Ginny Weasley stepped out of the shower and winced as her feet hit the chilly floor. Shivering, she groped for the towel that was draped over the radiator, and sighed gratefully as she cocooned herself in its warmth. In the two months she had lived in her little flat, she had still not managed to get the heating working. Even Ginny's father, who was very handy at repairing charms, could not come up with a spell to fix it. Whether it was cold outside or scorching, the flat remained bone-chillingly cold. It was no wonder her landlord had agreed such a reasonable rate for the place. Ginny was convinced the flat was cursed. Surely only dark magic could cause somewhere to be so cold in mid-August?

Ginny padded across to the steamy mirror and wiped away a circle of fog. For several long seconds Ginny peered at herself until her reflection was no longer face, but a jumble of features. This was a game Ginny liked to play when she was nervous; she would stare at her image until it no longer made sense and then she felt like she could see past her face, past her damp red hair, past her freckles, into her mind – her innermost thoughts – and envisage what it was she was really worried about it.

Usually she could spend a long time doing this, but tonight it was far too cold to stare at the mirror for very long, so Ginny shook herself out of the trance and reached for her toothbrush. It did not matter: this time the answer did not need such probing efforts. Tonight was a night Ginny had looked forward to with such longing, such hope, but at the same time, such paralysing dread.

Ginny's first instinct upon receiving the invitation had been to stay as far away from the reunion as possible. As she read the words on the parchment, she began to feel slightly light-headed. Images swam in front of her, of walking into Hogwarts again after all these years away from the place; of seeing people she had not been able to bring herself to contact in so long that she had trouble remembering the sound of their voices, or picturing the detail of their faces. Ginny felt tears prickling at the back of her eyes as she tried to envisage Neville's shy smile; or the dreamy expression Luna wore when she was listening to you intently; or the way Harry's hair fell across his forehead, the way he would absently push it messily out of his eyes, only for it to flop back into exactly the same place; the way his luminous green eyes lit up when he laughed at Ginny's jokes …

At that point, Ginny had choked back a tiny sob and immediately buried the invitation at the bottom of a drawer; she had not let herself think about it for almost two weeks. Ginny realised that with her skill of suppressing her thoughts to the point where they were hidden even from herself, she would probably make an excellent occlumens; though she mused ruefully that she would probably never have the chance to test out that theory – no one would be particularly interested in trying to penetrate her thoughts. Still, it was a useful skill, even if it was only to keep her memories from occupying her thoughts. And Ginny certainly had enough sad memories to keep buried in her subconscious.

In fact, it had not been hard at all hard to forget about the invitation, since it had been the busiest month Ginny had had since taking up a job at the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes flagship store in Diagon Alley six months ago. It was now one of six branches around the country (including one in Hogsmeade) and Fred and George were looking at branching out into premises outside the UK. In preparation for students returning to school at the end of the month, Fred and George had upped production three-fold, including the introduction of dozens of new products, and so the staff in every branch were working flat out to organise all the new stock. But Ginny had to admit, working for them was ten times more fun than any of the numerous jobs she had flitted through since school. If only she had taken up their offer of employment sooner. Now George was even hinting that they might make her the branch manager if she played her cards right. They really did like to keep the business in the family.

Then a week ago, a tiny voice in Ginny's mind began to ask, 'What if I did go to the reunion?' The voice was persistent, and Ginny was surprised when she started to realise that she no longer wanted to ignore it. She even found herself mentally picking out which robes to wear – not that she had much of a choice – and imagining chatting and laughing with her friends the way they had done when they were still at school.

Things are not the same anymore, she reminded herself firmly.

But who says they can't be? the optimist in her argued defiantly.

Even just that morning, her official line had been that she was not going – she even had told her brothers that when they pestered her about it at work. But now, a week later, Ginny found herself warily preparing for the night in question.

A hammering on the bathroom door brought Ginny back to her senses and she realised she had been staring blindly into the mirror again.

'Ginny, I hope you're nearly finished in the shower!' came the shrill voice of Ginny's flatmate, Madeleine. 'I spent the whole afternoon cleaning out cages and I stink!'

Madeleine worked at the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley, and as such she often brought an assortment of smells back to the flat they had shared. It surprised Ginny that Madeleine would lower herself work in such a dirty environment - she seemed so girly and fussy. But a lot of things had surprised Ginny about her new friend.

When Ginny had told her family that she was looking for a place of her own (and not a moment too soon – she was beginning to feel suffocated, living with her parents at the age of twenty-two), her brother Bill had told her that a friend of Fleur's was about to move to London and was in need of somewhere to live. Ginny was dubious – she had never got on terribly well with her sister-in-law, and was horrified at the thought of having to live with someone just like Fleur. When Ginny and Madeleine were first introduced, Ginny's heart had sunk. Madeleine was tall and willowy with very stylish short blonde hair, and Ginny was convinced she would be a smug, vain airhead with whom she would have nothing in common.

Ginny had soon discovered that Madeleine was nothing like Fleur Delacour. The first clue, as they sat in the pub on the first night Ginny met her, had been when Fleur ordered herself a mineral water and Madeleine asked for a Firewhisky. Ginny had almost done a double take. The remainder of the evening had passed in a slightly tipsy, giggly blur, as Ginny and Madeleine chatted like old friends. Once or twice Ginny thought she heard Fleur mutter something like 'not very lady-like' but she was very chuffed when she heard Bill tell Fleur to 'loosen up'. By the end of the evening Ginny was utterly convinced that Madeleine was someone she could happily share a flat with, and a week later they had found their freezing, dripping, peeling, beautiful flat. Madeleine was a lot like Ginny in that she had drifted through jobs since school with no real ambition or a career in mind. But unlike Ginny, who always thought her real career was just around the corner if she could just get up the effort to look for it, Madeleine seemed perfectly happy with that sort of existence, whether she was selling self-cleaning cauldrons door-to-door or cleaning out owl cages.

'Honestly, I think I'd still get this dirty if I cleaned them out by hand instead of using a wand!' Madeleine continued as Ginny came out of the bathroom. Ten minutes later when Madeleine emerged in a cloud of steam, she eyed Ginny knowingly.

'I knew it! You're in your dress robes. You're going to this thing at Hogwarts after all, aren't you?' Madeleine said accusingly, but her eyes sparkled with excitement.

'No. Maybe. I still haven't decided,' Ginny murmured.

'Oh you're going,' Madeleine assured her.

'I don't know!' Ginny whined. 'I'm scared of walking in alone. What if none of my friends talk to me?'

'Well that's a ridiculous thing to say, of course they will!' Madeleine rolled her eyes.

'I'd feel better if I had someone to come with me,' Ginny hinted, raising her eyebrows.

'Go to a Hogwarts reunion …?' Madeleine mused, looking thoughtful. 'Free dinner … free drinks … and I'll get to meet those twin brothers of yours who sound so much fun? Sure! Sounds great!'