A/N: I REALLY shouldn't be writing this. Should be doing my summer project. So you should all be very, very thankful that my muse is biting my ear off in order to get me to write. Stupid muses. As of right now I'm not going to do anything further on the previous chapter, so no alternate chapters at the moment. If the mood strikes, that might change, but for now it's just that one.

Before I updated with the third chapter, I had 447 views and 7 reviews on this story. Right now (as I'm typing this) I have 645 views and 7 reviews. Two hundred views without a single review! Don't you love me anymore?

Again, David is my other muse. The one that doesn't bite my ear. Though we all know he'd like to. Tosses hair

DISCLAIMER: No, Ms. Rowling, Harry Potter stories will never bring me a penny, as I don't own them. Have fun with your billions. Grumble mumble

Chapter Four

Phantom Pains

Harry was halfway through his third plate of eggs when Mrs. Weasley finally stopped forcing more food toward him. He finished the last few mouthfuls of his breakfast just as there came a creak on the stairs leading into the kitchen. His heart leapt and his hand moved slightly toward his wand. Adrenaline was still rushing through his system as he reminded himself that it was all over. A thing of the past. Slowly, still desperately trying to calm his jumping nerves, Harry turned to see who was coming into the kitchen. His heart did another somersault, ice settling somewhere in his stomach.

"Hey, Ginny. Hermione. Morning," he said pathetically. Ginny had taken to wearing Hermione's old Muggle clothes. She'd deemed them much more comfortable than the hot robes that usually had her sweating all summer long. The sleeveless blue top that she wore today showed off her shoulders, freckled and dainty. Harry stood suddenly, moving his eyes away from the youngest Weasley and quickly to Hermione. She had a glow in her eye that he wasn't sure he liked.

"Morning, Harry!" Hermione chirped, moving past him to scoop up some eggs and toast for Ginny and herself. Harry grabbed his glass of orange juice, gulping it down so quickly that it burned a cold feeling into the back of his eyes. He lifted his wand, carefully settling the glass in the sink and washing it with another flick of the wand in his hand. He heard the sound of wooden chair legs being dragged across the floor and felt a sudden tingling sensation on his skin where Ginny's elbow brushed his forearm. He jerked his arm back as if scalded, and saw her do the same, though admittedly in a less obvious way. Her cheeks were just a little red around the bit that puffed up when she smiled, down to the area where her dimples appeared and across the bridge of her nose. It seemed to follow the light spray of freckles on her face and pinken the skin beneath it, giving her the innocent look of a country farm girl or a finely painted doll.

When Harry looked away, he caught Hermione watching him pointedly, a self-assured grin on her face. He suddenly felt nauseous. With a mumbled explanation that he was going out for a breather, he pushed open the kitchen door and gulped in the unconfined air greedily. Damn. Things hadn't changed a jot since schooltime. Hermione was still capable of making him uncomfortable with that ridiculous omniscient smirk of hers. No wonder it had taken Ron so long to approach her. Harry felt it was hardly fair that she made him uncomfortable when he didn't even think of her that way. Typical Hermione, nosing into things she knew absolutely everything about. With a groan, Harry started off toward the garden, pushing his hand back through his hair. As if things weren't difficult enough already.

He watched over the hilltop, down into the village where people were beginning to go to work and open stores and get the hard work done early so they wouldn't be caught in the heat of the day with grueling tasks still before them. Harry smiled faintly at how meaningless that particular morning was to most of them. Just another day. Most of them didn't realize that, a year ago on that very day, a battle had raged on the very ground where Harry stood. They didn't know that a half-giant had made the ultimate sacrifice.

Harry's smile faded. Hagrid's death had torn a hole in his heart, along with all the other holes already in it. He took a small step to the left, then another, and moved forward in the garden, stepping through Mrs. Weasley's rows of gingerroot and stopping in the center of a line of rosemary. This was where he'd stood. He could feel it, somehow. His feet had been just here when he watched the spells strike the chest of the first friend Harry had ever made.

It had taken three to kill him. Three consecutive curses fired straight at his great, loving heart. He had been locked in a battle with Lestrange's husband when Malfoy, Nott, and Macnair had advanced on him from the left. Hagrid had stepped in front of them, using his umbrella to strike out at them rather than cast spells. Harry had turned his head just as his scar began to burn...

Harry gasped, his hand clasping over his forehead as pain shot through it, fresh as the days before the Death Eaters fell. Fell... Hagrid's huge form fell backward, toppling onto the ground where a bed of daisies was now planted.

The pain in his scar was building steadily, dreadfully. Spots appeared before his eyes as he fell to his knees. Memories of the Cruciatus Curse tearing at his nerve endings ripped through Harry. That was the only thing to which he could compare it. It was the same intense, overwhelming pain from which he knew there would never be release. No release but death. But no... Crucio had never allowed him to think. Not when he'd hung limply in his chains, screaming for death on the grave of Voldemort's father.

Voldemort's name echoed in his mind, and he had to force himself to remember. No. Not Voldemort. He's dead. He's gone. The pain stopped. Tears were pouring down his face and he stood, moving to sit next to the flower bed, his hand hovering over the sea of petals. That was it. The pain was not from a curse, but from his memory. It was the pain his heart felt when he watched Hagrid die... when he watched Sirius fall. He heard footsteps coming toward him from the house, and quickly stood, wiping his face with the palms of his hands.

"It's been a year."

Harry was startled. He'd expected Hermione or Ron. He turned, looking up to Ginny with wide eyes. Her own were red, as if she'd been crying instead of him.

"Yeah. I didn't think anyone else remembered." He winced inwardly. How stupid of him. He didn't think she'd remember the last day she saw George? Harry wasn't sure if he expected her to laugh at him or storm off. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't a positive reaction.

"Neither did I. Well... that's not true. I thought everyone else would just forget about it. Make themselves forget, I mean. Try not to think about it." She seemed to be stumbling over her words. There was a tense, awkward silence, during which Harry felt a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Quite suddenly, the two of them were laughing softly, and he was torn inside. Part of him thought he was disrespecting the people who had died here. The other part laughed and waved that thought away. Harry smiled down at Ginny. Maybe it would be more disrespectful to be gloomy all the time.

Or maybe he just couldn't help wanting to smile.

The two of them moved back inside in comfortable silence. Harry's gaze was held on the wave of crimson hair in front of him. For a fleeting moment, he felt his hand rising, wanting to brush against the smooth red strands. The scarlet sheen was glowing in the morning sun. Harry was reminded of the red and gold banners that hung in Gryffindor Tower. The light of the sun reflected off of her hair, giving it an angelic golden glow in some places, the shadows a deep, rich red in contrast. He shook his head, blinking furiously. It was just hair. Ron had the same hair and Harry had never marveled at the way it shone. Then again, Ron's hair had never been so red. Orangey, perhaps. But this was liquid ruby.

Harry opened the kitchen door, held it open for Ginny, and she stepped past him, smiling up to him. He felt his stomach squeeze into a knot. He stepped into the kitchen after her, closing the door behind him and following Ginny past the stairway to the living room. He started to step in after her when she stopped suddenly, and he walked into her, immediately taking a leaping step backward.

"Gin, what're you--?" Harry started, only to be cut short by what he saw in the living room. His hand went to his wand, his jaw fell open, and the bottom dropped out of his stomach. Harry suddenly felt very, very sick.

A/N: Haha! A cliffhanger for you! Other authors on this site refuse to update if they don't get reviews. I just torture you with cliffies! Mbwaha! Psst... it's short. I know. But when I saw this cliffhanger I just had to stop. I really went back and forth with ending it a paragraph later, so it wouldn't be this huge OO suspense thing going on, but suspense makes me giggle, so I chose against that. :)