A/n: Well, this isn't my first fic, so don't get scared...I actually know how to do this and I'm only slightly nauseous. For this fic, I only wanted to write about the summer because I'm actually too scared about what'll happen during their actual sixth year to even write about it. Anyway, I hope you like this fic, it's my second attempt at a long term fic, and seeing as I didn't finish my first one cuz OotP came out before I could finish, I intend to write this one and the sequel diligently. One lesson I have learned that I will most definitely not be doing every single chapter in this fic like my last one is that Hermione doesn't cry every time she has a row with Ron. Hehe. Okay, I've talked enough.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own these characters, sadly, no matter how much I love them. They all belong to the brilliant JKR who has much better plot points than me. But the plot is mine so w00t!

Summer of the War

There had been times when he wished he could sleep endlessly. Then there were the times where he wished he could open some magical--ironic as that may be--portal to another safe, less complicated world where he didn't have to deal with the troubles eating away at him. Never, however, had there been a time when he wished he, Harry Potter, were dead.

But he had now come to know such a time.

The unfairness, the cruel ways of life were really starting to annoy him. Why him? Why someone who had loved life, despite the harsh treatments it had paid him? Why was it he, of all people, who had to pay?

Harry had to admit that he was still in denial. Denial mixed with anger, really. Anger at himself. Anger at the fact that, had he remembered the stupid mirror, his godfather might still be around to give him an awkward yet loving one-armed hug, or have Sirius's barklike laugh ringing in his ears. If only he had remembered.

Everything happens for a reason. What a lie. Stupid Muggle saying. It wasn't true. How was there any good reasoning behind Sirius's death? What good could come out of it? No. It didn't happen for a reason. It just happened because of someone who he now loathed as much as he loathed Voldemort, someone whose spiteful face haunted his dreams, someone who was so loyal to a being that inflicted such pain. Pain like he was feeling now.

Who cared if he could go visit the Weasleys? Who cared if Dumbledore had, maybe as a way to try to forgive himself for his mistake, allowed Harry to go to the Burrow after 2 weeks at Privet Drive? He most certainly didn't care. He didn't care about anything much. He didn't want his friends, he didn't want Dumbledore's pity, he didn't want the idiotic fame that followed him around for having some godforsaken mark on his forehead. He didn't want any of that crap. All he wanted was Sirius. More than anything, he wanted Sirius back.

He thought of Lupin, for the first time since Sirius's death. Remus Lupin was possibly the only person who could understand him. Harry remembered his voice when Sirius had fallen through the archway and past the veil. He had sounded so lifeless, so filled with agony. For the second time in his life, his best friend had been ripped from him.

How he hated her. Hate so powerful filled Harry the moment he realized Sirius was gone for good all because of her. With her disgusting smirk and her sinister heavy-lidded eyes. How he hated her.

Ron and Hermione. They were willing to comfort him. They were willing to be around him, after seeing the demise of people so close to him. They were still there. Harry smiled slightly to himself. Where would he be without them? On the train ride home from Hogwarts, they had managed to lift the pain from Harry's heavy heart slightly, just with their company. But now they were so far away. Okay, sure, he had permission to go see them, but a part of him didn't want to go. He wanted to lie in bed, waiting to wake up from this terrible nightmare, waiting for the magic portal to open, or maybe wait for life to slowly seep out of his body, ridding him from this ruthless world. Of course, he knew none of this would happen, but how he wished it would.

Harry blinked. This room must be really dusty. Why else would there be that incessant prickling in his eyes?

Funny, really. He missed Sirius more than he missed his parents. He had once heard someone say that you can't miss something you never had. He could agree with that. He never felt he had had his parents. How could he, seeing as he didn't remember them. But Sirius...he had been there. He had spent time with Harry. He had been around to give him advice. Harry couldn't decide what hurt more: the fact that he would never see Sirius again or that he missed him so much.

Laying his head on his pillow, he sighed and closed his eyes, cutting off the sunlight and plunging him into darkness. That's what it felt like now. Darkness. How could light penetrate such infinite darkness? It couldn't. Impossible. That's all it would be now. Impenetrable darkness.

You have to put up with the rain to get to the rainbow. Another foolish Muggle saying. For him, there was no end to the rain. The storm would rage on forever, whether within or without him.

Lying there with his eyes closed, he made the wish he had made so many times this summer. Let me sleep forever...let me never wake up.

END POV

Sunlight was streaming through the open window. No, it didn't feel this way. It felt like rain was pounding the windows. Sunlight didn't belong amidst so much anguish. A slight breeze played with his red hair. He rubbed his eyes. If he felt this way, he didn't want to imagine how Harry felt.

"Hey, Ron, are you okay?" He felt a hand on his arm. His head whipped around to look at a pair of chocolate brown eyes, full of concern like they constantly were, staring back at him. Hermione had her eyebrows raised. "What's wrong?"

Ron shook his head. He grabbed his quill from where he had thrown it on the table and began copying ingredients for the Ridicule Riddance potion. Hermione sighed. "You're thinking about Harry, aren't you?" The sound of a scratching quill stopped abruptly. Without looking up at her--she would see his eyes getting clouded if he did--he nodded. She clicked her tongue. "Me too...but there's nothing we can do, is there?"

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Ron looked up. "Of course there is!" he said, a little more snappishly than he meant to. "I mean," he said, his voice softening, "we could, you know, be there for him...well, this wouldn't help much but we could...we could just keep him company." Hermione gave him a tiny smile, which he gladly returned. But a thought crossed his mind that made the smile fade. "That is, if he decides to come," he added, with a hint of bitterness in his tone of voice.

"What do you mean?"

Ron shrugged. "You know how Dumbledore said he could come and stay with us after 2 weeks?" Hermione nodded. "Well, I sent him an owl as soon as we found out--I expect he heard from Dumbledore, too--and he hasn't answered. And 2 weeks was five days ago."

Hermione bit her lip. "Oh," she said softly. "I don't know, Ron, maybe it's best if we don't get our hopes up." Ron opened his mouth to argue but Hermione kept talking. "No, I mean it. Look, after what happened, don't you think Harry might want to spend some time alone? Think about it. Maybe he doesn't want to be around us because we can't sympathize, not really, because we've never...we've never lost a loved one, we've never seen someone die."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. But I thought maybe we were the part of his life that gave him something to be happy about," he said, rather sadly. Instinctively, Hermione reached for his hand. When she touched his fingers, she saw his ears grow pink at the tips and she smiled to herself. "We are. Just give him some time. He'll come around."

END POV

Dear Ron (and Hermione, I guess),

I'm tired of staying here. There's nothing to do except think about stuff I don't want to think about. Well, I suppose you guys don't really need that. I just need someone to take me there and that's it. Come whenever you want, I don't care. The sooner, the better, though. Thanks and see you soon, I guess.

Harry

There. That would do. He wasn't really in the mood to write a long detailed letter explaining why he hadn't answered before--Ron had owled him a week ago, and Harry had even managed to put up with Pigwidgeon hooting madly, with Hedwig scowling more and more every day. He crossed the room to the now very dirty cage and snatched Pigwidgeon out. "Okay, you're going home now," he muttered. He could have sworn he heard Hedwig sigh with relief--well, at least the scowl left her face. Pigwidgeon pranced around on his desk after he miraculously managed to tie the letter to his leg. Harry opened the window and said, "Go on, then." Pigwidgeon gave him a friendly hoot (Hedwig hissed slightly) and zoomed lopsidedly out the window.

Soon Harry would be back with the people who loved him. Now that Sirius was gone, the Weasleys, Hermione, and Lupin were the only family he had.

END POV

"Why do we have to do this? This is supposed to be a holiday. As in, a break from this ton of dung you call homework," Ron muttered playfully.

Hermione gave him a Look. "Ron, we're prefects," she said for the thousandth time. "We're role models. We're supposed to set an example for younger students." How many times had she had this talk with him? Even if she had a counter, it wouldn't have enough numbers to count the number of times she'd given him this lecture. It was different now. Like he was doing it out of comfortable habit, like he enjoyed talking to her. But that was silly. Why would he enjoy being lectured by Hermione Granger? He'd hated it ever since they'd met.

Ron snorted and waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, and we're supposed to get all our work done adequately, blah blah bloody blah." He grinned. "Honestly, Hermione, you're relentless. You don't quit at anything. That's pretty amazing."

She felt a blush tingeing her cheeks. She tore her eyes away from the sapphire ones staring at her and stared at the intricate way her letters connected to each other. You are a mess, do you know that? You are letting a simple statement get to you. He doesn't mean that HE thinks you're amazing, he means that it simply IS amazing that you can be so studious. Ooh, she hated that silly little voice in her head. The voice that had to find a logical explanation to everything. The voice that wouldn't give her a moment's daydream. What had it said after the Yule Ball? Do you honestly believe he LIKES you because he was arguing with you about Viktor? Oh, I thought you were clever! You are disappointing me, Hermione! Please. Ron just resents that Fleur Delacour rejected him and he's amazed that you of all people could get a date on your own and he couldn't. He's not JEALOUS of Viktor, how can you even begin to imagine that?!

Maybe logic, when it came to matters of Ron Weasley, wasn't really all that great. The voice she enjoyed listening to certainly acted that way. For instance, right now it was saying, See, Hermione? Do you recognize that? It's called a compliment! Ron's given you a ton of those and you know it! Yes you do but you won't admit it. Oh, come on, you're smart enough to know that he likes you about as much as you like him. Look at his ears right now. Bright red! Just how you like them. Honestly, do something about it!

The most confusing part was that she wouldn't listen to either voice. Oh, she didn't think that Ron didn't like her; there was definitely a possibility that he did, although only Merlin knew why. But she wasn't about to just say, "Yeah, by the way, I might have forgotten to mention that I've fancied you for the past five years." That would just freak him out. She didn't want that.

"Hermione?"

Ron's voice snapped her out of her deep reverie. She blinked rapidly, her eyes rather wide, and said, "Erm, yeah, I just...what did you ask again?"

He started to snigger but stopped suddenly. "I didn't ask anything," he said. "Why, what were you thinking about? Probably something really important, since you obviously weren't paying attention to me. You were probably thinking of how to knit house-elf sweaters now, that's definitely more important than listening to me, your best friend. Or maybe..." He snapped his fingers. "I KNEW IT! You're in contact with Vicky aren't you? You're probably thinking of what to tell him in your next letter, about how you're stuck here doing homework with me!"

"Ron, STOP!" Hermione snapped. "Really, you are being SO silly. No, I'm not thinking about Viktor--stop calling him Vicky already. And will you stop accusing me and jumping to conclusions like that?"

"I will, as soon as you tell me what was so damn important that you had to ignore me," Ron said, looking livid.

"No, I don't think I will, you'd just find another excuse to accuse me about sneaking out to visit Viktor in the middle of the night or something--"

"WHAT?? Don't tell me you've actually been doing that, 'cause if you have--"

Hermione closed her eyes, praying for patience with the hot-tempered red head she was so fond of. "Let's just drop it right there! Honestly, why would you think I would do that, Viktor is just my friend--"

Ron snorted. "Friend, my arse." He ignored the reproaching look she gave him for swearing. "If he's your friend, then why--"

But Ron was interrupted, not by Hermione, but by a small ball of gray fluff that zoomed in through the window and hooted happily as it hit his face. "Stupid bloody bird," he muttered, picking Pigwidgeon off his face and untying the letter wrapped around the minute owl's leg. "Go away," he said, glaring at the bird. Pigwidgeon gave an indignant hoot and flew out of the room, probably to Ginny's room.

"Troll of a bird, that git, flying into my face like a ruddy--Harry's coming!" Ron's face lit up. "He says he just needs someone to bring him over and--MUM!"

"Ron! Don't do that, it's rude! Go down and talk to her properly!" Hermione scolded. Ron tried to hide a grin and ran down the stairs, still shouting, "MUM!" Hermione giggled. That's Ron for you, both voices said, rather amused.

END POV

The doorbell rang.

"MUM!" came Dudley's piggy little voice. "If that's the pizza man, tell him thanks a lot for keeping me waiting, tell him he's a prat, tell him I ordered the pizza five minutes ago and that they're late."

Harry shook his head. Aunt Petunia couldn't get any thicker for her own good. She allowed Dudley to eat junk like pizza as long as he "stuck to his diet." Did the woman not realize that Dudley was always going to resemble a slightly large baby dinosaur?

Aunt Petunia's shriek of, "You! VERNON, COME DOWN HERE!" told Harry it most definitely was not the pizza man. Snatching Hedwig's cage, he began dragging his trunk down the stairs. As he reached the bottom steps, he saw Mr. Weasley looking slightly harassed under Uncle Vernon's icy glare. Ginny was standing behind Mr. Weasley. She looked up, met Harry's eyes, grinned, and waved. Harry returned the grin and wave, feeling his stomach do a slight somersault. Must be the meat loaf Aunt Petunia made for dinner. Uncle Vernon's neck less purple face rounded on him, his piggy eyes looking furious.

"You didn't tell me you were being picked up by the freaks, boy!" he bellowed. Harry didn't flinch.

"Like you would care," he responded.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "Now, Mr. Dursley, let's act like civilized men."

Uncle Vernon's eyes widened. "Don't you dare talk to me about civilized people, not being one of--one of them!" He turned back to Harry and opened his mouth, but Mr. Weasley began speaking before Uncle Vernon could utter a word.

"Come now, Mr. Dursley, let's not call each other names. And don't mistreat Harry like this. I daresay you do remember the chat you had with myself and another somewhat, er, misshapen gentleman?" The corners of Mr. Weasley's mouth twitched. Harry choked back a snigger and, apparently, so did Ginny.

Uncle Vernon shot a dirty look at Mr. Weasley before turning to Harry and saying, in a voice of forced politeness, "Good-bye," and after gulping, "Harry." Harry smirked and strode past him. Mr. Weasley took his trunk and headed toward a small, hot pink car. Harry followed grinning; he imagined what Uncle Vernon must be making of such a car. Ginny looked back, said, "Bye now!" and followed Harry.

On the drivers seat was Mundungus, smelling strongly of tequila. No longer wondering where the car had come from, Harry said, "Hi, Dung." Mundungus nodded and muttered, "G'day, 'Arry."

"C'mon, Harry," Ginny said, opening the back doors. Harry smiled and held open the door. She looked confused for a moment. "Wha--oh, thanks," she said, climbing in. Harry followed her with an odd queasy feeling in his stomach. Damn meatloaf. When Mr. Weasley had jumped in, Mundungus set off, driving at funny speeds.

Harry cleared his throat and glanced sideways at Ginny. "So...heard from Dean?" He still couldn't believe that Ginny had yet another boyfriend, and Dean of all people! Not that Ginny shouldn't have a boyfriend, and Dean wasn't a bad guy...it was just that Harry had always thought of Ginny as a little girl, and knowing she had a boyfriend...well, it put her in a much different perspective.

Ginny smiled. "Yeah, says he's great. He's in Ireland, over at Seamus's place."

Harry nodded. "Is that so?" he said, feigning interest. If he really called herself her boyfriend, he should have been around her more. At least it was what Harry would have done. He kept this to himself, though, watching Ginny's face against the setting sun behind her.

She sighed. "I don't know about this. Dean's really nice but...oh, I don't know, it doesn't feel too right, you know?"

Harry grinned inwardly and nodded. "Well, yeah, after a while, it got kind of weird, being together with Cho and all. I'm glad I'm free of that, to tell you the truth." Ginny nodded but didn't say anything more. The rest of the ride to the Burrow was pretty quiet, except, when they were reaching Ottery St. Catchpole, Ginny spoke.

"Ron and Hermione really missed you. You should have seen Ron when he got your response. He was screaming for Mum to get you a ride over here and hasn't stopped beaming ever since. They're both really glad that you decided to come. So am I." Harry swallowed a strange lump in his throat. Ginny smiled and added, "It's nice to have another friend around."

Oh. "Yeah, friends...friends are great," Harry noted rather stupidly, and said no more as they arrived at the Burrow.

While he and Ginny took his trunk out, Mr. Weasley spoke to Mundungus. "You sure you don't want to stay for dinner, Dung?"

Mundungus shook his head. "Erm, no, I don't think so, Arthur, I'll pass, thanks." He kept looking around anxiously, as if wanting to leave before Mrs. Weasley saw the car, which, in Harry's opinion, was rather wise.

"Well, thanks anyway," Mr. Weasley said, shaking Mundungus's hand.

"No problem, really, Arthur, my pleasure...g'bye, 'Arry, Ginny." And with that, he sped away.

Ginny giggled. "Dung's a nice guy, even if Mum's not too fond of him." She and Harry laughed. Mr. Weasley dragged Harry's trunk to the front door, followed by Ginny and Harry, who was carrying Hedwig's cage.

The door swung open before Mr. Weasley even knocked. Mrs. Weasley bounded out and embraced Harry so tightly he could scarcely breathe. "Oh, I'm so glad you're here, Harry dear, we've missed you so much!"

"Fanks, Mrs. Weezy," came Harry's muffled voice.

Feet were pounding down the stairs. Mrs. Weasley let go of him just in time to see Ron and Hermione appearing, both wearing overjoyed grins. Hermione threw her arms around his neck, obscuring his vision with her uncontrollable hair. When she let go of him, Ron clapped him on the back and said, "Great to have you here, mate."

Harry's last greeting came as he was walking in. "Hello again, Pig," he said when the tiny owl slammed cheerfully into his face. Everyone chuckled. Maybe it's not such a bad idea, being here.

A/n: so? Like it? Well, I hope I get a lot of feedback from you guys and I'll try to update soon, with a chapter that includes less angst and more R/Hr-ness. And I know that they really can't communicate much over owls, but I just put this exception.

Isa =)