Author's Note: I just suffered a major heartbreak. The guy I liked told me at a slow dance that his composure was a mask, and I assumed he liked me. Wrong! He totally led me on, which is where this chapter comes from.. Enough about me. Now that I'm in the nasty mood I'm stuck in, I have the inspiration to finally get this story a little darker, with more angst, romance, betrayal, and the works. Enjoy. I apologize if my writing is not the same. I write it as it comes, and sometimes chapters reflect my moods. A warning: i dont' agree with everything I write, but this chapter felt necessary to show the urgency of the situation.

"Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it." Michel du Montaigne

For the first time, Ginny skived off Quidditch, skipped two meals, and stayed up all night shaking. She didn't want to think about him anymore, but the harder she tried, his doggish laugh and crooked smile wouldn't leave her.

It was the afternoon before Harry was coming, and she wasn't ready to face a summer in the shadows of Ron and his trio. Rejection was bitter, and Ginny had enough. She'd left the table abruptly that morning when he was mentioned, and she fled to Buckbeak. It was there that Sirius found her.

"James told me that women fall more for horses and I see why he's right." She looked up from Buckbeak's plumage, her eyes red. He beckoned to the old bed frame, and she sat beside him.

"It isn't fair. The trio keeps me out of everything, I'm just Fred and George's kid sister, and there's no use for me in the Order." She retorted, picking feathers off her angrily.

"You're fourteen." He stated simply.

"That's what everyone says." She stood up, frustrated. "How can you stand being stuck here?" She gestured angrily to the walls around her. "It's hell."

"I've learned to put up a mask. There's nothing I wouldn't do to be your age again." He sighed. She looked at him carefully, and stopped pacing.

"Masks are for Death Eaters. I like you better as you are." She realized in horror what she'd implied, and even worse, it was true. He reminded her of a more sophisticated Harry. She saw the intrigued amusement in his eyes, and immediately regretted it.

That night she stormed out of the living room, another lost battle. He was so indifferent. She hated him, realizing it never was a mask all along. She could never rely on him.

It hurt so much to hear him die, to hear Harry's screams. It was as if the part of her that had dreams, that cared, was thrown away. It was as if a dementor had sucked the soul out of her.

She stormed into the Great Hall, totally distressed. With less than five hours of sleep, Ginny was a mess. The sight that met her eyes was worse.

Neville was shaking, and rocking back and forth in his chair. Harry and Ron were dumbfounded, holding a ministry sealed letter. Fearing the worst, she ran over.

"Neville! What's wrong?" He shook harder, and she was dangerously afraid he'd have a seizure.

Harry silently handed her the letter, solemn. "We regret to inform Neville Longbottom, son of Alice and Frank Longbottom, that they have passed on... Nothing we could do...unstable conditions...not our choice to shut down life support..."

"I'm going to throw up." She stated. How could anyone cut life support? They were his parents. Neville trembled, rocking himself back and forth, teetering on a breakdown.

"Come on, Neville. We're going to the hospital wing. It'll all be ok." She knew that was a lie. There was nothing she could do.

When she got into Potions at the end of the day, Snape seemed flustered. Hermione took her usual spot in the back, but today, she watching him as he taught the class. The fact that Neville's seat was empty disturbed her. Hermione spent most of last year helping him achieve his OWLs so he could take this course to become a Healer. Neville never missed class, through thick and thin.

Snape kept glancing at the desk, unnerved. As soon as the class left, she strode up to him, locked the door, and whipped off her cloak.

"Where's Neville?" Her voice betrayed her poise. He felt the urge to reach out and steady her.

'Miss Granger..."

"I said, where the hell is Neville?" She was thoroughly shaking now.

"We need to talk." He led her to the living room, and he stood. She sank into the couch, afraid of the answer.

"St. Mungos cut his parents life support. He's in the hospital wing." His voice was gentle, smooth. He didn't intend her to find out like this.

Snape wasn't sure what he expected, certainly for her to try to deny it, or fight back in anger, but never did he expect her to go limp like a rag doll. She lay there, curled in the fetal position, letting the tears roll.

"Miss Granger." They had gone through this too often.

"Hermione." It was as if she'd shut down everything. Her breathing was too rapid, her sobs getting out of control.

"That's... I can't... no...please...You're....wrong...not..."

She found herself in warm, comforting arms. He placed her gently in his bed, and wrapped the comforter around him. "Drink this. It'll help." Realizing she couldn't hold the potion on her own, he placed it to her lips and tilted her head back. She obediently swallowed. As soon as she was in a dreamless sleep, Snape found himself at the headmaster's office.

"Sir, she knows."

All she'd wanted was someone to care about her, to hold her when she needed it most. She wandered the halls, empty. Ginny Weasley didn't realize where she was until a smooth voice came from the hallway.

"What do you want?" She snapped. Draco Malfoy lounged against the dungeon wall. He simply laughed softly, and approached her dangerously.

"Your father is behind this, isn't he? He gave the orders to kill Neville's parents." She stood there, petrified.

"Until we find your Mudblood friend, things might be...slipping." His voice was viciously calm, his attitude perfectly unnerved by her look of horror. "If you know what's good for you, you'll listen to me." He trapped her against the wall, and she struggled. He captured her lips with his, letting her know he had control of her with a slight nip. He clenched her chin.

"This is the deal, rag girl. Every night you will tell me everything you know about Hermione Granger's current location, or there will be consequences. Those are your choices. Be my spy, or serve the job as the whore that you deserve to be. Consider this a warning. If you let anything slip, your days are numbered." He released her, throwing her against the wall, and swept away.