I really couldn't do anything about it. Human beings don't have any control whatsoever over where our second minds take us during slumber. It's not my fault.

I haven't slept at all in days, and I just wonder why exactly am I being so affected by that asinine sketch. It's just a drawing of him sleeping. What's so agitating about that?

Nothing, my mind screams, but obviously my mind doesn't think so. I can't sleep at night, I go to classes like the living dead, I bump into people thanks to my eyelids which don't stop drooping like hell. I don't want a repeat of what happened yesterday during lunch ever again.

Just the meager recollection of opening my eyes after a quick nap, only to be surrounded fully by an aberrant shade of white cream makes me cringe outright. Who else but me could fall unwittingly into the greedy clutches of sleep on a helping of fruit salad?

I swear, I will rip off every thin gold strand on his pretty little head if Malfoy mocks me again.

"Eat it or wear it, Weasel!!"

So damn hateful! I wonder what the gods above were thinking when they planned for this golden boy to be born... Probably they had a nasty spat or something. Or maybe he just takes after his dear father.

That doesn't give him an excuse to be so annoying to everyone! I know, I know, I mustn't let him get to me. He's just... looking for a fight, is all. He's asking for a rather strong whack! in the face if he so much as whispers that damned phrase. He very well deserves it.

To add insult to injury, it happened in class, too. Transfiguration. Cruel, wasn't it?

Apparently, thanks to Colin's enthusiastic report, McGonagall had asked a question on this particularly difficult spell, when she called me.

Now, I don't know if Colin's that much of a reliable source, but he says that I stared icily at her (I guess the look of antipathy on my face only added to his excitement, since he could barely get the next words out) and, to quote the nasty little bugger, "growled at her, Gin, I can't believe you did that, 'Don't wake up Harry.'"

Colin's a good chap, really. Just had to vent out my anger on something. Or in his case, someone. But other than that, he's really a great friend.

The rest of the story I knew, since he'd jabbed his elbow harshly into my ribs, (keep in mind, Ginny, good chap, good chap...)which explains the unbearable ache whenever I breathe in.

Needless to say, she looked highly indifferent, but told me to keep my delusional fantasies to myself in her class. Of course, it didn't help me any bit that Gryffindor fifth-years share Transfiguration with the Slytherins.

It's a wonder Harry hasn't heard about it yet, what with all the buzzing and suppressed giggles that spread like wildfire across the hallways. News at Hogwarts isn't news anymore after five minutes.

So, here I am, tired, irritable, at two fifteen in the morning, on the squashy old arm chair Harry always sits on. My insufferably bad mood is lessened by the fact that I'd seen Harry mere hours ago, struggling to keep up with his homework, sitting on this chair. What rejuvenates me is that it's still warm...

The moon's casted some elongated shadows over the earth next to the castle walls. I can see every tiny, intricate detail of Hogwart's fine chaparral, care of the wonderful Hagrid. I have an afternoon with Professor Snape and coughing at the multi-colored haze emerging from numerous cauldrons containing what was supposed to be Eye-Sharpening Potions to thank for my enhanced vision.

I want to know what to do. I know it's stupid, to be so bothered by a picture. I've never been this affected by a material thing, with the obvious exception of Tom's diary. I want to decide 'cause it's worth deciding...

I'm in the mood for some poetry. May it be for the scintillating star in the haunting dark sky that is him. Maybe, just maybe, an evanescent poem can lift this disturbance? Silly of me to think that, but it's worth a try...

Eyes so blank they hold all hell's angels

I think there's nothing like them

They're the black against the white

How can you stand to fight?

You've troubles impossible to suffer

I wonder... Will you ever let them out?

You've burdens too great to bear

Will you ever let me in?

How can you fight to stand?

I don't see the point, seriously

Why exactly do they do this to you?

You're an angel. My angel.

Angels don't deserve this

No one does.

Scarred by wounds too deep for healing

Accepting pain too much to take

I don't understand...

Why aren't you breaking?

What of these can you make?

I see:

a warrior weary of battle

a young man with no will to live

a child exhausted with nightmares

a person with no more to give

Well, now.

You just close your eyes and rest

May peace descend on you at last

Let loose the barrier that holds your tears

The time for fears is over

Just sleep.

It's hard to explain. I feel calmer? It's like the world's taken off my back again. What put it there in the first place? I don't want to admit it because it's so unbelievable. Anyway, I'm: rejuvenated meets relieved meets--

"Ginny?"

Merlin, hide me under that monstrosity of a beard.

"What're you doing up?"

I tried to stop the beating of my heart from going erratically fast and slow at the same time as Harry walked towards me. It's impossible. I can't hear my own voice due to the pounding in my ears.

"I could say the same for you, Potter. It's Quidditch tomorrow. You need your sleep."

He smiled. I noticed it was a bit thinner than I would've liked. Harry looked more tired than I've ever seen him before.

"You need your sleep, too, Ginny."

I rolled his words over and over in my head. I loved the way he said my name. It was just enchanting. That was enough for me. I could make my exit now, and be happy for eternity. It's good enough for me. That he spoke a few words. And he said my name.

I patted the arm chair invitingly, and stood up.

"Harry, this chair was made for you," I felt my lips turning into a rather remorseful smile at how stupid that sounded, "You'd have more chances of drifting off to sleep in it."

His eyes held a lovely mixture of gratefulness and amusement in their emerald depths. "But where would you go?"

I grinned, a bit sadly. I haven't the foggiest idea why, exactly. "Don't mind me, I'll go up to my dorm now... See you in the morning..."

With my words left hanging, I hugged my diary where I'd Spellotaped the drawing, and willed my feet to move, seeing as they wouldn't work by themselves. When I was halfway to the girls' staircase, and just as I was seriously considering running into the room since the urge to squeal about my late-night encounter with Harry was getting irrepressible, he called out to me.

"You don't have to go because of me."

I paused, my foot in mid-step.

"Why not you stay down here with me for a while?"

His voice was tinged with uncertainty, and was that hope?

I didn't answer, just frozen to the spot. I guess my silence got to him, since I heard a sigh, and some footsteps that gradually softened. I cursed my incongruity for what wasn't the first time and turned around.

To my surprise, a hand was raised in mid-air, and it fell, on the spot where, just milliseconds ago, my shoulder had been.

Impossibly wide green eyes stared into my own spheres of chocolate. I very nearly crossed the fine line between freaking out and... freaking out. In these situations, there are no choices.

The corners of his mouth tugged into a reluctant smile. "Sorry 'bout that, Gin."

Still breathless from fright, I just nodded and walked shakily back to the sofa. I didn't know he possessed such stealth... With my eyes closed, I tried again to placate my heart.

Thud, thud, thud.

The space beside me sank and my heart went down with the scarlet cushions of the sofa. The springs creaked under his added weight.

"It's-- It's Gryffindor against Hufflepuff tomorrow, right?"

Harry laughed, not unkindly, though. "You, of all people, would know, Ginny, seeing as you spend eight hours a week with me in practice."

He was loosening up, just as I was. I was genuinely starting to enjoy myself.

"Your barking voice invades my dreams... 'Put it in, Ginny! Now-- no!! NOW!!'"

Harry assumed an apologetic expression, and my heart melted. "Guess Wood's rubbed off on me, eh?"

"Damn right," I said, a tempest of gradual ease and sheer nevers brewing in my stomach. It wasn't so bad...

He smiled, this time, more warmly than I expected. It was enough to send my heart into overdrive. Harry had that effect on me. He always had.

"You never did answer my question... what are you doing up?"

I couldn't just possibly say that I was here, Harry, trying to soothe my nerves which had been on end for the past few days, if you hadn't noticed, thanks to a peachy drawing of you, while you were sleeping, and expect to be able to maintain the friendship that had blossomed between us, could I?

"Oh," I said, desperately trying to master the fine art of nonchalance, "nothing. Just... you know? Nerves..." Damn! I was getting close to spilling! "N-nerves... Quidditch..."

With a cloud of impetuosity hanging over me, I tried my best to salvage my integrity, all the while with Harry sitting there, a bemused but still brilliant grin playing on his lips.

"Get me?"

I could tell he was seriously trying not to laugh. I, on the other hand, was seriously trying to keep my head above the water that was drowning my candor. Or what was left of it.

"Is this the same Ginevra Weasley that screamed like a raving lunatic that pretty boys shouldn't mess with lions?"

He was on a mission to kill me, I swear. With defiance in my every move, I looked at him squarely in the eye, and opened my mouth, which had spilled many am embarrassing sound, to say something witty--

And faltered.

I suddenly realized that he'd closed his eyes. But his smile remained. He looked exactly as I remembered him on the night I caught him sleeping. My fingers itched for a quill and paper. I wanted to capture that moment forever; it was priceless.

"Hahaha," I mumbled, my tongue tripping over the words. "Well-- I'm a litt-- little bit sleepier now... Guess I'll turn in for the night."

Harry's eyes flew open. The green in them was fierce. "Embarrassment is never an excuse, Weasley."

Then he burst out laughing. He was acting a bit.. un-Harry-ish. Perhaps the indecent time had something to do with it.

That broke it.

I grabbed the throw pillow behind me and hurled it at him. "You nut! I really am sleepy!"

I failed even to convince myself.

"You're the worst liar I've ever seen, Ginny!"

He threw the pillow back at me. Surprised, I nonetheless caught it, right before it could hit me.

I stuck my tongue out, and even though it was silly, it felt good.

"You're the worst wise man to grace the planet!"

By this time, his mouth was stretched into the full-fledged smile that I know and love. He seemed to expect the pillow that came down on him nanoseconds after he grinned.

"But you're an excellent Chaser."

The very much battered pillow crashed on me. I emerged with my smile unaffected.

"And you're a fantastic Seeker."

I sat down, breathless from our random exchange. Harry followed suit. I noticed he looked amazing, all winded down, and his hair sticking up in places unimagineable.

Silence descended on us for a few moments. But it wasn't awkward, the quiet. It was calming. I remembered my diary, and my hands scrambled like mad, grappling for the book that was obviously not there.

He cleared his throat, and I looked up. Annoying strands of hair fell into my eyes, and I reached out impatiently to clear my vision.

In his hand was my diary. The wheels in my mind turned swiftly. With another of his grins that held secrets within their confines, Harry handed it back.

Still, no words were spoken. Actions were enough. And the slight graze of his fingers on mine were definitely okay with me...

We settled comfortably into the couch again, and this time, he sat a bit nearer to me. The vestiges of hope in my heart came alive.

I stole a look at my watch, just for the sake of something to do in the laconism.

2:57.

I sighed softly; Quidditch would be spectacular tomorrow. If I could keep my eyes open long enough for the match. I sneaked a peek at Harry's face, assured by the fact that I'd seen his eyes were closed from the corner of my eye. He'd taken off his glasses.

The low light from the dying fire played on his features. It was mystically spectral. The glow of the flames snaked around his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Perfectly sensational.

With an empyrean sense of inner amity, my eyes started closing of their own accord. The world dimmed into darkness as my head was filled with sweet pictures of him. Life was sweet...

No! Must not sleep. Must get to bed with diary intact and poem hidden. I groaned inwardly but opened my eyes. No matter how much frisson I was feeling, I still had my obligations to fulfill. Harry'd understand.

It's... Quidditch. A choate excuse. He really would understand.

I listened intently to his breathing. Slightly shallow but deep and even enough. Stretching quietly, I tried to pad softly on the carpet so as not to wake him up.

When I passed by the window, I stopped. Someone up there loves me!! I thought excitedly. Deep gratitude filled my heart, 'til it was fit to burst. Thanks, whoever's out there...

Up until now, I'm not really sure, but I swear that the moon shone brighter. Positively beamed down on me. I'm not sure how long I stayed in the spot, but the moon... It was so captivating.

And, thanks are in order for Professor Snape once more, I could see the tiniest details of the bright circle. It was breath-takingly stunning. Such a vivid whiteness against the unnerving black of the sky...

I squeezed my diary tighter, and continued up the stairs, when--

"Ginny?"

Deja vu. I swear, it felt like it. Fighting to keep off the huge smile that threatened to grace my lips, I turned around.

"Yeah?"

My mind numbed. My heart sunk. Along with my jaw.

Harry was holding up the drawing-- I thought I'd Spellotaped it!-- and I could see the faint outlines of scribbles on the back of it-- No! NO!

"What's this all about?"

He sounded sincerely puzzled. I had to cogitate like never before.

I could've denied it was mine. But that would've been stark raving ludcirous. Seeing as my name's printed at the bottom of each page.

Think. Think. Think.

"It's--it's nothing. D--Don't mind it, now. Could -- could you-- give it here?"

He did nothing, but I could see his eyes scanning the image quickly before turning it over to the poem.

"Harry!"

My voice had taken an edge of urgency now.

Something clammy went down my back. Pure panic or sweat, I didn't know. All I could think about was getting that paper back. I needed to get it back!

"Please?"

He didn't pay me any attention. Harry only looked at me after he forced his eyes to pry away from the last word.

I couldn't delve into those forests of green I loved. I hope he didn't recognize the fear and embarrassment in my eyes.

Hell. I'm in hell. Beelzebub, I'm ready now!

"Did you-- write this?" He choked on his own words. Over what exactly, amusement or bweilderment, I don't know. At that moment, I didn't want to find out.

Crap. This is crap.

"Ginny, why don't you look at me? It's a simple question."

Sorry to burst your lovely bubble, Harry, but there is no simple answer.

"Care to explain?"

No bloody way.

"Please say something, Gin. I feel stupid having a one-sided conversation with myself and the wall."

No, thanks, I'm not in the mood to talk. Just to run away... Far from here as my student's rights will allow me...

I turned to run up the stairs, but a force stronger than love and darker than fear stopped me. Actually, I'm not even sure if it was a force. Felt like it.

"It's quite-- lovely."

The way he said it was like he was getting weirded out thoroughly and entering something that was way out of his control. I could sympathize. I had no hands whatsoever on non-existent reins on the situation.

I was afraid to look.

"Tell me, Ginny, does it-- the poem, I mean, does it describe... someone?"

For someone so wonderful as you, you can be pretty much of a daft git, Potter.

"Like... me, for instance?"

At this point, I realized that silence should be a virtue. I wasn't in my right mind. In my position, who could be? Who could afford to think straight?

"It's-- exactly how I would've described... me. If I'd seen myself sleeping like you saw me, that is..."

His words trailed off into nothing. I guess he stopped trying. Everyone always does, with me. Without any more unncessary words, he walked over to me, and handed over the paper.

"Thank you," Harry said, for reasons I am meant to never understand. But it dawned on me that I should be thanking him.

With trembling fingers insensated by recreancy, I held onto the poem and drawing stiffly. His palm landed on my hand, to my ostensible surprise, he leaned in to my ear.

I could feel his breath playing with the strands of hair that escaped my ponytail. It felt warm to my skin, and very soft. It was like his closeness brought my senses alive, and my skin flaming with heat.

Heaven. Don't gather me for I already am here.

I could hear the smile in his voice as he whispered, like it was the world's biggest secret. For us, it was.

"D'you know why I'm not breaking, Ginny?"

I shook my head, trying to keep my movements minimal and graceful, and inclined my head imperceptibly.

"Even though I'm," he paused to give me a wink before continuing,

"a warrior weary of battle

a young man with no will to live

a child exhausted with nightmares

a person with no more to give?"

His voice cracked a little. I closed my eyes and counted to twenty before opening them. I dared not to look at him. I'd never known Harry to be this... emotional and raw...

I shrugged scantly. That was his signal.

Harry dipped his mouth lower, so it was exactly level with my ear. I blocked all senses except for hearing. I felt nothing, not even his soft breath, tasted nothing, not even his unbelievable sweetness, smelled nothing, not even his precious scent, saw nothing, not even his eyes so deep that the moment I first looked into them, I fell.

And I never found the courage to get out. I'd forever be falling...

I remember thinking, Harry's next words were to be my treasures forever...

And they were.

"The reason I'm not breaking, Ginny Weasley, is because there are people on this earth like you..."

I couldn't take it anymore, and, walking away from him, I looked back. Harry looked at me squarely in the eye and smiled. It was all I could do not to die right then and there.

Twisting the door knob to the fifth-year girl's dorm, I entered breathlessly, not unlike how, just a few moments ago, I'd sank onto the sofa, heaving for breath, after a pillow fight with Harry Potter.

And, leaning on the heavy oak door, it was behind the safety of distance and that piece of wood that I finally allowed myself to blush.

Herald's Night: Ginny's a bit OOC here, in my p.o.v., and Harry, too, a tad bit. Please R&R!