Chapter Five:
The Dream

Ginny woke up to the sound of a chocolate frog, which leaped over her nose as she opened her eyes. Groaning, she swatted around her head, and the small chocolate creature disappeared from her view.

"She's awake!" someone said, far too loudly for Ginny's liking. She winced.

"Quiet down, Ron!" immediately scolded Hermione, and Ginny had to smile a bit at that. She slowly pushed herself up onto her elbows, and in a flash, she felt her brother's strong arms helping her sit up.

"Sorry about that," Ron said sheepishly, as he ruffled her hair. Ginny grinned up at him.

"It's all right," she replied. "I'm used to it. Fifteen years of hearing you snore has to come in handy sometime."

Hermione laughed as Ron's ear's turned pink. Ginny winced again, causing Hermione to become rather sheepish as well.

"I'm all right," Ginny reassured her. "How long have I-?"

"A day and a half," Hermione replied instantly. "You should be fine, though Madame Pomfrey did say that once you woke up, you should stay another day, just to be sure."

"Damn," Ginny muttered under her breath. Hermione looked startled at the vehemence of her expression, but she said nothing. Rather un-like Hermione, Ginny thought, and she wondered what would have made the older girl so reserved. Another thought entered her mind though, before she could ask.

"Did we win?" she said, looking between Ron and Hermione. Ron's face darkened considerably. Hermione patted his arm sympathetically. "Well?" Ginny said again, waiting for someone to answer her.

"Snape called for a rematch, and Dumbledore agreed," someone said from the corner. Ginny had to look past Hermoine's bushy hair to see Harry, who was sitting in a chair nearby. He had a grave expression on his face, but Ginny had gotten somewhat used to that as of late.

"Ruddy Snape," Ron snarled angrily. "It was ours! Just because Harry dropped the damn thing when you got injured doesn't mean we didn't win it."

"Calm down, Ron," Hermione soothed. "I think we have bigger problems than just Quidditch right now." She was still patting his arm. Ginny raised an eyebrow at that, but she kept her face neutral. Ron, however, did not seem to notice; he was getting rather cross.

"It's not just Quidditch, Hermione!"

"Of course." Hermione sounded rather like Mrs. Weasley at the moment, trying to patiently deal with an unruly child. Ginny almost laughed, but then she caught sight of Harry's expression.

He was staring right at her, his emerald gaze so intense that it made her quite unsettled. A moment passed between them, his eyes reflecting concern and fear and all sorts of things, and then it was gone. Abruptly, he seemed to realize he had been staring, and he quickly looked down, the back of his neck rather red.

Madame Pomfrey entered at that moment, apparently drawn in by Ron's outburst. She shooed the two of them away from Ginny's bed, handing a small vial to Ginny as she eyed Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Ginny gulped down the potion in one swallow, a dry feeling on her tongue.

"Shouldn't you three be at class?" Madame Pomfrey scolded.

"Not for another half hour," Ron objected, but at the sharp look from the healer, and Hermione's insistent tug on his sleeve, he hastily amended, "but we'll be right off, Ma'am."

He turned to Ginny, and in a very brotherly gesture, mussed up her hair again, saying, "We'll be back before dinner, Gin."

"Get some rest, Ginny," Hermione added.

"See you," Ginny replied, watching them leave.

Harry had said nothing, but he stood rather slowly from his chair, his eyes avoiding hers. Ginny frowned as he walked after Hermione and Ron, who were now arguing over homework – of all things, thought Ginny – and quite oblivious to Harry's presence.

Madame Pomfrey also left, taking the empty vial with her and pulling Ginny's curtains around her bed. The lights in the Infirmary dimmed, and all was quiet.

Sighing, Ginny settled down into her bed, letting Madame Pomfrey's potion calm her body as she snuggled into her sheets. She stretched out her arms high over her head for a moment, and then, feeling quite comfortable, she closed her eyes.

A sudden cough from the bed next to hers caught her attention just as she was about to drift sleep. Curious, she pushed herself upright again, pulling the curtains back.

The occupant of the bed was also hidden from view, but Ginny heard the cough again.

"Hello?" she called out hesitantly, wondering who it was. Silence greeted her words.

"Hello?" she tried again. "Is someone there?"

This time, she did get a response.

"You mind shutting up, Weasley? You're giving me a headache."

Ginny's countenance darkened instantly as she recognized that familiar drawl. The annoyance deepened as she remembered that he was the reason for her being stuck in the Infirmary in the first place. Glaring silently at his bed, she settled back into her sheets, feeling quite sorry that she had been so curious about her neighbor.

"What, Weasley? No witty comeback? Not up to your usual standard, eh?"

"Shut it," Ginny barked back.

"Not very creative, Weasley."

"I do have a first name, you prat," Ginny growled.

"As do I, Weasley, and I'm sure as do most people. Tell me, were you always this slow, or did that little fall knock your brains loose?"

"It was your fault in the first place, you horrible git," Ginny spat back. "And if you're going to continue to insult me, you could at least do it to my face instead of hiding behind that stupid curtain like a bloody coward."

That did the trick. The curtain was yanked back with a rather angry sounding jerk, and Ginny found herself staring at stormy gray eyes that looked quite menacing. She hid her inner shudder quite well, however, and stared defiantly back at him, as if daring him to say something. His eyes flicked over her for a moment, and then to her surprise, he grinned.

"You're really quite the little Gryffindor, aren't you," he stated. "Standing up to me? Bold, and quite stupid to boot."

"You don't frighten me," Ginny whispered, but her voice betrayed her. Malfoy sneered.

"Don't I?" he asked, and there was an edge in his voice that sent a shiver up her back. "Don't I, little Weasley? You seemed to think differently in the library when you fainted."

She swallowed hard. "That wasn't because of you, Malfoy," she replied evenly, and to her satisfaction, she saw his expression flicker uncertainly for a moment. "You know why I fainted," she added, wanting to gauge his reaction. To her disappointment, he merely shrugged.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Weasley," he muttered, and then turned away from her. But Ginny was not about to be so easily ignored.

"Why did you join them, Malfoy?" she asked. She thought she saw him flinch, but he still had his back to her. Ginny pressed on. "I mean, I know your father was one of them, but he's in Azkaban now. Surely you don't want to follow him there; that's just stupid."

There was a long silence, but still not answer. Sighing exasperatedly, Ginny lay back down as well, pulling her covers over her again and closing her eyes. She felt some time pass by, the faint ticking of a clock somewhere keeping her awake, and then –

"What makes you think I had a choice in the matter, Weasley?"

That surprised her. Ginny stared at his unmoving back, more questions pounding in her mind. She should have known; why anyone would give into such terrible darkness was beyond her, and she did not think Draco Malfoy was stupid or evil enough to want that. So he had been forced? How? What kind of power could have forced him to brand himself with that horrible mark?

"How did you know, Weasley?" He was still turned away from her. Ginny felt a twinge of annoyance.

"If you're going to ask me questions, at least talk to my face, Malfoy," she scolded him.

Again, to her surprise, he obeyed, turning around and fixing her with that unwavering glare of his. Ginny gulped.

"Well?" Malfoy said impatiently. "How did you figure it out? Not even the other Slytherins know."

How had she? Ginny closed her eyes, trying to remember.

"At the Shrieking Shack," she finally said, opening her eyes. "That's when I first thought – I mean, when I touched your arm – it hurt. That's when I thought maybe...and then I watched you for a bit, just to be sure, and you were always wincing whenever anything came near that arm – and then of course, there was the library."

"Yeah," Malfoy replied dryly. "That was fun."

Ginny snorted. "You have a twisted definition of fun, Malfoy."

"It's called sarcasm, Weasley."

"I know, you prat."

"Back to insults then?" He almost sounded hopeful. Ginny guessed he probably did not want to talk about his arm anymore, but she still had one more question for him.

"Malfoy, do you have any idea why it hurt so much when we touched?"

"We touched, Weasley? How quaint." His sardonic tone made Ginny's temper flare up a bit.

"You know what I mean!" she snapped. "When I first grabbed your arm, it just stung for a bit. The second time, in the library, it hurt even more, and I fainted."

"Not too strong, are you?" he observed.

"Shut it," Ginny snapped again. "I wasn't finished. Anyway, at the Quidditch match, what in the name of Merlin happened? All I remember is you flying right into me-"

"-you flew into me, Weasley," he interrupted her. "I got hit by a bludger, and then you flew into me when I was falling."

"Fine. Whatever. The point is that I remember grabbing something – probably your arm –"

"—let's hope."

"Oh shut up and let me finish! I grabbed your arm, and then bam! We both fall and nearly break our necks. And this time – I'm sure of it – you were also unconscious, weren't you? You had to have been."

"Probably because I was hit by a bludger. Honestly, Weasley."

"You were hit in the stomach, Malfoy, which – unless you're really as much of a wimp as everyone says – should not have knocked you out cold. But you were...and it's because of-"

"You know what, I think I'm too tired to listen to this anymore," he interrupted her rudely. And then without another word, he pulled the curtain back around his bed, shutting Ginny out instantly.

Annoyed, and feeling quite uneasy about the whole thing, Ginny slid back into her own bed, settling down into a restless sleep.

In her dreams, she was flying again, but this time over the Forbidden Forest, the dark treetops looking thick and velvety beneath her. She was not riding a broom, but simply flying on her own, weaving through the air as naturally as though she were a bird.

She did not know where she was going, but she saw the forest disappear into the horizon, and then she was flying over water, mountainsides, and other, unfamiliar looking trees.

In the far distance, she saw a great stone monument, rising from the ground as though to reach for the sky itself. Above it, the clouds were thick, thunderous, and black; they sank heavily upon the horizon, snuffing out what light had been in the sky before. As she stared at it, a chill ran up her back. She did not want to fly toward it anymore, but she could not stop. As she struggled against her own body, against the wind and the unseen force propelling her forward, she heard a voice speaking beside her, a deep, haunting sound:

Ice and fire embrace
Earth and sky make one
Shadows of fear so fade
Darkness be undone

Blood of old be spilt
A union before time
Key to hope be made
Light, come forth to shine

"The time has come, Ginevra," the voice then told her, and she found herself trusting it immediately, feeling as though it had reverberated from inside her own mind. It was strong, and proud, just like her, and it told her not to be afraid of what was to come. It calmed her, soothed her thoughts, and as she listened, she thought she saw a beam of light rise from the stone monument, flying above and shooting through the dark clouds. The beam widened, the light becoming blinding, and as it came towards her, Ginny heard the voice again, a mere whisper of what it had been before.

Light, come forth to shine…

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