Chapter 10 – Myrtle Makes Mischief

Author's Note: Ta da! Still alive and kicking. I promise I will finish this story, and sooner rather than later.

It was just after midnight. Severus Snape strode along the darkened second floor corridor with the determined stride of a man on a mission. Hadn't he known Potter and his friends were up to something? Catching them red-handed would be proof even Professor Dumbledore could not turn a blind eye to.

With a grim half-smile Snape saw the proof he needed, a sliver of light emerging from the flooded girls' bathroom. Silently he pushed open the door and stepped noiselessly into the room. The faint light was coming from a cubicle at the far end. With a few strides he was at the door and ready to burst in, sure that he would at last find the proof he needed of Potter's troublemaking.

"ALOHOMORA! LUMOS!"

The cubicle door flung open and the professor was taken aback at what he saw by the bright light of his wand. It was Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, caught in the middle of an embrace, guilt written all over their faces as they jumped apart.

Earlier that day...

It was surprisingly sunny. Ginny was sitting in the highest seats at the back of the deserted Quidditch stands, her broomstick lying unused at her feet. The sun was shining brightly from a cold grey sky, bathing the pitch in crisp, cool light. She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her robe to protect them from the chilly breeze that played around her, blowing her hair into her face. Did he know what he was doing to her? Harry had never exactly been high on emotional intelligence or the ability to see what was going on right under his nose. He and Ron usually relied upon Hermione to tell them what people were really feeling. She smiled. Sometimes Hermione even had to point out their own feelings to them.

Hermione had been the one who helped Ginny to get over her girlish crush on Harry; in fact she had been the only one to whom Ginny had ever told the true extent of her feelings towards him. Hermione had encouraged her to stop being afraid of Harry and get to know him as a friend. Sure enough, before long she had forgotten to blush whenever he around because she was having too much fun chatting about Quidditch or laughing at something Ron had done. Soon pining for Harry was the furthest thing from her mind.

Ginny brushed her unruly hair away from her face. What changed, she wondered. Why do I care all of a sudden?

She really had been over it. She'd gone out with a couple of boys, much to her brothers' horror, and it had gone okay. Somehow though it hadn't been possible to be friends with them at the same time. Perhaps it just wasn't possible to be friends with someone you were going out with, and vice-versa. Look at Hermione and Ron, they'd been friends for years and they'd never managed to get together, despite both their feelings. Perhaps you had to choose, friendship or love.

Thinking about Harry, Ginny smiled. He was a great friend to have. He was funny, sometimes by accident, and didn't take himself too seriously like Ron did. She remembered all the times he'd stood up for Colin Creevey even though he annoyed the hell out of him. Maybe he wasn't too quick on the uptake sometimes, and he was stupidly stubborn, but he would do anything for his friends, and he never held a grudge, and he always shared and he wasn't weirdly obsessed with Quidditch like some boys. And he let her fly his Firebolt. And he had lovely eyes.

Ginny blinked. Scrap that last one, she thought, mentally shaking herself. She drew her knees up to her chest and buried her head in her folded arms, partly for warmth, partly to try to control her thoughts and focus, focus on being Harry's friend. What did Harry need most from his friends right now? she wondered. Understanding. Secrecy. Help.

Understanding. Well, there was no way she could really understand the reality of what he was going through, but she could try not to make it worse by going off at him like she had yesterday outside Trelawney's tower, for which she felt profoundly guilty now. He had enough to worry about without her making it worse.

Secrecy. She wouldn't be telling anyone any time soon, she could safely promise that.

Help. This couldn't be pleasant for Harry, she knew that. She knew full well what it was like to be possessed by a force outside herself, not to be in control of her own actions. Her experience in her first year with Riddle had left her feeling powerless and empty. She wanted to help Harry and Ron and Hermione fix this but since she had been excluded from their efforts she was completely in the dark. Maybe they had already found a cure. Maybe they were even administering it now. It was frustrating to know that she was the cause of Harry's pain and not be able to do anything to lessen it.

"Ginny."

Ginny almost thought the voice had come from inside her own head. She looked up and started as she was confronted with a familiar face.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just came out for some air."

Ginny gestured at the broomstick by her feet. "I needed some practice." Harry sat silently beside her. Ginny wondered if she should leave right now, if her presence was unwittingly causing him discomfort. She continued to speak, the halting words seeming to spring unbidden from her lips. "The game's on Saturday - I was pretty rubbish last practice."

"No you weren't." She looked at him and he grinned ruefully and looked quickly away. "Okay, it wasn't the best you've ever played. But you were just distracted. Forget about what Ron said. You just need to stop worrying about the Slytherin players and concentrate on getting the Quaffle through the hoops."

"Oh, so that's what a Chaser does," she said. "I've always wondered."

He smiled, and behind the smile was a depth of affection that touched her. Ginny suddenly began to concentrate very hard on the seat in front of her.

"People forget it's that simple, sometimes. Forget about the fancy stuff, just get the ball through the hoops."

"And catch the Snitch," she added. "And hit the Bludgers. And avoid getting knocked off your broom. It doesn't sounds so simple then."

"Maybe not," Harry said. "But you can make it that simple."

They fell into silence. Ginny watched as a magpie hopped from seat to seat a few rows ahead. The sun went behind a cloud, dramatically bathing the stadium in shade. Harry's presence was oddly comforting, but she knew she should leave. The sun sprang from behind the cloud, warming Ginny immediately with its brightness. She took her hands out of her pockets and placed them by her sides and for a moment her hand accidentally brushed his.

"I didn't - "

"I'm sorry - "

They both stopped and Ginny felt her cheeks redden. "You go."

"No, you go first," he said quietly.

Looking out across the stadium, Ginny spoke. "I was just going to say I'm sorry for storming off yesterday. I know – I know it must be hard for you, having to see me. I know your actions aren't your own." He was silent beside her. "You've been a good friend to me," she continued, "especially this year, and you deserve the same from me. If my presence hurts you-"

"Ginny-" he tried to touch her hand and she pulled it away quickly.

"No, let me finish. If my presence hurts you then the best thing for me to do as a friend is to avoid seeing you until this is fixed. Then things can go back to the way they used to be."

He was silent. Ginny sneaked a sideways glance but he was looking at the floor. "Harry?"

"Right. Okay."

There was a long silence while Ginny wondered if she'd done more harm than good. "So... what were you going to say?"

He started as if she'd disturbed him from a dream.

"Hermione said -" he looked up at her and suddenly stopped. "Nothing. I was just going to tell you that Hermione's found a way to find out how to make the antidote. We're doing a potion in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. I'm fetching it tonight."

"That's great," she said, mustering up her most encouraging voice, whilst hoping that whatever the potion was, it wasn't dangerous.

"I might even be cured by the Slytherin match," he added, his voice sounding oddly strangled.

"Great," she said, and then realised that she was repeating herself. "I should go."

Harry stayed for a long time after Ginny had left, watching the quiet solitude of the wintry castle grounds. There had been no way to control his joy earlier when Hermione had told him what he had yearned and hoped and never expected to hear, that Ginny still liked him in that way. Still liked him! His mind had filled with daydreams of what he would do, what he would say, when he next saw her. They could go into Hogsmeade and drink Butterbeer at the inn, spend Valentine's day together, and in the summer they could study together under the trees by the lake... It took Hermione three loud calls of "Harry!" to to awake him from his reverie.

Eventually Hermione had got him to promise not to do anything rash, but when he saw that Ginny was missing at lunch he could not help coming to find her. It tore him up inside to think that he had been causing her pain, and his first instinct was to find her and try to make it better in any way he could. He also just wanted to be near her. Even her presence was enough to cheer and comfort him. Having her close by his side and being able to speak to her and laugh with her just now had filled him with a wonderful warmth that filled his whole body and brought an ear-to-ear grin to his face.

But Hermione had been wrong. He shivered, suddenly very cold and very alone. Ginny had made it very clear that she wanted to be his friend, as she always had been, and nothing more. She wanted things to go back to how they were before. But that was no longer enough for Harry.

That night, Ginny was getting ready for bed in one of the crooked old girls' bathrooms in Gryffindor Tower. She could not stop thinking about the potion that Hermione was brewing in the closed-off bathroom. Harry had said he would be going to get it tonight. Was it the antidote? Could Harry already be cured? Just then she heard the familiar sound of Moaning Myrtle's high-pitched squeal as she sulked her way down a nearby pipe. Without really thinking what she was doing, Ginny leaned down towards the plughole and called out.

"Myrtle. Myrtle!"

The wailing stopped and after a moment Ginny was splashed in the face as a pale watery form erupted from the sink. It was Myrtle, as cheerful as ever. She floated out of the sink and gently came to rest on the edge of the bath.

"What?" she griped tearfully. "I was busy, you know."

Ginny decided to get right to the point. "Myrtle, I heard that Hermione's been making a potion in your bathroom and I just wanted to know about it."

"You mean, you thought, 'poor Myrtle, she'd got nothing better to do with her time than spend time in a blocked up loo watching that horrible girl making some stupid potion...'" The ghost girl huffed and turned to face the wall.

She decided to try a different tack. "Not at all. I heard that you know everything that goes on in this castle. When I wanted to know whether anyone had been to collect the potion tonight, I immediately knew that all I had to do was ask you."

Myrtle giggled. "I do know everything, you know. People don't think I see, but I do. I know everybody's little secrets. I can get into the boys' showers, you know."

Ginny pulled a face and tried to look impressed. "Really? That's great."

Myrtle smirked. "You could too, you know. It's easy, if you're in the girls' changing rooms already-"

"I'll think about it," said Ginny hurriedly. "But Myrtle, you were telling me about that potion. Has Hermione gone to collect it yet?"

Myrtle sniffed. "That horrible frizzy haired girl? She said it would be ready tonight at midnight. It's her own fault for being mean to me if she happens to get caught. She shouldn't have said what she said. She deserves to get caught."

A small flame of suspicion appeared in Ginny's mind. She tried to keep her face neutral. "What happened?"

Myrtle began playing coyly with the curtain around the bath. "She was horrible to me, what's what happened. She told me to go away. So I went away just like she told me to and maybe while I was going away I happened to pop up in the staff bathroom and maybe I accidentally told a certain tall nasty professor that somebody had been breaking the rules and going in my bathroom at night. It's not my fault, she shouldn't have been horrible!"

"Myrtle!" Ginny grabbed her dressing gown from the back of the door and, slipping her wand in the pocket, hurried quietly downstairs.

Harry was in the furthest cubicle of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, looking impatiently at his watch. It was nearly midnight, and the wretched Indicating Ink showed no sign of changing colour from blue to purple. He just wanted to fill the vial and leave.

Suddenly he heard hurrying footsteps, and someone burst into the bathroom. He drew his wand, but then he heard Ginny's voice. "Harry?"

"Ginny!" He opened the door and she burst into the cubicle, panting.

"You've got to get out, Harry, Snape's on his way here!" she gasped.

"How-" Harry started but Ginny interrupted.

"He'll be here in a couple of minutes, we've got to vanish this stuff!"

"No!" Harry whispered, grabbing her wand hand. "I've got to fill the vial as soon as it turns purple!" The potion was still bright blue.

Ginny looked around in panic. "Go," Harry urged her, but she shook her head in refusal and shut the cubicle door behind her, looking up at him stubbornly.

"If you're staying, I'm not going anywhere. We can both get in trouble."

"Don't be stupid -" he stopped suddenly, distracted. Ginny realised with horror that he was looking at her feet "Are those fluffy bunny slippers?"

Just let me die right now, she thought. Let the bathroom floor open up and swallow me and the fluffy bunny slippers too. "They were a present," she squeaked.

Harry transferred his eyes to her face. Neither of them moved in the long, laden pause that followed.

"Hermione told me you still like me," he blurted out suddenly, though he knew it was a deeply inappropriate moment. "Is it true?"

Ginny opened her mouth and shut it again. There was absolutely nothing she could say.

"Because I really like you" he whispered. "I know you think it's the potion but it's not, I swear to you. And I'll prove it, as soon as Hermione finds the antidote." Oh, and by the way, I really really love you, his heart screamed. He resisted the urge to shout it out loud.

For some reason this did not have the same effect on Ginny as before. Instead of wanting to cry, she felt like flinging her arms round his neck. He captured her hand in both of his, and she was shocked by the pure intensity with which he looked at her. If he kisses me, I don't think I've got the strength to say no.

Suddenly there was a sound – a footstep outside the door to the bathroom. For a moment, time seemed to stand still and then Ginny's eyes flew to the potion. It had turned a deep, rich purple. In a flurry she filled the glass vial and as she slipped it into her robes Harry vanished the cauldron and the remaining potions apparatus. Harry was just reaching for his Invisibility cloak to cover them both when there was a footstep outside their cubicle and the pair froze, pressed close together in the confined space. Harry felt like he was falling into Ginny's scared dark eyes.

Without even thinking about it Harry leaned forward as if he had been reeled in. Ginny's heart leaped into her mouth as Harry drew closer to her.

"ALOHOMORA! LUMOS!"

Suddenly the door flew open to reveal the tall dark form of Professor Snape. Harry and Ginny leaped apart guiltily. "Well, well, well. Potter and Weasley," the professor smirked, as if they had made his week.

"P- Professor..."

"No need to explain, Potter," Snape said in an oily voice. "There's nothing you could say to mitigate your current circumstances."

"But it's not what it looks like-"

"Potter, this area has been out of bounds since your second year, a fact of which I am certain you are aware. Do you frequently spend time in girls' bathrooms, Potter?"

Harry fumed inwardly. "No, Professor Snape."

"So you say. However, since you seem to enjoy each others' company so much, you can both spend tomorrow night scouring cauldrons in my office. Report to me straight after dinner."

"But Professor," burst out Ginny hotly, "that's the night before the match! We've got practice!"

"Something you should have taken into consideration before leaving your beds this evening. Consider yourselves lucky to have escaped with a detention." The professor's lips curled into a cruel imitation of a smile. "Mr. Filch informed me only yesterday evening that he has just polished his leg-irons and he is of the opinion that they would be an extremely appropriate punishment for wayward students. I must say that I'm coming round to the idea."

The walk back to Gryffindor tower seemed to last forever. Snape had summoned Filch to escort them back and Filch seemed to take particular pleasure in keeping his beady eyes on their every step, as if taking Snape's instruction to "keep an eye on them" quite literally. The Fat Lady did not seem at all pleased to be woken up to let them in, but when she saw who it was giving the password ("Go Go Gryffindor") her expression softened. "Good luck in the Quidditch on Saturday, young man," she whispered as her portrait swung open to admit them.

The common room was dark and silent when they entered. Harry turned to Ginny and his whole being seemed to ache with the longing to hold her. Her face was half illuminated by a single ray of moonlight that had got through a chink in the curtains.

"You'll need this." She took the glass vial from her robes and held it out. Reluctantly, he took it, knowing that any minute now she would have to go.

"Thanks for trying to warn me," he said. "How did you find out?"

"Myrtle told me."

"Right." I love you.

She glanced towards the girls' dorms. "I should really go to bed."

"I suppose." And I love you.

"Night, Harry."

"Night." Ten seconds later she had disappeared up the stairs. Harry looked at the final spot on the banister where she had rested her hand for a long time after she had gone."I love you."