Chapter Five: When You Live A Double Life

"Hey, Ginny," Colin said in the Gryffindor common room that night, "you missed supper."

"I know. I just wasn't hungry," Ginny lied. She'd sneak down to the kitchen later, but for now the fire mocked her, hurling insults with every crackle and flicker. She had to listen.

"I ran across something called the Convulsion Hex when I was doing my homework," he told her. "D'you think I should ask Hermione about them?"

"Maybe," she answered vaguely, staring at the fire, willing it to stop and breaking down before it at the same time.

"Are you okay? You've been in a trance all evening."

Ginny gave her head a little shake. "I'm fine. No, Colin, that sounds like it could be really useful. See if you can't find something on your own, though; Hermione's swamped with work right now."

"I'll try." Impulsively, Colin reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "I know you're worried about him, Ginny, but you don't have to be. When he needs help, he'll come for us, and thanks to all our extra training we'll be fully prepared."

Sweet Merlin, she really was the Widow Potter, dutifully waiting her lord's return. Colin had always been nice, but this year he was a bit less self-absorbed and catered to Ginny especially. He probably thought of her as his comrade-in-arms in pining for Harry.

Colin was fumbling in his bag. "I took this at our last meeting." He produced a photograph and handed it to Ginny. It was of herself, casting a spell with determination. Flames exploded at the far edge of the photo, barely visible, and her entire form became the same colour as her hair. Photo-Ginny pumped her fist in the air, turning to the viewer with a pantomime that quite clearly said, "Did you see that?"

"It's lovely, Colin," she breathed, watching herself cast the nonverbal Immolation Curse again, marveling at how well he had captured the light of the fire, fire that was once at her beck and call.

He refused her attempt to give the photo back to him. "It's your copy. You know, in case you ever forget how amazing you are," he teased gently.

If only he knew what she had done to his idol this past year…. She couldn't bear the conversation any longer. Ginny excused herself as rapidly as was polite and retired. Without the distraction of the fire, she tried to sort out her thoughts.

What she thought, much later in bed with her belly full of pilfered kitchen goods, was that she was stupid, bloody stupid. There was definitely no way to tell whether or not someone was under the Imperius, and if she told someone about Percy now, she would have to explain why it took her so long to bring him to anyone's attention. Her mum was already distraught – her letters to Ginny were becoming increasingly disjointed and desperate – what would a further shock do? Where were Harry and Ron, and why had they cut off contact with everyone?

She could tell Remus Lupin, she decided suddenly. He was used to dealing with outrageous things in a discreet manner, if his tales of his years in school were any indication. She would owl him tomorrow and arrange to meet him in person, Percy would get his, and she could finally wash her hands of Draco Malfoy.

After the surge of adrenaline accompanying her new plan, her mind started to soften around the edges and prepare for sleep. Free of Malfoy, finally! Now that she was away from his insufferable sphere of influence, her last visit made complete sense. He was so starved for attention and human contact that he would've listened to anyone without complaint. Then, when he'd had his fill of her and started feeling normal again, he reverted back to normal Malfoy behaviour. She felt so foolish now for feeling so hurt when he had turned on her in the interrogation room. It was quite obvious what had happened, that his concern and acceptance were false, but it had been so freeing to talk openly with him, if only for a short time. It was-

Her body went rigid then, all notions of sleep driven from her body.

It was like having Tom back.

Ginny had seen Luna giving her sympathetic looks over breakfast the next day, and the blonde girl ambled over to the Gryffindor table when she had finished eating her toast (as always, nibbling from the edge in a spiral fashion). "How were your dreams last night, Ginny?" she asked dreamily.

She nearly choked on her oatmeal. Luna could be eerily perceptive. "Not pleasant," she admitted. When sleep finally came to her, it brought disturbing imagery.

Luna eyed her solemnly. "Blartfasts," she declared. "Colin told me you seemed off last night, and from what he described, I knew it had to be them. I wish I'd had some of these on hand to save your sleep, but I just made them this morning. Here," she said, handing Ginny a tiny faded velvet pouch on a string, "this should keep them away."

Ginny moved to open the drawstring, decided it was better not to know what was inside, and put it in her pocket. "Thanks, Luna."

"You're welcome. Now that that's taken-"

"Ginny." Hermione was standing behind them in a state of total disarray. Her robes were unkempt and her hair a wild nest, a white trail of dried saliva still crusted to her face, but she was tense with energy. "I need to talk to you. Now."

Ginny turned back to Luna, who was pulling something out of her pocket. "Luna, I'll see you in class?"

"Take this, Hermione," Luna said, offering a second pouch. "It will stop the-"

"Thanks," Hermione muttered dismissively, shoving the pouch in her pocket without looking at it or Luna. "Bye." The older girl dragged Ginny out of the hall and into an alcove. After checking to be sure the coast was clear, she produced a parchment from her robes and thrust it at Ginny. "I got this this morning," she said without preamble.

Furtively, Ginny read the parchment. It was unsigned, but there was no question as to who had written it.

Hermione,

Meet us at the Astronomy tower at 1 a.m. on Tuesday. Bring Ginny.

Hope your essay on Cohesion Portkeys is going well.

"What's a Cohesion Portkey?" Ginny asked, her heart beginning to race.

"I'm about to find out," Hermione said grimly, tearing at a nicked biscuit. "Want to meet in the library in half an hour?"