GINNY

Ginny left the hospital wing with a lingering headache and wondering when she'd managed to use a Time Turner. Because suddenly she was eleven years old again, hearing Tom and admiring Harry.

Her palm was still warm where she'd held Harry's heavy hand. The more she paid attention to it the more the heat spread - up her arm to her neck, across her cheeks, down to her chest. She looked down at both hands to compare them, to see if her left hand was glowing brighter than the right.

They were, as far as she could tell, normal hands.

But one had held Harry's hand.

Buried memories came into focus, like dusting off an album of stored photos.

Standing at the portal to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Wide, green eyes. The greenest she'd ever seen.

Pulling up on his hand to stand in the Chamber. Ushering her up the stairs, muttering words of comfort.

Holding up the Golden Egg. Rare look of beaming triumph. Scarlet Gryffindor flag draped over his shoulders.

Demonstrating dueling stances in the Room of Requirement. That deep, confident tone of his voice.

Blushing like an idiot while sharing excessive looks with Chang. Wearing a new crooked smile Ginny'd never seen before.

The wheels threatened to start spinning again. She knew this old beaten cycle, losing control on a rocky path to nowhere… hope, longing, disappointment, rejection, shame, hope, longing…

She pushed it away and marched forward purposefully, taking a sharp cut around the next turn as if dodging the defense.

Tom's resurgence was the more pressing issue, she decided. She couldn't have him leaking through the floor boards, haunting the corners of her mind, leading her once again to forgotten corners of the castle, attempting to catch her breath. She needed to finally evict him. But how?

You can't. You're a weak, pathetic little girl.

She shook her head to quiet him.

It was harder to ignore his voice when she was alone. Distractions were necessary.

Surrounding herself with others helped, their voices added noise to dilute Tom's. That's why night time was the worst. No distractions, just reverberating echoes.

"Heellooo, I can't wait around all night, deary," said the Fat Lady, rocking Ginny back to focus.

"Oh erm, right, sorry," Ginny said, blinking up at her. "But isn't that your job, though? Kind of?"

Although visibly miffed, the Fat Lady swung forward so Ginny could hear slow, somber music emitting from the Common Room. But before climbing in, Ginny heard her name called from behind.

It was Greta, one of the other fifth year girls, hurrying to catch up to her.

"Do you need anything? Are you alright? I know the others were looking for you," said Greta, her teeth sparkling white as Auntie Muriel's string of pearls. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about the match, you must be awfully disappointed."

Without a solidified friend group, Greta flitted between friends of other years and houses like social boundaries didn't exist. Making her the first sought out source for information.

"I just left the hospital wing," Ginny said.

"Riiight, is Harry doing alright?"

Before Ginny got the chance to respond, they reached a large group of fellow Gryffindors surrounding the larger fire place. The entire Quidditch team was there, along with Lavender and Parvati. Hermione sat not far away, reading a book at one of the individual tables.

Ginny fell into a seat beside Dean and her arrival seemed to spur another round of discussions regarding the match.

"A few of my friends in Hufflepuff say they're really upset with Smith. It wasn't fair, scoring goals on unmanned hoops," Greta said.

"That's easy for them to say, they won," said Lavender, clearly growing bored of the topic.

Embittered grumbles spread throughout their circle, and they spent several moments loudly abusing McLaggen.

Seamus snorted, "Didn't know McLaggen had it in for Harry too."

"How many wizards does that make now?" Dean started counting on his fingers.

"Oooh, maybe McLaggen's a double agent for You-Know-Who," said Parvati.

"Well, he did have the giants last time," Lavender giggled.

"Aye, the perfect crime," Seamus said. "Snuff him out while everyone's watching. Insult to injury and all that."

Dean sniggered. "Could you imagine? 'Aim for his head, McLaggen. It's marked already for you'."

Several of the group let off snorting laughs, some putting their hands up to their mouth to hide smiles.

Ginny exchanged looks with Hermione, and saw that she agreed. This was taking it a bit too far.

"My brother - you know, the Healer - he says that injuries like that can be tricky because of brain swelling," said Greta. "Could you tell if he had brain damage, Ginny?"

"He was sleeping," Ginny replied sharply. "But what are the signs? I've been concerned about Ron for years."

"You went to see Harry?" Dean asked quietly.

Ginny felt her stomach plummet, knowing where this was headed. But she met his hard stare and nodded.

"I thought you wanted to be alone," he said.

Curious eyes shifted between members of their circle.

"I was alone. Then I went to the hospital wing."

"Why?"

"To appreciate the finer details of Hogwarts' ancient architecture," she said, but the joke didn't land. "Why do you think? To make sure our teammate wasn't dead."

Ginny saw the muscles of Dean's jaw and temples working. She could feel his irritation rising like wind picking up dust.

"Since when has he ever just been a teammate to you," Dean mumbled.

Her head snapped towards him so fast that she felt dizzy. She was glaring at him, but he averted his gaze. Lucky for him, because if he had looked directly at her, he might've perished.

But the others were peering at her now, expectantly, waiting for her to react. Did they anticipate that she'd make a joke? Throw a return slur at Dean? Or maybe, possibly, horrifyingly, they believed she might confess her deep, prolonged attraction to Harry.

She chose none of the above, just to spite them.

Instead, she shot out of her seat turned her back on the group, and went straight for the staircase to the dormitories. If she had been faster, she might've made it before Dean caught up. She cursed her short legs as he grabbed her elbow, turning her around to face him.

Ginny barely heard his voice through the ringing in her ears. He was looking pitifully apologetic and ready to make peace. Which made it worse.

"I don't know why I said that, I'm -"

"Great timing for such a special comment, Dean. I particularly love the fact that every one of our friends heard. Really top notch."

"I'm so so sorry, I couldn't help it… it just -"

"Did you even think to ask if he'd be okay before coming up with scenarios for his attempted murder?"

Dean's expression turned cold. He chewed on his tongue for an achingly long time before replying, "McGonagall came by an hour ago to tell us he'll make a full recovery."

Ginny crossed her arms, shifting her weight to her other foot.

"You care for him. Don't you?" He asked. "You… you fancy him."

Her dull headache escalated into a throbbing pressure, like it was testing the weakest areas of her skull to find an escape route.

Could headaches cause brain damage?

When Dean had asked her before, it'd been so easy to deny it.

Just say it, she thought. Just say no.

She didn't trust herself to speak or even breathe in case it released a new flood of tears.

"Just be honest with me, Ginny. Please."

"Honestly? I'd like for you to let go of me," she said, indicating his hand still on her elbow. When he didn't move, she ripped it out of his grasp and turned to take the stairs two at a time.

The lights were on in her dorm, so she bypassed it to avoid her other dorm mates. She kept climbing until the stairwell reached a dead end at the top. No one ever came up here. Ginny had forgotten it was there. The last stair ended in a broad step as if it might've once lead to another girl's dorm room, but instead it ended in a solid stone wall.

She sat down on a cold stone step, curled her knees toward her and stared out the long narrow window. Of course now that she was finally alone, she didn't feel like crying anymore.

Several moments later, Hermione joined her. Wordlessly lowering herself to sit a few steps below, as if maintaining a safe distance.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked.

"Brilliant."

Ginny could hear the gears turning in Hermione's mind working out what to say next. She was being analyzed like a rare specimen. Wandlight pointed at her. Waiting to see if she'd explode… or do a backflip … or dissolve into ooze.

This must be how Harry feels sometimes.

She pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, trying to rid the thought of him.

"It was just awful, wasn't it?" Hermione said. "I left the match and rushed to the hospital wing as soon as -"

"I'm fine, Hermione, okay?"

Hermione took a moment to straighten up, sitting with near perfect posture.

"What're you going to say to Dean?"

"Dunno."

"Are you going to end it with him?"

"Why would I do that?"

Hermione looked confused, as if Ginny was missing the obvious.

"Nothing's changed, Hermione."

"Then why are you so upset?" She countered.

Ginny disliked the implied question and wished Hermione would ask upfront, like Dean had.

Yet at the same time, Ginny didn't want that at all.

If asked again, she wouldn't know how to answer how felt towards Harry. For years now, she had worked to turn off her feelings, and to give in now would be like admitting defeat.

Hermione was the only one, besides her mum, that had ever seen one of her panic attacks. There were several times Hermione had to shake her awake in the middle of the night because she'd started crying or tossing in her sleep. So early in her second year, Ginny had to learn Silencing Charms to cast them on her four-poster bed at night as to not disturb the others.

But both her mum and Hermione believed that the after effects of the Chamber had died off swiftly and completely in second year. Mostly because Ginny had told them they'd died off swiftly and completely in second year. As if that could happen with Dementors surrounding the castle and having the boy she desperately fancied being publicly manhunted by a mass murder. A second mass murderer. Well, a second suspected mass murderer.

So saying the truth of what happened today would be revealing information worthy of a Grand Inquisition from Hermione.

"The Chamber."

Hermione's face slackened, some color draining from her face.

"I thought it was -"

"It was," Ginny replied quickly. "Or, maybe not. I dunno. It's been coming up more lately, but I didn't think anything of it… but then … today…"

"Dean said you wanted to be alone," Hermione said carefully. "You had another attack, didn't you?"

Ginny nodded.

"Should we tell someone?"

Ginny laughed derisively, "Who? Why?"

"Your mum?"

"She's got enough to be getting on with."

Hermione chewed her lip.

"And this was because of the Bludger?"

"I suppose… yeah…"

"Dean seemed really jealous. It's not the first time Harry has come up, is it?" Hermione continued.

Ginny shook her head.

"And you don't want to consider ending it?"

"Nothing's changed, Hermione. What's the point of ending it with Dean?"

Today complicated things. Now she had to convince Dean that she didn't have feelings for Harry. Or that it wasn't a problem that she might have feelings for Harry. Or perhaps, it'd be best that she deny it all together?

"So you plan to repair things with him?"

Ginny couldn't think of a reason not to repair things with him. Dean was a good person and essentially the perfect boyfriend. Always considerate, kind, sometimes funny, part of the D.A… If she couldn't work it out with Dean, where would that leave her?

"I guess," Ginny replied, even as her mind began to construct the alternatives.

"Do you want my advice?" Hermione asked, pausing briefly, "It might be time to tell him about the Chamber."

"And I suppose you want me to give him my wand too?" Ginny replied. "Or maybe the keys to my family's vault in Gringotts."

Hermione pushed on. "Think about it. He can tell you're really upset and he thinks it's about Harry. But really, it's about the Chamber. You said so yourself. If you want to stay with him, why not just tell him the truth?"

Although she trusted Dean, to image telling him would be like standing up on her broom while hovering two hundred feet in the air.

"It doesn't have to be everything, obviously," said Hermione, as if it were a compromise.

Ginny stared out the narrow slanted window at the darkened grounds until eventually she realized that Hermione had left.

The crescent moon's glow cast outlines on surrounding layers of night sky, illuminating sections of clouds that tapered off in a hazy vapor. She squinted at them so long that the crisp air made her eyes go dry. Trying to make out the darkest sections, wondering whether they were empty windows of sky or if they were just continuations of clouds the light couldn't reach.

Ginny reached her right hand through the opening of the window, watching it stretch out, turning it over, twisting her fingers through the air. She got a strange satisfaction knowing she was sat safely on the step, while her hand dangled hundreds of feet above the ground. Like she was cheating the height somehow. Outwitting it … somehow.

Soon chillness from the night air wrapped around her skin like a glove, and she pulled it back, cradling her hand with the other for warmth.

The next morning, she pulled Dean out of the Common Room, bracing herself to follow Hermione's advice.

She took a deep breath, preparing for the leap. "Do you remember the Chamber of Secrets?"

She studied him, watching as his stony expression slowly softened, turning to realization. His eyes growing wider until they looked almost fearful.

"Blimey, Ginny." Put a hand over his mouth. "Fuck, I'm so sorry - I - I forgot that was you. I can't believe I -" He covered his face with his hands.

She stopped him. "It's fine. I actually prefer most people forgot."

"Sure, but I feel so bad, I'm your boyfriend. I should've -"

Dean shook his head. He picked up her hand and started rubbing his thumb across it. "That must have been so incredibly awful for you… I can't even imagine…"

Ginny didn't know how much he thought he knew. What rumors he might've picked up that had circulated around the school afterwards.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He asked.

Ginny shrugged. Every part of her wished she could take it back, to wipe clean his pitying expression and the way he held her hand as if it was made of porcelain.

Dean looked up with his gentle brown eyes and said, "So that's what this has all been about with Harry."

She stood still, frozen and hollow.

"What?"

"He had saved your life, didn't he? Down in the Chamber. So now you must feel this, erm, connection with him," Dean said, as if trying to convince her.

Her thoughts had stalled. She tried to shake them back in motion.

"What are you talking about?"

"The same happened to my mum," Dean said in a tone he might've believed was comforting. And before she could stop him, he launched into a memory.

"After my dad left us, my mum and I lived in this old flat for a few years. This was before she married my step-dad. Anyway, one night she picked me up late from school. I just remember it was really dark. Winter, probably. I was about six. There was this man on the bus who started talking to my mum, acting as if he knew her…"

Ginny's mind screamed to make him stop this. Or at least pull her hand away from the gentle grasp of his smooth hands.

"… And he started reaching for her… But our neighbor, this big quiet bloke from across the hall, he happened to be on the bus too. So he came over and sat next to us. Eventually the chav left and our neighbor walked us home…"

He was speaking fast, as if rushing to get his story out before she ran away.

"Anyway, after that my mum brought him a home cooked meal once a week for a while. She'd give him a gift every Christmas, even when we moved away. Actually, even now she'll tell my little brothers and sisters about him when they ask. She'd embellished the story a bit, of course," he smiled, shaking his head in a loving sort of way.

"So, I understand. It's like… like survivor's guilt. You feel like you still owe him?"

Bitterness rose up inside her, tasting like metal. She waited for Dean to get to the part of the story where the man on the bus possessed his mum for months, causing her to go mad and enact violence on family, friends, and strangers, only to be taken down to the sewers to finally be relieved of her very existence.

When that part didn't come, the bitterness began blurring her vision of him.

That must be how he saw her. Someone he could protect by just being near her.

Dean smiled down at her and pulled her into a tight embrace to a firm kiss on the top of her head. "I'm sorry for what I said yesterday. I didn't realize."

"It's fine. Just forget it," she said.

Ginny didn't know how long they stood like that in the corridor as she tried to process her reaction to his story. Eventually when they did return to the Common Room, the portrait swung open and Dean placed his hand on her back to help her through.

As anticipated, the nightmares returned that evening. So she recast the Silencing Charm around her bed and placed Cushioning Charms on the dusty floor. She spent long hours of the night staring at the curtains of her bed, sometimes humming lullabies.

She had wondered if it wouldn't be a good idea to generally avoid Harry. It was one less thing to worry about and she wasn't keen on testing if she'd also need to battle involuntarily muteness. But when he approached her with the new Quidditch schedule Monday afternoon, eyes blessedly open and his black hair matted down on one side from the bandage wrappings, she found she couldn't help herself.

"So, Madam Pomfrey didn't let you keep the turban?"

Harry's face split into a crooked smile.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "She said Professor Quirrell wore it better."

"Or, y'know… You-Know-Who did, anyway," said Ron, clapping him on the back. He was followed by Hermione, who's eyes grew wide upon seeing Ginny.

"I have to tell you something," Hermione whisper conspiratorially, pulling her across the Common Room. "This morning, when I met Harry and Ron outside the hospital wing, he said something I thought was peculiar."

"I've known him my entire life, Hermione. That's pretty spot on for him."

"Not Ron, Harry," she said, looking to make sure no one heard what she said next. "He asked me twice whether you and Dean were still together."

Hermione seemed to pause for dramatic effect, waiting for Ginny's reaction.

"And?" Ginny asked.

"And he tried to pass it off as concern for the Quidditch team, but it sounded as if he rather hoped you weren't."

"Why are telling me this?"

"I thought it was significant."

"Maybe it was just about Quidditch. Maybe he was telling the truth."

"Right…," Hermione said, eyebrows drawing together. "You didn't tell me how it went with Dean. I saw the two of you together yesterday."

"Do you remember that time over the summer when Fred and George decided to move the pond closer and closer to the house to see how long it would take for Mum to notice? But they flooded the entire yard by accident? And we had to go chasing around picking up the fish and dropping them in that bucket? And it took a week before the smell went away on the first floor of the Burrow? And one of the gnomes drowned in the garden?"

"Yes."

"About as good as that."

"Oh… I'm sorry," Hermione said, and she began picking at her nails. "I just trying to help."

"I know you were," Ginny said, forcing a smile to comfort Hermione, but couldn't help feeling sad.

There was no Quidditch practice that week after the match, of which Ginny was mostly grateful. She didn't feel up to flying that week. It was a challenge again to focus in class, quieting another internal voice as well as her own took focus. Her awareness of the girl's bathroom on the first floor near the Great Hall became stronger as she moved about the castle between classes, like she was orbiting around it.

Whenever she was with the others, all she wanted to do was be alone. But whenever she was alone, she wanted to be with someone, craving the distraction.

It was the next Sunday morning when she headed down to breakfast that she saw a familiar figure hurrying down the staircase below.

"Tonks?"

As she got closer, she saw Tonk's eyes were red and she was wiping tears from her cheeks. It was odd seeing her with that mousy shade of brown hair, looking much older since the summer. Her robes hung on her, the sleeves wet with streaks where'd been cleaning her tears.

Ginny quickly lead her to the closest courtyard, sitting them near a fountain where the trickling water would drown out their words.

"You can cry, if you want," Ginny said.

Tonks jerked her head, and a moment later dissolved into tears, her hands covering her face. Ginny couldn't remember if she'd ever seen someone more vulnerable, so completely taken by anguish that Ginny couldn't help tearing up as well.

She rubbed back until Tonk's whimpers became shallow steady breaths.

"I suppose you know, about me and Remus?"

Ginny shifted guiltily and nodded. Her parents had not necessarily been hiding their discussion about Lupin and Tonks. Although, to be fair, they had been in their room with the door closed. And Ginny had yet to kick the old habit of listening under their door for information to use against her brothers. Extendable Ears really did make the process a whole lot easier, she hadn't gotten that crick in her neck for years now.

"There've been rumors, have you heard? Greyback's attack."

"And Lupin hasn't contacted you?"

"No, and he wouldn't anyway, would he?" Tonks said sharply. "I've told him, over and over again, that being a werewolf, it doesn't matter to me. But he won't listen… And now, I don't know if he's dead or alive, do I?"

More tears swelled in the corners of Tonk's eyes.

"He doesn't trust himself, Ginny, he only listens to Dumbledore. D'you know he's got him off living with the other werewolves? As if he's only useful for the thing he hates about himself."

Ginny watched Tonk's knuckles go white, clenching and unclenching the edges of her already wrinkled robes.

"And when he comes back from the missions, it's always worse, isn't it? It's mad. We're finally together, and all he does is feed me these noble reasons that we shouldn't be together."

"Maybe Dumbledore knows? If he's okay?"

Tonks shook her head. "He's not in the castle,"

The tears had stopped, but the skin on Tonks' face appeared to sag. She was taking shallow breaths, appearing to be recovering. Ginny searched for some healing combination of words to help comfort her.

"Thanks for listening," Tonks said eventually.

Ginny returned her weak smile.

"He's a good person, Tonks. Maybe he's just …"

"Afraid."

"We all are."

Tonks remained quiet, rubbing her finger along the seams of her sleeve.

"He's lost everyone. And it's not your fault, but maybe you just remind him a bit of how… different he is… in his mind," Ginny added hastily. "Maybe … maybe he just needs time."

Ginny cringed, unsure if she overstepped her bounds.

Thankfully, Tonks didn't seem to mind.

"When'd you get so smart, hm?"

"I've always been, but people were just too dumb to listen."

Tonks gave a watery chuckle.

"C'mon. I should be getting back to my post. Walk with me?" she asked. Ginny thought fleetingly of breakfast, but figured she could sneak into the kitchens when she got back. "So how's your bloke? Darren, is it?"

"It's Dean. Why can no one remember his name?"

"He's a good one too, is he?"

Ginny scoffed, kicking a rock. "Too good."

Tonks raised her eyebrows, looking amused.

"Sometimes he's … erm … well, he thinks that… ergh … he just doesn't quite … get it."

Tonks surpassed a grin. "Ah, that clears it up."

"How can I be any more clear?" Ginny laughed, encouraged to see Tonks looking more herself. They exited the entrance to the castle and made their way down the stoney path down to Hogsmeade. "You know about the - the Chamber, right? The Chamber of Secrets?"

Tonks nodded, taking her time to respond, "Yes, I was still in Auror training when it happened."

Perhaps it was the fresh spring air, or her lack of sleep, but the words began tumbling out of Ginny's mouth. She was careful to leave out several of the more descriptive details about Harry, but instead focused on her discussion with Dean.

"He acted as if he was trying to calm a wild hippogriff. Now he escorts me around the castle, making sure I don't trip on my own trainers."

"People can't understand, not unless they've been through it, can they? A lot of folks dropped out of Auror training, particularly during first year… It's not all saving the world, and that's that, go home and get eight hours of sleep."

"So how do you deal with it?"

"Catching dark wizards?" She blew out an exhale slowly. "I don't, not always… Some missions stick, but they make you stronger for the next go. At least I don't look like Mad-Eye yet, eh?"

Ginny laughed.

"But for the most part, I just figure, that if you run from it, it'll catch up with you. And when it does, your back'll be turned," said Tonks, taking her time descending a more precarious portion of the path. "What happened to you sounded worse than the Imperius Curse… I hate to imagine what would've happened, y'know? If that diary had gone to someone else."

It was early afternoon by the time Ginny returned to the castle after her walk with Tonks. On the way back, she decided to take a detour, finally letting her feet carry her there. Usually she tried to avoid this hall, this door, this memory. But she figured that hadn't worked in five years, so it might be time to try something different.

—

The first day back at practice was bittersweet. On one hand, the team's mood was bolstered by having Ron back and healthy, but there was pressure to train harder than ever to prepare for the match against Ravenclaw.

Dean hadn't left her side for more than five minutes since their discussion about the Chamber, playing out his savior's act of comfort. Ginny wasn't sure he'd thought out this strategy through, because his hovering seemed to have the opposite effect of making her feel more distant from him.

"Settle something for me, will you?" Harry said, landing beside her for a water break. "Who do you think would win in a fight? The mountain troll, Grawp, or McLaggen? I can't decide."

Ginny looked across the pitch at Dean. He was still practicing Gravity Passes with Demelza.

"You're asking the wrong question," Ginny returned. "See, what you should be asking is what do they all have in common?"

Harry leaned closer, crinkling his eyes, waiting for her response.

"They each had a bit of thing for Hermione, didn't they?"

He threw his head back laughing. When he looked back at her beaming, she felt bells ringing in her stomach like Sunday in Ottery St. Catchpole.

"What does that say about Ron then, do you think?" He asked.

Ginny nearly choked on her drink.

"So he does fancy her? He's told you?"

Harry tried to change course, quickly realizing his mistake. He stammered, "I - er - no, I just meant… Well, she fancies him too, doesn't she?" A hopeful smile spreading slowly across his face.

Her heart swelled. And there it was, the truth in plain sight.

She held it up and examined it in the light, turning it over to get the weight of it.

She fancied Harry.

"I'd never betray a friend like that," she said, shaking her head dramatically, grinning up at him.

She felt lighter than she had in days. Despite the fact that she still couldn't sleep at night, and was still taking several rounds of steadying breaths each day. And despite the fact that she was still with Dean and Harry still might not fancy her… they'd agreed to be friends, after all.

She still liked Harry and wasn't sure she'd ever stopped.

"Idiots, the both of them."

"Complete idiots."