Disclaimer: I own only some original characters, who remain so numerous that I won't even try to claim them all by name. Any that you do not recognize as Rowling's are probably mine.

Author's Note: Okay, folks. It's getting good. (Hopefully. You are the reviewers so you tell me). I don't claim to be original. Dean William R. Inge once asked, "What is originality? Undetected plagiarism." Hopefully, I claim all of the bits I use. The "How's that thought coming," bit was taken from a cheesy show called Good Morning Miami as well as "Your eyes are like a window to a world that I desperately want to be a part of." Misquote? Not sure…but I'm sure I've made improvements. The, "Sometimes, If I slam on the breaks…" quote was taken from Toby Z. on The West Wing (Which, as always, deserves no improvement as it is brilliant the way it is). And don't flame for the Avril Lavigne lyrics…I just like the song.

Chapter Eleven

Waiting In The Dark

'I'm standing in the rain

I'm waiting in the dark

I thought that you'd be here by now

There's nothing but the rain

No footsteps on the ground

I'm listening but there's no sound

Isn't anyone trying to find me?

Won't somebody come take me home?

It's a damn cold night

Trying to figure out this life

Won't you take me by the hand?

Take me somewhere new

I don't know who you are

But, I'm, I'm with you…"

Avril Lavigne, 'I'm With You'

                Her whole left cheek was throbbing and it took her a minute to orient herself. She was lying on the rug in her seldom-used dorm room. It was in this moment before she labouredly pulled herself into an upright position she saw the owl waiting impatiently at the window and then she remembered what had happened and cursed.

                Jumping to her feet and fighting off the dizziness that accompanied such a movement, she looked around the room. But, of course, the book was not there. Draco had taken it.

                She distractedly let in the harassed bird and relieved it of its letter. She cursed again. It was from Arabella.

                She hadn't sent her reply yet. Arabella didn't know.

                How long had she been out?

                She glanced over at the clock by her bed. It was two twenty-five. She'd been unconscious for nearly two and a half hours. She had to get moving. There was no more time to waste. She surveyed her disheveled, pajama clad self, shrugged and threw on her cloak. She had to get that letter to the Owlery and the other one to Ginny. And then it was time to do what she knew she couldn't avoid.

                With all three letters in hand, the one addressed to her unopened, she threw the door of her room wide with purpose and walked out. She took nothing else with her. She didn't think she'd be back, but she didn't much care. It was an assignment that might save Peter's life—what else mattered?

                Her breath caught in her chest as she entered the common room and saw Draco sitting there, an urgent and unhappy flush rising in his cheeks. Imogen, a hint of the remaining terror that she had felt the moment he'd advanced on her coming back, made a quick movement to the exit.

                Draco was fast in getting up from the desk he'd been sitting at and grabbed her by the arm before she could leave.

                Imogen looked mutinous and stared pointedly at Draco's hand clasped around her arm. "I have to go," she said simply, avoiding his pleading eyes.

                "Imogen, please," Draco began, spinning her around to face him. Alarm painted his face as he saw her cheek where he had struck her. "Jesus, Imogen. I am so sorry."

                "Leave it, Draco. I've handled worse plenty of times."

                He didn't seem to like this answer. "You need to go to the infirmary."

                "I'm fine." Imogen produced a letter, the one addressed to Ginny and handed it to Draco who looked at it questioningly. "I need you to take this to Ginny for me, if you will." After seeing the hand Draco held out to take the letter from her, noticing the red and bleeding knuckles from where he struck her, she took out her wand, gently taking Draco's wounded hand in the other and healed it silently. Draco's expression was an odd mixture of humility, gratitude and astonishment—none of which suited him at all.

                "Just as well. I was on my way to see her anyway. To say goodbye." He lifted his gaze from where he held her hand to her intense blue eyes. "I'm leaving," he finished.

                "That's probably a good thing," Imogen offered. "Where will you go?"

                Draco shrugged elegantly. "I really don't know yet. But I have to get away."

                Imogen nodded. "Please write me. I want to know where you end up. I need to explain some things to you," she gave a tired sigh, "But not right now."

                He squeezed her hand affectionately in his, "I will."

                "Goodbye, Draco," Imogen said labouredly, trying hard not to cry.

                He smiled and kissed her uninjured cheek. Taking up his bags at the foot of the desk and another letter from off of the top of it, he left her standing in the common room after him. As she watched him leave, Imogen couldn't help but feel as if everything had been inexplicably messed up. It wasn't supposed to turn out like this.

                A few minutes after he had left, Imogen exited the common room as well and headed to the Owlery.

***

                Sirius slammed his armload of files onto his desk and reluctantly looked to Arabella who neared tentatively.

                "Last appeal was denied?" Arabella said, more as a facing of fact than questioning.

                Sirius shook his head gravely. "He won't fight this. He wants to die. I can't do anymore for him." He moved toward his friend whose face fell into a pathetic pale of hopelessness. "I'm sorry. I wish I could do more."

                "It's not your fault, Sirius. You tried. That's all any of us could do. Any of us that give a damn. Others just run away when things get too tough."

                Sirius was too exhausted to ask for any clarification on that last part. Who had deserted them? He looked at her warily. Was she loosing her mind?

                "I couldn't push the date back. It's set for Monday evening. Peter tried to get it pushed up. But, I got that overturned. We still have some time." Sirius rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Arabella perched herself on the corner of his desk. "Got any ideas," he asked sardonically.

                "Yes, but she's not helping us."

                "What do you mean by—," Sirius began but Arabella waved him off.

                "Don't ask."

***

                Draco was surprised to learn that a little flirting went a long way with regards to the portrait guardian of Gryffindor Tower. Had he known how easy it had been to get past that fat lady with a wink and a smile—oh, he would have had some fun with Potter and Weasley when he actually gave a damn.

                He noticed the cozy appointment of the common room a little grudgingly before coming back to the issue, looking for Ginny's room. He planned to sneak in, drop the letters by her bed and then leave. It was a pretty cowardly act, he thought, but he couldn't talk to her. Not now. Not after what had just happened with his father and Imogen.

                It wasn't hard to find the sixth year girls room. There were little plaques on the doors. Draco scoffed. "Bloody Gryffindors."

                He turned the knob quietly, hoping that he wouldn't wake any of the inhabitants.

                There was a faint light coming from a half curtained window at the opposite end of the room from two beds. One of the beds had the covers drawn tightly around it. He knew immediately that it wasn't Ginny's. The next bed was not curtained. A halo of red hair made golden in the moonlight spread across the pillow of an angelic form. That was Ginny.

                He made a few tentative steps toward her, careful not to disturb her. Laying both of the letters, his and Imogen's, on the pillow next to her, Draco stopped one last time just to look at her before he left. It was an awful feeling to look on someone you love and realize that you would never see them again. The last time he had felt that kind of despair was when he held Lucy's lifeless form in his arms. How many more times must he endure this? He knew it was better to say goodbye now while she was asleep than to mourn her in death. While she was asleep she could not protest. He knew he would have stayed if she only asked him to.

                Her left hand dangled delicately from the bed, revealing a scar that split her palm in even halves. He'd seen this once before along with the matching ones that streaked her wrists. He'd often wondered where this one had come from. He took its cold fingertips in his and placed a light kiss on her palm before laying it over the other one on her chest.

                With one last glance back at her, he left the room and left the school.

***

                It was dark and misty all around her. Ginny could feel her heart beating faster. She had no idea where she was or where she was going, but she had the growing desire to find someone. Who was she looking for? She didn't know. As she moved into a clearing and out of the fog bank she was met with the sight of a dominating castle. Across the water from that, she saw a smoking and flaming mill bridge. The flames were much larger and much more all-consuming than when Imogen had blown it up. She had only lit fire to the flourmill. Now as Ginny watched the angry red-orange flames leap higher, she knew that it was expertly and deliberately set. Someone was trying to destroy the mill.

                She walked further on and saw that the destruction was more far-reaching than the mill alone. Hufflepuff castle, the smaller opposing castle to Hogwarts, was also in flame. Ginny's breath constricted painfully in her chest as she saw it: a band—no, an army—of marauding children. She let out a silent scream as she saw one of them, a blond girl of about six years old, brutally hack a Gryffindor knight with a rudimentary looking pike. They were all over the place. They were destroying everything. Mungo was in the middle of it all. His wand was out and he was healing as many people as he could. He looked to be at the end of his strength. Ginny knew from her medical studies that a wizard could wear out all of his strength, even die from prolonged healing. It was the very energy—the will to heal that gave them their abilities. Ginny couldn't even imagine how long Mungo had been at his task.

                Ginny wanted to help him. Moved by his impossible task, she knew that he would heal as many as he could before he died himself.

                But she couldn't get there. The scene dissolved in front of her.

                She was in a room of flames. Lucy lay there. Ginny had no idea what this image meant. Was she to die like Lucy had?

                She saw Draco there too. He was leaning over Isaiah who was motionless on the ground.

                Ginny bent over Lucy and shook her. The girl awoke, startling Ginny so much that she fell backwards from her crouched position. "The bracelet." Lucy said.

                Ginny shook her head hopelessly. What did she mean? Ginny didn't know.

                As she looked to Draco for an answer—anything. She screamed. He was wreathed in flames. The room was almost consumed in them. He was begging her to go, to take Lucy and go. He and Isaiah were trapped. Beams began to crash down around them.

                Ginny screamed again, a scream of realization. This wasn't a dream, it was a vision, it was true.

                Her heartbeat and her breathing were coming fast with this realization. She looked over to Nan's bed. She hadn't disturbed her. Nan usually placed a silencing charm over her bed at night. She had grown tired of Ginny's screaming.

                She lay down heavily again on her pillow and heard the crunch of paper beneath her. She sat up and took the paper out from under her with an air of sleepy confusion. They were two letters—one from Imogen and one from Draco.

***

                Imogen neared the Owlery, but paused by the Astronomy Tower entrance. She knew she had little time to waste, but she wanted to think things over properly before acting. She climbed the stairs and took the door just before the Astronomy Tower entrance and out onto the roof. This was her thinking spot. She stood in the doorway and produced one of the letters from her pocket. The one Arabella had just sent her. She opened it and read.

                Thirty-two hours left or Azkaban.

                That was the only thing written on the paper. Imogen felt a hot rush of rage flood into her cheeks, causing her injured cheek to throb dully.

                She screamed out into the night air with all of the pent up anger, frustration and confusion that she could muster. She rent the letter to pieces as she screamed.

                "Good Lord! Were you trying to kill me?"

                Imogen looked up from the bits of paper that once was a letter as they fluttered to the ground.

                It was Harry who had spoken. He was wobbling on his perch on the battlements.

                Imogen blushed with embarrassment as she realized that her screams had nearly startled him off the roof.

                "Don't do it," she said, nearing. "See. She's begging you to listen to reason." Imogen pointed to a bored and unconcerned Hedwig. "She would tell you that you have everything to live for, if she could only speak. Can't you see the frustration in her face?" The owl blinked and flew off.

                Harry smiled warily at the odd ways of the little dark-haired girl. "I wasn't going to jump," he said finally and sat down, flinging his legs over the side of the wall.

                Imogen came to sit next to him. "I know you weren't."

                Harry pretended to be offended by this admission. "And why not? Don't I look like the type of person to jump?"

                "Oh, no. You do. It's just. You wouldn't waste your parents' sacrifice like that," Imogen admitted, blushing slightly at her forwardness.

                "How do you know about my parents?" Harry asked, his smile fading.

                "I make it a point to know about everybody. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." Imogen chanced a look at him and then looked back at the ground far below them. "Why are you up here?"

                "I was waiting for you," Harry said simply.

                "Waiting for me? How did you know I'd be up here?"

                "I saw you up here earlier. I didn't know you'd be back up here…I don't know why I'm here." Harry began to get up but Imogen stayed him with a hand on his arm.

                "Stay, I don't mind. It's a free battlement. Any one can sit here."

                "You're a weird one," Harry said, leveling a scrutinizing glare at her.

                "You don't know the half of it," Imogen scoffed under her breath.

                "I'd like to," Harry answered.

                Imogen just stared. This would make it difficult for her to leave. She knew it.

                "What do you do up here, besides frighten unsuspecting people to their deaths?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

                "Oh, I was just," Imogen began self-consciously. "I was just…letting off some steam." She turned to face him.

                He surveyed her face and asked in alarm, "What happened to you?" He placed a tentative hand on her chin, looking at the cut across her cheek. It had stopped bleeding, but she was sure it looked pretty ghastly. She'd forgotten about it just recently.

                "It's nothing."

                "It doesn't look like nothing." Harry released her and took the hint that she wouldn't budge on this issue.

***

                Ginny looked briefly at the letters and tore the first one open in her bed, grabbing her wand to light the space around her. Upon opening the envelope, a small gold chain and a delicate hourglass dropped out into her hand. It was the Time-Turner that Imogen had promised her. There was a short note with it that made a request of her to see Mungo again.

                Ginny,

                I have to leave. There is an urgent matter that needs my attention and sadly I cannot put it off any longer.

                I hope to return soon and we may continue to sort these mysterious events out together. But for now, I think you should continue without me. Please, talk to Mungo. Azria has impressed upon me a great need that you do so. I'm not sure what happened between you two when we were there last. But please, Ginny, try to see past that. There is a greater plan at work and you are needed for it. Listen to what he has to say.

                I remain always your friend,

                Imogen Spencer.

                Ginny stared at the neat penmanship that marked the page and sighed heavily, praying that Imogen wasn't getting herself into anything. Surely she would have enough sense not to track the movements of Lucius Malfoy on her own. It was dangerous enough for them to spy on him the first time.

                Ginny hung the chain around her neck and folded the note. She would talk to her father or to Sirius Black about what she'd seen when she went back in time. It wasn't something that Imogen should deal with. She planned to tell her father everything when she was home for Christmas in just a week and a half.

                Yawning slightly, Ginny smiled when she noted the writing on the next envelope. It was the neat and elegant hand of Draco, oddly similar to that of Imogen's, but more carelessly graceful.

                She opened the note excitedly and began to read. Her smile faded into concern and fear before she'd had the chance to finish the first line. It read:

                Ginny,

I'm sorry to have to leave you after the progress we've had in rebuilding our friendship. Events that you might be unaware of have made it impossible for me to continue here. I regret that I left without saying goodbye in person but I know that you of all people would understand when things become too hard to say and do face to face.

                Please accept this letter, not as the end of our brief amends, but as a promise that I will return. And accept my most humble apologies that I am unable to explain further.

                I think you know why I had to go and I beg you to understand that I do it for you and for Imogen, the last remaining of the people I care about.

                Don't try to find me. You are safe with your family.

                I hope very much that I will be free to see you again. Until that time, I must say goodbye.

                Draco 

                Ginny blinked back a tear and reread the letter. She knew why he'd left and she could understand why he had. But what her mind could understand completely was an unutterable confusion to her heart. He was gone and she was left with only a promise of his return.

                She reviewed the images of her latest dream and wondered what his part was in this future she was seeing. She felt her heartbeat increasing as she remembered that she'd seen fire and masonry falling in around him. This letter seemed an eerie portent to a past and a future that she hadn't fully come to understand yet.

                She kicked the covers off of her and jumped up from her bed.

                Silently she padded down to the common room and out of the portrait hole.

***

                "It's not true, you know," Harry said finally.

                "What isn't?" Imogen asked, tucking her bare feet under her as the wind bit into her unshielded skin.

                "I'm not an angel. Isn't that what you called me?"

                Imogen was thankful for the low light, shed only by the moon. It hid the furious blush she felt coming to her cheeks. "I thought you didn't know French?"

                "I asked Hermione. Ange was the only word I remembered you saying. If you weren't talking about yourself than I thought you might mean me. I just wanted to set the record straight," Harry explained brushing his hair carelessly from his face.

                "And why not? You are the most decent person I've ever known."

                "I wouldn't have let her die. I couldn't have if I were an angel," Harry admitted in a low voice.

                "You mean Lucy?" Imogen asked tentatively. "That was not your fault. I know. I was there."

                "You were there? Where? Why?"

                "You didn't see me, but I saw you. I know what you did for her, for all of them." Imogen's heart was beating faster. Should she have just admitted all of that? Did it even matter anymore? "Please know that she wouldn't have expected anymore from you. You did all you could and she knows that."

                "You knew Lucy?" Harry looked at her, his face alight with astonishment.

                "Yes, I do. And I know that she cared about you very much. She would have said so, if she'd had the chance." Imogen's voice was barely a whisper but it echoed in her head.

                "I had the chance. I could have told her everything that I thought, everything I felt. But I didn't. I am a coward."

                "Then, if it would help, tell me what it was that you wanted to say to her. She can hear you, you know." Imogen wasn't even hearing what she said anymore. She registered the sound of her own voice but noted only the nervous patter of her heart, the desperate look on his face, the regret in his words.

                "I would have told her that the first time I saw her was like coming home after wandering aimlessly for years. She reminded me of someone that I can't even remember now. Her face, her laugh, her smile burned all other recollection from my mind. Her eyes were like clear blue windows to a world that I so much wanted to be a part of. It seemed to me a better place than anywhere else I could ever imagine on earth." He never took his eyes off of Imogen's. He only stopped speaking when he'd caught a glimmer of a tear as it ran down her swollen and bruised cheek. He wiped it away gently, careful not to cause her pain.

                He never would have guessed that it was his words that had inflicted the most pain—a pain that would never fully go away.

                "She knew that somehow," Imogen said. She leaned in tentatively as Harry's hand on her cheek moved to pull her closer to him and he kissed her gently.

                "But, it's you," Harry said, pulling away from her finally.

                "Me?" Imogen said, in a daze. She hardly registered this last comment.

                "Lucy reminded me of you," Harry clarified.

                "Are you sure it's not the other way around?" Imogen asked. Her hand went up to touch the one Harry had placed on her cheek.

                He looked at her considering. "No," he answered simply.

                She didn't bother to ask for his full meaning. Did he mean no it wasn't the other way around? Or no he wasn't sure? She did care. Lucy wasn't here, she was.

                "You know, you really should let Madam Pomfrey look at that," Harry said finally, turning her head to look closely at her cheek. She knew it must look awful, swollen and bruised. "If you won't tell me how you got it, that's fine. But please get it taken care of."

                Imogen nodded reluctantly. She didn't want to leave, but his concern was touching and the wound did require attention.

                He smiled. "Go. I'll see you tomorrow."

                Imogen smiled in reply and turned to go.

                "Imogen," Harry called after her. She turned and met him where he stood immediately. He hesitated a moment and then wrapped his arms around her shivering form. She kissed him again and then left.

                Just inside the entrance Imogen stopped. She removed the letter that she meant to take to the Owlery. It was her promise to Arabella. She rent it to pieces without another thought. All her life she had been looking out for everyone else. Now that she had Harry, nothing else mattered. Someone else could risk their necks to save Peter, uncover Lucius Malfoy's plot. She would risk anything to stay here with Harry—even Azkaban.  She regretted her selfishness only slightly. She set her chin and walked down to the infirmary.

***

                She knew he was still awake. There was a light on. She could see it penetrating the cold stone darkness of the dungeon hallway under the closed door.

                Ginny took a deep breath and knocked lightly.

                "Come in," a harassed voice at the other end answered. Ginny turned the knob and stepped into the mildly lit office.

                Professor Snape looked up from his work, shocked to see her standing there, barefoot and in a nightdress. She was clutching a letter nervously in her hand. "Miss Weasley? It's nearly three in the morning. Is there a reason that you are out of bed at this hour and standing in my office?"

                Ginny stood there for a moment. She had never much thought that he was as evil as Harry and Ron had always claimed he was. Immovable, frank, stern, but otherwise a dedicated teacher and loyal to Dumbledore, that was Professor Snape. He would know what to do about Draco.

                "I woke up and found this on my pillow. I thought you might know what to do about it," Ginny said in a trembling voice. She handed Draco's letter to Professor Snape. As he read it with a frown of concentration, she continued, "I know about his grandmother. I heard when I was passing." She stopped and bit her lip. She wasn't sure just exactly how much she should let on that she knew. She wouldn't want anyone to know about the Time-Turner or Imogen's involvement, although her situation was ever as precarious as Draco's.

                Snape looked at her expectantly.

                "Did Draco's father kill her?" Ginny asked tentatively. She was gaining more confidence. He had not turned her away or punished her yet. She had the feeling he just might believe her if she continued.

                "You've witnessed the lengths to which Lucius Malfoy would go to completely control his son. He is a man who won't give up. Draco is his. He wants him to think like him, act like him, in every way mimic him. He is arrogant to a fault." Snape regarded Ginny for a moment longer and then invited her to have a seat. Ginny sat quietly as he continued. "It is this reason, this need for full control that drove him to kill Draco's sister. It is likely that he was behind his grandmother's death as well."

                Ginny bit her lip as she watched the Potions Master scan the page again. Would Draco be upset with her for showing it to him? Surely he would understand. He couldn't expect her to do and say nothing when he might be in danger.

                "It mentions Imogen. I presume he means Miss Spencer. Do you have any idea what she was involved in. Why would he fear for her safety?" Snape's dark eyes flicked up from the page and bore into Ginny.

                "I dunno, Professor," Ginny said.

                "It makes sense that he would fear for you, we all do. Disaster seems to find you anywhere. Miss Spencer, to my knowledge, has nothing to do with Lucius Malfoy or any of the past events he has been involved in. She was wholly unconnected with the downfall of Voldemort." Snape returned his eyes to the page with a thoughtful air.

                "Professor, I'm sorry for the interruption. You said that you all fear for me. What do you mean by that?" Ginny asked curiously but cautiously.

                "I meant, Miss Weasley, that before you were identified as the seer of the line of Hufflepuff's chosen, you have been sought out by dark forces. It was no accident that the diary of Tom Riddle came into your hands. I suspect that Lucius Malfoy planted it there as an elaborate means of ridding the world of your gift. I suspected, because he has shown such an interest in you, that you possessed something that he's wanted, or wanted to get rid of. Either way, you have been in a place of danger, privilege and terrifying power without even knowing it. Your entire life you have had this gift. His entire life he's been searching for someone like you." Snape looked gravely at the letter, "Perhaps young Mr. Malfoy knew something of his father's intentions for you. Do you know where it is he has gone?"

                "I don't," Ginny said regretfully as her eyes fell to her bare feet on the stone floor of his office. If she had any idea where he'd gone, she wouldn't have come here. She would have gone after him, whether he wanted her to or not.

                "May I keep this letter for now? I will see if I can track him through Ministry channels and I'll see if Mr. Black can be of any assistance. Although, I dare say he's too busy with his traitorous, murdering friend to be of much help with anything else." Snape said this last part under his breath, but Ginny caught every word.

                Ginny nodded and stood to leave. As her hand rested on the doorknob she stopped and turned to face him again. "Professor Snape?" she asked tentatively.

                "Yes?" Snape answered, buried in work again. She wondered faintly if he ever slept.

                "Why did you threaten Peter when he came to take me to Voldemort? In Azkaban?" Ginny kept her eyes on the ground, the Professor's gaze was too intense for her to hold. He was summing her up in a way, judging whether or not she could handle what he had to say.

                "Just as Mr. Potter has had people watching him, guarding him all of his life, so have you. Your parents would be astonished to know how long we have been watching you."

                Ginny swallowed. She was beginning to be frightened. She stayed her fear with the realization that Harry has lived with this fear all of his life. There was no one that she would more want to be like. She endeavored to remain calm.

                Snape continued with a glint of alien fondness behind his dark and cold eyes, "I appreciate that you chose to come to me with this matter. I will send you word when I have found anything on young Mr. Malfoy's whereabouts."

                "Thank you, professor," Ginny managed in a tiny voice and exited the office.

                She tried her hardest to get back to sleep, but on the sleepless roads the sleepless go. Ginny was no stranger to the wakeful nights.

***

                It was Saturday. Imogen half expected Arabella to show up at the school and cart her off kicking and screaming to Azkaban, but decided after consideration that it didn't much matter if she did. Harry loved her. He so much as told her so last night. She would give everything else to be the person that he wanted her to be. No more spying, no more interfering. She just wanted to be a kid for once. She realized that she never had been allowed to be before. Always, from the moment she'd been born, expectations, hopes, goals had been heaped on her. She would do as she pleased now.

                "Oh, well. She'll have to find me first," Imogen said with a rare smile as she surveyed the mirror. Today was the last Hogsmeade trip of the semester. Imogen planned to go today. She never had in the past, being so busy with the Ministry and all.

                She knew she was too late to walk down with Harry and Ginny. They were probably already gone into town. She had woken up very late as she couldn't get to sleep the night before. She suspected that it was out of guilt for Peter, but she suppressed that thought immediately.

                Imogen caught up with them easily enough but was surprised to see who had accompanied them.

                Ron and Hermione, of course, were there and so was Ginny who looked slightly ill. But what was strange was that attached to Harry's hand, hopping wildly through the streets was Gabriel.

                "Imogen!" Gabriel shouted, breaking from Harry's grip and running to her. She was startled but happy. She didn't even notice Harry's less than thrilled look to see her there. He looked more regretful than anything, had she looked up at him she would have noticed immediately.

                "Gabriel! I didn't think I would be seeing you here today! Where is your mother?" Imogen asked, scooping him fondly into her arms.

                "You know him? Or are you in the habit of picking up strange little kids on the street?" Harry asked, trying hard to smile through his obvious apprehension.

                "Yes, I know his mother. She dates your godfather, is that right?" Imogen asked, knowing perfectly well that she was right. She felt a morose stab of pain at having to act. She shouldn't have to act. It shouldn't be this hard.

                He stared at her for a moment. Imogen stared back, her smile fading to concern. "Harry? Is something wrong?"

                "I need to speak to you for a moment," Harry said after a second, watching Ron and Hermione head toward The Three Broomsticks hand in hand. "Ginny, watch Gabe for me?" Harry asked.

                Ginny nodded distractedly and sat down on a nearby bench with the rambunctious child.

                "Where is Jill? How did you get stuck with Gabe-sitting duty?" Imogen laughed as they headed down the street together.

                Harry seemed distant and cold. It made the winter weather a bit more inhospitable. Imogen shivered and drew her cloak around her.

                "Jill saw me outside of Zonko's with Ron and Hermione. She was in a hurry somewhere. I offered. It's no big deal." Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and headed down the hill toward a small chapel that had been there on the outskirts of the town since at least the fourteenth century. Imogen had never ventured inside of it, but marveled at its outward grace and beauty.

                "No. He's a sweet kid. He seems to adore you," Imogen added with a tentative smile that fell immediately as it solicited no response.

                "Imogen, I have something important to tell you. I… I mean…I feel like I should…" Harry began.

                "Wait," Imogen interrupted. "Can I say something first? You get your thought into order while I tell you mine"

                Harry looked hassled but nodded obligingly.

                "I just wanted to tell you that what you said last night changed me. I didn't think that there was anything real left in me. I've been living lately as if the best part of me was gone. It may be. But maybe there's still some redeemable bit that makes the rest of it not so bad. Does that make sense?" Imogen stopped as Harry sat down on a tree stump under the large window of the chapel.

                "Sort of," Harry offered guiltily.

                "I was afraid that there wasn't anything left to love. I just wanted to say that I was wrong. I love you." She smiled and looked hopefully at Harry who stared back, stunned. "How's that thought coming along?" she asked with another bright smile.

                "I…er…I was wrong, Imogen. I'm sorry. I can't do this. I feel like I'm betraying her. I can't give you what I don't have. I'm sorry." Harry looked pleadingly at Imogen.

                She stared back with what she hoped looked like a brave face. "No, Harry. Don't be sorry," Imogen offered, expertly covering a broken heart. "That's fine. You don't have to love me back."

                "Then…you don't hate me?" Harry asked tentatively.

                "I just said I didn't." She paused. This was difficult to do when she was fighting tears. She wouldn't make him feel guilty. He was too good for that. His reasons were right and she knew he didn't want to hurt her. It was she who had hurt herself. She was the only one to blame here. "Harry, it's okay. I don't want to be second choice anymore than you want me to be. I understand completely."

                "I'm sorry," he offered again, breathless. He turned and walked away from her immediately.

                She waited for him to pass beyond the bend before her knees gave out and she crashed to the ground. A rock dug painfully in her knee, but she deserved that as well. She shook with the tears that she'd been holding in. She had never imagined before what a broken heart felt like, but she had an idea now.

                Ginny appeared in the path where Harry had been moments before and bent to lift Imogen up again.

                "Imogen, I'm sorry," she began.

                Imogen would hear none of it. "Why is everyone so bloody sorry?" She wiped her eyes and dusted off the knees of her jeans.                

                "It's not your fault. But you have to understand that it's not his fault either—," Ginny began.

                Imogen wondered if she really believed all of this. Did she really believe that Draco was in the right for suspecting her in Lucy's death. How could she be so altruistic?

                Imogen saw nothing in life to redeem itself. If she had seen the hint of something, it had been trampled in the dust when Harry had walked away. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have stayed. I should have left when I said I was going to. I shouldn't have been stupid enough to think that it was actually me he wanted. I'm so bloody stupid!" Imogen pulled away.

                Ginny began to lecture in a quiet, tired tone. "He's just confused. Give him a little time. That's all he needs."

                "I'm leaving," Imogen said quietly.

                "All you need is a little time too. He'll come around. You'll—," Ginny whirled around to face her and stopped. "I'm sorry, what?"

                Imogen smiled sardonically. "You see? Sometimes if I slam on the breaks, you just run right past. I learned that from my father. He does it all the time."

                "You're leaving?" Ginny asked.

                "Yes, right away. I'll not be back. Goodbye, Ginny," Imogen said stoically, pushing past Ginny and retreating down the path. It was time Elena made her appearance. Her life was shit, but she could help someone else before she died. That was, if luck was still on her side. She doubted it, but still she would try.