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SIYE Time:0:31 on 29th March 2024
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Contagion
By melindaleo

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Category: Post-Hogwarts
Characters:None
Genres: Drama
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 207
Summary: Muggle and magical illnesses are separate. Until they’re not. Harry has always had a discernable enemy. This time, he’s fighting an invisible and indiscriminate threat. Part of the Cuts universe.
Hitcount: Story Total: 112531; Chapter Total: 2138
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
And there we go, they’re engaged! Ginny is sister to the twins, and honestly, I think most like them. I thought of George joking with Fred about feeling “holy” when he awoke after having his ear blasted off, and I wanted Ginny to have the same instinct with Harry. The story transitions into an investigation now. I was tired of the contagion – aren’t we all? – and I wanted to get back to what I enjoy writing most. Please take a moment to hit the review button and share your thoughts!

Thanks to my beta team, Sherylyn, Arnel, and Sue for all their help, advice, encouragement and words of wisdom when I was ready to move on.




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Chapter Twenty
Reunited



Harry stood in the grand entryway at Grimmauld Place, staring at the high marble columns and crystal chandelier. A grand piano stood solitary in one corner, and the ghost of a smile crossed his face as he thought of Ginny’s determination to learn to play it before she became ill. The entryway was Harry’s least favorite room. His demon-decorator insisted he needed a spot to entertain guests that would compliment his status in the wizarding world, whatever that meant. He preferred the comfortable, lived-in feel of the rest of the house.

He couldn’t help but notice that the floor wasn’t gleaming nearly as much as it usually did, and there were traces of dust on the bottoms of the stately columns. Even the house missed Kreacher’s fond attention.

Harry crossed the room again, peering up the long, grand stairway, which remained silent and empty. The stairway was much wider here at the bottom, and thinned as it rose toward the other floors. Vivian and a team of Healers were upstairs with Ginny and Ron, and they’d barred entry to the others in the house. Harry had been free of his fever for over twenty-four hours now, and he was feeling really put-out that they’d all picked this time for their examination.

Hermione and George had both seen Ron and Ginny, but Harry had been banished from the infirmary for the entire duration of their recovery. He felt as if he could claw his own skin off because he was so eager to get up there. If they took much longer, he didn’t think he’d be able to stop himself pounding on the door and telling them to clear off.

Most days during the quarantine, he hadn’t bothered to dress in more than track pants and various T-shirts. Today, however, Harry had pulled on his favorite pair of jeans and a checkered turquoise button-down that Ginny had given him last Christmas. For some reason, he felt as nervous as a teenager on his first date. He’d even tried — unsuccessfully, his snarky mirror had told him — to get his hair to lie flat.

Hermione had said Ron’s memory still had blank spots, but he was better every time she saw him. He’d even walked around the room without any trace of difficulty. She’d said Ginny had only been awake briefly when she was inside the room, and she’d seem disoriented and confused still, although more present and aware of what was going on. Harry felt desperate to see for himself. He couldn’t stand the idea that any part of Ginny’s personality, or memories of the past they’d shared together, might be gone. He felt an overwhelming need to see recognition in her eyes. He couldn’t escape the nagging fear — a fear he hadn’t admitted to anyone — that she’d somehow awaken stuck in the past and forever see him as the young Tom Riddle from the diary.

He couldn’t do that to her, but the thought of avoiding her caused a physical pain in his gut. Merlin, he hoped she was all right.

Harry circled the entryway several more times before he heard voices and thundering footsteps clomping down the stairs. He turned and felt his own jaw drop at the sight that greeted him. This was not what he’d expected to see.

George and Ron — Ron! — stopped at the end of the stairs, arm-in-arm and smiling brilliantly, waiting for Harry to speak. There was something oddly familiar about the pair of them that he couldn’t place. Ron, tall and lanky — he’d lost some weight during his convalescence — with bright red hair and his face covered in freckles; and George, shorter, stockier, but just as freckly. Both of their eyes — Ron’s a brilliant blue and George’s a much darker brown — were lit with the same jubilance and mischievous energy.

They looked quite different, yet Harry’s mind had finally made the connection. He was reminded of Fred seeing them both there together.

Dropping all pretense of dignity, Harry moved forward and flung his arms around Ron’s chest, clapping him on the back, his own grin spreading to match theirs.

“Ron! What the— How are you? They let you out? Are you supposed to be out?” Harry asked, feeling more than ineloquent as his tongue tripped over his words.

“Cleared,” Ron said, beaming. “They did another scan this morning, and it showed no trace of the illness. I also have the antibodies that should prevent me from ever having it again.”

“That’s brilliant,” Harry said, unable to stop himself from scanning Ron’s body completely to be certain there were no ill effects.

“They said he had to take it easy for a few days, but filling owl orders is easy, so I’m putting him back to work straightaway,” George said, still grinning broadly.

“We’re on our way to use the Floo in the kitchen so I can speak with Mum and Dad first. I’m hoping she’s so happy to see me that she’ll bake all my favorite things,” Ron said, completely unabashed.

“Do you feel back to normal?” Harry asked.

Ron shrugged. “A bit out of shape, but the Healers said it’s from lying around so long. It’ll come back once I start eating regular and moving around, so I’m going to get started on the eating part first.”

Harry grinned. “So, it’s completely changed your personality, I see.”

Ron returned the grin. “I’m a new man, Harry,” he said. “They’re up there doing the same scans on Ginny now, but they said she’s further behind me, so don’t expect to see her released yet.”

Harry glanced up the stairs longingly. More waiting. “You spoke with her yesterday, though, right? How did she seem?” he asked.

“All right for just waking up from a coma,” Ron said. “How about you? I heard you weren’t well, either.”

“I’m fine,” Harry said, shrugging.

“His ailment left him quickly and succinctly under my expert care. I think, perhaps, I missed my calling. I make an excellent nursemaid,” George said, fluttering his lashes.

“You make an excellent pain in the arse,” Harry muttered.

“What’s that you say? You have a pain in your arse? Bend over, and let me see if I can heal that for you,” George said, reaching for him.

Harry pushed is arm away. “Knock it off,” he said whilst Ron roared in delight. Ron’s good mood was infectious, and Harry couldn’t help feeling energized by it.

“I’m going to call my folks, then I’m going to help George, and I want spend some time with Hermione. Do you want a game of chess tonight?” Ron asked, hopefully.

“Absolutely. Your ego must still be bruised from the thrashing I gave you the last time,” Harry said, grinned.

Ron looked puzzled. “What thrashing? What are you on about? You never beat me.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t certain if Ron really didn’t remember, or he was faking it, but it was too good an opportunity to take the mickey to let it go, regardless.

“Oh, I most certainly did. You can ask Hermione. Beat you, and good,” Harry said smugly.

Ron looked at Harry warily, squinting his eye as if sizing him up while judging if he was lying or not.

“What’s this? Ron’s chess abilities have suffered? Or is it just that Harry’s skills have improved exponentially?” George asked, rocking on his toes.

“All right,” Ron said, glaring. “The mail order is going to have to wait. Meet me in the sitting room in ten minutes,” Ron demanded.

Harry raised his hands in the air. “Uh, uh. Sorry, mate. I’m thrilled to see you’re feeling better, but I’m going up to see Ginny the moment those Healers come down. You’re going to have to wait,” he said, grinning.

Ron looked put out, but he must’ve known this was a battle he wouldn’t win. “All right, but you’re not getting out of it tonight. The Healers said Ginny would still sleep a lot,” Ron said, glowering as if daring Harry to argue.

“You’re on,” Harry said, grinning. “Now go talk with your parents. I think Hermione is still down in the kitchen.

Ron’s countenance brightened immediately. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?” he asked, turning and hurrying toward the stairs leading down into the kitchen. George followed him, still grinning manically.

Harry shook his head, his own grin remaining. It was good to have Ron back. It wasn’t until seeing him now that Harry realized how much he’d missed him. If Ron was doing this well, he was even more eager to get upstairs to see Ginny. He wished they’d hurry up. He knew she wouldn’t be feeling as good as Ron appeared to be, but there was no stopping the hope blossoming in his chest and filling his whole being.

Harry continued circling the entrance hall, sliding as far as he could on his sock-clad feet in boredom until he again heard voices on the stairway. He looked up to see Vivian Scott leading two Healers and the medi-witch who’d only arrived that morning down the stairs. They were all still wearing their Bubble-Head Charms, however, dampening his spirits slightly.

“Mr. Potter,” Vivian said, nodding as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“Fine and fever-free,” Harry said. “How’s Ginny?”

“Miss Weasley is definitely on the mend. All her scans show improvement, although she’s still feeling weaker than she’d like. Mr. Weasley has been given the all clear and released,” Vivian said.

“Yeah, I saw him,” Harry said, unable to control his grin. “Is Ginny still considered contagious?”

Vivian paused, and both Healers pursed their lips. They’d never approved of his blatant disregard of their quarantine policy. “We don’t believe so, but feel it’s best to leave the precautions in place until we’re certain,” Vivian said.

“But you feel the Mandrake Draught was successful?” Harry pressed.

Vivian nodded. “We do. In fact, the first doses were given to those most critical along with Mr. Weasley, as you know. His remarkable progress has aided us in making the decision to give the Draught to all whose scans have shown positive. We’re on our way to see a few other cases, now.”

“And do you feel Ginny will make as complete a recovery as Ron has?” Harry asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Well, that remains to be seen, but we’ll monitor her progress. We no longer feel it’s necessary to have a round-the-clock medical person with her, but various Healers and medi-witches will be stopping by over the next few days to complete more scans,” Vivian said.

“And the Muggles?” Harry asked.

“The adaptation we’ve made to the Draught is being administered to their most critical cases as we speak. We’re still infiltrating their medical system, so it appears they’ve found the solution on their own,” Vivian said. “Why don’t you go up and see Miss Weasley for yourself?”

“Unspeakable Scott!” one of the Healers said, swelling with rage. “I really don’t think it’s appropriate to encourage this indifference of all our safety measures.”

“Really, Daniel, don’t we have enough to be getting on with? He’s going up there, anyway, and I believe Miss Weasley will benefit from his company,” Vivian said dismissively.

“It’s highly irregular,” the short Healer insisted, his eyes goggling.

“So is our Mr. Potter, and I’ve discovered irregular isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Enjoy the rest of your day, Harry,” she said, giving him a rare smile and leading her entourage out the front door.

It was only after they’d left that Harry registered the unusual use of his first name. It didn’t matter at the moment, however. He didn’t want to keep Ginny waiting a second longer, he thought, sprinting up the stairs. He stopped outside the infirmary door, taking a deep breath and trying to steady his ragged breathing. He didn’t want to alarm her into thinking anything was wrong. He decided to forgo the Bubble-Head Charm. Vivian had all but said it was no longer necessary, and Harry wanted to really touch her. He yet again attempted to flatten his hair before turning the knob, and pushing the door open.

Ginny sat in her bed, staring out the window. The sunshine streaming in caught the flecks of gold in her fiery hair, which was rather tousled from being in bed so long. She turned toward him as the door opened, and for a brief moment, Harry thought he saw recognition flare in her eyes before she slammed her hands over her face and made an odd, squeaking noise. Her whole body shuddered as she turned away from him, her hands still covering her face.

“Ginny?” he asked uncertainly, taking a hesitant step toward her.

Ginny squeaked again, peering over the rim of her fingers briefly before burying her face in her hands and hunching over. He could see her blushing right down to the roots of her hair.

What on earth was going on?

“Do you feel all right? Should I have one of the Healers come back?” he asked, his heart thudding. This wasn’t at all what he’d expected.

“I’m f— f— fine,” Ginny stuttered in that breathy, high-pitched voice. “You’re so kind to be concerned.”

She gazed up at him with stark adoration shining in her eyes, causing Harry to take a startled step backwards.

“H— Harry Potter is here to see me,” she whispered as if talking to herself in amazement. “I can’t believe it.”

The horror filling Harry along with his confusion made him grasp the doorway for something solid to hold onto. Had she lost all her memory of their history except for the very beginning? Was she locked somewhere back in time when she’d had a childhood crush on him? Did she really only know him from the stories she’d read as a girl, and nothing of the man he’d become? Nothing of all the hopes and dreams they’d had together? He was finding it difficult to draw breath.

Before he had too long to spiral, he caught Ginny spreading her fingers over her face to peer up at him, and she smirked.

She smirked!

Harry’s eyes widened in shock.

“Ha! Gotcha!” she said, grinning madly.

Harry was dumfounded. “This? This is your first thought to say to me from waking up from a coma?”

“Oh, Harry — the look on your face! I wish I’d thought to ask someone to bring me a butter dish,” Ginny said, as peals of the laughter he so adored shook her small frame.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Harry said weakly, stumbling over to the bed and sitting beside her.

Ginny beamed at him. “I didn’t plan it. You just walked in here looking so damned handsome, and my mind flashed on that first morning when you came to stay at The Burrow, do you remember? I came downstairs in my night dress, hair a fright, and there you were sitting at the table with my lame brothers, smiling that damn smile that could always pierce my heart. I couldn’t help myself.”

Harry leaned over, pulling her closer, and kissed her. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him in, and he completely lost himself in the kiss. It felt so perfect to have her back in his arms, he didn’t want it to ever stop.

Eventually the need for oxygen overcame them both, and he pulled back, drinking in the sight of her. He reached up and pushed a fiery lock of hair behind her ear.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers.

“I’m certain I’d have missed you, too, if I could remember it,” Ginny said, keeping her head pressed to his and smiling her brilliant smile.

Harry chuckled. “I missed us enough for both of us, then,” he said, pulling her forward and adjusting their positions so he could sit behind her, leaning her back against his chest, between his open legs.

“How scandalous! I’m certain those sour-faced medi-witches wouldn’t approve of this,” she said, snuggling up to him and showing she clearly had no issues with it.

“It’s a good thing they aren’t here, then. Tell me what you do remember. Do you feel all right? Does your head hurt?” he asked, pleased to note that although still pale, she looked loads better than the last time he’d seen her. His body shuddered remembering that awful stillness.

“I’m all right now,” she said, patting him gently, comforting him. She somehow had always been able to read him. “My head doesn’t hurt at all anymore, and I have bits of memories, mostly before I came in here, though. I was awful to you, wasn’t I?” she asked quietly.

Harry shook his head in denial. “No, you weren’t. You were concerned, as you had every right to be, and I’m glad you don’t remember losing yourself to it. It was terrifying to see you so changed, and parts of that lovely spunk and personality just slipping away.”

“Even if my first instinct was to prank you?” she asked, peering up at him.

“Ginny, I’ve always been well aware of exactly whose sister you are. The twins aren’t the only ones who enjoy a good laugh in your family,” he said, grinning. He was pleased to notice that in his delight at having Ginny back, mentioning Fred didn’t even twinge.

“And you’d best never forget it,” Ginny said, laughter bubbling up. “I heard you made yourself sick, and both Ron and Hermione were concerned with that invincible Boy Who Lived rubbish you were spouting.”

Harry scowled. “Ron and Hermione should mind their own business.”

“You are their business. They love you; we all do,” Ginny said, grasping his hand.

“And you’re my Chosen One, and I’m so glad you came back to me,” Harry whispered, kissing the top of her head.

“I’ll always come back to you,” Ginny said, and Harry noticed she sounded sleepy.

“I was so worried that I’d wasted too much time. I kept letting life get in the way. I want you to always know that you’re the most important thing in the world to me, okay? We always have to make time for just us, no matter how busy our careers, or life in general pulls at us. We missed our holiday, and we should’ve just left everything and gone immediately afterwards. In fact, I have something for you. I’ll be right back, all right?” he asked, attempting to shift her weight.

She wasn’t budging, and he realized her breathing was deep and slow. She’d fallen back to sleep.

Harry sighed. It was all right. He’d learned his lesson. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head and holding her close. He wasn’t about to let her go again.

/* /* /* /*



Movement brought Ginny to wakefulness, but she burrowed deeper into her pillow, trying to hold onto the last vestiges of sleep. The bed was warm and comfortable, and she didn’t want her rest to end it just yet. Gradually, she became more aware, and she remembered that Harry really had been with her, and it wasn’t just a dream. She must’ve fallen asleep on him. She sat up quickly, looking around, blinking the sleep from her eyes. He wasn’t there, but the warmth surrounding her let her know he hadn’t been gone long. It must’ve been him standing up that woke her.

Harry re-entered the room quietly, softly shutting the door behind him, then he started when he saw that she was sitting up on the edge of the bed, wide awake. His face brightened, and he put his hand in his pocket as he moved over to her, shaking his head.

“I was only gone for a moment. Figures you’d choose then to wake up,” he said, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. “Feeling all right?”

Ginny nodded. “What did you just hide in your pocket?” she asked, squinting as if that would help her see.

“What?” he asked, eyebrows rising. “I didn’t hide anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ron told me more of his memories kept coming back every time he slept. Are you experiencing the same thing?”

Ginny could see the clear outline of a small, bulky square in the pocket of his snug-fitting jeans, and her heart started thrumming madly. She’d long suspected what he was hiding in his sock drawer, although she was irritated by having to admit that before she’d become ill, she hadn’t been able to work out how to get past his various concealment charms. He’d learned some good ones after becoming an Auror.

“Yes, I find a lot of memories are coming back to me,” she said, trying to maneuver her head around so she could stare suspiciously at his pocket. He kept trying to shift his position to keep it out of her line of view, but she was having none of it.

She’d suspected that he’d had an ulterior motive for their failed weekend getaway, but was this finally the moment? She knew when she’d first realized she was in danger of succumbing to this disease, that her greatest fear had been forgetting him. She couldn’t remember any specifics from when she’d been really ill, but from what everyone had said, Harry had been stricken by all the memories she kept losing.

Neither of them wanted to lose what they shared.

Looking at him now, she could see the nervousness beneath his forced casualness. She’d always been able to read him. Did he really believe she’d say anything but yes? He was the only one for her. No one else had ever come close to making her heart thud the way he could. He both exasperated and charmed her — sometimes at the same time. There were certain expressions, or tells, that could cause her heart to melt. There wasn’t anyone else who simply understood her without the need of her having to explain how she felt. She sometimes thought he knew innately what she was thinking.

And she also knew that he felt the same way about her. They recognized similarities in one another — shared horrors that no one else could. They could laugh and joke about their implicit fears and anxieties, often using dark humor that would appall anyone else. Their connection might have been forged through the evil that was Tom, but Ginny took immense pleasure in how revolted the vile monster would’ve been to know he'd helped to create the loving bond between two of his victims. They’d not only beaten him — they’d beaten him with their love. She hoped that knowledge tormented him in his grave.

“Oh? And what is it you’ve remembered?” Harry asked. He was pacing along the side of her bed, and she knew he was trying to burn off some of his nervous energy without telling her the reason.

“I remember that I saw you hiding something in your pocket, and I want to know what it is,” she said, smiling happily. She felt a giddy sort of joy bubbling inside her, and she had to suppress the desire to laugh out loud. She was completely barking. Maybe something really was still wrong with her brain.

He sighed, his shoulders drooping. “You’re not going to let this go.”

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head forcefully and smiling so wide her jaw was beginning to ache. She could sense his capitulation, despite the fact his eyes were glowing with amusement

He pulled the small velvet box from his pocket, his finger running seductively over the top. Her breath caught, and her eyes were glued to it.

“Is this what you’re on about?” he asked, smirking.

“Is that what I think it is?” she gasped, heart hammering. She licked her suddenly dry lips.

“Ginny, please, I’m trying to do this properly,” he said, exasperated, as he knelt down on one knee and took her hand in his own.

“Of course, I’ll marry you,” she blurted, unable to contain her excitement. She squealed in delight and threw her arms around him.

He rolled his eyes, which were bright with merriment. “Can you at least let me ask you first?”

“Sorry,” she said, pulling back and arranging her face in what she hoped was a pleasant expression, sitting primly on the edge of her bed.

“Ginevra Weasley,” he began solemnly before quirking one eyebrow upward, “Whisky, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, my partner in this crazy life? There’s no one else I can imagine spending my eternity with other than you. You complete me.”

Ginny couldn’t contain her second squeal of delight, squeezing his hand in her own and bringing it close enough to kiss. “Of course, I will. There’s no one else I’d rather spend my eternity with, either. There’s no one else who gets me the way you do, who really understands me,” she said, her throat tight and her vision blurring.

“And you for me,” he said tenderly.

“We can be a club — those possessed by Voldemort and lived club,” she said, unable to control her giggles. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She was just so dizzily happy.

Harry shook his head. “You were easier when you were unconscious.”

Ginny threw her head back and snorted. “I love you,” she said, leaning over to kiss him soundly.

“Love you, too,” he answered when they finally broke apart. They stared at one another for a moment before he finally said, “Well, do you want to look at the ring or have you already seen it?”

“I haven’t seen it! I couldn’t get your damn drawer to open,” Ginny said, reaching for the box.

He pulled it out of her grasp. “What’s that you say? You couldn’t sneak around my protections?” he asked, his eyes alight with glee. “Say that out loud, please. ‘Harry, you outsmarted me.’ I need to hear it.”

Ginny frowned, but she really did want to see that ring. “All right. Harry, you outsmarted me for once. Now lemme see!”

Harry grinned. “As long as we’re clear on that,” he said, and opened the box. Inside sat a gorgeous round diamond set in a platinum channel setting with several smaller diamonds on each side. It was the loveliest thing Ginny had ever seen, and she gasped as he took it out of the box. Both of their hands were shaking as he slid it on her finger.

Ginny moved her hand closer to her face, examining the ring and enjoying the way the sunlight streaming in from the window made it shine. “Oh, Harry… it’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“You like it, then?” he asked, oddly vulnerable.

She nodded vigorously. “Did you pick this out yourself, or did you have help?”

Harry swallowed thickly. “I went into Muggle stores to look without being recognized. I liked the way this one had the smaller, protected stones meeting in that one dazzling explosion. At least, that’s what it looked like to me. That’s how it felt when we were finally able to be together, unhindered.”

Ginny couldn’t completely keep the sob from escaping before she threw herself in his arms, kissing him soundly. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, and she felt completely lost to all the pent-up desire and longing. It could’ve been hours; it could’ve been days for all she knew. Both of their hands began to roam as their passion intensified. Harry shifted so she was beneath him, and she suspected he was up for taking the snog a whole lot further, but she pulled back, panting.

He looked at her, his eyes dilated with desire, and reached for her again.

“Not yet,” she said, shaking her head. “I want to be certain it’s completely out of me, so I don’t chance passing it on to you.”

“I don’t care about that,” Harry said, nibbling on her ear lobe. It always drove her mad when he did that.

“I do. I care. I’m already trying to manage the guilt of what I’ve put you all through, of what I brought into this house. I can’t handle it if I give this to you,” she said imploringly. “I don’t care if there’s a remedy now. I have enough guilt to be getting on with. Besides, I promise to make it all up to you properly back in our own bed,” she said, lowering her eyelids.

Harry sighed, pushing up and sitting on the edge of the bed, breathing deeply, head bowed. She knew he understood the weight of guilt, probably more than anyone.

“Harry,” she said tentatively, touching the back of his shoulder gently.

“Give me a minute,” he said gruffly, still winded. “It’s been a long time.”

Ginny giggled. “Sorry, love — but you know you can use your hand for that in the meantime, right?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Ginny!”

“What?” she said, kissing him lightly. “Too much? Maybe a side effect of this illness is added cheek.”

“Oh, that’s all I need, an even cheekier Ginny,” he said, grinning. He moved back to the head of the bed, leaning against it and raising his arm so she could slide under and lie beside him. She snuggled against him, thrilled to have him there.

“You know,” she said, pausing for a moment, “we really can’t let the Dark wizards know that there’s no need to use Dark magic to defeat you. All they have to do is pretend to be a fangirl, and you’ll run away screaming.” She poked him in the side, giggling.

Harry shook his head. “Okay, I have a stipulation once we’re married. You can never pull a prank like that again. Leave fangirl Ginny in the past,” he said, smirking.

Ginny pursed her lips to the side, considering. “Okay, but I have a stipulation, too. You need to dance with me at our wedding.”

Harry looked puzzled. “Of course, I’ll dance with my wife,” he said, sounding rather offended, but she thought the pink that tinged his cheeks when he said wife was adorable.

“No, I mean a proper dance,” she said seriously, trying to keep a straight face.

“What? Like a waltz or something?” he asked.

Ginny shook her head. “No, not some stuffy old waltz. A tango. You have to learn to do a tango with me,” she said, her grin widening, the silly image of herself in a long white dress with a red rose clasped in her teeth blooming in her mind.

“A tango?” he asked curiously.

Ginny nodded, as if it had been decided. “Much sexier than a waltz.”

“A tango it is for our wedding, then,” he said happily, pulling him closer. “Our wedding.” He picked up her hand, and they both stared at the ring gleaming there.

“I’m going to be your wife,” she said, feeling a sense of awe and wonder.

“Until the very end,” Harry replied solemnly.

She kissed him again before a thought occurred to her. “Harry,” she said, pulling back.

“Yes?” he asked, sounding slightly disgruntled.

“Can we not tell the others yet?” she asked.

He cocked his head, looking puzzled. “What? You don’t want them all to know?” he asked, and try as he might, he couldn’t mask the hurt.

She shook her head vigorously, touching his face to soften it. “Just not now. I want to be able to walk downstairs with this beautiful ring shining on my finger and tell them with you. Can we do it together?” she asked. “Please?”

“Of course, we can,” he said, smiling softly. “I sort of like the idea of having you, me, and this secret all to myself for a few days. It’ll drive Hermione mad, you know. She’ll know something is going on.”

“Let’s let her stew a bit, then? For telling me you were sick,” Ginny said slyly.

Harry threw back his head and laughed out loud. “I love you,” he said happily.

“Love you, too, Mr. Potter,” she said, beaming.

“Are you going to call yourself Mrs. Potter, or stay a Weasley while you play?” he asked curiously.

Ginny looked scandalized. “I’m going to be a Potter, or course. I’m your family now,” she said firmly.

Harry had to blink a few times, and he swallowed heavily. She knew it was the one thing he’d always dreamed about — a family of his own — and she’d be damned if she wouldn’t give it to him.

“I’d like to see POTTER written on the back of your Quidditch robes,” he admitted softly.

Ginny grinned. “Oh, it’ll drive Ron and George spare. They like seeing WEASLEY there.”

“Ginny Potter,” he said, testing it. “Ginny Potter. Oh, I do like that.”

Ginny couldn’t help the blush she felt heating her face. “I have to admit that I may or may not have written that name — once or twice — in my youth — on various pieces of parchment,” she said, trying not to blush and laugh at the same time.

“Please tell me that’s not true,” he said, laughing as he shook his head.

“Honestly, Harry. I bet more than half of the Hogwarts population did that — male and female! Do you really think I was the only one brought up on stories of you? Hannah and I laugh all time about our silly, girlish fantasies. Susan Bones used to have pretend weddings with her Harry Potter doll. My roommate, Liz, said she had an entire collection of your story books on display in her room.”

Harry looked horrified, as if he wasn’t certain if she was taking the mickey again or not.

She laughed at his expression. “You were safe amongst the Muggleborns, at least, but only because they didn’t know your legend,” she said, snorting. “You were the closest thing the wizarding world had to a real rock star for the younger generation. Most of us were more than a bit enamored with you.”

“Please tell me you’re making this up,” Harry said, looking rather green.

“Nope. All true,” she said happily. “Of course, none of us ever knew how terrified you’d be if we showed you our affection. It really does shatter the image somewhat, love. Maybe it’s best if we keep that to ourselves.”

Harry shrugged. “Add it to the list of our secrets then,” he said nonchalantly, “When do you think you’ll want to do this? The wedding, I mean. It’ll have to be after the season, obviously.”

“Nothing is more important than you,” Ginny said firmly. “Everyone else can sod off. Besides, who knows if there’ll even be a season now. I bet the international teams will all be hesitant to play anyone on the continent. The wedding takes priority. We should decide if we want small and cozy, or if we want to have a big, splashy affair.”

“I want everyone to know I’m marrying the witch of my dreams,” Harry said, pulling her close.

“Oh, don’t say that to the press, Harry. Much too soppy. Save that for the bedroom, and I’ll reward you for it,” she said lightly.

“Promise?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course. Really, though. We should have our own wishes firmly in mind before everyone else gets involved,” she said.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

She kissed him on the nose. “You really are adorable. Never mind my mum, you’re the poster boy for the wizarding world, and I’m a fairly decent Quidditch player. People are going to want to come to our wedding.”

“You’re a spectacular Quidditch player,” he said.

Ginny smiled, feeling bolstered. “I love you so much, but I think our wedding should be for the people who really matter to us. What about a small service for the actual wedding, and a larger party for everyone else at a later date?” she asked.

“After the honeymoon?” he asked eagerly.

She laughed. “Yes, definitely after the honeymoon. A really long honeymoon, somewhere far away where the Ministry, the Harpies, and my family can’t reach us,” she said.

“D’you really think we need a second party?” he asked.

Ginny rolled her eyes, exasperated. “You’re adorable, but really thick.”

Harry frowned. “Whatever you say, dear.”

“Ooh, I think we’re going to be really great at this marriage stuff,” she said, snuggling closer against him. Coming out of a coma really had its perks.



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