THE BRIGHTEST DAY

Slowly, the world recovered.

Perhaps it's not the entire world, Harry thought, but it's the most important part to me. He looked around the large table at Grimmauld Place. It was a week after the ceremony at the Ministry. Everyone was treating him normally, not as some sort of savior, which was exactly how Harry wanted it.

The Weasleys had spent much of their time in the last few weeks in the library with the Telly Spelly, reliving their moments with Fred — both when he was alive, and when he had come to help rescue his family from a terrible afterlife. Harry did not mind the former moments, but he'd walked in on George sitting in front of it, tears streaming down his face, and watching Fred heal his patronus. Viewing it through that memory, Harry could see the darkness gathering on the enchanted ceiling, and he'd felt a sick twinge in his stomach.

Harry never wanted to deal with a force of nature like that again. Never wanted to relive it.

Still, he kept all three of the Hallows in a hidden spot. Just in case.

They were not at the forefront of his mind that evening. Instead, Harry was feeling an uncomplicated amusement as he and Ron took turns teasing their family.

"I can't believe you still won't show us," Bill said, pointing a fork at them. "You realize we all think it's another sex thing, like that map." He raised an eyebrow at Harry. "Do you really want us to continue thinking you've got our sister doing something... weird down there?"

Harry sat back in his chair. "What're you going to do? Hex me?"

Ginny and Ron guffawed.

In fact, Harry and Bill had had a slightly awkward conversation just four days prior in which the older man had apologized rather too eloquently for Harry's taste. A gruff "Sorry about trying to kill you in Diagon Alley" would have sufficed. In fact, Harry did not feel any need for any apology whatsoever from any of them. Bill'd examined the very small, very discreet scar, apologized, and said, "I feel terrible I left a scar on you. Like Voldemort. Like Umbridge. Brothers — you're my brother now, Harry, and I should never have done it."

Harry grinned cheekily at Bill. "Brothers tease each other, I'm pretty sure," he said.

George rolled his eyes. "This has gone on far enough—"

"Don't you try to tell us when something's gone too far," Ron laughed. "You and Fred made me and Ginny believe the ghoul was our cousin for years. Don't tell us what's gone far enough."

Hermione gasped. "That's terrible!"

"That's life with the Weasleys, I'm afraid," Percy said pompously.

"Not with me, Hermione, don't worry," said Ron. "I'm a Granger, now, remember?"

It was when everyone was laughing that Harry withdrew his holly-and-phoenix wand — the Elder Wand was retired — and undid the charms. Ron was the one who'd kept their Quidditch Pitch a secret, and he'd had Hermione and Ginny put sixteen different charms on the cellar door to keep it that way. "You're the one who made it," he'd told Harry. "You get to show them. It wasn't right when you were so sick."

Tonight, Harry was finally feeling well enough to fly.

"MUM! FLEUR!" Bill shouted. "THEY'RE FINALLY OPENING THE CELLAR!"

More Weasleys and Kingsley — who'd been having a meeting with Arthur — appeared. "I've been waiting months for this," Kingsley said in a very satisfied tone. "What on earth did you four make down there? It shook half of London!"

Harry felt a twinge of unease.

"You're about to find out," Ron said. It almost sounded like a threat.

"Any last guesses?" Ginny asked. "And George, not from you, please."

"Why not Bill?!" George asked, outraged.

"Just guessing, but I think Bill has a better sense of what not to say in front of Mum," said Ron.

"A private hospital for those of us who were cursed," Mrs. Weasley guessed. "Before you knew we were all going to die from it."

"Your own private Auror training facility," Kingsley put in.

"A Muggle telly house," was Arthur's guess.

"A sex dungeon," Charlie said dreamily. His mother smacked the back of his head as Ginny rolled her eyes.

Harry shook his head. Then he used his wand to flip the trap door open. "Oh, wait, I almost forgot." He summoned several take out boxes of Chinese food.

"Thank God I don't have to bring them their food again," Ron said. "The leader got very shirty with me when you were sick."

"You should see how she gets with me," Ginny muttered.

"Yes, well, I think we all know about fairies and their deals," said Hermione.

"GET ON WITH IT!" George and Bill shouted together.

So Harry stepped back, and allowed them to look their fill. Their heads crowded around the small trapdoor, and Harry knew what they were seeing: a Quidditch Pitch, an expansive forest, a waterfall, and a tower. It was, he had to admit, pretty impressive.

"Merlin's most prized shit," George said fervently. "Of course you nutters built Hogwarts in your basement."

Brooms were summoned.

Harry was surprised to see Mrs. Weasley on a broom, and even more surprised at her flying loops around her husband. But he shrugged that off, and watched Ginny fly loops around him.

He did not fly very fast or very far that first time. Harry glided down and headed straight for the trees. Everyone followed him. He winced. "I brought your food!" he said loudly.

The fairies erupted from the trees and devoured the food. The leader gave him a flirtatious look, but backed down when Ginny growled at her. Harry raised an eyebrow at his wife, who grinned back at him.

"You're mine," she said.

"Don't worry, she's got nothing on you," Harry reassured her.

"She does have magnificent breasts, though," said Ron. Hermione swatted him.

They gave their family the tour. It was an astonishingly large space they had made, Harry had to admit. Hermione's advanced charms knowledge, Ron's sense of humor, and Ginny's whimsical, graceful touches were evident in every corner of the room. It was a very neat thing they had all made together. Harry saw it through new eyes.

"This is remarkable," Arthur said. He cleaned his glasses on his robes. "Truly remarkable."

"And this is where you all got married," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Yeah – did they tell you they made me plan the whole wedding?" Harry asked her. "Hermione said she wanted a 'special spot', and I thought Gryffindor Tower was the only place that made sense."

"You know what?" Mrs. Weasley asked thoughtfully. "I think you need to get married again."

"Splendid idea," said Arthur. "That way I can dance with my daughter on her wedding day… I was always looking forward to that."

"Wait, what?" said Harry. "We're already married! How can we get married again?"

"Maybe—"

"No, Ron. That's not what she means," Hermione cut Ron off.

"But—"

"No."

"I'm still confused," said Harry.

"I think what Mum means is the reception," said Ginny.

"But—"

"The four of you got married in secret, and… partly because you were hiding from us," Mrs. Weasley said sternly. "I appreciate the fact that you all love each other, but this will give us a chance to make – certain things right. We can't go back and change anything, but we can give you a proper start to your married lives together. We can show you that not only do we approve of the choices you have made, but we want to celebrate them with you."

"Oh, Mum…"

"I still don't get if you want us to bond… again? Do you want us to get our bond broken? And then what, rebond?" Ron was very confused.

"Oh, Ron, I'll explain it to you later," Hermione said fondly.

"All right, I guess we can do it," Harry said, because that was what was expected of him.

Their reception was held at the Burrow, and everyone came. This time, Harry had not had to plan a single thing; everything was taken care of by Molly – as he was now told to call her. Fleur decided to help, and the two of them threw themselves into preparing a party to be celebrated on the longest day of the year. Luna and Xeno even performed a sun ritual dance that was said to be a blessing to their marriage. It was very entertaining. Neville and Seamus and Luna all stood up to make a toast.

His favorite moment, other than every single moment he shared with Ginny, was when George sashayed into the marquee wearing the same Muggle evening gown he'd been dressed in for their bonding ceremony. Harry laughed so hard he cried, and toasted George with two glasses of firewhiskey – one for each of the socks he'd stuffed down his shirt to give him the appearance of breasts.

He had to admit, it was beautiful. If he'd thought Bill's wedding was lavish, it was nothing compared to this. Probably because two of her children were celebrating their wedding reception, Harry decided. Champagne and firewhiskey flowed freely, copious amounts of Weasley cousins drank to their heart's content, and little magical flourishes were everywhere. There was, Harry decided, a wide gulf between simplicity and ostentation. Molly and Fleur had gone straight toward ostentation.

As the celebration wound down, Harry was totally relaxed and comfortable sitting at the head table with his wife, and Ron and Hermione. He and Ron were in the dress robes Molly'd bought for them. Ginny and Hermione wore wedding dresses. Different wedding dresses.

Ginny'd rowed with her mum about it. "I can just wear the one I wore last time," she said. "That'll make everything easier. I mean, do you really want to be embroidering twenty hours a day for the next two weeks? I can just wear—"

"Yeah. No," said Molly. "We'll find you something that isn't doxy-bitten."

Harry, who thought the first dress Ginny'd worn was lovely, had to admit that the gown Molly'd made for her daughter was resplendent. He'd nearly swallowed his tongue the moment he saw her. the dress wrapped around the top of her body like a second skin and seemed to be held up by magic, or maybe her breasts, since there were no sleeves or straps to be seen. It was a shimmering silver-white and had tiny fresh flowers making a band at her waist. The layers of the skirt were so delicate, they floated around her legs like the material was made of air.

"You... look..."

It'd been two hours, and Harry still couldn't take his eyes off of her. She was dancing with her father; they were being a little silly, while Hermione and her father (who had been strongly encouraged to come home for the occasion by an irate Molly) danced a sedate waltz.

Harry could not stop smiling. "Remember what your dad said?" he tipped his head toward Ron. "After you got into one of your scrapes and I had to save your life?"

Ron choked on his firewhiskey. "My scrapes? I was the one who got into scrapes? Haven't we spent half our lives fighting to get out of one of your scrapes?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, well, I had loads of people trying to kill me. Your stomach just got you into trouble."

"You're talking about the poisoned mead I drank and the bezoar? I don't remember what Dad said."

"You might've still been unconscious," said Harry. He took another sip of firewhiskey, then made a lazy gesture with his, and refilled both their glasses. "Anyway, your dad said it was a lucky day for the Weasleys when we sat next to each other on the train. But really—" he waved his arm expansively, trying to take in everything "—it was a lucky day for me. Thank you, Ron."

They both pretended they coughed because of the large gulp of firewhiskey they took.

Ginny finished her dance with her father, and came to sit back down. Harry pulled her onto his lap, instead, and nuzzled her neck.

"You're drunk," she said, amused.

"Maybe," Harry said. He pressed hot kisses on her neck. "You taste delicious. I can't wait to get more of a taste."

"Was the dinner really not enough for you?" Ron asked. "You need to eat out?"

"Why are you listening to our private conversation?" Harry flipped him off behind Ginny's back.

"I'm sitting litra-littally one foot away from you," Ron told him. "It's hard not to hear you seducing my sister."

Harry and Ginny ended up escaping the head table and the marquee itself a few minutes later. Luna helped them go unnoticed by the crowd by providing a distraction.

"Thanks, Luna!" Ginny called over her shoulder. Harry pulled her by the hand off to find a quiet, private corner.

Her skirts were just as billowy as Harry suspected, and when he tried to push them up, it was like trying to undress a cloud. "I might be too tipsy for this," Harry said breathlessly, after trying — and failing — to find her bare legs. It was the skirt, it kept billowing up, into his face, getting into his mouth. Ginny was giggling too hard to help.

"I'm sorry!" she gasped. "It's just too funny. You're dueling my dress, and it's winning."

Harry finally defeated it by draping it entirely over himself. Pale blue, lacy knickers were right in front of him. Harry nuzzled them, breathing in her scent. She always smelled so damn good, Ginny did.

"What's this?!" Harry said, delighted, when he found a slit in her knickers. It gave him full, unimpeded access to some of his favorite parts of her. Without waiting for an answer, he pressed a deep, lingering kiss against her folds. He lost himself in the taste of her for minutes, suckling on her clit, sweeping his tongue against her folds, coaxing more taste out of her. She did, in fact, taste better than firewhiskey.

"Harry," she hissed.

Harry jerked back. That was not a happy sound. "Wha' happened?"

"Do you have your Cloak?"

Harry disentangled himself from her; it took much longer than he felt it would have had he not been quite so drunk.

"No, why? There a banshee?" he asked, before he could stop himself. Ridiculous! Banshees couldn't come out when it was still light, right? "Where's the swamp?"

"No, someone is here!"

Now Harry heard it: muffled groans, and pants. "Sounds like someone's doing wha we were tryn to," he said. He grabbed Ginny's hand, pulled her away from the broomshed, and toward more shelter. He was still hard, and he brushed his hand over it, and then again.

They ended up in the deserted sitting room of the Burrow. Instead of returning to his earlier task, Harry finally won the battle with her dress, pulled open his robes, unfastened his trousers, and pulled her down on top of him on the sofa. Her opening was hot and wet from his earlier kisses, and her mouth fastened on his as she sank onto him with one fluid motion.

"I think… we should get married… at least twice a year," Harry panted into her mouth. "Wedding sex… so hot."

She seemed to agree, because she came on him, inner walls rippling around him, trying to coax him into coming, but Harry was determined to last. "Ah ah," he said, gripping her hips, and helping her ride him. "Not yet. Not yet."

He pushed some billowing skirt away, and worked his hand between them, and pressed his thumb against her clit, just the way he knew she liked it.

"Oh, fuck, Harry," she gasped. "Feels so good."

"Yeah," he said. "It's so fucking good."

He could still feel her climaxing, tiny little quivers deepening the pleasure of being inside her. And he also knew he was pushing her into another one. The only sound was their harsh breath, and the thunder of his heart in his ears. The firewhiskey, Ginny in his arms, the feel of her lips on his, and his penis inside her… it was suddenly so perfect that Harry came, surging into her, calling her name.

Once he recovered, he looked down at her. Her hair was disheveled, her lips swollen, her eyes dilated with pleasure.

And it really hit him then that the rest of his life stretched out before him. No Voldemort. No banshee. Precious few Death Eaters. He had a standing invitation to join the Aurors as soon as he was back from his honeymoon. The yard outside was filled with friends and family.

And Ginny was in his arms, where she would remain the rest of his life.

He pressed his forehead against hers, still breathing heavily, still feeling an astonishing amount of joy.

All was well.

xxxxxxxxxx

Author's Note: I've been yearning to write an original story for, like, decades. That isn't even an exaggeration. I don't even know how many stories I've started and then abandoned because writing original fiction employs different mechanics than writing fanfic (at least for me). I give a shit about Harry and Ginny. It's harder for me to abandon them, but with original characters that just came out of my own head? I don't think I was ever able to care enough. Except, I finally made it over whatever sort of block was keeping me back from writing and finishing a novella (not a novel, it's only about 31,000 words). I honestly owe it to the Ginny Lovers discord. Several months ago, we decided that we'd compile an anthology of our original works as a sort of group project. I didn't want to let the others down by abandoning my story, so I kept at it.

If you'd like to read it, it's available here from all the major ebook retailers:

.com (slash) books (slash) into-the-mystic-by-k-d-west-and-thewordsinmyhead

If you want it in paperback:

.com (slash) Into-Mystic-Stories-Magic-Romance (slash) dp (slash) 1938808568

This is not the only anthology we're going to do. If you too yearn to write and want to get involved, please feel free to join The Ginny Lovers discord. We've got a fairy tale anthology coming up. Our mission statement is basically "the more the merrier".

Here is the link for that:

(slash) jyBs25D