Paper should be good enough: 08; she returns
Her eyes snap open. Her whole body is pain. She realizes that she is lying in the hospital wing, and she is magically bound to her bed. Her throat is raw, as if she had been screaming for five hours straight.
"Are you awake?"
She shifts, trying to match the voice to a face, but her position on the bed does not allow this. "Who are you?" she manages to say through the pain of her throat.
"Your boyfriend's enemy. Draco Malfoy. I'm sure you know who I am?"
She settles into the magic binding her, submitting to the constrictive bed. "Yes, I know who you are. Number one, do you have any idea why I am--"
"Bound to a bed like a crazy person?" Malfoy laughs. "Because you were acting like one. I think your brother got a nasty scratch off of those nails of yours, one or two of the Gryffindor girls aren't going to be the same, and Potter might have gotten a good bite out of him, although I would think that's quite normal in the relationship between you two."
"Shut it," she says. "Number two, what are you doing here?"
"I'm here to check on you. Sounds odd, I know, but it's within my interests. I was told to wait here to make sure that you eventually came around."
"By Madame Pomfrey?"
"I don't think you'd believe me if I told you." He laughs again. "You don't remember any of it, do you?"
"I don't remember anything, no." She feels herself starting to panic.
Surprise almost jells in Malfoy's voice. "You were in a coma in the girls' dorm. They think the problem's an extended Memory Charm, but it's not." Smugness enters his voice, and she wants to ask, but he goes on. "You came to when they were transporting you and you were like an animal, clawing and biting. Eventually they Stunned you and got you here, but I don't think Pomfrey's ever going to be the same again. You've been out ever since. Four days."
"What's wrong with me?" she asks aloud, and the fear is oh-so-present in her voice.
Malfoy just laughs, pushes his chair back, and his footsteps echo away, leaving her staring at the ceiling alone, without him, without Tom, without anybody.
The letter is tucked inside of her trunk, to her surprise.
Ginny,
I had a dream last night, where you were snogging another bloke. He had dark hair, that's all I could see, but you were sort of into it and... well, it was a little unnerving. Not that I'm saying you're cheating or anything. If anything, you're right, I'm cheating on you with Hermione. But the end of the dream... you pulled away from him and your lips were covered in blood and the whole of your front was, too, and then you fell over as though you were dead. When the bloke looked at me, I woke up and my scar hurt like hell. If you know anything, Ginny, if you can think of any reason why my scar would twinge like that, tell me. It's important.
Love,
Harry
She lowers the parchment and blinks. She is numb again, because part of her, most of her is gone now. All there is, is fear and vague misunderstanding.
The girls come into the dorm, chattering, and Ginny suddenly has the presence of mind to roll up the parchment and lower it to her side. Dianthe and a few others run over to her as soon as they notice her.
"Ginny? Are you all right? Before, you were..."
"When did they let you out? Oh, I'm so jealous, you got to miss four days..."
"Do they know what's going on?"
"I don't know," she says. She glances down at her clothes. "I have to change." She kneels down and pulls out her robes, a skirt and a shirt. The girls stare at her.
"Are you sure you're all right, Ginny?" Dianthe says. She looks over at the other girls, bewildered.
"Why wouldn't I be?" she says. "You guys had better go down to dinner. I'll be down soon."
They leave, twittering, and she begins to change. In the mirror, a red-haired green-eyed girl, so pale, so freckled, so alone. "Tom," she says, and her fingers absentmindedly brush down her collarbone, to rough skin, almost a burn.
She buttons the shirt. A dull, throbbing pain builds between her temples as she does so. An animal groan escapes her lungs, sharp pain in her chest, and suddenly--
"Gin love, are you all right?" Tom's loving arms circle her, and the puzzle pieces of her soul click. Her eyes open wide, and Ginny strokes a hand down his arm.
"Now I am."
"That's the spirit." He kisses the top of her head. "Ron forced me away. He knows that I'm helping you, and he'll do anything to stop you from stopping him. The dance is in two days, so we must be prepared. Do you understand?"
"Of course, Tom," Ginny says. She looks up at him and smiles, but suddenly frowns. "Harry's scar twinged. He had a dream about me cheating on him with somebody."
"Did you?" Tom's face is bland.
"Of course not!" Ginny shakes her head vehemently. The very idea! "But he said I was, well, snogging someone and there was blood all down my front and I... died. Supposedly. And his scar twinged."
Tom shakes his head. "Ron again. He's trying to make Harry feel guilty because he suspects you two are in love. With that, he's saying that if Harry loves you, he'll kill you. What a thought, huh?"
"Harry would never do something like that." Ginny's hands grip around herself. "We're meant for each other."
"Ginny." Tom touches her cheek and she moves against it. "Don't worry about it. Go to dinner. Eat. Get strength."
"Yeah," she says, and Tom disappears into her head.
Many eyes train on Ginny as she comes into the Hall; Draco Malfoy's condescending gaze, Harry's worried, warm one, her friends' frightened ones. She sits, self-conscious, clutching her bag close to her.
Nearly the whole Gryffindor table goes silent as she sits next to Neville, leaving her even more unnerved. "Ginny," Ron says, takes her hand, squeezes it. The surprise registers even more when she sees concern in his eyes. "I was so worried. Are you all right?"
She averts her eyes, unnerved by his obvious faked worry and just how deceitful her brother is. "Y-yeah, I think so," she stutters. Her eyes fall upon Harry's face, fallen yet very, very relieved.
Ron squeezes her hand again, and she glances over at him. Something glints in his eyes, and Ginny is surprised to see -- tears? Her brother, crying over her injury?
She remembers one day when she was little, she fell from an old toy broom while playing kid's Quidditch and skinned her knees. Ron was there immediately with that same worried look, he stopped her crying, and took her to Mum, who healed her right away.
She remembers this, and guilt fills every nook of her mind.
No! No! This Ron is different. He turned his back on Harry two years ago. You know how Ron is. Don't be deceived, don't be naive, Ginny! Tom's voice bringing her back to the present.
She nods to Ron and swallows hard. "Thanks, Ron," she says, and withdraws her hand from his. The Gryffindor table stops looking over and goes back to its usual chatter. Ginny glances over at Neville. "Did I miss anything?"
Neville blinks, then beckons her closer. He lowers his voice. "Harry and Hermione had a fight."
"Really?" she whispers back.
"Yes. He said he was sick of her controlling everything, and she said that if he wanted to control things, he should do something once in a while." Neville winces. "It wasn't pretty."
Ginny isn't sure whether to be happy or upset. She settles on a medium. "Oh well," she says, leans away. "So, Ron, have you got a date to the party?"
Ron grins a grin that is a few shades short of beaming. "Cho Chang. I asked her and she said yes. That girl is beautiful." He notices the look Hermione is giving him, which mainly consists of the rolling of her eyes. "Not to mention her intellect," he continues. "She's a ruddy genius."
"Right," Hermione says. She looks at Harry. "And you've got nothing against this, right?"
He raises his hands in surrender stance. "You know we went out for one month and it didn't work out. I endorse this entirely."
"Even though she's the prettiest girl at Hogwarts."
"Not the prettiest." Hermione giggles as if it's meant for her, but Harry's eyes are on her. She flushes, but stays silent. Neville heaves a sigh.
Later that night, she curls up next to Harry on the couch. They silently study for a while until he finally asks, voice hushed, "Did you read the note?"
"Yes. I don't know, Harry. " She can't tell him what she really thinks. "You might just be nervous. About Ron."
"Why would I be nervous about Ron?" He looks at her. "He's too worried about you to think about anything like this. Did Pomfrey -- ?"
"No, she has no idea. Maybe an extended Memory Charm, but that's a guess," Ginny says, resting her head against his shoulder. "I'm just supposed to eat more than usual and stay around people in case something happens again. They think it got worse when I was out for two hours before anyone found me."
Harry wears a pained expression and eventually says, "Take care of yourself."
She smiles softly at him. "What about what you promised me?"
He glances around the common and kisses her forehead. "I promise. Even if Hermione kills me for telling the truth, I'll do it."
"Good." She pushes herself up off of the couch. "What about your fight?"
"It was nothing," he says. "I just can't take her anymore."
She has to force back glee. "We can talk tomorrow."
He smiles. "Yeah," he says.
She dares to lean in and kiss him before leaving the common room in a rush.
She crawls into her bed, pulls the hangings around. She clings to herself, curled into the fetal position, trying to keep herself together. More and more, she feels as though reality is pulling her apart, willing her not to exist, her body unmaking itself. Only with Harry's touch and Tom's touch does she feel complete, whole, stable.
As though clutching herself will keep the missing parts of her soul from drifting, she dares not to move from this fixed position. Her breathing is low, shallow, and she makes only one effort when she feels near unconsciousness.
Tom...
His warm arm slides around her, and she settles against him, his breath hot against her neck and cheek. "What's wrong, Ginny love?"
"I wanted to ask you that." She swallows, and it takes more work than usual. "What's going wrong with me? I've gone to the hospital wing twice in the past month. It's getting harder and harder to do anything, even chew and swallow, or to change."
Tom takes a deep breath, runs his fingertips along her collarbone as he releases his warm breath over her cold, weak body. "I don't know," he says. "Hold together, Ginny. You must be there to help Harry."
"I can barely even walk to class without wheezing," she says. "How can I battle a powerful Death Eater?"
His hand strokes down to her breast and a rush of warmth, of strength, fills her. "I share my strength with you, Ginny," he says. "You need it more than I." He kisses her cheek. "Hold together. You mustn't fade away when it feels like the end. When the end comes... you'll know it for certain."
He melts away like smoke in the wind and Ginny sleeps comfortably for the first time since her waking at the hospital wing.
The Dark Lord considers Bellatrix coldly. "You pushed her too far," he snaps. "I took too much away from her and she nearly died after her feral came out."
"The feral?" Lucius murmurs the question to his sister-in-law.
"Your son is more versed in soul magic than you are, Lucius, that is something I think you should remedy." Voldemort smirks. "Bellatrix, explain. I won't waste my time."
Bellatrix glows with the honour of speaking for her Lord. "The feral is what comes out when the soul first leaves the body, the last gasps of the remainders of the soul. If the soul is pulled from a healthy body, the feral will react. It will not if the body dies first."
"The girl nearly died when her feral took her over. It is lucky that your son was there to send the feral back, Lucius." Lucius nods, looking quite proud. Voldemort stares down at Bellatrix again. "We must be cautious. Our controls must both remain equal so that we are not discovered."
"Of course, my Lord," Bellatrix breathes.
"Lucius," the Dark Lord says, "you may go."
Lucius leaves the basement as Voldemort lifts his wand. As he closes the door behind him, he heads into the kitchen, where his wife is preparing a large breakfast.
"How is the business going, Lucius?" Narcissa asks as she watches the pots and pans magically do all the work.
He glances at the basement door, laughs, and says, "Splendidly, darling. Splendidly."