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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line belongs to me.

This chapter is for my dear friend disillusionist9 *hearts* I LOVE YOU MY RARE PAIR QUEEN!

Just wanna feel your kiss

Against my lips

And now all this time

Is passing by

But I still can't seem to tell you why

It hurts me every time I see you

Realize how much I need you

"Harry?" a voice murmured from underneath the mountain of blankets that were piled on top of his bed.

The weather was pretty similar to how it had been all week-dreary, gloomy and wet. Harry peered out of the window, the rough fabric of the cream curtains was grasped in between his fingers, pulled away just enough so that he could see past the foggy window out into the even foggier streets.

His lips twisted wryly as he watched two water droplets on the window race each other from the top to the bottom of the window pane.

Sighing he let go of the curtain, and glanced over his shoulder. In the dim light he saw that she had pushed the sheets off of her face, and they were folded over, reaching just below her ribcage. Her arms were stretched above her head, fingers lightly touching the dark-stained, oak headboard.

Harry turned around, and crossed his arms across his chest, leaning against the wall beside the window.

"Morning, Gin," Harry smiled softly.

"Morning," Ginny yawned, her ginger hair spread out across the light yellow sheets-her choice.

Harry pushed off of the wall, and headed across the room, bare feet padding against the light wood floors.

When he reached the bed, he sat on the edge facing Ginny, one hand on her thigh, the bed creaking slightly under his weight.

"Is Stori coming over today?" Harry asked softly. After watching the bright smile light up across Ginny's features-so much so that her eyes were shining with happiness, Harry found himself smiling.

"She is," Ginny said warmly, her nose crinkling up with joy.

"You know someone is going to figure it out eventually," Harry pointed out, patting Ginny's leg firmly.

"I don't care...it's just...Stori's Dad," Ginny whispered lowly, and Harry nodded. They had talked about this a few times before.

Mister Greengrass didn't have any sons, so marrying his daughters off to wealthy wizards and forming house alliances was all that concerned him after the War. He also wasn't directly involved with the Dark Lord so their family name hadn't been tarnished.

Astoria felt terrible about having to keep their relationship a secret, lying to her parents about where she was half the time. The rest of her time was spent attending exorbitant parties with poofy, elaborate dresses, fake smiles and getting paraded in front of several suitable Pureblood boys that her Father had handpicked.

"I know, love," Harry sighed. He knew how much it hurt Ginny and Astoria to hide their relationship, and he really wished there was something he could do, but he knew at the end of the day that it wasn't his place to step in.

Harry squeezed her thigh before getting up, heading for the comfy, jade green, leather upholstered armchair in the corner of the room. His boots were haphazardly lying beside it.

Harry and Ginny had gotten a flat together mainly because neither of them wanted to be alone after the War. Both with their own demons and troubles plaguing them. Most nights when Astoria didn't sleep over, Ginny and Harry shared a bed because it helped when there was another person there to help battle away their night terrors.

It was also helped hide Astoria and Ginny's relationship, since if it seemed like Harry and the ginger haired girl were in a relationship then less attention would be paid to her and Astoria's goings and comings.

They had never told the Prophet they were together, people had just assumed, and neither of them had corrected the reporters on their blunder.

Harry sat down, exhaling deeply as he reached for his boots.

"Have you heard from Hermione lately?" Ginny asked curiously, lips pursed.

"She's spends most of her time with her new friends, didn't you know?" Harry muttered under his breath bitterly, brow furrowed.

"Did you say something, Harry?" Ginny asked, pushing herself up onto her forearms.

"No, I haven't," Harry responded tightly, bracing his hands on his knees before standing up, wiping his palms across the sides of his jeans.

"Do you need me to pick anything up on my way home?" Harry asked, deciding to change the subject. If Ginny noticed his aversion to speaking about their beloved curly haired friend, she didn't comment.

It seemed that Ginny up until that point hadn't noticed he was fully dressed.

"Wait, where are you going?" Ginny's brow knitted together, "it can't be even eight yet."

"It's seven forty-nine actually," Harry said with a twist of his lips, as he checked his watch on his left wrist. Astoria had given it to him as a birthday gift, it wasn't too fancy. Two clock hands, roman numerals around the circumference of the clock face, and a plain, thin, black strap.

"You should go see Hermione if you find time, Harry," Ginny said as she flopped back onto his sheets. Last night she'd had a particularly nasty nightmare, and had silently crawled into his bed, he'd woken up violently, high on alert until he noticed who it was. Without a word, he had gathered her into his arms and they both quickly slipped back into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Harry smiled tightly before twisted around to grab his coat and scarf from where they were thrown over the back of the armchair.

"If I can," Harry said, his strained smile turning into a genuine one when he noticed that Ginny had fallen asleep again.

Harry had no intention of following through with the notion of visiting his best mate. Could he really call her that anymore? He asked himself as he shut their flat door behind him, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets after slipping his keys into his right coat pocket; they were fairly deep pockets, and a quick silencing charm stopped them from jingling and interrupting his thoughts.

Hermione and Harry hadn't spent any significant time together in months, not how they used to at least. We barely talk now, Harry thought sourly as he exited their building, walking out onto the wet and bitterly cold sidewalk. A quick look around to grasp his surroundings confirmed his suspicions, there weren't a lot of people around, it was the weekend and a miserable day, it made sense that there weren't more people outside.

Exhaling, Harry saw his hot breath form in front of him, and join the fog that surrounded him.

Tapping his left foot against the sidewalk he set out on his way, hugging his arms to his side to try and keep as warm as possible.

Harry scolded himself about the morning where instead of hugging Hermione, and telling her she was one of the best things that had ever happened to him in his unfortunate life-he had run away.

Harry snorted to himself, where was my Gryffindor courage then?

Harry moved to the left of the sidewalk as a nervous looking woman, spindly with thin fingers and dark brown hair gave him a strange look. He doubted she recognised him, she was probably staring at his scar, which was on full display since his hair had parted at the front.

Then there's Nott...not to mention I'm pretty sure Hermione spends more time with Malfoy than me these days, Harry couldn't help the short, harsh bark of laughter that escaped his lips. Who knew the day would come when Hermione would be on better speaking terms with the blond Pureblood than him.

Harry kept trying to find an opportunity to speak to Hermione properly, but then the timing never seemed right. Plus he swore Hermione was avoiding him, or at least avoided being alone with him. Though he dismissed that as him being paranoid and over thinking.

Then came the rude wake up call in the form of one Theodore Nott. Dark curls, striking blue eyes, a jagged scar that travelled from his strong jaw to his temple, and a slightly crooked nose; he was lithe with a strong build.

Hermione brought him to dinner at the Weasleys a few weeks back, and had stuck to his side as if they were glued together.

It made an acidic, hateful feeling burn in the pit of his stomach, and he tried with everything he could to maintain a polite smile throughout lunch. Instead he turned to Ginny to talk about Quidditch, to get his mind off of the witch and wizard opposite him at the table; though he found his heart simply wasn't in it.

It was then that Harry noticed how caught up in his thoughts he had really been, as he saw that he had reached his destination.

Their flat wasn't too far away from the park, and he had a bench that he liked to sit down at in the mornings, or evenings sometimes, and simply take in his surroundings. It was peaceful and it helped him process his feelings and work through his jumbled thoughts.

No. I had to muck it all up, Harry sighed, heavily plopping down on his bench, wriggling his fingers in his jeans pockets, legs spread open slightly as he shifted and made himself comfortable. Ignoring the biting cold that had seeped into the bench and was now snapping at his bum.

"As long as she's happy," Harry murmured to himself, tipping his head to the sky.

Some days he thought he may tell her how he really felt, but it was a fanciful notion, and it would only push her farther away. He just knew it, he could feel it every time he was near her. She couldn't wait to get away from him.

She had Nott, and her new friends, heck she talked to Ron more than she talked to him.

He knew for a fact that Ron was even hanging out with the Slytherins. Now isn't that a bizarre twist of events.

He hated what their relationship had become, awkward conversations, deafening silences, shuffling feet and wringing hands. Neither of them ready to admit what they both clearly already knew.

No. I need to keep these feelings to myself. It's best for everyone, Harry sighed softly.

Harry closed his eyes, mind drifting back to the day when everything shifted. The day he wished he could change. Then with a bitter, metallic taste at the back of his throat, he slowly opened his eyes, only to be greeted with silvery blue eyes peering at him right in front of his own bright green ones.

"Godric-" Harry exclaimed, jumping back sharply, hitting his back against the metal, feeling the shock run down his spine. Hands flying out of his pockets as he reached for his wand in his left coat pocket. Only to freeze with his fingers hovering over the pocket, index finger brushing against the warm fabric.

"Hello Harry, I thought I'd find you here," the girl smiled airily, her crinkly pale hair piled messily on top of her head, the cold had caused her fair cheeks to turn a bright pink, her earrings jingling slightly as she cocked her head to the right.

Harry's eyes quickly darted up and down, examining her attire. She was wearing bright yellow leggings, a thin, plum, long-sleeved shirt and pink and red striped socks that she had pulled halfway up her shins.

"Luna?"

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