Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling created and owns Harry Potter. (looks in mirror: Nope, not her.) Rights are held by JKR, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic. Warner Brothers and goodness knows who else. If the fans had copyright, the series would be much more interesting! Not profiting, just enjoying.

"Thank you, Miss Weasley," Horace Slughorn said with a pleased expression as students gathered their notes and drifted out of the Potions classroom. "I will be sure to note in your record that you volunteered to help the Fifth years study for their O.W.L.S. It's one of those small things that might make a difference when you interview for a job an a few years."

"You're welcome, Professor." Ginny shrugged. "But if Sn – I mean, the Headmaster hadn't forbidden the students to socialize, I probably wouldn't have bothered offering. It's just that the Gryffindor Common Room is becoming awfully boring after three weeks of virtual quarantine."

"Discretion, Miss Weasley," the elderly Slytherin chided, looking over his shoulder as if the new Headmaster might overhear. "We shall yet see better days. You are a promising teacher," he continued, changing the subject. "In fact, you remind me of Minerva McGonagall when she was your age. Or - "

Ginny interrupted him. "Or Tom Riddle?"

Slughorn blinked rapidly, failing to conceal his discomfiture. "I was going to say Lily Evans. That name – it isn't prudent - " He glanced around and then pointedly carried a stack of books to the cupboard.

"How do you know about him?" he asked as Ginny began taking the texts from him and placing each one on a shelf.

"In my First year, Lucius Malfoy slipped me his diary." She shelved more books while Slughorn digested that information. "I know he was a student here when Professor McGonagall was a girl. I know that his grades were excellent." Lowering her voice, she persisted, "I saw him, Professor. He was as real to me as you are right now. And I wondered…do you think he'll appear like that to whoever finds his other Horcruxes?"

"I can't say for certain. There's so little information about them, and rightly so…although it doesn't sound like typical behaviour…" He clearly found the conversation disturbing. "Miss Weasley, this is not a subject that should be of concern to you."

"Professor," she replied coolly, "as long as it affects the safety of everyone I know, how can it not concern me?"

Harry saw her later that night. He drifted through the girls' dorm as if the charm that prevented boys from going through no longer applied to him. He stood by her bed, watching her until she stirred and smiled warmly in recognition. Raising herself on one elbow, the strap of her nightgown slipped down her shoulder and Harry's gaze lingered on her creamy skin.

"Ginny," he said urgently, "there's a Horcrux hidden here inside the school."

"I know," she whispered in answer. "At least, I suspected. I tried using Accio, but it didn't work."

"You need to be inside the part of the castle where the Horcrux is located for the charm to be effective," he told her. Recognition dawned in her eyes. "That's right." He smiled in encouragement. "The sooner you find it, the sooner we can be together."

Her eyes grew soft. "I'll do my best," she promised. "You don't know how much I've missed you."

Harry's mouth went dry as she raised her arm to him. He leaned closer, reached out to touch her. "My beautiful Ginny," he whispered. "More precious than gold and rubies."

Ginny's lashes fluttered down over her eyes, and Harry saw her shiver as his long, pale fingers caressed her jaw. "Oh, Tom," she murmured.

Harry's eyes flew open and his head snapped up as he awoke, high, cold laughter echoing in his ears. He sprang clumsily to his feet, his limbs cramped from the cold. Snow fell from his head and shoulders as he stumbled forward, fist tightly clenched around Hermione's wand as he defiantly scanned the darkness. The locket seemed to stir against his skin, pulsing with a rhythm that said, "She's mine, she's mine, she's mine…"

"No, she isn't!" Harry hissed. "I'm the one you want! Why don't you come get me?" He expected a hideous shape to hurtle down from the sky and contend with him for the heart of the girl he loved, but long minutes passed and he finally admitted to himself that no attack was forthcoming.

He walked once more around the tent, watching and listening for signs of a stealthy intruder, but the only movement was falling snow, the only sounds the creaking of trees and the wind. With a sigh of frustration, he lifted the flap of the tent. He would reheat the leftover tinned stew from dinner, and make tea before awakening Hermione. Even if he couldn't tell her what he'd seen, her companionship would be welcome. He would watch as she piled on her sweaters and took her wand with a tremulous smile that was meant to be reassuring before stepping into the cold to take her turn at watch. He'd wrap himself in blankets and try to rest, though he doubted he would be able to sleep with the new worries that the vision had planted in his mind.

"Ginny loves me," he repeated, but the faint beat of the locket that rested against his heart refuted his words.