To Love or Not to Love

Shortly after Harry proposed to Ginny, the wizarding world was put to great distress. Harry was at work when it happened, training with Jin Sato, the Cannons Seeker, who was showing him some moves she had picked up in her recent match against the Tornadoes. Harry was just practising out particularly clever move he had never seen before when a distressed, foreign wizard ran onto the pitch in a state of panic.

"Rémi, what's the matter?" Jin asked their Coach, alarmed.

"Training 'as finished for ze day," Moreau answered. "Ze unthinkable 'as 'appened."

Harry's heart hammered as the team approached Moreau. What on earth could have happened that would cause him to cancel training for the day? They had a match against the Kestrels coming up; they couldn't afford not to practise.

"The Minister for Magic 'as been killed," Moreau told them. He raised his voice to be heard over the gasps of the team and the tears of the female members. "I zink it will be best if we all of us go 'ome."

Somehow, his head spinning, Harry found himself back at the Burrow twenty minutes later, where Ron and Ginny were sitting in the living room, clearly shocked.

Seeing Harry enter the room, Ginny ran to him and he wrapped her in his arms, her head against his chest. He knew exactly what she was feeling. While none of them was exactly Scrimgeour's biggest fan, the fact that the Minister for Magic himself had been killed was a significant breakthrough for the Death Eaters. What would happen now? Would Voldemort be able to somehow worm his way in and take over the top job? And did the wizarding world stand a chance now that the Death Eaters had proved they could kill someone as well-protected as the Minister? What did that mean for Harry, who Voldemort sorely wanted to kill?

Finally, Harry was unable to stand the silence anymore.

"Where's everyone else? Your Mum? Your Dad? Fred, George, Bill, Charlie - where are they all?" he asked, assuming that they would all have come straight to the Burrow at such news.

"Dad's at the Ministry," Ron explained. "They're not letting any of their senior employees go until something's sorted."

"For once I'm glad they don't value what I do," Ginny said, though it came out muffled for her head was still buried in Harry's t-shirt.

Rubbing Ginny's back soothingly, Harry said, "And the others? Are they at Headquarters?"

Ron shrugged. "We assume so. I was at the pub - no one was here when I got in, and Ginny came back shortly after me."

Harry sighed and suddenly realised the stench of alcohol emanating form Ron. Ron really picked his moments to drink. He tried to resist the urge to get angry at him for not being home when they needed someone there, someone to pass on any necessary information that Molly might have wanted to give them.

"Right, well there's one way of checking," Harry said and looked to the painting on the wall, one that had not been there in 1997. It was a quite a small painting, but it was quite a nice one, one that Harry was rather fond of. The painting was of someone whom had meant a lot to Harry, a painting that could also be seen at Headquarters - both the old one and the new one. It was a painting of Sirius.

Sirius, who had been dozing in his frame, woke up as soon as Harry said his name. "Harry! How can I help?" he asked delightedly, happy to be able to help in his death.

"Sirius, did Molly tell you where she was going? Did she say she was going to Headquarters?" Harry asked urgently.

The portrait of Sirius nodded. "Yes, she said something about telling you when you got here. Sorry - I would have told you the minute you got back, but my dear old mother was screaming all night and kept me awake longer than I would have liked, trying to convince her to shut her pie hole."

Harry smiled, knowing that Sirius never usually let them down. "That's fine. Thank you." He turned to Ron and Ginny. "Right, we'd better be off then." He eyed Ron, not sure of how sober he was and therefore what sort of state he was in to come to Headquarters. "Ron, are you sure you want to come?" he asked.

Ron shrugged lazily. "Dunno. If you don't want me there, I'll stay here. Keep Sirius company."

The portrait of Sirius grinned happily at this, so it was decided that Harry and Ginny would go to Headquarters alone. Ginny still not having her apparition licence, though she did it a fair amount illegally, Harry held her hand for side-along apparition as they disapparated and found themselves underground, where a warehouse-like building was slowly forming in the darkness and some kind of magical light was shining, giving the space the feeling that sunlight was flooding through, when in actual fact there was none.

The area had been made magically shortly after Dumbledore had died, for the Order had realised they would no longer be able to invite anyone else into the Order. Besides, Grimmauld Place now belonged to Harry and though he said he did not want it, they did not feel like intruding upon him. So every member of the Order had worked hard to create this place, an underground warehouse where they could not be found, guarded by anti-apparition walls that one could only pass through if they knew exactly where the holes were. In addition, the Fidelius Charm was still in use and there were now two Secret Keepers - Lupin and Harry. The Order had discussed the matter and had decided that it would not be a good idea to have just one Secret Keeper and risk not being able to invite any more members if the Secret Keeper died. There was a lot of protection on this building and, as he walked towards it, Harry felt very proud of it.

"Hermione wouldn't want Ron to be in the state he's in," Ginny muttered as they walked to the front door.

Privately agreeing, Harry pushed open the door into the warehouse - almost bumping into Molly, who it seemed had been about to make her way out.

"Harry! Ginny! I was about to come and find you. Thank God you're okay," Molly gushed as she pulled the door open, squashing them both in her relieved embrace.

Of course Harry knew that Molly had no real reason to worry, for the Minister had not been killed on Ministry property, and there was no way either of them could have been involved in the fight with the Death Eaters, but like everyone else, Molly worried about what would happen now that the Minister was dead.

"Is everyone here?" Ginny asked as they stepped inside.

Molly nodded. "Yes and if the two of you hurry you can catch it - Remus was about to start." Then, looking around, she suddenly realised Ron wasn't with them. "Where's Ron? Is he okay?"

Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance. It had been a team effort on behalf of the Weasleys and Harry to keep from Molly that Ron was an alcoholic. Ever since Hermione's death, he had gone from bad to worse and the idea of pulling himself together and getting a job was one that he continuously shrugged off, saying that he might do it tomorrow. But tomorrow always seemed to turn into the next day and the next day after that. Finally, after Harry had begged the Cannons manager to give Ron tryouts and achieved nothing, and Mr Weasley had tried unsuccessfully to get him a job at the Ministry - even as a Maintenance Wizard - they had finally given up and come to accept that Ron was an unemployed alcoholic and always would be until the day he got over Hermione's death. While Harry had vowed to make this day come, he had found himself preoccupied with work, the Order and Ginny, so had not yet found the time. Still, if he could prevent Molly from finding out this fact, he would.

"Oh, Ron's fine," Ginny said quickly, and Harry suddenly realised how thankful he was that she had taken after Fred and George where lying and quick thinking were concerned. "He's still at work."

To cover Ron's frequent trips to the pub and the fact that he usually came back smelling of alcohol, if not completely drunk, Ginny had once informed her mother that Ron had got a job in a Muggle pub, and that his co-workers would not let him leave work until he had had at least two drinks.

"It's probably some kind of Muggle tradition," she had added.

The rest of the family had eagerly taken up this lie so that whenever Ron was out, Molly would be told that he was at work.

"Oh, my little Ronniekins, he works so hard," Molly said with a proud smile as they ascended the stairs into the meeting room, a meeting room guarded by Aurors who had decided their allegiances were with the Order rather than the Ministry - thanks to Tonks and Kingsley's efforts.

The meeting was quite subdued, with all of the Order members quite quiet, too shocked to say anything much.

"What about Scrimgeour's family? His daughter, his wife - are they okay?" Bill spoke up finally.

This comment shocked Harry. He had never considered Scrimgeour having a family - he just didn't seem like the family type.

"Arthur said they're all okay," Molly spoke up.

"Bet their house isn't, though," Bill said angrily. "They won't be safe. We need to do something - to get them somewhere."

Harry sighed. This was becoming a common problem. Whenever someone got attacked, there was always the matter of their family. The families usually narrowly survived - if at all - and they needed to be able to ensure their safety. So far they had been able to set up a number of safe houses, but it was risky business and the occupants usually felt too scared to leave their home and go about their daily lives. Then there were the people who knew, for one reason or another, that they were going to be attacked sooner or later. All of these people needed somewhere to go, but they were running out of safe houses and Voldemort and his followers weren't showing any signs of giving up anytime soon.

"Well what are we doing with the ground floor?" Ginny spoke up suddenly, and everyone stared at her.

"What are you talking about, Gin?" Charlie asked, confused, but Bill seemed to know what she was talking about, for a smile had formed on his face.

"Ginny, you're brilliant!" he cried and Harry realised even before Ginny continued to explain what it was she meant.

Clearly, Ginny's idea was to allow all of these people to stay in the warehouse, to live there. They would certainly be safe below ground and there were enough members of the Order to look after them, give them the bare essentials.

However, there were faults with this plan, as Snape proceeded to point out.

"That's a very noble idea, Miss Weasley," he said curtly, "but I think you have overlooked certain problems. For instance, the warehouse is not nearly big enough for every single person who has been threatened by the Dark Lord and there is no way we can get enough food and drink for them. In addition, you may have noticed that we are not able to use much magic down here, lest the Ministry find our whereabouts - so how do you control such a vast amount of people and limit their magic? And indeed how can we trust so many people?"

Harry glared hatefully at Snape, wishing that he had never been allowed to continue being a member of the Order. He had never forgiven Snape for Dumbledore's murder - no matter how innocent he said he was.

Lupin cleared his throat pointedly before Harry could say anything. "Well, I don't think there's much we can do at the moment," he decided, and the other members seemed to agree.

"I'll make us some dinner then," Molly announced, standing up and heading towards the room next door which she had turned into a kitchen shortly after the warehouse had been built.

The other Order members followed her out of the room, though Snape declined the offer - much to Harry's relief - saying he had more important places to be, but Arthur turned up in his place several minutes later. Sitting down at the long table that had been placed there, Lupin turned to Harry and Ginny, for they had not had much time to talk recently.

"So how are things with you two?" Lupin asked them, clearly seeking to steer the conversation away from the Minister's death.

Harry turned to look at Ginny, who was still wearing her work robes, though not looking as smart as she had undoubtedly done that morning, for her hair was starting to come out of its tight bun and her robes were falling off her shoulders. She was smiling at him tiredly and as she pushed back a strand of hair, the diamonds of her ring shone in the little of the magical light that reached them. That ring was all he needed to remind him of how lucky he was despite everything that was going on in the wizarding world. Yes, they had been arguing a little more recently due to the stress of the war, but what couple wasn't? They were just as in love as when they were at school and their romance had been fresh.

"We're great," Ginny answered, taking Harry's hand and squeezing it with a smile. "Admittedly we haven't got that much time to spend together, and any time we do spend together seems to be planning the wedding... but we're fine - we'll be fine."

Harry realised she was trying to reassure herself more than Lupin, and Lupin seemed a little concerned.

"Maybe you should put the wedding on hold for a while," Lupin said, a thoughtful frown on his aging face. "Your relationship is more important than the wedding itself, it might be wise to wait until you have a bit more time."

Harry sighed. He knew that Lupin was right but he just couldn't face postponing the wedding, and one look at Ginny told him that she felt the same. Perhaps they were rushing into it, maybe they were one of those couples eloping because of the fear and loneliness caused by the war, but he knew that he loved her and he wanted to make it official - before it was too late. A part of him still feared his death, still feared the fact that Voldemort wanted to kill him and that his life could end at any moment, and he wanted Ginny to be secure in the fact that he loved her if this happened. Besides, if they were married, Ginny would inherit everything he owned, and he knew how much she and her family deserved that.

"Mum and Dad eloped and look how happy they are," Ginny retorted perhaps a little more fiercely than she'd intended, nodding towards her parents who were talking as Molly prepared the meal.

Lupin smiled weakly and nodded. "Of course. I'm sorry - forget I said anything," and he turned to talk to Bill Weasley in the seat next to him.

"You don't think we're rushing into things - do you?" Ginny asked warily.

"Course not," Harry replied automatically and shot Ginny a reassuring smile. "So what have you got planned for tonight?"

"Oh, well it's Sarah from work's birthday so the girls are going out clubbing to celebrate and I thought I'd tag along. I've never been to a Muggle club before, it should be a good night," she replied.

Without thinking, Harry shook his head. "No, I don't think that's a good idea - it's too dangerous. You never know when or where the Death Eaters are going to attack next and, well, it's just too risky Gin, especially without male company. Why don't we have a night in instead, just you and me?"

Ginny, however, did not seem to be too happy with this idea, for she tore her hand from Harry's and glared at him. "Who in the hell are you to tell me what to do?"

Unsure of what he'd done wrong, Harry opened and closed his mouth several times in imitation of a fish before saying, "I'm your fiancé and I just thought -"

"Thought what, Harry?" Ginny snapped back. "What exactly did you think, Harry, or is it just a case of you not thinking at all?"

Harry had no idea what had got Ginny so upset. He found himself angry that she was being like this with him and embarrassed that everyone in the room was now staring at them.

"Yeah because a lot of thought is required for your job," he shouted back to cover his embarrassment. "You just sit at a desk all day, probably snogging Dean while you're at it!"

Ginny gasped, stung. "How dare you! You actually think that I would do that? That I would kiss Dean?"

Before Harry could answer, Ginny had stormed off towards the door in a rage. Hearing her cry as she headed for the door, Harry realised he had gone too far. But he couldn't apologise now, not in front of everyone. Besides, she had started it. Élodie Garcia, the pretty Cannons Beater, and Jin Sato, the Seeker, had both asked him if he would like to have a drink with them - purely as friends, of course, though since he and Ginny had been arguing, he had been thinking about Élodie a lot more than he should have recently. Anyway, he had told them both that he wouldn't be able to go out, planning to spend time with Ginny. But apparently Ginny didn't want to spend time with her own fiancé.

It the gasp that alerted Harry to what happened next. As Ginny opened the door leading from the kitchen to the stairs, Harry heard an astonished gasp escape her. Turning to see what had caused this gasp, he found himself echoing Ginny.

It was Percy.

Mumbling that Ron had told him how to get here and that he had shown him the piece of parchment Harry had written the address on so that he could see the building, Percy had come, it seemed, to the only place he felt he really belonged, the only place he would find comfort in the death of the Minister for Magic, whom he had known personally.

There was a loud crash from the other end of the kitchen as Percy walked into the room and his mother saw him for the first time in years. Staring at him, her mouth open, tears seemed to fall from her eyes as she opened her arms for her lost son. Harry was sure that Percy would refuse, would say that he had only come to ensure that they knew of the Minister's death and the procedures that must be taken following it, but he was wrong, for Percy Weasley, after four long years, had finally come home for good.

"Oh, mother, I hope you will accept my sincerest apologies," he said, his voice muffled, for it was buried in Molly's chest.

"Oh, Perce!" Molly cried, holding him at arm's length so she could look him up and down. "Sit down, sit down, I'm just making some dinner," she sniffed, and Percy obediently sat down at the table.

Once the food had been eaten and Molly was sure that Percy was well, the former black sheep of the family began to tell of how he had come to be there.

The Minister was being paid a home visit by someone very important, he explained, though he could not give details of this important visit for it was confidential information (though Arthur seemed to know what he was talking about, for he nodded knowingly). Sadly, he had been ambushed by Death Eaters and, though the exact details were as yet unclear, it was obvious that they had somehow managed to get past all of those protecting him and had managed to kill the Minister himself. Percy, who had regrettably been forced by the Minister to take his first day of holiday in several years (for, it seemed, the Minister had been very fond of Percy and had told him he deserved it, that he should spend it with his girlfriend), had not been present at the time, but his associate, Collins, had informed him of the events.

Overall, it seemed Percy was shaken by the Minister's death and had decided that Headquarters was the safest place.

Percy's arrival seemed to put everyone in higher spirits, and it was perhaps for that reason that, that night (Ginny had given up on the idea of clubbing in order to spend time with her newly returned brother), Harry and Ginny were able to sort out their differences.

"I'm sorry that I've been overprotective," Harry said to her, sitting down on her bed shortly after Percy had announced he was tired and wanted to go to bed.

Looking earnestly into her eyes as he sat opposite her, he vowed to try harder to consider her needs, to stop behaving like one of her brothers. For, as she rightly pointed out, she had enough people on her case as it was without Harry too.

"Well I'm sorry that I haven't been making enough time for you recently," Ginny replied. "If we're going to get married, we're going to have to put each other first above work, the Order and everything else." She paused and sighed, breaking Harry's gaze to stare thoughtfully at the bed, and it occurred to Harry that she was working up the courage to say something to him that she really didn't want to say but had to. "The thing is," she said finally, looking up at him again, "I'm really hurt by your jealousy."

It was Harry's turn to sigh. He supposed he should have realised that this would come up eventually; after all, what he had said about Dean had really upset her. He took time to answer, thinking carefully about what he was actually feeling instead of what he had angrily told her without thinking in their argument. Was he jealous of Dean? Did he really think that Ginny would cheat on him? No. Ginny wasn't like that. She was kind and caring and loyal - she would never cheat.

"It's not that I don't trust you," he revealed, "it's just that I'm jealous of the amount of time he gets to spend with you. It feels like you spend more time with him than me. I know it's not intentional," he added quickly in explanation, "but you do work in the same department and you do have a history."

It was then, as Harry stared at Ginny searchingly, waiting to hear what she would say, that they both seemed to come to a mutual realisation: they were both suffering from having to suppress their youth. Both of their adult lives had been filled with fear and worry and they had been giving so much thought to the war, spending so much time attempting to be mature and responsible, that the result was that they had become lost. On the outside, they looked as though they could be in their late twenties, for so much had happened to them both that they had been forced to grow up. Yet they were still only eighteen and nineteen, they were not ready for what life threw at them. Harry wondered if they were even ready for such a serious relationship - should they seriously be engaged at such a young age?

"I - I think we should postpone the wedding," Ginny said finally, and though she spoke quietly and regretfully, Harry heard every word and each of them weighed heavily on his heart. But all the same, he knew what he had to say to her.

"I think you're right," he replied. "Just until we can get ourselves sorted - make sure this is what we want."

*

It was almost exactly two years after Percy had joined the Order when some particularly bad news reached the Order, news which distressed Molly in particular greatly.

The news came, Harry saw, on a particularly dreary day. It was early September and Harry, Ginny and Ron were sitting round the breakfast table, Harry and Ginny eating an early breakfast before work (Harry was by now the official Seeker for the Cannons having been promoted not long ago) and Ron was up early for tryouts: the Chudley Cannons needed a new Keeper. Harry was giving Ron tips, telling him what would help him and what would make the captain of the team, Nikolai Pashkov, and the manager, Dorkins, impressed with him. He was just trying to impress upon him the seriousness of the tryouts and that he wouldn't be favoured for being Harry Potter's friend, when a loud crash came from the kitchen.

Looking up, Harry saw Molly looking terror-stricken, a smashed plate at her feet. Her face pale and her eyes wide with shock, it seemed she was staring at something out of the window.

Prepared for a Death Eater attack, Harry, Ron and Ginny took out their wands and advanced to the door, ready to attack any dark wizard that may be lurking outside. Just as Harry was about to reach out for the handle, however, there was a knock at the door.

Harry stopped and turned confused to Ginny and Ron.

"Since when do Death Eaters knock?" Ron asked, puzzled, clearly thinking along the same lines as Harry.

Molly was still standing stock still, speechless, so Harry had no choice but to open the door, his wand out.

As it opened, a squeal escaped from the person standing there, before they shouted out: "Now there is absolutely no need for that! Wand down!"

Standing in the doorway was the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic: Dolores Umbridge. Dressed in magenta robes, covered by a fluffy fuchsia travelling cloak, with her toad-like face frowning beneath its many wrinkles and her hair tied with a pink bow, she looked much as she had done when Harry had last seen her over six years ago. He glared at her hatefully and she glared back equally as nastily.

"Get out of my house," Ron stormed, brandishing his wand as a threat.

Umbridge snorted. "As if I take any pleasure in being here, Mr Weasley," she said in her usual falsely sweet voice. "I assure you that if I had any choice I would be anywhere but here."

Fuming, Harry pointed his own wand at her. "What are you doing here, then?" he snapped at her menacingly. "Because if you don't state your business now, you will wish that you had never met me."

Umbridge laughed. "Oh, Mr Potter, if you think I haven't regretted that from the first day I saw your smug little face walk into that courtroom then you are more arrogant than I first thought," she said and proceeded to push past so as to enter the Burrow.

Once inside, the person who had ruined a year of Harry's life and whom he often liked to blame for Sirius's death and Voldemort's return, turned to face Molly, brushing invisible dirt off her spotless travelling cloak as she did so.

"Molly Weasley, I presume?" she asked, but did not wait for an answer. "You and I need to have a chat. Are you able to get rid of these idiots while we have a spot of tea?"

Without waiting to be invited to sit down or indeed to have tea, she sat herself down at the table and conjured a flowery teapot and two matching flowery teacups. She smiled at Molly expectantly, waiting for her to get rid of Harry, Ron and Ginny. Molly, however, still looked dazed until Umbridge snapped her fingers and shouted at Molly impatiently.

Coming to her senses, Molly turned to the three of them as though she had only just noticed they were there. "Shouldn't you three be getting to work?" she asked.

Obedient yet reluctant, the three of them disapparated.

"What the hell is Umbridge doing there?" Ron asked Harry fiercely a moment later as they walked towards the Chudley Cannons' changing rooms, his hands clenched into fierce balls.

"Dunno," Harry lied.

The truth was, he had thought it over and he was sure he knew exactly why Umbridge was there, and if he was right, Molly would need the three of them back as soon as possible. If he was right, and there was only one reason Umbridge would possibly have to come to the Burrow, then Percy was dead.

As he thought about it, Harry had to admit that he was surprised that it had actually taken so long since Percy joined the Order for him to be tracked down and killed by Death Eaters. They had all known that Percy would be in trouble from the minute he joined: not only was he a Ministry employee, (Not surprisingly, Voldemort did not want any Ministry employees to be in cohorts with the Order, for it would make it harder for him to take over the Ministry.) but he had a habit of shooting his mouth off and making it public that he was an Order member and not even Dumbledore could have hidden Percy from the Death Eaters in such circumstances.

"Potter, you are late!" snapped a tall, thin man with a thin, wiry moustache and dressed in smart black robes with only two orange Cs embroidered on his chest that could possibly reveal that he worked for the Chudley Cannons and not the Ministry of Magic.

"Sorry, Dorkins," Harry said to the Cannons' manger.

Sitting down next to Élodie Garcia, a particularly pretty witch with long dark hair and brown eyes who was Beater for the Cannons and the French National Team, Harry hoped that he had not missed much and that Dorkins and Moreau would not be too annoyed. Last time they had been annoyed, he had had to run around the pitch fifty times before he satisfied them.

Ron, however, continued to stand in the doorway, looking weakly around for other people trying out for the team.

"Anyone trying out should get changed in ze other changing rooms," the French coach snapped. Dressed in orange robes rather than Dorkins' smart black ones and with long, messy brown hair, Harry was surprised that Moreau and Dorkins ever agreed on anything. However, they currently seemed to agree on being angry and Ron seemed to quail under their anger.

Ron nodded stupidly before turning and heading out the way he had come. Harry hoped that he wouldn't let this put him off and that he would continue with the tryouts.

"Now zat everyone is 'ere, I can go through today's schedule," Moreau said once Ron had gone. "As you will know, we 'ave tryouts today for a new reserve Keeper. We only need ze Chasers and of course Jones, our first-string Keeper, for zat until we 'ave narrowed eet down to ze top five, when we will get ze rest of you over to make sure zey work well with ze team. Pashkov," he said, nodding towards a thin man with dark hair and a foreign look about him, "as Captain, you need to 'elp out with ze tryouts. You know ze drill by now. Potter and Garcia, I want you to concentrate on increasing your level of fitness today, and ze same goes for ze rest of you," he added, indicating the seven reserves, sitting on a separate bench from the rest of the team, among them Cho Chang, Harry's ex-girlfriend from Hogwarts.

When Moreau had finished instructing them and Dorkins had said his piece about how any player who let them down today would be sold to the Caerphilly Catapults (who were currently losing the league), Harry picked up his broom and walked with Élodie out of the changing rooms and towards the other end of the pitch, away from the hundreds of hopefuls that had gathered in the stands.

"So how come we're having tryouts?" Harry asked Élodie, suddenly realising that it was quite unusual for a premiere league Quididtch team to hold tryouts: indeed, they had had none since he had been on the team.

He wondered why he had not questioned this when Dorkins had first told them several weeks ago that they would be holding tryouts. He supposed he had been too busy thinking about getting Ron a job than unusual activity on behalf of their Manager - who had always seemed to be of the opinion that tryouts were for losing teams and the Cannons were certainly not that anymore.

"Well, you know of course zat Jakob Gerber 'as left us?" Élodie began to explain, mounting her broom.

Harry nodded; he knew that. Gerber had just been given a place on the German National Team and was therefore worth a lot more money than before, so the Cannons had sold him to the Magpies while he was still worth that much (Dorkins had never had much faith in Gerber simply because he was German - he said Germans were never good Quidditch players, though Harry doubted this). This money had bought them their new Keeper, Chiara Jones. Having formerly played for the Wasps and considered to be rapidly increasing in talent, she was still only sixteen (she was a Squib and had therefore not attended Hogwarts) so was still deemed too young to be on the National Team.

They had had a Reserve Keeper of course. Ebony Matthews was fresh out of Hogwarts and, described by Snape to be the bane of his time as Headmaster of Hogwarts, Harry had liked her a lot. Sadly, she had been found dead a few short weeks ago having been cornered by a Death Eater on her way home after a match that had lasted way into the night.

"But I still don't understand why they're holding tryouts when they could buy someone or spot new talent," Harry persisted.

"I zink zey are saving up to buy Jeremiah Williams off ze Tornadoes," Élodie decided as the pair raced around their end of the pitch.

Harry knew of Jeremiah Williams, of course. He was an up and coming new player that the Tornadoes had recently spotted in a Hogwarts match. He was seventeen and had come to play for the Tornadoes as soon as he had finished his NEWTs. He had played one England match so far and had proved his worth by scoring several times (he played Chaser). Everyone was raving about Jeremiah Williams and every Chaser hated him, for fear that they would be replaced by him. Of course it would cost thousands of galleons to buy him off the Tornadoes, but if the Cannons succeeded in buying him, they would have one of the best teams around. They already had Chiara Jones, who was tipped to start playing for England once she was seventeen; Niamh O'Flaherty, one of the Irish National Team's best Chasers; Rosalia Kenyon, who played Chaser for the English National Team; Nikolai Pashkov who played Beater and Captained the Russian National Team as well as the Cannons; Élodie Garcia, who played Beater for the French National Team and Harry himself, who was rumoured to be one of the best Seekers in the world (though Harry wasn't sure he believed this personally) and had recently been given a place on the English National Team, now that their previous Seeker was too old to play. The only player not playing nationally was Robin Andrews, one of the Chasers, who was pushing thirty and was deemed to be getting too old for Quidditch now. That put them on the same level as the Tornadoes, who also had six out of seven players playing for National Teams and were currently winning the Premiere League, though the Cannons were close behind.

"Andrews can't be pleased," Harry chuckled, flying to the ground now that he had finished his ten laps of their end of the pitch.

"Eet is to be expected," Élodie commented, as she began warming up by stretching her legs.

"I s'pose," Harry said. "I think I'd be scared though, if there was a fantastic new Seeker tipped to be the best in a long time."

Élodie nodded and giggled. "Yes, I zink I would be scared too, if eet were me. But we neither of us 'ave to worry, we both know zat we are good players and we are both of us only twenty-one. Besides, you are a very good-looking wizard and ze famous 'Arry Potter, where would we be if eet weren't for you?"

Harry glared at her and she laughed. "Oh, 'Arry, you are a very amazing man. I zink zat your girlfiend is very lucky to 'ave you."

Though Harry found himself blushing at the compliment, remembering Ginny forced him to recall Molly and her strange visit that morning. He was terrified that he was right about why Umbridge had come, for though he had never really hit it off with Percy since he had joined the Order, he wasn't sure what it would do to Ginny - or the rest of the family for that matter. The Weasleys had just got used to having Percy around again (though he wasn't living at the Burrow, he was living with his on-and-off Hogwarts sweetheart, Penelope Clearwater) and Harry wasn't sure that she would be able to take Percy's death.

"But 'Arry, what is wrong?" Élodie asked suddenly, seeing his brow furrow. "'Ave I said something? Are you and your girlfriend 'aving problems?"

Harry shook his head. "No, no, Ginny and I are fine," he said, for they seemed to have reached a record of lasting a month without arguing. "It's just, I'm worried about her."

And he told Élodie all about Umbridge's visit and what his assumptions of this visit were. When he had finished, Élodie, who had listened carefully throughout, stopped her training to hug him in midair.

"Oh, 'Arry," she said, sympathetically. "I am so sorry. You should not be 'ere. Tell Moreau, 'e will 'ave to let you go. You need to be with your girlfriend and 'er family."

Sighing, Harry nodded. He supposed Élodie was right. Molly needed her remaining children with her and Ginny would need him. He resolved to tell Ron as soon as the tryouts had finished.

Consequently, two hours later, his mind more exhausted than his body, he made his way over to the changing rooms normally reserved for the opposing team. Pushing open the door, he saw the hundreds of hopefuls (the changing rooms had been magically expanded for this purpose) getting changed, some looking rather tired and dejected whilst others were buzzing with excitement, apparently running on adrenaline. Pushing past a couple of girls who were chatting cheerfully about how they thought they'd done and what they would do if they made it onto the team, Harry made his way towards Ron who, he noticed with a pang, was among those looking tired and miserable.

Seeing Harry, Ron nodded in his direction and forced a small smile before he continued getting changed. A few years ago, Harry thought, when Hermione had been alive, he would have made an effort to pretend to Harry that it had all gone okay, to force a smile. However, nothing seemed to matter to him anymore. He wouldn't notice if a Dementor approached him, sucking his happiness out - he had sunk into a deep depression.

"How did it go?" Harry asked, slumping down on the bench next to him, hoping dearly that it had gone better than Ron had anticipated. Ron was already an unemployed alcoholic, what would he possibly do if he missed out on a great job opportunity and found out his brother was dead on the same day?

Ron grunted before answering with, "Couldn't have gone much worse," he replied, mumbling something about not having much practice in recent years and that he was just a bit rusty.

"I'm sure you did better than you think," Harry tried. "Look, I'm going to find Moreau and tell him that I'm coming home with you. I want to see what Umbridge wanted with your mum. Meet me outside the changing rooms in ten minutes?"

Ron, who might once have asked Harry's views on Umbridge's unexpected visit, or taken the opportunity to insult their least favourite former teacher, simply grunted in response. Yet again, Harry was reminded of how much Ron had changed. With a sigh, he made his way into his own changing rooms where Moreau, Dorkins, Pashkov, Chiara Jones and the Chasers, O'Flaherty, Andrews and Kenyon, had gathered to assess the tryouts.

"Potter, what was your opinion?" Moreau asked, seeing him enter.

Harry tried to recall the few that had flied with them. Ron had not been one of them.

"Well, I think that girl was quite good - Harriett Eccles, she seemed to save most of them and she pulled a few feints but she's a bit inexperienced - didn't even play at Hogwarts. Bruno Wilson kept flying into me and blocking my vision whenever I went near that end of the pitch - he didn't look that good and he was a bit fat for a Quidditch player, Mildred Bates kept letting the Quaffle in and I think Felicity Edwards let her nerves get to her a bit," he answered, for one witch, a brunette with glasses, had become quite wobbly on her broom before throwing up and narrowly missing Harry.

"And what did you zink of Rufus Walt?" Moreau prompted.

Harry recalled a mousy-haired wizard with glasses and a cheery face. Harry didn't remember him from Hogwarts but apparently he had been a few years above him. He had seemed to know what he was doing and had flown well. There was something about him, though, that Harry did not like, as though his cheer was false. Harry just didn't take a liking to him.

"I'm not much of a fan," Harry replied truthfully. "I think he thought more of himself than I did."

Moreau rolled his eyes. "Yes, Potter, zat is very nice, but what about 'is skills as a Quidditch player? I could not give a damn if 'e was You-Know-Ooo 'imself, as long as 'e's a good player!"

Sighing, Harry shrugged and said, "Well, he was good. He didn't let the Quaffle in once and he knew when Niamh was feinting."

Moreau seemed satisfied with this answer, for he turned back to the rest of the team and said he was thankful for their input and he would let Pashkov know in the morning before heading out of the changing rooms, leaving Harry to follow him.

"Moreau!" Harry called, rushing after him.

Moreau turned round. "What is eet Potter? Make eet quick please, I am very busy."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I will. But I - well, I think my girlfriend's family are having some sort of family crisis - I think her brother just died and, well, I was wondering if you would give me the rest of the day off so that I can go home?"

Moreau raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean by 'you zink', Potter? Either 'er brother is dead or 'e is not, eet is very simple."

Having anticipated this, Harry knew that he could not possibly make Moreau understand by telling him about Umbridge. He decided to skip around the truth.

"It's almost certain," Harry told him. "The details aren't clear, but I think my family needs me."

A small, twisted smile appeared on Moreau's stubbly face. "Ah, but zat is exactly ze problem, Potter," he said. "Zey are not your family."

It felt to Harry as though someone had thumped him, or as though he had just fallen off his broom from a height. He had been living with the Weasleys for so long now that it felt as though they were his family and everyone went out of their way to ensure he felt that way. Molly had even stopped giving him the special treatment. He thought Ginny might have said something to her, but nevertheless it had stopped. If Harry did something wrong, she would be stern with him, just as Harry wasn't afraid to shout at her when he was feeling angry, just as he would to his own mother, had he been able to say more than a few words when his mother was alive. In addition, he was made to do chores, including degnoming the garden, which had to be Harry's least favourite job. And then there were the times he needed parental advice, from an older and wiser wizard, the advice he had once been so thrilled to receive from Sirius - he was now able to receive this from both Molly and Arthur. To have someone suddenly remind him, then, that the Weasleys were not his family at all, that to the world they were the family of his best friend and his girlfriend, took away the security that Harry had come to rely upon. It made him feel like a lonely little orphan once again.

"But Moreau," he began to argue, speaking as calmly as he could, having learned to control his temper, "I don't think you understand -"

"No, Potter, eet is you 'oo does not understand," Moreau replied. "I zink zat if you talk with Dorkins 'e will tell you ze same: you are a national Quidditch player and zis is your full-time job. You are not at 'Ogwarts anymore, Potter; you cannot go home whenever eet pleases you. If eet were your family, eet would of course be a different matter. But as eet is, eet is not your family and so eet is not your concern." He paused before adding, "I am sorry, Potter, but zat is the end of eet." Then, looking at his watch, he sighed. "Now you 'ave made me miss ten minutes of my lunch-break. Please leave me now. I expect to see you back from lunch in fifty minutes, no excuses."

With that, he walked off up the stands, with Dorkins, who had just come out of the changing rooms, close behind.

Sighing and growling in anger, Harry made his way towards the opposition's changing rooms where Ron was waiting for him, staring down at the ground.

"Ready to go?" Ron asked tonelessly.

"Yeah, but I've only got my lunch-break. Moreau won't let me leave for any longer. Stupid git," Harry muttered.

"Well why would he let you go for any longer?" Ron asked, as though he thought Moreau's answer was obvious and Harry had been stupid to expect any more. "What reason do you have to go home for the whole day?"

Deciding it wouldn't be a good idea to worry Ron just yet, Harry simply shrugged and said, "We'll see when we get there."

The pair then apparated back to the Burrow, where Ron pushed open the door to the kitchen. Feeling very nervous and worried, Harry followed him inside.

Harry wasn't sure what he had expected to see inside, but whatever it was, he could not have anticipated how the scene before him would bring him such pain, the pain that he had not felt since Hermione's death, since he had had to watch his best friend and his girlfriend falling apart around him. There, sitting at the kitchen table, was Molly Weasley, her head in her hands, sobbing bitterly. Had Harry had a mother for more than one year, perhaps he would have realised that what he was feeling was something that every child feels when they see a parent upset: a feeling of utmost sadness, a need to protect them and revulsion and hatred towards whatever it was that made them feel this way. However, at it was, it was the first time Harry had ever been given the chance to feel this for anyone but one of his close friends, and it was a feeling that surprised him - scared him even.

Ron, however, having grown up in a large family, was perfectly used to this feeling and knew just how to react. "Mum, what's the matter?" he asked, dropping his broom and rushing to his mother.

Molly continued to weep and did not answer Ron. But Harry, attempting to do something about this strange feeling, sought to confirm what he believed. Heading into the living room, he found the grandfather clock, the one that seemed to be unique to the Weasleys with its nine golden hands each pointing to a different inscription. Looking at the hands, Harry sought the middle hand, looking to see where it was. It was pointing, he saw with a jolt, to an inscription that he had never seen any of the hands point to before, an inscription he had barely even noticed before: Dead.

"Ron!" Harry called. He knew no other way to explain it to Ron, to explain the sudden sadness he was feeling.

Grumbling and looking extremely cross at being called away from his mother at her time of need, Ron opened his mouth to ask what Harry wanted when his eye caught what Harry had just seen.

Harry watched his best friend sadly, watched him deflate. He seemed to choke and he stumbled, finally placing his hands on the wall near him to steady himself. He screwed his face up and he shook his head as if to deny that this was happening.

"Get Dad," he managed finally.

Harry nodded and abandoned the rule of disapparating inside the house and apparated right into Arthur's office. Arthur Weasley was looking at something on his desk when Harry appeared, and it seemed to startle him somewhat.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" he asked, an edge of concern in his voice. It was all too obvious to him that something was terribly wrong.

"Percy," was all Harry managed before Arthur grabbed his jacket and announced he was going home to a nearby colleague.

"Harry? What are you doing here?"

Harry turned and saw Ginny walk into the office, a look of utmost concern on her face as she approached him.

It was then that Harry was faced with one of the hardest things he had ever had to do: he had to break his fiancé's heart. How could he possibly tell Ginny that her brother was dead?

However, the pair had been together for so long that it seemed Ginny knew how to read Harry's mind, for eyes filled with tears and her hands rushed to cover her face as she began to weep.

"Who?" she asked through her tears, as Harry pulled her to him.

"Percy," Harry whispered in reply.

Now that her fears had been confirmed, now that she knew her worst fear of losing a loved one had come true for the second time in her life, Ginny began to cry harder. As he held her in his arms, Harry disapparated: Ginny needed to be with her family.

Hearing the noise of her surroundings change, Ginny pulled away from Harry and ran into the kitchen. Molly was still sobbing bitterly at the table; Ron was rubbing her back soothingly, though he was staring at the table, his face blank, expressionless. Only Arthur realised that Ginny had entered the room and he opened his arms to give her a hug that only a father could give.

It was a sign of how welcome the Weasleys had made Harry feel that he was able to join them at the table, where they sat mourning Percy. They all knew that it would only be a matter of time before one of them was killed and the whole family seemed to have been treading on tiptoes recently, terrified that one of them would soon no longer be with them. Hermione's death had been enough of a blow as it was. Now, there was only one thing left to consider: who would be next?

Eventually, Molly seemed to pull herself together enough to inform them of Umbridge's visit and what exactly she had had to say. It seemed that the Ministry had been concerned when Percy had not turned up for work - he had not had so much as a holiday since the Minister for Magic had died while he was away. Someone had been asked to check with Penelope, Percy's current girlfriend. And that was when the blow struck. Upon receiving the owl from the Ministry, Penelope had immediately made her way to Percy's luxury apartment, positioned neatly above the Thames. However, no sooner had she Apparated to the front of Percy's apartment building than Penelope saw the one thing that everyone dreaded seeing during the war, the one thing that could possibly cause a fear and dread in the heart of a wizard comparable to that experienced by one upon coming across Voldemort himself: the Dark Mark.

"I - It w - was above the b - building," Molly managed tearfully. "Of c - course sh - she didn't kn - know for certain that i - it was Percy, b - but it was pretty obvious."

Harry recalled how about seven years ago now, Arthur had told them all at the Quidditch World Cup of the fear every wizard had for the Dark Mark, terrified that they would come home and find it lighting up the sky above their house, a sign to all that someone had been murdered. He realised how awful it must have been for Penelope, to see the Dark Mark like that. He wasn't sure what he would do if he saw it above the Burrow, if he knew before he even entered the building that someone he loved had been killed.

The sadness that filled the Burrow after this event was immeasurable and comparable only to the death of Hermione. No one spoke much; people seemed to prefer being by themselves, sitting and thinking.

*

Harry knew that it was almost entirely due to Percy's death that what happened that fateful night happened. It was a few days after Percy's funeral and Harry had begun to realise that Ginny was suddenly feeling very lonely and insecure. She was only twenty, yet she knew almost for certain, that neither she nor her family members had much longer together. It was only a matter of time before someone died and, naturally, that scared her.

Getting ready for bed, Harry was trying to remember what life had been like before Percy's death, before everything had got so much worse. He had just crawled under the covers when there was a knock on the door.

He knew before she opened it that it was Ginny, and he knew exactly why she had come. He lifted the covers for her as she climbed in, resting her head on Harry's chest. He liked the feeling of her head on his bare skin, the feel of her hair. They had not had many moment of intimacy or closeness recently - even before Percy's death - and it was nice that they could finally be close once again.

"Are you okay?" he asked her gently, though he knew that there was no possible way that she could be.

"I was just thinking about everything," she said finally. "I mean, none of us knows how long we have left and - and I was thinking about if I died tomorrow, how I would feel about that."

It was not something that Harry wanted to think about - life without Ginny. She was his only source of happiness in this mess, the mess that had started when Hermione had died. Not even Quidditch brought as much happiness to him anymore. So he did something that, a few years ago, would never have entered his head. He made a joke.

"Well you probably wouldn't feel at all," he said, earning himself a playful hit on the head from Ginny.

"Harry!" she protested, indignant and determined. "I'm being serious! What have I accomplished in my life, seriously?"

Harry considered this. She didn't have her NEWTs, her job wasn't fantastic, she didn't have much money, but she had him. She had Harry. And he had her. Yes he also had a well-paid job, fame and the love of the wizarding world, but what did that mean? Not much.

"So what do you want do about it?" he asked.

"I want to marry you," she replied quietly.

Harry smiled. He had been thinking about this himself lately, thinking that if he died, he would liked to have been married, maybe even to have children. A family was the one thing he had never truly had and if he could possibly achieve that before he died, he would die happy.

Without even considering if it was what he really wanted to do, if he was doing it for the right reasons, Harry gave Ginny all the answer she needed: a kiss. They could talk about the technicalities later, but for now, they both had one very important thing on their minds: their love for each other.

*

In the next memory Harry saw, he was training for the World Cup, due to be held next year in Argentina. He had been selected to play as Seeker, therefore fulfilling the dream he had since he was just fourteen years old and he was thrilled that his dream had come true just seven years later.

They had been playing a friendly against Hungary for the last two hours. Apparently Hungary was turning out to be quite a good team - partially because they had an Irish manager, Connor Doyle. He was rumoured to be the best manager any team had had in years and had been the Assistant Manager of the Irish National Team when they had won the Cup seven years ago. Indeed, he was so good that he had trained the Hungarian Seeker, Kada Lakatos to a high standard and Harry had had trouble stopping him from getting the Snitch.

Finally, Harry caught a glimmer of gold and zoomed towards it, with the opposing Seeker on his tail. However good their Lakatos was, though, he was not as good as Harry. Though he tried hard, he was not as swift a mover as Harry and therefore could not turn as quickly as the Snitch. Harry too was much smaller and lighter. He reached out, practically feeling the Snitch with his fingers. He reached just a little further and this time his hands were able to grab the small, golden ball that made Quidditch so worthwhile, the ball that gave Harry such a euphoric feeling when he caught it. Which he always did. Since his time as a professional Quidditch player, Harry had earned a reputation as the Snitch Snatcher, for he had caught the Snitch in every game. Of course that didn't mean his team always won. They won many of their games, of course, but sometimes Harry had to end the game on his own terms, just as he recalled Krum doing all those years ago at the Quidditch World Cup of 1994.

He remembered the Bulgarian Seeker as he flew high into the air, his hand held high, proudly displaying the Snitch that had just won England the game - 210 - 170. He had not seen Krum since the Triwizard Tournament in his fourth year, but he realised that he would soon come face to face with him once again for England were playing Bulgaria in just a just a few short months. It would be an interesting game, undoubtedly.

"Harry! You did it!" shouted Rosalia Kenyon, who, like Harry, played for the Cannons as well as the English National Team.

Oliver Wood, who had once been Harry's captain on the Gryffindor team at Hogwarts, simply beamed proudly at him. He now played Keeper for the English National Team and in Harry's opinion they had never had a finer Keeper - though he knew Cormac McLaggen, the Reserve Keeper, would disagree.

The team descended out of the madness that was the Quidditch field and into the changing rooms.

"Drinks at The Dragon Slayer's Inn?" suggested Acacia Burrows, one of the Chasers.

Everyone agreed that The Dragon Slayer's Inn, a classy London pub, would be a fine place to go for post-match drinks, a custom that they had whether they won or lost the match.

Harry reflected on how well the match had gone as he changed into jeans and a t-shirt. They had started off rather poorly - Robert Entwhistle, their Captain and the best Chaser they had, had been injured, which meant that Angelina Johnson, another former Gryffindor player, had taken his place. While Angelina was a fine Quidditch player, she just wasn't a match for the Hungarian Chasers and they needed the guidance of Robert. That was why everyone was so relieved that Harry had caught the Snitch when he did. Had the match gone on much longer, they would have found it hard to catch up.

"Well played, Harry."

Harry looked up and saw Cho Chang standing above him. Now that they were adults, there was no more ignoring each other and awkward moments that there had once been after they had broken up. Now, five years later, when Cho was seeing Roger Davies and Harry was engaged to Ginny, they found that they were actually able to become quite good friends.

"Thanks, Cho," Harry replied, taking off his Quidditch shoes and putting on his trainers. "Coming to the pub?"

Cho nodded. "Yeah, Roger and I are both going," she replied, nodding her head towards the former Ravenclaw who was getting changed a little way away from Harry. "Are you bringing Ginny?"

It was tradition for the team to bring their significant others to the pub after the game and, as a result, they had formed a little clique where all the England players and their families knew each other very well and didn't really talk to many other witches and wizards. It worked well for the players with children as they only had to ask a fellow team-member if they ever needed a babysitter.

"Yeah, Ginny wanted to talk to Entwhistle about joining the Wasps. Apparently their Reserve Seeker was arrested on suspicion of using the Imperius Curse."

Cho gasped. "Wow, sounds awful," she said, picking up her bag. "Well, I hope the Wasps like Ginny - she must be so bored in her job. I'd better go now; I'll see you at the pub."

Harry bid Cho goodbye and picked up his Quidditch things before heading out of the changing rooms to meet Ginny at the entrance to the stadium. He was surprised, therefore, to see her hovering outside the changing rooms when he came out.

Assuming that something was wrong, Harry began to panic. Surely there hadn't been another death? His mind raced, wondering who it could have been this time.

"Ginny, what's the matter?" he asked finally, though he wasn't sure he could bare the answer.

Ginny's mouth simply opened and shut like a fish, before tears began to spill from her anxious brown eyes and Harry pulled her to him, hugging her tightly as though the hug alone could protect her, could keep her away from anything that was trying to hurt her.

"Can we go somewhere to talk?" she finally mumbled. "I'm sorry; I don't think I can manage the pub with the others."

Harry nodded - anything to stop Ginny looking so worried. Promising her he would only be a moment, he made his way back inside, where he found Michael Collins, one of the Beaters, still there.

"Harry, my man, what can I do for you?" he asked, turning to him with a bright smile.

Tall and burly, Collins made a good Beater - better even than Fred and George had ever been at Hogwarts. He was so heavily built and so strong that he was able to put a lot of brute force into the punches he pulled with his bat. His hair was a dark blonde, almost mousey, and his eyes were a bright blue and he had always seemed quite popular with his female fans - though he was engaged to Élodie Garcia, Harry's French team-mate from the Cannons. Harry found he quite liked Collins and knew that he would understand when Harry told him that he would not be able to come to the pub.

Sure enough, when Harry told him, his face simply filled with concern. Due to the clique the team-members had formed, he knew Ginny well.

"Is Gin okay?" he asked. "Anything I can do?"

Harry simply shook his head and said that he hoped she would be okay and he would see him for training in the morning.

Out in the sunshine once again, Harry took Ginny's hand and took her away from the Muggle football stadium where the team practised (Muggle-repelling charms were placed on it during practise and no one questioned the noise that came from the stadium, for the manager paid good the Muggles good money). Crossing the road, Harry found a small Muggle coffee shop overlooking the stadium and ordered a hot drink for each of them before sitting down and taking Ginny's hands in his own, gently caressing them until she was ready to talk.

"Harry, I went to the Outpatients Wing of St Mungo's this morning," she mumbled once their drinks had come and the waiter had left them.

Harry nodded. He knew that Ginny had been throwing up recently and she had told him that she would be going to see a Healer, but he assumed it would just be a normal bug, or that perhaps she had swallowed a Puking Pastille by accident, and that everything would be okay. However, Ginny's reaction certainly did not fit either theory.

Finally, staring determinedly down at the table, tears falling slowly down her cheeks, she murmured, "I'm pregnant."

A strange feeling invaded Harry at this news. He wasn't sure what it was he felt, and perhaps confusion was the main element, but there was something else - joy. He and Ginny had never exactly planned for a child, but he had been thinking for a while that it might be nice to have a child. After all, he was twenty-one and he and Ginny were due to be married shortly, it was a natural desire. And, with the wedding so soon, no one would notice that their child had been conceived outside of marriage. It was a perfect scenario, he decided. Maybe too perfect to last.

*

Harry assumed the next memory he would see would be the wedding. However, the memory he actually saw was not as happy as he would have liked. In fact, it was probably the worst memory he had seen yet.

It was a cool autumn day and Harry found he was quite cold as he sat on a Dorset cliff, overlooking the beach nearest the Burrow. It was a place he found he was coming to more and more recently, due to the amount he and Ginny had been arguing. Now that Ginny was pregnant, Harry found he had become more and more protective over her. Ginny, however, did not take well to Harry's protective behaviour and had started to do anything and everything she could do to show Harry that he could not stop her from leading a normal life as she once had. Their last argument had been caused by Harry finding out that Ginny had been to a bar with friends from work - including Dean (who Harry was becoming more and more jealous of, due to the vast amount of time they seemed to be spending together recently). Harry had not been too pleased to find his pregnant fiancé out drinking in a dangerous, smoky environment.

A few years ago, Hermione would have been able to help. A few years ago, she would probably have forced Harry to see where he was going wrong, but not anymore. Hermione was long gone and there was no one left to fetch Harry back from the cliffs, to make him see reason.

It was a nice place, Harry felt. He liked the feel of the salty sea breeze brushing against his face and the beautiful landscape below him of a pebbly beach, seemingly stretching for miles. At the moment, the tide was in and he liked to watch its rhythmic movement as it brushed against the rocks and then fell away again, only to come back to the rocks once more. It felt good to watch something so normal - it showed him that life went on, even if everything went wrong with Ginny.

At least, Harry decided, his way of coping was better than Ron's. He had not yet found himself reduced to a drunken mess. But then again, Ginny wasn't dead.

There was a flap against the wind and Harry looked up to see a tawny owl floating towards him, battling against the coastal wind. A letter had been attached to its leg and as it approached, Harry reached out to take it before it attempted to fly away again.

Opening the envelope, Harry took out a piece of parchment, a letter written in an elegant hand he did not recognise. Curiously, hoping it wasn't bad news, he began to read:

Dear Harry,

I hope this owl gets to you okay - I wasn't sure where to find you. I apparated to the Burrow as planned but found you weren't there. Ginny said that the two of you had an argument, so I hope you're okay. I'm here if you need a friend.

I wondered if you are still planning on coming out with us tonight - we had planned on The Seeing Stone. It would be good if you can come, so I'm happy to wait here for ten minutes, but after that I shall apparate on to The Seeing Stone.

Hopefully I will see you soon,

Élodie

Harry hit his head in exasperation. How could he have forgotten? The National Team and their spouses had planned on going to The Seeing Stone, a bar in a part of Diagon Alley Molly had always forbidden them to enter, for it was known as the 'trendy' area where there were bars and clubs among other things such as coffee shops that were more harmless but were usually filled with twenty-somethings, and Molly had never wanted her children or their friends to mix with older people until they had left Hogwarts.

Feeling bad that he had left Élodie waiting, Harry picked himself up and apparated to the Burrow. Pushing open the door, he found an uncomfortable atmosphere awaiting him. Ginny and Ron were sitting on the sofa, Ginny looking slightly annoyed and Ron simply looking his usual miserable self. Molly was glaring at Élodie, clearly under the impression that yet another member of her family would be taken from her by a French girl. Élodie herself looked quite uneasy, sitting in a solitary arm chair, staring at the floor determinedly. Nobody was talking and Harry was under the impression that no one had really spoken since she had arrived.

When he entered the room, Élodie's eyes lit up, while Ginny imitated her mother in looking suspicious.

"'Arry! You're 'ere!"

Élodie stood and smiled at him happily. She looked at his worn out jeans and his baggy black Weird Sisters t-shirt and shook her head.

"But you cannot come like zat, 'Arry!" she exclaimed. "'Urry! Get changed! We are late as eet is!"

Harry turned and glanced at Ginny, pleading with her to forgive him, to come. However, she simply glared at him and announced that she was going to Dean's.

As Harry watched Ginny walk out of the house, he felt a pain inside him. It hurt to know that when things were so bad with him and Ginny, she was turning to Dean, a former lover. It was this that forced to him finally lose control, to finally take up Ron's method of coping.

It was for this reason that, several hours later, he was sitting at a table in The Seeing Stone, overlooking the dance-floor, with a drink in his hand - his fifth drink in the last twenty minutes. Ron was right, he decided: alcohol really did numb pain. He could barely remember Ginny's name let alone any of their arguments.

"I can't believe it," he muttered to anyone that would listen, currently Acacia Burrows, one of the Chasers on the English National Team.

Tall and dark with long hair and bright, round eyes, Acacia was very pretty. She smiled at Harry pityingly, clearly unsure of how to react, except to say, "Do you want another drink?"

Nodding, Harry downed the Leprechaun Guinness in his hand and asked for more of the same. His head spinning, he looked around at The Seeing Stone. It was not his first time in the plush bar; he had been here several times before with the team. He was earning himself a reputation with the papers, who loved to report on anything that went wrong in his life. Currently they were reporting that his drinking habits were spiralling out of control. But what did he care? Drinking was good and The Seeing Stone always supplied the best drinks.

"'Arry! What are you doing?"

Harry turned and saw Élodie, who had been on the dance-floor with Rosalia Kenyon and Angelina. She had come over to where Harry was sitting and was looking at him very concernedly.

"Drinking," Harry replied, gratefully taking the drink that Acacia offered him as she approached the table.

Élodie, however, did not seem too happy with Harry's answer and she eyed his drink suspiciously. "But you cannot seet here all night, you will not 'ave a good time like zat!" she told him, clearly realising that attempting to take the drink out of his hands would do nothing but annoy him.

"Dance wiz me 'Arry," Élodie said, reaching out her arms.

"Yeah, come on Harry," Angelina and Rosalia called from their place in the middle of the crowded dance-floor.

Deciding that he might be able to forget about Ginny this way, and enticed by the smell of the musky perfume that Élodie wore, Harry allowed himself to be pulled onto the dance-floor. Dancing with his fellow team-members, Harry found that he was able to forget all of his troubles whilst he concentrated on dancing to the rhythm of the music. They were currently playing the Weird Sisters and Harry cheered happily - they were by far his favourite band. He smiled appreciatively as a young witch, clearly a fan, started to dance near him, pressing her body against him. She was quite a pretty witch, with dark skin and short black hair and a nose-ring, but when the sound of Celestina Warbeck's warbling voice came on and people began to pair up, Harry pushed her away gently in favour of Élodie.

Placing his arms around her waist, Harry pulled Élodie closer to him, forgetting that her fiancé had only nipped out to the bathroom. And what did he care about Ginny? She was probably snogging the face of Dean, anyway. Well he would show her that she wasn't the only one that could have a good time. Élodie was a beautiful witch and she looked especially great tonight: her long dark hair had been curled tightly and her dark eyes had been surrounded by some form of make-up (Harry had never been good at identifying what type of make-up was what), and she was dressed in a short black dress and elegant black heals.

And then, the drink giving him courage he would not normally have had, he leaned in and placed his lips on hers, not caring about anything in the world except the feel of her lips against his and their powerful kiss.

*

If anything could be worse than the memory Harry had just witnessed, the next was definitely a fine competitor. Harry watched himself standing in his bedroom, clearly having an argument with Ginny. She was sitting down on Harry's bed, her flaming red hair tied back and she was wearing her work robes as tears spilled down her face.

"I'm sorry," Harry was saying, his eyes displaying the sadness that was causing his heart to break. "I am so, so sorry. It should never have happened."

Ginny snorted derisively. "How long did it take you to work that one out?"

Knowing Ginny as he did, Harry knew that Ginny was crying because of hurt more than anger and it saddened him to realise that he had done this to her. She had come into his room that morning, the morning after he had kissed Élodie, ready to sort out their problems. But, though he had magicked away the headache and the sickness, Harry knew that there was one other affect of last night that he had not yet dealt with, and so he had confessed to Ginny. As was to be expected, she had not taken it well.

"I never meant to hurt you," Harry said, tears forming in his own eyes.

He hated to see how much he had hurt Ginny. It was ironic that he had spent so much time trying to protect her, to stop her from getting hurt, when in the end it was he who had managed to hurt her more than anyone before.

"I know," Ginny replied with a sigh. "But you did, Harry. And do you know something?" she said, looking him in the eye, tears forming thick and fast. "It kills. It really hurts, Harry. And you did that to me. You. You who's supposed to love me more than anyone else - you who always tries to protect me."

Ginny didn't have to explain. Harry knew full well how much he had hurt her. How could he have done it? He had kissed Élodie - had enjoyed it. He remembered how full of passion it was and how he hadn't regretted it even afterwards when he had had a punch up with Michael over it. Yes, he had been drinking, but he should not have let things get that bad. He knew Élodie felt awful too. She had had a fair bit to drink herself, but she had admitted to liking Harry, had admitted she wanted to break off her engagement to be with Harry. Harry had even considered calling off his own engagement - ending things with Ginny for Élodie. But now that he was confronted with that very possibility, now that it looked as though they might never get through this, he couldn't bare it. He loved her - how could he possibly live without her?

Sitting down next to her, Harry tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away.

"We - we'll get through this," Harry tried, hoping it was true. "We - we've been arguing so much lately, I know, but we'll get through it."

Ginny, however, shook her head. "No, Harry," she said, a definite note of finality in her voice.

"Wh - what do you mean?" he asked. What did she mean 'no'? Of course they would get through it - that's what couples did, they argued and then they learnt from it.

But Harry knew this was different. Though he tried to deny it, it was painfully obvious that he had hurt Ginny so much, there was no going back.

"I can't do it anymore," she wept, shaking her head sadly, she stared into his eyes, but she could barely hold his gaze.

Harry's heart plummeted. "I'm sorry," he tried again. "I'm so sorry that I hurt you - that it happened. I was drunk - it was a mistake."

Ginny snorted and looked at Harry in disbelief. "A mistake? You break my heart and it's just a simple mistake?"

Tears stung Harry's eyes. There was the plain, cold truth. He had broken her heart. He hadn't meant to, but he had. There was no way they could work things out now.

Ginny sighed. "Harry, I feel like I don't even know you anymore," she said quietly. "We've both changed so much - we're practically strangers. The Harry I used to know, the Harry I fell in love with, he's gone and I doubt I'll ever see him again."

Confused, Harry tried once more. "But it'll never happen again - I promise," Harry begged. "I love you."

"I don't doubt that you once did," came Ginny's reply, and it hit Harry's heart with a hammer.

What did she mean he 'once did'? Didn't she know how much he loved her? Didn't she know how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her? She was carrying his child, for Merlin's sake! Wasn't that enough of a sign to her?

Taking Harry's hand, Ginny looked into his troubled green eyes and Harry knew that this was goodbye; that the one thing that had ever made him happy was gone. He had ruined it and now he would become a lonely drunk like Ron.

"Harry, we've been arguing so much, trying so hard to make this work," she explained through the tears. "But didn't it ever occur to you that love shouldn't be this hard? That if we were still in love we wouldn't have to force the relationship to work?"

"But - I'm sorry -" Harry stammered, willing to do anything to stop Ginny from saying these painful words.

"Harry," Ginny said again, a little harsher this time. "Don't you understand what I'm saying? You cheated on me, yes, and you hurt me. But that's just -" She paused, searching for the right words to say. "It's just the icing on the cake," she said finally. "We've grown apart. You've got your world - your world of Quidditch and your elite group of friends that I don't fit into - no," she added, when Harry began to protest, "I don't Harry, I'm not like them. I'm a Weasley - we're not like that. And I have my friends - the girls at work, Dean - who is just a friend," she said sternly, seeing Harry's anger at the mention of Dean. "We're completely different now, Harry."

Harry considered this. He couldn't see what Ginny meant. She had always got on well with his friends and they all seemed to really like her, too. McLaggen had even said that he would have snatched her up himself had she been single. As for her friends - and Dean - well, they really weren't Harry's cup of tea. They were a bit weird, a bit eager for his liking. They all seemed so desperate for love and attention and Harry hated it. Once upon a time he might have sympathised - empathised even - but things had changed. He wasn't the Harry he had been at Hogwarts.

And that was when it dawned on him. He wasn't the Harry he had been at Hogwarts. He and Ginny had both changed so much that they had slowly drifted apart without even realising it. They had been so well-suited back at Hogwarts, so in love. But now ... well, they didn't suit each other so much anymore. Maybe they were both hanging on to a source of warmth, a source of love - something so rare during the war. Ginny was right, they were forcing their relationship.

But there was one more problem Harry had with this.

"What about the baby? What about Molly?"

Their unborn child, whom they knew was a girl and had called Molly Jane after Molly Weasley - whom both Harry and Ginny felt they owed so much to - and Hermione, who's middle name had been Jane, was growing inside Ginny, who was now eight weeks along, and Harry had grown very attached to his unborn daughter. He couldn't face parting with her, especially if he was going to have to part with Ginny.

Ginny sighed. Clearly she had thought about this. Finally, she looked up at Harry and answered. "I think it's best that I look after her. You can pop round and see her whenever you like - she can come and stay with you at weekends or whenever you want, I'm sure we can reach an agreement. You'll have as much access to her as I do - I want her to know her daddy, even if we're not together."

There was something about what Ginny had just said that caught Harry's attention.

"Wait - pop round? What do you mean? Are you moving out?" he asked.

Once again, Ginny sighed. "No, Harry," she said quietly. "You are."

Harry found himself gazing open-mouthed at her before he could even contemplate forming an answer. He was moving out? Since when? Had the Weasleys grown so tired of him already? He thought they had all planned on staying together during the war. And if he did leave, where was he supposed to go?

"What? Why? Where?" was all Harry managed.

"I think it'd be best for both of us - easier, in fact - if we weren't living together," Ginny explained calmly. "It makes sense, Harry. You're twenty-one and a world-famous Quidditch player - do you really want to carry on living in your ex-girlfriend's parents' house?"

Now she put it like that, Harry could see where she was coming from. It did sound a bit pathetic. And now he thought about it, he did have the money to get a place of his own. Maybe he could even drag Ron with him.

"What about you?" he asked. "Will you still be living here?"

Ginny shrugged. "I'm not sure. I don't really have the money to move out."

"What about the Wasps?" Harry asked, knowing all to well that Ginny would not accept his money.

She almost laughed in response. "I'm not cut out for professional Quidditch," she said. "And I don't just mean talent-wise. It's not the lifestyle I want to lead. It's fine - I'm happy at work now. I've got good friends there, I'm happy. And Mum and Dad won't mind me living here until I can get a bit of money together."

Then, smiling sadly at him, she got up and left the room, leaving Harry with nothing to do but pack.