Fall on your Knees

outpour

chapter one

rain falls into the open eyes of the dead
again again with its pointless sound
when the moon finds them they are the color of everything

William Stanley Merwin

She always found it hard to concentrate when it was raining outside.

On such a desolate, lonely day, she normally would've taken comfort in staying warm and comfortable in the small flat, but not when it was raining—the rain had a spell over her, something that just made it so attractive to look at and a comfort to hear, as it pitter-pattered down the roof, and spilled onto the cracked streets.

She rubbed her eyes furiously, hoping to get rid of the alcohol sleepiness in her face. The last night had not been pleasant—a full night of drinking in a forgotten pub with a forgotten man. She was getting tired of the drinking nights—she wasn't even sure if they had had sex or not, since she had woken up warm and dry in her bed but wearing a thong that she didn't remember putting on.

A dry, salty taste lingered in the back of her mouth and she knew it would take more than a few glasses of gin to wash it down. She peeked inside her cupboards and frowned, finding herself conveniently out of—well, just about everything. A small, furry green thing peeked out from the back, and she shut the cupboard door with a slam.

Grabbing her coat, umbrella, and wand, she headed out the door to a nearby wizarding grocery store, declaring herself too hungover to Apparate.

She grabbed items off the shelves curiously, faintly reminded of how her mother would smile in that special way every time she made something for the family. A long time ago, she had the same vision of herself in her mother's role, pregnant, her long red hair combed back and baking Muggle cookies for her two children and husband.

The vision had soon vanished right after her 6^th year—Hermione, Harry, and Ron's graduation party was where the image had started to flicker. The famous Trio was far too busy to worry about what the little, forgotten sister was doing, never mind who she was with. She liked being held by the boy with the porcelain skin, who had told her his name was Hades, but she doubted very much so.

She attempted a warm smile to reflect the memory, but found the pain too much to take. Her face was stone, and to move it was to dig a broken chisel into dried cement. After her basket was filled up nicely, she paid for the groceries and exited quickly. She felt like a little kid again, anxious to see what the rain tasted like, felt like, and smelled like.

It was hard to walk with one hand pressed against her forehead, one hand in the umbrella and two bags of groceries dragging her down by the hook of the umbrella, but she was hung-over and it didn't seem to matter much. The streets were empty, as the town of Shelburne had an odd habit of staying inside whenever it rained so beautifully as this. However, a flash of dull grey caught her eye but before she was about to dismiss it as another poor unfortunate homeless person, she saw his face. With bright, brilliantly blue eyes and slippery black hair plastered to his forehead, the boy visibly and violently trembled underneath the thin grey sweater.

"Hello," she murmured sleepily, pausing to look. She reached in her pocket for some change, and threw it at the boy, who caught it. "There you go, lad, go off and buy some food."

"I don't want money," he said, holding out his palm flat for her to look. "I'm just bloody cold..." The rain slithered back his sweater, revealing a tattoo-like green swirl—

Seeing that Ginny was eyeing it, the boy pulled back his sleeve quickly and pressed the coin back into her hand. "I don't want money," he repeated. "Money can't buy warmth in this weather."

Though she felt as if a hammer was continuously pounding her brain, whacking it out of shape, her conscience was not all gone. She smiled sadly, and even though she knew the best thing for her to do right now was to go back home and throw up, but she asked, "Isn't there somewhere warmer you can go to? D'you have family? A shelter, perhaps? ..."

"No, miss. The rain's coming down harder now...you should go."

A light, clear voice broke the stifling silence in the Weasley family room. "I wish you all would just stop talking about it. I know what you're thinking...I'm an idiot, I know. I should've never tried to figure out what it was...I should've given it to Percy to investigate...things like that are clearly full of Dark Arts...I'm all aware of that. I'm an idiot."

"Nobody's thinking that, honey," Mrs. Weasley reassured gently, putting a hand on her daughter's arm. "We all make mistakes. It's what you do afterwards that makes the difference."

"No. I know it was really stupid what I did, but you know what? I don't regret it." She stood up, with an air of importance as everybody turned to look at her. "Tom was one of the best friends I've ever had...I doubt anyone in school can be as comforting as he was."

Ron looked mildly confused. "Ginny! ...He betrayed you..."

Ginny looked reluctant to speak to her favourite brother in such a manner, but she went on. "If betrayal is what I have to pay for him actually listening to me...then..." she gulped, "I'd do it again."

Mr. Weasley looked utterly outraged that his only daughter was behaving so shockingly—what was she talking about? She was the youngest and only girl in the family, so if anything, she had gotten too

much attention. She was hardly ignored and easily always the centre of attention. "Ginny, sit down."

"No!" She turned around and trembled up the stairs, shutting her bedroom door with a satisfying slam.

Ginny woke up in her bed, her mind foggy but clearer than it had been the—day before? She peeked at the clock, and she had slept for roughly twelve hours. It was no longer raining now, but the sky was a dull yet dangerous shade of grey and the clouds looked as if they were about to spill over with rain again any second.

She pulled herself out of bed unwillingly and immediately headed into the cold bathroom to spray her brain awake with cold water. Then, she looked up into the mirror and nearly screamed.

A thin but obvious scar was ragging its way down her cheek, splitting her face into three thirds. She traced a finger down the scar, following the shaky the lines. The dried blood was not scarlet, like that of a dried cut. It was the colour of a newly dried cut, though she wasn't sure how she could tell. There was just something telling her that the scar was not there yesterday, though she could hardly remember anything she did then.

She stood looking into the mirror for a possible explanation—perhaps she had scratched herself unknowingly? She looked down at her razor-sharp deep scarlet nails and scratched her hand as hard as she could, but it left nothing permanent. What had she dreamed last night, then? She couldn't quite remember—there was a dark, rotting room but she wasn't sure what she was doing, or if there was anyone else there.

She closed her eyes and tried to forget about the cut, since she couldn't feel it anyway. She grabbed a hairbrush and nervously combed through the thick tangles. She looked at her face from different angles, and ended up letting it hang loose. The feeling that she was missing something couldn't be shaken away as she left the washroom.

Feeling quite shaken up, she grabbed a bottle of light beer and sat down on her couch, twisting the cap open and closing her eyes. Light skimmed through the dirty curtains and illuminated Ginny's face and scar. The light that was available in her living room should have not been enough for anyone—several plants had found it to be their doom, but Ginny was satisfied. She never did need much light and found herself to be extremely sensitive to it—and of course, who needed light when they were trying to drink?

She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her dirty shirt and sank back into the couch, feeling oddly content. The bottle wasn't empty like it usually was, but she set it on the stained coffee table and pressed her face against the armrest of the couch, trying to pretend that it would erase everything that had gone wrong.

"Hello Edward," said Ginny happily, a dangerous ulterior motive lingering beneath the happy exterior. "You have the book for me?"

"Yes, I've got it in my bag. I still don't understand," he frowned, "why you should need it. My father got it from the Malfoys and gave it to me for Dark Arts training...you're not thinking of becoming a Death Eater, are you?" A grin lit up his pale face. "Female ones aren't so generally accepted in the ranks, but everything changes."

"No, Edward. It's not that. It's just sort of something I've always been interested in. All the charmwork involved...I think I'd like to make my own someday."

"But there are books that can do that...I saw one in the library the other day, and showed it to you. Why this one?"

Ginny, irritated by Edward's endless questions, took a step forward and held Edward's face in her hands, massaging the white skin under her fingernails. Then, she pressed her lips onto his and kissed him softly.

"Because I want it."

Edward had never been so nervous in his life. He pulled away from Ginny and dug into his bag, and finally fished out the diary. It looked exactly the same as Ginny had seen it last, except there was a patched hole in the centre.

"That's good enough, I suppose," Edward said sheepishly, looking very out of place and blushing heatedly.

Ginny grinned. From then on, she learned that she could get anything she wanted, if she tried hard enough.

There was something not quite settling about the living room, but everything was normal. Ginny forced her eyes to open, and realised that the phone was ringing. She had never heard a sound like it, even though she had had the phone for quite a while. The letter carrier and owls delivered all her messages, if she had any.

Sleepily, she got up to answer it. When she held the receiver in her hands, she wasn't quite sure what to do, but she fondly remembered the time Ron had called Harry, and was sure that she wasn't suppose to yell. "Hello?" she said timidly.

"Ginny," said an exhausted and strained voice. "Ginny, are you there?"

"Yes." She twiddled the phone cord around her fingers casually and felt her heartbeat quicken...never before had she heard such a voice like this. "Who—who is this?"

She could hear a little laugh, and then another voice whispering something. "It's Hermione! Don't you remember my voice? We've been away for too long."

Hermione was the last person that Ginny wanted to talk to. Though the two were amazingly close during their Hogwarts years, Ginny had never bothered with being truthful to her—she knew Hermione would have the same opinion as everybody else, that she was crazy and being a completely moron. She had deliberately broke off all contact with Hermione in a desperate attempt to make some kind of fresh start, but it seemed that Hermione had yet again gotten a hold of her.

"Oh, Hermione. Hi."

"I can tell that you don't use the phone often..."

"I have no use for it."

"Right, of course."

A cruel little smile curled Ginny's lips as a silence froze over; maybe Hermione was getting the signal that Ginny didn't want to talk to her any more than she wanted to hear about her successful journalist career and happy relationship...

"So, how are you?"

"I'm fine."

"I heard you're living in Shelburne now."

"Yes."

"With quite a lot of muggle stuff."

"Who doesn't?"

"Right, of course."

Ginny was getting the urge to slam the phone on its hook now, but out of respect for how friendly Hermione had been in her Hogwarts years, she resisted.

"I was just calling to see how you were."

"I'm fine."

"Well, if you can...want to have a drink at the Leaky Cauldron sometime? A nice reunion would be nice."

"I'm quite busy."

"It won't take long. Everyone will be there."

Ginny winced at the word 'everyone', but was curious about how Harry was faring. She didn't want to remember the embarrassing days when she used to giggle and blush every time he was near her, but she would be eternally grateful that Harry had tolerated it so well. There was also the fact that the fight against Voldemort had been over, but she suspected that the League was still active, and she was quite curious about it.

"Well...maybe. I've been quite busy..."

"It won't take long. Come on, Gin...everybody will be there," Hermione said in a singsong voice.

Gin? She realised how ironic her name was. The virgin in Virginia was certainly not what she was, but she did like a good bottle of gin once in a while. "Um, that's alright...I guess."

"What days are you free?"

She wished that she had a spare calendar somewhere, so she could at least pretend she was enormously busy, but she hadn't the slightest idea of even what day it was. "Um. What day is everyone else free?"

"Tomorrow...sorry I'm calling you the day before, but I couldn't find your number and had to ask Ron."

"I guess I'll cancel my --appointments for the day, then." The emptiness of the words rang out in her heart.

"Great...Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley, at four, then? I've got tickets to Joan of Arc: Rising at seven at the Celestina Warbeck Theatre. Can you come?"

Ginny wondered why Hermione sounded so enthusiastic about seeing the whole 'gang' again, and then remembered that yes, they were her friends, and yes, she was suppose to be her friend as well, even though they hadn't met in nearly two whole years. She wondered how Hermione would react to the major changes—especially the transition of dressing so timidly to dressing so provocatively.

"Joan of Arc: Rising?" she wrinkled her nose. Hermione's tastes in theatre hadn't changed at all, always feminist and slightly counterculture.

"Yes...the wizarding version starring Jasmine Tolken...it's very good."

"Of course." Ginny really didn't feel like speaking more than necessary, because even hearing Hermione's voice was too reminiscent.

"Alright. I'll see you there...tomorrow, then?"

Ginny ran a finger carefully down the mysterious scar and wondered if Hermione would be freaked out, curious, or indifferent when she saw the scar, because she was not going to make an effort to hide it. "Sure."

"Alright..." There was a slight pause during which Ginny seriously thought that Hermione sounded a bit disappointed. "Bye, then."

She slapped the phone down with some satisfaction and dug out a flashy purse from a pile of clothing, and withdrew a magical card. She was startled when a loud voice from the card declared that the Apparation license would expire on two days later.

Ginny's heart sunk slightly when she saw how much Diagon Alley had changed—she had been going there ever since she was two, and it was one of the places that seemed to be in an entirely different world; one that escaped time and started trends instead of following them.

Already, she had gotten stares from many magical beings concerning her scar. It wasn't as if she was proud to wake up one day with a strange and large scar on her cheek, but it was irritating to have so many spoiled 5-year old kids gesture to her face and scream.

She looked up to the gleaming white building. From the looks of it, Gringotts was the only building in Diagon Alley that had not been repainted or redecorated; it was white and large as always. She felt a strange urge to give the building a big hug and give it some sort of commemoration for staying the same, because nothing else had.

She checked the big clock hands on the building, and decided that there would be enough time to wonder around some more before exiting to the Leaky Cauldron and face Hermione and the rest.

Madame Malkin's had gone through severe renovation, and she was surprised to find that it had added cosmetics and lingerie to its inventory. A blonde girl could be seen in the store, giggling insanely while another girl held up a pair of leopard-print matching panties and bra.

It was uncertain what the Apothecary sold now, for there was a bright sign advertising a 30% discount on Naturalised Honeywater and Droobles' Best Blowing Gum Peelers. She wrinkled her nose at a large cauldronful of lion noses.

A new store had opened up beside the Apothecary, full of new age spell ads and candlelight. It looked much more interesting than the rest, and she had some extra Galleons to spend so she entered, greeted by a whole cloud of Pixie Dust.

She coughed, and a creepy old, but familiar voice greeted her. "Hello, Ginny." The wrinkled face of Professor Trelawney gave Ginny a smile and the bells on her shawl rang merrily.

"Professor Trelawney," Ginny greeted dryly. She hadn't exactly been her favourite teacher at Hogwarts, but she didn't disregard and completely hate her like the Trio had. Sibyl Trelawney was one of the most abstract people she had ever known, and she figured that she would've deserved some credit for it.

"I hope your days are spent well. Last I heard, you had moved to Shelburne, away from your family..."

"Yes, it was a career choice much than anything else."

"I hope your career is taking off."

"Thank you. I've just completed my degree in social magiscience."

"A rather unfortunate scar there you have," Trelawney whispered, poking out a finger to stroke it. Ginny shivered and nervously backed away.

"I hope," Trelawney continued, "that you have not forgotten the prophecies I made in your seventh year."

Ginny paused. "Of course.... Of course not." She was briefly reminded of the stifling North Tower and Trelawney's more than creepy voice that afternoon. A fog had crept into the room and blinded all her senses, except of that to hear Trelawney's most strange prophecy.

Someone will return from your past, Ginny. It is not the person you are thinking of...someone that will change your life again. This is the time to trust them again. Fall into them, for they are pure again.

Trelawney wrinkled her nose and pointed around the shop. "Can my shop be of any use today?"

"Actually, I was just browsing...um...I really should go now." She could finally breathe again when the door opened, but it was more than just air that had stifled her. There was the haunting thought of Trelawney's so called 'prophecy' and what it had meant...she looked a lot more serious than she was.

Before she had realised it, she had exited Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron was to the right of her. She went into the rowdy pub and found a seat, looking around for anyone familiar.

Tom the bartender gave her his usual toothy grin, and poured a cup of ginger ale. "Ginger, gin, Ginny, get it?" he had said to her before. He thought it was amazingly clever and even though Ginny marvelled at how he could keep making such cheesy jokes, she let him have his fun.

"Haven't seen you here in a while. How's your family doing? Haven't seen any Weasleys around since your mother was killed by that nasty Voldemort."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. It wasn't fair that her mother had been sacrificed for the downfall of the Lord, but she did enjoy the precious freedom they had now. Before the downfall, there was a drudging period of enslavement during which she had seriously thought about suicide. Her mind was growing darker and darker, and she thought she had heard beautiful whisperings in her sleep until she dismissed it as another one of the effects of Voldemort's enslavement.

She drank her ginger ale, deciding it was better than opening her wallet and paying for something. Tom the bartender had been through a lot and was likely to let a few sickles pass by. "We're fine, Tom. Hermione's just moved in with Tom and Charlie and Bill are both married."

"Good to know. How have you been?"

"Fine."

"What are you doing now, these days?"

Ginny wanted to say something normal, like charmworking for the Ministry, managing a shop, something that would make her at least feel useful, but all her lies were used. "Uh...I'm working as a clerk for a local wand shop, actually."

"How's that in sweeping in the Galleons, eh?"

"It's okay—enough for me to live on."

"In the end, that's all that really matters. Pay your bills and have enough to eat...have something for extras when you want it."

Ginny nodded, knowing exactly what Tom had meant, even though the clerk job wasn't exactly true. She had gotten laid off from the Emoting Thinker about a week ago, before the owner of the chain store had declared a state of bankruptcy and closed down most of its stores in Britain.

"So, what are you doing back in London?"
"I'm meeting a few friends, actually."

"You mean the old gang?"

Ginny winced. It was more frequently the trio and Ginny, never a quartet. "Sort of an old reunion, you could say..."

Tom grinned. "Had one just last week, we did...Neville, Seamus, Dean, Parvati, and Lavender."

"I heard Parvati's married now. And also pregnant..." Ginny said the last word with some resentment, wrinkling her nose. She wasn't surprised; Parvati would've been voted 'most likely to marry a stinking rich husband and be the first to be pregnant', if the opportunity arose.

"Bloody well she is." Ginny whipped around, and a grinning Hermione Granger was dressed in her signature simple style, with a handbag and a wide smile plastered to her face. She hadn't changed much; she was exactly like Ginny would've predicted her to look like; medium height, the same mahogany hair but slightly tamer (which she strongly suspected was as a result of Sleekeasy's), and a medium built. Of course, there was something else around her that she hadn't expected to see—Ron.

Her big brother was wrapping himself intimately around Hermione, not seeming to care that some people were staring intently. He had a very awkward smile on his face, a very uncertain one that made him seem childish, and immature. He only pulled himself away to give Ginny an unwanted hug, and then sat himself down right beside Hermione.

"You look—er, great, Gin," Hermione said uncertainly, staring at Ginny's flashy red and blue outfit. Ginny grinned.

"Great to see you again...." Ginny looked to Ron, with questioning eyes. "You two are...going out?"

The two looked as if they were about to burst into laughter, like something was enormously funny, but they were the only two in on the joke. "Been for a year, Gin," Ron said, cocking a smile. "I thought you might've guessed it sooner or later..."

"Who didn't?" Ginny laughed a little, mostly at the irony. She had thought that Ron and Hermione had something going on, but always thought that they wouldn't last. And not especially since Molly Weasley had died—that was last when she had spoke to her family. Ron was a mess and in an extremely vulnerable emotional state, and she got the impression that Hermione had a tough job to do as emotional pillars for Ron, and somewhere along the line, they had crossed it.

"Your—your scar," said Ron, looking shocked, his eyes widening. "How did you get that? Nasty one. Looks like it runs pretty deep..." He began to reach out a finger, to feel it—

Ginny instinctively raised a hand to block his, shielding herself. "I'm fine. It's just...nothing. I—I was going on a hike and a branch from a tree just fell—I'm absolutely fine."

Hermione winced. "Have you sterilised it?"

Ginny had expected such a ...Hermione thing to say. At least they hadn't bothered to ask her too much about how she got it, since she had no idea, anyway.

"Harry should be here by now—oh, there he is..." Hermione smiled, dropping the subject and enthusiastically pointing to a tall figure walking towards them. Harry hadn't changed much either, Ginny could see as he walked closer, but had gotten a lot taller and leaner.

"Herm! Ron! Gin!" Ginny felt like he was a sportscaster as he gave everyone a hug, and sat down, ordering a drink. Harry handled himself a lot more maturely, it was obvious, but there was some of the old spark in his tortured eyes.

"So, how's Percy handling the new job? The election was a disaster," grimaced Ron. Ginny didn't care much for politics, but seeing her brother on the newspapers everyday was too much. She had almost decided to vote for her brother, who was unfortunately running against an all-time favourite, Alicia Adams because she felt so sorry for him and the fact that he wasn't winning.

"He got 10%! Can you believe it? That's bloody unfair, that is..."

"Come on, Percy's dealing fine with it. He wasn't material for minister, anyway, honestly, Ron. He's not a good people person, and he'd be accused of trying to hide something in an instant...he'd make a better secretary or general. They're less often in the media than the minister." Hermione sipped her cherry-topped Avalon Mist with some authority, as she had taken several courses in politics in a Muggle finishing school and was now quite the expert. Ginny was quite curious as how she would know so much about Muggle affairs during all her years at Hogwarts.

"Adams is doing a good job. I'm not complaining," Harry said. "As long as they're not too formal or for the Dark Side, I'm fine."

It wasn't like she was bored when they stated to get into a deeper discussion, just somewhat left out. They talked about matters such as Voldemort, whose name everybody used freely now, and Draco Malfoy, who now owned his extremely profitable company that produced an exclusive brand of wands that was currently being investigated for Dark Art relations.

Through discussion, Ginny thought that Ron had changed. Once confident and somewhat stupidly sure, he was now unsure and sceptical, and was constantly acting as if a most precious treasure was about to be taken away from him. He was her brother, and she felt it was somewhat of her duty to know about Ron's changes, but she had disassociated herself from them for so long that the sibling duty didn't seem to matter anymore.

She sat, feeling oddly disappointed that they weren't asking her personal questions or something about what she had been doing lately until the round of them had started.

"Harry, what are you doing nowadays? You abandoned the Quidditch idea..."

Harry grimaced. "Well...I'm not quite sure yet. I'm only 27, you know—"

"And on the cover everyday of every major newspaper in the Britain wizarding community," piped in Hermione, pointing to a current issue of The Wizarding Informer, which included a smiling photo of Harry Potter and a small article about his latest intentions.

Harry blushed, and Ginny was surprised. She would've thought that he would get used to all the attention by now, but decided that it would always be hard to cope, as she had gotten a taste of being the public eye herself when Percy decided to run for minister, and liked it.

Ron suddenly turned his attention to Ginny. "Ginny, we haven't seen you in quite a while. What have you been up to? Are you still writing for that fashion magazine...Magique, En Vogue?" Hermione and Ginny both winced, Hermione for his poorly pronounced French, Ginny for mentioning something that was part of a part of her life she didn't want to remember.

"No...I quit a long time ago. I'm working for Emoting Thinker now." Seeing that nobody had the slightest idea what it was, she sighed and added, "It's a new age bookstore."

"Ah...is there anybody new in your life?" Ron grinned and winked suggestively.

Ah...the chance Ginny was waiting for. "Five, in fact."

Hermione suddenly seemed so old compared to Ginny; she was still a virgin and had spent her whole life in England, while Ginny had lost it a long time ago, and had travelled to a few countries in Europe and planned to see more. Hermione suddenly seemed like an epitome of the good girl, the boring and girl who would always stay in her hometown, with the people she had known all her life...the girl Ginny didn't want to, ever become.

"Well," Hermione said awkwardly, "that's good."

Ginny nodded, with an air of slight superiority. She didn't want to fit in anymore, and realised that she no longer had anything in common with these people. They weren't her friends in the first place, anyway...not really.

She could see the surprise on their faces; Harry seemed temporarily stunned and but Ron, surprisingly, seemed distracted about something else. His eyebrows were scrunched and the rest of his face was hidden from her view.

"Well," Hermione said, almost nervously, since they had just run out of conversation. "Shall we go see Diagon Alley, then? It's changed quite a lot...I was thinking that we could just ...go see it together, since we were all there when it before it ....changed."

Ginny had the odd feeling that Hermione had emphasised the last word as a reference to her as they got up to do pay for their drinks and explore Diagon Alley. The afternoon went by breezily, full of idle chatter. She got the feeling that the trio, perhaps, had been more separated than ever, because they were unable to talk about anything even remotely serious, but that may have been the fact that Ginny was there.

It wasn't until around 6 when they had finally toured all of Diagon Alley and decided to stop by Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream, Soda, and Pop Parlour for a drink that Harry had took notice of Ginny's scar.

Harry looked on nervously at Ginny's face as they sat down to eat their ice cream and soda. He looked as if he were about to poke out a finger to stroke it, but instead asked, "Ginny, how did you get that scar? ..."

Ginny had completely forgotten that it was there, since it didn't hurt in the slightest. She tried to look conveniently casual yet surprised. "Oh, this? ...I forgot this was even here...Um. It was...a branch. I was going hiking...it just fell...and scratched me. Not a problem. Don't worry about it."

She could tell Harry didn't that her story was believable; he narrowed his eyes slightly, but said nothing more. She ran a finger to stroke it, and winced a little; it stung. "So," she said awkwardly, attempting some sort of new conversation.

The question of why she was being so warm towards Harry yet so harsh towards the others popped up in her mind, and she ignored it deftly, insisting to herself that it was only because she was more grateful to Harry than he would ever know. Harry still looked concerned, but instead said, "Ron's popping the question to Hermione."

Hermione and Ron were still paying for their ice creams. Ginny's mouth hung, out of surprise and some anxiety. "Do you think....do you think it'll last?" The question surprised Harry somewhat, making him nervous.

"I really don't know," he confessed. "I mean, they've loved each other ever since their fourth year...it seems right. It looks right." For a guy whose best friend was soon getting engaged, he didn't look too happy, Ginny thought curiously.

"....what about it feeling right?"

"You know what... we have no right to talk about this. This is their marriage. It doesn't matter what we feel. They're the ones getting married," said Harry, looking somewhat disappointed as he looked over to Hermione, who was dropping a handful of coins into a cashier's hands.

"It might not matter to their marriage," Ginny said, sipping on her cherry syrup gin drink. "But you're their best friend. You matter to their marriage," she said philosophically, trying to look concerned.

"You do, too."

Ginny shrugged. "Not as much as you. Look, you don't look so happy about Ron popping the question..."

"I am happy. I'm happy for both of them."

"You don't look like it, that's all I'm saying."

"I guess I just don't feel like smiling."

"Huh." Now Ginny knew something was going on, and felt an odd urge to defend her brother, even though she wasn't really sure what was going on—just an eerie feeling that her brother was about to be disappointed, or worse, heartbroken.

"It's nothing. I think I'm more nervous about this than Ron."

"More nervous about what?" asked Hermione quizzically, taking a seat. Ron was right behind her, frowning.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly.

"Well then," said Hermione, sounding more enthusiastic, "I just want to let you all know what the play we're seeing is about. I'm sure all of you know about Joan of Arc...we studied her a lot...this is a more feminist and Muggle-like production than what's been done before."

Ron and Harry exchanged stifling laughs. Harry ate a mouthful of his pumpkin ice cream and commented, "You haven't changed a bit!"

"That's not true. You know that's not true," Hermione said quietly, eerily serious. Ginny bit her lip; there was definitely more going on than what the eye could see, especially from the looks that Hermione and Harry were now exchanging, the looks that Ron seemed to be ignoring.

"The show starts at seven," said Ron absentmindedly, though it was clear he knew at least some of what was going on. He looked at his watch and announced, "Let's go out for dinner after the play...can you make it, Gin?" He looked up to Ginny, and she nodded. Now that things had gotten more...interesting, there were a lot more reasons to stay.

They headed out for the show right away, but the Celestina Warbeck Theatre was not very far from Diagon Alley and ended up being about half an hour early. Standing in line, Ginny excused herself to go to the lavatory, and when she came out, Ron was standing outside with a grin on his face, like he had been waiting for Ginny.

"Just wanted you to know that I'm popping the big question to Hermione at dinner," he said enthusiastically, his eyes bright. "Hermione has no idea...don't mention anything about this to her. Want it to be a big surprise."

"Harry told me...you already have the ring?" Ron pulled out a velvet box from his jeans pocket, and opened it. Ginny gasped, half-surprised that Ron had such good taste, half-surprised that he was able to afford it. The large diamond sparkled majestically under the light, making the little emeralds and rubies engraved around it stand out. "That's beautiful..."

"Do you think...do you think she'll like it?"

"Of course." Ginny ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the ring and tried it on. It fit perfectly on her finger. "This is gorgeous."

Ron's face eased into a grin. "Er...by the way...when you said that you had five new guys in your life...you were joking, weren't you?" He tried to make it seem casual, like he was asking something he just thought of, but the overwhelming desire for an answer seemed to give it away.

Ginny gave herself a little smile, and went back in line without answering.

The show wasn't what Ginny quite expected; she already knew that Joan of Arc was a Muggle who everyone thought was a witch, but had extraordinary powers—this play made Joan seem like she was some sort of superwoman, capable of anything, which was really not the truth.

"The magical effects were quite good," commented Harry as they walked out. "I wouldn't believe for a moment that it was a Summoning Charm they used for that part when she was hearing all those voices..."

"Jasmine Tolken was wonderful," Hermione gushed, pointing to a poster advertising the play. "That really brought out how versatile her acting ability is..."

Ron's eyes were transfixed to the poster for a while, Ginny noted, but he looked away once he saw that Ginny was looking at him curiously. "Well then," he said cheerfully, "shall we go for dinner? The good restaurants in London never close until midnight."

On Charring Cross Road, there was a grand restaurant with its name, La Vie En Rose, spelled out in sparkling letters that seemed to blend in harmoniously with the skylights. They could tell that it was, indeed a magical restaurant, because it was impossible that muggles could overlook such a big sign like that.

"Whoa...it's drowning in pink," said Harry, wincing a little. The romantic bright, red and pink lights illuminated his face from Ginny's view and reflected in his glasses, making him look sort of awkward, because he hadn't really been involved a relationship for nearly two years.

Hermione looked somewhat suspicious as Ron picked up her hand with a grin and lead her into the restaurant, swinging their arms. They were immediately greeted by live jazz music, which made Hermione seem more comfortable. Ginny wasn't familiar with jazz, since the wizarding radios mostly aired bizarre and experimental music.

As they sat down at a table, Ron seemed nervous. "Er....don't they have an English translation of this?" he muttered softly to Ginny, looking embarrassed.

"On the other side," Ginny said kindly, flipping Ron's menu around. As they were sitting right beside each other in the round table, she whispered lightly in his ear, "Tonight? Right now?"

Ron gave her a little shove, which annoyed her slightly, and whispered back furiously: "No, no, afterwards. After the bill is paid and everything....I'm getting the musician to play something romantic..."

Ginny looked at Hermione with a glitter of envy in her eyes, and looked back onto her menu, pressing her finger to her order and then clapping her hand. A plate of food appeared on her plate, and rather reluctantly and oddly disappointed, she began eating.

It wasn't that she was jealous that Ron was so happy. No. It was that most of her relationships never lasted more than a day...or a night, if that was the case. She had gone through them like underwear, and couldn't remember any of their names. She winced as she thought about being labelled a slut, but it was what she was....to some degree, at least. For now, she liked the sound of "incapable of carrying on a relationship lasting more than a day/night."

Hermione looked completely clueless as to what Ron and Ginny were talking about; she looked suspicious when they had started, but relaxed when her food had arrived. "I hope this isn't more work for the house-elves," she said slowly, with a reminiscent tone. "But most of the house-elves don't even work in restaurants anymore..."

Ron nodded. Harry coughed awkwardly, and gave a secretive smile to Hermione that only Ginny caught. The rest of dinner was painstakingly quiet; Hermione had definitely started to realise something was about to happen. Ron looked pale, and Harry was pale and nerve-wracked, and visibly so.

"So...the play...wonderful..." Harry muttered, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes furiously. Hermione frowned suspiciously, looking concerned yet distrustful.

"Are you alright? Harry, it seems like you're coming down with something."

"Nothing—it's just my forehead—"

"Your scar?" Ron turned colourless.

"No, no, well...I'm sure it's nothing. He's gone, we all know that—"

"Harry, that's really serious," Hermione said, sounding like the anxious and always worrying little girl that used to be envied and teased about hanging out and being friends with Harry Potter.

"Don't you think I know?" Harry snapped edgily, rubbing his eyes. "Just relax, will you? It's gone."

"Harry, do you want me to send an emergency owl to Sirius—" Hermione stood up, and began digging into her handbag.

"No! Just relax, Hermione. I'm fine...I'm sure it doesn't have anything to do with Dark materials, or Voldemort." Harry looked irritably at Hermione, and she sat down.

"But Harry—"

"I said no. No."

Ron looked extremely concerned, but said nothing, as he knew that when Harry was irritated, he was intolerable. Ginny was a bit surprised, as well—Harry rarely took Hermione's good intentions so poorly, and she knew that something was wrong with him. Something had happened, between Hermione and him or another encounter of the Dark kind.

The rest of the dinner wasn't a pleasant affair, even though Ginny was very much looking forwards to Ron's proposal. After she had finished, she stretched her fingers, like an evil witch, and sat back, catching the nervous look on Ron's face as he reached into his pocket.

Violin music began to play, and Ginny began recognised as the theme from Love Story. Hermione looked startled, as the violinist had been playing lively and energetic Vivaldi pieces all evening. Ron cleared his throat, and Harry smiled to him, but his eyes seemed to say something different than the rest of his face. Ginny could tell that the smile was not sincere...Harry's fingers fiddled nervously, and finally he got up and left the table.

"Hermione," Ron said in a husky voice. "I know that I'm not the most romantic guy in the world...but tonight ...tonight will be something really special. I want to tell you how much I appreciate you being by my side always...being there when I was down....just having your company brightens up the gloomiest of days." His fingers danced in his pocket.

"Ron," Hermione croaked, her hands rubbing her eyes furiously. Oh god. She was crying.

"I love you, Hermione." Ron paused. "You're the best thing that's happened to me...I can't live without you. You're the reason why I haven't escaped to become a hermit in the wilderness...you're the reason why I put up with things everyday. Just so I can go home and flow into your arms."

"Ron...."

"Don't talk...please...Hermione...you're more than I could ever hope for..." Ginny caught Hermione wince a little, and wondered how long it took Ron to write down the exact words he was going to say.

"And...and...all I want to do is make it official, and remind you everyday that I—that I love you. Now, tomorrow, and forever..." The words rang out hollowly in Ginny's ears, and she looked on as Hermione gulped down tears and gave Ron a tight hug, as he drew out his hand from his pocket and opened the small, blue velvet box.

"Will you marry me?"

Hermione looked as if she were about to speak, and then looked on meaningfully to Harry, who had just returned, and was watching with a painful smile on his face.

By now, there were several people gathered around them, and the spotlight had suddenly stopped on Ron and Hermione. People were clapping, and Hermione was looking at Ron, trying to decide what to say. Ron frowned, and the deep impact and importance of the decision could be seen through the sweat on his brows and the visible quickened beat of his heart...

Ginny sipped her chardonnay and watched, her heart pounding as well. Hermione finally pulled from her long hug with Ron, and smiled. "Yes..." she grimaced slightly, as she looked to see Harry and Ginny's reaction.

Harry's painful smile eased into gratefulness, his knuckles painfully gripping the table. Ginny looked at him, then to the kissing Ron and Hermione, and smiled...out of amusement, out of curiosity, out of confusion.

If he had not asked her to marry him, then maybe Ginny would've have to stop by Ron's flat—and maybe other things would not have happened. Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny were about to Apparate right home, when Ron pointed out his flat and invited all them of them in for a celebratory drink and a rest before they went home.

Ginny strongly suspected that Hermione was living there as well—or at least had just begun to, because the room was neat, orderly and well-decorated, which was not Ron. Harry had excused himself for a short while, leaving Ron, Ginny, and Hermione by themselves in the kitchen.

"That's great, Ron...it's fantastic that you're going to be so ...happy. You and Hermione are great together." Ginny said this not out of will, but out of pity for her brother. Hermione was clearly distracted and bothered, but Ron didn't see it—he was too busy trying to keep the 'perfect wizarding family' routine up-to-date to care if Hermione was happy or not.

Ron grinned awkwardly, and spread an arm around Hermione's waist. "It was meant to be, eh Herm?"

"Of course." Nervously, Hermione kissed Ron's cheek and stood up. "I need to erm, use the lavatory, so I'll just leave you two siblings to talk." She smiled nervously again, and Ginny thought that even Ron was beginning to suspect something, but when Hermione left, Ron only seemed to relax even more.

"Can't tell you how great it's been, Gin," Ron said, a nervous spark lighting up his eyes. "It's perfect. It is just kind of the life that mum always dreamt of for me..."

Ginny narrowed her eyes. Mum's death had caused a lot of grief, but she thought that Ron would be so focused as not to left it affect everything he did, and even after 3 years, she thought that he would at least realise that it would never work out.

"I need to um, get my purse from the living room...I'm going out later and I know I'll just forget it...I'll be right back." Ginny slid from her seat without a glance at Ron and pulled open the door, following Hermione's path to the lavatory instead of to the living room. She heard a big sigh from the kitchen, but ignored it.

She knew something was going on....or at least what seemed to be going on. Harry and Hermione had exchanged looks all through the way to Ron and Hermione's flat, and something about them made Ginny's stomach restless. When she heard whispers from her position outside the lavatory, she froze and listened.

"Harry.... We can't do this. This is so wrong...oh god...Ron is blind...I can't break his heart...give me a few more days and I'll call the engagement off---"

A brief silence followed, during which Ginny's imagination ran wild and made her open a little crack in the door. Her hands reached to her mouth immediately to stifle the gasp.

Harry was bending over Hermione with his arms wrapped tightly around her and his mouthed crushed onto hers. From her angle, Hermione's expression couldn't be seen, but a loud moan told Ginny all she wanted to know.

It was no big surprise; she knew that Ron and Hermione would never work out...for one thing, all Ron wanted was a picture-perfect family that his mother had wanted, and Hermione wanted more—a real relationship with ...love. That was the component that was missing, the one component that Ron would never be able to fulfill.

Ginny suddenly felt like a background person, an observer who analysed everything but said nothing. She used to feel like the background person that would always be ignored, but after the Trio had left Hogwarts and she had began to control her own life, it became more.

She glanced back into the kitchen, and was painfully reminded of Ron and how much he had been fooled into thinking that it would work. How could Hermione be so cruel as to do it to him? But it was also obvious that Hermione had no intentions whatsoever of actually hurting Ron...but she no intentions of ignoring what was real over what was imagined, either.

She walked back, and found Ron with his head buried inside his arms. "Are you okay?" she said softly.

He looked up, smiled, and said, "Yeah. I'm engaged. I'm all right. Do you want to be heading back now?"

Ginny got the feeling that Ron was trying to kick Ginny out, and so she decided would have at least a drink or two more before she went. "I think I'll have one more drink..." She grabbed a glass of wine and sipped it slowly. "Do you have a headache, Ron? If you want to go to bed, I can leave..."

"No...no...where's Harry?"

As if on cue, Harry entered, his hair slightly ruffled and the top of his shirt unbuttoned. "Sorry. Er—"

Ron didn't seem to notice much, or if he did, he didn't show it. "I can't believe I'm marrying one of my best friends."

Harry cocked his head. "You two love each other. You really deserve each other...and to be happy." He sat down beside Ginny, and she noticed that his knuckles were white from gripping the table tightly.

Ron nodded numbly. Perhaps it was the silence of the night that had kept them all pretty quiet, but Ron and Harry were both more quiet than usual. A lot more quiet. Perhaps they knew what was going on; perhaps they didn't...either way, Ginny was only curious to see what would happen next.

Moments later, a tear-stained Hermione stumbled into the room and sat down, burying herself in the arms of Ron. Ron looked startled and very surprised, but nevertheless comforted her warmly and said nothing. Harry looked away rather harshly, and Ginny sipped her chardonnay again and tried to look concerned.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" Ron asked softly, patting her hair.

"Yeah...I'm just...thinking...we're getting married...."

Ron misinterpreted Hermione's emphasis on the word married, and smiled warmly, taking her into his arms. "We don't have to if you think it's too soon," he said quietly.

"No, no, that's not what I meant...it's just...it's a big deal—it's pretty late, Ron. Ginny and Harry should be heading home by now..."

"You're going to be all right, then, Hermione?" Ginny stood up and smiled sympathetically. "You're going to be so happy...don't worry too much about it, all right? Harry? Are you ready?" She rubbed her eyes and took a sip of wine to keep her eyes open when Apparating.

"Yeah...you're going to be all right, Hermione?" He smiled sincerely, his eyes lighting up as he grabbed his coat and rubbed his eyes, as well. "Well...I wish you guys all the best. If I know one couple that would work, you're it."

Hermione gave him a meaningful look, which Ron again had missed and Harry seemed to ignore. Harry Apparated away with a loud pop and Ginny did as well with a small wave to Hermione, who was now smiling.

When she got home, it was around two, so there would be time left over for another cup of wine or coffee. However, she was surprised that she wasn't in the mood when she discovered that she had none left, even with the groceries she had bought yesterday.

Staying home at two AM on a Sunday didn't seem too appealing, so she grabbed her coat and walked over to the grocery store again, to pick up more stuff. The clerk had given her a dirty look, but she wasn't paying much attention to anything, anyway.

Rain poured out like a thin bed of mist when she got out. It was a bit hard to believe; she had ventured to her past today, and yet rain could still fall in her future. She suddenly felt like she was....home.

And it was not that much surprising later on when she saw the same boy she had seen the day before, his sweater clinging on desperately to his thin frame and his hair brilliantly slick and shiny. He seemed to be sleeping. She was pausing to smile at the thought, until a violent cough shook his body and threw him into awaking.

Ginny smiled bitterly and walked home.

The homeless boy stirred, and his eyes glowing through the rain. Brilliantly blue, laced by thick, dark and wet lashes...when she stared into him, a sudden swirl of green slithered itself around her waist and she looked down and --

An emerald, slender snake hissed. Since it was not touching her, she was certain there was some kind of magic involved—by the boy? He was asleep, and why would he cast a snake around her waist? Ginny reached out and touched the snake. Her hand went right through its body.

It slithered its way up to her stiff arms, making her feel like a helpless hostage. When it had reached her neck, the snake poked out a hissing tongue and licked her cheek.

She reached out a finger to touch where the tongue had been; she felt her scar.

When Ginny found herself awoken on bed the next noon, the beams of sunlight overwhelmed her and she jumped off, surprised. The covers tumbled to the floor, but didn't fall off because there was....somebody else on there that was wrapped around the covers. A half-empty glass of tequila sat on her bedside table, and she finished it off in a gulp, then turning to face what was in her bed.

It was the boy.

She jumped, and reached out a hand to flip the boy's fragile frame to face her. The instant she touched him, his eyes bolted open, startling her. "Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my bed?"

The boy smiled. It lingered on his face for a moment, and then disappeared. He sat upright and faced her with his bold, calm and confident eyes. "I just wanted to let you know that.....I'm back."

Ginny narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of what he had just said. Then, with a look at the green tattoo on his arm, which could be clearly seen now as a cobra snake entwined with a smaller green snake, around a skull, she realised it.

Oh shit. It was Tom.

It's not like you killed someone
It's not like you drove a hateful spear into his side
Praise the one who left you
Broken down and paralyzed
He did it all for you
He did it all for you