I don't own Harry Potter or make any money here. ...why am I doing this, again?

AN: I'm glad so many of you like my Author's Notes. I try so very, very hard to keep them entertaining. ;) What can I say? I'm just brilliant at everything, clearly. Also, Mella Potter totally made a fanvideo for me last night. You can see it by tagging this onto youtube: /watch?v=mttRnVKnB4g

When Ginny didn't hear from Hermione again after two days, she finally broke down and called Harry.

Not to tell him what was going on, no. Just to talk, for once. Because she needed a friend and she sometimes forgot just how much she relied on Hermione. Harry answered her owl too quickly, like he'd been waiting for another chance to ambush her, but she let him come over when he suggested, anyhow.

She was pretty lonely, after all. At least, that's what she told herself forcefully while she spelled her legs smooth and put on some extra perfume. She dressed up when she went out with Hermione and her other girlfriends, didn't she? Yes, she did. So there was nothing unusual about- the doorbell rang and she jumped guiltily when she heard Zabini answer it. She rushed from her room to find Harry glaring at Zabini's retreating back.

"Ready?" Harry asked, though he wasn't really looking at her. He was watching the space where Zabini had been. She pasted a smile on her face.

"I'm ready. Harry? Hello, I'm over here," she said, giving a little wave and laughing nervously. Harry took in her short black skirt, black heels, and blue silk top with interest. Interest. Right.

He blinked a few times and then smiled slowly. "You look lovely," he finally said, then gestured back to the door. "Let's go. I have reservations."

"Reservations? Harry, I thought this was just casual- us, drinks, pub food-"

"Casual? And you dressed up like that? I don't think so," he replied and swept her out the door, locking it for her with a lazy sweep of his wand on the way out. Ginny began to regret her choice of dress. Harry sniffed at her some as he put an arm about her and led her down the street.

She suffered the arm. She wouldn't suffer the sniffing.

"Harry!"

"Sorry," he said quickly, but he was smiling again. "Have you cut back?"

"Smokes?" she clarified. "Yeah, maybe. Too many things to worry about. I don't have that much time to go buy a new carton every two days. So I cut back a bit."

"I can tell," he said and she raised a brow at him.

"I noticed," she said. "Is scent recognition part of the auror training these days?"

Harry frowned. "Never mind."

"You brought it up," Ginny pointed out. "So, er…how are things?"

Harry recovered his mood. "Wretched, without you," he said quite cheerfully. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"I was asking seriously."

"And I responded seriously. Here we are!" he announced and held open the door of a cab.

"Where are we going?" Ginny asked as she climbed in.

"Across town," he told her, climbing in beside her and then leaning forward to murmur an address to the driver. Ginny nodded and tried to watch the scenery as they passed, to guess where they were headed, but Harry kept her distracted with questions and stories of his own about work. It was already dark by the time the cab stopped and Ginny peered about, trying to figure out where they were. It looked like a residential neighborhood, but one never knew. There were plenty of ultra-posh establishments based in old homes around the city. Of course, if it was that upscale of a place, she really wished Harry would have told her sooner, because she could have dressed appropriately. Her attire now was more suited to a club- Harry tugged on her elbow.

"Hey, we're here. Coming in?" he said and motioned to the door he held open.

It was only once they were inside, after Ginny had blinked away the blindingly bright lights, that she realized what he'd done.

"Harry, I thought we were going out-"

"You are," he said smugly. "My flat is out, comparatively. And it's certainly a better choice than the pub. And," he added, now looking so smug that she wanted to wipe the floor with his face, "if you want to make it through dessert you'll have to put your cutting back to the test. So it's an all around win-win situation."

Ginny silently fumed the whole way up the elevator and down the hall. Harry paused before he slid the key in the door and looked her over.

"You don't have to come in," he finally allowed. "If it bothers you that much, you don't have to come in. We can just call it a night now, or head down the street to a pub, if you like."

Ginny relented. "It's fine," she bit off. "We're here now and I'm hungry. So just open the bloody door."

Harry gave her a small smile in return and then turned the key and pushed the door open. He ushered Ginny inside. She gave a little sound of surprise and turned to him.

"You redecorated."

"I did," he responded easily. "Rather, I gave Hermione the samples and she told me to bugger off repeatedly before finally pointing out the ones she liked for me."

"You always were persistent," Ginny murmured.

"Yes," he said shortly, then paused. He gave her a sidelong glance. "Would you like to see how persistent I can really be?"

"Not particularly," she shot back, but there was no venom in her voice. "So," she began as she looked at dark wood furniture and sparse wall decorations against a pale green paint. "When is dinner? And what, exactly, did you make? Because I don't fancy eating burnt toast. Unless you've gotten better since last I was over," she added with a smile in his direction.

He shrugged off his robes and gestured to the kitchen. "Take-out," he said. "And you know perfectly well I'm a fantastic cook. Not as good as Hermione, but I did have to make most of the meals at the Dursleys'." He frowned lightly. "As well you know."

Ginny only gave him another airy smile and waltzed past him. If he was going to pull tricks like this to get her alone, then she was going to prod him a bit as well. He deserved it, the condescending, wonderful smelling…Harry brushed past her to reach for some containers and she started to inhale deeply before she could stop herself.

He didn't say a word, just handed her a carton and then pointed at the breakfast nook.

"What, no candlelight, wine, or damask table linens?" she joked and he shrugged and carried the other cartons over, grabbing some silverware as he did.

"Don't want to scare you away, do I?" he murmured. "Besides, this is more cozy. Natural. Right?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and took a seat at the small corner table, then started to pry the lids off the cartons.

"Mousse!" she squealed. "And…more mousse?" She looked up at Harry.

"I couldn't remember which was your favorite," he replied. "So I got both flavors. The rest of the food is normal dinner fare, I swear," he added with a laugh.

Ginny inspected the other cartons and sure enough, there was some pasta; and another filled with some sort of chicken dish; and a third that had some dark, leafy greens in it. Together, Ginny and Harry dug in, did battle with their forks and spoons, and managed to have a comfortable evening of it. Food, some ale, some conversation…it was all very natural and it felt right to Ginny, for the first time in a long time. And yet…

"I wish Hermione were here," she said as she leaned back in her seat, patting her sated stomach. Harry gave her a mild glance.

"I wouldn't mind that, either. You could have invited her. Did she not want-"

"We're not speaking," Ginny said and somehow made the words sound as if they'd been capitalized and italicized.

Harry started to respond, picked up his bottle again and took another drink, then looked at her seriously for a moment as she rolled her head back and stared at the ceiling. He suddenly felt very stupid.

"So, thought you'd call me for a spot of company?" he said lightly, though his heart was pounding.

Ginny gave a guilty start and looked at him. He managed to keep his eyes on her, rather than stare at the table as he wanted to, and she finally sighed. Maybe it was time to try that truth thing Hermione was so fond of.

"It's not really like that, Harry. I mean, if I'm being honest. I tell myself that's all it is- that I'm lonely and miss Hermione, but I have other people I could have owled, you know?" She looked away, frowning, twisting her fingers together. "I just wanted…"

"So did you call me because you wanted me or because you wanted someone that reminded you of better times?" he asked gently.

Ginny gave him a sharp look. "You think I spend half my time with Hermione because she reminds me of better times?" she asked, voice incredulous. "Go to hell, Harry."

He raised his brows. "Then why do you spend so much time-"

"Because she knows!" Ginny exclaimed. "She knows how I feel, every day and she's surviving despite that- I don't have to be anyone else when I'm around her; I can be the broken, disgusting me I feel like inside, all the time. I don't have to hide anything, not the torture, or the scars, or the-" She stopped short, her face flushed, and looked away. Her hands were trembling.

"And yet what happened to me wasn't even as bad as what happened to her and she's on her own two feet- she's even off the pills now, did you know that? And I'm still addicted to these damned fags- but she doesn't care. She's the only one who lets me have any of that and never questions it," she finished fiercely. "And even when we argue or fight, it's never about that." It's always about you, she added silently.

Harry stared at her, his eyes sad, and Ginny frowned. "What?"

"Nothing," he said. "I'm sorry you don't feel you can be yourself around me."

"It's not your fault," she said uncomfortably. "You're a man. I'll never be able to just be myself around you."

"That's not your fault, either," he replied. She looked away and gnawed on her lower lip some.

"It feels like it. Everyday, it feels like it. If I'd acted more quickly, if I'd sent for help right away, instead of letting them overtake me-"

"Ginny, stop it."

"I can't!" she suddenly wailed. "How do you get over knowing that if you'd just done that one extra thing then your best friend wouldn't have taken to her own face with a carving knife and your brother would still be alive?"

"Ginny, stop-"

And then she was sobbing, hunched over the table, face in her hands; and Harry was at her side in a second, hoisting her into his arms, holding her as she cried.

"You think I don't blame myself?" he whispered as he held her, rocked her. "I blame myself every second. But it's not our fault. Those men made a choice, too," he said fervently. "You can't blame yourself for their sick decisions. Oh, Ginny…shh, please don't. Please…"

Minutes later, when her sobs had finally subsided to hiccups; and after several attempts to wipe her nose without Harry noticing; she crawled from his lap and stood on unsteady feet, surveying the ground. She put one hand through her hair, ignoring the way Harry's sad, green eyes followed her every move.

"Merlin, I need a smoke," she said. She gave a wretched laugh. "I guess that's my cue to leave, right?"

Harry stood up, reached for her hands. Captured them despite her efforts. He shook his head.

"No, Ginny. I'm not going to send you away. Not tonight."

At the tone of his voice, she dared look up at him. And there he was, all serious, sparking eyes, tousled, unruly hair, and long and lean and she felt something pull at her.

"Harry," she began in a voice as shaky as her legs, "this isn't a good idea."

He moved closer, slid his hands from hers to her waist instead, tugging her to him. She bit her lip as their hips bumped together. Half of her wanted to run screaming and never return. The other half…

"Why don't," Harry answered, his voice dangerously quiet, "you let me decide that? And at the first sign that you don't want any of it, I'll take you home."

Ginny swallowed hard. Lord, she needed a cigarette. She really, truly needed one as if her life depended on it- and then Harry's lips covered hers.

Three days after Hermione's ultimatum to Ginny, she found herself leaving the house very early, even before Draco had risen to do the chores- before the sun was fully up. But it wasn't like she'd been sleeping, anyway.

She'd been sitting on the information about Zabini and Lucius, was what she'd been doing; not even writing Harry, or calling him. She'd had to let the idea sink in before she could even contemplate telling someone else, it was so shocking in its reality. Even her cry on Draco's shoulder hadn't helped her any. It had only sent her into a spiral of circular thinking and morbid outcomes. And now that she'd been over it and confirmed the dates in her own files with those in the Malfoys'? She still wasn't sure what she wanted, but if she needed to do even more thinking before everyone else was up and another rigorous day had begun, then among her horses was the perfect place to do it.

The barn was quiet in the early morning. Even though the birds had already begun to sing, outside, and sounds of muffled hooves on straw and gentle snorts greeted her inside, those sounds were secondary to the peace she felt upon entering. She could have been as she was two weeks before; with no house guests, and no unusual feelings. Just herself, her horses, and her nightmares.

She shook her head. This was definitely an improvement. Even if it was really too early for what she was about to do. She came to one of her favorite mare's stalls and knocked lightly on the door. There was a sudden rustle and some grunting from inside and a moment later Echo's head appeared over the edge of the door. She tossed her silvery mane in greeting and Hermione stroked her hand down her forelock.

"Hey, girl. Fancy an early morning trail ride?" She laughed quietly as Echo nudged her hand and snorted her agreement. "I know, I've been neglecting you all. I'm sorry, girl."

Echo tossed her head again, as if to say, who care? You're here now. Hermione laughed again and then hugged her neck before opening the door and leading her out. She clipped the line to her and brushed her down some before settling the blanket and saddle in place.

"Come on, girl," she murmured as she tightened the girth. "There you are. How does that feel?"

"Rather uncomfortable, I imagine," came a soft voice from behind her. Echo stamped some and Hermione whirled about, then collapsed against the door when she saw who it was.

"Lucius," she breathed and bent at the knees, catching her breath. "You scared me."

"That used to be one of my prized skills," he replied. "It's good to know I still have it."

Hermione jerked her head up and frowned at him, before breaking into more laughter. Lucius was smiling slightly as well, though his cheeks were tinged pink and he seemed slightly out of breath. But he was walking without help and leaning on the cane she'd bought him. He was dressed, too. That meant-

"Draco is on his way. When he saw your boots missing he insisted I come out and check on you." He favored her with a piercing stare and she looked away and continued to fiddle with the saddle.

"Well, now you see me. I'm perfectly alright." She turned about again. "I'm just going for a ride," she said, reaching for her helmet.

"Isn't that…dangerous?" Lucius asked slowly, eyeing the mare. "I seem to recall rules about always having a partner."

"Are you offering?" she shot back. He raised a brow at her. "Didn't think so," she said sweetly. "Neither of you has to worry. I'm not going far and Harry set some clever spells for me a long time ago."

"I see. So you haven't really given up magic at all," Lucius murmured. Hermione frowned and unclipped the lead, then looped the reins about her hand. She clucked to Echo, who turned and started to follow her mistress.

"There's nothing wrong with taking advantage of something that will keep you safe," Hermione said over her shoulder when she realized Lucius was hobbling along behind them.

"No, I suppose not. But wouldn't you rather-"

His words were drowned out by the side door screeching open. And then Hermione had one foot in the stirrup, lifted herself quite easily into the saddle, and was gone.

Lucius stared after her, watching the way her back straightened as she rode, and the even set of her shoulders. He narrowed his eyes. Only when Draco announced his arrival did he finally turn away from the image of Hermione riding towards the rising sun, with the horizon a gently curving line before her.

"Yes?"

"I said, if you're not too busy staring out the doorway like a log, could you help me with this?" Draco replied, waving a hand full of leads. "What were you looking at, by the way?"

"Miss Granger," Lucius said, opening a stall door and gesturing to a reluctant horse. Draco watched him struggle with the prancing steed for a few minutes before he intervened. He walked pat his father and into the stall, slid the line neatly over the horse's head, and patted him on the neck a few times.

"There you are," he said and then held the other end out to his father. Lucius stared at it like it was a snake.

"I think I'd be better used for supervising," he said with as much dignity as possible and Draco hid his smile and shrugged.

"Alright. This won't take more than a minute, anyhow. Hermione, you said? So she's out here?"

"Was," his father replied. "She's gone for a ride."

"I see." Draco looked at his father and frowned. "Scare her off?"

Lucius would have rolled his eyes if it was dignified. Instead he settled for a displeased toss of his head. "Impertinence never suited you."

"But I learned from the best," Draco responded readily.

"You learned from your mother," Lucius said before he thought about it. Both of them froze and Draco turned slowly to stare at his father.

They hadn't talked about Narcissa at all, between them. It was an understood taboo. And yet here his father had gone off and referenced her as if it were nothing. As if none of the pain associated with her demise existed. For his part, Lucius looked stricken, and more sorry than Draco thought he'd ever felt, personally.

"Dad, it's ok," he began, but Lucius waved a hand, and turned and walked out the side door through which Hermione had disappeared minutes before. Draco watched him go, his heart squeezed tight within his chest. The horse he was leading bumped his head into Draco's shoulder and he turned to look at him.

"Alright, alright," he murmured, reaching up and running a hand over the stallion's crest. The horse bent his head some and whinnied softly. "I know. Come on, then." And with a final glance back at his father's retreating form, Draco led the horse from the barn and continued about his morning chores.

AN: I hope you all liked that chapter. I'm starting to agonize over the smallest details, which is never good. *pulls her hair out*