AN: Just finished reading HBP, and … well, I just can't help thinking that Ginny wouldn't have let it be left like that. Set maybe a day after HBP.

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. Let's move on.

Waiting
By Gatekeeper

Harry's hands tightened around the mug as he felt Ginny come down the Burrow's stairs. It didn't matter that it was night, she moved almost without a sound, or that he was facing away from the staircase – the delicate scent of flowers curled around him, and he could practically feel the heat of her radiating against his back. No matter what happened between them, Ginny would always be his sun.

He felt her stop, probably having just now seen him sitting at the kitchen table. Body thrumming with tension, Harry waited in the silence to see what she would do. He knew he had done the right thing, breaking it off with Ginny, but he knew just as well that he'd lost the right to presume or hope anything from her. She had known he would go and didn't seem to hate him – more than that would be a miracle.

Much like her soft voice was, when it finally graced his ears a moment later. "Any of that left?"

He let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, pointing to the pot still sitting on the stove. "Your Mum made it for stragglers."

Without another word she went over to the stove and made herself a mug, then sat down across from Harry at the table. Harry fought the almost palpable urge to reach out and touch her somewhere, anywhere, just to remind himself that the few golden weeks spent being her boyfriend had been more than the best hallucination he'd ever had. But the more he did that, the more he allowed himself to remember everything he'd given up, the harder it was going to be to leave after the wedding.

So, with effort, he kept his hands to himself. But not even he was strong enough to stop looking.

Golden brown eyes narrowed at him, almost kindly. "Your chocolate's probably rather cold by now, Harry. I think you were supposed to have drunk a bit of it by now."

He shrugged, tried to smile. "Don't tell your Mum, okay? She'll think I'm not eating again and try stuffing me with more food."

A smile flickered across Ginny's face, just for a second. "I promise." Then she sobered, shooting him a cool, measuring expression. "So Ron and Hermione are going with you, then."

He just nodded, unable to think of a single useful thing to say.

"Not worried about going to their funerals?"

This time, the bitterness in her voice was impossible to escape. He winced, hand reaching halfway across their end of the table before he had any idea it had moved. "Ginny, I can't …"

She closed her eyes, shook her head. "You've already given me that argument, Harry."

He pulled his hand back with a sigh. "I couldn't go on if something happened to you, Ginny."

"Yes, you could," she whispered, squeezing her eyes even more tightly closed. But there was no anger in her voice, just the simple admittance of a truth she'd always known. "You'd still have a world to save." Her gaze was steadier when she opened her eyes to meet his again. "But what about me, Harry? I'm not the sort to patiently keep the home fires burning while I worry about my man out in the field."

He'd known that, and even managed to convinced his head it would be for the best. It hurt too much to listen to his heart. "I didn't expect you to. I just … I want you to be happy, Ginny."

She looked down for a moment, suddenly far too interested in her chocolate. "So I have your permission, then?"

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe past the emptiness that had suddenly filled his chest. "Of course."

Her mouth curled upward into the ghost of a smile, but she still wouldn't look at him. "Don't worry, I won't start an argument about it yet – I'll need more training to be of real use, and if Hogwarts reopens it's still the best place to get it. I'll be tucked away for a little while longer, at least."

Something in her voice caught his attention, and even as he narrowed his eyes at her some strange back part of his brain flared with hope. "Ginny …."

She looked at him, then, her chin lifting ever so slightly with determination. "You said you wanted me to be happy, Harry. How do you expect me to be bloody well do that when my heart's tramping around the country trying to get himself killed without me?"

There was no way he could speak past the sudden lump that had formed in his throat. He just reached across again, tightening his hand around Ginny's when it found his.

She swallowed at the contact, and now there was the barest tremble in her voice. "Love is a gift, Harry. We shouldn't give up on it so fast."

Harry stared at her, eyes widening in sudden shock as Professor McGonagall's words came back to him. Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world. He had always told Harry that love was the one thing he had that Voldemort didn't. Was there even the slightest chance that he meant …? "I think Dumbledore would have agreed with you," he said very softly.

Ginny tightened her own grip, like she couldn't quite believe him. "When I'm ready I'll come find you, Harry," she whispered, eyes blazing even as they filled with the sudden sheen of tears. "Whatever needs doing, I'll be right there."

Silently Harry got up and walked around their end of the table, still holding on to her hand. Ginny's eyes never left his as he came up right next to her, pulling her up onto her feet as he leaned in close. "And I'll be waiting," he said softly, breath tickling the edge of her ear as he planted the gentlest of kisses on her cheek.

Then they just wrapped their arms around each other, holding on tight for the few hours that were left until the dawn.