Fragile

-- Fragile --

The End Of Summer

The glowing red sun set lazily over the rooftops of London, the last rays of light illuminating the city that never slept with warm colours; it was the end of August and slowly, but surely, autumn was approaching. Nearly two months after Sirius's death in the Ministry of Magic, the mood in Number twelve, Grimmauld Place was subdued--mainly because Harry had arrived the day before and any laughing or happiness seemed strangely out of place when he was around. Even now, when Harry was not in the kitchen with Hermione, Ron and Ginny, they spoke in low, worried voices, looking serious and grave.

"--He barely ate anything all day, didn't show up for breakfast or lunch and at dinner he only nibbled at some bread, declaring that he was not hungry."

"I know, Ginny, and I'm worried about it as well, but there's really nothing we can do right now," Hermione sighed, heaving Crookshanks off the floor and placing him on her lap. "He does not want to speak about it."

"I s'pose it's normal," Ron said, peeling the label off an empty bottle of pumpkin fizz. "I mean, I think I'd want my peace as well."

"But it's not good for him to be alone," Ginny said exasperatedly. "It only makes matters worse. Fair enough if he doesn't want to talk about it just now, especially being in Sirius's old house. But he will have to sooner or later and the less you urge him to, the less he will be willing to do it."

"Ginny, try to understand what has happened to him," Hermione said. "He needs time to-"

"He's already had two months. On his own," Ginny added angrily. "Do you really think your letters comforted him? Do you really think the Dursley's have changed and he had a pleasant summer?" Ginny's gaze turned away from Hermione and she started glaring at Ron instead. "Where is he?"

Ron exchanged glances with Hermione. "He wants to be left alone, Ginny."

"Just tell me where he is."

"Ginny, I really don't think you should go and see him now," Hermione said.

Ginny scowled, hearing the undertone emphasising on her not supposed to go and see Harry. "If you two can be bothered to, I will. And if you don't tell me where he is, I'll look for him myself. The house isn't that big," Ginny said, knocking her chair over noisily as she got up in a haste.

Neither Hermione nor Ron said anything, so Ginny stomped towards the hallway, out of the kitchen. There was the Trio for you, par excellence. Hermione and Ron had obviously decided to leave Harry alone, so nobody else was to interfere. But it was wrong. Harry could not be left alone right now, simply because he was in Sirius's old house. Ginny wondered why Hermione was so dumb sometimes. Ron, fair enough. But Hermione? At least she had to see that Harry should not be alone. Hermione should understand.

Ginny reached the door, pulled it open angrily and was about to slam it shut behind her with all her might as Hermione spoke silently. "He was in his room the last time I saw him. I don't think he has moved from there."

Ginny stopped in the doorframe for a few seconds, then nodded to show she had heard and closed the kitchen door, smiling grimly. Thanks, Hermione, she thought sarcastically and looked around the gloomy hall. The Order was meeting in the room behind the door opposite the kitchen; she could hear soft rumbling voices and considered using the Extendable Ears to gather some information, but then decided that Harry was definitely a more pressing matter. Paying attention not to trip over portraits that had been taken down for cleaning and were leaning against the walls, Ginny made her way to the staircase. She had just started climbing the creaking wooden steps when the door to the room the Order of the Phoenix was in was flung open. Quickly, she made sure the Extendable Ears were pushed down well in the pockets of her robes--it would be safer if nobody saw them--and turned around to behold her mother stepping out into the corridor. Merlin, that was close. She could consider herself lucky for not having used them and being glued to the door when it had opened. A lot of explaining...and they would surely have lost one of their last pairs of Extendable Ears to Molly's wrath. Ginny decided it was still not safe. Her mother had the unnerving ability to detect hidden goods, such as Extendable Ears. She turned back around and continued heading up the staircase, hoping that Molly would not notice.

"Ginny!" Molly called.

"Err... yeah?" she answered, turning around and looking down at her mother who was closing the door silently behind her. The voices ebbed away to a barely audible rumble again. Her right hand was still in her pocket. Should she take it out? Should she leave it in?

"I'm going back to the Burrow now," Molly Weasley said, looking up to her daughter, frowning slightly, as if to ask, 'And where do you think you're going?'

"Err... so?"

"Well," she scowled, "aren't you coming?"

"No, I don't think so," Ginny replied, "I'd rather stay here if you don't mind."

"Oh," Molly said, taken by surprise. She glanced at the door worriedly before turning back to Ginny. "I don't mind, it's safe here, now that Harry's back... I just thought you'd be coming home with Ron and me."

"Ron's leaving, too?"

"Yes, but he'll come back tomorrow afternoon with your father, because Arthur will need to attend tomorrow's meeting. I'm pretty much off duty now since we don't have to guard Harry at his aunt's and uncle's anymore," Molly explained. "I'll only be back this weekend."

Damn. She had to go down and say goodbye to her mother now, and she'd have to do it with both hands and as unsuspiciously as possible. Ginny grinned slightly. Little innocent Ginny. Hopefully, her mother would not suspect anything. She jumped back down the few steps and hugged her mother briefly, trying not to be too quick to release her again. But Molly wasn't worried about those kind of things at the moment; her mind was elsewhere. She had been extremely overprotective of Harry since he had arrived--not to anybody's surprise--but Harry simply didn't seem to react to her attempts to make him speak or eat or sleep any longer. Now that there would only be Lupin, Tonks, Hermione, Harry and Ginny herself in the headquarters (except when the Order met, obviously) for the next few days, he might relax from the hustle and bustle around him--so, in a way, it was good that Molly was leaving. Ginny strongly suspected Dumbledore's influence though. Molly would not have left of her own free will. "See you on Saturday, then," she said when Molly let go of her.

"Friday evening," Molly corrected, brushing non-existent creases from Ginny's robes. "Right. Where's your brother?"

"He's in the kitchen with Hermione. Bye, Mum."

"Bye, Ginny, dear. And pay attention to yourself. And, please..." Molly bent closer to Ginny and looked at her in concern, "Look after Harry. Make sure he eats at least something."

"I will," Ginny said, running back up the staircase. She heard Molly enter the kitchen below and paused for a few seconds half way up, but then decided she wanted to find Harry before Hermione came looking for her, so she climbed the last few steps to the first floor quickly. She had been lucky with the Extendable Ears, though. That had been very close.

The hallway in which Ron's and Harry's bedroom lay, the one they had shared ever since Number twelve, Grimmauld Place had been the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, was completely dark because the shutters of the only window had already been closed, no doubt by Molly, earlier on. She usually started closing shutters and locking doors at six o'clock in the evening, and it was already nearly nine. Ginny squinted down the black corridor, trying to see something and then slowly made her way down it, holding on to the wall with one hand, trying to penetrate the darkness. It would be so much easier if she could just use her wand.... Her stomach lurched as she touched something soft and slimy on the wall and she pulled her hand away immediately, resisting the urge to scream. Stupid decrees for underage wizardry. She was itching to just take out her wand and light it with a small whispered 'Lumos'. Damn it. Slowly creeping forward, hands stretched out in front of her because she was too afraid to touch the walls again, Ginny's eyes finally adapted to the light (or lack of, more like) and she could soon see the softly shimmering serpent-shaped handle to Harry's room. She walked the last few steps towards it swiftly and her pale, freckled hand stretched out in front of her, closing around the handle. Ginny pushed the door open slowly, only to be engulfed in even more silent darkness. She fingered around for the switch for a few seconds before she finally found it and turned the light on. It was not run by Muggle electricity but by an extremely complicated charm--Hermione had come up with the idea at the beginning of the summer, seeing as to the fact that the children could not illuminate the rooms with their wands since they were all still underage and candles were just too messy to carry around all the time. Mrs Black's portrait had been furious.

The naked light bulb came to life, casting gloomy light around the room--Ginny shuddered unwillingly and thought she might want to raise the issue of a nicer shade of yellow for the charmed bulbs sometime. Harry was not there. Ginny sighed, walked in and let herself fall onto Ron's bed, the one that was closer to the door. Where the heck could he be? Hermione had believed him to be here, but when had she spoken to him for the last time? She had been sitting in the kitchen with Ginny and Ron for over an hour, so Harry would have had plenty of time to go somewhere else unnoticed. What if he had simply left the house? Ginny jumped at that thought. Would he do something as stupid as that because he could not stand being in Sirius's house anymore? Perhaps. Perhaps he would. She could understand if he had.

But then, Ginny had an idea. Harry might have gone to Sirius's old room. She herself had done that a fair few times before Harry had arrived at the headquarters. It was strangely comforting.... Nobody ever stopped to think of the way Sirius's death had affected her. Sure, it was worse for Harry and Lupin, who was walking around with big, dark shadows under his eyes and looking even more lost in his ragged robes than usually, but she had also suffered. Sirius had been a good friend to her during the summer last year, when she had been excluded from Ron and Hermione before Harry came. Again, she thought angrily, typical Trio behaviour. They don't even need Harry around to act as a supreme, solitaire group.

Hoping to finally find him, Ginny got up from Ron's bed and left the room, turning the light off behind her. She was pretty sure she would stumble upon Harry up there in Sirius's old room. It was exactly the place Harry would go to, she knew. Hurrying down the corridor at a much faster pace than she had done before, Ginny reached the staircase and went up to the next floor, the floor where Sirius's room had been. The hallway there was not as pitch-dark as the one on the first floor because the boarded up window let the last weak rays of red sunshine in through small cracks (they hadn't had time to repair the window yet, and as the house was protected by all sorts of charms, it wasn't that urgent either).

"Red sky at night, shepherd's delight--red sky in the morning, shepherd's warning," Ginny mumbled, walking down the corridor and stopping at Sirius's door. Let's hope for the best then, she thought grimly. Here goes nothing. She leant her head against the door, but no sound met her ears. Where else could Harry be, though? Ginny sighed and pushed the door open silently.

Relief spread over her instantly as she saw a shadowy figure standing at the open window in the dark. Harry. Ginny slipped into the room and closed the door behind her with a soft clicking noise. It was cold and the sun was fading away in the west, the direction the window was exposed to.

"Hey," she said silently, leaning her back against the door, "I've been looking for you."

"I told Hermione and Ron that I wanted to be alone, Ginny," Harry replied rather roughly, not even turning to glance at her, obviously believing she would leave again. But Ginny was not Hermione or Ron who gave in to everything Harry said.

"I heard," Ginny said, slowly walking over to him, "But as you've been alone for over a month at the Dursley's, I didn't like the idea much."

Harry did not reply or show any other kind of reaction to what she had just said. Standing slightly behind him, Ginny bit her lip and shoved her hands into the pockets of her robes, balancing on the tips of her toes.

"I'm just going to sit here quietly so you are not alone," Ginny said. "You won't even notice. I don't want to leave you on your own, you see, especially not now."

"Ginny, I'm old enough-"

"You won't notice me at all," Ginny cut him short. "Just pretend I'm not here."

She turned away from Harry and went over to the wall to lean against it; then she slid down it until she was sitting on the floor, her back against the faded lime-green tapestry and observing Harry in quiet. Ginny could see that he was slightly unsure about what to do or say now and she could understand it very well. The situation was sort of weird. He might be wondering what the point was of her sitting with him in the dark if he was supposed to have the impression that she was not there at all. But it was a kind of precaution Ginny had taken. If Harry suddenly found that he needed to talk to her, or if he needed somebody to listen to him, she would be there. If it all became too much, he would not be on his own in the darkness. Ginny pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin upon them. Harry. Perhaps one day she would get over him. Ron had been saying something about Dean Thomas last week. She had barely listened to him then, but Ginny supposed that Ron really thought she was interested in him and for some weird reason, he was trying to set them up. But there really was no point in her going out with anybody until she stopped wanting Harry in secret. She knew it. Still, Ginny decided to not do anything against Ron playing matchmaker. Perhaps this time, a boy could distract her from Harry. But she didn't really think so.

"How did you know I was here?" Harry asked her, interrupting her train of thought.

Ginny smiled to herself. So he did need somebody to talk to; otherwise he would have kept quiet. He needed to talk, even if it wasn't about anything important. Even if it wasn't about Sirius--even if it wasn't about the loss just yet.

"I came here myself a fair few times during the summer," Ginny replied slowly, not quite sure about how Harry would take this piece of information.

"Oh," Harry said and Ginny saw his brow furrowing. "Right."

"You're not the only one that is hurt by Sirius's death," Ginny tried to explain, deliberately leaving out that she had been feeling lonely--as she did most of the time.

"I guess I didn't really think of that before," Harry replied so silently that Ginny wouldn't have even heard him speak if it hadn't been so quiet in the room.

"Perhaps not, but it's not that important either," Ginny replied just as quietly. "Nobody else around here ever speaks about it, but I'm sure you and Lupin are not the only ones that are...grieved."

They stayed in silence for a while. Harry did not move an inch, continuously staring out of the window, and neither did Ginny. The sun set behind the horizon, plunging the land into soft, but quickly expanding and deepening darkness as the pale, thin moon crescent rose in the deep blue sky.

"I think I regret asking Dumbledore to let me come here. It seemed like a better place to be than at the Dursley's, but I'm not sure about it anymore," Harry said silently, more to himself than to anybody else.

"You know, Harry, when you were at the Dursley's, you weren't surrounded by thoughts of Sirius everywhere around you," Ginny replied just as quietly. "It was easier. I know what you're talking about. Since I'm here, since I left the Burrow, and it's barely been two weeks, I feel like I can't... like I can't breathe," she said hesitantly, "like I'm drowning, like someone is--"

"--Trying to suffocate you, slowly and softly and you don't really notice that the pressure is growing steadily until it might be too late," Harry finished the sentence for the youngest member of the Weasley family, turning to her.

"Exactly," Ginny replied, looking at him with big eyes. "That's exactly what I wanted to say."

It was the first time since he had arrived at the headquarters that he had faced her so directly. There were dark shadows under his eyes comparable to Lupin's and he looked tired and worn out... hollow. His face was unusually pale and thin, as if he had been not eating for a while, which, Ginny reminded herself, he probably hadn't. Also, his eyes, the once emerald green sparkling eyes, had become so dull, so dead - like a thin shadowy veil was hanging in front of them and stealing all their shine.

Harry, who had been leaning against the windowsill, pushed his thin frame away from it and went over to Sirius's old dark-red four-poster bed. He held on to the bedpost with his hand, staring at the covers, his grip tightening, before letting go abruptly and sitting down on the bed feebly, hanging his head between his shoulders. Ginny watched him carefully, still sitting opposite him, on the floor, leaning against the wall.

"You haven't spoken as much as that in a whole week, I suppose," she commented dryly.

"Probably not," Harry replied, staring at his hands. "I don't think I should be allowed to breathe or speak either."

Ginny frowned. "What are you talking about, Harry?" she asked carefully, getting more and more worried by the second. How could Hermione and Ron have even dared to leave him alone in the state he was? He was still in deep depression and he couldn't get out of it all by himself.

"What do you think I mean, Ginny?" Harry replied miserably. He wiped something away from his cheek--and even in the dark of the room, Ginny recognized the clear shiny shape of a tear falling to the floor. Not wasting any time, she got up at once and went over to him, sitting down on the bed next to Harry, putting her arms around his thin figure and pulling him close towards her.

"That is not true. You are not blame for Sirius's death, Harry. Nobody but yourself holds you responsible for it, not one single person," she whispered urgently, hugging him tightly. "You see, this is exactly why I don't want you on your own."

"Ginny, you were with us," Harry whispered at her shoulder. "I was gullible enough to believe Kreacher. I was stupid enough to not go to Snape. I was idiotic enough to run right where Voldemort wanted me, to run to the Ministry and to take you all along! I'm lucky you didn't all die at the same time."

"Stop," Ginny whispered and stroked his hair with a trembling hand, trembling because of what Harry was saying and because she was holding Harry in her arms, something she had been hoping for since she had been barely ten years old. And now she was fifteen and he had his arms wrapped around her, his head lying at her shoulder. The emotions inside Ginny threatened to drown her, a chaotic blur of wanting to stay in his embrace, wishing to help him and feeling guilty because she wanted him to forget about Sirius and just start liking her....

"That's really enough nonsense for one night, Harry," Ginny finally managed to whisper. "Come on," she then said, reluctantly letting him go and pulling Harry up from the bed.

"Come on?" Harry asked, frowning and wiping his eyes swiftly. "Where to?"

"I think you've been in here long enough, Harry. You need to sleep," Ginny said, unable to resist wiping away a stray tear on his cheek. He gazed at her, looking confused, though Ginny could not tell if it was because of her last few sentences or because she had wiped that tear away, that tear that felt like it was burning on her finger. She broke the connection nervously and blinked. "You look exhausted."

"I'm fine," Harry mumbled, going over to the open window and closing it.

Ginny looked at him sternly. "That's not what I've heard. Ron said you were tossing about in your bed all night."

"I was thinking," he replied silently, pulling the curtains shut.

"Yes, I know," Ginny said, taking his hand. "But you're not supposed to think when you're sleeping. Come on, off to bed, Mr Potter."

"Miss Weasley, you are turning into your mother," Harry said matter-of-factly as Ginny pulled him out of the room. He closed the door behind them as they stepped out into the corridor.

"No, I'm not," Ginny replied. "If I was, I would have given you a Sleeping Draught and stuck you into your bed at eight. And look," she continued, checking her watch. "It's ten o'clock. So there you go."

In the meantime, the corridor had gone pitch-dark and they were forced to walk down it fairly slowly. The house was unnaturally quiet and deserted, with most people gone - the next meeting of the Order would only be the following day, in the evening, as usual. Ginny and Harry heard and met nobody until they arrived on the first floor landing, where Hermione was coming out of the bathroom.

"Oh," she said, startled. "You gave me quite a fright there. Harry, how are-"

"Hermione, why don't you go to our room," Ginny asked pointedly, with a short glance at Harry. "I'll be right there."

"Ginny!" Hermione replied angrily. "I-"

"I'll be right there, no need to worry," Ginny repeated calmly, hoping that, for once, Hermione would just listen to her. She really liked Hermione; she was one of her closest friends. But sometimes... sometimes.... Ginny sighed. She couldn't place her finger on what exactly it was.

Hermione looked from Ginny to Harry and back before her eyes widened for a fraction of a second and she said, "Oh. Right. Err... good night, Harry."

"Night, Hermione," Harry said and Hermione hurried off to the bedroom she shared with Ginny, closing the door behind her.

Ginny pulled Harry on and they entered the room he shared with Ron normally. She switched the light on again like she had done earlier, went over to the wardrobe and started pulling out candles from a drawer. "Ron went back to the Burrow with Mum," she explained as Harry sat down on his bed and she started positioning the candles around the room. "He'll be back tomorrow. I'm going over to speak to Hermione shortly, you can change into your pyjamas and I'll be right back."

"Okay," Harry said slowly. "Why--"

"Don't ask just now. I'll explain later," Ginny replied, leaving and closing the door behind her. She hurried over to the room she shared with Hermione and went inside, preparing for whatever storm was going to come.

Hermione was sitting on the side of her bed, brushing her hair. When Ginny entered, she laid her brush aside and looked at her quizzically. "What do you think--"

"Look, Hermione, don't ask. I've managed to loosen him up a little and he needs to sleep so I'm going to spend the night over in his room to make sure he does."

"You are what?" Hermiose gasped.

"I said I was going to--"

"I heard what you said, Ginny," Hermione interrupted icily, "and I doubt you would be doing that if your mother was still here!"

"Oh, grow up, Hermione!" Ginny replied angrily. "I'm not going over to sleep with him, I'm going over to make sure he goes to sleep! On his own."

Still, Hermione was frowning.

"Look, nothing's going to happen."

"I don't have to understand, do I?" the older girl asked, biting back any further comment.

"No, you don't have to," Ginny replied, throwing off her clothes and slipping into her nighty.

Hermione studied her face carefully. "Ginny," she then said slowly. "You're not...like..."

"What?" Ginny asked, rummaging around in her bedside table and pulling out a box of matches. "Thanks for these by the way," she said to Hermione. "Dead useful."

"Err... yes, no problem," Hermione replied distractedly. "Ginny--did you and Harry...well, you were holding hands and--"

Ginny frowned slightly and looked up at Hermione. "Hermione, I understand that he already has two very good and close friends, but that doesn't mean that I don't want to be his friend as well and nothing else."

"Friends?" Hermione asked, reaching under her bed and pulling out a schoolbook without breaking the eye contact to Ginny. "You may have given up on Harry, Ginny, but I know that it only means you're still in love with him in secret."

Ginny looked down at Hermione, blinking. "I can't quite follow you there. I don't know what you mean," she said, turning to her wardrobe.

"Don't play that game with me, Ginny," Hermione said, pulling up her blankets. "You know exactly what I mean."

"Well, it's not as if it mattered to him anyway," Ginny answered, tying her hair to a knot and picking up a cardigan, stuffing the box of matches inside a pocket. "Night, Hermione."

"Good night, Ginny. Good night," Hermione repeated as Ginny left the room again, hurrying back to Harry's.

How could Hermione sometimes be so blind about certain things, but then observe exactly what was going on in her mind? Yes, she still liked Harry. And yes, she had given up on him. But those were two things that didn't necessarily contradict each other. It only meant that she didn't have the girlish hope of him liking her back anymore. Well, she still had the hope... the hope would stay... but the belief was gone. It had gone long ago.

When she entered, Harry was sitting on the side of his bed in dark pyjamas, sunk into deep thought, as he was most of the time. He looked up at Ginny as she closed the door behind herself.

"I told Hermione I would spend the night here," she said silently. "She doesn't have to know I will stay awake and not sleep."

"Awake?" Harry asked, confused.

"Yes," Ginny said, walking around the room and lighting the candles with the matches she had taken out of the pocket of her black cardigan. She then turned the normal light off again, so that they found themselves in the warm glow of the candlelight. "I'm going to stay awake."

"Ginny, you need to sleep," Harry said.

"I've slept enough in the last few weeks to manage," Ginny replied, sitting down next to him gingerly. "Come on, lie down, Harry. You need some sleep, you look tired as hell."

"Uhm..."

Ginny laughed. "Look, I've already tried to explain this to Hermione in vain. I'm not going to throw myself upon you. I just want to make sure you sleep, because if nobody pays attention to it, you are too stubborn to do so. Why don't you just think of me as... as a friend?"

"I do think of you as a friend, Ginny," he replied, "but this is just plain weird."

"Give it a try?" Ginny asked. "If it annoys you to have me in the room while you sleep, you can just tell me to get lost later."

"You're mad, Ginny," Harry mumbled and gave her a weak smile. "It doesn't bother me that you're here, I mean, I sleep in a dormitory most of the year. It's just a weird thought."

Ginny grimaced. "Wouldn't penetrate Hermione's thick skull either."

"I guess I'll just try and sleep then," Harry said. Ginny nodded. "Right. And--thanks."

"That's okay," Ginny whispered. "Really."

Harry slipped under his sheets, pulling them up to his nose. "You are not going to sleep at all?" he asked again.

"Just don't think about that now, Harry. I'll manage, don't you worry," Ginny said, looking at him softly. "I'm going to stay right here. If you wake up, you let me know."

Harry reached for her hand and before Ginny understood what he was doing, he pulled her down to him and kissed her cheek, making her blush furiously but--she was relieved to notice--the light from the candles didn't give it away. "Good night, Ginny. But you really should get some sleep as well."

"Good night, Harry," Ginny whispered, holding his hand. "Go to sleep. Things will look different in the morning."

Harry closed his eyes, holding on to Ginny's hand tightly and she did not move once until she was sure that he was asleep. Only then, hours later, did she take her hand away carefully and get up from the side of his bed, pulling her cardigan around herself tightly, shivering. In the meantime, most candles had burnt out and there was only little light left to allow her to see; however, Ginny did not dare get more candles out of the wardrobe in case the drawer squeaked and the noise woke Harry up. Instead, she took a blanket from the end of Ron's bed and wrapped herself into it, pacing the room slowly to stay awake. Looking at her watch in the dim light of a low-burning red candle, she noted that it was one o'clock in the morning. She wasn't really tired, but Ginny knew that if she laid down only for a few minutes, she would fall straight asleep. So, now feeling warmer again, Ginny walked over to the window, pushed the dark blue hangings aside and, with a glance at Harry to make sure he was asleep and well-covered by his sheets, pulled the window open with a quick movement.

The cool night air rushed in to greet her and Ginny welcomed it gratefully, breathing in deeply. It smelt sweet and refreshing, but a tinge of something hard to describe told her that it was the end of summer, that slowly, autumn was approaching, that soon, in barely two weeks, she would be sitting on the train bringing her back to school.

Leaning out of the window, Ginny suddenly found herself crying slow, reluctant tears. They crept down her cheeks, dripping from her face onto her hands, onto the windowsill, out into the night, onto the dark grass deep down under her. She wiped them away hastily, sitting down on the windowsill, still marvelling at the fact that she wasn't quite sure why she was crying.

She couldn't remember how long she had been sitting outside like that, but when Harry turned in his sleep and pulled his sheets up around him, probably getting cold, she slipped off the windowsill quickly and, with a last sad glance at the starry night, she closed the window and hangings.

Now back inside the room, having the window closed, Ginny noticed that she was cold again, even with the blanket around her shoulders. She sat down on Ron's empty bed, pulling his sheets around her and undoing her hair from the tight knot, looking at herself in the mirror that hung on the door of the wardrobe critically. Her reflection was barely recognizable, but the last few low burning candles showed her enough. Nothing looked right, starting with her freckles, to her pale skin, to her hair. She hated her hair most of all. If only its shade was a little darker or browner; not carrot-orange but auburn. Ginny frowned, impatiently tucking the curls behind her ear. Her hair was better tied up, kept out of harm's way.

In his own bed, Harry turned over yet again, flinging his sheets on the floor. Forgetting about her hair, Ginny got up from Ron's bed and picked the sheets up, standing silently next to Harry, waiting for him to calm down so she could put his covers back on; but he didn't. He was still tossing around, fast asleep and whispering something as Ginny suddenly noticed. His hands clenched as he rolled around again, this time sending his pillow flying across the room. Letting the sheets fall to the floor, Ginny sat down on the side of his bed and grabbed his shoulder to make him stop. He turned away, twisting like a snake under her firm grip, but she did not let go. His fists unclenched and he suddenly snatched for her hand, but then finally calmed down again, until Ginny decided it was safe to pick up his sheets. She bent down, grabbing a corner clumsily with her left hand because he was still holding on tightly to the other and pulled them up onto her lap.

"Sirius... Sirius..."

Ginny froze and closed her eyes in pain, as she finally understood what Harry had been muttering under his breath all along. Sirius... of course. What else? She dumped the sheets onto Ron's bed and leant over Harry, stroking his hair from his forehead to reveal his scar. It was burning hot and, smiling grimly, Ginny understood why Harry had thrown away his covers; he was far too warm and needed fresh air. And there was her thinking he had been cold. She strode across the room, opened the window again and returned to Harry's bed. She had barely sat down when Harry's eyes snapped open and he pushed himself up, looking around in dismay.

"Bad dreams?" Ginny inquired softly. "I thought you were trying to run a marathon."

Harry nodded, still searching the room for whatever it was frantically; then he slumped back onto his mattress and ran his hand through his hair distractedly.

"Do you want a drink?" Ginny asked. "Your forehead is red-hot and you tossed your covers aside--I sort of figured you were too warm."

"Thanks," Harry replied, "I'm parched."

"Thought so," Ginny said and got up to pour him some water from the jug on Ron's bedside table. "Should I close the window again?" she asked, giving him the glass.

"No," Harry said, emptying his glass quickly. "Please leave it open. I feel as if I'm about to explode from the heat."

Ginny nodded and took the glass again to refill it. Harry got up and went to the window, leaning out on the windowsill; his gaze seemed unfocused and far away.

"Here," she said, handing him the glass.

"Thanks," Harry said, taking a sip.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Harry shot her a glance from the side, eyebrows slightly raised as if he was sizing her up--but then, obviously, he decided she could hear. "I've been having this dream for the whole summer," he started, taking another sip. "It's like the ones I used to have about the Department of Mysteries."

"Running down corridors and finding doors locked?" Ginny asked. She didn't know that much about those dreams as nobody had ever bothered telling her.

"Pretty much," Harry answered. "But running around other places now. I used to run around the Ministry of Magic, right?"

"Yeah," Ginny said.

"And there, I would be trying to get to the room we met Lestrange, Malfoy and the other Death Eaters in," he explained and Ginny nodded. "Well, I still run around the Department of Mysteries, but--" he paused, looking at Ginny wearily before returning his gaze to the starry sky, "--but in other rooms."

Ginny bit her lip, studying his expression carefully. "The room with the veil?"

"Yes," Harry answered, drowning the rest of his water. He went to pour himself some more and continued. "I reach the veil and try to pull it aside..."

"And then you wake up," Ginny finished lamely.

"Exactly," Harry said, coming back to the window. "I'm about to touch the veil, about to feel the tissue in my fingers, about to see Sirius--I'm so sure of it in my dreams--and I wake up."

Ginny did not reply and stared out of the window. The veil... yes, she remembered it well. And the voices that had been whispering....

"Say, Ginny?" Harry asked, waking her from her thoughts. "Why are you not sleeping at this time? It must be about two o'clock in the morning--"

"Two thirty," Ginny corrected him, checking her watch in the pale light of the moon. "It's two thirty in the morning."

"Don't tell me you've been awake all this time," Harry said, looking at her in concern. "Your mother will kill me."

Ginny shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "She doesn't need to know, does she now?"

Harry finished his glass again and put it down on the small bedside table. "You really should go to sleep now, Ginny."

"I'll leave the window open for a bit longer, alright?" Ginny asked, ignoring his words. "Lie back down, Harry. And if you start running down mysterious corridors again, I'll wake you up."

"Ginny--"

"Off to bed," Ginny said, leading him over to his bed. "Chop, chop! Mr Potter, it's far too late for you to still be up."

"Miss Weasley--" Harry tried to interrupt.

"No, no, Mr Potter, you are not allowed to stay up longer, you need your sleep," Ginny grinned, pushing him down onto his bed and picking up his sheets from Ron's. "There. Lie down now. Are you still too hot?"

"No, I'm fine-"

"Good, because you're the only person I'm worrying about at the moment," Ginny replied, sitting down on the side of his bed.

Harry looked at her for a few seconds in a rather worried way, but then let a small smile play around his lips. "Thanks, Ginny. You really shouldn't be ruining your sleep for me."

"You're not supposed to thank me for something totally natural," Ginny replied, smoothing his covers down to distract herself from his brilliantly green eyes. "Okay? You don't have to thank me for it. Don't do it again."

"I'm not promising anything," Harry said, looking bemused, his eyes twinkling. "Good night, Gin. Even if you're not going to lie down and rest like you deserve."

"Sleep, Harry," Ginny said and blew out the last candle on the bedside table. "Sleep."

~*~