Harry Potter sighed, and climbed out of the portrait hole. He was tired, and the cold shower he'd accidentally taken hadn't helped his aching muscles in the slightest. He walked into the Gryffindor common room, the spring in his step noticeably missing. He checked to see that there were no first years in there, perhaps finishing some piece of homework, or another. He simply couldn't deal with being stared at, tonight, of all nights. He was in luck; there was no one in the room, other than him. There was, however, a suspicious lump on one of the red couches, which, upon further inspection, Harry realised was simply Ginny Weasley, lying asleep, under a red blanket. Her red nightshirt was the same colour as both the sofa, and the quilt, so she blended in quite well. He slumped down on the other loveseat, and lay down on his stomach, the muscles in his back protesting angrily to the slight strain. Closing his eyes, Harry fell asleep.

Virginia Weasley awoke slowly from a delicious dream.

She'd dreamt she was holding her first child in her arms, a beautiful, red-haired son, with sleepy hazel eyes, which reminded her of her brother Charlie's. A man had walked up behind her, and slipped strong, muscled arms around her waist. On one wrist was a phoenix tattoo.

"You alright, there, Virge?" He'd asked her, in a deep voice that she hadn't recognised. She'd smiled softly.

"I'm fine. I have everything I could ever ask for, so why wouldn't I be alright? I have you, and little Lance, here, to fulfil my every desire."

"That's right, you do." He'd growled possessively, and he'd kissed her gently on the top of her head. She'd been about to turn around, when a sound had woken her up.

Now she'd never know who her dream-guy was. She frowned, as someone sighed. Her hand automatically went to her wand, which was tucked into the messy bun, which she always wore her hair in nowadays. She got up slowly, and relaxed, when she saw that the sigh had come from one sleeping Harry Potter. Poor guy. She thought. He always seems to get the bad lot in life. She could see by the way his shoulders were hunched that his back was hurting him. She frowned, Should I? She wondered. She'd never used her Healing Talent on one of her friends before, and while Harry wasn't exactly a friend, he wasn't an anonymous person either. Besides, she'd already Healed someone today. Madame Pomfrey's voice floated into her mind. 'Be careful, my dear. Your gift is a very powerful, and very dangerous one. If you do not limit how many people you Heal, you could leave yourself without Magick for a while. Or, worse yet, if you do it too often, you could kill yourself.' She shook her head. This was different, she wasn't over-taxing her Power, she was just helping a friend. She walked over, and used her wand to get rid of his shirt, she needed skin contact for this. Her breath caught at the sight of his tanned, muscled back. She didn't like that the Dursleys made him work, but she did like what it had done to his body, especially with the Quidditch practices. No, Gin. She told herself firmly. He's off limits now, remember the guy in your dream. She sighed in disappointment, but then went back to the task at hand. She could easily siphon off some of his pain without him realising her Talent; it wasn't like he was going to wake up in the middle of it. She placed her hands on his back, and concentrated.

Feel it, use your mind to search for the source of pain, and block it.

She coached herself. Her Healing 'Arrow', as she called it, headed straight for his head, for his scar! She blocked the images from her mind; she couldn't be distracted. The Arrow worked quickly; connecting links in his nerves to dissolve the pain before it reached his brain, and to get rid of the migraine which was forming while he slept. Now, there was enough pain to wake him up, but without the after affects. Pleased, she went on to his muscles. Her Arrow eased the knots, just as much as her hands, which were roaming over his back, getting rid of the tension lying there. Finally, she was satisfied with the results. Well, not really. She admitted to herself, but she knew that she couldn't go on if she wanted to remain conscious. At least she knew now that Harry would get a decent night's sleep. She covered him with her blanket, and walked up to the Girls' Dorms, to go to bed.