AN: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters

"If there was a way…you would stay with me, right?" Ginny asked, holding Harry's hand lightly, afraid to exert any pressure, not just pressure with her hand, but pressure with her question. It felt like a small miracle just to be sitting with him, touching him. They sat on the grass in front of the lake on the far side, an area that few students went. Basic hook-ups stayed much closer to the castle; after all, you had to walk a fair bit with your partner to get to the spot, which would leave time for conversations better left avoided. Conversations like this one, Harry thought mercilessly.

"Of course I would Ginny, we've been over this a hundred times," he irritably turned away, taking his hand away with him.

"This has to be it then. You know that, don't you? You know that I cannot promise to wait for you. That I will have to live my life as if these weeks never existed?"

"You don't have to do that, Ginny. I'm not going away forever!"

"But you might die, right? All this, 'neither can live while the other survives business', I'm not stupid Harry. I've seen the looks Ron and Hermione give you, like you're a marked man, and the looks they give each other, like soon they could be all each other has in the world."

Harry looked down at his lap and began to pull out little strands of grass and toss them aside.

"Stop tearing up the grass and answer my question Harry," Ginny ordered, for a moment sounding so much like Mrs. Weasley he had to look up and smile. But at the sight of her tearful face his smile froze and he patted her shoulder awkwardly. He hadn't seen Ginny cry for herself before, or cry because of him.

"I am going to make you a promise, Ginny," Harry said solemnly, turning to face her and taking both of her hands in his. "I promise that today will not be the last day. I promise that I will hold your hands in mine just like this a year from now and I will ask you to marry me."

Ginny slowly broke into a grin and leapt into his lap and began covering his face with kisses.

"You know I'm not dying yet Ginny!" He laughed and pushed her away a little bit.

"This I will wait for," she gasped, out of breath with excitement. She ran a finger over his scar and he shivered involuntarily.

"I'm sorry," she apologized softly.

"No," Harry breathed, "That felt…" and he began to breathe more heavily as she wrapped her legs around his back and she tilted her hips backward and forward.

"Ginny," he whined, "You know we can't…"

"Why can't we?" She demanded, seductively running her fingers over his chest and down his sides.

"We shouldn't…that is to say…"

"What is the problem Harry?" She stopped in her ministrations and sat back to look at his face.

"I don't have the slightest idea what I'm doing," he admitted, going red.

Ginny shrugged and tossed her long red hair over her shoulder, "That is easily remedied. You've been my teacher before, I can be yours now."

"I like the sound of that," Harry agreed. And Ginny's lips were on his again, slow and sensuous and teasing. She pushed on his shoulders until he fell onto his back and she fell onto him.

"Are you nervous now?" She asked, running a hand up his thigh and then hovering over his package.

"Should I be?"

She shook her head, her tongue flirtatiously between her teeth. And then it was happening. She unzipped the fly of his pants and pulled them off. She unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her bra (knowing there was no possible way he'd be able to get it off). She leaned down over him again. He was staring at her breasts, speechless.

"You can touch them you know," she joked. He blushed and immediately cupped his hand around one.

She smiled and leaned over him again.