The visit with Hermione had only made Harry lonelier, the solitude turning his thoughts deeper and darker. For the next three days, Harry brooded, the growing chill of late October doing little to improve his mood. He sat motionless on the moldy couch for hours at a time, staring sightlessly into the fire. Memories of the time Harry and Hermione had spent alone in their hunt for Voldemort's horcruxes flashed inexplicably in his mind. The look on Hermione's face when Ron had left the camp, the way she had cried herself to sleep most nights, the dance between him and Hermione, and the look on Ron's face when he saw the locket's vision of Harry and Hermione kissing passionately all haunted Harry's thoughts. The fourth morning, Harry woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed with his hand on his forehead. Covered in sweat, Harry knew he had just had a nightmare, which tended to happen most nights, but for some reason couldn't remember the details. Getting up and dressed, he decided leave Grimmauld Place, thinking some fresh air might be good for him. Pulling on his boots at the door, Harry caught a whiff of Hermione's floral perfume. Looking up, his heart skipping a beat, he noticed that her red scarf still hung on a peg. Stuffing it into one of his deep coat pockets, Harry shut the door and locked it behind him, turning sharply on the spot.
Moments later, Harry stood before The Burrow, the Weasley family's slightly lopsided but comfortable home. He hadn't known where he wanted to go before apparating, trusting his instincts to take him where he needed to be. With the windows glowing brightly and the chimney softly smoking, Harry knew that no other place, besides Hogwarts of course, would feel quite as homey. Popping his ringing ears with a yawn, Harry eagerly trudged through the piles of gold and red leaves that surrounded the home, his breath steaming. He rapped twice on the front door, scraping his dusty boots on the coir doormat. In no time at all, Mrs. Weasley had Harry in her arms, crying, "Harry, dear! It's been too long. Come in, come in!" Warmth washed over Harry as he crossed the threshold. "Let me have a look at you," said Mrs. Weasley, taking Harry's face in her hands. "You've grown since I've last seen you," she accused motherly. Mrs. Weasley gently adjusted Harry's glasses before turning away to hide the proud tears sparkling in her eyes.
Harry grinned around the house as he followed the plump woman into the kitchen. The house was nearly identical to the first time he had visited when he was just twelve years old: large plush armchairs were pushed in front of a roaring fire, baskets of yarn were scattered about the floor, and lamps glowed from every table. Mrs. Weasley bustled about, drawing back the kitchen curtains and pouring Harry a cup of sweet tea from a chipped teapot that floated in midair. Ron was seated at the long chestnut table, glaring moodily at his own teacup. He didn't look up when Harry walked in and, as Mrs. Weasley left the room, she gave Harry a very pointed look. Harry cleared his throat and sat in the chair opposite his friend. "Hullo Harry," Ron muttered, still looking down. Harry didn't know what to say. He could assume by Ron's unkempt hair and sullen expression that things hadn't improved with Hermione since they had spoken. Harry was suddenly aware of the small lump of Hermione's scarf in his pocket, and a guilty look crossed his face . Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Harry took a sip of his tea before speaking. "So… How are things?" he asked stupidly. "Rubbish," replied Ron. "I suppose you've come to see Ginny. She's upstairs. Mum's making her help clean the attic out." "I came to see everyone," assured Harry, "I've missed you all. It's been too long." Ron just sniffed absentmindedly. The heat of the kitchen adding to Harry's discomfort, he pulled off his coat and laid it on the back of the chair. "If you need anything, mate…" Harry began, but trailed off at Ron's sour expression. "I'll be upstairs," he added hastily, getting up from the table and taking the stairs two at a time.
At the landing, he was greeted by Ginny, long red hair tied up and elbow-length yellow gloves covering her hands. "I'm hiding from Mum," she hissed, "She's been working me to death." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and pulled him into one of the spare bedrooms, shutting the door. "Finally some peace and quiet. Ron moping about the place and Mum all 'do this, Ginny, do that Ginny.' I've been going mad!" Ginny spat, ripping the gloves from her hands and throwing them to the floor. She gave Harry a quick hug before flopping into a chair by the window. Harry's heart didn't thud as it used to when he was around Ginny, whose good looks had ensured she had no shortage of boyfriends while at Hogwarts. Frowning slightly, he sat on the edge of the bed, gazing at his hands. He could feel Ginny's eyes on him, so he looked up and said, "Ginny, I've been thinking." "Well that's new," she said rolling her eyes and sticking her tongue out at him. Harry half-smiled at her spunk. " I don't think this is going where… I don't think we should keep this up," he said quickly, blurring his words together. He was surprised at himself. He hadn't come here looking to break things off with Ginny. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, strongly reminding Harry of her mother. "You're breaking up with me. Again," she muttered through clenched teeth. "Again. How dare you Harry James Potter!" Harry, sensing an argument, began to backpedal. "No! No I just… Look Ginny. Things are tough right now. Your brother – "
Just then, Ron burst through the door, Harry's coat in one hand and the scarf in the other, his face purple. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THIS?" he yelled, shoving Hermione's scarf under Harry's nose. "WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING WITH MY GIRLFRIEND?" "N-nothing! Honestly!" Harry stammered, taken aback at Ron's explosion. "I ran into Hermione the other day and she forgot her scarf. I was just going to take it back – " "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Ron screamed. "Nothing happened, Ron. She was just telling me - " began Harry fiercely. "Telling you what, exactly, Harry?" Ron looked so angry Harry was afraid he might hit him. Harry stood up and looked Ron straight in the eye, his hands balled into fists. Ginny sprang up, tugging on Harry's sleeve to pull him backwards.
Mrs. Weasley came in, looking outraged, a feather duster in her hand and dust in her hair. "Ronald Weasley! What is all this commotion?" she asked shrilly. "Harry's been talking to Hermione," glowered Ron, not taking his eyes off Harry. "The last time I checked you three were best friends. What has gotten into you?" His mother's words sobered Ron dramatically and he sunk down on the bed. "Sorry, mate. I took it out on you," he murmured to Harry's feet. Mrs. Weasley smacked the feather duster against her son's head. "Behave!" she admonished, stalking from the room. The three teens looked everywhere but at each other until Mrs. Weasley called for Ginny, who gave an exasperated snort and followed her mother out of the room. "Boys," they heard her mutter under her breath as she closed the door.
"Hermione's just been weird," said Ron dejectedly as soon as his sister was out of sight. "I thought her and me were… And now she's gone, Harry. I finally get her and then she goes." Harry was forcefully reminded of the time Ron left Harry and Hermione in the woods, when Harry thought their friendship was over for good. An old feeling of anger crept into the pit of Harry's stomach and he felt like shouting. Breathing deeply to calm himself, he said, "Let her go, mate. She'll come back. You know she will." Harry realized he'd sounded unconvincing when Ron looked at him skeptically. "I even showed her Great Aunt Muriel's old wedding ring, you know? Thought she'd love it. But oh no," and here he imitated Hermione's voice, "'Have you lost your mind Ronald?'" Ron shook his head sadly. "Girls," he said with emphasis. Harry snorted and Ron gave a half-hearted laugh.
"But you said you'd seen Hermione. What did she say about me?" asked Ron suspiciously. Harry was quiet for a moment. He didn't want to betray Hermione's trust and he knew too well the grudges Ron could hold with the slightest bit of provocation. "She said the relationship," here Harry coughed, the word stuck in his throat, "was going too fast. She said that you two are just…young. Too young." Harry looked at the grimy window pane, recalling how the candle light had danced across Hermione's face as she had spoken those words at Sirius' place. Ron's voice pulled him back to the present. "Too young? Thought it wouldn't matter. All these years, Harry. I know her well enough. We could get our own place, somewhere in the village. Start a family." "Hermione doesn't want that," said Harry, his words gruff. Ron's brow furrowed.
"Well mate, I think I should go. Kreacher will be, uh, wondering where I've been." Harry knew his excuse was pathetic, but he wanted to be alone. "Sure thing, mate. Thanks for stopping by." Harry disliked the awkwardness that stretched between him and Ron, but wasn't in the mood for reconciliation. He took his coat from where Ron had dropped it on the floor and hurriedly left the room, calling out his goodbyes to Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, not waiting to hear a response.
Ginny ran to her bedroom window, watching Harry as he reached the front porch and vanished. Somehow she knew things would never be the same.