Harry Potter 1. Prolouge

It really is amazing how many emotions your eyes can hold.

I'll watch him, there, as he sits in front of the fire in my living room. I'll see the flames reflect off his eyes in front of this pensive look, like he's wondering about the meaning of life. He is, really. He's got every reason to, having his life planned out for him like he's got. Even further in his eyes, you can see the sorrow and resentment that evil prophecy caused him. You can see his hatred for the life that Fate had thrown him, mixed in with his being overwhelmed with his only purpose in life. I know he's thinking about what he's got to do this coming year, finding Horcruxes and the like. He's desperate to get off the couch and go do it now, but he promised he would attend Bill's wedding first. Bits of worry and rage seem to trade with very brief happiness or contentment, which are quickly replaced again. Sometimes, though, happiness will win out.

I live for those moments.

He'll sometimes sit there, nights. For hours on end, he'll stare into that fire. I understand he needs to sort out his thoughts, and with so many, it will obviously take a while, but honestly, you can only feel sorry for yourself for so long. Self-pity will rear its ugly head, and with its fangs and numerous claws and pinchers, attempt to swallow you whole. You have two choices, then. You can let it capture you, or you can run. I know. I've been there. And I'm terrified that Harry will give in to that first temptation.

I know that Harry sees the appeal in taking the easy road.

I really want to help him, too. I… well, I'm in love with him. In the beginning, it really was just this silly little crush I had, that I would write in my (not possessed) journal and giggle with Hermione about. I knew it, and Hermione knew it, too. But it's nights like these, that there have been so many of, when I'm sitting on the fourth stair (close enough where I can see Harry, but far enough where I know he won't see me, and I know I wont bother him. I really would rather use the third stair, but it creaks) and really seeing _Harry_, not The Boy Who Lived, that I've come to know and love so much more of him.

That's not completely true, I guess. This year, I really began to see Harry, whenever we were dating. We would talk about what was important to him, (amidst all the snogging, of course) and I really fell in love with what he told me. He began to mean more to me than he had before.

I suppose I understood when he broke it off with me after Dumbledore's funeral. He had to go off and be noble, saving the world, and all that jazz, which was nothing less than I expected, I guess.

Almost makes me feel stupid for doing that juvenile, 'Make Harry Jealous' plan Hermione and I came up with last year.

I've started to be able to read Harry so well that I can even tell what he's thinking during the day, when he's got his guards up. Like at the dinner table, when my father asks how his day went, he'll look up from his plate and smile, saying that his day went all right, thanks, and how was yours. When something one of my family says sidetracks daddy, and he forgets to answer, Harry will laugh a little, look back down, and start moving his peas around his plate.

This is nothing like what happened, if you would ask Harry. Or me.

When Harry looked up and smiled at my dad, the smile reached his eyes, yes, but so did other things. One was elation, from having my dad actually show interest in how Harry was doing. Another was confusion, which I blame on the Dursleys. Harry doesn't really know what to say, since father figures usually don't care enough to enquire on such trivial things as his happiness. One more was nervousness, because what if he said the wrong thing? Would someone laugh at him? Or more importantly, would my dad quit caring?

It's so sad that Harry thinks he could answer dad's question wrong, or that he would ever quit caring about him.

When Fred and George distracted my dad, Harry's eyes fell, and showed a sadness that makes you want to hide under your sheets crying for the rest of your life. When he realized that someone might be paying attention, he tried to put his smile back on, used a laugh so forced it made me cringe, and act like it didn't matter to him. But it did. I saw those eyes.

With his fork, he pushed one pea away from all the others, and frowned at it.

It was The Lonely Pea.

I would have laughed if it hadn't been so serious and meaningful for Harry.

That's something about Harry that can really get under my skin sometimes. He can be so daft, so clueless, even Ron can't compare. Sometimes I want to get up slap some sense into him, but then I don't, because that would take away those bits of his character that I love. He's just always got to be so noble, got to do his 'saving people thing;' he'll be so wrapped up in his worries sometimes that he cant see what's going on right in front of his face.

Like me, sitting here every night, waiting for the right moment to…

To what? Go sit with him? Declare my Undying Love? Jump out and say 'Boo?'

I don't know. I guess for now, I'll just sit here and watch him. Watch him, and love him.


	2. I Know

Harry sighed. Without looking away from the fire, he said, "Come out, Ginny."

Ginny stood from where she had been sitting on the fourth stair and, placing her hand on the stair rail, walked to the landing. She stayed there, and said, "Yes, Harry?" Her face showed no emotion.

Harry had noticed her sitting there, watching him, about half an hour ago. He hadn't mentioned anything, in case she wanted to stay there. He finally couldn't take it anymore, though, for he needed someone to talk to. He had so much on his mind, and he knew Ginny would always be willing to listen. He moved over on the couch and pat the seat next to him. Ginny smiled. She slowly walked over to where Harry was sitting and joined him. They got comfortable, Ginny snuggling in to Harry's side, and Harry putting his ankle on his knee and his arm on the top of the sofa. They both faced the fire. Neither spoke for a while.

Harry was the one who broke the silence. "I want to get out of here, Ginny. I feel so powerless, not being out there doing something."

"I know, Harry."

Harry swallowed, and blinked. "I'm scared, too."

"I know."

They continued staring at the fire. Harry had the ghost of a grin on his face. After a moment, he spoke. "How do you always know, Gin?

Ginny shrugged against Harry's side. "I can see it in your eyes."

Harry seemed almost surprised by that answer, but not quite. He wondered about Ginny's response. They both fell silent again. The fire threw shadows onto the walls around them.

"I'm so tired of it always being me, Ginny. I mean, I want to get out there and fight, but it seems like everything constantly falls on my shoulders."

If Harry had not still been engrossed in the fire, he would have seen her eyes steel over a bit. She did not answer. Harry went on.

"Why couldn't I have just had a normal life, Ginny? Why can't someone else save the world for once?"

"Harry?" Ginny leaned back, and looked at her love… her friend.

Harry looked over at her, as she looked back at him. What had been wrong with staring at the fire? Why did she have to move? The comfort he had gotten from her closeness…

Ginny saw those questions in his eyes, and chose not to answer them. Instead she said what she had meant to, which was "Please stop feeling sorry for yourself." Her voice held a slight begging tone.

Harry was surprised by her voice. When one usually said those words, they sounded annoyed, or angry. Ginny was neither. He would have known how to react had she not sounded so hesitant, or helpless.

Ginny continued. "It's just that, well, it does always seem to fall on you, doesn't it? But even so, are you sure that's a bad thing? Because you have the ability to save so many more people, and their families, than anyone else. And, er, no one else does." She looked sheepish. Maybe she should have gotten her thoughts together before she spoke.

Harry sighed. "But if it weren't for me, Gin, people I care about wouldn't have had to die in the first place." Harry stared back into the fire, and would have gotten lost in his thoughts once more, if Ginny had let him.

No such luck.

Ginny seemed to be almost a little angry. She scooted to the edge of her seat, and placed her hand on the coffee table, so she would be facing Harry, and he wouldn't be able to escape from her stare. "Voldemort would have already taken over the Wizarding world if it weren't for you, so don't even try and pull that load of rubbish." Her voice softened. "I just don't want you to loose sight of what's important, just because of some silly thing like self-pity, that's all." She sustained her stare for a minute, and then curled back up in his side. "I'm worried about you, Harry."

Harry suddenly felt horrible about himself, and what he had done to Ginny at the end of this school year. "Why?" His voice sounded pained.

"Just because you ended our relationship doesn't mean my feelings for you have changed." Ginny said softly. She thought for a second, and continued. "That's not necessarily true, I suppose." Ginny figured Harry should at least know the whole truth. "My feelings have changed. But, er, not any less than they were before. They're… more." Ginny took and steeled herself for what she was about to say. "I love you, Harry. I just wanted you to know, before you left."

Harry was stunned. He blinked, and looked back at the fire. He felt doubly horrible, now. Something was different, though. The balance had shifted between him and Ginny, when she had said those words. He needed time to think. Ginny saw that in his eyes, got up from her spot at Harry's side, and walked to the stairway. When she reached the first step, she said, "I'll always be here for you, Harry."

Harry looked up at his… what was she? Harry didn't know what she was to him. He didn't know what to think. He couldn't think. All he could see were her eyes, her chocolate brown eyes that had a sort of longing in them that he couldn't describe. The happiness that her eyes had always held was slightly dimmed. Harry didn't want to think that he could be the cause for that. There was some sadness, and it made him want to cry. It was mixed up with a little worry, for him, Harry supposed, and something else. It was a soft feeling, and it looked as if it went on forever. It was rich, and full, and content. Harry thought that was the love she had said that she had for him. He smiled.

"I know, Gin."

Ginny smiled, and sighed. She turned and walked up the stairs to her room. When she got to the third stair, it creaked.


	3. Those Robes

Disclaimer: Why do you even bother asking! I'm just a broke American teenager… what do you want to sue me for, my pack of gum? My amazing collection of clothes patches?

Harry has been avoiding me.

Since that night, one week ago, when I told Harry how I felt, I've only been able to catch glimpses of that black, unruly hair, or those piercing, bottle green eyes. He'll get up before dawn to get breakfast, eat outside, and then go flying his broom around our land, so I'll never know where he'll be. He'll pop in for lunch at a different time each day, so I won't know when he'll be eating. I've been wondering if I shouldn't just take up permanent residence in the kitchen, so he won't be able to hide from me anymore. The only place I'll see him for more than five seconds is at the dinner table. He can't hide from me there, what with everyone around and all. He'll catch me looking at his eyes, trying to see why he's steering clear of me, and he'll look down at his plate or excuse himself to go to the bathroom.

I don't understand. He seemed fine with what I said that night. Well, at least he didn't seem to be that upset about it. He just wanted to think. I know he did. His eyes can't lie.

I just can't figure out what could have changed.

Lady Luck has decided to be kind to me, however. Mum has taken Ron, Hermione, Harry, and I to Diagon Alley today. I'm going to get fitted for the dress robes I'm supposed to wear in Phlegm's wedding. Hermione said that she would like to come along, too, to see what I would look like, and do some shopping herself. When Ron found out that Hermione was going to be someplace where there wouldn't be any adult supervision, he, too, was suddenly interested in my dress. Harry is only coming because he doesn't want to be left behind, but at least I will be able to see him for a bit.

I'm really anxious, though. When I found out that he would be coming along, I was so excited I would be able to talk to him for a while, and find out what was the matter. Now, I'm realizing that's not going to be as easy as it would seem. What am I supposed to do, just walk up to him casually, and say, 'Harry! What's going on? I've been wondering why you've been trying your hardest to stay the hell away from me lately. Pray tell, mate?' and have Mum eavesdropping on a conversation that has nothing to do with her the entire time?

Yeah. Right.

"Ginny?" Mum is looking at me strangely.

Oh, right. We've stopped in front of Madam Malkin's.

I run to catch up to Hermione, who is at the door already. The first thing we see inside is Phlegm and her sister, Gag-rielle, trying on dress robes.

I'm surprised at Fleur's pick for bridesmaid robes. I expected them to be completely awful, all frilly and poufy-like, with lots of lace, but they are really very stately. They are pale gold, of course, but they've got kind of a square-cut neckline with a bit of an ivory-coloured pattern on the edge (maybe the depth of it will get Harry's attention, if nothing else), and the sleeves come to just below the elbow, with the same edge pattern. The skirt is kind of slim, and then flares out a little at the knee, and just touches the top of Gabrielle's foot.

I rather like them.

Before I know it, I'm being rushed back into a dressing room to put my robes on, and told to dress and come out quickly. Madam Malkin and Mum both slam the dressing room door in my face.

I sigh, and begin to slip into the robes. As they fall down over my knees, I turn to look in my reflection in the full-length mirror. They are gorgeous, but my hair was so messy, it completely ruins the robes' effect. I pull my hair out of its usually ponytail and let it fall down around my shoulders.

Argh. Bloody frizz.

Once I've decided my hair is satisfactory, I walk out into the main shop.

Everyone has their different reactions, I suppose. Hermione smiles, and gives me the thumbs-up, Mum has tears in her eyes, and Madam Malkin looks extremely satisfied. Phlegm does not. Gabrielle isn't even paying any attention, staring at her reflection in the mirror, and Ron is a jerk and pretends to gag. But I am not looking at any of their responses. I am watching Harry.

Harry, sitting on a small bench in the corner, whose eyes are finally telling me his story.

I quickly take note of every emotion I see in them, in case Harry tries to hide them from me again. Shock is closest to the front. A little male excitement, which I choose to ignore. I'm not looking for those feelings. Some angst, next, which is to be expected. Despair, which frightens me. Fear. Some minor confusion. Uncertainty. Insecurity. But what is that, deeper in…?

The feeling is endless. It looks soft and fuzzy, and warm. It is bursting with passion. But most of all, it is something I have never seen before in Harry. It is content.

I don't have time to contemplate that feeling. Madam Malkin's wireless is emitting a loud beeping noise. A deep male voice begins a news story.

"We interrupt 'Witching Hour' with Celestina Warbeck to bring you the following news. One hour ago, there was a Death Eater attack in Bath. It is reported that 5 Muggle families and 3 Wizard families were attacked. As of yet, no Muggles have been found alive, but we have found a few wizard children uninjured in the cellar of one of their homes. The children all attend Hogwarts school, and are named as follows: Hannah Abbot, Marietta Edgecombe, Orla Quirke, Rose Zeller, Blaise Zabini…

The story continues. I am tremendously worried about how Harry is going to take this. When I look over at him, He's not there. Instead, he is outside yelling in argument between himself and Hermione and Ron.

"I'm leaving now, Hermione!" His muffled voice travels to me through the window glass. "I can't stay here and have some jolly time when people are getting killed! Blaise Zabini, Ron! He's a Slytherin, he hates me as much as Malfoy, and his parents are DEAD!"

Harry continues, Hermione and Ron trying to calm him down. I am urgent to make my way to him, but Mum isn't let me budge in my new robes. "Let his friends take care of him, dear." She says to me. I glare at her.

"I am his friend." Mum looks up, surprised at my tone. Her eyes quickly narrow. "Don't you use that tone with me, young lady. You're staying here, and that's that!" She bends down and continued handing pins to Madam Malkin.

I sigh and look back out the window towards Harry. He is still fighting Ron and Hermione. Suddenly, Hermione grabs his arm and says something I cannot hear. Harry instantly looks up at me. We lock eyes. Harry is deciding something. His eyes are so hard to read through the dirty glass…

And he's walking back into the shop. It looks like every step pains him, but he's not leaving. I sigh in relief and put my face in my hands, to calm myself down. 'It's alright,' I think, 'he's not going anywhere…'. Madam Malkin stands up and says she has finished. I stumble back to the dressing room and take the robes off quickly. I realize I need to just see Harry, to be with him, so I can be sure he wont try and leave me again.

We leave the shop, Harry, Hermione, and Ron behind Mum and I. I can hear Ron and Hermione having a row about the importance of a good, quality pair of dress robes. I glance back at them, but I notice that Harry is staring at the back of my head. He gives me a weak smile. I smile as warmly as I can back at him, and fall back behind Mum so I can check on Harry.

Harry looks a little uncomfortable, and averts his gaze, looking forwards instead of at me. He doesn't want me to see into those telltale pools of green, his eyes that can reveal all of his deepest secrets, if only to me. I understand he doesn't want to speak with anyone after what happened today. I allow myself one question, which is,

"Are you alright, Harry?"

Harry realizes that I'm not asking for any kind of explanation, just a yes or no answer. "I'm better now, thanks." He turns and smiles at me, for a second, then turns back. I catch a glimpse of his eyes and see nothing but a secret. His eyes can keep secrets, now, can they? Well, we'll just have to see about that.

I pretend I am satisfied by his answer and, sensing he wants to think some more, hurry back up to Mum. We walk into the Leaky Cauldron, and Floo home.

Author's Note: I think the chapters are generally a lot better when I tell things from Ginny's perspective, so I'm only going to do that from now on in this story. Eventually I will change 'I Know', Chapter One, to Ginny's POV, as well.


	4. The Wedding

Disclaimer: Same as always. Not mine, Never mine.

"I do."

"And do you, Fleur-

I hear Ron pretend to cough in Hermione's ear. "_Hem hem, Phlegm, hem."_

-Take Bill as your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

Dumbledore smiles, and says, "I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Bill and Fleur suck face as Ron, Hermione, and Harry fake gagging. I stifle a laugh.

The newly wedded couple walks back down the isle. Gabrielle and her escort are next, and Bill's friend Mark and I follow behind. Ron sticks his leg into the isle to trip me, but I expect it, and I walk around.

The reception is held in the backyard of the Burrow. It's quite noisy. Well, _my_ family is noisy, anyway. There are quite a few of us, and when we all get together, we make quite a rowdy bunch. Phlegm's relatives are sticking close together some distance from the rest of us. They look down their noses as us as we walk by, and say things in French that probably aren't compliments. Who cares, really? Bugger the French.

I walk from the buffet over to the table I had been sitting at with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Ron is stuffing his face with wedding cake, quite literally. His face might actually be covered in icing. Hermione looks really beautiful in the dress robes she got at Diagon Alley last year, which are marred only by the disgusted look on her face. She can't take her eyes off my brother, who looks to be shoveling the whole of his third piece into his mouth. It's like she's got some kind of morbid fascination with it or something. I look to see what Harry is doing-

-And he looks down at his tea the instant my head turns his way.

Was he staring at me?

I set my plate down at my place at the table and sit. I quickly form a small plan in my head.

Pretending to be hungrier than I am, I instantly start slurping up my FRENCH-onion soup (Mum thought she would make something Phlegm's family would know and like. Shame that didn't work out), keeping my face down so I can barely see Harry out of my peripheral vision. After a few moments, Harry looks back at me. I lean up to take a drink of my pumpkin juice and-

-Couples dancing on our makeshift dance floor suddenly enthrall him.

Ha. I caught him.

I carefully move my soup to the seat next to Harry and budge over to sit in front of it. I lean over and whisper in Harry's ear, "I saw you watching me, Harry. You can quit pretending now."

The tiniest trace of a blush appears on Harry's face. He continues watching my aunt Georgia and my uncle Walden do a drunken tango, and then replies, "How do you know I was looking at you? I might have been staring over your head."

I almost have time to be disappointed before I realize that he is kidding. I smile.

"I happen to know that my Great Aunt Gertrude is sitting behind me, and that she clocks in at about 143 this year. It was tough to guess if it was her or me, but…" I shrug my shoulder as if to say, "Oh well," and take a drink of my pumpkin juice. When I set my drink back down, Harry is looking at me and grinning, which was exactly what I wanted.

I begin to search his eyes, subtly, in case he tries to look away. First thing is mirth; followed by his realization that he's having fun while people are dying in what he thinks is _his_ war, which considerably dampens his spirits. I must have shown some concern on my face, because it seems like he knows what I'm doing. I expect him to turn away, but he doesn't, which surprises me. Oh well, I'll figure out what that means later. There's some surprise in his eyes, as well. This sort of longing is right beside that, and eventually, it comes in front. And that other feeling again, the warm and fuzzy one, with passion and delight and contentment… it's never-ending…

Just as I'm getting absorbed into that sweet emotion, Mum's voice yanks me back into the present.

"Ginny, dear, would you come over to see your Aunt Gertrude? She's inquiring about you, and says that she loved the look of you in your robes, very tasteful…"

She rattles on about Auntie as I grudgingly slide out of my seat. As Mum steers me away from my table, I look back at Harry. He looks almost crestfallen. I spin back around as I hit my toe on Auntie's hover chair (kind of like a wheelchair for all you Muggle types reading my thoughts).

"Ow!"

"Don't complain! That was entirely your fault for not looking where you were going. Molly, have you noticed that your daughter walks like she's some kind of laborer? She really should start acting like a young lady, or you'll never marry her off."

I bite my tongue to keep myself from making a comment on how that's probably better than not walking at all and sit down in the chair next to my mother. Mum cringes, and replies as best as she can to Auntie's incredibly high standards.

I sigh and put my chin in my hands as Mum and Auntie continue their conversation. Getting an idea from Harry, I turn and watch my uncles and brothers and cousins spin their dates around the floor. Aunt Georgia passes out in Uncle Walden's arms.

I suddenly catch a piece of Mum's chat with Auntie. "Well, Harry's going back to stay at his family's house for a while and I thought that he would like some time alone with his friends before he left, and I know that my Ginny would be graceful about giving him his space…" Auntie looked doubtful as I grasp what my mother is saying.

"I _AM _HIS FRIEND, MUM!" The tables closet to us all go silent, including Ron's table. My mother is about to retort as I get up from my seat and walk directly over to Harry. Harry's eyes show shock, embarrassment, and nervousness as I stop in front of him and ask boldly, "Care to dance?" I hold my hand out to him.

Scared of my mother, but apparently more scared of me, Harry hesitantly takes my hand and gets out of his chair. Ron has stopped in mid-chew to ogle us and Hermione has and I-knew-it look gracing her face. I ignore both and lead Harry to the floor.

In a quite picturesque manner, the sun begins to set as Harry puts his other hand stiffly on my waist and gives me a terrified glance. I would have laughed, if I hadn't been so angry with Mum. I forgot how much Harry hates dancing.

Harry is staring at his feet and counting his steps under his breath. "One, two, three, one, two, three…" It's one of the most pathetic things I have ever seen. "Would you like me to lead?" I say caustically, immediately regretting it. Harry looks up, taken aback at my tone of voice, and promptly steps on my foot. He stops dancing and starts stammering out his apologies.

"It's alright, Harry, don't worry, it didn't even hurt…" I stop trying to assure him and switch to getting him dancing again. "Come on, let's keep dancing, you were doing really well. See? It's not that hard…"

We finally continue dancing, with Harry only checking on his feet every few minutes. Our awkward conversation eventually turns into a casual, cheerful one. His eyes have me enthralled as I float between the fluffy layers of that happy, warm, and complete feeling. He stops in the middle of some joke about a Japanese golfer (whatever that is) and just stares at me. His eyes hold new feelings. There's indecision, hesitation, and what can only be absolute fear. My eyes question his as he starts to tell me something.

"Ginny, I… well, I think…"

He twirls me around as his eyes seem annoyed and recognize that whatever he wanted to say couldn't just be blurted out.

"Gin, can I talk to you later tonight? At the fire again? Same time?"

I'm worried concerning what he wants to talk to me about, but won't let that get in the way of his need to speak with me. "Of course, Harry."

He seems pained as he nods and lets go of me. I watch him as he quickly turns around and walks back to the Burrow. I then notice that I am the only on left outside under a beautiful starry sky. I spin around in a circle by myself and decide to walk out to the pasture I used to play in as a kid, but not before doing a quick _Finite Incantatum_ _on_ the little self-playing string quartet Fleur enchanted, which is beginning to sound a little lazy and has started playing the same song over and over again. I walk away to enjoy a bit of cool night breeze before I go to my meeting with Harry, and clear my mind.

hr 

Author's Note: Fun fun! Who can find the Aerosmith reference in this chapter? Winners will receive one thousand points to their house.

I also want you to know that I am well aware that this wasn't one of my most well written chapters. My muse often has a mind of her own, and must have decided to go clubbing tonight, leaving me here to do the dirty work. I just wanted to get this up to you ASAP.

Guys! There's only 7 reviews for this story, and I know a ton more people have read it than that. PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! I need the feedback, or I wont know whether or not I should commit suicide because I suck so badly.

REVIEW! My life depends on it!


	5. That Night

I spin around in circles in the little meadow where I played when I was little. I get so dizzy that I fall, then decided not to get up, for the ground is surprisingly comfortable. The night is warm, but the grass is cool with dew, and it feels good on my back. As I lay there, spread-eagled in the dirt, I remember Harry and the wonderful time I had this evening at Bill's wedding; how terribly romantic it was as we danced under the stars, even if Harry did have a tendency to step on my feet. The thought of Harry counting while he danced makes me smile. Of course, that might have made the night even more romantic… I decided that it does, and sit back up again. At the edge of the clearing, fireflies dance through the limbs of the trees. If I squint, I think I can see some fairies dancing along with them. I look up at the sky, and the stars are twinkling at me, as if they know how ecstatic I feel. Even the moon seems to be shining extra-bright, just for me. Bliss consumes me, and I move to get up and dance as well.

I decide that there is nothing as exhilarating as dancing to silence.

And then I step in a giant mud puddle, which sinks down to my ankle. I should have known that this scene was too perfect. Oh, well.

As I still have some time to kill, I simply take off my shoes and continue to dance, staying well away from the puddle. I start a one-person two-step, and laugh as I twirl around the meadow. I think of Harry's horrible attempt at a two-step this evening at the wedding and-

Wait.

Bill's wedding.

Harry is going to leave tomorrow. Knowing Harry, he might even leave tonight, before any of us wake up.

This thought gives me a total and complete mood swing as I immediately switch from delight to anxiety and start running back towards the Burrow. I realize I have forgotten my nice shoes, and go back to get them, lest my mother's wrath fall upon me tomorrow morning.

No one is in the den when I arrive back home. I set my shoes on the coffee table (reminding myself to do a good _Scourgify _on it later) and fall back on the sofa to wait for Harry. The fire is dancing merrily in its place, putting me into a worse mood, as it appears to be mocking me. I wish I could remember that charm for shooting water out of the end of my wand. Maybe then the fire wouldn't be so cheeky. I open my mouth to tell it off as Harry walks in. I quickly shut it.

Harry stops mid-way to the couch and looks where I'd been looking, at the fire. He looks back at me, and smiles, but it does not reach his eyes. Instead, his eyes hold a sort of grim determination. He begins to speak.

"It's _Aguamenti_."

I am confused for about one second until I remember what I had been thinking. I wonder how he could have known-

My thoughts are interrupted by Harry's gloomy smile and his statement: "I've often found that fire to be disrespectful to other's feelings myself."

Harry looks to be steeling himself for something. He starts to sit down, and then stands back up again, looking dissatisfied. He finally takes his place in front of the fire, and begins to pace. His eyes show nervousness, resolve, and a bit of annoyance. They soften whenever he looks at me, but those moments are few and far between. He continues pacing.

"I really wouldn't be telling you this, but I feel like you have the right to know." This statement does not offend me, for I know that Harry tends to be brutally honest. But why do I have the right to know…? Harry stops and looks at me harshly. "You know about the prophecy, right?"

I nod.

"And you know that I'm leaving to-…morrow, too, right?"

"Yes, Harry"

He pauses for a moment, and says, "Well, I was going to go on my own, but Ron and Hermione decided to go with me. Completely on their own," He adds. He looks worried I will think he talked them into it, which is silly. I know him much better than that. He takes a breath, and keeps going. "I need you to promise you wont tell your mother or anyone else this next bit I'm going to tell you."

"Of course, Harry."

He stares at me for a moment, and continues pacing. "I plan on going out to Godric's Hollow," he said. "It all started right there for me. I also think that I might find some kind of clue there about where to find the Horcruxes, but I'm not sure. And I want to go to Little Hangleton, as well. You know, where Voldemort was born."

I pretend Hermione hadn't told me all this already. Harry continues.

"I'll send mail to you and your family along the way. I won't say where I am though, so I need to be sure you won't say anything." He looks at me again, as if expecting me to re-promise, and an idea forms in my mind. As I think about it, I wonder why I haven't thought about it before, and realize that now that I've thought it, I couldn't possibly do anything else. I speak, determined.

"I wont tell, Harry," He looks relieved. "Because I'm going with you."

Harry looks up, alarmed. "What? You can't-

"Who says I can't?" I narrow my eyes, and I can tell my voice was cool.

Harry gulps. "I just… you should stay here… your parents would worry… and they would _kill_ me… you'd be safe here…" his voice trails off. "…and your _brothers_…" he looks frightened now.

I sigh. I should have known they would come into this. I shrug off that thought and say matter-of-factly, "The whole power-the-Dark-Lord-knows-not thingy is love, right?"

Harry looks hesitant. "Yes…"

"Then it could only do good for you if I were there." Harry blushes a little and looks down. I cannot see his eyes. "I'm not quite sure that's the way it works, Ginny." He seems to realize something. "As a matter of fact, that's the reason you absolutely cannot go."

I don't care what he says. "I'm going, Harry. I want to be there to help you, and more importantly, I _can_ be. You're a fool if you think you can stop me."

Harry looked up. A battle was going on in his eyes. On one side, there was unease, worry, fear, and protectiveness. On the other was admiration, hope, anticipation, realization, and that soft, fuzzy, eternal feeling I am becoming familiar with… and starting to recognize…

Side One eventually surrendered, and Harry bowed his head again. "You're right."

I smile. "Aren't I always?"

My attempt at cheering Harry up failed dismally. He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up on end, and stared back into the fire. In time, he joined me on the sofa. We sat back down like we usually do, he, stretched out, and I, curled into his side.

Harry watched the fire until he heard a light snore coming from his left. Ginny was fast asleep. He smiled, and he felt this strange feeling. He felt warm, and happy, like everything was okay …and like Ginny needed a blanket. He took one off the back of the couch and laid it out on top of her. His stomach curled into knots. He remembered everything he'd eaten that evening at the wedding and sighed.

Must be indigestion.

He failed to notice that he only got indigestion when he looked at his best friend's sister.


	6. Prophecy

I lied. This is not the next chapter of IYE.

_CunningWoman sighs as readers throw tomatoes and the occasional anvil at her._

I really am sorry. I have gone through what I would like to call the worst week of my life, but really is only the second worst, and it all got worse yesterday when my boyfriend and I split up (and it just happened to be our ten-month anniversary. How sweet.). I did it, not him, so don't do anything to him, if you know who he is. He also writes, or was going to write, on this site. We're still best friends, but all you people out there who have gone through this predicament know that it still hurts like no other.

I hope you can understand why I'm not quite up to writing romance stories at the moment.

I'm going to take a while to really focus on God and get my life back together. I don't know how long it will take, but PLEASE DO NOT GIVE UP ON ME. I promise I will be back as soon as writing the words 'I love you' don't make me start bawling. See? There I go again.

Just kidding, I'm not that pitiful.

Bye! Hope to write for you all again soon!

**Machiavelli Jr**- I'm glad you like it. I was starting to wonder myself. Of course, you ARE aware that saying the 'S' word now gets you _Avada Kedavra_-d…

**harrypotteravatarfan1- **Wow, you seem hyperactive. Somebody needs to lay off the juice… just kidding! I love that you like my story that much!

**Starrydreamz-** I hope that happens in Book Six, too. In case you couldn't tell, you know…

Azabaza- Thanks! Cute things ROCK! 

**Luvguurl**- I'm really, really sorry…

**heather1021- **My best friend from kindergarten's name was Heather! You get a gold star and 5 points to your house just for your name. I'll have Dobby throw in a few cookies, too.

**Wolf's scream**- The cow says…Moooo. The duck says…Quack. The authors of say…Yay! for constructive criticism. Thanks for helping me out with my story.

**kitottercat**- Hey, gradual romance is the only way to go. I hate it when Harry and Ginny only take a paragraph or even a chapter to get back together. Where's the fun in that? I like your name too, so you get the same gifts as heather1021 (see above).

**DesiDude**- I really appreciate that you think my story is professional. That has probably got to be one of the highest compliments I've gotten so far for my writing. And I think that this has got to be the smallest world ever, since Desi was a friend of mine in my 5th grade class. See heather1021's gifts above.

How pitiful am I for noticing all these things?

**zan189**- I never thought of the Harry/Mr.Darcy connection. It made me smile! And Dumbledore… well, he totally snuck his way in there. I've decided I'm in the 'denial' stage of loss. That, or he just popped in to say hello to us live'uns. From now on, though, he's going to pretend he is his brother Aberforth.

**vanaalmar**- _CunningWoman does a happy dance._ Captivating is a wonderful thing for a fanfiction writer to achieve. Unfortunately, so is actually making sense. I'm glad I can do both!

**Arianna of Bellezza-** Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you think I have a unique style.

Bye everyone! I'll miss you!


End file.

Harry Potter, Drama, Romance