When Ginny woke to the sound of Madam Pomfrey's quiet voice, the room was dark.

"Sorry to wake you, Miss Weasley. I considered letting you stay in the ice bath until morning, but your temperature seems to have dropped as much as it's going to. I want to see how you fare once you get out."

Ginny sat up. "I'm fully recovered? Where are my clothes? Can I talk to Harry? Can we leave now?"

Madam Pomfrey huffed. "Out of the question. Your temperature has remained steady for several hours, but it's still high. This may simply be your new normal, but I need to see what happens without the ice bath."

"I'm still hot? No one… No one can touch me without getting burned, and I'm stuck like this forever?"

"No, no, nothing that severe. Assuming your temperature remains at this level–and we have every reason to believe it will–you needn't worry about your own health, or being a danger to others. Someone laying their hand on your forehead might think you have a fever; that's all."

Ginny let out a relieved breath. "Oh. That's no big deal."

Pomfrey offered her hand. Ginny took it gingerly, half expecting the older witch to jerk away in pain. Pomfrey gave no sign of discomfort as she helped her stand and step out of the bath.

Pomfrey asked, "How do you feel? Hot? Cold?"

"Um, normal? Comfortable, I mean."

"The ice water didn't start feeling colder the longer you were in it?"

"No." She raised her forearm, glanced at it, then showed it to Pomfrey. "See, no goose bumps."

"Hmmm." Pomfrey cast a spell which caused Ginny's clothes to dry instantly. "Did you feel any warmth from that spell?" she asked, handing Ginny a white hospital wing robe.

As she put it on, Ginny said, "No. Is that a problem? You said my condition isn't dangerous. I already feel warm enough, and I've always hated feeling cold, so I won't miss it."

She flashed back to the feeling of lying on the Chamber floor. No, she wouldn't miss that at all.

"I don't expect your temperature to present any problems, but I have other concerns. Things you don't feel can sometimes still harm you."

"I know."

"Good. For example, you may need to stay indoors on cold days, so you don't wind up with hypothermia or frostbite because you didn't notice the cold. Similarly, if you can't feel hot things, you could burn yourself by brushing against a hot cauldron and failing to jerk your hand away. Though…"

"Though?"

"Perhaps I shouldn't speculate."

"Please, I need to know what's happening to me."

Pomfrey pressed her lips together, then admitted, "Things could go the other way, giving you a resistance to burns, or heat and cold in general."

"How hot does something have to be before–"

"Miss Weasley. This is not something you are to experiment with on your own. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

"This is nothing to take lightly. Your temperature when Fawkes brought you here should not have been survivable for even a brief period, let alone the hours you endured it before it started to drop."

Ginny swallowed. "Then how did I survive?"

"One of the best parts of practicing wizarding medicine is that a patient's own magic can sometimes keep her alive well beyond what would be fatal to any Muggle. One of the worst parts is when a patient asks me to explain, and I can find nothing to tell her except that magic did it."

Ginny grinned. "I'll take it, good explanation or not."

"As will I," Pomfrey agreed, smiling back. Turning stern again, she said, "Now, if you do develop a tolerance for higher temperatures, it may be temporary. It may last for some time, but vanish without warning at the exact moment you are doing something foolish with fire. You must never take it for granted. Understood?"

"Yes, Miss."

"As for your magic, you may have an easier time casting fire spells. Again, you are not to explore this on your own. I will notify your teachers of your circumstances, so they may provide appropriate guidance. If any fire spell you cast produces a stronger effect than expected, you are to notify a teacher immediately."

"I will. How likely is that?"

"We'll have to wait and see, but when I discussed your family medical and magical history with your mother, she mentioned an affinity for fire magic in the Prewett family. You may have had a latent ability, just waiting for a suitable event to trigger it. I don't know how else to explain all this."

"I didn't know that. About my mum's family, I mean."

"In retrospect, your brother Charlie's obsession with dragons is less surprising."

"Is he like me? He never let on."

"Nothing that ever manifested, as far as I know. His fascination with creatures of fire is suggestive, but not conclusive."

"Oh. Maybe I have some other relative I can talk to about… all this. Someone it did manifest for."

Pomfrey's manner softened. "It's a lot to take in. I hope I haven't overwhelmed you with the possible risks, but fire magic is nothing to play around with. No form of magic is, but fire magic has a unique tendency to spiral out of control. Some people with a talent for fire see it as a gift. Others see it as an unwelcome one, and choose to take potions which help suppress–"

"Absolutely not," Ginny interrupted. "Miss."

"It's your decision to make. No one is going to force you. The option is always there if you change your mind."

"If this is a part of me, I need to figure out what it means, not try to stomp it out of existence."

"I was afraid you'd see it that way. I thought I recognized the look."

"What look?"

"Over the years, I've developed a sense for which students I'm likely to see turning up here with burns on a regular basis. Either that, or the people around them do. I hope I'm wrong, but you have that look in your eye."

"I'll be careful."

"I hope so. If you take the risks seriously, and behave responsibly, there's no reason this should interfere with you living a long and healthy life." She paused. "Let me add one other piece of advice. You've been through some trauma, which may have ongoing consequences. None of that defines who you are. You define who you are, with the choices you make about how you're going to move forward with your life. Alright?"

"Alright. Thank you."

"Good. Now, unless you have any other questions, try to get some sleep. In a proper bed this time."

"Can I check on Harry first?"

"Mr Potter is already asleep."

The sound of someone clearing their throat came from the other side of the curtains. "Er, actually…"

Pomfrey swept the curtain open. "Mr Potter, why aren't you… What exactly are you doing?"

Looking past Pomfrey, Ginny saw Harry standing with his back to them.

"Sorry," he said. "I wanted to make sure Ginny was okay."

Pomfrey looked at the spot on the far wall he appeared to be studying intently. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing! I swear!"

"Then what makes committing that wall to memory more important than looking at me when I'm speaking to you?"

"Er, when I wanted to talk to Ginny before, you told me she was…" He shifted uncomfortably. "That is, you said I should stay away, because she didn't have any… um…"

Ginny giggled, and felt herself blush.

"Paracelsus, give me strength," Pomfrey said in exasperation. She turned to look at Ginny, raising an eyebrow. "Well?"

Ginny looked at the modest hospital robe she was wearing. It appeared identical to the one Harry was wearing, and was certainly less embarrassing than a nightgown. "It's okay, Harry. I'm decent. You can turn around."

He turned and looked at her and smiled. "Hi."

"Hi," she answered, returning his smile.

He started to step forward, but Madam Pomfrey held out her hand to stop him. "Miss Weasley no longer needs to be in a private area, and there is certainly no reason for the two of you to be in there together."

Harry turned red and looked down. "Yes, Miss."

Pomfrey continued, "That said, as long as you agree not to stay up too late talking, you may move to adjacent beds out in the open area."

She looked expectantly at them, until they both agreed to her terms.

"And Mr Potter, respecting a witch's privacy involves more than not looking where you shouldn't. It also includes not listening in when you shouldn't, like when she is having a private health conversation with her Healer."

"Sorry, Ginny."

"It's okay. I would have told you anyway. If you wanted to know, I mean."

Pomfrey waved her hand to move them along. "Off you go, now. The sooner you get settled in, the sooner you can get to sleep." She watched long enough to verify they were following her instructions, then turned and left the room.

Harry went back to his bed, and Ginny took the one next to him. They lay facing each other across the gap.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny," Harry said.

"I said I don't mind you hearing. It wasn't anything embarrassing. Pomfrey didn't want to come out and say it, but I could tell she thinks I'm going to have ferociously strong fire magic now. Isn't that awesome?"

"That's great, but that's not what I meant. It's my fault you got hurt."

"Your fault? You rescued me!"

"I didn't. Not properly. If I'd managed to get you out of there, Fawkes wouldn't have had to, and you wouldn't have almost died from being too hot. I'm sure he didn't mean to. He's really friendly. I hope you get to hear him sing sometime."

Ginny doubted Fawkes would be keen to serenade her after their last encounter, but she let that pass. "What else could you have done? You were dying, you passed out, then Fawkes took you away."

"If I hadn't let myself get bitten–"

"Harry! I'm sure you didn't stand there and let a Basilisk chew on you."

"No, but if I'd held the sword at a better angle, I–"

"The sword?" She stared at him. "You fought a giant Basilisk with a sword?"

"Fawkes did most of the fighting. I ran and hid, and when that stopped working, I tried to point the sword in the right direction. I mean, it wasn't just any old sword, it–"

"Please stop. I should be the one apologizing. I almost got Ron buried under a pile of rubble, and I almost got you killed by the Basilisk. Not to mention what could have happened to anyone who ran into it all those times I set it loose."

"Those things almost happened, but they didn't."

"I got lucky. That doesn't change what I did."

"You weren't in control of yourself."

"I was when I started writing in the diary. I should have known better. My dad has warned us about Dark objects like one million times."

"Tom Riddle made that diary. He's the one to blame, not you. Do you know who he really is?"

"I know he became Voldemort, but it's still hard for me to think of them as the same person. At least not the way he treated me at first. He taught me a lot about magic."

"You know he was never really your friend though, right?"

"Yeah, pretty clear on that now."

"Right. Sorry. Anyway, you should blame him, not yourself."

"I'll try, if you stop blaming yourself for not rescuing me hard enough. That's nonsense."

"I guess that's fair. Deal."

They both fell silent.

Harry asked, "Do you know how you wound up with the diary?"

"I found it thrown in with my other books."

"Lucius Malfoy put it there."

"That bastard. How did you find out?"

"I talked to him after Fawkes brought me back from the Chamber."

"They let him in here?" she demanded, sitting up. "While I was knocked out and helpless?"

"No. Fawkes brought me here, but I ran out to go see Dumbledore before Madam Pomfrey could stop me. Malfoy showed up at Dumbledore's office."

She settled back on her bed. "You ran out? You were barely conscious when Fawkes took you away."

"I had to. I had to let Dumbledore know you and Ron were still down there. Fawkes looked tired, and I didn't know if he'd be able to go back for you. Besides, I was fine. Phoenix tears are brilliant. I don't think I even need to be here, but Dumbledore insisted, and Pomfrey agreed."

"I don't suppose my parents happened to run into Malfoy while they were here, and kill him or anything?"

"No such luck. Your parents were in his office, but they left to come see you, as soon as Pomfrey sent word she had you. Malfoy showed up later. I bet your dad would have at least taken another swing at him. Oh, well. I at least managed to free his house-elf. He wasn't happy about that."

"Okay…"

"It's a long story."

"You mean a story you'll only tell Ron and Hermione."

"No. I'll tell you. You deserve to know how this happened to you. It really is a long story, and we're supposed to go to sleep soon."

"You swear you'll tell me later?"

"Swear."

"Good."

They lay there and looked at each other in the dim light.

Harry said, "Um. This is kind of weird. Not bad," he hastened to add, "but…"

"Yeah. I mean… What did you mean?"

"I've never slept in the same room as a girl."

"I've never slept in the same room as a boy. As the one girl in the family, I've always had my own room. Not that being in the same room as one of my brothers would be the same as being here with you." She felt herself blush, and was grateful for the darkness. "It's not like this is a proper bedroom. And it's not like we're alone."

"Yeah, Madam Pomfrey is here. And kind of scary."

"Yeah, but also everyone I…" She gestured towards the area which held the petrified students, hidden behind privacy curtains.

"You didn't. Riddle did. Blame him, remember? We agreed."

"I'll try."

"Good."

They fell silent again, until Harry said, "I think it would be less weird if we didn't look at each other. Is that okay?"

"Okay."

They both turned onto their backs.

"I think this is better," Harry said.

"I guess. I don't mind you being here though."

"I don't mind either. It's just a bit much to stare at someone for too long. I guess we should try to sleep anyway."

"Probably."

"Good night, Ginny."

"Good night, Harry. Thank you for saving me."

"You're welcome. I'll do better next time."

"Harry."

"Right. Just you're welcome then. Good night."

"Good night."

~*~

Harry stood looking down at her in the pale light of morning. "Ginny, it's over. You're safe. I rescued you. It's time for you to give me my reward."

She glared at him. "Fuck off."

He laughed. "That's no way to talk to your hero. Well, not your hero. Rather, the hero of the whole wizarding world, if you believe the papers. The kind of person who would never have time for someone as weak and pathetic as you."

"I know it's you, Tom. And if you're right, what does it say about you, that you have so much time to play these little games with me?"

Harry's face shifted to become the face of Tom Riddle. He gave her his best adolescent, wannabe-aristocrat sneer. "A cat can always find time to play with a mouse. That doesn't mean he attaches any significance to that particular mouse, or to vermin in general."

"Whatever."

The real Harry sat up in the next bed. "Riddle, get away from her!"

Riddle winked at Ginny, then pointed his wand at Harry. "Avada Kedavra."

Ginny's eyes snapped open, and she sat up fast enough to make herself lightheaded. Harry lay motionless in his bed.

"Harry!"

"Coming! Breakfast will be ready in–" He broke off and squinted at her in confusion. "Ginny? What is it? What's wrong?"

She stood and crossed over to sit on the edge of his bed.

"Ginny? What–?"

"I need to feel you."

"Er… I'm flattered, but I barely know you, and I think we're supposed to be older and, you know, in love or whatever."

Her eyebrows came together in confusion, before springing up as she gasped, "Not like that! Just take my hand. Please."

He gave her a puzzled look, but extended his hand. She grabbed it and squeezed. He squeezed back.

"Tell me you're real," she said.

"You feel hot. Should I get Madam Pomfrey?"

"Harry, please. I'll explain, but please just say it."

"I'm real."

"Did you come to save me? In the Chamber? For real?"

"That was real too."

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why did you come for me? That can't be real. It doesn't make sense. You shouldn't have done that."

"What do you mean? I had to. You were in trouble."

"But I'm nothing to you. I'm no one worth saving. Not after everything I did."

"No. You are worth it." He gave her hand another squeeze.

She shook her head. "No. But you did it anyway. We really got out? All three of us? Wait, was Ron there?"

"He was, but we all got out safe. Lockhart too, though I'm not sure he would have been any great loss."

"And Riddle's gone? You beat him?"

He hesitated. "Yeah, I destroyed the diary."

She studied his face. "Is he gone for good, or just gone for now?"

Another pause. "He's gone for good. Don't worry. You focus on getting better."

"You're a terrible liar."

"I guess I don't know for sure. But if he does return, he has no reason to come after you."

"You don't know that for sure either." She let her grip on his hand relax, but didn't let go entirely. She looked down at their joined hands. "Is this alright? Just for a little while? Riddle really messed with my head towards the end. I need to know this is real, and not him still making me see things."

"It's alright. What do you need me to do?"

"You're doing it. I said I'd explain, so here goes."

She took a breath, and let it out. "Riddle could make me see whatever he wanted. His favorite was people coming to rescue me. You, mum and dad, my brothers. Dumbledore. Teachers. I'd start to hope, but then your faces would change, and it would be Riddle laughing at me. Or something terrible would happen to the person he was pretending to be, and I couldn't look away. He did it over and over, trying out variations to see which ones were the worst for me."

She felt tears on her cheeks, and impatiently brushed them away. This was a fine start to her vow to stop being weak and useless. And in front of Harry, of all people.

Harry stared at her, unable to find the words to reply.

"You'd think I would have caught on after the first couple of times," she continued, "but I couldn't think straight. You know how in a dream, no matter what happens, you don't question it? Like that. I eventually learned to snap out of it, but he didn't stop. It still wasn't much fun to see those things, even knowing they weren't real."

"Oh, Ginny, I'm so sorry. That's so sick."

She swallowed to clear her throat. "I just had a nightmare like that. That's why I'm such a wreck all of a sudden. I'm not crazy or anything."

"I know you're not. Do you think he can still get to you?"

She paused to consider, then shook her head. "No. Just a dream. It didn't have the same feeling of someone else inside me who doesn't belong there. I haven't felt that since you saved me."

"Did he ever… hurt you?"

"He couldn't actually touch me, if that's what you're asking. That's how I knew it was really you, when it finally really was. I felt your hand on my shoulder, and I started to hope again, after I thought I was done hoping and living and everything."

"I don't know what to say. What can I do?"

She shook her head. "After everything you've already done, I can't ask you for anything else."

"You can. Go ahead and ask."

"If things get bad, it might help if I could feel that you're real, and know that everything else is too. I know it sounds weird, and I'm nothing to you but your friend's annoying little sister, and–"

"Ginny, stop. It's fine. Whenever you need it."

"You really wouldn't mind?"

"It's no trouble."

"If I ever start to feel too hot, you have to let go before you get burned. I might not be able to tell it's happening."

"Of course," he chuckled. "I'm not daft."

He'd given her the response she expected, but doubted he could pull away when she needed him, knowing what it meant to her. Blisters and such were no big deal. He'd had worse, cooking for the Dursleys. At least here at school, he'd be allowed medical treatment. Though he should probably start giving her his left hand, rather than his wand hand–just in case.

Ginny said, "Thank you. It means a lot." She nodded towards her bed. "I should probably…"

"When you're ready."

After another minute, she gave his hand another quick squeeze, then let go and went back to her own bed. She slipped under the covers, and pulled them up over her head.

Harry tried to stay awake as long as he could, listening, but in time he drifted off.

They both slept through the rest of the night without any more dreams.