DISCLAIMER: Nonononononononono!

A/N: I love these...H/G reunion fic! Painfully, makes-you-want-to-floss-more-often sweet and fluffy, teeniest bit of angst, slight humor...Enjoy! :D


I wake when the moon rises.

The bed I lay in is uncommonly comfortable, but I figure that it is simply a lingering sensation of the fantastic dream I am still half-immersed in. I squeeze my eyes shut in a vain attempt to cling to it, because if I open them, I am positive I will be huddled in a thin, lumpy sleeping bag on a bunk in a tent that smells horribly of cats, wondering what the next step is and how I am to finish this.

Because it can't be over.

I hold my breath till it feels like someone is poking my lungs with a sewing needle. Finally, I let it out as quietly as I can, in little whooshes, and revel in the desperate feeling building in my chest as warm breath catches over my chapped lips.

"Just a dream," I whisper to myself. "Just a dream, like a million others I've had."

"Is it?"

I let out a strangled cry, because that voice allows a whisper of hope to creep into my mind that I know I cannot afford.

"Yes," I breathe. "Yes. Go away. You aren't ever real."

A soft giggle, and an unbelievable inhale of honeysuckle.

"You really do think you're dreaming," she murmurs, mirth and delight entering her voice.

"'Course I am," I mumble. "Now go away! Why can't I just damn stop dreaming about you?"

"You dreamt about me?" she asks in wonder.

"Obviously. I am now, aren't I?"

"No," she states firmly.

"Yes, I am," I protest.

She sighs. "Open your eyes."

"No. I don't want to see you."


Dammit, now she sounds sad!

"Because I miss you, and it hurts!" I whine.

"So, open your eyes!" she repeats as though what I'm saying is ridiculous.

But its not.


"You're not real. It'll only make it worse."

"You know that's not true."

"Witch," I grumble. "I don't believe you."

She laughs again, and I almost lose it.

"Come on," she wheedles. "Open your eyes. It's not a dream."

I hear a rustle of fabric, and feel her long hair brush over my face. My eyes flutter, but don't open. She leans over and I can feel the heat of her body press into mine. Her lips brush mine lightly, and she runs her nose over my cheekbone.

"Please, Harry," she pleads, pressing a kiss to each of my closed eyelids. "Please..."

Slowly, against my own will and better judgement, my eyes open and she's there, leaning over me. She'd cleaned up since the battle, and now wears a pair of old jeans and one of my T-shirts. (So that's where it had gone! I could have sworn it had been clean the day Ron, Hermione and I had left.) Her hair was loose around her face, and still slightly damp from a shower.

"Ginny..." I breath, reaching up to wrap an arm around her waist and press a hand to the small of her back.

"Do you believe me now?" she gasps out as I pull her down on top of me and the quilt of my old four-poster.

"Not really," I confess, kissing down her neck. How come I'd never been able to do thisin my dreams before?

As her hands fist into my hair and I pull her lips to mine, I groan, "Convince me..."

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