Dancing in September

Authors Notes: Thanks to my Beta Jenni for teaching me all the intricate rules of English grammar! I was listening to the radio the other day and an old song by "Earth, Wind and Fire," came on the radio. It instantly inspired me to write this fic. So- enjoy!

He wasn't really sure what had brought him back here.

The war was over. It had been over for a few months, actually. It was the beginning of autumn, and the wizarding world was still trying to piece itself back together after the defeat of the most evil wizard of all time. He had been so busy over the last few months, making decisions, helping the Ministry to restore order, and finding a place to live, that sometimes it only felt like yesterday that he had stood in a large hall and fought a battle to the death.

And then, sometimes - it felt like an age ago.

He supposed he was still in shock. It still seemed so surreal, even if Voldemort had been dead and gone for almost five months. The loss of so many of his friends still tugged at his heart, and so he tried to bury the knowledge of their deaths deep inside of him.

Pushing these thoughts aside, the young man pushed his glasses up higher onto the bridge of his nose, tried to flatten his hair, sighed as it refused, and looked around. Dusk was falling, and the park was almost deserted. Moving over to one of the swings he sat gingerly, as if he was afraid the swing might bite him.

It did not.

A young mother suddenly glanced over at him, and her eyes widened. She moved forward quickly and grabbed her young son, who had been playing happily in the sand. As Harry watched, stunned, the young woman shoved the little boy into his stroller and began to march away, hissing to her friend and looking over her shoulder. As the breeze picked up, he caught the words, "St. Brutus's," and "criminally insane."

Harry Potter sighed, pumping on the swing gently as the mother and baby rounded the corner and disappeared. He sat looking into the darkening night, his feet making little circles in the dirt at his feet, as he watched the lights from the nearby houses twinkle into existence.

He could see Privet Drive from here. If he craned his neck, he could almost see Aunt Petunia in the kitchen of number four, beginning to make plans for dinner, fussing over Dudley and Uncle Vernon, and generally being herself.

Harry wondered again why he had bothered to return to Privet Drive. So much had happened since he'd lived here, and yet he still felt a strange connection with the place, and even with the Dursleys', who had returned to their normal lives once the war was over.

He had no intention of going to visit them. He was almost certain he wouldn't be well received by his aunt and uncle, considering they had just spent the last year fraternising with people whose existence they had denied their entire lives.

Harry sighed again, turning his head upwards to watch the stairs that were appearing in the night sky.

"I wish I may, I wish I might..." he mumbled, still looking upwards. Then he sighed.

What was the point?

The last few months had been hard. Everything was changing so rapidly.

Kingsley had been offered the position of permanent Minister for Magic within days of the defeat of Voldemort. To everyone's surprise, he had turned it down. So the Ministry had turned to the next reasonable substitute: Harry himself.

No one had been more shocked than Harry, who had immediately passed on the offer. Harry shook his head, frustrated. He was barely eighteen: wasn't defeating Voldemort enough? Didn't he deserve the right to his own life, away from the spotlight for the first time in seven years?

Kingsley had eventually been persuaded to reconsider his position, and was now working tirelessly at the Ministry, keeping up with both his job as Minister, and still keeping a role in the Auror headquarters. Harry had worked with him on numerous occasions after the war to try and restore some sort of order to the wizarding world, and in Harry's opinion there was no one more suited for the job.

Harry had decided to move into Grimmauld Place, and Ron had followed, realising his friend had needed the extra company, and Harry was grateful of it, even though Ron and Hermione still bickered constantly. Some things never changed, he supposed, and mostly he was grateful they were their old selves.

Harry watched, still staring upwards, as more and more stars began to appear in the sky. Harry remembered learning in school about the stars. The stars he was gazing at might not even exist anymore, the lifeless rocks burning out, exploding - and yet their light was still reaching Earth, even though there was no more star to watch. A paradox.

Harry wondered dimly how long it would be before Voldemort faded from people's lives. Like the stars, Voldemort was finished, exploded, a lifeless memory - and yet, his darkness would continue to reach out to the world long after he was gone, his poison spreading like ripples in a still lake.

Harry turned away from the stars, disturbed by his own depressing thoughts.

He didn't want to feel like this. He had been so elated when it was first over, thinking that nothing could ever harm him again, that everything would be all right now, that everything could go back to normal. Harry hadn't realised that normal was a relative term. Nothing was ever really normal to begin with, things were just familiar. Darkness fell in earnest and Harry blinked, his eyes adjusting slowly as the street lamps began to switch on, bathing the park in an eerie glow.

Everything was changing so quickly. The end of the war had spurred a spread of elatedness that both surprised and frightened Harry. People seemed to easily get over the deadly war that had been fought only a few months ago very quickly.

Or maybe they were just trying to forget.

Everything was happening so quickly.

Bill and Fleur were going to have a baby: they'd only announced it last week. Mrs. Weasley had teared up immediately, of course. Harry had smiled along with everyone else, grateful that this baby would at least know its parents, unlike Teddy Lupin, who would be raised by his grandmother, and who would never know the sacrifices his two loving parents had made for him.

Ron and Hermione were engaged.

It still surprised Harry to think of it. They had only been together for a few months. Ron had, of course, made a huge blunder of the whole proposal, and it had been Hermione who had finally popped the question - sensibly, in the line at the bank. It was still strange to think that his two best friends were in love. Sometimes he felt a little excluded from their friendship, even though he knew they never meant for him to feel that way. They were a couple now, and much of the time they wanted to be alone together.

And then there was Ginny.

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead where he still bore his famous lightning-shaped scar. Harry had been so busy over the last few months that he had barely spoken to Ginny, let alone made his feelings known to her. For her part, she seemed to be avoiding him. She never visited Ron when he was at home, and spent much of her time in her room when he called round to the Weasleys' with Ron. She had spent a large part of the summer in France, visiting with Fleur's relatives and attending a summer-school exchange programme.

Harry's heart gave a lurch: she was returning home today.

He checked his watch. The Weasleys were having a welcome home party for her right now. He'd been invited, of course, but at the last minute he'd decided not to go. What if she'd met some handsome French bloke over there? How could he ever compete with that? What if she'd got tired of waiting for him?

Hermione had begged - and then ordered him - to come, but he was adamant. He would not go. It was too awkward.

He closed his eyes as a warm breeze fluttered across his face. Her face burned into his mind, her warm brown eyes smiling at him, her coppery hair shimmering. He took a deep breath, inhaling the air into his lungs, a sadness tugging at his chest. He missed her a lot. A whole lot more than he usually admitted to himself. But this night was doing something to him. Maybe it was because he was so near to his first home, or maybe it was the clarity of the stars, or the breeze, or maybe it was just his own mind, pushing his thoughts to the front of his mind where they could be ignored no longer.

He missed her. That was all there was to it.

With his eyes still closed, he could almost hear her calling his name...

"Harry? Harry."

Harry opened his eyes. Turning slightly on the swing, his mouth opened in shock.

Ginny Weasley stood a few feet from him, a faint, nervous smile playing around her lips.

"Hi," she said softly, pushing her hair back from her shoulders, illuminated by the light of the streetlamps behind her.

"Ginny?" Harry could hardly believe she was here. It seemed surreal...

Ginny approached hesitatingly. "Am I disturbing you?" she asked haltingly. "Because I can leave..."

"No, no," Harry said quickly. "No, you're not disturbing me." He patted the swing next to him and she smiled gratefully, taking a seat next to him. She was silent for a moment as she pumped her legs like a little child, swinging back and forth slightly.

"Aren't you supposed to be at a welcome home party?" Harry asked, turning to her.

"It's my party," said Ginny, slowing down. "I can do whatever I want."

Harry smiled slightly. "You left your own welcome home party?"

"They have cake." Ginny shrugged. "They'll be fine."

There were silent for a few more minutes, both of them looking everywhere but at each other. Harry's heart was pounding in his chest. He wanted to say something, anything¸ but his voice was constricted by the terror he was feeling.

Ginny suddenly turned to him. "Ron and Hermione are getting married," she said quietly.

Harry nodded, glad for the topic of conversation. "I know. I was there when Ron tried to propose."

Ginny smiled. "He really buggered it up, didn't he?"

Harry laughed. "Oh, yeah."

"Mum's going around telling everyone the story now. You know, 'Oh, my son and his fiancé, they have the funniest proposal story...'" Ginny grimaced. "She won't shut up about it, actually."

As Harry watched her talking, he felt his heart tugging again. Slowly the swing came to a halt.

"I've missed you," he said suddenly. Ginny froze in the middle of her story and glanced over at him quickly.

"Me too," she said after a moment. "Why didn't you contact me?"

Harry hesitated, and then shrugged. "I don't know," he said honestly. "Everything was happening so fast, the Ministry, moving in Grimmauld Place, and then you went away..." He trailed off.

"Yes," said Ginny quietly. "I thought you might need some space. And I needed time to figure out what I wanted."

Harry looked at her. "And now?" he asked quickly.

She turned to him. "Isn't it obvious?" she asked. "I'm here, aren't I?"

As Harry took in her answer, he felt a drop of something cold on the back of his neck. It was beginning to rain.

"Do you mean..." he began.

Ginny stood up. "I mean," she said, smiling, "that I'm not leaving this park without you."

Harry stood up also, his mind whirling, as the drops began to fall faster, showering the grass around them. The drops collected in Ginny's hair, and the lights reflecting off the droplets made her look like an angel.

As Harry closed the distance between them, he heard the faint sound of music coming from a nearby house. Harry was barely listening as he took in the woman in front of him.

"Say do you remember,

Dancing in September?

Love is here to stay."

He finally closed the distance between them. Without even thinking, his heart hammering wildly in his chest, he reached out and enclosed her in his arms. She sank into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He was able to look up once more at the stars and reflect how different they looked, before he was immersed in a kiss that took his breath away.

As they broke apart, he cursed himself for waiting so long to do this. As she looked up at him, the rain falling softly all around him, he suddenly was aware of the words of the song drifting from the nearby house.

"Our hearts were ringing
In the key that our souls were singing.
As we danced in the night,
Remember how the stars stole the night away..."

He smiled down at her. "Welcome home. I've missed you."

She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, and slowly they swayed to the beat of the music. "I've missed you, too."

He was hungry, cold, and soaking, and yet he'd never felt happier in his life as he stared down at the girl who he had managed to get back, even after such a long time apart.

"Love was changing the minds of pretenders,
While chasing the clouds away..."

The song ended, and the music faded from the night. Harry's heart was still singing with happiness, rain running down his face, his thoughts much less bleak.

"Well," said Ginny. "Now we have a story to rival Ron and Hermione's."

"What?"

Ginny smiled up at him, the rain clinging to her eyelashes. "Dancing in September."

Authors Notes: Okay, so it might be a little cheesy, but oh well! They deserve it! Now, please, please, please review! It'll make my day! Please!