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New Year’s Eve 1996.
The annual party at the Burrow was in full swing. So many people filled the ground floor of the house that many of the revellers had spilled out into the garden, where hastily cast warming charms kept off the worst of the chill.
Harry reckoned he knew maybe a quarter of the people there - the Weasleys, of course, and the Order members he recognised from Grimmauld Place. The remainder must have been friends from the village or colleagues from the Ministry. It was fun to start with, messing about with Ron and his brothers. The music was loud, and the drink was flowing, but there was just a tang of nihilism in the air, with everyone present far too aware of the threat of imminent war, and the later it got, the more difficult Harry found it. He wasn’t sure which was worse - the looming, oppressive threat of an uncertain future closing in on him, or the fact that everywhere he looked, there was Ginny Weasley, brown eyes dancing, face lit up with laughter, utterly perfect and resolutely not his.
Ten!
Whoever was closest to the radio must have hit it with an amplification charm, because suddenly the countdown reverberated throughout the house. Suddenly overwhelmed, Harry bolted for the door, taking himself off outside the house, and around to the peace of the orchard.
Nine!
The countdown was so loud that Harry could hear it from the house, as he leaned against a tree in the darkness, eyes closed, and took a deep breath.
“Harry?” Ginny’s voice floated into his brain from the darkness.
Eight!
“Ginny! What are you doing out here?” he asked, startled.
She took a step closer. “I wanted to wish you a Happy New Year, Harry. Properly.”
“Properly? What does th…”
Seven!
“Shut up, Harry,” she breathed, taking the front of his shirt into her fist and reaching up to kiss him.
Six!
The countdown continued but Harry was barely aware of it. All he could think about was the feeling of her lips on his as her arms wound up around his neck.
Five!
Instinctively, Harry pulled her closer, leaning back against the trunk of the tree. The feel of her body pressed close to his, as soft and warm as the bark at his back was cold and rough chased all conscious thought from his mind.
Four!
“Harry,” she murmured against his skin, as he moved his lips across her cheek and down her jawline, thrilling as she arched herself against him, lifting her chin to allow him access to the delicate skin of her throat.
Three!
He captured her lips again, hands sliding down her ribcage and feeling a tingle as her own fingers grasped her hair, her kiss becoming more demanding and urgent.
Two!
Nothing could have been more perfect - seeing in the New Year with his arms wrapped tightly around Ginny Weasley, feeling her mouth warm and yielding against his. Only in his most cherished dreams could something like this have happened.
One!
“Harry? What are you doing out here?” Her voice, her real voice this time, jolted him out of his glorious daydream.
He opened his eyes to see Ginny looking at him curiously from the corner of the building. Her face was flushed, framed by tendrils of red hair that had escaped from her pony tail. Fucking hell, she was beautiful.
“Ginny!” he stuttered, sure she could see straight into his thoughts. “Erm, I was just… getting a bit of air. It’s warm in there.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, walking closer. “But I wanted to let you know Ted Tonks brought a crate of elderflower wine, and it’s really good. Come and get a glass.”
“Uh. Sure,” he gulped, nodding.
She looked at him fondly, and his heart crumbled a little bit. ‘Fondly’ was not the way that he wanted her to look at him, not now and not ever. But worse was to come.
“Happy New Year, Harry,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.
Harry blinked hard, forcing himself to return her smile. “Happy New Year, Ginny,” he sighed. Maybe next year, he added silently, as he followed her back towards the house and into 1997. Maybe. Who knows?