The pain was like nothing Ginny could have ever imagined. She should have known that receiving the Dark Mark would not be a pleasant experience, but nothing could have prepared her for this. She was still rubbing her forearm hours later as she walked through the entrance to Gryffindor tower. The mark was not quite as invisible as You-Know-Who had led her to believe, but it had been steadily fading and probably wouldn't be visible much longer.
"Hey, Gin!"
She looked up quickly, startled out of her reverie. She really didn't want to talk with anyone right now, let alone her freakishly overprotective older brother. If she hadn't looked directly at him seconds before she would have pretended not to hear him and just have gone to bed. It had been a long day. But seeing as though he was frantically waving her over to the fireplace, she couldn't ignore him or he would know something was going on. And no one could know. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
"What's going on, Ron?" She asked as she approached, trying her best to sound as if she didn't just come from a secret meeting with the Dark Lord.
"Where have you been all day?"
Great, I can't believe I came over here for this! "Nowhere, Ron. I was just making up some Potions work. Because Snape hates you, he'd like to fail me as well. Can I go now? I'm really tired."
"Are you sure you weren't somewhere snogging Dean Thomas? I remember you talking about him at the end of last term. I'm going to kill that lousy-"
"RON! I was doing a Potions assignment." She said through gritted teeth.
"Alright," he said, eyes narrowed as if he wasn't sure if he believed her. But he sure wasn't going to talk to Snape about it. "But why do you keep rubbing your arm?"
Uh-oh. She hadn't realized that she was still doing it. "I… burned it. While I was lighting the fire under my cauldron." She was so glad she hadn't said she was making up something for Arithmancy.
Without another word Ron grabbed her arm and pushed back her sleeve to examine her "burn." She tried to snatch her arm back, but his grip on her wrist was iron tight. She closed her eyes against the inevitable horror that would transform his face.
"Gin, there's not even a mark on you." She looked at her arm and to her relief the Mark had faded away completely.
"Well, it's still sore! I'm going to bed. Goodnight." Not wanting to hear another word from him, she took off up the stairs as fast as she could nearly bowling over a rather startled Hermione Granger.
When Hermione reached the fireplace and Ron she asked what was wrong with Ginny.
"She's just had to spend the day with Snape. That'd put anyone in a bad mood."
"But didn't Snape say he would be gone for the weekend? I could have sworn he said something about that last class." Hermione stopped when she saw the look on Ron's face.
"How would I know? I didn't make it into NEWT level Potions, remember?"
In the ensuing row, they both forgot about Snape and Ginny.
In the days and weeks that followed her meeting with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Ginny was always on alert. Who knew when he might call on her? Because Ginny was not old enough to have learned apparition and also because of the Hogwarts security measures, he had given her a quill that would serve as a portkey exactly five minutes after she was called. Ginny had gotten into the habit of always carrying it with her. She didn't want to know what would happen if she ever missed a summoning. Ginny knew it could happen at any time, but it wasn't until Halloween that she actually had to use it.
The Dark Lord apparently had no consideration for Hogwarts's class schedule. Ginny felt her arm burning during double-Herbology. For a second she panicked, and then she did what Fred and George would have done and ate a Puking Pastille. Silent thanking her older brothers' ingenuity, she raised her hand.
"Professor Sprout! I don't feel very-" was all she could get out before a wave of nausea hit her. She was dismissed from class immediately. Ginny had just enough time to get to the girls bathroom near the Great Hall before her quill portkey activated and she was whisked away.