PREFATORY REMARKS: Like another story of mine, this one contains highly experimental material, in this case, telling the story within the borders (all chapters are movements from the symphony and so on), and emotions conjured by, a standard four-movement symphony, in this case, Tchaikovsky's 6th, in B minor. A note to all you music people out there: I want to leave you in no doubt that I'm a musician as well, and I know VERY WELL that most symphonies, certainly all I've ever listened to, do not have overtures, however, in keeping with the theme of the story, an overture was necessary to establish back-story. Finally, I do not know for certain if the London Symphony Orchestra would have called the barbican home when this story takes place, though if I'm right in thinking that the final battle against Voldy would have been circa the mid 1990s I think they would have, but if I'm wrong, I do not mean to offend by listing the Barbican as the place where the LSO plays, and I beg you forgive me for seeming uninformed.

And now that these remarks are done, on to the story. Enjoy!

The Final Symphony

Overture

I'd never heard Muggle music before, until that night. The Order of the Phoenix, desperate for any and all measures of help, had ordered my father, my mother, and consequently, me, to go and live incognito in Muggle London, where we were to assume Muggle lives and secretly protect them from the dangers of Voldemort. Our job was simple: We had to live like Muggles, while secretly keeping all our eyes and ears out for any news of trouble caused by Voldemort or his Death Eaters.

It took us a while to get settled. Dad was in absolute heaven with his Muggle fixation, and he was now living surrounded by everything Muggle. Mum had to remind him time and time again why we were there. After a while, though, we began to settle down, as we settled in to our odd existence, and one Saturday night, Dad suggested we go hear the London Symphony Orchestra play.

"It's a big part of what Muggles call…er…culture," he had said. Mum and I did not find a good reason to disagree. The program contained a Piano Concerto (whatever that was) by a man named Brahms, an overture by another fellow named Berlioz, and wrapped up with a short piece by a Vivaldi. The centerpiece, however, was a symphony by a man named Tchaikovsky. Muggle music isn't drastically different from Wizard music, except that the main Wizarding composer, Bartholomew-Babbington, sounded like what Muggles called 'Baroque' music, so the Vivaldi was closest to what I'm used to.

But when I heard the Tchaikovsky, everything that had happen within the last few months, and everything that was going on and going to happen I heard within the solemn strains of his music. I've never had a more uplifting, shocking, provocative, spiritual or frightening moment as I did that night, seated in the Barbican.

Chapter One: Adagio – Allegro non troppo

"What if I don't care?" I asked him furiously.

"I care. How do think I'd feel if this were your funeral? And I was responsible?" I had known ever since that day after the Quidditch house cup when he kissed me, that Harry wouldn't keep me. I knew he wasn't interested in me. He thought he loved me, but he only fell in love with the idea of me. I tried my absolute best not to cry as I observed him chatting with Ron and Hermione by a large tree near the lake. I suppose I could let a few tears fall…everyone will think that I'm crying for Dumbledore…which I am; I've never trusted a man the way I trust Dumbledore…well, Dad is an exception, but even Dad doesn't have the powers or wisdom that Dumbledore has. I gave a lonely sigh, and got up, walking over to Hagrid, who was slowly starting to calm down, furiously drying his face with his handkerchief, though some of his mucous and spittle stubbornly remained in his tangled beard.

"Hi, Hagrid," I said, my voice constricted.

"'Lo, Ginny," Hagrid said thickly.

"Well…I think I'll be off," I said glumly.

"Leavin' so soon?" Hagrid asked generally, but with a note of concern in his voice, "Not gonna wait for yer brother an' Harry?" My face must have been very readable, for Hagrid's concern now was apparent on his face.

"He doesn't love me, Hagrid," I heard myself saying, and I could barely contain my misery any more. It was Dumbledore's funeral and the boy I loved broke up with me. "He doesn't care. He called it all off." I grunted, trying hard now not to weep.

"Codswallop," Hagrid said gently, "Harry still loves yeh, Ginny. I dun know why he broke it up with yeh, but I do know he's goin' through a rough spot righ' now. I 'spect we all are gun to go through th' same rough spot, too."

"He doesn't love me, Hagrid," I said again. Hagrid put a massive hand on my shoulder, but didn't say a thing.

"There you are, Firefly," I heard a soft voice say. I turned to see Dad standing beside me, smiling at me, "are you ready? Your mother and brothers are all set to go home." I noticed his eyes were as tired and drained as I felt, and I nodded.

"Take care, Ginny," Hagrid said, "and don' forget what I said, eh?" I nodded, though privately, I thought that remembering his words would bring little comfort.

I wasn't prepared for him to be right.

Summer vacation was upon us, and it was not like any other summer vacation I can recall. Ever since Dumbledore died, everyone in our house has been much tenser. Dad works all the time, and when he's not at the Ministry, he's off wherever Professor McGonagall lives, attending Order meetings. The twins stay at their shop most of the time, but always return for dinner. Percy apologized three days after we were all home, but many of us, myself included, are not quite ready to forgive him, only Mum seems to have forgiven him, and she's busy with the order, too, and when she's not, she's planning Bill's wedding. In fact, Bill seems to be the only truly happy person right now, knowing that his wedding is in six days.

I confess, I didn't expect the wedding to be any fun, but it was, mostly because we weren't just celebrating Bill's marriage to phlegm…I mean, Fleur, but just the fact that we were also celebrating the fact that, thus far, the war had not affected our family. Or any other family for that matter. It seems Professor—I mean, Remus—Lupin has finally gotten over his nervousness of the age difference between Tonks and himself…they look happy. Ron and Hermione seem to be happy, and by the way they are acting, it looks like my brother finally got off his arse and said how he felt about her, and I'm so happy for them, seeing how happy they are. The man who makes me happy is here too, but so far, I've avoided him. I don't want to talk to him, and so far, he's made no effort to talk to me, and he's been here since two days before the wedding. I don't care. Honestly, I don't. I don't!! But every time I look in his eyes…before I avert my gaze…I see something…like he wants to tell me something, but can't make up his mind. Sighing, I turn away, trying to think of something else. I knew that Ron must have told Hermione about his feelings, judging by how they were interacting earlier, and that Fleur, even with her Veela charm turned on full-blast (causing some...er…intriguing results from my brothers), couldn't get to dance with Ron. For the first time I felt sorry for Fleur, for it was apparent that she was not making unwanted moves on Ron, but merely wanted to bond with her brother-in-law. However much I knew through guesswork, however, didn't prepare me for the shock of Ron publicly announcing his affection at dinner.

If I had thought that Ron publicly announcing his love for Hermione was the evening's surprise, I was mistaken. After dinner, Harry cornered me while I was helping Mum with the dishes.

"Um…Ginny…can…can we talk?" He asked nervously. I glanced up at Mum.

"Go on, sweetheart," she said, smiling warmly at me. Shrugging to myself, I followed Harry out of the kitchen. I was surprised that he led me into my room. Gently he coaxed me down upon my bed, while he turned and faced the window for a few moments. Finally, he turned back to face me.

"Ginny…I think I have a good idea about how you must feel…about me," he said hesitantly, "I saw you with Hagrid."

"Really," I responded coolly. Did the git have any respect for my feelings or, apparently, my privacy? Harry grinned sadly.

"You must really hate me right now. I suppose I deserve it, somehow, but Gin, I want you to know that, however difficult it may be to believe, I did not use Voldemort coming after you as an excuse to break up with you because I didn't like you."

"Uh-huh. What was your reason, then?" I asked, trying to not sound bitter.

"Too many of the ones I love have died," Harry replied so softly that he was barely whispering, looking at the floor, "and believe me, growing up with the Dursleys insured that I never had any friends, so…meeting Ron and Hermione, and them becoming my friends was perhaps the best thing that ever happened to me. I love them so much, and I don't want them to come either, but…and well, you're different, Gin. I love you in a way that I don't love either of them…and Voldemort does use those who his enemies are close to…but I can't…I never thought that I could feel like this about anyone, Gin. For the longest time, I figured no one would even see me as anyone to…" he broke off, shuddering. "The point is, Gin, you are my reason to fight, but even so, I just can't face what might happen to you if you came along. I had to stand by when my parents died, and as my godfather died…if you died I…" I could have sworn I heard him hold a sob back.

"I…I'm sorry, Harry, but I don't think that's good enough. I'm scared, Harry, and all I want is to be with you. Please don't leave me wondering what will happen to you Harry. You mean the world to me, and if my death allowed you to live a long and happy life, then that's all I could ever want."

"Don't you see? If you die, I won't have a reason to live a long and happy life."

"And what do you think it will be like for me, if you die? I can't live a long and happy life without you, either, but I have to accept that war is more unpredictable than Ron's chess strategies, and, as much as I don't want to, I have to accept that maybe you won't make it. Please, Harry, the only way I could ever move on is if I have spent every possible moment I could with you." Harry looked at me, his eyes full of more sadness then I could have possible believed possible, and yet they were determined as well.

"I'm sorry, Gin, I can't, please understand why," he said.

"I do," I responded. I wasn't lying, either. I understood that, like my brothers, he needed to protect me, but he needed to protect me for a different reason then they did, and I knew, once I had seen the determination in his eyes, that he truly believed that what he was doing was the right way for both of us, and I knew he probably wouldn't budge on his stance. I still didn't agree with him, and I wondered if I would ever be able to understand, or truly accept his decision, but it didn't feel like the right time to get stuck in a rut. A very small, unbiased part of me also wondered if he might actually perform better if I wasn't there; that his determination—and I never questioned it—to make it back to me might, in the end, protect him. It sounded reasonable, but the logical part of my brain, in a very Hermione-esque tone told me that it was stupid.

"All right, Harry, I'll agree on this course of action, but I want you to know in no uncertain terms that I do not approve. I just want to support you in bringing Voldy down, even if it means letting you do this on your terms."

"Thank you for understanding, Gin."

"I'm not sure I do, but I promise I'll try. I have one request though: I want to spend every moment until you leave with you."

"I can agree to those terms," Harry said softly, pulling me into a warm embrace.

"I'll wait for you," I said, snuggling into him. He kissed me gently on the nose, and then, my lips.

It was well after midnight when Harry and I broke apart. Harry needed to get to bed, and though I knew it wasn't the real reason, he said that my mother would not like it if we slept together, as I had proposed, and I knew that he was right about that, and after he had kissed me goodnight, I realized I had been a little rash in wanting that. Hermione came in a few minutes later, and sat down, not looking at me. After a few minutes, I could hear her sniffles.

"Hermione?" She turned to face me, her eyes full of tears.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Gin," she said, more tears leaking out of her eyes. She threw her arms around me, and we both sat there, crying on each others' shoulders.

"I'll miss you, too, Mione."

"I wish Harry would let you come. I want you to come," she said.

"Really?" I couldn't help the curiosity from coming out. Hermione nodded.

"You're like the sister I never had, Ginny, and I love you like one. I can't understand how Harry does it, because I want to know how you're doing at all times. Merlin, Gin, I'm so, so scared. I can't tell the boys obviously, but…oh, god, I don't want to think about it." She finished in a whisper, positively sobbing.

"Stay with me, please, Mione," I said. She nodded, and together, we climbed into bed and cried ourselves to sleep.

When I awoke the next morning, my brother, best friend and lover were gone. And all I had were three farewell cards lying on my bedside table.