Disclaimer: I own nothing; it all belongs to J.K.Rowling. I’m just borrowing the characters to play with for a while. This is for pleasure only, no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Harry was released from the hospital, despite Madam Pomfrey’s objections, on the morning of the Leaving Feast. The Hogwarts Express would be returning them all to London the next day. He had spent the vast majority of the past week sleeping. He was incredibly frustrated with his exhaustion, despite Madam Pomfrey’s assurances that it was a good thing. She said the only way for his magical energy to restore itself was through sleep, and his body would demand it.

The most exertion he had managed was brief strolls across the room to use the loo. After that, he always needed a nap. The feeling that everyone was still keeping things from him annoyed him. Whenever he finally got someone to open up and talk, the exhaustion would always win out, and he’d fall asleep before he got any real information.

He did learn that there had been another casualty within the Order. A young Auror named Simon Duffy had given his life in the battle to rescue Harry and Ron. Harry had never even met the man, but he added his name to the list in his head. Two more people who had died so he could live. His guilt was compounded by the fact that when he first heard about it, he’d been relieved it was a stranger and not someone he knew.

He hadn’t been well enough to attend the quiet memorial services the Order had held for either Simon or Jonathan. The loss of Jonathan hadn’t fully hit him yet, but he knew that over the summer, when he started looking over the notes on Old Magic that Jonathan had begun, he’d feel the sorrow in force. For now, he was feeling sort of numb.

His bruises had begun to fade, although the color was still vivid around his ribs. He was tempted to try a simple spell to test his magic and find out just how drained he was, but Madam Pomfrey’s warnings that it would delay his full recovery held him back. He hated feeling so helpless.

After being released from the hospital and painstakingly making his way back to Gryffindor tower with the help of his friends, he was surprised to discover the rest of Gryffindor House waiting for him. An impromptu party commenced, with Harry propped on the couch at the center of it all.

Ginny sat with him, holding his hand and soothing away his anxiety about being the center of attention yet again. He still hadn’t had a moment alone with her since waking up, and he desperately wanted to talk to her before they went home. She noticed when he began to tire and got Ron to help him up the stairs to the dormitory, where he’d fallen asleep quickly.

Ron and Hermione left the Room of Requirement and headed back to Gryffindor tower. They’d left the party in full swing after Harry went upstairs for a kip. Hermione had wanted to gather a few more books on Old Magic to take home with her to study over the summer. Professor Dumbledore had told her she could use whatever she needed as long as she kept him informed of her progress.

She walked quietly with Ron by her side. Their relationship had been tense and strained since Ron’s return from Malfoy Manor, where he and Harry had been held. She had been going spare while they were missing. She just couldn’t forgive herself for being so completely taken with Professor Trent. She’d believed in the woman. Now, in hindsight, she could see that it had more to do with being on the right side of an argument with Ron than with being logical. If she hadn’t been so stubborn, this whole mess might have been prevented.

Professor Trent had been Narcissa Malfoy almost the whole time. She should have noticed that. She should have seen the odd behavior between Trent and Malfoy, and the way Malfoy acted like such a petulant baby around her. Of course he did; she was his mummy.

Malfoy. She was having trouble accepting the fact that Ron had killed him, never mind the toll it was taking on Ron. Although he tried to make everyone believe he was fine and handling it okay, she knew better. He was tense and volatile, easily set off and quick to lash out, even more than he normally was.

He was distant and evasive, reminding her oddly of Harry. She’d tried to get him to open up and talk about it, but it only made him angrier. He just wanted to brush it all under the rug and pretend it hadn’t happened. She was really worried about him; this wasn’t the Ron she was used to handling. She hoped being back with his family at Grimmauld Place would help; certainly, Mrs. Weasley would notice the subtle changes. Hermione was planning on doing some travelling with her parents this summer. They wanted some time together, and she couldn’t deny them.

She was worried about Harry, too. She just couldn’t understand Dumbledore’s insistence that he be sent back to the Dursleys. Harry was in rough shape, he could barely stay awake for more than a few hours, and the Dursleys certainly wouldn’t help him at all. He was shaky on his feet and startled easily; she didn’t think it was fair to poor Dobby to make him handle everything alone.

She was so lost in her thoughts, growing angrier by the minute, that she didn’t realize Ron was huffing to keep up with her angry stride.

"Hermione," he panted. "What’s the hurry?"

"I’m sorry, Ron," she said as she slowed her pace. "I’m worried about Harry. He still doesn’t look well, and I don’t think putting him with the Dursleys is a good idea."

"I know; Mum’s having a fit, too. I think she sent Professor Dumbledore a Howler. Ginny has been owling Bill on nearly an hourly basis with instructions on things to watch out for."

"Well, I’m glad Bill will be keeping an eye on things. Did Ginny tell him to try and cause as much commotion in front of the neighbors as possible? That it might be the only way to convince Mrs. Dursley to go to Grimmauld Place?"

"Believe me, Ginny’s told him."

"Every year we send Harry home with those people emotionally wounded. This year, his wounds are physical, as well, and I don’t think Dobby is enough against all of them."

"Hermione, Dobby can handle much more than Harry and the Dursleys. He’ll make Harry take care of himself better than anyone else could, because Harry won’t have the heart or patience to argue with him. He can handle the Dursleys, as well. He put up with the Malfoys for years," Ron said.

Hermione quickly glanced at Ron’s face. It had gone dark and stormy; the blue of his eyes was nearly black with intensity. His pace picked up, and it was now her turn to try and keep up with him. He barked the password to the Fat Lady, and they entered the still-crowded common room. She followed a silent Ron up the stairs to the sixth year boy’s dormitory.

Ron pushed open the door to his room to find Ginny sitting on a chair next to Harry’s bed, where he lay sleeping peacefully. She had a Quidditch magazine in her hands and was flipping through it absently. She looked up as they entered.

"Hello, you two," she said, disdainfully throwing the magazine aside. "He has absolutely nothing to read in here."

Hermione smiled in agreement and sympathy. "He’s still asleep?"

Ginny nodded as Harry rolled over and sat up. "No, he’s not. How can a bloke get any sleep around here with you lot constantly in and out?" he asked grumpily, although the mischievous twinkle in his eye gave him away.

He looked wan and battered. The bruising on his face showed up starkly against his pale skin. It made him appear extremely delicate, although Hermione was wise enough not to say that to him.

"Get some sleep?" Ron asked indignantly. "Harry, all you’ve been doing for the past week is sleeping. Aren’t you bored with it yet?"

Ginny scowled fiercely at her brother. "Ron! The only way his magic can restore itself is when he’s sleeping. Leave him alone." She stood up and marched right over to where Ron stood, stopping in front of him and snarling like a lioness.

Harry grinned in amusement. He fleetingly thought that his masculine pride should be ruffled by her protectiveness, but he had to admit he enjoyed it. No one had ever defended him quite like Ginny. His mind was brought back to the time in Flourish and Blotts, before second year, when a pint-sized Ginny had defended him to Draco Malfoy with all she was worth. It was the first time anyone had ever stood up for him like that.

Harry reckoned that his own masculinity couldn’t be offended as he watched his best friend, who was at least a foot taller than his sister and easily outweighed her, as well, cringing beneath her fury and backing away from her. He held his arms up to ward her off in his own defense.

"Take it easy, Sis," Ron replied. "I’m just giving him a hard time. He doesn’t expect anything less."

Harry was grinning at Ron. "Sod off, Weasley."

"Boys!" Hermione muttered under her breath. "How are you feeling, Harry?" she asked.

"Okay, I suppose. I’m sorry I missed this past week and all the free time. I would have enjoyed spending some time down by the lake before I had to go back," he answered honestly.

"I wish you were coming straight to Grimmauld Place with us," Ginny said, biting her lower lip. Harry clasped her hand in his own.

"It won’t be for long."

"Harry, I know Professor Dumbledore believes you need to be with your aunt for the protection it provides, but what about protection from them?" Hermione brought up the subject that had been plaguing her since Christmas.

She watched as Harry’s face closed off, and he rested his head back on his pillows wearily. She knew he was going to try and avoid this, but she wasn’t going to let it drop.

"Dobby can keep an eye on things," he replied, averting his eyes.

"Harry, let’s drop the pretense. We all saw their behavior at Christmas. Your uncle was going to hit you, and I don’t think it would have been the first time."

There, the elephant in the room had finally been acknowledged. There was a tense silence as they all held their breath and stared at one another with wide eyes, waiting to see who would speak first.

Harry’s eyes flashed angrily for a moment, and then the fire seemed to go out of them entirely. He began studying the blanket on his bed as if it were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen, picking at a stray thread absently. "I don’t want to talk about the Dursleys," he said softly.

"I know you don’t, Harry," she said, pressing him more than she knew she should. "But I think you need to talk about them. They don’t deserve your protection."

Ginny sat down on the bed next to Harry and gently ran her fingers in his hair. He leaned his head toward her touch and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

"I’m not protecting them," he said, sighing. "It is what it is, and I’ve survived for fifteen years. One more month isn’t going to kill me. Dumbledore doesn’t even believe we’ll be there for a whole month."

"But, Harry, you shouldn’t have to survive it. It isn’t right, and you should never have to go back to something like that every year."

"Look, it’s nothing. He gets angry sometimes, that’s all. He hasn’t really been physical in a very long time."

"Are you listening to yourself? It’s not ‘nothing’. Hasn’t really been physical. So, how old were you when it started?" Hermione was really getting angry now. Ron’s eyes were wide and panicked. She could tell he both wanted her to stop before setting Harry off, and continue because it needed to be said. "You could get the Muggle authorities involved; there are laws against this sort of thing."

"No. Hermione, stop. I’m not getting into this with you. It’s not a good situation; I’ll give you that. They’ve never really wanted me there, but they took me and gave me shelter when I needed it. I’ll be seventeen soon, and none of it will matter anymore."

"Oh, Harry," she cried. "Why won’t you stand up for yourself when you’re so quick to stand up for everyone else?"

"My ‘saving people thing’, you mean?" he asked angrily.

"No, Harry, your humanity. Why don’t you think the same common decency should apply to yourself?"

Harry closed his eyes again wearily; she could tell he just didn’t have the strength to argue with her. "I need to go to the Owlry and clean out Hedwig’s cage before we leave, and I won’t be able to use magic."

"I’ll do it, mate," Ron volunteered. "I need to do Pig’s, as well."

"I’ll go with you, Ron," Hermione said. "We’re not done talking about this, Harry." She’d let him off for now, but she fully intended to bring it back up. She leaned over and kissed his head to lighten her words as she followed Ron from the room.

Harry and Ginny watched as the two left the dormitory. Harry breathed a huge sigh of relief and sank back down into the comfort of his bed.

"She’s only saying it because she cares so much, you know," Ginny offered. "We all do." As she leaned over, one strand of hair pulled loose from her ponytail and fell across her face. Harry absently brushed it back, rubbing it between his fingers and enjoying its softness. He’d thought he’d never get to do that again.

"I know it," he replied. "I just don’t want to get into it with her. Do you know this is the first time I’ve been alone with you since I got back?" His hand was still playing with her lock of hair.

"Harry, really. We’ve been together in the hospital wing all week."

"That’s hardly alone. Everyone was in and out of there constantly, and Madam Pomfrey never stopped pouring potions down my throat."

Ginny giggled and climbed onto the bed next to him. She leaned in close to his ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and whispered huskily, "Exactly why did you need me alone, Mr. Potter?"

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise as he became aroused. At least that still works, he thought wryly. He moved away from her slightly to cover his awkwardness and turned his head to face her. "I wanted to tell you something."

Ginny’s eyes widened, and her breath hitched. "What’s that?"

He could read the apprehension on her features and wanted to allay her fears. He took her hand in his own and began quietly, hesitantly, "I needed to thank you."

Ginny looked confused. "Thank me. For what?"

"When…when Voldemort was trying to destroy my mind, and I managed to drive him out…it was with a specific thought. That thought not only saved my life, but it somehow hurt him, as well."

Ginny was barely breathing as she prompted him to continue. "A specific thought?"

"Uh, huh. Jonathan kept giving me instructions, telling me to think about the people I care about. It was hurting Voldemort somehow. After I realized that, I thought of you."

"Of me?"

Harry’s heart was beating painfully in his chest; this was it. This was the moment he’d been waiting for since he’d been locked in that awful cell. Why was he suddenly so afraid to say it? He again reached his hand up to play with that stubborn lock of hair that had fallen back onto her face. Merlin, why is this so hard?

Tears had come unbidden to Ginny’s eyes as she rested her forehead against his. Gently, she caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. "Harry, you daft prat."

It took a minute for her words to register, and when they did he blinked in confusion. "Huh?"

She smiled, keeping her forehead pressed to his own. "Harry, I’ve loved you for so long now, I can never figure out how you don’t see that. When you said you needed to talk, I thought we were about to get into another battle over your nobility complex. I was certain you were going to try and push me away again. Instead, you tell me you love me." Her voice broke on her last sentence. "You never cease to surprise me."

"I’m never going to push you away again, Ginny. It was because I love you so much that I managed to stay alive. I need you, Ginny. I’m going to miss you so much this summer."

She smiled brightly. "Oh, I won’t be too far. Bill is staying with Mrs. Figg, and I’ve already seen to it that the Floo connection between her house and Grimmauld Place is open. I plan on spending some time in Little Whinging this summer."

Harry grinned broadly. "Seriously?"

"I wouldn’t joke about something like that, luv. I don’t trust that either my brother or Dobby will look after you properly, so I’m just going to have to check on you myself," she said, reminding Harry vividly of her mother.

"I’ll just have to suffer through it, then," he joked, and she slapped his arm.

"Prat! If you promise to keep telling me you love me, you won’t be able to keep me away."

Harry’s cheeks tinged a bright pink, showing up starkly against the paleness of his skin. He looked down as he whispered, "I do love you, Ginny Weasley."

"Then why are you so embarrassed to say it?" she teased.

He shrugged. "I don’t know. It feels strange to say. I’ve never said that to anyone before."

Ginny’s eyes flew open wide, and all the color drained from her face so her pallor matched his. "Oh, Harry," she cried, flinging herself around his neck. "That makes it all the more special that you’d say it to me." She sniffled against him, and he patted her back awkwardly.

"Ginny, I thought it was a good thing."

She kissed him soundly on the lips. "It is a good thing. I’m going to go take a shower and get ready for the Leaving Feast. Do you need any help to do the same?"

He raised one eyebrow and asked, "Are you volunteering?"

She slapped his arm again but grinned widely. "Prat! I could get Ron to go in and help you."

He grinned back. "Thanks, I’ll pass. I can manage. Meet you in the common room."

Harry and Ron went down to the common room together, but had to wait a while for Ginny and Hermione to come down from their rooms.

"Are you all packed?" Hermione asked immediately upon joining them.

"All set and ready to go," replied Ron.

The four Gryffindors headed down the stairs and entered the Great Hall, which was already filled to capacity with students. The food was already on the tables. Harry immediately noticed that the wall behind the teacher’s table was draped in black rather than the House colors.

His mind was brought back to his fourth year, when the same thing had happened. Then, it was in memory of Cedric Diggory. This time, it was for Draco Malfoy. He felt his stomach clench, not knowing what he was supposed to feel. Malfoy had been a Death Eater. He’d tried to lure Ginny into a trap, one that probably would have got her killed. He succeeded in abducting both Ron and himself from the castle and turning them over to be tortured. Still, he didn’t deserve to die. Harry could never wish that on anyone.

Harry glanced over at Ron. His friend had gone very pale and sat down heavily. Harry knew the kind of guilt that was eating away at Ron and wished there were something he could do. Ron had no choice. He’d been defending both himself and Harry; what happened was a tragic accident. He also knew it would take Ron a while to realize that.

The food was splendid, as always. Harry’s appetite hadn’t completely returned, but he managed to put away quite a hefty helping. He couldn’t help but notice that it was Ron this time who only played with his food. Hermione must have noticed, as well.

"Ron, why aren’t you eating?" she asked. "Don’t you feel well?"

"I’m fine," Ron answered shortly.

"Well it isn’t like you not to be wolfing down seconds or even thirds at this point, and you’ve barely touched what’s on your plate."

"I said I was fine, Hermione. Just eat your dinner and mind your own business," he snapped.

Hermione’s eyes brimmed with tears, and she quickly looked down at her plate.

"Ron!" Ginny scolded, glaring angrily at her brother. "She’s simply concerned; there’s no need to snap."

Ron viciously stabbed at a potato but didn’t look up.

"Just leave it alone, Gin," Harry said, knowing from experience that the more everyone pushed, the angrier Ron would get. Harry usually responded the same way.

He’d hoped to get a moment alone with Ron before the term ended to see if he wanted to talk about what happened with Malfoy. Watching Ron now and seeing his frustration with Hermione, Harry knew he wasn’t ready yet. If there was one thing about feelings that Harry wasn’t clueless about, it was the need for space and time to clear things in your own head before you could talk about them.

He could wait for Ron; he’d want to talk about it eventually. Ron was always the one who gave Harry the time he needed; he never pushed him to talk and didn’t let anyone else push him, either. It was Harry’s turn to do the same for Ron. He just hoped Hermione would wait. She could always set Harry off with her need to push and logically analyze everything. She was used to yelling at Ron and having him yell back. He suspected they’d work it out – they always did – but it might get ugly for a while first.

Ginny scowled at Harry, but dropped it and returned to her own meal.

After a few minutes of silence, Ron reached over and squeezed Hermione’s hand. "I didn’t mean to snap. Let’s just have a good final night, all right?"

Hermione looked up and smiled weakly. "Right, then."

Harry was enjoying himself more than he’d expected to, despite Ron’s obvious gloom. He was glad to be back amongst friends and would sorely miss Hogwarts by this time tomorrow. He was growing tired and struggled to keep his eyes open. He had to catch himself several times as his head began to nod forward.

The food was sumptuous, and when the plates were cleared, Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet and held his glass in the air.

"So, the end of yet another year is upon us. Alas, where does the time go? It does not seem all that long ago to me that I was a student here."

He allowed the chuckles to titter around the Hall before continuing.

"As I’m certain you have all noticed, we are mourning the loss of a fellow classmate. Draco Malfoy chose to side with Lord Voldemort." Gasps echoed through the hall at mention of the Dark Lord’s name, but they quickly ceased and a pin dropping could have easily been heard in the expectant stillness. "Still, Draco Malfoy was but seventeen and should have had a wonderful life ahead of him. The return of Lord Voldemort has curtailed many of our plans and made us feel we need to put our lives on hold.

"This war is about choosing sides and standing up for what you believe in. It is about doing what feels right in your heart, over what you feel may be expected of you. Do not allow Voldemort to make those choices for you, or take any of them from you. You must live your lives – live them to the fullest – and take whatever happiness you can find from that life. You never know what might happen tomorrow; then again, you never will. Live your dreams, plan your futures, and when the time comes where you may need to make a choice, choose what will allow you to continue to enjoy that life."

Professor Dumbledore raised his glass and saluted the students, who raised their own in return. Harry noticed many at the Slytherin table drinking and toasting, as well. He saw Pansy Parkinson with tears streaming down her face, and he was reminded of Cho. Maybe it was just a pipe dream, but maybe Malfoy’s death had showed them all too painfully that there would be casualties on both sides.

Professor Dumbledore’s speech was sobering, yet inspirational, and made Harry raise his glass in a toast to the future. After everyone sat down again, he nearly laid his head in the pudding in his exhaustion.

Ginny giggled at him and tugged on his arm. "Come on, Mr. Potter. It’s time you went to bed before we have to levitate you up there."

He was too tired to argue with her. "Goodnight, Hermione. Night, Ron. I’ll see you upstairs."

"Bet you won’t," Ron called, and Harry was pleased. It was the first joke Ron made all evening. He was right, too; Harry wasn’t certain he could even stay awake long enough to get into bed.

Before they had left the room, Harry looked up to find the looming presence of Professor Snape blocking the way. The man had appeared like a bat. He looked as unpleasant as ever, but there was something else there, as well; something hidden and elusive behind his eyes.

"Mr. Potter," he said silkily, but even that seemed to lack its usual venom. "Off to see if there are a few more rules you can break before the year is done?"

"He’s not breaking any rules. We’re tired, and Madam Pomfrey told him not to overdo it," Ginny defended him fiercely.

"It’s okay, Gin."

"Yes, you are looking rather peaked. Be certain to head straight for your common room; I don’t want to hear that you were found anywhere else."

"Yes, sir…and…thank you," Harry said simply.

Professor Snape stiffened slightly, then nodded his head and stalked away.

Harry and Ginny made the long climb up to Gryffindor tower and through the portrait hole. She tugged his hand and led him up the stairs to the boy’s dormitory. "I’ll tuck you in. It’s the last night, and the feast is over, can’t lose any points, right?"

"I’m not complaining."

He took his pajamas and changed in the bathroom while she pulled the covers back on his bed. He lied down, and she tucked him in snugly, smoothing any stray wrinkles from the blankets. "Stay for a few minutes," he said.

She climbed in next to him and kissed him on the head. "You look knackered."

"I am, but this is nice."

"I’ll just stay until you fall asleep, then; I don’t think it will take very long."

"Oh, you don’t, do you?" His eyes were drooping as he snuggled in closer to her.

"Harry?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Things will be better this summer. At Privet Drive, I mean. You won’t be all alone this time. If things start to get to you, please talk to someone. Tell Bill, or Dobby, or…someone."

He pulled her closer and hugged her tightly, wanting to reassure her that he’d be okay. "Don’t worry, Ginny. I’m okay, and I know I’ve got you all to lean on if I need it. Besides, you said you’d be around a bit, right?"

"I will, as soon as I’m able; Ron, too. I know he’ll want to come."

"I think this summer won’t be so bad," he told her, closing his eyes again. He was startled to realize he meant it. Despite the fact that Voldemort knew the prophecy and was determined to eliminate him as a threat, he was calmer, clearer and more focused than he’d ever been before. He had his own family now, he thought, glancing fondly at Ginny, and no one was going to take that away. He’d fight and win for the life he wanted to have, it was within his reach, and he was more determined than ever that he was finally going to have everything he’d ever hoped to call his own.

Harry fell asleep with these thoughts and was never aware of Ginny kissing his forehead and securing the blankets snugly around him.

"I love you, Harry," she whispered as she drew the curtains around his bed and quietly snuffed out the light before returning to her own room.

A/N: I have a funny story for you. Way back in the earlier chapters, can’t even remember which one now; I went out one night and had a bit too much to drink. Now, I’ve got three kids, ages 2, 4, and 6, so I don’t get out much. Anyway, I’d been having a bit of a block with the chapter I was working on but got inspired really late after we got home. I started writing and actually finished up the chapter. The next day, when I read back what I wrote, I’d done the ENTIRE chapter in the wrong tense! It was pretty funny and I still catch a mistake now and then from it. So, go ahead and write when tipsy (the chapter came out well), but always check your verbs after you do!