On Fire

you told me everything I wanted to hear
and you sold me
now I don't know how I should feel

I should know me
and baby, you would think I knew better

- Michelle Branch

Amends

They continued to hold each other for an hour or so. Ginny was so comfortable in his warm embrace that she slowly drifted to sleep. But before she was lost to her exhaustion, Blaise nudged her awake and whispered, "It's getting late. Let's get you to bed."

With a sleepy nod from Ginny, Blaise held her hand as he slowly led her down the steps from the Astronomy Tower. They moved silently through the halls, wary of Filch and Mrs. Norris. Fortunately, they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady unharmed. Ginny managed to mumble a soft "Good night" and turned to enter the Gryffindor Tower. Before she had moved two steps away from Blaise, he caught her arm and stopped her. He stooped a little and whispered in her ear, "You forgot your 'good night' kiss." His lips lightly touched her ear as he spoke, and his warm breath sent shivers down her spine. The shivers she experienced from Draco boiled her blood and inflamed her senses. Blaise's gentle words filled her with happy warmth in the pit of her stomach and managed to jolt her awake, but that was all.

Ginny turned her face towards Blaise with a smirk. Just as she was about to retort wittily, he tipped her chin up with his hand and kissed her. His lips were warm and caressing, and Ginny was awash with a feeling of safety and happiness. She sighed contentedly and snaked her arms around his neck. She reached up to run her fingers through his blonde silky hair... and stopped. With a terrified look on her face, Ginny pushed Blaise away. She had been imagining Draco in her arms when she was kissing Blaise.

Blaise stood there and looked at her quizzically. Ginny opened her mouth to try and explain herself, but all she managed to say was, "Not comfortable..." Blaise just nodded calmly and pulled her into his arms.

"Don't worry, Ginevra. I won't push you into this," he whispered as he stroked her hair. Ginny moved away, wanting to explain that it wasn't his fault. But Blaise simply released her with a kiss on her forehead and a wistful, "Good night, sweet Ginevra," as he strolled away.

Ginny was speechless as she watched his retreating back. Blaise had been so sweet to her; he had immediately assumed that he was to blame for her discomfort. He had never accused her of anything, even though it was her fault that she was so uncomfortable in the first place. Ginny turned back to the Gryffindor tower and walked slowly to her dormitory, blinded by her thoughts.

How could she be so cruel to him? How could she pretend to love him while pretending he was Draco? Ginny sneered when she remembered the lipstick on Draco's neck and his disheveled appearance at the Three Broomsticks. Blaise was such a wonderful guy and he was obviously very interested in her as a person. In his eyes, Ginny was sure that she was not some plaything that could be used and thrown away, unlike Pansy Parkinson. But why was she unable to reciprocate those feelings?

Four days passed by, filled with idyllic pleasure. Blaise's kisses had lost none of their potency, and Ginny's knees went weak every time she felt the intensity of his gazes. They spent every spare moment of their time together. He walked her to her classes and her meals. They had become a common sight in the hallways, their arms linked and their laughter echoing for yards around them. Ginny had never felt as secure with anyone as she did with Blaise, even when Harry saved her from the Chamber of Secrets. When they were together, she felt as though she was allowed to be herself. He accepted her for who she was and never forced her to fit a mold or design.

Ginny continued to contemplate this as she sat in the Gryffindor common room. Blaise was currently in a "junior Death Eater" meeting, as he referred to it. Thus, Ginny found herself ensconced in an extremely comfortable chair before the fireplace. Her Potions book lay open on her lap, long forgotten. Her brooding face reflected the shifting flames from the fireplace, while her hair had a golden sheen from the light.

Ron found his sister in this state when he crawled through the portrait hole and sauntered to her side. Ginny was so deep in thought that she did not notice his approach. Her book nearly fell off her lap and onto the floor when he suddenly said, "Hey, Ginny."

Snapped out of her thoughts, Ginny turned her head quickly and eyed him with suspicion. "Hello yourself," she answered curtly.

Ron shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable with talking to her. Finally, he seemed to muster up enough courage to ask, "Mind if I sit here?"

Ginny scowled and answered, "Yes, I do mind. Unless you have anything worthwhile to say, I insist that you leave me alone."

Her formal speech seemed to fluster Ron even more. "Listen, Ginny," he began with an exasperated sigh, "Can't we just talk?"

This time, her Potions book fell to the floor with a loud thump. Ginny rose out of her seat furiously, and stabbed him in the chest with her forefinger. "Well, when one of us," she emphasized with another poke, "learns civilized conversation, we will speak. Until then, NO." She gave him a final poke before she folded both arms across her chest and glared at him.

Ron continued to shift his weight on his feet a few more times, staring down at the floor in embarrassment. His face was now infused with red, and the color even reached the tips of his ears. Then he looked Ginny in the eyes and mumbled, "I... I just want... to say... sorry."

Ginny looked at him incredulously. "What did you say?" she asked calmly, still convinced that she had been imagining things.

He reddened even more and stated clearly, "I said 'I'm sorry'."

"For what?" Ginny asked imperiously.

"For..." this obviously required some quick thinking on Ron's part. "For... being such a prat." He looked at Ginny hopefully, but she still stared back at him stonily, tapping her foot with impatience. "Also, for..." he continued nervously, "calling you a 'slag' and poking fun at those wank-" Ginny glared at him murderously, so he quickly amended, "Ah... friends of yours."

Ginny's eyes lost their fire, but she looked at him with a mixture of hurt and sadness. "Not to mention," she whispered, "not trusting me to make my own choices."

"But Ginny," he cut in, "they're Slytherins!"

"And one of them happens to be my boyfriend!" she retorted. "And he loves me! Even Harry couldn't love me that way! He'd always be worried about saving the world, but Blaise is worried about me."

Ron started to look uncomfortable again, but Ginny wasn't about to let him go easily. "You've been such an... ass to me, Ron! I'm no slag and you know it! But you had to believe those rumors. Hell, you probably caused a few of them yourself." Ron had the good sense to look guilty at this accusation. "And you expect me to accept you again after a simple 'sorry'!" Ginny stopped for a deep breath. With a sigh, she muttered, "I'm sorry, Ron, but I don't know if I can trust you."

"But Gin-" Ron interjected, his face pale with shock.

She held up her hand to interrupt him. "It's going to take time, Ron," she whispered resignedly. "Maybe we can go back to the way we were, but I need time."

For the second time that evening, Ron was wise enough to just nod sorrowfully in agreement. Raking his fingers through his hair, he said, "Well, why don't we start now?" Ginny looked at him questioningly, so he explained, "Why don't you tell me about Malfoy and Zabini? I'll tell you about me and Hermione."

So for two hours, brother and sister sat before the fire while they informed each other about their lives. Ron had been mystified at Draco's alternating gentleness and coldness, but shrugged it off as "What else would you expect from that git?" Ginny laughed when she heard that Ron and Hermione had kept their relationship a secret for the entire summer because they were unsure if Harry fancied Hermione.

When they had finished, Ron sighed and raked his fingers through his hair while staring at the fire absentmindedly. Ginny laughed when she realized that his hair resembled the spines of a porcupine. Ron grinned back when he saw her amusement and said, "Well, I'm off to bed."

Ginny nodded and said, "I'll be down here finishing this reading," as she indicated the Potions book on the floor. "But, it was nice to talk to you, Ron."

"Same here, Gin," Ron responded with a smile as he rose out of his seat. "Well, good night," and after a pause he added, "Don't stay up too late." With that, he turned and climbed the stairs to his dormitory.

Ginny smiled ruefully; it really had been nice to talk to Ron. She had never realized just how lonely she had been with only Blaise and Draco to talk to since the beginning of the school year. Well, Draco no longer cared about her, so she could only talk to Blaise. Of course, Blaise was Blaise, and he loved it when she revealed her thoughts and emotions to him. But Ginny's guilt seemed to build a wall between them. She was still uncomfortable with their one-sided relationship; after all, Blaise loved her, but she could only feel a deep affection for him. This inequality prevented Ginny from really telling him everything that she felt.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Ginny reached down and picked up the Potions textbook again and resumed her reading. Before long, the words on the pages began to swim and her vision turned blurry. In a last spurt of consciousness, she shut the book and pillowed her head in the cushion of her chair before she fell fast asleep.

Ginny was jolted awake a half an hour later by a hoarse scream. The voice was definitely male; it's tortured and anguished cries terrified Ginny. She bolted out of her chair, her textbook once again thumping to the floor, and raced towards the stairs. She jumped them two at a time and hurried to the boys' dormitory, only to be stopped by a disheveled and worried Ron. His blue eyes showed fear and terror, but his voice was calm and pointed. "It's Harry. Get McGonagall."

With a quick nod, Ginny ran down the stairs again and flew to the portrait hole. She ran through the hallways so quickly that she felt like she was in a dream. If anyone had been walking about at that time in the morning, they would have only seen a blur of red and black flit by them quickly. Ginny finally reached the portrait in front of McGonagall's quarters. This portrait contained an old, stately man with silver-gray hair and immaculate robes. He was reclined in a comfortable chair, snoring slightly as he slept.

"Wake up!" Ginny yelled at the man impatiently. He woke up with a start, snorted a bit, and groped the table beside him for his glasses. Once he had retrieved them and put them on, he turned to Ginny with stern eyes and asked, "And what, pray tell, are you doing up and about at this time of the morning? It is not fit for young ladies such as yourself to be gallivanting-"

Ginny sighed with annoyance and interrupted, "I need to see Professor McGonagall. Now."

He shook his head, disapproving of her tone, before he replied, "The professor is happily asleep, as you should be, young lady. I say, women these days-"

With a stomp of her foot, she shouted, "I need McGonagall, you fool. Something's wrong with Harry and all you can do is-"

Before she could continue her rant, the man stood up and asked, "Did you say Harry...as in Harry Potter?" Ginny nodded, still fuming and thinking of polite words to tell this old fart to bugger off. "Well, young lady, why did you not say something before?" And with a blink, he hurried out of his portrait.

Within a few minutes, Professor McGonagall opened the portrait door. She was wearing an old flannel nightgown, complete with ruffles and lace; the neck of the gown stopped at mid-throat and looked very uncomfortable. Her hair was in curlers, barely hidden by a mobcap. A plaid dressing gown had been tied across her waist haphazardly, for one arm of it was hanging off of her shoulders. Ginny could barely contain her giggles when the professor yawned widely, looking like a tired and sleepy cat. When she heard giggles, McGonagall adjusted her spectacles and glared at Ginny pointedly. "Well, Miss Weasley? What is the matter now?" she asked with a huff of annoyance.

Ginny wiped the smile off of her face and said urgently, "It's Harry. He was screaming - I think he had another nightmare."

Before Ginny had completed her news, McGonagall swept past her and hurried towards Gryffindor tower. Ginny spun around and followed her, puffing and panting with exertion. McGonagall, on the other hand, seemed to move effortlessly, and she fixed her appearance as she ran. With a loud "Bludger," the fat lady's portrait swung open and admitted them into the common room.

After Ginny crawled through the hole and straightened up, she found the entire Gryffindor House in the common room. Everyone's attention was riveted to the sofa that she had been sitting at, directly in front of the fireplace. McGonagall was already moving through the crowd, which had silently parted for her. Ginny followed McGonagall, her curiosity piqued. When she finally reached the center of attention, she was greeted with quite a sight.

Harry was slumped in her chair, with her Potions text lying by his foot. Ron and Hermione were hovering on either side of him, pale with worry. Hermione's face was streaked with tears, her hair bushier and wilder than ever. Ron's face was so white that his freckles stood out like dark brown spots. His hair was just as wild and unkempt as Hermione's. But the most shocking sight was Harry.

His face was covered with blood. The blood had flown from the top of his head, for she could see rivulets that had trickled around his nose and down his chin. His eyebrows and closed eyelids were also caked with dry blood. His scar on his forehead was an angry, bubbling red, unlike the faded brown that it usually was. With a start, Ginny realized that it was his scar that was bleeding. But before she could marvel at the discovery, Harry emitted a low moan of anguish.

That guttural cry for help seemed to mobilize Professor McGonagall. She immediately turned to Ginny and said, "Miss Weasley, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger, please accompany Mr. Potter to the infirmary. The rest of you," she looked pointedly at the crowd around her, "off to bed."

A general grumble of discontent followed her words, but McGonagall silenced them with a look and threatened, "I shall be visiting the dormitories periodically for the rest of the night to ensure that you are asleep."

Finally, everyone dispersed. McGonagall levitated Harry and led him out of the common room, with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione following in her wake.