We've just put the kettle on." Sirius' tone was light, but Harry wasn't fooled for a moment.

"Just let me drop this off, and I'll be right there," he replied, striving to keep his own tone equally light.

"Nonsense, Harry. Just bring that along." Sirius had laid a hand on Harry's shoulder and was steering him quite forcibly towards the kitchen. Harry had no choice but to follow with his bags.

"Hello," he greeted Remus, who was already seated at the table. The werewolf looked haggard, a testament to his upcoming transformation the following evening.

Harry draped the larger bag over the back of the chair, noticing for the first time the printing across it that proclaimed it as coming from Madam Malkin's shop. He put Ginny's school bag on the floor beside him.

Sirius looked at him curiously. "Have you been doing some shopping?" he asked, eyeing the bag. "You seem to have been running a lot of errands lately."

"Oh, yeah," replied Harry, trying to sound casual. "I've had lots to look into with the new broom and all."

"And you needed new robes for that?" asked Remus.

"Work robes," Harry answered.

At that moment the tea kettle began to whistle. "Harry, can you get that, please?" said Remus. Harry was closest to the stove. "And get yourself a cup."

Harry reluctantly got to his feet. The two older men were obviously suspicious about his comings and goings of late. He didn't particularly want to turn his back to them, but he had no choice if he wanted to pick up the kettle without risking burning himself. As he was pouring the hot water into the teapot, he heard the sound he'd been dreading. It was the unmistakable noise produced by a zipper being undone.

"Erm, nice work robes, Harry," came Remus' voice.

Harry didn't want to turn around, but he had no choice now. He knew they'd seen what was in the larger bag. But when he did pick up the teapot and turn, he saw something worse. Sirius had reached into Ginny's school bag and produced something very white and lacy and… sheer. Harry swallowed.

"Harry," Sirius said, his voice deceptively calm, "was there anything you wanted to tell us? Because I really don't think this is your colour."

"No," put in Remus, "you'd look downright pasty in that. Off-white would be a better choice for you. Or peach. I could see you in peach."

Harry wished he could crumple up and die on the spot, but his godfather wasn't done yet. He was reaching into the bag once more. "Now this…" He'd pulled out the green night dress that Ginny had worn the night of the Ball. "Something like this is more your colour."

"Yes," added Remus. "Now that one goes with your eyes."

Sirius put the night dresses down, draping them over the chair with the bag containing Ginny's dress robes, where Harry would be obliged to stare at them. He still hadn't said a word. Remus, in the meantime, was reaching for a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky on a shelf behind him. He poured a healthy measure into the three teacups on the table and looked at Harry expectantly. Harry had forgotten he was still holding the teapot.

"Now," began Sirius, when Harry had poured tea into the waiting cups, "let's have a talk. What's been going on?"

Harry opened his mouth but no sound came out. His face was burning and he knew he had to look very guilty.

It was Remus who saved him from having to reply. "I don't know. I think it looks pretty obvious. Isn't tomorrow Ginny's birthday?"

Harry nodded.

"I see," said Sirius, "and you made some special plans for a celebration?"

Harry nodded again.

"What were you going to do, Harry, stay out all night and make us worry?" Before Harry could reply, Sirius burst out laughing. "So, Harry," he went on once he'd mastered himself, "is there any sort of advice we can give you? Do we need to have a talk with you?" He sounded altogether too gleeful at the prospect. "Remus, do you think he needs to have a talk?"

Remus made a great show of considering the situation. "I don't know. I'm sure he's had one already. But another one couldn't hurt could it?"

"Actually," Harry hastened to point out, "I have already had one."

"Hmm, by the looks of that mark on your neck, I'd say you have," commented Remus.

Harry turned even redder at that and placed his hand over the spot where Ginny had bit him earlier. Sirius grabbed Harry's wrist so he could get a closer look. "Just who gave you this talk?" he asked with mock suspicion.

"Mr Weasley," Harry mumbled.

Sirius gaped for a moment. "I'm sorry. I must not have heard you right. For a moment I thought you said Mr Weasley."

Remus snorted into his tea. "I did!" Harry insisted. "And I don't see what's so funny…"

It was of no use. Sirius was doubled over in his chair laughing.

"If you're finished making fun of me, I think I'll be going now," said Harry, beginning to get out of his chair.

Sirius got his laughter under control rather quickly and grabbed Harry's arm to make him sit down again. "Now just hold on. I don't think Arthur gave you the sort of practical information we can."

"I don't know, Sirius," said Remus. "The man does have seven children."

"Yes, but he isn't likely to give pointers that are going to be practised on his only daughter, now, is he?"

Harry slumped down in his seat and took a large gulp of whisky-laced tea. It was going to be a long evening.

To Be Continued…