I do not own the characters; they belong to the brilliant JK. I’m only taking them for a little spin around the block. I promise not to harm them (ok, maybe I’ll harm them a little bit, but only for drama’s sake!), so please do not send any lawyers after me.

Friends in Low Places
By Nola Ryan

After the Chamber

As the door to McGonagall’s office closed behind them, Ginny broke into a fresh wave of tears. Mrs. Weasley, who already had an arm around Ginny’s shoulders, pulled her into a hug, but Ginny pushed her away.

“Don’t,” Ginny pleaded. “I’m dirty.”

“I don’t care,” Mrs. Weasley declared fiercely, pulling Ginny close to her again.

Ginny started shaking as her mother held her tightly. “Mum, I’m…I’m…”

“Shh, don’t talk,” Mrs. Weasley soothed. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Mummy’s here, and Daddy, and we’re going to keep you safe.”

“Safe,” Ginny murmured. “Safe.”

She slumped in her mother’s arms, unconscious. Mrs. Weasley almost fell over from the sudden dead weight, and Mr. Weasley caught both of them before they fell. He scooped
Ginny into his arms.

“Let’s get her to the hospital wing,” he suggested as he started down the hall quickly.

“What’s wrong with her?” Mrs. Weasley cried. “What did he do to her?”

“She’s exhausted, Molly,” Mr. Weasley said gently. “She’s been through quite an ordeal, and it’s all catching up with her.”

“What if it’s more than that?” worried Mrs. Weasley. “Remember what Lily warned us about; that the dark magic she used to save Ginny would always leave her vulnerable to dark influences? You-Know-Who could have put all kinds of spells on her.”

“We’ll have Poppy check her carefully, but I think any spells that might have been done on her were destroyed when Harry destroyed the diary,” Mr. Weasley theorized.

“If he hadn’t found Ginny when he did…” Mrs. Weasley stopped, shuddering.

“Don’t think about that, Molly,” Mrs. Weasley instructed. “Harry did find her, and he and Ron and Ginny are all fine.”

“They’re safe, but I don’t know if they’re all fine,” Mrs. Weasley commented, taking Ginny’s hand. “How could this happen, Arthur? I thought this was the one place they would all be safe, no matter what was going on in the world outside of here.”

“Lucius Malfoy,” Mr. Weasley muttered. “He was the one who had Dumbledore suspended as Headmaster, and he certainly would be the sort to have something like that diary in his possession.”

They reached the hospital wing. The room was abuzz with activity as Mr. Weasley carried Ginny through the door. Snape sat at Madame Pomfrey’s desk, a small cauldron in front of him. He was spooning the contents of it into goblets, which Madame Pomfrey was using to administer the Mandrake potion to her petrified patients.

Snape looked up in surprise when the Weasleys entered. “You found her?” he questioned, obviously stunned. “And she’s alive?”

“Harry and Ron found her, and she’s fine,” declared Mrs. Weasley curtly.

Madame Pomfrey came running over. “This is the girl from the Chamber?” she asked. Mr. Weasley nodded. “Put her over here.”

She led them to a bed with curtains already set up around it. Madame Pomfrey looked Ginny over as Mr. Weasley laid her down on the bed.

“She’s not petrified,” she noticed.

“No, just unconscious,” Mr. Weasley told her. “She fainted on our way here from McGonagall’s office.”

Madame Pomfrey checked Ginny’s pulse. “A little fast, but nice and strong,” she noted. “Give me one minute to finish administering this Mandrake draft, and then I will examine her more closely. Could you please get her robes off while I’m gone?”

She bustled off as Mrs. Weasley started to unbutton Ginny’s robes, spreading dirt and slime and other things Mrs. Weasley did not want to identify onto the crisp white sheets. “She’s going to need a soak in a tub for a week to get all this muck off of her,” Mrs. Weasley commented as she pulled the tattered robe off Ginny.

Ginny’s wand fell out of her pocket with a clatter that made both her parents jump. Mr. Weasley picked it up and looked at the wand thoughtfully. “We could try Prior Incantato to find out what sort of spells she’s been forced to cast,” he suggested.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. “I don’t want to know. If Ginny can’t remember them, they should stay forgotten.”

Mr. Weasley nodded his agreement distractedly as he continued to study the wand. “Is this yew?”

Mrs. Weasley nodded. “Yew and unicorn hair. We had quite a time finding a match for her,” Mrs. Weasley remembered. “Mr. Ollivander said Ginny was one of the most difficult customers he ever had. He figured she would have a unicorn hair core, as the boys all do, but we tried almost every unicorn hair wand in the store before she finally found a match with this one.”

“It is quite a powerful wand for a little girl,” Mr. Weasley commented.

Madame Pomfrey interrupted, hurrying back to Ginny’s bedside. “I’m very sorry,” she apologized. She looked more closely at the Weasleys, recognition dawning. “Oh, Arthur, Molly, I didn’t even realize it was you. This is your daughter?”

Mrs. Weasley nodded. “She didn’t seem very hurt after she came out of the Chamber, only shaken up,” she told Madame Pomfrey. “But we don’t know what happened to her down there.”

“Can you please give me a few minutes to examine her?” Madame Pomfrey requested. “You can wait right outside the curtain.”

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley reluctantly stepped away from Ginny’s bedside. Mrs. Weasley looked around at the other patients in the ward, who were just starting to awaken from their petrified states. She spotted Hermione and worriedly went over to her bed.

Hermione was looking around in confusion. “Mrs. Weasley?” she asked uncertainly.

Mrs. Weasley nodded as she stroked Hermione’s hair. “How are you feeling, dear?”

“What are you doing here?” Hermione questioned in a panic, struggling to sit up. “Ron?”

“Ron’s fine,” Mrs. Weasley assured her.

“Harry?”

“He’s fine, too.”

“Something’s wrong,” Hermione insisted. “You wouldn’t be here if something wasn’t wrong.”

“Ginny was taken into the Chamber of Secrets,” Mrs. Weasley reluctantly revealed.

Hermione gasped. “She’s not…”

“Harry and Ron got her out,” Mrs. Weasley told her.

“They found it then? The Chamber of Secrets?” Hermione asked excitedly. “They figured out how to get in?”

“Yes, they figured it out. And just in time, too,” Mrs. Weasley informed her.

“Ginny’s okay then?” Hermione questioned worriedly.

“Madame Pomfrey is looking her over now, but I don’t think she was hurt too badly,” Mrs. Weasley said, looking anxiously in Ginny’s direction.

There was suddenly a scream from Ginny’s bed. Mrs. Weasley jumped up. “Excuse me, Hermione dear.”

She hurried back over to the curtain, where both Mr. Weasley and Madam Pomfrey were trying to calm down a hysterical Ginny.

“No! Let me go! Let me go!” Ginny was screaming as they tried to hold her down.

“Let her go,” Mrs. Weasley commanded.

“But, Molly, she’s hysterical,” Arthur protested.

“You’re not going to calm her down fighting her like that,” chastised Mrs. Weasley.

Madame Pomfrey and Mr. Weasley reluctantly let go of Ginny. Rather than settle down, Ginny leapt from the bed immediately, but Mrs. Weasley stopped her by putting an arm around her. “Where are you going, honey?” she asked soothingly.

“I have to get back to Tom,” Ginny declared anxiously. “He’s calling me, I have to get back and help him. His plan can’t work without me.”

Ginny broke free of her mother’s grasp and ran for the door. It opened before Ginny reached it and Ron came through, pushing Lockhart in front of him. “In here, you git,” Ron instructed.

Ginny tried to push past them, but Ron caught her arm. “Whoa, Gin, where are you flying to?”

Ginny didn’t even seem to recognize him as she struggled to break free of his grasp. “Get off of me,” she screeched.

Ron let go of her, startled by her outburst.

“Ron, don’t let her out!” Mr. Weasley called.

Ron quickly ran after Ginny, catching her around the waist and carrying her back into the hospital ward. Ginny kicked and screamed in protest. Ron put her down just inside the door, but grabbed her by the shoulders firmly so she couldn’t run. “Ginny, look at me,” he commanded.

Ginny only fought him harder. Ron shook her by the shoulders. “Look at me!”

“Ron, stop!” Mrs. Weasley cried as Ginny shook her head furiously and closed her eyes.

Ron ignored his mother and pulled Ginny into a tight hug.

“It’s okay, Ginger Snap,” he murmured gently as Ginny continued to fight him. “All the bad things are gone, Ronnie took care of them. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

Ginny slowly started to relax against him as he continued to murmur reassurances to her.

“That’s better,” Ron told her when she’d finally quieted down, kissing the top of her head. Ginny clutched his robes tightly and looked up into his blue eyes, which were worried-looking and bright with tears.

“He won’t get out of my head, Ronnie,” Ginny cried. “He keeps calling me, telling me I have to come back there and help him.”

“It’s not real, Ginny,” Ron assured her. “He’s gone now.”

“It is real!” Ginny insisted. “He’s still here, I can still hear him! Make him stop, Ronnie, please make him stop. I don’t want him in my head anymore!”

“You just need some sleep, Gin,” Ron told her, casting an anxious look over her head at their parents. “A night of dreamless sleep and you’ll feel right as rain again.” He scooped her easily into his arms. “Let’s get you back into bed, okay?”

Ginny nodded as she lay her head on his shoulder. Ron carried her back over to the bed and laid her down, but Ginny caught his hand. “Don’t go,” she pleaded.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Ron promised, sitting on the bed next to her. Mr. Weasley put a hand on Ron’s shoulder as Mrs. Weasley went around to the other side of the bed to grasp Ginny’s other hand.

“Thank you,” Mr. Weasley murmured. Ron only nodded as he glanced around the hospital wing.

“I saw Hermione, Ron,” Mrs. Weasley told him, guessing what he was looking for. “She’s fine, and very proud of you and Harry.”

“I bet she hates me,” Ginny wailed. “Everyone is going to hate me when they find out I was the only one who opened the Chamber of Secrets.”

“No one is going to know,” Ron told her. “Dumbledore will keep it quiet.”

“You know you can’t keep a secret here!” Ginny cried. “By tomorrow everyone will know what a horrible person I am.”

“You are not a horrible person, Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley scolded. “You got caught up in something much more powerful than you, that’s all. People will understand that.”

“No they won’t!” Ginny insisted loudly. “They’re all going to be scared of me, and I’m never going to get any friends here!”

“No one is going to know the truth, Gin,” Ron promised her. “Because tomorrow I’m going to start spreading a story about what happened down there that will be so good, no one will ever believe the real story.”

“You will?” Ginny chocked between sobs.

Ron nodded. “Haven’t I always taken care of you?”

“Always,” Ginny said.

“I messed up a bit on that this year,” Ron admitted. “But no more. You’ve got your big brother looking out for you, no one better dare try to do anything to you again.”

“If they did they’d have to get past us, too,” declared Fred, as he and George approached Ginny’s bedside. Both were pale, with dark circles under their red-rimmed eyes.

“You okay, Gin?” George asked worriedly, taking in the torn robes balled up on her bed, and the mud and bloodstains on her clothes.

“She’s going to be fine,” Mrs. Weasley declared.

Fred glanced at Ron’s muddy robes. “Did you and Harry really get her out of the Chamber of Secrets?”

Ron nodded.

“Cool,” George murmured. “We thought McGonagall was having us on.”

“It was Harry, really,” Ron admitted.

“Why didn’t you come get us?” George questioned.

“Yeah, we could have helped,” Fred piped up.

“Just what I need, two more of my children risking their lives,” Mrs. Weasley proclaimed, going to the twins and putting an arm around each of them, squeezing the boys tightly.

“Geroff, Mum,” both grumbled. “We’re fine, except that we missed a great adventure,” Fred added.

“There was nothing great about it,” Ron growled. “Especially for Ginny and Harry.”

Both the twins looked properly abashed. “Sorry, Gin,” they muttered.

“Where’s Percy?” Mr. Weasley asked.

Fred and George shot each other a look. “He…uh…he’s still up in the dorm,” mumbled Fred. “He should be down soon to check on Ginny.”

“Where’s Harry?” George wondered.

“Still in with Dumbledore,” Ron told him. “But I’m sure he’ll come up here when he’s done, to check on Ginny.”

“No!” Ginny exclaimed.

“What’s wrong?” Mrs. Weasley asked worriedly.

“I can’t face Harry,” proclaimed Ginny. “Never!”

“You’re going to have to face him sometime,” Ron said gently. “You are both in Gryffindor, afterall. And I’m sure he’s going to be at the Burrow some time during your life,” he added with a smile.

“Ron,” Mrs. Weasley hissed.

“How can I look at him when he knows what I did?” Ginny wailed.

“You never could look at him before, I bet he won’t even notice the difference,” Ron teased.

“That’s enough, Ronald,” Mrs. Weasley scolded.

“My point is, Ginny, Harry is not going to feel any differently about you because of this,” Ron told her.

“But he almost died because of me.”

“He almost died because of You-Know-Who,” Ron reminded her. “You just happened to be his way of getting to Harry this time around. Next time it will be someone else.”

“Next time?” Mrs. Weasley murmured, going pale.

“There’s always a next time with You-Know-Who,” Ron said somberly. “We all know he’s not going to stop until he kills Harry – or someone finds a way to kill….”

Ron stopped short as Snape passed by the bed. “I’m glad you’re safe, Miss Weasley,” Snape murmured as he strode past, his robes billowing out behind him.

******************
Snape continued out of the hospital wing and down the hall, which was eerily quiet. He wearily rubbed the back of his hand across his face, and plodded toward the Grand Staircase and the dungeon.

Just as he reached the top of the staircase, he saw Lucius Malfoy storming from the direction of the dungeon. “He doesn’t look happy,” Snape muttered with a shake of his head. He shrank back away from the railing until Lucius had slammed out of the front door of the castle, and then continued his descent down the stairs. He was just about to open the door leading to the dungeon when it burst open and Pansy Parkinson came flying out, nearly bowling Snape over.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Pansy gasped. “Professor, you have to come with me! Quick!”

“What are you on about?” Snape snapped in the tone he usually only reserved for members of other houses.

“It’s Draco!” she cried. “He’s hurt. Very badly, I think.”

“Show me,” Snape commanded. Pansy was already sprinting back toward the dungeon, Snape right on her heels.

“Lucius, what have you done?” Snape murmured as he spotted Draco lying in a heap at the bottom of the stone steps.

“I’m back,” Pansy announced as she fell to her knees next to him. “And I brought Professor Snape.”

Draco moaned. “I told you I’m fine.”

He tried to prove his point by pushing himself up, but his arms gave out about halfway to a sitting position, and he fell back onto the floor with a whimper.

“That’s the worst impression of fine I’ve ever seen,” Pansy sniped.

“Shut up, Pan” Draco muttered. “I need a minute, that’s all.”

“Draco, where are you hurt?” Snape asked, looking him over.

“I’m not,” Draco gritted out.

“Where are you hurt, boy?” Snape growled.

“Back,” Draco admitted. He winced from a sudden spasm of pain. “And ribs.”

“Would you like to tell me what happened?” Snape questioned

“Fell,” Draco muttered.

Pansy gasped in surprise.

“Miss Parkinson, you do not belong outside of your dormitory this late at night,” Snape scolded.

“But I was helping…”

“I appreciate you coming to Mr. Malfoy’s aid,” Snape told her. “But I have the situation well in hand now, so you may return to your common room.”

Pansy opened her mouth to protest, but Snape spoke again before she could. “Please don’t make me take points from my own house, Miss Parkinson.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Pansy glumly. “Feel better, Draco.”

Draco grumbled something as Pansy flounced off toward the Slytherin common room. Once she was gone, Snape knelt down at Draco’s side.

“Don’t move, Draco,” Snape instructed. “I’ll conjure a stretcher to take you up to the hospital wing.

“No, no hospital wing,” Draco protested, eyes closed in concentration as he pushed himself up. He bit through his lip to keep from crying out in pain, but managed to make it into a sitting position. Snape just watched him closely as Draco leaned back against the stairs, breathing heavily from the effort of sitting up. Draco licked away the blood on his lip and looked up at Snape. “See…I’m…fine,” he gasped. “Just a little…Indolentae Potion…I’ll be good…as new.”

Snape shook his head as he watched Draco trying to catch his breath. “Not this time, Draco. If you cover up the pain when you’re seriously hurt, there could be permanent damage.”

“Falling down these stairs can’t be any worse than falling off my broom, and I’ve never been seriously hurt from that,” Draco complained.

“Stop lying,” Snape snapped. “I know you didn’t fall down the stairs. I saw your father storming out of the castle.” His demeanor softened a bit. “I’d hoped he hadn’t crossed paths with anyone when he was in such a horrible state, especially you. But obviously that wasn’t the case.”

Draco hesitated a moment, then said softly, “He came to take me home. He wanted me to leave Hogwarts.”

“For good?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you said no?” Snape asked, obviously surprised.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Draco quipped, biting down on his lip again as another spasm of pain swept over him. “I didn’t think Durmstrang would agree with me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Snape murmured. “I suspect some of the curriculum might be familiar.”

“I’m sure it would be, but I don’t fancy freezing my arse off in the middle of nowhere to learn it,” Draco declared.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Pardon my language, sir,” Draco added quickly.

“That’s quite alright,” Snape assured him. “I said rather the same thing when my father tried to send me to a school I didn’t want to attend.”

“Did your father ever…” Draco’s voice trailed off as he decided not to finish his question.

“He could be…difficult,” Snape admitted.

Snape suddenly conjured a stretcher with a quick wave of his wand. “Come, let’s get you to the hospital wing.”

“I’m not going on that,” Draco declared, nodding his head in the direction of the stretcher and wincing at the movement. “Help me up and I’ll walk there.”

“Excuse me?”

Draco quickly remembered his manners. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said contritely. “Would you please help me up?”

Snape nodded and extended a hand to him. Draco took it, and started to pull himself up with great difficulty, clutching his ribs with his free hand.

“I can do this, I can do this, I can do this,” Draco murmured to himself, gritting his teeth against the pain.

He finally made it to his feet, but swayed as he tried to remain standing. “Professor, I don’t feel so well,” he mumbled, just before crumpling to the floor.



Author’s Notes: The idea for this story came to me because I wondered why there was no mention of Draco being at the feast at the end of ‘Chamber of Secrets’. After Harry’s confrontation with Lucius, what Draco was up to would certainly have been on Harry’s mind, so it was odd to me that he didn’t mention Draco at all. Thus I came up with the story of where Draco might have been (and how he and Ginny might conceivably get to know each other within the confines of canon). Thanks to Karen for being the world’s best beta.

I do not own the characters; they belong to the brilliant JK. I’m only taking them for a little spin around the block. I promise not to harm them (ok, maybe I’ll harm them a little bit, but only for drama’s sake!), so please do not send any lawyers after me.

Friends in Low Places
By Nola Ryan

Feasts and Beasts

Ginny stepped out of the tub in the hospital wing as her mother held out a thick towel to her. "Feel better?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Ginny didn’t answer as she ignored the towel and stood watching the filthy water swirl down the drain. "I won’t wash away as easily as that dirt," Tom taunted her. Ginny shook her head to try to shake off his voice.

"Wait a minute, honey, I think we missed a spot," Mrs. Weasley said, noticing a mark on Ginny’s lower back as she wrapped the young girl in the towel. Ginny looked over her shoulder, trying to see her back, as Molly picked up a washcloth. Molly wiped at the mark, which shrank away at her touch, but returned when she pulled her hand away.

"Did you get it?" asked Ginny.

Mrs. Weasley didn’t answer as she bent closer to look at the mark, which again dissolved into Ginny’s skin.

"It won’t come off, Ginny," Tom murmured. "I marked you. You’re mine forever."

"Mum?" Ginny said, a twinge of panic in her voice, as Tom’s harsh laughter echoed in her head.

"It’s fine, dear, just a bit of mud," Mrs. Weasley said, no longer seeing the mark. She put her arms around Ginny and hugged her tightly.

"Why is she always touching us? Make her go away," Tom commanded.

Ginny pulled away from her mother. "Stop it, I’m too big for hugs."

"You will never be too big for hugs." Mrs. Weasley kissed the top of Ginny’s head as she hugged her again. "Are you ready to get back to bed?"

"Can we go home?" Ginny said suddenly, pulling away again.

"Home? To the Burrow?" Ginny nodded. "That’s a long trip, dear. By the time we got home, it would be time for you to come back to take your exams."

"I don’t want to come back," declared Ginny. "I don’t ever want to come back here again."

"That won’t help you escape me, my beautiful Ginevra," murmured Tom. "I’ll follow you wherever you go."

"Honey, you don’t mean that," Mrs. Weasley insisted as she pulled a nightshirt over Ginny’s head. "You’ll see, things will look better in the morning after you’ve had a good night’s sleep."

"I can’t see anything with this bloody thing over my face," Ginny muttered as she struggled to get her head and arms through the holes of the top.

"Watch your mouth, young lady," Mrs. Weasley scolded.

"Leave me alone!" Ginny shot back, finally getting the nightshirt on and stalking away from her mother back toward her bed.

A shocked Molly just stood looking after her.

Madame Pomfrey started toward Ginny but was distracted by Snape entering, floating the unconscious Malfoy in front of him.

"What happened?" Madame Pomfrey demanded.

Snape glanced over at the Weasleys, most of who were still gathered by Ginny’s bed, but they were engrossed in conversation and didn’t seem to notice his entrance.

Ginny, though, stopped short when she saw the stretcher. "Move along, Miss Weasley," Snape snapped, but Ginny didn’t move.

"Goodness, what happened?" Mrs. Weasley questioned, bustling over to them. She instinctively brushed a stray lock of hair off Draco’s face.

"If you don’t mind, I’d like to get the boy into a bed," Snape told Mrs. Weasley curtly.

"Of course." Mrs. Weasley put her hands on Ginny’s shoulders. "Come along, Ginny, let’s get out of the way."

"I didn’t do that," Ginny murmured as her mother pulled her away from Snape and Malfoy.

"Of course you didn’t, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied, planting a distracted kiss on her daughter’s head.

"You should have, he’s an insufferable git, just like his grandfather," Tom muttered.

"I should have, though, he’s an insufferable git," Ginny repeated with a giggle. Her grin widened as she earned another horrified glance from her mother. "Well, he is, Mum."

"Ginevra…"

Ginny tuned out whatever scolding her mother was giving her, instead casting another glance at Malfoy as Madam Pomfrey leaned over him. "Professor Snape, what’s happened to the boy?" she heard the matron ask again.

Ginny cocked her head to listen. "I’m not sure," Snape lied smoothly. "He was found at the bottom of the dungeon stairs."

Suddenly Ginny felt a pull on her arm. "Come along, dear, let’s get you back into bed," Mrs. Weasley said, guiding Ginny toward her cot.

"A fall like that shouldn’t have knocked him unconscious," was the last thing Ginny heard Madame Pomfrey say to Snape. The matron looked Draco over. "Unless he hit his head on the stairs…" She examined his head, finding no bruising or bleeding. "That doesn’t appear to be the case."

"He said his back was hurting," Snape informed her.

"He was conscious then?"

"Yes, until he insisted on trying to stand so he could walk up here himself," Snape said with a shake of his head.

"Let’s put him in bed over here so I can examine him further," Madame Pomfrey instructed, pointing to the bed next to Ginny’s.

"I think he’d rather no other students saw him like this," Snape protested, pointing his head in the direction of the twins.

"I’ll put up a curtain. Get him into bed," Pomfrey ordered.

Snape reluctantly did so, blocking the view of the stretcher with his robes when Fred and George craned their necks curiously to see who was on it.

The twins shrugged and turned their attention back to Ginny as she approached. Fred scrambled to pull the soiled sheets off the bed, as George haphazardly threw on in their place the clean ones Madame Pomfrey had left.

Ginny gave them half-hearted smile as she looked around. "Where’s Ron?"

"He and Harry went to get cleaned up, too," Mr. Weasley explained.

"Harry was here?" Ginny squeaked.

"He came to check on you," Fred told her. "We couldn’t stand the stench, though – he and Ron smelled even worse than us after that 8-hour Quidditch match we had against Slytherin second year. So we chased them out."

"I bet they’ll be back," George predicted. "Harry was really worried about you, Gin."

"Such a sweet boy," Mrs. Weasley cooed.

As if on cue, Ron came loping into the hospital wing, his hair still wet and his robes thrown on haphazardly over a pair of jeans and a Chudley Canons tee shirt. A freshly-scrubbed Harry followed a few paces behind him.

Harry glanced curiously at Snape and Madame Pomfrey hovering over someone in the bed next to Ginny’s. Snape scowled and pulled a curtain around the bed, but not before Harry caught a glimpse of bleach-white hair on the pillow. "Was that Malfoy?" Harry whispered to Ron.

Ron shrugged. "If it is, I hope he’s really hurt."

"His father looked ready to kill after I set Dobby free," Harry worried. "What if he…"

"Better he take it out on his son than on you," Ron muttered. Harry remained sober. "C’mon, Harry, it’s Malfoy we’re talking about. What do you care if he’s hurt?"

"I’m tired of other people suffering because someone is angry at me," Harry declared with a sigh of frustration.

"But it’s Malfoy," Ron proclaimed.

"It’s not only him," Harry reminded Ron. "Ginny wouldn’t be in here either, if it wasn’t for me."

"Yeah, she’d be dead!" Ron exclaimed.

"You should be dead," Tom murmured to Ginny. "You’re never going to do anything in life, but you could have been great in death."

Ginny whimpered and curled into a ball under the covers. Her family didn’t notice, having been distracted by Ron’s outburst, but Ron did and hurried over to the bed.

"What’s wrong, Gin?" he murmured.

Ginny’s only answer was to grab his hand and cling to it tightly. Ron leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "You’re safe here," he whispered.

"Am I?"

"Are you okay, Ginny?" asked Harry anxiously, looking over Ron’s shoulder.

Ginny rolled away from him, unable to meet Harry’s worried gaze. "I’m tired."

"You rest then," Mrs. Weasley told her, holding a small bottle of blue potion to Ginny’s lips. After Ginny drank it down, her mother smoothed out the blankets covering her and tenderly stroked Ginny’s hair. Ginny closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.

"Boys, why don’t we get going?" Mr. Weasley suggested.

Ginny’s eyes flew open. "No, stay."

"All of us?" her father asked.

Ginny nodded. "So it’ll be like home."

"If you want it to be like home, we need Mom to cook something," George suggested.

"Yeah, I’m so hungry I could eat a hippogriff," Fred proclaimed.

"Then it’s a good thing we’re going to have a feast," declared a voice behind them.

Fred and George turned to see Dumbledore smiling at them.

"A feast?" George repeated.

"I thought a celebration was in order," Dumbledore explained. "Your sister has been safely returned to all of you, and the school is no longer in danger from internal or external forces."

"What about Hagrid?" wondered Ron.

"He’s to be released immediately, by order of the Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore informed them. "And I’m sure he’s going to be quite glad to see you two," he added, smiling at the beaming Harry and Ron.

"Excuse me, Headmaster," interrupted Madame Pomfrey.

"Yes, Poppy?"

"May I speak with you alone, sir?" she requested.

Dumbledore’s brow furrowed worriedly. "Of course. Excuse me," he said to Harry and the Weasleys as he stepped around the curtains surrounding Ginny’s bed. "Yes?"

"I have a student who needs to go to St. Mungo’s," she told him. "He’s hurt quite badly, and I’m afraid I do not have the means to care for him properly."

"Who’s hurt?" asked Dumbledore worriedly. "What happened?"

He followed Madame Pomfrey around the curtains to Draco’s bed, where Draco lay deathly still, his pale face now almost translucent. "What happened?" Dumbledore questioned again.

"I was told he fell, sir," the matron answered. "Professor Snape found him at the bottom of the dungeon stairs."

"Where is Professor Snape now?" wondered Dumbledore.

"I believe he went to speak to his students about the boy’s injuries."

"He doesn’t believe Mr. Malfoy fell?" Dumbledore queried, a frown crossing his face.

"His injuries are not consistent with that," Madame Pomfrey revealed.

"Just how badly is he hurt?"

"More seriously than I’m equipped to treat here," the matron explained. "He’s bleeding internally. I’ve given him a potion to compensate for the blood he’s lost, but only a healer can properly repair the damage."

"Was it a spell that did this?" wondered Dumbledore.

"No, sir, it looks like…" She hesitated, frowning. "Someone beat him with something, sir," she burst out suddenly. "And he was kicked, too. You can see the prints from the person’s boot on the poor child’s back." She wrung her hand anxiously. "Could this have been the same person who carried the Weasley girl off?"

"No, that’s not possible," Dumbledore assured her. "Have the boy’s parents been notified? His father may still be nearby; he was in to see me not long ago."

Madame Pomfrey shook her head. "Professor Snape instructed me not to contact them," she revealed. "He refused to say why, but assured me that it was in the boy’s best interest."

Dumbledore’s brow furrowed again. "I’ll have to speak to Severus about that," he said sharply. "St. Mungo’s can’t treat the boy without permission. There’s a spell on him preventing it."

"Can you break it, sir?" Madame Pomfrey wondered. "We should not delay sending him. I fear he soon won’t be up to the trip."

"I’ll have Severus speak to his father."

Dumbledore strode over to the infirmary fireplace. He pulled a small pouch out of his robe pocket, took a pinch of powder out and tossed it into the fireplace. "Slytherin common room," he called.

His face appeared in the common room fire. "Severus," he called, causing several of the Slytherins gathered around the room to jump in surprise.

Snape, who was standing in the middle of the group of students, glanced over at the fireplace, barely disguising his scowl. "Yes, sir?"

"I need you back upstairs immediately," Dumbledore told him.

"Draco," whimpered Pansy, dissolving in a fresh wave of tears.

"Enough, Miss Parkinson," growled Snape. "Professor, I’m right in the middle of…"

"This can’t wait," Dumbledore interrupted sternly.

"I’ll be right there," said Snape with a sigh.

"As for the rest of you," Dumbledore called to the Slytherins, "there is a feast about to begin in the Great Hall, to celebrate the end of the troubles that have been plaguing our beloved school. Don’t even bother changing into your robes, just go as you are. Prefects, if you could lead the other students up there."

The prefects glanced uncertainly at Snape, who nodded. "Slytherins, come on," called a tall blond-haired boy, leading students toward the stairs that led out of the common room.

Pansy hung back from the rest of the crowed. "Professor…"

"Go with your housemates, Miss Parkinson," ordered Snape. "I will let you know if there is any information of which you need to be made aware."

Pansy opened her mouth to protest, but Snape had already stepped into the fireplace and disappeared.

Snape stepped out of the fireplace of the infirmary a moment later, brushing the soot off his robes. Dumbledore was waiting for him. "Severus, why won’t you let Madame Pomfrey contact Lucius Malfoy? We need his permission to take Draco to St. Mungo’s."

"He’s hurt that badly?" Snape asked, stalking over to Draco’s bedside. Draco still lay pale and unmoving. A sheet was pulled up to his chin, but Snape could see a bit of bare shoulder, which was purpled with bruises.

"He could die if we don’t get permission for St. Mungo’s to treat him," Dumbledore explained.

"I’ll give permission," stated Snape. "Surely as his godfather…"

Dumbledore shook his head. "The restrictions his father put on him clearly state he can’t receive any medicinal magic without parental permission. So please tell me why I shouldn’t summon Lucius back here immediately."

"I didn’t think that wise, seeing as Lucius was the one who did this," Snape stated matter-of-factly.

Madame Pomfrey gasped.

"Poppy, shouldn’t you check on Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore asked sharply.

"Her family is watching over her, and I’ve given her a potion for sleeping," Madame Pomfrey told him. "I would prefer not to leave the boy while his condition is so unstable."

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "Very well, then. Severus, why don’t we speak over here?" he suggested, walking toward Madame Pomfrey’s small office. Snape followed him silently.

"Please explain," Dumbledore commanded once they were out of the earshot of the others.

"From what I’ve gathered, Lucius stormed into the common room looking for Draco, who was up in his room studying," Snape explained. "Lucius went up there, stayed for about 15 minutes, and then stormed out, appearing even angrier than he’d been when he arrived. Draco came down to the common room not long after and left, supposedly to come see me in my office. Pansy Parkinson was worried something was wrong, so she went after Draco and found him lying at the foot of the dungeon stairs."

"I was hoping that after Lucius left my office he wouldn’t encounter anyone on his way out of the castle," Dumbledore admitted somberly.

"I should have been told he was here," complained Snape. "I could have made sure Draco was protected."

"And then Lucius would have taken his anger out on you," Dumbledore reminded him.

"It wouldn’t be the first time," muttered Snape. "And I’m better prepared to fight him than Draco is."

"You can still protect Draco," Dumbledore told him. "Talk to Lucius, get permission for the boy to be properly treated."

"I’ll try."

"If he won’t give it, perhaps Narcissa…"

"She can’t go against Lucius," Snape interrupted.

"Not even to save her son’s life?" Snape shook his head. Dumbledore frowned. "Then you must make Lucius see reason. Surely he doesn’t want the boy to die."

"It might be kinder to let him go," murmured Snape.

"I don’t imagine Draco has had an easy time of it," Dumbledore said softly. "But surely a difficult life is better than no life at all."

"I’m not the one to ask," growled Snape as he stormed out of the hospital wing.

*************

A disheveled Lucius sat behind the desk in his study, a nearly-empty decanter in front of him matching the nearly-empty glass in his hand. Snape appeared suddenly in the fireplace across from his desk, but Lucius didn’t startle.

"I was wondering when you’d get here," he murmured to Snape.

"It would have been sooner if you’d taken the wards down," Snape grumbled, stepping out of the fireplace and brushing off his robes.

"It used to take you no time to get through those kind of obstacles, Severus," Lucius recalled with a cruel smile. "Working for Dumbledore is making you soft. That’s why I want Draco away from that school. I’d hate for him to turn out like you."

"That’s no reason to kill the boy," snapped Snape.

"He’s dead then?" questioned Lucius, his voice devoid of any emotion, although Snape noticed the decanter shook slightly in his hand as he poured himself the rest of the brandy.

"Not yet."

Lucius’ face registered something – Snape could have almost sworn it was relief – but it was quickly replaced by a stony expression. "He’s stronger than I thought," Lucius muttered, his words slurring slightly. "He should be dead."

"He will be if you don’t give us permission to take him to St. Mungo’s," Snape revealed. "They should be able to heal him, but as you know, their magic won’t work if they don’t have permission to use it."

Lucius sipped his brandy thoughtfully. "No, I don’t think so," he said finally.

Snape took a step back in surprise. "What?"

"He’s not going to St. Mungo’s," Lucius declared.

"You’ll let him die for the sake of protecting your reputation?" Snape ranted.

"He doesn’t have to die, Severus," Lucius informed him. "You have the power to save him."

"Me?"

"Surely you haven’t forgotten all the Master taught you," Lucius murmured. "You were the only one he trusted to brew his potions for him, the potions he needed to help him escape death."

"Those potions didn’t work," Snape insisted. "The Dark Lord is gone despite all his best efforts."

"Don’t lie to me, Severus. You will suffer the consequences," Lucius threatened. "I know the Dark Lord was there at that school of yours just a year ago. Draco told me all the stories about how he possessed that idiot Quirrell and confronted Potter."

"He wasn’t even a shell of his former self, though," Snape informed him. "Is that how you want Draco to live on?"

"You will find a potion that works properly," Lucius declared. "You’ll keep trying until you do. Although I suspect you won’t have to experiment too much. I imagine you keep souvenirs of the old days, just as the rest of us do."

"There is no way to know if those potions really work," warned Snape. "The Dark Lord was the only one who ever tried them. It could have been some other kind of magic that saved him. And the potions could be dangerous to someone who hasn’t undergone the same magical transformations he did before he started taking them."

"You’ve never tried them yourself, Severus? Never dreamed of immortality?" Lucius purred. "Although I can’t imagine why you’d want to live a life like yours forever." He sighed dramatically. "If only you’d turned those potions over to me when I first asked about them," he said with a shake of his head. "I could have had them tested already, and we’d know for certain whether one of them could help Draco. Now we’ll just have to wait and see."

"You’re willing to risk Draco’s life like that?"

"I’ve put 13 years of hard work into that boy, I wouldn’t toss that away lightly," Lucius growled. "But I’m still young, I can have another son. And his pitiful attempts to rebel against me are tiresome. I have every confidence in you, though, Severus. You may have been too weak to serve the Master well, but I know you won’t fail my son the same way. It’s the reason I allowed Narcissa to make you the boy’s godfather. I knew that no matter where your loyalties lay, your first priority would always be Draco."

"He should be yours, too."

"You shouldn’t be wasting time criticizing my parenting skills when there is a dying boy you need to save," Lucius murmured. "Now run along."

Snape scowled but stepped back into the fireplace.

"I wouldn’t go out that way if I were you," Lucius called after him.

Snape’s scowled deepened, but he stepped out of the fireplace and stalked toward the door of the study. He reached for the door, but pulled his hand back suddenly, reaching into his robes for his wand instead.

Lucius chuckled softly as Snape muttered something, causing the door to turn a bright green. "See, you do remember the old days," Lucius taunted.

Snape ignored him and jerked the door open after it returned to its normal color. He stalked off down the corridor as the door shut itself behind him.

Lucius gulped down the rest of his drink, stood up slowly and crossed to the fireplace. He took a handful of powder from one of a series of gold sconces that lined the side of the fireplace and tossed it carelessly into the smoldering fire. A burst of flame roared up as Lucius knelt down on the thickly-padded, serpent-embossed rug in front of the fireplace.

"Parkinson Place," he barked at the fire. It turned a bright purple for a brief moment and then returned to its normal color. Lucius stuck his head into the fireplace but saw nothing but wall in front of him.

"Damn you, Patrick," he muttered. "Don't you know you can't avoid me?"

Lucius stood up and returned to his desk, snatching up his snake cane. He scowled as he noticed blood smudged on it, wiping it off on his robes. Pulling his wand out of the top of the cane, he tossed the cane aside and returned to the fireplace. Again summoning the fire at the Parkinson Place, he stuck his head in the fireplace, thrust his arm with the wand through and bellowed, "Reducto Protega!"

Lucius leaned back from the fire as the echo of an explosion sounded from the fireplace. His lip curled into a sneer of pleasure. Leaning back into the fireplace again, this time he could see a bedroom on the other side, despite the dust lingering in the air. Debris was scattered about the floor in front of the fireplace.

A woman came running over to the fireplace, her face with fury. "Who are you to…"

Lucius cut her off. "Honestly, Prudence, did you really think you could keep me out?" he murmured.

The woman quickly smoothed her hair down and licked her lips. "It was Patrick, not me, Lucius. You know I’m always happy to have you in my bedroom," she purred.

Lucius cast an appraising glance at her peignoir. "You do look good in that outfit, Pru. Almost good enough to shag again." He smiled maliciously as she knelt before the fireplace and leaned toward him, offering an even better view of the assets she had to offer. "Almost but not quite."

The woman huffed angrily and sat back on her heels. "You’re a vile bastard."

"Yes I am," Lucius agreed pleasantly. "Get your husband for me."

Mrs. Parkinson stormed off. A moment later a small man with thinning blond hair scurried over to the fire nervously.

"Lucius, I’m sorry, the wards weren’t…"

"Don’t bother lying to me, Patrick," Lucius barked. "I know you were attempting to keep me out, but your magic was pathetic, as usual. Fortunately for you, we don’t have time for you to pay for your folly. You need to get to Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts? Is Pansy…"

"That silly daughter of yours is fine," snapped Lucius. "I need you to check on Draco. Severus claims he’s been hurt too badly for that idiot Pomfrey to fix him up."

"How was he hurt?" Patrick wondered.

"If I wanted questions, I would have allowed the boy to be sent to St. Mungo’s," Lucius growled.

"That would be the best place for him if he truly is hurt that badly."

"I’m confident you can heal him just as well at Hogwarts as you would at St. Mungo’s," Lucius murmured. "Your life will depend on it, after all."

Patrick blanched. "Lucius…"

"Save my son or there will be no saving you," Lucius warned, his voice deadly menacing. Then he jerked his head out of the fire, leaving a shaken Patrick staring into the flames there.



Author's Notes: Thanks to Karen for being the world’s best beta. Thanks, too, to ElvenPrincess for being the first to review this story (and for giving it a thumbs up, which encouraged me to keep posting it!)

I do not own the characters; they belong to the brilliant JK. I’m only taking them for a little spin around the block. I promise not to harm them (ok, maybe I’ll harm them a little bit, but only for drama’s sake!), so please do not send any lawyers after me.

Friends in Low Places
By Nola Ryan


The Past is Prologue

Snape apparated just outside the gates of Hogwarts and strode quickly through them toward the castle. He glanced up at the blazing lights visible from the Great Hall as he hurried toward the front door of the school. “Another bloody feast," he muttered. "I see nothing to celebrate."

Snape approached the steps of the school, but rather than enter he diverted into the hedges to the left of the stairs. A series of taps with his wand on the stone wall triggered it to open inward, revealing a steep staircase. Snape quickly went down it, his feet sure despite the pitch darkness that descended when the wall closed behind him. The stairs dead-ended at another stone wall, which Snape again tapped with his wand, making a door appear. He stepped through it, coming into his office from behind the bookcase behind his desk, which blended back into the wall seamlessly once he was through. Snape started toward the other bookcase on the far wall but was stopped when a voice called out of the darkness “How did it go?”

Snape jumped, scowling at both his guest and at himself for letting his surprise show. “He doesn’t give a damn if the boy dies,” he muttered.

“Lucius wouldn’t agree to let Draco be treated?” asked a surprised Dumbledore, who was sitting in a chair in front of Snape’s desk.

“I know he never let himself get attached to the boy, but Draco is his flesh and blood,” ranted Snape, more to himself than to Dumbledore. “And to let him die just to further his own agenda…”

He stopped, realizing he was saying too much.

“Go on,” Dumbledore prompted.

“Can’t you do anything?” Snape almost pleaded.

“We’ll find a way to help him,” Dumbledore promised. “Perhaps you have a suggestion?” Dumbledore tented his fingers and rested his chin on them, staring over his half-moon spectacles at Snape. Snape tensed at the penetrating stare but returned Dumbledore’s gaze steadily.

“I have…” Snape started, but then thought better of what he was going to say. “I have some books I can research, there may be something in one of them to help.”

“Very well, if that’s the way you’d like to do it,” Dumbledore told him, as Snape began glancing at the tomes on the bookshelf behind him. “However, I think it might be more helpful to the boy to try a potion from your private collection.”

Snape whirled around, not even trying to hide his surprise. “Headmaster…”

“There is very little going on in this school I don’t know about,” Dumbledore said softly. “You are quite skilled at blocking your mind, but I have other means of gathering information. However, I did not see your continued research into those potions as a threat. In fact, I thought they might be quite useful someday. And now it appears I was right.” Snape gaped at him in stunned silence. “You are surprised I approve?”

“I must admit I am,” Snape confessed. “I know you don’t approve of the Dark Lord’s quest for immortality.”

“I only think it foolish to fear death so,” explained Dumbledore. “Did you keep the potions for your own use?”

Snape shook his head. “I no longer fear death.”

Dumbledore nodded. “You did not want your work to go to waste, then?”

“It’s foolish, I know.”

“Pride in your work is never foolish,” Dumbledore told him.

“No matter what the work?” wondered Snape.

Dumbledore didn’t answer. “Does Lucius know of these potions?” he asked instead.

“He suspects I may have kept some of the ones I created for our…for the Dark Lord,” Snape admitted.

“Did he ever try any of them himself?”

“No, the Dark Lord would not allow anyone else to try them,” Snape informed him.

“So we don’t know what they might do to someone who has not undergone the magical transformations Tom did?”

“No, I can’t guarantee they won’t do Draco more harm than good,” said an anguished Snape. “And I don’t know which, if any, of the potions was what kept the Dark Lord alive. It could have been some other kind of magic that saved him at the Potters that day.”

“Yet Lucius is willing to gamble his son’s life to see if these potions are effective,” said Dumbledore with a frown.

“Can’t you do anything, sir?” Snape asked again.

“The restrictions Lucius has put on the boy very much tie my hands,” Dumbledore admitted. “As you may know, there are a great many charms on young Draco to keep me from having any kind of influence over him. Unfortunately they also keep me from coming to his aid when needed.”

“Could you not break those charms?” questioned Snape.

“Lucius would know,” explained Dumbledore. “And I doubt he would allow Draco to stay here after that. Wouldn’t you rather have the boy here, where you can keep an eye on him?”

“Of course.”

“Gather those potions,” Dumbledore requested. “I need to go speak with the students at the feast, but I will meet you back at the hospital wing when I’m done.”

Snape nodded. Dumbledore rose to go, but a voice from the fireplace stopped him from leaving.

“Excuse me, Professor Snape?”

Snape waved his wand at the fireplace and Madame Pomfrey’s head appeared there. “Yes?”

“Healer Parkinson is here from St. Mungo’s,” the matron informed him. “Is the headmaster there with you?”

“I am indeed, Poppy,” Dumbledore spoke up. “Does the healer have permission to treat young Mr. Malfoy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. I’ll be right up,” he told Madame Pomfrey, who nodded and disappeared from the fire. “It looks as if you got through to Lucius afterall, Severus.”

Snape shook his head. “It’s too easy.”

“I’ll question it after we get Draco fixed up,” Dumbledore decided. He started out, but then turned back. “Perhaps you should gather those potions anyway, and meet us up there.”

“Yes, sir,” said Snape as he rose from his desk. He escorted Dumbledore to the door, putting up the wards on the office again after he’d gone. Then he went to the bookcase opposite his desk.

Tapping the second shelf with his wand led the bookcase to swing inward, revealing the private potion lab inside. Snape stepped into the room and went immediately to the far wall, tracing a pattern on a stone midway down the wall, which opened outward. He reached inside the opening and pulled out a wooden box. Snape ran his hand over the carved snakes that covered it and they sprung to life, slithering along the side of the box until they reached the lock on the front. The lock sprung open at their touch. Taking a deep breath, Snape lifted the lid on the box.

*************
The Weasleys sat silently around Ginny’s bed as she slept peacefully, curled up in a ball with her hand still in Ron’s. He sat closest to her bedside, with Harry, Fred and George standing behind him. Mr. Weasley sat in a chair on the other side of Ginny’s bed. All of them were listening as the twins questioned Harry about his battle with the basilisk, but Harry was deflecting their demands for details.

“It was nothing, really,” Harry insisted. “I got lucky and got the right angle on the sword to kill it.”

“But it managed to get a fang in you,” George spoke up.

“Yes. Dumbledore’s phoenix fixed me right up, though,” he explained. “And then I used the fang on the diary to destroy Riddle.”

“Cool,” said Fred and George in unison.

“Boys, leave Harry be,” scolded Mrs. Weasley.

She was hovering over an upset Percy, who was standing away from the others, just inside the curtains surrounding Ginny’s bed. “Mum, I can’t,” he was insisting.

“Don’t argue with me, Percy,” Mrs. Weasley commanded.

“But if I hadn’t left her before…if I’d paid more attention…”

“Stop it!” Mrs. Weasley ordered. “Stop blaming yourself for this.”

“It was my responsibility to look out…”

“You were looking out for her,” Mrs. Weasley reminded him. “You sent her to see Madame Pomfrey when you noticed something wasn’t right. You couldn’t possibly have known it wasn’t anything rest and a Pepper-Up potion couldn’t fix.”

“I could never have imagined something like this,” Percy admitted, glancing over at Ginny.

“Exactly,” said Mrs. Weasley. “So how could you have protected her from it?”

“I would have found a way,” Percy insisted. “As the oldest here, it was my responsibility…”

“Right now your responsibility is with the students you are supposed to be overseeing,” Mrs. Weasley told him. “So I think you should go down to the feast.”

“But Ginny….”

“Your sister will be sleeping the rest of the night if we leave her be,” announced Mrs. Weasley to all of her family. “And she is in very good hands with your father and me. So there is no reason for all of you boys not to go down the Great Hall for the celebration.”

“But Mum,” chorused Ron, Fred and George together.

“No arguments,” Mrs. Weasley proclaimed, in a voice that left no room for argument. “There is nothing for you to do here. Go downstairs, celebrate Ginny being alive and well and the school being safe. Enjoy being heroes, you two.” She pointed to Harry and Ron, who both looked away in embarrassment. “And you go look after the other Gryffindors, as you’re supposed to,” she told Percy, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “And you two…”
She pointed to Fred and George, shook her head and sighed. “Just try not to blow anything up.”

“Yes, Mum,” Fred and George promised in unison as the others laughed.

All but Ron, who looked somberly at his mother. “She asked me not to leave.”

Mrs. Weasley crossed over to him. “She won’t even know you’re gone,” she assured Ron, stroking his hair tenderly. “That potion will make her sleep the rest of the night, so you go enjoy yourself and then get some rest. You can come back first thing in the morning.”

“I can’t enjoy myself,” Ron insisted.

“C’mon, Ron,” George said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I bet Hermione is anxious to see you and Harry. Let’s go make sure she’s fully recovered.”

“Good idea,” Harry spoke up. “We can thank her for helping us figure this all out.”

Ron nodded reluctantly and stood up. Mrs. Weasley hugged him tightly, and for once Ron didn’t protest, instead clinging to her for a moment. Mrs. Weasley went on tiptoe so she could kiss him on the cheek and murmured, “She’s going to be fine.” Then she smoothed down his robes and let him go, moving on to Fred and George, who accepted her hugs and kisses more reluctantly. Harry tensed when Mrs. Weasley enveloped him in a hug, too, not used to the affection, but relaxed quickly and gave her a warm smile as he pulled away. Mrs. Weasley ruffled his hair affectionately.

As the boys left the hospital wing, they passed Dumbledore on his way in. “You boys aren’t at the feast yet?” he asked them.

“On our way, sir,” Fred answered.

“Good, good,” said Dumbledore. “I’ll see you there in a bit.”

The Weasleys and Harry proceeded out as Dumbledore went to Draco’s bedside. Patrick Parkinson was there, administering a potion to the unconscious boy.

“Patrick, this is a surprise,” said Dumbledore with a warm smile.

“Professor Dumbledore,” acknowledged Patrick with a nod.

“Lucius summoned you?”

“Yes, sir. He said Draco wasn’t well enough to make the trip to St. Mungo’s,” Patrick explained. He noticed the group of redheads disappearing out the door. “Were they Weasleys?” he asked sharply. “Are they the ones who did this to Draco?”

“No, Draco’s injuries came from someone a bit…a bit closer to home,” he told Patrick delicately.

The sight of a disheveled Lucius flashed suddenly through Patrick’s mind, and he realized to whom Dumbledore was referring. “Damn him,” Patrick muttered.

He looked guiltily at Dumbledore, realizing he’d spoken aloud, but Dumbledore pretended not to have heard him. “I’m sorry, did you say something?” Dumbledore asked with a smile. The healer shook his head. “Will you be transferring him to St. Mungo’s?” questioned Dumbledore.

“The trip would only worsen his condition,” Patrick informed him. “And he needs to be treated immediately. I’ve brought most of what I’ll need to care for him, and whatever I don’t have, I can get from Madame Pomfrey or have the hospital send.”

“Very well, then I’ll leave you to your work,” said Dumbledore. “I must go speak to the students.” He glanced over at Ginny’s bed. “It has been quite a day here.”

“I hope you will fill me in later,” Patrick told him.

“I’ll have something to say to all the parents,” promised Dumbledore. “Shall I let Pansy know you’re here?”

“No, please don’t,” Patrick requested. “It will only upset her. I’ll speak to her once Draco’s condition is stabilized, so I can assure her he’s going to be fine.”

“As you wish,” Dumbledore told him with a polite nod. “If you need anything I will be in the Great Hall.”

Patrick nodded in acknowledgement as Dumbledore left the ward.

*****************

The hospital ward was silent hours later when Ron crept in. He glanced at the bed next to Ginny’s, just visible behind the curtain pulled haphazardly around it, and saw an unconscious Malfoy lying there. There was a table full of potion bottles on one side of the bed, and Snape dozed in a chair on the other side. Ron watched the injured Malfoy for a long moment, until Draco shifted in his sleep and let out a moan, waking Snape. The professor noticed Ron lurking.

“What is it, Weasley?” he growled.

“Just enjoying the little git’s suffering after what he and his father did to my sister,” Ron admitted savagely.

“Draco is not responsible for his father’s actions,” Snape informed Ron, who gave a contemptuous snort.

“He is every bit the bastard his father is,” Ron declared hotly.

“He did nothing to harm your sister,” Snape reminded Ron. “And yet Draco has had to pay the price for what happened tonight.”

“I didn’t do this to him!” Ron protested. “As much as I would like to pound his pointy rat face most of the time.”

“That’s quite enough, Ronald,” came Mrs. Weasley’s voice from behind him. She put a hand on his shoulder. “What are you doing back here?” she asked as she led Ron away from a scowling Snape and over to Ginny’s bed. “I told you that your sister would be sleeping the rest of the night.”

“I couldn’t sleep worrying about her,” confessed Ron. He noticed Mr. Weasley was gone. “Where’s Dad?”

“I made him go home,” Mrs. Weasley revealed. “He’s going to be quite busy tomorrow at the office, he needs proper rest.”

“He’s going into the office, with all that’s happened to Ginny?” Ron asked incredulously.

“He’s going because of what happened to Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley explained. “That diary was a Muggle artifact.”

“Dad’s going to go after Lucius Malfoy?” wondered Ron in awe.

His mother sighed. “Lucius will surely have covered his tracks. However, your father is going to do what he can to get some kind of justice.”

“Nothing he does is going to take back what happened to Ginny,” Ron murmured.

“I know.”

They both stared at Ginny silently for a long moment.

“What was it like down there?” Mrs. Weasley asked suddenly, her voice no more than a whisper.

Ron shuddered. “It was horrible. Bones all over the floor, and this snake skin about 60 feet long,” he recounted. “I didn’t even see the Chamber itself, so I can only imagine what that was like. I got stuck before we reached the door of it, when Lockhart nearly blew us all up with that ruddy wand of mine.”

He stopped, suddenly looking sheepish. “Mum, you’re going to kill me. My wand…I forgot to pick it up, I was too concerned with making a way for Harry to get out after he found Ginny. It’s still down there, in the corridor leading to the Chamber. And I don’t rightly feel like going back down there to get it.”

“No, of course not,” Mrs. Weasley told him. “We’ll find you another one. You’ve been needing a proper one for months.”

“Could I have a new one?” Ron asked hopefully.

Mrs. Weasley nodded. “I certainly think you’ve earned it.”

“Thanks, Mum.”

“I can’t believe Gilderoy Lockhart turned out to be such a terrible man,” lamented Mrs. Weasley. “He certainly didn’t look it.”

“Harry and I always suspected there was something off about him,” Ron admitted. “But we never imagined he’d be cowardly enough to let Ginny die rather than face what was in that Chamber.”

He crashed into the chair next to Ginny’s bed and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “He didn’t even care, Mum,” Ron said softly, looking up at his mother. He took Ginny’s hand, stroking the top of it with his thumb. “He was just going to let Ginny stay down there, let that monster….” He trailed off, dropping his head so his mother couldn’t see his face.

Mrs. Weasley rubbed his back comfortingly as Ron collected himself. “Harry won’t tell me everything that happened with Riddle down there,” Ron murmured. “He says I don’t want to know.” He looked up at his mother again, his eyes bright. “What could be so bad that he won’t tell me? Harry tells me everything.”

As if in answer, Ginny suddenly let out a cry and pulled her hand away from Ron’s, rolling to the other side of the bed. Ron stood up to try to comfort her, but stopped dead in his tracks when Ginny cried out, “No, please stop, Tom. You’re hurting me!”

Mrs. Weasley caught Ron under his arms as his legs buckled and eased him back into the chair. Then she hurried to the now-screaming Ginny, casting a last worried glance at Ron as she gathered her daughter in her arms.

Draco’s eyes flew open at Ginny’s first scream. “Mum,” he called frantically, trying to sit up. Snape put a hand on his shoulder to settle him but quickly pulled it back when Draco hissed in pain. He put a hand on Draco’s arm instead as the boy continued to try to push himself up, muttering ‘I’m coming, Mum.”

“That’s not your mother, Draco, your mother’s fine,” Snape assured him, patting Draco’s arm awkwardly.

“He’s hurting her again,” Draco murmured, fighting to keep his eyes open. “Can’t let him hurt her again.”

Snape took a small blue bottle half-full of potion from the table by Draco’s bed. “She’s fine, Draco, your mother’s fine,” he repeated. He held the potion bottle to Draco’s lips. “Here, drink this, it will help,” he said as he tipped the potion into Draco’s mouth.

Draco swallowed and almost immediately settled back against the pillows, his eyes drifting shut. Snape brushed the hair out of Draco’s eyes with uncharacteristic tenderness, but stopped when it registered what Ginny was screaming.

“I don’t want to, Tom. Please don’t make me,” she was crying.

“Tom,” Snape murmured. “Lucius, you didn’t.”

*****************

(15 Years Earlier)

Snape was working at a long table full of potions, carefully watching the simmering cauldron in front of him. Suddenly the door burst open, banging off the wall behind it from the force, but Snape did not startle.

“I’m busy, Lucius,” he murmured, taking a pinch of something from a small bowl next to the cauldron and adding it, sparking a burst of bright blue light.

“I don’t care,” Lucius growled. “The Master wants you.”

Snape flinched. “I am not a house elf. I do not have a master,” he thought to himself. And yet here he was, doing the Dark Lord’s bidding, no better than an elf.

“Why?” he asked Lucius.

“I wasn’t stupid enough to question him,” Lucius snapped. “He said bring you to him, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“Very well,” said Snape with a sigh, pushing away from the table. He silently followed Lucius out into the dark hallway of the Malfoy dungeon and up a steep staircase lit only by a flickering torch. From the staircase they emerged into the library, appearing behind a glass case full of weapons, which opened outward as Lucius muttered a password that Snape didn’t catch.

Voldemort sat in an overstuffed leather armchair pulled close to the blazing fire. A trunk lay open at his feet. Lucius settled into the chair next to him, tossing Snape a look of superiority. Snape scowled.

“Now, now, boys, play nicely,” Voldemort scolded, flicking his wand and making a chair appear on the other side of his. He motioned for Snape to sit, which he did. “I’m glad you could join us, Severus,” Voldemort told him, his slash of a mouth twisting into what Snape guessed was his attempt at a smile. “I was just about the show Lucius some of my old school things, and I thought you might also like a look.”

“Of course, my lord,” Snape told him. “Thank you.”

He leaned forward in his chair as Voldemort reached into the trunk, lifting out a wooden box covered with ornate carvings of snakes.

“Some potion ingredients you won’t have in your collection,” Voldemort told Snape, handing him the box. “Even in your private collection.”

“M’ lord…”

“It will do you no good to lie,” Voldemort warned him. “I know about the potions and everything else you try to hide from me.”

As Snape fought not to react to this statement, Voldemort reached into the trunk again, pulling out a small black book. “And this, Lucius, is for you,” he announced, handing Lucius the book. “My diary.”

“Your diary, my lord?” Lucius questioned, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Not the prattling that most students put into the ones they keep,” Voldemort explained, seeing Lucius’ bewildered look as he flipped through the empty pages. “I’ve put something very special in this book.”

“Is there a spell on it, Master?” wondered Lucius. “Something to reveal what’s written in it?”

“You have to write in it first and it will write back. I will write back,” Voldemort revealed.

“You, my lord?”

“My teenaged self, 16-year old Tom Riddle,” Voldemort explained. “I charmed that diary when I was at Hogwarts, so that someday my younger self could return to the school to lead another student to finish the work I started there.”

“What kind of work?” Snape blurted out. Voldemort narrowed his red eyes at him. “I’m sorry, my lord,” Snape murmured quickly.

“It’s quite alright, Severus, I will tell you of my work,” Voldemort offered. “I wished to honor the desire of my great ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, to rid the school of Mudbloods.”

“And how do we do that, Master?” Lucius asked excitedly.

“Get a student to write in the diary, to pour his soul into it,” Voldemort told him. “My younger self will feed on that soul until he is totally under my control, and then I can use that person to execute my plan. He will unleash a monster hidden deep within Hogwarts, and it will attack the Mudbloods, purifying the school as Salazar always wanted.”

“Whom shall I give it to, Master?” asked Lucius.

“Hold on to it for now,” Voldemort instructed. “The time is not yet right to use it. I will let you know when that time comes.”

***************

Another scream from Ginny brought Snape out of his thoughts. “Can’t you give her a dreamless sleep potion?” Snape snapped at Madame Pomfrey as she rushed by. “I think the poor girl has been through enough to justify it.”

Madame Pomfrey ignored him and went to Ginny’s bedside. Ginny was sobbing in Ron’s arms, and Mrs. Weasley had her arm around both of them.

“Here, Molly, give her this,” Madame Pomfrey said softly, handing Mrs. Weasley a small green bottle.

“The sleep potion isn’t working,” Ron complained.

“This will stop the nightmares,” the matron assured him. “That will allow the sleeping draft to work properly.”

Ron nodded warily and held his hand out to his mother, who handed him the potion bottle. “Here, Ginger Snap, drink this,” Ron coaxed, holding the bottle to her lips.

Ginny yanked her head away. “What is it?”

“Something to make all the bad things go away,” Ron told her with a reassuring smile.

“No potion is that powerful,” Ginny murmured, but she let Ron pour the liquid down her throat. Her eyes started to droop almost immediately.

Ron pulled her onto his lap. Ginny lay her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh and curled up against his chest as she drifted off to sleep. Ron looked up at Madame Pomfrey, who was still hovering nearby. “What did you give her?”

“A dreamless sleep potion,” she explained. “It’s quite powerful, she should sleep well into tomorrow.”

“I guess it’s no use telling you to go,” Mrs. Weasley said to Ron, who was propping up the pillow against the headboard behind his back.

“No use at all,” Ron told her, leaning back against the pillow wearily as he clutched Ginny tightly to him.

****************

Ron and Ginny were both sound asleep when a moan woke a dozing Mrs. Weasley. After checking to see it wasn’t one of her own children in pain, she rose and peered behind the curtain separating Ginny’s bed from Draco’s. Draco was asleep but occasionally woke with a whimper, shifting painfully in the bed. Snape was gone, so Mrs. Weasley went over to the bed. She gently stroked Draco’s hair, which quieted him immediately.

“Mum,” Draco murmured.

“Shh, little one, sleep,” said Mrs. Weasley, continuing to stroke Draco’s hair.

“You do know who he is, don’t you?” came a soft voice from behind her.

“He’s a little boy who’s hurting,” answered Mrs. Weasley, starting to stroke Draco’s hair again as he nuzzled against her hand.

“He’s none of your concern,” Snape told her.

“My boys didn’t do this, did they?” Mrs. Weasley questioned.

“He fell.”

“He didn’t fall,” Mrs. Weasley declared. “I have six boys, I know what it looks like when they beat on each other.”

“As much as I’d like to blame your children, Draco’s injuries are not their fault,” Snape admitted. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your daughter? She seemed quite upset earlier.”

“She’s better now. She’s sleeping. Is anyone coming to look after the boy?” Mrs. Weasley wanted to know.

“I’m looking after him,” Snape told her. “And as I said, he is none of your concern.”

“The boy needs a mother right now,” Mrs. Weasley insisted. “He needs comfort.”

“And you don’t feel I can give him that?” asked Snape, his eyebrow arching upward.

“No I do not,” Mrs. Weasley declared. “Not the way I can.”

“Why would you comfort a Malfoy?” Snape wondered. “If the boy were at all awake he would have nothing to do with you.”

“Perhaps my showing him kindness despite knowing who he is will convince him not to judge someone by name only.”

Snape shook his head, muttering something that sounded very much like “Bloody stupid Gryffindors,” but he did not offer Mrs. Weasley any further resistance. Instead he took the chair on the other side of Draco’s bed, sitting ramrod straight in it as he glared over at Mrs. Weasley. She ignored him and began singing softly to Draco.

******************

The Gryffindor common room was still dark and empty when Ron trudged in wearily the next morning.

“There you are!” Hermione proclaimed, sitting up from the sofa on which she was lying and letting the book she had been reading fall to the floor.

“What are you doing up?” Ron wondered. “As late as that feast went last night, I thought everyone would still be asleep now.”

“I have too much work to do to catch up on to sleep,” announced Hermione with a sigh. “I can’t believe how far behind I am.”

Ron gave her a small smile. “Guess I don’t have to worry about you if you’re already back to hitting the books.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about me,” Hermione exclaimed. “You have far too much else on your mind. How’s Ginny?”

“Sleeping,” Ron told her. “She probably will be for the next couple hours. You should be, too. We all had a hell of a night last night.”

“You more than me,” Hermione declared. “And I can’t possibly sleep after being in bed for two months.”

“What did it feel like, being petrified?” Ron wondered, sitting down next to her.

“It didn’t feel like anything, really,” Hermione admitted. “One day I’m walking down the corridor, checking with my mirror to make sure I didn’t come across the basilisk, since Harry had heard it again that day. The next thing I know I’m in a bed in the hospital wing with Madame Pomfrey standing over me telling me I’d been petrified. The weirdest thing is the way everyone else went on with their lives during that time. They went to classes and did homework and had adventures in the Dark Forest.”

“Harry told you about that, did he?” Hermione nodded. “Did he tell you how useless we were without you?” Ron wondered.

Hermione smiled. “No, he must have left out that part.”

“Harry and I were pulling our hair out trying to figure out all that Chamber of Secrets stuff, and the whole time I kept thinking, ‘If only Hermione were here, we would have solved this ages ago.’”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed. “Really?”

“You know we’re no good at research,” Ron told her with a smile. “Harry, all he’s good at is nearly getting me killed.”

“I heard about the spiders,” said Hermione with a frown. “The trouble the two of you get into…” She shook her head. “Both of you could have died in there and in the Chamber, and then where would I be?”

“We didn’t have a choice about the Chamber, we had to save Ginny,” Ron reminded her.

“You must have been terrified,” said Hermione softly.

“I wasn’t thinking about me, I was thinking about Gin,” confessed Ron. “What she must be going through down there, how terrified she must be.” He hesitated a minute, then asked. “What did Harry tell you about the Chamber? What did he say about when he found Ginny?”

“The same thing he told you, I suppose,” Hermione answered. “He saw Ginny lying there when he got into the Chamber, and then Riddle appeared and summoned the basilisk, and Harry had to fight it with the sword that appeared in the sorting hat Fawkes brought him, and he managed to kill the basilisk, but not before one of its fangs pierced Harry’s arm, but Fawkes healed Harry, and Harry used the fang to destroy the diary and then he got Ginny out,” she blurted out, barely pausing for a breath.

“He didn’t say anything else?” Ron asked. “Anything about what Riddle said about Ginny or how she was when Harry found her?”

“She was unconscious,” Hermione reminded him. “And she was cold. Harry said that a couple times, how cold she was. Like she was dead.” Ron flinched. “Oh Ron, I’m sorry, that was awful of me to say. I swear, I think part of my brain is still petrified.”

“It’s okay,” Ron assured her softly. “She was almost dead. She’d be dead right now if it weren’t for Harry.”

“But she’s going to be okay now, right?” worried Hermione. “Madame Pomfrey is only keeping her in the hospital ward for a bit as a precaution.”

Ron leaned back against the pillows of the sofa with a sigh, pulling his hand through his hair. “I honestly don’t know, Hermione,” he admitted. “She was…she said….” He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memory of Ginny’s screaming. “Last night was bad.”

“She was having nightmares?” Hermione guessed.

Ron nodded. “Pomfrey finally had to give her a dreamless sleep potion, to stop the screaming.”

He shuddered, and Hermione put a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Ron.”

Ron pulled his arm away uncomfortably and stood up. “I need some sleep,” he declared. “I’ll see you in a couple hours, okay?”

Hermione nodded. “Ginny’s going to be fine,” she called after Ron. “Her family and friends will get her through.”

Ron nodded as he forced a smile, but Hermione could tell by the slump of his shoulders that he didn’t believe a word of it.



Thanks to Karen, as always, for being the world’s best beta. And also to Anise for giving me the thrill of getting a positive review from one of my fave D/G authors!

I do not own the characters; they belong to the brilliant JK. I’m only taking them for a little spin around the block. I promise not to harm them (ok, maybe I’ll harm them a little bit, but only for drama’s sake!), so please do not send any lawyers after me.

Friends in Low Places
By Nola Ryan

Pansy, Potions and Protection

Ginny woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in her bed. She looked around the hospital wing in confusion, blinking at the bright sunlight streaming through the windows. Across the room she saw her mother sitting in Madame Pomfrey’s office, having a cup of tea.

“See, they don’t care what happens to you,” Tom’s voice taunted her.

“Bugger off,” Ginny hissed.

“You bugger off,” came a weak voice from the behind the curtain on the other side of her bed.

Ginny glanced over at her mother and saw she was still not paying attention, so she pulled back her covers and slid out of bed. She shivered as her bare feet hit the stone floor, and had a sudden flash of memory about lying on the frigid stones in the chamber. She shook it off with a toss of her head, picked up her wand and pulled back the curtain between her and Draco.

He was lying with his eyes closed, but as she tiptoed closer he murmured, “I’m not up for company.”

“What are you doing here?” Ginny questioned.

Draco blinked in surprise at her sharp tone, giving her a brief look of interest, but then quickly getting bored.

“Sleeping,” he murmured, trying to roll over away from Ginny’s steady gaze. He gasped at the pain that caused and fell back to his original position. Ginny watched with interest as the blood drained out of Draco’s face, but she made no move to help him.

“Potion,” Draco gasped, reaching for the nightstand next to his bed where a half-filled bottle sat. But it was too far for him to get to, and the movement only worsened his pain.

Ginny still made no move to help him. Instead she pulled on the drawer of his nightstand. “That’s right, you have potions over here. Let’s see the good stuff Snape hid,” she murmured.

But the drawer would not open. Ginny tapped it with her wand, ignoring Draco’s moans as she muttered spells, until she finally found one that made the drawer spring open. “Well, well, well, look at this,” Ginny murmured, pulling out the open box of potion bottles from the nightstand.

“Pain potion,” Draco pleaded.

“Oh, I think it’s much more than that.” She waved her wand over the potions. Each shone a light the color of its bottle, inside of which appeared the ingredients of the potion it housed. “Quite a collection you’ve got here,” Ginny told him, clucking her tongue in disapproval, but smiling wickedly. “Quite an illegal collection,” she added, noticing dragon and unicorn blood among the ingredients. “Did Daddy send these?” she questioned, slipping one of the bottles up the sleeve of her nightdress.

Draco only groaned in answer. Ginny frowned. “It’s no fun tormenting someone when they don’t react. But you would know that better than anyone, wouldn’t you, since tormenting people is your favorite sport.”

“Weasley,” Draco moaned.

“What?” Ginny snapped. “Do you want me to take pity on you? Sorry, but the Ginny who would have done that is gone.”

“Ginny?” Mrs. Weasley called worriedly from the other side of the curtain.

Ginny waved her wand over the potions again, breaking the spell. She lifted a burnt-orange bottle out of the drawer. “Here, drink this one,” she told Draco, gently putting the bottle to his lips just before her mother and Madame Pomfrey pulled aside the curtain. Draco swallowed it eagerly and sighed in relief.

“Ginny, what are you doing?” Mrs. Weasley asked anxiously.

“He was hurting, I wanted to help,” answered Ginny. Her face was the picture of innocence, but her hand was covertly sliding the orange bottle back into the nightstand and shutting the drawer.

“What did you give him?” Madame Pomfrey questioned sharply, noticing Ginny’s hand hovering near the nightstand.

“This,” Ginny lied smoothly, letting her hand rest on the half-empty potion still sitting on top of the table. “He told me that was what he needed, but he couldn’t reach it himself.”

“That was very kind of you, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, putting an arm around Ginny’s shoulders as she led her away from Draco’s bed. “But you need to let Madame Pomfrey give out the medicine. You could have hurt that boy.”

“Good,” thought Ginny, but to her mother she said, “I’m sorry, I only wanted to help, because he was hurting so badly.”

“I know, and it was very sweet of you,” Mrs. Wesley told Ginny, as she pulled back the covers on Ginny’s bed. “But you need your rest, you’re not ready to be out of bed yet.”

“I’m not hurt, Mum,” Ginny insisted, yet she dutifully climbed into the bed and let Mrs. Weasley pull the covers up over her. She slid the stolen bottle of potion under her pillow before her mother could spot it.

“Rest anyway,” Mrs. Weasley instructed, giving Ginny a kiss on the top of her head.

“I am still a little tired,” Ginny said, curling up under the covers. “Why don’t you go finish your tea while I go back to sleep? Or get some rest yourself, I know you must be knackered.”

“I’m fine here,” Mrs. Weasley insisted, settling into the chair next to Ginny’s bed and leaning her head back as her eyes closed.

“Get rid of her,” commanded Tom’s voice inside Ginny’s head.

Ginny rolled over on her side, then restlessly rolled over to the other side, then rolled back again with a whimper. “Mummy,” she whined.

“What is it, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked, not opening her eyes.

“Mummy, will you go get my bear?” Ginny pleaded. “You know I don’t like to sleep without her. Especially now.”

Mrs. Weasley got up wearily and stroked Ginny’s hair with a sad smile. “She’s good at keeping the bad dreams away, isn’t she?”

Ginny nodded. “So will you go get her?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” She gave Ginny a quick kiss. “She’s on your bed?” Ginny nodded. “I’ll need the password to the tower.” Ginny sat up to whisper in her mother’s ear. Mrs. Weasley smiled. “I’ll be right back then.”

“You’re good,” Draco said softly after Mrs. Weasley had gone. The curtain between his bed and Ginny’s moved aside, and Ginny saw Draco lying with his wand in his hand. “How do you do that, fool them into not seeing you’re evil?”

“I’m not evil!” Ginny declared hotly.

“You’re not the goody-goody Gryff they all think you are,” said Draco, sounding almost impressed. “You could even give a few Slytherins a run for their money.”

“Bugger off, Malfoy,” Ginny growled.

Draco clucked his tongue admonishingly. “Such language from such a dainty little thing.”

“Little, yes, dainty, I don’t think so,” Ginny admitted.

“So nothing about you is what it seems,” noted Draco.

“Why did you say I was evil?” Ginny questioned suddenly.

Draco didn’t answer as he studied Ginny for a long moment. “It wasn’t because you wouldn’t give me that potion,” he explained finally. “It was the enjoyment you got from seeing me suffer. I’ve seen that look before, on…on other people I know. But I never expected it from someone like you.”

“That wasn’t me,” Ginny protested. Seeing Draco’s confused look, she added, “I’m not myself today.”

“Then who are you?”

Ginny rolled over, away from Draco’s gaze. “I’m tired,” she murmured.

“You’re not getting off that easily, Weasley,” Draco warned. “What kind of potion did you steal from here?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sure you do. You slipped one of those potions from my nightstand into your dressing gown,” Draco accused. “And don’t try to deny it, or I’ll come fetch it.”

“It was nothing you need,” Ginny told him.

“Why don’t you let me decide that?”

Ginny rolled over so she was looking at him again. “What kind of dreams do you have?” she questioned.

Draco blinked, surprised by the question. “I don’t dream,” he declared.

“Then you have no need for this potion,” Ginny assured him.

“What kind of bad dreams do you have?” Draco wondered.

“Dreams…nightmares, I should say…” Ginny started. Draco shifted in excited anticipation, wincing at the movement. Ginny grinned maliciously. “…about being stuck in the hospital wing with Draco Malfoy.”

“You really are evil,” Draco muttered.

“It’s none of your business what I dream about,” countered Ginny angrily.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Draco reminded her.

“What do you care anyway?” Ginny questioned. “I didn’t think Malfoys concerned themselves with Weasleys.”

“I’ve got nothing better to do right now,” Draco explained. “Except sleep, which sounds like a much-better option than talking to you.” He closed his eyes wearily.

“What did you do to land yourself in here?” Ginny wondered. “Fall off your broom while practicing Quidditch in a pathetic attempt to be as good as Harry?”

“Potter has luck, not talent,” Draco mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Too bad you don’t have either,” Ginny taunted.

The sharp retort she was expecting from Draco didn’t come. Ginny glanced over and saw he seemed to be sleeping. “Malfoy?” she called. Draco didn’t answer.

Ginny slipped out of her bed and went to his side. She shook his shoulder, but Draco didn’t move. “Madame Pomfrey, Malfoy’s passed out,” Ginny called.

Madame Pomfrey came bustling over. “Leave the boy be, Miss Weasley,” the matron ordered as she took Draco’s pulse.

“I was only talking to him,” Ginny insisted. “He wanted me to, he was bored. But then he suddenly stopped talking.”

“He’s not up for talking, he’s seriously injured,” Madame Pomfrey scolded. She fished a bottle of potion out of her robes, pulled Draco’s chin to open his mouth and poured the liquid down his throat. “Leave him be while this potion does its job and get back to your bed where you belong.”

“I can’t sleep, the nightmares will come back,” Ginny insisted desperately.

“I’m not a nightmare, Ginny,” she heard Tom murmuring in her head. “I’m your fondest dream, a boy who will love you forever.”

Ginny choked out a sob. “I don’t want to see that monster again. Please, Madame Pomfrey, please don’t make me.”

Tears were coming full-force now, Ginny shaking with the effort of her sobs. Madame Pomfrey looked alarmed as she slipped an uncertain arm around her. “Now, now, child, there’s no need for that. Come, let’s get you back into bed.”

She led Ginny over to her cot and helped her climb back into it as Ginny continued to cry. “Let me get you something to help you sleep,” Madame Pomfrey offered.

“Yes, Ginny, let yourself sleep,” Tom coaxed.

Ginny shook her head violently. “No, don’t put me to sleep. He comes to get me in my sleep!”

“It’s only a dream, child,” the matron assured her.

“I don’t want to dream!” Ginny screeched. “I can’t get away from him in my dreams, he keeps making me…he keeps…”

She was crying too hard to go on. Madame Pomfrey rubbed Ginny’s back comfortingly as the girl curled into a ball on the bed. “It’s okay, Miss Weasley, it’s okay. I’ll give you something to stop the dreams. Just give me a moment.”

The matron hurried to her office as Ginny continued sobbing.

“The tears are a nice touch,” came Draco’s weakened voice from behind the curtain separating their beds.

Ginny didn’t answer, but her sobs quieted a little. “You can’t keep taking that dreamless sleep potion, though,” Draco warned her. “Not having dreams will drive you mad. Although it seems that horse is already out of the barn with you.”

“Go to hell, Malfoy,” Ginny spat.

“I’m already there,” Draco muttered as Ginny’s sobs grew louder upon Madame Pomfrey’s return.

“There, there, Ms. Weasley, there, there,” Madame Pomfrey soothed. “Take this potion and rest some more. You won’t be quite so hysterical when you have your strength back.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Draco muttered, but if Madame Pomfrey heard the comment she ignored it as she held a small vial of potion to Ginny’s lips.

Mrs. Weasley came back in as Madame Pomfrey was tucking the covers around a droopy-eyed Ginny. She carried a quilt and a ragged-looking bear in her hands. “Is everything okay?” she asked Madame Pomfrey worriedly.

“The nightmares again,” the matron informed her. “I gave her another dose of dreamless sleep potion, as it was the only way to settle her down. I’m hoping it will allow her to get enough rest that she will be feeling more like herself in a few hours.”

“This might help,” Mrs. Weasley said, laying the teddy bear on the pillow next to Ginny. “She has protection spells on her.”

“Lil' bear,” Ginny murmured happily, snuggling closer to the bear.

Mrs. Weasley smiled as she gently brushed Ginny’s hair out of her face. “How long will the nightmares last?” she asked Madame Pomfrey.

“There’s no telling,” the nurse admitted. “I don’t think she’ll be free of them until she talks about what happened to her down in the Chamber, but she’s not ready to do that just yet. In fact, reliving it all too soon could push her over the edge. So you’ll have to be patient with her, Molly. You’ll get your daughter back in time, I assure you.”

*********************
Draco awoke to someone stroking his hair softly. He jerked his head away from the touch, wincing at the pain the movement called. “Stop,” he pleaded when the hand continued touching him.

“Draco, darling, you’re awake!” Pansy exclaimed.

“Go away, Pan,” Draco muttered.

Instead Pansy threw her arms around him, eliciting a painful moan from Draco. She pulled away quickly. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like to be touched.”

“Not when every millimeter of my body hurts like hell,” Draco told her, closing his eyes again.

“Are you going back to sleep?” Pansy whined. “You’ve been sleeping all day, while I’ve been stuck here getting yelled at by that hag Pomfrey for trying to check on you.”

“I didn’t ask you to come.”

“I had to,” Pansy cried. “I didn’t know if you were alive or dead! And then I find you’re stuck here with all these ratty Weasleys hanging about, and the youngest one starts screaming like a banshee for no reason whatsoever.”

“She was screaming again?” asked Draco, opening his eyes in interest. “I guess her potion wore off. Did Pomfrey give her more, or did she find a way to settle herself down on her own?”

“Who cares?” Pansy declared with a dismissive wave. “I’m surprised you slept through all the racket, though.”

“Guess it wasn’t loud enough to wake the dead,” mumbled Draco.

“Dead, who’s dead?” Pansy asked in confusion.

“Pan, please let me sleep,” Draco pleaded, closing his eyes again.

“Not yet, Mr. Malfoy,” Madame Pomfrey declared, bustling over with a tray full of bottles. “I didn’t want to wake you, but since Miss Parkinson has seen fit to do so, I’ll have you take your potions now.”

“He has to take all those?” asked Pansy in horror.

“He’s very ill, Miss Parkinson, which is why you should not be disturbing him,” Madame Pomfrey scolded as she put a bottle to Draco’s lips. He swallowed it dutifully, without even opening his eyes. “Come back tomorrow, when Mr. Malfoy should be more up for company.”

“No, I’m staying here!” Pansy insisted. “Everyone in Slytherin has been wondering what’s going on with Draco, and you won’t tell us anything.”

“Because it’s none of your business,” snapped Madame Pomfrey.

Draco chuckled. “Tell them to bugger off, Madame Pomfrey.”

“I will do no such thing!” she declared, forcing another potion down Draco’s throat so forcefully that he choked. Draco moaned in between the coughs that were worsening his pain. “Sorry, Mr. Malfoy,” Pomfrey apologized, putting another potion to his lips. “Drink this down, it will help.”

Draco swallowed it cautiously, and the coughing stopped. So, seemingly, did his pain, as he managed to push himself into a sitting position with only a slight wince. “Tell them I’m fine, Pan. I’m spending one more night here as a precaution, but I’ll be back in the dorm tomorrow. If they have any further questions about my condition, they can direct them to my father.”

“Yes, Draco.”

“You are not leaving here tomorrow!” ranted Madame Pomfrey. “It will be two or three more days at the least until you’re ready for that.”

Draco shook his head. “You need to heal me faster, then,” he announced.

“I don’t think you realize just how close you came to dying, Mr. Malfoy,” the matron told him. “And you’re still bleeding internally – it will take a few days for these potions to fully heal the damage you suffered. You don’t have exams to be concerned about, Professor Dumbledore has cancelled them, so all you need to focus on is getting the rest you need to get well.”

“That’s not all I have to focus on,” Draco protested. “Pansy, have I had any owls?”

Pansy nodded and reached into her robes, pulling out an envelope and laying it on Draco’s lap.

“Mr. Malfoy, I must insist that you put those things away and rest!” Madame Pomfrey proclaimed.

“I’ll rest in a minute,” said Draco impatiently. “Why don’t you go give that Weasley brat another potion? Her screaming is more disturbing to my sleep than a letter from my mum, who only wants to check on me, since she wasn’t up to making the trip here in person.”

Madame Pomfrey eyed the letter and then Draco with a frown, but set the tray of potions down on Draco’s nightstand. “Take these, all of these,” she commanded. “I will be back in five minutes, and I expect to see all of these potions gone, as well as Miss Parkinson.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Draco dutifully, his forced smile almost covering his smirk.

“Thank you, ma’am,” added Pansy, her fake smile much more convincing than Draco’s.

“Five minutes,” Madame Pomfrey repeated, stalking away.

“Hag,” Pansy hissed, but Draco ignored her as he ripped open his letter.

“What does your mum have to say?” Pansy wondered. “Dad said he was going to go by and see her, let her know you were recovering, so she shouldn’t be worrying about you.”

“This letter isn’t from Mum, it’s from my father,” Draco revealed.

“Apologizing, I hope,” Pansy huffed. “He could have killed you if my father hadn’t come to save your life!”

“He didn’t mean it, he was angry at Potter and I picked the wrong time to talk back to him,” Draco insisted. “And he was the one who sent your father to fix me up.”

“I still think he should apologize.”

“He has, in his own way,” Draco told her.

Pansy snatched the letter out of Draco’s hand. Draco tried to grab it back, but Pansy scooted her chair away where it was too painful for Draco to reach her.

“I hate you,” Draco growled.

“That’s why I love you so much, my darling,” Pansy purred. She opened Lucius’ letter as Draco sat back with a moan.

Dear Draco:


I was surprised to learn you’re still alive after the events of last evening. You’re stronger than I gave you credit for, and I will be more careful about underestimating you in the future. Healer Parkinson will make himself available if you need further treatment. Send Artemis if you need anything else. Your mother and I will see you at Kings Cross in two weeks.

Father

“That’s not an apology,” Pansy sniped. “You should definitely make him get you something good to make up for all this. Maybe an exotic trip somewhere or a new broom.”

“He won’t get me a new broom, I just got my Nimbus last September,” Draco lamented. “And it won’t do me any good to ask for anything else, either. If he wants to make it up to me he’ll do it his way, not mine.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Could you hand me those potions? I don’t want to hear Pomfrey’s screeching if I don’t finish them.”

Pansy pulled the tray of potions onto her lap, handing Draco one that still had liquid in it. “What is all this stuff, anyway?”

“No idea,” Draco admitted. “They came from Snape and your father, though, so they should be safe.”

“You seem better than when you first woke up,” Pansy noted, trying to stroke his hair again.

“Pansy, leave my hair alone,” Draco grumbled.

“Yes, you’re definitely more yourself,” she said with a smile. “Will you really be leaving here tomorrow, though? I don’t think you’re going to be up for it.”

“I’ll come back here to spend the night if I’m really feeling badly, but I have to make an appearance in the common room sometime tomorrow,” Draco announced, drinking another potion and pulling a face. “I can’t have them all thinking I’m incapacitated. You know any number of them will try to make a power play if they sense weakness.”

“Draco, this is ridiculous!” Pansy snapped. “I can come up with a story to cover for you, I lie to Flint, Montague, Zabini and the rest of those idiots all the time.”

“I know you do, it’s your only charming quality,” Draco teased. Pansy smirked at him, but Draco’s face grew serious. “Father will have someone checking on me, too, to see how long it takes me to get back on my feet.”

Pansy nodded in understanding. “I’ll let you rest, then, so you can gather your strength.” She handed him a green bottle of potion. “Drink this last one and then go back to sleep. I’ll come check on you first thing tomorrow, and we’ll figure out how we’re going to get you out of here and back downstairs.”

“Thanks, Pan,” said Draco, giving her hand a squeeze. “I knew I could count on you.”

Pansy beamed brightly and was about to lean in to give him another hug when Madame Pomfrey returned. “Shoo, Miss Parkinson,” she commanded.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Pansy announced brightly, still beaming as she ran from the room.

***********************

When Draco next awoke, the hospital room was dark and eerily silent, but he sensed he wasn’t alone. Lifting his head, he saw Snape sitting in a chair next to his bed.

“Good evening, Draco.”

“Evening?” Draco questioned groggily. “Have I been sleeping that long?”

Snape nodded. “I was beginning to wonder if I was going to be able to speak with you at all tonight, or if you were going to sleep straight through to morning.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I think Madame Pomfrey might have slipped a sleeping draft in with all those other potions she gave me,” Draco told him, trying to push himself into a sitting position.

“I think you’re not quite as well as you think you are,” replied Snape, putting a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Lie back down.”

Draco gratefully sunk back against the pillow. “Is something wrong, sir?”

“I came to retrieve the potions I brought last night, but I’ve found some of them are missing,” Snape revealed. “Do you know where they might have gone?”

“Didn’t you give some to me?” questioned Draco. “Or maybe Pomfrey or Healer Parkinson did. I’ve had so many potions today I don’t know what’s what.”

“No, I locked them away. I wanted to wait to see if Healer Parkinson could heal you without them,” Snape admitted.

“Because the ones you brought were a bit dodgy?” asked Draco with a raised eyebrow.

Draco thought he saw Snape’s mouth twitch, but it was gone in a second, replaced by his usual sour look. “What makes you say that?”

“Weasley did a spell that showed what was in all of them, and she said some of the ingredients were illegal,” confessed Draco. “Weren’t trying to poison me, were you, Professor?”

“How did Weasley get in that drawer?” snapped Snape. “There was a very strong protection spell on those potions.”

Draco was startled by his tone. “I don’t know how she did it, she just tried spells until she found one that worked.”

“And she was also able to do one that revealed what was in the potions?” queried Snape.

“Yes, sir.”

“That kind of magic is far beyond a first year,” Snape growled. “So why don’t you tell me what really happened to those potions?”

“It was Weasley!” Draco insisted. “She’s not like any other first year. She’s nothing like what everybody thinks she is. That goody-goody Gryff act is all a lie.”

“What makes you say that?” Snape wondered.

“She came over to look at those potions you were hiding, and I asked her to hand me a pain potion that Madame Pomfrey had left for me,” Draco explained. “But she ignored me and just stood there watching me suffer. Not just watching but enjoying it, with this look on her face like my father…” He stopped with a shudder. “A look like that doesn’t belong on a face like hers. It’s unnatural.”

“Miss Weasley hasn’t quite been herself since her unfortunate experience in the Chamber of Secrets,” Snape noted.

“Did she really get taken down there by whoever was petrifying everyone?” asked Draco excitedly. Snape nodded. “So who was it?”

“Nevermind that, the person responsible is gone now.”

“Not to Weasley he’s not,” Draco revealed. “She wakes up screaming whenever she nods off without a Dreamless Sleep potion. She took one of your potions to help with the dreams, I think. And she gave me one for pain after her mother caught her out of bed, so she could pretend she’d gotten up to help me. At least she said it was for pain. It did make me stop hurting, but I was knocked out for hours. And I wouldn’t put it past her to try and poison me.”

“What color was the bottle?” questioned Snape.

“Burnt orange, like her hair.”

“If you haven’t stopped breathing by now, you should be fine,” Snape assured him. “That was quite a powerful pain draft, though, it was meant to counteract…It wasn’t meant for just any kind of pain.”

“You have a potion to help the pain from Cruciatus?” asked Draco in awe.

“I didn’t say that,” Snape protested.

“You didn’t need to. Will you teach me to make it?” Draco pleaded.

“No. And you are not to speak of this to anyone,” Snape ordered.

Draco frowned. “Don’t pout, Draco, it’s unbecoming.”

“Will you teach me how to make that Dreamless Sleep potion?”

“Why?”

“Weasley is running out of lies to tell Pomfrey to get the old bag to give it to her, and I don’t relish spending all night listening to her screaming,” Draco told him.

“You’ll drive the girl mad,” Snape warned.

“Someone’s already beaten me to that, she’s as barmy as can be,” declared Draco. “She’s always muttering to herself or screaming from the nightmares. It’s dead annoying.”

“I would think you’d enjoy seeing a Weasley suffer so,” taunted Snape.

Draco balked. “I...I…I’m too knackered to enjoy it is all,” he stammered. “You won’t tell my father, will you?”

Snape’s scowl softened at the anxious look on Draco’s face. He put a hand on the boy’s knee. “Our secret, I promise.”

Draco noticeably relaxed. “Thank you, sir.”

Snape nodded and picked up the box of potions from the drawer. “I’ll be taking these now, before you or Miss Weasley can make any more trouble with them.”

“May I ask where you got them, sir?” asked Draco. “Did my father send them?”

“No, but he would quite like to get his hands on them,” Snape confessed. “Which is why I’d prefer you not mention to him that I had them out.”

“Our secret, I promise,” Draco vowed, echoing Snape’s promise.

Snape’s lip quirked upward ever so briefly. “Good boy. How are you feeling? You came very close to dying last night, you know.”

“So I’ve been told. I don’t remember much about last night,” Draco admitted.

“Do you remember how you got hurt?”

Draco nodded somberly. “He’s sorry about what happened.”

Snape couldn’t hide his surprise. “He said that?”

“In his own way.”

Snape nodded in understanding. “It’s safe to allow you to go home then?”

Now it was Draco’s turn to be surprised. “Of course.”

“You don’t have to.”

“What other option do I have?” wondered Draco.

“Dumbledore has very effective means of protection, if you ever feel you need to partake of them,” Snape told him, watching Draco closely to gauge his reaction.

Draco sneered. “Father says he’s a fool, and I’ve seen little evidence to refute that.”

“You see what you want to see,” said Snape cryptically. “When you’re in need of something different, perhaps you will see more.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll know when you need to know.” He got to his feet. “Goodnight, Draco.”

He glided out of the room as a confused Draco sighed in frustration.

Thanks so much to everyone who has taken the time to review. Your support means the world to me. I've been working on this story for almost three years, writing it steadily but never working up the nerve to start posting it until now. So to know that people are reading and liking it has been a great thrill (and a great relief!) Thanks, too, as always, to my awesome beta Karen.

I do not own the characters; they belong to the brilliant JK. I’m only taking them for a little spin around the block. I promise not to harm them (ok, maybe I’ll harm them a little bit, but only for drama’s sake!), so please do not send any lawyers after me.

Friends in Low Places
By Nola Ryan

The Great Escape

“Mum, there is nothing wrong with me!” Ginny proclaimed, yanking her arm free as her mother tried to maneuver her away from the window, where Ginny was watching the brilliant colors of the sunrise come to life.

“You need to stay in bed, you’re still not sleeping properly,” Mrs. Weasley insisted, dragging Ginny back to her bed.

“The stupid dreams will stop once I’m back in my own bed with my friends around me. It’s being stuck in here that’s getting to me,” Ginny complained, shaking her mother off again. She jerked the blankets off her bed and then checked under it, opened the drawers of her nightstand and then banged them shut in frustration. “Where are my clothes?”

“The school house elves are still trying to all the dirt and other…things…out of your robes and uniform,” Mrs. Weasley admitted hesitantly. “Hermione only brought bedclothes by for you, we didn’t think you’d need anything else for a few days yet.”

“You were wrong.” Ginny ripped off the nightdress she was wearing. “Get me something to wear!” she bellowed, stamping her foot.

Mrs. Weasley quickly grabbed her by the shoulders. “You will not speak to your mother like that, young lady.”

Ginny shoved her mother away. “I’ll leave here in my knickers if you don’t find me something to put on right now!” she threatened.

There was a snicker from the bed next to hers. Ginny tore aside the curtain. “What’s so bloody funny?” she screeched at Draco.

Draco said nothing, unable to do anything but gape at the sight of a raging Ginny, clad only in her knickers, standing before him.

“Ginevra!” screamed Mrs. Weasley, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around Ginny as she pulled the girl back to her bed. “This is why you are not leaving here yet. You are not yourself.”

“I’m NEVER going to be the Ginny I used to be! She’s lying cold and dead in the Chamber of Secrets!” Ginny ranted, trying unsuccessfully to wrestle her way out of her mother’s vice-like grip. “If you can’t accept that, accept me, then leave me the hell alone!”

Instead Mrs. Weasley clutched Ginny tightly to her. “Stop this, Ginny, stop this. You don’t know what you’re saying. You will be able to be the same little girl you were, just as soon as you forget all the bad things that happened and go on with your life.”

“Forget?” Ginny laughed, a cold, bitter sound that made Mrs. Weasley shudder and pull away, trying to look her daughter in the eye. Ginny took advantage of her mother’s loosened grip to yank herself free. “You’re an idiot,” she spat. “It’s too late to protect me now. The damage is already done. And if you think I’ll ever be able to forget what happened…” She let the sentence trail off, pulling the blanket tightly around her against the shiver that ran through her whenever visions of the Chamber invaded.

“Ginny …” Mrs. Weasley took a step toward her, but Ginny dodged her mother’s attempt to take her in her arms again.

“Your efforts to comfort me are tiresome.” She started for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mrs. Weasley called desperately.

“Away from you,” Ginny proclaimed without stopping.

“No you are not!” Mrs. Weasley declared, pulling out her wand. “Stupify!”

Ginny fell to the floor like a stone. Mrs. Weasley covered her mouth with her hand, horrified by what she’d done.

The commotion had brought Madame Pomfrey running, still dressed in her nightclothes. “Molly, what…” She stopped short as she spotted Ginny on the ground, out cold underneath the blanket.

“She tried to leave. I couldn’t let her, not in the state she was in, so I…I…I stopped her,” Mrs. Weasley confessed tearfully, sinking onto Ginny’s bed.

Madame Pomfrey put a comforting hand on Mrs. Weasley’s shoulder. “You’re tired, you weren’t thinking clearly,” the matron reassured her. “Let’s get her back into bed.”

She flicked her wand at Ginny. “Wingardium Leviosa.” Ginny’s limp form floated over to the bed at the direction of Madame Pomfrey’s wand. Mrs. Weasley leapt up to make room for her. “Why don’t we let her sleep that off while I get you some tea?” Pomfrey suggested.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head, but Madame Pomfrey took her gently by the arm. “You need time away from her, Molly. It’s been a difficult two days. Come have a cuppa and let yourself calm down. Your daughter won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.”

Mrs. Weasley let the matron lead her into her office. Draco waited until Madame Pomfrey had shut the door behind them and then pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing at the effort.

“Weasley,” he called.

Ginny didn’t move. Draco slid his wand out from under his blanket and pointed it at her. “Enervate,” he muttered. A red light came out of his wand but faded before reaching Ginny. Draco sighed. “Bloody brilliant. Can’t even do a simple spell from a few feet away.”

He struggled to swing his legs over the side of the bed, panting heavily when he finally managed to do so. By the time he was able to get to his feet, after several failed attempts had sent him crashing back down onto the bed, his silky green pajamas were clinging tightly to his sweat-drenched back and chest.

“What the hell am I doing?” he muttered, swaying as he took a shaky step toward Ginny’s bed. He grabbed on to a rolling table next to his bed for support, sending the glass of water Madame Pomfrey had put on there for him crashing to the ground. Draco looked anxiously toward Madame Pomfrey’s office, but she must not have heard the noise, as her door remained closed.

Draco leaned heavily on the table, which sagged under his weight, and used it as support as he made his way over to Ginny’s bed. He sank into the chair next to her with a sigh of relief, pushing the table away. Breathless from the effort of those few short steps, Draco closed his eyes and tried to slow down his hammering heart. He listened anxiously for sounds of Madame Pomfrey’s return, but her door remained closed.

When he was finally able to breathe normally again, Draco lifted his wand. “Enervate,” he said, touching it to Ginny’s outstretched arm, the only part of her he could reach without too much effort.

This time Ginny stirred and soon her eyes flickered open. She looked around frantically until her gaze settled on Draco.

“Malfoy?”

“Shh, they’ll hear you,” he whispered, putting a finger to his lips.

Ginny sat up, looking around in confusion. “Who?”

“Your mum and Pomfrey,” he told her. “You don’t want to get stunned again, do you?”

“So that’s why my head hurts,” Ginny mumbled, making circles on her temple with her fingers. Then it hit her what he’d said. “Wait, they stunned me?

Draco nodded. “Your mum wanted to stop you leaving.”

“My mum?” Ginny squeaked in horror.

“She was beyond spare. Pomfrey had to drag her off to keep her away from you,” related Draco, eyes shining with amusement. “Your mum is almost as batty as you are, you know. I wouldn’t be surprised if Pomfrey’s sneaking a Calming Draft into her tea right this minute. So now would be the perfect time to get on with your going.”

Ginny ignored his insults as she eyed him carefully. “Did you get out of bed just to revive me?” Ginny wondered.

Draco waved a hand, trying to be nonchalant. “I needed the exercise, I have to build my strength back up.”

“Why would you help me?”

“It wasn’t right for her to stun you when your back was turned,” said Draco with a dark look. “Not right at all.”

“Since when does a Malfoy care about what’s right?” Ginny taunted.

Draco’s cheeks flushed and he lowered his eyes as he scrambled to find a better excuse for his actions. “Okay, so I really wanted to see the trouble it would cause when they came back and found you gone,” he finally blurted out.

She laughed. “That’s more like it. I wouldn’t mind being a fly on the wall for that one myself. That’ll teach Mum for stunning me.”

Draco didn’t answer as he rested his head against the back of the chair, closing his eyes. Ginny couldn’t help but notice his deathly pale color, the sweat that mussed his normally-perfect hair and the way his white knuckles were clutching the arms of the chair. “Are you supposed to be out of bed?”

“I’m beginning to realize it was a very bad idea,” Draco murmured, still not opening his eyes.

“If you pass out now you’ll miss all the trouble that’s about to happen,” Ginny reminded him. “And my mum will know you helped me get out of here and kill you for that kindness.”

“It’s not kindness,” Draco insisted. He opened his eyes and tried to push himself up but collapsed back into the chair. “Would you help me?” he panted, trying to catch his breath.

“Why should I help you stay out of trouble?”

“I have robes,” Draco offered.

“Everyone here does, they’re part of the uniform,” said Ginny with a smirk.

“I have robes here, you spotty bint,” Draco sniped. “And while you fill out those knickers surprisingly well for a first year…” He smirked at the furious blush that crept into Ginny’s cheeks. “I don’t think you want to be showing them off to everyone you’ll run into on your way back to your dorm. So I will lend you the robes in return for helping me back to my bed.”

“I could just take them, you’re in no condition to stop me,” Ginny warned him, getting up and pulling the blanket tight around her.

“I can still do a spell or two,” Draco let her know. “And if I give a shout, your mum will come running.”

“And you’ll be caught.”

“But so will you, and I’m not the one your mum will screech at first,” Draco reminded her.

Ginny scowled. “Let’s get on with it then, so I can get out of here.”

She grabbed her wand from her nightstand and did a fastening charm on the blanket to keep it around her. Draco chuckled. “Little late for that, isn’t it?”

“Keep your mouth shut and get up out of that chair,” Ginny snarled.

Draco smirked at her annoyance, but the look quickly vanished as he struggled to push himself out of the chair. He finally managed to get to his feet, but Ginny had to grab him under the arms to stop him from toppling over. He was almost a foot taller than her, and she stumbled a bit under his bulk as he fell forward heavily. Recovering surprisingly fast, she gently pushed him upright.

“You’re strong for a little thing,” Draco mumbled.

“Having six brothers will do that to a girl,” Ginny quipped. She took a step back and slid her hands down his arms, so she was now grasping him only by his elbows. “Ready to walk?”

Although still panting from exertion, Draco nodded and shook off her grasp. He closed his eyes in concentration and took a shaky step but stumbled again.

“Sorry,” he muttered as Ginny caught him.

“Yes you are,” Ginny taunted. “Come on, Malfoy, you can do this. Focus.”

“Easy for you to say,” Draco growled through gritted teeth, taking another shaky step, this time leaning heavily on Ginny. “I’d like to see you walk around a day after nearly bleeding to death.”

“Who was it nearly killed you?” Ginny questioned, letting Draco stop to try and catch his breath.

“None of…your…business,” he huffed.

“You weren’t hexed, you have too many bruises for that,” Ginny noted, pulling aside the collar of his pajama shirt.

“Weasley, quit trying to look at my chest,” Draco scolded, pulling away from her with a wince and grabbing the rolling table for support instead.

“You looked at mine.”

Draco took one final step and sank onto his bed in relief. “It would have been rude not to when you were flashing it so,” he told her, trying to lift his legs onto the bed but finding he didn’t have the strength.

“How did whoever hurt you get past Crabbe and Goyle?” Ginny wondered, pushing his blankets aside and lifting Draco’s legs onto the bed for him. “Or is there someone even those two thugs fear?”

Draco didn’t answer as he curled into a ball in the bed. Ginny noticed he was shaking. “Malfoy?”

“You should go,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

Ginny waved her wand over the potions on the nightstand next to his bed, to reveal what each was, and then lifted a small yellow bottle. “Here, take this one, it will help with the pain,” she told Draco, rolling him over gently and holding the bottle to his mouth. He let her tip it down his throat and relaxed almost immediately.

“Why did you help me this time?” Draco questioned, rolling back over on his side, so he wouldn't see the pitying look on her face.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m feeling more myself now.” She pulled the blankets up over him. “Where are the robes?”

“Bottom drawer,” he mumbled, closing his eyes.

Ginny pulled on the lower drawer, but it was locked. She tapped each of the corners with her wand and the drawer sprung open, revealing robes and a uniform folded neatly inside. Ginny took out the robes and held the silky material against her cheek. “These are beautiful,” she murmured without thinking.

“Of course they are, I can’t be seen in the rags you wear,” Draco muttered, not even bothering to open his eyes to insult her. “Mind you don’t muss them.”

“I’ll be sure to take extra-special care of them,” drawled Ginny with a mischievous grin.

Seeing Draco wasn’t paying her any mind, she unfastened the blanket. Shivering from the sudden cold, Ginny slipped on his sweater, which came almost to her knees, and followed that with a pair of socks she found in the drawer. Then she pulled on the robes, her hand lingering on the Slytherin patch on the chest. She had a flash of memory of Tom’s ghostly form pulling her close and her face scratching against the patch on his robes.

“You can’t keep my clothes too long,” Draco called sleepily, interrupting her thoughts. “I have to get out of here myself.”

Ginny shook her head, but she couldn’t shake away her memories of Tom. “You’re not going anywhere,” she murmured.

Something in her voice caught Draco’s attention and he rolled over. “What’s wr…” He stopped short as he noticed something he hadn’t spotted when he’d first seen her without the blanket. “What’s happened to your legs?”

“Nothing.” She tapped her legs with her wand and the welts and bruises that ran up the length of both of them faded away.

“If they were nothing you wouldn’t be hiding them,” Draco accused.

“It’s not the smoothest trip down to the Chamber of Secrets, especially in a skirt,” Ginny snapped. “Mum would go spare if she saw, so I keep the glamour on.”

“Couldn’t Pomprey…”

“I don’t want them fixed.” She spun on her heel and started out of the room.

“Being a Slytherin suits you, Weasley,” Draco called after her. “Those robes go much better with your hair – and your personality.”

Ginny turned her head to stick her tongue out at him, and then stomped out of the room, Draco’s laughter carrying after her.

************************

Draco was sound asleep 15 minutes later when Mrs. Weasley came flying over to his bed. “Where is my daughter?!” she screeched, grabbing a fistful of Draco’s pajama top and yanking him toward her.

Draco moaned in pain. “Stop.”

Madame Pomfrey pulled Mrs. Weasley away, and Draco fell back onto the bed with a whimper. “Molly, stop!” the matron ordered. “You’re going to kill the boy.”

“I will if he doesn’t tell me what he’s done with Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley vowed, trying to get at Draco again but being held back by Madame Pomfrey.

“I was sleeping!” Draco protested, shifting on the bed as far away from Mrs. Weasley as he could get. He slid his wand out from under his blanket.

“She was unconscious, she couldn’t have left here on her own!” Mrs. Weasley ranted. “What have you done with her?”

“Molly, he can’t even stand up on his own, he couldn’t have carried your daughter off somewhere,” Madame Pomfrey scolded. “She must have recovered surprisingly fast from the stunning spell and run off.”

“Maybe he’s the one who’s recovered quickly,” Mrs. Weasley accused, shaking a finger at Draco. “He got his strength back and took my Ginny somewhere to finish the job his father started!”

“My father?” questioned Draco sharply. “He didn’t do…”

“Check his wand, see what kind of spell he put on her!” Mrs. Weasley demanded, trying to get to the wand.

“I didn’t do anything to her!” Draco insisted. “She woke me up and insisted I give her my robes, and then she ran off.”

“See, Molly, she left of her own free will.”

“Where did she go?” Mrs. Weasley demanded to know.

“No clue. And to be honest, I don’t care,” admitted Draco with a smirk. “I was just happy to finally have some peace and quiet in here, at least until you came along squawking like a banshee.”

“Watch your mouth, young man,” Madame Pomfrey scolded.

“Bugger off, both of you,” Draco muttered, rolling over so he was turned away from both of them. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“I have some potions for you to take first,” Madame Pomfrey informed him. “Molly, why don’t you go check Gryffindor tower, I’m sure that’s where the girl went, so she could be with her friends.”

“You stay here,” Mrs. Weasley ordered Draco. “I’ll be back for you if I don’t find her.”

She stalked off as Draco muttered, “Stupid cow.”

“That’s quite enough, Mr. Malfoy,” said Madame Pomfrey sternly. “The poor woman is just worried about her daughter.”

“That doesn’t give her reason to hurt me,” pouted Draco.

“I’ll give you a potion for pain, you’ll be fine.”

“Why did she say I wanted to finish the job my father started?” Draco wondered. “What did he do?”

“I have no idea what that was about,” Madame Pomfrey said distractedly, looking over the potions on the table next to him. “I see you’ve already helped yourself to something for pain. So go back to sleep now, and don’t worry about what that poor woman said, it was her anger speaking I’m sure.”

“May I have a sleeping potion, so that harpie can’t wake me up again?” asked Draco as she turned to go.

“Please, Mr. Malfoy, do have some respect!”

“No. She has none for me,” Draco complained.

“I can hardly blame her, the way you treated her,” Madame Pomfrey scolded. “Are you sure you don’t know anything about where her daughter might have gone?”

“No ma’am,” drawled Draco. “I don’t make it a habit to associate with Weasleys, so I saw no reason to ask.”

“Very well, then,” said Madame Pomfrey resignedly. She lifted two bottles off the tray of potions on the nightstand. “Drink these two down, and then you may sleep.”

Draco dutifully took the potions. Madame Pomfrey put the empty bottles back onto the tray, which she carried off to her office. Draco shifted in bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but each move only seemed to make things worse. With a sigh, he gave up and lay as still as he could. “I hope you stay gone, Weasley. I’d hate to think I went through all this for nothing.”

*******************

Ginny flew down the hallway of the dungeon, occasionally sneaking furtive glances behind her to make sure she wasn’t being followed. She nearly tripped over the too-long robes as she turned a corner sharply, and she had to stop to steady herself against the stone wall. She pressed a flushed cheek to the cool rock for a moment and heard someone faintly calling her name. Whipping around, though, she saw no one in the corridor as she turned in a circle, her wand at the ready. The voice called to Ginny again, and this time she recognized it. She took off running again, turning another sharp corner and seemingly hitting a dead end. But when Ginny tapped one of the stones on the wall and muttered “Patefacio,” a door appeared and opened inward.

Ginny stepped into the darkened room, flicked her wand in the direction of a torch on the wall to light it and glanced around in the dim light it provided. All appeared to be in order, the plush green sofas sitting quietly unoccupied and hundreds and hundreds of books bursting the seams of the bookshelves that covered three of the walls. Turning to the fourth wall, though, Ginny didn’t seem surprised to see a tall, dark figure watching her closely from behind an enormous oak desk covered with carvings of snakes.

“Hello, Tom.”

“There’s my beautiful Ginevra,” he purred. “What took you so long to come back to me?”

“I’m not coming back to you,” Ginny declared. “You’re not really here. Harry destroyed the diary and you along with it.”

“Did you really think you could get rid of me so easily?” Tom murmured. “Haven’t you heard me calling to you?”

“Those were dreams. And once I get rid of the dreams, I’ll be rid of you,” Ginny said coldly.

“And I thought you were no longer the naïve little fool I first talked to all those months ago,” taunted Tom.

“I’m not,” Ginny insisted. “I will be rid of you.”

Tom laughed, a cruel high laugh that made Ginny shudder. “If you wanted rid of me so badly, why did you come to the one place you knew you would find me?”

“Because I…I…I had to see for myself that you were really gone,” stammered Ginny.

Tom laughed his cruel laugh again. “Do I look like I’m gone?"

"This isn't real," Ginny declared. "I don't know how you're doing it, making me hear you, making me see you, but you're not real. You're gone."

"I put too much of myself into you to ever leave you, my dear,” Tom declared.

“No,” protested Ginny feebly.

“You still feel it, don’t you? You can feel the power inside of you, my power,” Tom taunted her. Ginny shook her head in protest, but Tom continued on. “I can’t expect you to handle that alone. Just look at you! You need me to give you direction, so you can make the most of the gifts you’ve been given.”

“I don’t want your gifts!” Ginny spat.

“It’s too late to refuse them,” Tom proclaimed. “And why would you want to? You’re nothing without me.”

“I’d rather be nothing than be the person you would have me be,” Ginny declared.

“Would you really?” questioned Tom, his gaze studying her from head to toe, lingering on her exposed legs. Ginny twitched the robes shut to hide them, and Tom grinned like a hungry cat. “You wear my house colors well, dear Ginevra, like the Slytherin you were meant to be.”

“A Slytherin boy was the only one around when I needed clothes, so I took what I could get,” Ginny snapped. “Don’t go reading anything into it.”

“Sweet little Ginny, who was such a timid mouse she couldn’t even squeak in Harry Potter’s direction, is now stripping the clothes off Slytherin boys?” questioned Tom with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Hardly,” Ginny scoffed. “My family thinks I’m nutters, thanks to you, so they’ve had me locked up in the hospital wing. And there’s a Slytherin passed out next to me, so when I finally managed to get rid of my mum I stole his stuff and ran off.”

Tom laughed, but this time it was lighter and full of delight. “That’s my girl.”

Ginny’s lips pursed in distaste. “I told you, I’m not anymore.” She leaned across the desk, so that she was eye-to-eye with Tom. “What do I need to do to be rid of you?”

Tom leaned back in his chair and studied Ginny as he seemingly pondered the question. Slowly, a malicious smile crept across his face, and he moved in closer to Ginny again. “You were supposed to die for me, Ginevra,” he murmured in her ear. “And that’s the only way you’ll ever be truly rid of me.”

I do not own the characters; they belong to the brilliant JK. I’m only taking them for a little spin around the block. I promise not to harm them (ok, maybe I’ll harm them a little bit, but only for drama’s sake!), so please do not send any lawyers after me.

Lie, Lie Again

Pansy entered the hospital wing and was surprised by the bustle of activity there. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat on Ginny’s bed, Mrs. Weasley crying on her husband’s shoulder. Professor McGonagall was hovering over them. Madame Pomfrey was at the fireplace, speaking to someone in the fire. Snape sat at Draco’s bedside, talking to him intently.

Pansy looked uncertainly back out into the hallway, tempted to take off, but instead made her way over to Draco. “What’s the kurfluffle?” she asked airily, flopping down onto Draco’s bed.

Draco winced. “Why does everyone see fit to hurt me today?”

“Sorry, Draco dear,” Pansy said, patting his leg. “Here, I brought you something.” She laid a package in his lap. “So what’s all the fuss?”

“Weasley ran off,” Draco informed her, tearing open the box and finding a tin full of chocolates inside. “Mmm, Mum got my note.” He eagerly stuffed one in his mouth.

“You didn’t have anything to do with Miss Weasley’s disappearance, did you, Miss Parkinson?” Snape questioned, giving her his best glare.

“I don’t have anything to do with Weasleys if I can help it, sir,” replied Pansy, meeting his gaze with a wicked grin.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Snape snapped. “Have you seen her? She could be hiding in the dungeons, or maybe even passing herself off as a Slytherin.”

Pansy burst into laughter. “Weasley, a Slytherin?”

Snape noticed the attention her outburst had drawn. “Keep your voice down,” he hissed.

“Weasley took my robes,” Draco explained through a mouth full of chocolate. “However, as I’ve already told Professor Snape, she’ll never blend in around the common room with that ghastly hair of hers.”

“A glamour charm could fix that, but by the looks of her, she wouldn’t know anything about those,” Pansy sniped. “Maybe whoever or whatever dragged her down to the Chamber of Secrets grabbed her again to finish her off.”

“The Chamber has been destroyed, along with the monster who took Miss Weasley there,” Snape revealed.

“Her family thinks I dragged her off somewhere to torture her,” Draco added, frowning suddenly as the chocolate hit his stomach, and quickly putting the box aside.

“Did you?” asked Pansy excitedly.

Draco sighed. “As amusing as torturing the little bint might be, if I was well enough to do that I would not be lying here right now,” he complained. “I’d be off somewhere where I wouldn’t have to endure being screeched at by Weasels and interrogated by the Headmaster and even my own Head of House for something I couldn’t possibly have done.”

“Perhaps you should have thought of the consequences before you decided to have a bit of fun by reviving that girl and letting her run off,” Snape murmured icily.

It took Draco a second too long to wipe the guilty look off his face as he protested, “Professor, I…”

“It’s done, Draco, and there’s nothing to be done about it,” Snape proclaimed, getting to his feet. “You should hope the girl is found unharmed, though. Your father is not in a position right now to get you out of all the trouble you’ll be in if she isn’t.”

He stalked off before Draco could reply. Pansy rolled her eyes as he slammed out the hospital wing door. “He’s a bit overdramatic today, isn’t he?” She turned her attention back to Draco. “So, are you ready to get out of here?”

“I can’t, Pan,” Draco moaned. “I couldn’t even make it to the door right now, let alone the common room.”

“I’ll help you.”

“I don’t think you can.” He sighed. “I’m so bloody tired. I’ve never been so exhausted in my life, even when Father kept me up for three days straight to learn the entire Malfoy history and recite it for my grandfather.”

“I remember that party,” Pansy recalled. “I thought you were going to fall over before you finished, but you kept going all the way to the end. You found the strength to keep going then, and I know you can find it again now.”

“But I don’t have a chocolate frog to give me energy this time,” said Draco with a smirk.

“You just had chocolate.”

“I don’t think that will be staying around long,” Draco admitted, putting a hand to his stomach.

“You really remember the chocolate frog?” Pansy’s face cracked into a huge smile.

Draco gave her a rare smile in return. “Always looking out for me, aren’t you?”

Pansy nodded. “Someone has to. How about if I get you a strengthening potion? That should help enough for you to get down to the common room, right?”

“As long as you don’t make it,” Draco teased. “Although the way I feel right now, I might not even notice if you poisoned me.”

“I don’t know why I adore you so,” Pansy declared with a shake of her head. “How about if I get Millie to make the potion? Only you and the Mudblood do better than her in Potions, and she won’t ask any questions.”

Draco nodded his ascent. “The bigger problem is going to be sneaking out of here with all this going on.” He waved a hand in the direction of the Weasleys. “They’re certain to be looking after me all day, to see if I’ll lead them to the littlest Weasel.”

“Maybe you should wait until tomorrow…”

“Is there anyone in Slytherin not talking about how I got hurt or how long it might be before I kick off?” Draco wondered.

“Who cares what they think?”

“Father will,” Draco reminded her. “I need to be seen alive and well and back in the common room today. And I need you to find a way to make it happen.”

******************

Fred and George huddled in a shadowy corner near the Grand staircase, both studying intensely the piece of parchment Fred was holding.

“It doesn’t make sense!” George burst out, banging the parchment angrily with his wand. “How could she not turn up on here?

“Maybe she’s left the school grounds,” said Fred hopefully.

“Students can’t just walk out the front gates of this place,” George reminded him. “And she wouldn’t know about any of the tunnels, right?”

“I never told her about them.”

“Neither did I, but this is Ginny we’re talking about,” George reminded him.

“Yeah, she could have followed us without us even knowing it,” Fred realized. “She’s every bit as sneaky as we are.”

“We’ve taught her too well,” George lamented.

“Mum came looking for Gin right after she rabbited off, though, and we checked the map just a few minutes after,” Fred recalled. “She wouldn’t have had time to get off the grounds by then, we would have still seen her in the tunnels.”

“There’s no other explanation for why she wouldn’t come up on the map!” George exclaimed.

“There is one other explanation,” Fred said softly.

“No!” George burst out. “She’s not dead.”

Ron came barrelling down the stairs and spotted the pair. Fred hurriedly stuffed the map into his robes.

“I’ve checked all the towers and asked around at all the girls toilets, but she’s not anywhere,” Ron complained. “I even checked Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, to see if Ginny might have tried to go back down into the Chamber for some reason, but it’s all sealed up.”

“Maybe she closed it behind her,” George suggested.

Fred shook his head. “Didn’t you say you had to be a Parseltongue to open the Chamber, Ron?” Ron nodded. “So there’s no way she could have gotten back on there without You-Know-Who possessing her again. And we know he can’t do that with the diary gone.”

“Maybe she remembered the words to open it,” George told him. “We should ask Harry to open the chamber again, see…”

“No!” Ron interrupted loudly. “This is family business, not Harry’s business.”

“Harry’s practically family,” Fred protested.

“He’s not blood, and I don’t want him involved in Ginny’s business,” Ron declared. “Besides, I asked Myrtle, and Ginny hasn’t been in that bathroom all day.”

“Then where is she?” George bellowed, kicking at the stairs.

“Maybe she went for a fly,” Ron thought suddenly. “I’m going to go check the Quidditch pitch.”

Fred was about to stop Ron as he charged away, but George put a hand on his arm. “Let him go, it makes him feel better to be doing something.” He plucked the map from inside Fred’s robes, unfolding it with a wave. “And now we don’t have to tell him about this.”

Fred’s brow suddenly furrowed and his lips pursed in obvious concentration. “What?” George asked, knowing his twin’s inspired look all too well.

“When Gin was in the Chamber, she didn’t come up on the map,” Fred recalled.

“But Ron said…”

“I’m not saying she’s down in the Chamber again,” Fred clarified. “But we thought she wasn’t coming on the map because…because she was dead, right?” George nodded somberly. “Well, now we know that wasn’t the reason, she was alive the whole time down there.”

“Just barely.”

“Even so, she was alive, so she should have come up on the map. But what if there are places in the castle that it doesn’t show? Maybe places the Marauders never knew about, so therefore never put on there.”

“Or rooms that are unplottable, which the Chamber probably was.”

“Right, right,” said Fred excitedly. “So Ginny could still be in the castle, but someplace that the map can’t see!”

George quickly folded up the map. “She can’t hide from us forever, though. C’mon, we have some new rooms to discover. And I think we should start in the dungeons.”

“The dungeons?”

“Riddle was a Slytherin,” George reminded him. “So he likely knew plenty of places to hide down there, places even the mapmakers never stumbled upon. Maybe Ginny’s remembered a few…”

“And she’s holed up somewhere waiting for Riddle,” Fred finished with a frown.

“She wouldn’t!” George protested. “She knows he’s gone.”

“She knows what everyone’s told her,” Fred said softly. “What she believes could be something else entirely.” He pushed open the door to the dungeons. “We better hurry.”

He disappeared through the doorway with George close on his heels.

*****************

Snape glided down the corridor to the Potions lab and slipped into the room soundlessly. He glanced around, but the classroom was empty, the only movement coming from smoke rising out of cauldrons on the various desks around the room. Snape circled around the cauldrons, seeing if they might have been tampered with, but all were just the way his seventh years had left them that morning. He gave a wave of his wand at his office door, though, and an orange glow appeared, a telltale sign that someone had tampered with his wards. He quickly checked them and frowned when he found that the wards were still up. Murmuring a quick spell, he took them down and burst into the room, hearing someone scurry away as he did.

“It will do you no good to hide from me,” he murmured. “There is no other way to escape this room, except past me.”

As if in challenge to this statement, the bookcase behind his desk creaked forward, revealing the staircase hidden behind it. Ginny darted out from under Snape’s desk and into the passageway, but Snape caught up with her just before the bookcase closed, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her back into the office. Ginny tried to shake and kick her way free, but Snape pushed her roughly into his chair and held her there. Her wand clattered to the floor.

“Enough,” he growled.

“Go to hell,” grunted Ginny, continuing her kicking.

Snape bellowed “Immobilus!” and pointed at Ginny’s legs, which immediately fell still.

She looked up at Snape, but not with the fear he was expecting. Instead she wore a firmly defiant look on her face, her chin held high and her eyes meeting his steely gaze unflinchingly. “Fine, you caught me,” she said simply.

Snape was thrown by how easily she’d acquiesced and was first to blink. He scowled when Ginny grinned at him.

“Your family is in an uproar over your disappearance, you know,” he told Ginny, pinning her to the chair by the arms as he loomed over her.

“They’re too emotional, a weakness you don’t seem to share,” said Ginny coolly, pushing his hands away with a strength that caught Snape off-guard and made him release his grip. “Most teachers would be screeching all manner of detentions about now.”

“I think we’re beyond that,” Snape murmured, looming over her again with his wand drawn this time. His mouth quirked upward briefly when he saw Ginny swallow hard. Good, she should be scared. “Tell me what you’re doing in my office,” he demanded.

“No.”

It wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting, and Ginny’s smirk told him she knew it. Snape backed away from the temptation to throttle her, his lip curling, and sat on the edge of his desk in front of her. “Pity,” he drawled. “I do so enjoy the excuses you Weasleys try to make for your appalling behavior. Fortunately, I know what it is you seek.”

“And I thought Trelawney was the only one with the Sight around here,” sassed Ginny.

“I could punish you for your insolence, Miss Weasley,” Snape threatened.

Ginny only sneered at him. “Do you think detention or taking points will affect me? That kind of silly punishment is nothing to what I’ve been through.”

“I know.”

Ginny shifted uncomfortably under his dark, unrelenting gaze. Suddenly, her head snapped back, banging hard against the back of the chair as thoughts of Tom and the Chamber came flooding into her mind.

“Stop,” Ginny pleaded, attempting to push herself out of the chair but unable to get up because of the spell on her legs. “Stop it. Please.”

Snape turned away from her and Ginny’s visions faded.

“What did you do?” she squeaked.

“You do not want to trifle with me, Miss Weasley,” Snape warned. “Now, let’s discuss the potions you stole from the drawer of Draco Malfoy’s nightstand in the hospital ward.”

Ginny started to protest, but Snape put a hand up to stop her. “It will do you no good to deny it; Mr. Malfoy has already sold you out. However, I would like to hear how you broke through the locking spells on that drawer.”

“It was Malfoy, not me,” Ginny insisted.

“Malfoy has not yet developed the skills necessary to open that drawer,” Snape informed her.

“And I have?”

“I would not have thought so, but from what I hear, you have shown a surprising aptitude lately, far more than anyone ever would have suspected from a Weasley,” Snape said, his inky black eyes again boring into hers. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut to block him out. “Although I suspect that all of that magical talent is not entirely your own.”

Ginny’s eyes flew open. “Now I’ve stolen someone’s magic, too?” she scoffed, shifting in the chair so she was sitting up higher. “I’m becoming a regular criminal mastermind.”

“You may not be, but Tom Riddle was.”

Ginny froze as if he had immobilized the rest of her body. Could he know how much Tom is still a part of me? She shook her head. “Tom’s gone,” she whispered.

“The manifestation of him that was in that diary is gone,” declared Snape. “But I suspect that part of Tom Riddle is still lingering in this castle. Perhaps in someone who is especially vulnerable to outside influences because she stole a potion and took it without knowing the possible ramifications.”

“You couldn’t be speaking of me.”

“Oh, but I could,” said Snape smugly. “Yes, the ingredients in that potion will stop dreams. However, the person who combined them was quite fond of tricks, so your worse nightmares are certain to find your way back to you, even in the light of day.”

His previous words suddenly clicked in Ginny’s head. “How do you know about Tom and the diary?” she demanded to know.

“Dumbledore…”

“No!” Ginny screamed, startling Snape so much he nearly fell off the desk in surprise.

“Miss Weasley, calm…”

“He promised he wouldn’t tell anyone what happened, and he’s a man of his word!”

“I’m a teacher…”

“You’re a liar,” Ginny spat. Something in his face caught Ginny’s attention and she studied him carefully, her gaze as unwavering on him as his had been on her just moments before.

Snape's head jerked back suddenly. “How did you learn to do that?” he demanded to know.

“You knew!” Ginny screeched. The emotion running through her was so strong it broke the spell on her legs and she leapt to her feet. “You knew about the diary!”

“I didn’t…”

“Don’t lie!” Ginny bellowed, pushing him. Snape just managed to find his feet as he skittered off the desk. “I know! Somehow I saw it when I looked at you, I saw someone showing it to you!”

“You didn’t read me on purpose?” Snape questioned sharply, grabbing Ginny’s arms and shaking her.

She wrenched herself free immediately, backing away from him. “How could you?” she cried. “How could you let me keep it, knowing what it did?”

“I did not know you were in possession of the diary,” confessed Snape softly. “In fact, I had forgotten about its existence until I heard a nightmare you were having about Riddle and I realized what must have happened.”

“If you knew of the existence of the diary, then you must know who gave it to me,” Ginny realized.

“Potter didn’t tell you?”

“Harry knows?” asked a stunned Ginny.

Snape nodded with a malevolent smile. “I wonder why he would keep such a secret from you.”

“I haven’t talked to Harry much since…I haven’t been up for company,” Ginny said in Harry’s defense. “So it’s up to you to tell me.”

“I want you to try to read my thoughts again to find out,” Snape challenged.

“Try to read…”

“What you saw of someone showing me the diary…” Snape informed her. “You were reading my thoughts, seeing a memory.”

“I read your thoughts?” Ginny murmured, wide-eyed.

“It wasn’t intentional, then?”

Ginny shook her head. “How would I know how to do that?”

“You wouldn’t. Even most older wizards don’t know legilimency,” he explained. “That’s how you were able to access my thoughts, I never expected…”

“Tom would know how to do this legitimate thing?” Ginny interrupted.

“It’s legilimency,” Snape corrected. “And yes, I imagine he would have had the ability, as the Dark Lord is quite skilled at it.” He eyed her carefully. “What other skills of the Dark Lord’s have you picked up, Miss Weasley?”

“None…I don’t mean to…things just happen…” Ginny stammered. “The magic comes out, like before I came to Hogwarts and would accidentally do stuff.”

“You can’t control it?”

“No.”

“Now you’re the one lying,” accused Snape.

“Who gave me that diary?” Ginny demanded to know.

“You tell me.”

“I can’t. I can’t do the things he does,” insisted Ginny. “I won’t. I don’t want to be like him.”

“Of course it’s only a lingering effect of the enchantment you were under, you don’t really have the abilities you seem to have,” Snape informed her. “How could someone like you be that powerful?”

The color rose up in Ginny’s cheeks. “Someone like me? A Weasley, you mean?”

“A Weasley, a Gryffindor, a silly little fool who let herself become the Dark Lord’s helpless servant,” Snape taunted, leaning in close, so he was eye level with Ginny. His mouth quirked slightly when he saw Ginny’s eyes darken and focus in on his.

It was Lucius Malfoy who gave you the diary. He concentrated on that thought, letting her into his head to see it.

Ginny jumped as the thought hit her. “I’m going to KILL Malfoy!” she burst out, running for the door.

Snape rushed after her with surprising speed and grabbed her by her wand arm, so she couldn’t pull it on him.

Ginny tried to pull free, but Snape held her tightly. “Let me go, or I’ll have every person in this school believing you attacked me,” she threatened, never stopping her struggle to break free.

Snape met her hateful gaze for a long moment but then finally let go slowly. Ginny sprung for the door again, but Snape flicked his wand and it slammed shut just before she reached it. She heard a noise like a lock clicking into place. “You won’t be leaving here until I say so.”

Ginny panicked for a moment, wondering if he might attack her. Snape did nothing to reassure her when he glided up behind her and murmured, “You do have a penchant for getting yourself in trouble, don’t you?’ he taunted. “The perfect prey.”

Ginny whipped around with surprising speed, putting her wand to his throat. “I don’t think so,” she growled.

Snape laughed, such an unexpected reaction that Ginny’s guard slipped just enough for Snape to grab her wand. He spun away from her, taking the wand with him. “I’m not going to hurt you, you stupid bint,” he declared, tossing her wand onto the desk. “My job’s worth far more than the pleasure that would give me.”

Ginny let out an involuntary sigh of relief. “Let me out of here then,” she demanded.

“Not until you get something through that thick head of yours,” he told her.

“What’s that?” she asked warily.

“Draco did nothing to harm you,” Snape declared. “He was not aware of what his father had planned for you, and he did not participate in his plan in any way.”

“How thick do you think I am?”

“You honestly don’t want me to answer that question,” Snape muttered. “I do, however, think you’re smart enough to understand that if you harm Draco in any way you will suffer the consequences.” Ginny snorted in derision. “I am not speaking of detention or points from Gryffindor,” clarified Snape.

“You can’t hurt me,” Ginny declared. “Dumbledore would boot you out of here if you harmed a student.”

“Accidents happen all the time, Miss Weasley,” he warned her, enjoying the flash of fear he saw her trying to hide. “However, the consequences of which I speak are not physical. Well, that’s not entirely true. I suspect you may feel the effects of not taking that potion.”

“Then I best not stop taking it.”

“Pomfrey is not going to give you anymore of that Dreamless Sleep potion, no matter how many tricks you try to pull,” Snape informed her. “Your erratic behavior today has made certain of that.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” said Ginny coolly.

“Oh, but I am sure,” murmured Snape. “It’s a rare potion, only to be used in extreme circumstances. So she only has a limited number of doses to administer. Three to be exact. Which I believe is the number of doses you’ve already received.”

“She can get more.”

“Yes she can. From the school’s Potions master,” Snape informed her with a malevolent smile. “Of course, that’s only if I agree to make more and release it to her. I could instead choose to keep it here, so that I might monitor its administration. I’m certain Dumbledore would agree that we can’t be too careful with a potion that could cause such troublesome side effects.”

“You want to drive me mad then?” questioned Ginny. “Finish the job your mate Lucius Malfoy started?”

“That potion will be the thing to drive you mad.”

“Not if I only use it occasionally,” Ginny tried to convince him. “A few doses, to get me through the end of term, so my roommates won’t have to endure me screeching like a banshee in the middle of the night. That’s all I need.”

“Perhaps you should speak to someone about those nightmares,” Snape suggested.

“Perhaps you should keep your nose out of my business.”

Snape chose to let that comment go. “What about when term’s over?” he wondered.

“I’ll be fine when I’m home with my family,” Ginny insisted. “They’ll get me through better than any potion ever could.”

“How touching.”

“Please, Professor,” said Ginny softly, trying to keep the pleading edge out of her voice. “I’ll even play nice with Malfoy, if that’s what it takes.”

“You must truly be desperate,” Snape taunted.

Ginny scowled. “I could tell Dumbledore you knew about the diary,” she threatened, the waver in her voice betraying her uncertainty.

“Before you make a threat, you should be certain you can go through with it, Miss Weasley,” Snape murmured. “I would have thought Riddle would have taught you that.”

“I will go through with it,” Ginny declared in a much stronger voice. “I’ll tell him you knew about Tom and the diary and you did nothing to stop it.”

“You’d be lying.”

“Something I do quite well,” Ginny boasted. “It’s the freckles. People think I have an honest face.”

“Dumbledore is quite accomplished at spotting liars.”

“So why hasn’t he caught on to you yet?” wondered Ginny with a smirk.

“I’m better at it than most,” Snape admitted with a shrug.

A stunned Ginny could have sworn he returned her smirk for a brief second, but when she looked again his face was stone once more. “Are you going to give me the potion?” she asked him.

“Are you going to stay away from Draco?”

“I would be thrilled to have nothing to do with Malfoy ever again,” Ginny declared.

“Two doses,” Snape said. “And your brothers need to stay away from Draco, too.”

“Four,” Ginny tried to negotiate. “And I can’t make any guarantees about my brothers.”

“Two, and I don’t tell Dumbledore that you picked up a few tricks from Tom Riddle,” Snape countered.

“Three, and neither one of us talks to Dumbledore,” Ginny suggested.

“Agreed.”

Snape stopped just outside the hospital wing door and spun Ginny around to face him. "I must reiterate..." he started.

"That this potion is not to be trifled with and should only be used when truly, truly necessary," Ginny finished. "I can't take it more than once a week, and if I start feeling or seeing or doing strange things I should come to you immediately." She gave him a bright smile.

"I don't find you amusing, Ms. Weasley," Snape seethed.

"You're not exactly a cauldron of giggles, either," Ginny muttered.

"I think perhaps you should come assist me in cleaning the grates in the Potions lab," Snape told her. "A bit of hard labor might cure you of your insolence."

"I wouldn't count on it," Ginny sassed.

"Perhaps 50 points from Gryffindor then," Snape suggested.

"You can't punish me, because I'm crazy and don’t know what I’m saying or doing," Ginny protested, giving Snape a smirk.

"Your family and the headmaster might fall for that, but you'll get no sympathy from me," Snape warned her.

"Oh, but I have gotten sympathy from you," declared Ginny, patting the pocket of the robes she was wearing. "Or perhaps it was guilt. Doesn't matter much to me, I benefit either way."

"You'll do well to show more discretion with those potions," Snape growled. "If you're caught with them, I will claim they were stolen."

"And no one would ever believe you'd given them to me," Ginny realized. "So I will be the soul of discretion." She put her hand on the doorknob. "Let's get this over with."

Ginny pulled the door open with a sigh. There was a brief moment of silence as Ginny hesitated in the doorway, but then Snape pushed her roughly into the room, and Mrs. Weasley spotted her.

She came flying over, crying out Ginny's name, but Ginny sidestepped her embrace.

"Don't touch me," Ginny growled. "Don't think I don't know it was you who stunned me."

"Ginny..." She tried to grab her daughter, but Ginny pushed away her mother's hands.

"Just leave me be." She stalked off toward her bed.

Mrs. Weasley watched her go sadly, then turned to Snape. "Where did you find her?"

"The dungeons."

"But the boys searched down there," Mrs. Weasley protested.

"Your daughter is quite skilled at hiding things," Snape said cryptically before turning and gliding out of the room.

Mrs. Weasley turned her attention back to Ginny, who had stopped at Malfoy's bed.

"Have a good adventure?" Draco asked her.

He flinched at her look of hatred when she turned on him.

"Don't speak to me," Ginny hissed.

"Why are you growling at me? I wasn't the one who dragged you back here," Draco protested. "Caught sneaking around by Snape..." he shook his head with a look of mock sympathy. "I can only imagine the detention you're going to have to do."

"Yes, you can only imagine it, because he didn't give me detention," Ginny boasted. "There was some talk about points being taken away from Gryffindor, but with all the points Ron and Harry got for rescuing me, that won't keep us from the House Cup."

Draco scowled. "How did you not get detention?" he whined.

"You've just got to know how to handle old Snapie," declared Ginny breezily, giving Draco a wink.

She was climbing back into her bed by the time Draco had recovered enough from that remark to get his mouth closed. "You can't be serious," he muttered.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Ginny teased.

"I hope you at least had the decency to take my robes off first."

Ginny giggled, but her laughter stopped when Mrs. Weasley approached the bed uncertainly.

"I told you to leave me be," she said coldly. "If you weren't always hovering over me so, I wouldn't have been so bloody likely to rabbit out of here."

"Fine," Mrs. Weasley declared, turning away from her. "I'll be in Madame Pomfrey's office if you need me."

She skittered off, wincing as Ginny called after her, "I won't."

Draco waited until Mrs. Weasley was gone, then told Ginny, "I'll take my robes back now."

"When I'm done with them," she snapped.

"Off to another rendezvous with Snape, are you?"

"Honestly, Malfoy!" Ginny declared. "There is not a detention in this world bad enough that I would do something with Snape to get out of it."

"But by all accounts, you haven't been quite yourself lately," Draco reminded her.

"That would require a level of craziness WAY beyond where I am, though." She studied him thoughtfully. "Did you only set out to drive me mad, or did you honestly want me dead?"

"Dead? What are you talking about?" Draco protested. "I only helped you..."

He was interrupted by the arrival of Fred and George, who barreled over and flopped down on Ginny's bed.

"There you are, little wanderer!" Fred proclaimed, giving Ginny a kiss on the head before she could push him away.

"You made Mom have kittens, running off like that," George told her, sneaking in a hug of his own.

"I don’t rightly care."

Fred and George raised identical eyebrows. "Going through a rebellious phase, are you?" asked Fred.

"When hasn't she been?" George teased.

"You'd run off, too, if she was hovering over you," whined Ginny. "I wish she'd go home and let me get on with my life!"

"Have you told her that?" wondered George.

"To leave? Only a million times."

"He meant the part about you wanting to get on with your life," said Fred. "She'd probably let you go if you told her it would make you better."

"I don't need to get better, there's nothing wrong with me," Ginny declared. "I've tried telling her the best thing for me would be to go back to the dorms, but she won't listen."

"Maybe she'll listen to us," George offered.

"And maybe I'll turn into a hippogriff and fly away from this place," snapped Ginny.

"That is a more likely scenario," Fred admitted.

"So you'll help bust me out of here then?" Ginny asked hopefully.

"No way," said Fred and George in unison.

"We'd do anything in the world for you, Gin," Fred told her.

"Anything but take on Mum," George finished.

"We could hear her all the way up in the tower yelling at Malfoy because she thought he'd carried you off somewhere," Fred claimed.

"You could not!" Ginny exclaimed.

"I bet they could, the way she was screeching," Draco muttered.

Ginny heard him and smiled a malevolent smile. "I don't know how she could think someone like Malfoy would be able to carry me off," she taunted. "Have you seen the scrawny arms on him?"

Fred and George laughed.

"Bugger off, Weasley," Draco shot back. "At least I don't look like my mother mated with a house elf. Oh, wait, I almost forgot, Weasleys can't afford house elves. It must have been a garden gnome."

Fred whipped aside the curtain between Draco and Ginny's beds with a growl. "Say one more word about my family, Malfoy, and I'll hex your stones off," he threatened.

"I don't think he has any," teased Ginny.

"You found them sure enough last night, Weasley, when you...Ooomph."

His words were cut off when George landed on his chest, putting his wand to Draco's throat. "Finish that sentence and it will be the last thing you ever say, Malfoy."

"You...wouldn't...dare," Draco gasped, trying not to show how much pain he was in as he attempted to shift out from under George's weight.

"Wrong thing to say," Ginny murmured as George pressed his knee harder into Draco's chest and his wand harder against Draco's throat. Meanwhile, Fred pointed his wand at a spot under Draco's blankets that Draco found much more unnerving.

He was saved, however, by Mrs. Weasley bellowing, "Boys!"

"What is going on here?" Madame Pomfrey screeched. "Get away from that boy!"

"Do what she says, boys." Mrs. Weasley stood by Ginny's bed, her hands on her hips. Fred and George both backed off of Draco upon seeing the look on her face. "Now tell me what happened."

"Malfoy insulted Ginny," Fred told her.

"And we reminded him he'd be better off keeping his mouth shut," George finished.

"You had to do this reminding with a wand in your hand?" Madame Pomfrey questioned.

"Yes, ma'am," replied George.

"Much more effective that way," piped up Fred.

Mrs. Weasley fought to keep the smile off her face but failed. Fred pounced on her good mood. "Mum," he said, crossing to her and putting an arm around her shoulders. "Won't you please let us take Ginny away from this prat?"

"Yeah, Mum," continued George, joining Fred at her side. "Who knows what he might try next, alone here with Ginny."

"I would never allow..." Madame Pomfrey started.

"You have to sleep sometime," Fred told her.

"He's too weak to do any harm," the matron insisted.

George ignored her. "Ginny really would be better off up in Gryffindor tower with all of us watching over her," he proclaimed. "Me, Fred, Percy and Ron will make sure nothing will ever hurt her again."

"But she's not herself," Mrs. Weasley protested.

"Because I’m not with my friends," cried Ginny. "Please, Mum, let me go back to my normal life, instead of being locked away in here."

Mrs. Weasley glanced over at Madame Pomfrey with an inquiring look. "Poppy?"

The matron sighed. "Medically, there's no reason to keep her here."

"So I can go?" asked Ginny excitedly.

"With the promise that you'll come back here if you have trouble sleeping or the nightmares give you any more problems," Madame Pomfrey instructed.

"Done," Ginny promised, hopping off the bed. "Bye, Mum, see you when school's over."

She started out but stopped when she realized the twins weren't following her. "Aren't you guys coming?"

"We’re not going anywhere with you dressed like that," Fred declared.

"Like what?" She looked down at her bare legs. "I don't know where my skirt is, the house elves never brought my clothes back. But this covers me enough."

"I think he meant the robes, Gin," George told her.

Ginny glanced down at the green-trimmed black robes, the Slytherin patch standing out starkly against the dark background. "Oh, sorry, I forgot I was wearing these."

"Because being a Slytherin comes so naturally to you," Draco muttered.

"Shut it, Malfoy," said Ginny, Fred and George in unison.

"I'll give you something decent to wear," Fred offered, slipping off his robes.

"Those robes are more decent than anything a Weasley could ever afford," Draco sniped.

Ginny slipped off Draco's robes as she approached his bed. "Shut up before they kill you," she advised, tossing the robes onto his lap. "I'll bring the sweater back later. And yes, I'll make sure I have it washed first, so you won't get any Weasley filth on you."

Draco found he couldn't meet her eye to agree with the insult. "Just keep it," he muttered. "As a souvenir of our lovely time here together."

Ginny snorted out a laugh. "Goodbye, Malfoy."

"Good riddance, Weasel."

Ginny shook her head and walked away. Fred caught up with her and slipped his robes over her shoulders. Ginny shrugged her arms into them, and Fred and George each took one of her hands and led her out of the hospital wing.

Mrs. Weasley looked after them warily. "Are you certain it was wise to let her go?"

"No," the matron confessed. "But nothing I was doing for her seemed to be working, so I thought trying a different approach might be prudent."

She gave Mrs. Weasley a reassuring smile. "Why don't you go home and get some rest, Molly? You could certainly use it after the last couple days. I'll floo you if there are any further problems with the girl."

Mrs. Weasley chewed her lip uncertainly.

"I'm certain your boys will look after her. And it will probably be best for the two of you to be apart for a bit after the last few days," Madame Pomfrey added delicately. "Let her go back to her routine, and when she gets home for the summer, all of this will have been forgotten."

***************

As Ginny, Fred and George reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Ginny stopped.

"You can always go back," George told Ginny, stroking her hair tenderly.

Ginny shook her head. Fred slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her on the top of the head. "We can sneak you past them if you want," he offered. "Remember how you used to hide under our robes when we first got them? Bet you would still fit."

"I'll have to face them sometime, might as well get it over with," Ginny told him with a small smile. "Thanks, though."

"We'll run interference if it gets to be too much," Fred assured her. "Just let us know."

Ginny nodded as George pushed open the portrait hole. The room was alive with noise, with everyone going about their business and not taking note of the latest arrivals.

Suddenly Ron, who was slumped in a chair by the fireplace with Hermione hovering over him, spotted his siblings. "Ginny!" He flew out of his chair and over to her, sweeping her into a bone-crushing hug. "Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Ronnie, you're squishing me," Ginny complained, trying to pull free.

"I should strangle you," Ron scolded. "What were you thinking, running off like that?"

"She was thinking she needed to get away from that prat in the hospital bed next to her," George growled.

"I didn't like being cooped up, I wanted to be back here with everyone," said Ginny.

"So why didn't you come back here when you ran off?"

"Leave her be, Ron," Fred demanded. "She's here now, that's all that matters."

The other Gryffindors began to crowd around them, calling out to Ginny.

-- "Ginny, it's so great to see you."

-- "We were all so worried about you."

-- "We thought you were dead."

-- "What was it like down in the Chamber?"

-- "You can't ask her that."

"Everyone back off!" Fred bellowed. The crowd took a step back. "I know you are all as excited as we are that Ginny is fine and is back with us, but you need to give her some room to breathe."

Hermione approached warily. "Ginny, how are you?"

"Better now. You?"

"Me? I'm fine," Hermione assured her. "But we weren't expecting you back here for another day or two."

"I'm not sick, there was no reason for me to stay there any longer."

"I only thought...well, never mind, I'm glad you're back," Hermione sputtered.

"Hi, Ginny," Colin piped up, pushing through the crowd. "Glad to see you survived your encounter with the monster the same way the rest of us did. Quite the adventure, our first year, wasn't it?"

"Quite," Ginny murmured.

"Yeah, almost dying is a GREAT way to end your first year," Ron muttered.

"I seem to remember someone else who almost got himself killed first year," Hermione reminded him with a nudge.

Ron blushed. "That was different." He turned his attention back to Ginny. "Can we get you anything?"

"We could nick some food," Fred offered.

"And probably some butterbeer, too," George added.

"There will be no parties in this common room tonight," said a stern voice. Percy approached a bit uncertainly. "Not that it isn't wonderful to have you back here, Ginny." He surprised her with a fierce hug. "However, I don't want to encourage any raucous behavior in these two."

"We don't need encouraging," George assured him.

"Yeah, we can get raucous all on our own," Fred proclaimed.

Percy opened his mouth to protest, but Ginny spoke up first. "Let's save it for another time," she told the twins. "I really should spend tonight catching up on my studies."

"That's the correct attitude to have," cheered Percy.

"But exams have been cancelled," Fred protested.

"Still, a bit of extra studying never hurt anyone," said Percy.

"Yes it did," proclaimed Fred. "It made you end up with a stick up your..."

"That's five points from Gryffindor for insulting a prefect!" Percy bellowed.

"How many will I lose for punching a prefect?" George questioned.

"You wouldn't dare."

"You know I would," growled George.

"Thanks, guys, for making my homecoming so peaceful," Ginny told them.

"Sorry, Gin," Percy and George muttered with proper abashment.

Ginny smiled. "You're only acting normal, why should you be sorry? This is what I wanted, for everything to go back to the way it was, and for all of us to forget we ever heard about the Chamber of Secrets."

"Ginny..." Percy started.

"That's the way I want it, Perce," declared Ginny sternly.

He nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Thank you." Ginny kissed him on the cheek.

Percy flushed with embarrassment. "You should get to that studying."

"No, Gin, stay down here with us for a bit," Fred pleaded. "We can have a game of Exploding Snap."

Ginny looked around at the other Gryffindors, who had drifted away but were still sneaking curious glances at her when they thought she wasn't looking. "I don't think I need to draw any more attention to myself tonight."

"We'll make it a low-key game, I promise," Fred vowed.

"What has Mum told you about making promises you can't keep?" scolded Ginny.

"We could work up a distraction, give 'em something to gawk over other than you," George offered.

Ginny gave him a kiss, too. "Lovely offer, George, but I really want to get back to my room and my things and my..." She had been patting at the pockets of her robe while talking, but she trailed off as her search grew more frantic.

"What are you looking for?" Ron wondered.

"Nothing...I just...these aren't my robes...they're not the robes I was wearing even, so what I need must be...I left something in the hospital wing," she finally blurted out. "I have to go back down there to get it."

"We'll get it for you, Gin," Fred offered. "What did you leave?"

"It's no bother to go back," Ginny insisted.

"But Pomfrey might not let you go again if you come back there," George pointed out.

"And us she'll want to get rid of as quickly as possible," Fred added. "So what do you want us to get?"

"It's not some embarrassing girlie thing, is it?" George worried.

Ginny smiled slightly, realizing a way to get them to retrieve her potions without finding them, and nodded. "But if you steal Malfoy's robes back for me, you won't to touch any icky girlie stuff, I'll fish it out for myself."

"Steal from Malfoy? I think I can manage that," said Fred with a grin.

"WE can manage it," George spoke up. "You're not going without me."

**************
Fifteen minutes later, Ginny was trying hard to concentrate on a game of chess with Ron, but neither of their hearts were in it.

"Good Lord, even I could beat the two of you, the way you're playing tonight!" declared Hermione in frustration. "I'm going to find Harry."

Ginny tensed at the sound of Harry's name. Ron didn't fail to notice. "You don’t have to be embarrassed around him, Gin," he assured her. "Harry doesn't blame you for everything that happened, he knows it was all Riddle."

But it wasn't all him Ginny thought to herself. I let him in. I wanted to learn what he had to teach me, I wanted what he offered me.

She pushed away from the table. "What's taking Fred and George so long?"

Ron shrugged. "Pomfrey probably caught them."

The portrait hole opened just then, and the twins came through. Ginny hurried over to them. "Did you get it?"

"Sorry, Gin," said Fred contritely. "When we got there, Malfoy was all wrapped up in the robes sound asleep."

"And we tried to summon them, but they were twisted all around him," George added. "So we tried pulling on 'em, but the git woke up and started screeching that we'd come back to kill him."

"Which of course brought Pomfrey running to chase us out of there," finished Fred. He reached out an arm to pull Ginny close when he saw her crestfallen face. "We're really sorry, Gin. Is it something we get somewhere else?"

Ginny shook her head. "I wasn't planning to come back to the hospital wing, so I took my bear with me," she said tearfully.

"Bloody hell," George muttered.

"We'll go back for her, Gin," Fred offered. "We'll just have to find a way around Pomfrey."

"I wouldn't anger her anymore if I were you," warned Ron, who had joined them. "Ginny, can't you just go tell Malfoy you left something in the robes and you need it back?"

Ginny shook her head violently. "Then he'll insist on seeing what it is and he'll tease me for the rest of my life about it!"

"If I go after Fred and George just tried to get the robes, Malfoy is going to look to see what's in them that's so important," Ron told her. "So he'll find out either way."

"Could you go one night without her?" questioned George uncertainly. "We'll go first thing tomorrow and nick the robes, make it look like some house elf took them off to be cleaned. And Malfoy will never find out anything he'll be able to hold over you."

Ginny bit her lip uncertainly. No!! her mind screamed. You can't go all night without those potions! But she gave George a half-hearted smile. "It's only one night. I'll be OK. Thanks for trying to help, you two." She hugged them both at the same time. "I'm going to go up now, before my roommates get there and start asking all sorts of questions."

"Want Hermione to go up with you to keep them away?" Ron offered. "I'm sure she would do it, you know how she loves to boss people."

"No, I'm fine alone. 'Night, guys."

Ginny weaved her way through the crowd, ignoring attempts to get her attention until she was finally alone on the stairs to the dorm. She raced up them and went straight to the open window. She tried to put her hand out the window, but it was stopped after a few inches by an invisible barrier. "Bugger," Ginny muttered. "Not getting out that way."

You don't need those potions, Ginevra purred Tom in her head. I'll make sure you have sweet dreams.

Ginny let out a scream of frustration as the echo of Tom's laughter rang through her head. She clapped her hands over her mouth and spun away from the window. Flopping down on her bed, she pulled her pillow over her head, but it did nothing to lessen Tom's taunts.

Ginevra...You can't hide from me. Come back to me, my dear.

"No."

Come see me one more time and then I'll leave you alone.

"Liar," Ginny hissed.

But you still have so much to learn, Ginevra, Tom insisted. So much power left untapped.

"Go away, let me sleep."

I'll be here as long as you are.

"No you won't," Ginny proclaimed.

She quickly arranged the pillows on her bed to make them look like someone sleeping and pulled the blankets up over them to complete the illusion. Then she slipped out of the room and down the hall, glancing around to make sure she was alone. But she saw no one as she made her way toward the showers. Stopping just before the bathroom, Ginny lifted a tapestry there. After checking once more to make sure she was alone, Ginny tapped the wall behind the hanging and muttered a spell. It opened inward to reveal a hatch. Quickly, Ginny slid inside feet first, tucking Fred’s robes around her legs tightly. Then she let go and slid away into the darkness below.

Pansy crept into the hospital wing, which was completely dark except for the soft glow of light emanating from behind the marbled glass of Madame Pomfrey’s closed office door. Pansy glanced that way and saw the shadow of the matron at her desk. She hurried to Draco’s bed, finding him curled up fast asleep. Pansy indulged in a few brief moments of staring at him, and then gently shook his shoulder.

“Draco, wake up,” she whispered.

Draco only moaned in response. Pansy shook him a little harder.

"C'mon, Drake, you need to wake up.

“Don’t call me Drake,” Draco slurred, pushing her hand away without even opening his eyes.

“Lazy git, that’s what I should call you,” Pansy muttered.

“I’m hurt, not lazy,” Draco protested.

“Fine, I’ll let you stay here and I’ll give this strengthening potion to someone else,” Pansy told him. “I’m sure Flint would love to have it for the beaters at Slytherin’s next Quidditch game.”

Draco opened his eyes. “You have the potion already?”

“Millie keeps some made up at all times. I was afraid to ask why,” Pansy admitted. “Do you want it?”

“Of course.” He gulped the potion down eagerly. “What time is it?”

“Nearly 10. I waited until there weren’t so many teachers about.”

“Where’s Pomfrey?”

“Her office.” She waved at the door. “I thought she’d be sleeping by now, but no such luck, so we have to hurry. Where are your clothes?”

“Over there.” He waved his hand in the direction of the nightstand as he sat up warily, not quite trusting his sudden strength. “Wow, that potion really works.”

“It better, I had to pay top price to get it on such short notice,” Pansy muttered.

“And I’m sure you took the money to do so out of my trunk,” Draco guessed.

“Of course I did,” Pansy confessed. “Nearly lost my hand doing it, too. Those gits Nott and Zabini didn’t tell me about the anti-theft charms.”

“Serves you right, you should have asked me for the money,” Draco scolded.

“There wasn’t time,” Pansy insisted. “Now hurry up and get dressed.”

“Turn around.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Draco growled. “This isn’t a floor show.”

Pansy scowled but shoved Draco’s clothes at him and turned around. “I don’t see your sweater anywhere.”

“Weasley still has it.”

“She nicked it?”

“I told her to keep it, since it was the only thing she was wearing at the time, and I didn’t care to see her take it off,” Draco drawled.

He stripped off his pajamas and slipped into his school shirt and pants as he spoke, wincing with every move but not stopping until he was dressed. “OK, let’s go,” he announced, pulling on his robes.

Pansy turned back around. “Your robes are a mess.”

Draco tried to smooth them down with his hands. “I fell asleep with them on my bed.”

“Here, let me fix you.” She ran her wand over his robes muttering “Teresedo.” The fabric smoothed out immediately. She passed the wand over his hair, too, sending the touseled locks back into his usual sleek style. She took a step back to study him and noticed his bare feet. “You might want to put on some shoes, too, luv.”

Draco sank down on the bed. “Let me sit down to do that.” But he made no move to pick up the shoes and socks.

“I’ll do it.” Pansy squatted down and grabbed the socks, glancing up at Draco worriedly when he made no move to stop her. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Of course you do,” Pansy declared, slipping his shoes on.

“He said he underestimated me,” Draco murmured. “I can’t let him see he was wrong and I really am as weak as he thought I was.”

“You have to stop caring about what your father thinks.” She finished tying his shoe and stood up, reaching out a hand to him. “We really should be going.”

Draco pushed her hand away. “Lead the way.”

**************

They reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room fifteen minutes later. Draco stopped to steady himself against the wall.

“Is the potion wearing off already?” asked Pansy worriedly. “I thought it would last at least an hour.”

“It’s still working, but I should have grabbed that bottle of pain potion, too,” Draco murmured, taking shallow breaths as he pressed his forehead to the wall.

“This is stupid, Drake,” Pansy declared. “Why don’t we just go back to the hospital wing where you belong?”

“Because I’m not going back up those stairs,” Draco snapped. “And don’t call me Drake, you know I hate it.”

“So much for pain building character,” Pansy muttered.

“I have good looks, I don’t need good character,” Draco shot back. “Pureblood,” he barked at the tapestry, which curled itself up to reveal the door of the Slytherin common room opening inward.

Pansy and Draco had only made it to the top of the stairs leading down into the room when it exploded with sound.

-- Draco!

-- You’re back!

-- Damn, he really didn’t die.

-- Told you he was fine.

-- Is that really him?

-- Good to see you.

-- Maybe we should push him down these stairs, too.

-- He didn’t fall down any stairs.

“So you’re alive after all,” said Theodore Nott with a smirk as Draco reached the bottom of the stairs.

“You can’t get rid of me so easily, Theo, as much as you’d like to try,” Draco told him, pushing past the lanky boy and sinking into a chair, fighting hard not to give in to the temptation to close his eyes.

“Why would I want to off my dearest friend?” questioned Nott with mock indignation.

“Why wouldn’t you?” teased Blaise as he approached. “Welcome back, Draco.”

He extended his hand to Draco, but Pansy pushed it away. “Draco’s in no mood for you today, Fire Boy.” She perched protectively on the arm of Draco’s chair.

“Oh, Blaise, fire, very clever, I’ve never heard that one before,” Blaise scoffed. “Why don’t you let Draco decide who he’s in the mood for?”

“Enough!” Draco declared. “I’m not in the mood for either of you. You two either,” he added as Crabbe and Goyle approached. “All I want is to go up to my room.”

“Still not up to snuff, Draco?” Nott taunted.

“I’m fine,” Draco snapped. “I have studying to catch up on, that’s all.”

“No you don’t,” Goyle informed him. “Dumbledore cancelled exams.”

“So you have no excuse to avoid us,” quipped Blaise.

“The teachers aren’t the only ones who will be testing me,” Draco told them.

Marcus Flint interrupted. “You haven’t done any permanent damage, have you, Malfoy?” he asked. “I wouldn’t want to have to replace you as seeker.”

“But you’d do it anyway,” Draco said knowingly.

“I only do whatever is best for the sake of the team,” Marcus insisted.

“Unless there’s money or a team full of Nimbus 2001’s in it for you,” Nott muttered.

Draco scowled at Nott as he told Flint, “I’ll be back and better than ever by our next game. Father owled me earlier to tell me he’d arranged for a private Quidditch coach to come work with me this summer.” He paused a moment for dramatic effect. “Viktor Krum.”

“Krum!” Flint burst out. “He was the seeker on Bulgaria’s Junior World Cup team. Everyone thought Scotland was a sure thing, but Krum stole the Cup from them with the way he flew. I’ve never seen anything like him.”

“You will next year once he’s taught me all his tricks,” Draco boasted.

“Why would Krum coach you?” Nott questioned.

“Yeah, he could probably play for the Bulgarian pro team, good as he is,” said Flint.

“They won’t let him play for them until he’s 16, and that’s not until October,” Draco explained. “Father is friends with the headmaster of Krum’s school, and when Krum heard about me making seeker in my second year he agreed to work with me. He’ll be staying with us for a month.”

“You’ll be having a party, right?” asked Flint eagerly. “So we can all meet him?”

“We’ll see,” said Draco noncommittally.

“Perhaps you should see your way back to the hospital wing where you belong,” came Snape’s voice suddenly from the far corner of the room.

Draco could not see how he might have gotten into the room and was distracted by the wild thought that maybe he had found a way to apparate within the castle.

Pansy jumped in when Draco continued to do nothing but stare at Snape. “Draco is feeling much better, Professor, Madame Pomfrey was only being overprotective making him stay.”

“Be that as he may, he left without permission, and I’ve grown quite weary of her screeching.” He pointed up the stairs toward the door. “Back upstairs with you, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I’d rather sleep in my own bed, sir, the accommodations up there are not up to my standards,” Draco told him. The Slytherins around Draco snickered, egging him on. “Let the hag come drag me back up there if she wants my company so badly,” he added.

“To my office then, Draco.”

“But Professor…”

“Now,” Snape growled, turning on his heel to go.

Draco knew better than to argue and wearily pushed himself out of the chair, closing his eyes against the pain but managing to make it look like he was just bored. At least until he reached his feet and swayed unsteadily.

“Okay there, Malfoy?” asked Nott with a sneer.

“Fine,” Draco muttered through clenched teeth.

“He’s probably weak with hunger,” Pansy suggested. “You haven’t eaten anything for days, have you?”

“I’m not weak with anything,” Draco barked.

“Then you’ll have no problem taking a walk to my office with me,” Snape told him.

Pansy slipped her arm around Draco and kissed his cheek as she slipped the bottle of strengthening potion into his pocket. “Good luck.”

“Get off me, Pan.” He pushed her away but gave her arm a grateful squeeze as he did so.

Snape took Draco by the arm and began to pull him from the room. As they reached the stairs leading out, Snape gently pushed Draco in front of him. "They can't see you if you want to take more potion before you try to get up these stairs," Snape murmured.

Draco was surprised but didn't ask how Snape knew. He gulped the potion eagerly as they started up the stairs, quickening his pace as it kicked in.

"Very clever, getting a strengthening potion," said Snape once they were outside the common room. Draco said nothing. "It's quite good; I’m guessing Miss Parkinson didn't make it. You likely wouldn't be standing if she had." Draco smiled. "So who did she get to make it?"

"I don't know, sir, you'd have to ask Pansy," replied Draco. "Do I honestly have to go back to the hospital wing?"

"Do you honestly think you don't need to be there?" questioned Snape. "You're not completely healed yet."

"They don't have to know that. I could go straight up to my room and..."

"That stupid pride is going to get you killed one day," Snape warned.

"I'm sure something else will kill me long before my pride does."

"Or someone else," Snape muttered.

"My father is not angry with me anymore," Draco said earnestly. "He even got me a Quidditch coach for the summer, a really famous one, so I can improve my game."

"There's nothing wrong with your game, you merely lack focus, particularly when it comes to playing Mr. Potter."

"Father thinks I should be flying faster with a broom like my Nimbus," Draco explained. "Krum, the one who's going to teach me, is supposed to be one of the fastest flyers in the world."

"Viktor Krum of Durmstrang?" Snape asked as he took the charms off the door of his office and motioned for Draco to step inside. Draco nodded as he stepped past Snape, sinking into the chair in front of the teacher's desk without even asking.

"That's a good way to lure you to the school," he noted. "Bit obvious, though. Lucius is usually much more subtle."

"It's not a lure, it's a reward," Draco insisted.

"Nice of him to reward you for surviving him almost killing you," muttered Snape. "Are you going to be up for a summer full of Quidditch? Especially since you're not letting yourself recover properly."

"I'll take all the potions Pomfrey can throw at me, and I'll rest up after every class," Draco promised. "Please don't make me go back to the hospital wing, sir. You know how that makes me look."

"It does not make you weak," Snape declared. Draco rolled his eyes at him. "If you were weak you'd be dead," Snape told him matter-of-factly.

"I'm not hurt that badly," Draco insisted.

"Yes you are, but I’m not only talking of what you survived the other night," Snape admitted. "That was merely another test."

"I'm alive, does that mean I passed?" joked Draco.

"When dealing with your father and his friends, staying alive is everything," said Snape ominously. "You're getting older, you'll soon be tested even further to see if you're worthy."

"Worthy of what?"

"Serving the Dark Lord."

"Of course I'm worthy," Draco snapped.

"You can't say that until you've been tested," Snape warned. "Your father has tried to prepare you, in his own way, for some of what you might have to endure, but there is no way to truly prepare for the things you will see and do and be put through."

Draco noticed the far-away look in Snape's eyes and had to wonder if he was remembering his own dark past. "What kind of things?" he questioned Snape warily.

Snape shook his head, shaking off the memories with the motion. "Things you don't need to concern yourself with right now." He sighed. "If I get Pomfrey to agree to let you stay in the dorm, you'll take every potion she tells you to take and will check in with her however times she deems necessary?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you'll report to her or to me immediately if you feel ill in any way?"

"Yes, sir."

"She's going to be quite vexed," Snape murmured.

"I know, sir, I'm sorry, sir," Draco apologized. "Yet she's more likely to listen to you on the matter than to me, is she not?"

"She is," Snape agreed. He sighed again. "Very well, go back to your room and I'll see if I can't reach an arrangement with her."

"Thank you, sir," Draco told him as he got up and started out.

"Draco," Snape called after him.

"Yes, sir?"

"No more of that strengthening potion after tonight," he instructed. "If you can't get around on your own, you shouldn't be getting around at all." Draco only nodded in response. "Draco?"

"Yes, sir, no more potion," replied Draco sullenly.

"Very good. You may go."

Draco shuffled out and headed slowly back toward the common room.

Suddenly, someone jumped out from behind a tapestry in front of him. "There you are!"

Draco jumped back in surprise, banging into the wall with a grunt of pain. He quickly recovered, though, standing up straight and adjusting his robes.

He gave Ginny his best smirk. "Hello, Weasel, what are you doing down here?" he questioned. "Come to plead your way into Slytherin, where you belong?"

"Not bloody likely," she declared. "You have something of mine."

"What could you possibly have that I would want?"

"Nothing...it's...I...I left something in your robes and I need it back." Ginny stammered.

"Ooh, presents." He patted down his pockets until he found the bottles of potions. "Hmm, potions. Wonder what they could be."

"Give them to me, Malfoy," growled Ginny.

"Perhaps I should have a sip, see what this is you're imbibing, Miss Weasley," Draco taunted.

"I'll hex you, Malfoy," Ginny threatened. "I'll hex you so bad, Daddy will have to carry you home in pieces from this school."

"Now, now, is that any way to talk to someone who is only trying to look out for your best interests?" Draco scolded. "Afterall, we don't want you to get any crazier than you already are. Dumbledore has far too many loonies running around this place as it is."

"Give me my potions," demanded Ginny through gritted teeth.

"I heard Madame Pomfrey tell your Mum that you'd get over these nightmares you've been having if you talked about what happened," Draco revealed. "So why don't you tell me what went on in that Chamber?"

"Why don't you tell me who beat the snot out of you?"

"I will if you will," Draco challenged.

"If you think for one moment I'm going to feed your perverse idea of entertainment by telling you what I had to go through down there because of you and..."

"Me? What did I do?" Draco burst out. "I wasn't the monster who dragged you down to that Chamber!"

"But you are a monster, aren't you?"

"So you say," Draco said softly.

"So I know!" Ginny screeched. "Why am I wasting my time with you?" She whipped out her wand and pointed it at him. "Accio potions!"

The potions flew out of Draco's pocket, but with his seeker reflexes he was able to grab back all but one of them before they got to Ginny. Those reflexes were too late to protect him, though, when Ginny flew at him. Draco crumpled as she tackled him, and they both fell to the ground, Ginny landing in Draco's lap. Nonplussed, she plucked the potions out of his hand, got to her feet and started off down the hall without a backwards glance.

His whimper of pain stopped her, and she turned to see him struggling unsuccessfully to push himself up.

She could hear Tom cackling in her head. Not so high-and-might now, are you, Malfoy? he sneered. Pa-the-tic.

Ginny took a step back toward Draco.

No! Tom screeched. Why would you help him? That's not who you are anymore. You're not the kind of person who can be bothered to care about the weak, who can be bothered to care about anyone.

"Yes I am!" Ginny protested in a fierce whisper. "I can still care, even for a git like him….Malfoy," she called, starting toward Draco again.

"Bugger off, you got what you came for," Draco rasped, still trying to push himself up. He managed to make it into a sitting position, but then gave up and leaned back wearily against the wall with a sigh.

Ginny hurried over to him. "What are you doing down here? You shouldn't even be out of bed, let alone walking around," she fussed. "How did you make it down here in this condition?"

"I wasn't in this condition when we came down here," Draco muttered, closing his eyes.

"Strengthening potion?" Ginny asked. Draco nodded. "Not a very good one."

"It was for awhile."

"At least until you realized you were hurt much too badly for a strengthening potion to fix," Ginny chastised.

"Maybe not, I still have more potion." He fished around in his pockets but came up empty.

Ginny took out the potions she'd taken from him and handed one to Draco. "Here, this one's yours."

"Are you going to tell me what's in those other bottles?" questioned Draco.

"Of course not."

"I could tell Snape you stole them," Draco threatened.

"Yes you could, but you'd have to get up off that floor to do it," Ginny reminded him coolly. "And if you sell me out, I'll tell him I found you lying here, and it will be back up to Pomfrey for you."

"I need to go back up there," confessed Draco softly.

Ginny couldn't hide her surprise. "You want to go back?"

"I didn't say I wanted to, I said I needed to," Draco clarified hoarsely, slumping further down the wall. “I thought I could make it to my room, but then you had to go tackle me.”

"You shouldn’t have taken my things,” Ginny scolded. “Let’s get that strengthening potion into you," she said, kneeling down next to him. "Hopefully it will work enough for us to make it back upstairs."

"You're helping me get back there?"

"I have to go that way anyway," Ginny told him with a shrug. "Now swallow that potion so we can get going."

Draco gulped the remainder of the potion. "You can't tell anyone about this," he pleaded, sitting up straighter as the potion began to kick in. "They all think I'm better."

"How are you going to explain being back in the hospital wing?"

"I'll tell them Snape made me go back, they all saw him drag me out of the common room," Draco told her. "Will you keep quiet about the real reason I went back?"

"I have no reason to keep your secrets," Ginny reminded him.

"I could do something for you in return," Draco offered.

"Like what?" asked Ginny warily.

"Get you more of that potion you love so much."

"You're all talk," accused Ginny. "You don't even know what that potion is."

"I know people who can get their hands on all kinds of potions," Draco bragged. "Even dodgy ones like a Dreamless Sleep potion." He smirked at her gasp of surprise. "I have the money to pay for those potions, too, even at black market prices."

"And why would you get them for me?"

"Because you're going to tell no one about how bad off I've been," declared Draco. "And you're going to help me get back up to Pomfrey before anyone else sees me."

"That's all I have to do?" questioned Ginny anxiously.

"Well, I would ask for sexual favors, but you being a Weasley, that's too vile to even consider," Draco drawled.

"For me more than you," Ginny muttered. "Can we go now?"

"Give me a sec," Draco requested, clutching his right side as he slowly made his way to his feet, his face doing little to mask his agony. "You didn't have any pain potion hidden in my robes, did you?"

Ginny shook her head. "Where does it hurt?"

"Pick a spot," Draco told her, falling against the wall, panting with effort, as he finally made it to his feet.

"Where does it hurt the most?" Ginny asked. "I might be able to help."

"How?"

"I have some very rough brothers, I've picked up a few healing spells," Ginny explained. "So what hurts most?"

"My side," Draco admitted, holding his right arm tightly against the ribs on that side as he pushed away from the wall and took a few cautious steps.

Ginny pulled out her wand, and Draco instinctively took a step backwards.

"I'm not going to hex you, Malfoy, tempting as it may be," Ginny assured him. "You're much too pathetic right now to make it any fun."

"I am not pathetic," Draco pouted.

"You're accepting help from a Weasley."

"That's purely desperation," Draco rationalized. "Now let's see those healing spells."

"I only know one for pain, and it's not very strong," Ginny confessed. "I've never done the spell with a wand, though, so maybe using that will make it stronger. It might be enough for you to make it upstairs, at least."

"Let's see it then." He shifted in pain as he put down his arm, taking the pressure off his ribs. Ginny put her wand against his side.

"Levimentum," she murmured.

There was a flash of white light. Draco flinched. "It burns."

"Only for a second," she assured him, noticing his tensed shoulders already starting to drop in relaxation. "Better?"

"That's a brilliant spell," Draco raved with obvious relief.

"Lucky for you Fred and George have given me plenty of practice using it, when they don't want Mom to know they've been hurting each other with their experiments," Ginny told him as they started slowly down the hall.

"Experiments?"

“They like to invent new spells and hexes and pranks and try them out on each other,” explained Ginny. “Not all of them work out the way they want, though, so they get me to fix them up.”

“None of your other brothers will help?” he asked, stopping suddenly as they reached the stairs, eying them warily.

“We’ll take them slowly,” Ginny encouraged, noticing his hesitation.

Draco nodded and started up, clutching the rail tightly. “Keep talking,” he rasped.

“Why?”

“It’s distracting.”

“So you don’t really care what I’m saying?” Ginny asked, but then shook her head. “What am I thinking? Of course you don’t care what a Weasley has to say.”

Draco didn’t answer, having stopped to try to catch his breath. “Dragons,” he finally panted.

“What?”

“Talk about dragons,” Draco demanded. “Don’t you have a brother who works with dragons?”

Ginny nodded. “That’s Charlie. He’s studying them in Romania.”

“Have you seen them?” Draco questioned excitedly. “What kind of dragons do they have? How close can you get to them?”

“I’ll tell you if you keep walking,” Ginny offered with a wicked grin. Draco groaned. “I could go back downstairs and get one of the other Slytherins to help you up to Pomfrey, if you’d rather.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Draco muttered, starting to climb the stairs again. “The dragons?”

“They’re beautiful,” Ginny raved. "You can't take your eyes off of them, even knowing how dangerous they are."

"We dragons are like that," Draco cracked breathlessly.

Ginny snorted out a laugh. "Maybe you should save your breath for walking, not talking," she suggested.

Draco scowled but said nothing, so Ginny continued on about the dragons. "Romania is one of the few places in the world where you can still find large groups of dragons, you know. They have dragons there from all over the world, because people don't know what to do with them when they find them, or they try to keep one as a pet and realize very quickly what a terrible idea that is. So they contact the dragon reserve and Charlie and his friends come and get them."

"Like they did with Hagrid's dragon?"

"How did you..."

"I nearly caught them getting rid of it before Filch caught me."

"Ouch."

Draco nodded. "I had to do detention...with Potter...in the Dark Forest." He stopped again to catch his breath. "Of course...you would...probably like that."

"I thought we agreed, less talking, more walking," Ginny snapped.

Draco smirked but kept silent as he started climbing the stairs again.

"Have you ever seen a dragon up close?" Ginny asked.
Draco nodded.

"Hagrid's?"

"No, my grandfather had one," Draco confessed. "A Fireball. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He stopped to catch his breath before going on. "I was only three, but somehow I managed to get out of the house and rabbit off to the pitch where Grandfather kept him. Father found me an hour later just watching the dragon fly around."

"You're lucky it didn't eat you!"

"I thought Grandfather must have had wards up, so the dragon knew he couldn't get to me," Draco told her. "But there weren't any wards, it went right for my father when he came to fetch me. He had to do a conjunctivitis spell on the poor thing so we could get back to the house. Grandfather said it didn't bother with me because my name connected me to the dragons."

"You're lying to me," accused Ginny.

Draco shook his head. "Names can be very powerful things," he said solemnly.

"So dragons won't attack you because your name means dragon?"

Draco shrugged. "Father said someone might have given me dragon's touch as a gift at my naming ceremony. I never saw the dragon again, so I couldn't find out if the same thing would happen. My grandfather caught dragon pox and died just months after that, and I don’t know what Father did with the dragon."

"Maybe he sent it to Charlie's dragon reserve," Ginny suggested.

Draco shook his head. "He might have killed it, since it was the reason my grandfather died. But he probably sold it to the highest bidder."

They reached the front hall, and Draco stumbled as he let go of the rail of the dungeon steps.

"Are you going to make it? I could go get Pomfrey," Ginny offered.

Draco shook his head. "That would draw too much attention."

"And seeing you walking with a Weasley won't?"

"If we keep quiet no one will notice us," Draco told her, gingerly making his way toward the Grand Staircase. "Although it wouldn't be a bad thing to have an invisibility cloak about now."

"Sorry, left mine at home."

Draco looked at her in shock. "You..."

"I'm kidding."

"I knew you couldn't afford one."

"Don't need one, I know a spell," Ginny boasted. "Do you have one?"

Draco shook his head regretfully. "They're hard to find, most people who have them inherited them. What kind of spell do you know?"

Ginny took out her wand and tapped the top of her head. She shuddered as her body shimmered for a brief moment before changing to blend in with the banister behind her.

"Blimey," Draco muttered. "How do you know this stuff?"

"I read anything I can get my hands on, including all my brothers' school books," Ginny explained. "And I'm pretty good at remembering the things I read."

"But you're only a first year," Draco protested.

"So? Hogwarts doesn't give us more magic, it only teaches us to use the magic we already have," Ginny told him. "But the power to do all of that is inside us from the very beginning, waiting to be learned. All I did was speed up that learning process a bit."

"Just by reading?"

"Of course. How else would I know it?" She started up the stairs. "Come on, this spell is hard to maintain, and I don't want to end up as wobbly as you by the time we get up to Pomfrey."

“You don’t need the spell, I was kidding about the invisibility cloak,” Draco told her. “Any students who are out this late aren’t going to be down here, they’ll be up in the Astronomy tower snogging.”

“Eww.” She tapped the top of her head with her wand again and the spell shimmered off of her.

“You won’t think that in a few years.”

“Yes I will.”

“Not if it’s Potter who wants to do the snogging,” Draco taunted.

“Can we please keep going?” Ginny pleaded.

“Only if you tell me more about the dragons.”

Ginny motioned at the stairs, and Draco took another step up.

"They have all kinds of dragons there," Ginny told him. "Welsh Green; Norwegian Ridgeback; your favorite, a Chinese Fireball; even a Hungarian Horntail. Mum nearly had kittens when Charlie flew me over the pens where they keep them, so I could get a closer look."

"They keep them locked up?" asked Draco with a frown.

"Only when they're hurt," Ginny assured him. "Each breed has its own territory, and there are spells to make sure they can't leave those areas and go after one of the other breeds. But there's plenty of room for them to fly freely over their territory and hunt and nest and do whatever it is dragons like to do. They have to go in the pens when they're hurt, though, to make it easier for the dragon keepers to help them. Sort of like the hospital wing," she added with a grin.

"I bet…the dragon pens…are more…comfortable," responded Draco with great effort. Ginny noticed how badly his legs were shaking as he tried to step up to the next stair.

"Stop and rest a bit," she instructed.

Draco shook his head. "Potion's…wearing off...have to get…to the top."

He closed his eyes as he climbed the next step, gripping the rail tightly.

"I'd try to help, but my levitation skills are still rubbish," Ginny confessed. "Tom…" She stopped, catching herself. "A friend of mine says it's because I lack focus. But you only have a few more steps to go."

"I've…got…it," Draco panted, grabbing the rail with both hands and starting to pull himself up.

Ginny followed close behind him and righted him when he stumbled. "Easy, easy."

"Not…for…me."

"You're doing brilliant," encouraged Ginny. "Only two more steps."

Draco nodded and kept climbing. His legs gave out as he reached the top, though, and Ginny was unable to catch him before he fell.

She tugged on his arm. "C'mon, Malfoy, the hard part's over," she coaxed. "Get up and I'll help you make it the rest of the way."

Draco shook his head. "Fine, lay there then. Or crawl over to the door. Meantime, I'm going to get Colin, so he can snap a photo of how pathetic you are."

"You…wouldn't…dare."

"I'm leaving now." She turned away from him.

"Weasley!" Draco wailed.

Ginny turned back to him. "Get your arse up, then, I can't lift you."

She was surprised when Draco dutifully pulled himself up using the banister for leverage and was able to make it to his feet after only three tries. He steadied himself against the wall, panting with effort.

"Race you," Ginny teased.

"Bugger off."

"Who would have thought there was anything tough under that pretty-boy exterior," Ginny said, obviously impressed.

Draco managed a grin in spite of his pain.

"I'll take it from here, Miss Weasley."

Ginny jumped back in surprise as Snape quickly approached up the stairs, a malevolent smile on his face.

Ginny turned defiantly back to Snape. "I promised Malfoy I'd help him back to the hospital wing, and I'm not going back on my word."

"Perhaps Mr. Malfoy no longer requires your assistance," Snape suggested. "Draco?"

Ginny jumped in before Draco could answer. "The state he's in, he's not about to let go of something solid, even if it is a Weasley," she declared. "However, if you would like to assist me in getting him back to Madame Pomfrey, I'm not going to refuse. He's not as scrawny as he looks."

Snape scowled but took Draco's arm and put it around his shoulders. Draco sagged heavily against him. "Why didn't you let me help you back up here?" Snape questioned.

"He didn't think he needed help, stupid git," Ginny muttered.

"Perhaps he wouldn't have if he hadn't run into you," accused Snape. "I told you…"

"I know what you told me," Ginny snapped. "This has nothing to do with that."

"With what?" asked Draco.

"Does Miss Weasley have anything to do with the sudden change in your condition?" Snape questioned.

"If I was going to hurt him, I would have pushed him down the stairs 10 minutes ago," Ginny huffed.

"She…helped," Draco told him.

"See."

"And how is it you are down here to perform such saintly deeds when you are supposed to be up in your common room at this time of night?" wondered Snape.

"I left something here that I need," Ginny answered, opening the hospital wing door.

Madam Pomfrey bustled over and interrupted them. "Mr. Malfoy, you stupid boy, what were you thinking leaving here?"

"Bed," Draco moaned.

"Yes, yes, let's get you back into bed," Pomfrey fussed, taking over supporting Draco from Ginny.

Ginny hurried over to her former bed and grabbed her bear off the pillow. She tried to sneak out while Snape and Pomfrey were getting Draco settled, but Snape snagged her arm as she passed. "Not so fast," he growled. "What did you sneak back here for?"

Ginny yanked her arm free. "Leave me be, I only came for her." She waved the bear in his face. Snape stepped back from the tattered stuffed animal with a sneer of disgust. "What is that thing?"

"Lilybear." Ginny unconsciously hugged the bear close.

Snape frowned. "Why Lily?"

"What?"

"Why do you call that thing Lily?" Snape questioned much too loudly.

Taken aback, Ginny only shrugged. "I don't know, she's always been Lilybear. I think my mum named it after the person who gave her to me."

"Get out." Snape pointed a shaky finger toward the door. "Now. Before I give you so much detention you'll have to spend the summer here."

Ginny hurried off, but not without sneaking a confused glance back at Snape.

After his run-in with Ginny, Snape turned his attention back to Draco. "What are you doing for him?" he barked at Pomfrey.

"Right now I need to find out how much more damage he's done to himself."

She waved her wand over Draco and a stream of colors began swirling just above him. Snape watched closely as a spot of red quickly spread and dominated the other colors.

"What are you going to do to fix that?" asked Snape impatiently.

"Healer Parkinson left some potions that I hope will help," she told him.

"You hope?!" ranted Snape.

"I'm doing what I can," Pomfrey shot back. "Perhaps if you had more control over your students…"

"Perhaps if you were better at treating your patients..." He let the insult hang as he stormed over to the fireplace, stepped inside and disappeared in a flash of green.

Just outside the hospital wing, Ginny ran into Pansy as the Slytherin hurried toward the room. "Good work there, Parkinson," Ginny taunted. "Half the people in this school want Draco Malfoy dead, but I think you may have actually managed it."

"What are you on about, Weasley?" Pansy snapped. "Draco's fine."

"Pomfrey doesn't seem to think so. And neither do you," Ginny accused. "If you did, you wouldn't be here."

"I only wanted to see if Professor Snape had sent him back here, since Draco didn't come back to the common room."

"No, Snape left him lying on the dungeon floor, so I had to rescues his sorry arse," said Ginny.

"You're mental, Weasley," Pansy muttered, pushing past her and opening the door.

"I won't be for long," Ginny murmured, patting the potions in her robes before taking off up the stairs back toward Gryffindor tower.

Pansy hurried inside to Draco's bedside and grabbed his hand, but he didn't move. "Draco, can you hear me?"

"Leave him be, Miss Parkinson," Madam Pomfrey scolded. "You've done quite enough damage already."

"I didn't do anything to him!"

"You were the only one to see Mr. Malfoy this evening, it must have been you who gave him the strengthening potion he needed to leave here," Pomfrey accused.

"It was Weasley, not me," Pansy tried to claim.

"Miss Weasley was long gone by then," Pomfrey informed her. "And she does not have access to potions the way a daughter of a healer would."

"I would never hurt Draco."

"Perhaps not intentionally, but nonetheless you have."

"Is he going to be okay?" Pansy questioned anxiously. She stroked Draco's hair, frowning more when he didn't stir at her touch.

"That remains to be seen," Pomfrey said ominously.

"You need to call my father!" Pansy insisted. "He fixed Draco before, he can do it again."

"Go back to the common room, Miss Parkinson," came a stern voice from across the room. Snape stepped out of the fireplace, brushing off his robes with his free hand. His other hand held something hidden underneath his robes.

"Not until my father gets here and I make sure Draco is going to be okay."

"There's no need to drag your father back out here," declared Snape.

"But Professor…." Pomfrey started.

"Did you not say he left potions for the boy to take?"

"Yes, but that was before…"

"Why haven't you given them to him yet? Go get them," Snape ordered.

"Pardon me?" she asked, affronted.

"Go get them now!" he barked, pulling his wand.

"You can't threaten…"

"Shall I summon the headmaster and inform him you won't properly treat Mr. Malfoy?"

"Stop it, both of you, and help him!" Pansy shrieked.

Madam Pomfrey bustled off to get the potions, muttering as she went.

"Keep her distracted," Snape ordered Pansy.

"What?"

"Keep her distracted," Snape repeated. "I need a few minutes with Draco."

"Why?"

"To save his life. Go!"

Pansy jumped up and ran after the matron. Snape pulled the wooden box covered with carved snakes from under his robes and waved a hand over it. "Let's hope this doesn't do more harm than good," he murmured.

****************
Ginny climbed silently through the portrait hole, ignoring the fat lady's grumblings about being out after hours. She crept across the room, jumping in surprise when a voice called to her from the sofa in front of the fire.

"Ginny?"

Ginny quickly stuffed the bottles of potion back into her robes. "Hermione, you scared the life out of me!"

"Where have you been?" Hermione questioned. "It's after hours, you shouldn't be wandering the castle this late."

"I forgot something in the hospital wing." Hermione studied her carefully, obviously unsure whether to believe her. "I'm not still possessed, if that's what you're thinking."

"No, of course not, I…"

"Forget it, Hermione, I can't blame you for not trusting me," declared Ginny with a sigh. "But I wasn't out hurting anyone."

"Of course you weren't," Hermione declared, getting up and hugging Ginny. "I know the diary isn't controlling you anymore. Harry told me all about how it was destroyed."

Ginny pulled away from her. "So why were you waiting up for me?"

"I wasn't!" Hermione insisted. "I didn't even know you were gone. Ron told me that you'd gone up to bed. Weren't you able to sleep?"

"I've been sleeping for days, I've had more than enough of that," Ginny declared.

"I know what you mean."

"Don't tell me you were down here studying."

Hermione guiltily stuck a book behind a pillow. "I…I'm…I only wanted to catch up a bit, I missed so much work."

"Because of me," Ginny murmured. "I don’t know why you don’t hate me."

"I don't have all that many friends, I can't go hating the ones I do have," Hermione teased.

Ginny blinked in surprise. "Friends?"

"Well, we are, aren't we?" asked Hermione with a bemused smile.

"You're Ron's friend."
"So I can't be yours?"

"No….I mean yes…I mean, do you want to be?" Ginny wondered.

"I adore Ron and Harry, but sometimes a girl just wants to talk to another girl, you know?" Hermione laughed. "You grew up with six brothers, of course you know!"

Ginny nodded with a smile.

"So, as your friend, can I ask if you're okay?"

"I'm okay."

"If you need to talk…"

"What has Ron been telling you?" Ginny asked suddenly.

"Nothing," Hermione was quick to insist. "He refuses to talk about the Chamber at all. And when I asked after you, all he said was that you were fine now and I should leave you alone. He was rather rude about it, truth be told."

"He can be a git sometimes," Ginny noted. "Most times, come to think."

Hermione smiled but shook her head. "He was only being protective of you."

"Little late for that, isn't it?"

"Ginny…"

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that," apologized Ginny quickly. "None of this is Ron's fault."

"He thinks it is," Hermione revealed. "He's been beating himself up over what happened for days. I think all your brothers are feeling a little guilty. Percy's been especially strict lately, and the twins haven't wreaked nearly as much havoc as they usually do."

"At least something good came from all that's happened then," remarked Ginny wryly.

"Oh Ginny, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make light of what you've been through!"

"I don’t want to talk about it anymore," Ginny declared. "I just want to put it all behind me now that the Chamber is closed and the diary is gone."

"But…"

"I'm fine, Hermione, I truly am," Ginny insisted. "I feel so much better now being up here with my friends rather than stuck down in the hospital wing with Malfoy."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I don’t know how you could stand being around that nasty git for so long."

"He was unconscious most of the time," Ginny explained. "I guess the rest of the time he was too knackered to be mean, he wasn't nearly as annoying as I was expecting."

"He really was hurt, then?" asked Hermione. "I thought maybe he was faking."

"No, he wasn't faking."

"So what happened to him? It sounds as if he was pretty bad off."

"He is. And George pouncing on him didn't help any."

"George was the one who put him in the hospital wing?!"

"No! Although I did think at first that maybe Fred or George had done something," Ginny admitted. "I'm sure Harry told you that Lucius Malfoy was the one who slipped me that diary." Hermione nodded. "So it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that one of them might have gone after Malfoy for revenge. But I think Malfoy would have gone on about it to no end if that was the case. He also would have done anything he could to get them in trouble. And he never would have mouthed off the way he did to them today if they had been the one to give him that beating."

"Someone beat on him?"

"That's what I'm guessing, from the condition he was in."

"It couldn't have been… That night was a really difficult one, your family and friends were so anxious about you, you don't think…"

"No, I don't think it was Ron," said Ginny, guessing what was worrying Hermione. "Harry either. They were with me the whole time before Malfoy was hurt. And Malfoy wouldn't have wasted any time getting them in trouble, either, if they'd attacked him."

Hermione nodded, relief obvious in her face. "I'm glad you're away from him now and back here where you belong. But I wish you would stay here rather than wander around the castle late at night."

"I wasn't wandering!" Ginny insisted. "And I can't possibly be friends with you, Hermione, if you're going to act like my mother."

Hermione looked affronted until she saw Ginny was grinning. She gave an uncertain laugh. "It's only because I'm concerned about you, Ginny. I've never seen Ron so worried."

"I'm afraid I gave him a bit of a scare that first night after they got me out of the Chamber," Ginny confessed.

"But you're better now? It wasn't nightmares that have you up this late?"

Ginny shook her head as she studied Hermione carefully. "You aren't having nightmares, are you? About the basilisk or being petrified?"

"No, I didn’t really see the basilisk, and I don’t remember being petrified," Hermione explained. "My nightmares are all about the work I missed and how I'm going to make it all up in two weeks."

"Surely the teachers don't expect…"

"I can't let that work go undone!" Hermione fairly screeched. "How would I ever be able to keep up next year? And I have to keep my place at the top of the class, I can't let Malfoy get ahead of me!"

"Malfoy?"

"He's second in our class, he's really smart," Hermione declared. "Or maybe he just studies hard." She shrugged. "Either way, he's right behind me, and I have to make sure he stays there. It's the only thing that gets me through when he's calling me the terrible things he does, knowing that no matter where I came from I can still do better than him at this school."

"Must we listen to the Mudblood whine all night?" Tom declared loudly in Ginny's head.

Ginny put her hand to her head, startled by the sudden noise.

"Ginny, are you okay?"

"I'm afraid my long day is catching up with me," Ginny apologized. "Would you mind terribly if I went up to bed now?"

"Of course not, of course not," Hermione assured her. "Go, have a good sleep."

"You should get some rest, too," Ginny advised.

"I have the summer to sleep." She pulled her book back out from under the pillow.

"Okay, goodnight then."

Hermione already had her nose back in her book and didn't even answer.

Ginny quickly made her way upstairs to the dorms. She crept into the room, hoping to reach her bed undetected, but Riley Wentworth, who occupied the bed next to hers, was still up reading. She glanced quizzically between Ginny and the blanket-covered lump in Ginny's bed.

"Ginny? I thought you were sleeping."

"No, that's just pillows."

"I know I saw you come up…"

"I went back down after the crowd left," Ginny lied. "You must have been caught up in your book and didn't see me."

"Everything okay?

"Everything's fine. I was just talking to Hermione for a bit." She faked a yawn. "I'm knackered, I'll see you in the morning, Riley."

"Sure, Ginny. Let me know if you need anything."

Ginny nodded and climbed into her bed, pulling the curtains tight around it. Slipping the potions out of her robes, she laid them on the bed in front of her. "One, two, three," she murmured. "Only three nights of peace, unless Malfoy comes through. But I best not count on that. So three it is." She brightened suddenly. "Unless I only take half."

"Ginny, did you say something?" Riley called.

Ginny ignored her as she split open the back of her bear with her wand, stuffed two of the potion bottles in there and then opened the third. "Half it is, then." She tipped the bottle into her mouth, reluctantly stopping when it was only half gone. She put the third bottle in with the others and muttered "Repairo" over the hole in the bear, which stitched itself back together. "Hopefully that's enough for a couple hours peace."

"Not bloody likely," Tom taunted her.

Ginny rolled over, burying her head under her pillow to try to shut out his laughter echoing in her head. Curling up under the covers and pulling her bear close, she murmured softly, "No more bad dreams, no more bad dreams" over and over until the potion slowly led her to sleep.

**************

Three hours later, Ginny was awakened by someone shaking her roughly. "Stop, please," Ginny begged. "Leave me alone."

"Ginny, wake up!" the person shaking her commanded. "You're having a nightmare."

Ginny opened her eyes groggily to find her roommates hovering anxiously over her. Riley was sitting on the bed next to her, her hands still firmly on Ginny's shoulders.

"What happened?" asked a shaken Ginny, trying to shrug off Riley's grasp.

"You were screaming bloody murder," Riley told her, letting go of Ginny's shoulders and stroking Ginny's hair absentmindedly. "I've never heard anything like it."

"I was screaming?"

"Like someone was murdering you," muttered one of the other girls.

"I'm sorry," an embarrassed Ginny murmured. "I didn't realize I was dreaming."

"That wasn't dreaming," declared Sabrina O'Leary, another of her roommates. "Only something really horrible could have made you scream like a banshee like that. What was it? Were you thinking about what happened to you down in the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Leave her alone, Sabrina," Riley demanded. "She's been through enough; she doesn't need you bothering her."

"If she's going to be waking us up like that for the next two weeks, I think we deserve to know why she's screeching."

"I don't know why!" cried Ginny. "I can't remember any of it!"

"You have to remember something," Sabrina insisted. "You were down there all day."

"No she doesn't," snapped Riley. "Leave her alone."

"I was knocked out, I think," said Ginny softly.

"By what?" all but Riley asked in anxious anticipation.

Ginny shrugged. "I was in the corridor on the second floor, on my way to visit Hermione, and the next thing I know I'm waking up in the Chamber with Harry looking down at me."

"I could think of worse things to wake up to," said Sabrina, flashing a wicked grin.

"We heard there was a dragon down there," piped up one of the other girls.

"I don't remember any dragons," Ginny told her.

"So you don't know who or what dragged you down there?" Sabrina asked. Ginny shook her head. "C'mon, Ginny, you can tell us. We won't say anything to anyone else if you don't want them to know your business. Right, girls?"

The other girls nodded eagerly.

"Sorry, but I really don't remember," Ginny told them.

"I think it's time everyone stopped bugging Ginny and went back to sleep," Riley piped up. The other girls muttered in dissent, but they dispersed when Riley shooed them away. Riley turned back to Ginny. "You'll be OK?" Ginny nodded. "I could get McGonagall or Madame Pomfrey."

"No need, I won't be waking you anymore," Ginny assured her. She snuggled back under her blankets, pulling her bear close. "Night, Riley."

Riley hesitated, uncertain of whether to go, but finally said, "Night, Ginny. Sleep well."

After Riley turned away, Ginny pulled her wand out from under her covers. "Silencio," she murmured, touching it to her throat before snuggling back under the covers.

***************

Hermione gently pushed Ginny into the hospital ward, despite her protests.

"This really isn't necessary," Ginny insisted. "I'm fine, my roommates were overreacting."

"They were terrified, Ginny," Hermione said worriedly. "The screaming…"

"Wasn't anything," Ginny interrupted.

"It was to your roommates," Hermione told her. "They said they'd never heard anything like it."

"So you dragged me down here because my roommates exaggerate?" huffed Ginny.

"I brought you here because Professor McGonagall is worried you might have come back too soon," Hermione admitted. "Perhaps another night here…"

"No!" Ginny declared loudly, drawing Madam Pomfrey's attention to their arrival. "It was one nightmare, I think I'm entitled to that after everything that's happened."

"Miss Weasley, what are you doing back here?" Madam Pomfrey questioned. "Are you not feeling well?"

"I'm feeling fine."

"She's having nightmares," Hermione piped up. "Terrible ones."

"That's not news to her," Ginny muttered.

"Are they getting worse, Miss Weasley?"

"No, they're the same."

"She was screaming," declared Hermione a bit frantically.

"You can go now, Hermione," Ginny told her. "You've done your duty bringing me here."

"But…"

"There's no reason for you to remain, Miss Granger," Pomfrey told her. "Miss Weasley, go over to that bed so I can have a look at you." She pointed to the bed next to Draco, who appeared sound asleep.

"But there's no need…"

"Shush, go," the matron ordered, giving her a push toward the bed. "Thank you for bringing her down here," Pomfrey told Hermione, gently leading her to toward the door. "I doubt she would have come back to me otherwise."

"Is there anything you can do to help her?"

Madame Pomfrey glanced over at Ginny, who had stopped by Draco's bed. "Right now, the person she needs the most help from is herself."

*************

Draco rolled over as he heard Ginny approach. "Back so soon?"

"I missed the pleasure of your company too much to stay away," Ginny teased. She studied him for a moment. "You look a hundred times better than the last time I saw you."

"I always look good, Weasley."

Ginny snorted out a laugh. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Don't need to, you're doing it for me," Draco shot back with an impish grin.

"I only wondered how a boy who was half-dead a few hours ago had come around so fast," said Ginny.

"It's a miracle."

"It must be, Pomfrey's not that good," Ginny muttered.

"So why did you come back to see her?" wondered Draco.

"I was dragged," Ginny admitted.

"Put on your screech show for your roommates, did you?" Draco taunted.

"Something like that."

"Don't they teach 'Silencio' in first-year Charms any longer?"

"I didn't think of it in time," Ginny admitted.

"I thought those precious potions of yours would keep those dreams away."

"I didn't take a full dose," Ginny admitted. "I don't want to run out too quickly, and I was sure I couldn't count on the person who promised me more."

"I don't break promises – even those made to screechy, annoying weasels," vowed Draco. "You'll have your potions."

"When?"

"You're not my priority right now, Weasley."

"Miss Weasley, let Mr. Malfoy be, he needs his rest," Madame Pomfrey scolded, shooing Ginny away. "You could do with some rest yourself from what I hear."

"I'm not staying here!" Ginny insisted.

"Your Head of House wants you checked over, you'll stay long enough for that," the matron commanded, pushing Ginny to sit down onto the bed next to Draco's.

"Five minutes," proclaimed Ginny. Madam Pomfrey nodded distractedly as she went to a cabinet against the wall to get something out of there.

"Promise you won't stay longer?" asked Draco hopefully.

"You're not my favorite person to spend time with either," Ginny snapped.

"And yet you keep coming back."

"Not for your company," insisted Ginny

"Two days," Draco murmured.

"What?" Ginny crossed back over to Draco's bed.

"You'll have what you want in two days," Draco promised.

Madam Pomfrey returned and pulled Ginny away by the sleeve of her robes. "Go where you belong, Miss Weasley, I have something that should make you feel better."

"I'll hold you to that," Ginny called back to Draco before Madam Pomfrey jerked shut the curtain between them.