Chapter Two

An Attempt to Catch Time as it Flies

As Harry stepped down from the podium that stood before Fred's grave, he felt a hand slip into his own, and as he turned, he saw the face of the one he cared for most in the world. He understood, now, as never before, what Dumbledore meant about the power of love being greatest of all. As they walked to the back of the crowd, having both said their goodbyes, he squeezed her hand a little tighter, for he could feel that pain of loss washing over her, and he would have given anything to protect her from that pain; an agony which he knew so well.

The funeral was short. Those that spoke, spoke only so much as they had to, knowing that Fred would have wanted to cut through the extraneous grieving, and get to the fun part - Harry, and most likely everyone else as well, could almost hear Fred's voice – "this is boring. Let's get to the part where the distant relatives say 'we really should get together under better circumstances.' And then don't owl for seven years at a clip, the exceptions being the occasional wedding or funeral."

After the funeral came the wake, but Harry inadvertently missed much of it, for as soon as the memorial had adjourned, her hand still clasped tightly in his, Ginny dashed out and away, onto the hills where he, she, Ron, and the twins had more than once played quidditch, those days of summers past seeming as distant as the farthest cloud, and, tears streaming from her eyes, she brought them tumbling to the grass. Ginny threw herself upon him, and he held her tightly as they kissed, caught in the throes of grief and blind passion. After some time, simply holding each other, the sorrow ebbing out and away in the tide of emotion that came from them, they turned their eyes skyward, for the sun was setting in the western sky, and the stars had just begun to shine in the east.

"Thank you." said Ginny, leaning over to him, and laying a light kiss upon his cheek,

"For what?" asked Harry, already knowing the answer – it seemed that it had always been this way between them; questions asked, not needing to be answered.

"I know how hard it was for you to speak up there, but you were just perfect… you were you – not famous Harry potter, just Harry. That's what I've always…" her voice trailed off, fearing to say the word, fearing that to say it might mean to lose him. It was the same feeling he felt so often. Having lost so many, he feared saying it at all might mean the end of the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"Anyway, I just…" again her words slipped into a silence, and she stared up at the stars, which now almost completely covered the darkening sky.

Harry knew he couldn't let it sit like this. He knew that he had to say something now, or risk losing her forever, either to her self doubt, or to his fear. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but he was not ready – not for the words that needed saying. Fortunately, it was not needed, for his mouth was soon covered with her own, her lips on his, their tongues intertwining in a dance of passion. It was near midnight when they returned to the house, and though Mrs. Weasley could not be considered entirely happy, she wasn't too upset either.

The following morning, Harry called Ron, Hermione and Ginny into the room he shared with Ron.

"I know you're probably all going to be angry with me," said Harry, "but I had a dream the night before last, and in it, I met with professor Dumbledore."

The three others looked at him, astonished.

"Harry," said Ron, "you do know Dumbledore's dead, right?"

"Leave it to you to state the obvious, Ronald." Said Hermione, tersely,

Harry looked down at his hands. His patience, thankfully, was at an all time high. "This is the second time I've seen him, and he's been real enough for me both times."

Hermione put a hand on his, and said, as sympathetically as possible, "I understand how much you miss him, Harry, and all the others who're gone, but I don't think—"

"He wants me to go on another adventure. I have to find someone named Magda Allard. He says it's important."

There was silence. He looked up. He knew it wasn't that they didn't believe him, or trust him, but, just as he had, they had had enough of adventuring for a lifetime. It was only the sense of urgency in Dumbledore's words and voice that gave Harry the conviction to overcome his reluctance.

"I'm not asking you to come with me, you know I'd never do that, but I'm going. Tomorrow night."

"Then I'll be coming with you." said Ginny, without a moments hesitation.

Ron sighed. "Well, you know me, mate. I can't let you go stick your neck out for the rest of us without some worthwhile help – ow!" he said, rubbing his shoulder where Ginny had punched him.

Ginny and Ron looked at Hermione, who grinned. "Well, if we're going on another adventure, we should probably do it somewhat organized. I mean, last time we didn't have a plan for well over two months, and we were going barking mad, so what's the plan?"

"First, diagon alley. We need supplies for this trip, and I need to go to gringotts, if, that is, they'll still let me in." said Harry. "Then, we head to Hogwarts. We need to find out who Magda Allard is, and I think the best person to ask would be Dumbledore himself."

"Well, that's all well and good, but there's only one problem." Said Ron, "mum would rather kill us with chores of every shape and sort than let us go."

"Don't worry about that. I've got it covered." Said Ginny, her grin looking only slightly maniacal (Harry didn't notice. He was too busy staring at the way her nose wrinkled slightly when she smiled, and thinking how absolutely beautiful she was).

Later that morning, when they came down to breakfast, Harry found it hard to not look at the clock, which now stated that everyone save Fred was at the breakfast table. (Fred's clock hand had stopped on permanently indisposed. George had mentioned the day before that Fred would have found that funny, and burst into a sobbing fit shortly thereafter) had Harry looked at the clock, he would have noticed something somewhat peculiar on the hand labeled Ginny, namely the small hearts which decorated the border of her name, which were not there before. Mr. Weasley glanced briefly at the clock, saw that his hand was pointing to "nearly so late that you'll be severely reprimanded", and rose from the unusually silent table, and began his trek to the burrow door. Ginny got up after him, and asked if she could walk him to the edge of the property. When she returned, she cleared her plate and headed upstairs, followed by Ron, Hermione, and finally Harry, who stayed behind to help completely clear the table.