All You Need Is Love

Chapter Fifteen

Abrogo Anima

Ginny didn´t feel anything except dread as Draco´s hand slipped from hers and he fell in a heap on the floor.  She swallowed thickly, blinked, and glanced up at Tom.  He gave her a smug, half smile, while Maria stood behind him and clearly had trouble containing her glee.

"Maria," Tom said without looking away from Ginny, "go back to the room and prepare everything."

Maria nodded and hurried away to do what he asked.

"Come," he said quietly to Ginny.

He flicked his wand at Draco, who immediately rose into the air, feet hovering inches above the ground.  His chin dropped forward onto his chest, and as Tom turned and began to walk back down the hall, Draco followed ghoulishly. 

Ginny had no choice but to follow.  Her feet felt like lead as she dragged herself along.  Even the thought that Dumbledore might be there to help them was no comfort - wouldn´t Dumbledore have saved them already if he could?

She knew she shouldn´t give up faith so simply, but right now it was hard to think of anything except what was about to happen to her.  Her breathing quickening, and her heart thudding, she shuffled a good distance behind Tom, praying that some miracle would happen at any moment.

Maybe a miracle happened, and maybe it didn´t.  All Ginny knew was that one moment she was on the verge of being torn between hysteric sobbing and screaming, and the next moment she had an epiphany.

Tom needs me alive, she thought with sudden clarity.  And better yet . . . he needs Draco alive as well.

So if Ginny were to, say, somehow dash away abruptly and try to run for help, then Tom wouldn´t be able to kill her.  Or Draco, in her absence.

There was always the slight chance that he could use magic to stop her, but if she did it carefully - as he was walking and facing forward - and quietly, she would be able to slip back unnoticed for a few seconds.  It would take him a bit to realize her footsteps had stopped, but by then she might be able to loose him in the maze of corridors in the empty palace.

A million thoughts ran through her mind then, most of them warning her against doing such a foolhardy thing.  He could find you easily . . . This is his world, no one will help you! . . . He might just go ahead and kill Draco . . . He´s too clever; he´ll know what you´re planning on doing before you even do it . . .

But she already was doing it - they approached a corner, and Ginny found her legs stopping on their own accord.  Tom rounded the corner, Draco floating after him, and then she was out of sight.

She spun around and sprinted back down the hall.

It only took about an instant for Tom to notice, and then the air was full of Tom´s laughter, and his voice calmly threatening her and speaking to her as if she were right near him.

Still she ran, her heart pounding in her ears hard.  This had to be about her fifth burst of energy - her fifth wind - of the day, because adrenaline was pumping through her as abundantly as blood.  All that mattered then was getting away from Tom, just getting away . . . nothing, not even Draco´s life (because she was certain he was safe) seemed important to her then.

Her shoes slapped against the stone floor, and she turned sharply down another corridor.  Now she didn´t have her back to Tom anymore; he would have to chase after her to see her.

She needed a way out . . . any way out; she would even opt to jump out of a window.  She had managed before to get down to the first floor with a back stairway she´d found, but now she had no idea where a door was.

She turned down another corridor then another.  Getting out was definitely at the top of her list, but as long as she kept turning she had to be losing Tom, so it wasn´t a dire need. 

Yet.

Finally, after it seemed she had been running with all her might for hours, she slowed to a stop.  Placing a hand on the wall, she rubbed her chest absently to slow her heart, her breathing fast and heavy.  She had escaped Tom´s clutches a second time that evening, but she didn´t feel as confident as the first time.  Knowing very well that this was his world, she would have a difficult time finding anyone to help her.

There was always Dumbledore, but he wasn´t a guarantee.  And besides, he was in Wales - how could she get to him before Tom interfered?  It would be very tricky.

She resumed walking, trying to make as little noise as she could.  Quickly she formed a sketchy plan in her head.

Draco came by horse, so it would most likely still be waiting outside for her, once she found a way out.  She could head back to the castle and find the first redheaded servant she could.  Then, perhaps, she could send the servant in a royal carriage, armed with many dozens of guards, towards . . . the north.  She herself could ride a horse to Wales, and hopefully Tom would follow the carriage.

There were so many faults in that plan, though.  The chances that Tom would be tricked were slim to none.  And she felt wicked about sending an innocent girl and many guards to, probably, meet their deaths.

Then there was the possibility Tom would be so enraged if he indeed was fooled, he might kill Draco.

Yet it was the only thing she could think of at the moment.  It would have to do.

Right now she just needed to find a way out of the damn castle.

"Majesty?"

Ginny felt her heart lodge itself in her throat, and for a minute it seemed as though her body had stopped functioning.  Slowly, she came to recognize the voice, and spun around.

There stood Harry, directly behind her, looking apprehensive and slightly confused.

Several emotions tore through Ginny, and it went from relief and gratitude before rapidly approaching suspicious and betrayed.  Had Harry been in it with Tom all along?

She frowned . . . No, wouldn´t Tom have said something?  Unless it was why he was so confident when she ran off . . . that she´d run into Harry and he´d bring her back unharmed . . .

The reluctant concern in his eyes looked so sincere she wanted with all her heart to believe he was on her side and knew nothing of what was going on.  But she still had to be cautious.  At the slightest sign of animosity or maliciousness in his expression, she would run away from him.  She had read Maria wrong all along - had mistaken several instances of loathing and jealousy to be something else - and wasn´t going to do so this time.

"Are . . ." He swallowed.  "Are you all right?"

"I´m fine," Ginny said composedly, straightening.  "I´ve never felt better.  What are you doing here?"

"I - I followed His Majesty here," he admitted, looking as though he had committed a severe crime and was waiting to be flogged.  "I thought something was . . . wrong."

She softened, despite her suspicions.  "Well, I´m glad you´re here.  Your presence comforts me, Harry."  It was the truth.

He looked confused and a bit taken aback.  "Why are you here, might I ask?"

"I was taken here," she said resolutely.  "Against my will.  You and I both had our reasons not to like Doctor Tom, and they were correct.  He is evil."

Harry nodded as though he had known this all along.  The action caused Ginny to stiffen, her senses on alert again for any sign of falseness.

"Where is His Majesty?" he asked, quietly, noticing her tense pose.

"Taken as well," she replied with a shrug of one shoulder.  "I´ve been trying to think of a way to get him back, but I must do something else first."

She felt as if she were talking about some possession, some stolen object, rather than a human being.  Yet her awareness that Harry might be the enemy was making her act coldly.

"Right."  He stood awkwardly then, unsure of what to do.

Don´t offer to help me, Ginny thought, chewing the inside of her cheek as she stared at him.  Don´t offer to help . . . I´ll know for certain you´re working with Tom, don´t offer anything . . .

The silence stretched out for a long time.  It was deafening, somehow, but wonderful.  It was clear Harry was not going to say anything about assisting her, and her gaze relaxed.

An ally?  Could she honestly consider Harry such?  It would be such a relief to believe him such, but she had to be careful.

"Right," Harry said again.  "Well, then, I shall just be going.  Several tasks left to do at the castle . . ."

"Help me," Ginny told him immediately.

He quirked an eyebrow.  The only emotion evident on his face was that of confusion.  "Help you?" he repeated uncertainly.

"Yes," she said, quickly, gushing to get it out.  "Help me to deal with Tom.  He´s got Draco - and I´m by myself.  I need help.  You´re the only one I´d come close to trusting here, Harry."

There.  She hadn´t said she trusted him, but had mentioned that she almost did.

Ginny knew this could go either one of two ways:  Harry could refuse, saying he couldn´t possibly, or he could agree instantly.  She wasn´t sure as to which action would prove he worked for Tom, or otherwise.

She watched as his expression hardened over, his lips pressed together in a thin line, his green eyes glaring angrily at her.  Utterly puzzled, she wondered if this was a sign that he despised her and was on Tom´s side.  Or maybe he just looked so because he merely thought she had something to do with his mother´s death.  Oh, she couldn´t figure anything out . . . she had thought she could tell, but she couldn´t, and she was wasting time!

"I have no choice but to help you," he said frigidly, "do I?"

"Of course you have a choice," she sputtered.

She hadn´t expected him to agree grudgingly.

"I will help you, Your Majesty," he said, his voice tinted with disdain, as though he were humoring her.  He bowed deeply.  "I am your servant, am I not?"

"Oh, stop that," she ordered sharply.  "Stand up and please, whatever you do, never bow to me again."

He straightened, and on his face was now a sneer.  "As you wish, Your Majesty -"

"And don´t call me that!" she shrieked, bringing her fingers to her temples and squeezing her eyes shut.  "I am not Your Majesty!  I am no one´s majesty!  I´m not royal, I´m not rich . . .!"

The cold, indifferent look on his face slowly wore off.  He looked genuinely scared, maybe because he thought she was having some sort of fit.  Quite possibly he was afraid she would hurt him.

She sucked in breaths through her clenched teeth before yanking her hands to her sides and opening her eyes.  "Are you going to help me?  Out of your own free will?  Because you are free, Harry, I grant you and your father your freedom."

"I - I will help you," he said hurriedly.

Of course, he only said so out of terror of being scratched to a pulp.  Ginny knew she must look frightening, could only imagine how red her face was and how her hair was in disarray, but it didn´t matter.  She was leaving the bloody building with or without Harry.

"Come on," she said tonelessly, and proceeded to walk down the hall.

The building truly was like a maze.  Several corridors fed off others, but none of them led anywhere.  The doors that decorated the hallway were all locked, so she had no access to windows.  Frustration was bubbling within her and the energy she had felt before was draining away.  Her body felt heavy; useless.  She wanted nothing more than to sink into a bed and sleep away her troubles.

The only thing stopping her was that there wasn´t a bed in sight.

Ginny was so concentrated on her exhaustion that she didn´t realize Harry had stopped following her until she heard a laugh.  She slowly came to a stop, and thought that it was Harry who had laughed, and the only reason she could conclude for him to do so was because he had achieved something he´d wanted.  But as she turned, she found it wasn´t him who had chuckled icily - it was Maria.

Ginny must´ve really been deep in her thoughts, because somehow Maria had been able to grab Harry and press a knife to his throat, all without her hearing a thing.

For a long minute, she stood there, stunned.  Harry wasn´t struggling, but it had to be because of the fear of having his head chopped off.  Maria was so short that he had to bend backwards just so she could reach his neck.  Both of his hands were on her arm that was strung over his shoulder, but he made no attempt to yank the knife away.  And Maria made no attempt to throw his fingers off.

"You are an imbecile, trying to run from us, Ginny," Maria drawled, her voice laced thickly with venom.  "And it´s a pity you brought him into this."  She nudged Harry, indicating who him was.  "I shall just have to kill him."

Ginny wasn´t sure how to reply.  She wasn´t sure what to think - what to do.  Harry was moments from death and all she could do was stare.

Trapped.

She was stuck . . . there were only two choices she had.  She could run and leave Harry to die, and have his death constantly eating at her conscience, or she could stay and watch him die.  Neither was a good thing.  She couldn´t just leave, but she couldn´t let Maria come after her once she finished Harry off.

Not for the first time did Ginny wish she didn´t like Harry, yet this time it was for a completely different reason.  This time, she wished she hated him and had the strength to just walk away and let him die.

But she didn´t.  She stayed, her feet rooted to the spot.

The seconds trickled by, Maria glaring at Ginny, Harry´s breathing loud and ragged.  Each of them was waiting for someone to make a move, but no one did.

It was then that Tom decided to arrive.  Only Harry acknowledged his presence by looking at him - Maria didn´t dare look away from Ginny, and Ginny held her gaze steadily.

"Maria," Tom said, and his voice soft and caressing, yet threatening and cold, "please release Harry."

"I could kill him -" Maria began at a hiss.

"No."

It was one syllable, and it was quiet, but the force of it was amazing.  Maria´s cold eyes wavered and she reluctantly removed the blade from Harry´s throat, her face suddenly void of color.

Harry stumbled away from Maria, unconsciously moving closer to Ginny, his hand at his neck.

Ginny stared at Tom, trying to see any signs of Draco.  He clearly wasn´t anywhere in sight.  Did that mean that Tom had left him alone, unconscious, in some room?

Maybe he´ll wake up, Ginny prayed.  Maybe he could escape if he managed to become conscious once again.

"I think I shall walk behind you two," Tom said, viciousness clearly evident underneath his calm tone.  "Maria, lead us."

Ginny should´ve known that she couldn´t run - should´ve known that Tom would have made sure that she couldn´t escape.  It had been worth a try, but now she´d brought Harry into danger.

Things couldn´t possibly get any worse.

* * *

Maria led them to a monstrous ballroom - or at least, that´s what it appeared to be.  The opposite wall was completely made of glass windows, and they were covered with billowy white curtains.  Ginny couldn´t see anything outside for the pure darkness.  The vast emptiness made the place cold and frightening, and even though there was a huge chandelier with many candles lit, shadows were visible across the floor.

Harry went in first, and Ginny stopped as soon as she stepped in.  The door slammed behind her without any human touch.  Her eyes searched the dark room and saw a lump that was Draco, still out cold, in the corner.

Ginny pressed her back against the closed door, as if hoping she could melt away into the wood.

"Harry," Tom said, viciousness barely evident underneath his cool tone.  He was standing in the middle of the room, and he pulled out his wand.  "I am delighted that you will be joining us this evening, but I am afraid you will have to watch from over there."

As he said the last word, Tom flicked his wand to the wall to his right.  Harry was there in an instant, having moved so fast that Maria had to have noticed something suspicious.

She was standing slightly behind him, and did look rather surprised.  However, she didn´t say a word.

Harry hit the wall with a loud smack.  He didn´t make any cry, and when he fell to the floor, Ginny assumed he had been knocked out.  Yet he slowly pushed himself up to his knees, his face twisted in such clear pain Ginny just about rushed to his side.

But she didn´t.  Instead, she watched him climb unsteadily to his feet.  Right then she wanted nothing more than for Harry to be gone; to not be there.  She knew he was going to die, and even though he wasn´t the same as the Harry she knew so well, the thought still hurt enough to make her insides feel like they were on fire.

"What -" Harry began, but didn´t get very far.

Tom interrupted, "Petrificus Totalus."

Harry´s entire body went rigid, his jaw snapped shut, and he tipped over sideways.  He rolled onto his back stiffly, reminding Ginny of a stone statue.  She stared, though she was immensely relieved Tom hadn´t killed him yet.

Maria gaped soundlessly.  She turned to Tom to ask him about it, but the look on his face was so hard and menacing that she thought better of it, and pressed her lips tightly together.

Tom relaxed and said with immense satisfaction, "There.  He is taken care of."  He glanced at Ginny.  "Come over here and make it easier for me, will you?"

Ginny shook her head quickly and violently.  If he was indeed going to take her over, he wasn´t going to have an easy time of it.

"Tom," said Maria hurriedly, "I have the knife.  I can kill her for you," she added, fixing her eyes on Ginny with a wicked smile, "so that you can hold her -"

"Silence," Tom snapped at her.  "You will stand aside and watch, do you understand?"

Maria opened her mouth to protest, but must have seen the look in his eyes, and once again thought twice.  She really was a coward, if she was so easy to control.  She must truly be terrified of Tom, Ginny mused.

"Of course," Maria mumbled, and clumsily stepped backwards a few feet.

Ginny was glaring in her direction, and hadn´t been paying attention to Tom.  She let out a yelp when suddenly her feet were swept off the floor and she floated rapidly towards one of the walls, Tom´s wand following and directing her where he wanted her to go.  He slammed her back into the wall a bit roughly, and she got the breath knocked out of her.  She slunk to the ground, barely landing on her feet, but before she could loose her balance and fall, Tom snapped his fingers and metal chains slunk out from the stone behind her.  They wrapped tightly around her wrists, ankles, waist, and her neck, before slithering back into the wall, pinning her firmly to against it.  If she tried to move much, the chains would dig into her skin painfully.  She remained still, knowing very well there wasn´t much chance of escape anyhow, what with Tom staring at her so fiercely.

Maria was looking beyond confused now, and it overpowered her fright.  "How are you -?"

"Don´t speak, Maria," Tom hissed, his gaze fixed on Ginny.

Maria obeyed, but Ginny saw the shimmer of anger that possessed her features and was directed at Tom´s back.

Ginny looked over at Draco, still unconscious in the corner.  Would he wake up?  Could he somehow save her?  The chances were low of course, but it would be a great relief if he would wake.

Tom will just knock him out again, she told herself, frowning.  He didn´t want Draco to witness this, and would make sure he didn´t do so.  It was pointless to wish for help from Draco.

And what about Harry?  She threw a glance at him.  He was still rigidly lying on the floor, showing no indication of moving anytime soon.

Ginny forced herself to watch Tom.  He still hadn´t done anything; he was standing before her, wand in hand, and he had a tiny smile of contented happiness on his face.  She knew it was coming; knew that he was going to invade her soon.  Maybe he was already starting to.  When would she know?

Obviously when she was no longer in her body, she´d know.

Ginny´s heart was thumping hard beneath her ribs, and she wondered if she might just pass out from anticipation.  She didn´t want to - she wanted to be aware when Tom was killing her.

Maybe she wouldn´t be killed in the sense of her body quit working, but technically, Ginny Weasley would be finished.  Gone.  Forever.  There would be no way to come back.  Only her body would be left, in Tom Riddle´s possession.

Now more than ever Ginny wished with every fiber of her being that she hadn´t started to write in the diary she´d found in her old schoolbooks her first year.  It had almost killed her six years ago, and now, it probably would succeed in that task.  It was all because of a stupid, idiotic decision she´d made when she was eleven years old.

And it was going to kill her.

It felt as though liquid ice had replaced her blood in her veins, and it was swiftly making her numb.  Ginny thought maybe it was the beginning of Tom´s spell - maybe it meant Tom´s spirit was taking hers over.

Ginny´s mind scrambled to form coherent thoughts.  She found herself thinking about her parents, her brothers . . . What would happen to them? Would they try to figure out where she´d gone, and get themselves killed by Tom in the process?

And what about her life?  She was only seventeen - it was true, she´d been married, but that was really only one thing she´d wanted to do as she grew older.  She wanted to meet a nice man and to have children; she wanted to get a nice-paying job; she wanted to prove she was her own person, not just another Weasley.

Her chances were just going to be snuffed out, exactly like her life.

"Ginny," Tom said suddenly.

She jerked at the sound of his voice.  She had half suspected he had already started to take control of her.

"I don´t expect you´ll feel a thing," he told her slowly, suddenly grinning at something - perhaps her horrified expression.  "I´m sure it will be quick and painless.  Yet I can only speculate.  I´ve never done this before."

Ginny´s mouth went dry, and she couldn´t answer.

"Just one last thing," Tom added, tapping his wand into his other palm.  "Thank you.  You worked my plan just as I´d hoped.  So I thank you."

She then wished she had some saliva, because it seemed like such a perfect opportunity to spit on him.

Tom raised his wand, his eyes alight with a mad fire, and shouted two words: "Abrogo Anima!"

Ginny had no idea what it meant, but it had to have been powerful.  Instantly, a howling wind swept through the room.  It ruffled the curtains and blew most of the candles in the chandelier out - the entire room plunged into near darkness.  The only sound was the wind, whistling by Ginny´s ears, causing her hair to float up around her head . . . Tom´s own hair was in disarray, and it made his resemblance to Harry uncanny.

The look on his face was that of supreme concentration, his wand pointed in the general direction of Ginny´s chest, but behind him, Maria´s mouth was moving.  Ginny couldn´t hear what she was saying; it might´ve been her fright clogging her ears, or maybe the roaring of the wind . . . Maria was obviously shouting something at Tom, wide-eyed and looking frustrated.

Tom´s eyes flickered from Ginny, and his calm expression was overtaken by absolute rage.  He lowered his wand and turned slowly to face Maria.

Ginny then realized that maybe she might be able to escape.  Since he was no longer watching her, maybe she could somehow slip her wrists out of the chains, and maybe yank the one out from around her throat with her free hand.

The wind continued to tear at Ginny´s hair and whip her smock around her calves as she looked down and tried to wiggle her hands from the chains.  It hurt, and she knew she had little chance of getting free, but she found she didn´t care.  She wasn´t going to sit there and wait for help.  She´d done that all her life . . . there had always been someone there to help her, and now that there wasn´t, she was going to do it herself.

She hoped.

Deciding to use another tactic, she balled her hands into fists, and she tugged them away from the wall, hoping to pull the chains out.  No luck.  The metal dug into her skin relentlessly, causing a trickle of blood in both hands to drip down her closed fingers.  She winced, gritted her teeth together, and pulled again.

Her eyes began to water, and she glanced back up at Tom to see what he was doing.  He still had his back to her, and Maria was watching him with wide, furious eyes, and her lips were still moving - she was still yelling at him, probably demanding to know what he was doing.

Ginny yanked on her chains again, and let out a cry of pain that didn´t reach her ears over the loud wind.  She relaxed her hands, and dropped her head back against the wall; it was no use.  She couldn´t pull herself out . . . she wasn´t strong enough.  Already her fingers were slippery with her own blood.

She tried to blink back tears and hurriedly looked down at her feet.  Maybe . . . Her legs were definitely stronger - maybe she could somehow pull them loose.

Then what? she asked herself.

Well, she´d just take it one step at a time.

However, just as she began to jerk her right foot forward, flashes of green light made her look up abruptly.  She saw, through the strands of hair dancing in front of her eyes, Maria falling to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Tom had killed her.

Ginny´s heart flopped.  It was true, Maria had been there to kill her, but somehow, her presence had been accepted. That was only with the thought that she perhaps might try and stop Tom from doing magic - it was a stupid last hope, Ginny was aware, but it had been a hope nonetheless.

And now Maria was dead.  There was no one conscious, moving, or alive in the room except for Ginny and Tom.  It terrified her.

Tom turned back to Ginny, and his darkened eyes met hers.  She froze, and realized at that moment - it was over.  She had lost, and Tom had won . . . there was no more she could do.

Her muscles slumped, and the only thing that kept her standing was the vague knowledge that if she didn´t support herself, the chain around her neck would choke her.  Suddenly that didn´t seem like such a bad idea; if she was dead, Tom couldn´t use her body.

But there was no time to choke to death.  Tom raised his wand once more, his eyes never leaving hers, and he smiled.  He knew, too, that he was the victor.  In only seconds, everything would be . . .

Was the wind still howling?  And was that her screaming?  She blinked, loosing focus of Tom.  His face swam in front of her, but she could still see his smile . . . that satisfied, victorious, pleased smile, the one that made the blue of his eyes turn to black, and the handsome features of his face turn cold and hard . . .

Now she wasn´t hearing much of anything at all.  She couldn´t feel the wind anymore, couldn´t feel the slick blood on her hands or the pinch of the chains . . . she couldn´t see properly, couldn´t hear properly . . . was her soul being wrenched from her body?  Was she dead yet?

And then it was over; she knew it was over, that she was gone . . . and her mind shut down completely.

* * *

The bed was too hard.

That was the first thing that floated into Ginny Weasley´s mind as she surfaced from sleep.  She was used to softness -

She stretched luxuriously, a small smile on her lips.  Her dream had been a pleasant one . . . she´d been in the arms of some man with silvery-blonde hair, and it had been very enjoyable . . .

- like sleeping on air, but somehow this was . . . familiar.

She woke up slowly, lazily . . . it felt as if she´d just had the best night´s sleep of her life, despite the lumpiness of the bed.  She didn´t have anything to worry about, as there was nothing on her mind except how wonderful it would be just to fall right back asleep.

She yawned loudly and widely, stretched her legs, and forced her eyes to open all the way.  Above her was red velvet canopy - how wonderfully familiar.  There was something about this bed she had missed . . .

Then, with a jolt of her body and just about the loudest gasp she´d ever done in her life, Ginny sprang into a sitting position.

Hogwarts.

Suddenly she was wide-awake, and she scrambled violently to yank the covers off her legs.  After about a second of struggling and her getting tangled in the bedclothes, she gave up and wrenched the bed curtains open.  The glorious view of the seventh-year Gryffindor girl´s dormitory met her eyes, and she gaped at it like she´d never seen anything like it before in her life.

"Oh," she breathed. "Oh, shit."

She wasn´t even sure what she´d sworn about, but the word had seemed very appropriate.  She hurried to get out of bed only to forget she was tangled in sheets and to crash to the floor.

And there she lay, half of her on her back, the bedclothes holding her legs up the side of the bed, stunned.  She looked up at the ceiling, hardly daring to believe what was going on, and was suddenly struck with the urge to laugh.

So she did. 

She laughed like a maniac; surely, if anyone had been around, they would´ve thought her mad.  Her sides hurt, and her eyes watered . . . but it felt so good just to let go and grin that she didn´t mind the least bit.

She was safe!  She was at Hogwarts, she was in her own body . . . Tom wasn´t anywhere around - he was dead - and she wasn´t!

But . . . what day was it?  Had everyone been missing her?

Ginny, sucking in a breath to keep from laughing more,quickly pulled herself free of her sheets and got to her knees.  On top of her bed table was the most glorious thing she´d ever seen - her wand.

She snatched it and she couldn´t help it; she kissed it.  The smile just wouldn´t leave her face.  Even if Tom was around - which he probably wasn´t, because she was back at Hogwarts! - then she had her wand with her, and she stood a better chance.

Ginny looked at her wrists -

The chains dug into her skin, sharp as a blade, causing rivets of blood to travel down her fingers.  She found herself thinking that it was good, the blood would help her slide her wrists out of their manacles . . . but it hurt far too much for her to attempt.

 - to find them smooth and unscarred.  If indeed she had just been recently chained to a wall, there was no evidence of it.  Either it hadn´t happened, or someone had healed her, and she would bet everything she owned that it was the former.

But . . . what was the date?  She hurried around to the end of her bed where her trunk was, and she opened it.  She found what she was looking for instantly.  It was her calendar, the one she had all her major tests and homework assignment due dates in.  It was rather small, novel-sized; she opened it and flipped through it to December.

On the box for Saturday, the 5^th of December, were the written words, "This is today" and then it proceeded to list all the work she needed to start on in order to finish in time.  Ginny´s mouth dropped open and she lowered her calendar.

December . . . the 5^th . . . She hadn´t been missing a day -

She needed to know the date.  Something was very wrong, and the date had to have something to do with it.

"What is the date, Maria?" she asked suddenly.

"The fifth of December, m´dear."

 - not a second.  No one would´ve noticed her gone.

Or maybe . . . she hadn´t even left.

Her smile widened.  Of course!  She hadn´t gone back to 1607 - it must´ve been a dream!  An awful, long, elaborate, life-like dream, but a dream nonetheless!  If it had really happened, then Tom wouldn´t have let her return to her own time, unscarred . . .

But then, there was the possibility it was Dumbledore who had brought her back.  It seemed impossible . . . how could anyone have brought her out of that world?

Yet what if it really was a dream?  Should she approach Dumbledore and say, "Hi, Professor, can you tell me if you saved me from being possessed by Tom Riddle in the Seventeenth Century?"

If he hadn´t, she would look like a total nutcase.

Though if he had, then she should probably just wait for him to come to her first.  He wouldn´t keep quiet about it if indeed it had happened, she knew that much.

So either way, she shouldn´t worry, should she?

Ginny replaced her calendar and stood up, gripping her wand to her as though terrified someone would take it away, and headed out of the dormitory.  She wondered why it was empty - how late was it in the morning?

Before she stepped out, she glanced at the clock on the wall.  It read, "You overslept, you lazy girl - it´s noon!"

Noon?  Why hadn´t anyone woken her up?  It was nearly lunchtime.

Well aware that she was still in her pajamas, she went down to the common room.  The sight that greeted her nearly put her into tears - she really was back at Hogwarts.  Her fellow Gryffindors sat around, lounging about in the freedom of their Saturday afternoon.  A few glanced curiously at her for descending down without being dressed at such a late hour, or even without a bathrobe, but it didn´t matter.

She just needed the reassurance that there were people around, that this wasn´t some sort of trick.  Satisfied,she stood there grinning like an idiot for a little while, then turned and headed back up to her dormitory.  She needed to get dressed and go down for something to eat . . .

As Ginny walked up the dormitory steps, she suddenly remembered Draco.  His face flashed in her mind, and she stopped halfway up the stairs.

If it hadn´t been a dream, then was Draco safe at his house? Had he, too, been brought back? Or was he still in that icy, dreary ballroom back in 1607?

Somehow, Ginny doubted Dumbledore would´ve left him there if he had been the one to bring them back.

If that was the case - if Draco was indeed back at home - then did he remember any of it? Was he awake at this very moment, thinking of her, too?

"He´s fallen in love with you, can´t you see?" Tom had said.

Was that true? Tom wouldn´t lie, but what did he know? Was Draco Malfoy really capable of loving anyone, much less her, the youngest in a family he despised?

Ginny wasn´t sure about him, but she did know that she had fallen head-over-heels, hopelessly devotedly, starry-eyed and wonderfully in love with him. She probably had been ever since he´d jumped into her path when she was running from the Gypsies in the woods -

They were screaming at her . . . she´d harmed their leader, and they weren´t happy. She needed to get away,she needed to ignore the sharp pain in her side and her fatigue. She needed to move faster!

Into the woods . . . she hadn´t gotten very far when someone jumped out and blocked her path. For a fleeting second she thought it was another gypsy, and then she noticed the light hair and the clean face.

It was Draco.

 - she´d loved him ever since he´d risked his life just to try and safe hers against terrible odds.

She groaned softly, and continued to walk back up to her dormitory. If Dumbledore had saved them, if it all really had happened, and if the crazy possibility that Draco could even like her was true, then how could they start a relationship in this world? Ginny had six full-grown brothers, plus a gentle-natured father who would turn nasty at most mentions of the Malfoy family, that would tear Draco apart and then lock Ginny away in her room for life if they even suspected she had any feelings for him that were a snitch kinder than hatred.

Besides, she´d spent most of her time in 1607 worrying about having to share her life with Draco when they were married - and that was when she was forced to be with him. Why would she be crazy enough to voluntarily try and be with him now?

She might love him, but they weren´t made for each other. Every time they got within hearing distance of each other they would fight and insult one another. It was emotional suicide to have a relationship with him.

Ginny sucked in breath, pausing outside her dormitory door. She would just have to forget about him, wouldn´t she? They didn´t live anywhere near each other; they didn´t go to the same places because their social status was the complete opposite - it will be easy to avoid him, Ginny thought confidently.

Yet inside she felt like something had died within her.

She then found herself wondering about seventeenth-century Harry. Even if she was no longer in the world with him, she hoped he was all right. The chances were, though, he didn´t even exist.

Or at least, she hoped he didn´t exist.

She went into the dormitory, deciding she would take a shower first, as a quick run of her fingers through her greasy hair proved she was filthy. Her sheets were still tangled and hanging off the bed, and her curtains were still open . . . the house-elves would come and straighten her bed eventually, so she didn´t need to bother with it.

She rummaged through her trunk to find a new bottle of shampoo she´d picked up at Hogsmeade recently, and then stood up to close her bed curtains, so that no one would have to stare at her messy bed.

It was then she saw it.

She dropped her shampoo and nearly fell to the floor after it.

On her bed, leaning right side up against her headboard was a large painted photograph in a golden wood frame. It was a Muggle picture; perfectly still -

Her hair was matted down to her neck, her legs ached, and she desperately had to use the toilet. For the millionth time she wondered when it would be over; hadn´t they been standing there long enough?

- and it was the wedding portrait of her and Draco.

"Oh . . . my . . ." Ginny sputtered, lost for words.

The painting was so lifelike . . . it was almost scary. There was the hint of that familiar sneer around Draco´s lips, and the rise of his eyebrows expressed annoyance. She half-expected him to start moving.

His hands were loosely holding hers . . .

Sweat . . . her hands were sweaty within his, but it somehow felt comfortable. Soothing.

. . . and she could see their wedding bands. She stared at it, remembering the feel of his skin, and the yearning to touch him again was so strong she just about couldn´t stand it.

Sighing deeply, Ginny closed the curtains so no one would see the portrait, then hurried to take her shower. Ten minutes later, she´d dressed in record time and was nearly running out of the common room and out into the hallways to find Dumbledore.