Author's Notes: Soooo sorry if you asked me to email you when the fic was posted, but I accidentally deleted your reviews, so I had no idea who to email. Eep, I really didn't mean to, sorry.

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. 'Cept for Evie.

*~*~*Eyes Wide Shut: Ch.2-Dreaming of a New Life*~*~*

"Can you believe that prat Malfoy? How did he become Head Boy?" Ron exclaimed to Harry heatedly as they walked through the train corridor, looking for an empty compartment.

"Hmm, yes...odd," agreed Harry. They stopped in front of one door, but before they could open it, it slid aside, revealing a slightly startled looking Neville.

"Harry, Ron, hi fellas!" He said excitedly, moving aside so they could step in the compartment. "I was just going to get some snacks from the trolley, do you two want anything?"

They shook their heads no, and walked through. Inside, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnegan, two of their fellow Gryffindors, were sitting and chatting animatedly about their summers.

"-When she sent me that owl, my Mum went ballistic! She's deathly afraid of birds, so she was running around the whole house. The bird got spooked and took off after her, and it was twenty minutes of utter chaos. Dad was trying to calm Mum, I was trying to catch the owl, and then, my younger sister got the letter!! She went around reciting what Parvati said for weeks; it was a nightmare," Dean was telling his Irish friend, who looked like he was about to burst into laughter. Harry and Ron grinned at each other for a second before the other two looked up and greeted them.

"Harry! How's your summer been?" Asked Seamus happily. Two years before, he and his family had thought Harry was a crackpot, but after the war, his feelings changed. He wasn't the only one to have such a turn around.

The Boy-Who-Lived sat across from him, next to Ron. "Not bad thanks. I got a new broom for my birthday, it's the latest, a Mercury 3000," he told them, voice slightly cocky.

Dean whistled in appreciation, and Seamus' eyes widened. "Wow, Harry, that's a fantastic broom! It can go from naught to seventy in three seconds!"

Next to Harry, Ron just couldn't resist. "I got to ride it," he added smugly.

Harry just laughed and shoved him.

*~*~*

Ginny felt a slight ache in her shoulder and grimaced inwardly. 'Great idea to fake sleep Gin, now you can't bloody move and you're screwing up your shoulder,' she chided herself mentally.

She was on the train, and Draco Malfoy was still sitting across from her. Occasionally, she'd catch him glancing at her, but for the most part he read. She chanced a look at the title, and could have fallen asleep for real. He was reading a book about the theory of human Transfiguration.

Finally, the ache in her shoulder and the annoyance of having to squint so much got to Ginny, and she decided it was probably alright for her to 'wake up' now. She did so rather theatrically, rolling over and groaning a bit, before sitting up with a yawn and rubbing her eyes. Then, of course, she spotted Malfoy and widened her eyes appropriately.

"What are you doing here?" She asked him, keeping her voice properly neutral yet surprised at the same time.

"Sitting." Was the only response.

"Why."

"There's nowhere else. Have you got a problem with that?"

Ginny turned her face to the window, sighing at the black tunnel rushing by outside. She didn't have enough energy for this, their fights in past years seemed so pointless. "No, just leave me alone."

*~*~*

Draco raised an eyebrow inwardly at her passive attitude, but he shrugged it off. There was something different about her, but so long as she left him alone, he was fine.

He turned another page in his book with a slight grimace. Transfiguration was so boring. Since the war, McGonagall had become even harsher about their Transfiguration skills. It was rather annoying, and didn't make much sense. If you were in battle, with the enemy hurling curses at you left and right, would you really stop and Transfigure a guinea pig into a rabbit?

Draco didn't think so.

Not that he'd had much experience in the war. Or any really. The term 'war' was quite a misnomer, it had just been one or two short battles, ending with a duel between Potter and Voldemort. The famous Dark Lord had finally exploded after a long fight, leaving Death Eaters to be caught and lives to be repaired. School hadn't even ever been cancelled. Most of the 'war' had really just been reconstruction and putting Death Eaters in Azkaban.

Draco didn't even notice he was clenching his book until he heard a slight rip in the paper. He glanced down with slight shock, before smoothing it out carefully. Weasley cast a glance at him because of the noise, and he sneered at her viciously. She just sighed slightly and turned away, eyes fluttering downwards.

Her eyes. That was what was so different about her.

They had lost their spark.

*~*~*

"Hurry up, girl, or you'll be late for the first day! At this rate you'll be lucky if you get there in time for dinner!" Esther snapped at her niece, now not even pretending to care about her. Evie rolled her eyes, and stifled a yawn.

"I know, I'm coming," she called from the top of the stairs, dragging a big trunk down and huffing a bit. It was heavy, and the fact that it was so early in the morning didn't help matters.

Her aunt narrowed her watery eyes, but stopped yelling. Evie finally made it down the stairs, dropping the end of the trunk she was holding with a huff. "There," she sighed to the older woman. "Is this our goodbye?" Her voice was calm, with only a hint of cynicism underlying it. Esther didn't notice.

"Yes, now go. I have company coming over today and I want to rid the house of your trash," Esther replied haughtily, before launching into the directions. "You'll be going to Diagon Alley, then you should go into the Leaky Cauldron and ask to use the fireplace. And no loitering! Here's your Portkey." She handed the almost dozing girl a necklace with a locket (careful not to touch the bronze locket). Evie took it with slight surprise, remembering something about the necklace. But before she could fully remember or ask her aunt, there was a tug at her stomach, and Esther and New York completely dissolved from view.

She reappeared in a dark alleyway, somewhere in London. With a last glance behind her, at the manor no longer there, she slipped the necklace over her head and started off, into the bright and sunny London day.

*~*~*

Harry, Ron, Dean and Seamus were talking eagerly about the upcoming England Regional Quidditch Cup when Neville came back, munching happily on a chocolate frog and holding a couple more sweets in his pockets, along with Trevor the toad. He took one look at the four already occupying the only seats, and his round face fell.

"Hey, where am I going to sit?" He asked anxiously. His friends looked around a bit, brows furrowed and looking slightly abashed until Harry stood up.

"It's fine," he assured Neville, starting towards the door. "I should probably go start my patrol now anyways. If I see Hermione, I'll tell her you're here Ron," said Harry.

Ron stiffened slightly, but Dean and Seamus didn't notice, too busy getting their sweets from Neville. "Why'd you say that?" He asked suspiciously, unconvincingly trying to make his voice neutral.

Harry just shrugged and put his hands up in the universal gesture of peace. "Nevermind, I'll see you later," he muttered before striding out of the compartment quickly, sighing slightly as the door shut behind him.

*~*~*

Ginny sighed unhappily and looked away. There wasn't really anywhere else to look, but at least the worn carpet didn't glare at her, like a certain pale, blonde Slytherin did.

She vaguely considered going to sleep but she just wasn't really in the mood. Everything she could think of to pass the time seemed so mundane. Finally, with an inward sigh, she slouched down in the seat, clasped her hands on top of her stomach, and shut her eyes. Even if she couldn't sleep, she could block out everything else.

Though, finally, she started drifting off. The night before, Molly Weasley had awoken after a nightmare, and Ginny had had to sit up for hours with her. So, ignoring the gentle rumbling in her stomach telling her it was time for lunch, she fell asleep.

She was standing outside a house, looking up at it with mild interest. Apparently, her dream self didn't think it was at all odd for a house to be all different colors, with balconies and stairs and floors all over the place, defying the laws of physics and gravity. Ginny looked back behind her. There was a meadow of sorts, but the grass was shriveled and dying. Above it, the sky looked toxic with hints of chartreuse shining through the gray.

She shivered and started to walk in the house.

"Hel-hello?" She called nervously, opening the door with an ominous creak. Ginny looked around her, and shrunk back a bit. The inside of the house was drastically different from its colorful, cheery outside. It was filthy, gloomy, dark, and generally depressing in every way she could think of. Whatever furniture was there, was covered with graying sheets, and liberal amounts of dust. Spiders and rats were scurrying by her feet, and Ginny gave a whimper. Finally, she bit her lip, and headed for the stairs. She wanted to explore. Well, it wasn't even that she really wanted to, it was just that her body was moving, before her mind could register it.

Ginny's footsteps echoed loudly on the rotting staircase. She made her way up the spiraling column, hand gliding gently across the railing, flinching ever so often when her palm encountered a splinter

Finally, though, she reached the second floor. Suddenly she was engulfed in a sea of sterile, pristine white, so brilliant it hurt her eyes till she shut them quickly. She opened them again, and once she adjusted, she started off down the long, long corridor. Somewhere in the back of her head, the logical part of her argued that there was no way a house like this could have this long of a hallway, but she shrugged it off.

There was an open doorway up ahead, and Ginny made her way towards it. By the end, she was breathing heavily, but she rested for a second before opening it more and peeking her head in.

In stark contrast to the outside hall, the room was just as colorful as the exterior of the house. Different textures, from carpet to stucco, ranged over the walls. A feast for the eyes, as Ginny thought to herself. Which, was rather ironic, when she saw the person in the room.

It was a young boy, with reddish brown curls, sitting in a rather plush armchair. He was wearing dark sunglasses, and his face was turned slightly away from hers, hands clasped in a gesture of calm on his lap. At first, Ginny was confused at why he'd be wearing sunglasses indoors, and why he hadn't turned to look…before it dawned on her. The boy was blind.

A sound floated over to her frozen figure, and she frowned before looking at the child. His lips were moving, ever so slightly, and he seemed to be singing something. No, no, more words of it reached her and she realized it was a poem.

"Between us now and here--

Two thrown together

Who are not wont to wear

Life's flushest feather--

Who see the scenes slide past,

The daytimes dimming fast,

Let there be truth at last,

Even if despair.

So thoroughly and long

Have you now known me,

So real in faith and strong

Have I now shown me,

That nothing needs disguise

Further in any wise,

Or asks or justifies

A guarded tongue.

Face unto face, then, say,

Eyes my own meeting,

Is your heart far away,

Or with mine beating?

When false things are brought low,

And swift things have grown slow,

Feigning like froth shall go,

Faith be for aye."

Then there was silence. It filled all her senses, till she was drowning in a sea of it, choking and gasping out her breaths, the dream boy fading to black, and Ginny fell to the padded floor of the room.

And opened her eyes to the surprised stare of Draco Malfoy.

*~*~*

He watched her sleeping form out of the corner of his eyes, starting slightly when she jerked on the seat, mouth parting slightly. She started to choke, coughing horribly, and finally fell off her chair.

'What in the name of Merlin is wrong with her?' He wondered with shock.

Finally, though, Ginny's eyes fluttered open from her spot on the floor, and she gasped loudly.

"Weasley?" He asked curiously, marking his place in the textbook and sliding off his seat. He crouched near her. "What happened to you?"

She had shut her eyes again, but they snapped open once he addressed her, and she scrambled up and away from him. "I'm fine!" She snapped at him, though her voice was noticeably shaky. Draco smirked at the girl and stood elegantly, brushing off some dirt.

"Oh yeah, you look perfect," he taunted, folding his arms over his chest. Above them, the lights flickered out, and the train barreled out of the long tunnel, finally emerging into a gray and bleak countryside. Ginny, about to retort heatedly at Draco, broke off and looked outside distractedly, before shaking her head and turning back to glare at him. At least she didn't seem as panicked as before.

"I'm fine okay, I just had a-a weird dream. Now just shut up and sod off!" Her voice was shaking a bit.

He just raised his eyebrows and fell back on the cushiony seat. "Fine, Merlin, what happened to that whole 'leave me alone, I'll leave you alone,' policy," Draco sneered, lowering his arms after using air quotes.

"Nothing! Now sod OFF!"

Draco jerked back. "Alright," he said with astonishment. She just bit her lip and sat back, carefully avoiding looking at him by staring out the window, eyes zipping to and fro as the countryside whipped by her.

*~*~*

Evie grimaced slightly in distaste as she walked through the door of the Leaky Cauldron. It was a dark, grubby little place. At the bar, a veiled witch was cackling raucously at something the toothless old bartender had said, and further down , Evie could see a pair of goblins glancing around shiftily before talking in whispers. In general, the place was a rat hole.

Her aunt's last words echoed in her mind. 'No loitering,' she had ordered. Evie snorted. As if she'd loiter in a place like this. Even the air made her skin crawl, it was so thick with greasy food smells and smoke.

Evie walked up to the bartender and gave a loud cough, adjusting her bag over her shoulder. The man-she could see a worn nametag reading 'Tom'-did a double-take when he saw her. She scowled inwardly.

To him, she just gave a bright smile. "I need to use the fireplace. To get to Hogwarts," Evie told the man, still smiling her fakest.

Tom nodded and set down the glass he was polishing. "Sure, it's right down the hallway there, then take a left. It's ten Knuts for Floo-ing," he said. She almost frowned at the accent, before where she was really hit her. 'Guess I'm gonna have to start getting used to the accents,' she thought, more than a little despondent. She hated moving. It was one of the few things that never got easier with time.

Evie clenched her fists a bit. 'No more bad thoughts!' She ordered herself. Easier said than done though. Grudgingly, she paid the man (her aunt had explained the basics of European Wizarding money, it was different from America's) and set off where he had told her. She found the fireplace, and the box clearly marked 'Floo' and threw a handful onto the fire, watching it spring into huge emerald flames. Now thoroughly depressed, she called out, "Hogwarts!" and vanished through the grate.

*~*~*

Harry sighed and leaned against the door, sliding down it slowly till he hit the ground with a dull thud. He rubbed his temples anxiously, before shutting his eyes.

His best friends were lying to him, sneaking behind his back and snogging. He felt a sudden urge to shout and punch something.

But no, Harry couldn't do that. He was in a corridor of the Hogwarts Express, not the best place for tantrums.

Merlin, he felt so angry! Harry could barely remember the last time he had felt like this. Well, there was last year…No. He wouldn't think of that.

Harry heard some footsteps approaching to his right, and he scrambled up, smoothing his hair out automatically. It turned out to be a group of younger girls, chatting happily and rather shrilly as they walked. He shrunk back a bit, but it was no use, they had seen him. He could tell by the way their giggles immediately got louder.

"Hi Harry," they all said in unison, cooing horribly at him.

He nodded slightly, but they didn't seem to be moving along, so he gave an inward sigh and opened his mouth to talk. His throat closed up slightly, but the words still came out somewhat coherently. "Hello" said Harry quietly.

They all smiled brightly and kept walking, laughing loudly and elbowing each other slightly, as if it was some great achievement to have Harry Potter say hi to them.

He waited till they were out of sight down the corridor before spitting on the floor to get that awful taste out of his mouth.

*~*~*

Evie stumbled through the fireplace, eyes screwed shut, and tripped over her own feet to land on her jean clad knees on the stone floor. Even in late summer, the stone was chilled, and sent little waves of cold right through her. She scrambled ungracefully to her feet, managing to trip only a little bit.



"So nice of you to join us. Miss Ashton, I presume?" Came an elderly voice from behind her. She whirled around, eyes wide and nervous.

An old man, with both hair and beard long and silver with age, was reclining in an armchair behind a rather large wooden desk. His chin was resting gently on spidery fingers, his gaze level yet intense from behind half-moon glasses as he watched her. The desk was cluttered with a variety of different objects, almost none of which Evie recognized. Her eyes zeroed in on the name plate. Albus Dumbledore.

She scowled. So this was her newest Headmaster. "Yep," she replied tersely.

Dumbledore looked for a second like he might laugh, but instead just nodded at her. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Please, sit, we have many things to discuss," he told her, sitting up straighter to gesture at a chair in front of his desk. Evie sat down in it quickly, trying not to squirm under his gaze but failing.

The Headmaster seemed to notice her nervousness as he gave her a rather welcoming smile. "Now, it isn't Hogwarts policy to accept any transfer students, but I found your aunt to be quite-insistent-that you join us here," he paused for a moment to open a folder in front of him. Evie presumed that was her transcript. "Hmm, fascinating…"

He seemed so lost Evie gave a discreet cough. Dumbledore looked back up finally. He smiled. "So sorry, didn't mean to drift away there. Just thinking about the American school systems, they're remarkable!"

Evie, not quite sure what to do, just nodded quickly. He didn't notice her silence. "Is is true, that you were able to drop whatever subjects you weren't interested in, after your first year?" Dumbledore asked, voice not dissimilar to that of an eager child's.

"Yes sir, I chose to focus more on Charms, and some Transfiguration and Defense tactics. I dropped Potions and Herbology," her tone was laced with disgust at the prospect of having to take her worst subject again.

Dumbledore gave a soft 'hmmm' of thought, before speaking. "This may present a problem. I fear that you'll have to take both those classes with the younger students."

Evie jumped slightly. "What?!?" She gasped, before groaning. 'Not even here for five minutes and I already hate this damn school.'

He seemed to sense her thoughts, because he smiled brightly. "But, there are some good points to this. You're so advanced in Charms, if you wish you may take extra courses with our Charms professor, and I don't doubt our highest level class will be rather easy. Overall, your grades should balance each other out," the Headmaster told her, beaming.

Evie nodded again. School talk always put her to sleep. She started looking all around the room.

It was an elegant office, no doubt about that. She was tickled to see many moving portraits (they were much rarer in New York) of all the previous Headmasters. Her gaze shifted, to a bird perch on the other side of the room. She frowned slightly.

"What's that?" She asked, interrupting Dumbledore from his descriptions of all the staff, as she pointed towards it.

"Ahh, I see you've noticed Fawkes' perch. Fawkes is my pet phoenix, she away as of now, unfortunately."

Evie's jaw dropped. 'Okay, so maybe this school doesn't suck as bad as I thought…'

*~*~*

Harry leaned against the window, half sitting on the tiny ledge and his back against the cool glass. All the compartments were pretty much full, he knew for a fact, and he didn't want to go back to Ron and theirs.

Harry's eyes drifted shut, as his head started to lean back, resting against the glass. He could feel the cold radiating through his clothes and chilling his back slightly, but it was in the back of his mind, a fuzzy, nagging feeling. He ignored it and sighed happily, as he felt sleep slowly wash over him.

He was on a forked dirt road, surrounded by a rather thick fog. Harry seemed to be on the fringe of a forest, and one path led deep into it, dark and gloomy. The other led to the side, curving back and away from the forest.

Harry shivered a bit and turned away, to walk away from the creepy forest, when he heard a laugh. It sounded like a child. In the forest. Warily, but still concerned, he jogged down the path, avoiding stray branches and rocks in his way.

"Hello? Anyone there?" His voice sounded strange to his own ears through the fog, hoarse and strained. He frowned, but ignored it and kept going. The child-or whatever it was-laughed again, somewhere to his left. Harry veered off the path, now having to struggle more with trees in his way. Finally, though, he heard more sounds, louder, and he knew he was close.

Knocking aside one last whippy branch, and cursing briefly when it almost hit him in the face, Harry stepped into a clearing. He gasped in horror. The one he had thought was a child looked much older. Only a few years younger than him in fact.

A girl was sitting on the dirty ground, legs askew in the way a child's would be. Her clothes-an ill-fitting dress so faded it was gray-were torn and filthy, just as her ragged dark blonde hair. She looked to be thirteen or so, but was humming and giggling, swaying her head, again like a small kid. But that wasn't what had made Harry gasp.

It was her body.

Her arms, legs, even chest and neck, all were covered with scars. From what he could see, they formed words and pictures, intricate patterns of pain over her skin. Some were old, gleaming silver in the ill light, and some were fresh, with dried blood caked around her body. Harry saw a flash, and looked down at her hand; she was dragging a bright metal knife in the ground, stabbing randomly and laughing whenever an extra hard clod of dirt split under the knife.

Finally, her head snapped up, and Harry was startled out of his trance. He tried to keep his eyes off the frightening, frightening scars, but it turned out her face was even worse to look at. Not just because of the newer looking scars scraped into her cheeks, but the vacant, dazed expression on her face and the dead look in her big blue eyes. She grinned a Cheshire cat grin (he remembered Aunt Petunia reading that Alice in Wonderland to Dudley as a child) and he stepped back subconsciously.

"Hi! Why are you here?" She giggled at him, blinking innocently.

Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat. She had switched from dragging the knife in the dirt around her to dragging it over her exposed thigh. He could see a skull beginning to form in bright red, childishly messy lines. "I-I don't know," he answered honestly.

The girl didn't acknowledge him at all, intent on cutting away more of her flesh, grinning wildly as the blood fell more freely. Harry felt his stomach churn as he watched her. Finally, he couldn't stand it, and he strode across the clearing to her. "Stop it!"

She glanced up at him, blue eyes wide and knife still moving in both hands, digging deeper. "Why?" Her voice was that of a six-year-olds.

Harry gaped. "Becau-Because it's wrong! You're hurting yourself!" He said, collapsing on his knees next to her.

The girl smiled playfully. "Oh no. It helps. It makes all the pain go far, far away. See?" She asked, before swiftly grabbing Harry's arm and slicing a long, deep gash down his forearm. She narrowly missed his vital arteries, but it still bled profusely and hurt like hell.

He gasped and fell backwards, attempting to scramble away from her and clutch his arm at the same time, but failing. "What are you doing?" He demanded, panicked.

She just laughed. "It helps. Doesn't it? Doesn't it feel better right here?" The girl insisted, grabbing him and pressing their clasped hands in front of his heart.

His immediate reaction was to jerk away, grabbing the knife and denying what she said profusely. But then he thought back to the pain in his arm, which had faded to a stirring warmth through his entire body. His soul, which had felt like a leaden weight in his chest for so long, felt just a little bit brighter, everything seemed lighter.

Harry's eyes had gradually shifted closed, but they fluttered open again when he felt the same sensation on his other arm. She was slicing his right forearm open now, slowly, watching the blood spill over and smiling at him.

"Doesn't it feel better now?"

Harry tried to deny it, but she just kept cutting.

"Doesn't it?"

"HARRY!"

Back in reality, his eyes snapped open, as Harry fell off the window ledge to the carpet below. He blinked a bit, before staring up at the shocked face of Ron.

"H-hey, Ron," he said weakly, attempting to get up. He failed. 'No wonder,' Harry thought with disgust. 'My nerves are shot.' "What are you doing here?"

His best friend just gaped at him. "I was on my way to find Ginny," he murmured slowly, before his eyebrows snapped together. "What are you doing? I walked by to find you shaking in your sleep! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine," said Harry slowly. "Just a nightmare."

Brown eyes widened. "It's-it's not another vision is it?"

"No!" Harry answered vehemently. Then, more to himself, he muttered, "Well, not really."

Ron hadn't heard the last bit, so he just sighed in relief. "Oh, ok. You're sure you're okay?" He asked again. Harry nodded. "Then do you want to help me find Ginny?"

"Sure," he said, extending an arm to be pulled up. Ron grasped his forearm, and lifted him, before dropping the arm. Harry dusted off his robes, not noticing the look of horror on his friend's face.

"Harry…why are your arms bleeding?"

*~*~*

Ginny still had her eyes closed, dozing lightly, when the sound of the door sliding open was heard. Figuring it was either Malfoy leaving or the cart coming through, she ignored it. In five seconds, she'd wish fervently that it was just Malfoy.

"GINNY ALEXANDRIA WEASLEY!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN A COMPARTMENT WITH MALFOY?!?"

'Uh-oh…that'd Ron,' she cringed mentally, squinting one eye open as she heard Malfoy stand and respond.

"Hey, I am right here, Weasley. I know you're poor, but are you blind as well?" He sneered viciously.

Before they could get into their own little argument, Ginny snapped open her eyes and sat up with a sigh. "Everywhere else was full Ron," she explained with a slight hint of sarcasm. "Oh, and it's nice to see you too after two weeks," she added.

Shoving his blonde nemesis out of the way, he pulled his little sister up and wrapped her up in a tight, if brief hug, before pushing her away to yell more. "Now, back to the question at hand. MALFOY???"

"Still right here," Malfoy interrupted with annoyance. Ron gave him a scowl, and he raised pale eyebrows. "Guess I'll be leaving then," he remarked to himself.

Ginny was too preoccupied trying to reassure Ron that no, she was not having a clandestine tryst in the last compartment of the Hogwarts Express, thank you very much. "RON! I don't like him at all, he wasn't trying to harass me at all either. I've been sleeping half the time anyways." She tactfully left out how shaken her dream had left her, or how Malfoy had acted afterwards. Ginny delved into her faint memories of the dream…there were some words, faint, but firmly spoken all the same, a boy, and then there was darkness…She blinked repeatedly and focused her attention on her brother.

Ron pursed his lips in a very McGonagall like fashion, and sat down across from her. "Alright, I suppose." He ran a hand through his trademark Weasley red hair, slightly longer and shaggier than she remembered. Everything about him was acutely alien, from the height to the smattering of more freckles across his face and arms.

Ginny was snapped out of her observations by something nagged at her mind, and she frowned. "Where are Hermione and Harry?"

Her brother looked slightly panicked for a second. "'Mione is out patrolling, and uhh, Harry's in the bathroom," said Ron, his voice nervous.

Ginny raised an eyebrow at his secrecy and nervousness, but kept silent, nodding slightly. Ron looked over at her, before starting to speak again. "So how's it been at home? Is Mum doing any better?" He asked anxiously.

Suddenly, Ginny suddenly felt herself getting angry. 'He left me alone in the house with no one but our half comatose mother, and he doesn't even ask how I'm doing? He spent his summer partying and probably meeting girls; I had to do the shopping, the cleaning, everything!' She thought angrily, unknowingly grinding her teeth slightly. Out loud, her voice was cheery.

"Ron, I'm feeling rather tired. I'll see you guys tonight, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, Ginny turned on her side and curled up on the plush seat. Her brother murmured a quick goodbye, before patting her lightly on the arm. Ginny felt unreasonably disgusted by his touch, and once she was alone, rubbed furiously at her arm till her skin tingled and she was breathing heavily.

*~*~*

"Hey, Draco! Over here!"

He winced inwardly. Spotted. Damn. Plastering a sneer on his face (it was frighteningly easy to do), Draco turned and strode towards the group. "Hey," he said, inclining his head at each of them.

Pansy sidled up next to him and batted her eyelashes. "Where've you been?" She purred.

Draco shrugged noncommittally, shifting his gaze to look at all of his fellow housemates. There were Crabbe and Goyle, looking like huge, dark cavemen, and next to them Blaise Zabini, another seventh year. He had dark hair, smoothed down on the side, accentuating his dark eyes and sharp features. He was a bit shorter than Draco, but more solidly built. And, unfortunately, next to Draco, Pansy was standing there, in her designer dress and gaudy jewelry, though she looked remarkably better than she had during her 'gothic chick' (her words, not his) phase. Draco barely suppressed a shudder at the memory, and shoved it away to focus on what Blaise was saying as they walked away-in the direction of their compartment, Draco supposed.

"-So Mother's still in the Cote d'Azur, she wanted me to attend Beauxbaton's. No way would Father let that happen, though, Grandfather is about ready to croak any day now, and I need to be here to inherit…" They all laughed at that, Draco woodenly, Pansy shrilly, and Crabbe and Goyle sniggering stupidly.

By now they had reached the compartment, and while trying to pry manicured fingers off his arm, Draco drearily wondered why oh why, Apparation had to be restricted to those over seventeen.

*~*~*

Evie pushed her eyes onto the heels of her palms, ignoring the stars and swirls slowly forming in front of her eyes. Finally, though, she took her hands away and yawned widely.

She was laying on the bed in her-temporary? Permanent? She couldn't remember-room at Hogwarts, in one of the less used halls. Dumbledore had taken care to stress the fact that the only reason she had her own room was because of her sudden arrival. 'Of course,' she thought bitterly, any previous interest in her new school now gone. 'I'm always a burden on everyone.'

Evie flipped over onto her stomach, and propped her chin on her forearms, surveying the room. It was rather ugly, with grayish beige walls and mismatched furniture. The only good bit was the bed, a wonderfully made four-poster with a gauzy blue, hanging canopy. It reminded her of one of her distant cousins' bed and furniture. Elaine, was her name. She was one of the first to take Evie in, even though she'd ended up leaving after only a week.

Finally, the girl wrinkled her nose and climbed off the afore-mentioned bed, making her way to her rather ratty looking bag. She dug through it till she found her book, a collection of myths and fairy tales, before sitting awkwardly in the beat up chair and beginning to read.

'When in doubt, drown yourself in other things.'

*~*~*

A strangled hiccup, and Harry raised his eyes from the sink he was gripping tightly, to the mirror. His bright green eyes were wide and slightly bloodshot, and his inky black hair was in sharp contrast to the sickly white of his skin. He reached out a tentative hand, and splayed his fingers against the smooth glass.

Then the train jolted slightly underneath him and he was snapped out of the moment.

Snatching his hand back, Harry glanced around him quickly to make sure no one had come into the bathroom and seen him. The lavatory was still empty and silent around him. He breathed out a sigh of relief.

He had run there after Ron had discovered his cuts to wash up, effectively postponing most of his best friend's questions. Though he really had no idea how to answer half of them anyways. He had the impression 'Gee Ron, the dream girl with the scars just sliced open both my arms, and I enjoyed it. No problem,' wouldn't sound too good. It was odd, he remembered most of the dream perfectly, unlike normal ones, which faded to the back of your mind the moment you awoke.

There was an extra strong twinge of pain in his arm as he accidentally knocked it against the porcelain, snapping him from his trance. Harry winced and rubbed his forearm gently. The cuts had stopped bleeding, thankfully, but they still ached. He had washed away most of the blood, and now his skin was tinged pink with the stained remnants. Harry narrowed his eyes and grabbed the wet paper towel, before determinedly scrubbing at his left, then right arm, ignoring the pain till it burned too much. He gave a moan of pain and hurled the paper in the trash can.

The bathroom door banged open and Harry jumped visibly. He yanked on a sweater, breath hitching in his throat when the wool rubbed over his cuts, finally pulling the sleeves down to cover everything. A younger boy walked in, and Harry shoved past him roughly, mumbling some garbled excuse, and rushing as fast as he could out of the bathroom.

*~*~*

And there's chapter two! I'm extremely sorry, if I've offended someone with the cutting scene, or gotten it wrong in any sense. I honestly didn't mean to. The poem, Between Us Now and Here, is by Thomas Hardy.