Potter vs Malfoy: War's End

by Jedi Tess of Gryffindor

10 January: Chapter 10 edited and updated! Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy need near death experiences to finally reach a truce. That, and strongminded women. pre OotP, ships: Draco and Ginny, Harry and girl!Blaise, COMPLETE

15. War's End :Edge of Completion

A/N: I know – another looooong wait and I apologize. Adjusting to university life and all that. Now that I have MY OWN COMP I hope to do MORE WRITING MORE OFTEN!! So far, it's worked a treat. Anyway, thanks to my FAP buddies (you know who you are) for one of the funniest quotes in this chapter. You will probably recognize it. F&Iers, you rock my world! Also to my loffly beta, who has not had much to do lately (my fault) or many teasers to read (sorry!). You're amazing and thank you, XX! Also, BIG thanks to all my reviewers. You guys keep me typing up a storm. Your encouragement, hints, and suggestions have ALL BEEN READ and addressed. So thanks to you! You rock a writer's world – know that!

P.S. Next chapter SHOULD be the last. THIS ONE IS NOT!!! I know, I shouldn't say things before I'm sure. Oh, well. More for you. Next chapter is going to be HUGE AND RESOLVING! All questions answered there!

It occurs to me that I have seriously overused the CAPSLOCK key in this author's note (to F&Iers: Sorry, Harry! ). I apologize.

Disclaimer: We solemnly swear we are up to no good…(of course it's not ours!)

)PvsM(

Draco didn't sleep at all that night.

He lay awake, staring at the canopy above his four-poster, his eyes ceaselessly trailing the seams around the edges. Every time he closed his eyes the image of his son, accompanied by a play-by-play of his – well, his passing, repeated itself over and over against his closed eyelids. He didn't want to see it and most definitely didn't want to feel the pain. So he kept his eyes open, hoping that he would eventually drift off sleep without realizing it.

But then, of course, there was also the risk of nightmares.

Draco groaned and rolled over, staring dismally out of the window, which was enchanted to show the night sky, despite the fact that the dormitory was underground. It wasn't fair! It wasn't as if what he had seen was real. Dumbledore had said that they were within a bubble, removed from time. Nothing they did made any difference.

He also said that in the actual timeline Hayden's really – really –

Draco bit his lip, glaring ferociously at the full moon and blinking hard. Ridiculous! He hadn't cried since he was a small child. He wasn't about to start now. He forced himself to remember how much he hated Harry Potter. If it weren't for Potter, Draco wouldn't have given a dragon's arse about his son. He would probably be happily unaware of Red Robes. He would be two weeks into the future, happily employed in mad studying for N.E.W.T.s and excited plans for the week of Easter hols. All of Potter's do-gooding had led him into this.

He would have been mad to deny that the experience had changed him.

That was, perhaps, the most infuriating part of it. He supposed that he was still the same nasty bastard who had persistently followed Potter around that week, hoping to get him expelled. It wasn't he that he had changed, but how he felt. Everything felt different now. He felt about ten years older. He had met his son and been given a cursed peek into his own future. He had seen a time when he was truly loved, truly happy – he took a moment to scoff at the idea. He had seen himself happier than any of them – happier, probably, than Weasley and Granger would ever be – and certainly far happier than Potter.

He paused as the Gryffindor's name again drifted through his consciousness. Potter . . . how different did that name sound now. Draco couldn't work it out. Neither he nor Potter had changed at all in essentials – Potter was still a do-gooder, Draco was still clever – but their whole chemistry had been dramatically altered. When he had first seen Potter at the top of the steps earlier that morning, there had been no rush of hatred or any desperate urges involving Unforgivable Curses. Instead, there had been familiarity, as though he knew Potter better than the git knew himself.

Draco snorted. He had sworn to his older self that he and Potter could never possibly reach a truce. Nothing could change their animosity. He hadn't wanted anything to. And now, here he was, admitting (to himself at least) that seven years worth of loathing had been chipped away at and reduced to . . . acceptance.

It was degrading. He would never hear the end of it.

He rolled over, glaring at the headboard of his four-poster. Time to think of something else.

The bubble – everything that happened within it was like a dream. It wasn't really happening, or at least would never appear in any part of history. Did that mean that when he and the others were released, they would forget the events of the last sixteen hours? Or did it simply mean that they would be the only ones aware that they had, in some sense, relived the same week twice?

And when we continue to move forward in time, his brain said, seemingly unable to shut itself off, will we make changes based on what we've learned about the future? Or will we begin to forget everything we saw, since that exact future probably can't happen otherwise?

Oh, hell. Now he was wide awake and had a headache.

He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. Well, if this bubble thing really didn't exist in any sort of timeline, then conceivably it didn't matter what any of them did, so long as they destroyed the bubble and got to Red Robes. They had, in real-time, already lived this week. Those events were the ones everyone else would remember.

So it won't matter if I'm caught by Filch sneaking down to the kitchens, he thought was a crooked smile. Well, he couldn't sleep and he was desperately in need of a distraction. Tormenting house-elves seemed as good a way as any to take his mind off things.

He slid out of bed and winced slightly as the icy floor stung his bare feet. He didn't feel like poking around for shoes or slippers, so he danced his way across the floor until his skin adjusted to the chill. Pulling a jumper that hung on a hook by the door over his head, he left the dormitory and stole down the steps to the common room. It was never deserted, but no one would stop him leaving.

He smirked. They wouldn't dare.

Sure enough, several people were still sitting up, either playing cards, finishing homework, or relaxing by the dwindling fire.

Draco was not surprised to see Blaise's dark head resting against a short-backed pouf beside the dying embers. He briefly considered asking her to accompany him, but thought better of it. Their moody dispositions would probably impose on each other and anyway, Draco was trying to forget the events of the evening, not be reminded of them every time he saw his housemate. He moved quietly passed the chair and toward the dungeon door.

"Sneaking out to find a weasel?"

Bloody hell. He turned back and saw that she hadn't even opened her eyes.

"Hardly – I'm hungry," he said shortly. He noticed to his supreme aggravation that both Pansy Parkinson and Aislynn Giles had dropped their playing cards in astonishment at Blaise's flippant question.

"For what, exactly?" Blaise jibed, eyes still closed.

"Caviar," he told her. "Don't go shunting your sexual frustration onto the rest of us, Blaise."

"I'm not the one who's frustrated, am I?" she said, though he noticed that her voice was impish, rather than malicious. Interesting. "Only be careful, Draco. She looks more innocent even than Potter. You might be dealing with a virgin."

Pansy and Aislynn were hanging on every word. Not because this sort of talk was unusual in the Slytherin common room, but because it involved Draco's "love life", something which far too many of his female housemates seemed to be interested in these days.

"Technically no one's a virgin – life screws us all," he intoned lightly. "Anyway, don't look at me. You practically drowned Gryffindor's golden boy in saliva, didn't you?"

Pansy and Aislynn gasped. Blaise snorted.

"That's disgusting," she pointed out, finally opening her eyes and grinning up at him.

"That's what I've said several times now and you've ignored me completely," he returned. "Later, vixen."

"Night, Draco," she called after him as he pushed open the common room door. "Oh, and it wasn't her virginity I was warning you of. It was her chastity belt of brothers."

The last words met Draco's ears as the common room door slid shut and he couldn't help smirking at the opposite wall.

He had always been sure that he would like having Blaise as a friend. He would have to thank Potter for finally taking the girl off his hands.

He would have – to thank­ – no, no, no. They might not actively dislike each other anymore – and even that was a stretch – but there would be no thanking or apologizing of any kind. For the next twenty years, anyway.

)PvsM(

Blaise watched Draco leave with a small smile on her face. He was such a prat. Her grin widened. Weasley was welcome to him.

"Blaise, what the hell was that all about?" Pansy said. She and Aislynn threw themselves into the same armchair and stared expectantly at her.

"It's none of your business," Blaise said coolly, closing her eyes.

"Don't be thick!" Aislynn said. "Malfoy just blew you off for a Weasley."

"Ask me if I care," Blaise retorted, eyes still closed.

"But you were mad about him last night! And every night before that since, like, first year!" Pansy said, staring beadily at her. "What gives?"

"I said, it's none of your business," Blaise said, her patience thinning a bit.

"And I say, something's up," Pansy returned. "Next we'll hear that you're getting your thrills from Harry sodding Potter!"

Blaise froze. She tried to narrow her eyes in disgust, but it was too late. Aislynn's eyes widened.

"Say it isn't so, Blaise," she said, leaning forward and looking gleefully horrified. "Draco's gone after the little redhead and you're – "

"I knew it," Pansy said, her lip curling. "I knew it, Blaise. I saw you goggling at him during breakfast."

Blaise stared back and forth between their faces, both covered in accusing looks. Never mind that they weren't real and that in a week they would cease to exist. It had suddenly occurred to Blaise that, although they weren't real, there were replicas of Pansy and Aislynn in real life. As Draco had once said, Slytherins didn't have friends. They had close enemies. Well, Pansy and Aislynn were her close enemies and when real life came rolling back in, she was going to face this exact scenario again. And the reactions of her closest housemates were going to exactly the same . . .

"I'm going for a walk," she said abruptly, getting to her feet and walking as fast as grace would allow to the common room door.

"Blaise!" Aislynn called after her. Blaise ignored her pulled open the door. As she left, she heard Aislynn say, "My god, Pans, I think you were right," and Pansy's cold response of, "Of course I'm bloody right, you cow!"

Blaise was two corridors away before she slowed down and realized she hadn't a clue where she was going. She wasn't terribly concerned about being caught. She had superb night vision and excellent hearing. She would know if anyone was coming.

She came to a halt at the bottom of the steps leading up from the dungeons and stared straight ahead, feeling lost. She hadn't been able to sleep because she couldn't stop thinking about her daughter and now here she was at the foot of the steps that led directly into the entrance hall and more memories. She took a deep, shuddering breath as wild, disconnected images flitted through her mind. Tristan's eyes bright with tears – Tristan laughing with Harry – Tristan smiling that unguarded smile she only ever used with her brother . . .

Blaise took another shuddering breath and felt it catch in her throat. At no time during their journey had she realized just how deeply she had come to care for her daughter. And now . . .

Blaise dashed angrily at her eyes, suddenly fearful of the barrage of emotions building up inside her. She had never felt this way before about anyone. But then, she had never had a daughter before, either. She shivered and, from actual weakness, sank down onto the bottom step of the stairs and leaned back against the icy stone wall. She shivered again. She was only wearing a tee shirt and shorts and a pair of lined suede boots, but she hardly cared. Closing her eyes, she allowed the tears to trickle down her cheeks as she gave in to the wash of images of Tristan.

"Blaise?"

She nearly jumped out her skin. Eyes snapping open, she got quickly to her feet, yanking her wand out of her pocket and staring wildly around.

"Whoa, there!"

Harry's head suddenly appeared in thin air a few steps above her, his eyes behind his glasses wide.

"Dammit, Potter!" Blaise snarled, lowering her wand and quickly averting her face so he wouldn't see the tears glittering on her cheeks.

"Sorry!" he said hastily. Blaise saw him remove the Invisibility Cloak completely. "I – I was just –"

Blaise quickly scrubbed at her cheeks before glancing back at him. He was squinting at her, his night vision not equal to hers, and he looked nervous.

"What're you doing down here, Potter?" she murmured, staring up at him.

"Well –" he said slowly, scratching the back of his neck. He glanced at her, looked down, and then sighed. "Hell, I was going to wait until someone came out of your common room, sneak in, convince Malfoy to convince Parkinson to get you from the girls' dorms, and talk to you."

"Er – oh," Blaise said intelligently. A moment later, "That seems unnecessarily complicated."

"I prefer elaborate," he said sheepishly, and his expression, so earnest yet so uncomfortable, suddenly made her chest ache.

"Oh, Harry," she sighed, reaching out to touch his cheek. He caught her hand and brought it gently to his lips, kissed her palm. She felt her stomach twinge. It was amazing how good he made her feel. He was watching her now, her hand still at his lips. She gave him a crooked smile. "I'm glad you're here," she admitted at length.

His irresistible smile slid slowly into place and he used his grip on her hand to tug her gently into his arms. He bent his head to rest his forehead against hers.

"I came because it still hurts," he told her in a rush. She was about to ask him what he meant, but she knew.

"I know – I can't stop thinking about it," she confessed, feeling both relieved and disgusted that she had spoken the words aloud. She felt Harry draw a deep breath, his chest rising quickly against hers, before his lips brush her forehead, her chin, her nose, her cheeks. On her right cheek they lingered.

"You've been crying," he said simply, his arms tightening around her.

"I haven't," she retorted, snuggling closer. "Someone used a fire extinguishing charm on me."

"Uh-huh," Harry said, sounding faintly amused. His voice deepened, sobered. "I cried, too, you know."

"Did you?" she said softly, stroking his back with her forefinger.

"I love them, Blaise," he said quietly, his voice rather thick. "Cedric and Tristan. God, I love them so – much." He buried his face in her hair.

Blaise held him, feeling shocked and helpless and utterly touched that he was trusting her with his weakness. No one had ever done that before. And here he was, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, tearing up over their children in her arms. It was the proudest, most moving moment in Blaise's short life. She continued to rub his back, to stroke his thick hair, to murmur nothings in his ear as he shook quietly against her. He wasn't sobbing, but she could feel his tears against the base of her neck and could feel him trembling as he sucked in air.

"Why?" he whispered shakily against her shoulder. "Why did it have to happen? After everything we did, all the rules we broke to save them . . ."

"I don't know," Blaise said quietly. "I just don't."

Suddenly, it was she who was tearing up again as the images of her children danced across her mind. She felt Harry's trembling melt into her own as she finally let go and cried.

She didn't know how long they stood there in the hall, arms wrapped tightly about each other and eyes streaming silent pain that met in between them, coalesced, and vanished into release. She wasn't sure who stopped crying first. She wasn't sure who was the first to pull back or who initiated the intense, almost painful kiss. But suddenly, her back was against the wall and she was kissing Harry with all the intensity of her anger, her pain, and her need for him. His kiss was equally urgent, his hands slipping her on shirt and brushing the goose bumps on her back. Blaise gasped against his mouth and tried to pull him closer. She managed to hoist herself up and wrap her legs round his waist.

"Blaise," he moaned against her mouth before plunging back in again, his tongue dancing against her lips. Her mouth opened wide and warmth poured in, sweet and wet and absolutely Harry. Blaise's hands, formerly laced through his hair, moved to his face, cupping it and pulling him as close as he could come. She couldn't remember when she pushed his glasses roughly off his face and certainly had no idea where they disappeared to moments later. Her mind and body were wrapped firmly around Harry – she could feel his heart slamming against his ribs, his labored breath as his chest heaved against hers, his muscles tensing and relaxing under her legs.

Suddenly he turned so that Blaise was to longer against the wall and fell back against it himself, still holding and kissing her as they slid together to the cold stone floor. Blaise straddled his lap and pushed herself against him, releasing his mouth and trailing her lips down his chin and jaw and down his throat. His breath caught as her lips and tongue curled around his Adam's apple, massaging it gently and occasionally nipping it with her teeth.

"Blaise," he choked out again, his hands slipping further up her spine and causing her to shiver.

"Hush," she breathed against his neck, her own hands finding the seam of his jumper and pushing it gently upward, feeling the muscles in his stomach twitch and contract as her hands made their way up to his chest. It wasn't enough, her brain said smartly. More. Her hands found the edge of the loose garment and pulled it hastily over his head, barely allowing her lips to leave his exposed throat.

Oh, my god, a tiny voice in the very back of her mind said. What am I doing?

The voice was abruptly drowned out as Harry dipped his head and managed to capture her mouth with his. His teeth toyed with a corner of her lip before he slid his tongue deep inside her mouth again.

"Harry." It was, after all, her turn to be moaning.

"Say it again," he commanded, his lips a hairbreadth from hers and his tongue tickling her lips as he spoke.

"No," she teased, her mouth trailing a path to her ear.

"Please," he begged hoarsely, his hands dropping from her back to caress her thighs. "Please, Blaise."

"Harry," she breathed gently into his ear, her eyelids fluttering as his hands danced a path along her legs. She took his earlobe in her teeth and tugged gently. He gasped and she did it again.

"We – shouldn't – be – doing – mmmm –" Harry murmured, arching into her touch.

"I know," she whispered, returning her mouth to his and trying to slow down a bit. His words had jogged her a bit and the world seemed to be coming back into existence around her. She recollected that they were sitting at the foot of the steps to the entrance hall, lip-locked and moaning each other's names. It probably wouldn't go over too well if Snape or Filch came down, and while Blaise had excellent hearing, she very much doubted that she would be paying enough attention to notice anything if anyone did come down. Furthermore, she had no desire to fulfill her destiny and be impregnated by Harry Potter on the icy dungeon floor. Not only was she not supposed to become pregnant with Cedric for another six months, but she had really had something a lot more romantic in mind.

As these thoughts drove home, her mouth against his slowed and her hands stilled. She felt his hands slide to a halt against her thighs and his lips instantly become gentler. They needed to slow down.

Reluctantly, Blaise pulled her lips from his and leaned forward to rest her cheek against his. They were silent for a long moment, except for their heavy breathing, listening to the stillness of the castle.

"I – I should probably head back up to Gryffindor," Harry said at length, leaning his head back against the wall to look at her. His eyes weren't quite focused without his glasses, but they were so bright and intensely green that for a long moment, Blaise was lost in them. They were softened, almost dazed, but the sharpening mind behind them focused them a bit. The instant that Harry felt the pain return, Blaise could see it in those expressive eyes. They darkened a bit and he bit his lip.

She took his face in her hands and brushed her lips against his, hating that she wasn't sure how to make the pain go away and hating that she wasn't sure if she should. After all, it was right that they were hurting over this – over their child.

His hands slowly lifted to rest over hers. He didn't deepen the kiss, just held her mouth to his. It was still and it was peaceful and Blaise felt the safety of his touch settle into her mind. Vaguely, she wondered how, even being fairly sure that she had left her family in the future to protect them, she had managed to pull herself away from this – away from the complete security Harry gave her.

Their lips parted at last and Harry looked up at her again.

"I can't stand the thought of you leaving," he said bluntly, his almost-innocent voice petulant with both worry and honesty.

"I'm not going anywhere," she insisted.

"I know," he mumbled, burying his face in her hair once more.

Another long moment passed.

"You're shivering," Harry said, pulling back from her just a little a resting his hands on her arms. Blaise hadn't noticed the chill, but now that he mentioned it, the corridor was rather cold. Her arms were covered in gooseflesh.

"Here," Harry said quickly, reaching fumblingly for his discarded jumper and tugging it gently over her head.

"What about you?" she demanded. "You've got no shirt now."

"Complaining?" he said with an impish smile.

"Not really," she said, the confounded blush creep into her cheeks again. She felt extremely grateful for the darkness. She trailed her fingers across his chest and stomach.

"Blaise –" he said roughly, quickly reaching out and pulling her hands down.

"Sorry," she said ruefully, lacing her fingers through his and settling their hands atop her legs.

" 's okay," he said simply. "It's just that I don't fancy Snape coming down and finding you flat on your back."

Blaise grinned broadly.

"As if!" she said stoutly. "Who says you'd get to be on top?"

"Stop!" he pleaded, closing his eyes tightly. "Blaise – you're –"

"I know," she said almost gleefully. "Perhaps you're not such a naïve little Gryffindor after all, Potter."

He pinched her sides and she squealed, sliding backwards out of his lap.

"Thanks," he said cheekily, working his way somewhat unsteadily to his feet. He offered her a hand up, which she gratefully accepted and used to pull him to her one last time.

"Sure you won't be cold?"

"I've got the cloak, remember," he said. "Any idea where my glasses got to?"

"I think I threw them in that general direction." She pointed, knowing full well he couldn't really see her. She grinned and pulled her wand from her pocket. "Accio glasses!"

They landed neatly in her outstretched hand. After checking for scratched or broken lenses, she settled them gently back onto his nose.

"You sexy nerd, you," she mock-simpered, kissing the bridge of his nose.

"What can I say? It's a talent," he drawled in a remarkable impersonation of Draco.

They held each other for a bit longer.

"I really should go," Harry said at last, with a sigh. Slowly, with a flattering show of reluctance, he pulled away from her and picked up the Invisibility Cloak.

"The jumper . . . ?" Blaise said.

"Keep it," he said. "I've got loads of them, trust me. Ron's mum makes one for me every Christmas."

"Nice of her," she murmured. She wasn't about to admit that the thing had, in the space of five minutes, become her favorite piece of clothing. Shame she probably wouldn't be able to remove it from the bubble when they had to leave.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "See you tomorrow?"

His voice was distinctly hopeful.

"I think I can pencil you into my busy schedule," she said with a smirk as he swung the cloak around his shoulders and all but his head vanished. She reached out to smooth his unruly hair.

"Nice of you," was all he said. As her fingers trailed near his mouth, he kissed them gently, before tugging the hood of the cloak over his head and vanishing back up the steps the way he had come.

Blaise stood staring up the steps long after he had gone.

)PvsM(

Ginny sat curled in a chair in the far corner of the kitchens, nursing a mug of hot chocolate and feeling horrid. The tears had come and gone several times, but the worry, hurt, and anger remained, sharp and oddly reassuring in her chest. Rather than suppress the tangle of emotions, she had escaped to the kitchens to eat and drink chocolate and reminisce about the insanity that had been the last two weeks.

She thought about Hayden. She thought with a smile about his seemingly endless fights with Tristy. She thought was a sigh about his appearance – nearly a spitting image of Draco. She thought with bitterness of the unnecessary sacrifice of his life. She thought with a sudden sob of pure, motherly longing about his smile.

The smile was what hurt the most, she decided distantly, gulping down the hot chocolate and ignoring the tears dribbling off the end of her chin. It was such a slow thing – his one insecurity, just like his father's. Smirks and sneers, even tiny grins came and went with regularity, but the genuine smile – that was a rarity indeed. She remembered seeing it during their first game of Quidditch at Red's Park. She remembered catching a glimpse of it as it was directed with artless amusement at Tristy's retreating back.

Her breath caught as she remembered seeing him hug his mother – Ginevra Malfoy – goodnight several days before their departure. Ginny remembered with a pang his expression as he gazed with ingenuous fondness at Mrs. Malfoy's smiling face and shamelessly told her that he loved her.

Ginny. Mrs. Malfoy. Two phrases that seemed to contrast, rather than connect the girl she was and the woman she would be. How had it happened? Sure, she no longer saw Draco simply as a two-faced, bullying little Slytherin, but she also knew that he wasn't exactly husband or father material. In fact, if the timeline played out according to sketch, he was going to be rather a flop at being both husband and father until . . . until . . .

Ginny set her mug quickly down as a sob choked her. It wasn't bad enough that in the timeline they had already lost a daughter – Ginny realized that she hadn't thought of Clarissa since they had left Red's Park, what with the more pressing weight of trolls and dragons on her shoulders. But now, with Hayden's death fresh in her mind, the passing of her little daughter rose quickly in Ginny's mind.

" . . . you got better after a few months. The baby, Clarissa, died on her first birthday."

Cedric's words, still surprisingly sharp in her memory. She buried her face in her arms.

"Weasley?"

Ginny wasn't sure she had actually heard her name until it was repeated a second later.

"Weasley?" the voice said again. "What the hell is going on?"

Ginny lifted her head and stared bleakly at Draco, who was almost glaring at her from the entrance to the kitchens and was completely ignoring the sea of house-elves bobbing eagerly around his middle, clambering to get him something to eat.

"Draco," she said faintly, swiping a few of the tears from her eyes. "What're you doing here?"

"Hungry," he muttered, still glaring at her. "What're you crying for?"

"What am I crying for?" she said incredulously, failing to stifle a hiccup. "How can you ask that?"

A fresh wave of despair crept over her and she bit her lip furiously. She turned away, staring at the opposite wall.

"He's gone," Draco said flatly. "Crying about it isn't going to bring him back."

Ginny turned and actually gaped at him. She couldn't believe him – she really couldn't.

"How can you be such a horrible, insensitive git, Malfoy?" she snapped. She was suddenly on her feet and not sure how she got there. "Just because it's not going to bring him back doesn't mean I don't have a good reason for crying!"

He actually flinched. Ginny stared harder at his vacant expression, noticing as she did that it wasn't so vacant after all. His lips were pressed into a thin, determined line and his eyes were clouds of grey, as though a thousand emotions were churning within them. His posture was rigid and his hands fisted at his sides. He was obviously upset and doing a poor job of concealing it.

"You've got the emotional maturity of a five-year-old," was all she could think to say, reseating herself and turning away.

"If you want someone to blubber to, I'm sure Potter would be only too happy cuddle with you," he retorted. "Someone fetch me an éclair!"

Ginny could hear a mad stampede as the house-elves rushed to do his bidding.

"Don't you start in on Harry because he actually has a heart!" she bit out, picking up the mug of chocolate and taking a long pull.

"Oh, I'm so sorry I'm not as intuitive as the great, magnificent –"

"Shut up!" Ginny snarled, almost upending her chair as she whirled to face him again. The rush of tears was momentarily stilled by her anger at Draco. Why was he being such a wretched bastard all of a sudden? "For Merlin's sake, Malfoy! I'm just sitting here minding my own business –"

"Making it everyone else's business by shrieking like a banshee!" he snapped back, eyes narrowing.

"Shrieking like – you horrid wanker, my son just died!" she shouted, not caring who heard her and bursting into tears. "I came down here to have some peace and quiet so that I could mourn for him – and for us – in peace! And you come down and start insulting me and acting like it doesn't matter –" she broke off, trying to hitch in breath and blot away the storm of tears. "Well, I've got news for you, Draco Malfoy! It does matter. I know you care – I saw you looking at him tonight. And you know what, it's going to hurt like this when it happens again, so you might as well admit that you're hurting as much as the rest of us –"

"Happens again?" he repeated, cutting off her tirade and not looking entirely in control anymore. "What're you talking about?"

"What do you mean, what am I talking about?" Ginny cried, unable to bear the frustration. "Oh, sure, she doesn't die until later on – maybe you're hoping that by then you'll have discovered that you have a heart, just like the rest of us –"

"She?" Draco cut her off again. His voice was no longer angry, but guarded. "Ginny – who dies?"

Ginny stared at him, dumbstruck and momentarily at a loss. Could he not have known? In the whole two weeks that they had lived in that part of the timeline, could he not have heard about Clarissa?

"No one told you," she breathed, staring at him. She remembered that when she and Cedric had gone into the den her first night at Red's Park to talk, Draco had been being told off by his older self. Had the elder Mr. Malfoy not saw fit to tell him what had turned him around?

"Told me what, Gin?" he asked impatiently.

She just stared at him, her lip quivering, unable to speak. How could she possibly repeat it to him?

Suddenly he was across the room, his hands gripping her shoulders painfully.

"Tell me," he hissed dangerously, his eyes furious and frightened.

She sucked in a breath and opened her mouth.

"Daughter," she whispered, almost inaudibly.

"What?" he breathed, releasing her and stepping quickly backward as though burnt.

"Our daughter!" she shrieked, stamping her foot and feeling the tears starting again. "First our son and then our daughter, Draco! That is what the future is going to be for us. Nothing but death and pain!"

She realized vaguely that she was sobbing again, but it felt so natural by now that she ignored it. It was a few moments later that she realized that she hadn't heard a peep from Draco. She looked at him through her tears.

He was standing perfectly still, his shoulders slumped slightly and eyes lost. He looked so suddenly bereft, so utterly vulnerable. His jaw hung slack as he stared at her, as though hoping against hope that he had misheard. Mutely, she shook her head. His mouth closed and he blinked, shaking his head as though trying to regain the stability that he had suddenly lost. Ginny glanced down and saw his hands fist, his knuckles going white.

For one of a handful of times in her life, she had no idea what to say. How could she comfort him when in her heart she felt that they should be hurting? Anyway, what could she possibly do to remove the pain of losing someone beloved?

She blinked. He really did love Hayden, she realized suddenly. Perhaps he didn't know it, or wouldn't accept it, but had he truly been so indifferent his reactions would have been far less varied and abrupt. His anger shortly after Red Robes departure, his red eyes as they climbed the spiral staircase to Dumbledore's office, and his helpless expression now were not the displays of an unfeeling man.

Ginny reached out instinctively for one of his hands, taking it in hers and massaging his fingers gently open. He put up no resistance, and Ginny could feel him shaking. She rubbed her hand as soothingly as she could over his palm and knuckles. She didn't know why she was doing it, but the simple, physical contact was easing the tightness in her chest and, surprisingly, slowing her breathing.

Ginny hadn't any idea how long they stood there, silent, in the middle of the kitchens with their intertwined hands hanging between them. Days afterward, she wouldn't be able to recall what she had been thinking of or even if she had begun to cry again. What she would remember was the warmth of Draco's hand, warmth that seemed to draw the coziness of the kitchen fire into the small space surrounding Draco and Ginny, creating a space of comfort and empathy in which Ginny basked, even as the dull throb in her chest eased.

At last, Draco gave her hand a squeeze and released it, stepping back and putting a respectable distance between them, taking the warmth of the contact and the room with him.

"Well," he said, not looking at her. "I reckon I should be off to bed."

"What, without your éclair?" Ginny said with a faint smile, indicating the pastry that sat on the table beside her and wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"Nah – sugar's not good for your skin," Draco said, his smirk very faint. "I could get all spotty, like Moaning Myrtle."

Ginny felt an unwilling chuckle escape her.

"You know Myrtle?" she asked curiously. "How? Or have you been hanging round the girls' toilets on the second floor?"

"Put it this way," he said, the smirk sliding into a crooked grin. "She knows the plumbing around Hogwarts pretty well and the, um, prefect's bathroom is a favorite haunt of hers. No pun intended."

Ginny snorted. She had heard Harry tell Ron about his trek to the prefect's bathroom to discover the second clue in the Triwizard Tournament three years ago. She had also heard that a ghost had ambushed him. She oughtn't to have been surprised that it had probably been Myrtle.

Her smile faded, as did Draco's.

"Well," he said again, in an uncharacteristically constrained voice. "See you tomorrow."

He turned to leave.

"Draco!" she called.

He paused, but didn't turn.

"I love him, too," she said quietly.

His spine stiffened and for a moment the kitchens were silent. Abruptly, he turned and strode back to her. He took her face in his hands, staring searchingly into her eyes, before planting a gentle kiss on the top of her head. Leaning his forehead against hers for the briefest moment, he whispered, "You're too good for me, Gin," before turning quickly away and almost running from the kitchens.

Ginny sat down, hard, on a nearby stool and didn't move for a long time.

)PvsM(

When Draco awoke the following morning, it was to discover that his eyes were red, his pillow was wet, and his hair was in a deplorable state. He could only hope the spot on his pillow had been tears, rather than drool.

"You've certainly looked better, dear," the mirror in his bathroom said, in what it probably meant to be an encouraging voice.

"You're a help," he snapped, wrenching open the cabinet by the sink and digging out ever hair-care potion in his possession, which was to say that by the time he was done the entire countertop was covered. He stared down at them all, not entirely sure where to begin and wondering how much fixing his hair was really going to improve his appearance. He was a wreck, after all.

With this cheerful thought in mind, Draco stomped out of the bathroom and threw himself onto his bed, glaring at the ceiling. Not only was he a mess, he couldn't work up the enthusiasm to do anything about it. Vanity just seemed sort of lame, all of a sudden. He winced as his brain chose that moment to unfog a bit and he remembered the previous night. His gut clenched and he squeezed his eyes shut against the image of his son lying lifeless in Dumbledore's office.

Suddenly a new reverie slid firmly into his mind's eye. Ginny, were eyes streaming, stroking his hand.

"You're too good for me, Gin." His own words, and how true they were, he thought bitterly. Ironic – he had just accepted the fact that he didn't deserve a Weasley. He grinned a little, a bittersweet smile. What would his father say to that?

Considering what his father might say to that put Draco in a surprisingly good mood. He was unclear why, but he had had such a shortage of good moods lately that he would take what he could get. Idly toying with images of his father throwing bits of antique china, blasting holes in the walls, and even suffering sudden heart failure, Draco wandered back into the bathroom to see what might be done about his appearance.

Not much was the conclusion he came to several minutes later. Well, never mind. The only people who would remember him like this were Blaise (who could be counted on to keep it an 'inside joke'), Ginny (who was too good a person in general to cause him additional embarrassment), and Potter (on whom he had too much blackmail for there to be much risk of his exposing Draco to ridicule and who, like Ginny, was probably too bloody noble to take advantage of someone else's weakness).

So it transpired that when he appeared in the Great Hall a half-hour later, he had not styled his hair (although he had put his comb to quick use), not changed out of his pajamas, and was not wearing robes. It had actually been rather exhilarating, this not bothering to look immaculate. He had used a simple swelling-reducing charm to return his eyes to their usual, not-red-and-puffy state and pulled on a blue jumper over his pajama top.

Everyone stared at him as he entered the Great Hall. Silence fell.

"Shove it," he advised them all in a bored tone. Spotting Blaise, he strolled over and seated himself beside her.

"You do like to put on a show, don't you?" she said, as he sat down. He noticed that she was dressed in a forest green jumper with a large blue "H" on the front. He had seen this hideous garment before . . . except that it belonged at the Gryffindor table beside Weasley's horrid maroon get-up.

"You, too," he said pointedly, pulling a pot of coffee toward him and pouring a goblet-full. "That is a disgusting jumper, by the way."

"I know," she returned, shrugging. "Not as if it matters, though. This world isn't real. No one will ever know. I mean, I could do a strip-tease right here and only three people would ever remember it happening."

"Ah, but you wouldn't want to traumatize the little Weaslette, would you?" Draco asked, his lip twitching.

"No," Blaise said decidedly, as though giving the matter serious thought. "She's all right, actually. Besides, I'd be worried about Potter jumping me and I wouldn't want to be responsible for anyone getting injured as a result."

Draco snorted.

"What are you going on about, Blaise?" Pansy demanded, staring beadily at her. "It's about Potter, isn't it?"

Blaise ignored her, buttered some toast, and glanced toward the Gryffindor table. Draco followed her gaze over his goblet of coffee. Potter and Ginny were sitting together and staring back at them. They both looked exasperated and unwillingly amused. Potter gave Blaise's jumper a pointed look and rolled his eyes skyward. He said something to Ginny and she snorted loudly enough to be heard across the hall. Draco smirked at her and blew her a kiss.

"Stop it," Blaise muttered. He could hear her smile.

"Why?" he asked.

"You're being a prat."

"I'm enjoying life."

Blaise snorted.

"That's a first."

They ate in silence after that, their housemates giving them wary looks throughout breakfast. Draco noticed Snape enter the Great Hall through the door behind the teachers' table, take one look at him, and attempt to come charging over. He was intercepted by Dumbledore, who spoke quietly to him and shook his head. Snape slowly sat down, his eyes flickering dangerously from Draco's pajamas to Blaise's hideous, clearly Gryffindor, jumper. His expression clearly stated that they were a disgrace to their House and Purebloods everywhere and they could feel free to feed themselves to the giant squid.

They both promptly ignored this, enjoying their power gleefully, as only true Slytherins could. They knew they could do anything they wanted for the next several days, anything at all, and neither Snape nor Filch nor the irascible McGonagall could do anything about it.

Draco's eyes raked over the inhabitants of the hall, and came to rest on Ginny again. She and Potter were no longer looking at him. They were both looking a bit depressed, putting random bits of food into theirs mouths and staring blankly in opposite directions.

"We should do something fun," Draco said abruptly to Blaise.

"'Do something fun'?" Blaise repeated carefully, looking at him worriedly. "Did the word 'fun' just escape the lips of Draco Malfoy? Be still, my heart!"

"Oh, stuff it," Draco advised. "I know how to have fun."

"Your idea of fun usually involves the suffering of others," Blaise pointed out, snagging his coffee cup and taking a sip. She winced. "Black – that's utterly vile."

"It isn't – you just have the elegant taste of a Muggle," Draco shot back, retrieving the cup and selfishly clutching it to his chest.

"Anyway, back to your 'fun' idea . . ." Blaise said, her lip twitching.

"Well, Potter and Gin are going to spend the day sulking around and we've all already lived through this week, so why not knock off school and go to Hogsmeade or something?" he suggested. "Who'd be able to stop us?"

"Dumbledore," Blaise said bluntly.

"Nah," Draco said. "He knows this world is fake. He said to rest and recuperate, remember? So let's!"

Blaise gave him a look that told him she thought he was completely out of lunch.

"You're mental," she confirmed a moment later. Then she smiled. It was possibly the second time Draco had ever seen a genuine smile on her face. "Let's go."

)PvsM(

"What do you suppose Malfoy is up to?" Harry asked Ginny in an undertone.

"What d'you mean?" Ginny asked dully, toying with her hash browns.

"Gin, look at him!" Harry said, gesturing at the blonde. Malfoy was saying something to Blaise, something that was making her eyebrows disappear into her hairline. They watched as Blaise said something back, before a wide grin spread across her pretty face. Even though that grin was not directed at him, Harry felt a familiar lurch in his stomach. A moment later, the two Slytherins got to their feet.

Harry and Ginny exchanged raised eyebrows when they found themselves accosted a moment later.

"Come on, Potter, we're going," Blaise said, hauling him to his feet.

"Going?" Ginny said blankly, as she, too, was removed from her chair by Malfoy. They were all momentarily distracted by Snape diving over the top of the teacher's table and Sinistra and Dumbledore attempting to restrain him.

"Oy! Lay off my sister!" Ron snarled, jumping to his feet as well and calling Harry's attention back to the Gryffindor table. He paused when he noticed Blaise's attire. "Where did you get that?"

"It's on loan," Harry jumped in before Blaise or Malfoy could say anything derogatory.

"On loan – Harry, she's wearing your jumper!" Ron said, gaping at him as though he had a tea cozy on his head.

"Oh, shove off, Ron – it's not like he doesn't have ten thousand of them," Ginny said dismissively. "Where're we going, Draco?"

"Draco?" Ron demanded, turning his glare on her. "Draco? What are you going on about?"

Ginny ignored him, her eyes steadily trained on the blonde.

"Out," he said simply. "Come along, Ginevra."

"See you," Harry called helplessly to Ron and Hermione as Blaise pulled him after Ginny and Malfoy.

"Draco, we've got class in twenty minutes," Ginny pointed out when they had gained the entrance hall.

"No, we don't," he said blithely, turning to face the Gryffindors. "We have a date with Hogsmeade."

"Do we?" said Harry, eyeing him suspiciously. "And how do you figure that?"

"Oh, wake up, Potter," Malfoy said, sounding annoyed. "This isn't the real world. Nothing we do here matters. Dumbledore said relax. We've technically already done these lessons. I happen to remember having a really bad week. Let's ditch class and enjoy ourselves. I know I've not done enough of that lately." He glanced at Harry again, saw his hesitant expression, and rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Potter, how much snogging are you and Blaise going to be able to do if you're stuck in this god-forsaken school for the next three days?"

Harry felt his face grow warm, but restrained himself from turning to look at Blaise and followed Malfoy silently toward the front door.

"Wait – if you get to wear your pajamas, I want to as well," Ginny said petulantly.

"Sure you want to entice Draco even more, Weasley?" Blaise asked with a twitch of her lip.

"I'm not 'enticing' anyone, Zabini!" Ginny said hotly, her cheeks flushing. "But I'll feel stupid going to Hogsmeade dressed like this when you two look so casual."

"Me, too," Harry said, realizing that he, too, would look foolish dressed in his uniform.

Twenty minutes later, Ginny and Harry returned in various states of dressed-down, and marching down the front path of the school toward the rot iron gates.

"Actually, they could have got loads of snogging done, anyway," Ginny pointed out to Malfoy. "Have you any idea how many broom closets Hogwarts has? There are at least twelve on the seventh floor alone."

"You seem awfully knowledgeable about forbidden snogging, little weasel," Malfoy said, sounding faintly amused.

"Don't call me weasel! And I am quite knowledgeable about snogging, thank you," Ginny said primly, skipping along beside him. Harry bit his lip to keep from smiling.

"Willing to prove it?" Malfoy asked, though his voice was mischievous, rather than malicious, which Harry thought made for a nice change.

"Maybe." Ginny quickly looked at the ground and a momentary silence fell. It wasn't uncomfortable, though. Harry felt good, strolling down the road toward Hogsmeade on that surprisingly clear, crisp, pre-spring day. Though they were a bizarre band, Harry felt good about being with Blaise and Ginny and Malfoy. He supposed that they might be considered friends now, particularly after the events of last night. Harry bit his lip. The ache of seeing his daughter dead for the second time was still sharp. What an unnecessary waste! He wondered that Dumbledore still insisted that it was necessary. How could any death be necessary?

Well, except Lord Voldemort's. But there was a big difference between the death of someone who was causing hundreds of deaths and an innocent little girl. Harry swallowed. He just didn't believe it. Their original purpose in going forward in time had been to save Hayden and Tristy and they had failed.

Twice.

"What're you thinking about?" Blaise asked quietly from his side. She twined her fingers through his as they strolled along. Harry swallowed back the pain and tried not to think about it. Dwelling on Tristy couldn't save her, he knew. There would be time enough to mourn. For now, he needed to relax and get ready to stop Red Robes for good.

"Just trying to remember what I would be doing in real-time right now," he lied to Blaise with a faint smile. Well, it wasn't quite a lie.

"Going to Transfiguration – ugh!" Ginny said.

"Creating new and clever ways of harassing the Dream Team," Draco said innocently, "whilst leading a merry band of Slytherins to Care of Magical Creatures."

"I would be right behind you, wishing you would be eaten by a screwt," Harry said, his grin widening.

"I suppose I would have been part of the 'merry band of Slytherins,'" Blaise said, reaching out with her foot to give Draco's leg a kick. "That's how people see us Slytherins, you know. It's not, 'Oh, no, here come Malfoy and Zabini and Crabbe and Goyle and Parkinson.' It's, 'Oh, no, here comes Draco Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins.'"

"I knew your name," Harry told her.

"But you wouldn't have come anywhere near me before this whole mess began," she pointed out.

"My loss." He leaned over and kissed her cheek, which was surprisingly warm, considering how brisk the air was.

"Potter, you sicken me," Malfoy said flatly.

"You're just jealous because you're not as smooth as I am," Harry said smugly.

"Oh, yeah – so smooth," Malfoy said sarcastically. "How did you put it? 'Hey, Cho, wanna-go-ball-with-me?'"

"What – you heard that?" Harry said, feeling his face flush.

"Sure." The blonde shrugged. "I was actually going to ask her, but then I overheard her telling you that she was going with Diggory, so I went with Pansy instead."

"Pansy would be furious if she knew she'd been a second choice!" Blaise said gleefully.

"Don't go ticking her off, Blaise," Draco said sharply. "We'll never hear the end of it."

"Oh, but as you so kindly reminded us, this world isn't real," Blaise said, with an innocent little smile. "Really, you'd only have to put up with the whining for another four days."

"I'll kill you, Blaise," Draco stated flatly, glaring over his shoulder at her.

"Oooh, I'm shaking in my little boots," Blaise said sarcastically, indicating her knee-high, suede, Eskimo-style footwear.

The rest of the walk to Hogsmeade was pleasant. The sun was sitting cheerfully high in the sky by the time they reached the high street.

"We've got free run of the place," Draco pointed out. "Where should we go?"

"How about Madam Puddifoot's?" Ginny asked innocently.

Harry felt himself go red again and glared at her.

"What is this, Mock Harry Potter Day?" he muttered.

"What?" Blaise asked, staring back and forth between them.

"Nothing!" he said, trying to give Ginny and threatening frown.

Ginny giggled.

"Just another inside joke about Harry's dating escapades," she said.

"Let's not relive them, please – my former arch-nemesis is standing two feet away."

"Oh, but it's fascinating, really," Malfoy gushed. "Tell all, Gin!"

Ginny regarded the injured look on Harry's face for a long moment.

"Nah," she said at length. "There's a chance that you'd remember when we get out of this bubble thing, Draco, and I don't want you to mock him for the rest of his life because he has no tact when it comes to women."

Harry said, "Hey!" at the same time that Malfoy said pointedly, "Girls, you mean." Both comments were followed by exclamations of "ow!" from both boys as they were struck by Blaise and Ginny, respectively.

"What did I do?" Harry muttered balefully, rubbing his arm.

At length, they chose the Three Broomsticks and spent several hours drinking butterbeer, eating as many chips as Rosmerta would bring them, and discussing the last few weeks at length. Unfortunately, they were no closer to knowing who Red Robes might be, what his motives were, or how Blaise tied into the whole thing. They stayed well away from the subject of their children, when it was possible, and no one would bring up the events of the previous evening.

"I say we drop it," Malfoy said, when they had all decided they had had enough butterbeer and left the pub. "We don't have anything to go off that we didn't have yesterday. We'll just have to hope we can capture him when we get out of this bubble."

"I hate it when you're right," Blaise muttered, following him out into the windswept street.

"It happens so rarely, though – took me quite by surprise," Ginny asked, grinning mischievously at the blonde.

Malfoy glared at her.

"You are a twit," he announced, after a moment's heavy thought.

"Smooth, Malfoy," Harry chortled, gripping Blaise's hand. "Very smooth."

They made their rounds ofHoneyduke's and Zonko's. Ginny also insisted they go have a peep at the Shrieking Shack, although Harry's own knowledge of it meant that he was less than impressed by the creaks and groans and its ominous appearance.

At length, Malfoy began to whine about being tired – it grew more high-pitched when Ginny called him a "poor little dear" – so they decided to return to the castle.

"What will everyone say when we come back?" Blaise wondered as they made their leisurely way back up High Street. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Half six – dinner's going to be starting any minute," Harry said, glancing at his watch.

"Means we'll walk into a stampede in the entrance hall and we'll never hear the end of it," Ginny sighed. "My brother'll be up my arse about it."

"Never mind what Snape will do to us," Blaise said sarcastically.

Harry paused. They were right, he knew. Ron and Hermione would be really worried about him, since they hadn't seen him in classes and the last place they had seen him was with two Slytherins and Ginny. There were two other ways to get back to the school from here – but Harry hadn't told anyone apart from Ron and Hermione about the hidden passageways from the Shrieking Shack and Honeyduke's cellar. He glanced at Blaise and Malfoy, who were looking gloomy at the thought of a face-off with Snape.

"There's – there's another way we could get back," he said, after a long moment.

The others looked at him, clearly interested.

"Mind you, it'll be hard to get to at this time of day and it's a long trip back," he added. "But it would take us right inside the castle, to the third floor. We could find alternative routes back to our common rooms from there."

"I'm game," Ginny said immediately. "Does this have anything to do with the Marauder's Map?"

"Yeah," Harry said reluctantly. Malfoy and Blaise had seen a copy of the Marauder's Map in the future, but it had been bewitched to show whatever area the possessor was currently in, not the passages of Hogwarts or the seven secret passages out.

"Let's go, then," Blaise said, giving his hand a small squeeze.

Harry led the way slowly back down the high street toward Honeyduke's, trying to squash his anxiety. Yesterday (technically), he wouldn't have trusted Malfoy further than he could throw him, but now . . . well, he knew he could count on the blonde not to use the passage to rob Honeyduke's – git would say it was beneath him.

Although it was early evening, Honeyduke's was fairly busy – fathers on their way home from work, grandparents with their excitable charges, friends from nearby country neighborhoods – and it wasn't hard to get to the front of the shop without attracting attention. Getting behind the counter and into the cellar proved a more daunting challenge, but not an impossible one.

Pretending to be extremely interested in the "Just Arrived" display beside the counter, they waited until both Mr. and Mrs. Honeyduke'swere busy with customers. Then Harry gave a careful look around before dropping onto his hands and knees and crawling stealthily toward the open door to the cellar. Blaise, Malfoy, and Ginny followed him in quick succession.

"It's not like it would've mattered if we'd just come down," Malfoy muttered, rubbing balefully at his kneecaps.

"Nothing we do here matters – yeah, yeah," Ginny whispered loudly. "But they could still complain about us, which would eat up time. And we have to be able to be in the Astronomy Tower Friday night in preparation for the shift to real time."

"Plus we've got a Quidditch match to play in," Harry pointed out quietly, wrenching open the trapdoor and standing back for the others to get in first. "Who knows, Malfoy? I might let you get the Snitch again."

"Very charitable of you," Blaise quipped, ducking down into the passage. She wrinkled her nose and glanced up questioningly up at Harry. "Bit cold and dark down here, Potter."

He grinned mischievously and offered a woeful expression.

"Any other time, Zabini . . . "

"You two," Malfoy said, hopping down beside Blaise with a snort of disgust, "make me sick."

"Our work here is finish, then," Blaise said blithely, as Ginny clambered down beside her with a giggle. "Coming, Potter?"

He jumped down between her and Malfoy and pulled the trapdoor shut, plunging them into darkness.

"Malfoy, if that was your hand . . . " came Ginny's menacing voice a moment later.

"What, you think if I wanted to grope you I'd wait till it was dark?" he said haughtily.

"Still, you're not denying anything," Harry pointed out in amusement, withdrawing his wand. "Lumos."

A dim light erupted from the end of the wand, casting a light toward the long flight of stairs before them. He led the way, remembering as he went just how long the walk back was. Still, with other people it seemed much shorter. Ginny and Malfoy's banter continued the entire way, which served to amused, and then annoy Harry and Blaise.

Blaise was a bit more vocal about her irritation.

"It's the two of you that need a dark, abandoned corridor," she muttered, lengthening her stride in a vain attempt to outstrip them.

"Actually, we need an abandoned common room," Ginny retorted under her breath.

"What?" Malfoy said, breaking off mid-smirk to regard her in mild surprise.

Ginny actually blushed.

"Oh, it was just something Dorian told me when we were escaping from Diagon Alley," she said slowly. "He told me how . . . that is, erm –"

"How you and Malfoy finally hitched up?" Blaise supplied with a smirk that only Harry could see.

"Right, that," Ginny said, Harry turned his head in time to catch a glimpse of bright red ears and blazing cheeks.

"How did it happen?" Malfoy asked, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Oh, sod off, I'm not telling you anything," Ginny snapped. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

It was a bit of a mad scramble when they reached the dirt slide that led downward from the statue of the one-eyed witch. Harry couldn't remember how he had done it so fast when running back during his third year after pelting Malfoy with mud, but this time it was definitely more difficult. Harry scrambled up first on his hands and knees, using minute roots to pull himself along. When he reached the top, he tried to listen for noises in the corridor beyond, but had little success. The stone witch's hump was blocking out sound.

Still, he thought, it didn't much matter if he was caught. As long as he played Quidditch Friday and was able to slip away early, he could afford a few detentions.

It then occurred to him that he and Malfoy were going to have to make it the world's fastest game in order to finish early enough to make it to the Astronomy Tower in time.

"Anytime before next year, Potter," said-same Slytherin called up to him, sounding annoyed.

Harry blinked and withdrew his wand from where it had been stored in his pocket for the climb.

"Ascendium," he said, and the witch's hump slid open. He jumped down and glanced furtively up and down the corridor, but most everyone was at dinner and the corridor seemed empty.

"Come on," he called quietly. One by one Ginny, Blaise, and finally Malfoy dropped from the humped, which sealed itself behind them as soon as Malfoy was clear.

"Well, that was fun," Blaise said sarcastically, dusting herself off.

"We'd better go," Harry said, absentmindedly reaching out to help her.

"If you're quite done feeling Blaise up," Malfoy said snarkily.

"You're a prat," Harry told him flatly, trying not to blush and removing his hands. He fancied that Blaise gave him a disappointed look.

"What're we going to do tomorrow?" Ginny asked.

"I was thinking about that on the way back," Blaise said slowly. "And I don't think we should do this again."

"Why not?" Malfoy demanded.

"Because even if what we do – or don't do – doesn't matter, it'll slow us down and be a nuisance to have everyone in the school getting their knickers in a twist about our scandalous behavior," she said. "How will we be able to enjoy ourselves if everyone's breathing down our necks the whole time?"

"Alternative?" Ginny hazarded.

"Pretend that we don't feel well and are having lie-ins and then sneak out when our dorms are empty," Blaise suggested. "Stay close to the castle, go to meals, and still have fun without having to redo our lessons."

"Actually, I think I might," Ginny said.

They all stared at her.

"What?" she said defensively. "I did really badly in my Potions class last – er, tomorrow, actually and it would be a help if I could do it over – get it right, you know. Especially since I have a midterm next week."

"Well, since it's Snape you can pretend you were poisoned or something and stay in Thursday," Harry pointed out.

"Wow – it is almost Wednesday, isn't it?" Blaise said.

"Fun as all this is," Malfoy drawled.

"Does Mr. Cranky Pants need a nap?" Ginny wheedled, tweaking his nose.

Malfoy smirked. "Only if you join me, Gin."

"One more thing before you go," Harry said, pulling Ginny back before she could kick Malfoy's shins. "In order for us to be done with Quidditch in time to get the Astronomy Tower on Friday, it's going to have to be a really fast game."

"You could just concede to me now, Potter," Malfoy smirked.

"Or we could help each other look for the Snitch and I'll – I'll let you get it," Harry gritted out.

"Such a sacrifice," the blonde said, although he looked surprised, rather than smug. "All right, Potter, compromise. Whoever's closer gets it."

Harry's eyebrows shot up.

"This is a thing unheard of," Blaise said, staring back and forth between them. "Slytherin and Gryffindor negotiating the fastest capture of the Snitch."

Malfoy grimaced.

"Kindly don't remind us," he said sharply. "Deal, Potter?"

He solemnly offered his hand.

"Deal," Harry agreed soberly, taking it.

"I think you might be taking this a bit seriously," Ginny said, failing to stifle a grin. "This is a Quidditch match you've already played in a universe that isn't real."

"Shut up, Weasley – it's the principle of the thing," Malfoy snapped, dropping Harry's hand.

"See you Friday, then," Blaise said. She reached out and pulled Harry toward her by his collar.

"When you're quite through here," Malfoy said, eyes rolling. "I'll be in the common room."

"I'll miss you terribly," Blaise deadpanned before pressing her lips to Harry's.

Harry distantly heard two sets of footsteps retreating down opposite corridors.

)PvsM(

The next two days passed slowly, but thankfully uneventfully. Ginny did her best not to think about her son or Tristy, but it wasn't easy. Fortunately, her brother and her friends kept her busy questioning her about her behavior on Tuesday morning. As she had chosen to attend classes Wednesday, she was eventually left for innocent by most of them.

It was helpful to redo her Potions class. She quickly discovered the key points that she had missed the first time around and was able to correct her mistakes and actually scrape good marks for the class.

If only I could do this every week – I might actually understand some of this, she thought as she deposited her bottle of completed Impervious Tonic into Snape's hands.

"Well, well – who was whispering in your ear today, Miss Weasley?" Snape sneered, when the potions turned the proper shade of pink under his administration of two drops of hippopotamus oil.

"A tall blonde, sir," she said with a grin, thinking of Draco.

She supposed it was rather a moot point, because she had already botched this lesson in real time, but it was the thought that counted. She needed to do well in Potions if she was to be a healer someday. She knew she could become a healer – the future they had visited had assured her of that. But she still had the option not to – the opportunity to let her studies go and settle with something simpler.

That power to alter the future – did she indeed possess it? Did any of them? Or was it really simply a path they were walking? Had all of the choices already been made? Was she destined to have Hayden in four years? Was Blaise really going to be giving birth to Cedric in a little over a year?

It was too surreal! Harry . . . married and a father. While she was glad that the idea didn't smart the way it might have a couple of years ago, she was also not sure she liked it. After all, they would soon be facing a war – probably the war to end all wars. The chances of them surviving were good, judging by the future they had seen, but . . .

She shook her head. Dwelling on things that were going to happen, whether she was worried about them or not, was not going to do her any good. She tucked them away in the back of her mind to deal with later and resolutely made for Charms. She remembered that day's lesson being a fun one. She could attend Charms and Divination and pretend to be ill before Transfiguration.

She went through the rest of the day concentrating with all her might on doing well in classes. It helped that she already knew the charm they were practicing (this excited Professor Flitwick so much that he fell of his pile of books) and it was especially amusing that she knew exactly which curse Professor Trelawney was going to tell Colin he was under. When Ginny jumped in before her and suggested that perhaps Colin was suffering because of the double alignment of Mercury and Pluto, and Jupiter and Mars, the professor was almost beside herself with glee.

"I have always perceived something particularly bright about your aura, my dear," Trelawney told her mistily, before turning away to harass Derek Springs. Ginny and Colin laughed all the way down from the North Tower.

Following her original plan, Ginny skipped Transfiguration, telling Colin to let McGonagall know that she was unwell. Colin was concerned, but didn't ask any questions. Ginny spent her afternoon spiffing up on Potions and hoping to see Harry in the evening to discuss the game plan.

She discovered from Hermione after she and Ron returned from dinner that Harry was out on the pitch with Draco – "of all people, Ginny!" – and they were having a fast and furious contest to see who could – surprise, surpise – catch the Snitch first.

"Honestly, Ginny!" Hermione ranted on, while Ron sat moodily staring out of a window toward the Quidditch pitch. "The way they were carrying on, you'd think they were actually enjoying each other's company."

Ginny rolled her eyes, and thankfully Hermione misconstrued this as equal disgust and abhorrence. Ginny made a mental note to mention to Harry that if he and Draco didn't start behaving in a marginally normal manner, they might accidentally get themselves removed from the match. Then there would be no sneaking anywhere!

They felt differently. She found them still hard at it in the air above the pitch and they only came down after she had shouted herself hoarse.

"It's not that bad, Gin," Harry said. His eyes were bright, his face flushed. He looked as though all his cares had flown from his head. "If we get kicked out, everyone will think we don't want to watch the match because we're bitter. It'll be a perfect excuse to be alone and everyone else will be out on the pitch."

"And suppose Ron or Hermione – who, by the way, are both questioning your sanity – come looking for you and keep you from getting to the Astronomy Tower somehow?" Ginny demanded, realizing almost immediately that this was a battle she was not going to win.

"Stop fussing, Ginevra," Draco put in imperiously. "Anyone who gets in our way can be . . . dealt with."

"Oh, very melodramatic!" Ginny snapped, stalking off the pitch. She heard the whoosh of the brooms lifting off behind her. A moment later, Draco's head appeared in front of her, upside down as he hung comically from his broom. Harry's head appeared beside his seconds after.

"Honestly, Gin, don't be in a snit," the former said, offering a crooked smile that was probably as close to encouraging as Draco could manage. "Two more days and we're gone. Let us have a bit of fun. You know we're not going to have any when we get back."

"What do you mean?" she muttered, still sulking.

"Well, I'm going to be in deep, for one thing," Harry said, scratching his head and looking absurdly like a monkey. "I did exactly what Dumbledore told me not to, for one thing. I dragged you lot into, for another."

"Oh, don't worry, Potter," Draco said, crooked smile immediately a smirk. "You're the famous Harry Potter. Purveyor of true and justice. Dumbledore's about likely to expel you as he is to adopt me."

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy," Harry snapped.

"Yeah, it's not like you aren't going to be busted as well," Ginny pointed out.

"I live for adversity," the blonde said unconcernedly. "Come on, Potter, before it gets dark."

They took off into the distant, Harry offering Ginny a reassuring smile before zipping off after Draco. Ginny sighed and returned in doors.

Well, I tried, she thought resignedly, wondering idly what Blaise was up to.

As it turned out, Blaise was just finished with dinner and met Ginny in the entrance hall.

"I just hope they don't do anything stupid, like call each other 'Harry' and Draco'," was all she had to say when Ginny told her what the boys were up to.

Then she led Ginny to the kitchens, where they sat munching on bonbons and chocolate wafers and chatted lightly about everything from boyfriends to the stupidest things they had ever done. Ginny was surprised at how easy it was to talk to the Slytherin girl and wondered vaguely why she hadn't tried it before. She supposed that the difference in years, houses, and company kept probably accounted for most of it. Still, with two weeks of close contact under their belts, Ginny rather hoped that the animosity wouldn't reawaken in the real timeline.

They left the kitchens at last and returned to their respective common rooms. Blaise seemed as pleased with the interaction as Ginny felt, which was a good sign. Silencing her brother's demands about where she had been by saying she had been to the hospital wing, Ginny retreated to her dorm to plan her next day's activities and get a good night's sleep.

Thursday dawned bright and clear and Ginny, after begging off of classes due to illness, crept from her dorm, still pajama-clad, and spent a quiet morning by herself by the lake, reading one of the many novels she had set aside and intended to begin just as soon as she finished all of her homework. She returned to the dormitory in time to be in bed before her friends returned from morning lessons to collect their books for the afternoon. Satisfied that she was asleep, they left and Ginny was able to sneak out for the afternoon as well. She stuffed her sheets with pillows in case any of her friends came to check on her again before dinner and then headed to the kitchens to get a picnic.

She spent the rest of the day not thinking about the following evening and enjoying three of her chosen novels uninterrupted. When she had consumed her food and finished her book, darkness was falling. She returned to the dormitory and crawled back into bed. Surprisingly, she was asleep almost immediately.

She went to all of her classes the next day, wanting to get back into the groove of regular life. She saw Draco and Harry in the halls between classes and assumed that they were doing the same. Harry corrected this assumption in a sullen tone to her at lunch.

"Blaise hunted us down last night and forced us to promise to go to classes," he told her, stabbing at a potato in his stew with his spoon. "Said people would be suspicious if we didn't show up in classes and then magically appeared at the match."

"She right," Ginny said, torn between satisfaction that they had finally come to their senses and annoyance that they had listened to Blaise instead of her. "How did she get you to agree?"

"Threatened to pretend she hated me when we get back," Harry muttered, glaring across the hall.

"And Draco?"

Harry cracked a smile.

"Threatened to set Pansy Parkinson on him when we get back," he said, nodding toward the blonde, who was sitting as far from Pansy as possible and glowering at Blaise.

"What about Pansy Parkinson, Harry?" Ron asked, sinking into the chair across from Harry and staring back and forth between him and Ginny.

"Imagine being in a dark room and having her lips coming at you," Hermione said, sitting down beside Ron.

"What?" the redhead said, looking horrified. "Ugh, I feel dirty just thinking about it. Yuck! What made you say something like that, Mione? Honestly!"

Ginny went through the rest of the day with a small smile on her face every time she saw Pansy.

As the Quidditch match drew closer, however, she felt a tension build in her stomach, making it ache slightly. She realized halfway out to the pitch that she had chewed off most of her fingernails. She knew why she was nervous. While the evening's events were a looming disaster waiting to happen, she was more concerned about whether Harry and Draco would be able to finish the match quickly enough.

She climbed into the Gryffindor stands with her friends, keeping as close to the exit as she could and hoping that no one would get in her way. She wished she had talked to Blaise about somewhere they all might meet to go up to the tower after the match.

Stop worrying, she chided herself. It won't help anyone.

Instead, she pulled out her Omnioculars and scanned the field for any sign of the others. The three of them were playing, so it would be up to her to meet them. What she saw was the field and something black hurdling toward her. She ripped the Omnioculars from her eyes and threw herself backwards before she realized what it was.

The owl landed on the seatback in front of her and regarded her with condescension.

"Sod off," Ginny told it, untangling the letter badly knotted to its leg. It nipped her fingers rather harshly.

"You must be Blaise's," she muttered balefully, pulling her hands back and rubbing them resentfully. The dark bird instantly took flight, ruffling its tail feathers at her.

"Nice," she muttered, unrolling the hastily scrawled note.

Outside entrance, five minutes after.

It took Ginny a minute, but then she got it – outside the entrance to the castle, five minutes after the match was won. She glanced down at the pitch where the players were just coming onto the field. Ginny focused her Omnioculars on the Slytherin team. Blaise stood on Draco's left. She was staring straight at Ginny. Ginny lifted her hand slightly and gave a brief thumbs-up. Blaise nodded once and turned her attention to the opposing Gryffindors, who had just marched onto the pitch opposite them.

Ginny lowered the Omnioculars and glanced to her left. She was one row down from the exit of the Gryffindor box. As long as she could get there in the crush of excitement when Harry or Draco got the Snitch, she ought to make it out of the stadium before anyone missed her. She could only hope Harry, Blaise, and Draco would be as lucky.

She watched Draco and Harry shake hands. Draco sneered and Harry narrowed his eyes. Whatever reparation had occurred in their relationship over the last two weeks, competition on the pitch had clearly not changed one wit. Ginny hoped they would remember how important it was to end the game quickly. When the game had first been played, Harry had been distracted and Draco had caught the Snitch fairly quickly. They had half an hour at best, and that was pushing it.

Ginny had sit on her hands to keep herself from biting her nails as the game began.

Fortunately, it didn't appear that either Harry or Draco was so involved in the game that they forgot the time restraint. Draco was trailing Harry closely, but Ginny noticed that Harry was allowing it, not trying to shake the blonde. And both were searching the pitch – Draco wasn't just allowing Harry to look, as was his style.

They were high above the game for the first ten minutes. Then Ginny, who had picked up the Omnioculars again, saw Harry say something to Draco. The blonde nodded and took off up the pitch. Ron, passing underneath them just after this exchange, called something up to Harry. Harry answered briefly, and Ron sped off, looking mildly satisfied. Harry waited until his friend was away before shaking his head and returning his attention to the game. Ginny was fairly sure what the whole exchange had been about.

Sure enough, Draco was scouring the opposite end of the pitch. Clearly they were feeling the crunch. He stayed well away from the warring Chasers, who were tearing up the pitch under his position over the Gryffindor goalposts, Blaise in their midst. Harry was weaving around the Slytherin goalposts. Ginny vaguely remembered that the first time the Snitch had been spotted during the original game, it had been near one of the two goalposts. Clearly, they couldn't remember which one.

It turned out to be Draco's. He dove suddenly, just as Blaise scored. He zipped deftly between his teammates and Ron, who was Gryffindor's Keeper, and went straight for the ground. Ginny jumped to her feet with everyone else.

Please – please catch it, Draco! she thought frantically. She saw Harry go streaking up the pitch, but unless the Snitch swerved suddenly . . .

It did. Now Ginny remembered why neither of them had caught the Snitch that time during the original match. It had swerved when Draco had gone for it and gone between the Gryffindor Beaters.

Fortunately, Harry was waiting on the other side of the Beaters this time and deftly snatched the Snitch out from under Natalie McDonald's nose. The stadium exploded in cheers and boos alike. Ginny saw Draco swerve around the Beaters and drop like a rock toward the pitch. Blaise wasn't far behind him. Ginny turned and began pushing her way toward the exit. It took some doing since everyone else was heading for the field as well. Eventually she gave up and let the throng of Gryffindors sweep her along. When they finally reached the pitch, Ginny began pushing frantically toward the entrance to the pitch.

Abruptly, someone grabbed her elbow.

"Come on," Draco called above the deafening roar of the crowd, dragging her against the flow. They finally escaped and stumbled out onto the completed deserted front lawn.

"You'd think they'd never seen a bloody Quidditch match before," Draco groused, dusting himself off.

"You're just bent out of shape because Harry caught the Snitch," Ginny teased, nudging him.

"Am not," he returned childishly, nudging back.

A moment later, Blaise appeared, looking harassed and worried.

"I had Potter for a minute, but I lost him during the influx of Gryffindors," she said, staring back into the packed stadium.

"I bet he ducked down and went for the lockers," Draco guessed, staring fixedly at the door to the Gryffindor lockers. "I've done that before."

"Just hope he's quick," Blaise muttered, glancing at her watch. "I've timed it – we have ten minutes to be in the Astronomy Tower."

It was then that Harry made his appearance. Just as Draco predicted, he appeared from the lockers, poking his head cautiously out. Seeing that the coast was clear, he sprinted across the lawn to join them.

"What kept you?" Blaise demanded.

"The masses," Harry quipped. "Autographs to be signed, photos to be had –"

"Oh, stuff it, Potter," Draco said petulantly.

"Hey, we're even, now," Harry pointed out as they jogged across the front lawn. He actually chuckled. "How wild is that? We've both won the same match."

"Guess we're tied," Draco said, cocking his head to the side as if considering this. He grinned suddenly. "We'll have to have it out when we get back."

They went the rest of the way to the Astronomy Tower in silence, each slowly coming to terms with the challenge ahead of them. One by one, their smiles dropped. They had one chance to get this right – one chance to catch Red Robes and keep themselves alive. They had missed their chance to save Hayden and Tristy. Ginny winced and pushed the thought away. Now was definitely not the time to indulge in anxiety.

They reached the tower steps and sprinted up. Ginny was gasping for breath by the time they reached the door. Draco pushed it open and they stepped inside.

It was a bit of a shock to see a shimmering image of themselves facing Red Robes positioned before them. It was like watching a watery reflection of the events. Red Robes' back was to the door and the four of them were standing opposite, grouped around Harry. None of the apparitions reacted to their entrance.

"Foolish girl," Red Robes scoffed. "You have no idea who you're speaking to."

"No kidding," Ginny's flickering, blue-tinged image retorted. "That's why we asked who you are."

"Weird," the Blaise standing beside corporeal Ginny muttered.

"Come on," Harry said quickly, leading them forward. "We should get behind Red Robes so we have the element of surprise."

They were actually positioned just right as they were. Draco stepped just off to the right and Harry a little to the left. They would be just outside his peripheral vision.

"You killed them?" Harry's image snarled. The flickering Draco beside himreached behind him with difficulty and gave Harry's hand a sharp jab to remind him to focus.

"Of course I did," Red Robes answered silkily. "I doubt there's anyone else around this miserable place capable of murder."

"Get ready," Draco muttered, his wand arm poised. Ginny glanced back briefly and saw the flicker of determination in his eyes. She had a feeling they were remembering the same thing – their failure with Hayden.

Draco, she was sure, did not intend to fail again.

"Ginny, Blaise," Harry said urgently. "You're in the best positions to get him. If we're disoriented by the transition, you two have the best chance of stunning him. I'd better say the incantation to burst the bubble. Malfoy, concentrate on getting his Time-Turners away from him – remember that he has at least two."

"Right," Ginny and Draco murmured simultaneously. Blaise didn't speak. Her lips were white, as were her fingers clenched in a vice-like grip around her Caduceus.

"Enough of this!" Red Robes said, hefting his wand again. "Potter, give it to me!"

"Too late," the ethereal Blaise said smugly.

Ginny tensed. This was it. The images of the four of them flickered out as Harry turned the Time-Turner over and over.

"Restoratus Temporal!" the remaining Harry shouted.

)PvsM(

TBC – final chapter to follow.

P.S. I know some of you may be bitter that there is a juicy snog between Harry and Blaise and nada en especial para Draco and Ginny. It's coming! Would it be half so fun if the snog just . . . happened? Didn't think so! Soon! V. soon!