Hi everyone, sorry about the long wait. I hope this chapter is worth it and that you guys are still reading it. Let me know what you think.

Chapter 8: Beginning of the End

Ron sighed in resignation, feeling as though he was doomed to perpetually mess up his relationship with Hermione. Just when things were finally as he'd always imagined he had to go and lose control of his common sense. Why did he have to say those things? Was it unreasonable to let well enough alone and just admit his true feelings?

As he slowly climbed the stairs, getting ever closer to the inevitable explosion, Ron slid his hand nervously through his hair, making it stick up in disarray.

Pausing outside the door, Ron placed a tentative hand on the doorknob, distinctly hearing the sounds of muffled tears and a soothing voice. Bracing himself, he knocked softly with one hand and opened the door with the other, coming to stand just inside the room.

Ginny was sitting on the edge of Hermione's bed, patting the arm of the collapsed girl who was shaking quite noticeably. Another pang of guilt and shame shot through Ron as he observed the scene, feeling as though he should be the one comforting Hermione about something that had not originated with his own stupidity. His heart began to hurt at the thought that his words had made her cry. They fought all the time and very seldom had she become as upset as this. He was very uncomfortable with the whole thing.

"Er…Ginny, could you…" he began, jerking his head in the direction of the door in a silent plea for her to leave.

His sister whispered something to Hermione and then stood, giving Ron an almost compassionate look as she left the room, shutting the door behind her.

The silence stretched between them in a most uncharacteristic way, making the situation seem endlessly worse. Finally, Ron crossed the room to stand beside the bed, not knowing exactly how he should go about apologizing.

"Hermione…please, look at me."

She remained prone for a moment, but then reluctantly turned her face to the boy hovering over her. She sniffled audibly but controlled her tears, not wanting Ron to see her so worked up. Her eyes were puffy and red, her skin blotchy. Her hair was slightly tangled as she shook it out of her face, but Ron could care less. All he saw was the girl who had stolen his heart and who was now upset over something irrevocably stupid he had said.

"Oh, Hermione. I am so sorry!" He squatted next to her and placed a hand on her arm, suddenly knowing what to do and say, his instincts overcoming his uncertainty. "I didn't mean a word of what I said. I was jealous of the time you were spending with that bloke. I was jealous of everybody who ever took you away from me for even a second! Hermione, I…I…" Ron faltered and fell silent for a moment, gaining courage to speak only when he met Hermione's eyes and felt the need to make her understand. "I love you. I have for so long I don't even remember when I started. I couldn't bare the thought of you falling for some other bloke so I—"

Ron suddenly found speaking very difficult, not because of the emotion involved in professing ones love, though that was a small part, but because his lips became otherwise engaged. Hermione's soft lips locked with his, letting him know through the intensity of the kiss that she forgave him.

"I love you too," she whispered against his lips as they broke apart, eyes still closed and breathing slightly labored.

Ron brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and kissed her forehead, overcome with foreign emotions after Hermione's confession. He crawled onto the bed next to her and took her in his arms, delighting in the simple pleasure of holding her to him. They stayed that way for quite some time, the mutual compassion almost tangible.

Ginny leaned against the doorframe of the porch entrance and observed Harry from afar, a small smile dancing across her face and lighting up her eyes. He looked so peaceful lying on his back under the tree, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling evenly. It seemed he was catching up on his sleep.

Skipping lightly down the steps, Ginny moved stealthily over to where Harry lay, careful not to wake him. She settled herself beside him, draping one arm over his chest and resting her head on his shoulder. There was no reason she, too, could not make up for the sleep she had been deprived of the night before. And if sleep came more easily in the arms of the boy next to her, well, that could hardly be helped.

A soft breeze rustled the grass around them and Ginny watched sleepily as a butterfly fluttered above them and alighted on a flower to her right. This is how summers are supposed to be, Ginny decided. Calm and peaceful. But she knew it was all merely a wonderful lie, as unattainable as a mirage in the desert.

Sighing softly, she was surprised to feel Harry slip his arm around her waist and open his eyes to look at her.

"I thought you were asleep," she said, losing herself in his large emerald eyes.

"Do you really think I would spend my last full day at the Burrow sleeping?" he replied, quirking an eyebrow at her, making her grin despite herself.

"Oh, I had no intention of letting you sleep the day away," she replied, fluttering her lashes suggestively.

"Yeah? Had anything in mind?" He was pulling her closer to his side, his face very close to her own.

"Well…we could always…" she brought her lips to within inches of his and whispered the last words so that her breath tickled his face, "work on a practice plan for Quidditch," she finished, jumping up and laughing at the practiced pout on Harry's face.

"Sure, fine, exactly what I was thinking," he said, getting to his feet with an exaggerated sigh.

Ginny grabbed his hand, pulled him close to her, and kissed him lightly on the lips, still smiling maddeningly. She then took off in the direction of the house, laughing as Harry raced after, eventually catching her as they reached the porch. He wrapped his arms around her from behind as she made to dash up the steps and she turned around to face him, out of breath but still laughing. He pressed his lips to hers and then let them graze her neck.

"Are you sure you want to start planning for Quidditch?" he mumbled against her skin. His breath was warm and his hold on her comforting, familiar even. Ginny closed her eyes and gathered up her resolve.

"Yes, quite sure, actually," she replied, slipping from his grasp. She gave him a wolfish smile and walked into the house, laughing silently at the sigh coming from behind her.

They settled themselves on the living room floor and spread a parchment before them, Ginny poised with a quill in her hand.

"I suppose we should arrange for tryouts the first week we get back so that we can start practicing as soon as possible. We haven't lost the Quidditch cup once since I've been in school, and I don't plan on losing it our last year," said Harry, feeling that Quidditch wasn't the worst way to spend the afternoon even if it wasn't the best.

"Yes, I think we should write to McGonagall today and ask her to reserve the pitch for the third day of school," said Ginny, tapping the quill against her chin in a most endearing manner.

"Or I could ask her personally tomorrow when I get back to Hogwarts. Assuming she stays there all summer, that is."

"Perfect. We can start putting up notices when I get there so that we can be prepared by the time school starts back up. Let's put together an outline for the tryouts." She bent over and scribbled something on the parchment and then looked at Harry expectantly.

They spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for the upcoming Quidditch season. By the time Harry fell into bed that night, missing the comfort of Ginny in his arms, pretty much everything was figured out and he hardly had a thought to spare on the upcoming journey.

As he rolled over and stretched on the very large bed, Harry felt a sudden pang in his scar. His hands flew to his head, but the pain was gone as quickly as it had begun. This had happened a few times over the summer, but not recently, and Harry wondered not for the first time if perhaps there was something more to its occurrence than just a reminder of what had happened in the numerous meetings with Voldemort.

Harry immediately thought of the strange dream he had had concerning Voldemort. Maybe it was all nothing, just his jumpy mind creating shadowy warnings where there was no warrant for them. But, just maybe, Voldemort was preparing himself for something big. Harry would have to prepare himself, too. And if going back to Hogwarts early would make the inevitable last battle swing in his favor, then he would go without complaint. He just hoped Ginny, Hermione, and Ron wouldn't take their sweet time in joining him. Particularly Ginny.

Harry allowed himself to relax into slumber, shaking off all foreboding thoughts and focusing on the time he and his friends would have Hogwarts all to themselves.

Harry knew where he was this time without having to look. The entrance hall to Hogwarts was unnaturally quiet, the usual laughter and good-natured shouting suspiciously absent.

Harry turned slowly, taking in every detail of the dream. The grand staircase lay to his left and the great hall at his back. He cast his gaze right and caught sight of Ginny standing resolutely beside him. Her eyes locked with his for a moment and she smiled. Any worry melted away as Harry looked down at her. She took his hand in hers and stepped closer so that their chests were touching. She seemed to fit differently in his hold, but before he could think further on the change, her face twisted in pain and she broke away from him, sprinting up the staircase.

This time Harry followed, taking three steps at a time. He reached her just as she made it to the top of the stairs. He gripped her arm and she spun around to face him. Her face was flushed and her eyes glittered with unshed tears.

"Harry," she muttered throatily, gasping with mounting pain.

"What is it?" he began, but the next second he was lying on his back in the main entrance hall, hands flying to his aching forehead, his scar burning with such ferocity that he wondered that his skull hadn't cracked.

"Cruciatus!" came a sickening voice.

Harry's body convulsed as he screamed on the floor. His very skin felt as though it were being ripped from him, his blood boiled, his scar throbbed to a new degree. His throat became ragged with screams of pain, but he couldn't stop.

Something cool touched his head and he could hear soft words over his own shrieks. His hair was stroked soothingly back and his body relaxed. He was no longer in pain. It was all a shadow of a memory, so distant that it felt unreal.

Harry was now standing in a room he had never seen before. It was sunny and warm with comfortable looking furniture. He could hear voices from behind a closed door at the end of the hall. Such a feeling of peace and…perfection surrounded him that he almost choked with the emotion.

He made his way toward the door and as he neared it, he could decipher the sounds as being a song. A lullaby. Something in his memory was strangely stirred by the words, and he suddenly thought he knew what might be beyond the door.

He reached for the doorknob and turned it, coming to stand just inside the room.

It was small, walls painted blue with realistic looking clouds floating lazily across it. A crib stood to his left, next to which sat a woman in a white rocking chair. Her back was to him but he could see her long red hair draped over the chair. She sang softly to something in her arms.

Harry stood stock still, not wanting to interrupt the scene lest it should disappear. Here sat his mother as though she were alive. And the baby in her arms must be himself as an infant. Harry felt tears prickle from behind his eyes, but he couldn't have cared less.

She was so beautiful, and she was here, with him. He had never longed for her and his father so much as he did now.

A sudden urge to see her, maybe to talk to her, over took him, and Harry took a step into the room.

"James, is that you?" called the woman in the chair. She stood and walked to the crib, still not turning around.

Harry held his breath. Could she hear him? Could he talk to her?

He took another step, but as he did the scene dissolved.

Harry opened his eyes, frustration making him hit his pillow violently. Why did he have to wake up when he had good dreams, yet when he was having a nightmare it always seemed inescapable?

Sighing heavily, Harry rolled out of bed and pulled on some clothes, not really caring what he looked like. Disappointment still strong, he moved sulkily out of his room and down the stairs to the kitchen, following the smell of bacon and toast.

Upon entering, Mrs. Weasley smiled gaily at him and shunted him into a chair, placing a plate full of food in front of him. Feeling too disgruntled to comment on his lack of hunger, Harry made a valiant attempt at biting a large piece of toast, Mrs. Weasley watching him carefully to make sure he ate.

"Can't travel on an empty stomach," she informed him in a maternal voice, hovering over him like a mother bird over her chicks. "Sleep alright, dear? You look a bit peaky." She added another egg to his plate and gave him a worried look.

"Er, yea, I'm fine," he lied, trying to shake off his bad mood and enjoy his last hours at the Burrow. He didn't want Mrs. Weasley to think he didn't appreciate her hospitality.

Harry made himself eat most of what was on his plate, complimenting Mrs. Weasley on her cooking, which really was wonderful. Hogwarts couldn't even compete, though the house elves were very good at creating tempting dishes. An image of treacle tarts floated into his head and his mouth watered even as his stomach felt uncomfortably full. He had to stop eating like this if he wanted to be in shape for Quidditch.

He grinned at the thought of his favorite sport and allowed his thoughts to wander to what the season as co-captain with Ginny would bring. And with Ron and Hermione as school heads, seventh year was going to be the best yet.

Just as Harry stood to dump his dishes in the sink, Ginny entered the kitchen from the front porch looking windswept.

"Oh, you're up! I thought you would sleep forever!" She made her way around the table and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Harry glanced pointedly at Mrs. Weasley and blushed when he caught her looking at the exchange with a wide smile on her face. She quickly gathered herself, cleared her throat, and turned back to the stove.

Ginny pulled Harry into the living room and plopped down on the couch, bringing him with her. As he settled comfortably into the cushions, Ginny turned a worried gaze on him. Her face was pale and strained looking with dark spots below each eye. She looked exhausted.

"Are you alright?" Harry questioned, placing a hand on her arm and moving it up and down in what he hoped was a comforting way.

Ginny blinked in surprise and frowned slightly. "I could ask you the same thing, Harry. You had another nightmare last night, didn't you?" She leveled him with such a look that he knew lying was out of the question.

Harry dropped his hand onto his lap and turned away from her, looking for all the world as though he had regressed into himself. Ginny sat silently beside him, not moving her gaze, knowing that he would answer her when he felt ready.

"It wasn't too bad, I don't want you to be worried," was his eventual reply. It was true, wasn't it? It really hadn't been all that terrible. He could hardly remember it, as it were, and the dream after the initial dark images was still sweet in his mind.

Ginny scooted closer to him and took his hand, causing him to look at her. "Harry, don't censor things just because you think they will upset me. I want to know what's happening in your life. I heard you this morning." Ginny faltered and looked down at their interlocking hands. She seemed rather disturbed, and Harry suddenly felt immense guilt at not having been able to control his physical reaction to bad dreams. He felt wholly responsible for her tired appearance, and this irked him to no end. He gripped her hand tighter as though to relay his apology and to take away the shadows under her eyes through touch.

She looked back up at him and smiled wanly. "You were calling out and…and when I went to wake you up you were thrashing on the bed. I couldn't make you open your eyes. You just kept screaming. I…I was so scared." She looked it, even now.

Harry pulled her into a tight embrace and she buried her head in his shoulder.

"What were you dreaming about?" she managed after a few moments.

"It was…it's hard to remember now. I think you were in it, though." Harry closed his eyes in concentration, trying to force the memory, however painful, to the forefront of his mind.

Harry felt Ginny shudder against him and he redoubled his efforts at remembering, wanting to reassure her that nothing terrible had happened to either of them. But, truth to tell, he wasn't positive that his memory would reward him with such an assurance.

Sighing heavily he drew Ginny away from him so that he could look her in the eye. "It may have been a nightmare about that day in Hogsmeade for all I know. I don't want you to worry about me or about what the dream could mean. It was probably nothing." Ginny didn't look convinced. In fact, if anything, she looked worse. "Promise me you won't waste your energy thinking about it, okay?" She nodded after a moment, perhaps sensing the urgency with which Harry spoke. He couldn't cope if he thought his visions were painful for Ginny. Though…the dreams were definitely not a reoccurrence of prior events. This had been something new. And oddly terrifying, even if he couldn't recall the details. He almost didn't want to.

Harry stood and looked down at the red head of the girl on the couch, feeling an odd sensation in his stomach. He wondered vaguely what it was, for he hadn't felt anything like it since nerves had caused his stomach to flop whenever he saw a girl he liked. But he didn't feel nervous around Ginny anymore. On the contrary, he felt more at ease with her than with anyone else with the possible exception of Ron and Hermione, and that was only because of their close history. Ginny was something new. And so was this particular feeling.

He shook his head slightly and determined to ignore it. If he pretended it didn't exist then maybe it would realize its efforts were futile and it would go away. Though no amount of denial had made Voldemort suddenly abandon his quest to take over the Wizarding world.

"I guess I should get all packed for the trip. I'm not really sure when to expect the transportation." Harry was greatly relieved to see a smile break across Ginny's features as she got to her feet, brushing some of her windswept hair behind her ear.

"You boys are always procrastinating," she proclaimed, a glint in her brown eyes. She was obviously just as eager to forget the subject of nightmares as Harry was.

"Us boys, huh?" he asked playfully, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

She grinned up at his face knowingly. "Well, it took you and Ron long enough to see what was right under your noses, didn't it? Ron has a rather large nose, so that's almost understandable, but you, Harry, have a small, very adorable nose not at all big enough to completely hinder your sight. It's a wonder Hermione and I waited for the two of you. Honestly!" She widened her smile so that all of her teeth could be seen, making her appear very much like a smaller, more be-freckled version of Lockhart.

Before Harry could retort, Ginny had already begun the tedious climb to the third-floor landing. He stood still for a moment, trying to work out exactly what he could have said to her had she waited for a response, but upon drawing a blank he made his way more slowly up to his room. Apparently Ginny had every intention of helping him pack because when he reached his door he could see her bent over his trunk, attempting to force a few books into its already overflowing sides.

Harry watched her from where he stood, for she had yet to realize that he had arrived to assist her. Her hair was still wild from her early morning flight and it lay in unruly waves down her back. He knew her face to be pale and splotchy, though he could not see it, but he felt strangely as though she had never looked more beautiful. She was just so natural and so much…herself that he was sickened by the idea of the Hogwarts witches, with their make-up and perfectly styled hair. She was magnificent without any effort at all.

"Harry, if you're just going to stand there then could you at least not stare at me like that? It's giving me the creeps!" She turned and gave him a dramatic look, making him laugh.

"Well, there's nothing as interesting as you to stare at, is there? Besides, who knows when you'll be coming to Hogwarts. I have to memorize what you look like before I'm deprived of your overwhelming beauty, oh great one." He stepped into the room and flicked his wand lazily at the trunk. Its contents immediately rearranged themselves so that they fit perfectly into the space with room to spare.

"Show off," Ginny said, snapping a shirt at him.

Harry caught it and pulled, bringing Ginny with it. She giggled a little as he playfully wrestled her into his arms, finally relaxing in his hold when it was clear resistance was futile.

He was always amazed at how good she felt against him, how right. He kissed the top of her head and she closed her eyes.

"You missed, you know?" she said slyly as she wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her head toward his.

"Oh yeah?" he murmured, so close to her face that he could count each freckle sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. He closed the gap slowly, savoring the moment. His lips brushed hers gently and she pushed up on tip-toes to make contact.

"Oy, do you two ever stop?" came the rather disgruntled voice from the door. "It's hardly ten o'clock for heaven's sake!"

Harry didn't let go of Ginny, but instead pulled her even further against him. She didn't complain. "Shut the door if you can't handle it. Not like I haven't seen you and Hermione in—"

"Alright! Okay, I'm going." Harry could tell from his gruff voice that Ron was blushing a deep shade of red. He heard the door shut, rather more loudly than was strictly necessary, and then a few choice words issue from the other side of it. "Can't a bloke get some peace in his own house?" was the last indicator that anyone had been standing outside Harry's room, then silence.

Ginny snorted softly at her brother's language, but her expression grew serious as she caught the look in Harry's eyes. An audible breath escaped her and she moved her hands to the back of his head as he pressed his lips against hers. He simply couldn't get enough of her and he wondered how he would survive without her at Hogwarts. He would have to ask Dumbledore to send her before the others. Yes, everyone else could wait. Everything else could wait.

He deepened the kiss and brought one hand behind her head to cradle it, allowing the other to wander the extent of her back. When they finally broke apart they were both out of breath and acutely aware from the pounding footsteps on the stairs that they would soon be entertaining a third party.

Rather than risk another scene like the one with Ron, which now seemed completely avoidable had Harry not been so involved in Ginny at the moment of his friend's arrival, they widened the space between them and made a show of packing the rest of the clothing scattered on the floor.

A curt knock on the door was followed immediately by the entrance of Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror and a friend of Harry's. He looked grim and tired, but upon seeing Harry and Ginny he smiled and stepped forward to shake hands.

Harry felt much better about the trip to Hogwarts knowing that Shacklebolt was there. They had all been through a lot together and they knew how to work together. If the need should arise. Harry's smile wavered.

"Good to see you, good to see you," Shacklebolt exclaimed gruffly, dropping his hand back to his side and letting it drift to the wand sheath hanging precariously from the belt around his waist. Instead of the usual Wizard apparel that he sported, Kingsley was dressed in rather well-matched Muggle clothing. A piece of parchment and a shabby quill were visible from beneath the light jacket he wore, but otherwise his ensemble was quite convincing.

Harry raised his eyebrow at the man before him in silent question. Shacklebolt barked a laugh and winked. "Had to travel through that Muggle town to get here since Dumbledore put some anti-Apparation charms around the Burrow. Couldn't very well have traipsed across country in full Wizard gear, could I? I'd have those…what are they, poohlise?" Harry snorted with laughter and quickly slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Police."

"Yeah, that's it. Police. They'd be all over me trying to figure out what kind of psychopathic tendencies had prompted me to dress in robes and wave about a pointed stick."

Harry laughed again and he could feel Ginny shaking beside him with suppressed mirth. That was probably exactly what would happen, but hearing someone as serious as Shacklebolt say it made it strangely hilarious.

"Right. So…how am I going to get to Hogwarts?" Harry managed after a moment.

"Well, that's where I come in. We are going to walk to the edge of town and Disapparate. I have a map of where we have to end up. Somewhere in London, I think. More Aurors will be there waiting to accompany us the rest of the way. We have to move quickly and quietly. You cannot be seen. I'll tell you the rest when we get to London. We have to leave immediately if we are going to make Hogwarts by nightfall. Let's go."

With that, Shacklebolt flicked his wand at Harry's trunk, which shrunk to the size of a candy bar, and stuck it in his pocket. He motioned that Harry do the same to his broom, though Harry felt odd miniaturizing one of his most important possessions. Not only had it gotten him through many dangerous games of Quidditch, but it was also one of the few objects he had that had been given him by Sirius. Harry quickly changed the course of his thoughts. He had been down that path too many times before and he knew he needed a clear head for the journey to come. Dwelling on haunting memories surely wouldn't help him get to his destination safely.

Ginny touched his arm and met his gaze, making Harry forget his sorrow. At least for the moment. He hurriedly shrunk his broom and stuffed it in his pocket. He pulled a jacket over him and then took Ginny's hand, leading her down the stairs. He stopped just before he reached the bottom and kissed her softly.

"I'll see you soon," he murmured before stepping away from her and saying his quick farewells to Hermione, who sat at the kitchen table reading despite Ron's best efforts at distracting her, and the rest of the Weasley's. He knew he would be seeing them soon, but he couldn't help but feel a certain detachment, as though with the end of summer so too would end the last traces of his childhood. This was it. Soon he would face his most important task yet, and the entire Wizarding world, Muggle too, would rest on his ability to stop the most evil Wizard of his time.

He took a deep breath and followed the tall Auror out of the Burrow, glancing back at it with the knowledge that it may be the last time he would ever see it.

Please review! Let me know how you think it is going. I will try to be faster with the next chapter.