Author's Note: Wow! I am blown away by the response to the last chapter! Thanks to all of you who took the time to review. I truly, truly appreciate it.

Chapter 25: The Rift

Draco pushed himself out of bed, grabbing his shirt from the base of the mattress as he went. He drew the curtains behind him, and the metal-on-metal made another harsh scraping sound. He winced, squinting against the bright light coming in from the window. Of course he had a bloody hangover.

"Zabini, I –" he began. He glanced sidelong at Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott's drawn bed curtains, and grabbed Blaise by the shoulder, pulling him out of the room and down the stairs. He hadn't even had time to process what had happened last night. The last thing he needed was for his and Ginny's drunken escapades to be advertised all over the castle before they had a chance to talk about it. Merlin, they'd done something so incredibly stupid. But it had been –

It hadn't felt stupid. Though that might have been the Firewhiskey talking.

After last night's revelries, the Common Room was empty, and they halted at the base of the staircase. When he met Blaise's eyes again, they had hardened to flints. He cringed, feeling a sharp jolt of guilt in his chest.

"Did you two fuck last night?" Blaise asked suddenly, his voice harsh and accusing.

His eyebrows went up, and he felt his heckles rise immediately at Blaise's tone. True, he'd been impulsive and thoughtless last night. But it wasn't as if Blaise actually had any claim over Weasley. He'd had a chance years ago, and he'd used it to get into Samantha Vaisey's knickers, Draco thought unkindly.

"No, we didn't," he replied testily. "And Merlin, Zabini, you don't have to be so bloody crass."

"When am I ever not crass, Malfoy?" Blaise near-yelled. Draco's eyes widened in surprise. Blaise rarely yelled. And suddenly, he felt all the indignation rush out of him. Oh Merlin, he'd really screwed up, he realized. Blaise had really, truly liked her, hadn't he?

He thought of breakfast yesterday morning, and of Blaise asking if he should take Ginny to Hogsmeade. He cringed again, and this time, the guilt raced down to the ends of his fingertips. Just then, his head throbbed, and he set his jaw, running a hand roughly across the back of his neck. Merlin, he couldn't fucking deal with this right now.

Blaise seemed to realize how loud he'd been. He exhaled, obviously trying to recover himself. "If there was something going on between you two," he continued after a moment, his voice quieter but his eyes still blazing, "why didn't you just tell me?"

"I didn't realize you would react this –"

He barked out a laugh. "Oh, so my going on and on about how much I fancy her didn't sink in, then?" he demanded.

"Zabini, I'm –"

But Blaise kept talking over him, his voice rising again with each word. "Thought you'd just let me make a fool of myself, telling you how I wanted to ask her on a proper date and how I wanted to –"

"Zabini –"

"– off myself for being such a sap about the whole thing? None of that sank in? None of it?"

"Zabini, will you just –"

"I actually fancy her, Malfoy – actually fancy her. So you could have at least done me a favor and told me that you were fucking her when I –"

"For fuck's sake, Zabini!" Draco snapped finally, his voice loud and harsh with frustration. "There is nothing going on between me and Weasley. We just got drunk, and she, you know," – he gestured wildly – "got me off."

That silenced him, and after a pause, Draco said, "That's it, all right?"

Blaise's lips set in a hard line. He was breathing hard, and his fists were clenched at his sides, and he opened his mouth to respond, but –

Suddenly, Ginny pushed between them and out into the Common Room. Draco was stunned for a moment – he hadn't even heard her on the stairs. Her hair was a crazy copper mess around her shoulders, but her tank top was back on and she was holding her shoes in her left hand. Draco thought for a brief second that she was going to cross straight to the girls' staircase without acknowledging them – maybe from shame or embarrassment, though that didn't seem like her – but then she turned and looked straight at Zabini.

Her cheeks were pink, but her eyes were dark and hard, worlds away from their usual bright brown. His brow furrowed.

"Do we use Umbridge's Floo to get to your house?" she asked.

Whatever he had expected her to say, that was not it, and Blaise was obviously taken aback as well. "Yeah," he replied slowly.

"I have to get changed, so you better go on ahead," she said. "I'll meet you at the funeral, all right?"

She didn't wait for an answer, just turned and disappeared up the stairs.

Draco realized that she hadn't looked at him once.

Ginny threw her shoes bodily into her trunk and strode straight into the loo, shutting the door hard behind her. Her right hand was clenched into a tight white circle, and when she unfolded it, she saw that her fingernails had dug little half-moon crescents into her palm.

Suddenly, she was breathing hard, and she felt a harsh anger burning up her throat, threatening to choke her. She cast a quick Silencing Charm at the door, then slammed her wand down on the countertop and let out a frustrated sound.

How dare he?

She'd woken that morning to the scrape of Draco's curtain rings, and her first thought had been that he had fled. Typical, Malfoy, she'd thought, smiling wryly to herself. He was probably in the loo right now, pacing back and forth and working himself into a fit about what it all meant.

She reached for her tank top, thinking. She wasn't sure what it meant either.

But she wasn't going to let him get away with a tragic little speech about how it had all been a mistake, she realized. It surprised her how sure she was of that. She wasn't going to let him tell her that last night had been a non-platonic slip-up between two completely platonic best friends, as if they'd tripped and ended up with their tongues in each other's mouths and their hands everywhere. Fuck it, she thought. Her roommates might not have them completely pinned down, but at the end of the day, this had been anything but a slip-up. She'd wanted him last night, and he'd wanted her back; they were attracted to each other, and that had made last night damn near inevitable.

She didn't know what that meant. But they weren't going to be able to pretend platonic was enough anymore, she realized. Not after last night.

And why should they? Why should they pretend anything? They could snog or shag or date or whatever the hell they wanted, couldn't they?

And just as that thought had crossed her mind, she'd heard his voice. "Zabini, I –" She'd frozen, her fingers closed around the ribbed base of her tank top. Blaise was out there? Had he caught them?

She'd strained her ears to hear. They'd moved away from the bed and out of the dormitory, and her brow had furrowed. If Blaise had caught them, she'd have expected him to be leaning against the bedpost, making vulgar comments and smirking.

She'd pulled on her top, then she'd checked that the coast was clear and gotten out of bed. It had taken a moment to find her shoes, but then she'd followed them downstairs, and their voices had become louder with each passing step.

"– didn't you just tell me?" That had been Blaise, and he'd sounded angry, though she couldn't for the life her figure out what he had to be angry about.

She hadn't been able to hear Draco's response, and she'd moved farther down the stairs, instinctively keeping her footsteps quiet against the carpet. "– on about how much I fancy her didn't sink in, then?" She'd nearly tripped in her surprise. Blaise fancied her? Still? She'd thought that had been a passing thing, a month-long blip in his long string of women. The way it always was when Blaise "fancied" someone.

"– just let me make a fool of myself, telling you how I wanted to ask her on a proper date and how I wanted to –"

"Zabini, will you just –" Draco had sounded annoyed.

"I actually fancy her, Malfoy – actually fancy her. So you could have at least done me a favor and told me that you were fucking her when I –"

"For fuck's sake, Zabini!" Draco had said suddenly and loudly, irritation obvious in his voice. "There is nothing going on between me and Weasley. We just got drunk, and she, you know, got me off."

Now, Ginny clenched her fingers hard around the edge of the loo's marble countertop, anger rising again at the memory. Whatever she'd thought Draco would feel about last night, she hadn't imagined he'd be so…so…so dismissive.

She, you know, got me off?

As if she was just some random girl he'd picked up at a pub or a bar and gotten off with one time to show he could. As if they weren't best friends. As if it didn't have any significance at all. As if he didn't at least owe her the ounce of respect it would've taken to say –

She'd pushed past them down the stairs, then remembered that the funeral was this morning and had asked Blaise not to wait for her.

And now, here she was, fuming in the Fourth Year girls' loo, wishing with every bone in her body that she'd slapped Draco across the face.

She shook her head disgustedly and turned on the shower.

She stood there under the burning hot spray for longer than usual. Twenty minutes later, she emerged, pulled on her black dress – the same one she'd worn to Cedric's funeral, she realized grimly – and drew her hair into a tight bun at the base of her skull. She surveyed herself in the mirror, then left the dormitory.

A few early risers had come into the Common Room by now, but Draco and Blaise were no where to be seen. They'd probably already gotten to Blaise's manor by now. Good, she thought. Somewhere in the course of her shower, the burning anger had settled into a cold, hard ball at the base of her stomach. It was easier to deal with this way, and she embraced it.

She used Umbridge's grate to Floo to the funeral. She fully intended to stand near the back, but Blaise caught sight of her as she arrived and raised a hand to beckon her over, so she had no choice but to join him and Draco at the front. And anyway, none of this was Blaise's fault. And if what he'd said was true, he fancied her. She wished she'd known before. Maybe then she and Draco wouldn't have made such a –

She laughed dryly. A mistake.

It had been one after all.

An hour later, another one of Blaise's stepdad's business associates stood to take the podium and continued speaking where the last had left off. From beside her, Draco reached over and nudged her arm, trying to get her attention. She jerked away, and out of the corner of her eye, saw him raise his eyebrows sharply in surprise.

Later, as they lowered the coffin into the ground, she knew he was trying to catch her eye.

She turned deliberately away.

And maybe she was being spiteful, but the look on his face a moment later was immensely satisfying.

They descended the stairs to the dungeons in complete silence, the tension palpable. Blaise had a somber look on his face, his lips set in a hard line, and anyone else might have concluded it was because they were coming back from his stepdad's funeral. But Draco knew better. He was still angry, and Draco wondered how long that would last.

Ginny's expression, by contrast, was totally neutral, but her eyes were still hard, and when they reached the bottom of the staircase she quickened her step so she was a few paces in front of him, as if she was trying to put as much space between them as possible. He felt a jolt of annoyance. What the hell was wrong with her? he thought irritably. She'd been like that all through the funeral – refusing to even look at him, keeping her features set to carefully-constructed blankness.

"Thanks for coming," Blaise said vaguely, stepping through the wall and into the Common Room passageway. Ginny moved to follow, but Draco wasn't going to let her get away with that.

He grabbed her arm to hold her back, felt another flash of irritation when she jerked away. "What are you playing at, Gin?" he asked sharply.

Despite her harsh movements, she just raised her eyebrows lightly. "Hm?" she asked unconcernedly.

That annoyed him even more, and he felt anger begin to bubble in his chest. Why was she acting like this? "Are we not going to talk about last night?"

"What's to talk about?" she asked, just as lightly as before.

He made an incredulous sound. There was no way she didn't remember. She was playing some kind of game, and he was already fucking tired of it. He already had Blaise and his own damn guilt to deal with. He didn't need this too, whatever it was. "Why are you being like this? You were there. We snogged last night. Among other things."

"Oh, is that what happened?" she asked, and now he knew he'd broken through the veneer, because her voice was laced with something vicious. Good. At least now she could tell him what the fuck was wrong with her. "Because," she continued, "I was under the impression that we just got drunk and I, you know, got you off."

That silenced him. He recognized his own words, and realized she'd heard what he'd said earlier, to Blaise. His first instinct was the apologize, to tell her he hadn't meant to sound so…careless about the whole thing. He'd just been frustrated with Blaise, and it had slipped out –

But no, he thought harshly, grinding the apology to a halt. Why should he apologize? He'd already done his fair share of apologizing to Blaise this morning, and he hadn't said anything that wasn't true. They had gotten drunk, and she had gotten him off. If she hadn't wanted him to tell it like it was, she shouldn't have done any of it in the first place, should she?

"Yeah, you're right, that's exactly what happened," he said, his voice an ugly mixture of spite and self-righteousness.

She held his gaze for a long moment, hard brown on icy gray, and he just arched an eyebrow, half-expecting her to fly into a screaming rage. But that wasn't his Ginny, and he ought to have known that. When she was really, truly angry, she –

She let out a cold, mirthless laugh, and he cringed inwardly, though he kept his expression carefully unaffected. "Good," she said, "then there's nothing to talk about, is there?"

She turned to enter the Common Room, but at the last second she whirled back to him, and said in a voice dripping with controlled fury, "You did a shite thing to Blaise. You should have told me he still fancied me."

"It's not my job to run his love life for him," he replied cruelly.

She didn't answer, just shook her head and disappeared through the wall.

Alone in the corridor, he found himself wishing she had flown into a rage. A screaming match would have left him feeling less empty.

He shook himself. She was being irrational, and he was right this time. Maybe once she came to her fucking senses and stopped being so dramatic, they could have a civil conversation.

Two and a half weeks later

"Don't you have Inquisitorial duty in…two minutes?" Flora said, nodding toward the clock.

Ginny followed her gaze and sighed, snapping her book on Quidditch plays shut and depositing it in her bag. "Yeah," she replied, checking to make sure the silver "I" was secured to her lapel.

"Isn't this the third time this week?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah, you have been going an awful lot lately," Bridget observed, looking up from where she was doodling on the inside cover of one of her notebooks. Term was nearly over, and hardly anyone was working anymore. Except the Inquisitorial Squad, Ginny thought wryly, standing and pocketing her wand.

"You know," Bridget continued, grinning cheekily, "if you're having a secret fling or something, you can tell us."

"Especially if it solves the mystery of you and the Sex Gods," Rachel put in.

Ginny snorted. By now, the fact that she, Blaise, and Draco had had some kind of falling out was common knowledge, and the source of much speculation. The absence of the trio from their usual set of sofas and the way they hardly spoke had sparked all kinds of rumors, none of which had gotten the slightest hint of confirmation or denial from any of them.

Ginny had taken to spending her free time with her roommates, which only fueled the gossip, but she didn't care. She couldn't get Draco's cold comments out of her head, and her pride wouldn't let her forgive him. She knew it was unfair to distance herself from Blaise, but he and Draco always seemed to be together, even if they sat tight-lipped and silent, so there wasn't much she could do about that.

"It has nothing to do with Zabini or Malfoy, trust me," she replied finally. "Umbridge is just convinced that the end of term is the most popular time of year for rule-breaking."

"Probably true," Hestia said. "Did you hear what those Hufflepuff Fifth Years did to the Prefect's bathroom on the second floor after their last O.W.L.?"

Ginny didn't wait to find out what prank they'd pulled. She took the stairs up to her dormitory two at a time and tossed her bag in the direction of her bed, then headed back down and out into the dungeons.

She glanced at her watch as she passed the Great Hall. Damn, she was going to be late, and she wasn't in the mood for Parkinson's sneering comments right now.

"Nice of you to join us, Weasley," Pansy said, true to form, when she arrived at their usual meeting place. Crabbe and Goyle were standing off to one side, Bulstrode was pulling her hair back into a high ponytail a few steps away, and Draco and Blaise were leaning against the wall behind.

"Well," Ginny said testily, looking pointedly away from Malfoy, "I'm here now."

The seven of them started through the halls, taking their usual patrol route. Crabbe and Goyle started arguing almost immediately about an engraved Beater's bat that had gone missing during end-of-year packing. They traded clumsy insults for about fifteen minutes, and then Crabbe punched Goyle's arm and Goyle raised his fist to retaliate.

"Will you two stop acting like five-year-olds? Merlin," Draco snapped. He fixed them with a steely glare.

Crabbe grumbled something under his breath, but they fell silent, and after that, no one spoke.

They caught a pair of Hufflepuffs snogging in one of the broom cupboards and a group of giggling First Year Ravenclaws who looked like they were trying to light a painting on fire. Blaise, who seemed to be in as bad a mood as Draco, took a ruthless number of points.

"Merlin, the three of you are in a foul moods, aren't you?" Pansy observed as they rounded the corner into the hall that took them past Umbridge's office. "Whatever happened to break up your little dream team is making this patrol very uncomfortable," she added, her tone suggesting that she actually found the whole situation highly entertaining. "You know," she continued, "you really ought to put the rumors to rest. Some of them are not flattering." She paused, considering, then turned to Ginny. "Particularly to you, Weasley. Just yesterday I heard a Third Year saying that you and Zabini had a –"

She stopped short, turning in the direction of Umbridge's office. They'd all heard it, and they came to a halt in the middle of the corridor: the murmur of a male voice filtering out from beneath Umbridge's office door, quickly muffled by frantic hushes.

Ginny knew immediately that it was Harry. Who else would be stupid and reckless enough to pull something like this? Which of course meant Ron and Hermione were in there with him. Damnit, Harry! She'd told him they patrolled this area constantly!

"Goyle," Pansy was saying, voice low and unabashedly gleeful. Her fingers were already curling around her wand. "Go get Umbridge. We'll wait for you here. And hurry."

Goyle grinned broadly and turned on his heel.

"Wait!" Ginny had spoken before she'd had time to think about it. Pansy arched an eyebrow slowly. "Something you want to say, Weasley?" she challenged, eyes gleaming, just daring her to reply.

She exhaled, mind racing. She couldn't think of a convincing reason not to get Umbridge. Students had obviously broken into the office, and she couldn't very well say that she didn't want Harry Potter to get in trouble. If anything, that would spur the rest of them on. Finally, she shook her head, her fingers clenching into tight fists at her sides.

"That's what I thought," Pansy said superiorly, and Goyle took off down the corridor. "Millicent and Zabini," she whispered, "go check around that corner." She nodded toward the other end of the hall. "I bet they have a lookout."

Umbridge arrived in no time. She rounded the corner into the corridor, her stubby legs working double-time, with her wand already held aloft and her lips broken in a frighteningly wide grin. She giggled softly as she came up to them. "Shall we?" she simpered, and then she aimed her wand at the door and blasted it open.

It was even worse than Ginny had expected.

Harry jerked upright as the door slammed back against the wall – he'd obviously been bent over the fireplace, talking to someone via Floo. Ron and Hermione were standing a foot away from him, and just as Umbridge yelled "Expelliarmus!" and grabbed their wands triumphantly from the air, Bulstrode and Blaise rejoined the group, pushing Neville and Luna before them at wandpoint.

"Well, well, well," Umbridge crowed, "what have we here?" She moved around the room to stand behind her desk, slapping her wand rhythmically against her palm and smiling even more widely than before. She looked from Harry to Ron to Hermione to Neville to Luna and back again. She moistened her lips with her tongue, like a wolf considering its prey, and Ginny cringed, thinking of the scars on the back of Harry's right hand – I must not tell lies. If that's what Umbridge doled out at detention, who knew what she was planning to do to them now….

She met Harry's eyes for a brief second. His expression was guarded, but she thought she could read something in it…. Disappointment?

"So, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said suddenly, and his gaze flicked away.

"It seems your penchant for rule-breaking and your lack of respect for institutionalized authority knows no bounds," she continued. The way she smiled brightly as she spoke made the hairs on the back of Ginny's neck stand on end. "It is clear that you have been using my fireplace to contact individuals outside the castle. I want their names, Mr. Potter. Immediately."

"There's no way in hell he's telling you anything!" Ron burst out.

Umbridge's smile faltered, but only for a moment. "We'll see about that, won't we?" she said, tightening her grip on her wand and giggling breathily. "Well, Mr. Potter?"

Harry didn't even blink. "Like Ron said," he said, his voice full of loathing, "there's no way in hell I'm telling you anything."

This time, Umbridge's grin actually fell to a frown before she was able to recover. "I'm going to give you one last chance," she said. "Tell me who you have been contacting, or I will be forced to resort to more…persuasive means of extracting the information from you."

Harry snorted. "No."

"Fine," she said shortly. She turned to Draco, and now her smile looked painfully forced. "Draco, be a dear and fetch Professor Snape."

For a moment, Ginny thought she was going to ask Snape to perform Occlumency on Harry, but when the professor arrived, she demanded that he dose Harry with Veritaserum.

"Unfortunately, Dolores," Snape said dryly, his expression stony, "you exhausted my supply with your entirely unnecessary use of the entire bottle during previous…interrogations…when a mere three drops would have sufficed. It will take a month to brew more." His lips twisted in the barest hint of a smile. "Shall I start now?"

Umbridge snapped. She yelled obscenities and threats at him as he swept calmly from the room, and when the door closed behind him, she whirled back to Harry, eyes flashing maniacally, and raised her wand. "Well then," she said, "the Cruciatus ought to loosen your tongue."

Ginny's eyes widened in horror, and she heard her own voice and Hermione's yell at the same time, "Wait!"

"Ginny…," Draco said lowly, warningly, but Umbridge didn't seem to have heard her. She turned instead to Hermione and narrowed her eyes.

"That's illegal!" Hermione was saying. "It's an Unforgiveable! You can't use it on a student! The Minister would never –"

"The Minister has a vested interest in discovering who Mr. Potter has been contacting for the –"

"She's right, Professor," Ginny cut in, trying to keep her voice calm. She couldn't afford to sound as hysterical as Hermione did. She needed to sound reasonable…to convince Umbridge….

"Ginny…," Draco said again, but she barreled on.

"The Minister is bound to find out, Professor," she said, "and it would probably invalidate anything he says anyway, so –"

"Mr. Potter and I have had several conversations about the importance of telling the truth," Umbridge said, turning back to Harry, "and I hardly think the Minister will trouble himself over something so trivial as Mr. Potter's comfort." She nearly spat that last, and she raised her wand, flicking it slightly to one side. Her slips curved into one last smile as she hissed, "Cruc –"

And before she quite knew what she was doing, Ginny had raised her wand. "STUPEFY!"

Umbridge flew back against the wall, sending several of her cat plates hurtling to the floor, where they shattered into dozens of pieces. "What are you doing, Weasley!" Bulstrode yelled, rushing to Umbridge's side.

"You little –" Pansy sneered, turning on Ginny and raising her wand. But Ginny was ready, and adrenaline was pumping through her, quickening her reflexes.

"Expelliarmus!" She caught Pansy's wand in mid-air.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Draco and Blaise were unmoving, their expressions frozen in shock. Or maybe it was indecision. She couldn't tell. And she didn't have time to figure it out, because Crabbe's fingers were tightening around his own wand, and she met his eyes warningly, not looking away as she spoke. "Harry?"

"Yeah?" he said, sounding like he couldn't quite believe what was happening.

"Get your wands and go. Right now."

"Come on," he said, and she heard them move to Umbridge's prone body and grab their wands over Bulstrode's protests.

As they crossed the room, Harry squeezed her shoulder. "Thanks," he said, and then raced away.

Several hours later

Ginny knew as soon as the terrified-looking First Year came up to the dormitory to tell her that Harry was out in the dungeons that something was terribly wrong.

After Harry and the rest of them had gone, she'd left Umbridge's office without a backward glance, knowing that when Pansy and the others brought the Headmistress to the Hospital Wing, Madame Pomfrey would hardly be tripping over herself to revive her. Umbridge was despised, which probably meant that Ginny wouldn't have to face the consequences of her actions until tomorrow morning at the earliest.

She'd ensconced herself in her four-poster, casting the strongest anti-intrusion charms she could think of and sitting in the dark. She'd known that trying to sleep was useless, so she'd just sat there, wondering where in the world this left her.

All of Pansy's suspicions about her were confirmed, and she knew that the other girl would waste no time telling the tale to every Slytherin who would listen. She'd defended Harry Potter outright and with her wand. Did that make her a traitor? On the other hand, few Slytherins actually respected Umbridge enough to care whether or not someone hexed her. Ginny's reputation was balanced on a knife's edge, and right now she had no way of knowing which way it would tip.

Now she followed the First Year down the stairs, then crossed the Common Room and passed into the dungeons.

And was immediately pushed bodily against the wall, her back flattening against the cold stone. She already had her wand out of her back pocket before she realized that it was Harry above her.

"What the fuck are you doing, Potter?" she asked, shoving him away from her.

"DID YOU KNOW?" he yelled, and the volume of his voice shocked her. She met his eyes and saw that they were flashing with rage. And beneath the rage – grief. Her stomach dropped. "You were living with them! Did you know?" he demanded again.

"Know what?" she whispered, afraid of the answer.

"That they would be there, waiting?"

"What?"

"That it was a bloody trap?"

"Harry, I have no idea what you're talking about!" she retorted, frustrated.

"That Lucius bloody Malfoy and half a dozen other Death Eaters were waiting for us at the Department of Mysteries?"

"The Department of Mysteries? You went to the –"

He stumbled back against the opposite wall, then slid to the ground and buried his face in his hands, heaving and gasping for air like he was suddenly choking. "They killed Sirius," he managed to say, and she felt her chest tighten. She didn't know the details, but she knew that Sirius Black had been Harry's godfather, that they had been close. And she remembered the tattered man who had come to Harry's side after the Third Task, who had promised to round up the Order of the Phoenix after Cedric's death. And it clicked. That was who Harry had been trying to contact through Umbridge's grate, and that was why Harry had refused to reveal his name – because Sirius was a fugitive. But the Department of Mysteries…? She shook herself and sank down beside him.

"I didn't know, Harry," she murmured. "I didn't know. I didn't know…."

She kept saying it, over and over, but he didn't respond. There were no tears on his face, but he couldn't seem to catch his breath. He just kept heaving with dry sobs, and that was almost more painful to watch.

"I didn't know," she whispered. "I didn't know."

Half an hour later, Harry gathered himself up and went back to Gryffindor Tower. Ginny sat there on the cold stones for several more minutes, staring at the opposite wall and thinking inexplicably not of Sirius Black but of Cedric.

Finally, she straightened, joints aching from staying in the same position for so long, and started back toward the Common Room.

"Ginny." She jumped back, heart pounding, when Draco stepped into her path.

He was standing right in front of her, so she couldn't push past him. She settled on meeting his eyes. "Eavesdropping still a hobby, I see," she said derisively.

"You can't stay with me this summer," he replied flatly, and it sounded almost dismissive.

The statement was so sudden, so unexpected, that it almost knocked the air out of her. She knew he was just as angry with her as she was with him, but she hadn't expected him to be so cold as to leave her with no where to go.

She recovered herself and sneered. "You're a fucking arse, you know that?"

"That may be," he replied icily, "But my house isn't safe. My mother wrote to say that Bellatrix and Rodolphus will be staying with us from now on. And my father will be in prison. There was a battle - at the Department of Mysteries." He paused, his expression twisting strangely. "But you already know that."

She didn't know what to say. She fumbled for a retort or words of comfort or something, but he continued before she could reply. "You'll stay with Zabini. It's settled."

And then he turned and disappeared back into the Common Room, leaving her all alone in the dull green glow of the empty dungeon corridor.

Author's Note: I know, I know. Could they have reacted any less maturely to what happened between them? Probably not. But they're young, and they've still got a long way to go.

On a different note: I uploaded the first chapter of a new DG story I'm writing about two weeks ago – it's called The One Night Stand That Wasn't. It's fun and light and not angsty in the least, and I would love if you checked it out!

And finally, please review, even if it's just a few words. For some reason, this chapter was extremely difficult to write and took me ages to get out. Your thoughts would really help me get inspired for the next one.