A/N: Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Gah. I'm not going to bother with what month it is, because its obviously still early March – all of Hogwarts and the Death Eaters aren't just going to simultaneously halt, and then continue the battle in May or whatever. Anyway. Enjoy.

Also, I'm sorry it took me so long to update. I had like three chapters ready, so I didn't have to do any typing, and I was free to PLAY MY NEW ELECTRIC GUITAR (WOOP! I got it for Christmas xD) so then when I ran out of pre-typed chapters, I had to start typing an entire chapter from scratch. Sorree.

Disclaimer: I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

The Stone Speaks

Chapter Forty-Three: Over-sized Bats

GINNY AND DRACO

Feeling tears sting, Ginny rested her hand over his large, long-lashed eyes, closing the eyes of the boy who would be forever fourteen when his two-year-old brother was eighty. Then, feelings her shoulders shake with despair and anger, she stood and walked away. She would tell Colin later.

Dennis Creevey was the first of the brave to die – the first of many more to come.

…

Feeling sick, Draco spun and ran, without any solemn memorial to close her vacant, staring eyes and respect her life (as if I would anyway, he thought dryly) and vanished into the skirmish around him.

…

Ginny held her wand tight. She wanted to kill Avery for murdering Dennis, but Avery was already dead. Collapsed on the ground – if it could be called like collapsing. More like sitting in a puddle of his own skin, Ginny thought bitterly. At least Dennis Creevey had done something good with his last few minutes. He had saved Ginny's life and killed an important Death Eater.

An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. A life for a life.

Shaking the Muggle saying to the back of her mind, Ginny continued, looking for Draco, a Death Eater to fight, or something to give Hogwarts a personal advantage over the opposing army.

"Dragons!" she gasped, seeing two large, very angry winged-beast fly over that she recognized as a Ukrainian Ironbelly and a Hebridean Black.

One, the Ironbelly – giant, slow, metallic grey, particularly vicious talons and spiked tail - was currently pulling off a large acromantula's head, and the other, the Black – smaller, native to Britain, very aggressive, rough black scales that will graze bare skin, and a fire-shooting distance of about thirty feet – was swooping around like an over-sized bat, roaring menacingly and scorching everything it saw to dust.

Cogs were turning rapidly in Ginny's head as she stood stationary and quite defenceless.

If I could control it…

Yes, Ginevra, that's all very well, argued the sensible part of her mind, but you've learnt about this! They have very strong scales – they only have one sensitive spot of bare, un-scaled skin, which is under their ears…

Under their ears, eh?

DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!

Too late.

Her face set into a determined frown, Ginny raced forwards. With every flap of its wings, the Hebridean Black swung its tail down earthwards to balance itself with the friendly force known as gravity – something that usually killed anyone standing below.

If I time it right…

BLOODY FREAKING HELL, GINNY, NO WAY! NO – FREAKING – WAY! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL YOURSELF!

Then I'll have died for a good cause, Ginny thought stubbornly, stowing Draco's wand safely into her pocket and still marching forwards. She then stopped, tilted her head right back so that her dark red hair almost reached her waist, and stared up at the fierce, blood-thirsty, teeth-gnashing dragon that she was about to board.

"Ready or not," muttered Ginny. Flap… flap… the dragon whirled fire… it was coming closer… flap… flap…here it comes –

A hard, fast flap of the dragon's wings, and its long, muscular black tail swiped forwards – fast – fast – fast – OH GOD, IT'S COMING, I'M GOING TO DIE – "I love you Draco," she whispered, deciding instantly on her last words, squeezing hazel tightly shut, and then, she leapt forwards, flinging her arms out.

A –

Moment –

Or –

A –

Lifetime –

Passing –

WHACK.

Pain shook through Ginny, sending tremors and spasms all through her as she felt the tail meet her left arm, which apparently had not flung out far enough – there was a terrible CRUNCH, and then Ginny was standing on the arrowhead-shaped end of the tail.

She was alive.

"YES!" she whooped, but the word was sucked from her lips and scattered below as the Hebridean Black did its job… flying. She held on tightly for dear life as it plunged upwards – upwards? Can you plunge upwards, Ginny wondered, bemused – and only then dared to open her eyes.

Down below, many had stopped fighting, and were either: A) screaming, B) swooning, C) laughing, D) placing bets on whether she'd fall or the dragon would eat her, or E) staring in horror and fear.

Ignoring this, and the fact that Draco was probably below, tearing his hair out that she was putting herself in danger again, she squinted up (unfortunately, at the dragon's arse), her eyes streaming from the wind and the cold. The icy gusts were numbing her probably-broken arm, so the pain wasn't much of a problem.

Holding on tight, Ginny reached out and wrapped her fingers around one bright purple, shallow spike on the Black's tail, and pulled herself up with some difficulty. The spikes were slippery, and hard to hold onto, but she slowly scaled his tail, clambering up, a little like a bizarre, deadly, semi-frozen stepladder.

Luckily, so far, the dragon hadn't noticed that it had a small passenger clinging to him and hoping to possess his brain to do what she wanted, and Ginny was incredibly grateful for this to whoever controlled her life. She suddenly noticed that, gradually, as the Black's tail widened and disappeared into its body, it grew thicker, and therefore the spikes that Ginny was holding desperately onto grew further apart until she was basically sitting on its tail, straddled between the spikes.

"Well, damn," she said sarcastically, but her words were torn away by the whizzing air before she could hear her own voice. Faintly, and sounding very distant, Ginny heard Hermione's shriek of "Ginny!" She looked over her shoulder and down at her friend – bad move.

The redhead's stomach lurched, swirled, and performed a swift series of tangos, salsas, foxtrots and cha-chas. Wow… thought Ginny weakly. That is… quite high. She tore her gaze from the ground, many, many feet below, and focused again on the large, vaguely triangular head of the Hebridean Black that was weaving and bobbing in front of her.

Draco

He ran through the crowd, feeling disgusted by his own actions against Bellatrix. Murderer – murderer – murderer rang through his head, echoing against the walls of the chamber that held his brain. Draco saw Blaise Zabini and Gregory Goyle fighting an Inferi, and was moving towards them to help when he heard a high-pitched screech; "Ginny!"

Fear washing through his body and blanching his already-pale face, Draco spun away from his two fellow Slytherins and raced towards the source of the scream. Zig-zagging through the crowd, he finally ran into Granger, who was, shrieking, "Ginny, no!"

"Granger – Hermione – where's Ginny?" he gasped to the unkempt, blood-stained Head Girl.

Tears were in Granger's eyes; she grabbed Draco's elbow and held it tight. "She's – she's - up there," she sobbed, "Ginny!"

Up where?

Draco looked up, and he felt his breakfast rising back to his throat. There: a powerful, fierce black dragon. And swinging from its tail, thirty – forty – fifty – feet, was a small, skinny figure. With long, flaming red hair billowing back in the wind. "What the bloody hell is she doing?" he cried.

Granger did not answer. She was probably too busy cutting off blood circulation to Draco's lower arm as she wept, clinging desperately to his elbow. "Ginny – Ginny – my… hic… best friend! My – hic… Ginny!" she howled, tears splashing down her muddy face, leaving clean tear-tracks in the filth.

Wrenching his arm from her grip, Draco pushed through the half-staring, half-battling crowd to get as close as possible to where the Black was flying. "GINNY!" he bellowed. "GINNY – GET DOWN!"

Someone who was watching the whole Weasley-dragon fight suddenly screamed and collapsed as they were attacked from behind by a Death Eater. Everyone burst into war again, Ginny's insane antics forgotten. Except for Draco. "GINNY!" he shouted.

A thousand images flashed through his mind – the dragon saw her, spun, and knocked her off. She was killed by the fall.

-the dragon saw her, spun and killed her in an explosion of flame.

-the dragon saw her, spun and ripped her head off, before dropping the body in front of Draco.

"GINNY!"

Ginny

She heard his frightened scream, but didn't look down. If she did, she knew she'd fall. And that wouldn't be good.

Ginny climbed further up. Now that the spikes of the dragon were so far apart, it needed a third line down the middle to maintain its status as a lethal instrument. Wrapping her slim, bloody fingers around each long spike as she clambered up its spine, she hauled herself up.

Something was wrong, though. The dragon wasn't attacking the people below anymore. It was soaring through the sky – higher and higher and higher. Altitude choked Ginny's lungs, but she kept going… keep going…

The Black veered sideways, tilting its body vertical against gravity. Several things happened at once. Ginny's body slid away, she instinctively grabbed at the nearest spike, her broken arm broke in a few more places as her elbow was crushed against the side of the Hebridean Black, and one of her shoes flew off (soaring down and knocking out an Imperiused Muggle).

This is not a good day.

Ginny made her day three times worse in approximately a quarter of a second – she screamed.

Surprisingly, this cry was not ripped away by the harsh, icy wind. It rang out, loud and clear, probably terrifying Draco and Hermione down below into thinking that she was being eaten… and the dragon heard too.

It craned its head back, searching for the annoying midge clinging to its spine. It located Ginny, and let out a loud, furious roar. In shock, Ginny's hand slipped, and she slid rapidly down the rough, coarse scales, grazing every inch of her hands as she desperately scrabbled to get hold of something before she plummeted to her death.

Finally her bloodstained hands gripped the tall muscles that knotted down and spread out into broad, powerful bat wings, and she dangled uselessly. Legs kicking and flailing, Ginny hauled herself up a few inches, to try and grab at a fold of the wing, a loose scale, a low-placed spike – anything. She pushed her fingers under one scale, and accidentally ripped it off.

Thick, rank green blood spurted out, splashing across Ginny's pale, already-grubby face, searching out every open space; nose, ears, mouth, eyes, and down her shirt. As she spat out a huge glob of blood down to the battlefield below, the dragon screeched in a hideous cry of pain.

Great. Now it knows where I am. AND it hates me.

A faint growl rumbled under Ginny, deep in the Black's belly, and then a great plume of fire hot enough to bend metal and melt bone rushed through its muscular, masculine maw and past ivory, blood-stained teeth.

Unable to control herself, Ginny screamed again – the noise startled the Hebridean Black and it rolled sideways, just before the column of flame reached her, and she was hurtled back on the beast's back again, scraping over the painful scales and thudding against the spikes that lined its protruding spine.

She heard Draco scream, far below, but all thoughts of him were banished when the angered, hurt dragon shot another pillar of fire in her direction. Ginny wriggled through the gap between two spikes. She heard snapping sounds that seemed to come from her arm. She had three thoughts.

How many times can an arm break?

Well, that can't be good.

FIRE!!

The most prominent idea in Ginny's head was the latter, and she scrambled away from the sharp teeth and scorching flame of the dragon. No, stupid! You're supposed to be going towards the dragon! She crawled forwards, edging over the dragon's body – to dragons, quite small; to humans, colossal.

The Hebridean Black, now thoroughly – for want of a better phrase – pissed off, roared again, seeming to shake the foundations of the earth, and rolled through the air before plummeting down.

A shriek was torn from Ginny as she tumbled sideways and then skidded down the Black's back, bumping into spikes and scratching herself on the scales. The Black screamed into the sky, and it let loose a searing inferno.

A blaze hot enough to challenge the earth's core was thundering up from the very pits of the dragon's belly, creating fire, and then it poured from its throat. It was almost like liquid, pouring over a flame-proof tongue, and curling past hard, dark lips, and flooding over disconcertingly delicate-looking ivory teeth, yet not damaging or chipping or even burning the fragile white.

Past the lips, past the gums, towards Ginny, here it comes.

The stupid rhyme, with altered words, shot into Ginny's head in place of anything realistic or meaningful, in place of anything that could, possibly, save her life. But no. What her brain gave her was a Muggle children's poem.

And then the fire was upon her.

A/N: Dun dun dunn. I have nothing to say. Move on. Click the pretty little button just below. You know that you wannaa… I'll give you a hug and a lollipop of your desired flavour. –brandishes lollipop tin-