"Who else could make me laugh the way you do?" he murmured into her ear, a smile playing about his lips. Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered his named softly. "Gin," he said, his lips falling upon her jawbone, "I will come back, and then we will fight... together." Follows Harry and Ginny after HBP and through to the end of the war. So begins the beginning of the end...

HOPE is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I 've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

-->Emily Dickinson -- from her Complete Poems - Part One: Life

Prologue: Hope

Ginevra Weasley was never one to keep a diary, especially since her brush with Tom Riddle her first year. She was not about to start now, but what was she to do? She had until now been able to retain all those emotions and silly yearnings that were pent up in her head. She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying hard to fight the onset of another headache.

"Stupid Ginny Weasley," she scolded herself, "you can hex Malfoy to Brazil and fix the most difficult potion but you can't stop thinking about the one thing that's constantly on your mind!"

Or person, rather.

"Harry's letter for you, Ginny!" Molly Weasley's shout echoed through the walls of the Burrow.

Ginny almost fell down the stairs in her eagerness.

After snatching the letter and a quick "Thanks, Mum!" she sped out the back door, retreating to the soft banks of the nearby pond, a peaceful spot she had always sought out for comfort and solitude.

She pressed the letter to her lips and carefully opened it, grinning as she recognized Harry's untidy scrawl.

Ginny,

I hope that all is well with you and everyone else at the Burrow. I think that by the time this gets to you, the Ministry will have already cleared Hogwarts to be opened for the next school year. You should go back. There's no place safer than Hogwarts, and your mum knows that. Keep an eye on the Daily Prophet. It's full of rubbish, but the news of attacks is still more accurate than other papers.

On some lighter news, it seems that Ron and Hermione are finally trying to wrestle out their feelings. Right. As if they hadn't done enough of that in the past six years. But seriously Gin, having to deal with them like this is demanding. Ron stumbles over himself trying to impress Hermione, and she's sneaking glances at him whenever she gets the chance. I'm surprised they've both not permanently turned into beets by now from blushing so much. It's actually quite a bit annoying, that is, along with the way I find Hermione hovering over my head every morning when I wake up, asking me whether my there's a pain in my scar, which by the way hasn't hurt in a while. To tell the truth, I find her questions and Ron's prodding more tiresome than the actual journey. But I'll stop complaining now. I know that you'd probably club me over the head with a broom if you heard me brooding any more than I already have.

I can't tell you much about what we're doing and what we've done, but I'm pretty sure that we can't be back in time for the start of the school year. I can't write much more, Ginny. Ron and Hermione send their hellos. I miss you ... a lot.

Harry

Ginny held the letter to her chest and then reread it, laughing when she imagined the way Ron must be acting. She blushed when she came upon again his declaration of how he missed her. She could imagine in her mind how his cheeks must have burned and how he had forced his nervous and unsteady hand into writing of his affections; he was, after all, a male. This was at least better than what Ron could have done. She snickered at the thought and proceeded to read the letter again. It killed her not being able to write back that she missed him too, and to be frank, she was just dying to poke fun at Ron. But they would all come back...soon...perhaps but not too soon. That was all that mattered. This time she wouldn't let go of him no matter what stupid, noble reason he had in mind.

She leaned back against the cool clay surrounding the pond and remembered the day he left, the day after Bill and Fleur's wedding. She had ambled upon this spot of shore in the early morning, before the sun revealed itself and even before her mother's call for breakfast. She had dropped slowly to the soft ground and had run her fingers through rustling grass, trembling from something other than just the morning chill. The night before, worry had plagued her restless mind, but at that moment there was nothing but numbness and desperation.

She had always been a lively, clever girl and since her first year, she hadn't ever been so pallid. During those few days before, she had waved off the worried looks, explaining that she, like everyone else, was nervous over the uncertain future. But mostly she was nervous for Harry.

They hadn't spoken since Dumbledore's funeral except for a few quaint comments. It had obviously been too much for either of them to bear. She had often caught him watching her, his eyes alight with a mixture of emotions that definitely seemed to contradict his hesitant actions, or lack thereof. She could do nothing. It was that feeling of utter helplessness that had brought her to her favorite spot that day, and she could now remember it perfectly, as though it was seared into her memory.

That brilliant morning, she had been aware of nothing but the pattering of her bare feet over the sand and rose petals left from the celebration the day before. A soft trembling sigh had escaped her lips as she gingerly sat down and sifted apart the fine grains of sand, soon coming upon a small green stone. She had carefully rolled it between her fingers, feeling its cool smoothness, and had gasped with surprise when a rough hand tenderly closed over her own.

"Hullo Gin…I…I didn't want to leave without a goodbye, at least." His smile was soft but strained. "I'm sorry that I've been so distant these past few days. I was…afraid that if I spoke to you, I wouldn't be able to pull away…"

"Don't say sorry, Harry. It's my fault too. I suppose we shouldn't be Gryffindors if we're both such cowards." She let a soft chuckle flow from her throat. He gave a faint smile, his eyes grazing over the ripples of the pond. A momentary silence fell upon them.

"You don't have to pull away from me, Harry." Ginny's voice carried a fraught urgency with it.

"I need to keep you away from harm. Ginny… I know you understand…"

"I do, Harry, I do. But know that I'll fight alongside you when the time comes. When you need me, I'll be there. After all, who'll be there to protect you when Rita Skeeter launches at your heels with another public love scandal?" She managed a weak smile.

Surprisingly, Harry let out a laugh, a real laugh, one that had ceased to surface since Dumbledore's death. Still, it did not take the dark from his eyes.

"Yes. Who else can make me laugh the way you do?" he murmured into her ear, a smile playing about his lips. Tears welled in her eyes as she softly whispered his name.

"Gin," he said, his lips falling tenderly upon her cheek as he smoothed his hand over her back, easing away a stiffness she had felt for so long, "I will come back, and then we will fight…together."

With that, her mind raged to push back her tears, and when he looked down into her eyes, he saw that they were fierce with determination.

"Harry, never forget us. Never forget this." She touched her lips to his. The kiss was sweet and chaste, with an unbearable gentleness that set their souls ablaze.

Their lips barely touched, but still, Harry was lost. A slow and sweetly agonizing tremor traveled down the length of his body as her fingers left fiery imprints on the skin of his neck. He felt wholly and completely blissful in being so utterly powerless to feeling and emotion. No, he wouldn't forget. Never. Not when the mere touch and sight of her offered him such a glimpse of hope and happiness.

The short kiss left him breathless and clouded with desire, but he knew, as she wrapped her arms around him, that it was his time to leave.

"Gin…I have to go…" His voice was thick and weary, and she let go immediately, her eyes afire with pleading hope.

"Goodbye Gin." He forced his legs in the direction of the Burrow, and they grudgingly followed.

"No, Harry! Not goodbye. Never say goodbye." Her demanding words were ridden with desperation.

He only nodded slightly and returned the faintest of smiles as he trudged up the sandy slope.

She did not remember how long she stood there, rooted to the spot, watching his shadow disappear, running the stone between her fingers and replacing the worry in her heart with the fresh hope that she would see him soon…

AN: Woow. This is my first tack at a fanfic in a looooooong time. Hope it went well. Thanks for reading and review! Constructive criticism is MUCH appreciated. Thanks to my wonderful beta Mortalus for keeping me in check. And sorry for the awful spacing + HMTL issues; haven't frequented for quiet a while.