Disclaimer * Still not mine, i'm just borrowing them for a while.  See chapter one.

"A little while later I found him and held him. I didn't let him go until I had brought him to my childhood home, into my mother's bedroom, where I had been conceived." (Song of Songs 3:4)

      It had taken all the willpower Harry had to let go of Ginny.  The sight of her had been driving him insane all day:  the way the dress fit her like a glove--hugging her curves in just the right places--and the light gold offset the highlights in her hair attracted him more than he could explain.  It also made him wish that she weren't wearing it; he'd never seen Ginny look so beautiful and he didn't much care for the thought of other men seeing her looking like that, either.  So when Ginny had looked up at him, her eyes full of something he had never seen there before, something powerful and dangerous, something that he felt just as strongly, he knew that he was in danger of losing control.

      It had taken Harry a long time to realize that he felt just as strongly for Ginny as she did for him; he felt that he had wasted so much time, time that they could have spent together at Hogwarts.  He didn't want to wait any more than she did, but he had known just as instinctually that if he let something happen--if he let himself give in to the desire that was coursing through his veins--that it would ruin them.  He had never gone too far with Ginny in the past and he respected her too much to start now.  He had to have something to dream about, and Ginny was that, pure and uncorrupted as someone could possibly be in times like these.  Ginny held his every hope for life, for a future.

      But somehow he didn't feel as empty as before:  now there was the slightest spark of hope, an ember burning deep within him, just as powerful as phoenix song, and it was driving him insane.  Harry knew that it would have to be enough, but it simply wasn't.  As he lay awake, desperately trying to clear his thoughts and focus on anything but Ginny, he knew that he was in serious trouble.  He might not be able to give full expression to his feelings, but he could no longer content himself with acting as if his feelings didn't exist, taking the chance that Ginny knew that they did and would wait for him no matter how long it took.

      Sleep was fleeting.  He tossed and turned all night, his fitful dreams filled with all things Ginny.  Ginny baking something that smelled like treacle tart, Ginny on a broom daring him to catch her, Ginny under mistletoe, Ginny dancing before him as Beatrix Dumbledore had, Ginny reading to children that looked like a mix of them, Ginny sleeping beside him, her hair spread out invitingly soft on her pillow.

      It was still dark out when he decided that the time to act was now or never.  He crept downstairs, cringing when he stepped on a creaking board, and lit his wand with a voiceless Lumos, trying to soundlessly ease himself into Ginny's room.  Harry felt that his heart was pounding so loudly that it was a miracle that he didn't wake the house.  But there Ginny was, sleeping soundly, hugging a pillow to her chest, her hair glistening in the dark.  He placed his hand on her cheek, and she turned her face towards it, murmuring, but didn't waken.  He knelt beside her bed and knudged her shoulder gently.  She moaned and buried her face in the pillow, rolling so she was face down.  It was at this moment that Harry was beginning to have doubts about his ability to successfully waken Ginny.  He stood up nervously, not wanting to leave, but terrified at the thought of anyone finding him here.  But then her muffled voice emanated from the pillow:

      "Harry?"  Ginny rolled back onto her side, eyes squinting up at him.  She looked surprised to discover that it was him who was standing over her in the dark, yet she had somehow figured it out without a word from him.  It felt strange to realize that Ginny knew him that well, that she didn't even need to see him or hear his voice to know him in the dark.

      Harry jumped as Gabrielle murmered in her sleep and rolled over.  He pressed Ginny's housecoat into her hands and waited for her to pull it on, then took her hand and led her through the dark.  They quickly descended into the kitchen.  The lights were already on but the room was empty.  He pulled out a chair for her, then turned to get her some of the tea that was already on. He still didn't say anything to her as he absentmindedly fixed--then placed--the tea before her.  His mind was on the task that lay before him this morning, the conversation that would make or break his future, and he had to admit to himself that he was terrified.  He turned to pour some tea for himself, then seated himself.

      "Harry..." her voice came softly and full of question, finally breaking the uneasy silence.

      "Yeah," he replied just as quietly.  He didn't feel like tea, he didn't feel like eating, he was sick with the fear of what he was about to do.  He couldn't look at her, so he stared at his untouched tea instead.  Ginny seemed to hesitate, then consider her words before she spoke:

      "I'm sorry I didn't trust you," she said, her gaze fixed on her teacup.  She didn't ask why he had woken her up:  perhaps she knew more than she was letting on, perhaps she just wanted him to take the lead.  This was one of the reasons why he loved her so much, because she knew enough him well enough to wait when he needed time or say what he needed to hear to nudge him in the right direction when he was being dumb.

      The silence was heavy between them.  He felt funny about what had happened the day before.  He had already known that Gabrielle was getting intoxicated but he hadn't know how far gone she was until she had pinched him.  He had been in embarassing situations with girls throwing themselves at him before, but they had never gotten so out of hand.  And as if that weren't embarassing enough (he was in full view of many complete strangers), before he had even had a chance to respond Ginny had appeared out of nowhere, knocked Gabrielle out, and passed out herself, collapsing into his arms.  Ginny had never displayed so much jealousy before in his remembrance and it made him feel quite a lot a bit better about the jealousy he had felt towards Dean Thomas last year.

      Mrs. Weasley suddenly appeared in the pantry's doorway, bread and bacon and eggs all in hand.  She set aside the bread first, levitating four slices into the toaster with a flick of her wand:

      "You two are up early," she greeted them, carrying the eggs over to the stove and summoning the frying pan on the way.

      "Is Mr. Weasley awake?" Harry asked, his heart thumping uncomfortably in his chest, his throat tight.

      "Yes, dear," she answered as if Harry were one of her own.  "He's getting ready for work:  has to go in early this morning I'm afraid..."  Harry had already grabbed Ginny's hand and pulled her out of her seat.  He led the way to the Burrow's master suite--a room that he had known of since his first visit but never entered--and knocked quietly but firmly.

      "Mollywobbles?" Mr. Weasley's voice was heavy with the question of why his wife would knock but who else was up at this hour?  Ginny's father opened the door slightly:

      "Can I please speak with you?" Harry asked.  Arthur looked a bit surprised but pulled the door open and stepped aside.  Harry pulled Ginny inside after him.  A moment later came the sound of Mrs. Weasley bustling towards them.  She came into the room full tilt:

      "What on earth is going on?" she demanded.

      "I think Harry has something that he wishes to discuss with us, dear," her husband said gently.  Molly dropped the bacon she was still holding.  "Ginny, could you shut the door?"

      Ginny tried to pull away from Harry, but he didn't want to let go:  he didn't think he'd be able to get through this if he did.  He moved to shut the door himself, muttering Locking and Imperturbable Charms.  "That's quite unnecessary," Mr. Weasley said.  "There are certain times when the Mrs. and I wish to discuss things in private and so we have taken certain steps. " Mrs. Weasley blushed and moved to sit down at the foot of the bed.

      "I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley," Harry apologized, suddenly realizing that he may have gone too far.  "I don't mean to be rude, but I don't want to be overheard by anyone."  Arthur nodded and seated himself next to his wife, patiently waiting for Harry to continue whenever he was ready.  Harry felt that it was quite difficult to breathe and was holding Ginny's hand so tight that it was becoming a bit uncomfortable, but he didn't dare let go:  "Ginny and I have led everyone to believe that we're no longer together but that's not exactly true."

      Mrs. Weasley looked shocked; Arthur didn't.  Harry knew that Molly had been upset to find that he had broken it off with Ginny and she had not-so-subtly been hinting about them getting back together ever since his return to the Burrow.  Mr. Weasley, however, hadn't spoken to Harry on the matter nor given any indication of his feelings about it, something which made Harry very uneasy.  He hurried onward:  "The truth is that I would like to ask your permission to marry Ginny..."

      "Absolutely not!" Mrs. Weasley burst out.  "Ginevra is far too young..."  Harry had known this would be her response and headed it off quickly:

      "I don't mean today," he explained, "or tomorrow, or even the next day.  You see, I have to leave for a while, and I don't mean to come back until I've defeated Voldemort or died trying."  Molly whimpered at the name.  "But I don't feel right leaving without making some promise to her and both of you that I am coming back, that I do intend to marry her."

      Mr. Weasley looked more serious than Harry had ever seen him before.  He stood up and paced a bit, thinking, considering his response.  The room was heavy with silence, and Harry found that he quite wished that he were still in bed, curled up in a ball with his pillow held over his head, trying to go to sleep.  It seemed like an eternity before Arthur stopped, placing a hand on Molly's shoulder, as if to tell her that he needed to say his piece without question.

      "Ever since Ginny was born I have had a very clear idea in my mind what must happen before I would give her away to a young man such as yourself," Mr. Weasley stated quietly.  "I wish I could tell you both that you're too young, that you don't know each other well enough, but I know that would be a lie.  Both of you have seen far more than Molly and I want to admit; we know that both of you are mature beyond your years, so I know that--if you are asking this of me--then you must have given it great thought and consideration.  And while it seems to be done in haste I have watched the two of you grow up together and must admit that I saw this coming long before you did Harry, noticing the signs and taking them to heart while Molly was still only dreaming in the way all mothers do."

      Arthur paused and sighed:  "On top of all this there is a life debt between the two of you.  Molly feels I'm being superstitious, but I know that Dumbledore himself believed that your destinies are intertwined.  I cannot say no to you; I must give my consent, and do so with a heavy heart but without reservation."  Mrs. Weasley burst into tears:

      "Oh, Arthur, how can you give away our baby so young?"

      "Because I trust Harry above all others with her safety and care.  I can see with my own eyes how much he loves her.  Do you not see it, Molly?  Would you keep this happiness from her?  Is there anyone else you can name who is more worthy?"  Ginny ran to her father, into his waiting arms:

      "Thank you so much, Daddy," she exclaimed softly, clinging to her father.  He held her for only a minute before he set her a little apart.  There were tears in his eyes as he brushed his daughter's hair out of her face:

      "What happened to my little girl?" Mr. Weasley whispered.  "When did you become a woman?"  Ginny didn't seem to know what to say.  Arthur took her hand and led her back towards Harry:

      "I will accept an Unbreakable Vow, nothing less," he stated with a strained voice.  Harry's eyes widened:  he had not expected this request.  Ron had said that his father thought Unbreakable Vows were extremely serious.  Mrs. Weasley seemed to take his astonishment for hesitancy:

      "Oh, sure, you can go chase Death Eaters and get yourself killed," she screached on the verge of tears, "Don't expect to survive, but you find out that if you do, you're stuck so what's the point in..."

      "Molly!" Mr. Weasley stated with a voice that made it clear that he thought she was being unreasonable and would hear no more of it.  Harry could see that Mrs. Weasley had been grasping at straws, that she hadn't really believed what she had said but that she was so terrified that she was willing to say or do almost anything in order to keep her daughter.

      Ginny went and embraced her mother, whispering to her about always being her little girl and other such reassurances.  Mrs. Weasley fell apart then, burying her face in her hands and sobbing freely, but she stood and brought Ginny back to her father's side.  Arthur turned back to Harry as if nothing had happened:  "An Unbreakable Vow is not to be entered into lightly..." he began to explain.  Harry cut him off:

      "It's all right," he said with quiet confidence.  "I know that I won't change my mind about Ginny.  I'll make the Vow."

      With that Mr. Weasley placed Ginny's left hand in Harry's right and looked to his wife.  Mrs. Weasley moved to retrieve Arthur's wand from the headboard of their bed, wiping away her tears with the hem of her apron, and pressed it into his hands.  Harry took Ginny's right hand in his left; when he looked up at the woman he loved he discovered that Ginny's eyes were on him:  her gaze held his, filled with more certainty than his must have held.  He was scared more than words could express:  scared to let happiness in, scared because he loved her so much, scared to lose her.  She wasn't nervous or hesitant at all, and her strength bolstered him again.  Mr. Weasley took his wife's hand before he lay his wand across the hands he had linked:

      "Do you, Harry, vow to take the hand of my daughter, Ginevra, in marriage at a date some time before the dawn after her twenty-first birthday, death excepting?" Mr. Weasley asked gravely.

      "I do," said Harry without the slightest hesitation:  because there was nothing that he desired to do more.  His greatest desire was to spend the rest of his life--a long life ended only by old age--with her.  Five years was an eternity away to him, he did not want to take so long to fulfill this promise, but he would wait no matter how long it took.  A ribbon of flame, blood red, shot from the tip of Arthur's wand and wound its way around his and Ginny's hands.

      "And will you, to the best of your ability, find and protect Ginny should she fall into harm's way?" Arthur continued.

      "I will," Harry declared, silently praying that he wouldn't ever have to save her ever again, but if it did come to it he'd have the strength and wisdom he needed to.  A gold flame glowed brilliantly and braided itself around the first, completing the circle once more.  Mr. Weasley paused:

      "And if her life is at stake, and you are able to prevent her death, will you give your own life to save hers?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.  Mrs. Weasley whimpered but did not speak.  Harry's eyes still did not leave Ginny's or waver:  here was his greatest fear turned to something new, a resolve that he had always had but never admitted to anyone.  He would die before he let anything happen to the woman before him.

      "I so vow," he answered just as strongly as before.

      A pulse of light emitted from the tip of Mr. Weasley's wand as the two flames merged into one, binding Harry and Ginny's hands together so tightly they could not let go.  Phoenix song filled the room, and Harry found that he and Ginny were crying with the beauty of it, the release of all the fears and sorrow they shared and had been holding within.  A weight in Harry's chest lifted and he suddenly felt that anything was possible:  he would defeat Voldemort, he would marry Ginny, they would get through this together.

      Molly clung to her husband's arm in surprise as--in a burst of flames--Fawkes suddenly appeared with a golden phoenix, trilling with joy.  The two flew in a circle around the couples before each perched, Fawkes on the left wrist of Harry, the other on the left wrist of Ginny.  Both phoenixes began to cry, sending warm tears across the backs of their hands, the tears inexplicably drawn to the third finger of each hand.  Tears wrapped around flesh, encompassing like a ring of water, the two splits meeting with a flash of light that caused everyone to close their eyes and blink against the brilliance.

      When everyone recovered they found that Fawkes was sitting on Harry's shoulder and the golden phoenix was on Ginny's.  Harry let go of her hands now and rubbed his own, relieved to finally be able to stop holding onto Ginny's so tightly:  it had grown painful near the end.  But just as quickly their hands met again, longing for each other's touch.  It was Ginny who gasped in surprise:  the phoenix tears were gone, but they had been replaced by gold bands encompassed with red flame that glowed from within... the rings from Dumbledore's vault.

      "I thought I saw a phoenix like this at Dumbledore's funeral," Arthur said thoughtfully, gazing at the beautiful pale gold creature that sat on his daughter's shoulder, seemingly oblivious to the new jewelry.

      "I saw it, too," Harry mentioned, studying Fawkes' companion now.  "You don't think it's...?"  He couldn't bring himself to finish the thought, the hope that this could be Dumbledore in another form.

      "No," Ginny said with complete conviction.  She let go of Harry's hand, held out her wrist, and the phoenix fluttered down.  Ginny stroked the light gold and white plumage, her eyes meeting the bird's gaze for but a moment, and she gasped:  "She's Fawkes' mate, Harry."

      The slightly smaller phoenix trilled its confirmation.  "Her name is..."  Harry's mind was suddenly flooded with images:  the day's first sunlight, honey and cream, lapping flames, apple blossoms, a unicorn giving birth, a snowy white lamb, doves taking flight, a beautiful lily unfolding...  "Leonis," Ginny breathed as they were released.  She swayed as if she were dizzy.

      "Ginny!" Harry exclaimed, fighting away his own dizziness.  "Are you all right?"  He helped her to the bed, the nearest place to sit down, and they sat down together.

      "Just give me a moment," she assured them.  "She just communicated with me..."

      "I saw it, too," Harry told her.  Ginny pressed on:

      "I think she was waiting for Dumbledore to die so she could return, so they could find another couple..." she drifted off, a strange expression on her face, as if she had more to say but didn't want to.  Her parents both looked at her as if there was no way she could possibly know all of this from a few seconds of communication with a bird, but Harry accepted this immedietely, knew it just as certainly as Ginny did, if not moreso.  Unbidden, the image of a pregnant Beatrix Dumbledore danced before his eyes.  "Look into Fawkes' eyes, Harry," Ginny urged him, stroking Leonis' plumage.

      Harry held out his wrist just as Ginny had, and Fawkes followed suit.  He looked at the bird intently, and a flow of images forced their way into his mind:  the twilight's first stars, pumpkin and cinnamon, a blazing bonfire, holly leaves, a stag running, a lion roaring, blood being spilt by a blade, fireworks exploding in the sky...  Harry closed his eyes with a shudder:

      "That's going to take some getting used to," he tried to compose himself.  Mrs. Weasley, for her part, was suddenly jumping back into action:

      "Shoo, you two," she said as she kissed her daughter on top of the head.  "Arthur needs a spot of breakfast.  Why don't you get them settled in your rooms?"  Molly bustled out, but Mr. Weasley seemed deep in thought a million kilometers away.  At last he seemed to realize that their eyes were on him, and he came back to life:

      "It's going to kill her to not be able to tell everyone," Mr. Weasley noted.  He smiled at Harry:  "but she'll get over it soon."  With that he headed out of the room, presumably to go to the kitchen, leaving them alone, still sitting on the bed.  Ginny looked at Harry sideways, a sly smile on her face:

      "What?" he asked.  She leaned forward to kiss him, and he suddenly realized where they were with a jerk, leaping off the bed and to his feet.  Ginny giggled.
 
 
 

* * * * * * *
 
 
 
      Fawkes did not want to roost anywhere in Ron's room.  He looked at Hedwig's cage and the proffered owl treats disdainfully, then seemed to glare at the still snoring Ron.  Harry shrugged and grabbed his broom, still not hungry and rather fancying the idea of a early morning flying session.

      Outside he took to the air immedietely and Fawkes flew ahead of him, leading the way, chirping encouragement from time to time.  He was halfway to the pitch when he realized with a start that he hadn't been the only one with such an inclination.  Ginny had gotten dressed and was standing in an apple tree, her broom firmly wedged between her thighs, cutting branches.  He circled the tree, curious, and she tossed him an apple after levitating another cutting down to the ground.  At last she seemed to be finished and darted down on her broom, then laid it in the grass beside her.  She set to work at once, weaving the green cuttings into a wreath, Leonis humming as if giving instructions.  Harry landed after circling the small clearing a few more times, taking only a couple of bites from his apple before he gave it up as a bad job.

      The euphoria was already wearing off.  He should have kissed Ginny when he had the chance, now she felt distant.  More than that, his heart sank and his shoulders drooped as he was suddenly overwhelmed again with the weight of the world.  He watched her work with only the slightest interest, dreading what he knew he must say to her soon.  Being engaged hadn't changed a thing:  they still couldn't get married and he still had to leave her here so she would be safe.  So he watched her as she wove the slender branches together easily and with knowing fingers, as if she had done it before, and suddenly Harry wondered what she was making.

      "It's a nest," she said in answer to his unasked question.  "Leonis is hoping for a large pride, but that's partially up to Fawkes now, isn't?"  Harry suddenly realized that Fawkes and Leonis were singing to each other overhead, flitting from branch to branch, playing a sort of tag--with Fawkes as it and Leonis the prey--that was starting to proceed in earnest.  Their songs were winding in and out of each other's melodies, pushing against each other, testing new limits, flirting.  It was mesmerizing, but he pushed it out of his head, not able to bear to wait any longer:

      "I have to leave tonight," he told her softly.  "I've put off the last task Dumbledore set me for too long already."  A single tear ran down Ginny's cheek; she tried to wipe it away before he could see it.

      "Spend the day with me," she entreated.  "Can't we please have just one day here?"  Harry brushed her hair out of her face and leaned in to kiss her, but he pulled away before it could deepen into more, and left her alone again, longing for more but not feeling right about giving it.

      And then Harry's ring felt as if it was being yanked hard, as if someone were trying to pull it off.  Harry turned to face Ginny in surprise; she looked keen on throwing something at him in anger, and he suddenly realized that she had just tried to:  but she couldn't pull off her ring, it had only sent a sharp pain throbbing all the way up Harry's arm, straight to his heart.  Her expression changed then, from anger to the same realization, and back to anger just as fast.  She leapt to her feet, the nest forgotten, and was already in the air, tears streaming down her face as she flew away from him.  He turned away and stood again, resolved to walk back to the Burrow alone, but the farther he went the more it hurt.  It was as if someone had ripped his chest open.  He was actually crying, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop.  Everything in him was screaming to be with Ginny, to hold her, to tell her that everything was going to be okay no matter how much he knew it wasn't.

      Harry turned and ran, picking up the broom he had left behind as he went, and kicked off the ground hard.  Ginny was retreating far ahead, already nearly to the paddock, her red hair swept behind her like a flag.  He pressed himself to the handle of his Firebolt, pushing it to go faster than he had ever flown before.  She was zipping down the paddock now, towards the makeshift hoops.  He flew even faster, straining to cut the distance between them so he could hold her in his arms again.  She was hopping mad, weaving erratically, but it wasn't hard to fly across her path, cutting her off.  Her eyes threw darts at him and she flew straight upwards, pushing her broom into the sky, trying to leave him behind.  If they had been on identical brooms it would have worked--he was no longer the small boy with a build ideally suited to being a Seeker, after all--but the Firebolt was superior in every way to the hand-me-down broom she was on.  He held the climb inch for inch, eyes meeting hers and daring her to keep going.  She flipped over and dove, and his chest grew tight as he watched her plummeting straight for the ground, speeding up more and more.  He dived and called out to her, trying to get her to pull up, but she didn't, not until her knees brushed the grass and it was almost too late for him to pull up even.

      She took off towards the house, sliding out of sight into the midst of the trees that encircled the makeshift pitch, weaving in and out of them with ease.  He lost sight of her for a few excrusiating moments, but he quickly started to gain on her once again.  She tried to zigzag out of his grasp, but he was too fast, and he tackled her, pulling her off the broom and sending them into the grass.  They were beneath the apple tree again, and the phoenixes songs had reached a new pitch, frenzied and full of longing.  She tried to hit him, but he held her down in the grass, his mouth claiming hers, the smell of broomsticks still filling their nostrils.

      He didn't come up until he needed the air.  Their chests heaved in unison, lungs burning in protest, as she clung to him tightly.  He began to wonder if he could even let go now.  He ran his fingers through her hair and dug his nose into it, breathing in deep.  He wanted her quite badly, was upset that he had let himself get aroused when he had been trying so hard to stay in control of himself.  She had to be able to feel his erection pressing against her hip and know how much he wanted her.  If it had been anyone else he would have been mortified, but with Ginny it just seemed right, even if she made him feel out of control.  She ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, arms still wrapped around him, and he shook his head, fighting with himself.  They couldn't do this...

      "Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me," she begged, aware that he was about to go before he could even shift his weight.

      "I have to," he answered.  "The sooner I leave, the sooner I can come back to you."  A war was waging inside him.  He had to leave her, this couldn't be, he needed to go on alone.  It was all he could to push her away, to try to stand, , but she held him tight:

      "I can't bear..." but she couldn't seem to finish it.  Her voice caught in her throat, her fears remained unspoken, but Harry knew; he knew that she was afraid that he would never return, felt it just as strongly as she did, could read it in her eyes, brimming over with tears that she didn't want him to see.  Ginny placed her hand on his chest:  "Can't you feel it?  It wasn't enough, Harry."  He covered her hand with his own, wanting to lend her strength but simultaneously paralyzed by his own fear.  He had no answers for her, no reassurances, he did not have any real hope to give her.  "Say the words just for me, Harry," she whispered.  "Say the words today, not tomorrow or the next day."

      "What words?" he asked her.  He didn't understand what she was trying to say; he could hardly hear her over the music.  And then the song suddenly stopped.  She lifted her hand to his cheek, and his breath caught in his chest to hear the passion in her voice:

      "I, Ginevra Molly Weasley," she whispered, "promise from this moment forward, to be your helpmeet and your wife.  I will bear your children, take care of you, always tell you the truth, and honor you as my master.  I vow this whether our lives grow better or worse, are filled with sickness or health, poverty or wealth, peace or war, I shall be devoted to you alone for as long as we both shall live, so help me God."

      "Ginny..." he found that it was all he could do not to cry, he was overcome by the amount of devotion she had just displayed.

      "Say it," she begged.

      "Your family would kill me if they found out!"  It was true, but it wasn't the real reason.  He desperately wanted to stay, wanted to show her how much he loved her, wanted to seal her as his, once and for all, but something was still holding him back.  If they did this, then he didn't know how he could ever leave her, and he had to leave her, he had to keep her safe.  One day together would not be enough, no amount of time would ever be enough, nor would it be fair to her:  he had to go, she had to stay, and there was no use fighting it.  They couldn't, he didn't know how he could do this and then leave her behind.

      "Say it," she whispered.  And suddenly he knew that if he didn't do this then he would lose Ginny forever.  He hadn't meant for this to happen, for engagement to escalate to elopement.  He knew that everyone would say that they were too young, that it was wrong and foolish, but he didn't care what anyone else thought anymore.  He wanted this just as much as Ginny did, had thought of nearly nothing else all summer:  why was he fighting it?  He needed Ginny desperately, now more than ever, and nothing would ever change that.  It would break their hearts to stay apart, she had already given him everything, and if she wanted this then he couldn't deny her now:  acting as if he could was just lying to himself and damning himself in the process.  He brushed her hair out of her face, his body tingling all over, his heart overflowing with this desperate love and desire.

      "I, Harry James Potter, promise from this moment forth to be your defender and husband," he spoke slowly, forcing himself to be still, because he couldn't skim over the words, she needed to know that he meant every one:  "I will provide for your every need, protect you always, tell you the truth even when I would rather shield you, and treat you with the honor you deserve.  I vow to do this for better or for worse, in sickness or in health, in poverty or in wealth, in peace or through war..." his voice caught in his throat and his eyes burned as they glazed over with tears.  Ginny lifted her hands to his face, her thumbs wiping away the wetness, and he cleared his throat, pressing on:  "All that I have is yours from this moment forward, and I will be devoted to you for as long as we both shall live, so help me God."

      Harry kissed Ginny gently, his heart overflowing, and the song of Fawkes and Leonis--whom he had forgotten--began renewed.  The two phoenixes were dancing in the air together, weaving back and forth, singing in unison.  With each pass they drew closer to one another and the song grew more beautiful and gentler, until they were flying and singing as one.  A dome of light fell like a curtain then, pulsing red and gold, descending around the tree, encompassing him and Ginny, sparkling with power.

      Harry looked back to Ginny, wondering if this made more sense to her than it did to him, and he was shocked to find that she had started to undo her jeans, fire in her eyes.  "Not here, Ginny!"

      "Then where?" she asked matter of factly, pushing her jeans down her hips, then kicking them off.  Harry pulled away now, scooting away from her in the grass, his chest tight with fear:

      "It wasn't real, it wasn't true..." he tried to argue.

      "Did you mean it?"  She asked as if she knew the answer, was already climbing into his lap, forcing him to lean back in the grass.  She wasn't afraid anymore, she knew that he was stalling, that he was fighting a losing battle with himself.  She had always known him like this and it scared him.

      "Of course I did," he collapsed backwards in the grass, his senses overwhelmed by the feel of her warm body pressed against his.  Her knees held his waist tightly, digging something sharp into his hip.  He struggled to pull his father's pouch from his pocket, was startled to feel his mother's ring drop into his hand as if summoned.  Ginny was leaning over him now, her hair tickling his face even before she bent to kiss him.  She pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes, her hands caressing his face hesitantly:

      "I meant it," she reassured him.  "I have always meant it."  His next retort--which would have been that there hadn't been witnesses--was silenced when her mouth claimed his again.  Heat coursed through his veins, fire in her touch, desire deep in his belly....  The last vestiges of his self control were falling away, he was teetering on the edge, about to venture past the point of no return.   Ginny pulled away, merciful and cruel at the same time, and he sat up with her, longing for more.  She pulled his tee over his head in one smooth motion, dropping it in the grass.  Her hands went to his waist, but he seized her wrists with firm but gentle hands:

      "Wait," he implored.  Their eyes were locked as he slid the ring onto her hand, and they kissed again.  He held her hips as they lay back in the grass together, then deftly rolled so that he was on top, causing her to squeak in surprise.

      Harry suddenly realized that he didn't know what to do next, not really.  All he knew about sex was locker room and water closet talk from back at Hogwarts, and he had never put much stock in the tales of Dean Thomas or the Twins.  He was desperate to see more of her, to touch more of her, but even moreso to show her how much he wanted to please her.  But an alarm went off in the back of his head:  What if someone finds us? it asked.  She certainly didn't seem to care anymore, but it was enough to give him pause.  He started to lift himself off of her, but her hands found his waist, stopping him:

      They'll keep watch... Ginny's voice seemed to echo in his head.  He trembled but remained still as she turned her attention back to his clothing.  His eyes didn't leave her face as she undid his jeans, then pushed down his pants and boxers together, just far enough, and Ginny froze when she saw his manhood unveiled.  Harry blushed with the realization and in pride as he realized that she could see him now and was gazing at him with a shock that clearly said that she had never seen a naked man before him.  He kissed her again, then eased himself onto his side next to her in the grass so he could pull his pants off.  Next he slowly slid her panties down, revealing auburn curls, and once they were gone she opened herself up to him completely.

      Harry was desperate to be inside Ginny at last, and desperate to see more of her body, but still he hesitated.  He didn't want to hurt her, but he didn't know what to do to please her.  He lifted his eyes to her face, searching for the reassurance he knew he would find in her brown eyes.  There was so much trust and love displayed in her gaze as she took his hand in her own and guided it towards her most sacred crevice.  His fingers brushed against a tiny hard bump that lay nestled in between warm folds of skin, and her hips lifted to meet his hand, and her hand pressed his fingers closer, forcing him to press harder.  He was surprised to find that this wasn't hurting her, rather it was causing her pleasure.  He could feel muscles contracting appreciatively beneath her hot skin.  Her hips' movements urged him onward, his fingers farther down, where he found wetness, then back up to her clitoris, which quickly spread her juices on his fingers and all around the tiny area he was now exploring on his own.  Within no time at all he could hardly feel the tiny bundle of nerves anymore, but his fingers were brushing against the opening to within, then gently probing deeper.  She was so hot and wet and soft.

      "Please," she whispered, bucking against his hand insistantly.  He knew that she wanted this just as desperately as he did, that she was telling him that she was ready, but he knew that it would hurt her.  Her eyes were begging him, her voice a whisper in his head, I trust you, Ginny was trembling; a tear started to roll down her cheek, and he reached down to brush it away.  He didn't want to hurt her so he went slow, marveled at the sensations, gasping with the pleasure of it.  He was overwhelmed with new sights and smells and touches and sounds of Ginny inhaling sharply, then sighing as she willed her body to relax.  She felt incredible; it was more than words could explain, better than he had ever imagined, and he closed his eyes, gasping with the overwhelming pleasure of it.  She shifted against him and their eyes met.  He felt as if they were frozen in time.  They moved together, somehow finding the same slow awkward pace, and it was all he could do to hold on.  After what seemed like only a few seconds but had to have been at least a couple of minutes he couldn't wait any longer:  Harry came inside her, filling her with his heat, and he collapsed on top of her.  I love you, Harry, I love you, Ginny whispered over and over, her hands stroking his hair, his neck, his back.  Only she hadn't said a word.  When he opened his eyes again he had to lift his head to see her face, could see the tears pouring down her cheeks, could taste them when she kissed him.  His entire body was pressing down on her, and still she was comforting him.

      "I'm sorry," he told her, surprised to feel the tears dripping from his own cheeks.  They sat up together, embracing, and then he pulled away.  His throat tightened; he couldn't look at her.  "I'm sorry," he gasped.  She took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her:

      "You have nothing to be sorry for," she told him.  "We have the rest of our lives to get better."  His heart soared again, realizing that Ginny was now his wife.  She buried her face in his shoulder, clinging to him:  "Thank you."

      Leonis landed on her knee, her claws lightly scratching her beautiful bare flesh.  The phoenix cried, hot tears searching for where her mistress ached.  Ginny exhaled in relief, and Leonis cooed in encouragement before taking flight again.  The dome of red and gold light was still pulsing overhead, shutting out the rest of the world.  Fawkes wrapped his neck around Leonis' protectively, humming with joy, trembling.  Harry thought he knew how the creature felt:  he took Ginny's hand, his thumb brushing against the ring he had put on her finger, and Ginny gave a gasp of surprise as she took the sight of it in for the first time.  "It's too much, Harry," she exclaimed as if she couldn't believe that he would buy her such a ring.  He knew that she felt that he had wasted money on her, that one stone would have been enough for her, but this flower was made of many brilliantly clear diamonds.  She didn't know how much money she had now, how much he had to give her.

      "It was my mother's," Harry said quietly.  "I wanted you to have it but I thought your parents would object."  He found the pouch again and slipped the large gold ring into her palm.  It wasn't the money that mattered to him, just her.  He wanted everyone to know that she was his and that he was hers, but at the same time he was more afraid than he had ever been before in his life.  Ginny examined the ring for only a moment before slipping it onto his left ring finger.  The sound of a lion's roar filled the air, and a gold lion appeared, etched into the ruby, as the red flame of the plain gold band came back to life.  The words around the stone glowed suddenly, now blood red, and the bands wrapped around the other, merging the two rings into one.  Ginny's ring had changed, too, braided just the same as its twin only smaller, and the flower seemed to glow even more than before.  "I guess it is real," Harry was half afraid to say what he already knew in his heart:  "We're married now."

      "I think we always were in a way," Ginny told him.  "I always felt guilty when I was with other boys.  I think that's part of the reason I was so on the defensive about it.  I always wondered why it should feel so wrong for me to try to find a little happiness."  The lion roared in Harry's chest, eager to be out.  He had no reason to be jealous anymore:  he was her first, and she was his, and that was the way it would stay.  But he couldn't stop himself from leaning down and claiming her mouth in his.

      There was nothing to fight this time.  He wanted to help Ginny enjoy it, but it was hard not to be rough with her.  He was slowly giving in to the desire that had been coursing through his veins for so long, hidden and secret to everyone but her.  He began unbuttoning her shirt, his eyes wide with desire, eager to see every centimeter of the skin that had been hidden to him for so long beneath Hogwarts robes.  He fumbled with the clasp of her bra, and she giggled, then undid it herself.  She looked incredible, laid out before him in the grass.  Her freckles sprinkled her shoulders, her chest, even a few were on her tummy, but her breasts were white and untouched and perfect.  His every touch was full of reverence, and she shivered with desire as he caressed her throat, her breasts, her tummy, her hips, showering her with kisses.  She was more beautiful than he had imagined, ashamed in the dark to want Ron's sister like that.

      It was less awkward this time, with Ginny feeling less discomfort, but still it was over far too quickly.  They lay spooned together in the grass for a long time, learning each other's breath and touch, and then they went skinny dipping in the pond.  He had never been so happy in his life and he knew that Ginny felt the same.  He desperately hoped that they would have more than one day together like this, but as his heart soared in his chest, full of song, he knew that even one day was more than he would have ever dared ask for.  With Ginny he felt like he could face anything.