Ginny Weasley and the Heirs of Darkness

Chapter Twelve: Dancing and Deception

"Gin, did you hear?"

Ginny looked up from her Astronomy homework: Plot the constellations of Cassiopeia, Coma Berenices, Libra, Lupus, Draco, Cygnus, Cepheus, and Aquarius, then write two scrolls of parchment illustrating these constellations' significance in relation to their use within the magical sphere. She was currently sketching the lines and stars of Draco; the irony of this had not been lost on her.

"Hear what, Ron?" she asked her brother, who was holding a brightly-colored flier. He shoved it at her.

"To make up for cancelling the Hogsmeade weekend, Dumbledore's decided to have a feast."

Ginny frowned, skimming the information sheet. "Well, that's not too exciting, is it? The Halloween feast is coming soon, anyway." Her eyes dropped lower on the page. "Oh, and a dance."

Ron grinned. "You look about as excited as I feel. Feast for everyone, then the dance for third-years and up, since that's everyone who would have gone to Hogsmeade." He shrugged. "The advantage to a dance is that we prefects won't have to supervise; we can just go."

"Yes, but do we really want to go?"

"Oh, Gin, you'll go, Bronwen'll make you." Ron made a face. "And Hermione's already picked out her dress robes, so I'm stuck for it, too." He imitated his girlfriend's soprano, "'Just don't wear anything that clashes with pale gray, Ron, we have to match nicely.'"

Ginny glanced over to the far corner of the Gryffindor common room, where Hermione was engrossed in serious conversation with Harry. Both of them were looking at the Weasley siblings, and Ginny wondered if they'd overheard Ron's comment. "Might want to be a little quieter," she advised.

Ron followed his sister's gaze, giving his best friends a wave and a grin. "Oh, I make fun of her to her face; wouldn't surprise her to know that I do it around you, too."

Hermione and Harry had looked away quickly when they noticed Ginny's eyes resting on them, and Ginny felt a strange squirming in her stomach. Surely Hermione wasn't going to suddenly side with Harry, when Ginny had supported her through the problems with Ron? "I'm going to finish my homework upstairs," she said abruptly. Her brother gave her a quizzical look.

"Alright," he replied. "Sorry I'm so boring."

She smiled as she gathered her things. "It's not you," she said quietly.

Ron shot a second look at Hermione and Harry, a frown marring his features. "You know, Gin, I could talk to him for you. It's not right, you two not speaking like this."

Ginny arched a brow. "From where did you find this sudden sage maturity?" she teased. "I seem to recall a time when you and Harry refused to speak, and just a little while ago you couldn't be bothered to talk to your own girlfriend..."

"That was different," Ron snapped, but he at least had the decency to redden. "You and Harry- it's not like either of you to hold a grudge."

Privately, Ginny disagreed, but she wisely didn't comment. "I'm not holding a grudge. I'm just fine with Harry, but he hates me, so-"

"No, I don't."

Turning, Ginny just stared blankly at Harry, but Ron's face broke into a wide grin. "There, you see?" he said to Ginny. "I'll leave you two alone," he added, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively before he left to sit with Hermione.

"Oh, shove off, Ron," Ginny grumbled at her brother's back.

"Ginny," Harry said seriously, "could we go somewhere to talk before dinner?"

Ginny chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Um, sure," she decided, dropping her Astronomy supplies on a nearby table. "How about a walk around the pitch?" she suggested, choosing a place away from prying ears that would be somewhat neutral territory.

They made their way out of Gryffindor common room in silence, curious gazes burning into their backs as they exited through the portrait hole. Harry didn't speak until they were outside the castle.

"Ginny, have you been feeling alright recently?" he asked.

Taken aback by the question, Ginny took a moment before responding. "Well, I suppose not completely," she said truthfully, wondering why Harry had asked her such a thing. "This term hasn't been particularly wonderful for me so far." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. In the waning October sunlight, it was impossible to read his expression, but he seemed oddly melancholy, and she was swept with a wave of guilt. She had given him up, and for what? An intense but brief kiss with Draco Malfoy? That had to be, in her string of short relationships, the very shortest one of all. Cho's wrong, she thought wryly. She's not cursed, I am.

Neville Longbottom- one date. One long, miserable night of Neville trodding on her toes.

Seamus Finnigan- two immature weeks of silly passed notes, clammy hand-holding and sloppy kisses before they both realized it was useless to date someone who was interested in someone else; Ginny had gone back to pining for Harry, and Seamus had reconciled with Lavender.

Harry Potter- four years of hero-worship in exchange for one month of dating, two weeks of which she'd spent thinking about Draco Malfoy instead.

And Draco- one kiss. Followed by a nasty spat in which Draco had revealed that he was just as bitterly house-conscious as Harry, that Ginny herself was just one more way to get under his rival's skin.... Those realizations still stung, particularly in tandem with the fact that she was still strongly attracted to him.

"-and so, I guess what I'm trying to say is, would you like to go to the dance with me this weekend?" Harry was giving her a pitiful, edgy sort of look.

Ginny reeled. "W-what?" she stammered. Lost in her own thoughts, she had completely missed what he had said to her, and was at a loss as to how he had been barely speaking to her ten minutes ago, but now wanted to take her on a date....

But what did she have to lose? It wasn't as if Draco were going to ask her, not after the sharp words they'd exchanged. Maybe she could try again with Harry? She didn't really have feelings for him anymore, but perhaps she'd broken up with him too quickly, having fooled herself into thinking there was a possibility of something with Draco.

"Yes," she replied. "I'll go with you." Mentally, however, she sighed. It was too bad she didn't work for the Ministry of Magic; keep up this recent trend, and she'd have a shot at their annual Indecision Award.

Harry smiled. "Good."

"But, Harry?"

He eyed her warily, their pace slow as they returned to the castle. "Yes?"

"I'm not ready to have a relationship again. I- er, can this just be a one-time thing, and we'll see how it goes?"

He nodded. "I just want you to be alright, Gin."

His words puzzled her, but she didn't dare ask, revealing that she hadn't been listening. Instead, she gave him a wan smile. "Yeah, so do I."

***

To Hermione, dinner seemed to take hours. She was desperate to talk to Harry, but time went by as if in slow-motion, and to make things worse, Dumbledore made the feast and dance announcement to the school in general after the plates had been cleared. Everyone left the Great Hall painfully slowly, chattering about the dance, and she lost track of both Ron and Harry in the crush of people. Ginny was also nowhere to be seen.

"Hermione!"

She turned. "Harry- there you are! How did things go with Ginny?" she asked quietly, though no one in the throng was likely to eavesdrop on them.

Harry smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, which were terribly serious. "She agreed to go to the dance with me. But you were right, Hermione, she's definitely not herself. She even admitted to me that she's not been having a good term." He frowned, the smile evaporating completely. "If I can just get her to confide in me, Hermione.... She was a bit spacey, and she seemed to have a hard time concentrating."

Hermione nodded earnestly. "All of which are hallmarks of the way she was the last time she was under the influence of Voldemort," she whispered, eyes darting furtively to the sides.

"Heads together and whispering again?" a voice said from behind them as they neared the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. "Harry, I'm starting to think you're moving in on my girl."

Harry grinned at his best friend. "Tempting, Ron, but I'd rather date your sister."

Confusion crossed Ron's face, but then his eyes lit. "Are you and Gin back together?" he asked hopefully. Anyone would be better than Malfoy, but if Ginny was seeing Harry again- it was almost too good to be true.

"Sort of," Harry replied. "She's my date for the dance."

Ron's smile widened, so pleased was he by the drastic changes catalyzed by recent events. "Both of you had a change of heart?"

Hermione shot a warning glance at Harry, who chose his words carefully; Ron mustn't yet know they suspected Ginny to be under Voldemort's influence. "Sort of," he repeated. "I told her about how I wasn't angry anymore, because she hadn't seemed like herself recently, and she agreed that she hadn't. And then she said she'd like to take things slowly, so for now, it's just the dance. But I'm sure we'll pick up where we left off," he finished, smiling confidently.

Positively beaming, Ron slipped one arm around Hermione's waist, patting Harry on the back with his free hand. "Brilliant, Harry." He shook his head. "I'm so glad Gin is thinking normally again. Didn't recognize her as my own sister for awhile, there."

Harry and Hermione shared a significant look before Hermione changed the subject. "So, Ron- did you find any decent dress robes yet?"

***

The rest of the week before the dance went far too quickly for Ginny's taste, and soon it was Friday, with only an hour of Defense Against the Dark Arts between Ginny and her date with Harry. The fact that he, as well as Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Bronwen were in that class did nothing to ease her nerves.

"Gin," Bronwen whined before Professor Gillund came in to begin her lecture, "how can you not tell me who you're going with? I told you...."

"You're going with your boyfriend, Bron, it wasn't really a surprise," Ginny mocked, rolling her eyes.

"But, Gin-" Bronwen frowned as the professor entered the room. "I'll get this out of you yet," she whispered.

"Right," Ginny whispered back. "Just as soon as my date and I enter the Great Hall. Your sleuthing skills will astonish me."

Bronwen jabbed at her friend with her elbow, but was prevented from saying anything further as the professor shuffled her notes, clearing her throat loudly.

"Today," she announced, "we will be discussing Dark Arts methodology." The students exchanged wary glances; this sounded much less interesting than the creatures and charms they'd been studying up until this point. "Most of you have examined a myriad of Dark creatures, and I believe you've discussed the three Unforgivables?" The class nodded. "Good," Professor Gillund continued briskly. "We will then move on to the Blood-Letting spells."

Furious whispering began in all corners of the room- this was sure to be interesting, after all, but would it really be allowed? Ginny fidgeted in her seat, torn. On the one hand, this sort of thing fascinated her. On the other, she'd come just a little too close to this sort of magic for comfort.... "Silence!" the professor snapped over the din. She shot an unpleasant look at Hermione, who had raised one tremulous hand into the air. "Yes, Miss Granger?" Her voice carried an obvious note of exasperation.

"Should we really be learning this, Professor?" she asked querulously.

"You'll need to learn it someday, Miss Granger, and there's no time like the present," Gillund said briskly, picking up a piece of chalk and starting to write on the board. "Parchment and quills out, please, you'll all need to take notes on this for the final examination." She crossed a "t" with particular relish, nearly snapping the chalk in half. "Now. Blood-Letting spells are certainly one of the most sinister types of Dark magic, for what I would assume are obvious reasons. In all cases, they require the blood of a victim, but the sort of victim varies from spell to individual spell. For example, has anyone heard of Blood Ink?"

Ginny hadn't, but several hands rose, most of them Slytherin. "Yes, Miss Parkinson?" Professor Gillund asked, smiling.

"Blood Ink allows the sending of encoded messages that can't be read by anyone but the intended recipient," said Pansy, looking pleased with herself.

"Correct. Any intercepted messages will appear to be full of random drivel rather than their actual message. Excellent, Miss Parkinson, two points to Slytherin. Anyone care to elaborate? Yes- Mr. West."

"The blood must be from either the sender or the receiver, and they must give it willingly."

"Two more points," the professor said approvingly. "So, if the blood is given willingly, why call it Dark Arts? No one's being hurt, right?"

Ginny raised her hand. "Someone is being hurt- willing or not, there's still an element of pain involved."

Professor Gillund nodded, looking extremely satisfied. "That's right, excellent. Two points to Gryffindor. Did everyone hear what Miss Weasley said? It's a crucial aspect of the three-fold Dark Arts discipline; spells are classified as being Coercive, Aggressive, or Sacrificial." She drew three columns on the board. "Let's brainstorm some examples- Coercive, Mr. Longbottom."

"Uh, maybe Imperius?" Neville tried.

"Good," said the professor, writing as she spoke. "Aggressive, Miss Zabini."

A pause as the two sisters glanced at each other. "Cruciatus," Bronwen suggested as Blaise said, "The Killing Curse."

"Both correct. Sacrificial, Mr. Potter."

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione immediately shared a glance- how could the professor have chosen Harry for that particular question?

"Flesh, Blood, and Bone," Harry said, voice dangerously quiet.

Professor Gillund seemed unperturbed by the strangled look on her student's face. "Yes, that's right. And of course, Blood Ink would fall under that as well. Good," she said, surveying the lists. We'll be adding others to these columns for the rest of the term, but this is a fine start. Now, to continue with the Blood-Letting spells. I want each of you to choose a particular spell from the list I'll be handing out momentarily. You will research this spell, borrowing books from Professor Dumbledore's Restricted Section or from myself. I'd like four feet of parchment describing the spell and its uses, and another foot and three-quarters on possible defenses. This is a difficult assignment, so it's not due until next term, when you will present them in front of the class. Questions?"

"So what do you think you'll write on?" Ginny asked Bronwen after class, hoping to distract her. They were dawdling outside the classroom door, chatting. Ginny was stalling, not wanting to return to Gryffindor Tower and the dance preparations that awaited her; Bronwen wasn't planning on leaving the corridor until she knew exactly who Ginny's date was. The rest of the class filed past them, everyone chattering excitedly about the evening ahead.

"Headed back to the Tower, Ginny?" Hermione asked. Ginny glanced uncertainly from Bronwen to Hermione, Harry, and Ron.

"Um, just wanted to say one more thing to Bronwen- I'll catch you up," she added quickly, seeing the vaguely irritated look on Harry's face. She'd been walking a very fine line all week, trying to maintain her newfound friendly relations with Harry. Hermione nodded, and the three of them walked away.

"I've noticed you and Harry are on speaking terms again," Bronwen said acidly, tone indicating she was very sorry that was the case.

"Yes. Nice, isn't it?" Ginny replied evasively.

"Oh, Merlin," Bronwen said suddenly.

Ginny raised an eyebrow at her friend. "What?"

"You're going with Harry, aren't you." Bronwen's lack of inflection indicated that it wasn't a question.

"Um-"

"You are!" Bronwen looked furious. "Ginny! How could you go with Harry? After the way he treated you these past weeks-"

"...shouldn't think anything of the sort, Severus. You know I'd never-" Ginny heard Professor Gillund's voice say.

"What happened to your interest in Draco, Gin?" Bronwen continued, oblivious to the fact that Ginny was listening to something else.

"Shh, Bron!" Ginny snapped. "Listen."

"Given our history, Serena, I believe I have every right to think that very thing," Snape's voice returned icily.

Bronwen yanked Ginny's arm, dragging her out of earshot. "We shouldn't be eavesdropping on them," she hissed.

Ginny's mouth dropped open. "Since when are you concerned about the rules?" she demanded, incredulous. "You're turning into Blaise-" Her eyes narrowed. "This has to do with the whole 'Slytherin solidarity' thing, doesn't it? Well, fine. That can be your answer to why I'm with Harry again- Gryffindors stick together, too," she finished acerbically, tugging her arm out of Bronwen's loose grip.

"Gin-"

"I have to go get ready. I'll see you at the dance."

Bronwen took her elbow again. "I don't think so."

"Bronwen, I really don't want to go into the whole Harry and Draco thing right now-"

"Too bad," Bronwen said firmly, guiding her friend down the hall. "Fiona has Muggle Studies right now, we're going to go fetch her, then you're going to let us into the prefects' bathroom, and we'll get ready together while you tell us the whole thing."

"Fiona knows about Harry," Ginny admitted miserably.

Bronwen look affronted. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because the Draco thing is off, and I knew you'd be mad.... I just didn't want you to yell at me."

"Well, I'd already noticed that things weren't exactly sunny with Draco, and you're right, I am mad- Ginny, what went wrong?"

Once again, Ginny felt trapped. "Why don't we get Fiona first? We're hardly going to have time to change and do our hair- which reminds me, can I still borrow your dress?"

"Yes, you may borrow my dress, but don't think you can avoid the subject," Bronwen said severely as they arrived outside the Muggle Studies classroom. As usual, Professor Mekron was letting his students out late, calling after the departing class to "remember to try the lifting experiment using a shovel!"

"Where on earth am I supposed to find a shovel?" Fiona was muttering irritably to a fellow Ravenclaw as they stepped out of the classroom. "Oh, hello. What are you two doing here?" she queried of her friends, haphazardly stuffing her books into her satchel.

Bronwen's expression was grim. "Miss Weasley here is going to tell me all about her latest romantic escapades, and I thought you might like to join us in the prefects' bathroom?"

Fiona grinned. "Sounds fun."

Not trusting Ginny to return if she went to Gryffindor Tower to fetch her clothes, Bronwen used a Summoning Charm to gather all their supplies to the prefects' bathroom. "Accio black dress," she finished, and the dress she was lending to Ginny ricocheted in through the portrait hole. "There you are," she said, handing it to Ginny and sounding immensely pleased with herself.

Ginny stared at the dress. "Um, Bron? This doesn't look exactly like what you described-"

"I told you I had a nice, well-cut black dress that you could borrow. Looks that way to me."

Fiona giggled. "Bronwen, you told Gin that it was modest. This dress is not modest."

"The hem comes past mid-thigh!" Bronwen said indignantly. Ginny held the dress to herself, examining it in the mirror- it was rather low-cut in the front.

"Ron will kill me," she sighed. "Oh, well, guess I'll just have to keep my robes on over it."

"Enough about clothes," Bronwen said. Ginny and Fiona exchanged a glance; it was sure to be the only time in her life Bronwen would ever disdain a conversation about clothes. "You have to tell me why you don't like Draco anymore."

"I'd actually be curious to hear that response myself," said a voice from the doorway to the shower room. Cho Chang was standing there in a slip, her hair dripping wet.

Ginny groaned. "Not you, too?"

Cho shrugged, toweling her hair and grinning at her friend. "Well, it's like a good book, Ginny. I'd like to hear the end, that's all."

Ginny took a seat at a dressing table, staring morosely at her own reflection. "Fine," she sighed. "It's not exactly that I don't like Draco anymore-"

"Yes!" Bronwen cried, triumphant.

"But I don't think he's right for me."

"What happened, though?" Fiona prodded.

"I thought you knew?" Bronwen asked Fiona, who shook her head.

"No, I just knew she was going to the dance with Harry. I'm still in the dark about why things didn't work with Draco, because Ginny has been so blasted secretive about the whole thing...." Fiona trailed off, giving Ginny a pointed look.

Cho cleared her throat. "Well, maybe Ginny will tell us if we let her continue," she teased gently, pulling a pretty crimson velvet dress over her head. "Could you zip me up?" she asked Fiona.

"He kissed me," Ginny blurted.

Bronwen's hand, on its way to applying moisturizer to her face, hovered in midair. Fiona, distracted, only zipped Cho's dress halfway up her back.

"Draco kissed you?" they cried in astonished unison. Ginny was surely the only girl at Hogwarts who had had the dubious privilege of kissing both Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. Beauty regimens abruptly forgotten, all three girls pulled chairs next to Ginny, seating themselves in a cluster so they could all see each other in the mirror.

"Was it that bad of a kiss?" Bronwen asked. In her mind, that was the only reason Ginny could be unhappy about a kiss from Draco. She frowned. It was true that he'd only dated Pansy, but somehow she'd just assumed-

"It was fine," Ginny said evasively.

Fiona gave her a searching look. "Only 'fine?'"

Ginny flushed, ignoring her friend's question. "Well, I pushed him away halfway through it."

"What?!" Ginny had thought Bronwen looked furious before, but it was nothing compared to her current ire. "Let me get this straight, Gin. Draco came on to you, it was a good kiss, and you pushed him away?"

"I had good cause!" Ginny said defensively.

"Really?" Cho cut in, tone dry. She glanced significantly at Fiona and Bronwen. "It's true, it can be very disconcerting, when the one you've been obsessing over does something as callous as kiss you."

"Cho," Ginny groaned, "someone could have seen us." She sighed. "And that's what I told him. He got all angry-"

"Not that I blame him," Bronwen interrupted.

"-and so I just haven't spoken to him since," Ginny finished, shooting a glare at Bronwen.

"I can't believe you," Bronwen commented, shaking her head. "Draco gives you the clearest possible message that he's interested, and what do you do? You run back to Harry. Terrible, Gin."

"That was why I didn't want to tell you, Bron," Ginny said stiffly, twisting her long hair into a simple chignon. "I knew you'd overreact." She shrugged. "It was a possibility, and it might have happened, but now I guess it won't. So I told Harry I would go to the dance with him. Just as friends, of course."

Bronwen started to reply, but Fiona was faster. "Are you sure Harry sees it that way?"

"I told him it was that way. Figured I should lay down the rules from the very beginning."

"Because Harry always follows the rules," Bronwen muttered under her breath. "So perfect and law-abiding, Harry is."

Ginny turned plaintive eyes on her friend. "Bronwen, please," she pleaded. "Please don't be angry."

Bronwen sighed melodramatically. "I just don't see how you think you're the victim in this, Ginny! I mean, do you care about Draco or not? If you do, leading him on and then ditching him for Harry was a horrid way of showing it. At least let the boy know what you want from him, because I really do think he wants to seriously date you." Bronwen gave Ginny a teasing look, but there was a hint of serious frustration around the edges. "You know, a long-term relationship? Something that would ideally last longer than a week?"

Ginny blanched. Care about Draco? To her chagrin, she realized she hadn't really thought about it before. He was sexy, and witty as hell- she was definitely attracted to him. But to care about someone was something else entirely. She cared about Harry, in a now very platonic way, but she still hadn't sorted out her feelings on Draco. She was ashamed; she'd been livid with both Draco and Harry for being so tied up in their house distinctions, but she'd been equally prejudiced....

"About time I found you, Ginny Weasley."

All four girls turned to see Hermione standing just beyond the portrait hole, her hands on her hips. "I thought you were going to dress in Gryffindor Tower, but I saw your robes zoom out of the dormitory. Harry's ready, and he's worried you're not coming," she accused.

Ginny shot Bronwen a peripheral warning glance that begged her not to say anything; Bronwen disliked Hermione almost as much as she disapproved of Harry. Ginny privately thought it might have something to do with the fact that Hermione was Blaise Zabini's biggest competition for the position of Head Girl next year. "No, I'm coming, Hermione," she replied, tugging on the borrowed black dress.

"That's awfully short," Hermione commented.

"Ginny always wears short skirts," Fiona said defensively, hoping to keep Bronwen at bay. "I'm sure Harry will like it."

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. "Well, are you ready?"

Ginny checked her hair one last time. "I'm ready. I'll see all of you at the dance, of course," she added to her friends. Cho, Fiona, and Bronwen nodded silently, all three sullenly disappointed- Ginny had looked as if she were about to say something important, and then Hermione had to go and ruin it.

"Harry and Ron are meeting us in the Great Hall," Hermione told Ginny bossily as they hurried down the corridor. "They've probably been waiting for ages, and-"

"You look really nice tonight, Hermione," Ginny interrupted, hoping to get the other girl off track. And it was the truth: Hermione's silvery robes and pearl-gray dress complemented her coloring, and Lavender Brown had worked miracles with her hair.

Hermione smiled, face flushing. "Thank you, Ginny. So do you," she added, eyeing Ginny's ensemble. In addition to Bronwen's dress, Ginny was wearing the robes she'd stolen from Georgine, but she'd magicked their original aubergine color into a deep, sensual green. "You'll match Harry," she continued, looking pleased.

"Marvelous," Ginny replied sarcastically.

They entered the Great Hall, and both girls suppressed gasps of awe. The professors really had outdone themselves with the decor. Silks in rich fall colors draped the walls and tables, and bright autumn maple leaves flitted down from the enchanted ceiling. Flickering candles and sputtering torches added a warm glow to the room, gently illuminating the faces of those who had already arrived. Hermione spotted Harry and Ron, and the two girls went to join their dates.

"Thought the Quidditch team could sit together," Harry told Ginny as she slid into the seat next to him. She peered down the table, spotting her teammates. Mimi Wood was with a young Hufflepuff Ginny didn't recognize; Dean Thomas was accompanied by Hannah Abbott; Colin Creevey was chatting animatedly with Natalie MacDonald, a third-year Gryffindor; and Katie Bell was with-

"Rory Montague?" she whispered, astonished.

Harry nodded, eyebrows furrowing as he watched their Captain rest her hand on the former Slytherin's shoulder. "She says he's an old family friend."

"Though why a family like the Bells would want to be friends with the Montagues is beyond me," Ron muttered darkly. "Rory's uncle's in Azkaban, and the only reason his parents aren't there too is because they claimed they were under the Imperius curse. Don't know why Katie'd want to be mixed up in that."

Ginny cleared her throat, resolving to somehow have a pleasant evening. "Who knows?" she said brightly. "Anyway, what do you suppose we're having for dinner? We made Aromatic Elixirs in Potions today, and mine was roast turkey- I've been starving all afternoon."

Hermione laughed. "You're turning into your brother, Ginny," she teased.

"I hope not!" Harry said in mock indignation, as Ron stuck out his tongue. Ginny forced a smile. It was going to be a long evening.

***

The feast dragged on, but eventually it was over, and the first- and second-years departed, significantly emptying the Great Hall. The food had been delicious, but Georgine had only picked at hers, staring sullenly across the room at the Gryffindor Quidditch team, watching Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter.

"Just look at them," Georgine muttered darkly to Pansy Parkinson, who had become her closest confidante now that she wasn't speaking to Frédéric. She'd heard he pulled off a magnificent coup last week, utterly humiliating a Hufflepuff girl; miffed that he hadn't even told her about it, Georgine was giving her twin the cold shoulder. "Isn't it disgusting?"

Pansy looked up from the last bite of her raspberry tart. "Gryffindors," she said scathingly by way of a reply. Georgine nodded as if Pansy had never spoken a more sagacious word.

"To think I thought he was worth my time," Georgine huffed. She had been hoping ever since the dance was announced that Harry would invite her, but suddenly he was back with Ginny, and she didn't have the faintest idea why. "What has she got that I haven't?" she demanded of Pansy.

The older girl shrugged, tossing her chestnut curls. Ginny was an equally sore spot with Pansy. Draco had said that he just wasn't interested in maintaining the charade, but Blaise had intimated that Draco had more than just a passing interest in the youngest Weasley.

Not that Pansy could figure out why. "Nothing," she told Georgine. "Absolutely nothing. She's so skinny I bet her parents don't bother to feed her-"

"Probably can't afford to!" Georgine interjected, giggling.

Pansy smirked. "And her hair, it's just a frightful shade of red-"

Georgine gave her a sharp look.

"Yours is auburn!" Pansy said hastily.

Georgine nodded again. "Mmhmm. Honestly, it's lucky she goes to Hogwarts. A girl like her wouldn't last ten minutes at Beauxbatons."

Pansy's eyes widened. Beauxbatons sounded like a magnificent place. "Really?" Georgine launched into a description of the French palace, explaining in minute detail just exactly why it was superior to its English counterpart. Pansy's eyes had started to glaze over when Dumbledore rose from the head table.

"And now that our youngest students have left us, the dance may begin!" he announced. With a wave of his wand, he slid tables and chairs (many of them still occupied by rather indignant students) closer to the walls, clearing space for a dance floor.

Swept across the room in her chair, Ginny narrowly missed being doused by her slogging goblet of pumpkin juice. Cleaning the mess with a quick spell, she smiled in secret relief- fetching fresh juice would give her leave to escape Ron, Hermione, and Harry. "I'm going to get some more juice from the refreshments table," she announced. "Would anyone else like some?"

Harry half-rose from his chair. "I could come with you and give you a hand, Gin," he offered.

A wan smile. "No need, Harry," she teased, voice tight. "I think I can manage one goblet on my own." Giving him a saucy wink, she disappeared into the crowd of milling students, thanking her lucky stars for the moment of breathing room.

Breathing room that was solely metaphorical, of course; it seemed as though half of Hogwarts had chosen that particular moment to fetch biscuits, crisps, and glasses of juice or punch. Ginny wormed her way past a group of Ravenclaws, then ducked under the arm of a particularly tall Hufflepuff. There- the punch bowl was at the far end of the table.

Her stomach, weighed down as it was by the heavy food, dropped to her knees. For some perverse reason known only to himself, Draco Malfoy was leaning against the table next to the punch bowl, looking for all the world as if he planned to stay rooted there for the duration of the dance. His black robes were cut to perfection, and he looked gloriously, sexily bored out of his mind. Ginny took a deep breath, remembering what Bronwen had said about treating him fairly.

And it's not that I fancy him or anything, she reminded herself, knowing full well that she was being self-deceiving. But I owe him- it was terribly rude to avoid him for so long. So I'll ask him to dance. Worst case scenario, he says no, and then I'm off the hook.

Ginny found she desperately wanted to stay on the hook. "Evening, Draco," she said coolly, filling her goblet to the brim and taking a nonchalant sip.

His expression was neutral. "Weasley," he replied noncommittally, nodding but not making eye contact.

He hadn't extended her the same first-name courtesy, but she figured she deserved it. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. "Where's your date?" Ginny asked hesitantly.

Draco inclined his head toward a table of girls. "Blaise is currently holding court. Where's yours?"

"With the rest of the Quidditch team," Ginny replied, deliberately allowing her irritation with Harry to seep into her tone. Draco smiled coldly, his gaze finally turning toward her.

"He doesn't know what he's missing." His eyes narrowed, taking in the green and black of her ensemble. "You almost look like a Slytherin tonight."

"If you're going to be insulting-" Ginny said, pretending to turn away.

Draco laughed, and she faced him again, eyes sparkling. "Clearly your parents never taught you how to recognize a compliment," he commented.

"Or maybe yours didn't teach you how to properly give one," Ginny retorted. Suddenly imbued with a rush of headstrong Gryffindor boldness, she reached for Draco's hand. "Make it up to me," she suggested. "Let's dance."

He didn't drop her hand, but he didn't respond, either. "Draco?" she prodded.

His brow wrinkled. "I don't know, Weasley," he said slowly, looking down at her with disdain etched on his features. "Someone might see us together."

The echo of her own words hit her like a slap in the face. She thrust her chin out defiantly. "I don't care," she said firmly. "You're-" Her courage abruptly faltered, and she didn't know how to continue.

Draco's hand had tightened on Ginny's. "I'm what?" he demanded, eyes boring into hers.

"My friend," Ginny finished lamely.

A wild, almost hysterical spark flickered in Draco's eyes, but it was so fleeting that Ginny decided she must have imagined it. A trick of the candlelight. "Your friend," he repeated, tone mocking.

"Well," she began, wondering how she was going to defend her statement.

"Never mind," Draco said impatiently, pulling her toward the other dancing couples. His arms circled her waist, and Ginny rested her hands on his shoulders, uncomfortably aware of how similar this was to the last time Draco had held her. They both hesitated for a moment, then fell into the rhythm of the music. "My friend," she thought irritably as he moved her through the crowd. What an utterly idiotic thing to say.

But she pushed the self-mocking thoughts away, marveling at being this close to him. Last time, her eyes had been closed, but this time she could study him to her heart's content. Guarded quicksilver eyes, smooth skin, a mouth she knew from newfound experience to be quite kissable, a straight nose... She peered closer. A straight nose that was smattered with just the faintest tracing of- freckles?

Draco noticed her smile. "What's so funny?" he snapped, clearly still a bit annoyed by the friend comment.

"You have freckles," Ginny replied, amusement coloring her voice.

Draco shot her a withering look that plainly said he wondered why he bothered with her. "I do not."

"You do." She pulled one hand away from his neck, lightly touching his nose and cheekbones. "There, there, and there. Oh, and there, too. At least four."

"Oh, four," Draco mocked. "Not four freckles." He leaned closer to her. "Haven't you got any? I thought you had."

"I magic them away."

"Do you really?" He leaned still closer. "I'm nearsighted," he explained.

Ginny smiled, doubting there was anything wrong with Draco's eyesight. "Oh, really? Perhaps I should help you, then." Tangling her fingers in his hair, she tilted his head closer to hers. Let Draco kiss her in the middle of the Great Hall with everyone looking- she suddenly didn't care anymore. She wanted him to kiss her.

"Ginny?"

Harry. Standing in the middle of the swirl of couples, looking like a lost puppy dog who had discovered his owner buying a cat.

"Harry!" she said brightly, trying to keep her homicidal rage at a minimum. His timing was impeccably awful, per usual. Ginny pulled Draco to the edge of the crowd, and Harry followed sullenly. "Harry, I meant to come back right away," she explained, "but I ran into Draco at the punch table, and, well..." Ginny stopped herself before she said something as moronic as "and one thing led to another." Saying something like that, particularly in front of Draco, would be the pinnacle of embarrassment.

Speaking of Draco, he was still holding her hand. She wondered if Harry had noticed. "So anyway," she continued breezily, pretending that her date and her latest interest weren't shooting silent death glares at each other, "why don't you go back to the table, and I'll bring you some punch? I'll be right there, I promise," she finished, seeing the wary look Harry gave her.

As soon as he was gone, she turned to Draco. "I'm so sorry-" she began.

He dropped her hand. "Apologies don't become you," he said, words edged in frost.

"Draco-"

"No, really, don't bother," he said, walking away. Ginny's heart plummeted- his meaning had been obvious. It was what Parvati Patil referred to as the "don't owl me, I'll owl you" rejection.

Stung, Ginny filled two goblets of pumpkin juice and went back to find Harry.

***

Ginny walked away from Draco certain that he was furious with her, but the students who saw him depart the Great Hall noted that he looked like the cat who had swallowed the Canary Cream. He exuded smugness, even more so than usual.

She wants me, he thought, pleased. He strode quickly down the corridor, making for the dungeons. His hated dress robes were already doffed and draped over his arm, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. Draco had undergone more than his fair share of dress occasions in his short life, and he wasn't at all fond of them.

Tonight had been the clear sign he'd been hoping for. Previously, Ginny had been avoiding him, and his confidence had slipped down a notch. Maybe he'd imagined her interest, and she really was angry. The very idea went against his intuition, though, so he'd decided to wait for her to come around.

When he first saw her come into the Great Hall with Potter, he was certain he'd read the situation incorrectly. If she'd brought any other date, it would have been a neutral choice, but Potter....

Draco still didn't understand Ginny's motivations for showing up with Potter (was she seeing him again to placate her brother?), but that was unimportant in light of what she'd insinuated while they were dancing. In spite of her lame comment about being friends, it was apparent that Ginny was interested. Good. Now she was in the vulnerable position for a change. He'd give her about a week to squirm.

If he could stand to wait that long.

***

Saturday morning was bright and beautiful, but the sunlight streaming into the sixth-year boys' dormitory did nothing to improve the foul mood Harry was in when he woke. He was meant to go downstairs and tell Hermione everything about his date with Ginny the night before, but to be honest, there wasn't much that Harry considered worth repetition.

"Ginny was with Malfoy. I think maybe he's put a spell on her," he told Hermione dully, sipping the tea she'd brought for him from the Great Hall. Ron was still asleep, and Harry wondered if Hermione hadn't slipped a bit of Sleeping Draught into her boyfriend's last glass of pumpkin juice. Even Ron, lazy though he was, didn't normally sleep past noon.

Hermione nodded sympathetically, her eyebrows knit together in deep concentration. "I don't suppose Ginny said anything to you?" she asked gently.

Harry looked pained. "No. But then, she didn't say anything to anyone last time, either."

"True," Hermione conceded. "What I really don't understand is why she's working with Malfoy. Remember how we suspected him before, and then it turned out he didn't have anything to do with it?"

"Yeah," Harry replied glumly. He clearly preferred a solution that included catching Malfoy red-handed and shipping him off to Azkaban.

Hermione sat up excitedly, snapping her fingers. "Of course, last time it was Malfoy's father, wasn't it? He was only twelve then, so maybe his father didn't trust him. But now- now he might be doing just what Mr. Malfoy wants him to do."

Harry nodded eagerly. "Of course!" he echoed. He leaned closer to his friend. "Hermione, do you think Ginny might open the Chamber of Secrets again?"

"But what would be the point?" Hermione replied, puzzled. "There's no basilisk anymore...."

Harry slumped in his seat. "Right. But then why was Ron found outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?"

Chewing the edge of her lip, Hermione drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. "I suppose there's really only one solution, hmm?"

Harry groaned. "Oh, no, Hermione. I'm not asking Myrtle. No way."

"Harry," Hermione snapped impatiently, "do you want to save Ginny from Malfoy or not? Do you want her back to normal, as your girlfriend, or not?"

"I do," Harry sighed.

"Then you've got to talk to Myrtle."

***

Wearing an expression that clearly said he'd rather be fighting Voldemort, Harry held the door to Myrtle's bathroom open for Hermione. "After you," he said in mock-chivalry.

"Thanks," Hermione replied sarcastically. "Myrtle?" she called. "Myrtle, are you here? It's Hermione Granger, Myrtle."

No response.

"I have Harry Potter with me, Myrtle, and he has something to ask you. Something important that only you can help him with." Hermione hesitated, an uncharacteristic flicker of evil glee crossing her face. "I'm sure he'd be very happy to show you his appreciation if you helped him. Ouch, Harry, that hurt!" Harry's elbow had "accidentally" connected rather painfully with her ribcage.

A sniffling sound, followed by a low, wailing sob. "So you can only be bothered to waste your time on Myrtle when you need something, is that it, Harry Potter?" Myrtle asked sulkily, materializing in front of Harry and Hermione. "Promised to visit me sometimes when I helped you with that egg during the Triwizard Tournament, but you never do visit, do you?"

Harry shot a worried gaze at Hermione, who just smiled encouragingly. "Uh, I'm sorry, Myrtle," he stammered. "I've just been busy...."

Myrtle sniffed. "I've got all eternity, and you think I don't get bored?" she sulked. "But you probably have a girlfriend to keep you entertained." She glared at Hermione. "Her?"

"No!" Harry and Hermione shouted in unison. Harry grinned weakly. "That is, Myrtle, I did have a girlfriend, but-" He hesitated, wondering how to phrase his request. Myrtle had never liked Ginny, not since Ginny tried to flush Tom Riddle's diary down Myrtle's toilet in her first year at Hogwarts. "But we haven't been very happy recently, and I thought maybe she came here when she was feeling sad-"

Myrtle's eyes lit. "Oh, I know who she is!" she cried. "You all think I never leave this bathroom, that I don't know things, but I do. I know lots and lots of what goes on in this castle," she continued, gloating. She leaned forward, and her tone dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Your girl, Harry Potter, she comes here often." Myrtle pointed to scorch marks on the floor. "Makes a blue fire, and then she talks to some creepy man with red eyes." Her face contorted nastily, as if she felt she'd said too much. "And that's ALL I'm going to tell you!" With a splashing sound, she disappeared into the U-bend of her toilet.

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks of shocked horror. Their worst fears were confirmed- Ginny was once again in the Dark Lord's control, and she was communicating with him from inside Hogwarts.

But Hermione wanted to be certain. "Myrtle," she called. "Just one more question, do you mind?"

"What?" Myrtle's voice asked sulkily, distorted by the water in the toilet bowl.

"A while ago, a boy was attacked with a memory-altering spell in this bathroom. Do you remember anything about that?" Hermione wanted to be positive Ron's attack and Ginny's strange behavior were related.

Myrtle's head hovered above the toilet seat. Disgusted by the disturbing image, Harry turned away, but Hermione kept her eyes fixed on the moody ghost. "Well, as a matter of fact, I do."

"Could you tell me about it?" Hermione asked eagerly.

Myrtle's expression grew angry. "You said just ONE more question!" she shrieked, disappearing into the toilet again, splattering Harry and Hermione with water.

Hermione gave Harry a pleading look. "You ask her," she mouthed.

Harry sighed. "Myrtle, this is Harry. Could you tell me about the spell?"

"Maybe," Myrtle cooed sweetly, head rising out of the water once more. "Come back tomorrow!"

"Hermione, no way," Harry told his friend when they were safely outside the bathroom.

"Harry, you have to!" She glared at him. "I'm helping you with Ginny, you owe me. Besides, Ron is your best friend!" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, expression cross. "In fact, I bet you could go back in there right now and find out, but you're just scared to do it!"

Harry's face flushed. "I am not, Hermione! But she said to come back tomorrow."

Hermione turned to walk back down the corridor.

"Wait!" Harry heaved a melodramatic sigh. "Fine, I'll go back in. You wait here."

Hermione smiled. Six years of friendship with Harry, and he thought she didn't know which buttons of his to push?

Ten minutes later, Harry was back in the hallway, expression stunned. "She told me," he said blankly to Hermione. "I didn't think she actually would."

"I told you, Harry, she has some kind of weird crush on you," Hermione said smugly. "Now, what spell was it?"

"She didn't know what it was called, she just knew the casting phrase. Obliviatus Temporarum."

Hermione's brow creased thoughtfully. "Hmmm. That will make things more difficult. But I'm sure we can find it if we spend enough time in the library," she finished, brightening. "You don't have Quidditch practice today, do you?"

Harry wished he did.

***

"Ron," Ginny hissed, shaking her brother's shoulder. "Ron, wake up, damnit. We're late to meet Charlie." Ginny didn't understand it. Ron enjoyed sleeping in, but to stay in bed until one in the afternoon? And then not awaken even when Ginny shook him rather violently?

A wild, frantic thought crossed Ginny's mind, and she checked to make certain her brother was breathing. Yes, Ron's chest was gently rising and falling. At least he was alive. Ginny shrugged. "Fine, you lazy git," she muttered.

She was halfway to Charlie's apartments, taking the shortcut past Moaning Myrtle's lavatory, when she bumped into someone who was coming around the corner. Two someones, as a matter of fact.

"Harry? Hermione? What are you two doing down here? I thought you had History of Magic essays to write." They had mentioned last night that they, together with Ron, planned on spending the morning doing homework.

Hermione and Harry exchanged guilty glances, and Hermione was wearing a sort of sickly expression, as if Ginny were the last person on earth she wanted to run into at the moment. An uncomfortable suspicion nagged at Ginny, and she started mentally listing occurrences.

Harry and Hermione were together even more than usual lately, and Ginny had caught them shooting edgy glances at herself and Ron on more than one occasion; they also often changed the subject when either Weasley sibling was in earshot.

They were supposed to spend the morning with Ron before he went to Charlie's, but instead they were skulking around in the corridor, pervasive guilt their sole chaperone.

Ron was sleeping like the living dead, and Hermione was excellent at Potions- she had to be one of the best students in her year, since Professor Snape had chosen her to work with him. Ginny felt the bottom of her stomach drop out. Hermione was cheating on Ron. And with Harry, his best friend!

The final piece of the puzzle fell into place: Ginny had seen Hermione persuade Harry to talk to Ginny, ask her to the dance. Harry had been reluctant, but he had done as Hermione wished; Harry wasn't interested in rekindling his relationship with Ginny- he was merely maintaining appearances.

Ginny felt ill. "Never mind," she blurted miserably before either of them could respond. Her heart ached for her brother, but what could she do? "I understand perfectly."

Harry's face lit. "You do? Oh, good, Gin, we really need to talk to you about all this."

"There's nothing to talk about," Ginny spat, pushing past them. "You two disgust me."

Running down the passage to the portrait that masked the doorway to Charlie's, Ginny leaned against the wall, breathing hard. She would get Charlie's advice on the situation before she decided to tell Ron. Charlie always knew what to do.

"Ginny?"

Ginny raised her head, a relieved smile crossing her features. It was good to see a friendly face. "Cho, how are you?"

The Head Girl smiled wearily, and Ginny noted that Cho once again had dark circles under her eyes. "Tired. I've been writing a lot of letters to parents lately."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Letters to parents? Why?" She grinned. "Are people really misbehaving that much this year?"

"I know you've been obsessed with your own little unfolding drama, Ginny," Cho said wryly, "but I thought you paid a bit more attention than that."

Ginny flushed. "Attention to what?"

"The dragon pox epidemic, of course." Cho rolled her eyes. "Honestly, why do think your brother's here in the first place?"

"But the dragon pox was last year-"

Cho shook her head. "They only thought they'd eradicated it. But several cases that were in remission have worsened, and recently a few new strains of it have cropped up. Professor Dumbledore invited Charlie here to do research on it. Taking Hagrid's position is secondary."

Ginny was dumbfounded. She hadn't really put much thought into anything going on around her, of late, so engrossed was she in her Harry and Draco dilemma. "Wh- who's getting sick?"

"Well, you may have noticed that you haven't had Quidditch practice since your win two weeks ago? It isn't because Katie's resting on her laurels, if that's what you thought."

"I saw her last night at the dance, she looked fine," Ginny replied defensively, feeling foolish for not having noticed the lack of practices.

"But did you notice that she and Rory never actually danced?" Cho snapped, rubbing her sore eyes. "She's been told to avoid physical exertion. In any case, watch for the symptoms in people you know, alright? Early detection is crucial."

Ginny nodded weakly, not wanting to make herself look more ignorant by asking just what the symptoms were. She'd check in the library later.

"Anyway," Cho continued, smiling weakly as she changed the subject, "what are you doing hanging around in the corridor?"

"I was coming to visit Charlie," Ginny replied, expression darkening as she recalled the topic she wanted to discuss with her elder brother.

"Oh?" Cho colored. "So was I," she admitted.

Ginny frowned thoughtfully. "Well, I wanted to hammer out a problem with him, but I guess I could come back later-" She didn't like having to wait, but she had a feeling Charlie would much rather see Cho than his baby sister.

"Well, if you wouldn't mind," Cho began hesitantly, her expression almost shy.

"No, of course I wouldn't."

"No, I meant- I could help, too. Unless it's a family thing," she added hastily.

It was sort of a family thing, but Cho's advice was always valuable, and it would be a rare chance to see Cho and Charlie together. Cho had gone to the dance with Sylvester Zinhart, a fellow Ravenclaw seventh-year, and Charlie had been a chaperone- they weren't allowed to be together in any publicly romantic setting, since he was technically her teacher. "It is a family thing, but I'd appreciate your help," Ginny said, smiling at Cho.

Cho grinned back, and the two girls turned to face the portrait. "Hebridean Black," Ginny said, expecting the painting to slide to the left.

"Oh, he's changed it," Cho said, turning a bright pink under Ginny's astonished gaze. "I come here often," she muttered.

"I guess," Ginny replied, eyes dancing. She had thought she and Ron were the only students who knew Charlie's password, but apparently Cho and Charlie were even closer than Ginny had suspected.

"Chinese Fireball," Cho told the portrait, face scarlet. The painting glided open.

"Hey, sexy," Charlie called from his sitting room, seeing only Cho in the doorway. Ginny poked her head around the frame.

"Um, before you say anything else, maybe you should know that I'm here, too," she said, grinning at her brother's expression of chagrin. Only his freckles saved him from the classic crimson Weasley blush; otherwise he and Cho would have been a matched set of bright pink faces. Glancing from one to the other, Ginny rolled her eyes. "Look, I just need a little advice, then I'll leave you two to- whatever it is you do," she said suggestively, teasingly winking at Cho. "Alright?"

Cho sat primly in a seat that was closer to Ginny than Charlie, relieved at the chance to deflect the spotlight from her own love life. Her eyes suddenly sparkled merrily. "So, you're finally dating Draco Malfoy, and you want to know how you should break it to Harry," she guessed.

Charlie's mouth fell open, and Ginny realized, pleased, that Cho was a very trustworthy confidante- she clearly hadn't breathed a word to Ginny's older brother.

"You- Ginny- what- a Malfoy- Dad will- I just- Hogsmeade- I thought that was a joke-" Charlie started several sentences, not managing to successfully finish any of them.

Ginny sighed, shaking her head regretfully. "Actually, while I do want to talk to you about Draco later, Cho, it's not what you think." She pasted on a painful smile. "In fact, it looks like Draco and I aren't ever going to be together."

"Good," Charlie interrupted forcefully. Cho shot him a look.

"But, Ginny, you looked so happy when I saw the two of you at the dance-"

"And I saw you with Sylvester Zinhart," Ginny countered, "but I hope for my brother's sake that you two aren't an item."

"Point taken," Cho sighed.

"Anyway," Ginny continued, not wanting to discuss this further while Charlie was present, "you and I can talk about Draco when Fiona, Bronwen, and Laurana are around. I only want to tell the story once. Alright?"

Cho nodded.

Ginny turned to her brother. "Charlie, I'm worried about Ron."

Instantly, Charlie's eyes widened, and his entire posture radiated concern. "Ron? Why, what's wrong with him?"

"Well, there's nothing wrong with him that I know, but-" Ginny wasn't sure how to phrase this delicately, so she just let the words tumble out of her mouth in a rush. "I think Hermione's cheating on him, and-"

"What?" Both Cho and Charlie were staring at her with incredulous expressions. "But, Ginny, are you sure?" Cho asked, recovering first. "Hermione just isn't the sort... who with, do you think?"

"Harry," Ginny replied miserably, distractedly twisting the hem of her skirt.

"But I thought you were with Harry again, Gin?" Charlie asked, looking confused.

Cho rolled her eyes. "Harry wants her back, but Ginny only agreed to go to the dance with him to be nice," she informed Charlie. A frown. "But wait, why would he ask you to the dance if he's with Hermione?"

"Appearances," Ginny suggested. "No one will suspect them if they think Harry's still infatuated with me." She made a face. "And he could kill two birds with one stone, since he managed to ruin my chances with Draco, too."

"Ginny, this is a pretty serious accusation," Charlie said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Do you have any kind of proof?"

"Nothing really concrete, which is why I thought I'd ask for advice. I've just seen them together a lot, and they've been acting really secretive."

Charlie's brow crinlked in thought. "I don't know, Gin," he said carefully. "On the one hand, I just can't imagine it of Hermione and Harry. They've both been so close to Ron for so long."

"But on the other hand?" Cho prompted.

"But on the other hand, Ginny's right, it's a bit suspicious." Charlie passed a searching look over his girlfriend's features, expression thoughtful. He opened his mouth to say something, then apparently thought better of it. There was a moment of tense silence before he finally said, "Well, Gin, I think I need time to mull this over. Come back tomorrow night, we'll talk about it then."

Ginny had never felt so summarily dismissed. "Fine," she said coolly, rising to her feet. "Have a nice afternoon."

"Gin-" Charlie reached for her arm. "I didn't mean to insult you. There are just some things going on right now that we can't tell you about-"

"Oh, no, I understand," Ginny replied stiffly. "I can confide in you, but you can't be bothered to tell me anything." Before either of them could stop her, she swept out the portrait hole and into the corridor.

Her list of people she could talk to was getting progressively shorter. Professor Weasley and his precious Head Girlfriend were apparently above speaking to "children," Harry and Hermione were definitely not an option, Ron was knocked out in the dormitory, Fiona was at Quidditch practice, and Bronwen would only want to talk about the godforsaken dance.

Draco. I want to talk to Draco.

Ginny felt her stomach drop to her knees, mind racing. Where the hell did that come from? she thought wildly. She didn't even know Malfoy that well, and besides, he was a conceited awful prick who despised her; he'd made it rather clear the previous night. "No, really, don't bother," he'd said.

She tried to shake the hollow feeling the memory of his words gave her, not wanting to think about it. The library. She would go to the library, see what she could dig up on blood curses for her Defense Against the Dark Arts project. She'd stumbled across an interesting allusion to a blood-related variation on the Imperius Curse, and she wanted to research it, but she wasn't certain she'd be able to find anything in the Hogwarts Library, especially now the Restricted Section was gone. But it would make a good distraction.

Lost in thought, Ginny wandered down the corridor to the staircase that led to the library. Maybe I can do research at the Library of Magick, she mused, mounting the steps. Absorbed in reflection on how she might get herself to the Library, which was located in London, she forgot about the trick step, and her left foot sank into it stickily, like molasses.

"Damn it," she muttered, fed up. It was just not her day.

"Stuck in the stairs like a first-year, Weasley?" asked a dry voice.

Draco. Anytime she paused to think about him, it seemed to bring him to her faster than a Summoning Charm. It was uncanny. "Do you really enjoy staring at me, or do you plan to help?" she snapped irritably, wondering why she'd wanted to see him. He was horrid.

"Undecided. It's tempting to watch you struggle," he replied smoothly, "or even just leave you here."

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest, somehow managing to look disdainfully composed in spite of having one foot lodged in a stairwell. "Oh, a repeat performance of last night?" she snapped.

Draco's eyebrows shot toward his pale hairline. "Your memory seems faulty," he replied, voice cold. "Oh, Harry," he mimicked in a cruel falsetto, "I feel terrible that you caught me with Malfoy. Merlin forbid that I might have been enjoying myself. I'll be with you in just a moment, scurrying to your side like a pitiful, brainless wretch-"

"You don't know everything about me and Harry, Malfoy," Ginny interrupted hotly.

"I know enough," Draco said, irritated. He also knew he was letting Ginny get to him, but he somehow couldn't help it. Before she could reply, he grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the step. The illusion spell clung to her foot briefly, then quivered back into place with a wet "sprong."

"Thank you," Ginny said grudgingly, spitefully yanking her hand out of his grasp.

Draco smirked. "No problem. What are friends for?" he asked mockingly, placing sardonic emphasis on the word "friends."

Ginny struggled vainly to curb a rising tide of embarrassment over what she had said the night before. "Maybe we're friends," she corrected tartly. "Being friends entails you not making fun of my housemate. At least not until I know you better."

The corners of Draco's mouth twitched, but he managed to keep his expression serious. "Not ever making fun of Potter?" he asked petulantly.

"Not in front of me," Ginny amended after pretending to consider. To be honest, she couldn't care less if Draco mocked Harry. She was just really enjoying this round of verbal sparring.

Which is why she shouldn't have been surprised when Draco cut it short. "Well, Weasley, it's been fun," he said breezily, "but now that I've saved you from your own stupidity, I really do need to be off to the Owlery." And before she could reply, he had disappeared down the corridor.

"Bastard," she muttered. But she couldn't help smiling when she said it.

***