Notes: Thanks everyone who left a review! Ginny as well as Neville still have some development to do, so don't worry, everything will more or less fall into canon soon :)

Chapter 9:

The Pool of Tears

"But she went on all the same, shedding gallons of tears, until there was a large pool all round her..."

The hours after she left Lestrange's office stretched and twisted until she no longer knew what time it was or where she was at all. She couldn't remember the walk to the common room, only the sea of thoughts that drowned her while she lay in bed.

A few hours into the night she began to cry uncontrollably, all her troubles and fears getting in line to be set free. She tried to tell herself that she should be relieved that she was able to get away, but the event made her realize how weak and helpless she was in the face of everything that was happening around her; That she couldn't defend herself, after all.

She spent a long time in the realm between wakefulness and sleep. Thoughts about Lestrange and the other Death Eaters mingled with bad childhood memories and disturbing thoughts about the Chamber of Secrets. Ever since she had been rescued from the clutches of Tom Riddle she swore to herself that she would never need a knight in shinning armor to save her again, but now her yearning for Harry had become unbearable. Pathetic.

She couldn't stop imagining Lestrange's hands touching her, his slippery tongue tasting her, the evil light in his eyes as she held the wand to his head. Nausea gurgled inside her until she couldn't hold it anymore and ran to the bathroom to vomit everything her empty stomach could produce.

When she stumbled back into the room, fuzzy and washed with tears, one of the boys sat in his bed and looked at her. She collapsed into her own bed and felt him lean over her.

"You alright, Ginny?" It was Seamus, who sounded very worried. Dean mumbled something from the nearest bed.

She nodded in the dark, not sure whether he could see her at all. Tears kept rolling freely down her face, and she had no more power to try and stop it.

"What's wrong with her?"

"I think she's sick. Maybe we should get McGonagall?"

"What do you feel?"

She realized vaguely that Dean was addressing her, but the saltiness of her tears seemed to paralyze her tongue. What does she feel?... What does she feel, really?...

"She doesn't look so good," said a third voice, Neville. "I'll go call McGonagall – "

"Wait – how will you get out? The corridors are full of Death Eaters..."

From that moment on all she could remember were dim nightmare flashes and blurred voices, and then the feeling that she was being carried out of bed in someone's arms.

When she could distinguish between reality and dream again she was laying in an unfamiliar bed, in a room with a pleasant, sterile smell. She felt very hot. She absently pushed the covers off her sweaty body and lay for a long time with closed eyes, half awake, until she could finaly remember her name. Together with her name, her personality and all her memories struck her all at once, forcing her to open her eyes in order to escape the nightmares she had experienced.

For a moment she felt dizzy, not recognizing her surroundings at all. After a moment she realized that she was in the infirmary, lying in a white bed with clean, fragrant sheets. High on the walls around her, narrow windows spread a cool light filtered by soft drops of rain.

Her body was very weak and her mind confused. She felt as if a whole lifetime had passed since the last time she had been awake. She sat up slowly. On the table beside her bed was a bouquet of yellow roses, a few petals falling from it to the white tablecloth, a fluffy stuffed blue unicorn, and a large circular jar full of clear water; At it's bottom grew pink and blue flowers that shone in a soft, colorful light.

The roses were from Slughorn, who also attached a colorful get- well card decorated with ribbons who changed their colors. At the bottom of the card he scribbled that he would love to have her for tea in his office after she recovered. The stuffed unicorn was from Seamus, Dean, and Neville. The flowers in the jar were from Luna, who had written her that the Narcissus of the Depths had been known to have calming effects of the nerves, and that she was taking care of Arnold of her.

In addition to these gifts, another envelope was laying on the table. It was very simple, and there was nothing written on it. Ginny opened it curiously and found inside a single piece of parchment, completely clean except for one date, written in tiny letters in the top corner; May 8th, 1997.

The date didn't mean anything to her. She searched the letter for more information, but it was blank. More than she was curious about why someone would send her a blank note with a past date on it, she was curious about who it could have been. Was it Lestrange playing a trick on her? Or perhaps it was a clue from someone that was afraid to approach her in public? But that could have been anyone!

Where was she on the eighth of May of that year? At school, probably. It was about a month before Dumbledore's death. Life seemed so carefree then; The only things that bothered her were her upcoming OWL's, and as a result, the lack of time she could spend with Harry...

Soon her thought wandered toward the question of what was the date right now, and she realized she had no idea at all. She got out of bed, placing her bare feet on the cold floor, and tried to get up, feeling as if her feet and knees were made of paper. She passed the screens that surrounded the bed and went to Madame Pomfrey's office. The Med-Witch came out just as she was about to knock on the door.

"You're up, Miss Weasley! Put on your slippers on right away, the floor is freezing!" She cried and Accio-ed a pair of colorless slippers from one of the cupboards.

"Well, how do you feel today?" She asked Ginny as she put them on.

"All right, I suppose," Ginny said, although a dull headache pulsed at the back of her head. "How long was I asleep?"

"Asleep? You were unconscious, dear. You suffered from severe exhaustion and malnutrition. Let's see... You've been lying here for almost three days now."

Ginny's eyes went wide, and she felt a cold wave of horror washing over her. "That means today is – "

"Saturday, that's right."

Ginny felt her legs go weak. Madame Pomfrey noticed that and helped her get back to bed. She began to examine her, and all Ginny could think about of were the muggle- borns, who didn't know that in two days the Ministry would come to take them to a place from which they might not return.

"I think you'd better stay here tonight, too," Pomfrey said when she had finished the tests. "You're still very weak."

"No!" Cried Ginny, who had to hurry and warn everyone she could. "I mean, I feel fine. Can't I go back to the dorms?"

"Absolutely not."

"But I have to catch up on the classes I've missed. You know that – "

"Professor McGonagall spoke to Snape on your behalf," the Med- Witch said, and Ginny didn't miss a trace of contempt in her voice. "Ultimately she managed to explain to him that a student can't be brain- washed when she's unconscious..."

Ginny bit her lip, conflicted. If she couldn't do anything herself, she had to at least warn McGonagall. She cursed herself for not taking the time to tell her before everything that's happened – what if it was too late to save them?

"Are you absolutely convinced that was what you've heard?" McGonagall asked, having heard what Ginny had to say, sitting upright in the chair beside her bed.

"I know what I heard, Professor," Ginny insisted.

McGonagall didn't argue anymore. She sighed and removed her glasses to rub her temples, as if it could sharpen her mind. Ginny had never seen her without her glasses, and she was surprised to discover that her face looked young and vulnerable without them.

"I'll inform the rest of the teachers and we'll see what we can do," she said at last, returning her glasses – her shield – to their place. "However, the odds are not in our favor, that I can tell you right now."

Again this defeatism. Ginny had to hold herself not to get angry. She tried to look over the screens to make sure there was no one else in the room.

"We're alone here, Miss Weasley. You can talk freely," McGonagall assured her.

"Isn't there a way to contact the Order?"

"There is a way," said McGonagall gravely, "On the contrary, they have known about the situation here for a long time. But I honestly don't know what they can do to help. The Order is full of excellent wizards and witches, but not enough to break through all the defenses that Severus has set up here and leave with dozens of students, all unharmed."

"So maybe someone has to get hurt," Ginny blurted out, fisting the sheets.

McGonagall sighed heavily. "It's easy to say, but hard to do. You can't force someone to risk his life for someone he doesn't know."

Ginny knew she was right. She wondered whether she might have been too hard on Dean, but decided it didn't matter anymore.

A few other visitors arrived that evening, after McGonagall had left, and helped distract her for a short time. Terry Boot and Hannah Abbott made a brief courtesy visit, and the DA members from Gryffindor and Luna sat with her for a long time; Seamus smuggled biscuits from the kitchen and they ate them with pleasure until Madame Pomfrey saw them and scolded them for making crumbs. Ginny noticed that Dean was making an effort to behave pleasantly and not to remind her of their quarrel, and she appreciated it, even though she noticed a chill behind his every word and look. Neville sat in a strange, enclosed silence, speaking only when spoken to.

Most of all, Ginny wanted to know if Dean had told anyone about what she told him that day. However, he averted his gaze every time she tried to catch his eye. So she said nothing; She didn't dare raise the subject out loud because Colin and Dennis had come to amuse her with muggle magic tricks, and she didn't dare put out the two brothers' charming glee.

As curfew approached her visitors began to disperse. Finally only Luna stayed, holding Ginny's hand dreamily. The flowers in the jar gave a beautiful melancholic light in the dim space between the infirmary screens.

"Would you like to talk about it?" She asked after they have been sitting in a pleasant silence for a while.

"What about?"

"About the detention. We all know about it," she added as she saw the recoil on Ginny's face. "Colin told us. I guess the rest were afraid of your reaction, so they didn't bring it up. You want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about," Ginny said heavily, and she knew Luna was unconvinced.

"It's all right," she assured her sweetly. "I understand. You have another guest, anyway. I'll come and see you tomorrow."

She hugged Ginny gently and left, smiling at someone who was standing outside the flowers' pool of light. After a moment Betty Ogden came in, smiling shyly.

"Hi," Ginny blurted out, surprised.

"Hi," Betty replied weakly. She sat down carefully in the chair Luna had left, holding her backpack close to her chest, as if she was afraid it would be snatched from her. In the soft light it was clear how beautiful she was; Smooth, virginal skin, shinny hair flowing like honey on her shoulders, full pink lips, and big dark eyes, dull and glossy like two dark mirrors.

"How – how do you feel?"

They had a brief, pointless conversation about Ginny's well being. After the subject was exhausted, they both fell silent. Once they had been close friends, best friends, but now they hadn't spoken for more than six months. Ginny couldn't pin-point the exact moment when their relationship had been severed, because she was so absorbed in Harry and her friends form the DA that she didn't notice their friendship fading. All she knew now was that she had nothing in common with Betty Ogden.

Well, maybe now she had one thing.

"I don't really know why I came," Betty finally confessed, her eyes downcast. "I just heard that you had detention with... Him. And..." She cleared her throat. "N-Never mind. I just wanted to see how you were doing. Bye – " She got up and turned to leave.

"I know why you came," Ginny said weakly behind Betty's receding back. She halted, and Ginny felt an unwanted lump in her throat when she said, "I know what he did to you..."

The tears came faster then she expected. The crushing disgust flooded her again, but now she began to get a slow release through invisible cracks that opened all over her body.

Betty remained standing, touching her face carefully, as if she were afraid they would break.

"You – you, too?" Her voice was broken and fragile, like a rose petals falling among the thorns.

"Almost," Ginny said hoarsely. "I managed to push him away, but... It's not over..." She felt that if she tried to say anything else she would collapse for another three days.

Betty covered her mouth as she began to weep uncontrollably. Ginny realized she was standing up and walking over to her, as if in a dream, and hugging her. She hugged her back hard, as if she were the only thing left in her world.

"You're so strong, Ginny. You've always been," Betty whispered between her tears. Ginny felt tears on her own nose and lips, salty tears, falling into Betty's hair. She could see what had happened to her as if she were there at that time – everything that Lestrange had done to her –

"I was just lucky." The words died on Ginny's lips, choked so swiftly that she wasn't sure whether she had actually said them or imagined herself saying them. "I'll make him pay," she said clearly. "You're... Not the only one."

"I'm not?..."

Ginny knew she wasn't. "No. You're not."

"I feel so sorry for them." Betty let go of her, wiping tears and makeup from her face. She looked like a neglected little china doll. "I didn't tell anyone... I could not. I was so ashamed."

Ginny understood her completely. She knew she wouldn't share this secret with anyone except for Betty. No one else could understand.

They sat together for a long time in a comforting silence. Finally Madame Pomfrey came in to check on Ginny and informed Betty that it was almost time for curfew, and that she had to hurry to back to her common room.

She parted from Ginny with a hug. Before she left, she said, "Why don't you go come back to our room? It's must be terrible to share with the boys."

Thinking about the alienated Dean and quiet Neville, Ginny assured her happily that she would.

Shortly after that she went to bed. She felt the cracks in her body slowly mending after they had been drained from poison, and she lay in serenity, feeling calm as she hadn't felt in a long time. She told herself then that the past was in the past – in that moment, everything was all right