5

The Blackness stretched endlessly. She didn't know where she was, who she was, only that she was running, desperately running…

A redheaded girl raced down the stone hallways of a castle, two younger children trailing her. "Hurry!" she called to them. "In here!" She tugged a pattern on the cord of a tapestry and the cross-stitched door on its fabric turned very real. Flinging open the door, she ushered the children inside.

"I knew there had to be a passageway in this corridor," a voice sneered.

The redhead spun, slamming the door shut behind her back. It turned back into fabric. Alone in the hallway, she faced down the owner of the voice, a lanky blond looking far too proud of himself. The only adornment on his robe was a shiny badge that read, 'I.S.'

"Your friends aren't here to save you," the boy smiled viciously. "They'd rather wander and leave you to the mercy of the Carrows."

"Go ask Alecto how her classroom got dyed red and gold, then," the girl spat. "Ask if all her 'pure-blood superiority' can get it off. And ask me how many mercies I'm expecting."

The boy raised an eyebrow. "Is that a confession?"

"What difference does it make?"

The boy shrugged, impressed by her indifference. "None. Detention."

A wicked grin lit her face. He never even saw the wand in her hand. "Nasum Vespertilio!"

Huge bats grew from his nose, swarming to attack his head amidst his shrieks. The girl quietly slipped through the tapestry door behind her.

.                            .                            .

Ginny opened her eyes blearily. Rich silk sheets and a thick comforter wrapped warmly around her. Looking up, she could see a canopy of thick green fabric. She shifted, sitting up a bit to see into the rest of the room. A bushy haired brunette draped over the couch, mouth open and drooling. The blond man in the armchair watched her intensely.

Scenes assaulted her memory. Scenes from a castle. Many of redheads loving her and she them. Family? Others, in the castle, defending her, helping her. Friends?

Then the strangest ones, of the slim blond man. Ones of her hexing him, hating him for hurting her friends. Ones of her tolerating him, laughing with him. Happy ones wrapped in his arms, fighting alongside him.

Her brain struggled, trying to make sense of all these disjointed new memories.

The confusing man rose to sit next to her on the bed. "Hello, Ginny. How are you feeling?"

She frowned. "Confused. Am I Ginevra Molly Weasley?"

His grin split his face. "Yes. Do you know who I am?"

"I'm not sure. I see things, but it's like I'm remembering someone else's memories."

"I can help you fill in those gaps, if you'll let me."

She smiled wryly. "A lot of the more confusing ones have to do with you." A newer memory surfaced, one that made less sense but was definitely her own. "Do you know a Dralian and Guinevere? I know it sounds crazy, but a bird told me a story about them and I have a feeling it was important."

.                            .                            .

A redheaded girl scrubbed at a trophy case, frown lines etched deep into her forehead. Behind her, a blond boy perched on top of a desk, smirking broadly.

"You missed a spot," he said. Black goo shot from his wand, sliming the newly cleaned glass.

The girl let out a growl of frustration—and kept cleaning.

"After Alecto forced Flitwick to undo the red and gold, she noticed her Sneakoscope was missing," the boy stated lightly. "The one she uses to catch your Hogwarts Rebels." He twirled his wand, still looking unconcerned. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

The redhead laughed. "Only took her this long to figure it out, did it?"

The boy frowned. "Why do you do this? You've gotten more detentions than even Longbottom and Lovegood, who we know are your Lieutenants. For what? Painting classrooms? Replacing all the Potions ingredients with stink pellets?"

The girl snorted. "If you're so superior, you tell me." She scrubbed at the black goo, looking angrier with each motion.

A long silence followed. The girl glanced back over her shoulder, surprised to see the boy frowning in thought.

"The Muggleborns," he said at last. "The Carrows have been too distracted to punish them in weeks." He looked over at her, something unreadable in his eyes. "You've gotten hundreds of detentions. Many of them nasty. You can't seriously be doing all this just for them."

The redhead flexed her hands, scars wrinkling across the back. "Why not?"

"They're…" he said hopelessly. "You're…"

Kneeling on the ground in front of the case, she continued staring at him, not even blinking.

"Get back to work," the boy snapped.

.                            .                            .

"You were fighting in the final battle of the War," Draco continued his explanation, "when four Death Eaters—"

"Bad guys in dark hoods serving a bald snake-man?"

"Yes, exactly. Well, four of them targeted you. Simultaneously, two cast Confundus and Imperius on you. I took out the third, but then the fourth cast the Killing Curse."

"Whew. Glad that one missed."

"It didn't."

She frowned. "I'm not sure I understand…"

"I'm not sure I do, either," he shrugged. "I did some research, found that the two spells did have some protective qualities—at a prohibitive cost to the castor. But everyone there saw you die. After the battle cooled, we went back to your body to mourn and found that it had disappeared. We assumed," he cleared his throat, "that Death Eaters had taken it."

Ginny's first memory was running from a herd of animals; running to the safety of the Forbidden Forest. Other memories still drifted aimlessly. "What then?"

"Your family buried an empty coffin. Just because there wasn't a body didn't mean we hadn't all seen you die. After that, we went on living our lives as best we could.

"Six years later, Remus Lupin smelled human from the Shrieking Shack during one of his transformations."

"Werewolf?"

"Yes, but a good one. Your family practically adopted him. So I, being the curious member of the Hogwarts Board of Directors that I am, went out to investigate. That's when I found you." She could tell he was struggling to keep down a rare genuine smile. She didn't know how she could tell, though.

"You were completely out of your mind," he continued. "You tried to kill me multiple times before I could start a conversation. Even when crazy, you're a hell of a duelist. I…" He looked extremely insecure, as if he were waiting for someone to pronounce his Azkaban sentence. "I assumed that once you were sane, you'd be highly embarrassed by your crazy years. So I watched you, visited you as close to daily as possible (though you still thought I was a bird), hoping I could cure you. I thought that would be what you'd want, but I had to gamble." He looked away. "I'm sorry if I was wrong—if you're angry that I kept you from your family for four years."

"Thank you," she admitted softly. "My family would've been hurt to the core, trying to take care of me." Her eyes stayed piercingly on him, trying to understand this stranger. "But why did you take care of me?"

He looked taken aback. "Do you know who I am?"

"No idea," she answered honestly. "But I'd love to find out."

He gave a twitch of a smile. "I'd like that. I'd like that very much."

"Ginny!" The brunette girl yawned happily. "You're up! How are you?"

"Much saner, I think," Ginny smiled. "Are you Hermione?"

The girl beamed. "Yes. Oh, you have no idea how absurdly wonderful this is! For ten years, Ginny, ten whole years I thought you were dead! And now, poof! You show up on Draco's doorstep."

Draco. That name clicked somewhere deep in her mind. He started to speak, but Ginny cut him off with a mischievous smile. "I don't remember much, but I think I was in some sort of dungeon up till recently. A strange bird swooped in and rescued me, though."

"It's a happy coincidence we were already developing memory potions." Hermione shot a look at Draco, who appeared highly uncomfortable. "Or else you might still think I'm an otter."

"Yes, what a fortunate coincidence," Draco replied dryly.

"An otter? Oh Merlin, I do vaguely remember that."

Draco smiled. "I'd love to horde you longer, but you have a family that I guarantee is dying to see you."

.                            .                            .

"Isn't this your dream come true?" the redheaded girl snarled, scrubbing the flagstones in the courtyard. "Your Dark Lord is back, ruling the world with fear and tyranny like you always wanted."

She got no reply. The girl looked up at the blond boy, seeing a horrified expression on his face. "You think I wanted this?" he asked quietly.

The girl flung her rag as she gesticulated wildly. "Of course! Why else were you so awful for seven years? All those times you called Hermione—"

"I never wanted this," he said, steel in his voice.

She looked at him, genuinely curious. "What did you want, then?"

"I wanted…" He searched for the words. "to do what was expected of me! To make my family proud."

"To be your father's son?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Your father is a Death Eater."

The boy looked away.

She asked, more softly, "So what do you want, now?"