steady as the stars by lazyweekendmornings



Summary: The war is over and Ginny returns to school, but it isn't easy to pretend like everything is the same as before.

[sequel to 'all your fumble words']
Rating: R starstarstarstarhalf-star
Categories: Post-Hogwarts
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: all your fumble words 'verse
Published: 2019.11.11
Updated: 2020.07.01


steady as the stars by lazyweekendmornings
Chapter 1: i.
Author's Notes:

We grow, grow, steady as the morning
We grow, grow, older still
We grow, grow, happy as a new dawn
We grow, grow, older still

i.

The first Hogsmeade weekend goes about as well as Ginny could have hoped for, all things considered. Autumn is properly in the air, and a breeze flutters around the bottom of her jumper, lifting it slightly to expose the bare skin of her hip as she walks.

Hermione walked down with Dean and Seamus this morning, but Ginny and Luna had been busy in the morning beginning work on the Quibbler, student edition. So they set off at noon, cozy jumpers on and chatting cheerfully as they go.

“Filch was in a real mood this morning, wasn’t he?” Ginny says. Her wand is held tightly in her hand, but she relaxes her grip the further down the path they walk, the closer they get to Hogsmeade.

“Oh, yes. It was like he was stung by a Blibbering Humdinger, in a not very favourable place,” Luna says, serene as ever. Ginny wonders what it would take to get her to shout. “Which, maybe he was. We do have an infestation at Hogwarts, you know.”

“Yes, maybe, but we also have an infestation of dickheads, and he’s the leader of them all,” Ginny says. She bumps her shoulder against Luna’s, and they both giggle.

Luna’s wearing a set of neon green robes, which she’s matched with pink earrings that have feathers dangling off them, and a long golden chain around her neck that’s glinting in the dim autumnal sunshine.

“It’s a pretty necklace,” Ginny says, after a moment or two of companionable silence.

Luna lifts the pendant dangling off the necklace to show Ginny. She leans in to take a closer look. It’s not a pendant, after all: it’s a round, familiar looking coin. “The DA coin?” Ginny says, looking up and meeting Luna’s eyes.

“Yeah. It’s nice, isn’t it?” Luna says.

Ginny feels suddenly, inexplicably, close to tears. She looks away, up at the sun for a moment until the burning in her eyes subsides. “Very nice,” she says.

“I can make you one, if you’d like,” Luna offers. “That way you feel it right over your heart when there’s a message.”

Ginny nods. She doesn’t feel ready to talk, not quite yet.

Sometimes she thinks Luna is the only one who truly understands how it feels to be back at Hogwarts with her. Neville isn’t back with them, he’s with the Aurors and Harry instead, and no one else truly understands. Luna never talks to her about the Carrows, or the Malfoys, or the Lestranges, or any of the that. And on the rare occasion that she does mention it, it’s always calm and matter-of-fact. And she never probes Ginny to talk when she doesn’t want to.

“When are Quidditch tryouts?” Luna asks. “You won’t be able to report if you’re Quidditch Captain, will you?”

“I suppose not. Who will you ask to report it, then?” Ginny wonders. “Tryouts are next Saturday.” She’s very much looking forward to Quidditch tryouts, to being back in the air, to have something to take her mind off everything around her. It’s only been a couple of weeks since she’s last played Quidditch, but she’s been missing it every morning.

“I don’t know. We’ve got Anthony Goldstein doing the Ravenclaw tryouts,” Luna says.

Ginny thinks about it for a moment. “Maybe Demelza Robbins? She’s a decent sort,” she suggests. A sudden pang in her chest makes her skip a step and nearly stumble when she thinks of Colin Creevey. Ernest, wide-eyed Colin Creevey, who would probably have considered it an honour to be part of their publication, who would’ve taken pictures and written articles until his fingers were sore.

She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her today. If she didn’t know better, she would be looking around for Dementors. Her heart aches, as if there’s some sort of heavy weight on it, and even though she feels better and lighter the further away from Hogwarts they are, it doesn’t ease up.

It’s lunchtime by the time they reach Hogsmeade. The Three Broomsticks is crowded full of people, visible even from a distance. Ginny’s relieved they don’t have to go there; luckily, they’ve already made plans elsewhere.

“Let’s go to Ab’s,” she says. “Hermione and the others will be waiting for them there.”

Ginny’s been going to Hogsmeade for several years now, but the Hog’s Head has never changed in all that time. Neville’s told her about how they used it last year, when the remaining members of the DA went into hiding in the Room of Requirement and needed food, how Aberforth Dumbledore came through for them. It seemed as good a place to meet up with the others today as any.

For the first time that she can remember, the Hog’s Head isn’t vaguely abandoned-looking and abandoned looking. When she and Luna enter, she looks around. Immediately, she spots a table in the corner, half-hidden in the shadows. Ron and Hermione are sitting next to each other, Ron’s arm wrapped around Hermione. Opposite them, Neville’s sitting, sipping a Butterbeer and talking to–

Harry. Who’s next to Neville. He’s got purple shadows under his eyes, and his beard’s grown back in, a bit. His hair is even scruffier than usual, and his glasses are slipping down his nose as he gesticulates about something.

“Oh, there they are,” Luna says happily. She takes Ginny’s elbow and tugs her towards the table. The others look up at them, and they all let out cheers of greeting.

“Day drinking, I see. Always a good idea,” Ginny says, slipping into the seat next to Harry. Harry turns to look at her, and his bright green eyes light up.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

“Hey yourself,” Ginny says and grabs his Firewhiskey, takes a small sip and wrinkles her nose. God, she’s missed him. Once she’s swallowed her drink, she grabs the collar of Harry’s t-shirt and tugs on it, pulls him down, leans up to kiss him. He tastes like Firewhiskey and his lips are chapped against hers, but he rests his hand on the small of her back as he kisses her back and Ginny slowly starts to feel like things are right in the universe again.

“Don’t I get a greeting?” Ron says. His voice is teasing, and Ginny lifts her hand up to flip him off without pulling away from the kiss.

Harry moves back after a minute, gives her the sort of soft, fond smile he reserves for her. “Hey,” he says again.

Ginny returns his smile with one of her own, and then turns to look at Ron. “Hello, Ron,” she says with exaggerated sweetness, but her smile is genuine, despite everything. She has missed him. “Hey, Neville. I didn’t know you were coming,” she adds.

“Oh, Luna wrote to me, said I should join all of you for the first Hogsmeade trip,” Neville says. Luna’s settled down next to him.

“I thought it might be nice to see him,” Luna says with a half-shrug. “Hi, Ron, and Harry. It’s very nice to see you both again.”

“Hi, Luna,” Ron says. “How’s term been going so far?”

“Oh, you know. It’s been going alright,” Luna says. “McGonagall pretends not to notice when she sees me in the Gryffindor common room, which is nice.”

“You really shouldn’t be there, you know,” Hermione says. Ginny resists the urge to roll her eyes, but with difficulty. Hermione’s Head Girl streak rears its head at the strangest circumstances, honestly.

“We survived a war, Hermione, I reckon we’re past House rules now,” she tells her. She feels Harry’s arm wrap around her shoulder, his thumb rub at the faint scar on her shoulder.

“Well, yes, but we’re back at school now and we shouldn’t act as if we’re above the rules,” Hermione says. She’s got her worried face on. Ginny associates it with DA meetings and exam revision.

“If McGonagall’s alright with it, then I don’t think you need to worry, babe,” Ron says.

Ginny slowly turns, meets Harry’s eyes. Babe? She mouths to him, and Harry’s lips twitch.

“Anyway,” Ron continues, impervious to their exchange, “have you heard from your parents?”

Hermione nods. “Yeah, I’ve been writing to them. But… it’s taking a while. They’re still in Australia, owls take a while to reach and there’s no other way for them to reach me at Hogwarts…”

Ginny frowns. She knows that Hermione’s parents intended to come back earlier in the summer, in August, but they’ve been finding one reason or another to postpone the move for the past couple of months. It’s been weighing on her, Ginny knows. Sometimes, she hears Hermione crying in the nights. She never quite knows how to react.

Ron seems to deal with it far better than she does. He holds her even tighter, his forehead rumpled up with lines as he frowns.

“Do you know when they’re coming back?” Harry asks.

“They say they definitely want to be back for Christmas, but… I don’t know,” Hermione says. Her bottom lip trembles.

“Well, if they’re not there for Christmas, you can come stay with us,” Ron says with a small smile.

Hermione nods, seemingly cheered up by this.

“What about me?” Ginny murmurs to Harry, once the other four are immersed in conversation about, of all things, Mimblus Mimbletonia. “You haven’t invited me over to your flat to stay with you during the holidays yet.”

Harry chuckles, low. “Molly’s already told me that me and Ron and George need to come stay at the Burrow during Christmas. Besides, since when do you need an invite?”

Ginny considers. Fair enough. “Okay, but I’m coming to yours after Christmas.”

“Yeah?” Harry seems delighted. “George’s clearing up the office in the flat and moving it downstairs, to a room off the shop. So me and Ron get our own rooms soon.”

“That’s very convenient,” Ginny says, flashes him a smile, “given all of the things I hope we get up to.”

“Mm. Would kill the mood to have your brother around,” Harry agrees.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want him worrying about my virtue,” Ginny says, rolling her eyes.

“What about your virtue?” Ron says, tuning into their conversation.

This time it’s Harry’s turn to roll his eyes. “Nothing,” he says. “Let’s get some more food, shall we?”

*

“I think Robards is starting to trust me,” Harry tells her. They’re walking through the main street of Hogsmeade after lunch, just the both of them. His hand is soft and warm around hers, and it makes it easy to ignore the occasional glances passers-by give them. The cons of dating the saviour of the wizarding world and all of that.

“Well, he would be an idiot not to,” Ginny says, shrugging a shoulder. “You are the Chosen One. The Boy Who Lived. Witch Weekly’s third most eligible bachelor, as per their latest issue–”

“Alright, alright,” Harry says. His cheeks are tinged with pink, but there’s an amused twinkle in his eyes, glinting behind his slightly fogged-over glasses. “Who’s the second and first most eligible bachelor, then?” he says.

“Oh, that’s your first objection? Not oh, no, I’m not a bachelor, I’m dating a very attractive redhead, I shall be writing to the magazine immediately to rectify this error?” Ginny says, affecting a Lockhart-esque accent.

“Oh, I’m sorry. However dare they do this. Don’t they know my life revolves around whether Witch Weekly knows I’m dating you?” Harry says, deadpan.

“Of course. After all, what would your life be if you weren’t concerned about that sort of thing?” Ginny says, nudging Harry’s side with her elbow.

“Exactly,” Harry agrees.

“I think my brother beat you in eligibility, by the way,” Ginny says.

They’re walking close enough next to each other that she can feel Harry’s shoulder shake next to her, as if he’s holding back laughter. “Which one?” he says.

“George. Ron’s number four.”

“Should I be concerned about how well you know this list?” Harry asks, turning to grin at her.

A small chuckle leaves Ginny. “Oh, shut up. Parvati subscribes to Witch Weekly. She showed me her copy in the dormitory yesterday.” The seventh year girls’ Gryffindor dormitory has been expanded to accommodate both Ginny’s classmates and those girls in Hermione’s year who chose to come back- namely, Hermione herself, and Parvati. “It’s quite an interesting read, actually. I learnt a charm to curl my hair with my wand,” she says.

“Very useful,” Harry agrees, leaning over to tug playfully at a strand of Ginny’s hair. “Speaking of Parvati… How is Lavender doing, anyway? She was quite injured in the battle, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, she was. Spent the summer at St. Mungo’s. She’s not well enough to come back to Hogwarts, but Parvati says she’s doing better now, though. Needs to use a cane to get about, but I’ve heard she’s very excited about bejewelling the cane, so I think she’s making the most of a bad situation,” Ginny says with a small smile. “You know what’s odd? Her and Hermione are becoming quite good friends. They’re always writing to each other.”

“Really? Even after everything that happened with Ron?” Harry asks, seemingly incredulous.

“Well, I reckon the war’s changed a lot. Do you know Parvati now wants to be a Healer? She spent most of the summer with Lavender at Mungo’s, and now she’s decided she wants to do that full-time. McGonagall seems quite proud of her,” Ginny says with a smile.

“That’s… wow,” Harry says.

“That about sums it up, yeah,” Ginny says.

The war’s changed all of them, she thinks. Somehow, there seem to be more important things than crushes and exes and all of that now. It feels quite odd, being back at school now, not really caring about all of the things that she thought she would care about. The other day, her and Dean spent an hour in the common room, trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle where the corner pieces tended to go invisible at the oddest moments. It was only after she went back to bed that night that she’d remembered that she and Dean had dated during her fifth year. It’s all a blur sometimes. She and Dean are now just two Gryffindors doing their best to pretend it’s a normal school year.

She’s just trying to pretend it’s okay, being the only Weasley at school. She’s used to Ron being there, and before that, George and…

“What’s it like?” Harry asks, as if he can read her mind. Maybe he can. Maybe it’s another Chosen One power. Something to add to the myth of Harry Potter. Maybe that’s what Rita Skeeter will be reporting next. The Chosen One: Chosen to Kill Voldemort, Now Chosen to Read Minds? Something like that. More witty. Or — knowing Rita — less witty, more accusatory.

“Gin?” Harry asks after a moment. His voice is gentler than before, all note of teasing and mirth vanished.

Ginny blinks rapidly a few times. And then again. “It’s just… it’s weird. Sometimes I forget he’s dead.” She only realises she’s said it out loud when she hears Harry’s soft intake of breath next to her. “I’ll be talking to Luna about something, and then I’ll think, oh I’ll write to Fred and George about this, they’ll think it’s hilarious… and then it hits me all at once.”

Harry doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. He’s a soft, warm presence by her side, and she knows he won’t hold any of this against her, won’t think she’s any weaker for admitting it.

“When Sirius died,” he finally says, after a moment of silence, “I only realised just how much I missed him when I realised I didn’t have anyone to write to anymore.”

Ginny forces herself to take a deep breath. “I saw a first year the other day. Gryffindor. She came up to me because I’m Quidditch Captain. Said she was Muggleborn, she’d only learnt about the sport yesterday, and did I think she could try out anyway.”

Harry’s soft laugh is a welcome noise next to her. “What did you tell her?”

“I said she could try out, and she could come speak to me if she didn’t get on the team. No reason she can’t play for fun, right?” Ginny says.

“Course, yeah,” Harry agrees.

“Anyway. It reminded me that all of it… Fred, Lupin and Tonks… all of it was kind of worth it, right? Now Priya Iyer, in first year, doesn’t have to worry about Voldemort, doesn’t have to think too much about all of the people who think she’s lesser than just because of her parents…”

“And Teddy won’t have to think about it. When he goes to Hogwarts,” Harry says, and turns to look at Ginny. She turns as well, meets his bright green eyes. She leans up onto her tiptoes, presses a soft kiss to his lips before she pulls back.

“Yeah. Speaking of which, we should buy him a present. I don’t want him to forget me while I’m here,” she says, and laces her fingers with Harry’s, squeezes his hand. “Zonko’s do some pretty great toys. Besides, George told me to scope out the shop, see if it’s worth Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes buying it over.”

“Yeah, he told me he was still considering it,” Harry says, follows her as she leads the way over to Zonko’s. “Do you think Teddy’s old enough for a toy broomstick?”

“He’s only five months old, isn’t he? Maybe not quite yet. He isn’t even crawling yet,” Ginny says thoughtfully.

“Mm. Maybe for Christmas, then?” suggests Harry.

Ginny thinks about the look on Andromeda’s face if she saw Teddy, not even a year old yet, zooming around on a toy broomstick, just out of Kreacher’s reach. She can’t suppress a grin at the thought. “You know,” she says, “I think it’s an excellent idea.”

Somehow, they find themselves by the Shrieking Shack, after they finish all of their shopping. Ginny hadn’t been aware of them walking here, not exactly, but it’s quiet and nice out here, so it’s as good a place as any.

“When do you have to go back?” he asks her.

She doesn’t have to be back until the evening, and she tells him so. He uses his wand to conjure up a blanket, giving her a proud smile when he manages it on the first try, and spreads it out on the grass.

“Lupin came here. Every month while he was in school,” he says. She settles down on the blanket next to him, takes a sip of the hot chocolate she had bought at the Three Broomsticks just before they walked over.

“I know, yeah,” she says, and hands her drink to Harry. He takes a small sip of it, and she moves her hand to wipe the whipped cream off his lip.

“And Snape… he died here. In that room,” Harry says, pointing it out. “I saw it happen.”

“You... what do you mean? You never mentioned that,” Ginny frowns.

All of this time, all of the things they’ve said to each other, and there’s still things she needs to learn about him. Sometimes, when she’s in an uncharitable mood, she wonders if she’ll ever get the full story.

No, but that isn’t fair. He’s telling her now.

He wraps his arm around her, lets her snuggle into his side as the afternoon disappears into the evening and a cold breeze flutters the ends of her hair. He tells her about Snape, about everything that he learnt about him, everything that he went through. By the time he’s finished, the sun’s about to set. She rests her head on his shoulder, takes his hand, plays with his fingers as he finishes the story.

“And that’s what convinced me to go face Voldemort,” he says. His voice is hoarse from talking. His cheeks shine with tear tracks, and he’s holding onto her hand tightly. She wonders if he’s using her hand to anchor himself to reality. Maybe they both are, right now.

“And that’s when he killed you,” she says. Both of them are speaking quietly, barely loud enough to be heard, softer than the breeze in the air and the grass.

“Yeah.”

She rests her hand on his chest, over the scar she knows exists right over his heart. Another lightning bolt. “But he didn’t.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Another massive fail for old Voldemort, then,” she says. “The Prophet should rename you. The boy who refuses to die, no matter what.”

“Well,” Harry says, and there’s a wry tone of amusement in his voice. “I have been told that I can be quite stubborn, you know.”

“This feels like a breakthrough moment for you,” says Ginny. They both start to laugh, and it feels like a spell being broken. The weight in her chest finally eases up. She feels almost as if someone’s cast a Patronus or something. Merlin, she really has missed him.

*

They’re walking back towards the Three Broomsticks where she’s meant to be meeting up with Hermione and Luna to go back when it happens.

“It shouldn’t be too long, maybe a week or so,” Harry’s saying. He’s telling her about an upcoming trip away from London and the Ministry, how Robards wants the trainee Aurors to go to test their work in the field, away from their homes.

“Right, yeah–” Ginny says.

Right then, someone walks up to them. A tall, blond, and very conflicted-looking Malfoy.

“Potter,” he says, and then, as if only noticing Ginny, “and Weasley.”

Harry frowns. Ginny doesn’t need to look at him to know that he’s schooled his face into his inscrutable Auror look. “What is it, Malfoy?” he says.

Malfoy hadn’t been in school last year. Harry’s filled her in on his experience at Malfoy Manor, how Malfoy had refused to identify him. How his mother had lied about him being alive and not given him away. She knows all about how Harry testified in defence of Draco and his mum during the trials last summer, how it’s because of him that they weren’t sentenced to life sentences in Azkaban and Draco was allowed to come back to school, under strict probation.

That doesn’t mean she trusts him, though. As far as she’s concerned, just because he isn’t on Voldemort’s side doesn’t mean he’s on theirs. If there’s anything her dad has taught her, it’s that Malfoys only play for their own side. Always.

She can feel Harry’s fist clench around his wand next to her. He seems to feel the same way as her.

“I need to talk to you,” Malfoy tells him.

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“For Merlin’s sake, Potter,” Malfoy snaps. Business as usual, then. “I just need a word.”

“If this is a thank you for him saving your arse last summer, Malfoy, then you’re a bit late, don’t you think?” Ginny can’t resist saying.

Malfoy looks at her, and his eyes narrow, as if he’s about to say something cutting. And then, what’s truly the most confusing thing about this whole thing happens. He composes himself and doesn’t respond. He looks back at Harry, seems to compose himself. Takes a deep breath, and then says, with what seems like a great effort, “Potter. Please.”

Ginny’s eyes go wide. Next to her, she hears Harry’s sharp inhale of breath. “Okay,” he says, and his voice is slightly softer now. “Alright. You can talk to us. Is it…” he trails off. Ginny suspects he doesn’t know whether to ask Malfoy if he’s alright or not. She feels that way, at any rate; she’s not exactly used to caring about Malfoy’s wellbeing. Not that she does, not exactly, but… something seems off. The fact that he’s being polite is proof enough of that.

“I’d appreciate it if it could be alone, I–” Malfoy cuts himself off at the sound of approaching footsteps. Ron and Hermione are walking towards them, and Ron steps to Harry’s side instantly.

“What is it, Malfoy?” he snaps at him. Hermione looks a bit pale, but slowly steps up to Ron’s other side.

There’s a long moment of silence, that seems suspended in the air. And then, finally, Malfoy speaks.

“Nothing,” he says, and glances at Harry one final time. “Absolutely nothing. I’ll leave you to it.” With a weak approximation of his usual sneer, he walks away.

“That was odd,” Hermione says.

“Well, he’s an odd one, isn’t he? Always has been,” Ron says, but he and Harry exchange a look. Ginny brings her bottom lip into her mouth and nibbles at it. What the hell just happened?

“We should really be going back, Ginny,” Hermione says. “The last thing we need is a detention.”

Ginny exchanges a dark smile with Harry. “Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to be that scared of detention this year,” she says.

“You can never be too sure,” Hermione insists. “I’m Head Girl and you’re Quidditch Captain, we need to set a good example. I’ll see you soon,” she tells Ron. She leans up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and Ginny makes a show of glancing away.

“Bye,” she tells Harry.

“Wait. Hang on a sec,” Harry says, and takes her hand.

She follows him a few steps away to relative privacy. “I got you this,” he tells her, takes out a clumsily wrapped parcel from an inner pocket of his robes.

“What is it?” she says.

“Open it when you get back to Hogwarts, yeah?” Harry says. He leans down and kisses her, soft and slow. “I’ll see you on your next Hogsmeade weekend.”

“What if you’re on your week away with Robards then?” Ginny grumbles.

Harry gives her a grin. “I’ll sneak out,” he promises. She knows he doesn’t mean it, not really, but it makes her feel better just to hear it.

*

She opens it, once she’s back in the Gryffindor dormitory. Everyone else is still downstairs, in the Common Room, and it’s just her here.

It’s a mirror. A little handheld mirror in a slightly rusted silver. She picks it up and looks at herself, a bit confused. She supposes it’s pretty enough, as a present. She can see her face in it. Tired, dark-shadowed, freckled, brown eyes and red hair.

She picks up the small piece of parchment that came with the mirror, and she’s greeted by Harry’s messy handwriting.

Gin-

Sirius gifted me a mirror like this in my fifth year. He and my dad used to have a set of two-way mirrors, they used it to talk to each other. All you have to do is tap it with my wand and say my name, and you’ll be able to see me through the mirror I have. And it’s the same for me. Kind of like the DA coins, but we’ll be able to see each other’s face. Kreacher found another set of mirrors in Grimmauld Place and gave them to me last week. I’ve been waiting to give it to you ever since.

I miss you. Can’t wait to see you. If Hermione’s reading this over your shoulder, tell her hi.

Harry.

PS: Maybe consider Muffliato if you’re using this in the dormitory. Just a thought.

She read the note once, and then again, and then a third time to be sure. Her heartbeat’s racing, she notes absentmindedly. She can see Harry. She can talk to him. She doesn’t have to rely on Hermione’s letter charm to get letters to him.

She leans over, grabs her wand from where it’s lying next to her by the pillow. She taps the mirror, and then says, “Harry.” Will ‘Harry’ work? It probably won’t, right? Being specific wouldn’t hurt. “Harry Potter,” she says. And then adds: “Harry James Potter.”

“Why are you saying my full name like that?” says a familiar, amused voice.

Ginny looks down at the mirror. Instead of her own face, she sees Harry. Down to the pyjamas he’s wearing and the stubble dotted along his cheek and jaw. She feels suddenly like crying. She spent most of the summer spending every night with Harry. Seeing him like this makes her miss him even more than she usually does.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hey.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this before.” She makes herself comfortable, leans against the pillows. “Muffliato,” she adds.

“Oh, are the others around?” Harry asks.

“No, but it never hurts to make sure, does it?”

“Constant vigilance,” Harry says.

The corner of Ginny’s mouth twitches. “Has anyone told you that your Moody impression is alarmingly accurate?”

“Not as good as your Umbridge impression.”

Hem, hem,” Ginny says, and they both start to laugh.

“So,” she says, once both their laughter has died down, “What are you going to get up to tomorrow?”

They fall into easy conversation; it’s as good a way to end the day as any.

 

*


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