A Butterfly Effect

by SlyGoddess

A simple choice: today or tomorrow? Conceived a day earlier, a heroine, not a hero, is born. With every step, with every waking breath, Harriet Lily Potter rewrites history. But is the world truly ready to be rewritten? Does Ginny Weasley fully comprehend what it might mean to befriend this lonely, love-starved girl? - Femslash&Het - H/G main - Full summary inside -BACK FROM HIATUS

25. Chapter 22: Twelve Turns to the Left

The previous chapter continued!

I meant to have this out quickly, but I kept getting frustrated with it.

Chapter 22: Twelve Turns to the Left

You can't own me, but you can use me. You can't keep me, but you can spend me. Once you've lost me, you can never get me back.

What am I?

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"So… you're going to leave?" asked Aberforth angrily. "You're going to abandon Ariana simply because he wants you to help him search for some wand? We need you here! I can't take care of her on my own!"

The blonde stepped between them, leveling his wand at Aberforth's face. "Your insolence is astounding. Albus and I are going to change the world! We'll find the Hallows and rise above the oppression der machtlosen, elevating wizardkind to its rightful place! Ariana won't have to be shut away in the new order that we create. Her power, however unstable, will be revered! All that we do is for the Greater Good and I'll not let anyone stand in our way!"

"The two of you will cease this prattering at once," commanded Albus, hugging a crying Ariana to his side. "It is my choice… and I shall make it as I see fit."

"Choice?" hissed Gellert, spinning towards him with a murderous glint in his eye. "Du hast keine Wahl! Two years we have been planning, Albus! I will not let you throw away our glorious future!"

Ariana ran to Gellert and threw her arms around the boy's waist. "Don't go, Gelly! I don't want you and Alby to leave! Stay!"

"Lass mich!" spat the blonde, pushing Ariana away from him.

Albus moaned in dismay as his sister stumbled over her own feet and fell to the ground, lightly bumping her head on the wall. Ariana curled into a ball, flinching as if invisible fists were striking her from head to toe. When he reached down to comfort her, she let out an ear-splitting, heart-wrenching shriek of anguish and the windows of their house exploded outward in a shower of glass.

Roaring his fury, Aberforth lunged at Gellert, sending them both careening into the dining room table.

"LOOK WHAT YOU DID, YOU SODDING NANCY!" screamed his brother, pummeling every inch of the blonde that he could reach. "SHE WAS GETTING BETTER! SHE HADN'T HAD AN EPISODE IN MONTHS!"

"That is enough!" cried Albus, flicking his wand, causing the two scuffling boys to separate and zoom to opposite sides of the room. "Gellert, please… just go. You're only making things worse. I need to deal with this. I'll send word soon."

Gellert's bright blue eyes widened and then narrowed. "You will not choose them over me. We made a pact. Do you need reminding?"

The boy raised his wand.

Albus calmly swatted away the bolt of orange light that shot towards him and readied himself for yet another bout of dealing with Gellert's short temper.

Unfortunately, the rebounding spell slammed directly into Aberforth's shoulder.

His brother screamed in agony as his arm was dislocated. Eyes flashing with anger and pain, Aberforth returned fire, not at Gellert, but at Albus himself.

Chaos ensued.

Spells flew in every direction, ripping the house to shreds.

And then…

Albus awoke with a shuddering gasp and quickly flipped the hourglass, losing himself in pleasant memory before the image of his sister's unseeing eyes could fully take shape.

"Still having that dream, are you?" asked a familiar voice.

"It's always the same," breathed Albus wearily, gaze darting around the darkened cabin. "Always more vivid than my actual memory."

"Dreams always are, boy."

Groaning tiredly, he tried to sit up, but his muscles seemed unwilling to respond. "I take it you won our duel?"

Nicolas walked around the couch upon which Albus had been laid and fell into an armchair beside the crackling fire. "If having your opponent collapse from fatigue can be considered winning… then yes, I won. You put up a rather marvelous fight. I particularly enjoyed the flock of enraged songbirds; beautiful, yet fearsome. Perenelle spent hours healing my pecked skin. That said… I do expect you to honor our agreement."

"You really won't tell me?" wheezed Albus, finding it hard to breathe. "So much is at stake."

"When the time comes for you to know, you will know," replied the white-haired man sagely. "When the Elixir of Life first touched my lips, I had a vision; a vision of what I had to become. I was chosen for this, Albus. It is my responsibility to watch over the locked doors, for I was the man who locked them."

Bustling into the small living room, Perenelle knelt at Albus' side and tipped a blue potion into his mouth.

Bit-by-bit, feeling returned to his body and a modicum of mobility stirred in his limbs. With the kindhearted woman's aid, he was able to drag himself into an upright position.

"Thank you, Perenelle. You are still the most gifted potion maker I have ever had the pleasure to meet."

"You're quite lucky Nico brought you back to me in time," she said softly, sponging his brow with a wet cloth. "Your heart failed, Alby. I never would have let you go out into that storm had I known you were on the verge of exhaustion."

Albus smiled at her. "I'm afraid that nothing you could have said or done would have prevented me. I'm quite stubborn."

Chuckling wryly, the white-haired beauty patted his cheek and sauntered back into the palm-thatched kitchen.

"Most remarkable," he mumbled. "Seven decades later and she hasn't changed at all."

Nicolas nodded appreciatively at his wife. "Yes, although… one tends to stop changing after the first millennia."

As the night and storm wore on, Albus slowly regained the ability to stand. His limbs creaking and groaning from the effort, he was able to haltingly move about the cabin for short periods of time.

"You know…" mused Nicolas wistfully. "I've never quite gotten accustomed to seeing you as an old man. You hide your age so well. It seems like only yesterday that your hair was as red as blood and you were begging me to take you as an apprentice of the Circles."

Albus opened his mouth to reply, but when the flames within the fireplace suddenly began to crackle and flare high above the mantle, he lost his train of thought.

With a small pop, a tiny ball of red and gold feathers shot out of the fire and tumbled across the carpet, coughing out soot.

"I see you've been into my candies again, Fawkes," said Albus sternly. "Your sweet tooth knows no bounds."

Fawkes peered up at him dubiously, as if to say, 'I don't have any idea what you're talking about, you barmy old coot.'

Albus scooped up the newborn phoenix and stroked the single plume that rose from its head. "That won't work on me anymore, old friend. This is the sixth time. You can't expect me to believe that you still don't know that you're deathly allergic to Ice Mice."

Fawkes trilled with indifference and nipped his finger urgently.

"Whatever is the matter with you? You've never been this excitable after a burning."

The scarlet chick ruffled its downy feathers, scattering ash all over his' hands. With three quick strokes of his talons, Fawkes drew a small shape in the black residue.

Albus felt the blood drain from his face.

In the middle of his palm... there sat a lightning bolt.

Harry.

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The black-haired girl leaned away from the redhead that was currently trying to clamber into her lap.

"Gin… stop. People are staring."

"So?" muttered Ginny. "I don't care about them."

Ron moaned his exasperation. "Ginny! Let Harry eat in peace! Today's match isn't just for the cup! It'll decide which team gets to represent Hogwarts in the summer tournament! Do you know what the prize for that tournament is? Quidditch World Cup tickets for the entire family of every winning team member! FREE! FOR LIFE! Even the teams that lose get tickets to this year's Cup just for participating!"

"Your point is?" asked the girl.

Ron brandished his spoon threateningly. "My point is… bugger off! This is a bloody important match and Harry needs her strength!"

Ginny slung an arm around her sibling's shoulders. "And why aren't you concerned about me, brother dear? I'm on the team too."

Ron snickered into his porridge. "Yeah, well… s'not like you're going to get a chance to actually play. Two Chasers have to go down before the reserve comes in. And even if you do get to play, you'll only get to field until Pomfrey fixes up the injured players. You're a space-holder."

"And you're an arse," said the freckled girl, shoving him roughly. "Harry… you don't think I'm a space-holder, do you?"

"Of course not," replied Harry expressionlessly. "I… The team needs you."

Hermione raised her book higher to shield her scowl from the rest of the breakfast table. For the first time in her life, she didn't want to have anything to do with her friends. The three of them were so… infuriating. Even their more normal conversations reflected their ridiculous behavior.

While Ginny had been going out of her way to be overly friendly with Harry, hanging off the girl at every possible moment, Harry had been going out of her way to avoid being overly friendly with Ginny, shying away from their seemingly innate ability to shower the other with affection. And Ron… well, Ron had been going out of his way to remain completely oblivious to anything remotely dramatic happening between the four of them.

To Hermione's eyes, it was quite obvious… yet no one else apart from herself seemed to be able to see that Harry and Ginny were in love. She had always suspected… but she had never quite been sure until now. In the two months since Harry had shared with her the secret desires she harbored, seeing the two girls interact with each other was like watching puzzle pieces falling neatly into place. The inner workings of their complex, codependent relationship suddenly began to make sense.

They were obsessed with each other really; almost unhealthily so. Ginny's clear-cut abandonment issues were spurred onwards by Harry's clingy personality, while the black-haired girl's desire for love was in turn fueled by the obscene amount of affection that Ginny smothered her with due to the fear that Harry would abandon her. It was a vicious circle of dependency that would likely never break.

And thus, Hermione didn't understand how their actions could continue to defy logic day after day. The solution to all of their problems was right in from of them, yet they refused to see the light.

Ginny was fiercely convinced that she wasn't attracted to Harry, yet that clearly wasn't the case. Her amber gaze was almost always glued upon the black-haired girl… especially after pointedly turning the conversation to Michael Corner. It seemed to Hermione that the redhead didn't know or care very much about her boyfriend at all. Whenever she spoke of him, it was always detailed descriptions about the physical aspects of their relationship. It was like she was simply trying to get a rise out of Harry through jealousy and sex appeal.

To Hermione's chagrin, Harry refused to take action. She refused to make advances on the person she so desperately wanted. She had told Hermione over and over that if Ginny wanted to be with her, then the redhead would have to be the one to initiate intimacy, because Harry would 'never be able to let go if she let herself believe that Ginny wanted her, even when she really didn't.'

It was utter nonsense.

What upset her most about the entire ordeal was the way Harry clung to Ron when she was clearly arse-over-elbow for his sister. Hermione knew that Ron and Harry could be happy together. They loved each other. They did. But she had a feeling that if Ginny suddenly decided she wanted Harry, the black-haired girl would likely be able to cast aside her feelings for the boy.

And that was wrong.

Ron was funny, and loving, and handsome… he was everything Hermione wanted. His smile made her dizzy. His gaze made her heart throb. She was willing to give anything to have him. It simply wouldn't be fair if he were to become Harriet Potter's consolation prize.

Of course, Ron himself was another problem. To Hermione's frustration, his idea of 'letting things happen' seemed to consist of avoiding said 'things' entirely. Every time an opportunity arose to show Hermione real affection, he shied from it awkwardly.

The noisy arrival of the morning post jolted her from her thoughts. She was delighted to see the school owl she had sent to her parents soaring towards her with a return letter in its beak.

Hermione fed the tawny some bacon, stroked its feathers, and untied the neatly-sealed envelope.

Dear Hermione,

Yes, of course. You can stay with them as long as you'd like. The Weasleys are wonderful people. While we would love to have some extra time with you, we know we can't keep you to ourselves all summer long.

How are your classes coming along? I'm so happy you're keeping busy and not letting your interest in a certain young man hinder your studies. Yes… your mother told me. As much as I liked the boy when he came to visit, he seemed a bit… lackadaisical.

All the love in the world,

Dad

"Lackadaisical? What does that mean? It doesn't seem good."

Hermione jumped.

Ron had been reading over her shoulder.

"Why did you- That was… This was private! It was none of your business!"

Ron smiled nervously. "But… it was about me though, wasn't it?"

Swelling with indignant fury, Hermione rolled up the Daily Prophet that had landed in front of her and proceeded to fiercely beat the boy about the head with her makeshift bludgeoning stick.

"You are the most inconsiderate arse I have ever met, Ronald Weasley!"

"OUCH!" cried the redhead. "Oi! I'm sorry alright?"

"Mione?"

"Sorry isn't good enough!" shouted Hermione, landing a particularly fierce wallop. "There is no apology that can excuse you from reading someone else's personal correspondence without their permission!"

"Mione?"

"I can't believe you, Ron! How would you like it if I read the letters from your mother?"

"But… you do the read the letters from my mother!" protested Ron weakly, shielding his head from the newspaper.

"Yes! But only because you give them to me after I ask you what she's written about! You were perfectly in your rights to refuse!"

"HERMIONE?"

"WHAT, HARRY?" she spat lividly, spinning to face the girl. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

Seemingly undisturbed by both Hermione's rage and the disciplinary beating of Ron, Harry held up a folded bit of parchment and asked calmly, "Did you send me this? Circe just delivered it."

Hermione eyed the unfamiliar parchment. She was slightly dumbfounded by the ridiculousness of the question. "Of course I didn't send it to you, Harry. Why would I need to send you a letter? You're right here."

"I have no idea," supplied Harry. "But… it's definitely your handwriting… and our secrecy runes are scribbled in the corner. All it says is 'Midnight; twelve turns to the left.' What does that mean?"

Hermione froze, her heart catching in her throat as her mind began to whirl.

Oh no…

Did I…

I couldn't have.

But…

Oh my God…

I did.

Harry held out the parchment. "Here, look."

Hermione shrieked and slapped the girl's hand away. "Don't show it to me! I… I have to go! Don't follow me! And… And burn that letter!"

Running for both her life and the lives of everyone else in the castle, Hermione bolted back to Gryffindor Tower to lock herself securely in her room.

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"What the bloody hell was that?" grumbled Ron, rubbing his head as Hermione sprinted out of the Great Hall. "Mad as a bat, she is."

Harry frowned at the letter in her hands. It was definitely from Hermione; all the ends of the 'T's had the girl's familiar swoosh, which Harry had never seen anyone else use.

"Midnight," murmured Ginny, slipping her arm around Harry's waist. "That's a bit vague, isn't it? Midnight when? Where? And what are you supposed to be turning?"

"Dunno," answered Harry stiffly, trying not to enjoy the way Ginny fingers had slid between the hems of her jumper and skirt. "Hermione seemed to know. She looked a bit scared, didn't she? It must be important, because she told us to burn it."

Ron sat up straight. "Well, burn it and let's go! It's almost time for the match!"

Harry grinned, put the parchment on her cleaned plate, and lit the tip with a muttered "Incendio."

The only time she could completely forget about her problems, namely Ginny, was during Quidditch. The rush of the game simply didn't allow room for any thought pertaining to regular life.

"I don't understand how you can be so excited, Ron," said Ginny as they exited the dining hall. "You're just going to be sitting in the rain. You probably won't even be able to see the pitch."

Ron shrugged. "Doesn't bother me. Lee's a great commentator. Listening to him argue with McGonagall is almost as entertaining as the matches."

"A part of me wishes I could watch from the stands too," mumbled Harry, using Ron's broad body to shield herself from the downpour of rain as they trudged out of the castle. "This weather is awful. Spotting the snitch is going to be bloody impossible."

Jumping onto Harry's back, Ginny said cheerily, "Well, if you can't spot it, then neither will Malfoy."

Harry shivered as Ginny casually gripped her breast in an effort to better hold on to her. It didn't take a genius to figure out what the redhead was doing; she had been doing it for two months after all.

They parted ways with Ron outside the locker room. As soon as the boy was safely out of earshot, Harry dropped Ginny unceremoniously and whirled around, flinging raindrops in every direction.

"You're being ridiculous! Stop it! I mean it!"

Ginny pulled back her sopping wet hair, folded her arms, and stared at Harry defiantly.

"No thanks."

"No thanks?" scoffed Harry angrily. "This is the last time I'm going to say it. You're going to stop this here and now."

"I bloody well won't," hissed Ginny, losing her calm. "I hate the way you're acting! I hate this fake persona you've adopted! If I wanted a best friend that was stiff and unfeeling, I'd go spend time with Pansy Parkinson. I want my Harry!"

Harry shoved her… hard. "You know that I need to deal with this!"

Ginny shoved right back. "Well, I'm not going to let you if it turns you into a frigid cunt!

Something snapped in Harry's brain and she quite literally saw red.

Voldemort's claws sank into her anger, suffocating her with his poisonous rage.

Even though she was considerably more adept at managing her negative emotions with four months of Occlumency under her belt, she still occasionally lost control... almost periodically. It was akin to an over-inflated balloon popping from too much pressure.

This was one of those times.

Harry dove at her best friend, wanting nothing more than to pummel the girl into a pulp.

Ginny, however, was ready for her. She dodged sideways, looped an arm around Harry's neck, and promptly trapped her in a headlock.

"Calm down," hushed the redhead, dragging her through the mud into the dark enclosure beneath the stands. "Listen to my heart, Harry."

Harry clawed, punched, and bit at every inch of Ginny she could reach… but… eventually, with the steady thrumming of a strong, clear pulse pounding against her ear, her anger began to dissipate and the claws faded away.

"Better?" whispered Ginny, slowly releasing her from the chokehold. "Is he gone?"

Harry nodded morosely, rubbing at her bruised neck. "Yeah. That really hurt, Gin."

"I didn't mean to," mumbled the girl guiltily. "Having six brothers has taught me a bit too much about headlocks."

"A bit?" asked Harry, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice. "I reckon you could give Dudley a run for his money."

"I'm sorry. I was angry. I still am. Your idea of spending time apart is lousy. You're pushing me away and I hate it. I hate it, Harry! It feels like I'm losing you again, but instead of being locked away in a cell, you've been locked away inside your own body."

"But… what else can I do?" she whispered. "I don't know how to stop wanting you."

"Then don't," pleaded Ginny, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling her close. "I just… I want you to want me. I know that's awful, but I can't help it. It makes me feel so… warm… and… and happy."

With a resigned sigh, Harry leaned into the girl's soft chest. "That's not fair. It's not fair and you know it. You have Michael and I-"

"Michael broke up with me yesterday morning."

Harry stiffened. "W-What?"

Ginny shrugged. "He said I wasn't paying attention to him. I was miffed all day, but when he still waved at me during Dinner, I realized that he was right. I just don't find him that interesting and he's far too nice to deserve that. So… I'm not really upset."

"That doesn't change anything," she muttered obstinately, trying to absorb the sudden revelation that Ginny was no longer in a relationship with Mr. Floppy-Hair. "You still can't expect me to pine after you while you parade a string of boyfriends in front of my face."

Before Ginny could reply, someone from inside the locker rooms shouted, "WHERE THE HELL ARE POTTER AND WEASLEY?"

"Come on," mumbled Harry. "We'll finish this later."

The redhead nodded tersely. "Count on it."

Putting their argument on hold, they marched into the changing room. To say that Oliver was flipping his lid was a severe understatement. It almost looked like he was attacking the chalkboard as he rapidly covered every bit of its surface with a jumble of intricate, overlapping diagrams.

"You two! Where the bloody- no… never mind! Get changed! The game starts in ten and we need to go over the poor-weather tactics!"

Ginny gave the boy a rigid salute and yanked Harry into the girl's lockers.

Try as she might to avoid watching her friend strip, Harry's gaze kept finding its way back to Ginny's wet body. The water droplets from the redhead's hair were streaming down her freckled curves in long, glistening trails.

Harry couldn't stop herself from comparing the sight to one of Florean Fortescue's strawberry and peanut-butter sundaes; Ginny's freckled skin was the mismatched ice-cream, the water was the melted chocolate dripping down the sides, and her shiny hair was the cherry-on-top.

"See something you like?" asked the redhead cheekily, unbuckling the clasp of her bra.

"Sorry," muttered Harry bleakly, averting her eyes.

Ginny wriggled into her jersey, straddled the bench, and glared at Harry angrily. "Why are you apologizing? My Harry wouldn't have apologized. My Harry would have blushed furiously and commanded that I change faster, but she would have watched all she liked."

Harry grumbled bitterly, snapped on her boots, and moved to rejoin the team in the adjacent room, but Ginny dove on her and wrapped her in a monstrous hug. Although this particular embrace was physically no different than the vast number of those that came before it, this one simply felt more… intimate.

"What is this for?" asked Harry breathlessly. "I thought you were mad."

"I am mad," whispered Ginny, placing a lingering kiss on Harry's cheek that tingled long after her lips had left it. "I'm beyond mad… but I still love you. I hate fighting, Harry. Please stop this."

"How can I? How can you expect me to? Come on, they're waiting for us."

"No," mumbled the redhead, pushing her up against the lockers, "not yet. I want you to be you! I hate watching you slip away from me! You're… You're everything to me, Harry."

"Not everything," she said softly. "Not what I want to be."

Ginny touched her forehead to Harry's. "You're so sure that someday you're going to somehow become less important to me. But… for you to become second rate in my eyes, I'd need to find someone I care about more than I care about you. I don't think that could ever happen, Harry. Not after everything we've been through together." The girl cupped Harry's cheek. "No one can replace you."

"Then why don't you want me, Gin?" cried Harry as the inhibitions she had worked so hard to put up crashed down around her under Ginny's touch. She wrapped her arms behind the girl's neck for support as her legs trembled precariously. "What if… What if I cut my hair? What if I made myself look like a boy?"

Ginny tensed and her amber eyes became very round, but after a moment's pause, she fiercely shook her head. "I don't want you to pretend to be someone you're not. That's what you're doing now. I just want my Harry back. I just want you to… I… I want…"

But what Ginny wanted Harry never found out.

"Oi! You two! What's taking so l-"

As Katie came around the corner, the redhead sprang away from Harry's body like a frightened cat, her ears rapidly turning redder than her hair.

A coy grin spread across Katie's face as her gaze flicked back and forth between them. "Right. Well, there'll be plenty of time for… celebrating… after the match. Come on. Ollie's about to have an aneurysm."

Without looking at either of them, Ginny quickly followed the girl from the room.

Given that it was his last official game at Hogwarts, Wood's pre-game pep-talk was even more ridiculously impassioned than usual. With a grandiose finale chock-full of shouting and exclamation, he announced that McGonagall had appointed Angelina as next year's captain and then marched them out towards the pitch.

Harry paused beneath the scarlet curtain, noticing that Ginny had remained behind.

The freckled girl was staring blankly at the wall, as if she had just been made privy to a rather shocking revelation.

"Gin? Are you coming?"

"In... In a moment," whispered the redhead haltingly. "J-Just feeling a bit queasy. It's an important match. I might actually have to play."

Harry nodded and left the tent. It was obvious that she was being lied to, but she didn't have time to get Ginny to tell the truth. The game was starting.

"Merlin's fucking balls…" muttered Draco bad-temperedly as Harry took her place beside him on the pitch, "I detest rain. Fifty galleons to whoever spots the snitch first in this shite."

Harry mounted her broom. "Well, that's fifty galleons in my pocket then, yeah?"

"You wish," drawled the blonde quietly. "I need to talk to you after the match. It's important. Meet me at the usual spot… and do bring the galleons you'll owe me."

"I'll be there… but no tricks," warned Harry, watching Madam Hooch release the snitch and toss the quaffle into the air. "Swear it."

The boy smirked and made an 'x' across his chest, just like Harry had done the day they first met.

"Cross my heart."

Lightning flashed. The shrill sound of Hooch's whistle could barely be heard over the rolling boom of accompanying thunder.

Harry kicked off the ground hard, using Draco's bent knee as a foothold that allowed her to instantly break through the formation of the Slytherin Chasers, thus gaining possession for Gryffindor.

She had long ago learned that Marcus Flint was a lost cause when it came to crafting strategy. His plan was always the same: take out the Seeker. Unfortunately for Slytherin, it never worked. Harry rode astride the fastest broom ever made and she was far too accustomed to pain to let a few broken bones stop her from flying. After the first twenty minutes of unsuccessful attempts to physically injure her, Derrick and Bole gave up and returned to their tennis match with Fred and George, leaving Harry free to search for the snitch. The rain, however, made finding the golden ball virtually impossible. Water pounded down around Harry with such fury that she could only see thirty feet in any given direction.

Forty minutes into the game, Harry heard the Gryffindor stands collectively gasp and groan.

Hooch's whistle blew and Oliver called a timeout.

Wearily landing in the mud, Harry trooped over to the large circle of players that had gathered near the Slytherin goalposts and squeezed her way to the front of the crowd.

The sight that lay before her wasn't a pretty one. Madam Pomfrey was quickly waving her wand over the prone forms of Alicia and Angelina. The tall, dark-skinned girl was bleeding profusely from a large gash on her forehead while Alicia's legs were twisted at the most gruesome angle Harry had ever seen. Broken bones were visibly sticking out of her skin.

"You bastard!" shouted Fred, who was being physically restrained by his twin while attempting to lunge at the hulking form of Adrian Pucey. "You could have killed her!"

"Calm down, Weasley," snarled the boy. "Johnson can take a hit. She doesn't need her lover-boy defending her honor."

To a nearly-crying Katie, Harry asked gently, "What happened? I couldn't see. It's like staring into soup up there."

"Pucey kicked Ange in the head," answered the older girl, trying and failing to not look at the vast amount of blood that covered Alicia's lower body. "She spiraled right into Alicia and they both hit the goalpost at top speed. Hooch managed to levitate Angelina… but… but Alicia she… she hit the ground. Oh Merlin… I'm… I'm going to be sick."

Harry made no effort to stop the girl from running off.

"They've both lost a large amount of blood and Miss Spinnet has gone into shock," announced Madam Pomfrey to a dismayed Wood after several minutes of mending bones and flesh. "I'm sorry… but they'll need quite a bit of work."

"No!" cried Oliver miserably. "Our reserve Chaser has bloody disappeared!"

Somewhat startled, Harry searched the faces of the crowd.

Wood was right.

Ginny was nowhere to be seen.

Stripping off her right bracer, Harry rolled up her sleeve and held out her arm.

The tip of her quill charm wasn't pointed towards the locker rooms or stands, but towards Hagrid's hut. Her eyes darted quickly to the teacher's booth. She was intensely relieved when she saw that Hagrid's massive form was decidedly absent.

Well, I'm glad you're with someone and not sulking… but… blimey… Is the thought of Katie assuming that we were kissing REALLY upsetting enough to make you run away from the most important Quidditch match we've ever had?

"It's alright, Ollie," muttered Harry as she snapped her equipment back into place, feeling somewhat bitter that Ginny found the idea of a simple kiss so disturbing. "We don't need her."

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The black-haired girl smiled innocently at him as she dutifully handed over the galleons. "A small price to pay for my obligatory World Cup ticket."

"Don't look so pleased with yourself," drawled Draco, pocketing his winnings. "I would have caught it if I were riding a Firebolt as well. I had a five second lead on that dive."

"You slowed down and then pulled up too early," said Harry lightly, walking over to examine the massive scorch mark that she had burned into the wall of the trophy room the previous year. "I still would have reached it first if I had been on a Nimbus."

"Well… do excuse me for not wanting to crash into the ground and break a rib."

"Five ribs," corrected the girl proudly, stroking the blackened stone. "And that's why you're never going to be able to beat me... no matter what broom I'm riding. I sacrificed my body to do what needed to be done. Professor Babbling told me that sometimes unexpected choices have to be made in the heat of the moment; that things don't always go as planned when you're fighting a war. That's what Quidditch is; it's a war."

He sidled up behind her. "You're mad. It's just a game."

Harry shook her head. "Not to me. I don't really know why I take it so seriously. Maybe it's because I know my Dad is watching every game. Or maybe it's because it makes me feel free, never to be trapped in a cupboard again. Or… Or maybe it's because she said I'd make a great Seeker."

"Who?"

Harry shrugged and pulled her still slightly-wet hair into a messy bun. "Don't mind me… I'm rambling."

The scent of fresh pine wafted past his nose as the girl tried to straighten the mess of strands atop her head. Draco bit his lip. His hands itched to run down her sides. Now that she was a healthy weight, the magnificent bum that had taken shape at the end of the previous year had returned to its former, shapely glory. Even though the majority of Slytherin males hated her with a passion, there wasn't a one among them that wouldn't admit Harriet Potter had a fantastic arse; the one thing that Pansy lacked.

Draco so wished he could have them both. Even their bodies were two sides of the same coin; a coin that belonged to him.

Harry had the form of a natural athlete; she was nothing special chest-wise, but her legs and backside were like works of art. She was smooth, firm, and lean, yet soft in all the right places. Pansy on the other hand was the epitome of idealized femininity. She was delicate, soft all over, top-heavy, and barely had any muscle tone. The only exercise his wife-to-be ever participated in was walking through the halls.

They were exact opposites, yet equal in beauty and appeal. They were so different, but so alike.

And… he loved them; both of them.

Draco's arm twitched forward.

Harry whirled around so fast that the hair she had just fixed into a bun flew out of its tie. She whipped out her wand, her eyes flashing dangerously, yet twinkling at the same time.

The wandtip found his groin.

"I'll say this once, Draco. If you ever touch me like that without my permission, you'll be losing this in the most painful way I can think of. I'm not your plaything and I'm certainly not your girlfriend."

Draco groaned. "You were reading my mind?"

"Of course I was. Even though I trust you, don't assume that I'm going to let my guard down when we're alone. You have too many ties to the people that would love to see me dead."

"You… trust me?" asked Draco slowly, not quite able to believe what he was hearing. "Why?"

Harry smiled and lowered her wand. "Well… I suppose it's because you willingly saved Ginny. You're a good person on the inside, but a nasty bastard on the outside. Unlike a certain Hogwarts professor who fits that description, you're kind to me and you're trying to change. Isn't that reason enough to trust you? Are you saying I shouldn't?"

"N-No," he stuttered. "It's fine. I was just a bit surprised."

The girl nodded. "Alright then. What did you want to talk to me about?"

For a brief moment, as he stared into her bright, emerald eyes, he couldn't remember what it was he needed to tell her.

That green... I know what it is… and now I wish I didn't. Killing curse green shouldn't be so… attractive.

"Oi," said Harry, poking him in the chest with her wand. "There's a party in the Gryffindor common room and you're making me late. I need to tell Ginny that she's going to the World Cup… if she's back from Hagrid's that is. I can't believe she ran out like that. She might not even want to talk to me. She might even-"

"I'm afraid that will have to wait," interrupted Draco, having no desire to listen to the girl blather on about the Weaslette. "I'm here to relay the request of one Mr. Blaise Zabini. He wishes to take you up on your offer before he transfers to Durmstrang. You haven't forgotten, have you?"

Harry's expression turned stony. "No, I haven't… but I hoped maybe he had."

Draco casually leaned against a large suit of armor. "You killed his father… well… stepfather, but the only father he's ever known. You put Blaise's immediate family into the poorhouse. His mother can't get a job… so she'll have to remarry into a family with the money to support five children… and who knows if she'll be able to pull it off. She's not quite the looker she used to be. Basically, Harry, you ruined his life. People tend to remember things like that."

"I didn't ruin his life," said the girl quietly. "Voldemort did."

"Technicalities," he drawled. "Blaise is a Slytherin. He thinks like a Slytherin. That mad bit inside you is, no pun intended, just a devil in the details. The spell came from your wand and thus, in his eyes, you're at fault."

Her teeth visibly clenching, she turned away from him and mumbled bitterly, "I know I am. Is that all?"

"He's waiting in the forest as we speak and he'll meet you on the main trail. He says to come alone and come immediately just like you promised you would. If you don't, unpleasant things will soon be happening to those you hold dear and I'm relatively sure that he's not making empty threats. However, if you go, he'll likely not have his people harm them. He's a bastard, but an honorable bastard. It's your choice."

Harry chuckled hollowly and black sparks shot out of her wandtip, marring the stone floor. "So… trap?"

"Trap," agreed Draco. "I wish I could tell you what Blaise has lined up for you, but unfortunately, I really don't know. I tried to glean a bit more when I first heard that he was calling in shady favors to all of the people that owed his father, but my usual sources of information came up dry."

Harry sighed and withdrew her invisibility cloak from a seemingly bottomless pocket. "Well, thanks for trying, I suppose. I assume there's no point in going to Dumbledore?"

Draco shook his head. "He's gone off somewhere; out of the castle. I wouldn't tell a teacher either if you're set on going. They'll try to interfere and Blaise will likely follow through with his blackmail plan."

"So, I'm on my own then, am I? That's just great."

Draco grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. "You're not on your own… because I'm coming with you."

Harry's stunned look was almost comical as he peeled her fingers off the invisibility cloak and slung it around his shoulders.

"Cat got your tongue?" asked Draco, using his thumb to close her open mouth.

The girl shook her head. "You don't… You don't have to do that for me, Draco."

He shrugged. "I'll be under this cloak… and given its quality, I imagine it can withstand just about anything. I'll be watching your back. I happen to like watching your back."

Even though her eyes narrowed angrily, the corners of her lips turned upwards. "Yes… I know. Is that what you lot do in that dungeon? Sit around the fire and talk about my arse?"

Draco smirked. "Well… what can I say? It's a really great arse."

"You're a bastard," muttered Harry, blushing furiously. "Let's get this over with."

Feeling rather pleased with himself for eliciting such a reaction, Draco pulled the hood of the cloak over his head and said slyly, "Well, lead the way. I'll be right behind you… enjoying the view."

And enjoy it he did. He enjoyed the way her hair bounced and the way her lascivious hips swayed back and forth. He enjoyed the heart-shaped crease in her jeans. He enjoyed it down three flights of stairs, through the entrance hall, and halfway across the grounds. He enjoyed it right up until Harry's wand once again found itself pointed at his groin.

"The images flashing through your surface thoughts are making me sick. Just… stop thinking."

"They're only thoughts," he protested. "I'd never actually-"

"Liar," said Harry. "You're lying. Ugh… I'll never be able to look at a marshmallow again without picturing that. What in God's name is wrong… with…"

The girl trailed off. She was staring intently at her wrist.

"Is something the matter with your arm?"

Harry snapped back to attention and resumed their quick pace to the opposite edge of the Forbidden Forest. "Ginny. She is still at Hagrid's."

"Why are you so concerned?" asked Draco, feeling slightly put out that he was no longer the subject of her attention. "You really shouldn't be. Had she done to me what she did to you in the Hospital wing the day you had a pot of tea dumped on your head, I'd be seven shades of furious."

"What are you talking about? Ginny didn't do anything to me."

"She obliviated you after you snogged," answered Draco simply. "You know, it doesn't really surprise me that you fancy a bit of trim. After all, you do fit the 'quidditch girl' stereotype rather nicely. You'd do well to keep that to yourself though. It's been deeply frowned upon in most wizarding circles since the Grecian wars. The muggle philosophy that it's unnatural has seeped into our society as well… what with all the crossbreeding. Unfortunately for you, your brain isn't even registering what I'm saying right now. I can't just tell you that you've lost your memory, can I? Charm blocks it out. I imagine your Legilimency isn't working either. Is it?"

"Is… what?" asked Harry vaguely. "Are you alright?"

"Perfect," he drawled, following her into the forest's edge. "There's the trail. Stop talking to me now. Don't want anyone to see. Pretend I don't exist."

"Easy enough," replied the girl. "I do that all the time."

Even though the pouring rain was battering the treetops, the depths of the Forbidden Forest were disturbingly silent. The cries of the ravens and the hammerings of the woodpeckers had all but vanished. The air was still and bitingly cold. It was only the middle of the afternoon, but the prominent signs of daytime were virtually nonexistent within the sea of black trees.

The 'main trail' that Blaise had mentioned to him was little more than a well-trod centaur path. Every few minutes, they had to stop so Harry could untangle her hair from the hanging branches upon which it continuously snagged.

As she was unhooking herself from one such branch, the sound of a twig snapped in front of them… and Blaise emerged from behind a tree.

"You came," said the dark-skinned boy blankly. "Good. I knew you would. I suppose I could just give the orders to have all the Weasleys quietly killed, but I'm not that mean-spirited."

He withdrew a small stone orb from his pocket and held it to his lips. "I appreciate the help, boys. You're off the hook. Your debts to my father are repaid."

"I thought I told you to never threaten my friends again," hissed Harry venomously as Blaise threw the stone into the darkness of the trees.

The haughty boy laughed. "Like it matters. You're going to die here, Potter. You're going to die in pain… just like your father."

A soft breeze began to blow across the small path. The knuckles of Harry's hand turned white from the death-grip she had on her wand and Draco took several steps backwards, not wanting to be anywhere near her when she unleashed her considerable power.

"Learned some dark spells, have you?" breathed the black-haired girl. "Do you really think you can succeed where Voldemort has failed three times? Don't you know what I am?"

"You're a halfblood slag that happens to have luck on her side," spat Blaise spitefully.

Harry shook her head and raised her wand, pointing it into the forest beside them. "No, Blaise, that's not what I am. I'm Harriet Potter… and I'm a bloody monster. Nox Argentus!"

The air crackled. A void formed at the tip of Harry wand, sucking in all light, before exploding outward. Spines of lightning that were a shade darker than black slammed into the group of trees that Harry was aiming at.

For a split-second, nothing seemed to happen… but then, the trees began to swell unnaturally, just like balloons. The snapping of wood almost made it sound like they were screaming.

With a colossal whoosh of displaced air, the giant trees imploded inward, leaving nothing but holes in the ground where their roots had once rested.

Draco's eyes bulged. He knew about the Nullification Curse, but never had he seen it put into practice… and that was most likely because not many people could do it. In one of his more drunken moments, his father had boasted that he could successfully cast it. He had said that the spell was unblockable; that it would earn you fifty years in Azkaban if used on another human being. He had said that if the target absorbed enough lightning, it would vaporize entirely. He had told Draco that the curse required an absolute understanding of darkness to perform, but he had never really explained what was meant by 'darkness'.

Draco knew now. It had meant rage. He could actually feel Harry's fury in the harsh winds of her accidental magic.

"Do you still want to fight?" asked the girl angrily, her chest heaving from the effort of casting such a powerful spell. "I won't be holding back. You're trying to kill me. It's self defense."

While seemingly just as shocked by the display of dark magic as Draco was, Blaise smiled viciously.

"Fight you? Who said anything about fighting you? Don't you remember what you promised me? I believe your exact words were 'We can go into the forest and you can have your chance to kill me.' No… I'm not going to fight you, Potter. I'm just going to kill you… and no one is going to stop me. Not even you, Draco."

A bolt of red light whizzed past Draco's ear and slammed into Harry's back, sending her tumbling to the forest floor.

Before he could even begin to turn around, ropes snapped around his limbs and he too fell, the hood of the invisibility cloak slipping from his head. Something that felt like a foot dug into Draco's side and rolled him over onto his back.

"You know, it's a shame you followed her," said Blaise, staring down at him with pity. "I really didn't want to kill you, but now I don't have a choice. Such a waste; you're just so damn pretty."

Draco sneered at him. "You won't kill me. You owe me."

The boy knelt down and patted his cheek. "Malfoy's really are inbred, aren't they? How else could you be so stupid? Don't you see? My debt to you is paid. I fed you the information about the last attack. I let you save the Weasley girl so you could ingratiate yourself with this little whore. It's your fault for not making a move and shagging her while you still had the chance. My good friend here had eyes on you while you were in the trophy room. He said he could smell Potter's arousal from your thoughts. We're both of the opinion that had you acted like a gentleman and not tried to grab her arse, you would have been inside her cunny faster than you can say Quidditch. I'm quite glad you didn't have enough charm to pull it off though. I didn't want to wait. It's a full moon tonight and I want to be out of this infernal forest and on to Durmstrang long before it rises."

"Fuck you," hissed Draco, spitting at Blaise's face in an attempt to seem confident. "Don't think for a second that going to a different school will keep you safe! My father will find you!"

"And how is your father going to find out I was involved? I'm far more intelligent than your entire family combined, Draco. I covered my tracks well."

"Are you quite finished with your self-gratifying gloating?" grunted a deep, growling voice from somewhere behind them. "I have things to do."

"Yes," drawled Blaise, hauling Draco into a sitting position against a nearby tree. "Up you get, Draco. It's time to watch me kill Potter."

"Oh… no, Zabini," said the harsh voice calmly. "I apologize. I forgot to mention that there's been a slight change of plans… Avada Kedavra!"

Draco yelped as a flare of green flew over his head and hit the dark-skinned boy squarely in the chest.

Blaise Zabini, his once roommate and somewhat friend, crumpled like a rag doll at his feet, most assuredly dead.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, Draco stared numbly at the glazed, unseeing eyes upon the surprised face that lay half-submerged in mud. It certainly wasn't grief that he felt, but it wasn't relief either. The only full-fledged emotion that his brain was able to manage was a mild sense of shock; shock that death could be so… sudden. A life had just been cut short in the span of less than a second; an entire future had been erased; millions of potential descendants had been snuffed out like candles in a harsh wind. To be fair, Draco had never seen anyone die before. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he had cowered in his compartment during the massacre at King's Cross. It was a logical act of self-preservation.

Heavy footsteps squelched past him towards Harry, snapping him out of his daze.

The black-haired girl's unconscious body rose into the air and was roughly tossed over what appeared to be an invisible shoulder.

"Let us go," whispered Draco as the footfalls approached him. "My father is-"

"I know who your father is, Malfoy," growled the hoarse voice. "Your dear old Daddy and I used to work together… back in the day."

Draco's eyes widened. "Then… Then you know that I can pay you handsomely for my safe return."

Given the horrid smell, Draco assumed that the owner of the voice had knelt down and was currently breathing into his face. "You think I want your family's dirty gold? Don't insult me, boy. The only payment I want... is freedom. The only payment I want... is blood."

"B-Blood?" asked Draco nervously. "Who's blood?"

The invisible man laughed cruelly and stood up. "You're quite amusing… perhaps I'll save you for last."

A flash of red light exploded in Draco's eyes.

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A scream rent the air.

She could smell strawberries.

Harry groggily opened her eyes, groaning in pain. Her head was pounding and her scar felt like it was on fire.

"Hey there, sleepyhead. I've missed you."

Harry's head snapped upwards at the sound of the familiar, soothing voice.

Sitting directly across from her, barely visible in the dim light of the flickering fire, chained to a rather uncomfortable looking wooden chair, was Ginny. The redhead was still wearing her Gryffindor Quidditch robes, but they were slashed and torn. Her beautiful face was bruised black and blue, her nose was clearly broken, and every inch of her visible skin was covered in long, ugly, scars.

"G-Gin… breathed Harry hoarsely, struggling against the chains that bound her to her own chair. "W-What happened to you?"

Visibly wincing from the effort, the girl managed a weak attempt at a smile and said, "Just a mild beating and a few nicks with a knife; nothing compared to what I went through down in the Chamber. Bastard flinched every time he made a cut and then immediately healed it. He didn't seem to have a taste for inflicting pain like Tom did."

"Someone tortured you?" growled Harry, her anger flaring wildly. "Who was it? I'll kill them! Was… Was it Blaise?"

"Blaise? Zabini? What's he got to do with anything?"

Harry peered around at the decrepit state of the room. It was completely unfamiliar. "The last thing I remember, Draco and I were in the forest meeting Blaise... but then I got hit from behind. I don't know what's going on. Tell me what happened to you. Where are we? When I checked my charm, it was pointing towards Hagrid's."

"I've no idea where we are," rasped Ginny, nodding towards her bound wrist. "I was ambushed outside the locker room. When I woke up here, my bracelet was gone. I imagine Greyback must have ripped it off and tossed it somewhere near Hagrid's cabin.

Harry's mind was reeling with questions. "Who's Greyback? Is he the one who tortured you?"

The girl shuddered violently. "No… he's-"

There was a loud crashing noise from beneath them.

"That's Greyback," whispered the redhead. "He's a werewolf, Harry; the most awful werewolf! And… And I think he must be turning. They're just keeping him right here in the cellar!"

Ginny's amber gaze flicked towards the ceiling. "It's him, Harry: Voldemort… the real one. Pettigrew is up there too. The little rat told him everything about us, Harry. Everything."

Harry felt the blood drain out of her face. "What? What do you mean? How can they be… Dumbledore said that Voldemort was hiding in Albania!"

"Apparently not," breathed Ginny. "They want to know where Tom's soulless body is being kept. They want to know about how we survived what should have killed us. I don't think Voldemort can read minds as he is… so I kept quiet. You can see what happened."

Harry ground her teeth. "Well, I'm bloody well not going to let it happen again. Fawkes can get us out of here. We'll get Dumbledore, come back, and capture all three of them."

Picturing the bird in her mind, she pleaded with all her heart.

I desperately need your help and I swear it's not leg hair this time. It's Voldemort. He's here. Please come to me, Fawkes; help me save my Ginny.

Ginny perked up, a speck of hope flaring in her eyes. "I completely forgot you could call him! How long does it take?"

"Seconds," replied Harry with a smile. "Just you wait."

Seconds passed.

Minutes passed.

"Where is he?" asked the redhead quietly, looking somber once more.

Harry hung her head. She didn't understand. Fawkes should have come. He always came… even for the mundane things like helping her avoid close encounters with Madame Dupont.

Ginny sighed heavily, her resignation and exhaustion evident. "Harry… I don't want to say it, but we might have to accept that there's not a way out of this one."

"Don't say that!" cried Harry adamantly. "I'll- I'll figure something out."

"Either way, if this is the end, at least we'll go together. It's just like I prom-"

The redhead broke off as a muffled scream of agony echoed down through the ceiling.

Harry gasped. The cry was unmistakably Draco's.

"I don't understand why they're torturing him," whispered Ginny. "His father was a Death Eater! And… why was he even with you?"

"He was helping me," replied Harry, staring hard at the rotted wood above their head. "I made Zabini an offer the first night I was back at school. Don't ask me what it was. You'll get mad and that just seems pointless right now. We knowingly walked into a trap with Draco under my cloak so we would have the upper hand. But I think that arse got the drop on us, because he knew Draco was with me. I don't know what happened after that. Blaise said he was going to kill me though. How did I get here?"

"Greyback carried you in with Malfoy; no sign of Blaise. You were knocked out for hours."

"Has Draco been up there the whole time?"

Ginny didn't answer… and that was all the answer Harry needed.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and flipped the hourglass. The volume of all the noise that surrounded her had increased tenfold. The dull pitter-patter of the rain on the rooftop became a montrous roar and the crashing from below intensified to the point that she could identify exactly what objects the werewolf was breaking. The mumbling voices up above had become clear as day.

"-don't know!" sobbed Draco. "We only ever talk when we're alone!"

"Liar," hissed, a shrill, blood-curdling voice; a voice that could only belong to Voldemort. "The Zabini boy informed Fenrir that you are obsessed with the girl. Multiple sources have confirmed your affection for her. Surely you would know the details of her death!"

"I swear! I don't know what you're talking about! How could she have died and survived? She's not strong like you, My Lord! Please, you must believe me! I don't know a thing! My father has always loyally-"

"Your father is a money-grubbing fool!" screeched Voldemort viciously. "He is a fool who disobeyed my orders in an attempt to garner more profit for himself; a fool that failed to search for me and aid my rise; a fool that was content to hide amongst my enemies, claiming innocence!"

"But I'm not my father!"

There was a cold shriek of high-pitched laughter. "Like father like son! Cut him, Wormtail!"

In the many times that Harry had caused Draco injury, she had never heard his scream sound so pained. Ginny had tried to describe exactly what Tom did to her in the Chamber on several occasions, but she never quite managed it. If this was 'nothing' to her… then Harry shuddered to think what 'something' was.

She returned her magic to her core, unwilling to listen a moment longer.

"This is cruel," she whispered to Ginny. "Voldemort knows Draco is telling the truth. He's just torturing him out of spite. If we get out of these chains, I'm going to use every bit of magic I know, dark included, to end him."

"We're going to end him," corrected the redhead softly. "You're not fighting anyone without me."

"The only reason they went after you is so they could use you against me," muttered Harry, her heart aching. "Maybe you shouldn't-"

"Don't give me that," said Ginny shortly. "You know I'm not going to listen to it."

Despite their likely impending death, Harry couldn't stop herself from grinning. "I know. Thought I'd just put the suggestion out there."

The redhead tutted her in a fashion that was very reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley. "Besides, Voldemort is after Tom's body, which I lived in for months. They probably would have come after…me…" Ginny trailed off, her eyes flicking to a spot behind Harry. "Is that… Harry, look at the fire!"

Harry craned her neck over the back of the chair to gaze upon the fireplace. The flame within it was sputtering and spurting wildly, throwing embers onto the wood floor.

And then… she heard it; phoenix song.

With a soft pop, a tiny red and gold bird burst from the fireplace, showering the two of them with ash. Trilling excitedly, it flapped across the room and landed on Harry's knee where it proceeded to hop about, nipping at its smoking, downy feathers.

"Fawkes! You came!"

The little bird puffed out its chest proudly.

"Can you not travel by your own flame when you're small?" asked Harry.

Fawkes huddled down on her leg and then lept upward with a lament of twittering song. Only smoke and sparks emerged from his wingtips.

"Well, there goes that idea," Ginny mumbled sullenly.

The phoenix chirped indignantly. Latching his talons around the chains on Harry's chair, Fawkes furiously began to flap his miniature wings. To Harry's great astonishment the chair rose into the air.

"But we've nowhere to go," said the redhead. "There are no windows and the door isn't real. The only entrance is downstairs and there's a werewolf blocking the way."

Trilling in disappointment, the bird lowered Harry back to the ground.

"Can you get word to Dumbledore, Fawkes? I'll stall for time when they come for me."

Fawkes nipped her finger affectionately and flapped back to the fire. He cooed at the flames lovingly and in response, they flared to a height large enough for the bird to dive into.

"Things are looking up," said Harry, plastering an uneasy smile on her face for Ginny. "We'll be out of here in no time."

"You don't have to do that, Harry. I'm not afraid and I don't-"

A door slammed open upstairs.

"Bring me Potter!" commanded Voldemort.

Harry's eyes widened when she saw Draco floating down the stairs. He too was bruised and beaten, but unlike Ginny, his scars were short and bulging, suggesting that instead of cuts, Pettigrew had stabbed him repeatedly.

A paunchy, balding man was following in Draco's wake. Harry barely recognized him. Even though he was only in his mid-thirties, he had progressed beyond going to seed. His portly flesh hung from his bones like an old man's, his hair was tufting and grey, and his face resembled that of a rat far more than it resembled the jovial face in her parents' wedding photos.

"And there he is," she spat ferociously. "I wish Sirius was here to see you now, Wormtail. He'd have a good laugh… and then he'd kill you."

Pettigrew didn't acknowledge her in the slightest.

As Peter levitated her up the stairs and into a room at the end of the hall, Harry's scar escalated from a dull burning to roaring inferno of pain. It didn't take her very long to identify the cause.

A pair of gleaming, red eyes was glaring menacingly at her from beneath a bundle of robes laid upon the seat of a tattered armchair in the middle of the room. The infantile, reptilian face that the eyes illuminated was scaled and slimy; Harry felt nauseous just from looking at it. She knew exactly what ritual had been performed to create the monster that sat before her. Before it had been possesed, a wizarding baby had been entirely drained of its blood. The blood was then replaced with a python's purified, enchanted venom, which preserved the body and magic after death, allowing the possessor's soul to live within it without having to share with the original owner.

Even though she had been expecting a fully-grown man, there was no doubt in her mind that this small, red-eyed creature was Voldemort. There was a massive, green snake coiled at the armchair's feet; a snake that she recognized from Riddle's pensieve book.

"Harriet Potter," whispered the child, a forked serpent's tongue darting past its dried, misshapen lips. "Much has changed since we saw each other last."

Quickly getting over her shock, Harry leveled the bundle of robes with a death glare and bravely nodded her agreement. "Yeah… you're right. You've gotten uglier."

Ignoring the slight, Voldemort continued. "We are not so different now, you and I. We have both glimpsed the secrets that Mariel had to offer. We have both survived an encounter with death. We have both taken so many lives. I was disappointed that I was not able to witness the terror you inspired at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters firsthand. When Peter informed me that he had overheard a rather intriguing conversation in the Three Broomsticks, I had so hoped you might grace me with a repeat performance in Hogsmeade. Did you like my little Christmas gift? Dementors are such wonderful creatures, are they not? They blindly obey orders in return for the souls of Azkaban. A well placed Imperius curse within the Ministry can bear the most wonderful fruits."

"That was you?" croaked Harry, bile rising in her throat. "You sent them just because you wanted a show? Three people lost their souls!"

"A show, yes… but also proof; proof that you do indeed channel my essence when subdued into a semi-conscious state. This is a most intriguing phenomenon; one that leads me to believe that using Nagini for her original purpose would be a grave error in judgment. Tell me, Harry. Do you know why this happens to you? I do."

"I'm not telling you anything," she hissed bitterly. "Torture me all you like.

The red eyes narrowed. "Torture you? No… we won't be torturing you, Harry. Wormtail has informed me of all that he bore witness to as a rat. It is rather impressive what one hears when ensconced within the pocket of a Weasley. Given that you willingly submitted yourself to the ministrations of Lucius Malfoy, Peter's poor excuse for inflicting pain would be like child's play. It would be imprudent to use upon you. Instead, we shall make you watch as we send your beloved Ginevra to the grave! Wormtail… fetch the Weasley girl!"

"No!" screamed Harry, her heart turning to ice as Peter disappeared from view. "Don't you lay a finger on her! Don't you dare!"

"Touching," said Voldemort mockingly. "So very touching. Know that this suffering is of your own creation, Harry. Love is such a flawed premise, not to mention a troublesome weakness. Why share in another's heart when you could just as easily dominate it? Why give, when it is just as easy to take? The latter is far more rewarding."

"That's because you never learned how to do the former, Tom," rasped Ginny loudly as Pettigrew brought her up the stairs. "I know what they did to you at that orphanage. I know you better than you know yourself. All you wanted was your share, but Dennis and Amy would never let you have-"

"SILENCE!" shrieked Voldemort, his crimson eyes suddenly bulging from the sockets. "YOU KNOW NOTHING! WORMTAIL, STRING THEM UP AND STRIP THE REDHEAD!"

The chains around their chairs fell away, but before Harry could even begin to protect Ginny, invisible ropes snapped around her wrists and ankles, jerking her arms above her head, hauling her into the air to dangle a foot above the floor.

"Why are you listening to him?" she cried angrily to Peter as he vanished Ginny's clothing, revealing the girl's scarred, freckled body for the whole world to see. "He's weak! He can barely do magic! Just kill him! I'll make sure no one harms you! You won't have to go to Azkaban! We can… We can have a special cell or something! You could go back to being a rat!"

The man's watery grey eyes briefly flicked towards Harry, but quickly returned to the task of readying Ginny for torture.

Voldemort cackled. "Wormtail is fascinating, is he not? A complex man indeed. He is a coward that wishes to flee from all danger. And yet, he also desires to live his life out in the open, a luxury afforded to only the bravest of traitors. Serving his Master loyally is the only way to get what he wants. Now… watch, Harry; watch your family die in agony. You may begin, Wormtail."

Peter gripped Ginny's mouth and forced a small, pink vial of what looked to be blood-replenishing potion down her throat.

"P-Please," Harry mumbled weakly, "don't hurt her! I'll… I'll-"

"Tell me where the body of my younger self is hidden and I will spare her, Potter."

Harry and Ginny screamed in unison as Pettigrew's wicked dagger slashed deep into the redhead's stomach, spilling copious amounts of blood over her hips.

"Tell me!" commanded Voldemort. "I know you are aware of its location. Again!"

Peter healed the wound, raised the dagger for a second blow, and brought the tip careening down through Ginny's left breast. The spurt of crimson sprayed over Harry's face.

"Stop!" she screamed desperately, oblivious to the wind billowing violently through the room. "For God's sake, stop!"

"Wormtail… let us make this quick. Slit her throat."

"NO! PLEASE! I'LL TELL YOU!"

"Don't..." gasped the redhead miserably as the knife withdrew, "don't t-tell him, Harry. It's… It's not worth it."

Harry gazed into the girl's pained, amber eyes and for a split-second, she saw the world without Ginny Weasley. For a split-second, she weighed that dark future in the palm of her hand. Within the span of a split-second, she passed judgment and cast that future aside. A world without her Ginny was not a world worth fighting for.

Pettigrew hesitatingly placed the knife on the redhead's neck and looked to his Master for the signal.

Harry glared at the serpentine infant and yelled, "Make him stop! I'll tell you! You kill her, you get nothing!"

Voldemort laughed gleefully. "Stay your blade, Peter."

The balding man breathed a sigh of relief and stepped back.

"Swear to me," breathed Harry. "Swear to me on your magic that once you have the body, you'll set Ginny and Draco free."

"You dare command me, Potter?" hissed Voldemort softly. "That is most… unwise."

"It's not a command. It's a condition. You have a choice. You either want the body, or you don't."

The red eyes bore into her relentlessly. "Very well… I swear upon my magic that they shall go free, Potter. Now… tell me."

Harry swallowed the lump in her throat. "It's in Dumbledore's office. It never comes out and neither of you will be able to get in. The Headmaster's office is protected against unwelcome guests."

"I am well aware. In fact, the entire castle has recently been warded against those who bear the Dark Mark. Neither I, nor Wormtail may pass into the grounds. And thus… you shall retrieve the body for me. Peter, the observation stone if you will."

Pettigrew reached into his pocket and withdrew a stone that was identical to the one Blaise had carried. The man waved his wand and a small chain grew from the rock. He clasped it around her neck.

"To keep an eye on you," cooed Voldemort silkily. "You will have one hour to return here with the body. Should you not succeed, the girl will die. Should you try to obtain aid from another, the girl will die. Should you try to tamper with the stone, the girl will die. Wormtail… cut her down. Take her to the edge of the wards."

Without a word, Peter released Harry from her binds, grabbed her arm, and turned on the spot.

The unpleasant sensation of being sucked down a tube was becoming increasingly familiar to Harry and thus, she was able to stave off the resulting wave of nausea when they reappeared seconds later in the middle of small, upward sloping tunnel. Behind them, she could hear the faint crashing of the werewolf.

"It's a twenty minute walk to the exit," said Pettigrew in a quivering voice. "I suggest you run."

"I should say the same for you," whispered Harry nastily. "The dog and the wolf are hungry for rat. I think you should run and hide; hide for the rest of your life."

"I've nowhere to go," wheezed the balding man, shoving her down the tunnel. "This is the only choice."

Harry never would have imagined that the man who betrayed her parents to Voldemort would be so… pathetic.

"How do you live with yourself?" she asked, turning back. "How do you live with knowing that you put two of your best friends to their deaths and condemned another to Azkaban?"

"By remembering that I'm still alive," mumbled Peter. "That's all that matters in the end. Get going. Return with the body and I shall appear."

He disapparated with a loud pop.

After running for what felt like miles, the tunnel began to shrink and Harry had to hunch down to go further. Eventually, she saw light at the tunnel's end. She climbed the abrupt incline and to her surprise, she emerged between the roots of the Whomping Willow.

And then… it clicked. She had just been inside the Shrieking Shack. The most powerful Dark Lord the world had ever seen was hiding right under Professor Dumbledore's nose.

Wasting little time, Harry tapped the knot on the tree and darted across the grounds. She slipped through the front doors of the castle as quietly as possible. The Entrance Hall was dark; curfew had obviously come and gone.

Harry rushed through the Grand Staircase tower and darted into the long hallway that circled past the Headmaster's office, her sneakers releasing a painfully loud squelch with every step she took. Like it had been doing for the past year, the stone gargoyle came alive and hopped aside as she approached, revealing the spiraling stairwell.

Professor Dumbledore's office was eerily silent. For the first time that Harry could remember, the many silver instruments scattered throughout the room weren't whirling or whirring with frenzied activity. They were instead completely still.

"You're not supposed to be here, Harry Potter."

Harry jumped and spun around, reaching for the wand she didn't have.

Tom was leaning against the wall beside the door, staring at her with cold, expressionless eyes.

A violent shiver ran up and down Harry's spine. Of all the incarnations of Voldemort, this one scared her the most; he was a like a particularly vicious wolf disguised in sheep's clothing.

"How do you know who I am?" she asked slowly. "How can you recognize me? You're supposed to be… empty."

"The Headmaster has spent months building me an artificial soul from the remnant imprints my own left behind," replied Tom, his voice as monotone and blank as ever. "I am very nearly complete."

"He made you a soul?" gasped Harry, horrified. "Why?"

The handsome boy shrugged. "For what purpose I do not know, but I am most grateful. Is Ginny with you, Harry Potter? I wish to see my little Ginny. I want to play with her. She was ever so playful."

Harry clenched her fists. It was extraordinarily difficult to restrain herself from attacking him, but she realized that she might be able to convince him to follow her willingly if she just remained calm.

"Yes. I'm going to take you to see Ginny. Would you like that?"

"I cannot leave," said Tom expressly. "Professor Dumbledore has forbidden me to leave the office upon penalty of death."

"But she wants to see you, Tom," urged Harry, feeling dirty as the words rolled from her tongue. "She wants to play with you too. And do you know who else is with Ginny?"

The boy stepped closer, clearly intrigued even though he showed no sign of it. "Who?"

"Your future self. Wouldn't you like to meet the real Lord Voldemort? He's so wonderfully powerful. I can take you to him."

Tom licked his lips. "We will leave while the Headmaster is gone? We would leave now?"

"Right now," agreed Harry conspiratorially. "Isn't it worth the risk?"

The boy turned to stare at the door. "I do not wish to die."

"You won't," she assured him instantly. "The Headmaster will never know."

Tom's blank expression broke and the beginnings of a sickening, twisted grin spread across his face.

"Take me there, Harry Potter."

0000

0000

0000

0000

Ron was convinced that meeting Hermione in the secluded upper stacks of the Library had been the right choice. Passersby might have found the sight of the girl mumbling a bewildered jumble of nonsense as she paced back and forth in front of him to be a tad strange.

"Mione, it's going to be fine. We're doing it right."

"How can you possibly know that?" she shouted feverishly, whirling around, grabbing his shirt and balling it tightly within her fists. "Don't you understand? We could all be killed!"

Feeling his ears burn, Ron slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her into the most comforting, reassuring embrace he could manage. "Nah. You won't let that happen. Brilliant, you are. You've got everything under control. We likely would have disintegrated the whole bloody castle by now if you didn't."

Hermione slumped against his chest. "Promise me that you'll never let me do anything like this ever again."

"Oh I promise alright. I don't think my brain would be able to handle another day like this one."

/FLASHBACK/

With every tick of Gryffindor common room's grandfather clock, Ron became increasingly concerned. Neither Ginny nor Harry had been seen since the end of the match and curfew had long since passed. Even though they were likely off having some sort of harmless celebratory adventure around the castle, Ron was still worried. He knew he was just being overprotective, but he simply couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he should be with them.

When Neville vacated the spot beside him on the couch, heading for bed, a certain blonde someone immediately filled the seat.

"You look troubled, Ron," crooned Lavender, leaning into his arm. "Is everything alright?"

"M'fine," he replied hastily, trying not to stare at the girl's shirt, which had been unbuttoned just far enough to see the ridge of her bra. "J-Just a bit worried about Harry and my sister. They've been gone for ages."

Lavender slid her thigh onto the couch, resting her knee casually against his leg. "They can take care of themselves you know. They're both rather good at magic. If you always go chasing after them, you'll never have any time to yourself."

"Well… Mum always says we can't have everything."

"Is there anything I can do to help then?" breathed the girl, blushing profusely as she made a rather obvious show of raking her fingernails up and down the inside of her impressive cleavage. "Is there anything you want from me?"

Ron scratched his head nervously. He didn't really know how to say he wasn't interested in a way that wouldn't hurt her feelings. It wasn't that Lavender didn't entice him, because she did; the girl was extremely attractive. It was just… he had promised Hermione. And on top of that, the blonde's obsession with Divination made him cringe.

"Erm… I don't… Do you think you could go up to Ginny's room and get something for me?" he asked quickly, unable to follow through with rejecting her while under the gaze of so many other students. "There should be a bit of old, folded parchment on the dresser. I really need it."

The girl sat back dejectedly. "Oh… alright. If that's all you… Hold on then. I'll go look."

When she returned, Lavender held on to one edge of the Marauder's map as he tried to take it from her. "Do I get a reward, Ron?"

"R-Reward?" he stuttered anxiously. "What kind of reward do you want?"

"This kind."

Like a cat, Lavender pounced on him, her soft lips slamming into his own while she clambered onto his lap. Ron couldn't help but notice that she smelled wonderful… like fresh honeysuckle. She tasted even better than she smelled. Her creamy, vanilla flavored lip balm made his head spin. Catcalls and whistles broke out from all around the common room as the girl deepened the kiss, opening her mouth just wide enough so that her tongue could caress his bottom lip in an effort to gain entry.

The noise brought Ron out of his daze and he lightly rolled the busty blonde onto the sofa, his ears burning fiercely as he covertly attempted to flatten his growing erection.

"I won't say I didn't enjoy that… but… I… I have to go!"

"Go?" asked Lavender breathlessly, her gaze heavy-lidded and lustful. "Go where?"

Ron shook his head. "Sorry, Lavender, but I have to find Harry and Ginny. I'm just… yeah. I'm sorry."

He quickly made for the portrait hole and stepped through, leaving the dismayed girl behind. Relieved that she hadn't followed him, he lit his wand and unfolded the map as the Fat Lady swung shut.

"I'm glad you didn't lie to me at least," whispered a soft voice to his left.

Ron spun, thinking he had been caught out of bounds before he even had a chance to look for Harry and his sister.

But… it wasn't a teacher. It wasn't even a Prefect.

It was Hermione.

"Mione! What are you doing out here? Where are you going?"

The girl smiled at him. "I suspect you'll find out soon enough. It's almost midnight. But really, Ron, thank you for warning me about the kiss. If you hadn't, I wouldn't have had time to sort myself out."

"You… You saw!" gasped Ron, wondering why she wasn't cursing him. "I'm sorry! She… She kissed me and I-"

"I know," said Hermione, stepping into the light of his wand. "You already… never mind. I'll explain later."

Ron was shocked to see that her chocolaty brown eyes were shimmering with happiness.

"What's going on with you?" he asked tentatively. "This morning you were beating me with a newspaper."

"I got over it," mumbled Hermione, pulling him into a warm hug. "I'll always get over it."

He bewilderdly returned the embrace, taking a deep breath of her toffee-apple scented hair. "Is it alright that I'm confused out of my mind?"

"Aren't you always?" teased the brown-haired girl, patting him lightly on the chest. "I have to go. I'll see you in a bit."

Without a word of explanation, Hermione turned and hurried off down the corridor.

"Wait," cried Ron, furiously fumbling with the map. "It's after hours! You'll get caught! Hermione!"

The girl raised a hand in parting and ducked behind the tapestry which hid the secret passage between the fourth and seventh floors.

"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," he muttered, tapping the parchment with his wand. Lines of ink sprung forth in every direction and he soon found Hermione's dot moving swiftly towards the Owlry. "You're… You're sending a letter in the middle of the night? Are you bonkers, woman?"

Ron chased after her, his eyes roaming frequently over the map to make sure he wouldn't run in to any trouble. However, right as he reached the Owlry doors, he spotted two more dots exiting the Headmaster's office whose tiny names presented a much more pressing problem than Hermione getting caught out of bounds.

Harriet Potter and Tom Riddle were quickly making their way towards the castle's entrance.

"Harry? What the bloody hell are you doing?"

Ron took off in the opposite direction. He pounded down the Grand Staircase, dodging into a girl's bathroom when he saw Dupont's dot appear on the stairs below. After the caretaker was a safe enough distance away, Ron quietly crept out and sprinted down the remaining flights to the Entrance Hall.

To his dismay, a rather unwelcome dot was slowly approaching the front doors from the opposite direction. He darted into the broom cupboard in which Filch had used to store his grimy mops and waited for the dot to pass by.

But it didn't pass by.

The dot stopped directly in front of his hiding spot.

There was a sharp knock and when Ron didn't answer, the door swung open.

"I find it rather amusing that you're actually here, Weaselbee," drawled Malfoy quietly. "I imagine you feel right at home."

"Piss off," growled Ron, stalking past him. "How in Merlin's name did you know I was in there?"

"Are you stupid?" asked the blonde snidely. "You told me. Wait… no… you're not the same one, are you? Where's the bushy-haired Mudblood?"

Ron whirled around, drawing his wand. "Don't you dare call her a… Bloody hell! What happened to you?"

Now that they we're standing in moonlight, Ron saw that several large, blackened bruises covered every inch of the boy's face and neck. Malfoy's robes had been torn to bits and red, lumpy patches of scar tissue could be seen through the many holes and cuts.

"As much as I enjoy chatting with you," sneered Draco, "Granger leaves at midnight. Take me to her if you ever want to see Harry and your sister again."

Ron's heart skipped a beat. "What have you done to them, you poncey little git?"

Out of nowhere, Draco's fist collided with Ron's cheek. It wasn't a very hard hit, but it still made him stumble.

"That's payback" muttered the boy angrily, waving his hand about in the air. "Fuck… that hurt. Why do you do it so much?"

As Ron pulled back his arm for a return punch, Draco held up his hands in surrender. "Listen to me, you stupid ape! We're running out of time! I'm on your side! I won't let Harry die! Please, take me to Granger! I'm sure she won't be able to stop herself from explaining everything to you in an exorbitant amount of detail."

If it hadn't been for the 'please', Ron would have disregarded everything the blonde had said and pummeled him senseless. Malfoys didn't plead with Weasleys and Weasleys didn't plead with Malfoys. It simply wasn't done.

"Are you being serious?" he asked slowly.

"Doesn't it look like I'm being serious?" spat Draco, gesturing at his beaten face and scarred body. "Do you think I willingly thrust myself onto the business end of a dagger for shites and giggles? Now… are you going to help me or not?"

"Hermione's in the Owlry," stuttered Ron. "The business end of- Oi! Wait for me!"

Albeit narrowly avoiding Peeves outside the Charm's classrooms, they arrived at the small, slightly smelly tower with little incident. Hermione's dot still remained within.

The bushy-haired girl breathed an enormous sigh of relief as they entered. "Thank goodness! I thought the two of you weren't going to make it! Although, now that I think about it, that's a rather irrational fear, seeing as you obviously did make it, or none of us would be here in the first place."

Ron's brain turned to mush. "Will someone please tell me what I'm obviously missing?"

"I will as soon as we've gone, Ron," replied Hermione, withdrawing from her collar a tiny, silver object dangling on a long chain. "Come here, both of you."

"Is that really it?" drawled Malfoy. "I've never seen one before. For some reason, I assumed it would be… bigger."

"Physical size is no indication of magical power," lectured Hermione, pulling the chain around all three of their necks. "Just look at House-Elves."

"I try not to," said the blonde. "How far back are we going, Granger?"

"Twelve hours," she mumbled, holding the object at the end of the chain up to her eyes. "I need to send a letter."

Ron's jaw dropped. It was a Time-Turner; a real Time-Turner.

Hermione carefully began to spin the little hourglass. "So that means… twelve turns to the left."

The dark tower dissolved around them. Ron experienced the very odd sensation that he was flying backwards at great speed. Colors and moving shapes blurred erratically before his eyes. His head began to pound furiously.

And then… he felt solid ground beneath his feet.

They were still standing in the Owlry… but night had turned to day. Hundreds of owls were asleep on their perches, back from their nightly hunts.

"How on earth did you get a Time-Turner?" he asked Hermione, who had ducked out from beneath the chain.

"I was granted its use after the Ministry recognized my hard work, Ronald." The bushy-haired girl withdrew an envelope from her robes and tied it to Circe's leg. "Take this to Harry, girl."

Circe hooted affirmatively and flew off.

Ron frowned. "So… So that's how you've been getting around to all your classes then? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Both a Ministry official and Professor McGonagall forbade me. I wanted to tell you so badly, Ron. I almost did the night Harry came back. I'm so sor-"

"Don't we need to hide?" drawled Malfoy abruptly. "Don't want anyone seeing us in two places, do we?

Hermione nodded rapidly. "Yes… Yes, let's find an abandoned classroom and I'll explain everything… with Draco's help of course. You told me that he's the one that knows what's happening to Harry and Ginny."

"I told you?" asked Ron incredulously, following her out of the tower. "How could I have told you? You and this plonker seem to know more about this than I do."

"We're twelve hours in the past, Ron," said Hermione calmly, leading them into a classroom a ways down the corridor. "We're going to explain it to you now and you're going to explain it in far less detail to our past selves. This all revolves around you. I can't be sure, but I think the second you left Lavender behind and stepped out of the portrait hole, this whole cycle of self-perpetuating time travel came to be."

"What?" asked Ron plainly, completely lost. "Self-per-whating?"

"Self-perpetuating, Ronald… meaning our future-selves are making our past-selves follow in their footsteps. I'll do my best to explain." Hermione pushed him into a chair and went to the backboard. With a bit of chalk she drew a long straight arrow.

"This arrow represents relative time and space. The flow of time is fixed. It moves in only one direction, towards the future. When we travel backwards in time, whatever we do has already happened in our pasts. This law of the universe cannot be broken except in the rare case when a time-traveler is aware that they will be interacting with their own past sometime in the future. They can then choose to either follow the flow of time or they can avoid it. The latter creates a paradox. This is bad. This is very bad. When presented with self-perpetuating time, time-travelers must be particularly cautious to avoid creating paradoxes, because a paradox will overwhelm time itself and cause a localized collapse of reality around each past, future, and present version of the Time-Turner. The Bermuda triangle was created in exactly this fashion. The Atlanteans were toying with their own timelines and they destroyed themselves. Time travel has been highly restricted by the International Confederation of Wizards ever since and time turners are only granted to those who fully understand the risks. Are you with me so far?"

"Think so," he mumbled. "Makes an odd sort of sense, I suppose."

"Good. Alright. Now let me explain our situation. Your future-self informed my past-self that we have apparently been dangerously close to creating paradoxes all day. For example, this morning, had my past-self looked at the letter I sent to Harry just now, we would likely all be dead. Had I seen the writing from my future-self, I could have knowingly placed a letter or ink mark in the wrong spot, thus creating a paradox and destroying the flow of time. Thankfully, all of our future and past-selves think exactly the same as we do… and they are presented with exactly the same situations. It seems to me like our future-selves have been successful in avoiding paradoxes… but only because they chose to follow the flow of time. We have to do the same in order to maintain the timeline."

"And how are we supposed to do that, Granger?" drawled Draco. "Weasley is the center of all this, but he hasn't got enough brains to fill a teacup!"

"But he obviously does," said Hermione sweetly. "His future-self managed to free you, didn't he?"

Ron smirked. "Mione, are you saying that I absolutely have to help Malfoy or the castle will explode? That's a bloody hard choice to make."

"Piss off, Weaselbee."

Hermione pulled two desks around Ron's. Amazingly, Draco immediately sat when she commanded him to do so. "Since Ron's future-self encountered both of our past-selves. We need to tell him what happened to each of us, without using any specific language or imagery. Can you do that, Malfoy?"

"A flobberworm could do that."

"Well, then it should only be mildly difficult for you. I'll start. After Harry received the letter from myself this morning, I went to my room. I was really starting to panic. I hadn't thought through any of what I just told you. My logic had completely gone out the window. But then, I got a letter from you, Ron; the letter which you're about to write and send to me. It told me in no specific terms to meet you at a place and time of your choosing… and no, I'm not saying where. And so, I met you. You explained to me that you and Malfoy would be accompanying me on my time travel trip. You explained to me that Harry and Ginny were going to get in quite a bit of trouble tonight and that this had to be done, or they would likely die. You also warned me about the kiss I would see. You told me that I had already explained all of this to you. Those are the essential points, but feel free to elaborate. After that, I went back to my room and had a good long think. Remember that your words will inspire all of mine which will, in turn, inspire all of yours… and so on and so forth. Malfoy?"

The blonde ran his hand through his coiffed hair. "After the match, Harry and I had a talk. I let her know that Blaise was waiting for her in the forest due to reasons that aren't your concern. He blackmailed her and laid a trap for us… but… but he was betrayed by Fenrir Greyback. Blaise is dead."

"He's dead?" gasped Hermione.

Malfoy nodded. "Greyback killed him and took us straight to... to the Dark Lord.

"You-Know-Who is here too?" yelped Ron, horrified. "Then... they have Harry!"

"Obviously."

Ron leapt up. "Well, we're bloody well going to stop them! Come on, Mione."

"We can't, Ron," said Hermione softly. "We can't change the past. Time flows in one direction. Since we're in a self-perpetuating loop, we can't do anything to knowingly change what happened in our past timeline without creating a paradox. Our future-selves knew that and that's why they didn't try to change it. You can call it fate if you like, but this is what time-travelers have to deal with. They can either follow their fates or face destruction."

Draco continued. "The Dark Lord and his servant are hiding within the Shrieking Shack. Your sister was there. She too had been abducted. After I was tortured, both Harry and Ginny were brought before Voldemort. I lost consciousness after that, but when I finally woke up, it was to the sound of your annoying voice, Weasley. You and Granger were wearing the invisibility cloak. You had subdued Greyback and were going to rescue Harry and Ginny. You told me that Granger had a Time-Turner and that if I wanted to save Harry's life, I had to take the invisibility cloak that was lying downstairs and find your past-self hiding in the Entrance Hall's broom cupboard. You told me that you would then take me to Granger and we would all travel back in time. Oh… and you punched me like a heathen. I suppose me punching you as payback in the Entrance Hall was the reason, was it? Or was it me telling you about it now? Funny how that works."

"Alright then," said Ron slowly, trying very hard to absorb the vast heap of confusing information. It was slightly comforting knowing that his future-self had successfully managed to remember it all. "So… what happens now?"

"Now you send me that letter," replied Hermione confidently. "I suppose Malfoy and I will go and hide by the Whomping Willow until it's time for the rescue. It's important that we not be seen by vast numbers of people. Oh… and you'll need the invisibility cloak; you had it when we met. Why don't you give us the Marauder's map?"

After exchanging the items, Draco sneered at him. "Do try not to mess this up, Weaselbee. Harry's life is on the line."

The boy stalked out of the room.

"I'm going to savor every second of decking that git," Ron muttered to Hermione.

"Don't do it too hard. He needs to be able to walk." The girl brushed her fingertips over his knuckles. "Ron… about when we meet…"

"Yeah?"

Hermione's cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. "I didn't… I didn't mean what I said. In fact, I meant the opposite."

"What was it that you said?"

Gently shaking her head, she leaned forward and planted a lingering kiss on his cheek.

"You'll see."

/END/

"I can't believe this is happening," muttered the girl. "Its an absolute nightmare, Ronald."

"Having a Time-Turner isn't all bad," said Ron comfortingly. "Thanks to you, we have a chance to save Harry and Ginny."

"I suppose you're right," said Hermione, sighing tiredly into his chest. "Well… if that's all, I need to go think this through. I'll see you... er... the other you... at midnight."

Ron had been dreading this moment. So far, Hermione had taken everything in stride. As the girl pulled away from him, he reached out a hand and gently latched onto her wrist, swallowing the hard lump that had risen in his throat.

"Mione, there's… there's one last thing I need to tell you."

One of Hermione's eyebrows arched upwards. "I gather from your expression that it's not something I'm going to like?"

Ron took a deep, steadying breath and nodded. "You're going to see something in the Gryffindor common room. You're going to see me and… and…"

"And what?" supplied Hermione, lightly squeezing his hand.

Ron looked pointedly away from the large pair of chocolaty brown eyes that were staring up at him. He couldn't say it directly to her face.

"And… you're going to see Lavender and I snogging."

Hermione's breath audibly hitched and within it, he could hear the unmistakable sound of her surprise and hurt.

"Mione, I-"

"Don't," interrupted the bushy-haired girl, wrenching her arm out of his grip. "Just... don't."

"I wasn't expecting it," muttered Ron, hanging his head. "I swear."

Her expression stony, Hermione clenched her fists and pushed past him. When he tried to stop her, he suddenly found himself going cross-eyed as a wandtip was shoved into his face.

"I don't want to hear it!" she growled breathlessly. "You made me a promise, Ronald!"

"I know I did! And I haven't broken it! She just surprised-"

"I said I don't want to hear it!" yelled Hermione, swelling with fury. "Don't talk to me!"

"But it wasn't my fault!" protested Ron desperately. "She literally pounced on me!"

"Contegra!"

Ron's arms and legs snapped together. He keeled over, mercifully falling onto his side.

She glared down at his bound form. "That's not why I'm angry! Every time we get close, you push me away! Why didn't you push her away? Why don't you push Harry away? Why is it only me? I hate it! I hate you!"

"I'm not-"

"Don't make excuses! I don't care anymore!"

And with that, she spun on her heel and stalked away down the aisle, her wand sparking dangerously.

"Mione! Wait!"

Struggling uselessly against his invisible binds, Ron sat up and crawled after her. However, by the time he reached the edge of the bookcase, she had disappeared.

Ron sighed and rolled onto his back, picturing the affection he had seen in the eyes of Hermione's present-self.

'I didn't… I didn't mean what I said. In fact, I meant the opposite.'

Although he hated seeing her hurt, at least he now knew what his version of the girl had been talking about when they had parted two hours previous.

When the magic in his binds finally wore away, Ron picked himself up with a pained groan and made his way to the nearest stained-glass window. The orange sun was setting over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, casting long, ominous shadows across the grounds.

I love you too.

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Draco hunched his aching shoulders against the icy downpour. The hours spent sitting in silent vigil with no one to keep him company aside from Granger were driving him mad. The pain of his bruises and shoddily-healed scars made the situation even worse.

"I hate rain," he muttered grumpily to no one in particular. "I hate it."

Granger glared at him. "If you say that one more time, Malfoy, I'll jinx you. Harry needs us… so stop complaining."

He sneered at her. "I'll stop so long as you agree to cease prattling on about Weasley. Believe me when I say that I don't give a damn."

"I'm just worried he won't be here in time," she protested defensively. "I think I might have put a bit too much power into that binding hex."

"You obviously didn't. I wouldn't have been set free in-."

Out of nowhere, the Gryffindor girl lunged at him, pulling him behind a thick tree trunk. She threw a hand over his mouth to muffle his angry protest.

Draco stopped squirming when he heard the distinct sound of cracking twigs.

Someone was approaching the jumble of trees that they were using as a hiding spot, each footstep squelching noisily through the mud.

He held his breath as the bushes to their left rustled with movement.

"Mione! Malfoy! Where in the bloody hell are you?"

The branches parted, seemingly of their own accord.

Draco wrenched Granger's offending hand away from his lips and stepped into the open. "What took you, Weaselbee? Did the other version of the Mudblood give you a little blast from the past?"

The redhead yanked off Harry's invisibility cloak and sent Draco a look that would have made hell itself freeze over. "You watch your fucking mouth!"

"Just ignore him, Ron," said Granger calmly. "There's no use trying to be civil with this imbecilic cretin."

"Too right," grumbled Weasley. "What Harry sees in this piece of shite, I'll never know."

Draco snorted. As much as he wanted Harry's constant attention, being 'civil' with the unrefined pauper and the obnoxious know-it-all was an insurmountable obstacle.

Shoving Draco aside, Weasley grabbed the brown-haired girl's hand, pulled her out of earshot, and began to whisper under his breath.

The fierce blush that sprang to Granger's cheeks led Draco to believe that whatever the pair was talking about wasn't something he wanted to overhear. The image of romantic relations between the two made him somewhat sick to his stomach.

"You can shag on your own time," he called out to them. "When you freed me, it was close to eleven, which means we've roughly an hour left to come up with a way to subdue a bloodthirtsy, transformed werewolf."

To his immense satisfaction, Weasley bristled, whirled around, and pulled out his wand, his face turning a violent shade of red. However, when the enraged boy's gaze fell upon Draco, the anger vanished from his eyes and his jaw went slack.

"Perhaps I may be of service in regards to your furry little problem," wheezed a tired voice, accompanied by a soothing trill of twittering birdsong.

Draco spun on the spot.

Slumped against the large tree from behind which Draco had just emerged was none other than Albus Dumbledore. The old man looked half-dead and exhausted beyond belief. His back was hunched and his withered skin was sagging from his bones. It seemed to Draco that the Headmaster's silvery beard had lost several shades of color, almost appearing bleach white in the darkness.

"P-Professor!" squeaked Granger. "How did you… I thought you were…"

"Indeed I was," said Dumbledore wearily, sinking down onto one of the the large roots protruding from the ground. "And yet thanks to my faithful friend here, I was informed that all was not well at Hogwarts."

A small, red and gold bird poked its head out of Dumbledore's collar. It squawked angrily at the heavy raindrops that were slipping through the forest canopy and made a hasty retreat into the depths of the wizened man's robes.

Dumbledore peered knowingly them. "I take it that the three of you are aware of the situation that has befallen Harry? Would you be so kind as to enlighten me?"

Before Draco could say a word, Granger eagerly launched a painfully long-winded explanation of the night's events, only pausing whenever her face turned purple from lack of breath.

"You remain as cunning as ever, Tom," mumbled the Headmaster sadly as the annoying girl finally finished speaking. "Yet again, you force me to act rashly."

Dumbledore's piercing gaze flicked towards Draco.

"Mr. Malfoy… would I be correct in assuming that you would do all that is in your power to see Harry to safety?"

Draco was a tad shocked that the old coot was addressing him directly, but after a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "Yes, sir, I would."

The old man smiled. "Then I must ask you not to panic."

"Panic? Why would I-"

Draco yelped and backpedaled as Dumbledore limply fell sideways into the mud.

"Malfoy!" shouted Weasley. "What did you do?"

His angry retort of 'I didn't do anything!' caught in his throat as invisible hands gripped his wrists, wrenching his arms upward.

'Forgive me,' said a tiny voice in the back of his mind. 'As we do not share an intimate mental connection, I cannot possess you by mental means. I have no doubt that this will be most painful.'

Draco's eyes widened.

The hands tightened and a blinding wave of agony ripped through him.

Something was clawing through the skin of his back, tearing it to bloody shreds. It was as if every jab of the dagger that had left him with so many scars was stabbing him simultaneously.

Draco felt himself falling. He was being pushed downwards; smothered by a layer of pain.

And then… everything stopped.

He was standing in the middle of a bright, sunlit room that was barren of all furnishings. Each of its walls was made from solid, white marble… and yet somehow, he could see right through them. He could still see the Forbidden Forest; could still see Granger and Weasley looking dumbstruck.

'Do not be afraid, Draco,' boomed Dumbledore's strangely echoing voice. 'Even though I have forcibly taken over your body, I have every intent of returning control to you when our task is complete.'

Draco jumped in shock when he felt his physical-self move without his input. Even more odd was hearing words flowing past his lips; words that weren't his own.

"Miss Granger… while I understand your curiosity, I would greatly appreciate it if you refrained from poking at my body. I'm quite ticklish you know."

"W-What the bloody hell just happened?" gasped Weasley. "Are you… Are you Malfoy, Professor?"

"Only temporarily," he heard himself wheeze. "I'm afraid that no amount of planning would be able to prepare the three of you to fight a transformed werewolf. That task shall fall to me. In my body's currently fragile state, such a fight would be unwise, thus I have forced my soul into Mr. Malfoy's body."

"Y-You possessed him?" squeaked Granger, horrified. "But, sir… that's… that's…"

"It is a gruesome act, yes… but it is necessary."

Draco felt himself make an odd, trilling sound.

The little phoenix emerged from Dumbledore's robes and flapped to Draco's shoulder.

"Come, Fawkes. It is time to rescue our friends."

The bird chirped affirmatively, puffing out its tiny chest.

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A powerful stream of ice-cold water splashed over Ginny's bare skin. The chill cut through her pain-induced haze, delivering her back into the cruel hands of awareness.

Upon first glimpse of the bottomless black eyes that haunted her memories, Ginny thought she was having a nightmare. However, when clammy, spidery fingers slid down the side of her hip, horrible realization washed over her.

This was real. Tom stood mere inches away from her, his twisted smirk prominent even in the dim light.

"Hello, Ginny. I've missed you.."

Ginny cringed as the boy leaned forward and trailed his tongue down her neck. Even though his touch no longer cut into her skin, her mind made the ghost of the pain feel real.

"Stop him!" cried Harry's voice from somewhere behind her. "You swore you would let her go!"

Voldemort's shrill giggle made her skin crawl.

"Yes… I did. I am a man of my word. I swore that I would set your friends free, but it was you who failed to specify when, where, and how I fulfill said oath. Where shall I do it, Harry? In a pit full of snakes? Over a cliff's edge? At the bottom of the ocean?"

"YOU BASTARD!"

"Now, Now," croaked Voldemort with an air of sadistic laughter, "do hold your tongue, or I shall make you watch Peter cut out young Ginevra's. Wormtail! Begin the binding ritual!"

Ginny shuddered with relief as Tom's fondling hands were yanked away from her body. The force caused the invisible chains that were suspending her in midair to slowly spin about.

The first thing she noticed was Harry's bitterly resigned expression. Her normally sparkling, emerald eyes were dull, red, and overflowing with angry, apologetic tears.

The second thing she noticed was that the chair in which Harry was restrained sat in the corner of a large, glowing triangle that Pettigrew was painting on the floor with his wand. Voldemort's bundle of robes was laid at another corner and Tom stood in the center, his cold eyes still glued upon Ginny.

"Do it!" commanded Voldemort excitedly when Peter had finished drawing three more glowing lines that separated the triangle into four equal sections. "Do it now!"

"Don't," begged Harry, staring hard at Pettigrew. "I know this ritual. That body still hasn't reached maturity. His soul will corrupt the core and he'll be ten times stronger than he was at his prime! You can still stop! Please, Peter, don't do it!"

Pettigrew ignored her. He stepped into the open corner of the triangle, placed the blade of his dagger to his palm, and sliced deep. The man groaned as his blood spilled onto the floor.

"B-Blood of the servant, willingly given; l-loosen the bonds of the body."

The line dividing Peter from Tom disappeared.

Ginny shut her eyes as Pettigrew levitated the dagger toward Harry, but it didn't help in the slightest. The mental image created by Harry's scream, along with the nasty shlick of the blade sinking into the girl's flesh, was unavoidable.

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken; loosen the bonds of the mind."

Ginny forced herself to look. Blood was pouring down Harry's calf and the line separating her corner was fading fast.

Pettigrew guided the dagger to Tom. With two flicks of his wand, he slashed the blade down the length of the boy's wrists.

"Blood of the vessel, d-drained half-dry; loosen the bonds of the soul."

Tom fell to his knees as the final syllable was uttered, his eyes rolling upwards into the back of his head.

Voldemort squirmed wildly as the last line began to fade. "The time is nigh! Lord Voldemort will rise!"

The door slammed open.

"Not today, mate!" shouted a familiar voice. "Expulso!"

A violent shockwave slammed into Pettigrew, knocking him out of the triangle. The glowing lines disappeared with a loud, sizzling noise that sounded a bit like bacon frying in its own grease.

Voldemort's screech of rage was deafening. A wand as white as bone slid from a gap in the pile of robes.

"AVAD-"

"Incendio!" cried another disembodied voice. "Alohomora! Finite Incantatem!"

The bundle of cloth burst into flames and Ginny fell to the floor in a heap.

A wand was thrust into her hand.

"Get up, Gin! Fight! Oi! Get back here, you little rat!"

Ginny's mind was reeling… and it wasn't from excessive blood loss. Everything seemed to be moving at speeds faster than her eyes could follow. Hermione had appeared out of thin air. Harry was out of her chair, wand in hand, flinging jets of blue light at a small blur that was skittering across the room, dodging beneath the furniture. Voldemort's screams of agony were dying away.

Her temples throbbed in furious protest when she attempted to stand. Time slowed. Her surroundings spun out of control. Darkness clouded her vision, blurring her senses together.

Warm arms wrapped her in a gentle embrace.

"It's alright, Gin. You can let go. We're safe."

Ginny could feel a calloused hand cupping her cheek as she slipped into oblivion.

Harry…

…

…

…

…

Something was tickling her neck; something hot and rhythmic.

Ginny tentatively opened her eyes, blinking away the bright sunlight that was streaming down onto her face. An immaculately white curtain had replaced the Shrieking Shack's shabby décor. Given the unsettling smell of extreme cleanliness lingering in her nostrils, she came to the conclusion that she was in the Hospital Wing.

Ginny tried to sit up, but paused upon realizing that she wasn't the bed's only occupant. A lithe body was pressed against her side and a familiar head of long, messy, black silk was buried in the crook of her shoulder.

Everything that happened in the Shrieking Shack came crashing back to her. Somehow, against all odds, Harry had survived yet another encounter with the Dark Lord.

Even though she could have done without the torture and near-death experience, Ginny was somewhat grateful that they had been kidnapped. It had clearly broken Harry's resolve to avoid allowing their bodies to touch at night. After two months of going without, Ginny was desperately missing the feeling of holding the girl in her arms. She missed the texture of Harry's skin and the tender caresses they shared. She missed seeing the rosy blush on her friend's face every morning. She missed waking up to a soft body that fit perfectly against her own.

Raising a finger, Ginny brushed Harry's wild curtain of hair aside and tucked it behind an ear so that she might better gaze upon the flushed face hidden within the folds of her shirt.

Harry stirred at the light touch and a flurry of panted nothings flowed into the pillow.

As the sound of the little, breathy moans bounced around in Ginny's head, the familiar ache in her chest tightened. The same startling sensation that had overwhelmed her in the locker rooms returned in full force. It was primal and possessive. It was like hunger, thirst, and desperation all rolled into one. Never in her entire life had she felt a yearning more intense.

Mine...

Ginny pulled the sleeping girl as close as she could, squeezing her tight.

You're mine. You always will be.

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And that's PoA

GoF is coming soon

A part of me likes this chapter and a part of me hates it. I don't know why.

The time travel was a bitch to write and keep in line with JKR's 'time is fixed' motif. Where is Steven Moffat when you need him?