A/N: I do believe that this is the second story I've written that mentions chocolate frog cards in passing… And it's also the fifth story I've written on Ginny! I can't believe it! I don't even like her much! But there's so much you can do with her character when you try… Enjoy!

A Sense of Urgency

She had to find it.

It had to be here. It just had to!

Ginny raced up the stairs to the Gryffindor boy's dormitories, her breath quickening dangerously with every step up the winding staircase. She looked around herself wildly, red hair flying in her face and blurring her vision. She brushed it out of her eyes, her mouth, and looked up –

–The door. Oh, thank god, the door! Grasping the handle, she flung it open. Look around; no one's there. Close the door behind her. Let no one come in, please let none of them come back.

Where's his bed? SF, DT, NL, RW… "HP" she read on the trunk at the foot of the canopy bed farthest from the spot where she stood. Good, no one's coming, just find it and run…

She clawed at the curtains desperately, ripping the material as she wrenched them open. Under the pillow? Under the mattress? The sheets, perhaps, check those, too – no lumps. Wait, try inside the pillow! No, not there…

The bedside table. Of course! She yanked out the drawer too fast and too hard, and it tumbled to the floor, falling with a loud thunk! Spare parchment and ink, a quill, an empty notebook… could it be…? Disappointment as the inkbottle – having suffered a substantial crack in the glass from the impact – spilled onto the pages, quickly blackening them; and remaining so.

The cloak – check all the pockets, oh, hurry! Her hands were shaking as she fumbled with the clasp on the trunk, the sweat on her fingers making them slip. Click. Digging her fingers under the lid, she threw it open.

"Honestly, 5 points just for melting a cauldron! I mean, Neville melts them all the time-"

Ginny froze.

"No offense or anything, Nev…"

The voices came closer; footsteps became louder.

"I'm hungry. Let's eat – you can put your stuff away later."

Put it away later, put it away later, put it away later…

Click. As the latch turned. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut tight, still kneeling before the open trunk, shredded papers surrounding her.

The door opened.

"Just give me a second! I need to-"

"And we need to eat. Let's go."

Scuffling, and a thump.

"Ow! …Neville!"

"Sorry."

Slam!

Door closed.

She can breathe again.

Her hands shook worse as she scrabbled through textbooks and clothing, parchment and chocolate frog cards, desperation forcing her to speed. Her hands touched something small, thin, and leather-bound. Wrenching the diary out from underneath the stack of texts, Ginny clutched it to her chest and stumbled to her feet, tripping and clinging to the poster of the bed to steady herself.

Hurry, leave, and quickly. She tore down the stairs to the common room, shoved past Colin – "I don't want a picture!" she growled – and ignored a comment about female hormones. Another door, this one more familiar. Her bed, neatly made; she crawled onto it and huddled into the pillows, trying to bury herself.

Safe.

With the diary.

The diary.

She dipped her quill in the inkbottle at her bedside table, and set the tip to the page. Took a deep breathe to calm herself; slowly she could feel her heartbeat return to normal.

"Hello, Tom." The words disappeared. A heavy sigh of relief. It had been far too long…

"Hello, Ginny. I've missed you…"

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A/N: I'd appreciate your reviews! Especially any suggestions on what I could use for a different title, as I truly can't stand this one…