Disclaimer- All rights for Harry Potter and Lost characters or themes in this story are property of their respective owners. The only bits I own are the OC's (if any) and any differences from the canon plot. Please don't copy my work- trust me, you'll be found out. Also, the song lyrics in the beginning of the story until I say otherwise are from Pyro by Kings of Leon.

Note: The disclaimer will only be written once. There are a lot of fanfiction readers who feel like they get in the way of the story sometimes- myself included. So no more from this point on. I'll try to keep the Author's Notes short, too, and also answer any questions in the reviews. All right, you've been delayed long enough...here's the story. (You might want to read the lyrics I post at the beginning of each chapter- the songs they are from were my inspiration to write this.)

Single book of matches, gonna burn what's standing in the way.

Burning down the mountain, better call on the fire brigade.

Prologue~

Mr. and Mrs. Potter were arguing. Their loud, angry voices could be heard from the neighbors' house- both of them had quite a temper- but they didn't seem to care that much.

It was lucky that their son, who was still just a baby, was such a heavy sleeper. His parents had quickly discovered that he inherited their lungs. If James had been woken up, the noise levels in the Potter household would be dangerously high.

But he didn't wake up.

The neighbors had gotten used to the yelling. They never complained; it was considered a privilege to live near the famous war-hero Harry Potter.

And so the couple wasn't interrupted. Their fight continued, and the longer it went on, the more certain the Potters were that they couldn't possibly live together in peace.

Harry didn't know how it started. One moment Ginny had put James to sleep and the next they were screaming at each other. What was it he had said to her when she walked into her bedroom? "Glad he's down, I want some time to myself," wasn't it?

He didn't understand how he did anything wrong. But he never did- and usually Ginny didn't either. Both were easily set off nowadays- bickering over soap brands, or what jeans Harry should wear, to even what kind of baby food they would buy for James.

It was safe to say that they were tired of the arguments, and just tired of each other- the quirks Ginny used to love about Harry, like how he insisted on making dinner on the days he had time off, became a slight to her cooking skills. And her vicious temper was no longer amusing to him- it was his worst enemy.

They were too similar to get along. Both fought until they shouted themselves hoarse and then grudgingly fell asleep- Ginny in the bed and Harry on the couch.

[[[[[[[]]]]]]]

His eyes didn't open immediately after he woke up. Harry spent some time lying there in the quiet, dark place and appreciated the fact that he was on his stomach- no sunlight could sneak through his eyelids. For the tiniest moment, he allowed himself to believe that he was still asleep.

And then he began to wonder. Where was his pillow? Why did he smell salt in the air- surely the plane hadn't landed on a beach? Patchy, not-all-there memories came to him along with a horrifying realization. The plane hadn't landed. It had crashed.

Eyes opened, and his heartbeat sped up. A sudden rush of adrenaline- and solid disbelief- took over, and he ran...leaving the forest he started in and going as fast as he could in a random direction.

Trees, and trees, and more trees passed... He wasn't running in the right direction. Harry paused. If he tuned out his own quick breaths and the feeling of his heart beating through his chest, he could faintly hear voices. And some kind of machine... He winced at the sound of an explosion. Thoughts of rubble, flashing light, and destruction went through his head. He wouldn't think of that now- it was over.

Now he knew which way to go. But he couldn't bring himself to go any faster than an almost leisurely walk... He knew where he was going, but he didn't feel a need to get there quickly. He would wait until the initial panic had died down. On the way to the beach there was a vague uneasiness- it was all too common for him, walking directly to danger...

A bit too hastily, he squashed the urge to get to the trouble quickly...to help...

[[[[[[[]]]]]]]

For their honeymoon, Harry rented a small cottage near the beach in Spain. It was quaint and a nice distance away from any reporters or fans- during the time that Harry and Ginny got married, the popularity he had attained from the war was still alive and well.

The weeks there were perfect. Every day they went for a swim, and once they even built a sandcastle (neither had been to a beach before and they were curious as to how to make one).

In the afternoons they sat and watched the sunset, however cliche it might seem. At first they didn't notice that it was becoming a tradition- Ginny only pointed out how pretty the sky looked, and for the rest of their stay it was routine to sit on the porch of the cottage and see the sun go down.

In the days after Harry remembered how it made her smile, and that her smile was lovely. He kept it a secret that he had no interest in watching the sunset- though she probably suspected- and instead admired the way her eyes lit up when she saw all of the pinks, reds, and oranges. Harry began to look forward to the afternoons as much as she did.

Sometimes he wondered if she knew why.

By the time their honeymoon was over, they returned to life as normal. Harry had already moved in the Ginny's apartment- now their apartment- so they didn't have to change houses. And each of them had a demanding job- Harry was being trained for the Auror team and Ginny took classes to become a Healer. They were still in love- they just had less time to be together.

Harry never expected to be on a beach again.