Chapter II: The Choices

Disclaimer: I don't think I like tomatoes.

Author's Note: Okay, so this chappie is fluffy, too. I promise, it won't be like this the whole story. Please review, everyone.

Pupparoux: My first reviewer. I'm glad you like the fluff. Look! I updated. Your turn.

Lily 101: My second reviewer. Glad you liked it, and you may just get your wish.

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Harry awoke the nest morning in the attic room that he currently shared with Ron. It was shared due to the lack of space. The lack of space was due to the abundance of guests. The abundance of guests was due to the fact that most people had been too drunken the previous night to disapperate or use the Floo.

He rolled groggily out of bed and looked on his non-existent nightstand for digital clock that wasn't there to find the time. Because the clock wasn't there he looked out of the window to find that it was broad daylight. He glanced over to Ron's bed to find him snoring softly.

Harry figured that it couldn't be that late an hour if Ron was still abed.

He peeked out of the door and down the flight of stars to the main floor of bedrooms. He found many doors to be open, assuring that their occupants had gone to breakfast.

Harry tiptoed down the stairs so as not to wake those still asleep. He crept down the next set of stair, which let to the kitchen, just as quietly.

Once he entered the kitchen he saw many dirty plates and dirty coffee cups to match. Mrs. Weasley was stood at the stove making sausage for the only person, save for Harry and herself, who was still present in the kitchen.

'Good morning, Harry,' Mrs. Weasley said as Harry took a seat at the table, turning to see who it was, just to make sure she hadn't mistaken the face in the stovetop mirror. 'Will it be sausage or pancakes?' Mrs. Weasley. 'Pancakes,' Harry replied with a nod.

''Ello, Hermione,' Harry said as he turned to face her.

'Are you going to return to Hogwarts?' Hermione asked abruptly. 'Probably not,' Harry replied uncomfortably.

'Why not?'

'I've got to find the Horcruxes,'

'Don't you think it would be easier if you graduated first? You know, so you would be on the same level as Voldemort,'

Mrs. Weasley cringed as Hermione said You-Know-Who's name. 'No. Easier isn't always right. I don't want him to get more power than he's got already,' Harry replied.

'Well, he's already gotten loads of power. Do you really think a bit extra could hurt?'

'Any extra would hurt,'

'Why are you so sure of that?'

'Because he's been harder to beat every time,'

'You said it yourself, easier isn't always better,'

Harry didn't reply to that. Hermione never got a reply. The rest breakfast was eaten in silence.

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Harry had a lot to think about that day. Was Hermione right? Should he go back to Hoggy-warty Hogwarts? He walked around in the Weasley garden wondering, hoping no one would find him in the overgrown grass and tangled vines that littered the garden.

Turns out that Ginny had misaimed a dung-bomb that had hit Mrs. Weasley's head instead of Ron. Her punishment was de-knomeing the garden, and had just misaimed a knome right into Harry's head.

'Sorry,' Ginny yelled from the other side of that garden. 'You might want to get that off before it bites you,' she added. She was a little late with that, as a cry came from Harry. 'Ouch! It bit me! Nasty bugger, isn't it?'

'Well, what did you expect? You de-knomed before, so I expected you know,' Ginny explained apologetically. 'So you aimed it at my head?' Harry replied sarcastically.

'I said sorry,'

'So you did,'

'Well, yes. That's what I just said,'

'Why the bloody hell did you do that!'

'Well, I figured we had a lot to sort out, and if I just talked to you, you'd just fun off. Sort of like Myrtle does,'

Harry, who felt rather offended by being compared to Moaning Myrtle, still felt inclined to reply. 'We have got a lot to sort out,'

After a few moments of Harry blinking uncomfortably and Ginny staring at Harry blinking uncomfortably, she decided to say something, because he obviously wasn't going to. 'Are we going to or not?' Ginny said, putting it rather bluntly.

'You know I don't want you to get killed because of me,' Harry said, hoping she would understand what he meant, but purposely leaving room for her to weasel out of it. 'Are you saying that you don't like me, in that way?' Ginny questioned. 'I know that I do. And you know that I do, but that is just why we can't,' Harry said, with all the guilt he could muster in his voice. 'You don't care a bit about Ron or Hermione, then, do you?'

'Of course I do. They're my best friends,'

Then why do you let them be your friends, and even come with you on your 'dangerous adventures'?'

'Because I don't care about them as much,'

'Tell me you love me, Harry. Even if you don't mean it,' Ginny whispered, as if afraid to speak.

'I love you, Ginny,' Harry whispered the words softly and slowly, as if saying them too loud or too fast could conjure You-Know-Who on the spot.

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Author's Note again- So the disisions still aren't made. So what?