My first published (and possibly very long) Harry Potter story! It is set somewhere between my imagination and Ginny's POV, but JK ROWLING OWNS ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING!!! I am not copying, plagiarizing, or any other thing I might get accused of! Also might not follow story to a 'T'.

*This starts when Harry arrives at the Burrow after the chase against Voldemort. *

I cannot even describe my emotions right now; there are too many, all too diverse from one another. I feel a smidgen of hope (not that much in fear of getting my hopes up too much). I feel explosions of happiness, for he is very much alive. But above all there is anxiety. From my perspective through the kitchen window I can hear him but could not see him fully. Was he hurt? Bleeding? Or was he really okay? It seemed almost too good to be true.

It took about three seconds for me to contemplate all this before I shrieked, "Mum! Mum, it's Harry!" She gasped and we ran out the back door to greet Hagrid and him. Concerned though I was for the both of them, I only had eyes for Harry.

I wanted nothing more than to jump into his arms and let me hold him forever, to never let him out of my clutches until this damn war and flipping Voldemort were gone for good.

Oh god, I think I love him. Harry, I mean, not Voldemort…ew.

But this was not the time nor did I have time to mull over that sporadic thought. By this time both Harry and Hagrid had risen to their feet, Mum was asking Harry about the whereabouts of the rest, and Hagrid was mumbling something about brandy. My mother released Harry from her hug and scurried inside, wiping her tears as she went.

Our eyes met for the first time, and I caught the desperate, pleading look in them that I translated as a want of information. I explained in my strongest voice the portkeys, their schedules, and their lack of travelers. Mum came back a moment later, carrying a large bottle of liquor, and passed it to Hagrid.

Moments later the now-familiar blue glow appeared a few meters away, and with it came Lupin and George. Harry, Mum, and I all breathed shaky sighs of relief, but it was short-lived at the sight of blood covering the right side of George's face. Harry abandoned my side and rushed to help a struggling Lupin carry my brother inside. I followed quickly.

When I arrived in the living room, I almost wished I hadn't. The grotesque, gaping hole where George's ear should have been made me gasp with horror. I hardly noticed Harry being dragged roughly away from the scene by our former professor, and moments later could hear aggravated words escape both mouths. I didn't bother to listen until I heard George's name and words like "unable to be replaced and "Snape" and such. So my brother was going to live but with a hole in his head. I couldn't bear to think of that now. I just grabbed a damp cloth from my mother and began to wipe the crusting crimson off of his pale skin.

The rest of the night went just as horrifically. Mad-Eye dead, Harry talking of leaving…

Damn Harry. Why did he have to be so freaking noble? Damn this war. Damn everyone contributing to the misery of my family – blood and extended. Damn it all.

I think I'm going to cry. It's a well-deserved thing at this moment. So I do. For the first time since second year, I bawl my eyes out. For a long time.

A really, really long time.

I miss Harry.

I wish George had both his ears.

I wish Hermione would shut up; she's been at it longer than I have.

I wish Harry was here, his arms around me.

Yep. Damn it all.

Well what did you think? I'm not remotely British, so I'm sorry if I misuse any kind of British slang or words. Review? Please?