Author's note: We're sorry for not posting this yesterday. We were at a debate tournament (which is why I'm doing the A/N: debate is mostly my thing) and we didn't get back until about 9, at which point all we were able to do was fall into bed and sleep for, uh, I believe it was about 13 hours. Until 11 o'clock in the morning, at least. (If my math is wrong, I'm sorry. I'm not a math person.) Anyway, all that to say that we're sorry. In exchange for being a day late, we're giving you the chapter all of you have been waiting for. Thank you for your patience with us: we know you've been anxious for this from chapter 1. (Or maybe even the prologue. -grins-) So, without further ado, please enjoy.
Disclaimer: We own nothing except for an irrational desire to break into song at odd moments...
--Caroline

7: truths

Pansy Parkinson was the last person that Harry expected to seek him out. Over that year, she hadn't made it any secret that she hated him, nor had he made any effort to hide his dislike of her. And so, it was a surprise when she came to stand by his table at the library. He looked up as the shadow fell over him, and his green eyes found her blue ones. "What do you want, Parkinson?" he demanded, standing up.

"I've got something to say to you, Potter. Come with me."

Harry shook his head. "Whatever it is, Parkinson, you can say it right here."

She scowled. "You will come, Potter, or I'll drag you by your hair."

Harry put his hand on his wand. She snorted. "Much as I'd love to, Potter, I'm not going to curse you. I just need to talk with you. Now."

Harry had to admit that he was curious. He glanced at Ron and Hermione. Ron scowled and shook his head fiercely, but Hermione shrugged. Harry considered his options. He doubted that Pansy would make a scene if he didn't go with her, she wasn't nearly brave enough for that, but she would have her revenge. He knew that she was one of Draco's friends, and he wondered if she had some sort of message from him. In the end, it was that hope that decided him. He gave Ron an apologetic look, then nodded shortly to Pansy. She walked away briskly, and he made his way in the same direction, making sure not to appear to be following her. Finally, she disappeared behind a shelf at the back of the library. Checking to make sure no one was looking, he slipped behind the same shelf, his hand on his wand just as a precaution. As he saw her, she spoke a word and made a gesture with her wand, and he felt the unmistakable signs of a warding spell. His grip on his wand tightened.

"What do you want, Parkinson?" he asked again.

She pulled out a scroll. "This is from Draco to you, Potter."

He reached out to grab it, but she held it out of reach. "Give it to me, Parkinson," he said through gritted teeth.

She shook her head. "Listen to me for a minute, then you'll have it. I would swear, but you wouldn't trust my word, no matter what I swore by." Harry had to admit that that was true. He sighed, wondering what the hell was going on. She seemed, almost… nervous? Why would she be nervous? "Before I give this to you, Potter," she said quietly, "You're going to promise me that even after you read this, you won't walk away from him. He deserves to be treated like a real person no matter what, and if you walk away from him now, you'll break his heart."

Harry had a sinking suspicion that he knew exactly what she was talking about. He didn't want to believe it until she actually said it, though, and she'd closed her mouth. "What the hell are you talking about, Parkinson?" he growled.

She looked at him in irritation. "You don't see it yet, Potter?" she demanded. "Do you need me to spell it out word for word? Draco's in love with you. He has been since you were eleven, when you refused to shake his hand. Why the hell did you do that, Potter? Why wouldn't you just be nice to him?"

"His first words were insults to Ron, Parkinson."

"And you value Weasley over Draco?"

"No. I value both of them the same. Both of them are my friends. I don't let people insult my friends."

"Yet you let Granger and Weasley insult Draco to their heart's content, don't you?"

"The two of us already discussed this. It's in both of our best interests not to be seen as friends."

She sneered, letting him know just how lousy she thought his excuse was.

"Are you going to give me the letter or not?" Harry demanded.

"Promise that you'll still be his friend."

He sighed. "Just give it to me."

"Promise."

"All right! I promise! Just give the damn thing to me!"

She handed him the letter reluctantly, then unlocked the warding spell. He strode out from behind the shelf, completely ignoring the questioning looks that Ron and Hermione gave him. He left the library and started for Gryffindor tower. Then he stopped. They would expect him there, and soon they would come after him. He was absolutely certain that he didn't want them intruding. He changed direction and walked up the stairs to the third floor, heading for the Room of Requirement. He reached the tapestry and walked past it three times, concentrating on a place where he could read Draco's letter in privacy. The third time, he opened his eyes, and pulled open the door that had appeared. He entered a small room with a fireplace and a comfortable looking black leather chair. He had to smile a little cynically at the color: apparently the Room of Requirement didn't believe in distinguishing by House. He lowered himself into the chair, making sure that the door was carefully shut behind him. He stared into the fire for a long moment, working up the courage to unroll the letter. The he shook his head slightly and slipped the green ribbon off. He unrolled the parchment and slowly read the words.

Dear Harry,

Pansy says that I should write this to you, and she's probably right. Before, when you hated me, it didn't matter. Now that you're actually my friend, Pansy's convinced me that I have to tell you. Please don't hate me for what I'm about to tell you. I don't think I could bear you hating me again. You've helped me so much this year. You've been my friend and my teacher. You've listened to me when I needed to talk and distracted me when I needed distracting. You've helped me with my homework, and you've laughed at my jokes. I've never had a friend like you before, and that's all that I want from you: to be your friend. The other thing doesn't matter much. I know you're happy with the Weasley girl, and please believe me when I say that I don't mind.

Well, I suppose you're wondering what the hell I'm going on about, though maybe Pansy broke her promise and told you. I don't think I'd mind if she did. So here it is. Here's my big confession. Harry, ever since I met you, the moment I first saw your green eyes and your black hair, I knew that you were the one I wanted. It was just a teenage crush at first, but it never left. Now, I know that you're the only one that I'll ever want. But it honestly doesn't matter to me whether you return my feelings or not. Honestly, Harry, I just want to be your friend. I don't know how you feel about… people like me, but I promise you that I'll never try to seduce you. I'll just be your friend and try to help you as much as you've helped me.

Love,

Draco.

P.S. I'd appreciate it if you'd burn this letter once you're done reading it. Thanks.

Harry read the letter again, and then did as Draco had asked and threw it into the fire. He sat in the black armchair for a long time, thinking. He thought about Ginny. She said that she loved him, and he thought that he loved her, but did he? Lately, it had all become more like habit, and he found less pleasure in it. He thought that she might feel the same way, and he knew that Ron and Hermione suspected that something was up. They hadn't said anything yet, but he caught both of them watching him and Ginny when they were together.

And what about Draco? Harry couldn't deny the sudden flushes of heat that he'd experienced sometimes in Draco's presence. They'd been getting more and more frequent, and he finally admitted what they might be. But was he willing to give up a possible future with Ginny, who was Ron's little sister and a good friend, for Draco, who was inaccessible most of the time? He didn't know, and that scared him. He was far too much of a Gryffindor to have them both, and he knew that he had to choose one. But which? He pictured Ginny first. Her long red hair, which swung so enticingly to her waist. Her piercing brown eyes that seemed to see into his soul. Her sharp wit, which always found something to say to his remarks. But she was prickly and temperamental. He didn't know if anything could last with her apart from respect and possibly friendship. Already the physical attraction was starting to dim, and there wasn't much left. She was too much like him, Harry realized. She was proud and jealous of his friendship with Hermione. She'd never say so, but he knew that she resented Hermione for having been there first.

And then there was Draco. In his mind's eye, Harry saw controlled blond hair and sharp gray eyes. He saw laughter and tears. Ginny had never broken down in front of him, had never allowed him to comfort her like Draco had. Harry remembered conversations about everything, rambling from one topic to another without thought for whether the other would follow, because he invariably would. But Harry would have to be blind to ignore Draco's faults. The blond teenager was proud and convinced that he was better than many of Harry's friends. He was a bit of a sore loser, and he too was very much like Harry. But. But Harry could envision staying with Draco. He had a hard time doing the same with Ginny. He could picture them in the near future, but he couldn't see any farther. He couldn't see himself and Ginny having children and growing old together. He could see himself staying with Draco. But was he willing to take the consequences? Could he stand the criticism and the abuse that he would get if he admitted it to the world? He'd been abused before, but this would be different. He didn't know if he could stand it. He wasn't sure that he wouldn't take it out on Draco when he cracked, and he swore to himself that he would never do that. Draco deserved better than that, and Harry refused to let Draco become his emotional punching bag.

He couldn't make a decision. He finally drifted into a restless sleep. He was facing Draco and Ginny, and both of them were looking at him steadily. "Please, Harry," Ginny said.

Draco looked at her with loathing. Then he looked at Harry, and his eyes softened. "Harry."

Harry looked between the two of them. And then Draco vanished, leaving Ginny. They looked at each other. "What are you doing, Harry?" she asked sadly. "You're making a bad decision."

"I don't know what I'm doing, Ginny" he admitted. "Help me."

"Think about your future, Harry," she said softly. "What do you have with him? We could try together. We could try to stay and raise children. We could have a real future together, Harry. What would you have with him? You would have secrecy and ridicule. Do you want that? You could get a high place in the ministry if you wanted, Harry. But could he? If you did get together, could he find a place there? Or would you be stuck with a lower job because he won't be let into the Ministry?"

Harry was about to answer her, but she dissolved, and Draco appeared in her place. He didn't say anything, but Harry could feel those gray eyes looking straight into his own eyes. Very quietly, he asked, "What do I do, Draco? Help me."

Draco shook his head sadly. "I don't know, Harry. Do what you need to do. I'll understand. Just, please, don't forget about me. Please don't ignore me like you did before." He lowered his eyes, but Harry had seen the tears in them. Ginny had never ever allowed him to see her cry. Without thinking, he took Draco in his arms again, holding him as the other boy silently wept.

Harry woke around midnight, knowing what his answer was.

I have to admit that I didn't sleep much that night. I was worried about Harry's reaction to the letter, and about what Pansy had told him. She hadn't wanted to meet my eyes when she came back from giving it to Harry, and I knew she'd broken her promise. I didn't mind as much as I'd feared, but I wouldn't talk to her, either. I couldn't stay still, and paced up and down my room more times than I could count. I tried not to think about Harry, but, of course, my thoughts rested on him. I remembered all the times we'd had that year, stocking up the memories in case he hated me. I told myself that, at least I'd have the memories, but I knew that it wouldn't be enough. I was terrified of seeing him again, but I also couldn't wait. I had to know. Even being heartbroken would be better than this state of not knowing anything.

Morning found me in my chair by the fire, staring blankly at the flames. I got up stiffly, and dressed. Then I washed my face until much of my sleepless night had been erased, or at least diminished. When I was finally presentable, I unlocked my door and pushed it open. Pansy was waiting for me, as usual, and she grabbed my hand and squeezed it once. I took a deep breath and raised my head bravely. She grinned at me, and I grinned back, a little shakily. We walked to the Great Hall together, and I took my place without a word. I didn't dare look across the Hall to where Harry was sitting. After breakfast I hurried out to Herbology, relieved that we didn't have it with the Gryffindors. I concentrated on defuzzing all the overly fuzzy plants that we'd been given. I didn't remember what they were called, but apparently the fuzz was a useful antidote to mind-altering diseases and curses. Professor Sprout said that Madam Pomfrey wanted as much as we could collect, so we weren't to waste any. I rolled my fuzz into a ball, trying to get it as large and round as possible. The monotony of the chore took my mind away from what was bothering it so badly, if only for a little while.

I used the same technique in the rest of my classes. In Charms, I concentrated on charming my copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6 to look like a marble, and I tried to get it the deepest and purest silver I could manage. I got extra points from Flitwick for the precision. I know he was surprised: I don't usually try so hard in class. And so on, until, finally, Transfiguration came to an end. Harry and I waited until everyone had gone, then we stood, looking at each other awkwardly. "I… um… I got your letter," he said finally.

I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything.

He looked just as uncomfortable as I felt, and I hoped with all I was worth that he wasn't telling me that our friendship was over. We stood in silence for a good ten minutes, then he suddenly seemed to make up his mind. He closed the distance between us and cautiously put his hand on my arm. I finally met his eyes, and what I saw took my breath away. Was it really? Was I dreaming? Did I see what I so desperately wanted to see? I was afraid to hope, afraid even to breath, terrified that this would go away. Ever so slowly, his hand moved up until it touched my shoulder, then my face. I stood perfectly still, letting him stroke me as though I were the most precious thing he'd ever seen. I lifted my own hand, noting that it was trembling, and touched his own face. It was soft, yet the skin was firm and stretched tight over powerful bones. I brought my hand down, tracing the line of his cheekbones, and descending to caress his cheeks and follow his jaw line. He was doing the same thing to me, and our movements unconsciously became synchronized. I moved over his jaw and up the other cheek, brushing his temple as I went, and I felt him doing the same thing to me. And then, the hands left the faces and we were hugging each other tightly. Both of our robes were wet, but I didn't know if they were my tears, or his, or both of ours. And then I realized that he was trembling. I hugged him closer, whispering, "Harry? What's wrong?"

He didn't answer, only clung to me as though I were the only thing that anchored him to reality. I started to rock slightly, moving my hand over his neck and the back of his head. Finally, he looked up at me, a slight smile playing on his lips. "You're so beautiful. I never realized before. Forgive me?"

"Always," I told him firmly. "I'll always forgive you, Harry."

He didn't answer, only started stroking my own hair. I shivered in delight as he ran his fingers through the silk-thin strands, momentarily stopping my own exploration of his black mop of thick hair, the kind I'd always wished I had. Slowly, he let go of me, and the love I saw reflected in his eyes warmed me to the core. I hoped he could see the same in my own. He moved to a seat, and I followed, not letting go of his hand. We sat, and looked at each other. "Harry," I said finally, unwilling to ruin the mood, but needing to ask. "What about her?"

"Ginny?" I nodded. He shook his head. "Ginny broke up with me this morning. She said that it wasn't working anymore. She still wants to be friends, but that's all."

"Is that what you want?" I asked hesitantly.

"I want to spend my life with you, Draco," he told me gently. "I don't care what anyone else thinks. I just want to be with you."

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust what I saw in his eyes, but could I? Could I bear the heartbreak if he left? Was I strong enough to live without him? I didn't know, and that scared me. I hate not knowing, and this was the worst kind. "Don't leave," I whispered.

"Never," he promised. "Never!" He seemed afraid to touch me again, afraid that I wouldn't let him. Was it possible that he was as afraid as I was? Was it possible that all he'd been through hadn't prepared him for this kind of emotional turmoil? Was it possible that he was hoping just as desperately?

"I'm afraid," I blurted out, then I looked down hurriedly. I hadn't meant to say that, not out loud. Now he would know, he would know that I was weak and frightened.

"So am I," he told me. I blinked.

"What?" I managed, sure I'd heard him wrong. Harry was the strong one. He was the one who always knew what to do and how to do it. He was the one who'd done and seen things that none of the rest of us could even imagine. He was the one who never turned back. He couldn't have said what I thought he'd said, could he?

"I said, so am I," he said. "I'm scared to death."

"Why?"

He looked at me in something like exasperation. "Draco, you're the most beautiful person I've ever met. I can't imagine that it's me you want. I'm afraid that you'll leave me, and now that I've found this, I don't think that I could let go. I'm afraid that we'll be forced apart by things beyond our control. I'm afraid that people will come after you and I won't be able to get there in time. I'm afraid of being helpless and unable to help you. Is that enough?"

I started to shake my head. He couldn't be afraid. I was the one who was scared. We couldn't both be scared. Surely he was just saying that to make me feel better. He reached over and gently touched my face again. "Can we try, please?"

Almost without thinking, I nodded. "Always," I murmured. I reached out to him, and slowly brought his face closer to mine. His breath caught, and our eyes caught and held. Our lips touched, and I was swept away on a tide of raw emotion and bliss.

Ginny had hoped to feel better after breaking up with Harry. She'd known that it was the right thing to do for both of them, but it had been incredibly hard. She suspected that it was because he hadn't seemed disappointed. Sure, he'd asked her if she was sure that it was what she wanted, and that he hoped that they could stay friends and all, but it was clear that his thoughts were somewhere else. That had produced a jealous reaction in her, and she had almost lost her nerve. But in the end, she'd managed to keep calm. She hadn't even let her voice wobble towards the end, though it wanted so desperately to do so. She wondered how Harry would have reacted if she had let go. She hadn't even considered it, she realized. Hiding her emotions had become so much a part of her that she didn't even think about it anymore.

Emily had tried to comfort her after he left, but Ginny had made it quite clear that she did not want comforting. She could handle it on her own. They were still friends, after all, and that was what really counted. She'd managed to get as far as the library before admitting to herself that she was not as fine as she could be, though she assured herself that it was only an observation. There was no way she was going to admit to feeling lost. Harry had been a cornerstone in her world, true, but that didn't mean that she was going to fall to pieces the moment he was gone. It wasn't even like he'd vanished from her life!

She didn't glance up when Hermione slipped into the seat next to her. The older girl didn't talk, only spread out her books on the other half of the table and bent her head over an essay that she was perfecting. The soothing sound of Hermione's quill scratching on the parchment allowed Ginny finally to relax, and she bent down over her own parchment. She supposed that everyone thought that she was writing an essay as well, but she wasn't. Ginny had never told anyone, but she was working on a novel. She didn't dare hope that it was good, but she could at least finish it before graduating this year. She reread her latest paragraph, then carefully scratched out the last sentence. Frowning, she nibbled on the end of her quill, then wrote, she vanished, and the flames returned to simply dancing around the wood. She reread the paragraph again, then nodded to herself. That fit better. She dipped her quill into the inkbottle again, and continued to write, wondering if she would ever have the courage to show her manuscript to anyone once she'd finished it.

She became aware that Hermione had stopped writing and, suddenly self conscious, she carefully set down her quill as well. Hermione was reading, and she appeared to be completely absorbed in the book, but Ginny knew that the moment she began to talk, Hermione would give her her full attention. She wondered if she wanted to talk. Certainly she didn't want to talk about Harry. But there was that question about Arithmancy. She reached into her bag and pulled out her textbook, flipping it open to the page in question.

"Can you help me with this?" she asked.

Hermione glanced over, then put her favorite leather bookmark into the book that she was reading and nodded. "Of course." She then proceeded to explain all about the balance of the equations and how the magical formulas wouldn't balance correctly without the proper calculations. Ginny listened attentively, and when Hermione had finished, she nodded.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure," Hermione assured her, going back to her book. Ginny carefully wrote the equations and results on the scroll, then preformed a quick drying charm and rolled it up. She tied it with one of the blue ribbons that her mother had bought her, and carefully put it back into her bag. She scooped up her supplies and put those into the bag as well. She nodded to Hermione, and left the library. She could sense Hermione watching her, but she didn't alter her confidant gait, or turn to look back at her.

She didn't want to go back to the dormitory, and she certainly didn't want to meet anyone who would try to make her talk. Finally, she headed outside. She'd discovered a spot not far from the boundary of the Forbidden Forrest, close enough to allow her to watch the creatures that were brave enough to venture that close to the boundary, yet far enough away that she wouldn't get into trouble. She was about to drop her books into the spot when she realized that she wasn't alone. The telltale long blond hair revealed the presence of Luna Lovegood. Ginny wondered if she should leave, but Luna didn't seem to mind, and Ginny really did want to watch nature for a while. She nodded to Luna, who smiled serenely back, then sat down a little ways apart. Soon, Ginny had forgotten all about the blond Ravenclaw. The beauty of what she saw around her entranced her. Birds hopped through the branches, calling to each other in their businesslike voices.

Ever since she'd been big enough to run out of the house without one of her brothers, Ginny had loved to watch birds. She supposed that it was because they didn't try to kill each other with magic, or beat each other in sports. Like all children of her generation, Ginny had been raised in the knowledge that You-Know-Who was safely out of the way, but she couldn't ignore the stories. Fred and George had told her about some of the things that You-Know-Who had done, and she'd had nightmares for months until her mother had made them stop. Ever since then, she'd been disillusioned about the perfection of man, and she'd been drawn towards nature.

Even the best things must come to an end, though, and as the sun began to set over the castle, Ginny stood. She noticed that Luna had left already, and frowned slightly. She was normally fairly observant –a lifetime of living with Fred and George had made checking her surroundings second nature– but she'd been so wrapped up in the beauty of the forest that she hadn't paid attention to anything else. She chided herself sternly on the way back to the castle, reminding herself over and over again that there was danger in her world, and that she had to exercise, to use Moody's favorite phrase, constant vigilance. As she stepped into the front hall, she realized with a start that she was not ready to come back yet. The calm of the forest had tamed her feelings somewhat, but the moment she stepped into the building, the confusion and anger rolled back again. She turned back around and fled as quickly as she could back to the forest. Almost without realizing what she was doing, Ginny pushed her hands over the scar on her heart and whispered, "Dancing Moon."

There was a rustle in the underbrush, and the unicorn stepped out into the open. She looked at Ginny with wide, compassionate eyes, then gestured delicately for Ginny to follow. Ginny trailed her friend deeper into the forest, hoping that Dancing Moon would once again provide her with the knowledge of how to get out. Finally, they arrived at a small clearing. Ginny gasped in delight at the small spring that she discovered in the center of the clearing. She ran to it and dropped to her knees, dipping her hands into the ice-cold water. She drank deeply, allowing the crystal-clear liquid to run down her face and neck, drenching her clothes in the process.

When she looked up again, Dancing Moon was watching her. Ginny backed away from the pool, allowing the unicorn to step forward and drink in her turn. Finally, Dancing Moon turned to Ginny. "What is troubling you, Genevera?"

Ginny started. She hadn't expected Dancing Moon to be able to talk to her. "How can I understand you?"

"You are a friend of the unicorns. The mark over your heart binds you irreversibly to us. Perhaps you will have a part to play in the wars of men, perhaps one to play in the wars of my people. Either way, we are bound, you and I. You cannot understand others unless they place their horns where I did, but you and I may converse freely. What is troubling you?"

She sighed, and looked down at the ground. Slowly, she began to explain to Dancing Moon what had happened. The unicorn listened in silence, then asked quietly, "So you no longer care about this male?"

"No, that's the problem. I do care about him. I still love him, Dancing Moon. I've always loved him. But he doesn't love me anymore. I can see that, and I knew that it was the right thing to do. If I'm going to get my heart broken, then I may as well do it on my own terms."

"But if he no longer cares for you, then perhaps he is not the right one for you? Among my people, there is an ancient wisdom: three cannot honor the Lady together."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that every person has one who is for them. You do not always find them, and you are sometimes led astray, but every person has only one who is truly for them. If your male no longer cares for you, then perhaps you simply have not found the one for you yet."

"Or maybe he's being led astray."

"Perhaps. In that case, then you need not worry. If he is simply treading the wrong path, then he will eventually realize his mistake and return to you."

Ginny though about this. Was it possible that he would come back to her? He'd seemed to be drifting completely away, but would he realize his mistake and come back? "How can I get him to realize that I am the one for him?"

Dancing Moon looked at her sadly. "You cannot, Genevera. If he is indeed simply making a mistake, then you must allow him to realize it on his own terms. It is possible that anything you do will lead him farther down the wrong path. It is possible to change the correct path, you know."

Ginny sighed. "So I should just wait for him to come back to me?"

Dancing Moon seemed to consider this for a moment, and then she looked at Ginny with what could possibly have been a mischievous expression. "You could help him return by finding someone of your own."

Ginny's own eyes began to sparkle slightly. "Now that is a very good idea, Dancing Moon. You've just given me a rather wicked scheme!"

Colin Creevy didn't consider himself handsome. He knew for a fact that he was far too skinny to be handsome, and he had no athletic talent whatsoever. The only thing he was really good at was taking pictures, and most people didn't appreciate just how hard that was. But taking pictures didn't get you a girlfriend, and he had decided that this would be the year he finally got himself one. The only trouble was that he had no idea how to go about achieving his goal. He didn't even know who he wanted to pick!

The girls in his year were all right, he supposed. Ginny Weasley was, of course, gorgeous, but she was taken already. Emily Sandburn was, in a word, boring, and Mira Saiid, though a possibility, wasn't what he was looking for. In the other houses there weren't any interesting girls, though there was one in Slytherin who looked slightly intriguing. He had, however, ruled out Slytherin completely in an effort not to appear too desperate. If Luna Lovegood had any notion that anyone but herself existed, then he would even have taken a go at her, but she didn't, and was therefore inaccessible.

By April, Colin was beginning to despair of ever finding anyone. He was the skinny, nerdy fifth year Gryffindor, and no self-respecting female would even look twice at him. He pretended not to notice, but it hurt. Still, he still had his camera to see him through hard times, and he began spending more and more time waiting to get just the right angle for a picture. It didn't really matter what it was a picture of, just that he get it perfect.

Ginny interrupted him just as he was adjusting the settings of the apparatus yet again. He was trying to get the sunset over the lake, and the camera wouldn't cooperate. He looked up in annoyance at the disturbance, and for moment, didn't even register who she was. "Go away!"

"I take it this is a bad time?"

Her voice brought him back to reality, and he flushed. "No," he managed. "No, it's not. I'm sorry."

She smiled at him. "It's fine to turn me away, you know," she said, bending over so that the ends of her hair brushed his arm. "I can come back later."

"No, it's not a bad time," he said again, wondering if he should brush her hair off. It felt nice on his skin, but he didn't want her to think that he was taking advantage of her. "The sun's not right anyway."

"What are you trying to get?"

He explained his grand vision, and she seemed genuinely interested. She managed to ask intelligent questions, and he found himself warming to the topic. It turned into a long lecture about the mechanics of the camera and the position of the light needed, and when he was finished, he was positive that she was going to walk away in disgust. To his amazement, she still looked interested. "I had no idea that it was that complicated," she admitted. "I always thought, well, it's just a picture. But it's a lot more than that, isn't it?"

He shrugged, bending back over his camera. "That depends on who you are, I suppose."

"But for you," she insisted.

"Yes," he said quietly. "It's a lot more to me."

She was quiet for a moment, then glanced up at him through her hair. "Colin, I'm not sure how to ask this."

"Yes?"

"Will you go with me to the next Hogsmeade weekend?"

He stared at her, sure that he'd misheard. "What?"

She flushed and looked down at the ground. "It's okay if you don't want to. I mean, I'll understand."

"No, I'd… love to go to Hogsmeade with you."

She looked up at him, her grin lighting up her face. "Great! I'll see you on Saturday, then, shall I?"

He nodded, and she walked happily away. He watched her depart, wondering just what he'd gotten himself into this time.

Ron stormed into the Gryffindor common room, his brown eyes snapping with righteous fury. He ignored everyone in his search for the one wretched girl that he intended to have a few defined words with. She, curse her, seemed to be expecting him, because she put her book down and stood, walking towards him and somehow managing to draw him into a corner devoid of any other people. A few expertly cast silencing charms later, she faced him, hands on her hips. "Well?" she asked, eyeing him darkly. "What have I done this time?"

"Colin Creevy," Ron spat.

"And?"

Ron stared at her. Surely that explained it all! "You are Harry's girlfriend!" he seethed. "Don't you have any loyalty?"

"For your information," she told him coldly. "Harry and I broke up this morning."

"You don't take your time, do you?" Ron sneered. "Going through boys like lightning, you are. What would mum say if she knew?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare tell mum anything, Ronald Weasley."

"I should," he shot back. "Honestly Ginny, I thought you had better sense than that!"

"And what do you know about girls?" she demanded. "You can't even get Hermione to go out with you!"

Ron spluttered with indignation. "That has nothing to do with this conversation! This is about you and Harry!"

"We're still friends," Ginny pointed out. Ron was gratified to see that she was turning pink. At least he wasn't the only one who was embarrassed.

"You could have waited to find someone else!" he shot back. "And… Colin Creevy?!"

She shrugged. "He's liked me forever," she said breezily. "I thought I'd give him a try."

His eyes widened, and he almost chocked. "You thought you'd give him a try? God, listen to yourself Ginny! You sound like Parvati!"

"This is a bad thing why?" she asked.

"You want to be like Parvati?"

"Parvati and I are a lot alike, you know." From the look on her face, she hadn't meant to say that.

"You're what?!"

Ginny glanced around, apparently making sure that no one was watching. Ron looked himself: everyone seemed to have lost interest in them. "Promise me that you'll never tell anyone what I'm about to tell you," she hissed, drawing him closer.

He frowned. "Depends on what it is."

"Just promise, or I'll never tell you anything ever again."

His eyes widened. "Is it that important to you?"

She nodded, biting her lip. Ron was suddenly reminded of the sister he'd known before they came to Hogwarts. Ginny had changed so much in that time, but, for an instant, she was exactly the same as she'd been all those years ago.

"I promise." Only after the words had left his lips did he realize that this might not have been the wisest step to take. But the words had been said now, and there was no going back.

She took a deep breath, then began to talk. She told of seeing Harry for the first time at the train station, and told of longing for him for years. She told of his finally seeing the light and of having all of her dreams come true. All of this, Ron already knew. But then, she spoke of unicorns and promises, and of watching Harry slowly slip away from her. By the time she'd finished, there were tears dripping slowly down her face. It was the first time Ron had seen her cry in ages, and he felt suddenly insanely protective of her.

She sniffed slightly and looked up at him. He wrapped his arms around her, embracing her spontaneously for the first time in years, and let her cling to his solid form. She didn't cry anymore. She was done crying, and now she just clung. Moments later, she pushed him away. He didn't mind.

"Thank you," she said.

He grinned. "That's what brothers are for," he informed her.

She rolled her eyes. "Try telling that to Fred and George."

He snorted. "Well, some brothers," he amended. She giggled, then summoned a nearby chair. She dropped into it, not removing the barrier of silence. Ron lounged against the wall, watching her.

"And so who are you going to go after when you get tired of Colin?" he asked, realizing just after he'd finished asking that he didn't want the answer to that question.

She grinned. "Well, I've just about gone through all the boys," she said slowly, a mad twinkle in her bright eyes.

Ron's mouth fell open in shock. "Ginevera Weasley, you aren't considering girls, are you?"

Ginny smirked, reminding Ron eerily of Malfoy for a single moment. Just as quickly, the image flew from his mind, leaving him rather relived. He had no desire to think of Malfoy. "And why not?" she asked.

"Mum would just about die!"

"She wouldn't have to know," Ginny pointed out. "I won't tell her if you don't, and we're the last two here."

Ron frowned. "You will have to pay me very well to get me to turn a blind eye to that," he said severely.

She considered this for a moment. Then, a grin brightened her features. "I can get you the best of Honeyduke's new items."

"How?"

She smirked again. "That would be telling," she informed him. "Do we have a deal?"

He nodded, a little grudgingly. "We do," he agreed. "Just… be discreet, will you?"

She grinned coyly at him. "I promise." Ron shuddered and looked away. His sister was growing up far too fast in his opinion.