Caught Up in Time

-1-

Weep, that was all that Ginny could possibly do. Cry out for herself and for whatever she had done to deserve such a punishment.

The girls' bathroom was disquieted with an abundance of moans and sniffles. Myrtle was there beside Ginny, trying to comfort her, although soft words and a few pats on the back weren't near enough.

Ever since that year's Yule Ball Draco had been Ginny's, until now. The year had come to its end; only two days remained, and Draco had thought that he'd rather not be distressed about a girlfriend over the summer vacation and had singled himself. He'd only dumped Ginny softly, saying that he'd probably even regret it, but Ginny still had taken it hard, taking to the bathroom for the entire day.

And now she had been joined by Moaning Myrtle who was not much help. She sat in the third stall, feet on the seat of the toilet, a pile of Kleenex tissues in her lap. Her face was streaked with black mascara, and eyes were circled red, pouty from weeping all day.

"Dear, dear, Ginny. You must not continue to cry all through the evening also! Look at you; sleep is needed, is it not? Oh come, come. Get to your feet. You've not eaten all day, and are weak. At least attend dinner. You need it! Get up; get up. Meal time is in a few moments, you must go." Myrtle's misty face was desperate, brows burrowed and eyes desolate, although her voice held its position, which was of serious tones. She dared not touch the young girl, fearing that it would cause even more of a problem.

Ginny looked at Myrtle with large eyes. She took up her arm and dabbed her face with the back of her wrist, her shirt collecting make-up and other unwanted substances; Ginny twitched her nose, showing her disgust. "Do you-" she choked out, sniffling, "You think I should go out there? And looking like this?" Ginny picked at the collar of her shirt, and sighed, sobs ceasing.

Myrtle nodded, smiling vaguely. "Yes, please. I'll beg you if you even take one moment's time to think about it. You absolutely have to. Believe me, when I was living- sorry- I had a large appetite." She received a half-confused look from the other, and paused, "You don't mean to tell me you have no wish for eating? My dear- are you ane-"

"No, no. I'm not. I certainly do not starve myself, if anything I eat a little too much. But none of that matters to me when all I've got running through my mind is-" Ginny cut her off, stumbling over her own words in dismay. "Dra-"

Myrtle held up a hand hastily, "NO! Do not speak of him. You will go into another fit of weeps; I forbid you to think of him for the rest of the night. Alright?" She smiled to herself, realizing she had stopped Ginny from weeping for another hour straight.

Ginny nodded, grinning mischievously. "There is one thing that will amuse me at the time."

Brows raised, Myrtle inquired with curiosity, "Go on, what is it?"

"An adventure, or a prank, even. Ah! I've got it! We'll-" Ginny began, her voice rising with enthusiasm, and then faltering as Myrtle corrected her.

"No. I think the day has been long and weary for you, go eat and dream, that is all the adventure you need tonight, wouldn't you agree? Think on it, Ginny. This prank might cause even more depression and do you want that?" the ghost said, sounding much like her mother, which was just as well because she was older than her mother ever could have gotten. Ginny's eyes dropped along with her tensed shoulders as she nodded in agreement. "I thought right, then. Now go, you've wearied me of tears."

Ginny stood up from the toilet, tissues cascading onto the floor and into the bowl filled with water as well as her own tears. She glanced down to see quite a mess and shrugged. "See you soon, Myrtle. Oh and, thanks. You've helped a bunch," she said, smiling at the transparent figure ahead of her.

Myrtle nodded, and watched with once- blue eyes as Ginny half- stumbled out of the doorway into the hall. "No, you won't see me soon. I don't want to see you in here tomorrow!" Myrtle called out to her, with a smile on her face.

Ginny stood just outside the doorway to the girls' bathroom, wondering if she should just go back in, but surely Myrtle wouldn't allow that. She brushed her clothes out, her fingers wiping over dust and tears, and, fluffing out her flaming red hair, she started down the hall towards the Great Hall.

The halls were muggy with the heat from outside; it had quite warmed up after the last snowfall, and had been quickly getting hotter with every passing day. Professor Trelawney had predicted, as usual, that it would be a horrible summer and that many people would die unless someone showed up with a miracle and saved her and the rest of 'the people' from the end of the world; her petty predictions seemed to be inevitable.

Ginny remembered once going to her for personal guidance, which had totally been a mistake. Before the Yule Ball she had gone to Trelawney and asked of what was happening to her and what was wrong. Of course the outcome had been, "My dear Ginny Weasley, dear, dear. This is awful. I see the grim when reading the leaves, and in the bowl, when scrying, my dear, I see many things of you. A horrible spell put onto you, it will be your death, but, not to worry, it will not come to pass unless-" Her blabbering had gone on forever, and all Ginny could do was nod and act as if she was listening and comprehending. She resolved to never approach her professor again unless there was homework involved.

Ginny snorted as she recalled this, her damp cheeks almost smiling. She rounded the next corner and came into the Great Hall which was filled with meaningless chatter and clanging of silverware. She kept her eyes from wandering over to Slytherin's table, which was fairly hard since Gryffindor was the closest to them.

"Ginny! Better, are you? I'd hope so! I was beginning to worry that you'd-" Ginny muffled Ron's loud speech and looked at him scornfully.

"You want me to go back then?" Ron shook his head; eyes round with annoyance. "Fine. I'll stay, but not one word of it, you understand?" Ginny whispered to her brother, taking a seat beside Hermione. Ron nodded, and began talking of dungbombs in Snape's classroom with Harry.

She leaned to whisper into Hermione's ear as good friends do with something secret, "How is it going with your plan, 'Mione?"

Hermione shrugged, taking a sip of water and replying in a dull tone, "I'm dead beat this week, with all the finals. I'm glad they're over, by the way, and so I just totally dropped it, I mean- what?" Ginny was looking at her with exasperation, her tear-streaked face pale.

"You have to go through with this, Hermione," Ginny whispered, taking a glance at Harry, who sat furthest away, "He dumped you didn't he? And you like Ron, so go for it, or I will do it myself!"

Hermione looked at her with mirth, her eyes clearly stating her usual 'sure you would'. "Well, obviously I have no choice, now do I?" she grunted and half-smiled. "You can ask him for me tonight- right with you, Gin?" Hermione watched wearily as Ginny nodded; Ginny looked as bad as she felt.

She reached up and wiped at her friend's face with her thumb, smearing the mascara. "Dear Ginny. You are not to cry tomorrow.... smile, for all is well. My mother used to say that all the time. It's true now; you didn't need him anyways," Hermione whispered, taking a backward glance toward the Slytherin table, which was alight with murky grimaces and cruel remarks. She sighed and looked toward her friend, smiling to her. "I trust you will get some sleep tonight, yes? I will see to it that you stay in your four-poster all night; even if you decide to sleep-walk for the first time and fall down the stairs to find yourself waking with Pomfrey's face hovering above yours, and saying, 'You took quite a fall back there, Mrs. Weasley.'" Hermione snorted and turned back to her plate, filled with nutritious foods.

Ginny shook her head, and barely smiled, taking a large bite out of an apple. "Yes, yes. Sleep would be great, but the only problem is I wonder if it will come. Impossible it may very well be." With that, she turned swiftly around to look at the Slytherin table.

Draco wasn't present, thank goodness, but Crabbe and Goyle were, entertaining Pansy Parkinson. The long table banner had been pushed further to the right side, and it swamped together with the robes of most of her enemies. Grunting, Ginny stood to leave and headed toward the large doorframe made of redwood. As she rounded the corner once again she felt a tug at the back of her robes where the hood hung loosely.

Ginny shifted around, stumbling on her robes as she did so. Her eyes were relieved to see only Harry, one of her closest friends. He held a large dinner roll in one hand, a handful of his jet- black hair in the other. She placed her hands on her hips and smiled up at him.

"You had one bite. One bite! At least finish this off Ginny. You'll be really weak tomorrow if you don't eat anything," Harry said, his eyes roaming over her pale and tear-streaked face; even though her complexion was horrible, her eyes still shined brightly brown.

She nodded to herself, "Yea, yea. I know. I haven't eaten anything all day- blah, blah, blah. You're the third person today who's worried about my weight, a new record. Am I too skinny? Do I look absolutely horrible in a swim suit?" She twirled for Harry, and crossed her arms over her chest to set her point; she certainly was not sickly looking, and she knew it.

Harry laughed and handed over the roll, which faintly smelled of honey. "You want to talk? I mean, you know, long day-wanna talk about it?" His face was serious, and Ginny considered this and welcomed the invitation; she needed to tell someone everything, just get it out of her system.

They walked side- by- side and found an empty classroom close to the entrance to the Gryffindor tower. The room smelled musty, like it hadn't been used for quite some time, the thought wasn't too reassuring. As she flipped on the light, she noted how dusty the entire place was; a few abandoned scrolls were thickly covered.

"An old office, no doubt. Too dusty?" Harry queried, his eyes alive and flickering about the room oddly. He heard Ginny's muffled reply of, "Whatever. I don't care, just need to talk." There was a few moments of silence and then, "It's fine, Harry."

Shrugging, Harry plopped down on the desk, dust cascading onto the floor, and fluffing into the air. Ginny shut the door timidly behind her, and took her place in front of him on the floor. It was icy cold, but she didn't care. It was now or never.

Harry awaited her to begin, which, Ginny thought, felt very odd. "I'm sure I look a mess. Crying all day has just done me in."

"Don't worry about it. You're beautiful no matter." He twirled one of the scrolls between his fingers lightly, and shot a grin down to her.

"Thanks, but your just trying to make me feel better."

"And your point is?"

Ginny crossed her arms, and said sarcastically, "Oh come on! You know what I mean."

Harry's eyes lit up, and his grin grew to reveal two tiny dimples. Ginny had never noticed them before and she smiled back up at him, glad to find that even she didn't know everything about her friend, which was, in a way, a relief. "I guess it worked, you're smiling."

"Yea, yea, yea..." Rolling her eyes, Ginny replied, but she held her smile.

There was silence for a few awkward moments before Harry questioned. "Why Malfoy?"

"Well, what's to know? I just felt so right around him, so- at home, in a way. Not to mention that he's dead sexy in all ways possible." She laughed at herself, and looked into Harry's soft eyes.

He raised his eyebrows, and smiled at her. "Why cry over him? And all day?"

Ginny started, and set her jaw. "You don't know him like I do."

"Well I guess that settles that," Harry said his voice filled with irony. "You said you wanted to talk about it."

"You-" Ginny shrugged, pointing to him, the smile gone from her face, "suggested it."

Silence descended on them for a few moments, when a loud whirring sound interrupted it, like that of a thousand birds descending. Ginny glanced at the door, which held itself firmly closed.

Harry, knowing magic like the inside of his own eyelids, could tell that someone was performing a sort outside of the room. He stood and strutted toward the door which Ginny held her glance on steadily, as if she was afraid it would burst open, and something horrible and ugly would come in and attack the both of them. He shrugged and gripped the handle, diverting her attention to him. Harry swished the door open and held his jaw closed, although Ron's would have been open at this point.

A sort of metallic substance, faintly glowing of silver and blue, enclosed the doorframe. It wasn't visible until you'd already gotten one inch from it; Ginny didn't see it. The substance, to Harry, held a rich perfume of lilacs mixed with cinnamon, and after a few moments Harry was beginning to form a headache. He rubbed his temples impatiently as he turned to beckon Ginny over to him; possibly she would have a clue as to what it could be.

Ginny walked over to him as she was told and stood in awe beside him. "What is that?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me," Harry said, shrugging with his eyes dull, unlike himself. "I guess there's only one way to find out." He looked over at her, and searched for her hand. "On three?"

Ginny nodded and smiled; her hand lost in Harry's was comforting, as she had always thought it to be. "One..." She looked over at Harry, who was staring ahead of him into the misty and murky substance.

"Two..."

"Three!"

The two of them stepped into the door, feeling nothing but coldness encircle them. After that, it all happened so fast; only bits and pieces were to be remembered. They were standing together, Ginny trying to glance over at Harry, but not being able to move, in a tunnel of some sort. Taking one step, they were being pulled, like a large vacuum had turned on, tugging at their bodies, forcing them forward to the ground, only the ground wasn't so.

Being pulled was all that Ginny remembered; being forced to fall, fall into a large hole, as she figured it to be, and found herself alone, without Harry beside her, a voice in her head shouting, "Where--- am I? Harry? HARRY!" Only the voice echoed in her mind, as if she was in a large cave, all alone; she was frightened, just like she had been that day with Tom Riddle, scared that she was too weak, that she would never see light again- never see Harry.

Ground, real ground beneath Harry's feet. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, clearing his mind of what had just happened; he remembered little, only knew that he had been falling, falling, falling, and then running for his life. Ginny lay at his feet, her eyelids blue with the burden on sleeplessness for the past couple days.

He crouched down and propped her head in his arm, his face just inches above hers. She was breathing shallowly, and tossing restlessly as if in a bad dream. Harry reached forward with his free hand, making ready to shake her back into reality- if this was indeed reality.

A gruff voice stopped him, a voice that drawled and annoyed him, "Don't. She hasn't crossed over the boundary yet. Let her come to when she will."

Harry cradled Ginny's head in the crook of his arm, smiling down on her, and then looking up in curiosity to see who had spoken, but he was not the only one.

Ginny looked around, adjusting her eyes to the darkness and glanced up at Harry. Above him she saw the rough outline of a body standing there. The moonlight gleamed on the person's hair, fair and blond.

Instantly she sat up, her eyes wincing at the brightness of the moon. She looked up at the one behind Harry, and frowned. "Draco."