FINALLY ff.net is back on.  I'm starting to think that this is more trouble than it's worth…Oh, no!  I'm almost finished with this fic!  *sniffles* I'm pretty sure only one more chapter after this one, but I could be wrong.  Before I say good-bye, I must dedicate this chap to Crissy, who has been so much help in creating this…accident?  Oh, well.  Anyways, I'm just going to let this one go for now, because I've got nothing better to say.  Heeheehee…and Lynn?  Fluffy bunnies?  You've got to be joking…. (There, u happy?  You're in my author's note…*sticks out tongue*)

Silent Tears Part XII    

Killing Me Softly  (you take my breath away…)

"Hermione, where are Alex and Ron?" Michelle asked, sitting down in an armchair next to her.  Hermione rolled her eyes and set down the book she was reading in her lap. 

"Are you sure you want to know?" she said in disgust, but on closer inspection, she looked rather strained.

"What-?"

Hermione nodded toward the girls' staircase and Michelle's eyes grew wide.

"You aren't serious, are you?" she said, looking close to laughing.

"Oh, I'm serious," Hermione replied sourly, "and I'm guessing they are too, by the looks of it.  I went up there looking for them about two hours ago, and they were..." She sighed, shaking her head. 

"Oi!  Hermione!" George called from across the room from where he, Fred, and Lee Jordan were counting money.  "Have you seen Ron?"

Hermione sighed again.  "Do I really have to explain this again?" she moaned.  The twins were giving her odd looks, so she said wearily, "In the fourth year girls' dormitory."

"The fourth year girls' dormitory?" Fred echoed, glancing at George.  Then both of their faces cracked into evil grins.

"You wouldn't—" Hermione began.

"Oh, we would," George grinned, and, before Hermione could stop them, they leapt across the room and sprinted up the stairs.  Hermione expelled a frustrated breath.  "I give them five minutes," she muttered to Michelle.  Michelle snorted.

Sure enough, not five minutes later, Fred and George came pelting down the stairs, expressions of utmost horror on their faces.

"We didn't even have the nerve to open the door," George said faintly, throwing himself into an armchair and taking Deep Cleansing Breaths.

"You would think that they would've had to come up for air by now," said Fred in amazement, shaking his head despairingly.

"Well, I did warn you," Hermione said in a superior tone. 

********

Draco's bloodless face loomed out of the darkness.

Harry expelled an audible gasp of astonishment and backed up against the wall where the roots snatched at his hair and clothes.  Ginny stirred in his arms at his movement, but remained unconscious. 

Malfoy…?

"Don't think I can't hear you, Potter," Voldemort said in amusement, turning around.  He saw that Harry had Ginny in his arms and narrowed his eyes.  He raised his wand, and in one swift movement, Ginny fell from his arms, Harry was raised off his feet, and was thrown across the room, hitting the wall, hard.  The back of his head struck a protruding stone, and a searing pain lanced through his entire body, sending fire coursing through his veins.  He staggered to his feet, the pain in his head now tripling.  Voldemort, apparently satisfied that Harry would make no further attempts to escape, had turned back to Lucius. 

"Are you prepared to commence, Lucius?"

"Yes, My Lord.  Of course," Lucius answered quietly.  He looked down and was presumably searching for something in his robes.  When he glanced up again, he wore an agitated expression on his face.  "Master…it appears that I have misplaced my wand," he said in a tone that matched his countenance.  From what Harry could see of him, Voldemort's eyes narrowed.

"No matter…it can be preformed with as much ease here as it can be from there," he said in a voice full of menace, a serrated edge that took much pleasure in its tormenting of innocent souls.  He turned toward Harry, advancing upon him with his wand raised once again.  Harry was reminded suddenly, vividly, of his meeting with Tom Riddle, three years ago.  The same mannerisms, mostly, the way he walked, the lazy meander, how he held his wand…and the same cruel amusement in his voice, the same horrible, hungry gleam in his eyes.  Only those eyes had been a translucent grey, almost blank of expression save for the terrible scorn and loathing that burned there, hungry for a purpose in life, to rise above the rest; these were red, deep, thirsty, craving more than life's necessities…blood, power, knowledge, immortality.  But what had driven the handsome, clever boy into becoming someone so heinous and ruthless was beyond Harry.

"The gift of telepathy is highly overrated, Harry," Voldemort said softy, jerking him back to the present.  "I had it myself once, fifty years ago, as you so kindly put it."  His voice was full of mocking and dripping sarcasm, and his eyes burned into Harry's face, though Harry focused at a point beyond Voldemort, the only thing that was keeping up his resolve: Ginny.  But a thought occurred to him…

"You can't hurt me," he said slowly.  "I'm protected, and I've got the one thing that can defeat you."  He reached into his pocked, now raising his eyes and locking his gaze with Voldemort's.  The only problem was, his pockets were empty.  With a cold spasm of fear that caused his insides to curl up and shrivel he realized that—

"Your wand won't be doing you much good, now will it, if you don't have it."  Harry stared at him with a cool detachment, although on the inside he was panicking.  Where was his bloody wand?  Voldemort reached out a lazy hand and plucked out of nowhere a long, glimmering piece of wood.  Harry recognised it immediately and could feel himself paling further.  Voldemort laughed and raised his own wand. 

Once again, Harry was thrown against the wall.  The breath was pulled out of him as efficiently as a vacuum.  His head cracked down hard, and the pain in his head cresended.  Reaching to the back of his head, he felt something wet there.  Blood.  Stars winking in front of his eyes, he slumped against the wall to the ground. 

Voldemort was now crouched down in front of him, and Harry kept his eyes focused on the floor.  There was a cold sort of contempt in his catlike eyes, staring at Harry down the lacking length of his snake-slitted nose.  "I once had it myself," he continued in a quiet voice that nonetheless sent violent tremors through Harry's body; it was like shards of ice that had been drenched in oil.  "And my mind-link partner was quite as unfortunate as yours…quite unfortunate."  He didn't seem prolonged to elaborate on the subject, however.  Voldemort's soft breath stirred Harry's hair, causing him to shudder.  He closed his eyes, trying to get a grip on himself, and while they were closed he failed to notice that Voldemort was now pointing his wand at him again…

"Crucio!"

His eyes flared open just as a jet of violet light hit him in the chest.  The pain was horrible, wrenching at his insides, and he screamed loud and long.  His entire being was dying; he was being turned inside out…Stars winked in front of his eyes; he saw bursts of colour that swirled around in his head…faintly, he saw a narrow beam of light shudder and snap in two…and finally faded into black.

***********

How long he had lain there, he did not know.  He sat up quickly, rubbing his head, and the stars were back.  His entire body ached…  Then he remembered Voldemort…

"I hope you now realize the unfortunate powers of telepathy, Potter," he heard him whisper.  "Look…"

Harry twisted his head around and saw that the orb had turned itself back to Draco, who was still lying on the forest floor, his eyes closed, pale as death.  Harry was puzzled.  If he was awake, shouldn't Malfoy be awake as well? 

"Lucius," Voldemort said precipitously.  "Is he awake?"  There was a note in his voice that Harry hadn't heard before: it was almost like urgency, and Harry wondered…

Lucius's head bobbed back into view.  His face was taut and troubled, but not out of concern for his son.

"No, Master.  He is still unconscious."

Voldemort's face contorted.  The fact that Malfoy was still out cold could only mean that—

"Their connection has been broken," Voldemort stated with a note of conclusiveness.  His voice was blank of all emotion, yet his eyes were what gave him away: they had narrowed to fiery slits of fury that could only mean that this was definitely not supposed to have happened.

Then Voldemort turned.  Harry regarded in his eyes the ghastly voracious expression and knew, without having to be told, what was coming next.  He had seen that look in Voldemort's eyes before…on the night of the Third Task…he braced himself, praying for it to come swiftly and painlessly, all the while bitterly thinking that he hadn't even saved Ginny…

A long shadow fell over him, and, realizing that he had clenched his eyes shut, opened them slowly to see Wormtail standing over him.

"I only intend to commit one murder tonight, Wormtail," Voldemort said coldly.  "The rest we will save for later days and nights.  Move out of the way."

But Wormtail stood still, guarding Harry's body with his own.  Harry could only see his back, and the muscles there were tensed as if this took every solitary bit of courage he possessed to stand up against his master.  Stand up to his master, moreover.  He was shaking from head to toe, but gave the impression that he was determined, despite the outcome.

"I have watched you murder countless people," Wormtail said in a squeaky voice that trembled as much as his body, but was quite strong.  "You murdered my best friend fourteen years ago, and on my information.  Yet I am still one of the Marauding Four.  You call me by the name they called me.  Wormtail…"  He shook his balding head.  "Maybe you do not know, My Lord, but I am in a life debt with the youngest Potter.  And I won't let him die."  He raised his chin defiantly, and seemed decided.  "I won't let you kill him."  He glanced at Harry over his shoulder.  "Sirius Black told me that my own stinking skin meant more to me than Harry's whole family.  Yes, he was right.  I am a coward.  I will always be a coward.  And I will never change.  But you cannot kill him."

Harry leaned around Wormtail to look at Voldemort.  He was vaguely surprised to see that the Dark Lord was gazing at Wormtail with a bored expression on his face.  Indeed, if he had a moustache (or any hair, for that matter), he would have been twisting it around his finger.  He stared down Wormtail with detached amusement and said, quite lazily, "As noble a speech as that was, Wormtail, are you quite finished?  I would like to get on with this."

But Wormtail firmly stood his ground.  "No."

"No?" Voldemort now looked faintly annoyed.  "No?  Come now, Wormtail.  Remember what I offer you…a place above the rest, wealth, power…Do stop being noble and stand aside so I can commit the murder I have been waiting do commit for fourteen years now…"

"No," Wormtail stated, his voice barely audible from the tremors that shook it.

"Very well, then.  I must admit, you were quite useless to me.  You are of no loss.  I can find others whom are willing to support me rather than die for the friends they betrayed…"

Wormtail flinched slightly, facing the wand.  He clenched his artificial arm, and said, in almost a whisper, "Kill me, then."

Voldemort smiled without mirth.  "Avada Kedavra!"

A harsh blast of green light illuminated the entire cave, blinding Harry.  He saw Wormtail fall to the ground, and knew, in that instant, that he was dead.

He looked back at Voldemort and saw that he was eyeing the body of his dead servant with an almost pitying expression in his eyes. 

"Fool," he murmured softly.  Then he shifted his gaze back to Harry.  "He was a fool to think that if I killed him, I would let you live.  But how wrong he was…how very wrong."  He stretched out a booted toe and flipped Wormtail over onto his back, so that his face was visible.  As he watched, the silver arm flickered and disappeared, in its place a stump of an arm.

Harry tensed, biting down absently on his lip.  There was no hope for him now, no one else to come to his rescue…the only way would be if they knew where this cave was, but how could they…?

Voldemort advanced upon him, and Harry knew this was the end.  He tried to stand, so he could at least die proudly, like his father…but the aches that the Cruciatous Curse had left all over his body prevented him from even turning his head any further…he slumped back against the wall, defeated, and turned his gaze back to behind Voldemort, where Ginny lay…but wait, he thought, staring at Ginny's comatose figure, she's awake…

Sure enough, Ginny had silently sat up, staring at Harry with wide, doleful eyes.  Then she looked at Voldemort and seemed to be undergoing some extremely quick thinking.  Next, she slowly rose to her feet, all the while not taking her gaze from Voldemort.  Harry tried to communicate to her with his eyes without Voldemort noticing what his goal was. Run! he pleaded silently to her, but she either didn't understand or wasn't heeding his desperate gaze.  He looked back at Voldemort, whose lipless mouth had curled into a sardonic smile.  "You were so predictable, Potter…how easy this will be to kill you at last…"

Harry sighed, defeated, and waited.

"Crucio!"  Harry knew the curse was for him to die in pain…he bit down harder on his lip, fighting hopelessly not to cry out in pain, but it was a fruitless attempt.  The pain was far worse than any before, so all consuming…his scar might have continued to dash across the length of his head, splitting it open—

At last, it stopped, and Harry gazed blearily up at Voldemort.  There was a look of savage triumph in his eyes…Harry closed his eyes, giving himself up to the inevitable.  And sure enough…

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green light came, and his scar pitched again, almost causing him to pass out, which, he thought bitterly, it didn't.

"No, Harry!  NO!" 

An echoing cry reverberated off the walls of the cave; a small figure hurtled from across the room and stood before him, in between him and the jet of poisonous green light.

"No, Ginny!  Don't!"  He made to shove her away but…

Too late.

The spell cast, it met its target…except…

There was a terrible scream of fury…through Harry's closed and stinging eyelids, he made out an awesome blast of green light…a shadow dispersing…then silence.  His scar seared sharply once more, then, with a final extreme spurt of pain, diminished.  He raised a shaking hand and slowly opened his eyes, wiping the sweat away from his forehead, and it came back red.  His scar was bleeding.  He felt something else wet on his face and found that he had bitten through his lower lip out of fear.

The orb suspended near the ceiling was throbbing its pallid white light again, but this time becoming fainter and fainter all the while.  Lucius was trying to contact his master, but must have realised that no help would befall him…. Gazing around the room, where a greenish haze lingered, Harry spotted two huddled lumps on the floor.  One was Wormtail's body.  The other…he realized, with a horrible lurch of his stomach, was Ginny.  Another swift glance around the room told him that Voldemort was nowhere to be seen.

Ginny moaned and rolled over.  Harry gave a start.  How could she possibly still be alive? he thought wildly.  He hurried over to her and knelt down beside her.

"What did you do to him, Ginny?" he asked softly.

"What did you say?" she murmured, her eyes sliding in and out of focus.

"Voldemort…That curse should've killed you…and it didn't."

She shook her head bemusedly, as if trying to clear out cobwebs.

"It worked once, didn't it?  You were saved because of your mother, and I thought…"

"Well, it worked again, it looks like."  He smiled wanly.  "I guess you're the Girl Who Lived, now, aren't you?"

"No, Harry…I think…I'm dying."

The moment hung suspended between them, like an airplane with its engines cut, waiting to plummet.

"Don't say that, Ginny.  You aren't dying."  He laid a hand gently on the side of her face, tilting it toward him.  She didn't say anything, only put her hand on top of his.  When she did speak, her voice was barely audible.

"Harry…would it be too much to ask if…would you…"

"What is it?"

"Before I die…can…you kiss me?  I…love you, Harry…I do…" Her breath was coming in uneven gasps, and her face was drawn with pain.

"Ginny, I—" Harry began, quite startled.

"Please…" 

Harry hesitated, then lowered his face to hers, sliding his hand under her head.

The kiss that followed was painfully bittersweet.  Gentle, yet inclusive.  When their mouths touched, Ginny let out a small gasp; Harry couldn't tell if it was out of surprise or not.  Then her lips parted and she moaned, and he merely assumed that it was an attempt to get more out of the kiss.  But when she didn't kiss him back, he began to wonder…

He pulled back, laying her head gently back on the ground.  Her eyes were open, glassy and blank, but a small smile dawned her lips.  The lines of pain were smoothed from her face…

Harry raised his hand and gently lowered her eyelids and bowed his head, tears filling his eyes.  She had been right.

He really did take her breath away. 

Maybe there's a God above,

And all I ever learned from love

Was how to shoot at someone who

Outdrew you.

It's not a cry you can hear at night,

It's not somebody who's seen the light,

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah…

***********

He was dreaming.  Dreaming that he was running very fast through a patch of woods, but getting nowhere.  The only thought that went through his mind was, "I've got to keep going...she's waiting for me..." He didn't understand what these words meant, and his dream self didn't seem willing to co-operate.  Whenever he tried to slow down, he just sped up, gaining speed, even though he could barely catch his breath.  The moon shone brightly, high in the sky, a pallid lantern lighting his way.  Panting, a sharp stitch in his chest, he hurtled through the trees, dodging this way and that, and finally...

He came to a clearing that was bathed, not in moonlight, but in shimmering sunshine.  There she was, standing in the middle of the meadow, in a flowing white dress that he had never seen before.  Her long red hair fanned out behind her in a non-existent wind, and there seemed to be a halo of light surrounding her beautiful frame.  She stretched out her small hand to him and called his name.

"Ron...help me..."  Her voice was faint, coming as if he was hearing her from far away.

He stepped forward out of the trees, trying to reach her, but the closer he got, the farther away she seemed to get.  His feet padded on the soft grass, and he was covering distance, but try as he might, she remained just out of his reach...

"I can't, Ginny, I can't..."

"Please, Ron, I need you..."

"Why?  Where are we? What's going on?  I don't understand..."

He broke into a run, but he only stayed where he was...getting nowhere... She was fading beyond his range of vision…he sped up, but she was simply getting farther and farther beyond his reach…

"Ginny!  WAIT!"

"Good-bye, Ron..."

"NO!"

Ron sat up, panting, staring wildly around in the darkness.  Throwing back the sheets, he rolled out of bed…and almost right on top of Alex.  He caught his breath.  Oh, yeah…he thought, as the previous night's events were commemorated.  

Alex lay curled up among the scarlet sheets, her bare shoulder visible, her left tucked under the pillow and her dark hair spewing all around her head.  Ron gazed at her, her lightly tanned skin glowing with heat, her small body rising and falling with every breath she took.  Her right arm was stretched out over her well-formed figure, giving her a very dramatic appearance.

She stirred, and rolled over on her back, and saw Ron leaning over her.  She gazed up at him sleepily, her amber eyes travelling up to meet his gaze.

"Silver-tongued devil," she yawned, and sighed, moving closer to him.

"You sure weren't complaining last night.  Hey!  What the—ow!" he yelped as Alex wrestled him underneath her.  She giggled, folding her arms triumphantly on top of his chest.

"I guess it's lucky you're so light.  I mean, you could be a big fat old lady and I would be squashed flat by now—"

"Shut up, Ron.  Anyway, I wouldn't be the one to talk if I were you."

"That's enough out of that mouth."

"Oh really?" she asked innocently, tracing a lazy finger over Ron's chest.  She paused, ostensibly pondering the outcome of her question; then asked, "Was that you who screamed?"

"Probably," he said slowly, the memory rolling over him and robbing him of the momentary happiness he had achieved.  "I was having a dream…" He trailed off uncertainly, an apprehensive sensation taking up residence in his stomach.  He was glad Alex was there…he could talk to her…He glanced at her again, who was looking at him and seemed to know better than ask anymore.  Instead, she kissed him lightly on the mouth and rested her chin upon her arms, sighing contentedly.  He stroked her hair, taking comfort in her closeness. 

"Get off," he muttered softly, rolling his eyes. "Or else."

She batted her long eyelashes at him.  "Or else what?" she asked innocently.

"This," he said, and slid his hands down her back to her sides, tickling her ruthlessly.  "Stop it!" she yelled, shrieking with helpless laughter.  "Stop!"  The next thing she knew, there was a flurry of movement, and she was lying flat on her back, gasping, Ron on top of her.  She glared playfully at him. 

"My turn," he said softly, smirking and folding his arms on top of her chest.

"Mean," she grumbled.

Ron looked at her, injured.  "So you're mad at me then?"

"Come over here and find out."

"Nice one," he said, and rested his head on her chest, listening to the frantic thumping of her heart as she threaded her fingers through his hair and sighed. 

"You know what I find amazing?" Alex remarked unexpectedly.

"What, besides me?" Ron grinned.

"Oh very funny.  Actually, I was going to say something to that effect.  I've never met anyone who could undo a bra strap single-handedly.  I didn't think it possible."

"How do you know that?"

Alex looked at him.  "Because your other hand was at the front, pulling it off."

He grinned sheepishly.  "Well, that's just me.  Bra Strap Guy."

"You are disgusting."

"Hey, you're the one who brought it up."  He reached down to the side of the bed and lifted something black to within the hangings.

"Hey!  Put that down!" Alex yelped indignantly, trying to sit up.  But he grinned and held her down with his arm across her throat and glanced at the tag of the bra.

"Hmm…32 B.  Good job, there."

"Pervert!" Alex moaned. 

"Yes, that's me," Ron said proudly, throwing it back down.  Then he slid his hands under her back and shifted so that he lay on his side, with Alex lying next to him.  She turned around so her back was to him, her hand on his arm, and he embraced her tightly, breathing in the alluring scent of her hair.  He kissed her shoulder, her neck, her throat…

She squirmed, attempting to turn around again, and kissed his mouth, exercising her tongue a little more than she intended.

There was a knock at the door.  Ron broke off the kiss, which was becoming extremely appealing, reached over, and pulled back the hangings, the pale, cold light of dawn striking their eyes. 

"Who is it?" Alex called out.

"Alex, is that you?  And Ron, are you there too?  I know you've got to be, I could hear the smacking…"

The tone of her voice was so troubled that Alex shifted around and tucked the sheet under her arms.  "Come in, Michelle."

Michelle opened the door and stepped inside.  Alex braced herself for a reproach about making out with Ron all night, but when she saw her friend's face, this didn't seem to be the case.  There were tear tracks all down her face, and she was biting her lip worriedly.

"Michelle, what is it?  Did something happen…?"

"That's just it, I don't know."  She looked at Ron.  "Your sister still hasn't come back.  And neither has Harry."

Ron sat up quickly.

"I'm coming," he said roughly, and Michelle blushed.  Ron had his boxers on, but still…(a/n: do they even have boxers in the wizarding world?  Just a question…) Ron seemed to notice this, because he said, "I'll be down…in a minute…"

"Me too," Alex said. 

"No, you're not.  You're staying up here where it's safe."

"I'll wait for you in the common room, I promise."

"But…"

"You can't stop me, Ron Weasley, Ginny is my best friend, don't forget."

Ron sighed.  "Alright, alright…" Michelle managed a small smile at their quarrel and closed the door.

After he was sure she had gone, Ron leaned over and kissed Alex, hard, channelling all of his worry and frustration into unbearable passion.  He kissed her so brutally it was painful, but Alex welcomed the pain.  Kissing him back, she tasted blood mingled with tears, and realised with a jolt of bewilderment and horror that Ron was crying, and her lip had begun to bleed.  His teeth had pierced her skin in his harsh desperation, his tongue nearly cutting off her breathing.  She let him, until he was so exhausted from distress and exertion that he couldn't move, and he lay back down.  He was gasping for breath, tears welling up in his throat and causing him to choke.  She smoothed back his cherry coloured hair to sooth him, all the while staring out the window.  There she could see, just beyond the horizon, the brilliantly golden sun, doing nothing to banish the inexplicable darkness that had settled in their souls.

*********

Harry didn't have the faintest idea as to how he had gotten out of the cave with Ginny's and Wormtail's bodies.  All he remembered was sitting on the floor next to Ginny, stroking her fiery hair and closing his eyes, then the next thing he knew, he was sitting on the forest floor.  The cold silver moon flitted through the trees, and the stars twinkled like knowing eyes.  It seemed as if they knew everything that had happened…then he thought ruefully, if it weren't for the darkness, how would we knew the stars existed?

Sighing deeply, he lifted Ginny carefully, as if she were merely asleep and would awake at his slightest movement.  Then he turned and started toward the castle.

The world tipped and swayed before his eyes as he slowly trudged across the grounds.  His head still ached, and so did the rest of his body, but he kept going.  Several times he thought he was going to be sick, but he swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat and pressed on.  The entrance hall was dark and quiet.  It seemed that the Death Eaters had either been captured or fled when they realised that their master was there no more.  He clutched Ginny tightly to his chest and slowly traipsed down the hall to the first teacher's office he found.

Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore were gathered there, talking in hushed tones.  They looked up when Harry stepped over the threshold.  McGonagall gasped.

He had taken one step too many.  The ground lurched beneath him; the scene swirled before his eyes…the last thing he saw before he passed out was Professor Dumbledore rushing toward him, catching Ginny from his nerveless arms, and the rest was darkness.

***********

A light shone from beyond the dark void of nothingness.  He struggled to open his eyes, but his head pounded unrelentingly.  He didn't know where he was.  He wasn't lying down, but he wasn't sitting or standing either.  Then he heard a voice…

"Harry…Harry."

He tried to tell whoever it was that he was awake, just couldn't open his eyes, but he couldn't…every element of his body was paralysed…

He struggled, and at last, his eyes opened.  Even though he had his glasses on, it took a moment for the room to come into focus.  When he could at last see, Dumbledore was standing over him, very concerned.

"Harry," he said again, his expression very grave.  "Are you all right?"

Harry nodded slowly, his muscles aching.  Dumbledore circled around the desk and sat down opposite him.  It was then that Harry realised that Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape had disappeared, and Ginny's body was no where to be seen.

Dumbledore was watching him intently with his penetrating, light blue gaze.  Harry knew what he was going to do.  He was going to question him.  Again.

Dumbledore leaned forward, his chin upon his hands.  "I know you know what I'm going to ask you, Harry," he began gently.  "I know this is your least favourite part of the year, when I must question you on what you went through.  But I must insist upon it.  Tell me all you know."

Harry sighed defeatedly, and began to tell.  He told him about the cave, the glowing orb, Lucius, Draco, Wormtail's noble move, and Ginny's sacrifice.  Then his throat constricted, and he could continue no longer.  He just couldn't readily banish Ginny's last words to him…she had died for him because she loved him so much…

Tears stung his eyes again, and he looked away from Dumbledore, who seemed to understand.  After a few moments' silence, Dumbledore spoke again.

"You know what you need to do now, Harry?" he said.  His voice was gentle, firm, and direct.  Harry nodded painfully.

He had shown Harry the door.  Now Harry just needed to walk through it.

**********

About twenty minutes later, Ron and Alex came down the stairs.  As soon as they were in sight of those in the common room, they heard a shout despite the tense atmosphere.

"Hey, Ron!  Good job last night…you sure know how to go for it!"

Ron made a face at Fred and walked past him, Alex at his side.

"How'd it go for you, Alex?  Was Ron really—" He broke off as George elbowed him in the ribs, and they both fell about with laughter.  Alex flashed them a rather rude sign (though not to Americans ^.^ ), and a chorus of  reproachful "Oooo's!" resounded around the room.

Hermione and Michelle were sitting on a couch near the portrait hole and looked up when they approached.

"We've been waiting for hours," Hermione said in a quiet voice.  She looked very strained, and her eyes were extremely red. 

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Alex asked, sitting down next to her and laying her hand on her arm.  Hermione drew a shuddering breath and stared at the fire.

"Yes, I'm just worried about Harry and Ginny," she said, her eyes rather far away.  Ron sat down behind Alex and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her on the top of her head.

"Where do you think they are?  You don't think that—?"

The words hadn't even escaped from Ron's lips when the portrait hole swung open, and a very grave Harry stepped through.  A hush descended over the room as everyone turned to stare at Harry.  

He looked like he had been through Hell.  His face was smeared with dirt and blood and sweat, his hair messed even more than usual; twigs and leaves attached to his robes, which were dishevelled, as were his glasses.  His face was haggard and drawn as he scanned the common room and spotted Ron, Alex, Michelle, and Hermione.  He walked over to Ron, took a deep breath, and said, in a shaking voice, "Ron, I think you need to follow me."

********** 

He sat at the small round table, staring blankly into space.  A glass of water stood in front of him, but he ignored it.  There was another chair on the opposite side of the table, but it was cold and empty.  The room was dark.  The only light was the pale glow of sunrise, that didn't seem able to penetrate the mullioned windows that were resisting any attempts of warmth. 

 The door opened.  He walked in and took the vacant chair.  Slowly sitting down, he eyed his best friend warily, wondering how best to break the news.  He was worried about his sanity, for now; the red haired boy was staring blankly ahead, unaware of his entrance.

Harry cleared his throat, and Ron looked up.  Harry sucked in his breath, startled at what he saw.  Ron's face was pale, troubled, taut.  He seemed to know what was coming.

"Ron, I…" Harry began, hesitating.

Ron didn't say anything.  The only sign that he had heard was that his hand was now gripping the glass of water in front of him, his knuckles blue.

"Ron, there's something I need to tell you," Harry tried again.  "Ginny's—"

"I know," he interrupted.  His eyes were lowered, staring at the ground.  Harry started.

"You—you know?" Harry faltered, looking at his friend uncertainly.

"Yes."  Ron didn't look up, nor did his face change expression.

"I'm sorry, Ron," he said quietly.

Ron didn't respond.  His knuckles were white on the glass now, as if he were trying to break it with his bare hands.

"I saw her," he said abruptly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.  "She needed me, but I couldn't reach her…" He coughed hard, his chest shaking with each wracking breath.  Harry started to get to his feet, but Ron waved him off.

"There's no point.  It's been coming on and off for ages…" 

Harry stared.  How had he not noticed?  Ron's coughing quieted after a few moments, his hand still gripping the water glass tightly.

"It was painless, then?" he asked, his voice low and gravely. 

Harry didn't know what to say.  Ron's eyes were wide and blank, irrationally seeking answers.  Harry decided best not to answer.  In Ron's state, anything he heard would probably throw him off the deep end.

"I'm sorry, Ron," he said again, this time rising to his feet.  He crossed the room and gripped Ron's shoulder.  Ron made no move to stand up with him, only stared straight ahead as if the floor held all the secrets of the universe, clutching at the glass of water as if it was the only thing keeping him alive.  Unwilling to stay in this room much longer in the present devastating situation, Harry walked to the door.  Just as he crossed over the threshold, he heard the tinkling sound of breaking glass.

********

WAAAAAAAHHH!!!!!!  I KILLED GINNY!!!!  WAAAAAAHHH!!!!  Oh well.  She was pretty useless, wasn't she?  All right, all right!  Cool it, will you?  I'm only kidding…I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist putting in a little bit of fluff for such a depressing chapter.  Oh, yeah, I'm supposed to be hating that Alex/Ron thing, aren't I?  Wups…well, as the saying goes, those who can't do, teach.  I've just made my own addition…those who can't be done, write…ooo, I'm bad…and my parents think I'm such a good little girl…hehehe…shows what they know.  *innocent grin* Oh, yeah, I'm sorry, Crissy for putting this chap up without letting you do the last scene, but what can I say, I'm impatient!  You going on mission trips and to your mom's house, I mean, I can't wait two whole weeks just for you!  *pout* I want to get this show on the road!  Well, you people will be happy to hear that I have just one more chapter until Silent Torment hits the web!  YAY!!!!  And you can rest assured, this sequel will be much better than this one.  I just can't wait to start writing it, but, damn, I've got to finish this first!  Oi vey.  Till next time, my friends!  --J