Author's Note: Hello. The story you are going to read is my Dream Project. I have planned it from nearly three months and the other stories I have wrote/writing were/are for refining my technique, so I can make this a pleasant experience. I was supposed to wait more, as I have planned that I will write it after I complete one of my long fics. But yesterday, I was writing a new poem cum song and the feeling of this story got so hard that I decided right there and then that I will write this story, no matter what happen. So, I started writing it at exactly 10:06 PM on 02, June, 2010, Wednesday.

This is an A/U story which follows Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows up to Chapter 36, 'The Flaw in the Plan'. It does not follow epilogue and as a matter of fact I have disregarded most of JKR interviews like I usually do. It's an emotional story, whose rough plan I have had in my mind. Some of its scene had made me cry.

The story is rated T for the time being. But it will be turned M in the upcoming chapters.

DISCLAIMER: I own none of the things created by JKR in the Harry Potter world.

INSPIRATION: We now come to the sad part. To be true I don't know from where I actually got the inspiration. Maybe it was just fully my idea, but to some extent I think it was favoured by a book, I have read in PDF. It was about a true story, it was a true story. And I'm really sorry I can't name it now, because it will reveal much. But I will name it at the end of this fic.

REQUEST: For all those people who somehow hate me [I'm not aware of any, but still], don't try to take out your anger on this fic. And when I say this I'm damn serious about it. And when I say that, I bloody mean it. If I find even one over-the-line criticism for this story, I will make my best to have that person pay. Because this story is very much near my heart and there's nothing in whole and as a matter of fact, there's nothing in whole wide spread of internet I care more about. This fic is like a baby to me, a child of mine and I would be damned if I let anyone trash it. For the moment Anonymous reviews are enabled for this story, but if I ever found that power being mutilated I will disable it and do everything in my power to find the person.

It's not like I don't like my other stories, I do, but none of them is as close to my heart as this story is. And I am not trying to scare-off criticisers; I am merely pleading that don't criticise it when there's nothing wrong in it. So, I request, please don't do anything which will left me fuming because I myself don't what my reaction will be. I want to say so much more, but than they will just come in the more dangerous field… So anyway, I had made my points clear.

Chapter's Note: I usually don't post these. But I am inclined to post it here. This chapter wasn't planned; I just added it to give myself some more time, before I start writing the actual story and to bind readers to read the story. This is a rather short chapter, because I couldn't dare to reveal much. So without further ado, I present you the story, my Dream Project.

The Ticking Life
Chapter — 0
Snippet's of Future

The air around the Burrow was gentle and caressing, breezing through the trees. It left a pleasant sensation when it breezed through the clothes and hit the skin. The blue sky was dusted with white clouds, which were sprawled randomly around it. Sun was shining over the Burrow; the sunlight warm and soothing. The surroundings were pleasant enough to lay on the garden grass and enjoy the weather.

Two children were running around, laughing and enjoying themselves. The one, who looked older, changed his appearance continuously, his hairs turning from black to red to turquoise to green, while the smaller one chased the older; both enjoying themselves to their fullest.

"HARRY JAMES WEASLEY," shouted a bushy brown haired woman. Her hairs were tied back with a ribbon in a messy ponytail. She looked happy, yet there was a sad look on her face, which was reflected in her eyes.

"Yes Mum," said Harry, his hazel eyes looking innocently at her Mum.

"Stop running around like you are being chased by a herd of hippogriffs," said her Mum, looking a bit defeated.

"But Mum," said Harry, "you didn't say anything to Ted. He was the one who started to run first and I was just catching him." He pouted, his eyes turning big and soulful.

"You are just two," said her Mum, slumping in a corner.

"I will be three soon," said Harry, a little indignantly.

"I know," said her Mum.

"Aunt Hermione," said Ted, "what is today's date?"

"Why?" asked Hermione, "today is 28th of July."

"Mum," said Harry, excitedly, "are we going to meet uncle Harry. I read him about in books, he killed Voldemort."

"Yes dear," said Hermione, her eyes getting a far away look, "yes, we are going to meet him."

"I will make him proud," said Ted, puffing out his chest.

"I'm sure," said Hermione, smiling, "now let's take you back home."

"Aren't you going to meet Aunt Ginny?" enquired Ted.

"I was," said Hermione, glancing at her watch, "But one hour has passed since we were supposed to meet and I don't think she is coming now."

"Okay," both the boys mumbled as Hermione got up and brushed her clothes. A popping sound came from a distance and they saw a petite red head figure running to them.

"Aunt Ginny," both the boys squealed and ran to gave her a hug. Ginny scooped both the boys in her arm, looking at them adoringly and after a while of cradling, she put them down.

"You are getting quite heavy Ted," Ginny teased, but like Hermione her eyes held a sad and far away look.

"I'm not," Teddy mumbled while Harry laughed aloud and started running when Ted growled, "You will pay for it."

The two boys resumed their playing, while the women walked to a secluded corner and sat on the grass. It gave them privacy and a good eye on the two boys.

"They look happy, don't they?" asked Ginny looking at the playing boys.

"Get to the point," said Hermione rather stiffly and coldly.

Ginny blanched but didn't reciprocate. She behaved as she was subjected to these kinds of behaviour quite often. Instead she ducked her head, sighed and said in a voice thick with emotions, "Do you think he have forgiven me?" Tears started rolling down her eyes as her body shook with sobs.

Hermione stiffened more, looked at Ginny with an expression of somewhere between disdain and pity and said, her voice a little softer but still holding the cold tone, "He will surely have. But I will never. After what you did to him, after what your family did to him, I will rather embrace death then forgiving you lot."

"Don't say that," said Ginny, looking up, her eyes sparkling with tears.

"Don't." Hermione laughed derisively, "You should have thought about it before doing that, doing that —" Hermione broke off as tears spilled from her eyes and her body shook with sobs.

Ginny and Hermione both cried, but none of them embraced the other; none of them gave the other a shoulder to cry on. The tension and the bitterness between them were palpable. Hermione was the first one to regain her composure. She quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and said, "Do you have anything important to talk about or I should go?"

"Give me that for a minute," said Ginny, her voice pleading, as she outstretched her hands in a begging manner.

"No," Hermione said, refusing point blankly as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Please Hermione," begged Ginny, her head hung low.

"I said it one time and I will repeat it thousand time; no," said Hermione, glaring at Ginny.

"It's as much as mine as it is yours," said Ginny, lifting her head to look at Hermione. Her face was red and her red tresses were falling all over her face. Her eyes had a steely glint in them.

"Don't demand in front of me," said Hermione standing up, "you have lost that power a long time ago."

"I am not demanding," said Ginny standing up, "I just want it for five minutes. Then you can have it back, just for five minutes, Hermione, just for five minutes. Please Hermione." As Ginny said this, her eyes filled with tears. She outstretched her hands again, joined the palms by their sides and hung her head low between the gap of her arms.

Hermione, for a moment, looked like she might give her what she was asking for, but then her expressions changed and turned hard. She turned around, started to walk toward the boy and said coldly, without turning to look at her, "You should have thought about it before Ginny. Than you could have much better then what you are asking for now."

Ginny stood there, stunned in silence. The soothing breeze flew through her hair, whipping them around as she looked at the retreating back of her former best friend.

"Let's go boys," said Hermione, "we have nothing to do here and we don't belong here anymore."


Wizards and witches were rushing around; all of them looking around frantically. They were in the Ministry of Magic; the highly polished dark wood floor was looking grim, because of all the shoe dirt and crumbs of hastily eaten breakfast. The fireplaces which were gilded in the wall were roaring green continuously, as witch and wizard continue to arrive with a soft whoosh. Everyone seemed to be in frenzy and no one took notice of the other.

No one noticed a tall, gangly looking redhead entering the Ministry from a fireplace. As he strode toward the lift, someone called to his retreating back, "Mr. Weasley, over here."

The redhead stopped in his tracks, as all the other people present there too. Their eyes flew to the redhead and some of them started yelling, "Ron"; "Mr. Weasley"; while some of them continued to move, merely nodding in his direction.

Ron scowled and scurried toward his caller.

"Bloody hell Rupert," said Ron, through gritted teeth, "can't you say it after casting an amplifier charm on your throat."

"Sorry, Mr. Weasley," said Rupert, "but the Minister called you immediately. You are late."

"I'm not," said Ron, walking toward the lift, "I was in bloody waiting line for the Floo to get clear."

"You could have just Apparated or entered from the visitor entrance," said Rupert, curtly.

"Apparition, I couldn't," said Ron, looking grim.

"And if I may ask, why sir?" said Rupert, looking up at him.

"Last time I did that, I landed on a witch who had just Apparated here," said Ron, his ears turning red, "Do you know how embarrassing it was for me? She was ready to hex me into next week, but stopped when she saw my face."

They both climbed in the lift and not even a moment later it was cramped with people.

"Oh," said Rupert, a small smile on his lips, "And what about the visitor entrance?"

"It is cramped too," said Ron, looking resigned, "And people would have hogged me if they would have seen me there. So, Floo was the safest."

"I understand sir," said Rupert, climbing out of the lift. They both walked to the end of a long corridor. Rupert rapped the large highly polished mahogany gates and the door opened. They both strode forward in the room. Rupert immediately left Ron side and started conversing with a blonde woman sitting on a table just some metres away from the second set of wood gate, on which was written 'Minister of Magic' in gold cursive alphabets.

Rupert strode forward, pushed the door open and moved aside. Ron headed in and the doors closed back, as soon as he walked in.

"Ron," said the Minister. He was a tall, bald black man with a gold earring in one ear.

"Minister," said Ron, giving a nod.

"Stop the formalities and call me Kingsley," said Kingsley as he motioned for Ron to take a seat. Ron nodded, sat on a chair and sighed.

When Ron didn't speak up, Kingsley took the lead and said, "How's everything going? Everything working out as planned?"

Ron sighed again, leaned on the back of the chair and said, "Yes. The surprise is coming very well. We will have it ready by 30th, one day before his birthday. Do you think he —"

"Yes Ron, I believe that," said Kingsley interjecting him, "If he knew about it, he would have supported it."

"Somehow I don't believe it," said Ron, and for the first time his face showed pain and self loathing, "Anyway thanks for all your help. If it wasn't for your help, I would still have been drowned in all the paperwork."

"It's nothing." Kingsley waved it off with a wave of his hand and said, smirking, "And I believe you will be ready with a scrubber to scrub the Atrium floor when this is over."

Ron smiled, but it was a forced smile, as he said, "I will do anything to make a small dent in the inhumanly amount of penance I need to do in order to pay back for my sins."

Kingsley looked at him sadly as a tear escaped from Ron's eye and slid down his cheek.


"Ah Minerva," came a voice from a portrait. The portrait occupant had silvery-white long hairs and beard and had twinkling blue eyes. He was wearing half-moon spectacles and had a grim look on his face.

"Yes, Albus," said a woman. She was old, her hairs were knotted in a bun and her face was lined with wrinkles and loose skin.

"I have heard rumors about happening of something," said Albus, "And I was hoping that you would know better than me, seeing that now I am only able to roam picture frames and you are better acquainted than me."

"The rumors are correct," said Minerva, "Ron Weasley is planning something for Harry's birth… birthday."

"And do you know, what he is planning?" asked Albus, his eyes loosing the twinkle.

"No, I don't know," said Minerva, "Only some handful of people know what he is planning and all of them refuse to divulge any detail."

"Ah," said Albus, sitting in his throne like chair and looking old, "I hope it is good and meets his standard. Otherwise Hermione will blast all of them to pieces."

"True," said Minerva, smiling fondly yet with a trace of looming sadness.


Ginny stood alone, watching her former best friend, heading toward the Burrow to use the fireplace and get out of here. The wind was still breezing around, as pleasantly as ever, but the atmosphere around the Burrow had became rather stiff. There was the click of closing of the door and barely audible whoosh of Floo, confirming Hermione departure. Ginny slumped to her knees, her body wrenching with sobs, all the while tears spilled from her eyes because she had still kept a sliver of hope that Hermione would turn around and answer her and would let her use that. But she hadn't.

"Am I so bad?" Ginny cried, banging her small fist on the ground.

"She won't let me talk to you, she won't let me near you," said Ginny, her brown eyes pleading with the ground to understand, "Why? I love you, Harry. I was a fool and now I know. But, but, but…"

Ginny sucked a noisy breath and tipped her head on the ground. The thump was rather loud and painful, but Ginny ignored it. She gazed in the sun, until her eyes were dazzled and started to throb. All the while, she continued to chant under her breath, "I love you Harry, I love you Harry, I love you Harry…"


"It's a beautiful house. Isn't it?" said a silver haired wizard, who had a high pitch, wheezy voice.

"Yes, it is Elphias," said the other wizard. He had thick straw coloured hair and square jaw face.

"And it has the most beautiful name, Sturgis," said Elphias, his eyes glistening with tears, "The most beautiful name I have ever seen for a house."

"Some will say it is very peculiar name for a house," said Sturgis.

"Then they are a bunch of fools," said Elphias, "It is a reminder of Dumbledore and at the same time, it tells what kind of house it is."

"True, true," agreed Sturgis, "very true, indeed."


A redhead figure was working in a corner, his wand a whirl of colour. He was of average built. Cauldrons around him smoked and bubbled, casting different colour hazes around the one window room.

"What are you doing down there, all alone?" came a woman voice. She sounded irritated.

"Working," replied the redhead almost automatically.

"You have been there for two days," said the woman, exasperated, "You haven't even been on the shop George, for Merlin sake."

"Sorry love," said George, "but what I am doing is very important and is of the top most priority. I can't delay it."

The woman entered the workshop. She was a tall black girl, who now had a scowl on her face.

"What is this all about?" snarled the woman, making George jump.

"Relax Angelina," said George, "its all for the big surprise Ron is planning for Harry's birthday."

"Oh," said Angelina, "so why didn't you tell me before. I can manage the shop pretty well myself. You work here and complete them." She finished with a tone that was meant to be followed.

"Will do it love," said George, giving his wife a peck on her cheek, before giving his full attention to his work.


"Get up love," said a blonde haired, pink face woman.

"What?" mumbled a brown haired man, still sprawled on the bed, his eyes closed.

"Get up Neville, NOW," said the woman and she sounded irritated. Neville shot up from the bed shaking his head to remove the last traces of sleep from his eyes.

"Get ready," said the woman, "you need to meet Ron."

"Yes, I remember." Neville yawned, standing up from the bed. He strode toward the wardrobe and yanked the door open.

"Your clothes are in the bathroom dear," said the woman.

"Thanks Hannah," replied Neville, absentmindedly.

"No problem," said Hannah, "just make sure everything goes fine."

"I will," replied Neville with a small smile.

"Now run to the bathroom," ordered Hannah, "It's going to be evening in an hour or two and you still haven't bath. Men"

Neville chuckled and headed toward the bathroom.

Author's Note: Hello once again. Hope you like the chapter. Kick my review toll to 24 and I will update. Reason. Because I have three stories to update and if I even for a second sat for writing it, I will not be able to stop. Like last night, I was writing Chapter 11 of The Year Alone, but then this struck me and I left it.

And if you are wondering why I posted this much of non-story material it is because I don't want anything to be written when the story starts. Meaning my usual A/N and reviewing thanking note will not be present in the fic upcoming chapters, or maybe I will make a permanent chapter in which I will post A/N and thank my reviewers. What do you think about it? Tell me.

Here's the first five line of my poem cum song, which steeled my resolve:

The clock is ticking,
The world is spinning,
And everything continues to move.
But I… stand steady,
Looking for you over the frenzy.

The poem more/less song is named 'Waiting'. You will probably see the full poem more/less song in one of my fics. If you like it and want to read more of my poem more/less songs, review and PM me.

And if you can, answer the poll in my profile.