Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait for an update. Life has been getting in the way, as usual. I've been trying to get together my college applications and on top of that, I've got a lot more homework than I've been expecting. Add this together with sports and clubs, and you've basically got my life right now in a nutshell. Fan fiction has moved to the bottom of my priorities list, but that doesn't mean I've completely forgotten about it. Here's the next chapter. I hope you like it.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were enjoying a delicious lunch at the Weasley's favorite restaurant in the wizarding neighborhood, Nicholas Nickleby. All the food was made with fresh ingredients; meals consisted of everything and anything you could think of.

The first level was the ground floor, which the diner first entered. The area consisted of large, round tables and high-backed chairs. The second floor was on a patio outside. The tables were smaller and the chairs less frequent, but at night it was particularly beautiful because the manager had enchanted fireflies to circle around and light up the entire top area.

Ron and Hermione were beyond exuberant, though extremely shocked, to see Harry arrive at their apartment. Hermione had actually burst into alligator tears at the sight of him and Ron's face immediately went pale. Despite the fact they knew he was dropping by, they couldn't get over the fact it really was their best friend.

The words hadn't hit them until they saw him in the flesh. Harry had felt a little weird that the two people he relied upon to be the most grounded were freaking out about this arrival, but he let the feeling slip by.

Of course they would be shocked at seeing him, it was only a common reaction. He figured that it was just a strange feeling clearly knowing that everyone around you thought you had died.

After catching up on current events, Harry talked about his long journey home. This version was sans the things he had directed to Ginny, of course. Naturally, they both had been dumbstruck with bewilderment.

Hermione kept asking question after question, as though if Harry explained just one more time, it really would have taken place. Ron got so annoyed by this, that he promptly told Hermione to, "Shut up and let the poor man speak!"

Harry had chuckled at this, content that even though he'd been gone for some time, his friends were just as he remembered them. Returning home after an extended absence always broached the idea that the people you once knew had turned into complete strangers. Or maybe because you had been gone so long, you were the stranger one.

Whatever the fact was, Harry had been a little nervous. Though of course, this hadn't been a majority of his emotions. He'd mainly been concerned about Ginny and that unexplainable relief of finally returning home.

Now, sitting at Nicholas Nickleby's, Harry felt better than he ever had in the past few days. He was located at a nice restaurant, eating something other than French Bread with his two best friends turned married couple, who in fact, were arguing over the night's special and whether or not it contained nuts.

Everything appeared to be back to normal.

Or at least to Harry's knowledge, it was.

"Hey, I hate to break up your argument but I have a question," Harry interrupted not the least bit regretful.

He had forgotten how much of a searing headache their disputes, most of the time, gave him.

It was as though someone had strangled his or her vocal chords, for the mere sound of Harry's voice brought the argument to an abrupt end.

"Shoot," Ron offered, taking a moment to quickly glare at Hermione.

Harry chuckled, stalling for a moment. Now that Ron was in such a temporary sour mood, he wasn't sure if he should ask his question. It was about Ginny and of course, he wasn't sure that Ron would take it very well. Ron had always been a bit overprotective of his younger sister and despite the fact the two guys were the best of friends, Harry wasn't positive Ron would appreciate him asking about Ginny's love life.

Or the fact that Harry was going to propose to her.

No, somehow Harry didn't envision Ron grinning and offering him his blessings. But Ron and Hermione were really the only ones he could ask. He didn't feel comfortable discussing it with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Fred and George were even more cautious when dealing with Ginny and the general subject of dating.

Harry had unfortunately witnessed what had happened to Malcolm McDermott when he had cheated on Ginny in his sixth year, her fifth. Ginny had told Harry she wasn't all too fazed because she was planning on dumping him that day, but Fred and George were deaf to her expressions of carefree apathy.

Let's just say that when Malcolm had received an OWL that contained a box of chocolates and a note mysteriously marked, "Your Secret Admirer," the poor fool should have set it on fire.

Harry had never seen a guy cry about going bald, but maybe the fact that it had caused his brown locks to fall into his potion and explode, could have had something to do with it. And of course, the fact Snape had given him a detention and all the Slytherins wouldn't stop calling him 'Baldy' for the rest of term.

So anyone could see why Ron, though infamous for his short temper, and Hermione would be the only practical advisors.

"How's Ginny been? I mean, how has she been since I was gone?"

Hermione bit her lip and Ron's tempestuous disposition quickly turned to hesitation.

"She's been all right, I guess. I mean she was absolutely heartbroken when you disappeared. But she had faith, you know? She was the only one of us that refused to give up hope," Hermione informed, choosing her words carefully.

Harry smiled at that.

"Has she well….It's a stupid question, I know, but did she date anyone else while I was gone?" he wondered, almost expecting the worst.

Hermione looked at Ron and he furrowed his brow.

"Well, I don't know if she told you but she's get-"

Hermione stomped on Ron's foot, who in turn, yelped out in pain. She turned to Harry and folded her hands across the table, smiling sweetly at him.

"She's getting a dog, that's it," the witch interrupted, a little too quickly.

Ron muttered something under his breath and scowled at Hermione.

"Why'd you go and stomp on my bloody foot?"

Hermione's smile turned to a tight grimace.

"Muscle spasm," she crisply explained.

Ron let out a huff of frustration.

"But all I was going to say-"

"Dear Ronald, you really are clueless when it comes to certain situations, aren't you?" she dryly observed, overlapping his voice.

Harry had been silent during this verbal parade and was equally as clueless and confused as Ron. He wasn't a total fool. He knew Hermione kept interrupting Ron because there was some big secret she didn't want him to know.

But whatever this secret was, he had no idea whatsoever what it was about. It had to do with Ginny; that was for certain. But whatever this news was, positive or negative, Harry was having a difficult time thinking it up. He was somewhat annoyed that his two best friends were mute to this these tidings but didn't want to push the issue.

He figured if it had to do with Ginny, she would tell him herself.

"Wait, so Ginny hasn't been seeing anyone? Because well…don't tell anyone yet, though I'm sure it's not a big shock, but I was planning on proposing to Ginny sometime next week," Harry eagerly revealed.

Hermione's eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. She mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like, "Oh no!" though he couldn't figure out why his revelation would be something to fear.

Ron's face etiolated a bit though he gave a glimmer of a grin.

"Call me crazy, but for some reason, I think she'll yes. You're a great guy, Harry. I can't imagine her with anyone better."

Harry grinned at his friend, happy at his seal of approval.

"Thanks, Ron."

"Don't mention it," he replied.

And then suddenly, as though a light had been flipped on, his face twisted into bewilderment.

"Wait a minute, isn't Ginny getting-"

This discovery was cut short, as Hermione stomped on Ron's foot once more.

"OW! Bloody hell, Mione!"

Harry chuckled, though confused at Hermione's very odd mannerisms.

Hermione unfolded her napkin and daintily placed it on her lap, completely ignoring Ron and the mile a minute curses flying out of his mouth.

With a frown, she announced, "Food's here."

Harry shook his head at Hermione, thousands of unanswered questions whirling through his mind. Why in the world was she acting so strange all of a sudden? Had he said something wrong? He definitely had the feeling that she was attempting to hide something from him, but he hadn't any clues as to what. Besides, he had just gotten home. He didn't feel like getting into an argument over something silly at the moment. Whatever it was, it wasn't important enough to spoil his blissful mood.

As the waiter placed his order in front of him, he decided to mull it over later. He had other things on his mind, such as Ginny saying yes to his proposal, then to worry and analyze the bizarre behavior of Hermione.

Harry was enjoying a rather refreshing sleep, when a tumultuous and obnoxious "POP" awaked him.

Groggily, he opened his eyes and saw a guilt-ridden Ginny Weasley standing at the foot of his bed. Though he never minded Ginny aparating to his flat at random hours of the day, he found it quite an inconvenience when the random hour happened to be eight AM.

Harry had spent the rest of the night hanging out with Ron and Hermione. It felt like eons since he'd seen them. They had so much to talk about and so much fun relieving old memories, so it was a surprise to all three of them when the clock in the hall had chimed one AM.

Harry let out a frustrated groan and forced himself upright, heavily leaning against the headboard. He figured his hair was flying all over the place and lazily reached up to check. Sure enough, his jet-black hair had transformed into a jungle. His glasses were located on the right nightstand but he didn't bother to grab for them yet.

It was way too early and he was way too tired. Squinting a bit, his weary eyes were able to focus in on a blurry outline of the girl, her flaming red hair standing out like a hot pink sports car in a parking garage of used station wagons.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" Ginny wondered, shifting from foot to foot.

Harry chuckled. If he were awake enough, he would have rolled his eyes.

"No, I was just enjoying a riveting game of water polo," he informed, a bit more sarcastic than he had intended.

But Ginny laughed, though it sounded forced and uneasy, and then took a seat on the very edge of his bed.

"Look, there was something on my mind last night. I could barely sleep. I was going to wait until about ten or eleven but my nerves got the best of me."

Harry sighed, and then reached for his glasses.

"What's been eating you, then?" he wondered, adjusting the round frames.

She stared at him, twisting a lock of hair around her index finger. It was a trait she'd acquired through bad habit. Whenever she was nervous, she started wrapping a chunk of hair around her finger. She'd once told him that she wanted to break this cycle, but for some reason, he'd admitted that he found it endearingly quirky. And as his eyes traveled from that lock of hair back to her apprehensive face, he couldn't help but think that he wouldn't be able to deal if her heart didn't belong to him.

It seemed as though he knew just about everything about Ginny Weasley, that is, everything a guy needed to know that would result in falling head over heels for her. All these characteristics were things he held close to his heart and all these things were what he had remembered when he couldn't remember anything at all.

When he'd had amnesia, he couldn't recall her name or identity, only flashes of fiery hair dancing in summer wind, or wrapped around a finger while she laughed. It never failed to strengthen his fortitude. He knew that he had to get home to her, whoever she was.

"I…Harry, please promise me you won't hate me after I tell you this," she fiercely demanded, worry filling her eyes.

Harry elevated and eyebrow, his mind preparing for the worst, though his heart was at ease.

"I could never hate you, Gin. You know that."

She let out a sigh of relief, though her shoulders slumped forward.

"You have to understand, when I convinced myself you had died, a part of me died," she softly confessed, her gaze tearing away from his and to the window.

As the years went by, Ginny had grown with an extremely strong-will and independent spirit. She didn't want to be known as just another Weasley. And she sure as hell didn't want people, especially her parents, treating her like a five year old, incapable of taking responsibility and handling her own actions.

At times, she could be as stubborn as Ron and Harry found this alluring. Back in first and second year, she'd been so terribly shy around him that he would never have suspected even considering her as more than Ron's little sister. Sure, he figured she was nice and all that jazz, but he never really got to know that side of her.

But once his fifth year rolled around, he could tell Ginny had changed. Or rather, as Hermione had said, she'd "given up" on him. Maybe this had allowed Ginny not to feel pressured to impress Harry. Whatever it was, the more he hung around her, the better friends they became.

All in all, Ginny had always seemed vibrant and sassy, full of inner strength and able to hold her own. But now, the look in her eyes seemed like it was all falling apart. Harry had never seen Ginny lose control this way, a way in which all her emotions were running haywire and her guilt ate away her conscience.

"I know Gin, I know. I thought I'd never see you again. Do you know how many times I looked up at the stars at night, your face haunting me, your face without a name? I'd forgotten who you were at that point and a part of me had died as well."

He didn't know why he was suddenly confessing this so early in the morning but he felt that Ginny needed to hear it, as a reassurance of some sort.

Ginny looked back at Harry, her wide eyes now emotionless. She'd always been good at bottling her feelings when she didn't want people to worry about her. It was a skill that Harry sometimes used to his advantage as well.

"And that's exactly why what I'm about to say is so horrible," she quietly answered.

Harry wished he could fast-forward the moment, so he wouldn't have to hear it.

"Just say it. You'll feel better after you're done," he gravely persisted.

Ginny shook her head.

"No, I'll feel worse."

Harry sighed, suddenly feeling lost and out of place. He'd expected to come home and have the girl of his dreams back in his arms. But instead, she was dancing around secrets, recoiling away from him. The morning was quickly turning tainted, something a kiss and hug wouldn't mend.

"Ginny, whatever it is, just say it. It's probably even not that bad compared to some of the things I've heard. I mean, you're talking to me, remember? Trouble seems to always follow me," he regretfully reminded, muttering the last sentence.

She offered him a ghost of smile, the kind she always used when she was holding back tears, the rare kind she only used when inside, she was crumbling to pieces. Harry had seen it only once and it had been before he'd left for the war. She'd tried so hard not to break down, that when she'd smiled it broke his heart even more than the stray tear lingering in the corner of her eye.

"Harry…I'm not…I'm not sure I can marry you."

Harry gazed at Ginny in shock.

"What? How do you even know I was going to propose?"

She looked down for a moment, her eyes intently studying the dark blue bed sheets.

"Ron and Mione told me. Now, don't get mad. I kind of figured it out way before and by myself, anyway."

Harry didn't care that Ron and Hermione had told them. What he did care about was her original statement.

"Harry, I'm not sure I can marry you."

It was just his luck that bright and early in the morning, he had to deal with a marriage rejection. His eyes flashed with hurt, a tinge of anger and drear. He was Harry Bloody Potter and of course, everything ungodly and horrible just had to happen to him.

"Ginny…what do you mean you can't marry me? It's always been you and me, you know? Ever since the end of my sixth year. I don't…I don't understand."

Ginny nodded, scooting closer to Harry and now her entire body halfway on the bed.

"Harry, I wish I could lie to you and say everything stayed the same since you left. I wish I could pick up right where we left off or even start all over again. That summer was amazing…and I couldn't bear to leave you. But right now, I don't think it's such a good time for you and me to get married."

Harry shook his head, totally disgusted by his own confusion.

"Ginny, you're not making any sense. You say that summer was amazing. You say you missed me. But you can't marry me? How does that all add up correctly?" he half shouted.

Ginny didn't respond and decided to lie next to Harry, resting her head on his bare shoulder. She'd intended to stop by and tell Harry she was getting married to Dean but it hadn't worked out that way.

Hermione had OWLED Ginny about Harry's plans of proposal very late last night. So late in fact, it was technically morning. The older witch had highly advised Ginny to break the news to Harry before anything went any farther.

"There's no use leading him on, Gin," Hermione had stated.

Ginny knew that Hermione was absolutely right. It was best to tell Harry as soon as possible, instead of waiting around and baiting his interest. But the sight of his disheveled morning bed-head look and the fact that her heart skipped a beat only made the news harder to announce. The words were on the tip of her tongue but they wouldn't come out.

She felt his arm wrap around her waist and she inched closer to him. This was wrong…laying next to him and acting as though she were still in love with him…she wasn't was she? She couldn't be…she couldn't.

She slowly looked up at him with curiosity and he did something he'd only done once; place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"I think I'm getting déjà vu," he whispered, with amusement.

"Harry…"

His eyes were such a brilliant shade of jade…enchanting as the owner of them.

"Ginny, if you think I stopped loving you, I didn't. I haven't. My feelings for you haven't changed," he lightly professed.

Ginny inwardly let out a wail of protest. Could this be any harder? He was supposed to be able to move on. He was supposed to have forgotten about her. She jokingly toyed with the idea of using a Time-Turner and warning her past self not to accept Dean's proposal.

If only things were that easy…but things happened for a reason and going back and changing it wasn't the solution.

"You're making this harder than it is," she acridly noted.

He was silent, though still gazing down at her. He'd always been taller than her…though not as tall as Ron. He'd always made her feel safe when he held her and despite the fact Ginny greatly objected to someone taking care of her, with Harry, she wanted him to look after her.

"Then don't do it."

"Don't ruin it, Harry," she quietly advised.

He shook his head, his eyes locked to hers. She couldn't escape him as much as she wanted to. His fingers lightly pressed into her hips and she found herself leaning into his grasp rather than pulling away.

He'd always been irresistible. He'd always been that one guy, always out of reach. He'd always been someone she'd placed on a pedestal and as much as she wanted to grow out of her infatuation, never grew apart from.

And now here he was, sitting in his bed, looking even more tempting than he'd ever been and she was going to have to get up and walk away from everything they had built, including that one amazing summer and all those memories of romance, because she'd promised her heart to another.

Ginny had always thought she possessed a lot of willpower, but as the boy with the messy hair and the stunning eyes gazed down at her, she was stranded in the storm.

Silently, Harry reached out and tilted her head upward, tenderly cupping her cheek with his hand. She felt herself inhale deeply and she closed her eyes, his lips finding hers.

It was a soft kiss, passionate although not aggressive. It was a kiss of question, a kiss in attempts to make things better, a kiss in hopes of forgetting about the situation at hand and divulging into the abandonment of reality. It was a kiss he'd long been awaiting and a kiss she'd long been dreading.

As his lips molded into hers, he knew that he needed her more than ever. And as her lips melted into his, she knew that it now it would be even harder to let go. Because she loved Dean, right? She loved Dean Thomas with his tall, dark and handsome good looks and his selflessness and his flair for romance.

She loved Dean with the funny laugh and the wit and the charm and the way he always wanted to put his coat over the puddles to make sure she didn't get wet.

But here was Harry, with the boyish smile but the solemn eyes and that charm all of his own and that bravery and sincerity…what was a girl to do?

It was first love versus commitment, battling head to head.

Ginny quickly pulled away and scrambled from the door. She was ashamed that she hadn't possessed more self-control and harbored guilt her intentions of explanation had ended in hastily locked lips.

"Merlin, I have to go. I can't….I have to go."

And with a loud POP, she had vanished.

Harry stared at the space where she'd once been in utter wonder, attempting to figure out what had just happened, swept away in a daze.