I haven't written a new Harry fic in years, but I found this one handwritten in my writing folder last week! Funny these little surprises life throws at you. For me, finding fanfic I forgot I wrote is like finding a dollar in your pocket you didn't know you had.

Enjoy, and I would greatly appreciate your reviews!

I do not own Harry Potter, people! Geez.

It was nearing twilight; the walls of shell cottage threw shadows stained with pink and yellow from the aged sunset. Luna and Hermione were out in the garden, helping Fleur gather vegetables and herbs for a late dinner; Bill and Ron were outside as well, looking on and speaking in low voices about the protection around Muriel's. It was for this reason that Harry found himself, for the first time, alone in the house.

All of the windows were open, yet Harry could hear only slight pieces of Bill and Ron's solemn conversation… At the moment Ron seemed to be saying that Fidelus Charms had proven less than reliable, particularly lately. Bill argued back.

"It's the strongest charm possible, and there were reasons for the other failings - change to a disloyal secret-keeper, death of the current secret-keeper… Neither will happen this time…"

His voice was swallowed by the sound of a crashing wave, and when Harry listen to try to pick up the conversation again, Ron and Bill were standing in a troubled silence.

Harry wandered over to the sofa and sank down. He could understand their worries. Though they had done all they could, it still didn't seem to be enough; he hated the fact that Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys were now being targeted because of him.

"I should have just stayed with her and snogged her all I wanted if it was going to come to this anyway," Harry muttered bitterly. Yet even as he thought it he knew it was irrational, ridiculous. If anything the most recent events - the danger that the Weasleys were now in more than ever - reassured him that it was the right and the only thing to do. But really, she had always been in more danger than the others, ever since the first moment when she kissed him back. Perhaps she hadn't realized at the time, or hadn't cared…

His stomachache was back; it resembled the monster in his chest that had been so prevalent in the months before they got together in the way that it kept reappearing, more fiercely each time.

He rose from where he was sitting. He hadn't turned the lights on since it'd begun to get dark, and the room had grown quite dim. Silently, Harry found himself moving along the walls, reading the spines of the books on the shelves in idle curiosity, glancing at the framed photos: Bill and Fleur on their wedding day, Gabrielle and Fleur together when they were younger, Charlie, George and Ron together in another, and then, at the end of the row, a recent photo of Ginny in a simple wooden frame.

Harry picked it up. It too was from the day of the wedding; Ginny was wearing her golden dress, which fluttered a bit in a passing breeze. Her hair was familiarly loose, but parted to the side, making it a bit fancier. A golden glow was all about her, and Harry had never seen anything more beautiful, and yet, she didn't look truly happy. She wasn't looking at the camera but off to the side, gazing intently at something or someone with a definite sad gleam of longing in her deep brown eyes. Every so often she would correct herself, and award the camera a hesitant smile, but her eyes soon wandered back.

"Hey, Harry." The voice wasn't loud or startling, yet Dean had entered the room so quietly that Harry jumped about a foot in the air and the frame slipped from between his fingers. It fell to the floor, the glass shattering.

"Merlin, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" Dean was already coming over, shoving aside a chair that he nearly tripped over in the poor light. He realized immediately that he had no wand, but when Harry did nothing more than stare down at the broken picture, which was now obstructing Ginny's face, Dean gently took his wand off the table and said "Reparo," pointing it at the floor. The glass resealed itself.

"Thanks," said Harry, taking his wand back "It wasn't your fault, I was just…" He struggled for words. "…Somewhere else," he finished lamely. He was still distracted, thinking about that look Ginny had, that intent stare…

Dean knelt down quietly and picked up the picture. He held it for a moment, but when Harry made no move to take it from him, he slowly put it back in it's place on the shelf.

Neither of them spoke, yet they both watched Ginny's hair move a bit in the breeze. Harry wished her eyes would look into his, but they remained, as ever, focused on something outside of the picture.

"Who d'you reckon she's looking at?" Dean asked quietly.

Harry just shook his head. He was thinking black thoughts, thoughts about how stupid it was to tell Viktor Krum that Ginny had a boyfriend when she didn't. She wasn't his anymore, no matter how much he wanted to pretend it.

"Probably Viktor Krum or some other handsome bloke," Harry said bitterly. Yet he realized, seemingly all at once, how strange it was to be standing here with Dean Thomas, discussing this.

"But she looks sad," Dean said adjusting the corner of the frame a bit. "And besides why would she…" He was obviously confused, but he seemed hesitant to ask the question. "You two are together," he finally stated.

Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable. "Not anymore," he muttered. "I broke it off."

"Oh."

But after another tense moment Dean said, regretfully, "Even if it's true, I still think I know who she's looking at."

He clapped Harry on the back as he turned away and made to leave the room. Harry was still gazing at the picture, the picture of the girl he loved so much.

"Sorry again about before, Harry," Dean said as he left.

But somehow Harry felt that it was him who should be apologizing to Dean, not the other way around.