Backfire

CHAPTER 7

Blame it on the Rain

The mad dash out of the Room of Requirement had Ginny chasing Harry through different halls and secret passages until they (and Andy, who had been running close behind) came rather quickly upon a back entrance to the library. Ginny had never known there was a second entrance to the library, and figured that Harry must have been making great use of the Marauder's Map in the three years since Fred and George had bequeathed it to him.

Andy, who did not tend toward sneaking around the castle after curfew, was baffled by Harry's extensive knowledge of the school. The only "secret" places he had ever been were the kitchens and, now that he had joined the D.A., the Room of Requirement. And even then, he rarely ventured out after hours.

Still catching their breath from the chase, Andy caught up to Ginny as they watched Harry head into the section with school records and yearbooks.

"You know, I'm not actually surprised that Aunt Tracy might have known James Potter," he admitted. Ginny looked at him curiously. She had certainly been surprised. The idea of Harry and Andy being connected in that way was strange, to say the least. The Harry part of her life had always been quite separate from the part in which her friendship with Andy held such a central role. It was somewhat disconcerting to think those two parts might collide.

"Why not?" she asked in frank curiosity.

"Well, to be honest, we don't really know her that well. Not nearly as well as my Uncle Will. I think my dad wasn't on speaking terms with her for a long time, or at least, I don't ever remember seeing her until I was about nine or ten, not long before I started at Hogwarts. And my dad doesn't like to talk about the first war. He's told us loads about my mum, of course, but he and Uncle Will don't like to talk about it."

Ginny thought that there might be more than a few families who wanted to forget that part of their lives. She knew her mum got upset talking about her brothers, Gideon and Fabian, and the first war was a taboo subject at the Burrow in general.

"I wonder why they didn't talk for so long?" Ginny thought out loud.

"Me too," Andy admitted. "It was very strange last Christmas, after my dad heard about the Dementors attacking Harry. When we went home for the holiday, he was adamant that I learn how to do a Patronus. Good thing that my best subject is Defense, because he was starting to go spare when I finally managed it. He never loses control, ever. He's the most easy-going guy you'll ever meet. But when I was having trouble with the charm at first, he was getting really upset, and it was kind of scary."

Andy was obviously still bewildered at his father's behavior and Ginny had that familiar feeling again--that there was a lot that they didn't know about their parents' generation and what happened during the first war. Her thoughts on Andy's family were cut off as they approached the table that Harry had appropriated for his search. As they neared, he looked up at them.

"Oh, hey," he said, apparently not aware that they had come after him. Then Ginny remembered the message he had asked her to relay, and cringed.

"Oh, Harry, I forgot to tell Hermione. I'm sorry. It's just that my brain made the connection right after yours did, and I wanted to see if it was true. I came running after you without thinking."

"It's all right," he responded kindly. "Hermione's a smart girl, she'll take charge when she sees we've gone." Then his attention was distracted as he came upon what he was looking for. His sharp intake of breath enticed Ginny and Andy to peer over his shoulders.

What they saw was a two-page spread devoted to the Gryffindor Quidditch team. According to the caption of the team photo, James Potter and Tracy McGrath were sixth-years. James, the tallest member of the team, was in the center of the photo, holding a Quaffle. And sure enough, standing on one end of the lineup was Andy's aunt, smiling and twirling her Beater's bat. Ginny was surprised that Andy was the first to speak.

"Hey, Harry, go to the page with the student leaders--my dad should be there. If my Aunt Tracy was in sixth year, then it was the same year he was Head Boy." Ginny thought back to the discussion about Prefects at Grimmauld Place the summer before, and recalled something as Harry followed Andy's suggestion.

"Hey, that means we'll see Remus, too, right Harry? Didn't he say he was the Gryffindor Prefect for their class?" Harry looked up at her question, and yet another look of realization came over him. He flipped through the pages faster.

Finally he turned to the page they had been searching for, and the two-page spread for the student leaders showed numerous pictures, both candid and posed, of the Heads and various Prefects. One picture, however, caught all three teenagers' attention immediately.

It was one of the largest pictures on the page, and showed five students--three boys and two girls--in a room full of boxes. A blonde-haired boy who bore a striking resemblance to Andy was levitating a box full of what appeared to be folded pieces of paper, like notes you would pass in class. He was smiling the same kind smile that she had seen grace Andy's face so many times, while next to him--Ginny gasped--was a much younger, much more handsome Remus Lupin, levitating another box full of notes. The third boy, Kevin Creggie, according to the caption, was leaning over a box, examining it.

But the most startling part of the picture was that the two girls looking out at them--a smiling redhead with a list in her hand and a familiar, regal-looking blonde--were identified as Lily Evans and Gertrude Wrightman.

There was no question that Lily Evans was Harry's mum. Ginny had watched Harry's eyes enough to know that an identical pair was gazing out of the photo, only this pair was framed by red hair and feminine features. And even if she hadn't recognized Professor Wrightman--who seemed not to have aged practically at all--she would have known that now-familiar posture anywhere.

The heading of the photo said "Friendship Appreciation Day," which apparently was supposed to explain the numerous boxes full of notes surrounding the five students.

None of them spoke for at least ten minutes, all caught up in their own thoughts about what the discovery of these past connections meant. Ginny thought back to the trip on the Hogwarts Express, when their discussion about Stephen's plans to try out for Beater led to a conversation about Andy's family.

"Andy," she started quietly.

"Hm?" he answered, eyes still examining the "Friendship Appreciation Day" picture. Harry shifted in his seat.

"Didn't you say on the train that your aunt and your mum were the same year in Gryffindor?" This question was enough to draw both boys' attention away from the photo at last. Andy glanced at Harry and then back to Ginny.

"Yeah, I did. If my dad was in seventh year here, then my mum and Aunt Tracy would have been sixth years. That's how my parents met, actually--my mum and my aunt were friends from before they started at Hogwarts, so my mum and dad knew each other since they were little kids." Andy's confirmation seemed to spark the same thought in Harry and Ginny's minds, because they shared a glance that plainly said, Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Using one hand to hold his place, Harry began flipping to the student photos for each House and year. When he arrived at the page for the sixth-year Gryffindors, he froze. Ginny's hand clutched his shoulder as she was overwhelmed by what she saw.

Lined up in the same manner as the Quidditch team, the eight Gryffindors grinned out at them. Harry's shoulder began to shake under Ginny's grip, and she realized that he must be crying. She noticed her own tears a few moments later, as Andy's arm slid around her waist in solidarity.

At the far left of the picture was a beautiful black-haired girl, who could have been one of the Ryan sisters if not for the fact that she lacked the open kindness in her features that radiated from Naomi, Nadine, and Nadia.

Next was Andy's aunt, followed by--it was unmistakable--Andy and Stevie's mum. The name in the caption identified her as Christine O'Connell, but like Andy's dad, the smile had given her away. Just as Andy's friendly, understated grin was an exact replica of Matt McGrath's, Stephen's delighted, unrestrained one was clearly inherited from his mother.

The fourth of the four girls was Lily Evans, alternately laughing and smiling contentedly, and linking arms with Christine and playfully dodging the devastatingly handsome boy on her other side--Sirius Black. They watched as Sirius placed an elbow on her shoulder, which she glanced at before flicking him. He laughed and she smiled as he wrapped his arm all the way around her shoulders.

Ginny surmised that it must have been this that caused Harry's emotions to erupt. Seeing his mother and his godfather, both of whom had been so cruelly stolen from him, standing there, linked together, so obviously close and happy, was too much for him to bear.

Next to the extraordinarily handsome Sirius was, naturally, the equally attractive James Potter, who kept sneaking glances around his best friend, presumably at Lily. Next to James Potter was the younger, more handsome, but still kind-looking version of Remus. Peter Pettigrew rounded out the group of eight, but Ginny didn't give him a second thought. This was a happy discovery, the connection between Harry and Andy's parents, and the role Pettigrew had played in unraveling it all had no place in their thoughts tonight.

As they continued to silently study the photos of the Gryffindor sixth years, Ginny unknowingly began to rub Harry's back with the hand that earlier had been gripping his shoulder in surprise. When she noticed what she was doing, she was reminded again of the train ride on the Hogwarts Express, this time of Nadine's unconscious ministrations to the back of Andy's neck.

But rather than stop herself abruptly as Nadine had done, Ginny found that Harry had begun to calm down and even she had been soothed by the rhythm of her hand moving smoothly across his upper back and shoulders.

"They look so happy," she said finally, bringing her right had back to rest on Harry's shoulder. Andy squeezed her waist in recognition.

"I never realized Sirius and my mum were so close," Harry practically whispered. He cleared his throat. Ginny moved out of Andy's half-embrace and settled both hands on Harry's shoulders as she leaned her head down to his level.

"He told me once that your mum was his reminder, when things got hard, that he didn't need his horrible family, or their arcane traditions, their money, or that nasty old house," Ginny began. "He told me she was amazing."

* * *

"Andrew, you're doing it wrong."

"Shut up, Nadine."

"Andrew, you're going to explode that cauldron all over the classroom!"

"Maybe if you let me alone for one damn minute, I wouldn't!"

"Well, maybe I would, if you'd quit bollixing up the assignment!"

"What do you bloody care? You're not even my partner!"

"Yes, but I don't want Kerney to fail just because you're incompetent at Potions!"

"Go take a walk, Nadine."

"Go take one yourself, you idiot."

"Nice comeback, Potions Nazi."

"Insufferable git."

"Bossy wench."

"Conceited prat."

"Domineering--"

They were cut off by Ginny and Kerney's simultaneous hexes.

"--tweet tweet," Andy finished, looking perplexed at how the rest of his insult came out. Nadine smirked and opened her mouth to shoot one back at him, pleased with getting the last word.

"Baaaaaa." Nadine's hand flew to cover her mouth in shock. Ginny and Kerney laughed. Kerney leaned over Andy to face her co-conspirator.

"Bravo on the chirping," she said.

"Not as good as Bo Peep over there," Ginny countered. They laughed again at Andy and Nadine's confusion at the Muggle reference.

Ginny and Kerney returned to their respective Potions assignments, followed soon after by Andy and Nadine, who realized that they would not be getting their human voices back before the lesson was over.

* * *

Ginny groaned as yet another boy slouched away from her in the Transfiguration hallway. She hurried the other way to catch up with her three friends, who had been waiting for her down the hall. Kerney was smirking, but it was Andy who spoke.

"Barry Summerby or Chase Anastasio?" he asked, forcing her to choose between the two most recent Hogsmeade invitations. The number of boys to ask Ginny on a date for the trip on Saturday had reached epic proportions and--to the delight of her friends--had also provided ample opportunities for the question game.

"Oh . . . Chase, I suppose," Ginny replied quickly and with little enthusiasm. "Summerby's a bit odd." Andy smiled and nodded in agreement.

The fact that both Hufflepuffs played for their House team was representative of the types of blokes who had been asking her. She'd nearly gone through the entire Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw sides, including the completely surreal experience of being asked on a date by Zacharias Smith, who was only slightly less belligerent in doing that than he was during D.A. meetings.

Amusingly enough, Ron was still oblivious to the fact that his sister had become the Hogsmeade date of choice this term. Then again, the fact that Hermione hadn't even said anything to her about it meant that something else--something big--must be occupying their attention.

Even if the boys were clueless about the goings-on around the school, Hermione had long been in the habit of always keeping herself in the loop. It probably helped to share a dorm with Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, both of whom would undoubtedly earn a N.E.W.T. in Hogwarts Gossip if such a class existed.

"So where is Mr. Moran taking you tomorrow?" Nadine asked, mouth quirking in her trademark almost-smile. Andy and Kerney grinned shamelessly. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"I don't know. We're meeting by the Fat Lady after breakfast."

"Oh, Ginny," Kerney simpered mockingly, "maybe he'll take you to Madam Puddifoot's! Wouldn't that be dreamy?!" By now they were all laughing heartily. They all recalled quite vividly the first time Michael Corner had tried to take Ginny there, a horrific experience only made more hilarious by the fact that Harry and Cho had fallen out there on the very next trip to Hogsmeade.

"Ugh," Ginny said in disgust. "I'd almost rather have detention with Snape!" And frankly, that wasn't far from the truth.

Ginny had just completed her first week of Occlumency lessons, and had fared quite a bit better than Harry did the year before.

Harry had warned her about how invasive her first Occlumency sessions would feel, though she doubted they would compare to the ordeals she had been forced to endure in the past.

But it was Snape, and he was bitter and vindictive enough to be hard on her for the simple reason that he had been wrong to doubt her need for Occlumency training, and they both knew it. Add to that the fact that Harry was involved (albeit indirectly) and there was no telling how he would go about messing around in her mind.

Luckily, it seemed that Harry was determined to thwart any cruel intentions Snape's part. He explained how it would feel, and told her what he'd been instructed to do (presumably by his new tutor, Dumbledore) to facilitate closing his mind.

Essentially, the method he was taught--to her horror--was to focus his thoughts (and now her thoughts) on--what else?--his (her) Patronus. Of course. So. The price of a sound mind was a relentless reminder of her utter humiliation. So be it.

At any rate, the point was to concentrate on the form of her Patronus (which, helpfully enough, was a protective and comforting figure in and of itself) as much as possible so that the image of it, even the feeling of it, was indelibly ingrained and easily called forth in her mind. Then, when a Legilimens attempted to invade her thoughts, hopefully she would be able to call up the image of it in her mind and show that to the intruder, concealing her actual, private thoughts underneath.

Like misdirection. Ginny thought grimly that she surely ought to be able to handle a little misdirection--after all, hadn't she been doing just that ever since she came to Hogwarts?

Only this time, it wasn't hiding her real personality behind a false one, or her real feelings behind false actions, it would be concealing her true thoughts behind fakes. And she wouldn't have her own head, her own mind as a safe harbor, oh no. She would be fighting this battle with herself as she kept her own memories and feelings in line and she would be battling a foreign individual's attempts to rip them apart.

So Harry had warned her . . . and boy was she glad that he did.

Snape had been as grumpy and aggressive as she had expected, and attacked her mind without the slightest warning, let alone guidance or instruction. So imagine Snape's surprise when, after only a minute or two, Ginny's mind appeared blank to the professor, as the image of a ghostly white Harry Potter holding a wand and sword slid smoothly into place, effectively obscuring everything else.

It was a bit anticlimactic, as far as Ginny was concerned. She had imagined that blocking Legilimency meant the violent ousting of the intruding mind, but it turned out to be much more subtle than that. She could still feel him in her mind, but instead of the blunt strike he had thrown initially, his poking and prodding became frustrated and haphazard--and, most importantly, it began to fade.

Harry had told her that, in time, she would learn to expel him completely (and forcefully), but for now it was quite enough that Snape had gotten no further into her memories than being teased by an eight-year old Ron and laughing with the Hogwarts-bound twins. For the moment, her most terrible secrets and embarrassing moments were well hidden.

All the same, she now had a healthy appreciation for Harry's frustration the previous year, and was relieved that he had been kind enough to help her prepare for it. The preparation and protection did not, however, come without a cost.

When Snape eventually sent her to bed, she was exhausted and surprised that so much mental exertion could make her so physically tired as well. But she did as Snape had instructed and made sure to clear her mind before going to sleep each night--a task that would become much more difficult as Hogsmeade weekend approached.

She tried to dwell on Quidditch, O.W.L.'s, and Potions revision as much as she could, but the seemingly endless stream of blokes asking her for a date--and her friends' unconcealed delight in repeatedly bringing it up--made it very difficult indeed.

She knew it was getting bad when one day, to Ginny's complete surprise, Devon mentioned it during double Potions.

"Honestly, Ginny. Duncan Moran?" the usually reserved Slytherin bluntly inquired. Devon looked tempted to smirk at Ginny's gaping expression.

"Er . . . what about him?" she asked in return, recovering somewhat.

"You could do quite a bit better than him, you know." Ginny silently wondered how, choosing to ignore the part of her brain that immediately volunteered Harry's name. "You're miles out of his league," her friend finished. Ginny almost laughed in disbelief.

She turned back to the work in front of her, the thought breezing through the back of her mind that it was time to mince the antelope antler shavings for the sobering draught they were brewing. Devon began measuring the required amount of Tequila for the mixture.

"All right, then," Ginny began, ostensibly to humor her partner. "How am I so far out of his league? He's gorgeous, he's a seventh year, and every girl in the school but you would die to go out with him."

Ginny certainly didn't fancy Duncan, but uncomfortable as she was with the compliments Devon was giving her, she wanted badly to know what it was about her date to Hogsmeade that had inspired such a reserved and severe girl to speak up--and about boys, no less.

"Not every other girl in the school," Devon corrected.

"Oh, yeah?" Ginny asked skeptically. "Who else, then?"

"You," Devon replied, with a knowing expression that reminded Ginny far too much of the one Kerney usually wore. Well, Ginny couldn't deny that Devon had her on that one.

"So?" she replied, trying to infuse her response with as much casualness as she could. "It's just a date to Hogsmeade." If Devon heard Ginny's question, she gave no indication.

"While he may be less undeserving than much of your house (and all of Hufflepuff), you could do far better."

"Oh, yeah?" Ginny tried again sarcastically. "Who, then?"

"Your friend Andrew, for one. Quentin. Roman Keselica. Theodore Nott. Even Harry Potter would be a more deserving match, though he's no pureblood." Ginny couldn't help but laugh as Devon added, "And I understand that Baron Ramsey thinks very highly of you." Ginny was particularly incredulous at this last suggestion, but her shock began to dissipate as she comprehended that her friend was dead serious.

"So, you've set it out that I've got to marry one of those blokes, then?" Apparently Devon didn't see it as a problem that none of them had been one of the many to ask her to Hogsmeade.

"Well, obviously Andrew isn't an option," Devon began to explain, "seeing as he's only ever going to love Nadine Ryan. And you would never marry Roman (though I wouldn't be surprised if he tried) because his sister would drive you completely insane. Or Theo, since his father is a Death Eater. If Quentin wasn't utterly and entirely asexual, I'd say he would be an excellent option." Merlin, she was actually serious about this.

"You are the most passionate girl I have ever seen," Devon continued. "The only two blokes in the school--maybe in all of Britain--who could match and understand that passion (and who are not your brothers) are Baron Ramsey and Harry Potter."

No, Harry Potter was most definitely not her brother.

Despite the fact that she had long been accustomed to Devon's rather blunt manner of expressing herself, Ginny was startled--and not a little uncomfortable--at her friend's acknowledgement of having so closely and thoughtfully scrutinized her.

She had always felt that Devon, like Kerney, knew infinitely more about things than she let on. Having that hunch was one thing; confirmation of it was a whole different matter. More than four years of desperately wanting and trying to blend in and be normal--a desire born of her family's notoriety and punctuated by her experience with Tom Riddle's diary--made Devon's close attention and her new apparent popularity extremely discomforting.

And yet there was a small part of her that, like Ron, had always wanted to stand out and be recognized, distinguished from the veritable sea of red hair known as the Weasleys. But while Ron undoubtedly wanted to out-shine his brothers and be seen as Harry's equal rather than merely his loyal sidekick, Ginny just wanted to be seen by Harry at all.

Actually, when she thought about it for a moment (and got past the pure absurdity of talking about marriage), coming from Devon Pearce, a wealthy, well-bred Slytherin, the suggestion that only two blokes in the world were good enough for her--the Slytherin Head Boy and the savior of the wizarding world, no less--was perhaps the highest compliment she could have received. Upon this realization, Ginny turned to her inscrutable Potions partner, who was now watching her thoughtfully.

"Thank you," she said, fully appreciating Devon's intent. "That's incredibly kind of you." Devon nearly smiled at the earnest, understanding look on Ginny's face. Almost.

"You know perfectly well, I don't say things that I don't mean," Devon reminded her. Now Ginny smiled openly.

"Of course, I do. That's why you don't talk half as much as anyone else in the school." At this Devon coughed, but Ginny was sure it was only to avoid the appearance of laughing. And with that, their discussion came to an end, and the two girls returned their full attention to their assignment.

* * *

Thought of dating--even kissing--Baron Ramsey threatened to send Ginny into bursts of laughter whenever it occurred to her.

Not that he was unattractive. On the contrary, he was extremely handsome; and Ginny had recently decided that, with his rich, black hair, wonderfully Quidditch-sculpted shoulders, and aristocratic air, he must be exactly what Sirius would have been like had he not spurned and rejected the ways of his family.

Indeed, Ginny was also somewhat inclined to believe that his sister Gretchen was what Bellatrix Lestrange might have been if she had not turned to the Dark Arts and plunged herself into madness.

At any rate, Ginny had to admit she was intrigued by the idea of dating the Head Boy. Not that she thought he would ever consider it in a million years.

Baron Ramsey thinks very highly of you, was what Devon had said. Ginny might have been sorely tempted to read something into that statement if she didn't already know that Devon Pearce was the least misleading person in the world (other than Baron himself, of course).

Then again, the traditional pureblood families (usually Slytherins) had been known to arrange marriages on less amiable terms, so the fact that a bloke thought "very highly" of a powerful or politically favorable young woman could be more than enough indication that he would be inclined to marry her.

Of course, entertaining the far-fetched notion of being the Head Boy's girlfriend did not mean her love for Harry had diminished at all (indeed, following her latest dream, it had increased ten-fold). But seeing as she had no chance with Harry Potter, what was the harm in thinking about Baron?

It wasn't as if she was any more likely to get a date with a boy of his stature than with Mr. Savior himself.

* * *

Other than a short cautionary conversation after one of their Potions study sessions, Ginny and Harry had not spoken about her dream or its aftermath. Harry hadn't even mentioned it then, but simply told her what she could expect from the lesson. And she got the impression that, even if he didn't say directly, his training with Dumbledore was going much better than it ever had with Snape.

The fact that Harry had not brought up the events of that night did not startle her. What did startle her was the way Harry had begun to act around Ron.

In the past, Ron could nearly always get a chuckle, a snort of almost-laughter, or a smirk out of his best mate. But ever since she and Harry had gone down to lunch the day after her dream (not breakfast, since Snape's dreamless sleep potion worked brilliantly), Harry had been more reserved, more stiff than usual, particularly around Ron.

When he thought no one was looking, Harry sent stern looks toward his best friend.

A glance or two toward Ginny every now and then gave her the idea that maybe he was angry with Ron for not being in his bed that night. But with this thought she arrived at an uncomfortable problem.

Was he hacked off at Ron because he'd stranded Harry to deal with his hysterical and unstable little sister? Or--and Ginny tried not to let herself believe it--could it be possible that he was upset on her behalf?

She had been crushed when she found her brother's bed empty that night. On the heels of such a horrible dream and with the knowledge of the terror that would soon follow it, Ginny's heart and soul had broken at the sight of empty sheets. She had barely been aware that Harry was there once the pain started, though she was now quite sure that if he hadn't been, she would have lost the battle with darkness.

It should have been Ron, but she couldn't say she was particularly sorry that it had been Harry instead. It would have been much more difficult to convince Ron to go with her to see Professor Snape than it was to convince Harry, and she didn't think for a moment that Ron would have handled her distress anywhere near as well as Harry had.

Harry knew about the nightmares, knew about nocturnal horrors like hers; he knew about guilt and the feeling of being tainted, and of feeling completely isolated from his peers.

So, even though she wanted to be angry at her brother, wanted to beating the living shit out of him for abandoning her--again--when she needed him the most, she couldn't deny that the situation had ended better than she would have hoped if he had been there.

A year earlier she would have sought refuge with Fred and George, but they were gone now. The nice moment in the kitchens when Ron had held her had given her hope that he was telling her the truth the summer after her first year when he said he would always be there to protect her.

But it wasn't a year earlier, it was a year later, and Ron had broken his promise.

For her part, Hermione noticed Harry's newest bout of the stiff, silent treatment, but it was unclear whether a.) she was able to suss out the motivation for it, or b.) if Ron even noticed he was being given the cold shoulder.

Ginny didn't see Harry hardly at all outside of the organized activities they had together (meals in the Great Hall, Quidditch, D.A. meetings, and Potions revision), but during those times she did notice that Harry was acting more independently. Being so hacked off at Ron seemed to have shifted something in him so that he now began to eat meals with different people at nearly every sitting. Breakfast with Seamus, Neville, and Dean. Lunch with Ginny, Neville, and Luna. Dinner with Quidditch teammates.

And though the variation in his company was limited to his relatively close circle of friends, it was a significant departure from the boy who never went anywhere or did anything without his two best mates.

Due to their extremely busy schedules, it was with considerable surprise that Ginny found herself walking with Harry to the Room of Requirement the Friday before Hogsmeade, having been intercepted by him on her way out of Astronomy and back to the Tower. He hadn't said much other than a quiet "hello," and declaring the need to show her something.

Ginny stood quietly watching him as he walked back and forth three times outside the secret entrance to the room. After his third pass, the familiar door materialized, and he held it open for her. The room was plain, smaller than they were used to seeing at D.A. meetings, and contained only a table and two comfortable-looking chairs. On the table were two large mugs of butterbeer and a pile of pumpkin pasties.

"Hungry, are you?" she asked him, smiling. He looked at her and then at the table in some surprise.

"Actually, yeah," he replied, slightly amused, and sizing up the room. "I guess it really can read your thoughts, huh?" They sat down and took long slow drinks from their mugs. Opening a pasty, Ginny eyed the parchment that Harry had brought with him.

"So what did you want to show me?" she asked with honest curiosity. Harry grabbed a pasty for himself.

"I got a note from Remus," he began, ripping it open and taking a bite. When he swallowed, he continued. "McGonagall gave it to me just now after Transfiguration. It's addressed to you too, but she saw me first." He handed the letter over and she read it as she chewed another pumpkin-y bite.

Harry and Ginny,

I hope school and Quidditch are going well. Professor Snape told me (and

Professor Dumbledore) about what happened the other night, and we are

all agreed that what Severus told you was correct. Ginny, you were very

smart to ask him for Occlumency lessons as soon as you got to school, and

I hope they are progressing now that you've actually started them (and that

you are both sleeping better since Professor Snape gave you the sleeping

draught). I must admit that he seemed a little surprised that the two of you

sought him out rather than the headmaster, but I figured the both of you still

have issues to work out with Professor Dumbledore. Trust is a particularly

difficult thing to recover completely, and you two have more reason to doubt

others than the average person. I understand that your first Hogsmeade

trip of the year is coming up. Enjoy yourselves. And good luck in your

match next week. Talk to you soon.

Remus

Ginny swallowed the last bit of her pasty and looked up at Harry, who was watching her over the rim of his mug as he drank.

"So Dumbledore knows," he began.

"Well, it saves us a trip to his office, which, frankly, I was not looking forward to," she added. Harry nodded in whole-hearted agreement.

"Yeah, I'm not trying to go up there anymore than I have to, and with these private lessons we've been having, I already have to deal with him four times a week." He sighed, but Ginny couldn't tell if it was due to sadness, bitterness, or frustration. "At least Remus is usually there. Not when it's full moon, of course, but usually."

"What do you do in there?" she asked timidly. The fact that he had volunteered the subject at all was surprising, but she didn't want to push too hard in case he closed himself off. She took another snack from the center of the table.

"Well, at first all we did was practice Occlumency. But when I started to get better at it, we started doing it only two of the times, and the other two we spend either learning curses or fencing." Ginny's eyebrows went up at the last part.

"Fencing?" she asked.

"Well, not fencing, I suppose, but how to handle a sword. Not those wimpy ones, I mean, like in the Olympics . . ."

"Olympics?"

"Muggle thing. Sorry. Anyway, what I'm doing is like sword-fighting in battle, not for sport." Ginny was a bit perplexed at this.

"Does Dumbledore reckon you'll defeat Voldemort with a sword?" she asked somewhat incredulously. Harry considered her for a moment.

"Well, I killed the basilisk with a sword, didn't I?" he began. "And, I don't know, I guess he thinks it would be good for me to have a back-up, seeing as our wands don't work against each other and all." He eyed her reaction.

"Your wands don't work against each other?" she asked, shocked. Her brow furrowed as a thought came to her. Harry looked like he was waiting for her to cotton on. "Wait a minute, your wand is the brother to Voldemort's?" Her eyes were wide, and then she had another thought. Harry was looking slightly amused at how she was working this out in front of him and out loud. "Well, I suppose that's not an Earth-shattering surprise, is it? I mean it wouldn't be the first time you've got some wacky connection to that git, would it?" Harry smirked and his eyes shone with something akin to approval. "What's the core then?"

"Phoenix feather."

"And are there any other brother wands out there? Something crazy, like maybe Dumbledore has it or something?"

"Nah, just me and him."

"How do you know?" Harry smiled as he answered her.

"Because the feathers are from Fawkes," Ginny gasped in happy surprise, "and he's only ever given two feathers."

"That's incredible!" Ginny remarked. Harry seemed very amused at her reaction, and slightly as thought he couldn't believe his good fortune. "Do you mind if I ask how you know all this about his wand?" she asked more quietly. Harry nodded as if to reassure her that he was not upset by the request, though his countenance did turn more serious.

"Well, for starters, Mr. Ollivander told me when I first bought my wand," he began, as Ginny's mouth widened. And he's kept it a secret all these years, she mused. "But I didn't know it was Fawkes' feather until fourth year--" Ginny's expression darkened.

"The Third Task," she finished for him. He nodded.

"I cast an disarming jinx at the same time he cast the killing curse, and the spells connected. It's called priori incantatem--"

"--the reverse spell effect--"

"Right. See, two brother wands won't duel each other. When you force them to anyway, they connect and there's this whole big light show and you get lifted off the ground. It's pretty surreal. And then you've got to hold on for dear life so that the connection moves to the other bloke's wand, and when it touches the end of his wand, all the past spells in reverse order come spilling out the end."

Ginny's brain was in chaos, trying to imagine this in her mind, but encumbered by the thought of Harry having discovered all this, all alone, facing Voldemort and the immediate prospect of death.

"So I'm guessing that you got the connection to hit his wand instead of yours?" He nodded.

"Yeah, so then these--Dumbledore called them echoes--come squeezing out of that same end of the wand. So out came Cedric, and this old Muggle bloke who used to be the Riddles' gardener, and Bertha Jorkins--" Here Ginny looked up.

"And your parents."

"Yeah," he confirmed with an edge of exhaustion in his voice. He hadn't lied when he'd told Stevie that he was quite used to the idea of his parents being dead. But the fact that they had been brutally murdered by the nutcase who had tried five times to kill him seemed to eat at him still.

"Oh, Harry," she began, quietly. She could see how tired he was. Not in a lack-of-sleep kind of way--luckily Snape had seen to that. No, instead it seemed more that his heart was tired. Maybe his soul. He had gone through so much, lost so much in his short life, that it must take a great amount of effort to not get dragged down by it. And the guilt complex didn't help either. But then she snapped herself out of her sympathy. Harry didn't need her bloody sympathy. He got it from everyone else in the whole bloody world, and he sure wouldn't miss it from her.

No, what he needed so desperately was her empathy. She was the closest to having any Earthly idea of what he was going through, and he needed her to remember that. She looked back up at him earnestly.

"So you've been training to fight with a sword because your wand won't work against him. Which, actually might work out to your advantage since--well, no offense, but he's probably a way better dueler than you and he knows loads more spells and things. But don't you see?" she asked him a little excitedly, as his face grew confused. "That was his huge advantage over you--other than his complete disregard for human life, I guess--the fact that he's a much more powerful wizard makes it like you're David and Goliath"

"David and Goliath? When have you ever read the Bible?"

"Come on, Harry, David was a wizard," she replied, as if to indicate that the story would have been absurd otherwise. "Anyway, his big advantage, all his power is only good if he's got his wand. So, now you're learning how to use a sword. Fair enough," she concluded, as if finally comfortable with the idea. "And now all we have to do if find a way for you to kill him without a wand."

"Right." Ginny looked at him anxiously.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me what the prophecy says," she half-asked. It was the first time the subject of the prophecy had been brought up since he had mentioned it in passing the night they had gone to see Snape after her dream.

At first he looked at her, startled, almost like a caged animal. But then he seemed to remember having told her about it. And then he cocked his head to the side (in the manner that Herpo had a habit of doing) and looked at her with an expression of . . . something. It was as if he was completely re-evaluating his judgment of her. Like he was having to size her up all over again. Finally he spoke.

"You know, I hadn't even realized that I told you about it," he admitted, still looking at her thoughtfully. "But now I remember. Right outside Snape's office, yeah?" She nodded. "Blimey. Well, basically, it said that a child would be born at the end of July in 1980, to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times, which my parents had; that Voldemort would mark the child as his equal." He pointed to his scar, a motion that looked very strange coming from a boy who avoided drawing attention to it as much as humanly possible.

"It says I have a power that he doesn't know about, and that I'm the only one who can destroy him." Ginny nodded, already having heard this part. He paused, causing her eyes to move automatically back to his. "And it says that neither of us can live while the other survives."

He appeared to be waiting for her to explode or cry or get extremely upset, but she didn't. His braced anticipation of her emotional outburst eventually receded into curiosity as she sat there, lost in her own thoughts. Finally she came out of her reverie and was nearly smiling. She had the same look in her eyes that she'd had that day in the library when she told him that anything was possible if you had enough nerve. And lucky for them, they were Gryffindors, so they had nerve, and in spades.

"Well, that's good news, isn't it?" He made no attempt to disguise his shock at her comment. "I mean, once you get past the fact that he's the cruelest and most terrible wizard in the history of the world, and that he's already tried to kill you five times." He looked slightly amused at her back-peddling.

"But we already knew that, even without the prophecy, didn't we?" she continued. "What I'm saying is, all the new information we get from the prophecy is good news. We already knew he was obsessed with trying to kill you. Now we know why. Because you're the only who can stop him. And that's the best part--now we know for certain that you can."

His face was the epitome of surprise and confusion for a few moments, but then his face changed. He looked so heart-breakingly thankful, so grateful for what she had said, that she thought he might climb over the table and kiss her. Ginny tried not to think about how much she really wished he would. She settled for another pumpkin pasty.

* * *

It had rained every day for three weeks. And not just drizzle or mist, but pound-into-the-ground, cats-and-dogs rain. Quidditch was becoming absurd in this weather. The Saturday of the trip to Hogsmeade dawned, and all the students' hopes for a nice day were dashed, as rolls of thunder and flashes of lightning woke them up for breakfast.

Ginny wasn't quite sure how she felt about this date. Duncan was a good enough bloke, and they were friends, and he was perhaps the best looking boy in the school--in a three-way tie with Andy McGrath and Baron Ramsey--but she just couldn't get excited about spending the day with him. Frankly, she would rather spend the day sleeping or people-watching with Kerney, Andy, and Luna. Or talking about Quidditch with Roman and Jamie. Or any number of things, really.

With one last miserable glance at her friends in the common room, Ginny went out through the portrait hole to find Duncan waiting for her. She had to admit that he did have a wonderful smile, and was glad that it had the effect of putting her at ease.

They walked down to the village, under a large umbrella that Duncan had brought, and chatted about O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s. They had just broached the subject of Quidditch when they reached Hogsmeade. Halting their conversation for lengthy stops in Honeydukes and Quality Quidditch Supplies, they didn't pick their topic up again until they headed to the Three Broomsticks for lunch and some butterbeer.

The Three Broomsticks was more crowded than usual, due to the rain, but Duncan--and Ginny, though she had no idea--had the kind of sway among the students that could almost instantly clear a small booth out for them to sit down. When Duncan asked her what she wanted to drink, Ginny volunteered to get their order from the bar. After Duncan indicated he wanted the usual--butterbeer--Ginny made her way over to Madam Rosmerta at the bar.

"Ginny!" the middle-aged--but handsome--proprietor greeted her. Ginny smiled.

"Hello, Madam Rosmerta," she replied cheerfully. The famous Rosmerta had a soft spot for Fred and George that extended down the Weasley line to Ginny, perhaps more so because the barmaid had known all of her brothers and knew that she was the only girl of seven. Madam Rosmerta glanced in the direction from which Ginny had come.

"Doing well for yourself, missy," she commented with a smirk, recognizing that Ginny was on a date with Duncan Moran. Ginny's eyes widened and she blushed, making Rosmerta chuckle as she made up two butterbeers without being asked.

"Er . . . actually, I'm not really sure why I said I'd come," Ginny said in a lowered voice, glancing nervously at the only adult female friend she had other than Tonks. Setting the two mugs of butterbeer on the counter, Rosmerta smiled somewhat conspiratorially. She leaned in to whisper, and Ginny followed suit.

"He's a charming enough bloke," she began, followed by a subtle but meaningful glance toward the door. "But honey, you could do better." Ginny would have been shocked at the fact that Rosmerta's estimation had been identical to Devon's, but instead she was overcome with a nervous blush--when her eyes had followed Rosmerta's meaningful glance, they had landed on the solitary figure of Harry Potter entering the pub.

"Er, right. Well, ah, we'll be having lunch as well drinks. Thanks, Madam Rosmerta." And without meeting the bartender's eyes, she collected the butterbeers and walked quickly back to the table she shared with Duncan. She plastered a fake smile on her face and tried not to think about what Madam Rosmerta had said.

But really, she thought. How in the world was she supposed to continue on a date with this boy, after two people had told her that she could do better? She felt like an idiot for saying yes in the first place, but more than that she was annoyed that this would probably end up wasting her entire day. Though she tried to fight the inclination to see where Harry was, she couldn't help herself. When she did look up to find him, she saw that he had been stopped in the middle of the pub by Stephen and Nadia, who were enjoying the excitement of their first-ever trip to Hogsmeade.

Stevie's eyes caught Ginny's and he waved at her happily, causing Harry and Nadia to turn their attention toward her as well. Nadia beamed and waved, and relief seemed to wash over Harry's countenance. Ginny smiled and waved back, and then returned her attention to her date.

"So, how's my sister working out?" he asked, to restart their conversation where they had left off. Ginny smiled--genuinely, this time. She was very fond of Betsy Moran.

"She's doing very well. She just needs experience, is all. It's kind of hard to gauge her progress right now with this ridiculous weather," Ginny replied, with a nod toward the window. They had reached the subject of next week's match against Ravenclaw, when a shadow fell across the edge of the table. Ginny glanced up to see who it was, and nearly spit out a mouth full of butterbeer when she saw that it was Harry.

"Hey, Ginny, Duncan," he greeted them. He still had that relieved look on his face as he sat down in the booth next to Ginny, who, embarrassingly, had suddenly grown quite warm. She croaked a "hello" and promptly drained her butterbeer.

"How's it going, mate?" Duncan asked cheerfully. "Think these storms will break before the match next week?"

As Harry and Duncan launched into a discussion about Quidditch and Gryffindor's chances against Ravenclaw, Ginny was mentally giving herself the what-for.

Why was he making her so nervous? What the hell was going on? Was it because she was already discombobulated about being on a date with a boy she didn't fancy? Was it Rosmerta's (and Devon's) comments? It wasn't like she had been in denial about her feelings for Harry--she'd owned up to them (to herself, if not to anyone else) a long time ago.

So why was she so self-conscious all of a sudden?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Madam Rosmerta coming to take their order for lunch. Duncan ordered Yorkshire pudding.

"I'll have fish and chips, please," Ginny added.

"Same here," Harry chimed in. He eyed Ginny's empty butterbeer. "And two more butterbeers, please." As Madam Rosmerta smiled and left to fill their orders, Duncan glanced at Ginny suspiciously and then looked at Harry with confusion.

"Harry, mate, I know you're the Boy-Who-Lived, and all, but even you can't just run over a bloke's date like this," he said, sort of joking--but sort of not. Harry and Ginny both froze and immediately gaped at Duncan. Their parallel actions continued as deep red blushes creeped up both of their countenances.

"Ah . . . date?" He chanced a glance at Ginny, whose eyes were still wide. She bit her lip in discomfort. Harry gulped and turned back to the older boy. "You're on a date?"

"I asked Ginny to come with me to Hogsmeade, and she said yes. We have been spending the day together to the exclusion of all our other friends," Duncan explained patronizingly. Ginny's brow furrowed at his condescension--it didn't take much to know that Harry was inept when it came to relationships, and she didn't appreciate Duncan making him feel worse about it. It's not like it was his fault he wasn't a normal kid. "That's usually called a 'date'," Duncan concluded. Harry was reddening more by the second.

"Oh . . . er . . . I didn't, um, know that Ginny had a date today." He turned to her, but didn't look her in the eye. "I couldn't find Ron or Hermione anywhere. I don't know where they've run off to. I've been looking for them all morning, but they're nowhere to be found." Ginny was feeling too much embarrassment on Harry's behalf to think anything of the fact that her brother had disappeared again. "I'll just go then." He glanced at Duncan one last time. "Sorry for interrupting your lunch." And with that he started toward the door.

Ginny shot Duncan a look that would have stopped a charging rhino in its tracks, and went after him.

"Harry!" she shouted across the bar. He hesitated mid-step, but kept walking. "Harry!" she shouted, more insistently this time. He stopped a few feet from the door, but didn't turn around. Ginny walked around to face him, though he refused to look at her.

"Harry, I'm so sorry. I can't believe the git actually said that." Harry shrugged noncommittally, in a way that made Ginny believe he was just trying to get through the conversation as quickly as possible and get the hell out of there. She leaned in and whispered in his ear.

"I'm actually really glad you showed up," she added, and to this he froze again and chanced a look at her. She smiled at her progress. "Because I was having sort of a miserable time." Harry cracked a smile and turned his head to glance in the direction of their table, where Duncan was watching something out the window. He looked back at her earnestly.

"I really am sorry, Ginny. I honestly didn't know," he explained again. Ginny's countenance softened, and she remembered what he'd said about Ron disappearing.

"And you can't find Ron?" Harry shrugged and shook his head, shifting finally from embarrassment to perplexity.

"Yeah, it's really odd. I can't find either of them, and nobody has seen them anywhere."

"Well, it can't be a Prefect thing, because Kerney and Othello came down with the other fifth years." Ginny glanced at Harry, remembering that she had observed some distance between Harry and his two best friends recently, but decided that now was not the best time to ask about it. "Maybe Hermione dragged him off to the library, and she was smart enough to know that dragging one of you would be loads easier than trying to force both of you," she added to lighten the mood. Harry seemed to sense that she was trying to give him an out, and he took it.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your . . . er . . . lunch. I'll see you later, Ginny." He gave her a small smile. She smiled fully back.

"I'll see you in the common room, yeah?" He nodded and turned to intercept his order from Madam Rosmerta at the bar. Ginny sighed and made her way back to her not-so-illustrious date. If he thought he was going to get even a snog after that display, he had another thing coming.

* * *

For 27 days before Gryffindor's first Quidditch match of the year, it rained. And stormed. And did anything other than be sunny and pleasant. On the 28th day, however, mother nature seemed to be inclined to compensate for it all in one day. By the time Ginny went down to breakfast at 9:30, it was already 77 degrees outside. By 10:00 it was 85. And it kept climbing. There was not a cloud in the sky.

Filled to the brim with students breakfasting in anticipation of the match, the Great Hall was hot and stuffy. Professor Flitwick was going spare trying to adjust the school's cooling charms to meet the pace of the uncharacteristic heat wave that seemed to be hitting the area.

As she sat at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by the usual line-up of fifth years in their usual spots--Andy and Nadine on either side of her, Kerney directly across, Artemis and Colin on either side of the Kernel--Ginny peered around her housemates to gauge the status of each of her teammates. Harry and Ron were quietly murmuring responses to Hermione, with the former picking at his food while the latter ate more than enough for both of them. But then, she knew Harry never ate much before a match.

It looked like Hermione was forcing him to hydrate himself, though. For once, Ginny was thankful that Hermione was a nagger. While as Keeper Ron probably wouldn't have much issue with the heat, the rest of them would need to hydrate as much as possible before the match. Ginny herself had already gotten through five glasses of pumpkin juice and was nearly done with her sixth.

"Slow down, Gin, or you'll have to take a leak in the middle of the game," Kerney offered. Ginny smiled and killed the remaining juice in her glass. Kerney shook her head. "Do you actually like it when I say, 'I told you so'? Because that seems to be happening more often these days." She was, of course, referring to her prediction that 47 boys would ask her to Hogsmeade. In fact, there had been only 29 invitations, but the Kernel had been correct in all the essentials.

At 10:30 Harry stood up and said "locker room," drawing the attention of Ginny and her teammates, as well as Calvin Wilde, the seventh-year Ravenclaw captain. Ginny was ridiculously pleased that Cho had not been named captain. Then again, she figured the team leader would have to be made of sterner stuff than a human hosepipe. As Ginny followed Harry and her brother out of the hall, she watched the Ravenclaws follow suit.

Roman Keselica pointed at her in a joking, trash talking kind of way, and she pointed right back, smirking happily. He was their Keeper, and they were sure to come up against each other numerous times during the game.

But from that moment until her Quidditch robes were on--under which she was already drenched with sweat--she was immersed in tactical discussions with Katie and Betsy, occasionally hollering some thing or another at Stevie or Jack. Harry and Ron seemed lost in their own heads as they quietly suited up.

At ten minutes until ten o'clock, Harry moved in front of where they were talking and sitting on benches.

"All right, you lot. Ravenclaw's best player is their Keeper. Keselica is really good." He looked meaningfully at Ginny and the other two Chasers. "You've got you work cut out for you. His strength is his reflexes--he's incredibly quick. You won't want to be trying much misdirection, so pick your spots. The most important thing is that you shoot well today. No Keeper is going to shut you out, so you've got to take advantage of the chances you get. On defense, I want Katie on Sheldon and Ginny on Haven." He turned to the Beaters.

"Stevie, you have to be in Calvin Wilde's back pocket. You need to devote yourself to being a royal pain in his arse. He knows how good Katie and Ginny are, and he's going to be teeing up for them. I don't want him to get off any clean shots at them, got it?" Stevie nodded. Ginny had to keep herself from giggling at him. The kid had his "game face" on and it was extraordinarily serious compared to the expressions that usually crossed his face.

"Ron shouldn't have too much trouble; their Chasers are all young and were not particularly impressive last year. I've got Cho, obviously, but I shouldn't have a problem." He looked at the team and almost smirked. His eyes were flashing. Ginny nearly fell off the bench.

When did he get so confident? He knew he was good at Quidditch, probably the best in the school; but he'd never even come close to saying so. This glimpse of him warmed her insides and gave her confidence. Granted, she was already sweating through her robes it was so hot outside, so maybe it was just an effect of the weather.

"We should win this game. We are definitely the better team. Any questions?" Ginny was now itching to get on the field. She could feel Katie's excitement next to her, and Stephen was practically humming with energy. Ginny looked back at Harry, who was looking directly at her. She smiled ferally, and he returned it in kind. This was their first game playing together, and the feeling was intense. Following Harry's lead, they all put their hands in for a cheer. Harry gave the one-two-three and they shouted "LIONS!" and lined up to walk out onto the pitch.

* * *

Twenty minutes into the game, Ginny could barely sit up straight on her broom. Her robes were drenched with sweat, and even her Retro seemed to feel sluggish in the overpowering heat. She looked and felt like she had just jumped in the lake. Except, she thought bitterly as she caught the Quaffle, drew a defender, and passed it of to an overlapping Katie Bell, the lake would be much cooler than this.

She was not alone. Every player on both teams was sagging. The sun was blazing down, and Dumbledore and McGonagall had conjured tarps over the spectators in the stands. Ginny sent them a jealous glare as she accelerated past Haven Tidmarsh to catch the leading pass Betsy had sent her way.

Five minutes later, Ginny was getting dizzy and Betsy Moran nearly fell off her broom. Luckily she caught herself, but that seemed to be the last straw for Harry, who promptly called timeout. They were leading 20 to nil.

As she flew to the ground, the thought flashed through Ginny's mind that she would rather play naked than in all the bloody robes. Whose ridiculous idea was it to play in robes in the first place? She had to give Muggles credit when it came to sports--they didn't wear yards of needless material. Remembering that there technically was no rule about uniform specifications other than that a team had to wear the same color, Ginny got an idea.

As soon as she touched down, she started tearing off her clothes. Katie and Betsy didn't need much persuading, and the girls on the Ravenclaw team soon caught on as well. The boys on both teams stood, watching their female counterparts strip down to their shorts and sports bras.

Hermione must have come down to the field when Harry called the timeout to see if everyone was all right, and looked a bit appalled at what they were doing. It took a few minutes, but soon the blokes were all down to t-shirts and shorts. Crimson and blue Quidditch robes littered the pitch. Ginny turned to a shocked Hermione.

"Quick, turn my sports bra red," she said to the older girl, who snapped out of her surprised look and tapped Ginny, Katie and Betsy's shoulder straps, turning their sports bras crimson. She tapped each girl's leg and turned their spandex shorts a matching Gryffindor gold. Another tap on each leg conjured their numbers--an 11 for Ginny, a 33 for Katie, and a 2 for Betsy.

The boys were already wearing red Gryffindor Quidditch t-shirts with their numbers on the back. Ron was number 1; Harry, the same 7 he'd had since first year; Stevie had taken his aunt's number, 8; and Jack had kept the number 25 from the year before.

Seeing what was going on, Madam Hooch had touched down and gone over to help the Ravenclaws do the same. Turning back to her teammates, Ginny laughed at Harry and Ron, who were obviously not used to seeing her and Katie Bell without a shirt on. Ginny thought briefly that her mother would strongly disapprove, but was quickly laughing again at the sight of Stephen gawking at her. When Madam Hooch had gotten the Ravenclaws in order, they resumed play.

It was a whole different match.

Without their wet, sticky, and clumsy robes impeding them, both teams flew faster, felt cooler, and picked up the tempo of the game considerably. It was still outrageously hot, but not impossibly so.

Her Retro seemed to sense her increased energy, and came alive. She was the fastest flier on the field and could cut and change direction on a dime. And she fully exploited her advantage. Her obvious skill with a broom drew the attention of the Ravenclaw Beaters, as well as their Chasers, leaving Betsy, and to a lesser extent, Katie, almost completely free to move the Quaffle.

By the time Harry caught the Snitch, Ginny had not scored since she put in the opening goal two minutes into the match. But Betsy had scored six, and Katie had added four. They won by a score of 260-90.

But the highlight of the game, by far, was when a smiling Harry jumped off his broom after catching the Snitch, ran past a half-naked Cho Chang without a second glance, and wrapped up a half-naked Ginny in a sweaty, disgusting hug. She decided that she liked the feeling of his hands on her skin.

It was a few minutes before Harry seemed to remember that she didn't have a shirt on, at which he jumped back, gazed at her indulgently, turned bright red, and went to find Ron.

After exchanging hugs and smiles and congratulations with the rest of her teammates, Ginny stood on the pitch watching her team and her housemates chattering happily and replaying the game. She was just thinking about how content she was when she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She turned around to find Baron Ramsey standing in his full school uniform, but even without his robes, she wondered how he hadn't already passed out from heat stroke--the match had taken over three hours. She smiled.

"It seems that, in addition to being the fastest flier in the school," he began, with a completely unsubtle glance at her "uniform," "you are also the most resourceful one." Ginny laughed.

"Thank you," she replied cheerfully.

"Was your intention to distract all the male players, or merely to mitigate the heat?" He didn't smile, but his eyes were glittering. Ginny smirked.

"Just the heat," she replied. "But if I managed to distract anyone, all the better," she added, shrugging innocently. Here the Head Boy actually did smile, which transformed his already handsome face. He was freaking gorgeous. She had never seen him smile before. Why the hell didn't he do it more often?

"Well, congratulations on your victory," he said, glancing over her shoulder. His beautiful, smiling face fell back into its usual demeanor. "I should probably leave you to celebrate with your team." Ginny thought that he was taking his leave rather abruptly, but when she turned to look over her shoulder, she saw why. Harry and Ron were glaring daggers at them. Ginny rolled her eyes as she turned back to Baron.

"Oh, don't bother with them. I can talk to you if I want. They're just idiots." She leaned down to pick up her disgusting robes and her broom. "Come on," she said, smiling kindly at him. "Walk me back to the locker room." And he did.

* * *