A/N – Yes, I know finally. I'm sorry. (I really do say this every posting don't I?) It's true what they say, the older you get the less time there seems to be. Plus, I didn't get the flu bloody twice in the past month so… I'm so glad it's warming up here though, I was so sick of winter. Anyway, enjoy the chapter. And remember, every day that passes is one day closer the seventh book! Thanks to Nessa and Aniket as well. Sede.

Ch 8 – Something Coming Something Going

She groggily opened her eyes and blinked several times. Alarm reached her senses and she sat up as quick as lightning. There was one single thought going through her mind.

Who am I?

She started breathing heavily, holding her head as if to squeeze the memory out. She cried out and started panting in fear, gripping the sides of the bed now. She was sweating… she was in a strange white room with nobody around her… she was lost… she was…

A name floated out of the darkness of her mind and she tried to grasp it. Gi-Gi…Ginny.

She exhaled slowly, holding on with all her strength to the images flicking through her mind. Ginny. She was Ginny.

First it had been small things; little things that did not matter. Forgetting to put the milk away or misplacing something were things one did normally, but she had been doing them more normally than often. Then it was forgetting parts of conversations or what day it was. These small things kept happening and when Ginny remembered forgetting them, so to speak, she was mystified.

Eric wandered into the room and said good morning before rifling through his drawers for something.

"I just forgot who I was for a second," Ginny said flatly, not looking at him.

He paused and turned to her slowly.

"What?"

"It was probably the scariest thing I've ever experienced." She looked at him now, matching him look for look. "And I don't know why it happened, which could be even more terrifying."

"Ginny… maybe…" Eric hesitated and sat down on the bed.

"Where are we going?" Ginny demanded, changing the subject abruptly. She turned around and faced him fully.

Confusion spread across his features and he tilted his head in question.

"We're going somewhere?"

"No, that's just it; we're not going anywhere, Eric. I had this big dream coming here and it included a number of wishes and fantasies that never ended up coming true. I imagined us growing closer and growing in love and trust and… and … I imagined writing this incredible story and meeting these fascinating Muggles and that this story would make me even more famous and respected and I would somehow become more mature through my experience."

"Things don't happen overnight, Gin," Eric said gently.

She clenched her teeth. "Don't make this a cliché conversation; I know you can feel it too. Things didn't turn out the way you wanted either, Eric."

"You couldn't be more right in that respect," Eric said in a strange tone.

"I met a witch. A little girl, who, in discovering her own magic and also her own character, helped me discover something about myself, I know now that to separate magic from my life is stupid. It's like taking away the essence of you. It's not something I ever expected to find here."

"I take it she's going to Hogwarts?"

Ginny nodded wearily. "Yes, but Eric that's not the point of this subject." She reached for his hand but it remained loose in her own. "We're not the same here, and when we go back, we're not going to be the same either," she whispered. "I've realised we made decisions too quickly and… and right now I want to know if we're standing on the same boat? Do you feel this too?"

Eric removed his hand and stared at her. "We fall in love, we get married and move away together. And then you feel we made decision too quickly? No, I am not on the same boat, Ginny, I do not feel like that."

"I'm sor-"

"The whole time we've been here I've dealt with your mood swings, your disappearances and your distance and I didn't take it just to have you tell me we made decisions too quickly."

"Don't you get angry at me! Let's talk about your disappearances, your mood swings! Don't get me started on how distant you are! You're a bloody different person here and I think you know it and right now you're blaming me for addressing it!" Ginny said furiously. "And I'm asking you Eric, where the hell do we go from here?"

"I can't answer that."

"So we won't talk about how distant we are?" Ginny questioned him.

"Not right now, Ginny."

"Not right now, Ginny. I'm too busy, Ginny. I'm going away for today, Ginny," she mimicked him. Her eyes were serious through and she squeezed the pillow as hard as she possibly could.

For a split second, she saw anger in his eyes, anger so strong it made her recoil in shock. But when he looked up at her it was gone – or maybe just controlled.

"I'm going away for today, Ginny," he said in the exact tone she had just said it. "I'll see you later." She heard the door slam and she screamed in frustration, throwing the pillow at the wall. She had already forgotten the thought that has crossed her mind a few minutes ago. Why hadn't Eric seemed alarmed about her forgetting who she was?

Later on she repeated the conversation to Harry at his cottage, wanting to know what he thought.

"I'd rather keep my opinion to myself," he said slowly, looking out of his lonely window.

"Why?"

"Because there are things that I might accidentally say and I cannot say them."

Ginny bit her lip. "Please tell me," she begged softly.

He frowned unhappily. "Don't make me say them, Ginny." But he looked at her longingly for a second and she felt a shiver travel down her spine. She drank the look in and bottled it. Eric never looked at her like that; like he would die if he couldn't look at her or touch her. But then he looked away and the moment melted.

She was silent for a second, not wanting to forget the feeling too fast. Then Harry spoke.

"If I tell you… that young couples always argue or get angry, I wouldn't be lying. Even living alone, I know that fact. Many work it all out, but many don't. It depends if you love him enough to work at it. But that option means I can't have you and right now I can't decide if that's a good or bad thing. I should say bad but I can't bring myself to say it. But then if I say leave him because he won't love you like …" he paused and took a deep breath. "If I say that it won't work out, you won't leave here and it's too important that you do."

"He won't love me like… what?" Ginny whispered, shifting closer. He hadn't said it yet, not once. Neither had she, but she had in her mind. Oh yes, she had definitely said it in her mind.

Harry met her eyes, silently pleading her not to make him say what was on the tip of his tongue. She searched his face and then her body sagged and she nodded, she wouldn't make him say it to her. She took his hand though, and held onto it as tightly as she could.

"I feel like I'm stuck in time," she said softly. "I can't describe it. I always know what to do or say. I'm a person of action and plan but right now, here with you, I've got nothing but what's in front of me and I don't know what to do."

She waited for him to reply and when he didn't answer she looked at him.

Harry was staring at her leg. "Where are all those new bruises from?" he asked in a tightly controlled voice.

Ginny pulled her skirt over them and sighed. "I don't know."

Harry looked sceptical.

"If you think that it's Eric, you're sorely mistaken," she said coolly. "I would never stay with someone who hurt me."

Harry shrugged but his eyes were looking at the bruise on her arm now.

"I honestly don't know," admitted Ginny a few seconds later, her voice scared. "I – I try not to think about it. It scares me."

Harry didn't reply but looked worried.

"Maybe we could go away together," Ginny said timidly. Go to Europe or – or America or something." She didn't know where that idea had come from; it just sprang from her lips.

"America? What would we do there?"

"Be together?"

Harry looked at her with pity. "It's not so simple, Ginny. Why is it so hard for you to see things without the consequences. What about your family? A minute ago you still didn't know what to do about working things out with your husband and now you suggest we run away?"

Ginny stood up. "Dammit Harry, is it so hard to accept that – that I need you? I never stopped hoping – never stopped loving you! Yes, I loved Eric but since when has the heart or mind let us control our love to just one person? I always hoped but I did think you were gone. It's like when a friend or family member dies. You don't just stop loving them because they're not there! Loving a memory can be just as hard – if not harder – than loving someone who is alive!"

Harry turned away and didn't speak.

"Yes, that's right, do your thing where you turn away and ignore the issues. I – can't love you, but I do, Harry. The other day, you kissed me and you still haven't acknowledged it. Obviously you love me, too. You said you did." Everything was just so difficult with Harry she thought with frustration. "And you love me, right?"

He stood there; silent.

"Harry," her voice was pained. "You love me don't you?"

Again, he didn't move. He made a movement as if to turn towards her but something made him stop.

Ginny felt her body shudder inside and she let them cease before she walked to the door.

Then he spoke at last.

"There's so many – I … at night it's like I'm surrounded by shadows… I can't – I try –" He choked and clenched his fists. "I don't – I never know what's real – and what's not… If I'm not real or – I'm afraid to say I love you, Ginny, because it will be set in stone and we won't be able to turn back. But the harder I try to resist you the weaker I become."

Ginny went to him and took his hand, gently uncurling his fist. She looked at him, and seeing him broken made her feel something so unknown and bittersweet that her eyes watered and she couldn't see properly.

"I'm real," she whispered, holding his hand too tight. "I'm right here and I'm real."

- - - - - - -

Hermione threw another robe disparagingly on the bed, narrowly missing an incensed Ron.

"I'm not sure if it would be wiser to wear Muggle clothes or just go with the robes," she said to him absently.

"Aren't witches and wizards over in south and west Europe more casual about showing their magic?" Ron asked while he examined some of her dress robes with raised eyebrows.

"Oh… I don't know… yes. Yes, I think so," Hermione replied, digging further into her wardrobe. She flung out a skirt and it hit Ron square in the face.

"Hey!"

She ignored him and kept searching. Finally, she sighed and sat cross-legged on the floor.

"What if I'm wrong?" she asked him quietly. "What if- what if-" She waved her arms about in the air, not wanting to say it.

"Harry really is dead?" Ron finished helpfully.

"Well – yeah," Hermione said. She played with one of her old Hogwarts scarves, wrapping it around her wrist and staring at it wistfully. "I'm scared to hope and then just get disappointed."

Ron nodded in assent. The same thing was going through his mind. What if Aberforth Dumbledore could tell Hermione nothing? After all, it was highly possible the rings really were faulty or broken, despite how certain Hermione was they weren't. But unlike Hermione, Ron didn't plan on hoping. It would be too disappointing if their hunches were wrong.

"You still don't think he's alive?" Hermione asked, voicing his thoughts.

"No, I just, I'm different to you. You're scared to hope, but you do. I'm scared to hope so I don't." He laughed bitterly. "There's that small difference."

Hermione leant back against his legs. "It's okay to feel like that, Ron. But I know deep down you do hope Harry's alive, that's why you're letting me go." She tried to grin. "That's why you're letting me travel within the same country as Viktor."

Ron smiled as he stroked her hair vaguely.

"What did you tell your Department you were doing?"

"Just some research on the Time-Turners. There's a conference close to where I'm going about turning back time to make sure Voldemort was never born."

Ron guffawed. "That's the biggest joke I've ever heard," he declared. "How do they reckon that will work? I mean, he's dead now for Merlin's sake! It's not worth it – not to mention it will literally stuff up life."

"Oh they'll never pass it," Hermione said lightly. "It is considered to be a joke here but…" she shrugged. "…Europeans."

Ron shook his head, still guffawing. He stopped smiling a second later.

"What would you do if Harry was alive?" he asked seriously.

Hermione thought for a minute. "I don't know. What would you do?"

"Kill him for not telling me and then play some Quidditch together," Ron said slowly.

Hermione smiled up at him. "That would be right," she said tartly. "Well… I guess… ultimately I would just… I wouldn't be able to speak. I'd cry of course," she added. "And the first question I would ask would be 'why?'"

"I can see the Headlines… 'The Boy Who Lived – Twice!" Ron said.

Hermione stared. "Ron, that would be the worst headline ever." She laughed at his hurt expression and got up. She threw on some plain clothes and then packed a bag with more clothes and a set of black robes.

"I wonder what Aberforth will be like," she thought aloud.

"Strange, obviously, if anything Dumbledore ever said was true." Ron circled his finger near his temple, emphasising his meaning.

"Hmmmm," was all Hermione said to this. She pursed her lips and surveyed the room. "Well I guess that's it." She looked at Ron and he stared back at her. She opened her mouth to say good-bye.

"Well, don't be a stranger now," Ron said with a very fake grin, before she could say it. Hermione felt some tears prick her eyes and she wiped them away quickly.

"Goodness me, we're being stupid," she said in a tight voice. "Don't know why we're being… so silly," she said.

"Yeah, I mean, it's just Harry," said Ron sarcastically.

Hermione pulled him into a hug, and they held on to each other tight. "I know, I know," she said, "I…" but she didn't know what to say.

"Please, don't be too long, I'll get jealous with all those smart European wizards around you," Ron teased as he rubbed her shoulders.

"It's not a holiday, Ron!" Hermione protested. She didn't let go of him and after a while he gently pried himself off of her.

"Time for you to go," he whispered.

"Suddenly I'm too nervous," Hermione replied softly. "Because – this is it."

Ron turned her around and handed her bag to her. "Good luck. I'll hold the fort here, okay?"

"Okay." She checked her bag to make sure she had all their notes on the spell gave him one last kiss before Apparating. He watched her face carefully, noticing the mixture of nervousness and hope warring on her features.

Then she was gone.

- - - - - - -

Sophie walked up the hill to Ginny's cottage, clutching the piece of parchment in her hand that had changed her life forever. She reached the top of the hill and surveyed her home town with mixed feelings. The rooftops glinted in the soft, late afternoon sun and she sighed because she knew she would miss it despite the excitement of Hogwarts. She had received her letter the other day and wanted to show Ginny.

She examined her palms, hoping to see the magic flickering in them. It was so wonderful to actually put a name to herself that wasn't 'uncommon', or 'weird' and 'abnormal.' No, she was a witch. She smiled then, enjoying the fact she would be seeing somewhere other than home for once. Segretia was a nice town, where everyone knew everyone and ties ran deep. But Sophie wanted something different from all of that and Ginny had handed it to her.

She turned her back on the town and continued on to Ginny's home. The little white cottage came into view and she went and knocked on the front door. She waited a few minutes and then knocked again, louder. After no reply she frowned because Ginny had said she would be home. Sophie heard a sound coming from around the side and so she went around to the left of the cottage, pushing through the hedges.

She frowned again… was that chanting she was hearing? She looked through one of the windows and saw an empty room.

"Ginny!" she called.

She stepped back and called her name again. "Ginny!"

She moved onto the next window and peered into it. She almost fell back in shock at what she saw. With an open mouth, she watched as Ginny's husband stood in a room covered in newspapers and potions. He was waving a wand about and chanting something aloud. Sophie watched with unblinking eyes and then she realised something even stranger.

He was changing. His nose was becoming more hooked and his hair darker. He became more hunched and skinny and grew a couple of inches. Slowly he turned and Sophie's heart turned to ice. She could only see half of his face but what she could see was a blank, manic expression.

She stood there frozen for five minutes and then she ran. She ran and tripped over one of the plants. She ran down the hill and down to the village, unable to process what she had seen, only able to run.

She had seen something that wasn't right, something she was sure Ginny didn't know about. But she had seen it and it scared her.

And unluckily for and unbeknownst to her, he had seen her too.

- - - - - - -

Percy wiped his glasses on his robes unconsciously for the fifth time. He paced in front of the fireplace and fiddled with his fingers.

Family dinner.

The two words evoked fear in his deepest soul and a battering ram in his heart that wouldn't quit. He loathed family dinners because every time the scenario was the same. He would arrive and Fred and George would "forget" to set his place. They would tease him or maybe they would ignore him for the whole time. Food would be flung at him from unknown sources and he would endure silence from the rest of the table apart from his mother.

Penelope kept encouraging him to go to these dinners. He was so glad to have found her again and felt a little more affection when he saw her face each time. She also kept reminding him how devastated Mrs Weasley would be if he stopped coming to dinner. She would cry and he would feel guilty and it all wouldn't be worth it.

Unbearable was the only word for these dinners and yet Percy wanted so much to mend the rift between him and his family. So far it was only healed between him and Mrs Weasley. It seemed like he would have to endure mortification at family dinners for as long as he lived. For goodness sake he had apologised countless times! It was unreasonable.

Percy straightened up and jerked his head up and down. Yes, it was unreasonable and he was going to let them all know. Tonight. Now. He brushed off his robes and smoothed his hair. It was time to end all of this.

He threw the Floo into the fire and stepped in. "The Burrow!"

After a rush of fireplaces he stumbled into the kitchen. He waited for mocking laughter but none came so Percy stood up and brushed himself off for the second time. A clatter of silverware startled him and his heart sunk when he realised they had already started without him. He leant against the counter and kicked the floor in disappointment.

Well there was no point in joining them now. All attention would be focused on him and he could bet it would be unwelcome attention - especially from Fred and George.

Fred appeared in the doorway, holding the silverware. "Well?" he said gruffly. But it wasn't in an unkind tone.

Percy followed slowly and he stopped abruptly when he saw the kitchen table. All of his family was sitting around it, now that Fred had sat down. But there was one empty space. It was sitting there with a placemat and a cup of pumpkin juice; the chair pulled out and waiting to be sat on.

All faces were trying to look nonchalant but there was an embarrassed sort of apologetically happy mood that filled the room. He sat down quietly and put his napkin in his lap.

"Can I get you a plate?" several voices asked at once.

Percy merely nodded and there was silence until George spoke.

"We're going to need to enlarge this table because I'm sure Penelope will be eating here before long."

And Percy felt a small grin grow over his face as he realised who was responsible for this change of heart.

- - - - - - - -

Ginny awoke with a start. She could have sworn she just heard a door slam. She had to shake her head for a few seconds to get her thoughts straight. She'd had to do that a lot lately. She couldn't think straight after waking up. She looked over at the clock. Two-thirty a.m. She rolled over and looked at Eric, his back was to her and he was breathing evenly.

She lay awake and stared at the ceiling.

Eric had been weird this afternoon, well more weird than usual. He had been distracted and jumpy and once or twice she had caught him staring blankly at nothing but he had been seeing something else. She had asked him if Sophie had dropped by while she was out and he had blinked at her for a few seconds until she repeated the question. He had shaken his head slowly and then had turned away without another word.

A gentle patter of rain started on the roof and she listened to its gentle rhythm, closing her eyes. A far-off boom of thunder sounded and she snuggled deeper under the covers. The grass needed some rain she thought drowsily.

Another clap of thunder sounded again, this time mixed with something else.

Ginny's eyes flew open and she sat up. That had been a human scream. Somebody screamed again and there were yells this time to accompany it. Ginny leapt out of bed after this and ran to the door.

"What is it?" she heard Eric call after her but she didn't answer him.

She ran through the rain in her nightgown, panting heavily and slipping in the fresh mud. There were more screams now and lights were flicking on in the town. She wanted to call out something but what on earth would she call out? She tripped on a root and fell in the mud, sliding down a steep part of the hill. She was filthy and the rain was falling harder now, drenching her head and body.

She reached the base of the hill and ran down the stone path leading into the main street of the village. The noises were loud now, not distant. Ginny knew something was very wrong but her mind wouldn't explore the possibilities.

She stopped and tried to push her way past the gathering crowd, looking for the source of the screams. Almost everybody was in their pyjamas and nightclothes and looking half-asleep.

"Horrible, just horrible," Ginny heard someone say.

Finally the crowd parted and Ginny stopped dead.

She gasped and clapped her hand to her mouth. "No! No!" She fell and felt hands grab her before she hit the ground. She tried to free herself and crawl towards Sophie's dead body but people were holding her back.

"Let me go!" she sobbed as she reached a hand out to Sophie's lifeless form.

The young girl lay beneath the town statue on her stomach, a circle of blood around her and her neck twisted at an odd angle. Ginny dry-retched and put both her palms on the ground, letting the rainwater run over her hands. A hand tried to soothe her by patting her back and Ginny let them, closing her eyes and letting out a sound of pure despair. She shivered from the cold and clenched her fists with her eyes still closed.

But all she could see was Sophie's body.