The fall term passed quickly, the leaves changing color and the wind bringing with it a deep, penetrating chill. Before Ginny knew it, Halloween was around the corner. Hagrid's hut was surrounded by giant pumpkins, their vines creeping along the ground. The Friday afternoon sun was already sinking, casting everything in a beautiful orange glow.

Quidditch practices had begun in earnest, for the first game would take place in early November. She smiled as she looked around at her team in the locker room, pleased that a somewhat rocky start hadn't deterred them from coming together. She flew well with Katie Bell and Demelza Robins - Katie was experienced but somewhat cautious, whereas Demelza was new to the team this year but made up for her lack of tenure with sheer enthusiasm. They balanced each other out perfectly. And while Ritchie Coote and Jimmy Peakes were no Weasley twins, they weren't afraid of the Bludgers and had no qualms with making some risky maneuvers if it would help the Chasers score. Harry was, of course, Harry.

The only potential weak point on the team was Ron. Ginny's smile thinned a bit as she watched him banter with Ritchie. He wasn't a bad Keeper, he really wasn't, but he just got so damn nervous. If he made one mistake, his confidence was shot and he started flailing around, making easy misses and inviting jeers from the opposing team. Ginny had hoped that his success on the team last year, plus all the practices they had had this past summer, would have helped, but he was still wildly inconsistent. Their first match against Slytherin was around the corner and Ginny was sure the stupid "Weasley is Our King" song would make a reappearance. She could only hope that Harry would find some way to hold Ron together.

"That was a really great practice everyone, really great," Harry said, calling everyone's attention to him. "If we just keep playing like that, Slytherin won't stand a chance." This declaration was met with whoops and cheers from the team, who were in high spirits. After Harry waved them off to dismiss them, the team meandered out of the room, chatting about Slytherin's abysmal new Chaser and whether or not Dumbledore would really book a troupe of dancing skeletons for Halloween. Ginny fiddled with the lock on her locker, her eyes downcast. Finally, Jimmy closed his locker with a decisive bang and left. Finally, finally, they were alone.

"You flew brilliantly today," Harry said as he approached her, her eyes still on her locker. "No one else can hold a candle to you."

Ginny turned with a grin. "Isn't my boyfriend supposed to say that?"

Harry returned her grin before leaning down to kiss her. Ginny's eyes fluttered closed as she wrapped her hands around his neck, her fingers twining in his windswept hair. His lips were soft and warm against hers and she felt a little core of heat in her abdomen as he deepened the kiss. Now this was heaven - this timeless moment where everything around them faded away. When she and Harry were together, she didn't feel insecure or unimportant or any of the rest of it. Her on-again off-again tension with Ron, Harry's secrets from her, the looming war... none of it mattered when they were together. She could get lost in this feeling, the warmth and joy and desire. It was intoxicating.

"Oi!"

The couple broke apart, startled, to find Ron standing in the doorway, staring at them both. Ginny glared at him. Harry had finally told them about their relationship three weeks back and he had taken it hard, only recently seeming to decide that his best course of action was to pretend he had never heard the news at all. Walking in on them snogging interrupted that illusion, Ginny supposed.

"What?" asked Ginny.

"I don't want to find my own sister snogging people in public!"

"This was a deserted locker room till you came butting in!" said Ginny.

Harry was looking embarrassed. The rational part of Ginny appreciated that he was caught between a rock and a hard place where this was concerned, but the emotional part screamed for him to step in and defend her. As she begrudgingly expected, he said nothing.

"Right," Ginny said, tossing her long red hair out of her face and glaring at Ron. "Let's get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron-"

"Yeah, it is!" said Ron, just as angrily. "I don't care if it's Harry, d'you think I want people saying my sister's a-"

"A what?" shouted Ginny, drawing her wand. "A what, exactly?"

"He doesn't mean anything, Ginny-" Harry started, finally taking a step to move between them, but it was too late. Ginny was already seeing red.

"Oh yes he does!" she said, turning her anger at Harry. "Just because he's never snogged anyone in his life, just because the best kiss he's ever had is from our Auntie Muriel-"

"Shut your mouth!" bellowed Ron, bypassing red and turning maroon.

"No, I will not!" yelled Ginny, embarrassed to find herself on the verge of tears. "I've seen you with Phlegm, hoping she'll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her, it's pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging done yourself, you wouldn't mind so much that everyone else does it!"

It was a low blow, and not even really true, but Ginny didn't care. Why did he have to ruin everything?

Ron had pulled his wand out too; Harry stepped swiftly between them. Ginny narrowed her eyes.

Too little, too late.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Ron roared, trying to get a clear shot at Ginny around Harry, who was now standing in front of her with his arms outstretched. "Just because I don't do it in public-"

Ginny screamed with derisive laughter, trying to push Harry out of the way.

"Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?"

"You-"

A streak of orange light flew under Harry's left arm and missed Ginny by inches; Harry pushed Ron up against the wall.

"Don't be stupid-" he started to say to Ron, but Ginny was on a roll.

"Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" she shouted, tears stubbornly pricking her eyes. Harry stiffened a bit at these words but she didn't care. "And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"

Unable to take it any longer, she stormed out of the locker room and hastened toward the castle, her vision blurry with tears which now fell freely. She was sick, absolutely sick, of dancing around Ron's feelings. Why did he get any say, any at all, in her and Harry's relationship? She didn't care that he was Harry's best friend. Hermione was Harry's best friend too, and she had congratulated them! Why did Ron have to be so immature?

And... a small, almost reluctant voice added. And why did Harry wait until I was spitting mad to say anything? Doesn't he care that Ron was about to call me a whore?

In her rush to get back to the castle, she accidentally slammed right into a startled Blaise Zabini.

"Sorry," she muttered, pushing past him and keeping her eyes on the ground.

"Watch where you're going, Weasley," he said, but there wasn't any bite in it. She felt his eyes on her as she shoved the front door of the castle open, her mind intent on finding Luna.

Draco chewed his food halfheartedly, not even noticing the taste. He had been in the Room of Hidden Things for hours that day and barely made any progress. The text on repairing damaged magical objects seemed to directly contradict the troubleshooting recommendations in the Vanishing Cabinet's manual, and he couldn't seem to figure out what the disconnect was. He had begun testing the cabinet with food and was dismayed to find his apple returned to him as rotting mush. In brighter moments, he would reassure himself that he had plenty of time to turn things around, but he was starting to feel stuck. What was he missing?

"Trouble in paradise?"

Draco looked up and glared as Blaise Zabini sat down across from him. Blaise smirked at him.

"You looked on the verge of tears," he continued, smiling as Draco snarled at him.

"Shut it Zabini. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Easy, easy," Blaise said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "You know I only want to help."

"I don't need your help."

"Right."

They continued their meal in silence for a few moments before Blaise said, "Well, if you were crying, you would be in good company."

"Excuse me?"

Blaise inclined his head toward the other tables. Draco followed his gaze, his eyes landing on a shock of red hair at the Ravenclaw table. Ginny was hunched over, talking to Lovegood as she poked at her food. Her eyes were red and puffy. On instinct, Draco looked to the Gryffindor table, where Granger sat between Weasley and Potter, clearly imploring them to speak to each other. He narrowed his eyes at Blaise, who laughed.

"Oh come on, don't look at me like that. This is good news for you. From the looks of it, she and Potter just had a huge fight."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Potter's dating life doesn't concern me in the least."

The tides of the sea flowed ever on and on, and the pirate's chest buried deep below stayed mercifully silent.

"That line might work on Pansy, but not on me. Your tells are obvious for anyone who knows what to look for. Pansy sees what she wants to see, but I know the truth."

Draco flushed and opened his mouth furiously to argue but Blaise cut him off.

"You don't need to defend yourself to me. As Pansy said on the train, I see the appeal. She's quite charming at Slughorn's little dinner parties. Potter never bothers to attend - too good for it, I suppose. But a poor little blood traitor like her needs all the networking opportunities she can get."

"Why are you telling me this?" Draco said, stabbing into his potatoes.

"So you can make a move, of course."

Draco barked a laugh. "What happened to I wouldn't touch a filthy blood traitor like her, whatever she looked like?"

"For Pansy's benefit," Blaise said smoothly as he cut into his chicken. "And Crabbe and Goyle's. You know them - just desperate to prove themselves. Especially Crabbe. I wouldn't put it past them to rat you out to the Dark Lord himself if they thought it would get them anything."

The waves swelled and crashed against the shore, little grains of sand floating freely as the tide subsided.

"They would be wasting their time. The Dark Lord has no reason to question my loyalty to the cause. You were right to say what you did on the train."

Blaise said nothing, but he didn't need to. His self-satisfied smirk said it all.

"Well," he said lightly, "if you're not going to make a move, maybe I will."

Draco's fork scraped sharply against his plate, causing several people nearby to stare. He gritted his teeth and remained silent until they lost interest and turned around again. Blaise's eyes were dancing.

"See? I know your tells. I'll give you a hint - your biggest one is jealousy."

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What does it matter? You know I have bigger things to worry about, Zabini."

"Of course, how could I forget? Like playing Gobstones with Lovegood, for instance."

Blaise had said it to get a rise out of Draco, but he found himself looking toward Lovegood all the same. He hadn't approached her since that first disastrous game, but he also had made zero progress in his search for information on the Deathly Hallows. He had resisted talking to her again - it was all just nonsense, wasn't it? A useless dead end.

Still, his mind lingered on her words. No, of course not. Everyone knows about the Hallows. You've heard the Tale of the Three Brothers, haven't you?

"What do you know about the Tale of the Three Brothers?" Draco asked Blaise, his eyes still on Lovegood. Blaise's eyebrows furrowed.

"The fairytale? The same as you, I suspect. Why?"

"I think it might be a clue related to my...assignment. But I can't figure out how. It's just a story, right?"

Blaise leaned back in his seat, thoughtful. "Most people would say so, yeah. Though I remember Binns bringing it up when he was talking about Egbert the Egregious."

Draco's eyes whipped to Blaise. "What did Binns say about it?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Draco, don't you ever pay attention in History of Magic?" He smirked at Draco's murderous expression. "Kidding, kidding. I barely pay attention in History of Magic. If you'll recall, Egbert the Egregious dueled against Emeric the Evil, ultimately killing him. Legend says that Emeric's wand was unusually powerful and that wizards from all over coveted it. Egbert defeated Emeric, stole his wand, and went on to cause terror across southern England. Some fringe historians have argued that that wand is the same one that Beedle wrote about in his tale. No evidence for it, according to Binns, but then again, I never got the impression Binns was interested in anything but the driest of facts."

"So there's a possibility that it's real," Draco muttered to himself, looking down at his plate.

"I'm sorry, what? How does this have anything to do with anything?"

"I've got to go," Draco said abruptly, standing up and practically running out of the Great Hall. He reached the doors at the same time as Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood.

Of course.

"After you," he said coolly. Luna smiled serenely at him but Ginny avoided his gaze. Draco looked again toward the Gryffindor table as he held the door open. He and Potter locked eyes, and for one foolhardy moment he thought about acting on Blaise's words. What could Potter have said to make Ginny cry like that? Settling for a wink in Potter's direction, he exited after the girls and headed immediately for the stairs. Perhaps the Room of Hidden Things would have more answers for him now that he had more to go on.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend that weekend. Ginny bundled into her burgundy Weasley sweater and tucked her gloves into her jeans pocket. A contrite Harry had apologized to her last night, promising to spend the whole day with her, Ron be damned. She had tentatively accepted his apology, with the caveat that they would sneak around no longer. She and Harry would be a normal couple and Ron would just have to adjust.

She hurried down to the common room, where she was met by the site of Ron ferociously snogging Lavender Brown.

"Oh my goodness," she said, but they appeared not to hear her. Anger sparked in her suddenly.

What a hypocrite!

She opened her mouth to say so, but at that moment Harry emerged from the boys' dormitory. He looked at Ron, opened his mouth, closed it again, and shook his head. He smiled at Ginny and nodded with his head toward the exit.

"Guess he took your Auntie Muriel comment seriously," he whispered as he followed her out through the entry hole. Ginny giggled despite herself.

"He's a right prat," she whispered back. "So hypocritical." She grabbed his hand and, to her relief, Harry took it.

It wasn't until they were exiting the castle that Ginny realized she hadn't seen Hermione anywhere.

"Where's Hermione?" she asked Harry, turning her face away from the biting autumn wind as she opened the door.

"She said she was going to the library," Harry said. "But that was only after...well, you know."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Remember when I called Ron a prat a few minutes ago? Well, this time I mean it. How does he not see-"

"I don't know," Harry said quickly. "But I try to stay out of it, seeing as I'd like him to return the favor."

"Fair enough. Poor Hermione, though. We should bring her back something."

"She likes the Sugar Quills from Honeydukes," Harry said. "I'm sure she'd love one of those."

They walked along amicably to Hogsmeade, chatting about nothing of real importance. Romilda Vane, a fourth year, shot Ginny an envious glare as they passed her. Ginny did her best to ignore her but couldn't help the momentary glee at being out with Harry in public.

They meandered around the village for a while, stocking up on all kinds of sweets at Honeydukes. Harry reluctantly suggested going to Madam Puddifoot's, which Ginny promptly shot down, causing Harry to let out an audible sigh of relief. Ginny burst out laughing at that, knowing about his less-than-stellar date with Cho Chang at the tea shop last year. They settled on butterbeers at The Three Broomsticks.

Ginny sighed as she entered the warmth of the pub, the raucous laughter from a table of older wizards drifting over her like a pleasant breeze. She hurried to secure a corner table while Harry placed their orders with Madam Rosmerta, the innkeeper. Moments later, he sat down across from her, foamy drinks in hand and a pastry balanced awkwardly on his arm.

"This is perfect," Ginny said as she grabbed the pastry and took a bite. It was flakey and just a little sweet, exactly the way she liked it. Harry smiled at her as he took a sip of his butterbeer.

Turning serious for a moment, he said, "I know I said this last night, but I really am sorry about yesterday, Gin. I should have stood up for you right away and I didn't. Ron's my best mate but that doesn't excuse him being an arsehole."

"I forgive you," Ginny said before taking a drink of her own butterbeer. "But no more secrets, okay? I'm not ashamed of you and I hope you're not ashamed of me."

"Of course not! How could I ever be ashamed of you, Ginny? You're wonderful."

Ginny blushed and took another drink. "Speaking of secrets," she said, glancing around to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "How are your lessons with Dumbledore going?"

"Fine."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Just fine?"

Harry winced. "Ok, I know I just said no more secrets, but Dumbledore made me swear not to talk about it with anyone except Ron and Hermione. You know this, Gin. If I could tell you, I would."

Ginny scowled. She did know this, but that didn't mean she liked it.

"I know, I know. I just hate being left out. I helped you at the Ministry and I want to help you now."

Harry smiled and took her hand in his. "You can help me by worrying about all the ordinary things, like exams and Quidditch practice and Ron's love life. This other stuff...well, none of us will be able to avoid it after a while, but for now, what I want more than anything is for you to be happy, Ginny. Don't worry about me."

"I can't be happy if I'm worried about you being in danger. Can you at least tell me if these lessons with Dumbledore are dangerous?"

"They're not dangerous. We don't leave his office. They're a bit like...really in depth history lessons."

"Hmm." Ginny frowned, trying to decide whether or not Harry was telling her the truth. "Well, okay. Just know that whenever you do need help, I'll be here."

Harry nodded, seemingly eager for the conversation to be over. He took a sip of butterbeer before asking, "What did Malfoy say to you last night?"

Ginny frowned for a second, trying to remember what Harry was talking about. "Oh. Nothing. He just held the door open when we were leaving dinner."

"That was it?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Harry frowned, gripping his mug. "He's up to something. He keeps disappearing from the Marauders' Map, and you remember what I told you about Borgin and Burkes-"

Ginny nodded. She had heard these suspicions many times before. "Well, whatever he's up to, I doubt holding open doors is part of his master plan. Although I agree, he has been acting weird. Did Luna tell you about him playing Gobstones with her a few weeks ago? It was bizarre."

Harry's eyebrows shot up at this. "Playing Gobstones with Luna? Whatever for?"

"Beats me," Ginny said with a shrug. "She said he was asking about the Rotwing...no, Rotfang Conspiracy. Or something like that. Oh, and Crabbe said he had a crush on her." She shuddered.

Harry appeared to seriously consider this information, causing Ginny to playfully push his hand away.

"Oh come off it, Harry. I love Luna but you can't seriously think there's anything to her dad's conspiracy theories. Malfoy was just...well, I don't know what he was doing, but unless you're worried about the Ministry covertly spreading gum disease, it's a waste of time to think too hard on it. Luna said Malfoy hasn't approached her since, so maybe he was just having a weird day."

Harry appeared unconvinced. "Well, tell Luna to keep an eye out. He's bound to slip up sometime."

"Already done. I warned her to stay away from him."

Harry glanced around before leaning in closer to her. "Malfoy's not the only suspicious thing. The Ministry still hasn't been able to track down his dad. It's like he's disappeared."

"Maybe You Know Who killed him," Ginny supplied helpfully.

"Nah," Harry dismissed. "Malfoy wouldn't be able to play that off, he idolizes dear old Lucius. He knows more than he's letting on. Dumbledore said the Order is looking into it."

"That's good. Hopefully he'll be in Azkaban before too long."

Harry's expression turned pensive. "The Order is also looking for Trelawney."

Ginny set her mug down with a start. "Professor Trelawney?"

Harry nodded grimly. "She stopped responding to Dumbledore's owls over the summer. At first he just thought she was hiding out in the Muggle world, but now they're pretty sure she's missing."

Ginny's blood ran cold. "How awful. And the Order hasn't been able to find her?"

"Not even one sign. Dumbledore thinks her location must be hidden with a Fidelius Charm, just like Grimmauld. He has Kingsley and Tonks working on it."

Not knowing what to say to this, Ginny remained silent. After a moment, she said, "Do you think this has to do with what happened last year at the Department of Mysteries?"

"It must," Harry said, guilt passing over his face. "She was the one who made the prophecy. And now both her and Lucius Malfoy can't be found? Hardly a coincidence."

Ginny looked over Harry's shoulder to the roaring fire at the far end of the room. Madam Rosmerta was carrying a large platter of drinks over to a table full of laughing goblins. At the next table over, a group of Ravenclaw students were giggling and playfully shoving one another. She had the strangest sense of watching the whole thing from afar, like she was floating outside the scene. Some part of her felt certain that this would be the last time in a long time where she and Harry would enjoy butterbeers in peace. Struggling to shake it off for a moment, she forced herself to smile at Harry and turned their conversation to Quidditch.

Draco leaned against the fence, letting the wind whip against his face as he stared out at the Shrieking Shack. Convincing Pansy to spend the day with Daphne rather than him had been a chore, but he had finally insisted that his mother was coming to visit to discuss "private matters." Pansy, catching the hint, had boldly kissed him on the cheek this morning before dragging Daphne off to Madam Puddifoot's.

The sound of Apparition cracked behind him, but Draco didn't turn around.

"Hello, Mother."

Narcissa Malfoy strode to stand next to her son, her lips tight. She reached to put her hand atop Draco's along the fence but he pulled away. Her lips grew thinner and she turned her eyes to the Shrieking Shack.

"I can't stay long," she said. "I'm being watched."

She handed him a package.

"Open it and act happy about it. Just in case we're being observed."

He did so, pulling out a handsome green winter cloak.

"It's beautiful. Thank you, Mother." Remembering her advice, Draco leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"I have come to deliver a message from our...guest," she said, reaching again for his hand. This time, he allowed the contact.

"Oh?"

"She says that what you desire can only be obtained at the place where death has been weakened."

Draco said nothing for a moment. Then, he covered his face with his free hand.

"Why does everything have to be a fucking riddle?"