Harry glanced dismally at the shack around him. Ginny and Harry were some of the only survivors of the war. Everyone Harry loved was dead. The Weasleys. Hermione. Luna. Neville. Dumbledore. McGonagall. Dobby. Remus. Kingsley. Tonks. Mad-Eye…

There were only a few people whose deaths they didn't regret-the Death Eaters and Voldemort. The price for their deaths was high, however, much, much, too high.

"Ginny?" he said, his voice distant, hesitant. They had decided to take drastic measures—this life that they were barely living couldn't go on.

"Yes, Harry?" she sounded nervous. Maybe there was tension in his voice-he'd have to work on controlling his emotions. Hopefully, he would see Ron alive again, and he couldn't exactly break down crying at the sight of his best friend without being sent to St. Mungo's mental ward.

"I think we should do it today," Harry said. "We have nothing to live for but each other anymore."

"Okay. Okay." Ginny sounded apprehensive, which meant she was point-blank terrified. Ginny was better at concealing her emotions than Harry was. They'd read in order to do this they had to kill themselves. What if it didn't work? What if they were just that-dead? What if they never saw Remus and Sirius and Ron and Hermione and Fred and George and Tonks again?

Well, if they died, at least they'd die together.

Harry kissed his wife for what might be the last time for years-he tried to put passion into it, love into it.

I love you.

I love you, too.

And they downed the potion they'd made with a growing feeling of horror, drew their wands and shouted simultaneously, "Avada Kedavra!"

The windows rattled. Harry spun around, hoisting his wand-it never hurt to be careful. He looked out the window, pointing his wand in the intruder's face. Constant Vigilance-could be a Death Eater, though he doubted it. But years of fighting Voldemort taught him to be on his guard, no matter whether he was thirty-two or twelve.

Ron. Just Ron. All this paranoia and it was just Ron.

In a flying car.

He had to be twelve.

Ron was alive. Alive. He hadn't died yet. Ron. Alive. Merlin.

Alive.

Get a grip,Harry told himself. He's alive, and that's no reason to be gawking. Get used to it. He'll be alive for a lot longer, if I have my way.

He hoped Ginny had gotten through, and she hadn't overshot farther than him, or been stuck here alone while he didn't recognize her.

"What's been going on?" asked Ron. "You never answered any of my letters, I invited you to stay at least 12 times-then Dad said you'd gotten a warning for using magic in front of those muggle relatives of yours-What's up?"

"Nothing," said Harry, "Just the same as always; muggles torturing me, nightmares, lack of food-you know, same old same old."

Ron looked horrified. "Um, well, I haven't, you know, gotten any mail from you, so I thought-"

"Right," said Harry. "But how are you going to bust me out? There's bars on the windows, after all."

"Ah," said Ron, "You're forgetting who I have with me." He jerked a finger at Fred and George. They went up to the window and picked the locks quickly.

"Most people think it's rubbish, learning muggle tricks, but it comes in handy in this case, Little Harry," Fred said. Harry felt an internal shock at seeing Fred alive again.

"Right."

He said, "I don't have my books…"

"We'll pick the locks," Fred assured him.

"No fear, brother Harry," George grinned, "Your stuff is safe with us."

When they had all his things, he grabbed Hedwig-he'd almost forgotten the owl-and climbed quietly out of the windowsill. He laughed when he thought about what the Dursleys would say when they discovered him gone.

Somehow, miraculously, they managed to avoid a confrontation with Mrs. Weasley, whom he was certain had blown up at them last time around. When they crept back up to their rooms, Harry tried to sleep, but it was fitful. Usually he had Ginny next to him…it was cold, lonely somehow. He crept down the stairs and away from Ron's snores, only to see Mrs. Weasley cooking breakfast.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley, I'm Harry, Ron's friend," he said nervously. He wasn't sure how she would react to him this time. "Do you need any help making breakfast?"

She didn't ask how he'd shown up. "No, thank you, dear," she said. "Is Ron still sleeping?" By now Percy and Fred were both sitting in the room.

"Yeah. Ron could sleep over an atomic bomb. Muggle thing," he replied to her confused glance. "I don't sleep very well. Usually I get about seven hours or so." He lied, he usually got four and ½, but he didn't think Mrs. Weasley would take kindly to that statement. It was mostly his paranoia that kept him up-even with Voldemort gone, Death Eaters would attack occasionally, and it was hard to get a good night's sleep when you're constantly on the run. Of course, he didn't think Molly would appreciate that either.

By now everyone was having breakfast, except Ginny. He was about to ask who everyone was (in order to ask about Ginny), when suddenly she appeared in the kitchen, fully clothed. He didn't know if this was his Ginny, but she walked right in and sat down next to him, and Ginny had been abnormally shy around him when they'd first met, so this must be his Ginny.

"Hullo," she said cheerfully, while slowly scanning him. "My name is Ginny. You must be Harry Potter."

He smiled at her, while trying to tell her with his eyes, It's me. Harry. I'm twenty-one, and I'm yours.."It's a pleasure to see you again, Ginny." He could not help the way his voice shaped around her name like a caress.

She quirked an eyebrow and he nodded his head slightly. She knew. How could she not? This was Harry. Her Harry.

He shook his head slightly. "No," he mouthed, "later."

The rest of the day had passed without incident. Molly blew up at Fred, George, and Ron when she found out exactly how Harry had gotten there, but he managed to escape and play Quidditch with Ginny. They didn't talk much-they had to be away from prying ears.

And now he crept out of bed and into Ginny's room. He needed her, that was the only way to put it. The feel of her soft lips against his…

"Ginny?" he whispered hesitantly.

"Harry?" she said in surprise. She'd been here for a year, and she'd written to him, but he hadn't responded. He must have overshot, she'd thought, but she'd never known when he'd be here. "Harry, please let that be you. Please don't let it be 12-year-old Harry."

He was sitting on her bed now. "Oh, my Ginny, how long have you been here without me?" He pulled her head onto his chest, kissing her hair, kissing her neck. "I'm sorry. I love you."

"It's been a year, Harry, and it's been miserable, but you're here now. I love you." Ginny snuggled against his chest, enjoying the warmth she'd so missed. "You're here. Please, don't be a dream."

He responded by kissing her, and it felt as if there were some sort of magical aura surrounding them. "I'm sorry."

"There's no reason to apologize." She pulled him next to her. "Sleep with me. I can't be without you." You couldn't dream this kind of passion. His lips. They couldn't be a dream. He had to be here. He had to.

"My Ginny. I love you, but we can't. You're eleven. Do you know what will happen if your mum walks in on us, even like this?" He was leaning against the wall, his arms around her protectively. She had her head in his lap, clutching his arms as if making sure he was real.

She tried a guilt trip. "Harry, it's been a year. I've been without you for a year, and now you're telling me that once I've finally got you back, you won't even let me love you? That's just…I want you, Harry. My Harry. I need you." She gave him her biggest, saddest, most pleading eyes.

He couldn't resist that stare. "My Ginny…my Ginny…I'm so sorry."

"Shut up, you apologizing fool." And before he could say sorry for that, she kissed him. "I…just…got…you…back."

"I love you."

They sat together in silence, sharing the pain, loneliness, and love.

Ginny woke up when the first rays of sun came piercing through the window above her room. She realized she'd fallen asleep on Harry's lap. She did not want to leave him, but the repercussions that would happen if her mum found them together would be severe, she knew. Wake up, you big buffoon,she thought, and was about to get him up when he said, "Oh…I'm sorry, my Ginny. I'm up."

"But I never said anything."

"Didn't you call me a big buffoon?"

"No…I thought you were a big buffoon, but I never said…" intuition flashed suddenly in his eyes.

"Listen," he told her. Can you hear me? Severus Snape has Horrible Hygiene.The words echoed in her mind. They had Harry in them. She could feel him.

"I heard you!" she exclaimed.

"I wonder how…?" Harry mused.

"This is fantastic!" she exclaimed.

Yeah, he thought.

Shall we? She thought, motioning towards the door.

I think so, my fair lady, he grinned, not bothering to speak. They went down to the kitchen-by now the house was bustling. He had forgotten they were 11 and 12, so they went down as they normally would, his arm around her shoulder, hers around his waist, utterly entranced in each other.

Fred stared. He was the first to notice-Ron and Percy weren't around, George was going on about some product, and Mum was making breakfast. He'd noticed quite clearly the way his sister and Harry were holding onto each other. It was as if they'd known each other for years.

Ginny, Fred is staring.

Right. She let go of him reluctantly. It was…painful, almost. She couldn't stand not touching him. Apparently Harry had noticed, too, because he grabbed her hand, and the pain stopped instantaneously. Strange.

Albus Dumbledore thought he might be going into shock. A soul bond from ones this young? It simply wasn't possible!

But there it was, plain on the paper-Harry Potter and Ginerva Weasley, soul bonded August 1st, 1992.

He would have to floo over and tell them, as well as Ginny's parents. He shuddered to think of what Molly's reaction would be. But he must, he supposed.

Albus sighed, then threw the green powder into the flames.