Fatal Flaws

Fatal Flaws

Chapter 1

When he walked towards her that day, she was glad she had the support of the chair underneath her.

"Ginny, can I talk to you alone...for a moment?" In his eyes she saw the same look she had seen in her brother's eyes for Hermione Granger, in her best friend Danny Staedler's eye's for her and in her own eye's, reflected off the cold panes of the mirror, for him. For years she had cursed herself for the glaze of longing that seeped through her gaze, cursed herself for driving him away embarrassed and cursed her stuttering voice and burning cheeks every time she saw him. But today, it was different. She appeared calm as she smiled up at him. Inside, a silent earthquake was trembling.

She had a dream last night, in which he had said the same words in that same sandstorm voice. The thirst in his eyes was not unlike the figure in her dream. Last night, she had sashayed up to him with a predatory prowl and purred in his ears: "What about sugar?"

Of course, in her dream, she did not have a spray of food stuck to her face. Next to her, Hannah Abbott calmly wiped her mouth as though she had not just spluttered at him in unflattering surprise.

"Sorry Gin, " said Hannah handing her a tissue without taking her eyes off him. "Gotta go! Loads of work to do!" With a wave and a grin on her face as though Christmas had arrived early - or a particularly juicy piece of gossip had been handed to her on a plate - she raced out of the library.

They were left alone to talk.

Later, as Ginny sped down the hallway to the Gryffindor common room, she realized that she should have imprinted every detail, his every word into her memory. All she could remember was her blurred version of what he had said and her fuzzy reply.

By the time she had stumbled into her shared dormitory and recounted in a mystified voice what had just occurred, gossip was already raging around the school. Everywhere, people were nodding their heads at each other and saying 'I told you so', like they had known all along; like it was as expected as Blaise Zabini's weekly snog sessions or Luna lovegood's dreamy peculiarity.

Of course it is expected, they say, Ginny and Harry are meant to be.

~*****~

Harry walked through the portrait hole and stared.

A roomful of grinning faces gazed back.

Behind them, were several huge banners usually saved for Quidditch wins or House Championships. They usually depicted Malfoy with various body parts missing (One that had always been a favourite involved Malfoy and a particularly twiggy broomstick in various poses). Now, however, it read: HARRY AND GINNY: THE GOLDEN COUPLE. Another: CONGRADULATIONS, YOU DID IT! on which showed a dragon breathing fire at an extremely muscular version of Harry holding an 18^th century looking Ginny in his arms.

For a while Harry stared incomprehensibly at the banners while his housemates awaited his response. The spell was broken when the portrait door opened and Ron Weasley, Harry's best friend, stumbled in.

"Oomph! What are you standing in the doorway for you git? I could've -" He stopped abruptly when he caught sight of the banners and blanched. "Harry? Ginny...?" He stood back and looked at Harry, hard, then grabbed his arm and dragged him into their dormitory.

The common room burst into a buzz of excited chatter.

~*****~

Ron shut the door and whirled around to face his friend.

"Alright Harry, what's the deal with my sister?"

Harry, who had not expected such a hostile tone from him, could only stutter out his confusion. "What - What'd you mean?"

"I mean, you don't like her, so what's this business about you having asked her out?"

"But I do like her."

Ron let out an exasperated sigh. "You told me only last term that - quote: "No offence Ron, but your sister is just not the 'type' for me." And now, suddenly, after the summer break you find her devastatingly attractive?"

"She is pretty but...."

"So it's her witty charm? Her smashing personality?"

"She's got a great personality!" Harry said defensively. Whether it was to her defence or his own he wasn't sure. Ron glared at him. "Look, I don't know what your problem is with me liking your sister Ron, but I don't think it's fair."

"My problem is that you're using her! Don't think I don't know about Cho. Oh no, don't deny it. I know you told us you were over her, but I can see it in your eyes. You're using MY sister to make Cho jealous. How could you Harry?"

Harry, who had expected to hear anything but what had actually come out of Ron's mouth, widened his eyes at the absurdity of his argument. He burst out laughing.

"Why are you laughing? It's not a laughing matter Harry. This is my sister you're doing this to, and as a brother I have to do whatever is necessary to protect her - "

"Ron, shut up!" Still wiping tears from his eyes, he took a deep breath and explained.

Ron's eyes widened. "And all this time, she never said anything! And I'm her brother! She should have at least told me."

"Yeah," Harry said with raised eyebrows, "just like you'll tell her everything about you and Hermione."

Ron blushed right to the red roots of his carrot coloured hair. After being with Hermione for two months, he was still not comfortable with the word 'couple' or 'you and Hermione'.

"We haven't done anything worth telling," he managed to growl from the depth of his throat. By this time, his ears were almost sizzling with heat. Suddenly a thought occurred to him and he threw a sidelong glare at Harry, "though I wouldn't know about you and Ginny...."

Harry was suddenly very interested at the frayed edge of his sleeves.

~*****~

The next morning, as the Great Hall filled itself with the usual half - lidded students dragging themselves to their respective House tables, Harry felt unusually cheerful. Last night, after Ron's recital of the 'Weasley's dating Laws', ("No alone-time in private, no dating without a suitable chaperone - yep, that's me, myself and I, no touching at all, no unusual objects nearby, No showing her your magazine collection, no showing her your room, no showing her the Astronomy tower, in fact - no showing her anything (glare)....") he had gone back downstairs to the common room, apologised for his unconventional behaviour and kissed Ginny on the nose, much to the annoyance of Ron. After the wolf-whistles and cheers had died down, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione had sat down to study in companiable silence. Almost companiable: Ron kept shooting them sidelong glances as though otherwise they would grab each other in a heat of passion and snog all over the table.

Now, as Harry walked to the Gryffindor table, he swooped down and planted a kiss on Ginny's cheek. She smiled at him blushing hotly as he sat down beside her.

"Hey...Harry, toast?" Around her, every pair of eyes stared across at them. Harry tried to ignore them.

"Thanks," he said casually, as though the eyes had not suddenly swivelled in his direction.

He bit into his toast, still aware of the curious looks not only from their own table but also from other houses. He even thought he saw Malfoy's minions, Crabbe and Goyle stand on tiptoes at the other side of the room trying to gauge what they were saying. A second later they were pulled back down again by a seething Malfoy. Harry would have been amused if he was not the subject of so much attention.

Might as well give them something to actually talk about rather than stare at, he thought dejectedly.

"Ginny," he turned towards her, trying desperately to block out the beady eyes around him, all of whom were trying in vain to hide their stares by continuously shovelling bowls of porridge into their mouths.

"Hogsmeade weekend's coming up, do you want to meet me for a Butterbeer or something?"

Ginny let out a squeak and nodded, looking around awkwardly, warily.

There was almost a collective sigh amongst the inhabitants of the hall as his invitation confirmed their rumours.

The Great hall resumed its chatter, and Harry released a sigh of relief.

~*****~

Her hair, smooth and cool under his touch, entwined itself demurely between his fingers. As he snaked his hand through the fiery ringlets, he thought he heard her purr. It was a purr so soft that he felt it lightly brush his cheeks leaving his body tingling and hot.

"Harry," she whispered, sitting up and staring at him with her wide eyes, " will you miss me when I'm gone?"

He laughed at her, touching her cheeks lightly with his fingertips.

"Of course, but I'll see you a week later. I'll be seeing you soon."

"Yes," he saw her look away, not meeting his eyes, "but perhaps things will not be the same."

He opened his mouth to answer, but there was nothing to say.

It was not a question.

He felt her lips on his neck and let his hands run along her back. But he could not forget the finality in those words, nor what they could mean.

~*****~

Monday morning, Harry, Ron and Hermione found themselves dragging their feet into the dungeon for their first potions lesson - with the Slytherins. Somehow, the coldness in the Potions room had even more of a hostile edge than usual. The iciness seemed to emanate straight from the hard stonewalls. The ceiling appeared higher and even the grains of wood on the tables seemed sharper and more defined.

What Harry noticed most, however, was the intensity of the glare he received from Draco Malfoy. Though their arch-rivalry was well - known throughout the school, never had the hatred been so direct, so forceful. Harry was so taken aback by Malfoy's fury, that he stood rooted to his spot, unable to tear his eyes away.

"Potter!" Snape's oily voice cut into his thoughts, "As much as we'd all like to know about your secretly harboured feelings for Mister Malfoy, might I remind you that this is a potions class and not one for gawking like a dribbling idiot."

Sniggers echoed through the dungeon, but Snape was not finished. "I would also like to remind all three of you that although Dumbledore has appeared to have joined your little fan club and has allowed you to join Potions despite your lack of satisfactory potions' OWLs, I will NOT be allowing you any special treatment based on your overtly sized heads." He hissed the last part and Harry bit back a retort, fuming inside. How could he say that? After what has happened? After Sirius - how could he - but Snape had already continued.

"...I have also set rules for the academically inept of our class..." from the corner of Harry's eyes he could see Hermione's face growing hotter by the second. Whether it was from anger or humiliation, he was not sure

"...These rules include: An automatic suspension from the class after being three times late, automatic suspension if ever a piece of homework is handed in late or not at all, and," he glared at them, his slitted eyes fixed onto them like burning coals, "dismissal from the class altogether after three detentions."

Then his mouth curled into a sneer.

Harry, afterwards, would always remember that sneer and hate him for it. No matter how many times Snape has saved his life, Harry would always remember that look on his face and vanish whatever fuzzy feeling he may suddenly have for the man, and go back to loathing Snape with twice the intensity. He knows, Harry thought then, he knows why I have to do Potions, and yet he doesn't care. Not only does he not care but he will do all he can to prevent me. To stop me from being an Auror. To stop me from avenging Sirius. Does he hate me so much? Or does he hate Sirius? Harry straightened his shoulders and firmed his chin. I won't let him stop me.

When he finally sat down at a desk with Hermione and Ron, he could feel two pairs of eyes narrowed towards him and imagined the glint off the edge of a knife.

~*****~

Draco Malfoy sat by the fire, staring broodingly into the leaping flames. In front of the flickering background of red, orange and yellow, Harry Potter's face lingered before another, more delicate, and slightly paler figure appeared alongside. The dancing flames encircled her face, outlining her beauty with a dangerous edge. The expression on her face, he tried to forget, but it had stuck with him ever since that very first potions lesson of the year. It had stuck with him ever since Potter walked into the room and Draco noted the immediate flicker of her eyes and the tension in her gaze. No, he corrected bitterly, it was before that. The first time he had seen that look on her face was the day after they had arrived at Hogwarts after the train ride.

He heard the news first from the First Years; the ones who's sneers and smirks had not yet embedded themselves onto their faces. The little ones who still believed that everyone was equal; that everyone was treated on the same level despite the competition between houses. Those who still smiled when approached by another House and its members.

"Hi," they cried out excitedly to each other, to the Hufflepuffs from across the room and the Ravenclaws whom they had befriended on the train. "We just heard from Jake and Sonja, from Gryffindor that...."

All craned their necks in anticipation as the news spread itself to every outstretched and eager ear. Draco, too, unashamedly pricked up his ears. Any gossips about the Gryffindors were useful to exploit.

"Harry Potter has a new girlfriend..."

At this Draco frowned with immense irritation. Of course it would be about our favourite little midget, well what's our potty up to this time? Stutter out a wee little lie?

"...Ginny Weasley - you know that Fifth Year girl? The one over there...yes that red head. He's with her." They pointed and they stared, as though star-struck.

"I wish I was Ginny Weasley," a young girl in blonde pigtails swung her head back dreamily. "It's like a fairy tale. I mean...I don't think she's very rich. I heard Daddy talk about her as 'one of the Weasleys' so I know they aren't one of us, but now...she's with the famous, rich, handsome Harry Potter. It's like she's the poor princess, and he's the prince that saves her...."

Draco snorted in disgust. A prince indeed, and a gawky, idiotic, bigheaded one at that. He turned his head and caught sight of her bright red hair. She was standing only a few steps away from him, staring wide-eyed at the first Years, frozen. He walked towards her, his legs laden with lead, each step numbing his senses. Here's a princess, he thought, a smile playing on his face.

"Hey..." he whispered softly when he reached her, touching her arm. Her skin felt rigid under his touch. Her gaze was still burning into the group of little gossipers in the corner. He took a step back, looking at her properly for the first time. Framing her delicate features were spirals of curls bouncing from her shoulders. The rest were cascading down her back, straight and wispy. Her grey eyes, that had always reminded him of his own, were now in a whirl of rage and pain, stricken with loss and a throbbing sense of intense longing. Her soft pouty lips were moist and open, her breath coming out as light puffs of white vapour escaping into the atmosphere and disappearing.

She did not appear to have seen him.

That was when it struck him and he realised what she had done. He saw stretched before him the consequences of her actions. It was a dangerous game to play.

To fall in love with the enemy.

~*****~

"Ok, Ron, let's take it again. Make your moves ambiguous. Pretend you think they'll go for the right hoop when you really think they'll go for the left. Right, let's go! "

The quaffle sped across the pitch in a blur of colour. Hermione smiled grimly to herself as she watched the game, her mouth tightening into a grimace as the players shot towards the goals. Personally, she thought that Quidditch was the most horrible sport ever invented - even worse than the flobberworm races she had once been to (in which the game ended with a draw, because no one could be bothered to keep track of which flobberworms were which). No, Quidditch was much worse because it was so dangerously fast. She could never stop herself from worrying about who would be next to crash onto the ground with a bone-crunching crack. She worried about all the players, of course, but her hands would always start clutching her face whenever a ball got near Harry or Ron. Any ball...whether it be the Quaffle, or worse, the bludgers.

Practices were slightly less tense than the actual matches. Sometimes she wonders whether she would actually drive herself insane with worry if ever she had to stay indoors during a match. On the day of the matches, she was as nervous as the players themselves, and often felt like Mrs Weasley, mothering her boys with a fussiness that felt sickening, even to herself.

Loud raucous laughter wrenched her eyes away from the pitch and to the stands.

"Slytherins again!" Ron spat out, his eyes narrowing. The Slytherins had taken to haunting their practices, claiming permission from Snape to 'supervise' House practices and to give them 'pointer'. Of course, it was not against the rules for them to be there. The area around the Hogwarts Castle was everyone's property, free to roam, as they liked. However, common courtesy, adopted as tradition by other houses, was to allow each team the freedom to practice in private. But then again, no one could accuse the Slytherins of having a decent shred of human morality. They prided themselves in their lack of such 'muggle-ness'.

Harry just rolled his eyes and turned his back, ignoring them. He bade the team to do the same.

"Ok, very good, Ron. But let's do it again. This time, focus on your Swerve technique: your reflex turn. The team could do with some slow practice as well so let's all go slow ok?"

Hermione felt her lips curve again into a smile, although this time, it was wide and full, filled with an odd sense of pride. Harry really was a fantastic captain. She remembered his face, taut and anxious, when he was told the news.

"What if I can't think up good plays? What if they don't like my ideas? What if we lose?"

Hermione had shaken her head, rolled her eyes and, like a dutiful friend, she had patted Harry on the arm.

"You'll be great Harry. Besides, you'll have Ron's support!" Instead of being reassured however, his eyes had widened further with a look of such horror that she almost laughed aloud.

"Ron!" he had whispered hoarsely. "What if I have to criticize Ron? What if I need to tell him off? How is he going to handle that? Hermione, just kill me now." Then, with a dramatic despairing flop, he had dropped into a chair and placed his face in his hands.

Now, as Hermione watched him criticize Ron without seeming to, and watched Ron realise this with a gratified smile, she suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the troll that had pulled the trio together with a binding force far stronger than any normal friendship. I will treasure it, she thought fiercely, if ever it is broken, I will do everything in my power to pick up the pieces and make sure it is never shattered again. Of course, now that she and Ron have become 'more than friends' - although he had never said the 'L' word, ANY 'L' words, and have refrained from any demonstrations of their 'more than friends' status - the trio's bond had changed ever so slightly. But Harry didn't seem to mind...Harry has Ginny now.

Just then, a shriek resounded in the air and snapped her attention back to focus.

Ron had just come crashing down onto the hard dry earth.

Hermione was at his side in a second. Behind her, she heard the sniggers she had come to associate with the boils of hatred that had so often followed. Without even looking, she turned and slapped the pale pointed face with the trademark smirk that had turned towards her.

~*****~

"Hermione! I'm okay!" Ron moaned for the hundredth time as Hermione twittered around him like a mother bird. But, of course it was useless. Trying to stop Hermione from doing something she really wanted to do was like trying to persuade Snape to wash his greasy hair. If you valued your life, you'd keep your mouth shut, or run the other way.

With a martyred sigh, he gave up and settled back into his chair. As Hermione bustled around trying to find cuts on his body for Madame Pomfrey to mend, he decided to change the subject. Besides, there was something he wanted to ask her.

"Hermione...." He began, not quite sure how to start.

"Yes?" Perhaps she had noticed his uncertain tone, because for some reason, she stopped what she was doing and looked at him with an unusual glint in her eyes. If he didn't know better, he would have thought it looked hopeful, even expectant.

"Uh..." he mumbled, slightly unnerved by her gaze. "Stop that! You're making me nervous."

"Nervous?" Her smile deepened and this time, she actually pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. "Is there something you want to tell me Ronald Weasley?"

This is weird, Ron thought, only my mother uses my full name and that's only when she's mad. Hermione doesn't look mad. In fact...she looks kind of, well...thrilled.

"Yeah, do you know what happened during the summer between Harry and Ginny?" At this, she scowled and turned slightly away from him.

What is it now? He was getting irritated by her mood swings - especially the odd ones. She has been moody a lot lately - more often than usual. Once he had told her that she had better tie her hair up during potions or Snape would decapitate them if he found traces of hair in their potions. She had looked ready to spit nails and called him an insensitive bastard. He thought he had said it very politely but obviously not. Although, now that he thought about it, she had been wearing her hair out a lot before then but after that incident, it had been back to the usual ponytail. Maybe Snape had had a chat to her about it too. Smug git, no wonder she's been in bad moods. It's all his fault.

"All I know about Harry and Ginny is that they had been exchanging letters over the summer. And that Harry and Ginny had realised their secretly harboured feelings for each other and resolved it the mature way!" She said between clenched teeth and he saw her face getting redder by the second.

"You mean, you mean you think that they have...?" He spluttered in horror.

"No! I meant that they are holding hands in public, that they have kissed if only on the nose and cheeks IN PUBLIC, that they are not afraid to say the words 'I love you' to each other! That they ARE MATURE ABOUT IT" Ron had to edge his chair away from the red-faced witch who by then had worked herself up into such a state that Madame Pomfrey came rushing in with a frown on her face and a half brewed potion steaming in her hand.

"No exciting the patient! He needs quiet and rest!"

~*****~

The morning of the Hogsmeade weekend, Harry surprised, and rather annoyed everyone by running around to every curtain-drawn bed wearing an ensemble of different outfits.

" Do I look alright?" He kept shouting into their faces, causing most people to jump from their beds, look around startled before realising that it was only Harry and falling back beneath the covers.

When for the tenth time, "What about this shirt?" echoed around the room, it was Ron who finally gave up on trying to sleep, gave Harry a thumbs up and a "real spunky, mate" before flopping back into bed hoping to have gotten rid of his friend once and for all. Harry, who had been wearing Quidditch boxers and an oversized Dudley T-shirt at the time got the hint and refrained from disturbing the dormitory further. He picked up his favourite shirt off the floor, his best robes and the smallest pair of Dudley's jeans that he could find and tiptoed into the bathroom.

He was in a very good mood, with the minimum amount of nerves and an overload of excitement. He was going to see Ginny and actually talk to her, really talk to her for the first time in, well, what felt like a long time. He couldn't wait to see her, to feel the surges of happiness bubble inside him and her reciprocated emotions in her eyes. He could not wait to hold her again, to press her lips against his own and feel the soft and smooth touch of her hands on his body....

He shook his head vigorously, causing tiny water droplets to disappear onto the shower screens. He was not supposed to think of that. He had promised.

As he stepped outside and wrapped a towel around himself, he was once more reminded of her slight, lithe body and the curve of her hips.

Perhaps another cold shower will do....

~*****~

The light of the Three Broomsticks felt warmer and brighter than the last time he had been there. Harry, himself, felt lighter as he walked to a table holding Ginny's small hand in his. So far nothing much had been said but Harry didn't mind. They had never really had much idle talk - never talked to fill up time...well that was before. Perhaps he should not dwell so much on the past. Every now and then he needed to remind himself that many things may have changed. But she was here now. She was here with him.

"Butterbeer?" He asked, reluctantly letting go of her hand. They sat down at a corner table, away from prying eyes.

"Sure, thanks Harry." She smiled up at him and he almost skipped to the bar.

"Two Butterbeers please." He asked. Madame Rosmerta spotted him and smirked wickedly.

"Girlfriend, Harry?" Her tone was playful and naturally curious. After all, she was a barmaid, and all sorts of gossip get to her ears. When someone told her Harry Potter was with Arthur Weasley's daughter, she was all but intrigued. She looked to Harry for confirmation.

"Perhaps," he felt bold and decided to try his hand at teasing. "Perhaps not."

She laughed loudly, and handed him his Butterbeers. She didn't need words to tell her the truth. She could see it from the extra shine in Harry's eyes and lightness in his voice. Suddenly she felt wistful. Young love - puppy love.

When Harry returned to the table, he saw the awkwardness in her hands as she brought the Butterbeer to her lips, and in her eyes as they darted everywhere but at him. So much has changed between us, he thought, there would never have been such awkwardness if I hadn't opened my stupid mouth.

"Ginny..." he tried, unable to stand the silence, unable to stop himself from doing what he had promised he would never do. "Ginny, I know I promised - I know we promised never to talk about it but...."

Ginny looked up at him, clearly confused and puzzled at his bizarre choice of words. He had been waiting for her permission before really breaking the promise, but perhaps he had not made it clear enough.

"Ginny, I've wanted to say that I'm sorry about what had happened over the summer...I'm sorry for whatever I did. I know I did something wrong...but whatever it is, I hope you would forgive me." He looked down at his hands as he spoke, while her words replayed itself in his head.

"I don't think this should continue. We're worlds apart. It'll never work out."

He heard over and over the clear, sharp edge in her words and the way he had felt his heart open up and swallow the words, like poison, like an infinite disease. By the time he looked up, Ginny was looking hopelessly distressed.

I've disappointed her, he thought horrified at what he had done, I hadn't kept my promise and now she's going to break up with me...again.

"Harry," He heard her voice, as his heart banged its way through his ribcage. "Harry, I have no idea what you're talking about." He felt relief as much as an overwhelming sense of unhappiness. She's giving me another chance. Another chance to keep my promise. Another voice cut though his thoughts, cold and flint hard. She's denying your time together. She wants to forget it all. Is it likely she actually wants another relationship? Harry, however, blocked out the second glacial voice of reason and gave her a weak smile.

"Don't worry Ginny, I was...was just talking about the how you sounded a little distant these few days so I thought I had done something wrong, but," he gave a little laugh, "obviously not."

"Of course not Harry, you've never done anything wrong to me."

Her voice, he thought, sounded insubstantial and wispy. He fell silent and so did she. The rest of the evening was filled with small talk and he felt confused - with her, with himself and with their relationship.

It was a relief when she finally pronounced, in a rather tight voice, that they'd better check on her brother and Hermione.

"With a bit of luck," she said, looking away from him, "they're actually holding hands."

~*****~

That night, Ginny lay on her bed, flicking distractedly through an age-old copy of Witch Weekly. As she turned page after page without so much as a glance at its contents, her mind drifted to Harry: Harry and the terrible nightmarish date. In the morning, she had been positively sure that nothing was going to go wrong. Well, she had hoped nothing would go wrong. She had given herself a silent pep talk and by the end it all, was happily convinced that Harry liked her because she was beautiful, talented and witty.

A deep, frustrated sigh rose from her chest as she dropped the magazine onto her lap and laid her head in her arms.

By the time they had paid and left the Three Broomsticks, she had risked a sneak at Harry and was shattered by the look of loss and distraught confusion on his face. She felt it keenly, like a blunt blow on the chest after which the pain resonates but the wound disappears. She had told herself not to be silly, but could not stop the tears from streaming down her face after Harry had bade her a quick peck goodnight without so much as a glance in her direction.

The door to the girl's dormitory swung open and a voice whispered her name tentatively.

"It's all right Hermione," Ginny called out wearily, untangling herself from her bed. "The others are still out."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Astronomy Tower?"

"Charms room," Ginny grinned despite her depressing mood, "Astronomy Tower's all booked out."

Hermione looked at her for a moment and sat herself down on Ginny's bed beside her. She seemed unable to speak for a moment, and Ginny, not completely clueless when it came to relationships, could guess what was on her mind.

"Still nothing?" She asked gently, putting aside her worries for her friend. Hermione did not have many girl friends. Until that fateful year that Ginny had opened the Chamber of Secrets, Hermione had no girl friends at all - no one she could really talk to. Ginny remembered the day Harry rescued her from the Basilisk's lair with the terrifying aura that resonated the waves of power swirling around him. She remembered seeing Tom's eyes in Harry's as he told her everything was going to be all right, and remembered herself cowering away from his reassurances. It was Hermione who had consoled her then, while the rest of the girls in her year level shied away from her and refused to meet her eye. The older girl had spent hours telling her stories about what she, Harry and Ron had been through the year before and told her things about Tom that made his black eyes and cold smile appear less menacing. After that, her nightmares diminished and the two girls became fast friends.

Now, as Hermione shook her head with an air of frustration, Ginny felt a stab of pity and anger at her brother's blindness.

"Hermione - " she began, but the other girl cut her off quickly.

"I don't want to talk about it Gin. Tell me about your day with Harry."

So she told her. The words pulled from her mercilessly as she relayed the events of the day, bewildered and upset.

"...So that's it," she finished, her voice disappearing into a hollow mist, "I don't know what happened, and I don't know what he was talking about. He acted as if something happened over the summer, but...." She stopped abruptly at the look on Hermione's face.

She was looking at Ginny with an odd glint in her eyes, and a slight frown. It was the face she wore whenever a particularly easy arithmetic question would not work out and she could not figure out why.

"Ginny," she said, her voice sounding somewhat strangled and heavy. "Do you still have the letters you've received from Harry during the summer?"

Ginny had thought the evening could not turn out to be any more perplexing than it already was but obviously she had no idea. She cocked her head to one side and stared blankly at Hermione.

"What letters?"