Chapter 78

"Move," Harry said, shoving at the students that swarmed around him and Ginny after Tonks gave the Fat Lady the password and pushed the two of them through the portrait hole and into the relative safety of Gryffindor Tower.

"What happened?"

"Was he really here?"

"I thought it was just Death Eaters on the grounds," a worried voice whispered.

"But we all know whose orders they follow."

"Yeah, they wouldn't have come here unless he wasn't close by."

"Is it over?" someone else wanted to know.

"Did you see him?" one of the bolder fourth-year girls asked Ginny as she stepped further into the common room. "Did you really see You-Know-Who? Was it awful? I bet it was."

"You're so lucky," the girl's dark-haired friend added, allowing her eyes to drift to Harry as she spoke. "That you were able to save her," she explained, after taking note of the incredulous look that appeared on Harry's face. "Again," she muttered, shifting her focus back to Ginny and covering the envy in her voice with a bright smile.

"Lucky?" Harry asked, suddenly angry on Ginny's behalf. Who did that girl think she was saying things like that to his… friend. "Is that what you call it?" he asked contemptuously. "Being used as bait to lure your friends and family into a trap?" he said, his voice so loud now that it easily carried across the common room. "Watching helplessly as your brother takes a Kil…."

"HARRY!" Ginny shouted his name in warning when she realized what he was about to say. She hadn't expected her rage to get the better of him so quickly and she certainly hadn't expected it to loosen his tongue. The fact that he'd almost told an entire room full of people about what had happened to George startled her to say the least.

Blurting things out without thinking was a Weasley trait. If it had been her telling Romilda to sod off, that would be different, but Harry had beaten her to it. Harry, who almost always held himself in check and very rarely revealed anything to anyone that he didn't trust implicitly. And even then, there was no guarantee. Harry was a natural when it came to keeping secrets. He didn't get flustered and accidentally blurt things out in the heat of the moment. At least, he hadn't until he'd linked himself to Ginny.

This is my fault, she thought as Harry snapped his mouth shut. I'm influencing him without meaning to. This is soooo not good, she decided, suddenly realizing how easily her lack of inhibitions could get him into trouble. Hermione warned me about this, she reminded herself. She said that emotions we weren't used to feeling would hit us like a ton of bricks. And Harry's definitely not used to how I deal with irritating bints like Romilda Vane. I'm really going to have to watch myself, she thought. For the next two weeks anyway.

Unfortunately, it wasn't as easy as that. In fact, almost as soon as Ginny managed to rein herself in and get her own emotions under control, Harry's emotions took center stage and threw her for a loop.

"Thank Merlin," David Devane said, jumping off one of the study tables in the center of the room and hurrying forward when Harry abruptly stopped speaking. "Ginny, I'm so sorry."

"What?" she asked, momentarily confused, not so much by David's statement, which she gave very little thought to, but by the way it made her feel. For reasons Ginny couldn't understand, the irritation she'd been feeling towards Romilda and her friend suddenly shifted to David and intensified. But before Ginny had a chance to do more than ask herself why she wanted to punch him, she had an answer.

"I had no idea that was really Bellatrix Lestrange until Madam Pomfrey told me," David continued, unaware that Ginny was no longer paying any attention to him. "If I'd been paying attention, if I'd only realized that something was wrong sooner, I might have been able to…"

Oh my God, Ginny thought, her cheeks flushing when the smoldering anger she'd been feeling ignited and turned into white hot jealousy the instant David touched her on the arm. He's jealous, she thought, turning around to confront Harry, who immediately stepped away from her and renewed his efforts to push past the crowd of people trying to block him in.

"Get out of my way," Harry barked at those that were unfortunate enough to be standing in front the staircase he intended to use.

"Wait," Ginny said, reaching out to grab the back of Harry's jacket before he could storm off. "Damn it," she swore when she failed to connect. "Will you just stop," she said, missing the bewildered expression David wore when she disregarded him and opted to chase Harry down instead. "You can't just up and run away from me," she shouted, knowing that Harry would be able to read between the lines and figure out what she meant. Even if he did succeed in locking himself in his room, as he obviously planned to do, part of her would still be there with him. "And if you think I'm going to let you slink off and brood," she said, lowering her voice when she managed to break away from the crowd and catch him at the foot of the boys' stairwell, "then you better think again."

"Oh, really?" Harry asked, reaching behind his back to pry Ginny's fingers off his clothing when she latched onto him. "You know what, forget it," he said, changing his mind at the last second. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have, especially with three-quarters of the occupants in Gryffindor Tower listening in. "I'm going to bed," he said, moving forward again.

Unbelievable, Ginny thought, her mouth falling open in disbelief when Harry dismissed her yet again. Why does he have to be so bloody infuriating? she asked herself as Harry made a show of stomping up the stairs. Why can't you do things that make sense? If you want to be with me, then fight for me, you prat. You'll take on Voldemort but not some bloke I'm just friends with. What's the matter with you?

"Coward!" she shouted just as Harry reached the landing at the top of the stairs. It was the worst thing she could think of to say to him at that particular moment and yet it wasn't nearly harsh enough. She'd wanted to goad Harry into standing his ground and fighting back, but all he did was slow down for a moment before disappearing around the corner.

"I don't know much of what happened tonight," David said, slipping up behind Ginny as she grit her teeth and mounted the stairs herself, "but it's pretty obvious he wants to be left alone."

"Well, that's just too damned bad," she retorted. "We don't always get what we want," she said derisively. "I'm through tiptoeing around the great Harry Potter," Ginny proclaimed, steeling herself for what she knew had to be done. He's not getting away that easy. He's not getting away at all. If he's too gutless to make a move then I will. I've been more than patient, but this is flat-out ridiculous.

"Ginny?" David asked when she disregarded his advice and started up the stairs again. "What are you doing?"

"Something I should have done a long time ago," she called down before she too, disappeared from view.

¤

I can do this, Ginny told herself as she stood outside the sixth-year boys' dormitory and tried to summon her courage. I have to, she amended with an audible sigh. If I don't he'll drive me mad. The resentment I could deal with, but the hopelessness he's wallowing in now is too much. He's making us both miserable and for no reason. So stop cowering in the hallway and get on with it, she admonished herself, reaching out for the closed door standing between them. You aren't going to do either of you any good standing out here.

"Damn it, Harry!" Ginny shouted as she threw open the door and marched into his room with no warning whatsoever. "I've had just about enough of this woe-is-me rubbish," she said, making a conscious effort to push her own feelings ahead of his. She had to focus on how irritated she was with him for forcing her to share his despair. It was the only way she'd be able to get through this. If she allowed herself to feel his pain, to share it, the injustice of it all would come crashing down on top of her and she'd crumble. "I'm not going to spend the next two weeks feeling like shite just because you…"

"Not exactly the Weasley I was expecting," Seamus said, peering around the curtains of his bed and smirking at Ginny's obvious surprise.

"What… what are you doing in here?" she sputtered.

"It is my room," the young Irishman retorted, his grin becoming even wider when he saw her cheeks flush. "What's your excuse? If you're looking for your brother, he's not here," Seamus teased, "and if he were, he'd tell you to knock before entering. Unless you were hoping to get an eyeful," he added, unbuttoning his pajama top and throwing it on the floor in what Ginny considered a rather presumptuous display.

"Of you?" she scoffed, putting on a brave face despite her discomfort. "Hardly."

"Oh that's right," Seamus chuckled, snatching a discarded jumper off the back of a chair and throwing it on, "you're here to shout at Potter. Something about him making you feel like shite. Under different circumstances, I'd stay and watch," he said, slipping his feet into a pair of trainers and leaning against the post at the end of his bed as he tied them, "but you're wasting your time. When I asked Potter what happened tonight he growled at me and Imperturbed those curtains," Seamus said, nodding his head towards Harry's bed as he stood upright once more. "He's in a right foul mood, that one is," he continued. "Even if you do manage to get him out of there, he isn't going to be any fun. I, on the other hand would be only too happy to entertain…"

"In your dreams, Finnigan."

"It's a date then," he said, if for no other reason than to see if he could make Ginny blush again. "Although I probably won't make it to bed for a couple hours," he added as he headed for the door. "Not until Longbottom comes back from wherever it is Granger took him and tells us everything he knows. Unless," he said, spinning around to look at Ginny hopefully, "I don't suppose I can convince you to tell me what's been going on. No?" he asked when she narrowed her eyes at him. "I didn't think so, but it was worth a try. Well then," he said, throwing the door open and stepping into the hall. "Enjoy your row."

¤

"FUCK!" Harry shouted at the top of his lungs, heaving his wand at his pillow after using it to cast an Imperturbable Charm on the curtains surrounding his bed so Seamus wouldn't hear him pitch a fit like a petulant toddler. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," he bellowed, feeling foolish for storming out of the common room with everyone watching him. And yet at the same time he was just so angry that there wasn't much else he could have done.

Other than stand my ground and sucker-punch Devane in his pretty-boy face, Harry thought, closing his eyes and imagining the satisfaction he would have felt when his fist collided with the prefect's chiseled jaw. Rather hard to snog when you're sporting a big fat bloody lip. It certainly would have put a damper on their little reunion. Hell, maybe it is worth going back down after all.

Yeah right, a skeptical little voice piped up in the back of his head. You think Ginny's irritated with you now, just wait until you've attacked her boyfriend. That will really go over well. It's bad enough that she knows you're a possessive, lovesick, arsehole. If she knew the real reason you felt so guilty, if she knew that you'd wished that Bellatrix had maimed Devane, even if it was only for a split second, she'd hate you. And who could blame her. What kind of a twisted sod wishes something like that on another person, even if they don't really mean it?

"She's better off with him," Harry groaned, flopping down on his mattress and allowing the hopelessness of his situation to wash over him. At least Devane won't get her killed. I obviously can't say the same. Voldemort went after her because of me. Somehow he knew that I fancied her, he knew that he could use her against me, that I'd do anything to get her back in one piece. "FUCKING BASTARD!" Harry shouted, allowing his anger to get the better of him because no one could hear his rants. "He's out to take away everyone that means anything to me." First he murders my parents, then Sirius, then he targets both Ron and Hermione, and now he's after Ginny. How can I be with her knowing that?

No, she's better off with that wanker, Harry decided,closing his eyes when they started to burn.

But she doesn't fancy him, the little voice insisted.

If only he didn't know the truth. If only he could go back to believing what Hermione had said about Ginny giving up on him was true. But it wasn't true at all. She might have tried to move on, but she hadn't given up on him completely. She still had hope. And now that they were connected, now that she knew for a fact that he felt the same way about her, that hope was even stronger. Harry knew that was the real reason she'd been so annoyed with him when he ran off.

It's not because I'm a jealous prat, he thought with a sigh. It's because I ducked out on her before we had a chance to sort things out between us.

"She just doesn't get it," Harry groaned, allowing his own pain to finally make its way to the surface. She thinks we're on the brink of working things out. How can she not realize I'm about to break her heart all over again. And as if that weren't bad enough, I'm going to have to spend the next two weeks feeling every ounce of pain that I cause her. And she'll feel every ounce of pain that causes me, which will give her even more false hope.

"This is a bloody nightmare," he said moments before the unexpected happened.

"What the hell?" Harry asked himself, sitting upright and reaching for his wand when his bed lurched and then lifted off the ground entirely. "What's your fucking problem, Finnigan?" he bellowed, lifting the Imperturbable Charm and scrambling through his curtains after his bed unceremoniously slammed into the ground.

"You are," Ginny shouted back even as Harry realized that Seamus wasn't responsible for Levitating his bed. "You and that blasted martyr complex of yours. I know what you were doing," she said, unwilling to give him the opportunity to respond. "You were sitting in there feeling sorry for yourself while you came up with a whole list of reasons we shouldn't be together. Well, you know what you can do with your bloody list?" she shrieked, lowering her wand, which was still clutched tightly in her hand and advancing on him. "You can shove it straight up your arse," she said, reaching out and fisting his jumper in her free hand.

"Look, Ginny," Harry said, taking a deep breath and shaking his head sadly. He could feel her determination coursing into his body, but he refused to let it sway him. If anything, it strengthened his resolve. Harry knew what he had to do, even if he didn't really want to do it. But the words, "We can't be…" were all he managed to get out before Ginny's lips crushed against his and wiped the rest of his argument completely out of his head.

¤

"Wake up," a voice hissed in Ron's ear just before he was violently shaken. "Come on, come on, get up."

"Whazamatter?" Ron asked groggily when Fred finally managed to rouse him from a deep sleep.

"Ron," Fred said a bit louder when his brother flopped over and buried his face in his pillow, hoping to fall back asleep.

"What?" he snapped in irritation, rolling his shoulder away from Fred when he started poking at it.

"It's Hermione," Fred replied, lowering his voice again.

"Hermione?" Ron questioned, sitting bolt upright in his bed. The urgency in his brother's voice might not have completely registered with him, but the name he uttered had. "What happened?" he asked, his heart nearly stopping when he turned to check on her and spied her empty bed. "Where is she?" he demanded, quickly scanning the room and throwing off his blankets when he didn't see her anywhere.

"She's in the loo," Fred whispered, glancing nervously at the closed door of the hospital wing's toilet. "She's been in there for nearly half an hour," he added when Ron creased his brow and shot him an incredulous look.

"You woke me up and scared the hell out of me because you need to use the toilet?" Ron said, trying to slow his pounding heart. And yet despite his best efforts, the fear he'd experienced upon waking wouldn't leave him. If anything, it was worse now that he was completely awake.

"No," Fred muttered uncomfortably and then fell silent again. "She's… I think she's… crying," he whispered in a voice so low his brother had to strain to hear him.

"Why?" Ron questioned, not that he bothered listening to Fred's response. Even as the words left his mouth, he turned to his connection with Hermione, hoping to discern the answer himself.

Unfortunately it was difficult for him to know if the anxiety gnawing away at him was his or hers or a combination of both. It was so powerful now that it overshadowed nearly everything else, but Ron knew that it was entirely possible that he was overreacting. Just because he was worried about Hermione, that didn't mean anything was seriously wrong. There was a chance that he was just projecting his concern onto her and she'd picked up on it and mirrored it back.

She was perfectly fine when we turned in. Well, as fine as someone that has given up a portion of their life energy can be, he told himself in an effort to calm his nerves. But she was in good spirits once we knew that George was all right. A little agitated about her missing talisman, he reminded himself, but she relaxed as soon as Mum left and Madam Pomfrey returned her clothes. Hell, even I was relieved when she pulled her talisman out of her pocket and demanded that I put it back on her. She must have had a nightmare, Ron reasoned, searching for an excuse to explain away both the anxiety he was sensing and the fact that she'd been crying. But as much as he wanted to believe that explanation, deep down he had his doubts.

If she'd had a nightmare, she would have climbed into bed with him, hospital wing or no hospital wing. Hermione had snuck into his dorm room in the middle of the night enough times for Ron to know that. As much as he wanted to believe that the distress he felt was the result of a bad dream, in his gut he suspected it was something else, something even worse.

And so does Fred, Ron thought, scrambling out of bed and hurrying over to the closed door of the toilet. That's why he woke me up.

¤

"Hermione?" Ron called out her name, cautiously opening the door after knocking twice and getting no response. Initially he was relieved that she wasn't actually using the facilities, what with Fred two steps behind him. But that relief vanished the instant he spotted her sitting on the cold stone floor, her knees drawn up to her chest and her face pressed against her thighs.

"Hermione!" he all but shouted, rushing into the small room and kneeling down beside her. "What's the matter?" he asked, but he got no reply. Not a verbal one anyway.

"I'll get Madam Pomfrey," Fred said, turning around to bolt out of the doorway when Hermione hugged her knees even tighter and began to rock.

"NO!" Ron yelled, the resolve in his voice stopping his brother dead in his tracks.

Ron had seen Hermione act like this once before and unlike his brother, he knew that having Madam Pomfrey fuss over her or force potions down her throat wasn't going to help in the long run. His mother had already tried that approach after the Boggart incident and Hermione still refused to take any type of sleeping potions as a result. Tough love didn't work with Hermione. All it did was make her resentful. Ron knew that he was going to have to bring her out of it on his own. What's more, he was going to have to be subtle about it.

"Let me try and bring her around first," he said to Fred, before shifting his full attention back to his wife.

"Hermione," Ron said her name softly, placing his hands on either side of her face and tilting her head up, hoping that the desolation she felt would ease if he could force her to focus on him. Just seeing him had helped calm her down after her run-in with the Boggart, so he reasoned it would work again now. Especially if all of this was the result of some dream she'd had about him being dead. "Come on, love," Ron said, reaching out to wipe away the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. "It was just a bad dream," he said, striving to sound reassuring. "Let's get you back to bed before you freeze in here."

"It'll be cold in Azkaban," Hermione mumbled after several seconds of strained silence had passed. "Even without the Dementors," she whispered a few seconds later.

Where the hell did that come from? Ron thought, the confusion he felt vying with her feelings of remorse for the top spot on the emotional roller-coaster they were both riding.

"What's she talking about?" Fred asked, taken by surprise himself.

This girl rocking back and forth on the floor raving about Azkaban was not the Hermione he knew and Fred suddenly found himself wishing that he was back in his bed. If he was still asleep like George, he'd be blissfully unaware of the fact that his sister-in-law was suffering some sort of nervous breakdown in a toilet. He didn't want to witness this. Not just because seeing her vulnerability made him uncomfortable, which it did, or because this wasn't the kind of situation he could crack jokes about in an effort to ease the tension, but because it flew in the face of the mental image he had of Hermione.

The Hermione in his mind's eye didn't fall apart. She was strong and unflappable like his mother. When compelled to, she turned into a fire-breathing shrew that didn't take guff from anyone. If someone pushed her, she dug in and pushed them right back, often in rather creative and sometimes even vindictive ways. That was one of the things Fred admired most about her actually. It wasn't often that he came across a sparring partner that could hold her own against him, let alone best him on occasion.

Whoever did this to her is going to pay, Fred decided, feeling just as protective of Hermione as he would his own sister.

"What's she talking about?" he asked Ron again, this time with a tinge of anger in his voice. "Who did this to her?"

"I did," she said softly, making it obvious that she was lucid enough to comprehend what was being said around her, despite the fact she wasn't making any sense herself. "I lied."

You had an anxiety attack because you lied? Ron wondered, trying to sort her ramblings out in his head.

"To you," she said to Ron, "to everyone," she added, her shame taking center stage and becoming the dominant emotion despite Ron's bewilderment. "But Dumbledore knows the truth. He saw right through me. Dumbledore knows what I am."

Mental, Ron thought, but he refrained from saying it out loud because he was afraid she'd withdraw again. One look at the expression on his brother's face was more than enough for him to know that Fred concurred with that assessment, though.

"You aren't making any sense, love," Ron said, making a concerted effort to shove all of Hermione's negative feelings aside so he could think about how much she meant to him instead. If she could feel how much he loved her, how much he needed her to be all right, it might help her snap out of the morose state she was in. "You're exhausted," he said, placing one arm around Hermione's shoulders and pulling her close. "What you need now is to get some sleep and clear your head. Things will be better in the morn…"

"Sleeping isn't going to change what I've done," she snapped, pushing him away.

"What you've done?" Ron questioned, making a mental note not to touch her again when he felt a brief flicker of anger through their bond.

"I'll still be a killer in the cold light of day."

"A killer!" Fred cried out in surprise, wracking his brain to figure out what the hell Hermione was talking about. Was this all some sort of delusion she was having or had someone actually pushed her that far? "Who'd she kill?"

"No one," Ron barked, jerking her head up and glowering at his brother. But the response had been so quick, so defensive, that Fred had a sinking suspicion that Hermione wasn't that delusional after all. "We've already been through this," Ron muttered, forcing himself to be patient with Hermione when he really wanted to shake some sense into her.

"Yes, and I lied," she reiterated.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Ron asked, momentarily allowing his exasperation to get the better of him as he began to comprehend what it was that she really wanted. Beating herself up wasn't doing it for her. She wanted him to condemn her as well. Don't hold your breath because it's not going to happen.

"What don't you understand?" Hermione asked, taking the self-recrimination she'd been heaping on herself and redirecting it at Ron in the form of anger, hoping to goad him into saying what she wanted to hear. "I wanted him dead and now he is. I was trying to kill him," she admitted. "I told all of you I would have lifted my spells if they'd connected, but that was a lie. I wouldn't have done a blessed thing to help him. I took a man's life tonight. I should feel bad about that, but all I keep thinking is that if I could go back and change it, I wouldn't. I'd do it again, given the same situation."

"Good."

"What did you just say?" Hermione asked, not only taken aback by Ron's statement, but the sincerity of it.

"You heard me," he replied. "I know you want me to tell you you're a horrible person because you defended yourself, but that's not going to happen."

"You don't understand."

"I understand perfectly," Ron retorted. "I just don't happen to agree with you. You keep saying that you wanted Dolohov dead, but now that he is, you feel bad about it. I don't. He was a cold-hearted bastard and got what was coming to him. He tortured and murdered countless people, including Mum's brothers. And those fools in the Ministry let him waltz out of Azkaban, not once, but twice, so he could start doing it all over again. It makes me sick when I think about what they did to Dean and Colin. There is no way I was going to stand there and let them do the same thing to you. That indifference that you're feeling guilty about is coming from me, Hermione, not you. And I'm not going to feel bad about it."

"You don't really mean that," she said weakly. "You wouldn't feel that way if you'd…"

"Seen him take his last breath?" Ron finished. The hell I wouldn't.

"…been responsible for his death," she finished.

"I was responsible. I'm the one that cast the spell that protected you," he reminded her.

"But I didn't have to resort to using that protection. I could have tried to incapacitate him, but I didn't. I tried to kill him," she said, shamefaced once more.

"Good," Ron stated again. "It's exactly what you should have done. We're at war, Hermione. He was the enemy and he was trying to kill you. No wait," he amended. "He was trying to make me kill you, because that's the kind of sick son of a bitch that he was. You can put any kind of spin on it you want, but it wasn't murder. He's the one that attacked us. All you did was defend yourself."

"WAIT!" Fred shouted from the doorway, unable to contain himself any longer. "Are you saying that she…that you… that Dolohov is…"

"Rotting in hell as we speak," Ron finished, when his brother stopped sputtering and settled for staring at both of them in disbelief instead.

"Ron!" Hermione admonished.

"No, he's right," Fred said, managing to take them both by surprise. "Dolohov is a monster. You shouldn't feel bad about sending him to hell where he belongs. He wouldn't have felt one ounce of sympathy or remorse after killing you. If you're worried that those idiots at the Ministry are going to try and chuck you into Azkaban for defending yourself," Fred added, Hermione's earlier ramblings suddenly making sense to him, "don't be. Fudge isn't in control anymore. He got sacked after the Dementors attacked Diagon Alley. Scrimgeour is Minister now. The former Head of the Auror Department," he said, giving his brother a pointed look. "Hell, he'll probably pin a metal on you when he find out. You did him a favor. You did all of us a favor."

"See," Ron said, grateful to Fred, not only for the rare show of support, but for getting through to Hermione in a way he hadn't quite been able to. And while there were no outward signs that what Fred had said was sinking in, Ron knew that it was. She wasn't feeling nearly as burdened or overwhelmed. She was still doubtful, but at least she'd stopped arguing and started listening. "Now that you're feeling better," he said cautiously, "do you mind if we get off the floor?"

"As long as you promise not to tell Harry about this," Hermione said, taking Ron's hand when he offered it and allowing him to help her up.

"Tell Harry about what?" George asked, as he stepped into the open doorway. "Well?" he pressed, when no one answered him. "Is someone going to tell me what all that shouting was about, or am I going to have to guess?"

Author's notes:

Well there you have it folks. The event you've all been waiting for since you found out Harry and Ginny were linked. Not exactly the blissful union many of you were hoping for, but that particular connection definitely made things interesting.

A special thanks to Emmilyne, for all her advice. As always, thanks to my pre-betas, Doraemon, Aurelia, and Jmnauth, and my official beta, Amelia.