Author's Note: Hi. Deathly Hallows is quoted in this chapter. JKRowling wrote those bits. I wrote the rest of this shit.

(The Summer Before) Sixth Year

From the front garden of The Burrow, I watch my brothers and Dad and the fearless members of the Order of the Phoenix fly away to go save you, Superman, from the Death Eaters that are patrolling the skies until the day of your seventeenth birthday when your mum's enchanted protection will be lifted from you. Mad-Eye Moody has created this ornately detailed, extremely extravagant plan to sneak you out of your house on Privet Drive. We all know that nothing is fool-proof but everybody is almost absolutely positive that nothing will go wrong tonight.

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I've been inside, waiting anxiously for everyone to show up. Ron and Tonk's Portkey came back a quarter past ago; no one had travelled along with it. Mum started to really worry when Dad and Fred's Portkey also showed up empty-handed.

There is a sudden giant-sized crash in the garden. It should be you and Hagrid this time, but I will myself not to get my hopes too high. If it is you and Hagrid, the crash should've sounded half-giant sized and not giant-sized.

Mum and I come running down the steps by the back door, expecting the worse. There is a figure of your height and build that is on his hands in knees. When it stands up, swaying ever-so-precariously, I gasp when I recognise you and your crooked glasses. I want to run into your arms and kiss you senseless and never let you go, but then I remember the plan and how there are seven Harry Potters tonight. I could be kissing Fred, for all I know. Or even worse, Mundungus Fletcher. I make a face and look away towards the other person who fell as a distraction from my thoughts.

"Harry? You are the real Harry? What happened? Where are the others?" Mum demands as if you know all the answers.

"What d'you mean? Isn't anyone else back?" you pant as you try to catch your breath from your crash-landing and the adrenaline rush of whatever had happened in the skies.

Mum doesn't answer you. You start to ramble on about what happened: something about a Death Eater ambush and everyone got split up and then You-Know-Who was there...but then Mum interrupts you as your voice rises with hysteria and she wraps you in a tight hug as she says, "Thank goodness you're all right."

Hagrid then asks Mum for some brandy for 'medicinal purposes' and she rushes inside to compose herself and fetch him the brandy. In her absence, you turn to me, your troubled green eyes begging for answers.

I swallow thickly and update you on who is missing and that you and Hagrid are the first ones to arrive at The Burrow. Then I check my watch and inform you that George and Lupin are to arrive next. What I don't tell you, however, is that I love you and I am so glad that you are safe.

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George lost an ear during the skirmish in the air tonight against the Death Eaters. In the corner of my eye, I see you tense when Lupin informs everybody it was Snape's Sectumsempra that cursed George's ear off. I want to reach out to you and touch you in reassurance because I know you are itching to avenge Professor Dumbledore's death, but then I remember that we are no longer a couple and I cannot do those sorts of things anymore.

When you broke up with me, I knew it had to be done. You didn't end our relationship because you didn't love me. You didn't end it saying: "We are never, ever getting back together. Like, ever" because I can assure you, I never heard those words come out of your mouth. You didn't end it because you thought I was a bad kisser or that you'd rather be with Cho (Merlin, I'll Avada you myself if you ever ditch me for her). You broke up with me to make sure He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would not know how much we love each other because it seems to be the Dark Lord's signature move to kill anyone you get close to.

But when we broke up, I did not realise it meant that you didn't want to be friends anymore. You have hardly looked me in the eye since you arrived, Harry, and Ron and Hermione received a more heartfelt greeting than you gave me. You haven't bothered to touch me or hug me or even say my name. A couple of times I see you head in my direction but then you are always intercepted by someone in the Order.

Bill arrives, bringing the grim news that Mad-Eye is dead. I bite my lip and immediately feel ashamed for worrying about such petty matters like our ill-fated relationship when there are people dying in this world You-Know-Who has practically taken over.

But I still do not stop dreaming of a world where you are just a boy and I am just a girl and we could fall in love without all of these obstacles in our life.

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We are setting the table for dinner your third night here when you let slip the secret plans that Mum has been asking incessantly about.

"I think Mum thinks that if she can stop the three of you getting together and planning, she'll be able to delay you leaving," I say under my breath to you as we place the forks on the left of every plate and the knives on the right by the spoons. A few minutes early, you had told me about your suspicions of Mum not letting you, Ron, and Hermione spend any time together these past few days when she loaded everybody up on chores.

"And then what does she think's going to happen?" you mutter. "Someone else might kill of Voldemort while she's holding us here making vol-au-vents?"

I hesitate as my face pales. "So it's true?" I ask. "That's what you're trying to do?" Oh, Merlin, no Harry, that is the worst plan ever. It's bloody suicidal and...and...

"I – not – I was joking," you stammer out an obvious lie.

I stare at you unbelievingly. I know there is shock plainly written all over my face. But as the seconds tick by, I begin to realise that this is the first that that we have been alone together since our stolen moments around the lake at Hogwarts last year. Judging from the shift in the colour of your eyes, you're remembering them too. The moment is broken, however, when Kingsley, Bill, and my father walk in.

I hastily set the rest of the table and avoid you for the rest of the night. Being around you reminds me just how much of a magical fairytale our relationship was last year.

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You've got a busy day today helping to prepare The Burrow for Bill and Fleur's wedding tomorrow. After that, I know you, Ron, and Hermione have plans to go save the world. I feel a little jealous that you three have not included me in your arrangements but I know you're trying to protect me as best as you can by keeping me out of harm's way. I guess I'll just have to find another way to help you defeat the Dark Lord even though I will be at Hogwarts.

I'll be around, waiting for you forever and ever until you trounce You-Know-Who and we can live out some sort of happily ever after made just for you and me.

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"Harry?" I call out. "Will you come in here a moment?"

You oblige, stepping into my room for the first time. You look around, taking in the poster of the Weird Sisters and the one of Gwenog Jones, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies, which decorates my otherwise blank walls. When you eyes glance curiously into mine, I take a deep breath.

"Happy seventeenth."

"Yeah. . . thanks."

You sound rather apathetic towards your birthday. I mean, it must be great having The Trace – the thing that lets the Ministry know about underage magic – be lifted off. And you are seventeen (!) today; what's not to like about that?

I look at you evenly, trying to understand you and your enigmatic thoughts. You keep your eyes focused off my face, and the shadows of my room dance around you as the darkness threatens to extinguish the light in your eyes.

"Nice view," you say after the silence becomes too loud. You point weakly towards my window.

I don't respond to your feeble attempt at small talk. It feels so odd to be conversing with you even though it shouldn't feel so weird. One day we were so in love and the lucky ones to finally be with each other; now, we're standing alone in my empty room and we're barely speaking. And I'm dying to know: is it killing you like it's killing me, Harry? I don't know what to say since a twist of fate and it all broke down...and I just wish time could go back and we could live in the past when everything was perfect and right. But then again, I would rather have spent those few weeks as your girlfriend last term than to still be 'Ron's little sister' in your mind.

"I couldn't think what to get you," I say, realising that now is the present and it's your seventeenth birthday today and I don't have a gift for you. You might not think of me as your girlfriend or even your friend anymore, but I cannot just ignore your birthday. Birthdays are magical and special and are my favourite holidays to celebrate.

"You didn't have to get me anything."

I ignore you and your stupid comment. "I didn't know what would be useful. Nothing too big, because you wouldn't be able to take it with you."

You sneak a glance at me. My tone is fairly light which starkly contrasts how dark and sombre my eyes are. I take a step closer towards you.

"So then I thought, I'd like you to have something to remember me by, you know, if you meet some veela when you're off doing whatever you're doing."

Ever the smart ass, you respond cheekily: "I think dating opportunities are going to be pretty thin on the ground, to be honest."

"There's the silver lining I've been looking for," I whisper and then I grab you tightly and kiss you as if today was my last day to live.

You're kissing me back, feeling the same urgency as you hastily speed up the kiss. You gently nip at my lips and then when you deepen it into a French kiss, a thousand reasons why you should never leave pop into my mind. You taste like sunshine. . . the first day of summer. . . winning the House Cup. . . starlight. . . honeysuckle. . . seafoam. . . secrets. . . perfection. . .Harry. . . . It's flawless and exquisite and cliché. Fireworks dance beneath my eyelids, and your arms tighten around my waist, holding me against you as if you expect me to let go any second.

Behind us, the door bangs open, and we rapidly jump apart.

"Oh," my brother says pointedly. "Sorry."

Reality comes crashing down upon me and I can no longer be strong for you. I turn away, not wanting you to see me succumb to the tears. "Well, happy birthday anyway, Harry," I manage to choke out.

You follow my brother out of my room, not saying a single word.

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I watch you, Superman, fly away to go do one of the chores on Mum's never-ending list. I hate how the world seems to be conspiring to keep us eternally apart.

I swear, Harry, I'll be with you someday. Until then, I'll be right here on the ground waiting for you when you come back down.

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Fleur's wedding is not as nightmare-ish as I had expected. Gabrielle and I, Fleur's designated bridesmaids, wear golden dresses and float down the aisle behind the bride who is dressed in a simple white dress that seems to emanate a beautiful silvery glow.

As I walk down the aisle, I spot you in your Muggle disguise sitting next to Auntie Muriel. My heart is sympathetic towards you, knowing that Auntie Muriel isn't the type of person to keep her opinions to herself. In a rather loud whisper, I hear her say: "Yes, my tiara sets off the whole thing nicely. But I must say, Ginevra's dress is far too low cut."

I grin at Auntie Muriel's insult, glance around to see if anyone is paying attention to me, and then wink at you before I face forward again.

Maybe you'll find me later and ask for a dance. Then I sigh, knowing you probably will not since Ron undoubtedly gave you a stern talking to after the kiss in my bedroom that he so rudely interrupted.

A girl can wish, though.

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Something large and silver twists its way down through the canopy over the wedding dance floor, falling slowly and gracefully like a shooting star. It shines brightly in the dusky night, out of place among the dim candlelight and glowing lanterns scattered among the trees. The lynx-shaped Patronus lands lightly between Lee Jordan, Fred and George, and me; us and those nearest the Patronus pause in mid-dance as we stare in astonishment at it. Then the Patronus's mouth opens and speaks in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt:

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."

Author's Note: Next up is (Hogwarts) Sixth Year. Thank you so much for flying away with me as we go save the magical Harry Potter world. Ya'll deserve a cape.