Title: "Seeking Ginny"

Author: Casca

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Through Goblet

Classification: Post-Hogwarts H/G, Post-HBP AU

Summary: For years, Ginny Weasley has tried to bring to an end to her feelings for Harry Potter… she's even uprooted her life… but what happens when it's time to come face to face with him again? A post-Hogwarts tale revolving around Ginny's discovery of herself…while coming to terms with her feelings for Harry.…

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended

A/N: Hey, everyone. I know I haven't been as communicative as usual these past three months. The fact is that I've been simultaneously writing chapters 13 and 14. My plan is to have 14 finished before July 21^st, 2007, but I cannot and will not promise anything. All I can say is that the chapter is not very complicated. No huge plot. No complicated filler. It's all about the characters. And I have the best and easiest time writing just the characters.

As always, thanks to my naggers, I love you! And thanks, always, to Emmyjean.

One month. One month. I can't believe this ride is almost over.

Chapter Thirteen

It was a spring morning in Paris when Ginny awoke at five am. Though the creaks and groans of the old flat had been greeting her at the crack of dawn nearly every morning for the past three months, that particular day was supposed to have been a reprieve from rising early. Apparently, however, her body did not care that she was on holiday for the next five days and therefore did not have to rise for work. Having to wake at dawn every morning was beginning to ruin her chances of ever having a lie-in.

Shuddering at the thought, she decided that it was in her favor to allow herself a bit more sleep and nestled further into the blanket… and the heavy, masculine arm that was draped across her waist shifted. Something inside of her went very still.

"You don’t have to work today."

Christian's voice was a low rumble of French that brought her instantaneously down to earth.

"I know," she whispered back, and her own French was not nearly as natural as his. "Go back to sleep."

He tightened his arm. She closed her eyes. Somewhere in the recess of her mind she recognized that she should be comforted by the arm…and by the man that it belonged to. But in the first seconds of consciousness, his presence beside her did not serve as a source of comfort at all.

Sighing softly and closing her eyes, she knew it was futile. She could lie as still as a statue and completely give herself over to the fatigue…but she wouldn't fall back asleep. Especially when she was so very aware that she wasn't alone in this bed that wasn't her own.

A few careful seconds ticked by before she slowly slid from underneath his arm, ready to stumble into the kitchen to feed herself… until she caught sight of her face in the mirror. For a moment she stared at the pale, exhausted girl that looked back. It wasn't the first time her stomach had hollowed out from the sight of her reflection lately. Things were a bit…difficult right now. And it was beginning to show.

She went into the kitchen and squeezed between the cupboard and tiny table to fix herself a cup of tea. Her ears were met with the sounds of the last few embers crackling in the fire grate and the irregular drumming of raindrops hitting the window pane as she made her way into the living room to settle into an overstuffed arm chair. She pointed her wand to open the window a crack, muttering another charm to keep it in place.

The windows, like much of the stone dwelling, were so old they needed magic to stay put. The building of tiny flats was situated on a stretch of cobblestone that veered off from a back street in magical Paris. Though the place was very old and hadn't been updated in a while, and though it was rather hidden from the excitement of the city, Ginny hadn't particularly minded it when she'd first arrived in Paris. It was far better than living in the Ministry quarters with the entire division of her department, that was certain.

Fatigue pulled at her eyelids and she took another sip, her gaze landing on a long roll of parchment that was curled on the table beside a waxy candle. Absently, she Summoned the roll and used her fingernails to clean off the drops of wax that had dried on it, her eyes roaming over the words.

You are cordially invited to witness the joining of two people, Ronald Weasely and Hermione Granger, in the celebration of marriage.

She couldn't help the light from coming into her eyes nor the smile from pulling at her mouth. It was difficult to believe that in a few short days, her brother and Hermione would actually take the plunge. But it had indeed come together and Ginny was due home that weekend for the celebration.

A short while later, she heard noises coming from the kitchen and she smiled, able to picture his every action in her head. He'd fix tea, spread jam over a croissant, and balance everything on a plate to bring into the dining area. He never changed the time he began his day, kept his breakfast menu the same, and always made his way to the window, tea in hand to look out at the alleyway below.

As she watched him, a feeling of impatience began to grow inside of her. She knew it had nothing to do with him… but lately, it was becoming all the more apparent that she didn’t belong here. It had felt good to be hidden away at first but now… things were starting to change.

"The rain will not stop today," he said mournfully a bit later as he stood at the window, watching the drops beat against the window pane.

Ginny smiled a little, her eyes roaming over his tall form, lingering on the way his brown hair curled at his ears. He was handsome in a quiet, gentle way, very much like his manner… but the best thing about him was that he was familiar. She had clung to that when she'd arrived in Paris to find that not everything had remained so.

"You sound like a Seer," she commented, her voice hoarse with sleep as she sent him a tired smile.

Settling himself back in his chair, he set his tea down and lifted brown eyes to her. "Have you not packed yet?"

"No… not yet."

"Last night didn't prove to be productive, eh?"

Ginny shook her head. She had planned to use the evening to pack her overnight bag, but after nine hours submerged in cold, slimy seawater, the warmth of the fire and a cup of steaming chocolate had beckoned her instead.

"What time do you plan to set off?"

"I don’t know."

Suddenly restless, she stood and went to the window, opening it wider so that the sound of the rain and the breeze of dewy air came in to join them. She leaned against the wall, watching the raindrops drench the overgrown grass and splash onto the cobblestone path, as she reached absentmindedly to fidget with the pendant that hung around her neck.

"Nervous?"

She turned abruptly. "You know you ask too many questions in the morning?"

He took a slow sip of his tea, closing his eyes briefly as though to savor the flavor. "You'll be fine."

Ginny turned back to the raindrops and let them hypnotize her. A moment later he added mildly,

"That is… if you actually make it there on time."

She rolled her head to the side and gave him a look. "Oh, I'll make it on time," she threatened teasingly, "And you'll have to eat those words."

"I never said you wouldn't," he mused.

Ginny forced herself to begin packing and after a during a very rushed hour in which she cursed her lazy bum for not doing it the previous night, she realized that there wasn't as much time as she'd thought, and that she just might be the one eating her words. Finally, she sent her overnight bag flying into the living room, ready to go…but with the distinct and unsettling feeling that she'd forgotten something.

"You only think that because you packed in such a hurry," came his calm, reassuring voice which did nothing to soothe her.

"No… no, I've forgotten something and… bloody hell, I've no time to wait around and remember it! What is wrong with me, why couldn’t I have packed last night, why can't I have acted responsibly for once in my stupid, pathetic—"

"Stop."

She broke off as he took a step towards her.

"You'll be fine," he said in a voice that actually did remind her of a Seer. Quiet and reserved, he possessed a sort of all-knowing quality, giving off an aura that suggested there was much more to him than met the eye.

"Not if it's something important," she insisted. "What are the important things, then – my wedding gift, my undergarments, my—"

"Ginny." His voice was mere inches from her ear. "You need to relax. He respects you, right?"

Her insides tightened. "I have to go. Whatever it is, if it's important, I'll send an express owl, all right? You'll send it back?"

"I'll send it back," he said quietly, watching her with knowing eyes as she gathered her things. She couldn’t be around his eyes right now. She wrapped her arms around him to say a quick goodbye.

"Thank you," she whispered, to which he replied with a fond,

"Be good, eh?"

"I'll try," she laughed wearily.

And she began the process of Apparating home for the first time since she'd left.

~*~

Arriving at the Burrow in the middle of the night, with nobody there to greet her was a bit strange, especially since the three months she'd been gone seemed to evaporate the moment the dark kitchen came into focus. She tread softly up the steps to her bedroom, feeling as though she was merely Apparating in from a night out, and looked around her bedroom. It was still crammed with most of her things, further encouraging the fantasy that she still lived there.

One thing was different, though. A long, flowing article of clothing floated in the corner of the room, and she lit her wand just enough to see that it was the bridesmaid robes Hermione had picked out. She fingered the silky material as a little excited thrill came through her. Tomorrow was her brother's wedding. Tomorrow, she would finally have a sister.

She stumbled out of her jeans and pulled the Canons t-shirt she was wearing over her head, not even bothering to search through her bag for night clothes before collapsing in bed. She squeezed her pillow until it was just the right shape and reveled in the feel of her bed… and after what seemed like several heartbeats later, she awakened to voices.

From the way the sun was peeking through her white curtains, she knew it was morning. She lay in bed for several minutes, knowing that it was the only time she would have to herself before joining the chaos that, from the sound of it, seemed to already exist throughout the house.

Eventually she would catch up on sleep…hopefully….

But then she heard Fred's voice yelling up the stairs that he was giving Ron one final chance to make a run for it, and she found herself laughing out loud. Tired or not, she wasn't missing anything, and whipping the covers off, she flung herself into the fray.

There wasn't very much time for fun, however, and she found herself rushing back to her bedroom a few minutes later to use her most intense beauty charms to quickly fix herself, cringing every five minutes as her mother burst in and out to help adjust her dress robes. Her looks were not the focus of the morning, however, and she took her Maid of Honor duties seriously, attending to Hermione straight away.

But when she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror, she found a rather impressive reflection looking back at her. The pale yellow robes Hermione had picked out fluttered over her body and brushed her ankles gently, and the white and yellow daisies in her hair contrasted the shade of red rather nicely.

Considerably brightened that she didn't look like the walking corpse she'd come to know lately, she did a little twirl in the mirror.

"Have I mentioned that I simply love these robes?"

"Once or twice," Hermione answered with a smile. She was standing at the window in Ginny's parents' bedroom, watching the workers set up the reception in the garden. Her wedding robes were simple but elegant, and suited her perfectly. "So you're quite sure you know what you're to do, then?" she asked, and turned to Ginny with a worrisome look on her face. "I mean, you didn’t miss much at the rehearsal last night, but if you're not sure—"

"Right, that is most certainly not something you need to worry about," Ginny said, walking to the window to join her. She took Hermione's hands and played with the little diamond engagement ring on her finger. "I'll do fine. Everyone will do fine. You just focus on you. Nothing else matters, okay?"

"Okay… yes." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, almost therapeutically. "And you'll have Harry, he was there last night, you can ask him to run through everything."

"Of course." Her grin widened. "It's almost time. Are you ready?"

"I certainly hope so."

Ginny giggled. "Shall I go down and inquire when they want us, then?"

Hermione took another deep breath, then nodded. "I can use some alone-time, I suppose."

Happy to oblige, Ginny went downstairs to see how things were coming along. Hoards of people milled about, floating large trays of food or huge crates of flatware. She saw her dad streak past, issuing commands and ducked as a massive pile of linens hurtled towards the back door.

But in the midst of strangers and crates and things flying by, one quiet, unhurried scene stood apart from it all… and Ginny would have missed it had she not stepped on her dress on the way out the door and turned to fix it.

She hadn't seen him once all morning but she'd been very much aware of his presence simply from knowing that he was there, somewhere in the house. But he was before her now, crouched down in front of a patient Julian, carefully fixing his tie. The scene stilled her.

She hadn’t really wanted to think about what it would be like when they finally came in contact with each other this weekend. She hadn’t wanted to force any rules on herself. She was finished with rules and besides…rules would have demanded that she walk away from him. Rules would have kept her away from him until she was in the company of more people. Rules would certainly not have allowed her to step forward, and make her presence known.

Harry's eyes shifted – and they halted on her.

Heart pounding, she forced a smile. Suddenly, she was the girl who had poured her heart out to him and this was the first time he was looking at her. And from the way his entire body was completely still, she knew he wasn't going to be the one to bring them back to earth.

Somehow, miraculously, she found her voice.

"Hey… how are you?"

"Alright," he replied, his voice sounding strained. "You?"

"Fine… good," she nodded, and then she realized something. The tone of her voice changed when she spoke to him. It became softer, gentler… turned into something completely unique from her normal voice. She wondered that she hadn’t noticed this before now.

Julian twisted his head around to peer up at Ginny, then looked back to Harry, whose hands were frozen at the boy's collar. Harry turned back to Julian and peered at him in confusion for a moment. Then he asked,

"Is it okay, now?"

"Yeah, that's loose enough, I can actually breathe," huffed the freckled boy, rubbing his neck. "I think Mum was trying to choke me to death."

Smiling, Ginny crouched down to Julian's level. "How are you? Are you ready for your ring bearer duties?"

"Yes. I've been practicing all week."

"Well, that was good of you," she said, glad that he was actually speaking to her and not running away. Straightening his fringe, she took advantage of his rare politeness and asked, "Will you save me a dance later?"

To her absolute surprise, her young nephew nodded, then reached out and touched her hair.

"You look pretty."

Ginny blinked. For a moment, she could only look into his young, Charlie-like face… and then she completely was done for. "Why, thank you, darling." She kissed his cheek. "And you look rather handsome yourself."

To make matters even more confusing, he grinned at her before racing off into the living room. Still crouched on the floor of the kitchen, she stared after him, feeling as though somebody might shout out a vindictive "April Fools!" any moment.

"I'm… baffled," she said to the doorway and heard Harry breathe out a laugh.

"Perhaps he's… finally come to his senses, then?"

"Either that or he's planning on tripping me down the aisle and wants to throw me off by being polite," she quipped and, still lightheaded from the adoring attention of the six-year old, stood clumsily, stepping on the hem of her dress. Harry hurried to offer a hand, but she waved him off with a red-faced smile. "Thanks."

He cleared his throat. "Well…he'll have a difficult time tripping both of us. We're to walk down together…did Hermione tell you?"

"Yeah, she did. In fact, I'm supposed to ask you for instructions so that I don't make a mess of the entire wedding."

"It's not that difficult," he smiled. "We just…walk. And then you'll stand next to her, and I stand next to Ron during the ceremony."

"I think I can manage that," she said, nodding and inspecting her dress for any soot. "So…."

She trailed off, looking around at the workers bustling in and out before finally turning her gaze back to him. It was devastating to her heart how brilliant he looked… but there was something else. Not only did he look incredibly handsome in his dark formal robes… but he looked good. There was color in his clean-shaven face, and his eyes… there was no trace of exhaustion, no trace of anything deeper than a bit of awkwardness.

"Things are… good then?" she asked, her voice changing again.

"Er… they're okay," Harry said, then cleared his throat once more. "They are good, actually." And then he nodded, holding her gaze. "Better."

She hadn’t know about the weight on her shoulder…until he said the words and it vanished. She let out a breath and found herself smiling.

"Good…good, I'm glad to hear it."

He smiled back and nodded, still holding her gaze and for a moment, things changed between them. Something came into his eyes, something she recognized from that night in her bedroom, something quiet… something that caused all the chaos inside of her to slow down.

"How is Paris?" he asked finally and she stared at him without a thought on how in the world to answer. Should she tell him that she's lost there? That she has no idea who she was anymore? It was his eyes that did it… she couldn't look at them and lie, not ever again. So she pulled hers away.

"Erm… Paris is… well, it's Paris. It's beautiful."

There wasn't a single lie in that statement, she appraised herself. She saw him nod and the tension seemed to reappear during the silence that followed.

And then everything changed when the back door opened and one of the wedding guests came in. Ginny's eyes lit up. She felt a surge of love for Brian McGuire, whose timing had always been utter crap until this very moment.

"I've come to check on my date," he winked at Ginny and walked past Harry to pull her into his arms and kiss her lavishly on the cheek. "D'you need anything, love?"

"No, no, I'm… fine, just fine," she said, pulling back and glancing at Harry. "You both… remember each other?"

The tension in the room tightened but Harry nodded, and held out a hand for Brian. For a moment, Ginny's heart stopped… and then Brian accepted. They let go rather quickly.

As though Julian was wiser than his years and knew that a distraction was needed, he bounced in, his tie completely askew, and asked Harry to fix it again. Harry lead the boy into the living room none too leisurely.

Ginny grinned up at Brian. "I miss you."

"Likewise. You look absolutely stunning."

"Thank you," she said, and then she reached out and fixed the lapel of his overcoat. "Bri, for everything."

After their argument on Boxing Day, Brian hadn't said another word on the subject of her leaving. Ginny knew he didn’t agree with it, but she also knew that he wasn't the type to hold a grudge. He hadn't wasted any time owling her after she'd gone, and continued to do so almost as often as her mum. It was as though he was refusing to let her hide entirely and she felt an obscene amount of gratitude for it… especially since things were certainly not as simple with Sarah.

"A return compliment would be nice."

Laughing, she told him how brilliant he looked. "As always," she added with a wink. "I'm sorry, though, I can't talk to you right now. I've left the bride alone and before she comes to her senses about Ron and makes a run for it, I've got to find out when we're supposed to start and get back to her straight away."

Brian narrowed his eyes. "Have I told you recently to remind me never to get married?"

"Not in the last hour," she said, pushing him out the door. "Go. See you in a bit."

Just then, Emma rushed in, apologizing as she almost crashed into Brian, and told Ginny that the vicar had asked everyone to form the processional queue. It was a bit of a fiasco, gathering the bridal party, particularly because half of it consisted of Fred, George and a six-year old, but at last, everyone assembled in the garden and began to form the queue they had practiced. Just when Ginny was wondering where she was supposed to fit in, Harry appeared at her side.

"We're last."

They retreated to the back where Hermione stood in her white gown, eyes round and nervous, peering out over a bouquet of white daisies. Ginny gave her a beaming smile and reached out to gently fix the white veil that framed her face.

"Okay?"

Biting her lip in that insecure, but excited way of hers, Hermione grinned back, her eyes moving from Ginny to Harry. "I'm glad it's you two I get to see before walking down."

Ginny saw a grin come onto Harry's face as well. She turned towards the hedge, peering down to the lake where two columns of white chairs were set up on the bank, the open row between them leading to a glorious white archway twined with green ivy and white flowers. She could make out her parents and Hagrid's huge form, as well as a few others who were all seated…and at the very front of the aisle, under the archway, stood Ron.

Suddenly, her heart hurt. Her brother. Her favorite brother – she felt guilty for thinking it, but her heart knew the truth – was bloody well getting married. And to the smartest girl in the whole world. Grinning, she reached up to finger her pendant—

And her hand froze at her throat. Her neck was bare.

"Damn," she whispered, looking around and feeling her dress. Had she dropped it somewhere? Had she even remembered to put it on this morning? She felt Harry's eyes on her and she turned to him.

"Harry, I'll be back in two seconds, okay? I have to check something really quickly."

In her bedroom, the chaotic mess from dressing that morning greeted her and she looked at it frantically, not even knowing where to start. She fumbled through the clutter on her chest, took her entire bed apart, leafed through her handbag and satchel. But she knew that she wouldn’t find it, that the necklace from Auntie Muriel that she had grown so attached to was back in Paris… or worse, lost in an Apparition queue.

Feeling her wand inside the pocket of her robes, she thought of Summoning it in case it was close by… but if she had left it in Paris and her spell reached it, the necklace would never travel all that way and arrive in one piece… if at all.

"Ginny?"

She spun around. A heavy pressure began to bear down on her chest. Harry. He was standing at the threshold of her door with that same look in his eyes, only now… now they shined with worry. Now they looked even deeper into her than before. She turned away.

Her necklace had been around her neck the last time they had been in this bedroom together. Since then, that little red pendant had been both a cruel and amazing reminder of the courage it had taken to finally say the words to him. And now it could be lost.

"It's only that…they're waiting to start," he was saying, but the tone of his voice suggested that all she had to do was say the word and he would go down and delay the entire thing.

Ginny swallowed and nodded. "Right… sorry."

Putting the pendant out of her mind, she hurried to the door and Harry paused, looking down at her for a few seconds before finally stepping aside to let her pass.

It was a long moment before she heard his footsteps behind her.

~ One Month Ago

Ginny slammed the door to the flat, and the tiny living room came into sharp focus. Such a calm scene shouldn’t cause her blood to boil, she couldn’t help thinking, but when she looked at Christian sitting in that same chair by the fire, reading the same novel as last night, calmly sipping a glass of wine, she knew there was nothing for it.

Over the years, she had set up several rules for herself regarding Harry. There were many different types, but they followed the main theme of things that she should always refrain from doing. Like thinking about him. Or crying over him. Or – and this was most important – worrying about him.

But on the Apparition trip to Paris, with nothing to entertain her besides her own thoughts, she came to the erratic decision that she wasn't going to abide by any of those rules anymore. Were they really preserving her pride like they were supposed to? The little voice in her head tried to argue, but she didn’t listen. She was a bloody adult. If she could sacrifice things like friendships and her own business so that she could get over a man that she already knew she would never get over, then she could damn well admit that she had a problem. And the first thing she would do to fix this problem was to leave all the rules at home.

So she had. Since arriving in Paris, she had kept to her new vow faithfully. If she wanted to think about Harry, then she did. If she wanted to remember the last time he smiled at her, or be terrified that he wasn’t okay, or close her eyes and think about the way it had felt when he'd held her, then she let just closed her eyes and let it happen. And most of all she refused to be ashamed of any of it.

So when Christian looked up at her with that innocent, indifferent look in his eyes after she had spent two long and difficult months with her no rule policy, she couldn’t help the temper inside of her from positively bursting.

"Why did you do it?" she demanded, and her voice was shaking, her breathing heavy from running to the flat. "Why did—why did you let her go?"

There had been absolutely no movement about him before she'd spoken, but afterwards, something even deeper inside of him seemed to freeze. Their eyes locked and for that moment, Ginny saw what she knew was inside of him, what he hid so much better than she ever had.

"You—you were in love with her," she said finally, her eyes imploring, "I know you were, Christian, I saw it. I saw it because it was something … it was something that someone like me could see. You could have… you could have made her love you, you know. You never opened up to her, you practically hid from her, you never even… if you had just let her see you…."

Her breathing was becoming labored. With every word she said, she felt as though she was burying herself further and further under her own accusations. An awful, ugly silence settled into both of them. Ginny pressed her hands to her mouth and knew that even though she directed those dreadful questions at him… it was from herself that she was seeking the answers.

She turned towards the window, her eyes looking past what had become the perfect Spring evening. Earlier, the weather had inspired her. She'd gone to her bridge, thinking that this would be the night she finally mustered the enthusiasm to walk across it. But, no. All she could do was stand at the entrance and feel like she didn’t even know the girl who used to find such comfort in the solitude there. She couldn't imagine the sort of memories she would find should she venture across it. She didn’t want them.

Two months ago, she had sat on a stool inside the café, watching as Christian poured pomegranate juice into his cauldron, telling her that Aurelie was married… married, and living in Italy with her new husband. Ginny had sputtered and stammered, but it had done no good in trying to even remotely understand how, in six months, someone could meet a person, marry them and move to another country. But apparently, she hadn’t needed to understand a thing. Christian had been more than happy to calmly, and with a fond smile, tell Ginny the entire story.

"They met in Rome over a month ago. She married him three weeks later."

Ginny's mouth had fallen open unattractively. "They met in…hang on, three weeks? She only knew him for three weeks?"

"She's the spontaneous sort, isn’t she?" Christian had merely asked, showing no sign of remorse at all as he artfully added a dusting of ingredients to his cauldron. It had been like taking a step backwards in time, watching him mix his concoctions… and something inside of her had begun to hurt for him.

"But you—"

But she'd stopped. The wall had appeared instantly, that forced indifference that could block out any truth. It could have been herself looking back at her.

"You were always the voice of reason," she'd amended softly She had realized at once that his feelings for Aurelie were off-limits. "She used to listen to you—no, she did," she'd insisted when he lifted a skeptical brow. "Even if it didn’t seem like it. Didn’t you try and talk some sense into her?"

But Christian had given her a pacifying smile that cause Ginny to realize that no amount of talk would have changed Aurelie's mind… the girl had never listened to sense.

"I was going to ask her if I could stay with her for a few weeks," she'd muttered, staring down at the plate of food Pierre the chef had placed in front of her. "Until I find a place of my own."

Christian had looked up in surprise and she'd been once again faced with revealing the news of her new job. There'd been the questions in his eyes that he hadn’t asked. It hadn’t been long before that when she'd written him all the wonderful details of her new shop.

"Well…I've an extra room. It's very small, but there's a cot in there… you're more than welcome to stay with me until you find something."

Christian's quiet, unassuming voice from that devastating first day in Paris reached her as she stood before him in his flat, her face falling miserably at the horrible, painful look behind his eyes from her unwarranted attack.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry." She pressed her fingers to her mouth. "Christian, I am so sorry…."

"Does he respect you, Ginny?"

Her hands fell from her face. For a moment, she stared in confusion. "What?"

"Whoever he is… does he respect you?"

The blood rushed to her face. Never had she uttered a word about Harry, about anything surrounding him. But as Christian looked back at her, waiting for an answer, she knew it didn't matter. Of course he knew. Why did it always come as such a shock that the people around her knew exactly what was inside of her?

Does he respect you, Ginny?

An image of Harry's face came into her mind then. His green eyes were burning, his low, tortured voice reaching the very center of her.

"Tell me what to do…tell me how to make this right."

"Yeah—yes," she managed at last in a voice that was so soft, she wondered if he'd heard it. "He respects me." Her eyes were focused barely enough to register the dark jealousy in his.

"Well, she didn't respect me. I was next to nothing to her… a co-worker, nothing more. If I had told her my feelings, she wouldn't have taken me seriously. Certainly not as seriously as I would have needed." At Ginny's aghast look, he lifted a brow and leaned forward. "It's not in her nature to be understanding, Ginny… not when things don't benefit her."

Ginny tried to find the words to tell him that he was wrong… but all she could find was a nagging suspicion that there was a great deal of truth behind what he said.

"She had a good heart, Christian," she told him at last. "I can't think that she would have just … cast you aside without caring."

"I'm not saying that she didn’t care." He lifted the glass of wine to his lips and Ginny saw that his hands weren't completely steady. "But she had flaws that ran deep, and she illustrated them by chasing after the two things she deemed most important in life – the undivided attention of a man and piles of gold."

"Weren't you angry?" Ginny demanded, taking the seat across from him and leaning forward. "Weren't you furious with her?"

"Not really. I was mostly furious with myself for loving someone who could… who could do something like that. She said goodbye in a letter." He laughed dryly, shaking his head and running his fingers through his thick brown hair. "A letter."

"God." Ginny felt her blood boil again. She thought of Harry's tortured eyes when she'd said the words to him, the way he had sat across from her and stayed with her while she cried. He had been perfect, she realized, closing her eyes, almost feeling his arms around her, his fingers twining with hers. He had been utterly perfect to her.

When she finally opened her eyes and looked back at Christian, she became intensely aware that Aurelie wasn't capable of anything Harry had done for her that night.

"Didn’t you… Christian, didn't just want to just—"

"What? Make a fool of myself? Because that's what chasing after her would have accomplished. Look, you and I are different," he said with a smile. "You can stand up to him, can't you? You can look him in the eye and tell him what's in your heart." He lifted a brow. "What? I'm right… aren't I?"

Eyes wide, she stared back at him… and then she started to laugh. "For the love of Merlin, is there some neon sign around me that flashes all of my secrets to anyone who even bothers to look at me?"

"I didn't think I was 'just anyone'," he said, offering a smile that Ginny returned.

"No, you're not just anyone."

He nodded, looking at her closely. "I do know you." He heaved a sigh. "And I'm quite sure your plight is not so obvious to someone who hasn't gone through a similar thing."

She found a dry laugh. "I'm quite sure it is."

For a long time, there was silence, and then he asked, in a voice that was very soft,

"You told him?"

Ginny lifted her eyes. An uncharacteristic vulnerability had settled around him and she knew she would never forget the look in his eyes. He was intrigued, almost desirous, ready to devour her response and perhaps wonder if he could have done the same.

It was so unfair, she thought to herself. So bloody unfair that some people… people like Ron and Hermione never had to feel uncertain or ashamed about their feelings. Some people just fell in love and lived in ignorant bliss and others… others were left to wonder why they couldn’t find happiness where they loved.

"Yeah… yeah, I told him," came her voice, soft and distant and she elaborated because she knew it was something he wanted to hear. "You just arrive at a point where you can't hold it in any longer. You've spent years being angry at him, at yourself… ashamed… and you come to a point where you just… need to let go of it."

"And have you… let go?"

He asked the question with that same devouring look. He needed to hear what she couldn’t tell him.

"I don’t think I'll ever let go of him," she said honestly. "But maybe… perhaps letting go of the shame and the secret and… and everything else…will help me move on… right…?"

The fire in the grate crackled softly. Christian stared blindly at it, not even attempting to offer an answer. Ginny stood and went to the window, looking out to the blackness of the night. There was silence in the flat, until Christian spoke, his own voice sounding distant and unlike him.

"I came to that point. But I was afraid, you see. I didn’t show her that I could care about her like no one else could. I didn’t let her see that I was good for her …and that she was good for me. She made me laugh." He illustrated by chuckling softly. "But I was too afraid to do anything about it. I was afraid that she would reject me. Simple as that."

Staring blindly at him, the image before her eyes changed into one of herself. She was a teenager, sitting alone on a garden swing, trying not to watch Harry. He laughed with Ron and Hermione and Rebecca… and still Ginny sat alone, trying not to catch his eye, trying so goddamned hard to be invisible.

And then the image faded… and it was replaced with a much darker one of Harry and herself. She was kissing him in that black corridor and he was shoving her away, rejecting her kiss, rejecting everything she tried to pour into him. Rejecting her.

It was a moment before she realized that Christian was standing… and it took her even longer to realize that he was closing the distance between them. And suddenly, she knew the sensation of being seen… actually being seen for the first time. She had a fleeting view of his brown eyes… and then she was being touched… and held… and finally, kissed. Closing her eyes, she emptied her mind and her heart… and let him take what he needed.

~*~

The wedding reception was a whirlwind of dining, dancing and, in the case of most, drinking. The large tent was made from a lovely white fabric and was scattered with flowers, fairy lights and floating candles, but the two spotlights of the evening were the stocked bar that was set up on one edge and the large wooden dance floor that took up the middle.

Breathless from dancing three songs in a row, Ginny plopped down in a chair next to Brian, and promised, "Next dance is yours, I swear."

Taking a swig of his drink, he gave her a look from the corner of his eye. "If I'd have known I would have to share you with every bloke at the wedding, I would have reconsidered this date duty."

Because she was actually having fun, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "You'll have my full attention from now on."

"That's better."

They shared grins and chatted for a bit, their attention turning back to the dance floor every so often. Ginny sipped her butterbeer and watched her brothers make fools of themselves to an old Weird Sisters song, laughing as George twirled Sarah so many times that her smile faded and was replaced with a distressed look as she nearly collided with the couple next to her.

Things had been a bit awkward between Sarah and Ginny, but the cold shoulder she had expected to receive from her best friend had not made an appearance. Though she was dying to know how the shop was coming about, she hadn't brought it, or anything having to do with Paris up to Sarah during their brief conversation. She was glad that Sarah was speaking to her at all and didn’t want to bring up sore subjects.

George performed a complicated dip then, causing Sarah to nearly fall on her backside and Ginny laughed. It seemed that Brian was watching the same thing.

"Are they… together, then?"

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"Sarah and your brother. Are they going out?"

"Oh… oh." She began giggling and didn’t stop until Brian lifted an unamused brow. Sobering, she clarified, "No…no, they're not going out. George thinks of Sarah as another sister to torment, that's all. The twins have always loved taking the mickey out of her."

"Right," he said, but for some reason, her answer didn’t seem to appease him.

"Why?" she asked absentmindedly, taking a sip from her bottle. When he didn’t say anything, she glanced at him, but he didn’t return her look. In fact, he merely watched Sarah and George with a look in his eyes that caused Ginny to straighten.

"Brian."

He took a long pull from his drink and crunched on an ice cube, a habit she'd always found annoying. "What?"

"Why do you ask?"

Lifting his shoulder in a shrug, he replied, "Just curious."

But Ginny watched him with narrowed eyes until he finally looked back, lifting an eyebrow. "Do I have something on my face?"

"No."

"Then why are you looking at me?"

She considered him for a moment, then tilted her head to the side. "Why? Can't I look?"

His blue eyes sparkled. "You can do more than look, love, I've been telling you for years."

Smiling sweetly, she showed him her empty bottle. "I'll have another, thanks."

Rolling his eyes, he went off to the bar as the song ended to tumultuous cheers. George forced Sarah to take a bow with him and then the brown-haired witch spotted Ginny and hurried over.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, taking the seat Brian had vacated. "Your brother is absolutely mad,"

"Common knowledge," Ginny agreed. "Brian's getting a drink for me, d'you want one? I'll signal to him."

Sarah declined and when Brian returned with the drink, Ginny barely had the chance to thank him before he mumbled something about speaking to Bill, and walked away again. She watched him cross the dance floor, oblivious to the admiring gazes of several twenty-something girls Ginny recognized as Hermione's Muggle relatives.

Still preoccupied with Brian, Ginny sipped her drink and tried to focus on Sarah… but the only thing that came to mind as she sat next to her best friend was the little shop that she hadn’t had the heart to ask about. Abandoning any sense of pride, she cleared her throat and decided to take the plunge.

"Right, I'm just going to ask you and have done with it. I'm dying to know, Sarah - how is the shop?" She turned towards her friend eagerly. "How are things there, have we—have you been busy, are sales up, how is… everything?"

A helpless smile began to spread across Sarah's face. "We've been busy, yes. Things have been… really good there."

"Really?" Ginny asked. "You wouldn’t … you wouldn’t just say that, would you?"

"No, I wouldn’t. Sales are fantastic… and I've .. well, I've some new products that I'm working on…."

And just like that, Sarah launched into an in-depth explanation of product development. Incredibly relieved at first, Ginny listened to her best friend… but she was unable to help the nagging jealously from creeping in.

"Well," she managed, after Sarah stopped to take a breath. "I'm really happy to hear that. I just… I can't help but be really proud of that place." Then she rushed to add, "I mean I know I don’t have any rights to it anymore. But I… I'm just happy and relieved and… and really, really proud that it's doing so great."

"You should be proud," Sarah said quietly. "If it wasn't for you, it wouldn’t exist."

Ginny looked at Sarah for a long moment, then puffed out a breath. "You shouldn’t give me any credit."

But Sarah looked back at her with a raised brow, her eyes honest as always. "Ginny, I need to tell you that…that I'm okay with everything. No, don’t interrupt, I want to say this because… well, it's been weighing on my mind. You leaving… well, it was actually really good for me."

At Ginny's blank look, she hurried to say,

"Look, I'm not saying that I wasn't furious. I was. I'm probably still am…well… just a bit, in any event. It's only that when you left, I was forced into running the shop on my own and…d'you want to know what's really mad? I found out that I could actually do it!" She gave a little laugh. "I mean the twins are always in there, checking on things, and I couldn't manage without Rosemary, but… well… I dunno, it's a bit cool, isn’t it, that I was the one who was terrified of even opening the place and now I'm running it on my own?"

There was a pause and Ginny's voice sounded strange to her ears when she responded, "It's very cool."

Sarah gave a smile. "So… that's why I'm going to tell you that the shop will always be half yours… and that you're always welcome to come back and work with me again. You know… just in case you should happen to decide that… well, that Paris life isn’t for you."

Ginny looked down. Her constricted throat wouldn’t let her say much, but she did force a strained, "Thanks, Sarah."

"Your welcome," Sarah said simply and took the butterbeer from Ginny's hand to have the last sip.

"You cow," Ginny laughed, glad for the excuse to move things to a lighter note, "Now Brian will have to get me another. Don’t you have any pity for him and his poor tired legs?"

Sarah giggled. "That's all right, I'll just use it as an excuse to buy his coffee."

At Ginny's curious look, she explained,

"I always see him in that little coffee shop on Wellington. I stop there every morning before work and he's usually buying coffee, and he always ends up paying for my tea! I dunno how he does it, I think he knows the barista or he's arranged a signal with him – but that's stupid, why would he go to all that trouble just for my silly five-knut tea? I dunno, but the point is by the time I step up to the counter, he's already done it and—"

While Sarah continued to chat without taking a breath, Ginny's eyes found Brian, who was now speaking with her dad. The group of Muggle twenty-somethings had inched closer, but for some reason he wasn't paying them any mind. Something wriggly began to slither into her stomach and didn’t stop until she felt physical pain shooting up her arm.

Petite as Sarah was, she had an amazingly ironclad grip and exemplified this by nearly stopping Ginny's blood flow when she gripped her arm, her voice rising from its continuous stream to one of panic.

"Oh, no! Oh, no, here comes George, he'll want to dance again and I don’t think my back can handle it."

At this, Ginny turned to Sarah in exasperation, "Tell me, why on earth did you agree to come as his date?"

Sarah huffed out a sigh. "Because – well, remember that silly bloke who used to frequent the shop to buy things for his nonexistent girlfriend?"

Completely confused, Ginny nodded, thinking she should have known the query would result in another long-winded story.

"Well, I made the mistake of telling him that I had a wedding coming up and he came in every day after that, trying to flirt but he's so bad at it, honestly, and one day Fred and George were in there checking up on things, and George said that I should come as his date because he didn’t want to be tied down tonight and most importantly, didn't want to look like a loser with no date—"

"What a gentleman," Ginny interjected dryly.

"Well, Rosemary was insanely jealous, I think she fancies him, but that's another story—anyway, that odd bloke was eavesdropping and I wanted to get rid of him so I agreed to come with George and thankfully he hasn't stopped in since, so it worked and – no, I can't dance anymore, George, please—"

But her plea was not to be taken seriously. Ginny grabbed Sarah's arm and tried to hold her back, but George pulled the protesting witch onto the dance floor for more torture.

Shaking her head in laughter, Ginny wandered towards the bar and helped herself to another butterbeer, pausing to chat with some people she knew from Hogwarts. There was something distracting her however and when she spotted Brian, standing at the edge of the tent, now speaking to Charlie, still avoiding the Muggles, she knew exactly what it was.

"Hey," she said, sliding up to them, and slipping her arm through Brian's. "What are we talking about?"

"Grown-up stuff, wouldn’t interest you, Gin," Charlie said, trying to mess her hair, but she ducked.

"Speaking of grown-ups, it might be of interest to you that I just spotted your son with a wand. I dunno who he stole it from, but – "

She didn’t have the chance to finish as Charlie flung himself into the crowd without a moment's hesitation.

"Remind me never to have children, love," Brian merely said, taking a swing of his Guinness.

"Of course. Actually I was lying to Charlie, I just wanted to get you alone."

His eyes glinted even as he tipped back his bottle. "Is that right?"

"Mm-hmm. But only because I wanted to let you know that it might be of interest to you that there are several muggles of the female variety who might be very impressed with a little McGuire magic."

He shifted his eyes. "Is that so?"

"Oh, yes. And I'd like to say that I'm not the sort of date who will demand your undivided attention… you know, in case you feel the need to, ahem, explore additional opportunities."

"Wow," he said mildly. "Remind me to go on more dates with you."

She giggled. "Seriously, though, why don't you go talk to them? Have some fun?"

He lifted his shoulder. "Eh…"

"What's that? Eh?"

He made a dismissive gesture with his drink before taking another long swig. "Keeping things low key lately."

"Really?" she asked in surprise. That wriggly feeling inside her stomach increased. "Why?"

Another shrug from him and Ginny couldn’t help but frown.

"What's going on, Bri?"

"With what?"

"With you. It's not like you to keep things low key."

"Well, perhaps I'm getting tired of it all. Think about it. What'll happen if I talk to one of those girls? I'll spend all night trying to get under her skirt and when I do – which I know I will – there won’t be anything there that I haven't seen a million times."

She cleared her throat. "Right. Don’t mince words or anything."

"I'm trying to ask you: what's the bloody point? What's the bloody fun of it when it's so bloody easy?" And as though he hadn't said it enough, "Bloody, buggering hell, I'm bored, Ginny."

That wriggly feeling inside of her was turning rather solid. She couldn’t stop herself from blurting, "So you've decided you want to find something a bit more challenging, then?"

His eyes slid to hers, and he paused in the act of swallowing. Lowering his bottle slowly, he regarded her warily. "What do you mean?"

She drew in a deep breath. "I… have no idea. You tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Oh, I don’t know… perhaps why you pay for Sarah's tea everyday." At his impassive look, she continued, "Or why you're suddenly interested in who she's dating."

There was a momentary pause before a cool laugh escaped him. "It was an offhanded comment, love. Try focusing your detective skills on something that actually requires it."

She pulled her upper lip into her mouth and bit hard. "I'm right aren’t I? Bloody hell. I'm right. You—" she lowered her voice. "You've set your sights on Sarah."

"You've lost your mind," he said irritably. Ginny moved to stand in front of him so that he couldn’t walk away.

"Brian, I know you—"

"Apparently not—"

She grabbed his arm to stop him when he started to walk away. "We need to talk about this."

"There is nothing to talk about, Ginny," he warned, leveling cool eyes on her. "Drop it."

But she couldn’t drop it. She was panicking. "You cannot possibly think that she would be interested in you, Brian—"

He laughed again, but this time it sounded cruel. "Thanks, Gin, I knew I could count on you to point out the obvious."

"Bri, wait—"

"Drop it, Ginny. I mean it." And he stalked off towards the bar.

~*~

When Ginny went outside the tent for some fresh air, she saw that she wasn't the only one with the same idea. Couples wandered around hand in hand, and small groups of people lounged on the ground, talking and laughing. She inquired about the time from a nearby couple and almost goggled at the answer.

The night was almost over. It had gone by so quickly. Tomorrow morning she would have to begin the process of Apparating back to Paris.

Staring up at the Burrow as it towered against the night sky, she found her bedroom window. Despite the worry inside of her from her exchange with Brian, she couldn't held the warm feeling when she thought that there was still one more night left to spend at home.

Home.

Looking up at the white curtains billowing in her bedroom window, she was reminded of the day she had arrived in Paris three months ago. After unpacking her clothes in Christian's extra room, she had set out on a walk … and found herself staring up at the little flat she and Brian used to share. Paisley curtains had hung in the window, evidence that the place belonged to someone else and she'd left there with a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, suddenly anxious to be away from the blatant changes that insisted on welcoming her back.

At once, Ginny glanced back to the Burrow, to the white material that hadn't changed because she hadn’t wanted it to. There was comfort in knowing that some things stayed the same. Some things were solid. So was Paris, she thought to herself. With Paris, she just had to make the effort… but it would prove good in the end if she really tried.

Somehow, she had managed to wander all the way to the lake where the chairs and archway were still set up from the ceremony. She took a seat in the last row, picking up one of the leaflets that had been left behind and to give her hands something to do, she leafed through.

Thoughts of Paris brought Brian McGuire into her mind. It was very frightening, the idea that Sarah was occupying his thoughts… if that was indeed the case. She certainly was not going to allow him to entertain the idea for very long, in any event, but even as she thought about setting his straight, that wriggly feeling appeared again. It was giving her the notion that things weren't as simple as setting his straight… and that was an even more frightening prospect.

Preoccupied with her thoughts, it took her a moment to hear the footsteps behind her. She twisted her head around … and received the shock of her life.

It was Christian… and he was walking towards her as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Something reared up inside of her at the sight of him. Letting out a strangled noise, she stood and hurried to close the distance between them.

"Whoa," he said, after she'd flung her arms around him. "What a greeting."

"I can't believe you're here!" She pulled back to fire questions at him. "Did something happen? Is everything okay? The flat, did something—"

"Easy," he said in that reassuring voice, letting his hands fall down her arms to squeeze her wrists. "Nothing is wrong. I'm fine. The flat is fine—well, same as always, I don’t expect you'd call it fine, but…."

Ginny couldn’t help laughing as he stood before her, joking about his flat while the wedding tent and the Burrow stood in the background. It was as though both of her lives had suddenly merged into one.

"I just … I can’t even…how did you get here?"

He winced sheepishly at her question, and the reaction was so unlike him that her brow lifted in astonishment.

"I Apparated," he said simply, looking as though he didn’t quite believe it himself. "I just… I just Apparated and here I am." His grin was a wide, masculine smile that would probably cause half the women inside the tent to sigh, but Ginny burst into happy laughter, exclaiming,

"Well, come on, then! We'll get you something to eat, drink… though it won’t be as good as any of your drinks."

"Thank you. But I don’t think I'm going to stay. I haven't slept in… well, I can't count the hours. The reason I'm really here is… I wanted to tell you that I've decided to take a week-long holiday. In London."

Ginny couldn’t help the dumbfounded look. "A holiday? What brought that about?"

"Well, I saw your—oh, that's right, before I forget." He reached into his pocket and pulled out something that made her heart leap. "You forgot this?"

She took the necklace from him and pressed it to her heart. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I thought I may have lost it." She reached up to clasp it around her neck, then wrapped her fingers around the cold, red stone before looking up at him. "You've not gone on holiday just to bring this to me, though?"

The grin came back, transforming his face. "It played a part, actually. I felt awful when I saw that you left it. I know how fond you are of that necklace. I had an idea that I should bring it to you… but of course I didn’t give it a second thought. Why would I?" He smiled at himself. "But then I stopped… and I actually began to think about it. You know, I've never been to London? I've actually never been anywhere except Paris. So… well, it was some kind of impulse that I've never…I don't even know why, but something made me owl Pierre, saying that I needed to take personal time away from work. I waited for his return owl, thinking he would deny me and that would be my excuse… but he gave his approval."

She clasped her hand to her mouth and laughed. "An impulse that you've never felt, then? I suppose my insanity is rubbing off on you?" She squeezed his arm and then gave him a wink. "Hey, if there are any jobs you want to apply for with England's Ministry, I'll have dad put in a good word."

He laughed. "I'll let you know. For now, I'll just keep to being on holiday for the first time in my life."

"Your first holiday? Well, you had better make it good, then. D'you need any suggestions on where to stay, what to do? I know Brian has an extra room, shall we ask him or….?"

"No, I've actually already booked a room by owl. A place called…The Leaky Cauldron?"

Ginny smiled. "You'll be in good hands there. Ask for Tom, he'll make sure you know where to go." Then her smile faded a bit. "I wish I could stay here with you. I'd love to show you around."

"I think I'll be okay." He reached up to finger the pendant that now hung around her neck. "I wanted to see you first, make sure you knew that you'd be arriving home to an empty flat tomorrow."

"Yeah."

And then, as though Christian breaking out of his norm and actually traveling all the way to England had awakened her as well, she suddenly knew what she needed to do… something that she had been realizing for a while now.

"Actually, I… I've been thinking that when I do get back, I'm going to start looking for a place of my own."

Their eyes met and Ginny saw comprehension come into his. After a moment, he nodded and gave her a smile. "I suppose we've leaned on each other long enough, eh?"

"Yeah…yeah, I suppose we have."

"Where will you go? Will you stay in Paris or try to find something closer to the Ministry?"

"I'm not going to leave Paris. It's my home… well," she amended. "It's one of my homes. I'll look for something in the city." She paused, smiled. "In the very middle of the city."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "That suits you more than my little hovel, I think."

"Watch it, I do like that hovel."

Their laughter lingered for a few moments and then, they were left with a bit of awkwardness. It felt odd to think that they were breaking up when it wasn't clear what exactly they had been to each other in the first place. Being with Christian had been a first for her in many ways and though they had found something that they wouldn’t have been able to find elsewhere, their friendship had been the most important part of what they'd shared… and that wouldn’t change, she was sure of it.

She felt the tips of his fingers on her cheek and she lifted her face to accept his kiss. Hugging him tightly, she bade him goodbye with the promise to send a long list of everything he should do in London. He chucked her under the chin once and she gave him a grin before he Disapparated.

It was a few moments before she began to trudge up the hill towards the tent and as she did, she felt as though her feet were planted more firmly on the ground than they'd been on the way down.

~*~

When Ginny returned to the tent, the guests were swarming the dance floor in droves. It seemed that everyone knew the night was ending…time for one last dance to draw the evening to a close.

It occurred to her that she hadn’t danced with Brian at all, and with a sick feeling, she weaved her way through the crowd to find him. She sent a wave to Hagrid and her mum, who were dancing the most awkward of slow dances due to their respective heights and smiled as Emma twirled Julian, his tie long gone by now, and who moved with a sluggish enthusiasm that suggested it was way past his bedtime. But when she stepped up to the bar, expecting Brian to undoubtedly be there, all she found was Fred, George and Lee Jordan involved in a rather intense-looking drinking contest.

"Have you lot seen Brian?" she asked them loudly over the their raucous laughter, then winced as Fred draped a clumsy arm around her neck and breathed a liquor-laden breath her way.

"Sorry, Gin, haven’t seen the bloke. Hey, Gin – d'you want to camp out with us tonight? Before you go back to Paris? We've got fireworks. Lotsssofirrrreworkssss," he slurred.

"Sure, count me in," she promised just to get him off and ducked under his arm, her head cloudy from merely inhaling whatever he'd been drinking.

After conducting a search of the entire tent, she came to the conclusion that Brian must have given up on her and gone home. Standing before the massive wedding cake, she stared blindly at the abundance of sweets that surrounded it, thinking that she would make a special trip tomorrow morning to Brian's flat. An apology for ignoring him for part of the evening was the first order of business and the second … well, that would probably have to be ugly. There was nothing for it. She would get to the bottom if it before returning to Paris.

Paris. An unprecedented spark of excitement trickled down her spine. The thought of going back suddenly didn’t seem so bad. In fact, knowing that she would begin finding her own place and buy her own furnishings was rather exciting. It almost felt as though she would be returning there for the first time since she'd left University now that she had a more positive outlook.

"Er…Ginny? Did you hear me?"

The voice edged through her thoughts and she look around in surprise. It was Harry. He also stood before the table of sweets with an empty plate in his hand and a nervous smile on his face.

"Hey," she said, her heart rate quickening instantly. "Sorry, I was… off somewhere else."

"Right, right," he said and gestured towards the table. "I was just…wondering if you'd tried anything."

"Oh." She peered at the cakes and puddings scattered over the table. "Actually, I haven’t."

"Well, Hagrid recommended the treacle fudge." He snorted. "But any fudge in the country must seem gourmet compared to his."

She grinned. "I was outside for a while. Have you gone out there, it's really a nice night."

"Yeah, I just came back in." He lifted his plate. "Got hungry."

"Right," she smiled. "So… what do you think?"

He glanced up at her… and his eyes stilled on her face. "About what?"

"I…" She couldn't help the stammering. "The sweets."

There was a pause that seemed to last an age and then,

"Right." He pulled his eyes away. "Right." He cleared his throat and looked down to the table. "I'll probably just …chocolate cake.

She let out a slow breath and reached up to finger her pendant. "It's Mum's."

"Yeah… I know."

Unable to stop herself, she watched him slowly, methodically, slice himself a piece of cake, his eyes steady on his task. Her breathing began to return to normal as a distant memory came into her head. She and Harry had stood at a table of sweets before. They had both been in their formal robes and had met unexpectedly at the Auror's Convention.

Somewhere in the recess of her mind, she marveled that it had only been one year since that night. It seemed as though a great deal more time had passed since she'd been fixated on capturing an interview with Madame Millicent Mardeax… Madame Hag. She couldn’t help remembering how she'd begged Brian to skive off his lesson and accompany her to the Ministry for her appointment… the appointment that she'd missed upon running into Harry.

Harry. Once again, his eyes were yanking her out of her daydream. She flushed, realizing that she'd been openly watching him.

"Where's… erm… Brian?"

She cleared her throat. "Actually, I think Brian's gone." When Harry lifted a brow, she said, "I didn’t pay very much attention to him all night. I'll have to…talk to him before I leave tomorrow, make sure he's not angry."

"You're leaving tomorrow?" he asked in surprise. "To go back?"

"Yeah," she said, glancing at him. "I have to, there's a dive on Monday, I can't miss it."

"Right," he nodded, and carefully sliced a bit of cake off with his fork. "D'you like your job, then?"

"Yeah… it's different." She told him about one of the unpleasant encounters she'd experiences with some merpeople she had met in a small lake on the outskirts of Paris. "Keeps things exciting, I suppose."

"Seen any great places yet?" he asked, taking another bite.

"We've mostly just stayed local. No exotic places just yet. Soon, though."

She slid her pendant back and forth on the thin chain distractedly as she thought of the destination assignment this summer in Santorini, Greece. The two top-performing teams in her department would be granted to go and Ginny's team had been striving for it from the beginning. She'd never been to Greece.

Spotting Ron and Hermione swaying slowly on the dance floor, she couldn't stop her thoughts from leaving Greece to join them. Ron was sloppy on his feet and Hermione was trying to keep him upright… but she wasn't angry. In fact, she was laughing in utter abandonment as Ron belted out the words of the song in her ear.

"Look," she said, so transfixed by the scene that she nudged Harry's arm. From the corner of her eye, she watched him find the two, watched a slow smile spread across his face.

"Thank goodness they put up with each other."

"Why do you say that?" she asked on a strangled laugh.

"Because I don’t think anyone else in the bloody world could live with either of them."

Ginny burst out laughing. "Well, you'd know better than anyone, I suppose."

He grinned, and it happened so suddenly that Ginny and Harry had no time to prevent it. Ron appeared from nowhere, grabbed Harry by the scruff of the neck and yanked him clumsily onto the dance floor. Completely helpless to stop it, Ginny, along with most of the guests, watched as Harry tried to wrestle out from underneath Ron's none too affectionate headlock as Ron yelled something about his bloody best friend not bothering to dance at his wedding. The two of them thrashed about, knocking into people and creating such a ruckus, that Ginny couldn’t help the shout of laughter. She clasped her hand to her heart and amrveled at how long it had been since she'd heard Harry laugh so hard.

It wasn't long until Hermione interjected. She pushed between the two of them, wrapped her arms around their shoulders and pulled them into a makeshift, three-person dance.

Watching the three of them together was like a remedy for the soul, Ginny realized, smiling so hard her face hurt. As more grinning faces came into view, she knew she wasn't the only one who felt at home in that moment.

Just then, Harry tried to elbow Ron and have Hermione to himself. Ginny laughed…and as though the sound had carried over the music and through the crowd, Hermione looked up and caught her eye. She felt a brief stab of panic as the bride's eyes lit up and at once, Hermione pulled herself from the men and hurried to Ginny.

"Come on." She grabbed Ginny by the hand. "You, too."

"No, Hermione—"

But Hermione's grin pleaded. Smiling helplessly, Ginny allowed herself to be pulled onto the dance floor.

"My sister!" Ron announced, puffing his chest out proudly and promptly stepped on her foot. Hermione leaned into her other side, closing the circle of four and they stayed in their embrace, grinning and laughing, and trying unsuccessfully to shout to each other over the music. And after a while, her laughing eyes found Harry's.

We're okay, his eyes said and she struggled to keep her gaze locked on his as she bumped into Ron and stumbled on her dress. We're okay.

She knew she would never, ever forget what it felt like, standing in that circle, having her brother on one side, Hermione on the other… and Harry. Her family. Her home.

She had a fleeting view of Harry's wide, helpless grin before something heavy smashed into the lot of them and sent them tumbling into each other. Fred and George had charged the dance and planted themselves on either side of Hermione, proclaiming her an official Weasley, swaying her violently side to side.

They were a big, loud group of bodies and laughter, and when the song ended, the loss Ginny felt was immense. They stayed in their huge embrace for a few moments, and she took the opportunity to wrap her arms around Ron and hold tight. In a way, she had lost him today. She told him that she loved him, adding an amused,

"Prat."

He pulled her hair in response.

The DJ announced that he would play one more song before the night ended, and the crowd began to move again, filling the dance floor to the point of bursting as the slow strains of yet another love song began to play. Their dancing group dispersed and Ron pulled Hermione into his arms, Fred found Angelina and George went chasing after Sarah. Ginny watched her entire family find partners, everyone from Hogwarts, even Hermione's muggle relatives who had been a bit wary of their new in-laws. And in the midst of swaying couples, as though they were the only two people standing alone, she and Harry locked eyes.

For a moment, they smiled at each other... and then an awkward energy settled between them. Her heart began to race when he cleared his throat, and after a momentary pause, stammered,

"D'you, er… want to dance, then?"

Her face flushed. All she could do was mutter a throaty, "Erm," and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, looking down at her hands and praying that he didn’t see her burning cheeks. From the corner of her eye, she saw something at the entrance to the tent…and when she looked, her heart sank.

Brian stood alone, nursing another Guinness, and looking as though he would rather be anywhere else. His eyes were fixed on something across the room… and with a sinking feeling, Ginny knew it was a plain, brown-haired witch who was now dancing with George. He hadn’t left her, she realized miserably and glanced at Harry to find that he had followed her gaze to Brian. Heart in her throat, she watched him look back to her quickly, and force a smile.

"It… looks like he didn’t leave after all," Ginny said.

"Right," he said, nodding. "You should… you should go ahead, then."

Her heart hurt. Dammit, there were no rules anymore. She could throw caution to the wind and dance with Harry if she wanted. This was her chance not to hide. But then she looked at Brian… and she knew what was right.

"Thank you," she said to Harry, her voice softer, gentler. "I…I'll see you later, then?"

"Of course," he nodded, avoiding her eyes. And then he left.

She closed her eyes briefly, and on legs that felt like water, she walked to Brian and tried her best to put Harry from her mind… and when she neared and her best friend dragged his eyes from the dance floor, her heart began to hurt again in a very different way.

"I believe this dance is mine," she smiled, and watched a slow smile come over his face. Then she laughed when he dragged her to the dance floor.

The crowds of dancers made it impossible to fit in, so they stood on the edge and Ginny wrapped her arms around him easily, resting her chin on his shoulder. She certainly would not have felt so at ease in Harry's arms, she thought, and her eyes slid closed for one tiny moment, imagining…and then Brian's voice brought her back.

"Did you have fun tonight?"

She smiled and pulled back to look up at him. "I did. I’m sorry that I'm an awful friend," she said, and watched a reluctant dimple appear in his cheek.

"You're not."

"Oh, I am. I’m dreadful. But you still love me, I know you do, so I'm not too upset over it."

He laughed softly. "As long as you're not upset. So… when am I going to visit you in Paris?" he asked after a moment and she smiled.

"I would absolutely love it if you did. But one thing – if you come, we can't visit the old flat."

He drew his brow. "Well, of course we can’t go in, but I'd like to at least walk past the building… why are you shaking your head?"

She heaved sigh. "It's only that… well, there are paisley curtains hanging in the front window now."

"What the hell is paisley?"

"It's ugly."

He smiled. "Does that make you upset, love?"

"Of course it does!" She hit his shoulder. "And I can't believe you're not upset. I was devastated when I saw them. It was almost like… we were never there or something."

He squeezed her arm. "Some of the most fun I've ever had was in that flat, you know."

She thought of all the noises she'd heard coming from his room late at night, the many mornings of waking to find a gorgeous witch in her kitchen. She snickered. "I can only imagine the sort of fun you had in that flat."

"I meant with you," he said, and there was a hint of irritability in his voice.

Ginny lifted her eyes to him. "I know." She squeezed his shoulder. "I was only joking."

He nodded, his blue eyes distracted. "Right…sorry."

Chewing on her lip, she continued to study him. She didn’t want to think what she was thinking. She didn’t want to think about the way he had looked at Sarah all night or the way Sarah had described his behavior in that coffee shop every morning. She didn’t want to think that he actually… that he actually thought he might have feelings for Sarah. It was absurd and it was wrong… but though it had begun to infuriate her earlier, all she could think about now was that he might be hurting.

"You know," she began, knowing what she wanted to say, but not knowing how, or where to even begin. Instead, she found herself muttering, "I suppose… I suppose I haven’t been a very good friend." She felt his eyes turn to her, but she kept her gaze past his shoulder. "I don’t mean tonight, I mean… well, I've been rather caught up in myself, haven't I, these past few months? I'm sorry, Bri. Really."

There was a pause, and then he tugged her hair. "Don't worry about it, love… you've had a bit of a hard time, haven't you."

She sighed. "I just want you to know that you can talk to me… about anything… and I won’t judge you and I'll just… listen. I'll just listen. I promise."

It was perhaps the longest silence she had ever heard from him. After a while, he laughed softly. "Are you saying that you'll actually… not talk for a few minutes?"

She grinned. "I am. And watch it, I'm nothing compared to Sarah when it comes to excessive talking."

It was out of her mouth before she'd even realized to stop it. Brian's entire body tensed. And her eyes slid closed. "Oh, Bri," she muttered softly, letting her forehead fall on his shoulder. "What is going on? Sarah?"

His breathing was becoming labored. For the longest time, she stayed where she was, not even hearing the music, a million different questions running through her head. She could never ask them, she realized. She could never really know what was inside of him – that belonged to him.

And then, he said in a voice softer than she'd ever heard from him, "You don’t have to worry, Gin… I'm not going to do anything about it."

She lifted her head to look at him, but his gaze remained over her shoulder. "That's not the only thing I'm worried about. Bri, I don’t want you to get hurt." When he said nothing, she found herself asking, "How long have you… I mean, is it… serious?"

There was a long pause… and then his entire demeanor changed. He straightened his shoulders. He shook his head. He cleared his face of any emotion.

"Look, let's not talk about this right now," he said and when she looked at him miserably, his hand tightened on her back. "I’m all right, Gin. I don’t bruise easily. And I've no intention of letting… someone else get… bruised, so… let's talk about what we're going to do after this party ends. Because I'm not going home, you can’t force me."

All she could do was stare at him… and then she let out a long, slow breath. There would be no getting to the bottom of anything, she realized. This wasn't simple…this wasn't clean. Everything about him said it wasn't. To press the matter now would certainly not accomplish anything at all.

Resigned that she would have to return to Paris without fixing what was wrong, she squeezed his shoulder again, and said, "Right…okay. Well, my brothers are setting off some fireworks after the wedding, so we can watch if you'd like."

He lifted a brow. "The famous Weasley's Wizard Wheezes fireworks? I won’t miss them. What then?"

She lifted a brow. "Dunno. We'll just… see where the night takes us?"

"Good show," he winked.

The last few strains of the song played out slowly. Suddenly, she didn't want to let go of him. Letting go would make it real, this … thing that was happening to him, that they hadn’t worked through. The DJ said a few final congratulatory words to Ron and Hermione before taking his leave, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

"You know, your reputation is absolutely correct," she told him. "You are possibly the best date a girl could ever ask for."

He threw back his head and laughed. "You're right about something else, too," he said loudly, leaning close so that she could hear him.

"Right, what is it?"

"I still love you," he winked. "Can’t help myself."

Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders—and from across the room, a pair of green eyes slammed into hers.

Ginny stilled. The look on his face was frightening. All she could do was remain motionless in Brian's arms, under Harry's accusatory eyes—

And then it was over. He was walking swiftly towards the flap of the tent to disappear outside. And then everything began to happen faster than she could keep up with. Brian pulled away quickly, trying to mutter an excuse to leave as Sarah flew up to Ginny, grasping her arm and complaining that her feet were about to fall off.

But Ginny didn’t hear either of them. There was a roaring in her head. Her eyes devoured the flap of the tent as people began to pour out.

"Can you hear me?" Sarah was shouting. "Are you going to watch the fireworks? Oh and by the way, have you smelled your brothers? It's like a Firewhisky brewery or something – not that I've even been in a Firewhisky brewery," she assured Brian, who managed a faint smile.

Ginny paused in her chaotic state to look between her two best friends. One was possibly in love with the other and had suddenly turned into a stone statue in her presence and the other had no clue whatsoever and – as though Brian wasn't uncomfortable enough – lifted her foot to adjust her shoe, causing the strap of her dress to fall off her shoulder.

Heaving sigh, Ginny slid her arm through Brian's and squeezed his wrist. "Yes. We're going to watch the fireworks. Shall we go down together?"

Sarah nodded. "Yeah, but can I lean on you, this blister is going to pop any moment."

"Sarah, a simple charm can cure it, here, let me—"

"NO! Not without rubbing bamboo powder on it first, Ginny, are you mad?! You know, this blister is the exact size of the wart I'm going to curse George with when he's least expecting it."

Brian snorted a laugh and Ginny giggled. Sarah, however, frowned.

"Well, it's nice to know that my sore feet are the cause of so much hilarity," she said, but her lips twitched, giving herself away.

Still laughing tiredly, Ginny gripped Sarah's arm, keeping her other linked through Brian's and with the three of them, made her way outside the tent and into the cool spring night.

To Be Concluded in Chapter Fourteen

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