Dumbledore's Army

For Better or for Worse

Red hair flapped in the wind as the young woman stood at the edge of Diagon Alley, watching as children ran back and forth, parents chasing after them, happy back-to-school chatter buzzing through the alley.

She smiled sadly, remembering all too well her first trip to Diagon Alley.

*****

"Can't I get a wand, too, mum?"

"Not this year, Ginny dear."

"But…"

"Fred and George are going this year. And then, in two years, Ron will go. And then it will be your turn."

"After Ron?"

"Yes, after Ron."

*****

"Nine and three-quarters! Mum, can't I go…"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet."

*****

"Hey, mum, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?"

"Harry Potter!"

Her ears had perked up at that. Harry Potter? She'd been hearing about him for as long as she could remember. Even though mum had tried to keep things about 'he who must not be named' hushed around her, she'd still overheard the whispers, heard it all.

And she'd wondered about the boy who'd lost his parents and saved the wizarding world. He must have been some sort of hero, to defeat he who must not be named as a baby!

"Oh, mum, can I go on the train and see him, mum oh please…" she begged.

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo!"

She tuned the rest of the conversation out, annoyed with her mother.

She hadn't wanted to goggle. She didn't goggle.

She'd just wanted to see…

A few minutes later, they boarded the train, and she realized that she would be the only one left at home, the one left behind, and burst into tears.

"Don't Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls," Fred reassured her.

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!" George piped in.

And then the train began to move, and she ran after it, half laughing, half crying, unaware that too soon it would be taking her to her destiny. To the place that would shape who she was to become, for better or worse.

*****

Blood. On her hands. She looked down, confused.

Where had she been for the last hour?

Roosters… something about roosters…

She went to the diary that she'd found mixed in with her things after that trip to Diagonally-the trip where she'd finally gotten her wand, and opened it up.

Tom, she wrote, I don't know what's happening to me. I keep blacking out for long periods of time, and I've just blacked out and woken up with blood on my hands. Help me.

*****

Tom, I think it's me. People keep getting attacked, and I never remember where I am anymore, and oh Tom… what do I do?

*****

It's you. It's you! What have you done to me? Justin… what did you make me do to Justin?

*****

You. What did you tell Harry? Does he know?

He knows far too much. And I didn't have to tell him. He already knew. You don't want to get in trouble for this, do you?

No…

Well, then you know what you must do. Harry is the only one who knows. But soon, he'll tell your brother and Dumbledore, and, well, who knows what the consequences will be.

What are you saying?

You know what I'm saying.

No. Please don't. I can't hurt Harry.

You hurt Hermione. And Colin, Justin, and Nick, and that filthy cat. You killed the roosters. This will be easier than that. I know you didn't enjoy that. But this… all you have to do is let my pet-our pet-let him do what comes naturally.

No, please don't make me. No, you CAN'T make me.

He'll tell… and then they'll send you away. They may even send you to Azkaban, you know.

I can't. Not Harry… Not Harry.

"It's all right. You don't have to."

She tried to look up as suddenly, a voice spoke up, but everything seemed to be fading away.

"No, I'll take care of Potter myself," the voice hissed as she felt herself being lifted up and carried away, the sounds of laughter dying out.

*****

Ginny shook her head, trying to dispel the memories.

Of course, she couldn't. They were a part of who she was. On some level, Tom was with her even to this day.

As was Harry, in a very different way.

She'd tried to move on from her crush on Harry. Had almost succeeded, between dating Michael Corner her fourth year, Dean Thomas her fifth year, and Justin Finch-Fletchley for the first part of her sixth year.

So, it wasn't as if she spent her school days pining for him.

Not pining.

But she had always had feelings for him.

And during her sixth year, it looked as if he might return those feelings.

But that had been before everything else that happened during her sixth year.

*****

"Thanks for sticking around, Ginny." He graced her with a small smile, and she fought back the urge to blush.

It was silly, really. It was just Harry.

Which, of course, was the exact reason she was feeling a bit on-edge at being alone with him.

But she was meant to have gotten over him years ago, right?

She'd certainly done her share of dating in the past two years, and, well, Harry remained Harry. Ron's best friend, the first boy she'd had a crush on, one of her good friends.

"No problem, Harry," she said, smiling brightly at him as she helped him straighten up the cushions and put the books on defensive magic back into their proper places.

"Ron would have stuck around, but I think he, erm… wanted to talk to Hermione."

"Oh," Ginny said knowingly. "So he's finally mustered up the courage to ask her then?"

Harry looked up at her in surprise. "He told you he was asking her to the Yule Ball?" he asked.

"No," Ginny said, laughing at the expression on his face. "But it's fairly obvious, isn't it? I mean, he's only been in love with her for the last seven years. And last time there was a Yule Ball, he spent the whole night sulking because she'd gone with someone else."

Harry blinked. "And I suppose you fancy yourself an expert on what boys want, Virginia?"

"Definitely not," she said, biting her lip as her the tips of her ears turned pink. "In fact, the whole bloody lot of you give me a headache. One minute you're making plans to go to a ball together, and the next you're snogging someone else…" she trailed off, blushing a deep crimson now. "Er. Never mind."

Harry froze, his hand over a book, but didn't look at her. "Justin was snogging someone else?"

"Yeah," she said quietly. "Parvati Patil. Apparently they hit it off over one too many butterbeers at the Hog's Head." She shrugged, then frowned as she realized that Harry was still being very quiet. "Er. Harry. Do me a favor and don't mention this to Ron, all right?" she rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he'd welcome any excuse to get into a fight with Justin."

"Right…" Harry's voice came out a bit strained, then he turned to Ginny, surveying her for a moment. "But I don't get it. I mean, Parvati's nice and all, but why would he want to snog her when he's got… er…" he looked down, and Ginny couldn't help but notice that his cheeks were rather pink.

"When he's…" she asked, unconsciously taking a step towards him.

"Er, well, I mean… no offense to Parvati, but she's a bit…" Harry trailed off, looking down at her, clearly flustered.

"It's all right," she said with a shrug. "I suppose we didn't really have much in common. So, if he's happier with Parvati, then I think that's better," she said with a decisive nod, looking up and meeting his eyes.

"Well, I still think he could have gone about it better. I mean… what a git… kissing someone else without even telling you that…"

"Harry," she interrupted him quickly, "it's really all right. I mean, at first I was upset, of course, but I've gotten over it."

"Oh."

"So, are you going to the ball?" she asked, wincing even as the question left her lips. She had been looking for a change of subject, but that wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind.

"Me? Well, I suppose… I suppose Ron and Hermione will be…" he looked down at her. "Are you still going, Ginny?"

She shrugged slightly. "Well, I suppose so. Mum did save up some money so I could order dress robes, after all, and it would be a shame to miss it just because I don't have a date."

"Right." He cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly. "Well, if you wanted… I mean, I'd rather not be Ron and Hermione's third wheel, and, well, I mean, it wouldn't be so bad, if you wanted…"

"If I wanted what?" she asked, wondering why he seemed so uncomfortable suddenly.

"Erm," his cheeks turned a bit pink. "Would you like to go to the ball with me?" He asked and then looked away. "I mean, it's all right if you'd rather not," he started to say, but she put a hand on his and stopped him.

"Harry, I'd love to," she said, still trying to contain the shock that he'd actually asked her. The part of her that would always be ten and chasing after the Hogwarts Express and the famous Harry Potter was literally shrieking with excitement.

He looked up at her and grinned, and she realized that that was the first time she'd really seen him smile since the term had started.

Actually, his smiles had been few and far between since the end of her fourth year. Since the Ministry of Magic…

Something about seeing him smile when his smiles were so seldom moved her to wrap her arms around him, giving him a large squeeze.

"Erm," he said, his posture stiffening awkwardly in her embrace, as she realized what she'd just done.

But after a moment, his arms slipped around her and he gave her a small squeeze. She smiled and rested her head against his shoulder, just enjoying the hug for the moment.

It didn't take long for word to get around school that they were going to the ball together, something that Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil had a good giggle over.

"Always knew you'd end up together," Lavender had told her, despite Ginny's insistences that they weren't 'together,' and that she shouldn't make such a big deal about things.

"Good luck," Parvati, who clearly still hadn't quite gotten over Harry's ignoring her at the last Yule Ball, had told her on hearing the news.

Not that Ginny really paid any attention to any of them. In fact, she usually cringed when Lavender or any of the other girls started to giggle and ask her what was between herself and Harry.

She continued to tell them the truth, as she knew it: "just friends."

But were they?

The moments when she was really honest with herself, the answer was no. Her feelings went deeper than that. He'd been her first crush. Her first-and only-love.

But for the sake of keeping things from being awkward, and for the sake of remaining the friend that he needed, she didn't think about that much.

As she picked out forest green dress robes to match his eyes, and had Hermione help with the painstaking process of charming her hair so it looked just right, and even as she bit her lip nervously before going down to the common room to meet up with him, she didn't let herself think on it.

No. She didn't think on it at all.

Until she walked down the stairs from the girls' dormitory and he caught her eyes, and for just a second, he seemed to be staring. Seemed to like what he saw.

Just friends. That's what he needs, she reminded herself as she took the arm he offered her and allowed him to lead her toward the portrait hole.

Thinking back on that night, she always wondered if it would have been easier if she'd really believed the 'just friends' mantra. Easier if he hadn't broken through her resolve to keep with the strictly friendship policy.

*****

They'd gotten their pumpkin juice and taken a table, watching the couples as they whirled around the dance floor, occasionally making comments at the more obvious of the couples.

"Look who finally stopped being thick."

She jumped as Harry nudged her and then looked towards where he was pointing.

"Hermione?" Ginny glanced at Harry, eyebrows raised. "I thought she wasn't coming."

Harry grinned sheepishly.

"Finally decided to interfere in your friend's love lives, did you?" Ginny asked, her lips twitching as she attempted to hold in her laughter.

To her surprise, Harry actually began to blush.

She couldn't help but grin, struck by the thought that this was the second time she'd made him blush twice now in less than a month, and a strange desire to be the cause of it more often.

After a moment, she realized she was staring and cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, at least this should cut down on the rows, right?"

Harry laughed.

"I don't know, Ginny," he told her. "Have you seen the way your parents fight?"

"Good point," she said, turning her attention back to Ron and Hermione. "That was really nice of you to help them get past themselves," she said, her expression more serious. "It's best not to leave things unsaid. With the way things are…" she trailed off, suddenly realizing what she was saying. "Erm," she said, turning her attention back to him, and hoping that he would steer the conversation back to more pleasant topics.

"Best not to leave things unsaid…" he repeated, staring at her. She shifted in her chair, wondering if she had something on her face.

Not that the expression on his face was of that sort, but, well, why else would he be staring like that?

"You look really beautiful tonight, Ginny."

She blinked, and then lightly nudged him.

"You don't have to say that just because you're my date, you know."

"I know," he said, still holding her gaze. "But… you just said we shouldn't leave things unsaid, and, well," his cheeks reddened for the second time that night, and he shifted, looking uncomfortable. "Maybe we should get some more pumpkin juice," he suggested, despite the fact that they both had glasses that were half-filled.

Ginny's face softened as she realized that he had meant what he said, and instead she stood up, taking his hand and starting to lead him out onto the dance floor. "Dance with me?" she asked quietly.

He followed, and there was a moment of awkwardness where they tried to figure out where there hands should go before his left hand finally rested on her hip, his right clasping hers as she put her left hand on his shoulder, leaning in a bit more closely than she'd planned.

"Thank you," she whispered as they began to sway to the music.

"What?" he asked, his own voice hushed as well.

"Er. For the compliment before. Thank you."

He smiled down at her.

"It was the truth," he said, leaning in towards her, his lips moving closer, leaving little doubt to the fact that he… he was actually going to kiss her.

And suddenly he froze, looking around as if, for the first time, he'd realized exactly what he was doing. For the third time that night, he flushed.

For a second, she wondered if he was going to take it all back. If he hadn't really realized that he'd been about to kiss her.

And then he pulled away from her and grabbed her hand.

"Would you mind if we took a walk?" he asked, looking at her with anxiety etched in his eyebrow, as if she might say no.

"All right," she agreed as his grip on her hand relaxed, his fingers intertwining with hers. She smiled as he led her outside, enjoying the feel of his hand in hers.

Once outside, they walked towards the garden, where hedges in the shapes of reindeer twinkling with fairy lights had been set up.

Before they reached the bushes, he stopped and turned to her, running a hand through his hair, which-she'd noticed-lacked it usual rumpled-ness. In fact, it looked as if Harry had taken some time to style his hair. Of course, as he ran his hand through it, whatever charm he'd used seemed to come a bit undone.

She giggled as his hair started to return to its natural state.

"What?" he asked, looking at her with a slightly embarrassed look.

"Your hair," she said, taking a step towards him and without thinking, ruffling it slightly. "You seem to have broken whatever charm you used."

A look similar to that of a child caught nicking lollies crossed his face.

"I, er… didn't use a charm in my hair."

She laughed. "Harry, I'm a girl. We notice these things." Grinning, she ruffled his hair up even more. "But I happen to like your hair better like this," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Oh really?" he asked, his own eyes sparkling with mirth as he took a step towards her, reaching for her hair.

"Don't you dare!" she shrieked, reaching up to bat his hand away. "Hermione will kill me," she continued as he yet again attempted to reach for her hair, and again she batted his hand away, only to find an attack from the other hand.

She reached up to again fend off his hand, catching it in hers, locking their fingers together and lowering his hand as the other hand moved in for the attack. With her other hand, she again caught his hand and moved it to their sides, both hands slowing as she stared up at him, her laughter dying on her lips at the expression on his face.

"Ginny, I…" he began as she unconsciously tilted her chin up towards his face.

To this day, she couldn't remember who had instigated it, but suddenly, his lips were on hers, as he pulled her closer, giving her hands a squeeze before wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and then putting his arms around her waist.

The kiss lasted both a second and a lifetime, seeming to last forever, and yet over too soon.

It was ended abruptly at the sounds of stifled sobs.

They both pulled apart and looked at each other before looking across the yard, recognizing the pair crossing it to the castle.

For a brief moment, Ginny figured that Ron and Hermione were just recovering from another row.

But something about the way Ron was holding her, and the way she resembled a limp rag doll in his arms made her think differently.

Without a word, she and Harry broke contact and ran towards the pair, not catching up to them until they were halfway to Dumbledore's office.

"Ron, Hermione," Harry said, finally falling into step with the pair.

Ginny caught up a second later, a bit out of breath as her legs weren't nearly as long as Harry's or Ron's-who was all but carrying Hermione now.

"Hermione, what is it?" Ginny asked, before looking up at her brother. Her insides turned to stone at the stricken look on Ron's face.

His freckles stood out even more than usual against skin that was paled.

Harry seemed to know what was going on without pressing the matter further.

Perhaps a side effect of being Ron's best friend for seven years.

Or perhaps it was the 'saving people' experience kicking in, as if he just knew what this looked like, having seen it-and avoided it-before.

But there was no avoiding it this time.

Death. That was what it looked like.

That was what hung over Ron and Hermione. Over the entire school as they made their way towards Dumbledore's office.

"Ginny, get Hermione back to the dorms." Harry's voice was so take-charge, so in control that she didn't even think of arguing with him.

"Come on," she said softly to Hermione, who let out a strangled sob before easing her grip on Ron and following Ginny.

The trip to the dorms was filled with an eerie silence as Ginny tried to work out what had happened without disturbing Hermione even more.

Once they'd reached the Common Room, Hermione's demeanor changed, and she began to pace.

"I do hope they get to Dumbledore in time. What if there are more?" Her eyes widened. "The amulets. They'll be done. We'll need to get them. They're crucial," she babbled.

"Hermione," Ginny finally stood up, grabbing the girl's shoulders and forcing her to stand still and face her. "Stop babbling. Please."

Hermione stared at her for a moment and then pulled out of her grip, looking down at the floor.

"Viktor," she whispered.

"What?" Ginny asked, searching Hermione's face for clues as to what she was on about.

"Viktor," Hermione repeated, her voice barely audible. "He killed Viktor. No. He was trying to kill me. Viktor got in the way." And suddenly, her shoulders shuddered as a sob escaped her lips. "He knocked Ron out of the way. If he hadn't, Ron might have…" she trailed off, her eyes widening. "I didn't mean that. He gave his life for me, and I can't be…" she shook her head.

Hearing enough, her own face streaked with silent tears by this time, Ginny wrapped her arms around her and, despite her petite frame, pulled the taller girl into a fierce hug.

Ron and Harry didn't return until four in the morning.

Not wanting to answer the questions of the returning ball-goers, Hermione had finally gone to bed, and despite Ginny's attempts to stay with her and comforted her, had finally all but shoved Ginny out of the room.

And so she'd set up camp on the couch in the Common Room, fighting the urge to go to look for them as a million different scenarios filled her head, each ending in a flash of green light.

"If he hadn't, Ron might have…"

Hermione's words echoed through her head as she wondered if Ron and Harry were fool enough to go searching for the Death Eaters in the forest.

As she thought of them out there, searching, just inviting her worst fears to come, a rash of anger flared up inside.

Going without us? Send the girls back to the dormitories and then go off to face uncertain death. As if they're better off with two as opposed to four. It's bloody biased, it is. When they get back here…

Of course, when the portrait hole moved and Ron's face appeared, followed closely by Harry's, all thoughts of scolding them left her as she flung herself at Ron, wrapping her arms around him.

He froze and then returned her hug after a beat.

"Hermione?" he asked.

"She went to bed," Ginny said quietly. "Ron, I…" she began, but he cut her off.

"I'd better get some sleep. She's probably going to need me tomorrow." And with another small squeeze, he released Ginny and headed towards the boys' stairs.

As her brother left, her eyes fell on Harry, who seemed to have been watching him. As she caught his eye, he shifted his gaze, pointedly avoiding making eye contact.

She took a step towards him, about to wrap her arms around him with the same relief with which she'd hugged Ron when he held up a hand.

"Don't."

The coldness in his voice stopped her. She looked at him in shock, blinking a few times, attempting to hold back another wave of tears that was threatening to spill.

"What?"

"I said, don't," he repeated, turning away from her. "Go to bed, Ginny."

The anger that she had felt earlier flared up again. "Don't tell me to go to bed," she snapped at him. "I was worried about you. Both of you. And I'm worried about you now. And I…" she cut herself off, just short of saying I need you.

"I'm most likely going to die within the next month. If I'm lucky, I'll get to be a murderer," Harry shot back, his voice raising as he responded to her anger. "And you know what? Whatever the outcome, the people I care about are more than likely going to get hurt," he continued, looking up and meeting her eyes. The anger in his sent a shiver down her spine as, for the very first time, she was actually apprehensive around Harry for a reason other than her crush on him.

"Harry, I'm not worried about that," she began, but again he cut her off, taking a step towards her. Unconsciously, she took a step backwards, away from him.

"This isn't about who's going with who to the ball, Ginny. It's not about who's snogging who. Don't you see? None of that matters! You spend all this time focusing on it. Even now, you think just because we kissed that suddenly everything's all right, and that's not true! It doesn't even matter, don't you see?"

His words were like a slap in the face. Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she pulled herself up to her full height, a surge of anger flowing through her.

"You're right, it doesn't matter," she snapped back. "In fact, it didn't even happen. I would never kiss such an insensitive wanker!" she yelled back.

For a brief second, a wounded look crossed his face, and then the anger was back, and she was certain she had imagined the look.

"And I would never kiss someone so caught up in frivolities, so I guess we're agreed!" he shouted back.

"Yeah, I guess we are!" she hollered.

There was a brief moment of silence before someone cleared their throat.

"Sorry, I was just… looking for Trevor," Neville said apologetically, standing there, his eyes widened in surprised as he shifted his gaze between the two of them. "Er. Is everything all right?"

"Just bloody peachy," Ginny snapped, moving towards the girls' dormitories. Her face softened at the combination of hurt and surprise that crossed Neville's face, but her legs were threatening to give out and she didn't have the energy to stand there and hold back her tears at the same time anymore.

So, with a somewhat apologetic look to Neville, she turned and fled up the girls' stairs, throwing herself on her bed and beginning to sob-for Harry, for Viktor, for Hermione and Ron, for fear of what was to come.

*****

Ginny sighed, pulling herself out of her reverie as she surveyed the alley, searching for a hint of bushy brown hair, despite the fact that she wasn't meant to meet Hermione for another hour.

Still, she would welcome the distraction.

She hadn't expected coming back to Diagon Alley to bring up so many painful memories.

Of course, why wouldn't it?

Sometimes just watching Quidditch would bring back memories. Memories of watching Harry at his games, memories of all those meetings in the locker room as a team, with Harry as captain.

Memories of Viktor Krum, who'd given his life in place of her brother's.

Hermione hadn't said it that night, and had refused to talk about it afterwards, but Ginny could see it in her eyes, and knew herself that if Krum hadn't been there, there was a good chance that…

She closed her eyes, not wanting to think on that.

Opening again, she caught sight of a flash of red hair, clashing brilliantly with a hat that had once been bright orange, and still managed to clash despite years of fading.

"Now you're seeing things?" she murmured to herself.

But no. She blinked. Still there.

As her legs carried her off the chair she had been perched on and across the Alley, moving of their own free will, the figure only became more visible.

"Ron?" the name came out a cross between a laugh and an exclamation as she threw herself at her brother, wrapping her arms around him. "Ron!" she said again, happily, as he reluctantly returned her hug.

"Oi. Geroff, Ginny," he muttered after a minute, shoving her aside. But the small smile on his face told her that she was welcome, and so she took a seat at his table.

"Mum's missed you, you know," she informed him.

It was an understatement, really. In the four years since Ron had become an auror and left home, Molly Weasley had shed many tears, and spent many hours awaiting owls that very rarely came-once, maybe twice a year-and never really informed them of much, usually consisting of a few hastily scribbled sentences.

He ducked his head, looking a bit ashamed. "I know."