A/N: Okay, the second and final installment of this story. Ish. Thing.


I love Harry and Ginny. Really I do. They were made for one another.

And now I am going to do what I have never done before. I am going to add. . . A DISCLAIMER! -cue music-

Disclaimer: Because I do not have a daughter, do not live in a scottish castle, and don't have that funny little accent she does, I think it is safe to assume that I am not J.K.Rowling and, as such, do not own Harry Potter.

But damn, I wish I did. Because if I owned Harry Potter, I would BRING BACK SIRIUS BLACK! In fact, I would never have killed him in the first place! And Voldemort would never have come back and Harry would have lived a happy, perfect life and he would have died in his sleep at age 85! And - well, that's it, actually.

And I might bring the Longbottoms back, maybe. And other stuff.

Yeah. So.

Let's just get on with the story, shall we?

Chapter 2 - Ginny POV

Dean was a sweetheart, really. Always holding my hand and kissing my cheek - really chaste, you know? A darling. Shyly asking if I might join him in the Great Hall for lunch, etc.

I usually said yes - I mean, he was my boyfriend and I do love spending time with him. And so it was that I agreed to have a late lunch with him in the Great Hall last Saturday.

Everything started out fine. We sat down and started to eat, gabbing over the chicken and garlic sauce, drinking pumpkin juice, that whole shebang.

And then Harry came in.

Apparently, he had detention with Snape. (Git.)

Anyhoo, Harry came in, blushed at the sight of Dean and I, and quickly took a seat. He focused his attention on the far wall to give us some sort of illusion of privacy, but every once in a while I would catch him shooting us glances. (Not that I was looking, of course.) Then Snape swept through the doors in all his greasy glory, handed Harry a mop, and ordered him to mop the entire floor without magic.

Honestly - how uninventive.

"It's almost a bittersweer feeling, seeing you do this, Potter. I would have so loved to have done it to your father," Snape sneered as Harry dipped the mop into the bucket of water.

Harry stiffened and spat, "Oh, shove off, you great ugly git."

I was so proud. My heart swelled and I mentally screamed - 'Atta boy, Harry! You tell him!

Dean looked the same.

As I said - a darling.

Snape went all albino on us, though, and I thought he was going to explode. (Thank Merlin he didn't!) It didn't help that Harry looked totally blase about the whole situation, and Dean and I were snickering into our goblets.

"Potter, how dare you address me that way!" Snape shrieked, his voice unusually high-pitched. Sweat dripped from his hairline and he shook - literally - with anger. "Y - You - one hundred - and fifty points - Gryffindor!" He roared. "D - Detention! DETENTION FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR!"

Harry crossed his arms coolly over his chest, looking unperturbed. "You - you're just like your father - arrogant and - and - "

Everyone was ignoring him, and I think it just made him worse. So bad, in fact, that he brought out his last, most pathetic, resort: Malfoy.

Stupid sodding idiot brought in the whiny seventh year and ordered him to say anything - everything insulting - to Harry, because Harry was not allowed to respond on pain of expulsion.

Needless to say, Malfoy was delighted.

"How does it feel to know that you can't act all heroic, Potter?" He sneered, his eyes alight. "Poor little Potter. No tabloids, no signed photos...you must be awfully lonely without your little fan club. All for a stupid mistake when you were a runt! You probably fancy yourself a hero, probably think you're special just because the Dark Lord made a foolish error..."

Harry didn't react.

I made a mental note to buy him something from Hogsmeade.

"What about your little side-kick, Weasley? You know he's jealous of you, right? Hates all of the attention you get, wishes he had half of it... I'll bet he just sticks with you because he thinks some of the fame will rub off on him! And no wonder - after all, his family lives in a shack."

Dean and I watched with interest as Harry stiffed and his knuckles tightened on the mop's handle.

"And your little Mudblood...tell me, do you and Weasley share the spoils?"

I felt myself starting to get angry. Dean squeezed my hand.

"And those two fat oafs that call themselves purebloods... that fat, ugly woman - yes, my father said when she was in school she was worth something, but Weasley senior ruined her...my father says she's a vixen in the sack."

Ew. Ew, ew, ew.

He turned to me, delighted. "Ah, the Weaselette!" He sneered. "Still pining after Potter, then? Do you love him? Don't you ever wonder what it would like to have a two-room house? Tell me - how much time do you spend on your back in order to get Potter to be friends with you? Friends with benefits - that's what it's called..."

Dean growled, but I silenced him with a glare. It wasn't his place, or mine, to interupt. I kept my eyes on Harry to see how he was. I did not want him expelled. Don't rise to it, I told him mentally. Let it alone.

"Do you miss Black?" Malfoy asked abruptly. "I mean, I know you killed him, but do you regret it? Because, it's your fault, you know. You as good as did him in. You did do him in. And I was just wondering what it felt like to kill a family member. Same goes for Diggory, although he wasn't really your family. Just decided to get an innocent bystander, did you? Shame, really - broke Chang's heart."

He paused thoughtfully. "So who's next, Potter? Weasley? Granger? Weaselette? It just seems that everyone around you dies, doesn't it? The werewolf, maybe? You seem particularly close to him...or how about the fat Weasley woman? She's cared for you, I gather, loved you like a son - the idiot woman - so I imagine you'll get her next, right?"

I saw what Harry was going to do before he did it - and honestly, I couldn't let him get expelled.

I drew my own wand and hexed Malfoy several times over. He was warty, had tentacles, and knocked out cold.


"Admirably done, Ginny," Harry grit out, forcing a smile. He was still seething.

Probably because he thought it was true, the stupid prat.

"Thank you. I only beat you by a little." I paused, frowning. "And you're lucky I did, too, you silly git. You would have gotten expelled! Honestly!"

Timidly, Dean tugged my hand. "Ginny... would...would you like to get back to eating now?"

I grit my teeth together. No, I do not. I want to talk to Harry. I want to spend time with Harry. I want you to go away.

I shrugged. "Sure."

He was my boyfriend, after all.

The next few weeks were completely odd. Harry kept hurting himself whenever I was nearby. And when he was physically safe, he'd blush or stutter instead. I was beginning to think that maybe Malfoy had cursed him or something.

And then it all came to a head when I was asked to deliver a message to Tonks. I opened the door slowly and watched as she and Harry dueled. (He gave her a run for her money, let me tell you!) Then, suddenly, Tonks tripped and her hex went awry. She knocked into a bookshelf, and it began tilting towards me...

I couldn't move as I watched it fall at my head. I just stood there, mouth open, waiting for the impact.

Except that it never came.

I suddenly found myself lying on the ground, perfectly safe. I looked up in surprise and let out a scream - Harry was lying flattened under the huge object, his head bleeding profusely.

I growled at everyone who came close to him and levitated his (unconcious, bleeding) body to the hospital wing. Madam Pomphry gasped - "The trouble that boy gets into! Oh, Harry! Here, set him down, gently, oh, I'll heal him up, I'm not letting go of this one..." - and went to work, ordering me away.

I snuck in later and slept under his bed so that no one would know I was there.

Dean and I broke it off after he learned about that.

Anyway, Hermione and Ron found out about it and teased me mercilessly, the gits. And during the day, I lie here underneath it and just listen to him breathe, talk, laugh, mumble an embarrassed thanks to all of those who brought him flowers (My Merlin, was I ever like that?!), and I realize, slowly, that if I wanted to grab him, it had to be now.

So I decide.

I crawl out from underneath his bed while he iks asleep, exit the wing, and wait until evening to come back again. He is awake, just sitting boredly in his bed when I come in.

"Hullo, Harry!" I call, smiling and sitting beside him. "How's your head?"

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, brilliant. The dent isn't too large."

Involuntairily, I grimace. "Right - sorry about that - my quick reflexes only show themselves on the Quidditch pitch, you know..." I pause thoughtfully. "Although, you didn't have to throw yourself in the way. Pushing me out of the line of fire was sufficient."

"I didn't," he mumbles, running his fingers through his (adorable, messy) hair. "I tripped. Trust me, if I could have avoided being attacked by a wooden box, I would have."

Well, now is as good a time as any to ask.

"Yeah, I've noticed you've been a bit of a klutz lately."

For some reason, he seems irrationally pleased about this. Then - "Have I? Can't imagine why."

"Are you feeling all right?" I question, arching an eyebrow.

Then it all makes sense.

He's me.

Only a guy.

And older.

And more attractive.

The point is, he fancies someone!



"Harry...you fancy someone!"

He pales. "S-Sorry?"

Honestly, you'd think no one had ever said it before. I force myself to smile and look excited. "It's obvious, Harry...the tripping, the blushing, the klutziness...you put your elbow in the butterdish yesterday...so? Who is it?"

He blushes and then hedges the question. "How has Thomas been?" He reddens even furthur as I raise my eyebrows.


Does he mean...?

"Er - that is to say - How is Dean?"


"He's your yearmate, Harry," I point out. "You're in most of his classes."

He swears under his breath. "Yeah, but we're not close like you two."

I can't help the smirk, or the, "I should hope not!" that comes out of my mouth. I laugh. "Actually, Dean and I broke up."

"Oh, that's too bad," he mutters in a bad impression of someone sympathetic. "You must feel - er - badly."

"You don't do the after-breakup peptalk often, do you?" I ask, grinning. "Well, I did at first, but then I realized that I don't even really fancy Dean."

Hmm. Definitely didn't mean to say that.

"Oh?" He asks, looking interested. "Why'd you go out with him, then?"


Boys. Honestly.

"It's called a distraction. You see, I was trying to get over this other bloke that I'm madly in love with, but he's too thick to see it."

Note to self: staple lips shut!

His face falls a mile, which makes no sense. "Aw, I'm sorry, Ginny," he says gently. "Anyone would be a stupid idiot for not seeing that sort of thing. A bloke would be lucky to have you."

I feel a smile tug at my lips.

Is he this blind? "Yes," I agree. "Yes, he would be stupid."

As the idiot bozo that I happen to be in love with drifts off into his own demented little thoughts, I can't help but think about all the flowers and get-well cards that are littered across his bed. There's one here that says, Dear Harry Potter, I hope you get better because you are really good looking and I fancy you. But don't talk or look at me because if you do I might start blushing and stuttering. Get well soon! Love, Natalia Whitman.

At least mine sang.


I look up, still thinking about the card. "Hm?"

"Who is he?"

I frown. Natalia Whitman sounds a bit like a girls name to me, but maybe her - his? - parents have a sick sense of humor or something... "The guy you like, I mean."

I put my hand over my mouth so that he doesn't see my smile that is screaming - Harry Potter's a stupid dolt! Harry Potter's a stupid dolt!, because that would be horrible for his self-esteem. "Oh, you know him," I tease. "You know him very well. He's a good friend of yours, actually."

Harry's jaw drops and I wince inwardly. Here we go... his jaw drops. "Dear Merlin - you fancy Neville?"

I burst out laughing. "No, you prat! Not that there is anything wrong with Neville," I add hastily, "but Luna would have my head if I went after him. No, no, it's someone else."

He scowls, pouting slightly. "Why can't you just tell me?"

"This is more fun."

"Uh-huh." There is a pause and I turn back to my thoughts about the get-well cards. I fancy you..."Seamus, then?"

I absently shake my head. Don't talk or look at me because if you do I might start blushing and stuttering... "Ginny, I don't know very many people that well. And all my roomates have been listed, with the exception of Ron, and I'm assuming you and he don't - well - unless there's something I should know..."


That is possibly the most disgusting thing I've ever heard in my entire life. Me and Ron. Ron and me. My brother.


"No!" I yelp vehemently.

His eyes fall on my head and they don't leave. I fancy you...Love, Natalia Whitman.

She's braver than I ever was. I could never write 'love, Ginny.' I think mine went something like, his eyes are as green as a fresh-pickled toad...

"Right. Right - well - someone younger then..."

I resist the urge to tell him that his a thick prat and deserves to be bashed into a wall for his stupidity. Repeatedly. "No, not younger. Not older, either." If that doesn't tell him, I will personally shave his head.

Don't ask.

"So he's in a different House?"

I can only gape.

Is he genuinely this stupid, or is he just trying to annoy me?

"Harry, you are a thick, thick prat, you know that?"

He blinks at me, seeming surprised. (Idiot.) "Er - sorry?"

"You haven't listed someone in your year."

He frowns in thought.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

My eyes linger to one of the get-well cards, because I cannot handle thinking about his utter thickness.

Harry Potter, get out of that hospital bed, you great idiot! Don't you dare think about staying in there for weeks, you giant terd, you aren't escaping classes that easily! No way, mate. Get the hell back into our dormitory. It's eerily silent without you and Ron bickering.

All I have left is Neville, mate. Neville. Don't get me wrong, Nev's great, but really. Honestly. The poor boy can't even brush his bloody TEETH correctly. This is not a good sign for his sanity.


P.S. And don't say, "You've got Dean." We're fighting. Well - we're fighting because Lavender and Parvati are fighting and since they're our girlfriends...you know.

"Can't think of anyone that I missed," he says thoughtfully. "So it must be another House. Ravenclaw? Hufflepuff? Oh - please don't say Slytherin."

I gape woefully at him, because there must be laws against this level of idiocy. There must be. "What?" He snaps, slightly miffed at my incredulous stare.

"Okay, I'll give you a hint," I finally manage, exasperated. "His first name starts with an 'H' and ends with 'Arry', and his last name starts with 'Po' and ends with 'Tter'."

I'll bet you a galleon he doesn't get it. Just watch.

His eyes widen. "Harry Potter? As in - the Harry Potter?"

I grin. It's funny, hearing him refer to himself the same way all those first years do in the hallway. "Why, yes. That Harry Potter. Have you heard of him?" I ask wryly.

He chokes out, "Once or twice."

We sit in silence, and I feel myself starting to blush. Harry is staring out into space, this strange contortion on his face.

Oh, Merlin.

He's trying to figure out a way to let me down easy.

...Christ. (My apologies to all the Christians out there.)

How could I be so bloody stupid? I just ruined everything, didn't I? Here I was, thinking that he would love me back, that he'd grin, that he'd hug me - hell, maybe kiss me - tell me he felt the same - how could I be so stupid?

I get up in a rush, trying to get out of the Hospital Wing as soon as possible.

"Ginny? Ginny! Where are you going?"

I wince, although he can't see it, and turn slowly, sighing. "Well, you didn't say anything, so I assumed you don't really care that I'm in love with you, and therefore I decided to leave and save the last, minute thread of my dignity. Why?"

He gapes.

"You think I - I don't care?" He asks, his jaw dropping. "Are you mad?"

I sigh glumly and nod. "I guess so, because only a madwoman would think that you would actually return - "

"Ginny," he interrupts, "I've been tripping over myself and putting my elbow in butter dishes around you for a week. Or have you not noticed?"

My eyes dart to his. The green irises are laughing. "Wait - what - what do you mean?"

He grins widely. "Oh, just that I have been obbsessing over you for weeks now."

Euphoria. Pure, utter euphoria.

"It's weird, but I just - started noticing the little things about you - like the way your hair catches the sunlight, and how your eyes widen when your surprised and a smile tugs at your lips and..." He blushes, turning the shade of his lips.

And that's perfectly all right, because I'm officially allowed to say that sort of thing.

I beam, although smirking at his discomfort. "And?"

"...And - well - I mean, obviously I - er - liked those things..." He looks like he wants to dig a hole in the Earth and dissapear.

I laugh, in spite of myself, and throw myself on top of him. (In my defence, I'd been very upset, and he's just told me that he fancies me.)

(Only took him seven years, the git.)

(But I love him any way.)

"Oh, but you didn't say anything and I thought Hermione must have been wrong about you liking me and - oh! It would have been horrible, to think that I'd broken it off with Dean for nothing." He sends me that lopsided, happy grin and I almost swoon.

Almost. Lavender hasn't finished teaching me how yet.

No, I won't elaborate. It's highly personal.

"Truly tragic," he comments, his face straight. I nod in a most somber manner.

"Broke the poor blokes heart, I imagine," I intone sadly.

He smirks and tightens his grip around my middle. "Well, too bad for him, you're mine now."

That's too much.

Too much.

No longer can I refrain myself. No. Longer.

I capture his lips. Hungrily. Happily. Heaven. More complimentary words beginning with 'H'.

Honestly, I'm too happy right now to use my vocabulary. Go ask Hermione.

Although she'd better not know what it's like to kiss Harry.

I love him more every moment.

And I also can't breath. With an inward sigh, I pull away slowly.

I roll to the side, secured by his side because of his arms, and suddenly a slow smirk begins to cross my face. Because, when I think about it, it is pretty humorous. Harry James Potter saved my life twice!

Once from an evil madman, and once....oh, once...

...Once from a bookshelf.

"You know, no one has ever jumped in front of a bookself for me before," I muse.

"I guess I'm the first bloke that's not family to love you enough to jump in front of something so terrible and risk my very life for you." He shrugs, his eyes looking at me in mock-sympathy.

I laugh and stick my tongue out at him. Frog head.

Lovely, beautiful, kind, caring, brave, I'll-save-you-from-a-killer-bookshelf, froghead.

I grin at him. "Would you jump in front of a rebel magnolia if I asked you?"

He smiles, and then nods solemnly. "If you asked me to, then yes. I would jump in front of a rebel magnolia."

"The one with lots of vines and petals falling off?"


I smirk and take his face in my hands.

How sweet.

He loves me. He really, really loves me!

In my mind, I do the hokie-pokie as I turn myself around. Because that's what one does when one is happy, you know.

"My hero," I breathe, before covering his lips with mine.

I feel him smile.

Dean was a sweetheart, really. In that shy, you're-my-first-girlfriend-that-isn't-Parvati sort of way. Harry's entirely different. Harry's shy in that I-really-do-care-about-you-and-am-kind-of-freaked-out-about-it sort of way.

I love his name. Harry. Harry.


I sigh against his lips and make a mental note to get myself attacked by inanimate objects more often, if this is where it lands me.