“Well, I suppose we ought to get going,� Ron said, scuffing his toes in the grass. He reached out his hand to Hermione, who said nothing, but sniffed loudly and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “Come on, then,� Ron said with a shaky grin. Hermione took his hand in hers, blushing slightly. Ron looked at Harry. “There’s lots to do, right Harry?� Harry nodded.


They headed back to the castle and climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor common room for the last time. The Hogwarts Express would be leaving soon and there was no time to waste. Someone- Hermione?- gave The Fat Lady the password and she paused in dabbing her eyes with a lacy handkerchief to smile as kindly as she could at them before bursting into fresh tears. Harry managed a smile in return.


The common room was full. Students were standing by their trunks, chatting in low tones, saying their goodbyes before heading home for perhaps the last time. Harry picked Ginny’s red hair out of the crowd easily- she was standing by the fireplace staring at her hands. He felt a pang of remorse for what he’d said to her, but reminded himself that keeping her safe was paramount to any feelings he might have. Ron patted Hermione on the shoulder, giving both her and Harry a lopsided grin before going over to see about his sister. Harry, despite his earlier resolve, felt his heart go with his friend.


He looked over at Hermione, who smiled at him bravely. “All right?� he asked.


She nodded briefly. “You?� Harry shrugged. “So when were you planning to tell Ron you broke up with Ginny?� Hermione asked.


Harry felt his spine stiffen. He stared at Hermione. “How did you know?� he asked.


“It’s not hard, really," she said in a clear attempt at being casual. "You were talking with her, quietly, under that tree where we used to sit, and then you went off alone and just now Ron went off to talk to her rather than you.� She paused and nodded towards Ron, whose ears were getting ever redder, and Ginny. They seemed to be having a very animated discussion for sad people. “Why did you do it? Especially now?�


Harry gritted his teeth. He loathed the idea of having to repeat the details of his breakup with Ginny, especially to her friend, but found that the excuse flowed out of his mouth with ease. “It’s just better that she not be involved. I don’t want her hurt.�


Hermione sniffed loudly. “That’s rather stupid reasoning,� she said.


“Really, Hermione. I’ve always had a particular dislike for your inability to state an opinion,� Harry said finally. They watched Ron, who was gesturing so wildly that several first years turned and scurried up to their dorms, their faces quite alarmed.


“Come on, Harry, wise up,“ Hermione continued, watching Ron with concern. Ginny had turned her head and was looking at him. No, at them. There was an expression on her face Harry couldn't read- either rueful or sorry, he wasn't sure. “It’s obvious that she cares about you a great deal. As do we. We’re involved too, you know." Hermione paused and looked at him. "You think you’re going to give us the slip and go off by yourself? We’ll find you, Harry. Always."


In her eyes Harry could see the steely determination he’d come to admire so much in her, and it frightened him a little. He didn’t have time to say so because Ron was yelling, “HARRY!� at the top of his lungs, and heading toward him with a thunderous expression. Ron’s gait suggested the certainty of a hippogriff homing in on a rabbit. Hermione stepped in front of Harry.


“Go and get your trunk,� she directed smoothly. Harry stood his ground. “Now, Harry. Please.� She turned and gave him a shove towards the stairs.


He turned quickly and climbed the stairs, listening for Ron’s footsteps, but they didn’t come. Suddenly Harry stopped. Why was he running away from Ron? He looked down the way he came and listened intently for a moment. There were soft voices floating up the stairwell. Harry wished he had a pair of Fred and George’s Extendable Ears. He edged down a step, then another before giving up and heading back up to the dorm. When he entered he saw Seamus and Dean, who were packing hurriedly and talking in low tones. They looked up as he entered.


“All right there Harry?� Seamus asked with a curt nod.


Of course not, thought Harry. Weren’t you paying attention? Dumbledore is dead, you prat! We’re none of us all right! he wanted to yell. Instead, he held his tongue and nodded. Seamus wasn’t to blame.


“Me mum is waiting for me downstairs. Threw a fit about the funeral, she did,� Seamus was saying gleefully to Dean, who chuckled. “Witches, eh Harry?� He hefted his trunk experimentally with one hand. “Well, I’m off then. See yer Dean.�


“Seamus,� Dead said solemnly, shaking the other boy’s hand before lifting his own trunk. Seamus strode up to Harry as well as he could with his trunk dragging behind him.


“So long, mate. You need anything, anyone for our side, you send an owl, eh?� he said. Without waiting for a response he headed for the stairs, followed by Dean. Harry watched them descend and it dawned on him that maybe Seamus had been paying attention after all.


A few moments later, as he was coaxing Hedwig into her cage, Ron came bounding up the stairs, pausing in the doorway. “Break my sister’s heart, will you?� he asked calmly.


“I had to do it,� Harry said flatly, gathering up the last of his books and dumping them unceremoniously in his trunk. “I don’t want her hurt again.�


“Yeah, well, she’s hurt now,� Ron replied somewhat evenly. Harry marveled inwardly at how Hermione had worked some sort of Charm on him to calm him down. “But she’s tough. She’ll get over it.�


Harry’s heart sank a little at that, but all things being equal, it was probably best she did get over him, and quickly. He glanced sideways at Ron. “She’s not the passive-aggressive, set-fire-to-one’s-shoelaces-type is she?�


“Her? Oh no. She knows a few good hexes, but she's not the type," Ron replied, looking as though he wished she was. Then the expression faded and he grinned slightly. "Fred and George, on the other hand… can’t promise anything.� Harry felt a little better at this. Ron sighed and turned his attentions to trying to stuff Pigwidgeon into his cage. “In the meantime, best not to miss the train, eh?�


Harry, grateful Ron was not going to pursue the matter of Ginny further, at least for now, grabbed his trunk and Hedwig’s cage, and started down the stairs, his friend close behind.


The common room had cleared out aside from a few second and third years, who Ron briskly instructed to follow him and Harry to the train station. They climbed out of the portrait hole and Harry found that he didn't want to look back.


Hermione had gone ahead, escorting Ginny to the train and settling her into a compartment with Demelza Robins and a few other Gryffindor Quidditch players before catching up with Ron and Harry.


“She’s doing okay,� she said without preamble, settling into the cushioned seat across from Harry and next to Ron. She suggested Harry skive off the greeting party once in London, which irked him to no end.


“Maybe I should just skip the wedding as well,� Harry said angrily, watching Ron pat Hermione on the knee with no small amount of affection and feeling a little confused. A little happy, a little sad, a little jealous. He forced himself to look up at their faces. “Sounds like it would be better for all involved. Don’t really have time for that sort of rubbish anyway.�


“Oh no you don’t,� Ron snorted. “Do that and you’ll have the wrath of Mum on both our heads- you for being a no-show and me for letting you.�


Harry suddenly realized that this was turning to be a very long day with Dursleys at the end of it and already he was looking forward to the Dursley part. At least he knew where he stood with the Dursleys.


The rest of the journey home passed without incident. Hermione and Ron had very obviously become a couple, which Harry decided he was rather pleased about even if he was now a third wheel. The ache of Ginny’s absence was competing with sorrow over Dumbledore’s death and a jumble of other emotions that he couldn’t properly identify. He’d never thought that his last ride on the Hogwarts Express would be so very uneventful, but at the same time he was, once again, grateful for the quiet. It was just easier to watch the countryside roll past and endure the sight of Hermione resting her head on Ron’s shoulder in uncharacteristic (for her) silence until the train rolled into the station. There would be time for plotting and planning later, he knew.


The weeks before he was summoned to the Burrow, were, thankfully, equally as uneventful. It was, Harry knew, only the quiet before the storm, as if the world was holding its breath. It had finally sunk in- Dumbledore was gone. The tributes from the The Daily Prophet which Hedwig brought in clippings were a clear sign, as if any was needed, that Harry’s best hope for safety was to lay low. So low, in fact, that he rarely left the house or even his room, but instead found immersed himself in his books, absorbing any and all information in an attempt to steel his courage and keep his mind off Dumbledore. And Ginny.


Someone had obviously forgotten to point out the benefits of this behavior to Fred and George. They began the summer with a rather spectacular howler that purported to be from Molly Weasely (thought Harry knew for a fact that Fred had a talent for imitating Molly's voice) giving him all sorts of grief for his treatment of Ginny. He managed to get rid of the thing before it woke the household.


Not that it would have mattered if it had. He had, finally, learned to tune out the Dursley's so completely that nothing they said or did could phase him. And they, clearly, had noticed: at one point Uncle Vernon had even remarked, in Harry's presence, to Aunt Petunia that Harry was showing a lack of spirit that he found worrying.


Dudley gave him a wide berth as usual. It hadn't helped matters that a package of Honeydukes chocolate, delivered by Pig from Ginny (Fred and George again), that Dudley came upon and devoured in secret was found to contain U-No-Poo, making him most uncomfortable indeed.


But no one got angry, there were no throbbing purple veins in Uncle Vernon's forehead, none of Aunt Petunia's dramatics and such, and Harry knew why. They were counting down the days until his birthday, when they would be free of him forever. It saddened him, somehow, that his last connection to his parents would be disappearing on his departure.


So he spent his days mentally killing Voldemort and his nights missing Dumbledore and dreaming of Ginny, and it was absolutely agonizing. There was so much about her to like. So many things they hadn't done and said that kept running through his mind during the day and ending up in his dreams.



One particularly pleasant dream, that he would die before recounting to Ron, found he and Ginny dressed in Muggle clothes and reclining in a field of some sort of flower on a perfectly clear day. Harry's head was cradled in Ginny's lap, her hair a red-gold curtain cascading down as she stroked his hair and smiled at him. In the dream they talked about anything and everything. Most of his dreams were like that. There was kissing, of course, and even in dreams the beast in his chest growled suggestively, but of what he wasn't certain, because in those dreams nothing more was needed.


The dreams themselves came out one of two ways- either he woke up feeling content or in shock. In the first instance the dream was so lovely that upon waking he still felt like he was lying in that field, until he realized he was alone in his room and then suddenly a feeling of sadness overtook him. In the second, the dream took a sort of nasty turn. The sky went dark and Ginny's face looked placid and drained of life, as she had in the Chamber of Secrets. And then she simply melted away. He would reach for her, but she just vanished.


He often woke up with the bedsheets wrapped around him in odd ways.


As the days passed he began to harbor an irrational fear or two, and not just about his abilities as a wizard. He wondered what he was in for next time he went to the Burrow.


What would she say when she saw him again? What would she do? He was fairly certain that there would be problems- after all, he was staying with her family and they couldn't be pleased with him. He desperately hoped they wouldn't be since their friendship had sustained him for so many years and in all the time he'd known Molly and Arthur Weasley he'd never known them to be other than fair and loving. Surely they wouldn't be angry...


Would they?


Hedwig, who had been staying at the Burrow for the summer, brought the invitation to the wedding the day before his birthday. He was happy to see her and spent a few moments stroking her snowy feathers and letting her nip at his fingers whenever he stopped. At the same time he was a bit apprehensive of the scroll she carried, because it meant that it was time.


That it was time to leave the Dursley's meant the end of the strange sort of protection he'd enjoyed (if that was the word) under their roof for so many years and the beginning of what would surely be a war to end all wars. As he sat there at his bedroom window time came to a stop.


And then he knew, full on, what he'd been trying to avoid since Dumbledore's death. He was afraid.


But more importantly, he was ready. But for what?


Hedwig, sensing a lack of progress, gave him a great nip on the ear, pulling back to look at him calmly as he yelled in surprise. He glared at her, and she cocked her head in response. "How did you get to be so much like Hermione?" Harry asked her. Hedwig hooted softly and held out her leg.


Ah well. Onward, Harry thought as he unrolled the scroll, picked up the quill on his desk and scribbled his reply and rolled it up again before tying it to to her leg. He watched Hedwig spread her wings and soar away, back to the Burrow. And that was that.


So, with one last summer in Little Whinging under his belt, he packed his trunk and waited out his last day.


In the evening, as night fell, he listened closely to the sounds of number four Privet Drive. Aunt Petunia was tra-la-la-ing in a shaky voice as she cooked dinner, cleaning as she went. Dudley was mooning over some girl When did that happen, I wonder? and whining about his clothes being out of style and wanting a car. Uncle Vernon was growling under his breath about Dudley needing to get a job if a car was on his agenda. Harry listened and decided that all told their lives went on just fine, whether he was upstairs or not. That night he slept, dreamless.


On the morning of his birthday he rose with the sun. There was no satisfaction in making a fuss about his departure, so Harry decided to Apparate directly in front of The Burrow and to do it, if possible, without saying farewell. He had hoped that by the time he was ready to leave the Dursleys would still be in bed, but when he came down the stairs with Hedwig's empty cage and his trunk in tow, they were at the breakfast table.


“Where do you think you’re going?� Uncle Vernon asked mildly, looking at Harry over the morning paper. "Where's your owl. You're not leaving that animal here."


"Hedwig's not an animal, she's a bird," Harry said calmly. Dudley looked up from his plate of bacon and eggs, peering at Harry cautiously as though he expected his head to explode. "And it’s my birthday," he added. A feeling of liberation was trickling over him even as he said the words. It was like the Disillusionment Charm had been cast upon him, but it was warm instead of cold. “I have to go.�


Uncle Vernon looked at him steadily. “All right then. Be careful,� he said, then went back to his paper. “Try not to turn anyone into a rat. Or get turned into one. Lovesick prat.� Aunt Petunia had her back to him, but Harry could tell from the way her body was shaking that she was either crying or just wringing her hands with intense enthusiasm. He guessed the latter. Dudley just stared.


Not even a happy birthday? Gits, Harry thought, grinning inwardly. But at least it hadn’t gotten ugly. He shut the door after himself. It was a beautiful day, sunny and bright, but Harry knew that meant little and that the longer he took to enjoy it the more danger he was in. He walked to the end of Privet Drive, turned onto Magnolia Crescent and suddenly there was a squeezing sensation and he was—





Standing in front of his second home.





“HARRY!� Ron was yelling from the front porch, Hermione beside him, a surprised look on her face. “That was BRILLIANT! You didn’t make a bit of noise!� Thrilled by Ron’s praise, all thoughts of Ginny temporarily banished, Harry raced up the walk to embrace his friends.


Hermione managed a stunned sort of “happy birthday� greeting and gave him a peck on the cheek before Ron grabbed him and rushed him inside to be greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.


“When did he learn to do that?� Harry heard Hermione demand no one in particular.


Bill and Fleur were apparently out shopping (“Again,� Mrs. Weasley remarked happily, rolling her eyes.) and Charlie had yet to arrive, though everyone was very hopeful. No one mentioned Percy. Soon Harry was seated at the kitchen table and Mrs. Weasley was plying him with food. As though it was the first time he’d visited. As if Dumbledore was still alive and the beginning of term was just a few weeks away.


“Where are Fred and George?� he asked Ron once things had settled down a bit. "I should thank them for keeping things interesting this summer."


“Dunno,� Ron shrugged stiffly. His exuberance had suddenly evaporated and he was clearly avoiding Harry’s eyes. Hermione rolled her eyes toward the ceiling at what Harry already knew was an obvious lie. Apparently there was still more retribution coming and he would just have to wait for it. He did not, however, have to wait long. “Here’s Ginny though.�


Harry scowled at Ron and stared fixedly at the serving of shepherd’s pie in front of him. But he wasn’t looking down far enough- he could still see a pair of legs dressed in jeans come down the stairs, give him wide berth, pause as the owner of the legs greeted Mrs. Weasley affectionately, and then disappear behind him.


“All right Hermione?� Harry heard Ginny say lightly. Then she paused. “Ron, what’s your friend doing here?�


“He’s here for the wedding, you know that.�


“Fine. As long as he stays out of my way,� Ginny said primly before flouncing, in a very unconvincing passion, out the front door.


Mrs. Weasley said nothing, but she must have given Hermione some sort of look because Hermione soon rose and followed Ginny outside with all the spontaneity of one bewitched. Harry glared at his plate a moment longer.


“Well,� Ron said. “It’s happened. She’s gone mental. Might as well get it over with.�


“Get what over with?� Harry demanded. “When is everyone going to get it? I love Ginny, but I’m not taking her back! I don’t want her killed!�


He got up from the table and headed for the door. It had been a huge mistake, coming here before going to Godric’s Hollow. Well really, breaking up with Ginny before the wedding had been the greater mistake, but this was not working well either.


He threw the door open just as he heard Fred’s (or was it George’s?) yell of Accio Potter! which was followed by raucous laughter. Running down the front steps, Harry looked around a bit, his eyes adjusting to the sunlight, before he caught sight of Ginny and Hermione a few feet away. “Ginny—“


And then the air rushed out of Harry's lungs and he was falling backward. What is this? What's happening? His head hit something cool and soft and he couldn't breathe and he was reaching for his wand and not even sure if he had it on him and why couldn't he breathe? and then...


He was lying flat on his back in the grass, gasping for breath, feeling like he’d been hit in the stomach with a… Bludger?


When he opened his eyes Hermione was looking down at him with a concerned expression. Harry found that he was wheezing for air so loudly that he couldn’t tell if she was actually speaking, he was just aware that her mouth was moving slightly. He coughed and began sucking air into his lungs, willing the shepherd’s pie to stay down. Hermione was murmuring something about breathing deeply and relaxing.


Ron’s face jostled into view. “Sorry Harry, but it’s like I said. It wasn’t Ginny you had to worry about.�


Then Ginny and the twins hove into view. “Hurts, doesn’t it,� Fred smirked, a bat over his shoulder.


“Like getting your heart stomped on--� George said cradling another bat menacingly.


“--but a little lower down,� Fred concluded. “Sorry mate. But she is our sister.�


“That’s enough,� Ginny said. “Joke’s over.� Fred and George backed away. “I think the point has been brought home with sufficient force.�


The twins went off, presumably to find the Bludger and return it to its case. Harry, struggling to sit up, watched them go and wondered where they’d got it, then decided that was beside the point. He coughed a bit, feeling his voice come back. “All right Ginny?� he croaked finally looking up at her.


“Close but not yet,� she said briskly, pulling him to his feet. “Soon, though, I hope.�


“Me too,� Harry said and found that he meant it. She smiled slightly and turned back towards the house and he watched her go, Ron and Hermione at his side.


After finally finding Ginny it had been horrible having to let her go, but for now it was still the best course of action. They’d get through the wedding and then part ways, hopefully as friends. Knowing Ginny, however, he had a feeling this wasn’t the last they’d see of each other.