The friction in the trio had greatly decreased since Hermione had 'come clean,' so to speak, with Ron. There was a reestablished sense of trust, something Harry especially had found so lacking over holidays.

"I just hope she doesn't expect us to let him sit with us during breaks, and I hope he doesn't expect her to help him with his homework instead of us," Ron said as he and Harry made their way up to their dormitory that night. "Because I'll give them both a piece of my mind."

"Spare them, Ron. You haven't got that much to lose," Harry retorted.

"Harhar. Very funny. Aren't you just the ray of sunshine today?"

"I try my best," Harry answered. He promptly drew the curtains round his bed and pretended to be asleep.

He knew that no matter what he did, Hermione was firmly out of his grasp. He didn't even need to see the two of them together to know how much she adored Draco. She loved him in ways she could have never felt for Harry, and after weeks of thought he knew that. But he would not accept it lying down. Oh, no. I'll stand up and accept it, he thought sullenly, knowing very well that standing between them would only make Hermione unhappy. Something I'm skilled at, he sighed.

"You still up. mate?" Ron whispered nearly an hour after Harry had gone to bed.

"No," he answered quietly, and went to sleep.
"So you told Ron?" Ginny asked, perched on the edge of her bed listening to Hermione.

"I did. And he... well, he didn't mind at all."

"Of course not. He knew. He'd ask me about it, thinking that you'd told me. I said, 'If she's told anyone anything, its Harry. And he won't tell you.' He was totally close-lipped about it. Ron was furious. He had to work it out all on his own. Poor ickle thing."

"So... Harry didn't tell him, really, then?" Hermione asked. "Ron said he didn't... but I wasn't sure."

"No, he wouldn't tell him a thing," Ginny answered. "You're lucky to have him, you know," she added, a tinge of whimsy in her voice.

"You still fancy him, then?" Hermione asked carefully. They were still on thin ice when it came to discussing Harry like that.

"Oh... no... I mean... I sort of think that Ravenclaw prefect, the dark-haired one, is nice, but I'm not really looking. Suppose I'll settle in on my schoolwork and all that."

"Ginny... you needn't lie, you know. There's no dark-haired Ravenclaw prefect. He's a Hufflepuff, and he's dull, and you'd never like him. And you hate your schoolwork except Care of Magic Creatures and Herbology."

"Leave me alone about him, alright? I just... he hates me. I don't want to talk about it," Ginny sighed, crawling to the center of her bed and pulling the curtain.

"Goodnight," she said with finality, and Hermione left for her own dorm.

When Hermione had gone, Ginny pulled a leather-bound book from under her pillow. She opened it, and fumbled for her wand in the dark, casting Lumos so she could find her quill. She began to furiously scribble, her normally large handwritting cramping into splintered slants.

Harry, she wrote, wanting to add 'dearest,' or 'my darling,' but shying away from it.

Very simply put, I want you to know that I care about you. I don't expect anything in return. Although, it wouldn't hurt to talk to me once in a while, would it?

Ginny

She re-read the note carefully and ripped the page from her journal. She left it, folded once, on her bed as she dug through her trunk, unable to see the dark, hard letters sinking into the paper. She unceremoniously stuffed the parchment into an envelope and put it in a drawer of her night table. I'll give it to him in the morning, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.