Ginny found her brother, somewhere between his usual pub and the ministry. She called out to him, and when he turned to acknowledge her, she could see that he was looked all grim and grey. He raised a hand as she approached her, warding off any comment she might have been even thinking about uttering.

" Don't even bother." he said, somberly.

" Ron? Bother with what?" she asked, perplexed.

" Don't bother with the lecture, the threats or the promise of making me regret anything." he said.

She raised a brow in amusement.

" Was it that obvious?"

" No. I mean. . .well, yeah, you kind of looked mad. But I already knew what to expect."

" How. . .?"

" Because I had to listen to the whole thing from Snape yesterday. I thought you knew." he frowned at her.

" Snape came to see you?"

" Confront was more like it. He strode in like the Grim Reaper, all black and billowy. . .extended his wand hand and said ' I want some answers Weasley. Don't make me tear you apart.' " bawled Ron, attempting to mimic Snape.

" Fraidy cat. Don't you think your being a bit dramatic?"

" No. He was bloody scary, and he interupted me. . .so I was. . .befuddled."

" Interuppted you?"

" Yes, I was in bed."

" He came into your house?"

'' I didn't say I was in my bed." he glared at her.

" Oh. . .I see." she blushed slightly. "

" So now I have no girlfriend."

" Life can really be unfair sometimes, can't it?" she said with mock symapthy.

" So your mad at me too,then?"

" Curious, actually. "

" Well, it won't do you any good. Snape made me swear not to tell you anything."

" Why, what's to tell?"

" I am not telling you! don't try tricking me, Ginevra. I am not in the mood for games."

" But this isn't a game. I want to know how long the spell on those candies will last, and don't deny that you and Harry are responsible."

" I am not denying anything, nor am I revealing anything else. And if youll excuse me, sister dearest, I am going to be late for work."

" Since when has that ever concerned you?" she tried to block his way, but he picked her up and set her easily to the side.

" And don't bother with Harry either, he received a similar threat, and nothing you say or do can ever change out minds."

" Not even a promise that Snape will never know you told me?'

" Haha...you think the old bat didn't think of that? He cast some funny little spell over us that will alert him the moment we break our oath." he fidgeted under her gaze.

" And what if I torture it out of you?" she grinned.

" Go ahead and try! He thought of that too! " Rons ears had turned pink, wild carnation flags beaconing his frustration.

" Well isn't he being just the perfect pain-in-the-arse?'' she said, shaking her head.

" I guess so. Look Ginny, I really have to go." he looked about nervously.

" Go on then. I'll see you later."

" Don't count on it. . ." he grumbled under his breath, as he scurried (yes, he was actually scurrying) away from her.

Ginny sighed to herself. Well, that had been a waste of time. She could only wonder what secret was so great that Snape would want it kept from her. She was positive it might be something important, however she couldn't figure out how come he would not be ecstatic about sharing something awful with her. He had always enjoyed being the harbinger of ill fortunes. Maybe it meant they were engaged, or something similarly devastating to his pride. Maybe he had come to his senses. . .and decided to hex anyone who might ention that he tried to snog a Weasley.

Somehow, judging from Ron's nervous demeanor, she assumed that was not the case. Well, fine. If he wanted to skulk around, keeping secrets it was fine with her, she would just go home and put him out of her mind. She ahd a lot to do, anyway, She was to be the first DADA teacher, in fifteen years to hold two consecutive posts at Hogwarts. She considered that a mild triumph.

After the last school year, she had learned that her students, all of her students, including the Slytherins, had exceeded all expectations as far as their curriculum was concerned. She was a no nonsense teacher, perhaps more so than McGonagall. She was strict, but fair, showing for once, no favoritism towards any students, not even Gryffindors. As a result she was well liked, even if it was grudgingly in some cases. . .and her expectations of the children's abilities and behaviour were generally well met.

However she was nervous about returning for a second year. She did not want to think that her success the first year had been a fluke of nature;yet she was prepared to face that possbility. She reminded herself of Hermione sometimes, hurrying to get everything organised, even though school was months away from beginning.

She was absorbed in her thoughts as she reached her own front door, and she was absentmindedly unwarding the locks when her nose begin to itch just a little. The air was warm and heavy, and she smelled something sweet and heavy, like cheap cologne. It was cloying, with a faint putrid underscent, and she felt a wave of nausea coming on. Something must have died somewhere, she thought, wrinkling her nose.

She burst into her house, hoping to escape the choking fragrance, but was assaulted by it ten times harder once inside. Her jaw dropped open as she took in her house. It was horrible! Her house, her tiny cluttered little house was now full of flowers. Crimson roses, and gold wildflowers. Vases of them; bouquets of them; bundles them; clusters them. . .everywhere.

She was standing in the only empty space, but she realized that the flowers were quickly closing in on her. Apparently they were either expanding or more were coming in through the fireplace. Recovering from her shock, she reached inside of her robe to get her wand, but was stricken with a sudden sneezing fit.

Oh no! She thought, groping wildly behind her for the door. She had to get out. But her eyes were swelling and she found it very difficult to see the knob. Still the flowers kept closing in, pushing her against the door.It was becoming very difficult to breathe, as the flowers pressed in on her, gagging her with thier scent. She sneezed again, violently, causing her to bump her head against the door. Starbursts exploded behind her watery eyes, and she sank to her knees, still trying to turn the knob.

Don't let me die like this! she pleaded in her mind as she finally got the knob to turn.

At last the door gave way, but not in the eay she had expected. It swung inwards, knocking her completeley sideways, and unconscious at the same time.

Snape, a bottle of champagne in one hand, peered into the house. He held up his hand and wit a spoken charm the flowers ceased to grow.

" Ginny" he called. He wore a smug expression that was quickly fading. He had expected to find her their, stars in her eyes, and a look of sweet surprise on her face. He tried to push the door open further , but it was caught on something. He banged the door against the object a couple of times, hoping to dislodge it, but whatever it was, it was too heavy to budge. He peered irritibly around the door, expecting to see a dresser, or a table that she had placed there to prevent his entry.

Instead he saw Ginny, sprawled ungracefull on the floor and half suffocated by his creeping roses. Squeezing around the door he knelt by her side.

" Ginny?" he called poking her in the shoulder.

Had she fainted at the surprise? No, that was silly. Ginny would not faint at anything, especially not a few flowers.

'You must have knocked her out with the door, you git! ' he muttered to himself as he turned her over.

Well, that would explain the bruise on her forehead, but not the red swollen features of her face. She must have had some sort of reaction, he thought. He mentally slapped himself for his stupidity, then chided himself for his own self-chastisement. How was he supposed to know she was allergic to flowers?

He drew out his wand, and caused every flower in the room to vanish, then contemplated what he should do next. He supposed taking her to the hospital might be a decent gesture on his behalf, since he was responsible. That required transforming something into a portkey, and with a sigh of regret, he eyed the champagne. Well...it was not going to serve any other purpose today, he thought bitterly.

So much, he thought, for attempt number one.