Author's Note: Chapter 13 is coming up, and by accident, is the BIG one you've all wanted, but 12 has to come first... I lefta mild cliffhanger, but I'm including thirteen with this update, so my reviewers will be happy about that... this is a litte dark, and the next chapter is very sad, so just a warning...

Ginny didn't know who she could trust. She couldn't just march up to Dumbledore. Malfoy's going to make me his slut if I don't tell him Hermione's location, which I have no clue about... so, what do you suggest? Like that would go over well. She wouldn't admit it, but she was afraid to see the old man's face, and she knew he was in enough trouble with the ministry without dragging Lucius Malfoy in as well. Ginny racked her brain, and the solution came to her finally. She had to visit Hagrid, but there was something she needed first.

Ginny had never been up the boy's dormitory staircase. She touched the forbidden steps, expecting electric shock, but nothing happened. She slowly climbed the stone spiral, shaking with anticipation. The shadows on the walls alarmed her, making her heart jump at every bend. Finally she reached a small brass plaque stating "6th years."

It was well past midnight, but Ginny didn't care. She crept down the row of beds, with curtains drawn around them. Dean and Seamus were closest to the door. Ginny suppressed a giggle, looking around the room curiously. Soccer posters strewn the walls, and clothes were everywhere. She kicked away a pair of boxers in disgust and stepped around robes and books. "Now where is Harry?" She whispered to herself. The answer was the middle bed. She pulled back the drape and placed her hand over his mouth, shaking him gently.

"Mmph!" His eyes flashed open, and relaxed slightly when he realized who it was. She put her other hand to her lips and released her grip on his mouth.

"What are you doing here?" He looked at the watch on the nightstand groggily.

"I need a favor please." She ignored the growing ball of butterflies in her stomach at the sight that he slept shirtless.

"At two am?"

"Can I borrow your cloak and map? It's urgent." She sighed, and hoped he wouldn't remember this in the morning.

"They're in my trunk." He glanced at her sleepily once again. "Do I dare ask?"

"No." She rummaged through the heaped mess, and at the bottom found the cloak and map. She didn't like attempting midnight escapades without taking precautions. Taking them out, she thanked him.

Ginny rubbed her eyes feverishly to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

"Harry! Harry!" She whispered, astonished. "She's alive!"

----

Severus Snape didn't know what to do. It was two am and he couldn't sleep. The futon was too short for him, and he found himself awake another night in a row, worrying about her. He entered his quarters once again, extinguishing the lone candle he'd left burning. She slept soundly, too peacefully. He wondered how long the shield that blocked her mind from her actions would last.

He watched her sleep, working diligently for Madame Pomphrey on a potion that the stock was almost out of. He knew he could have refused to help, but it gave him an excuse to watch Lily Evans sleep.

She'd gotten hit by a bludger a beater launched at her, and she's fallen out of the stands. He remembered the horrified look on her face, the distress that rippled through the crowd, and the dawning that Potter saved her before he could react. His slowing charm saved her life, and Severus was left among the crowd as he swept her to the hospital wing.

It was the cry that distracted him from his work. She was absolutely bawling, all her tender composure lost. He glanced around for Madame Pomphrey, but she was nowhere to be found. He got up from the finished potion, and went to her bedside. He found her head in his shoulder, her slight frame wearily sobbing.

"I can't believe they would do that to me. What have I done to them?"

He didn't know what to say. "You've done nothing."

"I should be dead right now. What happened?" She couldn't remember why she hadn't felt the ground, the instant relief from the frustration she lived through.

"I believe that is for you to ask Potter."

"What do you mean?"

"That's exactly what I mean." He walked away. The next week she was in Potter's arms, and it wasn't until then it hit him. That could have been him.

"Sir?" He was watching her, his eyes far away. She found herself snug among his sheets, surprisingly rested. The thoughts of the day hadn't left her completely. She couldn't shake the feeling of shadows dwelling around her.

"Miss Granger. You should be sleeping."

"You looked so far away." Her eyes watched his, the beautiful dark brown shade like coffee beans. He thought of mornings in the cold, without her smile to warm him. He remembered how life was tasteless before her, how life was simple, like the black coffee he lived by.

"I apologize. I merely blew out the candle."

"Is that what you really meant?" She whispered softly. "Why won't you tell me why you act like this?"

This is who I am. It's the mask that I've dropped. I'm lost in this world; I'm alone among the darkness of my past and the painful edge of the present.

Her eyes met his, entrancing him. He was motionless as she stepped out of his bed, wearing her crinkled uniform. Her skirt was crinkled high on her thighs, her vest off the shoulder. She was so close now. He was afraid to breathe; afraid that one wisp of warmth was enough to crash the walls surrounding him. She regarded him sadly.

"I don't understand you. I trust you, why won't you trust me?" Her words hit him like a sledgehammer. She trusted him.

He found himself pressed against the soft fading skin exposed on her shoulder, his tears meeting glowing skin. Her hand was in the small of his back, stroking him gently. She didn't know caused the pain in this man, but not for the first time she knew that he needed her. She pressed her face into the thin robes on his shoulder, letting herself cry as well.

He pulled away, ashamed. She pressed her hand to his tingling lips. Her hand trembled. The day had been intense enough.

Her eyes followed him, disappointed and relieved at the same time. She didn't know what she wanted, but she didn't want to be alone anymore. He sank onto his bed, lost in thought.

"Sir?"

"You're still here." His voice was curt, but it wasn't angry. If anything, he looked frustrated, but she couldn't think of a reason for it.

"I don't want to be alone anymore." She tucked herself in his sheets, letting the heat of the comforter warm her.

"Miss Granger... Alright. You can stay only because I don't trust you on your own in the state you're in." He tried to make his voice aloof, but it didn't work. He was pleasantly surprised when he found her head nestled on his shoulder, her body tucked under his arm comfortably. Ironically, he remembered that tomorrow was her sixteenth birthday. Amid all this peril, he'd never felt better in his life.

----

Harry and Ginny stared at the map in shock. The tiny black dot was labeled Hermione Granger. To their utter dismay, another dot neighbored hers. "Severus Snape? What the hell does he think he's doing?" Harry hissed loudly.

"Ron!" Ginny threw open his curtains. "Hermione's alive. Either that, or..."

"The map doesn't lie. She has to be alive. Or she's a ghost, but that means that she's still here..." Harry fumbled for his glasses

Ron burst out of bed. "Harry, if this is one of your bloody dreams, I'll murder you on the spot."

"Look! I'm not lying." Ron gaped at the parchment, and grabbed it.

"Come on, we're going down there. The cloak can hold three, right?" Harry made a snorting noise. "Where's Neville?"

"He's still in the hospital wing." Ginny assumed.

Neville most certainly wasn't.

----

The night was starless, the sky grey with mourning. He sat at the top of the tower, shivering in the cold. Below he could see a wide dark expanse that was recognizable as the lake.

A single light flickered in the Gryffindor tower, but it was too late for him. He was lost within himself.

"We're almost done, hold on. What ingredient blends with doxy drops to produce a think vapor which heals the sinuses?" Hermione smiled, even though it was well past ten o clock.

"That's easy. It's dragon blood. You add one drop." He finished off the essay, and put it in his bag.

"You still have the homework planner!" She smiled. Harry and Ron didn't have to know, but she gave Neville a present every year. It wasn't pity; they'd gotten along fairly well since first year and she couldn't help thinking about him around Christmas, when she was sentimental. It was thanks to Hermione that he got into Potions. Neville cared as much about Hermione's welfare as she cared about his. Late nights in the library he'd come in with hot chocolate when Madame Pince wasn't looking.

"You hardly eat, Herm. You must be freezing."

"It's ok, only two more rolls left to go..." She smiled wearily and accepted the drink with gratitude.

Neville couldn't believe it when she'd almost died in the bowels of the ministry. He knew that was a pulse, it had to be... he couldn't live without her voice. Her wonderfully firm shoulder was gone, and no one to lean on when he needed it. He was doing horribly in school, and Snape didn't even bother trying to yell him into effort anymore. The light at the end of the tunnel was gone.

Neville watched the shades of grey fade lighter and lighter as the minutes went by. He had to do this soon, because he couldn't face the bottom if he knew what was there. He leaned over the edge, letting the wind whip his face. He was so tired, his eyes falling closed gently. If this was what death was like, he would gladly accept it.