Ginny slept once. She knows there was a time, but it has faded from her memory until it seems to be a part of someone else's, a stolen Pensieve scene, admired and coveted. She can't rest any more; he won't let her. She let him get too close once, and now he won't let her forget. The darkness behind her closed eyes is constantly filled with his image, the face framed by black hair and the piercing green eyes moving toward her in the dark, always from above, crushing her to the ground. But this time, when she screams, she opens her eyes to find that the image hasn't gone, but it's changed. More black hair and green eyes, but now they hold no malice, no sneer, just concern, and something else.
"I heard you yelling," he tells her. She stares, oddly calmed. "It's okay, Ginny, I'll never let him hurt you."
And though she knows that this is the boy who sometimes makes bold, unlikely promises, she holds his body to hers, closes her eyes, and sees nothing.