"Well, it says here that you need to add some form of beet root and a sliver of gingko fossil," Hermione read aloud from Ginny's Potions text. Confused, the brown-haired with looked up and announced, "A gingko fossil? How peculiar. I'd assume they'd want the single leaf of a tiger lily, especially since it's a lot more powerful than some aged rock."

Ginny sighed and muttered, "Who cares? Snape is going on a bloody witch hunt for whoever stole that jar from his Potions closet."

"A jar," Luna said breathlessly, shaking her head. "How could a man be some enamored with a simple jar? If they were filled with butterwings, I'm sure I'd be quite upset as well, but other than that species, I could never understand why …"

"Snape's a right git," snarled Ron from the corner of the common room, his cauldron overflowing with a thick, purple liquid. "I don't even know what I'm making."

"That's because you're doing it wrong," Hermione stated airily, observing Ginny as the redhead began to cut up pieces of ginger. "Make sure they're square, rather than circular."

"Maybe if you'd stop hovering over Ginny and started helping me, I'd get somewhere!" blubbered Ron, insulted at the idea of not knowing how to concoct a potion without a name. "He won't even bloody tell us what this shite is for!"

"That's the purpose," breathed Luna, eyes wide with excitement as her beet root sizzled into the foggy liquid within her cauldron.

"And how will this catch the guy who stole his jar anyway? Useless, this is!" Ron continued to complain for the remainder of the night, occasionally spitting orders at Hermione, who deftly ignored him and proceeded to tutor Ginny and Luna.

Prior to their potion making, Snape had discovered that a small jar was missing from his Potions closet. Always the one to point a finger, Snape immediately concluded that a Gryffindor student had weaseled his way into his closet filched the prized possession, and ran off. What perplexed the students was that no one, besides Snape, knew what was in the jar.

"Could have been the essence of belladonna?" a student had whispered furiously. "A right arse like Snape would own such a poisonous plant!"

"Or maybe it was the blood of first year," cackled a seventh year Slytherin.

None of the students had a clue as to what it could possibly be.

This, however, did not sway Snape. Oblivious to what was inside the jar or not, someone had broken into his personal space and took something of the utmost importance. There was hell to pay, and it was the Gryffindors who were to reimburse him.

Hours passed and Ginny was still not through with her potion. She wiped a dry hand on her sticky forehead and let out a deep breath. She still needed to gather more weeds from the grounds in order to get the right consistency and even when she would be through with that, she would need more beet root to get the color right. Groaning, she emptied the contents of her cauldron into a clear jar and closed the lid tightly. She would sleep tonight, and tomorrow, she would continue with the nameless potion.

"How long did we have again for this?"

Luna's soft voice filled her ears.

"A week," Ginny replied simply, packaging all her ingredients in order to keep them fresh. "If we don't submit it by then, a three month detention waits for us. And if we do submit it, and he discovers something is wrong, then it's a day's detention for each ingredient we botch." Ginny plopped into the lush sofa and added, "And that includes missing ingredients and adding too much of an ingredient."

"How terrible," commented Luna.

"You know, Luna, you don't have to do this," reminded Ginny, watching as Luna cleaned up her work space. "It's only the Gryffindors who have been subjected to this travesty."

"I know," she responded. "But I can't just sit and watch you. I need to do something."

"You and Hermione both," retorted Ginny, who began to crack her knuckles. "Naturally, she's already finished with her potion, so she's hurrying everyone else up. I appreciate her concern, but bloody hell, a girl can only take so much instruction!"

"I wonder what this potion is for," said Luna mindlessly.

"For torture, I'm sure," mumbled Ginny.

"No, I don't think so. There's got to be a reason, of course. Why would he go through so much trouble and waste all of these ingredients," she motioned to the array of herbs, "Just to spite you? No, no," she sighed, "It's got to be more than just that."

"It doesn't matter what it is," said Ginny, "I just want it to be over."

The next morning was an absolute blur. In order to finish up their potions on time, most of the Gryffindors opted to skip breakfast and gather in the courtyard. Various plants, rocks, and spices were littered across the lawn. Smoke filled the air from the mouths of their cauldrons. And students shed their robes to prevent from overheating. The air was thick was a salty, musky smell, but the Gryffindors could not bother to care. What they needed to do now was finish the impossible assignment that was given to them.

"What is hyoscyamine?" Ron asked, puzzled. He held up a clear, plastic bag filled with a dark mustard powder. He made a move to tear it open, when Hermione's screeching voice snaked through the ears of all the students.

"Be careful!" She was delighted to find that they all stopped to listen. "Hyoscyamine powder is very dangerous. It's derived from belladonna and it can cause an intense delirium. You will experience deep hallucinations if inhaled."

Ron stayed still, horrified.

"How a professor could just hand out these harmful ingredients is beyond me," she said ruefully, slapping away Neville's hand when it strayed too close to the fire. "Watch your fingers!"

"What I do?" Ron whispered to Ginny, eying the hyoscyamine powder with distaste. "What do I do?"

"Just use your wand and transfer a bit at a time," she said calmly, "That will keep the powder away from your nostrils and you from becoming a psychotic prat."

"Oh," Ron murmured stupidly.

"Where on earth is Harry?" Ginny realized, pulling her long, ruby hair into a high bun. "Shouldn't he be working on his potion as well?"

"He's off to see Hagrid about something."

Ginny gave him a dark look. A look that clearly stated that Harry should not be gallivanting off into the sunset with Hagrid when there was a potion to be created.

"What? You know how Harry is. Secretive, that bloke is. He won't tell me a thing. He keeps saying something about Snape being unfair," defended Ron.

"Well, of course he's being unfair," agreed Ginny, "He's Snape and he loathes us. How is this even mildly surprising to Harry?"

Before Ron could respond, a scream reverberated from inside the castle corridors and out into the trees. Surprised, Ginny yelped and looked up in fright. "What was that?"

Her brown eyes stayed fixated on the door and instantly grew wide when she spotted a frenzied Romilda Vane crawling quickly on the ground and into the grass.

"Oh my God," rasped Ginny, a dainty hand to her mouth.

Romilda's eyes were a deep red, like blood, and her hair was matted all around her head. Her hands were dark with some sort of dirt and the pristine, white shirt she usually wore was stained yellow. She looked like a rabid animal. Ginny stared as the fifth year let out a tragic scream and fell back into a tree.

"What happened? What's going on?" Ginny asked furiously.

Ron didn't answer, but shot up with the rest of the Gryffindor boys, and rushed over to the twitching Romilda.

Ginny dashed to Hermione's side. "Hermione, what did she … why is she …?"

"The hyoscyamine powder," was her only answer.

Ginny paced the floor of the Gryffindor corridor. She couldn't sleep – not after the terrorizing display that was Romilda's delirium. The professors were called to a meeting shortly after the poor girl was admitted into St. Mungo's. Madam Pomfrey could not even make the ailing girl feel comfortable. The amount of hyoscyamine that entered her system is unknown, but inhaling the powder more than a few times could be fatal.

Most of her classmates had already fallen asleep, each tired and afraid to pursue their potions any further. Ginny couldn't keep her eyes shut. All she kept seeing was Romilda's wide, vivid eyes, and hearing her angry, enraged screams.

Her heartbreaking thoughts were interrupted by a tap on her shoulder.

She wheezed, not anticipating the touch. Whirling around, Ginny found Luna standing in her light blue nightgown. "Luna, it's after midnight! What are you doing?"

"There seems to be a problem with your brother."

Without uttering another word, Luna led Ginny through the dark winding halls. The deeper they traveled, the colder it became. Ginny pulled her shawl tighter around her. Her expression grew grave when she spotted the statue of the serpent she had seen so many times before. "Luna, where are we going?" she whispered fiercely, but she knew already knew the answer.

Luna stopped before a wooden door and pushed it open. The blond crossed the threshold and left Ginny to gaze fearfully at the dim light that cascaded over what she could see of the room. Swallowing hard, she battled with her fear, somewhat won, and entered.

She gasped, her shocked eyes instantaneously landing on her unconscious brother. Ginny strode forward, fell onto her knees, and cupped his warm face. "Luna, what happened?!" she shrieked.

"These idiots got into another fight."

That voice wasn't Luna's, Ginny noted. She stood up and found herself in the most unusual predicament. Standing before her was her closest friend and confidante, Hermione Granger. A table filled with an assortment of objects and ingredients were before her. In the middle of the aged counter was a large, bubbling cauldron. Loitering around the intelligent girl and her workplace were the three most despicable Slytherins in the entire Wizarding world. This cannot be happening, thought Ginny. "I'm sorry," Ginny broke from her reverie, "But what is going on here … exactly?"

Hermione took a deep breath and inquired, "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes," Ginny said tentatively.

"After what happened to Romilda, I did a bit of … digging," explained Hermione guiltily. "I was so concerned that the other students would be exposed to the strong powers of hyoscyamine as well, so I spoke privately with Professor McGonagall and although that resulted in nothing, I found something else out."

Ginny awaited the rest of the explanation. "Well …?"

"That jar? In Snape's office? The one item that made him go completely bonkers and assign us this disgusting project?"

"Yes …?"

"It is filled with tetrodotoxin," finished the King of Slytherin.

Risking a glance, Ginny turned to him and all breath left her. His eyes were just as enticing as the week before and lips were curled into his signature smirk. Was he happy with what had happened? Did he find the situation funny?

"It's one of the most poisonous substances in the world," clarified Hermione.

"How do you know this?" Ginny rediscovered her voice, although it was shaky.

"Malfoy informed me after he found me snooping in Snape's office," answered Hermione, blushing. "We agreed to meet here to discuss it further when Ronald appeared and threw the most ridiculous fit." She looked at his sleeping form. "We had to hex him to stop him from pummeling these three into the ground."

Her mind was swirling with the questions, but the first to escape was, "If this tetro-whatever is worrying Snape so bloody much, then why is he forcing us to use dangerous matters like hyoscyamine?"

"Hyoscyamine doesn't even compare to tetrodotoxin. Hyoscyamine causes disorientation and euphoria, whereas tetrodotoxin can kill you."

"I don't understand," said Ginny, rubbing her forehead. All the details bombarded her at once. "Why would he want us to concoct this potion, then?"

Hermione shrugged. "That's what we don't know."

"So, then, what? You decide to collaborate with these buffoons in order to find out?" Her anger and irritation didn't stem from the lack of evidence, nor did it involve Ron's obvious catatonia. Her resentment emanated from an argument she had last week – an argument that she couldn't forget.

"What else was I to do? Romilda is the hospital and we've no idea when she'll get better! Snape is on a rampage and we need to know why! You, out of all people, should know that this little charade is perilous!"

"Luna, you're not in on this, are you?"

All eyes turned to the petite figure by the fire. The dreamy creature smiled. "I told you that Snape was up to something, but it may not necessarily be bad. That's why we need to know the truth."

"I'm all for ending this potion making as soon as possible, but wouldn't it be even more dangerous if we decide to go and play Auror?"

"So, you're suggesting we sit and do nothing?" voiced Draco Malfoy, raising an eyebrow. "Seems that's always your plan."

Their quarrel was interrupted by a meow behind the door. Ginny's head snapped to the right and she quivered, knowing full well that that sound belonged to Mrs. Norris. "Filch is nearby. He'll find us in here and we'll be found out."

"Just hear me out, Gin," whispered Hermione.

"And where is Harry in all of this? Is he part of this little plot as well?" she asked, her voice low.

"Of course," snapped Hermione, "Why wouldn't he be?"

Ginny let out a harsh breath and shook her head. "We can't go a bloody year without causing trouble, can we?" she mumbled.

Just after her statement, the door shook violently. Ginny jumped back and stumbled into the rickety table, effectively breaking one the legs and causing all the items to barrel into the ground. Plants, roots, hairs, and utensils spilled onto the wooden floor. Stray knives slid into her calve, making her wince with pain. The boom that was the table wasn't the end of it. The cauldron came crashing down and soon enough, the room was swimming with a thin, translucent fluid. The potion seeped around her feet and before she knew it, her slippers were soaked.

The door flew open, revealing an irate Filch and smug Mrs. Norris.

Ginny watched as the liquid trickled towards them. A faint smash caused her attention to turn elsewhere and before long, the entire room began to quake. Unsure of what to do, Ginny tried to walk to Ron, but slipped and fell forward. Two strong arms caught her swiftly and both bodies headed for the hard floor.

She shut her eyes to shield the pain, but it never came.

Hermione stared down at the ground from her stance on the couch. Luna was huddled in the corner, petrified of the liquid that surrounded them. Zabini grabbed hold of an animal horn that hung on the wall, keeping his body a flight. Nott stood woodenly by a drooling Ron and seemed the grateful that he dashed away from the crash in time.

Frantic eyes searched the entire room, but Hermione saw no sign of Ginny or Malfoy. There was no indication that they were even there. She tried to rationalize the situation, but how could one rationalize magic? Beginning to panic, Hermione concluded that the elixir had to be fairly implicated.

Where had they gone?

The room was quiet now, Ginny discerned. Her eyes will still squeezed shut, apprehensive at the idea of Filch's incensed face. She would receive a howler for sure. She felt a strange warmth around her shoulders and her eyes flew open, remembering her almost fall. She pulled away hastily and spun around. The face she witnessed was not the face she expected at all.

"Draco," she recognized.

"Ginevra."

She surveyed their surroundings and learned that they were no longer in the Slytherin dungeons, but in the corridors by the Great Hall. Had he Apparated them there? But, Ginny thought instantly, Apparating in Hogwarts is strictly forbidden. There was no possible way that he could've mastered such a feat. "What did you do?"

He scoffed at her accusation. "I was about to ask you the same question."

"Oh, yes," she drawled mockingly, "Because I make a habit of disappearing into thin air and reappearing elsewhere!"

"Your sarcasm astounds me," he stated dryly, silver eyes calculating the area behind her. He fished around the pockets of his trousers and breathed a sigh of relief when he gripped his wand. "Seems I was right all along," he said quietly.

"What? Right about what?" questioned Ginny, shivering when a draft passed.

He continued to roam the deep caves of his pockets, but came up empty handed. "It must've fallen when you clumsily attacked the table," he muttered bitterly.

"I didn't attack the table," she snapped. "I fell into it when Filch nearly obliterated the door."

"Well your stunt caused us to gain a lot of time," he said cryptically.

Ginny groaned in annoyance. "What are you mumbling about?"

"The potion, you daft cow," he spat, irate. "When you knocked it down, you released it into the cold. It's supposed to stay at a hot temperature when not in use."

Her silence angered him.

"Gods, do I have to explain everything little thing to you? Are you that much of a moronic imbecile?" He let out a low oomph as Ginny pushed him back into the wall. "Merlin, Weasley, have you been working out?"

"Insult me again and I will castrate you here and now," she threatened.

His lips quirked. "What good would I be to you then?"

She let out an exasperated breath and tore away from him. "You are so … so … so infantile!" she declared.

He rolled his eyes. "I think the award for immaturity already went to you."

"Oh, that is it!" she screeched, walking away from him and towards the end of the hall.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Weasely," he called out to her.

Ginny disregarded him and continued to walk back to the dormitories. She would speak with Hermione as soon as possible and settle this stupid plan once and for all. Hermione would be upset, of course, but after being caught by Filch, Ginny hoped that her friend had come to her senses and decided that "digging" was too much of a risk.

Trudging around a corner, Ginny squeaked when she ran straight into the very girl she had been thinking about. "Hermione!"

"Gin!"

"What happened with Filch and Mrs. Norris? Did you and Luna get into heaps of trouble? And Ron? Has he found out what happened?"

Hermione looked puzzled. "Gin, are you all right?"

"What? Of course I am!" It took her a few seconds to scrutinize Hermione's disheveled appearance. "Did you run from Filch?!"

"I didn't run from anyone and certainly not Filch!" she said, scandalized.

"Then, why are you …"

"Granger, honestly!"

Another body came rushing around the corner and Ginny gasped at the sight. The redhead wasn't the smartest in her class, but she certainly wasn't the dumbest. She knew a tryst when she saw one – especially since she was rather in one herself. "Zabini?"

"Weasley," he acknowledged, adjusting his undone trousers. "How are you?"

Mouth agape, Ginny ogled at the scene. Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini? It was unheard of! Impossible! Her mind kept shooting out words to describe the current circumstance, but it was her conscience that brought her back to life. Isn't she doing what you were doing only a week ago?

"How on earth did you guys manage to …" She couldn't say the word. "When Filch had only caught us minutes ago?" Did she and Draco argue for so long?

"Ginny, why do you keep mentioning Filch?" asked Hermione, concern etched in her features.

"Well, because –"

"Ginevra!"

She cringed at his commanding tone. "What, Malfoy?"

"Gin, what is he doing here?"

"He's been stalking me," Ginny answered automatically, laughing to herself.

A smooth hand grasped at her elbow and his warm, thin lips slid over her ear. "They've no idea what you're babbling about, Weasley. We're in the past, if you haven't noticed already," he whispered harshly, tugging her to him and farther away from Hermione.

"That's impossible," she announced.

"Well, darling, we live in a world of impossibility, so you better fucking believe it," he drawled, throwing Hermione a grand smirk. "Excuse us, Granger. Forget this little … reunion ever occurred."

Ginny didn't see her response, for she was already being violently pulled away by her dashing captor. "Can you just … stop that … wait! Where are we … for goodness sake! Malfoy!" she grunted, attempting to free herself from his solid confines.

"The same inane poster is still up on the Great Hall doors – you know the one that Finnigan shoddily drew for some Muggle benefit –"

"It was to raise genocide awareness, you insufferable arse!"

"That benefit was days ago and that poster was gone this morning – well, that morning," he corrected himself, dodging a rapid blow aimed at his head, "And then there was that little display between Granger and Zabini." He gave her a look. "Which I doubt you knew about, considering your reaction."

"Unhand me!" she said through gritted teeth.

"I knew it was the potion. When Snape passed out the ingredient list and I saw golden peony scribbled on Potter's parchment, I bloody knew." He began speaking to himself rather than to Ginny. "How could this have happened? Why would he go through so much trouble?" He stopped short and paled.

"Malfoy, what is it?" She stopped fidgeting and became anxious. He was so deep in thought that his hand slipped from her arm. "Draco?"

He looked down at her. "He had us brew this elixir in order to use it to catch the culprit."

Ginny laughed, in disbelief. "That seems too bizarre, even for Snape."

"But Granger was the only Gryffindor who got it done right and ahead of time. He had to have known that she would be the only one," he continued to babble. "Then he'd take his time turner, spill the potion upon it, and be reverted back to the day his ingredient was stolen."

"Draco, you're talking nonsense," interrupted Ginny, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Except I was the moron with a time turner and dropped it when I searched for my wand to immobilize Filch." He cursed underneath his breath. "I initiated the potion."

His blubbering began to add up and Ginny began to recalculate everything. As far as she knew, it was only her and Draco that had been pulled back into the past. The liquid had neared Filch and Mrs. Norris, but his time turner had fallen when they were both soiled with the potion. "So, wait," breathed Ginny, "We're back to the day that the jar was stolen?"

"Yes. We're going to find out who took it. And then we wait until we do, the potion and the time turner sets in, and both our past and present will unite."

"You must be fucking kidding me."

"I kid you not, Ginevra. If you hadn't assaulted the table, this wouldn't have –"

"Assaulted the table? I did not assault anything!"

"You never take responsibilities for your actions, do you?"

She knew he was goading her and she knew that he meant more than just her "assaulting" the table. She wouldn't give him the pleasure. "Fuck. Off." She dramatically flipped her hair back and flounced away. She heard his steady footsteps behind her.

"You always want things done to you. You never want to claim liability for anything you don't like or anything you regret."

She hurried along, peering out through the windows at the night sky.

"You don't want to be blamed for anything – you don't want to upset anyone – so you blame the one person you believe would never feel pain."

His words pierced at her very soul, her very core, and she couldn't shake away the guilt.

"And when all is done, you're satisfied to know that you did absolutely nothing. You sleep well at night knowing that is was I who had instigated it all – it was I that harbored emotion, while you felt nothing."

She stopped in her tracks. "That's not what I meant."

The table fight was long forgotten. The two were now on to bigger and more complicated things.

"What did you mean, then? When you told me that I forced you, I coerced you, did you mean that?" he urged, pain lacing his tone.

Ginny spun around and gazed at him in contemplation. "No," she replied softly.

"Then what did you mean?" he asked hoarsely, coming closer until he became chin-to-nose with her. He trailed a finger down the nape of her neck and was pleased to find that her body still reacted to his touch.

She leaned in to him. She gave into him. And she could no longer deny the emotions that rushed forth when she was around him. It began as petty offenses, as it always does, but it transformed into stolen kisses, slaps across his face, and his arms around her. There was no to blame anymore. It was him and her. After the night he had kissed her so fervently – so passionately – and then demanded to own her lips alone, she had been so overwhelmed. Had it not been just a fling? A fleeting tryst with no true end result? They had never conferred about a possible friendship, let alone a possible relationship. What had become of their rendezvous?

He had expected her to swoon. She saw the hope in his eyes when he proposed they begin frolicking about in public. But she didn't fawn over the idea. Dating a boy, notably a Slytherin, was a death sentence. There was her family to consider, there was Harry to consider, and although she had briefly thought about disappointing Hermione, her friend had another Slytherin in her mind.

Gods, she thought, what is going on?

Their moment was disrupted by speedy footsteps that approached.

Ginny turned her head. "Someone is coming."

"Come on," he pulled her into a dark alcove, "We can't risk being seen again."

They slithered into the tiny niche as best they could, and held their breaths as the footsteps neared. Two shadows appeared and drew closer and closer. When the intruders were in view, Ginny inwardly gasped, causing Draco to cover her lips with his hand. "Ginevra, please," he whispered.

Rushing to the dungeons were Harry and Luna. Her eyes had to be deceiving her. They simply couldn't have been the thieves. "Harry, no," she moaned against Draco's cool hand.

The pair reached just before the Great Hall doors when Hermione and Zabini came around the corner and ran into them.

"Harry!"

"Hermione!"

"Zabini."

"Lovegood."

"What are you doing with him, 'Mione?"

"Harry, it's not what it looks like."

"It's exactly what it looks like, Potter."

What an arrogant bastard, thought Ginny.

"Oh, Hermione, you've something on your neck."

Leave it to Luna to point out the obvious.

"Why are you headed towards the dungeons, Harry?"

"Why were you already in the dungeons, Hermione?"

"Why, that's none of your business! I was just looking for Ginny."

Ginny's breath caught in her throat.

"But, she's already in bed, where you should be."

"We only saw her moments ago."

"With Draco."

Merlin damn Blaise Zabini.

"That's impossible and surely ridiculous. Gin would never be caught dead with Malfoy."

Draco's arms tightened around her waist. The action made Ginny wince. Her eyes dropped to the hand on her mouth and she glanced at his watch. It was past midnight and the foursome was having a row about her! She shrugged his hand off and whispered, "When was the jar stolen?"

"Snape said sometime after midnight."

"Well, it's that time and we're stuck here listening to them!" she hissed.

"Fuck!"

As he berated the situation, Ginny came up with a fool-proof plan. "Give me your wand," she ordered, slightly turning to her side.

"What?"

"Just give me your wand!" she repeated urgently.

He slid the black, slender wand into her hands.

Without another thought, Ginny murmured a quick spell and watched as a statue burst into flames at the other side of the corridor. The foursome raced towards it, no doubt figuring out a way to rescue the castle. "Harry has got a knack for being a superhero," she said airily, grabbing Draco's hand and racing for the dungeons.

She led him around the corner, but it was Draco who ran forward and guided her towards Snape's Potions closet. "Come on, it's just past here," he panted, pushing aside a velvet cloak and ducking underneath a short archway.

He made a sharp left and halted, introducing a racing Ginny to his solid back.

"Bloody hell," she growled, her face smacking into his hard spine.

"Shh! The door is open," he informed her.

Ginny held her breath. This was the moment they'd been waiting for. They would finally catch a glimpse of the bandit and end the chaotic potion-making. This was the very person who had caused burned fingertips, sleepless nights, and constant stirring; the very person that had sent Romilda to St. Mungo's and the Gryffindors in an uproar. Yes, Ginny sneered happily, we will finally seize this cad.

They heard a vague creak and inconspicuously ducked behind the statue of Sir Wallace. Light sprinkled the ground when the door fully swung open, a stocky shadow gracing the wall. A head full of dark hair poked out of the Potions closet and a nervous, sweaty face peered left and right.

Ginny expected an urge to throttle the person – hell, she even contemplated murder – but when her eyes landed on the face of her comrade, she stood and did nothing.

He sprinted away spastically, his long, black robe billowing after him.

"Was that … that …" Draco trailed off.

She let out a deep, quivering breath. "Neville Longbottom."

REVIEW! LOTS OF LOVE.