Harry peered at the house in front of him; the house that had been a second home to him. Second only to Hogwarts.




Privet Drive was no longer existent to him. He had only re-appeared there because Dumbledore had told him to. If anyone else had told him, he probably wouldn’t have done so. But Dumbledore was different. Harry trusted him completely, despite Dumbledore’s over-zealous trust in everyone.




He felt in his pocket, finding the gold chain and heavy locket that was a fake Horcrux. This and the death of the greatest wizard the world had ever seen were the two reminders that Harry had. He had to find Voldemort, end his reign of terror…he felt as though he owed it to Dumbledore somehow. And to the people inside the house he was looking at; all the people he loved. Being the only one who could save them, he was determined to do it well.




He took a deep, steadying breath, and entered the Burrow.




The normality of the Burrow startled Harry. He knew there would be a wedding soon, he knew it wouldn’t all be Voldemort, but it somehow came as a shock. It calmed him to be in a place where he wasn’t expected to be the ‘Chosen One’. The ghost of a smile appeared on his face, the first trace of happiness he had shown for almost a month.




Mrs Weasley saw him taking all of the surroundings in, and was pleased to see he wasn’t (although not in best spirits) in a pit of depression.




“Hello Harry, dear. Sorry we’re so busy at the moment, but the wedding is taking so much time! Ron and Hermione are upstairs, Hermione is such a help, but Ron…well, I thought it best he had a permanent break, and I told Hermione to keep him company. They are inseparable at the moment. I have my suspicions, but I don’t know exactly why,�




“Hi Mrs Weasley,� Harry’s voice sounded as though all energy had left it, but he was pleased to be back at the Burrow, with the closest to family he knew. He too had suspicions about Ron and Hermione, and the first proper smile grew on his face as he though of his friends.




He took the stairs to Ron’s room, and on hearing no noise, decided to knock. If he and Hermione were together, he supposed they should have some warning that someone was interrupting. If he were still with Ginny, he would have liked them to knock.




He forced himself to stop thinking of her; it was far too painful. He didn’t need more to worry about. He already had the fate of the entire world on his shoulders. That was enough for anyone.




The door opened and the freckled face of Ron Weasley, looking suspiciously casual appeared in the gap.




“Harry!�




Suddenly, Harry was enveloped by a hug that left him with copious amounts of bushy brown hair in his face, and received several thumps on several thumps on his back.




Relaxing properly for the first time since Dumbledore’s funeral, Harry felt a warm glow at the sight of his friends; only then did he notice that Ron appeared to be wearing a coloured lip-balm that he had seem Hermione wearing on several occasions. He decided not to comment; Ron and Hermione could tell him in their own time.




“Hi Harry! We would have been downstairs but mum seemed to think I was a health hazard,� said Ron, with a slightly disgruntled look on his face.




“That’s because you broke two plates and a non-breakable glass in the space of a minute, Ron!� said Hermione reproachfully, “anyway, it doesn’t matter now. How are you Harry?�




“I’m…well…�




Harry couldn’t really put into words what he felt. He was worried, angry, scared, determined…he was mourning…he was broken-hearted…he was happy at seeing his friends, happy to know they were together…




Hermione gave him and ‘I understand’ look.




“How are you two? What’s happening here?�




Ron started spluttering incoherently about “Me…’Mione…Umm…�




“Yeah I get it,� he grinned, sparing Ron the need to explain anything else, “that’s great! H-how’s Ginny?� he asked tentatively, not sure if he wanted to know.




“She’s...okay,� said Hermione, wondering whether to say what she was actually thinking: ‘no, Harry, she’s a wreck.’




“Really?�




“Well…she’s pretty upset, Harry. Sorry,� replied Hermione.




Ron opened his mouth as though to say something, but Hermione (quite wisely) gave him a sharp nudge.




“Should we go downstairs and help with the cooking?� asked Hermione. After seeing the look on Ron’s face, she added: “Or I could cook and you two could do the tasting. Whatever…�




“Yeah, that sounds good,� smiled Harry, glad of the subject change. His smile grew wider as he noticed Hermione’s fingers entangled with Ron’s.




Downstairs, Harry’s mood was greatly cheered by both Hermione and Mrs Weasley’s cooking; both were trying out recipes for the wedding, and he, Ron, Bill and Fleur were acting as testers. He was greatly (and happily) surprised to find that Hermione was almost as good a cook as Mrs Weasley, something Bill commented on. Fleur, on the other hand, made no comment. She didn’t seem to think it was needed.




Harry was just having a friendly disagreement with Bill over the jam tart when Ginny appeared in the doorway. Harry, with a mouthful of the said jam tart, started to quietly choke in the act of swallowing; this fact slipped anyone’s notice but Ginny, who slapped his back. Muttering thanks, he went to get a drink of water. Why did it have to be her that helped him? Why not anyone else?




She had disappeared by the time he had recovered. Harry’s insides ached; he could not bear the fact that she was in this house, as was he, and neither of them could even speak to each other. Wanting to be alone, he muttered some excuse about using the bathroom to Ron and Hermione, who had seen the whole by-play, and decided that the bathroom would in fact be a good place to sit for a few minutes.




His heavy steps echoing the feeling in his heart, he slowly made his way upstairs to the bathroom. With a sinking feeling, he realised he would have to pass Ginny’s room to get there.




An ache developed in his temples, the cause of which was the past month, and all that had happened. He wasn’t looking where he was going, only dimly registering the way he was going. As he reached the landing, he bumped into someone…someone shorter than him, with long, wavy red hair.




‘Damn it,’ he thought, as realisation dawned he was alone with the one person he wanted to be alone with, and at the same time wanted to be the furthest away from.




Ginny.

He stared deep into her eyes, the first time he had done so since they had broken up. He muttered an apology, and inquired as to how she was. Although her reply was ‘fine’, he could see it in her face; she was anything but okay.



The same as me, thought Harry, except she hasn’t got Voldemort coming after her…she might have done if I hadn’t broken up with her…I did the right thing…



He thought it almost as a question, reassuring himself rather than actually believing it was true. Rather than drawing comfort from this, he felt a dull ache in his heart, knowing he wasn’t with her. He wondered whether she felt the same…he thought she did; hadn’t Hermione told him she was upset?



Ginny seemed to know he was thinking (or making himself think) he had made the right decision. And how she felt.



“He’s probably coming after me anyway Harry. And Ron and Hermione. I know you feel you have to do this, but I also know you don’t want to.� Harry didn’t hear her add: “I don’t want to either.�



She looked at him, deep into his green eyes, as he looked into her beautiful brown eyes. His common sense was succeeded by his want for her to be safe. When she got no reply to the statement both knew was right, she carried on: “I’m not trying to make this harder. But I doubt me saying this will make this easier…� She took a deep breath, as though steeling herself, forcing herself, to say what she said next: “Harry, I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this! When I remember…after the Quidditch final…before my O.W.L.s…Harry, I feel like saying I won’t do this. I’m only doing it because if one person wants you to break up, then you break up. I want- I want- I don’t know what I want. Sometimes I get so confused…Vold-Voldemo- he could…[she faltered] then we won’t be together, ever! So I ask, why? And this gets harder everyday! And it hurts just a bit more each day…�



Harry was reeling. Ginny’s eyes were suspiciously bright; Harry knew that her definition of ‘making this harder’ would be to cry in front of him. He knew she was barely able to hold the tears in. That, for Harry, made it worse. She was trying to make it easier for him…he knew he had broken her heart. Breaking up with Ginny had broken both their hearts. Although the last bit of hope he had that it was protecting her faded away, he didn’t register that. On the contrary, he subconsciously felt he needed to protect her more. But she wasn’t this unhappy when she and Dean broke up…or her and Michael…he couldn’t remember her being like this over any boyfriend…



“I don’t need protecting Harry. I’d be in danger anyway. I- I-�



As though afraid she couldn’t hold tears in any longer, she turned into her room, and closed the door, not harshly or loudly, but with a soft click. He heard a quiet sob as it closed. He felt like sobbing himself. He didn’t hear her finish her sentence behind the door: “And I love you…�



This was worse than any argument. Harry felt as though he had tears streaming down his face, although none came; he felt as if his heart had been ripped out. He stood there, pale and shocked. He didn’t go to the bathroom as he originally intended. He sat on his camp bed in Ron’s room, beyond any tempers, tears, tantrums. Why did he have to feel this way about her? Why did it have to happen to him? Not only could he not be with Ginny, he had the whole world’s bloody fate resting on his shoulders! He was grieving! And what was it she was going to say, before she left? She never finished.



He couldn’t take it anymore; even Harry Potter has a breaking point. He wanted to scream and shout, his temperamental side returning hurriedly. He lay down, to think, and unintentionally slept; a sleep that did nothing for his worries just then …a sleep that only reminded him of how he was the one who broke them up.



***



“Where is she?�

No answer.

“I said, where is she?�

No answer.

“Ginny?�

Silence.

“GINNY? Don’t be dead…please don’t be dead!�

“Hello Potter! Cottoned on yet?�

“But…I wasn’t with her! She should have been protected! NO!�

High, cold, cruel laughter.

A green flash of light; awakening the sight of a cold, dark graveyard…with Ginny’s headstone a few mere yards away…

Everything goes black.

Silence once more.



***



Harry woke up in a cold sweat to find a mane of bushy brown hair and a comforting hand on his shoulder.



“Harry? What happened? You were talking…you kept asking for Ginny…� Hermione decided not to delve further if Harry replied in the negative.



“I...when I…when I came upstairs…bathroom…met Ginny. Dreamt…Voldemort teasing…dumped her…Voldemort…green light…Ginny…�



Hermione seemingly understood this.



“Harry, what happened when you met her?�



“She…I…bumped into her. I bumped into her,� Harry was becoming more able to speak coherently, “She told me…she told me that…It- She told me that this gets harder everyday…that she didn’t want this…but at the same time, she was angry with me, I could tell. She didn’t need to say she was angry. She said…she almost said something…don’t know what…� Harry’s speech grew more understandable.



In his mind, Harry puzzled over his ‘meeting’ with Ginny. Why had she left it hanging? Why-

An ache grew in his temples as always after a nightmare. He rubbed his head, trying to make sense of what had happened.

Hermione passed him his glasses and a glass of water.



“Harry…you’re not going to like this, but I doubt you’d find anyone that thinks it’s completely a good idea.�



“But...I-“ he spluttered.



“Harry, think about it. You want to be with her; she wants to be with you…�



“Bu-“



“And even if you’re apart, you’ll still have the feelings for each other. So Voldemort could still take her and use her as a captive. You know that. So better to spend the little time you may have together. And not forgetting, Ron and I could be used as captives too, and we’re coming with you. She’s in just as much danger as any of the three of us.�



“Yes, but-“



Hermione ploughed on regardless: “And to be perfectly honest, it’s pretty clear how much you feel for her,� Hermione’s voice was unbearably all-knowing; perhaps she had realised this, for she said her next words in a much softer voice.

“You love her, don’t you?�



This silenced Harry. He thought. He thought of the pain he had just gone through, seeing her, hearing her voice, seeing the tears in her eyes…

He remembered the pain he had caused her; guilt welled up inside him…

He did. No doubt about it. He had known it – subconsciously – for days. Weeks even. At least since he had arrived at the Burrow…and seen her…and her beautiful eyes…her soft wavy hair…



Harry was sharply brought back to reality.



“And Harry, I don’t want to make this worse, but didn’t…Dumbledore…say that your greatest weapon was, well, love?�



Hermione was right. Harry reflected on the last hour; all the ups and downs…

You love her don’t you? That was all that was going through Harry’s mind. He knew his answer as well. He was definite about it. And she was right about Dumbledore as well. Although he hadn’t needed convincing.



“Yes.�



“Yes?�



“Yes. I love her. And I have been-“



“The world’s biggest prat. Second only to Percy,� Grumbled Ron, coming in, “He’s not even coming to the wedding. Mum just got an owl.� He informed them.



Ron, on Hermione’s request (as Harry had rightly suspected) had not raged at Harry as he would have done normally, for breaking up with his sister. Ron didn’t need too, though. Just seeing her face was punishment enough for Harry, as Hermione had patiently told an irate Ron several times.



“So what are you going to do Harry? Because she has plenty of reason to hate you right now, but at the same time, she really wants to be with you. She only told you that she can’t be apart from you. You have to handle it just right,� said Hermione thoughtfully.



“Yeah. Remember her bat bogey hexes?� interjected Ron, sitting on the bed and hesitantly winding his arm around Hermione’s waist.



Harry stopped listening to Hermione and Ron’s conversation. He cursed himself for being so stupid. Why had he done this? He had wasted time that they may have little of! Why had he dumped the one girl he loved?



Well, he had an answer. Because he had been so in love. He hadn’t seen what was too protective.



Now all he had to do was make her see that.

Harry had known what he wanted from the very beginning. He had just been so worried, so protective…so in love, that he didn’t realise that keeping Ginny at a distance was a bad idea. He knew that no-one had thought the break-up a good idea, not even, though he hated to admit it, himself. He had thought it a solution. And it was a crap solution: she was his best source of comfort, she made him laugh, she was pretty, kind, loveable…he hoped beyond hope he could make it up to her. The thought that he could be rejected, as she was, was too much for him.



‘But,’ said his conscience, ‘she’s been through that. You dumped her already!’



Harry didn’t like to remember that, funnily enough.



He sighed. His first proper, real relationship, that could be - would be - the real thing, and he messes it up! Keeping Ginny at arms length was the biggest mistake he ever made, and he was determined to show her how he felt. But how?



The few days that followed were agony for Harry. He wanted to tell her how he felt, and he knew he could: it wasn’t like facing Voldemort. But Harry’s problem arose in the upcoming wedding; how could he make it up to her when both were busy leading up to it? Ginny’s bridesmaid dress fittings; Harry’s feeling of obligation to help Mrs Weasley (whom he’d sincerely miss when he went to find the Horcruxes) and who he wanted to thank for her years of endless meals and times he had stayed at the Burrow. There seemed no time to spare, and there was no time after: he had to find the Horcruxes. When, grudgingly, he put things in perspective, the Horcruxes were the more pressing problem; they were for all mankind, whereas Ginny was for him. Not that that made him feel any better: he felt he had to go straight after the wedding, whether he had spoken to her or not.



After several days of catching fairies for lights (after Fred and George, intent on at least a bit of mayhem, had ‘accidentally’ set them free), finding dress robes and planning his future search, Harry had still not talked to Ginny. Still with the pain of grieving, and terror of what he faced, this plunged his mood downwards, and he was often in such a mood that he should have had a figurative thunder cloud above his head.



Finally, a night came where he could talk to her; he planned what he should say, what he wanted to say…what he hoped she’d say…



“’Arry! Ave you any idea where Ginny eez? I need her for a moment, he dress needs altering!�



“Err…no, I don’t…�



He was speaking the truth; he was finding her at that moment. But after this – she’d have to get that dress fitted wouldn’t she! His chance ruined, he went to Ron’s room, hoping he could ask Hermione’s advice. He was running out of time fast; the only option now seemed to be to talk to her at the wedding, and even that might backfire.



Lost in thought as he approached Ron’s room, he forgot to knock as he had been doing lately, and walked straight in. He walked straight back out again, and knocked. Ron and Hermione hadn’t noticed him for being ‘busy’, and he hadn’t wanted them to know he had caught them kissing. This was different that ‘Lav-Lav’, this was the real thing and Ron didn’t seem to want to broadcast it this time. Neither did Hermione, come to that.



Seeing as he had knocked, he walked in again and gave a small smile.



“Harry? I thought you were going to talk to Ginny…�



“Phlegm needed her for a ruddy dress fitting,� Harry sulked.



“Yeah, so? Mate, you have to talk to her now, or you’ll have no time. You said yourself, you’re going after the wedding. Go and find her now.�



Ron had never been this supportive of his ‘relationship’ with Ginny. He had, it seemed, been quite repulsed by his best friend kissing his sister. But now he was actually giving advice; this meant more to Harry than he could say; the fact that Ron could do that was really great. Although, as Harry thought after, he may have just wanted time with Hermione. Nevertheless, Ron had a point: Harry had to find Ginny, quickly!



Harry ran, determined to find her before Phlegm did. He checked the tree-house at the back of the garden; he checked her room; the kitchen, everywhere. Finally, he found her: by the fire ready to floo to the dress fitting.



Harry swore under his breath. Why did nothing go his way? And there was no other opportunity. The wedding was the day after tomorrow and Ginny would be with Fleur all day. He had to go, right after the wedding. He had to. He had no choice…



“Ginny…�



She looked round, startled.



“Ginny…I have to talk to you…when are you…what time does the fitting thingy finish?� he muttered, not wanting to talk in front of everyone.
‘How romantic Harry. Fitting thingy. Great,’ he said to himself.



“Half an hour,�



The flames grew emerald, and danced higher and higher. The green light reflected in Ginny’s eyes and she stepped into the flame.



“Half an hour…� Harry repeated in a whisper, “Right…�



It wasn’t until she had gone he realised he hadn’t asked to meet her, and that his chances were now even less than what they were before…