Ginny opened her eyes to stare up at her roommates clustered around her making annoying noises, the prefect wringing her hands and Professor Snape glowering down at her. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to explain how your friends found you lying on the floor unconscious," he sneered, though his eyes had a slight hint of genuine concern lurking in the back. She supposed having the Weasley political show pony turn up sick or dead might not look good for the House.

"I was looking in the mirror," she began, "and everything just went white."

He eyed her then turned to the prefect. "Take her to the infirmary," he ordered. "Let Pomfrey dose her up with one of her foul concoctions and look her over." He glared down at Ginny, seemingly put out she'd had the nerve to faint on his watch, and swept from the room, leaving the gaggle of first years and the lone prefect in his wake.

"Can you stand?" the prefect asked her. The girl sounded like she was worried the answer would be no, probably less out of concern for the first year on the floor in front of her and more because she was impatient to get back to her own work and friends.

Ginny pushed herself up and waited for the room to spin or fade out but, other than that she felt weaker than she could ever remember being, she seemed fine. She stood and said, "Let me just get my things."

The prefect nodded and muttered something about how she looked half-dead and Pomfrey was sure to keep her overnight so she'd better bring some homework. Ginny pulled her charms textbook and her transfiguration notes and shoved them in her bag. Her hand hesitated over the diary, still open on her bed and apparently blank. As soon as she touched it words spun into being.

Ginevra. Are you okay? I didn't realize…. I am sorry. I am.

She picked up the book, closed it, and slipped it into her bag.

Once at the infirmary Madam Pomfrey tut-tutted at her but, other than her pallor and exhaustion, could find nothing wrong. "You just look like something drained the life right out of you," the woman said at last in exasperation, "but I can't find any reason." She decided Ginny had to stay the night and ordered her into a bed and set a collection of vials next to her. "I'll have one of your brothers bring you dinner, dear," she said. "Make sure to drink all those down. They should give you some pep back."

Ginny waited until the woman left to pull out the diary again and open it.

Ginevra! If a diary could sound demanding, this one did. Tell me you are unharmed.

She picked up her quill and wrote, I don't think we should do that again. What happened?

I had to use your soul - your life - as energy to take form so you could see me. The words disappeared and there was a pause. I am sorry. I did not intend to cause you harm.

Ginny could feel her hand shaking just from exhaustion as she wrote, Why should I believe you?

Because I need you. The answer was quick and sure. I can't realize our plans without you.

I guess a book can't rule the world, she replied.

I was very worried, he said. You should rest. I could feel you slipping away.

She closed the book and closed her eyes and when she opened them again the windows had become dark and Percy was sitting on the edge of a chair at her bedside, a tray balanced on his knees. He had his mouth set in the same tight expression he wore whenever Fred and George blew things up or made other mischief. She looked at him. "It's you," she said. She didn't want to reveal anything so she kept her tone flat instead of letting hope he still cared creep into her voice.

He fussed at her as she sat up, and fluffed a pillow behind her back, and smoothed the blankets, and at last picked the tray he'd set on the floor back up and balanced it on her knees. "You should be more careful," he said as he hovered over her. "You probably don't eat enough. The stress of being in Slytherin is wearing on you."

"I like being in Slytherin," she said. She could feel her shoulders tense and the tray shifted on her lap. She'd thought Percy might be the one who understood; so far he hadn't cornered her to order her out of her House. It seemed, though, that Percy was another person not being a Gryffindor was going to take from her.

"That's not what I meant," he said and frowned deeply. "I know it's been hard for you," he said. "I know our family hasn't been… they haven't been very nice. That has to be difficult, feeling like you have to defend a core part of yourself from us."

She blinked a few times and looked down at her tray until the sting at the corner of her eyes faded. She picked up a spoon and stirred the thin soup with slices of beef it in and then said, "I'm sorry. I thought you were like the rest of them."

"Well," he said, "I'm not. I have my own goals and they aren't to be trapped in a burrow with a dead end job and too many kids." He plucked a bit of lint off his robes. "Or wreaking havoc with novelty items I've cooked up in my bedroom."

"Too many kids?" Ginny asked. As the last of seven she had to be the too-maniest of the too-many.

Percy flushed a little but stood his ground. "You know what I mean," he said. "Dad and Mum can barely afford to keep a roof over all our heads. If they'd had fewer kids - "

"Or Dad wasn't so obsessed with Muggles he stayed in that worthless department," Ginny said.

"Or that," Percy admitted; he didn't like to talk about how his father's lack of ambition grated on him or how he'd struggled to be the best at everything his whole life to prove he wasn't a layabout with a peculiar and embarrassing interest in worthless trivia. He grinned at his sister and changed the subject. "I'd trade out Fred and George and Ron and keep you," he said. "Best of sisters."

"Only sister," she said. "Thus best by default." She took a breath. "Best of brothers."

"Eat your soup," he said. "I'll sit here until you're done and then carry it back." He looked her in the eye. "You're my sister, Gin, no matter what House you're in."

. . . . . . . . . .

A/N - Thank you so much to Ibuzzo and turbulenthandholding, who try to save me from myself.