Disclaimer: If wishes were candy, um, not sure where that leads. Harry Potter. Not mine. Thanks to JKR for all the wonderful toys in her playground.

A/N: I had this bug to write a bond type story. I got this chapter out of the way, and I don't know if I want to continue. So, here it is for all to read. It hasn't been beta'ed. The reviews will determine if I continue or not. If I do, I may go back over this chapter with a beta. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Then, in a rush of wings, Fawkes had soared back overhead and something fell into Harry's lap -- the diary.

For a split second, both Harry and Riddle, wand still raised, stared at it. Then, without thinking, without considering, as though he had meant to do it all along, Harry seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.

Harry pierced the diary with the fang, and as the ink bled from the diary, lightning shot up his arm. The lightning pierced his brain, his mind, and his very consciousness, and from it, he could feel hate, anger, frustration, embarrassment, and... love?

He looked at the enraged specter of Tom Riddle, and all the anger at what this shade of Voldemort had done to his friends and his school - the only place that had ever felt like home! - rose up inside him. The anger and embarrassment at what he had been forced to do by this silver-tounged incarnation of hate filled him. He yanked the basilisk fang from the diary, feeling a momentary sense of loss when the fang was separated, and once again plunged it deep into and nearly through the diary, his anger strengthening the blow.

And when the the fang again pierced the diary, the lightning shot up his arm and into his soul. The pain was unbearable, and he knew without a doubt that he was going to die. But he had stopped Voldemort once more — thrice in a twelve year lifetime isn't too bad, he thought — and he hoped beyond hope that he had at least saved Ginny. She hadn't deserved what happened to her. And he couldn't bear the pain that it would cause her family if he had failed. But he wouldn't have to bear it, would he? Because he was dying.

In the single second it took for all of those thoughts to pass through his head, Harry could feel the basilisk venom moving through his body, draining the life from him. The pain that, even now, ripped him to his core and wouldn't relent, ensured that his last moments would not be pleasant. There was a burst of sound that Harry couldn't identify through the sound of his own screams, and then it was over.

Harry looked around. It was dark. There was ground under his feet, but he couldn't see it. There was a breeze blowing, but his clothing was not moving against his skin in response to it. And the pain was gone. The feeling that his very essence was under attack no longer threatened his existence, he felt free, but... trapped. Something was missing.

Self-preservation kicked in and he ran a mental tally of everything he could think of. He ran his hands over his physical attributes — arms, legs, torso, face, hair — and they were all still there. He ran through his memory, and as far as he could tell, his memories were all there. He didn't feel anything had been taken from him, but all the same, something was missing.

Slowly, very slowly, objects became visible in the darkness. Harry took a look at one. It was indescribable, literally. Any attempt he made to define what he saw was useless. They had no shape, no size, no color, but they were there. He stepped toward one and looked. And suddenly he knew, KNEW, how to use the Killing Curse and what it was like. Nothing else came with that horrible knowledge, but it was there, in his head, nonetheless.

He jumped back from whatever it was he was looking at, the knowledge that it imparted to him sickening him. He squeezed his eyes closed trying to get his stomach under control, and when he was able to breath again, opened his eyes. There were hundreds of the indescribable objects around him. They floated at him, catching his attention, he had no choice but to see them. And each on that crossed his line of sight imparted new and even more horrific knowledge. He felt the joy in using Crucio, the power of Imperio. Numerous curses and jinxes for cutting, slicing, bludgeoning, mangling and otherwise hurting and torturing were his for the using, and with each bit of knowledge, there was imparted a feeling of absolute joy born of hated that sickened him further.

Harry tried to get away, but everywhere he turned, objects were there imparting their horrific knowledge. He tried to close his eyes, but that no longer worked, either. The objects were there still, each relaying their potions and spells, enchantments and charms. And with each bit of knowledge, he finally understood what was missing: Love. The knowledge was destroying it from within him. The joy in absolute power, the hatred and contempt the knowledge produced for those around him, they were chiseling the love from his being. Harry held tight to his thoughts of Ron and Hermione, his first and closest friends. He refused to loose what they had given him. He thought of Molly and Arthur Weasley who had shown him the love of the family he was denied for most of his life. He struggled against the encroaching hatred, he ran, using the memories as a shield, but the knowledge still came. And when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, Ginny was there.

“Ginny?” he asked, approaching her cautiously. All his hopes that he had saved her swirling away. If I had saved her, after all, she wouldn't be here, in this place. “Ginny?!” he cried, hoping desperately that she wasn't dead like him. If she was, then it had been for nothing, and he was sure the hatred would consume him.

Ginny turned toward him, and his breath caught in his throat. And when she faced him, when he saw her eyes, desperation filled him. Her eyes were empty. Not lifeless like the dead, but empty. There was no thought, no emotion. And as he looked at her, as with the objects around him, he knew. He knew what it was to be Ginny Weasley. Her hopes and dreams growing up, her innocent wonder of all that was around her, her fiery personality and her desires, her mischievous nature encouraged by her brothers, her crush on The-Boy-Who-Lived, her feelings for Ron's best friend, and her loneliness at Hogwarts were all his. What was supposed to be the best time of her life, the beginning of her magical education, new friends and experiences, everything that Harry had, she didn't.

She had been ridiculed for her hand-me-down clothes and supplies. She had been ignored as yet-another-Weasley. She was ignored by her own brothers! And she had escaped into the comfort the journal had provided. The friendship Tom offered her helped drive away the loneliness that was taking over her life. But then Tom took over her life. She now remembered everything he had her do. And she no longer wanted to live with with. She was going away, and Harry knew with a certainty that this is what was giving Tom his strength.

“Ginny, please! I didn't die just so you could give up!” He walked up to her, her flaming red hair enhancing the emptyness in her flat, brown eyes. Harry grabbed Ginny's shoulders and stared into her eyes. He whispered through the hopelessness that was overwhelming him, “Ginny, it's Harry. You know, Harry Potter. Ginny, I want you to listen. You need to hear me. Ginny, I. Don't. Blame. You.”

Harry felt it inside of him when the life returned to Ginny. She looked at him, the horror she felt at all that she had done relayed itself without even a thought. In that instant, Harry knew that everything that had been imparted to him by the objects had been imparted to her as well, and she had been forced to act on them. She didn't care what anyone else thought, if they blamed her or hated her, if they pitied her or, however unlikely, loved her. She couldn't live with what she had been given, with what she had done. Her love had been all but removed from her, and she wanted to give up.

“No.” It was one word. It was the only word Harry could think of. With that one word, he declared his defiance of all that was Tom Riddle. He declared his refusal to give up. He announced with every fiber of what was left of his being that he would not deny himself love. He demanded to the girl under his hands that she resist with everything she was. And with that one word, her eyes, with the tiny spark of life that had returned to them, met his, and there was no longer anything missing.

Ginny collapsed into his arms crying. She wailed at the unfairness of everything that had happened to her, she screeched at the evil of Tom Riddle that had invaded her and raped her mind. She wept, tears falling, and through it all, Harry held her. He felt everything she was working through, and he held her. His own tears falling at all she had been through, and he held her. And when it was over, and she backed away, and he released his hold on her, she was still there.

She looked at him in shock and surprise, and he felt it in him. She was still there, inside him. The hole that had been carved into his soul was filled with Ginny. And the love that had been ripped from her over the past year, was now Harry. They were part of each other, and they were each other's love. They completed each other with what had been taken from them.

“How are you here?!” a voice sneered. Harry instantly recognized the voice, Ginny had been listening to it for a long time, now. “This is my place! My existence! You don't belong here. But you do, my dear Ginny, who doesn't belong anywhere else, you belong to me!”

“Belong to you? I... I can't.” The words were a wonder to her. She knew it was true, and for the first time in several months, she was free of him.

“NO!” He grabbed for her so quickly, she didn't have the time to react, but his hand went right through her. He stared in shock, unbelieving, that here, in his place, anyone could defy him. “You are MINE!!!”

He grabbed at her once more, but this time, Harry took her hand, and as Tom's hand passed through her body, they were erased. Little fragments of light and color separated from his arms, they fluttered about like paper on the wind, and then faded into nothing. His arms were gone, and it didn't stop there. Like a shredding light, the rest of his body fell away until there was nothing of him left.

The objects that had forced the evil knowledge into Harry followed suit. They, too, faded and disappeared. The darkness that surrounded them fell away until there was only light. Harry and Ginny looked at each other, acknowledging silently that the diary ghost of Tom Riddle was gone. They stepped into each other's embrace, and whether they were dead or alive, it didn't matter, because each one completed the other: they were love, and no longer was anything missing.

Harry became aware that he was still holding Ginny, and that she was still holding him. There was light, he could tell that even with his eyes closed, but it wasn't the same light from the diary place. He heard someone busily shuffling around, and curiosity finally won over. He opened his eyes and found himself looking at his own red hair. But that was wrong, he was sure he had black hair. It was Ginny's hair, yes, that was it. He was looking at the top of Ginny's head. He felt every part of her body that was in contact with him, her arms around his sides and hands on his back. He hugged her more tightly to himself and felt her respond in kind. But it wasn't a response, per say, she increased the strength of her hug simultaneously with him.

“Ah, I see you are awake,” came Professor Dumbledore's voice from the end of the bed. He didn't want to look. He didn't want to see the disappointment in the headmaster's eyes at all the harm he had brought into the school. The headmaster would expel him for freeing the basilisk. Students were hurt, he wouldn't allow her to stay! He started to shake and felt Ginny shaking as well.

Ginny! She released the basilisk, not him. Right? Ginny?

I don't want to see him. He is going to throw me out. Mum will be devastated.

So we hide here? Forever?

Her head moved, tilting upwards to look Harry in the eye. You'll come with me when he expels me, right?

Of course. How could I stay in school if he expels me?

Nothing of this thought process seemed out of place to either of them, but they were aware that something about it was dissimilar from any conversation they had had before. Nor did either of them even realize that they had never opened their mouths to speak.

“So both of you are awake. Excellent! You had us all quite scared.” They noticed there was nothing accusatory or disappointed in his voice. “Are you ok? Harry?”

“I'm fine,” came both of their responses simultaneously.

“I see, and how about you, Miss Weasley, are you fine as well?”

“Yes,” they responded again.

“Oh, dear. This was most definitely unexpected.” He was quiet for a minute while Harry and Ginny continued gazing into each others eyes, and then continued, “Harry? Ginny? I need you to both look at me, please. Its quite important. You're not in trouble, but I need to see you look at me.”

An unworded thought of consensus flit through Harry's head. He released his hug on Ginny, only to grab her hand as she released him from her own hug. They rolled apart onto their backs and then looked up to face the Headmaster who was indeed sitting at the foot of their bed on a big, purple, fluffy chair that was most out of place in the hospital wing.

They winced, again in tandem, when the vision of the headmaster assaulted them from two sets of eyes. They could make out the individual sights, and they knew from which body each came from. But seeing them together was enough to almost give them a headache, but not quite.

“Most exceptional. Do you realize that the two of you were moving in complete synchronization?” When they stared at him, obviously unsure of what that had to do with anything, he continued, “Well then. Ginny, I'm fairly sure you must be afraid of expulsion. I know I would be if I had released a basilisk into the school. But older and more experienced wizards have been fooled by Tom Riddle, and I do not hold you responsible. Please, will the two of you tell me as much as you can remember of what happened down in the Chamber?”

Two of us? There are two of us?

Yes? Er, no. Wait, yes. I'm Ginny, and you're...

Harry. Right. That makes two.

The Chamber... Tom took me down there...

...To hurt the non-pure bloods, by releasing the basilisk. And I came down with

“Ron!” they yelled in unison. They looked at each other, and slowly, they began to realize what was happening. It wasn't wrong. Of that they were sure. They were them, and that was all to be said about it. But as they became more fully awake, they understood that it wasn't always this way. This was different. They nodded to each other, and Harry continued by himself, “Professor, where is Ron. Is he ok?”

“Yes, yes. Young Mr. Weasley is quite well. And he had quite a story to tell when you all arrived back here last night. Yes, you have been asleep here for over a day,” he clarified at the look of confusion on their faces. “I'm afraid I might know what's going on. I've pieced together parts of the story based on Mr. Weasley's accounting and the artifacts that he brought back. But in order to know for certain, I need to know what happened in the Chamber itself, after you were separated from your brother.”

Dumbledore had worded his last statement carefully. Harry's response to it would help confirm what he thought had happened. And if it was true, he needed to know how it had happened. His story would prove vital for that. As he had expected, Harry noticed nothing wrong with the request.

“I assume Ron told you about Professor Lockhart?”

“Indeed. I must admit my disappointment. The truth was there for anyone to see, but I had been preoccupied with filling the position amongst my other responsibilities.”

“Well then, sir, after I was separated from Ron, I entered the inner chamber and found Ginny on the floor...” Harry spent the next hour relaying the conversation with Riddle, the fight with the basilisk, and a brief recounting of the battle in the diary. They didn't feel the need to explain the knowledge they now knew they still retained. Nor did they describe the way they healed the damage to themselves by filling in the losses they attained. But they told of the environment, the hatred that was the memory of Tom Riddle, and how together, with their friendship and the memory of the love of their friends and family, Riddle was destroyed.

“Sir,” asked Harry. “How am I, are we, here?”

“I believe, Harry, you have your friend to thank for that. The story Mr. Weasley tells is that when he found you, you, Ginny, were unconscious on the ground, your head in Mr. Potter's lap. You, Harry, were unconscious on your side, one hand holding the basilisk fang through the diary, the other reaching down and holding Miss Weasley's hand. Fawkes was standing at your head, singing. I believe he used his song to help in your battle in the diary.

“I'm sure the both of you have more questions, and I would be glad to answer them. But if I may, might I ask you one more question, Harry?” At Harry's nod, he continued, “Why did you write in the diary to begin with?”

“Because I was lonely, sir,” he answered without thinking. It was only then that he and Ginny both gasped, realizing what had happened.

“Truly remarkable. Absolutely astounding,” Dumbledore said. “All of those variables. The possibilites, the precision. To have them all occur. Amazing.”

Harry and Ginny stared in fear at their headmaster. He was mumbling many things to himself that they didn't understand, but there was one thing they did. He knew what was happening.

What if he tries to...

I don't know if we can stop it...

But he can't...

Can he?...

“Sir,” started Ginny.

But it was Harry that continued, “You aren't going to...”

“Try to separate us,”

“Are you?”

For the first time, Dumbledore seemed to notice how afraid the two students in front of him were. “Oh, oh no. My dear students, even if I were to try, I doubt I could. I doubt that the combined power of every witch and wizard in Britain could separate the two of you.”

“Then you know what happened to me?” asked Ginny.

“Er, I mean, us?” corrected Harry.

“I'm almost positive. It was a theory of mine when I was much younger. But to be sure, I must ask you something else. You left out part of the story, didn't you? Something in the battle hurt you, both of you. It took something away from you.”

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, then back to the headmaster, and nodded.

“Love?”

Another nod.

“Then yes. I know what happened.” He paused for a moment, seemingly to collect his thoughts. “It was before the turn of the century. Grindelwald, much like Tom after him, was experimenting with the power of magic. The control over others that he could take with it. You see, unlike Tom, who I'm sure you now know doesn't even understand love, Grindelwald was perfectly aware of love, and of its power. He was experimenting with ways to crush love in his victims, to drive all hope from them. He never truly succeeded in removing the emotion from his victims, but the results he did manage to achieve were not any less horrific for it.”

Dumbledore paused again, and Harry and Ginny noticed a brief flicker of pain fly across his face. But then he took a few breaths and continued, “He determined that the magic needed to conquer his victims in such a way was prohibitive. There were other, easier ways to exert power.

“While studying the victims of his first experiments, I began to understand how Love Magic, a most ancient branch of magic no longer practiced, works. It was, by the way, Love Magic that your mother unwittingly used to save you, Mr. Potter.

“You see, Love Magic is too unpredictable to be reliable. Our love for someone can change over time, and it will effect the result of whatever spell you are trying to use. The ancient magics are strong, stronger even than what we use today, but they were all just as unreliable. Over the centuries, we have learned that powerful is not always better, and reliability will ensure a fair chance, every time. But I digress.

“In my studies of his victims, and in Love Magics, I determined that it might be possible to join to people who were dedicated enough to each other to offer themselves as a source of the other's capacity to love. It was a theory more than anything. To attempt to prove the theory, even with willing subjects, only to fail, was a horror I would not inflict on anyone.

“But I took my theories and submitted them to the Department of Mysteries, who at the time had a whole sub-department studying the ancient magics of emotion, love in particular. They took my study with appreciation and it was the last I heard of it for several more decades.

“After I defeated Grindelwald, I received a report from the Ministry. It seemed that after much study and calculation, they determined that my theories were viable, but in theory only. There were too many variables, to many emotions, a set of probabilities that bordered on the infinite. Even if it were the only way in which to save someone who had had the emotion of love removed from them — which they assured me was an improbability bordering on the infinite itself — they would not recommend the attempt. It was simply too dangerous. 'A theoretical possibility, but a physically magical impossibility' was their result.”

Harry and Ginny sat there, absorbing everything they had just been told.

Each one the source of the other's

It sounds....

Right, was the resounding agreement of thought.

“He didn't take it all,” said Ginny.

“Pardon me?” asked Dumbledore.

“He didn't take it all. I still had some love left within me. I wanted to give it up, but it was still here. And Harry didn't want to let go.”

Dumbledore simply stared at them, the characteristic twinkle in his eyes.

“I was so happy to have friends. And a family, even though it wasn't mine, that actually cared for me. After so many years without, it was something I wouldn't give up,” continued Harry.

“So, you see,” explained Ginny, “We had something to hold on to. In the diary, where to see something was to understand it, we looked at each other,”

“And we understood. We each knew what it was to be each other, to need love and understanding in our lives,”

“And we wanted to provide it for each other.”

Harry and Ginny looked once more at each other. They finally understood what it was that happened. But there was one more question, nothing beyond it mattered. Together they asked, “Sir, what does this mean?”

“Well, it might help you to understand a little about bonds, first, to put things in perspective. Love bonds bind individuals in love to each other in life. There are variations, certain advantages to the different bonds — knowing where your partner is, knowing what they are feeling, that type of thing — but the Love Bonds are all spells. Most witches and wizards cast a variation of said bond at their weddings. These variations are called Marriage Bonds.

“The Soul Bonds are a more permanent bond, binding two people together beyond this life. There are spells, of course, that can create such a bond. They are dangerous magics. Often, they involve blood rituals. Then, there are the Soul Bonds that are formed before birth, which are quite rare. Often it is said that they are one soul in two bodies. This is not quite true. It is more like they are two souls who are so compatible, so perfect for each other, they might as well be one soul when joined. Such a bond lasts beyond death. Indeed, when one partner dies, the other is often not much longer in this life.

“What you have, children, is beyond either of those. In your battles, your souls were damaged. Each of you became less than whole. Now, Ginny's soul, having battled Tom over a longer period of time, was damaged first. And I have to assume that the process was started along by some catalyst. Probably the basilisk venom coming into contact with the physical vessel of a spiritual manifestation. But when you agreed, unconditionally, to become what the other needed, you healed each other. Your souls, understand, were not restored, for when a soul — or part of a soul — is lost, it cannot be restored. But you are whole nonetheless. Neither of you is complete by yourselves, you each complete the other. You are each, for lack of a better comparison, two souls in one body, and together you are one being in two bodies. Such an occurrence has never happened before, and I daresay will never happen again.”

“Sir, I think we need to, um”

“What I, we, mean to say, is,”

“I perfectly understand. When you are ready, I will return.” Dumbledore stood and banished his chair. “And so you know, we were able to separate you long enough for your parents to see you without you clinging to each other. They left before you, much to Poppy's dismay, gravitated back together. I will let them know that you awoke, briefly, but are still too weak for visitors.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“No problem at all. Now, I will go look into matters. Perhaps when you awake, I will have more answers for the questions you undoubtedly wish to ask. Don't worry about expulsion, there will be no punishment for what occurred. Sleep well,” he smiled, and quietly exited the hospital wing.

Harry and Ginny once again faced each other, rolling back into the mutual hug they woke up in, and realized how tired they still were.

Two souls in one body...

One entity in two bodies...

I'm sorry. I should have see-

But before the thought was finished , another cut across it, No! It doesn't matter now. We are who we are. What's done is done. If I have to have anyone supporting my soul, I'm glad its Harry Potter.

Ginny Weasley, you are beautiful. I am sorry we, um, I didn't notice you before. And I'm glad that you are me, er, I am you, um...

We are who we are. Im glad we're together.

Together.