Lighter Steps Than These

Ginny Weasley loved the feeling of wind whipping through her hair, stroking her cheeks, swirling around her. She loved the beautiful mountains, lakes, forest view of flying above the Hogwarts grounds. She loved the utter freedom of no parents yelling, no brothers yelling, no teachers yelling, nothing but the magnificent but somehow calming scenery and the harsh but somehow soothing wind.

Flying had always been one of Ginny's favourite past times. She simply didn't understand how anybody could dislike flying-- dislike the swooping and gliding and sailing and freedom. She often came out here, in the vast sky above the Hogwarts grounds, to clear her thoughts and just relax. Living first with a large, close family and then at a boarding school with dormitories, flying like this was the only time Ginny really felt like she had any privacy.

Now it was Ginny's sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and lack of privacy was the least of her worries. It was the end of October; usually Ginny loved the fall, the smell in the air, the brightly coloured leaves, the crisp clearness to it all. This year she hadn't yet had the time to appreciate it. The ordinary teenage pressures of school, classes of ever-increasing difficulty, teachers constantly telling you that you must choose your future were there in full force-- oh, yes-- with the unfortunate addition of a horrible war and the possible imminent death of her family and friends.

Ginny didn't have experience with any other wars, but she guessed that this sort of war was the hardest one for a sixteen year old to deal with. Usually in wars, the enemy is the enemy. Far away in some other country, where you never have to see them and you can dehumanise them to your heart's content. It wasn't like that here at Hogwarts. The enemy was sitting right across the Great Hall from Ginny during mealtimes, or across from her during class. The children of the enemy, anyway: the children of those who might kill your father. Who would sit there smugly as his father killed hers. They were also the future enemy: those that Ginny would see, someday, on the battlefield.

I might kill you someday,

she thought sometimes as she passed a schoolmate her age in the hallway. But more often: You might kill me.

Ginny hadn't expected the Death Eater's children to still attend Hogwarts. At the end of her fourth year, when Voldemort first made his return known to the Wizarding world, Ginny and her friends speculated on who would leave Hogwarts. They had expected Slytherin to be cut down to a fourth of its size. "No more Malfoy!" Harry had exuded, with Ron chiming in: "Yeah, no bloody way he'd come back, what with his father in Azkaban!"

Yet the next year, there was Malfoy, sitting there with the almost-full-capacity Slytherin House.

Ginny sighed and leaned close on her broomstick, swooping down to the lake as she thought about the past few years. She stopped a few feet above the surface of the water, letting the tips of her shoes skim the top of the water, leaving a gentle make of her passage, a line across the lake.

Ginny swung her legs up, resting them on the broom, so that she could lower her broom further without getting wet. Even with the cushioning charm, it was a precarious position, perched like that on a narrow rod of wood. Ginny held on with one hand as she let the other drop to the water, splashing a little with her fingers. The water was cool, but warmer than she'd expected, a little warmth still lingering in the water after the summertime, even after the air had begun to cool off.

Dumbledore said that everybody was welcome at Hogwarts, regardless of what their parents had done. He wanted to give everybody a chance; he didn't want to give up hope for anybody, or so he told the Order. They all knew that the only reason Malfoy and the other Death Eater's children were at Hogwarts was to possibly gain inside information, or to become spies. This didn't affect Dumbledore's decision to allow everybody equal access to Hogwarts. "We cannot give up on the children," Dumbledore had told the Order. "To do so would to be our greatest undoing."

I think it works against us,

Ginny would say only in her head. I think knowing Pansy will make me hesitate to kill her, but won't make her hesitate to kill me. Or it will make me hesitate longer.

Because we're the good guys, right? We're the ones with the consciences. They're the ones who will stop at nothing. How could we win against that?

The sun was approaching the mountainous horizon of Hogwarts, and Ginny realized that dinner would be served soon. Carefully, so as not to fall in the lake, she ascended enough to mount the broom in the usual way. Ginny gave one last sigh as she looked over to the western sky, which was just beginning to turn subtle shades of yellow and red.

There was so little time to be outside, alone, to try to sort things out. Ginny didn't know the next time she'd just be able to fly, no Quaffle to worry about, no Bludgers, no strategy and trying to beat somebody else, no homework, no detentions, no rules, no tests, if only for a few minutes. Every minute lately was filled with stress. Even her sleep had been horrible lately, nothing but nightmares.

Ginny sighed, let the calm soak in for one last time, and then steeled herself and flew towards the castle. She knew that she was probably late for dinner, so she made her way to one of the windows of the Gryffindor tower and looked in. This was far from the first time Ginny had just been out flying, but even so it was difficult to locate the sixth year girls' dormitory on the Gryffindor Tower. All of the windows looked the same. However, this one was clearly that of Ginny and her dorm mates, with the posters on the wall and Ginny's comforter on one of the beds.

Ginny pushed open the window easily, having left it cracked open earlier to let the cool air in, and slipped into her dorm room, pulling her broom behind her. She took the old broom in her hands-- a second hand Comet Two Seventy, a special summer gift from her parents-- and quickly stowed it in the trunk at the base of her bed. Ginny glanced in the mirror to quickly fix her wind-tossed hair, and then turned to run to the Great Hall.

She was late, of course, and everybody was already at the table and eating when she entered the Great Hall, a little out of breath. Ginny took the seat next to a friend and room mate of hers, Liatris Spicatti, smiling as she leaned over Liatris to grab some bread. On her other side was Hermione, who was sitting across from Harry and Ron.

"Hi everyone," Ginny smiled briefly as she dished herself plenty of dinner, and then started to attack her Irish stew.

"Where were you? Why are you late?" Ron asked as Ginny shovelled food into her mouth.

Ginny held up a finger, indicating for him to wait while she finished chewing. Having swallowed, she responded, "I was out flying."

"Good," said Harry, who clearly seemed to translate 'flying' as 'practicing Quidditch.' "The game against Ravenclaw is in a couple of weeks, you know."

"We know, Harry," chorused Ron, Ginny, and two other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team who happened to be sitting nearby. Harry gave a slightly sheepish grin. It seemed that every new Quidditch team captain, no matter how much you think 'Oh, he won't be as fanatical as the last one', is suddenly instilled with the deep-seated belief that Quidditch is more important than anything else.

Ginny tried to get back to eating-- she was quite hungry-- but she noticed an abnormal amount of movement from the girl sitting next to her.

Feeling her friend squirming next to her, Ginny looked up from her dinner to cast a suspicious eye on Liatris, who was looking at Ginny with a badly-concealed grin.

"What?" asked Ginny, eyeing her friend and her barely muted enthusiasm.

"Nothing!" Liatris practically squealed, and squirmed again. "I'll tell you later. I mean, you're busy eating."

Ginny returned to her food as Liatris hummed a few bars and looked fidgety.

The redhead gave a large, theatrical sigh, and put her fork down pointedly. "Yes?"

Liatris bounced as she looked around the table, and then leaned over to whisper in her friend's ear. "Terry asked me to the dance!"

"To the Halloween dance? Really? That's great!" cheered Ginny.

"Shh!" Liatris clapped a hand over Ginny's open mouth. "Be a little quieter about it, would you?"

"Why?" Ginny's voice was muffled from her friend's hand. She glared at Liatris and pointedly removed the hand from her mouth, as she spared a glance over to the Ravenclaw table, where the dark-haired boy was sitting, talking to his friends.

Liatris sighed and took her hand from Ginny's mouth. "I just don't want anybody else to know yet, okay? It's private."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. Normally when Liatris had a date, she was bouncing all over, making it generally well known. "Everybody's going to know the night of the Masquerade, you know."

"The point of the Masque is that nobody will be able to recognize anybody!" Liatris pointed out defensively. "So they won't."

"Uh huh," replied Ginny, unconvinced. "Do you really think that the Masquerade is actually going to work that way? As though any of us are going to chance dancing with a Slytherin or somebody because we don't know who they are."

"I know, but..." Liatris just trailed off and shrugged, threatened for a moment to start to mope, but instead bounced again, gave a disturbingly excited smile, and changed the subject. "So who are you going to the Masquerade with?"

"I don't think I am. Going, that is."

"Don't be silly." Liatris primly picked up a chip, dipped it in mayonnaise, took a single bite from it, and then placed it back on her plate. "Of course you're going. Why wouldn't you go?"

Ginny shrugged and took her time answering, dividing her quiche into tiny pieces and eating each one in turn. "I have a lot on my plate right now-- er, no pun intended, there." She blushed a little. "Really, so much is going on, I thought it might be nice to spend an evening with the Common Room all to myself, catching up on homework and everything, turn in early and get plenty of sleep..."

Ginny trailed off as she noticed her friend staring at her incredulously. "What?"

"You're going to miss the Masquerade to do homework?"

"Well--" Ginny tried to explain, but was interrupted quickly.

"Even Hermione isn't skipping the dance to do homework!" Liatris exclaimed, a little too loudly. Hermione turned around to see why her name was spoken.

"What are you saying about me?" she asked lightly.

"Hermione, tell Ginny that she shouldn't skip the dance to do homework." Liatris elbowed Ginny.

"Are you having trouble with anything, Ginny?" asked Hermione distractedly. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, classes are great, I just don't want to go," Ginny insisted stubbornly.

Hermione shrugged and went back to her conversation with the boys, and Ginny deemed it safe to go back to her dinner, but Liatris wasn't one to be dissuaded so easily.

"I can find you a date, if you want," she offered.

"Great," Ginny replied, taking a bite of pie, "because a pity date is exactly what I need."

"It wouldn't be a pity date!" Liatris protested loudly. "It would just be a guy who didn't know he had a chance with you, until now."

Ginny gave Liatris a withering glare, but the persistent girl gave it no mind.

"You don't want to turn in early, anyway, Ginny, do you? I mean, with the nightmares you've been having, I'm sure you don't really want to go to bed early."

Ginny sighed, placed her fork on the table deliberately, and looked over to Liatris. "The only way to get you to shut up is for me to agree to go, isn't it?"

"'Fraid so," affirmed Liatris.

"Fine then," Ginny replied, but not without adding a stubborn, "but I won't enjoy it."

"Whatever you say, dear."

********

Ginny was back in the Chamber again, lying on the ground, the diary next to her.

She picked up the diary, trying to tear it apart, screaming at it, but no matter how hard she tried, the pages remained clear and pristine. She pulled as hard as she could, wanting so badly to rip the pages and see the damn thing in ruins.

"Ginny, dear." It was HIS voice. Ginny didn't want to turn, but almost as though the world were whirling around her, the Chamber (or maybe it was Ginny) spun counter-clockwise until there he was, in front of her, again. He looked just the same as before: dark hair, neatly combed, unlike Harry's; handsome features, face set in a cruel, mocking stare; Hogwarts uniform with a tidy green-and-silver striped Slytherin tie and a shiny Prefect badge. Goosebumps raised on Ginny's flesh.

"Tom," she whispered, heart thumping in her chest.

"Ginny." His lips quirked in amusement. Cold, taunting amusement.

She collected herself. "Go

away!" she cried, running towards him, arms flying, trying to punch him or hit him or something. All her fists found was air; they moved right through him, as though he were made of mist, and then suddenly he was gone.

She heard his laughter behind her, and she whirled, finding herself face to face with him.

That was wrong. Here, it was different from her first year; she was sixteen now, and taller. Her eyes came up to his chin, so that "face to face" was almost true, unlike before.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered. "Harry destroyed the diary." The moment she said it she remembered it. Somehow that detail had escaped her until that moment. "Why are you still here?"

Tom reached out a hand, and Ginny felt it stroking her cheek. She closed her eyes, but somehow that did no good. She kept watching him, stoking her, feeling it, but somehow unable to move away or tell him to stop or hit him or do

anything, really, except for stand there...

She saw herself trying to push his hand away, finally, except that again it was as though he were no more than fog on one of the Scotland mornings Ginny was so used to at Hogwarts.

"Why can you touch me, but I can't touch you?" she whispered. Still, he did not speak.

The scene changed. They were in the Forbidden Forest, now. Tom's features sharpened; suddenly, he felt more real. He was closer to her now, so that despite her new height she would have to look up to see him. She looked down.

His hand remained at her face, but now instead of stroking he had grabbed her jaw. Ginny whimpered as his fingernails dug into the flesh of her cheeks, as his fingers bruised her jawbone. He forced her to look up at him. She averted her eyes, but as before, somehow she simply saw him anyway.

"I'm trapped now, Ginny darling," he hissed maliciously, "but I won't be for long. That, I promise you."

Ginny twisted, trying to get away from him, and surprisingly she felt him melt away. She turned to run, but as soon as she'd whirled around, there he was again, in front of her.

"Go

away!" She cried again.

His face was deadly serious, now. "I will be seeing you soon," he whispered in her ear.

Ginny gasped, opening her eyes and sitting up in her bed.

"Bloody hell," she cursed quietly, slipping out of bed and pulling on a jumper. Suddenly it felt very cold in the dorm room. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms, trying to warm herself up. It was very dark in the room, and it felt like there were eyes in the dark, watching her. Ginny sighed, and headed for the door. She didn't want to fall asleep again soon, not with the nightmare still lingering in her mind. She pushed open the door, pressing against the hinge at the top to prevent the usual loud creaking, and made her way down the stairs.

The nightmares were getting more frequent. Of course she'd had them periodically since the horrible events of her first year, but they'd been intangible, occasional, mostly forgotten upon awakening. They'd started up again since the end of her third year, but mildly. They'd been increasing in intensity recently, though, especially since the past summer. Ginny shivered again as she came to the Gryffindor common room. She headed over to sit by the fire, where it would be bright and warm. She sat in one of the overstuffed chairs, watching the fire, feeling its intense heat on her face. It was comforting, but the creepy feeling lingered, as though Tom weren't really gone.

"It's been five years," she whispered to herself, reaching out her hands to warm them against the flames. "I shouldn't let him keep scaring me, five years later."

She shouldn't, but she didn't know how to stop the nightmares from coming.

I'll go see Madam Pomfrey,

Ginny thought resolutely. I'm sure that she has a cure for nightmares.

The redheaded girl looked up at the old grandfather clock, ticking in the corner of the common room. It was two o'clock in the morning; much too early to simply get up for the morning. She would have to face her dreams again, then. She prayed that they wouldn't be of Tom.

But not yet. She could stay down here a few minutes longer, calming down, warming up, convincing herself that it was just a dream. It would be easier, she reflected, if only it really were just a dream. If only it weren't reality. If only it weren't entirely possible.

If only.