Author's Note: Obi wan Kenny and EnigmaticHufflepuff, thank you so much for your reviews! Honestly I'm so glad to know that someone likes this idea as much as I do.

Updates will be slow, as I'm a slow writer and I have a lot going on right now, but they will happen!

All that being said, I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Minor edit: I got the birth and death dates mixed around. Fixed now. Don't write and post at 2am folks.


In December, seven months after Ginny had arrived, the temperature plummeted.

Cloudcover was heavy, and even what little sunshine broke through was killed quickly by a blanket of freezing fog.

The ancient brick walls and rickety roofing did very little to keep out the chill. Icy drafts blew through the halls all day and night.

To make matters worse, Ginny had learned exactly when she was. 1933. Right in the middle of the Great Depression.

It wasn't all bad. Everyone had a thin, patchy jacket. The youngest kids, which thankfully included her and Tom, had fingerless wool gloves. Meals were always hot. Porridge, soups, and stews made of Merlin knew what, but they kept them warm.

It seemed unlikely that anyone would die of the cold. But, Ginny thought as she curled tighter under her blankets in the frigid night, trying to stop her teeth from chattering, that didn't mean she wouldn't get frostbite.

She peeked out from under the covers, looking out into the dark room. It seemed much more intimidating in the dark, and she was glad that the doors of the little closet in the corner were closed.

She hadn't feared monsters for years, but the wind whistling through the cracks in the walls was starting to get to her. In his bed against the other wall, Tom was similarly curled up tight under his blanket.

Ginny wondered if he was having trouble sleeping from the cold too.

"Tom, are you awake?" she whispered out into the dark.

"Yes," he whispered back after a moment.

Ginny hesitated. "I'm cold."

"Me too."

She knew what she wanted to say next, but it seemed improper. Honestly they were kids, its not like it was weird, and if she didn't ask she might well get frostbite, they both might. But... he still scared her. They were friends, but like this, in the dark, it was hard to forget the cold darkness of the Chamber as this very boy drained the life out of her.

A face appeared above her suddenly. She gasped, moving to duck under the covers, for all the good it would do.

"Move over," Tom said bluntly.

Ginny blinked, his features becoming apparent in the darkness. He hopped under the covers next to her. It was already warmer.

She was still staring at him.

"What? We're both cold," Tom said, defensive but making no move to leave. He was shivering, then again, so was she.

She laughed gently, more a few gentle huffs of air than anything, "I was gonna ask if I could come over there."

He said nothing, eyeing her. Then he closed his eyes and settled into the pillow.

He was so close she could make out his features even in the dark. His face was small, his cheeks still a touch round with baby-fat, and relaxed like this he looked peaceful, the coldness and wariness he usually wore nowhere to be found.

She hoped that one day he'd look this peaceful even when awake.

Slowly, she warmed up, and then she fell asleep.


It became routine, over the cold winter months, for them to sleep in the same bed. It was for warmth, they both insisted, and at first it was. But, after a while, it became a comfort.

Ginny couldn't be certain that Tom felt the same way, he was an odd boy, but all things considered it seemed that he got something other than just warmth out of it. Perhaps a feeling that he wasn't quite so alone any longer.


Ginny woke up to Sarah standing in the middle of the room staring at them and frowning, one hand on her chin the other folded over her chest.

Before she could even say anything, Tom sat up behind her. "What do you want?" he snapped.

Sarah squeaked and rubbed at her chest. She collected herself quickly, "Look I get that its cold, right? And I don't blame you for sleeping in the same bed. But you best not let anyone else catch you at it, its improper."

"What do I care about that?" grumbled Tom.

"Cause you'll be the one getting a smack out of it."

"What?" Ginny cried, "Why?"

"Cause its disrespectful for a boy to sleep in a bed next to a girl isn't his wife. You're little now, but you keep this up when you're older and there'll be rumours and jeering, people accusing you of all sorts of nasty things."

Tom sneered but said nothing.

"We'll be careful then. Its too bloody freezing by ourselves," Ginny declared.

"Watch your language, Virginia. But that seems alright then. Breakfast will be soon."


Sarah was wrong of course, at least a bit. They might have been little, but bullying always started early. It didn't matter that all they knew was that Tom and Ginny only kept to themselves, that was more than enough.

"Oh look!" shouted Marcus, a big boy of about eight, "It's widdle Tommy and his girlfriend."

About five kids were closing in on them, surrounding them to try and pin them against the wall.

"Shoulda figured it'd be a ginger hanging about with Creepy," said a girl with long lank hair and a snarl that could put a pitbull to shame.

Tom grabbed Ginny's hand and bolted. They ran down the corridors, taking random turns as the kids yelled after them, hot on their heels. Rounding a corner, Tom opened a door and pulled Ginny in, closing the door behind them.

The room looked very similar to their own bedroom, but the beds were unmade and a few scuffed toys and half-done drawings lay on the floor.

Tom picked up a few of the cooler looking toys.

"What are you doing?" Ginny whispered, keeping an eye on the door.

Tom looked up at her, "I'm taking these."

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Yes. But why? Who's room are we even in?"

He grinned, "Marcus'."


After they'd managed to sneak back to their own room, Tom stowed away his stolen hoard in the little treasure box he kept in the closet.

"Do you steal things often?" Ginny asked, keeping her voice neutral as thoughts of Luna surfaced.

"I'm not a thief! How else am I supposed to get back at Marcus, you know how big he is."

"You could tell Sarah."

"And Sarah would tell the Matron and the Matron wouldn't care. Or worse, she'd punish us all for being involved."

He had a point. In this place, the only adults available were really unreliable. Surely that was illegal?

Ginny had spent her life always able to just tell a grown-up when something was wrong, her parents, her teachers, her neighbours.

Well, except for the incident. But then she hadn't known anything was wrong until it was far too late and she by then would have been thrown in Azkaban for petrifying all those students!

She closed her eyes and counted to ten, trying to relax through all the horrible memories. She'd thought of that time more in the past six months she'd been stuck in the past than she had in years. Probably because of Tom.

She opened her eyes to see the boy in question staring at her curiously.

He was getting better at emoting since they'd become friends. Or maybe she was just getting better at reading them.

She looked over at that little closet that held all their worldly belongings. That is, a few drawings, some clothes, and some stolen toys.

"When's your birthday, Tom?" she asked, a thought forming.

"New Year's Eve.

Ginny smiled, "I'll get you a present."

"I'd like a present, thank you. I- I haven't had one before."

"Then I'll be happy to give you your first."

"Um-"

That made Ginny pause. Not once had she heard Tom verbally hesitate like that.

"When is your birthday?" he asked, his face once more impassive but his hands fidgeting at his sides.

"Mine was in August," she said.

"You were here in August," he muttered under his breath to himself. He hurried over to the closet and started rifling through the treasure box.

"Here," he handed her a little stitched doll, probably stolen from one of the other kids.

It had buttons for eyes, orange wool for hair, and a little blue felt dress. She ran her hand over it.

"A late birthday present. I hope you like it."

"Thank you, Tom. I love it," she said, smiling and clutching the little doll to her chest.

Tom beamed.