Chapter Thirteen

Separation

Ginny awoke with a start, reaching around the familiar bed and taking note of the room around her. As her mind fully awoke, a sense of dread and unease that she couldn't place stole over her. She'd been dreaming, but trying to grasp the images from her dream was like attempting to hold onto water. Her mind felt jumbled and confused, but rationally, she was aware that her heart wasn't pounding into her throat as it usually did when she'd suffered a nightmare. So, she supposed it couldn't have been anything too terrible.

She reached over to Harry's side of the bed, seeking his warmth and comfort, only to find it empty and the sheets gone cold.

Damn.

Memories of their row the previous day flooded back to her. She'd been out of line, and she'd taken her temper out on him. She'd even feigned sleep once he finally came to bed the night before to avoid facing him and having to apologize. She didn't know what was wrong with her. She was so sick of being stuck in this house. It was driving her spare.

None of the rest of them had to put up with being checked over by Vivian Scott every few days. She'd bet any of the others could get a question wrong here or there after a while. The check-ups were so tedious and repetitive. She'd just answered the question automatically without really listening.

That was all it was.

Really.

No matter how much she tried to assure herself that it was nothing to be concerned about, she couldn't shake the feeling of disquiet. She'd answered one of Vivian's endless questions wrong, but it wasn't as if she didn't know the answer. She simply hadn't been paying attention.

Her mind kept replaying it no matter how many times she told herself there was no reason to worry…

If it's three o'clock in the afternoon, and I'd been with you for two hours, what time did I arrive?" Vivian asked.

"Ten. You always visit at ten. Someone could set a clock by you," Ginny snapped irritably.

Yes, she'd answered incorrectly, but it didn't mean anything, and the concerned looks Vivian kept giving her only increased Ginny's ill-temper. So, she'd used her righteous indignation like a shield. It had always worked in the past.

Ginny released a huff of air and pulled up into a seated position, resting her back against the headboard. What would happen if it was more than just a minor slip, though? She hadn't forgotten anything else, and though she was frustrated being cooped up, she hadn't been unreasonable about it. Bloody hell, they were all frustrated.

In her mind, she went over the names of all her teammates, of the coaches and support staff she worked with daily. She reviewed the names of her family and her friends, and the people she'd known at Hogwarts. She didn't stumble on any of their names, and her mind easily brought up images of shared experiences with each of them. Certainly, there was nothing wrong with her memory, right?

She wished she could hex that nagging little voice right out of her own head, but she couldn't shake her unease. What if she was getting sick? Would the Unspeakables sweep in and pull her out of the house? Where would she go? And… what would happen to the others? Could she have passed something on to them? Were they all to be placed in separate rooms at St. Mungo's until they forgot each other completely?

Ginny couldn't imagine anything worse. She didn't want to forget Harry or her family. And she didn't want any of them to forget her, either.

The sound of her stomach rumbling dragged her out of her troubling thoughts. Had she eaten dinner the previous evening? She couldn't remember. She'd been busy brooding and then fallen asleep. She didn't know why she was so tired. It's not like she'd been doing anything.

She was about to drag herself out of bed in search of food when the door opened, and Harry peered inside. He was carrying a breakfast tray, which only made Ginny feel worse about lashing out at him.

"You can come in. I promise I won't bite," she said despondently.

"I don't mind the biting so much. It's the hexing I could do without," he said cheerfully, kicking the door closed behind him. He placed the tray laden with porridge and toast in front of her. "I thought you might be hungry."

"I'm starving. Thanks," she said, grabbing the spoon and immediately taking some of the porridge.

He stood, watching her. His hair was rumpled worse than usual, and his eyes held a wary, guarded quality that she couldn't stand. It was like a punch to the gut knowing she'd been the one to place it there.

"I shouldn't have shouted at you," she said. "I know none of this is your fault."

"Did everything go all right with Vi… with your check-up?" he asked, and she knew by the circles under his eyes that he'd been worrying about it since yesterday. She hated that he tried to avoid saying Vivian's name, but couldn't really blame him.

"It went fine," she said half-heartedly, deciding he didn't need anything else to worry about. She was doing enough worrying for both of them. "She just got on my nerves, and it was sort of the last straw."

Harry nodded, still looking pensive. He appeared to be choosing his words very carefully, and Ginny felt a flicker of irritation. She wasn't a raving lunatic and was beginning to resent being treated like one.

"Was there a reason your session ended so abruptly?" he finally asked.

"What you really want to know is why Vivian left without speaking to you, right? Spit it out, Harry," she said waspishly.

"Look, I'm not going to do this again. I'm concerned, all right?" he snapped, and she was actually glad he was fighting back rather than tip-toeing around her. This alone soothed her righteous indignation.

"Vivian didn't tell me why she was in such a hurry, but I'm certain she'll be back tomorrow for my next check. You can ask her then, if you like, although she didn't say what time she'd be here," Ginny said, attempting to sound cordial. She thought she pulled it off well.

Harry looked at her oddly. "She usually comes around ten."

"Well, you can catch her then," she said, irritated that he knew Vivian's schedule.

"All right," he said slowly.

"Brilliant," she said, laying her spoon down after only a few scoops and casting around for something else to say. "Did you finish up George's orders yesterday?"

"Yeah, we did. He seemed happy with the progress, anyway," Harry said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and still watching her closely.

Ginny frowned. This tension between them was unusual, and she didn't like it. "So, what's the plan for today, then?"

Harry shrugged. "I spoke with Owen last night. We're looking over some books on various diseases."

Ginny scrunched her nose. "Sounds fascinating."

"Yeah," Harry chuckled, his tension easing as he turned to rest his back against the headboard. He stretched out his legs so he was sitting alongside her, careful not to disturb her breakfast tray. "I learned that once you have Spattergroit, you'll never have to worry about catching it again. That would explain why Gwilym Gethin was able to work with it so freely."

"What are you looking for, exactly?" she asked. "Or does Owen find medical books as thrilling as Hermione does?"

Harry shifted and something flickered across his face that she couldn't name. She squinted, watching him surreptitiously from behind her hair.

"His idea was to look at past ailments and see if we could find some commonality about how they were stopped," Harry said.

"And did you?" she asked, sensing there was more.

Harry paused only briefly before saying, "No, but…"

"But what?" she prompted when he trailed off.

He cleared his throat. "I did find something interesting. The last big contagion was a Dragon Pox one that wiped out a huge portion of the wizarding community."

Something tickled at the back of her brain, but she couldn't recall all the details. "I remember hearing about that. I think my dad had an uncle or something who died from it. It was before we were born."

"My grandparents were on the list of names of those who died. My dad would've been in his seventh year at Hogwarts when it happened," Harry said, and Ginny knew that although he tried to make it sound as if it was an offhand comment, it was very important to him.

She was aware that Harry knew very little of his history or family story, and each little piece of the puzzle that he did discover was like a gem to be studied and examined closely. It was anything but offhand.

"Did it say anything else?" she asked, straining to keep her voice level and let him set the tone.

He shook his head. "No. Just their names and the dates of birth and death. Their names were Fleamont and Euphemia."

Ginny knew this was important to him, and she was trying to be supportive, but she felt the corner of her lip twitch. She struggled to maintain her composure.

Harry cracked first and a grin spread across this face. "I know. Interesting names."

Ginny lost the battle and let her giggles free. "And I thought Ginevra was bad. What kind of nickname do you use for Euphemia?"

"I'm just happy my parents didn't decide to name me Fleamont," he said, eyes wide.

"Do you think your dad's middle name was Fleamont?" she asked.

Harry looked startled. "Dunno. It wasn't on his grave that time I saw it. I bet Sirius took the piss when he found out though," he said, grinning again.

"I'm sure your dad would've hidden it from him," Ginny said.

"Couldn't have done. Sirius lived with them for a while. He would've had to know my grandfather's name," he said, grinning broadly now.

"Although, Sirius' mother's name was Walburga. I suppose he didn't have much of a leg to stand on," she said, shrugging.

"He would've taken the piss anyway," Harry said, and his eyes were glazed, as if looking back somewhere that she couldn't see.

Ginny's stomach took this moment to growl loudly.

Harry snorted. "Finish your breakfast."

Ginny stared at the tray, uncertainly. Her mind seemed to go blank for a moment before she noticed the toast, and picked up a slice.

Harry watched her and that wariness was back in his gaze. He leaned over and scooped some of the oatmeal onto the spoon, handing it to her.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not ill. I can feed myself."

"I know," he said softly, leaning back and putting his arm around her.

Ginny quietly finished her breakfast. Harry's arm was warm and comforting around her shoulders, but her mind was in turmoil. She didn't understand why she felt so unsettled, but much like her dream from earlier, every time she tried to examine her feelings more closely, they seemed to just slip away. It was maddening.

Once she'd had her fill, she placed the tray on her bedside table and turned her head toward Harry, who was watching her. His eyes dipped toward her lips once she faced him. He pulled his glasses off and dropped them haphazardly on his own bedside table.

"I should probably go brush my teeth," she said self-consciously.

"I like porridge," he breathed, leaning down and capturing her lips in a tender kiss.

Ginny returned it with passion, her heart overflowing with emotion for this man who always stood by her. She allowed her mind to release its worry and return his embrace, focusing her attention on only him and the wonderful sensations coursing through her body. Every sigh, every caress was testament to how much she adored having this person in her life. As their passion swelled, Harry seemed to want to take it slow and gentle, but that's not what Ginny wanted. It wasn't what she needed right now. She took the lead, unapologetic and demanding. This was real. She could focus on this because it meant something. He met her eagerness step-for-step, his gasps of pleasure only pushing her further. Her throat ached with the strain of holding back her words, so she compensated by pushing her body. Silently, Harry thrust with desperation, although he touched her with such overwhelming tenderness. They both gave themselves to one another, each expressing words that neither one of them could say.

/* /* /* /*

Harry awoke later that afternoon to a sharp pounding on the bedroom door. Feeling disoriented and lethargic, he searched blindly on the bedside table for his glasses.

"Harry, open the ruddy door and come to the sitting room. Vivian Scott is here, and she wants to see you," Ron bellowed.

Harry sat up, looking around blearily. He finally located his glasses and slammed them on his face. He was alone in the bed. He must've slept heavier than he'd planned. Why was Vivian here again?

A leaden weight formed in the pit of his stomach. That couldn't be good.

"I'm coming. I'll be there in a minute," he called, taking note that Ginny's breakfast tray was gone. She obviously hadn't awakened him once she got up – or perhaps she never slept?

No, he definitely remembered both of them drifting off, still wrapped around one another after making up from their row.

Harry pulled himself out of bed and quickly re-dressed, shaking his head in an attempt to dislodge the sluggishness he felt. He hurried downstairs in his bare feet to find Ron, George and Hermione in the sitting room with Vivian, who was pacing and kept glancing at her watch. Ginny wasn't there.

"What's happened?" he asked immediately. "Where's Ginny?"

"She's in the shower. She said she'll be right down," Hermione said, looking disgruntled. "Vivian won't tell us what this is about until we're all here."

Vivian gave Harry a brief smile through her Bubble-Head Charm. Harry thought that it appeared more like a grimace, and the vice-like grip that had held his insides since yesterday seemed to tighten further.

"It'll be easier if I only have to explain it once," she said. "Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of time."

"A lot of time for what?" Ron asked, sounding rather belligerent.

"That's what we're going to discuss," Vivian said. "We're just waiting on Ginny."

"I'm here," Ginny said softly. She was standing in the doorway wearing a dressing gown, her hair slightly damp. She had her arms wrapped tightly around her own waist, as if protecting herself. Harry's mind incomprehensibly flashed back to an image of Ginny as a first-year, struggling to tell him and Ron about her secret diary but unable to get the words out. She stared directly at Vivian, ignoring everyone else in the room.

The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood on end.

"You know something," Ginny said in a deadened voice. It was a statement, not a question.

They were all startled by a pounding knock on the front door. Harry frowned. No one had been to call except Vivian since they'd been quarantined, and he couldn't imagine who would be there now. Hermione stood uncertainly, her expression as puzzled as Harry felt.

"Leave it," Vivian said sharply. "I'll let them inside in a moment."

"Let who inside? What's going on?" Harry demanded.

Vivian met Ginny's gaze unflinchingly. "Your diagnostic scan from yesterday was examined by one of the Healers. It's positive for Spattergroit Muggleton. I'm sorry, Miss Weasley."

Ginny shut her eyes, swaying slightly.

Harry's heart screamed negatively even though his mind had been expecting it. He leapt to his feet, crossing the room towards her when Ginny stepped back, shaking herself out of her trance.

"No, don't come too close," she hissed, holding up her hand as if to ward him off. "Is that who's at the door, then? Where are they taking me?"

"What d'you mean taking you?" Ron demanded. "No one's taking you anywhere."

The cacophony of voices filled Harry's brain, confusing him and making it impossible to think. Ron, Hermione and George fired rapid questions at Vivian, all talking over one another and trying to absorb it, but both Harry and Ginny remained silent, their eyes locked on one another.

They'd known. Of course, they'd known.

Once Vivian had managed to quiet the others, she waved her wand, unlatching the front door. They heard pounding footsteps in the hallway before several Ministry employees entered the room, all wearing protective clothing and Bubble-Head Charms.

"We aren't taking you anywhere, Miss Weasley. You'll be confined here in a solitary room since there is plenty of space here to allow it. Is there an empty one we can use for an infirmary?" Vivian asked.

"Why can't she stay in our room?" Harry asked, his eyes never leaving Ginny's wide, brown ones. He didn't want to let her out of his sight.

Vivian shook her head. "I'm sorry, but we need to confine her. The Healers are going to examine her fully, and we'll monitor her status daily. The rest of you need to stay out of that room unless absolutely necessary, and you must wear protective Charms at all times if you must enter. The rest of you have all been moved up to Level Two contamination. Now, is there a room we can use?"

Harry nodded, feeling as if he'd been hit with a Bludger. "There's a small room on the same landing as the master bedroom. I think it might've once been a nursery, but we used it as an infirmary during the war," he said stupidly, remembering various Order members occasionally needing to be patched up.

She waved her hand at two of the Unspeakables who'd arrived with the Healers, and they silently yet purposefully mounted the stairs.

"My colleagues are going to prepare the room and attempt to decontaminate the master bedroom. Fortunately, we caught this very early, so I'm cautiously optimistic about being able to stay on top of it. No one else has contracted the disease from someone before that person began showing symptoms. We caught Ginny because of one of the diagnostic scans we've been taking, so we're hopeful that it hasn't been passed to any of the rest of you," Vivian said in her brisk, lecturer tone.

Harry was bothered by that statement, however. It wasn't exactly true. Ginny's irritability and the fact she'd answered one of Vivian's questions incorrectly the previous day went unmentioned. The memory of their row rose like poison in Harry's mind. She'd been out of sorts, then, too. Fortunately, she hadn't worked with George, Ron or Hermione whilst they'd been in the workroom yesterday, so perhaps that offered them some added protection.

Staring into Ginny's frightened eyes across the room, Harry knew she was thinking about what he'd discounted. She might've avoided the others, but the two of them had been as close as two people could possibly get just that morning.

"I expect you'll be doing scans on everyone else now, as well?" Ginny asked, her voice trembling only slightly.

Vivian nodded. "Yes, once we have you secluded and settled, the Healers are going to spend some time with each of the others in order to establish a personal baseline for everyone. I'll continue to visit every couple of days to administer the same sort of cognitive and magical assessments I've been doing with Ginny. How are you feeling today?" she asked Ginny.

Ginny shrugged noncommittally "I'm concerned, obviously, but I feel all right. I don't want to have given this to anyone else."

"Don't think about that now," Harry said sharply. "You're the one we need to worry about."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, please – don't tell me you haven't been thinking of everyone else here but yourself since Vivian started speaking."

"I'm not the one who's sick," Harry said.

"Yet," Ginny replied, and her eyes filled with tears before she furiously blinked them away.

Harry moved to go to her again, but she took another step backwards, and he froze in his tracks, feeling powerless. He heard Hermione sniffle from somewhere behind him.

"Let's all relax and take this one step at a time. You've all been confined here for a significant period of time, so this can't spread any further as long as we keep it that way. You're all being monitored, and we have more data on how to treat it every day. Harry's right, we're going to take precautions for those exposed, but our focus needs to be on the ones already contaminated. Unfortunately, Ginny, that means you," Vivian said.

"Why don't we head upstairs so we can get our examination started, and get you settled?" one of the Healers said to Ginny, who nodded.

She looked around the room at all the others. "Please keep yourselves safe. I'm sorry," she said softly.

"It's not your fault. None of this is your fault," Harry said, feeling his entire world spinning rapidly out of his control.

She smiled, but he knew she didn't believe him. Watching her follow the Healers upstairs felt as if he was watching her being led to the gallows.

And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

"How long before someone starts showing symptoms?" Hermione asked.

"I don't have absolute facts on that, as it's such a small sample size we've been able to follow. My best estimate is within a week," Vivian said. "I'm going to go upstairs to be certain everything is done according to my specifications, and Ginny is comfortable. I'm going to ask you all to wait in here until I return so we can begin with your examinations."

"All right," Hermione said at once, nodding and sitting up straighter. She was always happiest with clear instructions, and that had never changed.

"But… this can't be happening. She's been fine. She's not ill," Ron said loudly, looking rather baffled. "How do you know it isn't your scan that's messed up?"

"I wish that were the case, Mr. Weasley. We ran it twice to be certain. Try to not get ahead of yourselves. Just sit down, and I'll be back as quickly as possible," Vivian said, brushing past Harry, who was still standing in front of the doorway, on her way out.

"How about I make us all some tea?" Hermione asked. She put a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. "Come on, Harry. Just sit down."

Harry allowed her to lead him over the sofa. He felt numb, dazed, and he didn't much care where he was at the moment. George sat across from him on one of the studded armchairs, looking just as bewildered as Harry felt.

Hermione hurried out of the room, presumably to go to the kitchen and get the teapot. Harry and George remained quiet, each lost in his own thoughts, but Ron couldn't handle the silence. He stood and began pacing like a caged animal.

"She has to be all right. I mean, Vivian and the rest of team have been really careful this whole time. They're just being cautious, right?" he asked.

"You said you and Ginny were having a row yesterday, yeah?" George asked, and Harry thought there was something accusatory in his tone.

He squirmed. "Yeah."

"What about?" Ron asked.

"She was tetchy all day," Harry said in a low voice, his stomach churning.

"Just normal Ginny-being-cross, or did you do something?" Ron asked, his ears reddening.

"Ron, that's enough," Hermione said, re-entering the room with a tray full of tea-making supplies. She placed it on the coffee table and proceeded to pour four cups from the steaming pot. "This isn't anyone's fault. It's spreading everywhere."

"Yeah, but I want to know if we could've done something sooner. This is Ginny," Ron said, still sounding irate.

"I'm well aware who it is, and I know we're all concerned. Bickering amongst ourselves isn't going to help her," Hermione said reasonably, handing out the tea cups.

"Someone is going to have to tell Mum and Dad," George said.

Harry's insides clenched tightly, imagining the panic and chaos at The Burrow once that call was made. The Weasleys had already lost one child. This would send them over the edge.

"Let's wait until after all the examinations are completed. That way, we'll know if there's anything more to tell," Hermione said reasonably.

George sank even lower on his chair, his head falling back to rest upon it. "I was going to give her a hard time about not helping with the orders yesterday. I didn't know she was ill."

"That's just it – she said she'd doesn't feel unwell," Hermione said.

Harry's thoughts were in turmoil. Ginny did say she felt all right, but she also knew something was wrong. They'd both feared it. He needed to talk to her, tell her outright not to hide her worries and fears from him. He wanted to be there for her, to see her through this, in any way he could. His mind kept straining to remember all the details he'd read in the various medical books and in all the papers he'd obtained from St. Mungo's. Memory loss was at the top of the list of symptoms, but he hadn't noticed that with her. She'd definitely had some mood swings and agitation, though, which were also on the list. What else?

Reduced ability to organize, plan or solve problems, the words swam off the page in his mind's eye. The question Ginny had missed with Vivian could be a sign of that… or it could simply be, as she said, that she wasn't paying attention because she was irritated. But irritation was another potential symptom. This was impossible. There definitely hadn't been any hallucinations – at least none she'd shared with him – and he felt certain he would've noticed that. There had definitely been some apathy, however. She hadn't even gotten out of bed after seeing Vivian yesterday. But couldn't that also be because she was upset with both the Unspeakable and also over her row with Harry?

Some of his inner turmoil must've shown on his face, because Hermione was watching him beadily. "Harry, you're awfully quiet. What are you thinking? You know you'll have to stay away from Ginny even though she's here in the same house, right?" she asked.

Harry didn't answer and avoided her gaze, his insides twisting. How could she expect that of him?

"Harry," she repeated more shrilly.

He looked up through his fringe. "I'm not going to leave her to go through this alone, Hermione."

"It's not leaving her alone. We're all here for her, but there has to be distancing in order to stop the spread," Hermione said, folding her arms across her chest and speaking to him as if he were a child.

Harry discounted her. "I can wear a Bubble-Head Charm when I go in to see her. If it works for the Healers, it'll work for me."

"I can't believe this. She hasn't been in isolation for five minutes and you're already being reckless," she said, fuming.

"No, I'm not," he replied calmly. How could he make her understand? "The last time we all left her alone, she had to fight Voldemort by herself. I'm not going to let her do that again."

Ron and George both looked up, startled, and he knew they'd been thinking the same thing. Neither would meet his eyes, both looking away guiltily. He hadn't meant to make them feel bad. This was all spiraling out of his control so quickly.

"Look, I'm not blaming anyone, all right? It's not your fault, it's not any of our faults. Isn't that what you keep telling me? We were kids, and we didn't know anything, even if we thought we did. This time we know she's in trouble," Harry said, desperately searching for the right words. He was bollixing this up royally.

"Ginny won't want you to risk your own health, Harry," Hermione pleaded. "How do you think she'll feel if she ends up giving this to you? You know that's what she's worried about."

"I'll be fine," Harry said.

"You can't say that. There's no way to know that," Hermione said angrily.

Harry rolled his eyes, pulling up off the sofa and beginning to pace, wishing he could crawl out of his own skin. "I survive everything, Hermione. I'm the bloody Boy Who Lives while everyone dies around me," he said, his voice cracking.

"Oh, Harry, no," Hermione said, reaching out to him but he shook her off.

"You've got a false sense of security there, mate, and you know it," Ron said, his voice rather subdued. "You're far from invincible."

"Ron's right, Harry. You could get this as easily as any of us, and Ginny would be devastated. If you're not concerned about yourself, think of her," George said.

Harry felt besieged, ganged-up upon. He needed to get away from all of them and think, but he didn't want to miss an update from Vivian whilst she was still there. Ron took Harry's arm and steered him back toward the sofa, sitting beside him. Hermione sat on his other side, placing his teacup in his hand and raising it toward his lips.

He took a scalding sip before pulling his face away. Absently, he rubbed his hand along his scar, attempting to smooth it out. He couldn't think with all of them on top of him.

Ron reached over and pushed the teacup in Hermione's hand back toward the coffee table. "He can manage to drink his tea on his own, love," he said, shifting his own position to give Harry a bit more space.

Hermione huffed, but she didn't say anything in protest. Harry shot Ron a grateful glance.

"It's not the same as when she was a first-year," George said suddenly. "We all know, and we can make certain she knows we're all pulling for her, even if there isn't a damn thing we can do for her. Again."

"She does know that, George," Hermione said earnestly.

"I should've noticed something back then. Fred and I… we talked about it. We knew we let her down, so we tried to include her more after that," George said. He still found it difficult to talk about his missing twin, and his voice quavered. "We should've noticed then. We were older than all of you."

"You were still only a fourth-year, George," Hermione said placatingly. "I'm supposed to be the brightest witch of our age, and I didn't notice."

"Yeah, but you and Ginny weren't really friends yet at that point, were you?" Ron asked.

"So what if we were only fourth-years? Didn't Harry compete in the Triwizard Tournament as a fourth-year?" George asked bitterly.

Before Harry could even open his mouth to protest, all three of the others shouted him down.

"We know – you had help!"

This did nothing to make them all feel better, but it did break the tension, and they all grinned, even Harry. They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their tea, each lost in their own thoughts.

"What do you think they're doing to her up there?" Ron asked. He was always the first to break a silence.

"Dunno. More diagnostic scans, maybe?" George said.

"What good will that do if they already know she has it?" Ron asked.

"It's a way to monitor her progress and document if anything has changed. There's a lot more to diagnostic scans than you'd ever know. It takes a lot of study to be able to read them," Hermione said.

"There are also physical, mental and magical tests they do every time. We'll all have to do those now, too," Harry said, remembering everything Ginny had told him about her sessions with Vivian.

"What d'you mean? What do they do to you?" Ron asked apprehensively.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's nothing that will hurt, Ron. They'll just check you for any spots, have you perform some simple spells, and check your mental acuity," Hermione said.

"What does that mean though?" Ron persisted.

"Just some basic questions about the date, or who is Minister for Magic and such," Hermione said.

"What's the matter, Ron? Afraid they'll discover you really are mental?" George asked, sniggering.

"Shag off. I just want to know what to expect, all right?" Ron asked defensively.

"Hermione's right. They'll also ask some simple math and problem-solving questions," Harry said.

"Why? Why do they have to do this?" Ron asked.

"It's the easiest way to check and see if anything in your mind is slipping. They're not out to get you, Ron, and they won't count it against you if you're nervous," Hermione said reassuringly.

"Ginny didn't seem ill, though. What's she going to do after they run all these checks? Does she have to get in bed and wait to feel sick? She's going to be bored out of her skull," George asked.

"The early stage includes fatigue," Hermione said. "She might be happy to be able to rest without all of us questioning her."

Ginny had definitely been tired yesterday, but Harry hadn't noticed anything more than restlessness before that, and they all were experiencing it. Ginny was used to an active life. She'd already begun training for the upcoming season, and Quidditch had a long-playing season. No, he hadn't noticed fatigue. Was that a good sign?

He didn't know. It was just one more thing he was going to have to check. He wondered how long they were to be trapped down here… and how long the Healers would be in with Ginny.

/* /* /* /*

It was very late at night when Harry was finally able to sneak into Ginny's room. The examinations that had been conducted on all of them were lengthy, and a medi-witch had stayed with Ginny well into the evening. Hermione had watched Harry very suspiciously when he'd claimed he was tired and going up to bed. A quick magical detection charm on his bedroom door revealed she'd set some sort of alarm on it to alert her if it opened. Rolling his eyes, Harry wordlessly disarmed the spell.

She sometimes forgot he was an Auror.

Ginny's door was across from his on the landing. He cocked his head, listening for a moment at the door, but all was silent except for the hum of a charm. He supposed there was some sort of protection on the room to prevent any contamination from getting out. He quickly cast a Bubble-Head Charm and pulled on a pair of gloves. He knew Ginny would insist he take precautions, or she was liable to send him marching right back out and barring the door against him.

The door creaked slightly when he opened it, but he thought perhaps it just sounded louder in the stillness of the house. So much for stealthy. Ginny looked as if she was sleeping, a sliver of moonlight shining through the window cast a shaft of light across the bad, but her face was still in shadow.

"Is that you, Harry?" she asked, sounding both pleased and exasperated.

"D'you have other lovers making midnight calls?" he asked, moving over to the bed and sitting on the edge beside her.

"Oh, yes – two of them just left, actually, so you timed your turn well," she quipped.

"Ah, and here I was thinking I was special and that you'd be so pleased to see me," he said, grinning.

"There you go, letting that big head of yours loose," she said, rolling her eyes, yet also reaching out and taking his hand in her own. "You really shouldn't be in here, you know."

He squeezed her hand, wishing he could feel the softness of her skin instead of the material of the glove separating them. She looked healthy enough, just tired. "Eh, it's going to take much more than a virus to keep me away from you."

Ginny grimaced. "It's not like I ever expected that you'd follow the rules, anyway."

"I took precautions, but I'm not leaving you in here alone. How are you?" he asked.

Ginny bit her lip. "I'm all right. I don't feel particularly unwell, just tired."

She must've read something in Harry's expression, even though the moonlight was the only thing lighting in the room. Perhaps, their vision had simply adjusted to the dark. "I'm also aware fatigue is part of it. The Healers told me."

Harry sensed there was more she wanted to say. "But…" he prompted.

She shrugged. "I know there's something wrong with me, and I think you've noticed it to. It's not so much forgetting anything… and I know I've always had a temper… but I have this rage that seems to come out of nowhere, then it leaves just as quickly, and I'm baffled by it."

Harry swallowed thickly. "Yesterday… or maybe it was earlier today, I dunno, at breakfast, you were obviously hungry, but it was as if you couldn't work out to put the spoon in your mouth," he said, his insides clenching as he recalled it.

Ginny stared at him blankly, then her forehead scrunched up as if she was trying to remember. "I- I don't…" she stammered, looking distressed.

"Shh, it's all right," he said quickly. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course, it matters, Harry. I don't want to forget you," she said, and this time, he had no trouble seeing the way her eyes glistened with tears.

"Don't think about that now. I'll be here, and I won't forget you. I can hang on for both of us until you come to back to me," he said earnestly.

"What if I can't come back?" she whispered.

Harry's heart clenched again, but he forced the words out. "You will. I've never met anyone more determined than my Whisky."

A shadow of a smile crossed her face as she reprimanded him, "Don't call me that."

"You're not fooling me – you like it," he said, immensely pleased that he'd managed to cheer her up.

"If the fact that you call me Whisky is the only thing I end up remembering, I'm going to kill you, Harry Potter," she said with a straight face.

Harry snorted. "That's a deal, then. I love you, and I always will."

"I love you, too, more than anything. No matter what I might do or say, remember that. Remember this is me, here and now, telling you I love you with everything that's me," she said imploringly.

He wanted to kiss her, but the Bubble-Head Charm made it impossible. He squeezed her hand and lifted it, resting it against the Charm near the side of his face. "We'll get through this together."

"Together – until the very end," she whispered.

Author's Note: Well, there you go. A few of you had some suspicions that there was something wrong with Ginny last chapter. Please take a moment to hit reply and share your thoughts. It helps to know what you're thinking of the story.

Much thanks and appreciation to my beta team, Sherylyn, Arnel and Sue for their time, comments and suggestions. They truly make this a better story.