The random ramblings of a wanna-be author.

So the other day, I was reading Harry, a History and when I reached the part about wizard rock I was stunned. How could something as big as a whole genre of music been inspired by my favorite series and I have no clue about it??

( Wrock )

Hey all!

I know its been a while since I was on here last, somehow coming here just keeps getting pushed to the side LOL.

I found a LJ app for my iPod touch and just wanted to make sure it worked! If it does, I'll probably be on here more often.

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

location: cold

mood: amused

music: tapping keys :P

I couldn't help it, I laughed.

A few months ago, the first time I had closed, Ryder and I had Anna convinced that the place was haunted and she ran around poking pointy things into garbage cans to make sure that there wasn't anybody hiding in them. When I told Mike about it - he had watched the cameras and wanted to know what exactly it was we were doing - he laughed it said it was propbably Jeanette - she's never going to leave.

It made perfect sense, I see her all the time, and did then, so I started saying hi every time I saw her.

So when Anna and Lexie mentioned seeing somebody by the freezer, I said it like it was the most natural thing in the world: "Oh, it's Jeanette, she practically lived here, she's not going to leave."

Oops.

Anna ran passed me and started grabbing the extra containers that we put some of the toppings in up front. "Quick! Change the containers! She likes it when we do that!"

I shook my head and went back to my stocking, how long could it last?

By the end of the night, 'Jeanette' had moved chairs, opened doors, turned on water, started singing in the kitchen (okay, that one was me, but when they went to see who was in there, I had gone to get lettuce), become responsible for the clock discrepancy, and left foot prints all over the newly mopped floor. Oh, and she kept walking around the corner apparently.

Eventually, I had to call Mike to calm them down, but he was laughing to hard to let me hand the phone over. "She's bored," was all he said.

Anna and Lexie still think that she's just pissed at them.
 

location: Living room

mood: tired

music: 10:00 News

Chapter Four

Anna and Tara waited until they were sure that everyone else was asleep before they crawled out of bed and changed out of their pajamas and back into the clothes they had been wearing the day before. Then, they pulled back their identical long, black hair. Tara knelt and carefully pulled the small bag of food they had been collecting over the past several days out from under the bed.

Everyone who lived (with the exception of the older Potters and Sirius Black) in Voldemort’s secret headquarters was given weekly food rations. Therefore, there was never much, if any food left over for the twins to sneak into the tiny room down the hall and around the corner, especially since Lily would have their heads if they so much as thought about stinting themselves. And of course, they was only so much the girls were able to sneak in before Lily and James started looking to healthy and the death eaters grew suspicious. So the twins were forced to save their little non-perishable food, and if they had been pretending they needed more food then they really did since they were five, nobody seemed to notice.

Despite the meager amount of food that the twins were able to sneak in, they knew that it was the only thing that had kept their parents alive for so long. They also knew that before long, it wasn’t going to be enough or they were going to get caught. They had kept the charade up for nearly a decade, how much longer could they do it?

Holding the bag tightly in her hand, Tara walked quietly to the door and, opening it, looked up and down the hall. Seeing no one, she beckoned to her sister and they slipped silently through the door and down the hall.

When they reached the end of the hall, Anna glanced down one side of the intersecting hall while Tara checked the other. Breathing a sigh of relief, they turned left and stopped at the third door on the right. Anna gave three light taps on the heavy wooden door, while Tara kept watch, and waited for three responding knocks from the other side; it might take a while as Lily, James and Sirius tended to avoid sitting on the same wall as the door, one of them would have to force themselves across the room. Each tap on the door stood for one of the Potter kids, and it had been their password for nearly as long as the twins had been sneaking in. If somebody happened to come down the hall, the twins would knock twice – one each for Lily and James – and slip quietly back down the hall before the death eater saw them. Luckily they had been extremely fortunate and had only had to do that twice.

When the signal finally came, Tara gave one last, long look back the way they had come (if they had turned right instead of left, they would have ended up at the throne room) and turned just as Anna was reaching to open the door.

The door was always unlocked and – as far as the twins could remember – always had been, with the exception of the first two months after Sirius had landed in Tara’s lap – the people inside were simply to weak to push the door open, and as Tara and Anna were careful to avoid the particular hallway if they could help it, nobody saw the need to keep them out. Therefore, the twins were free to come and go as they please – as long as they didn’t get caught.

‘And,’ Tara concluded in her mind, ‘it proves that they’re all idiots.’

However, despite the lack of security, the twins had never tried to bail their parents out and for a very simple reason – they didn’t know how to get out. The only ‘outside’ they had ever known was the enclosed courtyard at the opposite end of the hall that their room was in. and even if they could find their way out of the complex, alarms would sound the moment they stepped through the wards a few hundred feet from the entrance, just like they would if somebody without the dark mark or who had been pre-approved tried to enter the wards. Then there was the slight problem that they didn’t know where they would go or how they would get there. They had always assumed that they would try and find Harry, so Hogwarts seemed the most logical location, but they weren’t even sure what country they were in, let alone if they could find the unplottable castle.

To escape, the twins knew that they would need to find a way to contact somebody on the outside. This is why when Sirius appeared with his two-way mirror, they had let their hopes up, only to be disappointed when the mirror was unable to find its partner. They had purposely tried not to think about how they would inform Harry or their other contact of where they were, since they didn’t know themselves, but instead hoped that they would have a way of discovering their secret location.

“Are you coming in or not?” Anna hissed, tugging on her sister’s arm.

Tara shook her head slightly to clear it. “Yeah of course I am.” She muttered ducking under her sister’s arm and entering the small, dark room.

“Some thing wrong, sweetie?” naturally Lily was more worried about her daughters then she was about herself, even though she was the one who was repeated tortured within an inch of death and starved to the point that it didn’t look like she would ever be able to recover. Never mind that she was the one with the haunted look in her eyes – her girls always came first.

Tara smiled softly and shook her head. “No, just thinking.”

James snorted, “You think too much.”

“And what exactly do you do in here all day?”

Sirius grinned, giving his skeletal face an eerie look. “I do believe that is different, Prongette.”

The twins both scowled, they hated it when he called them that.

XxXxXxXx

After the awkward breakfast was finished, Harry and Ginny tried to disappear back upstairs, but with no such luck; they had barely entered Harry’s room when Hermione and Ron entered behind them.

“Are you going to tell us or not?”

“Look-“

“It’s nothing, yeah we get it. Now what’s going on?”

“It’s personal Ron!”

The tall red head turned on his sister, “Oh! So now he’s telling you more then he’s telling me? When did this happen? Or better yet, why did this happen? She’s my little sister mate!”

“Ron! You’re blowing this way out of proportion!” Hermione snapped. “Eventually somebody had to come around that would get to know him better then you do!”

“We’re seventeen, Hermione; it’s too early for someone like that to come around besides – my little sister!”

Again, the vision of little green-eyed red-heads flashed through Harry’s mind. ‘Why not Ginny?’

“Why not me?” Ginny demanded, unknowingly echoing Harry’s thoughts, “Why the hell no?” Suddenly she looked enough like her mother that Ron shrank back in fear.

Instead of being afraid, like he knew any sane person would be, Harry found himself strangely fascinated with the way her hair seemed to turn a darker shade of red, and moved closer to twist a couple of strands between his fingers. Ginny tried whacking his hand away, but he simply moved it back to her hair.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s changing colors.”

Ron groaned, “For the love of-“

“All right, enough!” Hermione broke in, “You telling us or not?”

Harry, still distracted by the changing shades of Ginny's hair, absently murmured, “Mum, Dad and Sirius might not be dead.”

Ron and Hermione were silent for a long moment, then, “WHAT?”

Harry gave a vague nod, “And I might have twin sisters.”

“Harry--“ Hermione gave him a concerned look.

Ginny’s hair had returned to normal, and Harry, no longer quite as interested, looked up.

“-you’re sure its not another-“

“Not you too! Look, I’m fine alright; I’m not getting my hopes up…excreta…excreta…” Harry said waving his hand dismissively.

Ron looked confused, “but how do you know?”

“He doesn’t!”

“I mean, you’ve never even considered the possibility before, why now?”

“I have so…just not since I was about seven.” Harry muttered.

“But why-“

Harry sighed, “I had a dream.” He said, knowing how stupid it would have sounded if anyone else had said it.

Ron and Hermione traded looks.

“Harry-“ Ron started.

“Look I know all of this okay, do you want to hear it or not?” Harry demanded, sitting down on the bed he had used the night before.

Ginny sighed, she couldn’t believe he was putting himself through this – again ­- and sat down beside him, sliding her hand into his – what support she could.

Ron and Hermione hesitated, and then moved toward the other bed in the room.

While he waited for them to get settled, Harry watched Ginny and realized Ron had made a point in his little tirade- when had this happened? When had Ginny become the person that he told everything to? His rock so to speak? Why hadn’t he noticed it happening? Did it really happen that slowly or had he just been wanting to talk to her so much for the past several weeks that it had just happened and would fade as soon as he was re-adjusted to having her nearby all the time?

He doubted he would ever figure out the ‘when’ or the ‘why’, but the ‘how long would this last’ he knew was just a matter of time.

“Harry?”

He jerked out of his thoughts and lifted his eyes to Ginny’s concerned gaze.

“You okay?”

He nodded and took a deep breath, focusing his thoughts on the fragmented dream of the night before.

XxXxXxXx

A little while later, after Harry had finished telling Ron and Hermione about the dream, but about what he had found in the journals as well, silence reined.

“But Harry-“ Hermione started, “That’s not possible-“

“Not probable,” Ron cut in, “but if You Know Who thought there was any chance of failing, wouldn’t he come up with a back up plan?”

“How would you know that?”

“I don’t! It was just a thought!”

“Oh so you think now?”

Harry and Ginny traded looks of disbelief.

“Think they’ll notice if we leave?”

“Probably not.”

“Let’s go.’

XxXxXxXx

“They’re getting worse,” Tara murmured as she closed the door of their room after their ‘visit’ to Sirius and their parents.

Anna sighed softly as she let her hair down, “Did you expect anything different? Eventually even their will to live won’t be enough to keep them alive. Eventually, no matter what we do…” her voice trailed off, unable to finish.

Tara stared blankly at the wall, “If Mum and Dad die – I don’t think we’ll ever get out of here alive.”

“They never stop amazing me; they know what coming, what has to be coming and yet they spend all of their time reminiscing and making fun of each other. It’s been almost sixteen years and have you ever once seen them lose hope?”

Tara shook her head, “No, and it seems…wrong somehow for us not to find a way out; makes me feel guilt for some reason, like we didn’t do our job or something.”

Anna nodded her agreement as she changed back into her pajamas, “I know what you mean.” Suddenly she laughed. “Here we are being al hopeless and look at them! They’re living life as best as they can and they’re the one’s starving to death!”

“Do you think we should tell them Dumbledore’s dead?”

“Oh hell no, most of their hope hangs on Dumbledore, if they knew he was dead!”

Anna sighed and ran a hand threw her hair, “Why do they think Dumbledore knows that we’re here anyway? We’ve never had any proof whatsoever.”

“Something about how Dumbledore always knows…knew…everything?”

“No that wasn’t it…or all of it…Dumbledore always had an eccentric way of doing things, maybe they assume that he knew they were here, and just didn’t know how or what to do about it?”

“But if he knew we were here, why would he not try anything for sixteen years? Wouldn’t he have said something? Sent some sort of message…somehow?”

Anna sighed again, “You would think…maybe Snape…”

“I thought we had agreed that he’s a Death Eater to the core?” Tara cut in.

“If he just can’t say anything, because if he gets caught we’re all royally screwed, then…”

“I know this, I just…look he’s been here longer than we have and never once has he even hinted that he might even possibly be a tiny bit on Dumbledore’s side…why?”

“Maybe because if he does he’ll die and he won’t be of any use to anybody? Besides if he is on our side...Dumbledore’s side…whatever…what does that make him, a double-double agent? He’s pretending he’s on Dumbledore’s side for Voldemort isn’t he?”

“Yes, so if he’s really on Dumbledore’s side, then he’s a phoenix pretending to be a death eater who’s pretending to be a phoenix…who’s making my head hurt…”

Anna laughed. “I really don’t think we can rely on him though.... which leaves-”

They traded looks and spoke simultaneously. “Harry.”

Tara shook her head. “So…how do we get a hold of him?”

“And we’re back where we started.”

“Exactly.”

“But there has to be some way to get a hold of him, there just has to be. Otherwise…”

“I know Ann, I know.”

“Try the mirror again?”

“Why? It’s not gonna go through.”

Anna sighed, “But it doesn’t hurt to try-“

Tara smiled tiredly, “Come on lets get some sleep before they make us do this death eater training thing in the morning.”

Anna groaned and reached for the light.

XxXxXxXx

“Where are we going?” Harry asked as Ginny pulled him down the stairs and through the kitchen.

“I’m not sure,” Ginny said as she ducked around Molly and Fleur, they were running around making next to last minute wedding preparations, “but let’s go.” She led him outside; just before the door slammed closed behind them, they heard Mrs. Weasley calling at them to help with some aspect of the wedding plans. Harry and Ginny traded looks, nodded and ran toward the orchard as fast as they could to get out of it.

“Race you!” Ginny called as she took off.

Harry laughed and chased her down, catching up just as she reached the orchard. He grabbed her around the waist, ignoring her squeals of protest, and knocked her to the ground, twisting so that she landed on top of him.

“I win.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, “Says who?”

“I reached the gate first, therefore I win.”

“Nobody ever said there were rules!”

“I just made them up.”

“That’s cheating.”

“Says who?”

He glared at her, lips twitching. “That’s not funny.”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“I’m not!”

She grinned and tickled his sides, he tried to squirm out of the way, but she managed to hold him in place. Harry chewed on his lip, trying not to give her the satisfaction, but wasn’t able to manage it. “Now you are!” She crowed triumphantly, tickling him some more.

Harry grinned evilly and placed his curled fingers against her sides, after several minutes of the tickle fight, she called, “All right! You win!”

“Do I really?” he questioned still tickling her.

“Yes!” She squeaked. “Yes! Oh for the love of Merlin, stop!”

“What are you going to give me?”

“Give you! Why should I give you anything?”

“Because I’ve been an idiot for the past two months?”

Ginny grinned as she leaned closer to him, “Yes you have, but what makes you think that that deserves a reward?”

“I didn’t say that deserved a reward; I came to my senses on my own, doesn’t that warrant a reward?”

Her grinned softened into a small smile. “I don’t know, does it?”

He nodded. “Yes, I believe it does, don’t you think?” he questioned as he tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her as close to him as he could.

“Yes I suppose it does,” she moved her lips close enough to his that they brushed every time one of them moved, “but only because it proved you’re not as clueless as my idiotic brothers.” She closed the distance between them and the many sunlit days of several months ago returned.

When they eventually, reluctantly pulled apart, Harry had no idea how much time had passed and was just happy to have her warm presence at his side. When she rolled so that she was lying beside him with her head on his shoulder, he absently reached up and ran his fingers through her tangled hair.

“Hmm,” Ginny sighed, closing her eyes, “Merlin I’ve missed you.”

They laid there silently for several minutes, then, Ginny rolled over a propped herself up on his chest, “You sure you don’t want to talk?”

He groaned, “Gin-“

“I’m not stupid, Potter, you’re not going to let this go until you know for sure. If you’re wrong and they’re not alive, you’ll be all moody-“

Harry’s brow furrowed, “I’ll have half a nose and end up with a fake eye?”

She rolled her eyes. “Merlin, no, I like your nose,” she kissed the tip of it, “and don’t get me started about your eyes.”

“What’s wrong with my eyes?”

She laughed. “Are you really that clueless?”

“Probably.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Any woman in the world would commit murder for your eyes.” She thought for a moment, “So would half the men too, come to think of it.”

Harry laughed, “No really.”

“Seriously.” When he continued to look dubious, she added, “Babe, your eyes are amazing, believe me on this one.”

He stared at her in disbelief.

“Harry, for the past five – probably six – years, the main topic of discussion in the girls dorms has been whether your eyes are naturally that green or not.”

“Why the hell would they not be?”

“The theory is you’re so good and charms you charmed them before you started school.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “When I was eleven.”

“Hermione laughs at them; she says that they obviously haven’t seen you in charms.”

“Obviously not, considering I end up with yellow eyebrows.”

She laughed. “There is one thing they all agree on though.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re to thin-“

Harry rolled his eyes, “I’m the seeker – of course I’m – “

“- though the quidditch has been good…extremely good.”

He tightened his hold on her, “You think so?”

She laughed, “Yes I do, and I must admit that you’re the only seeker I’ve ever heard of the gains weight during the season.”

“It’s not my fault,” Harry muttered, “that if I don’t, I’m underweight.”

Ginny shifted so that her arms were around his neck and her head was cradled between her right arm and his neck. “I hate your aunt, you know that?”

“It wasn’t really her fault, you want to blame someone, blame Vernon.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending her, even if she just stood there and watched; she’s at as much fault as he is…if not more.”

“How do you figure?”

“She didn’t do anything to stop it, she just sat there and watched while he shoved you in that godforsaken cupboard and you won’t tell us what else!”

Harry sighed softly and rubbed her back, “I think I turned out okay.”

“That’s not the point,” she murmured concerned.

Harry sighed and sat up, pulling her with him, “I’m fine, you know that.”

“Of course I know that…you’re very fine.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“No really, you are, you’re just blind…it’s just…were you then?” she questioned, eyes flashing, hair turning a slightly darker shade of red. When he tried to feign the interest in her hair that had been so real and hour and a half before, she nodded and whispered, “I thought not.”

He didn’t answer – wouldn’t even look her in the eyes – and she found herself wondering if she had over stepped some invisible line she hadn’t known existed. The topic of his life at the Dursley’s was mentioned so rarely, she wondered if he knew the line existed. “Harry, I’m sorry, I know you don’t like to talk about it,” she whispered so softly she could barely hear it and reaching up, she lightly ran her fingers through the amazingly soft hair behind his ear. “God, you’re like a dog,” she added when he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

He laughed in spite of himself and opened his eyes, expression sobering as soon as their gazes met. “Don’t be; I think that you should know…its part of what made me who I am…what makes it so I have to believe that they aren’t dead,” there was no need to ask who ‘they’ were. “Maybe you’ll understand once you know…or you’ll think I’m crazy…one of the two.”

“I’ll never think you’re crazy, I’ll always believe in you.”

“Always?” Harry murmured, looking up at her through those beautiful, long lashes of his.

She cupped his cheek with the hand that had been stroking his hair, what had they done to him – or not done to him – that caused him to need this constant re-assurance? “Nothing you could do could make me stop, I love you, and it’s not going to change.”

He stared at her in what could only be described as disbelief.

“Hasn’t …hasn’t anyone ever…” she trailed off, unable to finish, especially since he was the one looking concerned. It was only when Harry reached up and gently wiped away the tears that Ginny realized she was crying.

“No,” he murmured, “not until yesterday-“

“I didn’t say it yesterday…I wrote it.”

He smiled, “True, and it’s not the first time somebody’s done that, but I’m pretty sure you and Hermione mean it differently.”

“I would hope so.”

“But, I did say it yesterday…and that was a first.”

“That’s wrong…so wrong.”

“Maybe…but I wouldn’t have said it unless I meant it.” He paused and took a breath, “I wouldn’t have said it unless I was sure.”

She froze. Then slowly, excruciatingly slowly, she looked up and met his eyes, “Sure of what?”

He swallowed, wondering if he had over stepped a line.

“Harry?” Ginny whispered, was he saying what she thought he was saying?

“You…me…us.”

Subconsciously, she let her hand drop from his cheek to the rings that rested against his chest. “How sure is sure?”

Just then, they heard a loud crashing along the path that led back to the Burrow. This, as you had to purposely hit the bushes to make lots of noise as you walked down the wide path, meant that whoever was coming wanted to warn Harry and Ginny of their arrival.

Ginny groaned and rested her forehead beside her hand, glancing at her watch as she did so. “Took them long enough.”

Harry laughed.

“Don’t you feel lucky? You get time to think before you have to answer,” She looked up, “but I will find out.”

“Next time we’re alone,” he promised.

“I’m holding you to it…and you will tell me what they did to you,” she added as Ron made his noisy way into the orchard, a much quieter Hermione following closely behind. The girls traded eye rolls and exasperated sighs at Ron’s expense, who, naturally didn’t seem to notice.

“There you two are!” he exclaimed excitedly, too excitedly for the only reason to be that he had found Harry and Ginny. “Look at this!” He tossed the sports section of the Daily Prophet on the grass in front of them.

Suddenly curious, instead of annoyed at the intrusion, Harry picked up the heavy, folded paper. The headline read:

One man team?

In a surprise move yesterday, Sean Wrigley bought the English National Quidditch team and one player, Oliver Wood, formerly the keeper for Puddlemere United. Mr. Wrigley and in an statement announced just after the sale was final admitted to Daily Prophet reporters that he has no previous Quidditch experience. “I was one of those rare muggleborn students at Durmstrang and one of those even rarer Irish Durmstrang students, so I was a bit of an outcast. Nobody ever bothered to explain to me what the game is or how it was played, so I will need all the help I can get in running this team.”

Even more surprising was Wrigley’s response to what other players he is planning on recruiting. “I think I’m just going to let young Mr. Wood pick the rest of the team, who knows more about this sort of thing, then I do, and he’s more likely to pick people that work well together.”

Oliver Wood, a Gryffindor Alumni, refused to answer when asked who he had in mind to fill out the team that in all probability will be more his than Sean Wrigley’s.

The article continued, but Harry quit reading there, as in a quick down the page, he saw his name several times and he didn’t want to know what they were saying about him or what he was expected to do.

“Wow,” Ginny breathed a few minutes later. “Did you finish it?”

“No, but let me guess…he’s expected to ask the Fred, George, Alicia, Angelina, Katie, and me?”

“Naturally, and he’ll probably be dirty about it too.”

Ron looked confused, “How will he do that?”

“Probably have our uniforms made before he asks us…”

“How is that playing dirty?” Hermione questioned.

“If we see our name on the jersey…a national league jersey…do you really think we’ll be able to say no to put it on? And if we say no and he lets us put in on anyway – which he probably will – do you honestly think that we’ll want to take it off?”

Ginny laughed, “No! Hell, I’d probably steal it from you, Love, you can have it on game day, but I get it the rest of the week!”

“Really, Ginny, you’re as bad as the boys!” Hermione exclaimed, looking slightly annoyed.

“Well, duh! We are talking Quidditch!”

The others found themselves rolling around on the ground with tears running down their faces, they were laughing so hard.

location: home

mood: artistic

Chapter three

Chapter Two

The Box

Less than an hour later, Harry was packed and ready to go. As Harry was still underage, Hermione shrunk his trunk and Hedwig’s cage. The owl had been sent ahead when she had returned from her hunting trip, and would meet them at the Burrow. Harry stuck the two—now doll-house sized— objects in his pocket.

Dudley, who for some reason had returned to the room to watch, and had even helped a little, gasped in surprise.

Ginny frowned and glanced at her boyfriend’s cousin, then turned back to Hermione. “Aren’t you going to get in trouble for that?”

“No,” the bushy-haired brunette replied, “If they know about magic, there’s no reason why they can’t see it performed, or at least that what the law says.” She grinned. “It’s a very old law that nobody remembered to take out of the books when they wrote the one saying that Muggles couldn’t see magic performed.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Of course, you tell us that now; it could have saved some trouble after the dementors.”

“Well, I didn’t know it then.”

Harry, Ron and Ginny stared at each other, then at Hermione.

Did she just admit she didn’t know something?

Dudley simply looked completely bewildered. “What?”

“She’s the smartest witch in our year, has been since we started,” Harry tried to explain as they descended the stairs, “There’s not much that she doesn’t know…” He trailed off when he noticed his aunt coming down the stairs behind them with a box. A dusty box; since when was there dust in this house? And since when would Aunt Petunia voluntarily touch it?

“Here,” she said briskly, and all but dropped the box in Harry’s arms. “It’s full of her things; it arrived a couple of weeks after you. I never opened it, so don’t ask me what’s in it. This,” she dropped an old parchment envelope on top of the box, and Harry saw the faint, familiar curvy script of Albus Dumbledore, “was with you when you arrived.” And with that she went past them, vanishing into the kitchen.

Harry and Dudley traded startled looks. “Bloody hell?”

Ginny giggled.

They heard Uncle Vernon grunt through the door to the living room. “Are you leaving or not, boy?”

Harry pulled a face at the closed door. “Just about to.” He turned to Dudley . “Well, I’ll be seeing you, I guess…” he said, as Hermione shrunk the box and he stuck it and the letter in his pocket with the rest of his stuff.

“Yeah,” the larger of the two cousins looked as awkward as Harry felt. “Have a nice life…”

Harry slipped an arm around Ginny’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about it,” he responded, highly doubting that Dudley would. “At this point, I’m floating on air.” He grinned down at the short redhead beside him.

Dudley blinked. “Where’d you find her?”

“Platform 9 ¾.” Harry wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the abrupt change of subject. He shuffled his feet awkwardly.

“Where’s that anyway?”

“Between platforms nine and ten.”

Dudley snorted. The obvious answer, as always, sounds sarcastic.

XxXxXxXx

Within seconds of appearing in the Burrow’s kitchen, Harry was enveloped in one of Mrs. Weasley’s infamous bone-crushing hugs. “Oh good, you’re here; I was getting worried!”

Harry grinned and rubbed his side while he caught his breath. “I’m fine, nothing to worry about, Mrs. Weasley.”

She looked at him. “Here,” she turned around and handed him a full plate, “Eat, for Merlin’s sake, what do those Muggles feed you?”

Even though he hadn’t eaten all day, he was too full of curiosity about the contents of the box that Petunia had given him to be hungry. “Thanks Mrs. Weasley, but I’m really not all that hung—”

“Nonsense! Boys your age are always hungry. Eat!”

Biting back a sigh, he forced himself to obey. He barely avoided seconds and vanished up the stairs with Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

“What’s wrong?” Ginny queried on the way up to Fred and George’s old room, which was now Harry’s due to his frequent visits to the Burrow.

He hesitated and pulled the miniature cardboard box from his pocket, along with the full-sized sixteen-year-old letter. “The only things I’ve ever gotten from her are my eyes,” he murmured, so softly she had to strain to hear him, “and of course, my life…”

She slipped an arm around his waist as they climbed the stairs. “Remind me to thank her for that someday,” she breathed as she hugged him.

He smiled, faintly, and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

Once they reached Harry’s room, Hermione brought Harry’s luggage (and the box) back to their normal size; eyeing the expression on his face, she asked, “Do you want us to leave?”

“No, no, you’re okay,” he whispered as he opened the letter.

November 1, 1981

Mrs. Petunia Dursley,

You may remember me. Ten years ago, I arrived at your parents’ doorstep and announced that your sister, Lily, was a witch. Now, I have another announcement to make to you and yours. However, I fear these are not good tidings.

You may be unaware of the fact that there is a war going on at the moment. It is happening under your very nose in a world that you refuse to acknowledge. Yes, my dear woman, the wizarding world is at war, and for reasons I may not reveal, Lily and her husband James were at risk. In fact, I believe they were at the top of Lord Voldemort’s (I know you are aware of who Voldemort is, if nothing else) “hit list”, as it were. Yes, I say were, because, I’m sorry to say, your sister and brother-in-law are dead, killed last night by Lord Voldemort himself. Their son Harry fortunately survived.

I am well aware that you and your sister never got along, but I must ask, no, beg, that you take Harry in and care for him as you would your own son Dudley. Yes, I know of Dudley as well; every time a child is born with the potential for magical ability, it is recorded in a book. Dudley ’s name is in that book. Knowing your aversion to magic, I will assume you don’t want your son to attend a school such as Hogwarts.

When it came time to decide what to do about young Harry…Lily and James did appoint Harry a godfather, Sirius Black; however, Sirius was— as of this very morning—arrested for turning the Potters over to Lord Voldemort along with thirteen counts of murder. The gas explosion in London earlier today was no such thing. He is therefore unavailable, as he is now en route to a high security cell in Azkaban. You, my dear woman, are Harry’s closest relative, and are next in line for custody.

Therefore, I have this proposal: Take care of Harry, who will be in grave danger if you do not, and I will make sure that your Dudley’s latent magic is controlled from the outside, and that he never gets his Hogwarts letter.

You may be asking, ‘Why me, and not someone who knows how to raise one of your kind?’ Everyone in our world knows Harry’s name; he can barely walk and talk, yet within the past day he has become the most famous name in our world. He saved our lives, Petunia, and he has no idea. I have no doubt that he will need to learn of this before he is an adult. Anyone in our world would spoil him; that is not what one looks for in their world’s savior.

I hope that you give this some thought and will do what we both know is best for the child, even if you only do so because Lily would do the same for yours.

My condolences,

Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore

Slowly, Harry looked up from the parchment and realized that he was sitting on the bed. He didn’t remember sitting down.

“Harry?” Ginny muttered, concerned.

He hesitated, but handed her the letter. Ron and Hermione looked over her shoulder, reading it as well.

Harry slipped off the bed and knelt beside the box; using Sirius’ old pocket knife, he cut the tape holding the box closed, and slowly, uncertainly, opened it.

Everything inside was neatly packed and had obviously been that way for a while, but was strangely dust-free compared to the box itself. Realizing there was probably a spell with the effect (he rarely saw dust at the Burrow), he shrugged it off and took out the item on top. It was a flat, satin covered jewelry box, not unlike that a necklace would come in. He opened it and froze. Inside, on a thin golden chain, were three rings, two female and one male. Two of the rings, the male and one of the female, were obviously a pair…wedding rings. The third was older and more intricate. After a moment, Harry noticed a small, folded piece of parchment underneath the rings.

Slowly, he pulled the parchment out and unfolded it. The handwriting was shaky, terrified and decidedly feminine; the next thing he noticed was her ‘g’s were written just like his.

My dear Harry,

There’s no need to tell you what these are. No, that’s not quite right. There’s no need to tell you what two of these are; the third is a bit more complicated.

It was your seven times great-grandmother’s wedding ring. When her son, your six times great-grandfather, went to propose, she gave it to him to use as an engagement ring and it’s become tradition to use it as one ever since. Alright, perhaps it’s not all that complicated.

I know there’s not much of what you must be looking for in this note, but keep looking. All will be explained— it’s all in the box.

Love,

Mum

Numbly, Harry ran his fingers over the words of the letter. He reluctantly put it aside, and hesitantly undid the clasp of the chain, re-hooking it around his neck. Then, after lightly fingering the wedding rings that now hung from his neck, reached for the next thing in the box: two thick notebooks tied together with a wide Gryffindor ribbon. Subconsciously aware of Ginny kneeling beside him and picking up the discarded note, he untied the ribbon and opened the first of the notebooks. This time, the handwriting was a neat scrawl, remarkably close to Harry’s own.

August 12, 1981

Harry,

Your mother thinks we should keep journals so you’ll have some idea what our lives are like, what we’re like. Don’t tell her I said this, Son, but she’s right…as usual.

Harry laughed, unable to stop himself; Ginny, who had just finished Lily’s note (she was reading fast), gave him a startled look.

“He was whipped,” Harry muttered dryly, “’bout as whipped as you can get.” He shifted so he was sitting instead of kneeling.

Ginny grinned, and moved so she could wrap her arms around him from behind. “Did you honestly expect anything different? Redheads are good at whipping people…I suppose it comes with the temper,” she murmured in his ear.

He gave an odd little grimace. “I’m in trouble.”

She snickered as he went back to the journal.

So, here we go, just in case Sirius is a prat and doesn’t tell you anything, or for some reason you don’t go to Sirius if something happens to us.

Nothing all that exciting happened today. Moony, Padfoot and Wormtail came over, but that’s nothing unusual. They’re over at least once a day.

It annoys your mother to no end, of course, but if they didn’t come, I’d be checked into the insane ward of St. Mungo’s. It’s amazing how sick of your own house you get after being under house arrest for fourteen months.

Maybe something exciting will happen tomorrow.

I doubt it.

Love,

Dad

Harry quickly glanced ahead; the journal was set up like exactly that, a journal, entries more or less made daily…and if they both had one, then…he put James’s journal aside and reached for the other.

“Harry what…” Ginny whispered.

 “Journals, they kept journals.” He twisted around to gaze at her. “I…you have no idea what…”

She lightly nestled her forehead against the back of his shoulder as he turned back around. “No,” she agreed, “and I’m not going to try. It’ll probably just make it worse.” He didn’t say anything, but she could practically see his lips twitching in amusement. “’Course, I’m not going to let you be alone while you do this,” he looked over his shoulder to see her, eyebrows raised. “That way if you need anything, a break, somebody just to listen, or I dunno, something else? Breaks are nice though.” By this point, Harry wasn’t bothering to repress his laugh. “I’m already here.” She paused. “Besides, if you go all quiet and sullen on me, I’ll know why. Now what did it say?”

Blinking at the abrupt change of subject, he handed her the discarded journal, “Nothing exciting.”

“Just the first one?” she asked, flipping through the pages.

He nodded silently and opened the next book.

August 12, 1981

Harry—

I can’t believe I’m doing this; why would anybody do this? Why would anybody keep a journal so that when they die, their son knows what happened to them and what their life was like?

Why?

It’s madness, extremely so, and yet I’m doing it. It’s not right. It’s just not right!

Of course, the moment your father sees this, if he sees this, he’ll use it as proof that I AM insane…as further proof anyway; apparently the fact that I actually studied for my NEWT’s is enough. Or the fact that I turned him down for six and a half years before I agreed to go out with him; I don’t know which he’s using at the moment.

Not that he needs more proof. I knew I was nutters the moment I agreed to marry him, since we only went for six months going off and on.

And naturally, Petunia hasn’t needed any more proof since I got my acceptance letter. With any luck, of the good variety, you’ll never meet her…and I just jinxed that, didn’t I? Oops.

Anyway, nothing exciting happened today, not really. The rest of the Marauders came over, even Remus, though the full moon’s tonight (he looked terrible), and Peter, he hadn’t been over in a while. He looked terrified, but when I asked, he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. You nearly ran over the cat—again— with that broom Sirius insisted on giving you for your birthday, but nothing out of the ordinary really.

Your father’s getting anxious; neither of us has been out of the house in months, over a year, and he hasn’t been in the air since before that. One of these days he’s going to break something. At least he can’t take you up on one of the bloody brooms. Please tell me you joined a sensible group, like, say, the chess club. That’s probably asking too much— you’re more like your father than any of us realize, but I’m not yet sure if that’s a good thing or not…

Love,

Mummy

Unsure whether he should laugh, Harry raised his head and looked around the room. He noticed, vaguely, that Ron and Hermione had left before this, and then met Ginny’s eyes.

She hesitated, and then held out her hand. Silently, he handed her the journal. Instead of reading the next day in James’s, he reached for the box to see what else was inside. He carefully pulled out the first thing he saw, three photo albums tied together with another Gryffindor ribbon.

Two of them were obviously older than the third. Untying the ribbon, he picked up the first of these, and noticed that it had Evans stamped into the leathery front cover.

Harry opened the album silently and looked at the first page. A single photo, a wedding picture, and a date some forty years before… his grandparents. The next page held two pictures, each obviously taken in a hospital, two dates and names. The first picture was of a small, pink baby with hair so blonde it was nearly white; the name and date read Petunia Marie Evans, December 5, 1957. The second was of another, equally pink baby. This one had dark, red hair, the name and date reading Lily Ann Evans, January 30, 1960.

Noiselessly, Harry let his fingers trail over the little redhead’s face. These pictures should have been as familiar to him as the face he saw in the mirror, yet he’d never seen any of them— though his aunt was in a large number of them— he couldn’t help but notice as he continued to flip through the pages.

Turning yet another page, he came across a picture that made him stop; by now the pictures had progressed so that Petunia was easily Hogwarts age, and if Lily wasn’t, she was getting close. It took him a moment to notice what had made him stop. As per usual, he felt like an idiot once he saw it: Lily was holding an extremely familiar looking letter. Forget almost Hogwarts age—the inscription underneath the picture read January 30, 1971; Lily gets her acceptance letter.

“Oh!” Ginny had slid up behind him again. “Your aunt doesn’t look very happy, does she?”

Thirteen-year-old Petunia was standing off to one side of the Muggle photograph, and her expression was so out of character, it threw Harry off.

“What?”

“She’s…jealous?”

Ginny couldn’t help but laugh at the dubious expression on his face. “She’s only human; she has to get jealous sometimes.”

Harry just shook his head and turned the page. The Hogwarts letter from the picture before and a twenty-six-year-old train ticket stub for Platform 9 ¾ were on these two pages; vaguely, he wondered where his ticket was, and then realized it didn’t matter.

Unhurriedly, he kept turning pages; after a few shots of an early-Seventies Diagon Alley, (taken with a Muggle camera of course) all the pictures of Lily were obviously taken over winter or summer holiday. In third year, a slight, naggingly familiar girl started accompanying Lily home over Christmas. After a few photos, Harry realized with a sudden jolt that he was looking at Neville’s mum.

“Merlin,” Ginny muttered once she had figured it out.

By fifth year, Lily rarely came home, and Petunia looked decidedly happier for it. She was home Christmas of her seventh year, but she wasn’t alone— James was with her.

The next page held the all-too familiar wedding picture of Lily and James. The next was an even more recognizable photo of Petunia and Vernon ’s wedding. Harry had a nagging feeling that neither sister was at the other’s wedding.

The final page held two obituaries, side by side. The date of death on each of them was the same day in October 1979. Petunia would have known she was pregnant and Lily may not have even been pregnant yet.

“Figures,” Harry muttered dryly.

“What?”

“October. You don’t think it’s an accident, do you? It’s always October.”

He felt her slide her arms around his waist and press her cheek against his shoulder. She didn’t say anything; but then again, what was there to say? He found himself taking comfort from the simple fact that she was there.

Without a sound he reached for the next album; picking up the older of the remaining two, he noticed that it had Potter stamped into its front cover.

“Are you sure?” Ginny murmured as he started to open it.

“What?” Harry shifted so he could see her face.

“That you can handle more of this? I mean, you’ve gotten everything at once, and let’s face it, the fact that there was something for you to get at all was incredible; not to mention that your aunt actually bothered to give it to you…isn’t that a first for her, to actually do something nice?”

Harry didn’t answer. He simply sat there, weighing the album in his hand.

On his father’s side, he learned quite a bit about James from Sirius and Remus, but very little about his family and quite the opposite with his mother. He heard a lot of the Evanses from Petunia, whether she meant him to or not, but next to nothing about the woman herself. It was a little unnerving to say the least, when he realized how little he actually knew.

“Any minute now, and you’ll go into shock,” Ginny muttered wryly.

Harry merely opened the album. He was curious; so what if curiosity killed the cat? He wasn’t a cat, was he?

Ginny sighed, but didn’t comment as she rested her head against his shoulder and watched him flip through the pages.

The Potter album was more or less the same as the Evans one, wedding pictures of grandparents, baby pictures of James, first Hogwarts letter, summer and Christmas breaks, Lily and James’s wedding, then obituaries. The only real difference was that instead of James going over to everyone else’s house, they all seemed to come over to his, not to mention these pictures moved like all wizarding photos did.

Harry blinked when they came to the obituaries. “Told you it’s always October.”

“It’s starting to get a bit ridiculous.”

“No kidding,” Harry muttered matter-of-factly.

She tightened her grip on him.

“Merlin, my life sucks.”

“Three hours ago, you were floating on air. What happened?”

“Not entirely su…three hours?” Harry looked out the window and was more than a little surprised to see that it was dark outside; he glanced at the clock and realized it was nearly 10:30. “Bloody hell,” he murmured, “at least I haven’t gone into shock.”

“Yet.” Ginny managed to look grim and pull a face at him at the same time.

Harry made a face at her in return, and then jumped at a light tap on the door.

“Though you are exceedingly jumpy,” she quipped, grinning as she detangled herself from him and rose to get the door.

“I just realized we’ve locked ourselves up in here for two and a half hours and I have no idea how many of your brothers are home right now.”

Ginny laughed. “At this point? Everyone but the twins, obviously, since we’re in their room, and Percy, also obvious as that’s where Hermione’s staying.”

“So we trade the twins for the man who wrestles dragons for a living and the guy who can hex me to Timbuktu and back…that’s comforting.” He grimaced as Ginny laughed and opened the door.

“Technically, I break curses, not set them.” Bill commented with a laugh as he and his eldest younger brother Charlie entered the room. He looked at the various pieces of parchment, notebooks, and other things scattered on the floor around Harry, and raised an eyebrow. “Making a bit of a mess, aren’t we?”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t send me to Timbuktu … you need to know the hex before you can break it,” Harry added, climbing to his feet.

“No, really, what is all this?” Charlie knelt down and picked up one of the journals. Standing, he flipped open the cover and read the first paragraph on the first page, “Harry, I can’t believe I’m doing this; why would anybody do this? Why would anybody keep a journal so that when they die, their son knows what happened to them and what their life was like?” Charlie went quiet. “Oh,” he murmured, “Um…here.” Looking extremely uncomfortable, Charlie gave the notebook to Harry, who, after a moment’s hesitation, took it from him. “I didn’t…I mean…” He sighed, shook his head, and gave up. “Sorry.”

Harry shook his head in return. “Don’t worry about it… apparently I liked to run the cat over with a broom,” he added dryly.

The older wizards laughed. “We used to do that. Then the cat ran away… wonder why?” Bill’s voice was filled with false concern.

Harry snorted.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “What do you two want?”

“We were just curious as to what two sixteen-year-olds of the opposite sex could be doing up here for nearly three hours, all by themselves.”

“Not what your filthy dragon-tamer mind was thinking, that’s for sure,” Ginny spat out.

“But how can we be so sure?” Bill queried, cocking his head. “I mean you are my favorite sister after all. It wouldn’t do if something happened to you, would it?”

“Because he’s Harry and for Merlin’s sake, I’m your only sister!”

“Because, contrary to popular belief, I am NOT suicidal!”

The eldest Weasley brothers laughed, slapping Harry on the back. “Good answer kid, not bad at all. Now, what exactly is going on here?”

Almost simultaneously, Harry and Ginny sighed; clearly they weren’t going to get back to the box anytime soon.

Harry wondered if this conversation would have been more fun if he and Ginny had taken that break. Probably not.

It was going to be a long night.

location: home

mood: sleepy

music: CSI: NY

Chapter One

Now nearly seventeen, Harry James Potter sighed and set the framed photo, which moved, as all wizarding photos did, back on the bed side table. Colin Creevey had managed to take the photo months before, on the day that Harry and his girl…ex-girlfriend, he told himself firmly had first gotten together. Ginny was in her quidditch robes, having just won the final game of the year against Ravenclaw; Harry was just in his school uniform as he had had detention and had been unable to attend (or play in) the game. Ginny had run forward to tell him that they had won, when, on an impulse, he kissed her. Ron, Harry’s best friend and Ginny’s youngest older brother, hadn’t been exactly happy about the pair, but didn’t try to harm the relationship in any noticeable way. After Dumbledore had died, Harry had realized that the ‘final battle’ against Voldemort was closer than he had thought it would be and had broken up with Ginny in an attempt to keep her safe.

But now that decision was tearing him to pieces. What if it didn’t matter if they were together at this point? Lots of death eaters had children at the school, what if one of them had told someone about him and Ginny? It wouldn’t matter that he had broken up with her because there wasn’t a doubt in Harry’s mind that Voldemort would see through that ruse. Had he, Harry, ended the relationship with the first girl that he really liked…no loved in that way for nothing? Would she take him back if he admitted he was wrong? He hoped so, but what if she didn’t?

What if? How? Why? The questions had been running through his head for weeks and would leave him alone.

Harry shook his head and in the process of doing so noticed the old red photo album Hagrid had given to him years ago sitting in his open trunk. Reaching for it, he absentmindedly flipped it open to a page at the back, a wedding photo, his parent’s wedding photo.

A whole other set of questions erupted in his mind. What would have happened if they had been alive? How would he have been different? Would he still have been an only child? And instead of the ‘could have been’s’ what about the ‘might be’s’? What did he want to do if he was still around when the war was over and done with? Get married? Kids? What about work? Auror? Quidditch? Something else entirely?

He turned and stared out the window, absently watching Mr. Number Two mow his lawn.

Why was he doing this, planning for a future he probably wouldn’t have? Why would what he want matter? Nobody cared, he was just the famous, attention seeking Harry Potter to them, and what was the point of planning a future he wouldn’t be there for?

He watched silently as Mr. Number Two finished his lawn and pushed the lawnmower into the shed.

Ginny.

She cared, didn’t she? He was just Harry Potter to her, was he? And he couldn’t deny that marriage and kids sounded nice…a family, something he hadn’t really had before…but what did that have to do with Ginny?

…No! She’s Ron’s sister! I can’t marry his sister! But it did sound nice.

He had a sudden image of a group of Weasley-red-heads with green eyes. No! She’s. Ron’s. Sister. Besides, it’d been less then three months since they had first gotten together, and they weren’t even together anymore, so he shouldn’t be thinking this yet, if ever! Was he really so desperate for a family that he had to think about marrying the first girl he met? Was he really so desperate that that girl had to be his best friend’s sister? That was an even worse thought, not to mention not fair to Ginny.

Mr. Number Two finished in his yard and went inside.

He sighed, something he seemed to be doing a lot of lately, turned away from his window and looked around the room for something to do, he briefly debated homework, but what was the point, he wasn’t going back to school in September. He absentmindedly wondered over to the desk and picked up a slip of parchment.

You have been invited to the wedding of

William Arthur Weasley

And

Fleur Isabelle Delacour

On the night of

August 2^nd, 1997.

He put down the invitation and glanced at the various Daily Prophet articles about Dumbledore that had been published in the past month and a half. Swallowing, he wondered what he was going to do, he couldn’t win this war on his own, he didn’t know enough, he wasn’t ready for this.

Nobody said you had to do it alone, remember, Ron and Hermione won’t not come and Ginny, she’ll come given half a chance. Subconsciencly, he rebelled against the idea, which only confused him, he knew full well that she could take care of herself, with six brothers, she had to, but the idea of her getting hurt tore at him, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand watching it happen. If she got…he forced himself to think it…killed, it’d kill him, and if it didn’t, he wasn’t sure what he’d do with himself.

He looked up, startled when a knock at the door knocked him out of his confused, tangled thoughts. Since when did any of the Dursley’s, Harry’s only family (his Mum’s sister and her family) come to see him? Let alone willingly? Silently, he moved over to the door and opened it to find his cousin, Dudley, holding a plate of food, and not the stuff they had been eating for the past couple of years. Dudley had finally been allowed off his diet and the Dursley’s had been celebrating the past couple of weeks by consuming large amounts of food that had been on the “Do Not Touch” list.

“What do you want?”

“Nobody’s seen you all day; I thought you’d be hungry.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look…I never thanked you for that thing with the…in Wisteria Walk.”

“So you’re bringing me food?” Harry was getting more confused by the minute, what was going on here?

Suddenly, there was a knock at the front door.

“You expecting anyone, Darling?” Aunt Petunia’s voice floated up the stairs.

“No,” was Uncle Vernon’s gruff reply.

“Diddy?”

Dudley winced; Harry suppressed a smirk. “No, Mum, everyone’s out of town.”

“It’s probably a salesman; don’t answer the door, Petunia.”

There was silence for a moment; it probably meant the Petunia was peeking through the front curtains. Then a soft, muffled scream could be heard. “It’s those red-heads, the ones from the train station that blew up the parlor.”

Dudley glanced at his cousin, “You invited them here?”

“No, I…”

Crack!

The noise came from behind them, Harry’s room.

Harry hesitated, then turned around, there, laying on the floor in front of the wardrobe, was an aging grey owl, Errol had plainly flew in through the open window a crashed into the closed doors of the wardrobe.

“Bloody bird,” Harry muttered, moving into the room; Dudley peeked cautiously around the door frame behind him. Carefully picking up the large bird, he relieved it of its letter and carried it over to Hedwig’s cage (empty, because the snowy white was out hunting). Opening the letter, he read:

Harry~

We’ll be there to take you from that horrid place and those good-for-nothing muggles after dinner on the 29^th.

I know that you promised Dumbledore that you’d stay until your birthday, but you know Mum and there might not be time on the 31^st as that’s when the Delacours are arriving. Well, that’s what I was told anyway, I’m just passing on the message.

It’s a complete mad-house around here, but when is it not a mad-house over here?

I miss you more then you know, more then seems humanly possible, even. But if this is what you want, there’s not much I can do about it except wait…and I will, for as long as it takes, forever if necessary.

I love you,

Ginny

Harry stared silently at the letter, mind numb. She loved him…she’d wait…he hadn’t ruined his chances after all! Vaguely he heard the front door open and his aunt’s voice.

“Can I help you?” Her voice made it clear she didn’t think so.

“We’re here to pick up Harry, didn’t he tell you?” The responding voice was soft, confused, worried and made Harry realize just how much he missed the small fiery red-head it belonged to.

“And I suppose you don’t have the decency to send a letter or advanced notice of any kind, do you?” Aunt Petunia snapped.

“He…he didn’t say anything?” Ron’s voice sounded completely bewildered.

Still holding the letter, Harry ducked passed his cousin and hurried down the stairs. “Considering I didn’t get the letter until after you rang the bell, no I didn’t.”

The third person and only one without red hair, standing outside the house rolled her eyes and to look up at the tall red-head beside her, “You really should retire Errol, Ron.”

“That’s not my place, Hermione, but yeah we should,” he paused. “What are you yelling at me for anyway? Ginny sent his letter, not me.”

“Which is why I had to use Errol, if the two of you would stop arguing through the post, it’d have been here a lot quicker since I could have used Pig!” Ginny muttered, looking a bit annoyed.

“That’s of course assuming Ron would have let you use Pig in the first place.” Harry couldn’t resist pointing out. Turning to his aunt he added, “I’m leaving and with any luck we won’t see each other for a very long time, if ever.” Turning, he started up the stairs, “Coming, Gin?”

She glanced at Ron and Hermione; they were arguing over something or another, and nodded.

They climbed the stairs and, going around an amazed Dudley, entered Harry’s room.

Once there, she glanced around the room briefly, then turned to him and nodded toward the letter in his hand, “I said it, I meant it and I’m not going to take it back.”

He stepped forward and pulled her close, stopping only when their faces were inches apart. “I never said I wanted you to.” He paused and pulled away, just a little. “I’ve been thinking the past couple of weeks…a lot of thinking, I…I can’t do this alone.”

“I could have told you that,” she muttered faintly and perhaps a bit crossly.

His lips twitched. “And…and I’d rather you didn’t follow me…no…no…hear me out,” he added when she opened her mouth to retort. “I’d rather you didn’t follow me, because…I…” He hesitated when he realized he had never said the word before, “I love you, Ginny Weasley, and I want you by my side…that is if you still…”

Before he could finish, she had slid as close to him as was physically possible, tilted her head back and was kissing him, softly, gently, lovingly. Time seemed to stop and by the time she pulled away, Ron and Hermione were standing by the door; Hermione looking amused and a little relieved, Ron resigned. “I like you side, its nice and warm,” she murmured faintly.

Subconsciencly tightening his hold on her, he pressed his face into her and took a breath as the flowery scent of her shampoo invaded his nostrils. “Good.”

Ron rolled his eyes, “Enough you two.’”

Hermione gave a soft smile, “For once he’s right, we should get you packed, Harry. We have a portkey to catch.”

Reluctantly, Harry pulled away from Ginny and reached for a shirt that was draped across the back of the chair at the desk. “Let’s get out of here then, if I ever see this place again, it’ll be too soon.”

location: home

mood: silly

music: furnace is on

Your result for The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test...

Outcast Genius

70 % Nerd, 61% Geek, 70% Dork

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location: home

mood: amused

Your result for The Sorting Hat Test...

Menage a quatre

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