-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Thanks for all the support and encouragement. I love writing as much as I love reading your feedback and positive words. I'm so glad many of you think that I've done a pretty good job pinpointing Ginny's character. I don't think of Ginny as weak or a "damsel in distress" type, but I figured she'd be pretty shaken up if something like this happened to her. Therefore, I wanted her to still be attached to Harry, feel a little out of control, but still have that same independent, fiery spirit. Here's the next chapter and I hope you enjoy it.

Peace,

Gene.

In a matter of seconds, Ginny found herself located in Ron's extremely messy, spare bedroom. Or rather, formerly messy spare bedroom. Ever since Hermione had moved in, things found a way of appearing cleaner than they ever had before. Ginny took a moment to listen for the sound of voices and instantly heard a masculine and feminine voice float from the kitchen.

Ginny brushed the soot that clung to her jeans and dark green T-shirt, then headed out the door and down the hall. Ron used to share the flat with Harry after they'd graduated Hogwarts and job hunting. Eventually, Harry saved up enough money to buy a quaint apartment of his own, just a few blocks down the road.

Ron's flat was on the small side, though this could be because the clutter and mess gave it that illusion. It consisted of a master bedroom, TV/Living room, kitchen, bathroom and dining room. The entire apartment was decorated with peeling, ivory colored wallpaper and wood floors. Hermione always pestered Ron about calling in professional painters to redo everything, but he always seemed to conveniently "forget."

Ron rarely used the dining room, seeing as how his lack of culinary skills prevented him from having many guests over for a meal. Thus, he had converted it into a miniature office. After the Second War, Ron had been appointed the job of a sports journalist at the wizard world's best magical games and sports magazine, Qudditch Illustrated.

During the "on" season, he traveled a lot, watching and analyzing qudditch game after quidditch game. It was absolute heaven for her brother. The summer was usually the training season for many teams, so Ron had these months off. Sometimes he'd randomly get called in to do a quick story or update, but it didn't take more than a day or two to complete.

Ron kept their original flat and a few months later, along with a nervous proposal, asked Hermione to move in with her. She happily agreed to both and the couple were married a year later. It was a little strange or rather shocking, in Ginny's opinion, that Hermione would readily agree to get married at such a young age.

Both Ron and Hermione were only twenty-two and both families feared that marriage at such a young age would only result in catastrophe. But the couple seemed as much in love as the day they started dating, in the summer before seventh year.

Now just a year later, Ron and Hermione still argued over the same pointless things they did when at Hogwarts, still bantered and bickered but had finally admitted what they felt for each other was more than platonic. Therefore, Ginny was actually relieved that it was all out in the open.

She'd finally have to stop listening to Fred and George's complaints, each time they lost their money on a bet involving those two.

"Ron? Mione? It's me!" Ginny called in greeting, as she reached the end of the hall.

Ginny was faced with her extremely tall and lanky brother, glaring at a rather annoyed and still-bushy haired Hermione. The youngest Weasley son was dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and a plain, white shirt. His wife was sporting a denim skirt and a dark blue Oxford shirt.

Neither Ron nor Hermione had changed drastically in the looks department since graduating; though Ginny wondered if it were possible that Ron would ever stop growing. With a splattering of freckles and a mop of ginger hair, Ron was nearly 6''3.

Hermione had grown a few inches taller but was a dwarf compared to Ron. Her infamous bushy hair had gotten a little tamer, flowing in copious waves down her back, but hadn't lost much of its density.

It was often very funny to watch Ron and Hermione argue, because despite the fact she was so much shorter than he was, Hermione always was the dominant one. Ron rarely got in the last word.

"Hey Gin. I was wondering if you could do me a favor and tell this inconsiderate jerk, that Crookshanks has feelings too!" Hermione tartly questioned, her eyes darting quickly to her amused sister-in-law, then back to Ron.

Ron snorted.

"Oh, that's just rich, Mione. He's a bloody cat! He has no feelings! Just the instinct to eat anything in sight! He's like a bloody trash compactor!" Ron bellowed, his face flushing with indignation.

Ginny walked over to the stove and leaned against it, Ron on her left side and Hermione on her right.

"Ron will you calm down? He didn't mean it! Besides, you told me the day before it was just a rough draft! You shouldn't have left it out near his feeding bowl, anyway!" Hermione snapped, shoving her hands on her hips.

From the pieces of information she had, Ginny figured that Crookshanks had tarnished a roll of parchment that contained Ron's latest article. Ron of course, had probably thrown a fit and Hermione, unable to resist an argument, hadn't backed down.

Ginny sighed, though smiling.

"Yeah well, that bloody cat is a nuisance!" the wizard barked.

Suddenly, he turned to Ginny and forced out a hearty grin.

"Oh, hello Ginny. Didn't see you come in."

With that, he turned back to Hermione, his face redder than ever.

"You're such a prat, Ronald Weasley! I don't even know why I married you!" Hermione screeched, though Ginny could tell she was trying oh-so-hard not to giggle.

I mean, who wouldn't feel the urge to laugh at an angry Ron? Ginny knew first hand, that whenever Ron got extremely angry, he unfortunately started to resemble an overgrown tomato.

It was the curse of having red hair.

Ron slyly grinned and slung an arm around Hermione, gazing down at her.

"That's not what you said last night," he huskily whispered, waggling his eyebrows.

Hermione laughed and sharply pushed him away.

"You're terrible, Ron."

Ron grinned and then turned to Ginny, leaning against the countertop behind him.

"Now, did you say something, Gin?"

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Mum wants to know if we can borrow Pig," Ginny replied, referring to Ron's owl.

Ron crossed his arms over his chest. He was a bit possessive when it came to his personal belongings. Then again, when you were living in a household as large as theirs, you had a right to be picky about whom you let borrow things. You might never see them again.

"Why?"

"Errol crashed into the window, again. And we need to send out all those invitations by midnight, or people won't RSVP in time," Ginny impatiently explained.

Ron brightened at the mention of the wedding and nodded.

"Oh, right. Of course. I'll go get her."

With that, he walked down the hall and into his bedroom.

"How's the wedding planning going?" Hermione curiously asked, while taking out a can of soda for herself.

"Fine, I guess. Chaotic but that's to be expected. I just hope everything works itself out in the end," Ginny confessed with a weak grin.

Hermione smiled and waved Ginny's statement away, as though it were a bothersome fly.

"I'm sure everything will turn out beautiful. You went to Harrod's for the flowers, right? They're much cheaper than Luke's. I think Susan Bone's mother owns the shop. You could probably get a discount."

"Yeah, they were less expensive than Luke's. How's the lesson planning going for next term?" Ginny politely wondered.

Hermione had recently gotten a job as a professor at Hogwarts. She would start teaching Muggle Studies in the fall.

Hermione shrugged, then gave out a little laugh.

"To tell you the truth, awful. I have so much to say. I just don't know how to organize it all," she answered.

Ginny laughed and was interrupted by the clobbering of feet coming up the hall. Ron was holding Pig on his outstretched arm.

"Here you go. Take care of her," he ordered, handing her to his sister.

"Don't worry, I will," Ginny confirmed.

Ginny started back towards the spare bedroom, carefully balancing the owl. Scolding herself, she stopped and turned around.

"Bugger, I almost forget. Mione, you're coming over later this afternoon, right?"

Hermione instantly nodded, setting down her can of soda.

"Yeah. I might be about five minutes late, though. Ron wanted me to go pick up his robes with him, see if they fit right and what not," Hermione warned.

Ron quizzically looked at Hermione.

"Coming over for what? How come I wasn't invited?" he demanded.

"Hermione and I have to go shoe shopping. And you're not invited because I know for a fact, dear Ronniekins, that you would complain the entire time," Ginny sweetly explained.

"Oh. Right. Cheers. I guess I'll see you tomorrow for the rehearsal," he replied, with a bashful grin.

Ginny laughed, marveling at how dense her brother could be sometimes.

"Bye!"

The rest of the early afternoon proved to be long and dull. Ginny spent the entirety of it helping her mother send out invitations. After all 75 invitations were sent out and Ginny thought her hand was about to fall off from tying so many to Pig and (a newly recovered) Errol's legs, Hermione showed up.

From there, the two apparated to Jump, Skip, Leap, which was the best shop for formal shoes. Ginny was by the window display, admiring a pair of gorgeous, champagne colored heels, when her breath nearly caught in her throat.

A man, about twenty-three, briskly walked down the street, his head hung low, dressed in a pair of stylish but worn-in, black trousers and a deep red, Polo shirt. His hair was jet-black and shaggy, his glasses round. A wand was sticking out his back pocket.

Could it be? Could it be him?

Ginny watched with diligence as the man walked by. He looked up for a moment and disappointment filled her heart. It hadn't been him…just some unknown stranger.

It would never be him. Maybe they were all right…maybe it really was time to give up hope.

"Ginny? What are you looking at?" Hermione wondered, coming up to her friend's side, a box underneath her arm.

Ginny sighed, letting her shoulders slump and turned to Hermione.

"I just thought I saw…I thought it might be—never mind," she dismissed, feeling rather foolish.

Hermione frowned and set the shoebox on the windowsill. Silently, she craned her neck forward and spotted the man who Ginny had mistaken for Harry.

"You thought it was him, didn't you?" the elder witch softly wondered, turning her attention back to Ginny.

Ginny blushed and studied the shoes, wondering if Hermione thought she was a complete imbecile. She had grown a lot closer to Hermione, but she wasn't entirely sure if her confusion towards the wedding, Harry and Dean was something that she fully wanted to share.

She didn't want anyone to worry about her. Being the only girl in a family full of boys, Ginny was used to having everyone treat her like she was a fragile piece of china; unable to handle the problems of the real world because its harshness and severity would cause her to break.

But Ginny was twenty-two, nearly twenty-three and she was simply tired of being treated like a little, naïve girl. She didn't need to hold onto someone's hand and have them ward off the monsters. She could do it herself, thank you very much.

"Yeah, for a moment. I know it's dumb. I'm just having a hard time adjusting to a life without him."

Hermione nodded, remorse washing over her features.

"Same here. It's hard to spend nearly all of your life with someone, then the next minute they're gone. But Ginny, just because you've moved on doesn't mean you have to forget about him completely," she solemnly suggested.

Ginny sighed and met Hermione's eyes. She'd kind of forgotten that she wasn't the only one hurting because of Harry's disappearance.

"I know. And you're positively right. It's just that no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to let go. Oh Merlin, it's a week before my wedding and I'm still obsessing about Harry. Please tell me I'm not a complete moron," Ginny huffed with exasperation.

Hermione slyly grinned.

"Well, maybe not a complete one."

Ginny laughed in spite of her sour mood.

"Wow, thanks, Hermione."

It was rather unusual to witness Hermione jest. But the more and more she hung around Ron, teasing became second nature.

"Anytime, Gin. Anyway, my point is that it's perfectly natural to have a hard time coping with something as tragic as what you've been through. Frankly, I'd be quite surprised if you had an easy time adjusting. Just don't spend the rest of your life wondering about the past."

"Even if you did go back in time, you couldn't have changed anything. Harry would have wanted you to be happy. And from the way your face just lights up whenever you see Dean, I'm sure this wedding is the right choice," Hermione sincerely assured, with a warm smile.

Surprisingly, Ginny found comfort in Hermione's words. Maybe it was because Ginny was frustrated with pondering about Harry. Or maybe it was because she was tired of making up excuses for her doubts about the wedding. Whatever it was, Ginny decided that for today, she would concentrate on the here and now, instead of then and there.

"I guess you're right. I mean, Dean's perfect for me. I'd be stupid to let him get away. Now, I think I spotted some adorable sandals over there that would match perfectly with your dress!"

With that, Ginny led Hermione to the far back wall, forcing herself to be cheerful, although she couldn't help but ponder an alarming realization.

If she was so much over Harry as she claimed, why couldn't she stop thinking about him?

And why…for some reason unknown to her…did she have a feeling something major was about to happen sooner than expected?

Harry quickly mumbled thanks to the driver as he departed from the Knight Bus. Usually, he would have been a lot more enthusiastic but for some reason, everyone had treated him like a leper. When he had asked for a hot chocolate, the attendant had nearly jumped out of his skin. And all throughout the ride, the various passengers constantly stared at him as though he had five heads.

It was all too weird.

With an ear-shattering pop, the bus vanished into the late afternoon sky. Harry guessed it was around four, or four-thirty at the latest. He hoped that she was home, or at least someone of the Weasley family. He hadn't been able to sleep at all during the three-hour ride from France to London. This was of course, due to the constant potholes and frantic driving of the bus driver.

The Knight Bus was not known for its smooth rides and this one was no exception. The driver would proceed to dodge a muggle or car and therefore cause the entire bus to sway side to side like a dingy fishing boat caught in a monstrous storm.

In fact, Harry hadn't slept for about a week. This week, of course, had been his fortunate freedom from the bondage of amnesia. As soon as he recovered his memory, he'd spent the entire week trying to track down how to get home. He didn't regret his lack of sleep though, because he had been determined to get back.

Who would want to waste time by sleeping, when home was just within his grasp? His eyes felt like heavy doors made of steel, about to shut at any moment, but Harry still couldn't stop smiling.

It took all of his willpower not to skip up the dirt driveway of the Burrow and pound on the door with excitement.

He reached the steps and sighed, observing the house. It hadn't changed a day.

He knocked heavily on the door and anxiously waited. He couldn't wait to see Ginny's reaction. His goofy grin hastily transformed into an uneasy frown. A frightening thought crossed his mind. What if she had forgotten him?

He heard the sound of feet approaching the door and quickly dismissed the doubt. How could she have forgotten about him? That was just plain silly. Though he knew his visit was highly expected, he was pretty sure she could never have forgotten about him.

She just couldn't have.

The door slowly swung open and Harry was absolutely beaming. There she was…standing in front of him…looking even more beautiful than ever. Oh, how he had missed her. All he wanted to do was scoop her in his arms and never, ever let go….

Her eyes widened in shock. A hand flew to her mouth and the tint of her skin turned as white as baking flour.

"But-but-you-I thought"

The words fumbled out of her mouth and filled the silence that had fallen upon them.

Did she know how much he had missed her? It felt like he'd been ripped from everything he'd ever known, everything he'd ever loved…ripped from mankind itself and now was returning after a century of being blinded by darkness. It was so surreal to see her standing there, almost as though he were still dreaming.

She reached out a hand and gently touched his shoulder, then instantly pulled back, gasping with surprise.

Harry could only smile at her, though he was disturbed by her reaction. He was expecting something well…a little more warm and inviting than this. Something more along the lines of a big hug and kiss?

Harry sighed and thought of the only thing he could think of.

"Well, I'm home."

Suddenly, exhaustion stealthily crept upon him and seized his consciousness. His head felt like it was flooded with helium. Like a rag doll, his knees collapsed and he crumbled to the floor.

Her terribly bewildered face was the last thing he saw.