I'm really sorry I haven't posted in a while. But I'm glad that a couple people have enjoyed my story, so please comment for feedback, or if you want me to write more stories! I may not post very consistently, but I will try to get the next chapter in by the next two weeks.

Now you may proceed to read. :)

Harry knocked on Ginny's dorm room. In an instant, she opened it, who was standing in a plain plaid shirt and jeans. She put a smile on her face (Harry didn't know if it was forced or not) and gave him a hug. "Why, hello, Harry," she said. "You ready?" Ginny held out her hand.

"Yep, let's go," replied Harry. He took her hand. It was a strange feeling, he had never held her hand before. It was smooth and lukewarm. They walked down the hallway in an awkward silence. What are you doing to yourself? Harry thought. Say something interesting! Ask her a question! "So, we're going to the lake, right?" he asked stupidly. Of course, you're going to the lake. Where else?

Ginny gave him a strange look. "Yeah...we are."

Damn it, that was lame. "So...you just want to talk? While we're there, I mean."

"Of course," said Ginny. "Um, Harry…" she trailed off. "I invited Luna to meet me there, too, if that's okay with you." She let go of his hands and put them in her pockets. Then she stopped walking, and so did Harry.

Harry dropped his eyes away from Ginny's face. He thought she was kind of pretty, the deep redness of her silky hair, her sparkling brown eyes, the way her freckles stood out on her cheeks. He didn't know if he was attracted to her yet, but Ginny was pretty damn sexy. At least he thought so.

"Hello? Harry?" Ginny waved her hand in his face. Harry must have been lost in this thoughts. Maybe he was in love with her after all.

"Oh, sorry, Ginny, I was just um...thinking. And yes, that's okay with me." What are you thinking? Ginny's not going to talk to you! There is no way you are having any deep conversation if Luna's here! Harry took her hand again and they continued walking. This 'date' wasn't going so well.

Hermione and Ron stood in what seemed like a worn down, dusty road. There was a dead end of the road, where a small wooden house laid. There were a few houses looking similar down the road, equally worn down, with faded and chipped paint.

The people standing on their porches (more likes platforms) and walking down the road looked somewhat strikingly skinny. They both were concerned for this matter, but Hermione was concerned about their health and Ron worried about the lack of food in general.

As they walked further down, they noticed a small building with a sign hanging down, which said: D STRICT 12 BAK RY.

Ron sighed in delight when he saw the bakery. It may have been worn down, but all he could picture was freshly sliced bread and delectable pastries. "Wanna grab a quick eat before we set off for Moody?" He pointed at the bakery with a pleading look in his eyes, which made Hermione feel absolutely helpless with her opposing point in the situation.

"Ron, you are such a pig," Hermione said, giggling. "But yes, we can go. I'm a little hungry myself. " She thought that his eyes were quite handsome when there shined with anxiousness. That was the main reason she gave in, but she was still a little hungry.

"Thanks, Hermione, you're the best," Ron told her, and he put her arm around her as they walked in. Hermione put her arm across the back of his waist since she was too short and Ron was too tall for her arm to go across his shoulders.

But as soon as they walked in, Hermione stopped them both in their tracks. She cupped her hands to outline her mouth and whispered in Ron's ear. "What if they have a different currency now?" It was so stupid of her because she knew even Ron hadn't thought about it.

Ron groaned when Hermione told him. "Bloody hell, what are we supposed to do now?" he said a little too loudly. The few people standing on the sidelines of the bakery walls turned and stared. A boy with pale blond hair and quite a buff build probably around their age went inside the door that most likely lead to the kitchen.

"D'you suppose he works here?" Ron asked Hermione.

"No, Ronald, I think he's just a random person who walked into the kitchen," replied Hermione sternly and sarcastically. When Ron didn't understand she said in a calmer, more sincere tone, "Yes, he does work here."

They waited uneasily, but then Hermione put her hand on Ron's shoulder and turned him to the door. "Maybe we can get something to trade later if it's still in style." They both snickered silently.

But a call stopped them in their tracks. The blonde boy came out of the door with a man who looked just like him except he was probably 30 years older and had more wrinkles. He also looked much less happy than the boy. Hermione decided that the older man was his father. "Come here!" The older man shouted, pointing out Ron and Hermione with both of his hands. The pair stepped forward.

"Can I help you sir?" asked Ron, but then Hermione slapped him on the shoulder.

"Are you from District 8?" asked the older man. He had a very heavy American accent, or it may have just seemed like it, given the fact that Ron and Hermione were British, "Because if you are I can report you and the Peacekeepers will come and take you away, probably not back to District 8 but to be executed at the Capitol."

"What makes you think we're from there?" exclaimed Hermione, who was just trying to go along with the conversation and putting on her best American accent.

The younger boy put his hand on his forehead and sighed as if Ron and Hermione were very stupid, and his father just decided to keep talking. "Look at how well clothed you are! You can't be from here."

"Well… We are from here," said Hermione uneasily. "And we would like some bread."

"Is that so?" asked the older man, who was most likely the baker. "Well then. What will you give me?" When Hermione and Ron just stood there, he added, "To trade?" He seemed very impatient.

Her face perked up after a second of comprehension. "Oh!" Hermione exclaimed cheerfully and abruptly. "I almost forgot...of course…ha...silly me…" she searched through her handbag, and even though it looked peculiar to the baker and his son that she was looking deep inside a small pouch, they decided not to say anything. When she finally found a large Muggle book, Hermione retrieved it and set its dusty pages on the counter. "Here you go, War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy. Quite old, but, I've probably read it over a hundred times, it's very good."

Ron looked at Hermione funny, but he just held his breath and kept his false mood face firmly glued on. He had never read War and Peace, all he knew was that it was a Muggle book that was over a thousand pages long. But he saw that for himself.

The baker, however, was not impressed. "Nice try. Something else. Useful." He pushed the book back to Hermione and brushed off the dust on the table.

If she were in her normal comfort zone, Hermione would have instantly objected, but she held herself back and placed the book back inside her pouch. Then she unwrapped the wool scarf from around her neck and placed it where the book had been. "Better?" she asked.

The baker held it at arm's length away from him, as if it were a dead rat. Then he nodded slowly and handed the homemade knitted scarf to his son, who turned away and headed towards the kitchen. "Better than squab, I'll tell you that," said the baker truthfully.

He then went into the kitchen, most likely to make the bread (which was strange considering it wasn't at a window by the counter) with his son. A few minutes later, he came out with a long paper bag with a beautiful piece of freshly baked risotto inside. It smelled delicious to both Hermione and Ron when they inhaled the scent and sighed in awe.

"Thank you!" said Hermione while Ron said quickly afterward, "Yeah, thanks." Then they left the bakery, both picking out delicious chunks of oven baked bread.

Harry and Ginny arrived at the lake. Nobody was there except for one other Hufflepuff couple, but they were both on the other side of the large body of water. They walked around in silence, and eventually sat at the edge to dip their feet in the water. Harry and Ginny took their shoes off and soaked their bare feet. Again, they didn't say a word to each other.

This made Harry think about his parents. He wondered if they would have ever thought that he would be allowed to go on dates like this while still being a student at Hogwarts. He was in his sixth year, so it wouldn't have been against the rules, or at least he thought so, but his parents did start dating in their seventh year. Then again, James had been hitting on Lily since the fifth year. How he would mess up his hair to look as if he had gotten off his broomstick...that brought Harry to think of Quidditch.

Harry knew he wouldn't have been the youngest Seeker in a century if it weren't for his father. But he could imagine how much better he would have been if his father were there, so he could be trained by a former player. Then he could have won earlier than it usually took him. All of this deep thought made Harry realize he was staring at his reflection in the water. He remembered from the memory that he saw in his fifth year of his father and how he could see the resemblance so much. As he stared at the blurry face of his mirrored in the water, he imagined the face he saw with hazel eyes and without a scar, and could see his father.

"You must really want to know what it's like to have parents," said Ginny, poking Harry's upper arm, as if she was reading his mind at the moment.

Harry sighed. He wanted to look up at her and spill out all of his emotions to her, but he just kept staring at the lake and said, "Yeah, I do, sometimes," he said. Normally Harry would have dismissed this topic, he barely even knew his parents and would have never cried over it. But now that he thought hard about it, he felt a lump develop in his throat slowly and a little painfully.

"You know, it's kind of sad. Not ever knowing them or what they're like," Ginny said. "I mean, you did know them for a year of your life, but surely you don't remember."

It was strange, that for once this topic was really hard to talk about. "Yeah. If they were alive, none of this 'Boy Who Lived' and 'Chosen One' crap would have happened. Then I could live like a normal teenager just how everyone deserves," Harry said. And you probably wouldn't have noticed me if they were alive Harry thought. He didn't say that, obviously.

Ginny patted Harry on the back. "I can't imagine how it feels, Harry. It's just amazing how you can live through this, I mean, I know you weren't traumatized by your parents' death since you were too young to remember, but I mean, being put under all this pressure about the prophecy, and all the fame, that's a lot to take in." She stopped and sighed. A moment later, she suggested, "You know, if you ever feel bad about anything, just remember that I'm always there for you. And Hermione, and Ron, and everyone else. I just don't want you to ever feel like you're left out."

Harry smiled slightly. "Thanks, Ginny," he said. He put his arm around her, and she didn't seem to mind at all.