because they're young, because the can, and because sneaking out of the burrow to go to a pool party is easier than hunting hocruxes and leading a secret defense association, they go.
it's a muggle gig just outside the village of ottery st.catchpole; some high school kid named aidan is throwing a party. his parents are away. they go to the party because ginny vaguely knows aidan from when she used to go window-shopping with mum. the pretty shop that sold windchimes and conch shells was owned by aidan's parents.
harry and ginny walk hand-in-hand, ron and hermione in the front, and the moon shines on them. they're in love, they're free, they're adults for the first time in what was, and what will be a long life.
/
they hear the music before they see the house. on the porch, harry hesitates. kids his age roam about with cups of cheap beer and orange tang in their hands, so at ease, unaffected by a war fought mere months before. a war that could've easily doomed their future; a war that harry won by giving up life.
"come on," ginny says over her shoulder. she's standing on the steps that lead to the house, her hand extended towards him. because he trusts her, and because he knows he can always trust her, he goes.
/
inside, the house is packed, low lit. it smells of teenage sweat, cold beer and sex. ginny leads them in, smiling at strangers with ease, like they're not strangers at all. a group of lads call her "hot," and she raises her hand that is clasped in his palm; with her other hand, she gives them a two-finger salute. harry laughs, out loud, and for the millionth time, he is amazed by ginny's wit, her easy grace, her normalcy. behind them, hermione sympathetically pats ron's back: he has attempted to drink an entire can of beer in a single gulp.
the dim lit house, the loud music, ginny's hand in his.
"is this what life is supposed to be like?" he asks her. she can't hear him, she cups her small palms around her small mouth and shouts, "what?" in his face. he shakes his head, he smiles down at her.
"come dance with me," she shouts, a spray of her spit on his nose.
/
they're tired. they've danced for goodness knows how long. they sit on the stairs, catching their breath. from the window, harry sees hermione and ron kissing near the pool. ginny catches him looking.
"what's got your heart thumping potter," ginny whispers in his ear.
"you," he says. his directness surprises the both of them, before ginny's face cracks. they run upstairs, locking themselves inside the first empty room they find. they don't have the time or the patience to lock the door, to look around. they don't make it to the bed. they make love on the the floor, lying on top of a pale golden carpet.
when they're done, they lie next to each other and look at the ceiling.
"i think this is what life is supposed to be like," ginny says, watching the shadows on the ceiling. outside, someone shrieks, but harry doesn't grip his wand, because like he expected, the shriek is followed by the sound of someone splashing in water.
/
in the morning they have a headache. ron and hermione have abandoned them, by the looks of it. as they walk down the stairs together, kids snore in the corridor, on the steps, in the foyer. stepping into the tortuously bright sunlight, harry wonders who'll clean up the mess: tissue papers and paper plates and plastic cup, and his come from the night before, that has left a dark stain on the golden carpet in the upstairs bedroom.