Author's Note: This chapter is for all you hopeless romantics out there like me. :) I realize it's been an incredibly long time since my last update, and I'm so sorry it took so long, but my internet connection has been limited and I've also been unbelievably busy. I finally found time to write this chapter over the three day weekend. The next update won't take so long, I promise. How about by November 5th or 6th? Well I hope that there are still some of you left reading, and that you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 12

Thoughts and Surprises

Thunder continued to rumble threateningly, lightning illuminating the sky for split seconds at a time, and raindrops the size of marbles were coming down upon the roof of Godric's Hollow. Harry had hurtled himself out of the second floor bedroom and was flying down the stairs as fast as he could, ignoring his friends' inquisitive calls, both of whom were on his heels. His feet were pounding loudly on each stair and he grabbed hold of the smooth chestnut banister as he sped even faster down the staircase.

By the time he reached the first floor, Harry was out of breath, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. Finally he slowed his pace as he crossed the threshold into the entrance hall, putting his hand up on the wall to catch his breath momentarily. He was sure he had recognized that profile, the one that had been hurrying down the front walk in the rain.

"Harry, what--?"

But Ron's inquiry was cut short by a sharp, quick tap on the front door ahead of them. The sound echoed around the hallway and both Ron and Hermione cast Harry worried looks. Harry, however, advanced towards the elaborate mahogany door, his hand outstretched towards the bronze knob. Hermione and Ron both shouted, "No!" simultaneously, but he did not heed their warnings – that figure they had seen from the second floor had look all too familiar.

Harry wrenched the door open and a great splatter of rain and wind greeted him from the darkness. And then he saw her, standing on the threshold. Her cloak was soaking wet and her dripping hair was plastered to her face. She was shivering, her arms hanging limply at her sides. It was then that Harry decided that Ginny Weasely was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

For a moment there was only shocked silence as Harry and Ginny stared back at each other; Harry was finding it quite impossible to move; his very heart felt suspended in his chest. He had known that it was her from the time Hermione had pointed through that window, but he hadn't been prepared to see her standing there, so soaking wet and vulnerable and beautiful. Then, forcing himself to take a step out of the door and into the pouring rain, he took Ginny's trembling body into his arms and kissed her.

Harry's head was spinning and his heart was racing as he held Ginny in his arms. It was almost surreal, being there with her. He wasn't sure how long they stood together like that in the darkness, the howling wind whipping Ginny's cloak around them both and rain soaking through Harry's clothes, too. Finally they pulled back from each other, and Harry looked into Ginny's rather pale, fair face and brushed her red hair from it.

"You're wet," he said hoarsely and she smiled as he took her hand and led her in through the door.

The look on Ron's face was equivalent to one of being run over by a truck as he swayed precariously on the spot, and Hermione's jaw was hanging slightly open to accompany the shocked look she had on her face.

"Ginny….what the bloody hell…?" Ron stammered as he staggered backwards dangerously. Hermione caught him, looking bewildered and said quietly, "Ginny…what are you doing here? How did you…?"

"Maybe if I wasn't freezing cold and soaking wet I could tell you," said Ginny through chattering teeth, smiling a little.

"Oh, right, of course!" said Hermione in a high pitched voice; she seemed to have come out of a trance. "Come with me, you can borrow some of my clothes…"

And Hermione took Ginny's hand and led her away towards the staircase, still looking shocked. Harry and Ginny kept eye contact until the very last second where the staircase took a turn to the landing. Harry's head was pounding. How could she be here? He had told her that she couldn't come….But he realized that he had wanted this so intensely ever since they had left that it had been making him crazy. For a few moments Harry only stood where he was, near the door, his robes dripping quietly onto the marble floor. Blinking once, he looked around and realized that Ron had slid down the length of the wall and was now sitting on the floor, his eyes still wide with disbelief.

"My sister…," he mumbled. "No…but….No…."

Harry walked over to his friend and almost slipped on the slick floor. His socks were completely soaked – he had not thought to put on shoes. Taking his friend's hand he pulled Ron up. The redhead gazed at him blankly.

"But…how did she…? Mum and dad…," he said weakly.

"Come on, let's go into the sitting room, Ginny'll explain in a few moments," said Harry, leading his friend towards the door closest to them and into the immense sitting room. He lowered Ron into the crimson leather sofa near the fire and took a seat in the loveseat that was situated next to the sofa. He was shivering fiercely, his robes and clothes soaked almost all the way through, but he did not think to light a fire. His brain, it seemed, had been clouded by the arrival of the person that he had most wanted to see for a week that felt to have lasted for an eternity.

What was he to tell her? To go home? He didn't know if he could bear having to part with her all over again. But that was the only option, wasn't it? He couldn't risk having her killed. He had accepted the fact that he had no control over Ron and Hermione, but with Ginny he felt he could persuade her to go home, he had to persuade her to go home. He wouldn't be able to carry on if anything happened to her.

He gazed into the empty fire grate for a few moments, his mind raging a fierce battle. She couldn't stay. But he loved her. But if he really loved her he would have her leave, have her go to where she was safe. Was he really selfish enough to keep her here?

At that moment Hermione preceded Ginny in through the door from the entrance hall. Hermione went over to Ron and lowered herself into the sofa next to him, starting to pat his back consolingly. Ginny was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a royal blue sweater with a large 'H' on it, which Harry recognized as being made by Mrs. Weasley for Hermione years ago. Her long red hair was still damp, hanging to just above her elbows. She sat down next to Harry, who, despite his determination to have Ginny go home, wrapped his arms around her.

"How--?" began Hermione from her post next to Ron.

"I Apparated," said Ginny simply, and Ron and Harry gaped at her. "I've been able to do it for ages. Ever since you lot took lessons; Dean always gave me an exact blow by blow of how it was done and, well…" She shrugged. "I didn't find it all that difficult. I know I haven't got a license, so I don't exactly go around Apparating everywhere, but I've done it a fair few times. Of course you can't Apparate within about four miles of here so I had to walk from there…" She shivered a little, nestling herself deeper into the loveseat.

"So….So mum and dad let you come then?" asked Ron, who had straightened up and was hanging onto Ginny's every word as Hermione massaged his neck with one hand.

"Of course they didn't," said Ginny, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. "They don't know I'm here….But mom's going to have a cow when she finds out."

"She's going to have more than a cow!" said Ron loudly. His face was slowly turning a shade of scarlet, which was always a danger sign. "She's going to have a few dozen hippogriffs! You have to go home Ginny, mum and dad have enough to deal with without you getting yourself into trouble!"

Ginny was scowling, her face turning a similar shade of red as she straightened up. "I thought you might have been happy, you know, maybe missed me? You being my own brother and all."

Ron glared at her, sputtering. "It's…it's dangerous, Gin, I—"

"Oh come on, you can't use that one on me, Ron, I was with you guys at the Department of Mysteries in my fourth year, I helped fight the death eaters last year, I've done loads of dangerous stuff, and I'm still here aren't I? Why can't I stay? I'm not a little girl anymore, and I wish everyone would stop treating me like I am!" She was breathing fast, her jaw set, blood rushing rapidly to her thin face.

"I think Ron's right, Ginny," said Harry quietly into her ear. She started and turned to look at him.

"What?" She frowned, her brown eyes searching him.

"It's not that I don't care about you," he said softly, holding her hand in both of his, looking down at it. "You know I care about you…maybe too much. I don't know if you've noticed, but so many of the people I care about aren't here anymore for me to care about them. I don't want that to happen to you…I don't know what I would do if it did."

"But Harry –"

"Do you remember what I told you at Dumbledore's funeral? It still holds true, Ginny…I have to do this on my own."

She bit her lip and looked at him, blinking rapidly as tears started in her eyes. Harry's mind screamed in protest. How could he be telling the one person that his heart longed for, the one person that made him feel as though all was right with the world, how could he be telling her that she had to leave him?

"Yes," said Ginny, standing up suddenly out of Harry's arms. "Yes. I-I suppose mum and dad will have a cow when I get back then." She wiped her wet face quickly and took a few steps towards to the fire. Ron and Hermione both stood up at the same time, looked at each other, puzzled, for a moment, then both took it in turn to hug Ginny.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said. "It was stupid of me to think that I could stay with you lot…" she shook her head.

"Gin, you're my sister, and I love you," said Ron simply, looking at her.

"I love you, too, big bro," she said, smiling, then turned to Hermione. "And if I have ever loved anyone like a sister, it's been you."

Hermione beamed, though her eyes looked a little watery as Ginny reached towards the dulled silver pot that held a large amount of glittering Floo powder. But before she could step into the fire Harry caught her arm and pulled her back slightly.

"I'll write you," he said quietly, and though she didn't look back at him, he felt her nod slightly and walk towards the grate once more, but he caught her again, this time around the waist. He pulled her close to him and whispered into her ear, "I love you."

This time he heard her. "I love you, too," as she stepped swiftly into emerald green flames and shouted, "The Burrow!"

The storm that had plagued Godric's Hollow the night before had let up finally, leaving a layer of heavy dew that had settled itself over the grounds, making the soil soft and spongy. Drops of water slid off of the leaves of trees, glistening in the weak, filtering morning sun. Harry had not been able to sleep, though he had tried, lying awake in the enormous bed through the night, his head swirling with thoughts.

Now he stared out of the full length windows beside the bed, holding aside the cream-colored curtains, watching the feeble sun rise. When was this going to go anywhere? Was there going to be nothing but pain? These thoughts had overwhelmed his mind all through the night, and he was growing tired of it. He was tired of waiting for something to happen, something needed to happen…but…wait…

The Pensieve.

He spun around on his heel suddenly and stared at the spot near the fireplace where, only the night before, he had unlocked the hiding place of the swirling basin full of thoughts. How could he have forgotten? Immediately, Harry hurried over to the spot, pulling out his wand and tapping the wall rapidly and wildly, in every place possible, and then it happened again. The panels on the wall trembled for a moment, and strips of light glowed through the cracks. Harry stepped back, adrenaline pumping through his veins, as the panels slid back and revealed, again, the Pensieve, the milky white substance in it looking peaceful and undisturbed.

He stepped back towards the stone basin that sat on the shelf at his chest level, reaching his hand near it. It was then that he noticed it: the corner of a yellowing slip of paper, just barely poking out from under the Pensieve. He paused for a moment, and then reached for the paper, tugging it out from underneath the heavy stone basin with some difficulty. And with a jolt, he read the faded, familiar slanted writing upon the paper:

The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Godric's Hollow Manor, London.

Author's Note: Okay, so, I know Godric's Hollow is not in London, so don't flame me! I was just too lazy to try and look up where it really is – if anyone knows you can let me know so I can correct that. And there's probably a few spelling things, because I'm also too lazy to proofread just now…so bear with me. Well I hope you enjoyed that…even though it took forever and a day! So review: the good, the bad, and the ugly.