Crepúsculo

Crepúsculo

Chapter 2

The Pleasure of Your Company

I see a red door and I want to paint it black

No colours anymore, I want them to turn black

I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes

I have to turn my head until my darkness goes

--The Rolling Stones

Ginny tried to pay attention during the Sorting Ceremony. She managed to listen to the selections all the way through "Dobbs, Katherine," but after Katie Dobbs became a Hufflepuff her attention scuttled away to a warm, dark corner of the Hall and snuggled up with the dust bunnies. Ginny would have loved to have followed it. She wanted to curl up in fetal position and whimper pitifully, ideally staying there until her problems realized she wasn't worth bothering and left her alone.

Ginny couldn't actually do that, of course; the idea was a lot like the Muggles' system of Communism: beautiful on paper, but highly unsuccessful in practice. Besides, she was a Gryffindor. She was supposed to deal with problems bravely.

The sarcastic side of her reasoned that Gryffindors were known for bravery in fighting dragons, or winning battles, the sort of things Harry was always doing, saving the world and such. Not for dealing with a hyperactive attention span and a mental overload.

She wasn't sure why she felt so overwhelmed, except for the suffocating and the concussion. She'd always treaded on a tentative tightrope where Jeremy Hayden was concerned, so the sudden shift in his feelings towards her wasn't so much surprising as unsettling, an unexpected movement of the rope beneath her. She'd catch her balance quickly enough and take it in stride like the experienced tightrope walker she was. Tightrope dancer probably fit her better, as she tended to take unnecessary risks, and not just with Jeremy Hayden's emotions: give her mother a little heart failure--it was good for her, you know; it used to be Fred and George's job, but with them gone Ginny had taken it upon herself to continue in the business; she didn't want Molly Weasley getting too comfortable in her old age, did she? A little danger was medicine for the soul. It was all in good fun, she swore, and there was always the net to catch her if she fell.

During the Sorting, Ginny clapped whenever she happened to hear the Sorting Hat's announcements over the voice of her thoughts ("Ravenclaw!" "Slytherin!") but ignored the majority of the ceremony. Because, while she was certain that the physical damage to her brain from the Malfoy Episode and Jeremy's kiss weren't aiding her mental clarity, the dubious honor of being the real reason for her lack of concentration belonged to the necklace that had fallen from her pocket. The necklace she wore now, a comforting orb of silver and mist dangling from her neck.

Jeremy had handed it to her, saying that she could do as she wished with it; it had her name on it, after all. "You probably wouldn't want to wear it, though," he added. "It's icy cold."

At first when Ginny touched it, the chain still looped around Jeremy's fingers, it had felt cold, so frigid that she couldn't hold onto it for long. When she'd taken it from Jeremy, however, it had warmed up immediately. She found the sudden change in temperature odd, but made no mention of it to Jeremy, only clasped it around her neck and lowered it beneath her robes. She should show it to Cora, Ginny thought, but immediately decided against that idea. For reasons she didn't even attempt to comprehend she was loath to let anyone see the necklace, not even Cora, who might recognize its ethereal beauty and desire it for her own.

Ginny looked up at Jeremy, who was staring at her with a perfectly emotionless face. He might have been curious but he showed no sign of it.

"Thank you," Ginny said, though for what, she wasn't entirely sure.

Jeremy nodded and she knew he wouldn't mention the necklace to Cora, or Mike, or anyone else. Something flickered across his dark green eyes but he'd captured it and caged it before Ginny could identify just what it was. She felt irrationally slighted by this, but scolded herself. Didn't she do the same exact thing, only showing the world the emotions she wanted them to see, and squirreling away the rest? Of course she did, as part of the elaborate glamour she'd concocted to disguise the truth. Jeremy acted similarly. She knew better than to believe that sarcasm and pranks were the whole truth of the Ravenclaw.

But she was a far better actor than he. Occasionally she could see through the cracks of his deception, catch a glimpse of his real emotions. She'd always been able to see through people's disguises to their actual intentions. She judged people based on what she saw of their true nature, and in such judgments she had never been wrong.

Except once.

She said to Jeremy, "I can walk myself the rest of the way. You should go put on your robes."

He nodded again and gave her one last expressionless glance before turning away. Ginny headed for her car. After closing the door behind her she allowed herself a very conservative sigh of relief before taking a deep breath and preparing herself for what promised to be yet another harrowing experience: sharing a compartment with the Wonder Trio for the second time in one day. Doesn't everyone wish they were so lucky?

Ginny swallowed and opened the door.

Hermione and Harry greeted her upon her entry. As for Ron...she took in his unmoving form, sprawled across three seats.

"He's still unconscious," Hermione commented upon noticing the direction of Ginny's gaze.

"Have you tried Ennervate?"

"Didn't work." Harry sighed. "Got any good ideas, Gin?"

Not so long ago Ginny would have swooned if he'd called her Gin. "You could tell people he's sick. Better hope he wakes up soon."

"Thanks for the helpful suggestion, Ginny," Harry grimaced. "But it's probably what we're going to have to do."

Ginny smiled sweetly. "Harry, would you be a dear and leave for a minute so I can change into my robes? Thanks so much," she added as he complied.

She noticed Hermione's eyes on Harry's back as he left. Ginny barely restrained herself from blurting out, "So you like him too?" She wouldn't say that to Hermione. Ginny valued her relationship with the older girl too greatly to be gratuitously cruel to her, although she was in the mood to be gratuitously cruel to someone. Her eyes scanned the compartment for small furry animals to maim, but no suitable targets presented themselves--only Hermione, who was a non-option, and Ron, who, being unconscious, didn't really count. Ginny resigned herself to kicking the wall surreptitiously and not allowing herself to scream; not quite as effective as torturing unsuspecting victims, but still a fun way to vent.

Ginny knew the older girl wanted to talk to her from the look Hermione was projecting upon her. Making civilized conversation wasn't exactly topping off her list of priorities at the moment, but Ginny didn't see any good way to avoid it.

"Ginny..." Hermione hesitated. "Do you--I mean--Are you feeling okay?"

Ginny flashed a toothy grin and said, "Of course, Hermione. I'm wonderful. Why do you ask?"

Hermione tucked a loose strand of hair behind her left ear and replied carefully, "You seem like something's bothering you. That's all." She was giving Ginny one of those pleading looks, the ones that said 'It's okay to tell me what's wrong.' Hermione didn't get it. Ginny didn't confide in anyone anymore. Telling your secrets only got you hurt.

But Ginny had been around Hermione long enough to know that she could be relentless, especially when she felt something was being hidden from her. Ginny settled on telling her, "I'm still not feeling so great from being knocked out." Which was perfectly true. Perhaps not the whole truth, and certainly not the largest of her problems, but enough to satisfy Hermione's curiosity.

"Oh, Ginny, there are spells for that. Here." She whipped out her wand and said something too quickly for Ginny to catch, and the headache was gone. "All better?"

"My head's fine now, thanks," Ginny replied, careful not to say a plain 'yes,' because no, it wasn't all better, not by a long shot. But the headache part of it was. She chose her words very carefully, never lying but never telling all of the truth, either. She was very talented at it, but then she'd had a lot of practice.

Ginny and Hermione changed into their school robes and Hermione invited Harry back in.

"What did you do with Malfoy, by the way? I know you didn't leave him in that other compartment by himself." Hermione stared him down.

"I woke him up and sent him back to the rest of his little Slythies."

"Ennervate?"

"Oh, no." Harry grinned malevolently. "Ice water."

Ginny smirked at the thought of a sopping-wet Draco Malfoy. Imagine the damage to his hair! The poor baby.

"I would say I feel sorry for him," Hermione said, "but I don't. He had it coming." They exchanged an amused sniggle.

Ginny suddenly had a thought. "Bet I know how you can wake up my brother." Without giving them the chance to catch onto her meaning, Ginny said, "Accio ice water," and dumped it on Ron's head.

Ron sputtered and groaned. "Wha-?" he exclaimed.

Ginny was tempted to rebound Hermione's words back at her--"I would say I feel sorry for him, but I don't"--but decided against it at the last minute. She settled for a good old, "Hey, it worked, didn't it?" in response to Harry and Hermione's open-mouthed stares.

They couldn't very well refute that.

Ginny smiled a little too sweetly and said," Oh, look! We're almost at Hogsmeade Station. Ron, you'd better get your school robes on."

"Hey!" Hermione said. "I'm Head Girl; that's my line."

"Right," Ginny said. "So, Hermione, you and I should probably clear out while Ron changes...unless you'd like to watch?" she added, indulging the nasty streak that, currently, was greatly enjoying watching Ron and Hermione squirm.

"I'll come with you," Hermione squeaked, and scooted out of the compartment, leaving Ginny amazed, as always, at the effect a well-timed, mildly malicious comment could have on people.

Hermione avoided Ginny's eyes while they waited in the hall. They weren't outside very long; definitely not long enough to bother talking when they had nothing to say to each other.

But apparently Hermione did have something to say. "Since when are you so sarcastic, Ginny?"

"What?" Ginny didn't bother to mask her surprise. Hermione waited expectantly, so she continued, "A long time, I guess."

"Maybe I just missed it," Hermione began, "but you never used to be so..."

"So what?"

"So--" Hermione broke off as the compartment door opened.

Harry stuck his head out into the hall and announced that they could come back in. Hermione shot him an annoyed glare, which he ignored, and then gave Ginny a meaningful glance: their conversation was hardly finished.

Ginny tuned out the Wonder Trio's excited gibbering during the last few minutes of the ride and freed herself from them the instant the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station. She sat in the first carriage she came across, and had absolutely no idea who sat with her. If they said anything to her she didn't hear it.

Nor did she have any idea how she'd arrived in her seat in the Great Hall next to Cora. A quick look around proved that, thankfully, she had ended up at the Gryffindor table instead of the Hufflepuff, but she supposed it had been a one in four chance. Her hands were clapping without her even having been aware of it.

Cora nudged her and suddenly she was in control again. "Ginny, what is the matter with you?"

Ginny blinked. "Huh?"

"That was a Slytherin, Ginny. You know, the snakes? We don't clap for Slytherins."

"Right. Yes." Ginny took a deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out. Why did it suddenly seem so difficult?

She felt Cora's eyes on her, and gave her friend a weak grin. She couldn't let Cora suspect anything. No, no. Keep control, keep breathing.

As suddenly as it had arrived Ginny's attention span deserted her, silently, painlessly, like blood lost in hot water. Cora tried to talk to her multiple times during the Feast but Ginny couldn't handle conversation at the moment, and waited for Cora to catch the hint. Sure enough, Cora finally began to converse with--why not?--Jeremy Hayden, a Ravenclaw, across the Hufflepuff table, annoying the Hufflepuffs to no end, although no one really cared about that save the Hufflepuffs. The more contact Ginny had with Hufflepuff the gladder she was that she'd been made a Gryffindor. Even Slytherin was better than Hufflepuff.

Her eyes wandered over to the Slytherin table, where the twin mountains were engorging themselves, each of them gnawing on an entire leg of lamb. Ginny wrinkled her nose in distaste. Okay, take that back about Slytherin being better than Hufflepuff. At least Hufflepuffs had manners.

Before looking down at her plate, full of food she'd slid around into a slushy mess, eating having proved impossible without the benefit of a functioning brain, Ginny's eyes traveled the length of the Slytherin table and rested on a figure to the right of Crabbe/Goyle, so eclipsed in the shadow of the mountain that Ginny couldn't recognize him. This person actually appeared to be using (gasp!) a fork and a knife. Well. That certainly was an improvement. Maybe Slytherins weren't all hogs...

Crabbe/Goyle shifted away from the person next to him. The person glanced up from his plate. Ugh, it was only Malfoy. But she didn't look away immediately, and he stared right at her with his usual superior smirk, this time laced with a hearty dose of "I know something you don't know." Ginny felt suddenly and urgently ill. She wrenched her eyes away from his to flee the Great Hall and go puke in the girls' bathroom.

After spending a few minutes of quality time with the center toilet Ginny left the stall to splash water on her face. The cool water helped a bit but she still hadn't ruled out a second round of barfing. She glanced up at her reflection. Deathly pale with a greenish, almost waxy tinge definitely wasn't a look that suited her, especially with water dribbling down her chin.

"Wow, you look like hell," someone observed from across the room in a deeply amused, slightly drawling, and decidedly male voice. Ginny spun around just in time to see Draco Malfoy step out of the shadows.

Ginny wiped the water off her face, blinked slowly, and exhaled a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "What are you doing in the girls' bathroom?"

He stared at her for a moment. "I saw you leave the Great Hall. You looked sick."

"Yeah, well, good work, Sherlock. As you can see," she gestured towards her good friend the center toilet, "I have, in fact, been quite sick, as I'm sure you already knew. How long have you been in here anyway?"

Ginny didn't actually expect him to answer that, and, true to form, he didn't.

"Why are you here, Malfoy? You're about the last person I want to talk to right now. Hell, you're about the last person I want to talk to, ever."

"I'm flattered," Malfoy said, "really, I am. Would you believe me if I said I'm here because I was worried about you?"

"No," Ginny replied flatly.

The right corner of his mouth turned up a little. "You're right. I wasn't."

Before she could come up with a response that would get them off the circular track this conversation was stuck on, a pounding headache sprang up in Ginny's head. She put a hand to her temple, which made her dizzy, which made her want to throw up again. She sank to the floor, closing her eyes, willing the world to stop spinning and her stomach to calm down. She heard a few dull thumping noises and attributed them to her headache; they didn't register as footsteps until someone sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. She forced her eyes open just as Malfoy leaned towards her with his lips slightly parted. She wanted to move away but couldn't make her sluggish muscles react quickly enough. Malfoy turned her head towards his and his mouth descended upon hers, cutting off her air supply, and she was drowning in him; he forced open her mouth and she could not resist him; she'd been drowning in him but now she was breathing with him, her heart racing and his mouth pouring over hers, his hands making small circles on her back that she felt acutely through her thin t-shirt--she'd taken off her robes before befriending the toilet, not wanting to have to send out her only robes for dry cleaning and having to wear Cora's, or, God forbid, Ron's extra set. She didn't know what to do with her hands. For a while they lay dormant in her lap but as her body began to react to Malfoy's kiss her treacherous hands moved towards his back, intending to pull him closer. Just in time Ginny regained enough control to place her hands on his entirely-too-well-defined pecs and push him away.

"Oh, no," Ginny whispered. "Not now." She thought she was going to throw up again but found that her muscles wouldn't support her. She felt more than a little dazed. She risked a glance at Malfoy, whose expression matched perfectly the one forming on her own face.

Ginny leaned back against the wall and involuntarily touched her temple again. What she really wanted right now was her pajamas and her four-poster, and maybe some ice water. Not Malfoy. She really didn't need this.

Finally she managed to say, in a hoarse whisper, "What exactly were you trying to accomplish by that?"

Malfoy was leaning against the wall barely a foot away from her, but the barrier between them was so thick that they might as well have been sitting on opposite sides of the room. "Why?"

Ginny stared at him for a moment, realized it made her head hurt, and closed her eyes again. "Well," she said, "kissing on the floor of the girls' bathroom just after I finished puking my guts out is hardly romantic."

She heard his shrug. "Well, if you put it that way."

She blinked her eyes open. "How would you put it?"

Malfoy ran a hand through his fine blond hair. Every strand fell back into place exactly where it had been before. "I don't know." He repeated it. "I don't know."

Ginny would have exploited that--"I heard you perfectly well the first time"--but really wasn't in the mood.

Pajamas. Four-poster. Ice water.

She tried to stand up and would have fallen flat on her face if Malfoy hadn't caught her by the shoulders.

"You're sick," he said.

"You think?"

"You shouldn't move yet."

"I'm fine." Ginny struggled out of his grip, took a step forward, smiled victoriously, and passed out.

She was never certain, afterwards, as to how she came to be leaning against the wall outside the Fat Lady's portrait, where Cora found her upon returning from dinner, her robes draped around her shoulders, but she figured Malfoy played more than a bit part in getting her there.

"What happened to you?" Cora's eyes confused.

"I got sick. I still don't feel so well; I'll tell you about it in the morning." She didn't add that she couldn't possibly face the daunting task of properly editing the night's events and tailoring them into the version Ginny wanted Cora to hear before she got some rest.

Cora agreed to wait till the morning. "You do look ill," she said.

Ginny smiled blandly. She maneuvered her way into the dormitory, even managing not to collapse until she'd pulled the curtains around her bed tightly shut. She clutched at her pillow and finally slumped down on the mattress, exhausted.

She awoke entirely too soon the next morning to see Cora's inquisitive pale eyes hovering directly above her head. Having experienced this particular method of rude awakening countless times, Ginny had conditioned herself not to yell out in surprise.

But still.

"Go away," she mumbled.

Cora tittered. "C'mon, Gin, time to face the day! It's a mahvelous morning!"

Ginny shoved Cora off her stomach, not unkindly, and fumbled around until she managed to free her arm from the coverlet. After glancing at her watch she groaned, "Cora, it's seven-thirty in the morning."

"Exactly! It's Saturday. We can do whatever we want all day long!"

"Right. So I'm going back to bed."

"Oh, no, you aren't! We have places to go, and people"--she winked and nudged Ginny's arm--"to see."

"You go tell those places and people that I'll be right there. In another five hours or so."

"I'm not giving up that easily."

Ginny stared at her one-eyed. "You are entirely too bubbly for your own good, do you know that?"

Cora made some excited-hamster noises and helped Ginny out of bed. "Oh, and while we're walking there, you can tell me what happened to you last night during dinner!"

"Great," Ginny said. "Because that's just what I've been looking forward to all night."

Oblivious to Ginny's sarcasm, Cora scooted over to Ginny's wardrobe and began tossing random articles of clothing onto the floor.

"Do I even want to ask?" Ginny yawned.

Cora grinned. "Nope. You just go take a shower. I'll explain when you get back."

Realizing that Cora was in one of those moods where she just wouldn't take no for an answer, Ginny surrendered and headed off towards the bathroom. She pealed off her clothes once in the shower stall, so eager for the feel of warm water against her skin that she nearly didn't see the note that fell onto the floor from the pocket of her robes. She figured it was just trash, maybe an unfinished piece of homework from last year. She considered leaving it there, but her curiosity overcame her and she picked it up. No, not homework after all. It wasn't even her handwriting.

Meet me in the North Tower at 8:00 next Saturday night.

Ginny stared, blinked, and stared some more. There wasn't a signature, but Ginny knew who'd left the note in her robes. She thought it pretty egotistical of him to assume she would...but really, who else could it be?

Ginny didn't enjoy her shower nearly as much as she'd anticipated, which put her in a foul mood. It was all Draco Malfoy's fault, too. Just when she'd almost succeeded in forgetting he existed, he had to go and remind her of him. Darn it.

She dried off and pulled on her bathrobe and returned to the dormitories, where Cora greeted her with a smile that she was trying to hide.

"Oh, Ginny," Cora called, "I've found just the thing for you to wear. Now don't argue with me because you know it's useless."

Ginny sighed, rolled her eyes and almost choked when she caught sight of the clothes Cora was holding up. "You have got to be kidding me."

Cora wiggled a lacy black tank top and short black skirt directly in front of Ginny's nose. "Trust my judgment here."

"You didn't actually find those in my closet."

"Well, the skirt's yours, with a few minor adjustments."

Ginny examined it. "If you define minor as, oh, eight inches shorter."

Cora grinned wickedly. "Just wear it."

Ginny sighed and put her head in her hands. "I am putting on a cardigan over that thing, at least while we walk to wherever it is we're going."

Cora conceded that much, adding, "Though we're really not going very far," which left Ginny curious, as Cora had, no doubt, intended it to.

Ginny changed into the chosen clothes, feeling entirely too exposed her comfort and discovering a hidden remnant of her long-buried shyness desperately hoped to find the Common Room empty when they entered it.

No such luck. In addition to half a dozen littles, as Ginny and Cora referred to first through third years, Ron and Harry were playing chess. You would really think they'd have found something better to do with their free time by now, like girlfriends, or even homework, but no, they would be playing chess. Hermione was watching, sort-of; the heavy volume that rested open in her lap was rapidly capturing her attention. "Work first, romance can wait" had served Hermione well over the years. That is, if you were Hermione.

Harry saw Cora and Ginny first. He raised his hand, paused mid-wave, and ogled Ginny. Ron turned around to chastise whoever had interrupted the game, caught sight of Ginny, and nearly fell out of his chair.

"Virginia Weasley, what in the world are you thinking, going out of your dorm dressed like that? Or should I say, undressed? It's absolutely..." he paused mid-tirade to hunt for a word, looking so much like their mother that Ginny couldn't help but laugh, just as he found his word, "scandalous!"

Ron glared at Ginny and Cora, who'd decided the opportunity was too good to pass up and had burst out laughing, too.

"I'm not letting you leave the Common Room looking like a cheap whore, Virginia Anne--Hey! Are you even listening to me? Cora? There's nothing funny about this!"

Peals of laughter burst out from behind Ron: Harry and Hermione had recognized the comedy of the situation. "Don't you two even start," Ron bristled, which only made them laugh harder.

Ginny and Cora escaped while Ron attempted to silence his best friends. The second the Fat Lady closed behind them Cora erupted in fresh laughter. "Honestly, Gin," Cora wheezed, "your brother's got to get over his protective bit. You're nearly seventeen, for goodness' sake."

"Ron does have a point, though. I do feel like a whore in these clothes. You'd better have a really good reason for this."

Cora smiled cryptically but her eyes danced. "You'll see."

At first Ginny thought Cora was leading her towards the library, a scary thought, then towards the Hufflepuff dormitories, even worse, but when they turned into the 4th floor of the East Wing, Ginny really started to wonder. There was nothing, repeat, nothing vaguely near there. "Uh, Cora?" Ginny asked hesitantly. Cora had began to poke at random stones on the wall while muttering to herself.

"Just a minute, Ginny, just a minute," and she continued her task. When Ginny had begun questioning her friend's sanity and considering which ward of St. Mungo's mental institution would best suit Cora, a brick finally popped loose and the wall rearranged itself to create an entrance uncannily similar to the door into Diagon Alley. When Ginny mentioned this, Cora gave her a funny look and said, "The Founders designed Diagon Alley. You didn't know that?"

Behind the door was a dim sideways tunnel. Cora led Ginny through it, turned left at the end, and down a few flights of stairs. The stairs ended in a short hallway with two locked doors, neither of which gave the impression that they would respond to Alohomora. Cora gave a command in rapid French to the left-hand door, which sprang open instantly. Cora's mother was French, so Cora's use of the language didn't surprise Ginny nearly as much as the fact that there were doors in Hogwarts that responded to French commands.

The door revealed a little room lit by three torches on the walls, one beside each of its three doors. A tapestry covered most of the fourth wall.

"Wait here, Ginny. I'll be right back."

"All right, we've gone places. So now I get to see people?"

"Something like that." And with a wink, she was gone.

Ginny shivered. The cardigan she'd insisted upon wearing did little to ward off the damp, chilly air. This room couldn't be far above the dungeons. It even smelled faintly of old mildew.

Her stomach rumbled and she wondered what time it was. She realized belatedly that in all the excitement she'd left her watch on the nightstand. No matter, a clock hung high on the wall to her right. Ten a.m., and she hadn't eaten breakfast. Damn Cora's schemes. She quickly lost interest in her hunger, however, at her eyes fixed themselves upon the tapestry directly in front of her. The weaving depicted a brown-haired young woman with knowing eyes holding hands with a silver-haired man who smiled languorously. A snake curled around his feet while a raven perched on her shoulder. The pair stood beneath a tree Ginny would have recognized anywhere: the great oak on the hill overlooking Hogwarts's lake. Ginny's favorite tree. It was summer in the tapestry, with the great green branches billowing in the breeze. Ginny was ashamed of herself all of a sudden. This tapestry wasn't hers to gaze upon, nor was this room hers to use. She wished Cora hadn't brought her here.

Ginny heard two sets of footsteps echoing down the stairwell. The sound relieved her enormously, allowing her to turn her eyes away from the tapestry and look at the stairs. She could hear the footsteps and see the shadows but not their owners, but that didn't matter. It was better than looking at the tapestry. She couldn't explain just what about it worried her so much. She feared for the pair in the tapestry even as they made her nervous.

Blessedly, Cora bounded into the room. She was followed close behind by Jeremy Hayden, who wore a dark green sweater that matched his eyes, a feat of dressing that he surely hadn't accomplished alone. Jeremy shot Ginny a brief, out-of-place smile before turning his nervous gaze on Cora. Ginny too looked at Cora, who favored them both with a triumphant camp counselor smile before scurrying up the stairs.

Ginny watched her retreating form. "Cora's in her element, isn't she? Nobody but her could get me into a miniskirt and down into the dungeons early on a Saturday morning without any explanation. And before breakfast, too."

"She's good at this sort of thing. You know I wouldn't be wearing this"--he indicated his forest green sweater and expensive charcoal pants--"without Cora having something to do with it. I think she borrowed the sweater from Dean Thomas."

Ginny had to laugh at that. Jeremy wasn't one to borrow clothes from a gay guy, even if the color was perfect for him. "Knowing Dean, he probably suggested the sweater himself."

"Probably," Jeremy agreed, both of them aware that the conversation was floundering in this tense mood. So unlike their ordinary, easygoing banter.

Jeremy laughed nervously. Ginny had half a mind to do the same, see if it cleared the air between them.

"I can't explain it, but this room does something to me," Jeremy said.

Ginny nodded. "It's the tapestry," she said, motioning to it. "Gives me the creeps."

He looked. "I hadn't even noticed it. That couch did enough."

Ginny saw the sofa for the first time, a fine old thing of dark wood and moldy velvet in remarkably good condition for all the years it must have survived in this dank little room. She imagined she saw two people on it, kissing passionately. A flash of silver hair. A few brown ringlets.

"Let's leave," Jeremy spoke Ginny's thoughts aloud. They walked up the stairs and he took her hand and she was glad. She wouldn't have wanted to be alone on these stairs after seeing the chamber they led to. They climbed an eternity of stairs lit by infrequent torches, passing doors on some of the landings. Jeremy ignored these and continued upwards. She hoped Jeremy knew where he was going, perfectly aware that even if he didn't he wouldn't admit it.

Finally they reached the top. The stairs dead-ended in a door with the knob placed, oddly, at the very top. Upon passing through the door Ginny found herself in a broom closet, of all places. Jeremy lit his wand before closing the door behind them. Whoever had crafted it had done a remarkably good job; there wasn't a chance you could notice the door if you didn't know it existed. The knob was cunningly hidden above the shelf up high. Jeremy opened the broom closet door to reveal a hallway Ginny recognized as the 2nd floor of the Ravenclaw dormitories. To her right would be the balcony overlooking the Common Room. She'd been here many times before.

Ginny looked towards the back of the closet for a moment and imagined she saw a snake and a raven resting on the branches of a tree. She shivered and turned away, following Jeremy into the reassuring light of the hallway.

Something in her face must have hinted at her uneasiness. Jeremy gave her a concerned look. "There's a fire going in my dormitory."

That was all the suggestion he needed to give. The day itself probably wasn't cold enough to merit a fire, but Ginny needed one. She could feel gooseflesh all over her body. It had to be a rule that old castles must be drafty all year round.

"Right," Ginny said, and followed him. Last door on the left, up five steps, and there they were. A fire crackled in the hearth, as promised. Ginny immediately picked out which of the six beds was Jeremy's and plopped down on it. Jeremy moved a fuzzy blue blanket out of his way and sat down beside her. In one of his more adorable moments, he draped the blanket around Ginny's shoulders. She enveloped herself in it entirely, kicking off the painful black shoes she'd endured all morning and crossing her legs Indian-style. Her skirt slid up to her hips but the blanket covered everything that needed covering.

Ginny smiled at him. "That's a lot better. Thanks, Jer."

The nickname slipped out without her even being aware that she'd used it, but hearing it made his eyes light up. She was the only one who called him Jer. Not even Cora used the nickname.

"Sure, Ginny. You're welcome." A goofy grin was on his face, eager but a little uncertain. He looked so cute like that.

Ginny leaned a little closer to him and suddenly she was kissing him, shyly at first but quickly warming to him. He pulled her towards him and she leaned in closer, opening her eyes briefly to see his expression of magnificent surprise, that of a small child who'd just realized he'd received for Christmas the gift he wanted most of all. He was just too cute. She leaned in even more, maybe a little too far, because Jeremy overbalanced and fell backwards onto the bed, with Ginny, and her all-encompassing blanket, on top of him.

Which was the exact position Cora found them in, moments later.

A huge grin crept onto Cora's face. "Hey guys," she said cheerfully, "am I interrupting something? I'll go ahead and close the door if I was. But if that was your plan, shouldn't you have locked the door first?"

If Ginny's face was anywhere close to as flushed as Jeremy's they'd be a matched set of tomatoes. Ginny found it endearing that Jeremy was so embarrassed. If she'd been found in the same position with Draco Malfoy, he wouldn't have even blinked. Now what was she doing contrasting Jeremy with Draco Malfoy?

"Great timing, Cor," Ginny said. "Really great. What are you doing in the Ravenclaw dorms anyway?"

"I was going to go check on you two down in the little room, heard some interesting noises from this end of the hall, and got curious." She grinned. "I'd hoped for good results, but wow!"

"Cola Delera, matchmaker," Jeremy rolled his eyes.

"Aren't I talented?"

"You positively have a gift for it," Ginny replied. She'd meant it to be sarcastic, but sarcasm proved impossible with Jeremy looking at her with a swoon-worthy stare.

"Now, have fun, you two," Cora said, the grin never leaving her face. "But come up for air around lunchtime, you hear? I don't want to have to send in the rescue squad."

"We're not Maggie and Mike, Cora."

"Thank goodness. I love them to death, but you'd think they forget the rest of us exist sometimes."

Jeremy nodded. "Wouldn't surprise me at all."

"Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. But don't forget lunch!" she called, exiting.

Ginny and Jeremy looked at each other and burst out laughing. The anxious, tense mood of earlier had vanished the second they'd entered the 6th year boys' dormitory, replaced by something slightly awkward but very sweet. If moods had colors, hers would be fuzzy pink, Ginny thought, perfectly matching her room back at the Burrow. Her mum had decorated that room, wishing for her only daughter a lifetime of happy moments like this.

Ginny smiled contentedly and they stumbled into a second kiss. Ginny hadn't felt so uncomplicatedly happy for longer than she could remember. She finally broke off the kiss and leaned back on her elbows. The blanket had fallen off the bed at some point. Her skirt was still hanging around her hips. Jeremy's eyes followed her gaze and he grinned impishly. She considered pulling it down, but what was the point? He'd seen this before, and she didn't mind his eyes on her anyway.

"Okay, Jeremy, out of curiosity--how long have you had a crush on me?"

A corner of his mouth curved in. "End of last year, I guess. You were dating Seamus at the time, and I couldn't get up the guts to tell you, anyway. So I waited all summer--"

"Till the train, when you couldn't wait anymore," Ginny finished for him.

"You?"

"I didn't, actually. The kiss on the train was a surprise for me. But a good surprise."

Jeremy grinned and kissed her briefly, or so it seemed, because when he glanced at his watch it was a quarter to one already. "Damn, we'd better go to lunch, or Cora will have our heads on a silver platter."

Ginny laughed. "I like my head a lot better attached to my body, thanks."

Ginny and Jeremy sat at the Gryffindor table. They were a little unsure how to behave around their friends, but Cora orchestrated everything in her typical mother-duck fashion and nothing remarkable happened.

They enjoyed the rest of the afternoon together, dizzily blissful, and every moment of their spare time for the next week. Ginny was never certain, afterwards, how they spent those happy hours. Funny how your mind forgets the details of your joyful memories but recalls every instant of the unpleasant ones.

She was glad to have Jeremy to look forward to each night. Without him Ginny wasn't sure if she could have survived that first week of sixth year. She'd known to expect a lot of homework, but lately it seemed she spent more time each day doing schoolwork than sleeping. Hermione would have been in her element. Ginny actually heard Hermione complaining, one night, that the teachers weren't giving her enough homework this year. Gag.

Ginny's meetings with Jeremy gave her something to look forward to that wasn't school or homework. She liked sleep, but she liked Jeremy better, and if she lost some sleep by meeting with him, it was okay. He kept her from going insane.

The weekend came as a blessed relief. Ginny slept very late, ate brunch, lost a few Sickles in an afternoon of poker, and fed Laraby a few new rumors. It wasn't until the middle of dinner that Ginny remembered the note from last Friday:

Meet me in the North Tower at 8:00 next Saturday night.

Tonight.

**************

If you liked the Ginny/Jeremy pairing, thank Soz.

Thanks to reviewers: chocagirl23, Fleur422, Soz, Trixie, Kara Kedavra, Legendary Unknown, Melissa Wood, and the 4 Unregistereds.