Disclaimer: Everything you might recognise from the Harry Potter world is JK Rowling's creation. This disclaimer applies to every chapter of this story. The plot is mine.

Chapter 1. Unpleasant Surprises

The rain stopped as quickly as it had started - a brief rescue for plants and animals alike, trying to survive in the dry heat of the summer. The sun was once again warming my wet hair, hanging limp on my shoulders. Oh, how I loved summer showers. The soothing sound of raindrops as they land on leaves. The glittering plants, as the sun returns, like a palace of diamonds around me. An occasional rainbow, perhaps.

How hard it is to believe that there can be so much beauty in a world full of hate and angst.

I did not have much time to contemplate this beauty, for my mum soon came running out to me, distinctive Weasley-hair blowing in the summer breeze of the afternoon. When she neared me I felt a growing sense of dread in the pit of my stomach.

"Ginny, get in the house now!" she said quickly, her voice lowered almost to a whisper. Something about the way she was looking around, eyes darting into the bushes surrounding our garden, gave me an awful feeling that this was not just about me sitting out in the rain again, or another lecture about "catching an awful cold" for getting my hair wet. My mother was so overprotective - but then, at a time like this… who could really blame her?

"What's going on?" I said, not knowing if I really wanted to know the answer.

"Ginny - I said IN" mother insisted, raising her voice a little, and I had no choice but to oblige.

As we stepped inside mother turned and locked the front door with a spell. I knew this was going to be serious. The Burrow was stuffy from the summer heat and smelled like butter and ginger - mum had been cooking again. She had been cooking a lot lately, and I suspected it had something to do with easing tension. Whilst most sane people liked to relax by reading or resting, my mother seemed to prefer cooking and cleaning as a way to take her mind off things. I hadn't really minded at first, but after spending a good few weeks with her trying to encourage everyone else to do the same, I was positively sure I was going to lose my mind if I stayed in the house any longer. Ron seemed to feel exactly the same about this, although he was better at getting away without being dragged into doing things. All he had to say was that he was going to go and do some studying, and mum would pick on me instead.

I recalled the day that Ron had received his OWL results a few weeks ago. Whatever they had been, they were not good. Mum had had a fit. Ron went pale every time someone mentioned anything about an OWL or exams or results, although he hadconfessed that he thought Harry probably had not done too well either, considering all he had been through last year. Hermione had obviously received excellent OWL results, and had been appalled when Ron had told her his grades. Fred and George were practically over the moon about Ron's performance, claiming that they knew he was never going to end up 'a Percy'. This hadn't made matters any better with mum, and Ron was now actually spending some quality time on reading - if only to get out of doing housework!

My dreamy gaze met my mothers and I was pulled a little too harshly back to reality.

I could hear voices in the kitchen, and suddenly longed to sit outside in my palace of diamonds again, feeling the soft raindrops on my face, and dreaming of a certain young man I found impossible to chase out of my mind.

Harry.

Was Harry OK? A sudden feeling of panic overtook me. It's like the feeling one gets when they lose something precious to them. Come to think of it, Harry was precious to me - no matter how hard I had tried to deny it in the previous years. Of course I'd had boyfriends at Hogwarts, and some less obvious infatuations such as the dreaded Draco Malfoy, but it always seemed to come back to Harry.

Yes, as much as I didn't want to admit it, I had found Draco Malfoy intriguing. Was that the right word?

Perhaps it was something about the way he always had something to say… or perhaps that he was so out of reach to me. Maybe it was I, longing to save someone just as Harry had saved me in the chamber of secrets. Malfoy was a lost soul after all, with his family so mixed up in the Dark Arts. But it all changed again, seeing Harry so vulnerable after Sirius' death… how I had thought about him in the last few weeks.

Mum turned to face me, placing a hand over my shoulder. Then, with a shudder she told me the news.

"Ginny… The Death Eaters have escaped. We have been advised to go into hiding by Dumbledore. Rumour has it they are making their way towards The Burrow." She blurted, then seeing the look on my face she continued. "It's OK Ginny; we'll be just fine…Moody and your father are in the kitchen. They've already sent Aurors to collect Hermione and her family. She is coming with us to Grimmauld Place. I think the boys have already gone"

"What about Harry?"

"Dumbledore is bringing him. Now go and pack some clothes, just enough for a few days… we'll pick up your school things later."

And with that, she hurried into the kitchen, leaving me no choice but to rush up the narrow stairs into my room. I packed as quickly as I could - the Death Eaters could be here any minute. Trembling with a mixture of anxiety and excitement I shoved some robes in a bag, leaped over to the small dressing table by the window and threw a hairbrush and some other essentials in the bag, grabbed my wand, and ran back down the stairs. Moody was waiting impatiently at the bottom of the staircase.

"C'mon." He said gruffly, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the kitchen fireplace.

"Hurry, dear… number 12 Grimmauld Place" Mum nudged me encouragingly and nodded towards the fireplace. I again obliged, excitement bubbling in my stomach. Stepping in our dirty fireplace I picked up some floo powder and dropped it to my feet.

" 12, Grimmauld Place!" I cried, and suddenly everything was a spinning blur of green and turquoise.

The one thing I hated about travelling this way was that unlike my brothers, I had not quite mastered the art of falling gracefully on my feet as of yet. So there I was, lying flat out on my back covered in dirt - as Fred offered me his hand, giggling. I could see Harry out of the corner of my eye and my heart skipped a beat.

What a nice way to impress a guy.

Mum followed a little later, and immediately started mollycoddling everyone, making sure they were ok. She told us Dad had gone with Moody to help with resisting the Death Eaters, and although she looked fine about it I noticed her voice break slightly. The atmosphere was bleak. I glanced around the living room taking in everything - the sadness in mum's face, the look of fear on Hermione's parents' face. Hermione herself on the verge of tears, Ron, Fred and George, all quietly staring at different points of the room obviously not knowing what to say, and finally Harry. I stared at him for a long time. He had grown over the summer, and filled out a little. No doubt this was due to the regular food parcels my mum insisted on sending him - how else was she to get rid of all that extra food she was cooking? He also looked more grown up - and was that stubble I could see on his chin?

But the most worrying thing was that he looked devastatingly unlike the Harry I remembered. He had changed after Sirius' death. He had bags under his eyes, and looked generally like he had been crying for the last five weeks. My heart ached for him, and I was so sorry for what he had been through that I could not help the tears. At that moment, he looked up and caught my eye.

Staring at me, he did not smile, nor did he look away. The look was more of compassion than anything - as though he felt sorry for me. It was a while before I could look elsewhere, and even as I walked away I could feel his eyes burning into my back.

That night I found it impossible to sleep. I could hear a faint snoring coming from next door - the boy's room. How they could bare to sleep at a time like this was beyond me. I turned over, trying to get more comfortable. A lone portrait of a solemn looking witch was the only company I had, and even she was asleep.

Hermione had decided to sleep in a room with her parents, as the thought of them being stuck in a magical house without any knowledge of magic was just too much for her. I had agreed and nodded curtly when she had suggested it to me, but now I was starting to regret my decision.

I started mulling over the day's events in my head. After mum had arrived and spoken to us all I had left to clean myself up…then we'd had dinner… then Dad, Moody and Lupin had arrived, giving us all a brief update on the situation: the Death Eaters had all fled when the Aurors had got there.

After this, the evening had been spent playing chess and chatting. I had noticed that Harry was very quiet though, which was understandable as the last place he probably wanted to be was at his dead Godfather's house. He just sat slightly apart from everyone, watching Fred and George's antics as I played chess with Ron.

The night had ended abruptly when George accidentally set Lupin's cloak on fire as he dropped something on it that to me looked remarkably like a Fire-juggler-cracker. The twin's newest invention was a juggling game that exploded if you dropped the balls. The game had been known to explode sometimes just for the fun of it, if it didn't want to be juggled for too long. Mad really.

Mum had gone off on one and sent the lot of us to bed so the "grown-ups" could talk. Sometimes I hated being a child. I had heard the adults make their way to bed about half an hour later, but I still could not get to sleep. It was probably near midnight by now.

I closed my eyes and tried desperately not to think of anything. Suddenly I needed the bathroom. Isn't it always so? Whenever you can't go, you feel an intense need to. Exasperated with myself I weighed my options. I could stay here like a coward, get no sleep and wet the bed like a baby - or go like a Gryffindor into the great unknown risking my chances with whatever dark creatures and danger the house contained.

Naturally, I chose the latter.

I made it down the creaky flight of stairs and into the bathroom. I did my business and was just about the start making my way back when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Letting out a muffled scream I dropped the candle I was holding, and it went out in a flicker.

"Merlin, Gin… You have got to stop scaring yourself!" I said to myself quietly, bending down to pick the candle up. Now I had to make my way back up the creepy staircase with no light, ten times more scared than I was on the way down. I cursed myself quietly for leaving my safe bed. This was definitely not my idea of fun.

And I had left my wand upstairs, too.

I was almost at the stairs when I felt something. A cool breeze swept over me like something had moved to create a draft. Shivering with mixed feelings I turned. I was half expecting to see a ghost behind me. But I was unpleasantly surprised.

There was a boy standing with his arms held out to me. His green eyes were scarily bloodshot, and his jet-black hair looked almost grey. His face uncharacteristically pale, twisted into a pained expression, he mimed my name and staggered forward slightly.

Suddenly the boy's eyes closed, and he fell. I walked closer, not believing what I was seeing. The boy was lying on the floor. He had marks of a fight on him, and suddenly I just knew he was dead. I tried for a pulse and found none.

The boy was dead. A chilling sensation hit me.

The boy was Harry.

Thank you for reading. Feedback is always helpful. Especially feedback with tips and constructive criticism! I love long reviews... :o)

I have about 5 chapters written so far for this story... so they will be up shortly. After that, you should expect chapters weekly. To give you an idea of the length... I think it'll be about 15 chapters and an epilogue. But you never know... might be longer.