Ginny put down her quill and flexed her fingers. They were cold, icy cold. Not only that, but they felt cramped, as if they’d seized up around something . . .something like a broom. . . .He was starting to shiver. He wished he had thought to put on a coat. His hands felt as if they were frozen to the Firebolt’s handle. The wind was making his ears ache. He could remember being this cold on a broom only once before . . .

"Almost here," Ginny whispered to herself, grinning broadly as Harry caught Lupin’s telling them that it was time to start the descent.

Someone would have to unfreeze him from his broom. And then they had landed on a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of Grimmauld place.

Ginny wrenched herself out of her chair and dashed to the door of the bedroom she and Hermione were sharing, listening hard. Sure enough, there was the click of the front door opening, the scraping of locks; they were coming in.

Mum would meet them; she’d been waiting for Harry all afternoon and Ginny knew instinctively that her Mum would send Harry upstairs until the meeting was over. Couldn’t risk having him find out more than he needed to know after all. As far as Molly Weasley was concerned, none of her children, or Hermione, needed to know what was going on; too dangerous. They’d already gone through that more than a few times; Fred and George yelling themselves hoarse over the fact that they were of age and had every right to attend the meetings if they wanted to and with their mother just as stubbornly refusing to even consider it.

They were filing into the hall now. Ginny could just make out the shadowy figures of the witches and wizards who had gone to Privet Drive. They’d be going on down to the kitchen and maybe, just maybe she’d be able to slip inside – as a cat mind you – and find out what exactly this ‘top secret meeting’ was all about.

Grinning to herself, Ginny slipped the bag of Dungbombs off her bedside table and slipped them and one of the Extendable Ears from her drawer into her pocket. Even if she couldn’t get in, she could still perhaps get close enough to slip an extendable under the door; providing of course that her mother hadn’t gone and put an imperturbable charm on the door like she’d been threatening, and that’s where the Dungbombs would come in.

Ginny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A heartbeat later a sleek black cat stood in the shadows exactly where Ginny had been standing. Ginny slipped silently down the steps, taking care to avoid Harry and her mother, who were just coming up them. Down the steps to the kitchen. . .damn, the door was closed again already.

Turning back into herself, Ginny sat at the top of the steps and flicked a Dungbomb at the door. It fell to the floor with a clatter before it even made contact.

"Shit!"

Ginny chucked a second Dungbomb, and a third. Neither of them came even close to touching the door. So Tonks hadn’t been lying. Just for good measure she tried inserting an Extendable, but with no luck. Ginny tossed her last three at the door for no other reason than that she didn’t care to be caught with them on her person, then turned back into a cat as she heard footsteps on the landing. She pulled herself back into the shadows, drawing herself flat against the stairwell wall as her mother came bustling down them.

Molly Weasley took her wand out of her pocket flicked it at the door; which turned a bright blue for an instant – there was a sudden rush of noise from the witches and wizards packed into the kitchen. Ginny squinted against the glare, her ears twitching in the direction of the cacophony of voices. Perhaps if she just listened hard enough. . .an instant later the door had closed, turned flickered bright blue again, and the noise was cut off as if someone had turned off a spout. But from upstairs – and even more clearly in her head – she could hear Harry, shouting at Ron and Hermione, his pent up anger and frustration finally finding vent.

Brushing off her hands, Ginny made her way quietly through the hall and up the stairs to where she could hear Harry’s voice now grumpily responding to the twins, who were showing him the Extendables and explaining that he was interfering with reception. Perfect excuse to make her own appearance. If Mum caught George near the kitchen again when the Order was having a meeting she was likely to do something drastic.

"Oh hello, Harry! I thought I heard your voice," said Ginny as she stuck her head in the door before turning to Fred and George. "It’s a no go with the Extendable Ears, she’s gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door."

George looked crestfallen as she explained about chucking things at an object that has been Imperturbed. But Ginny only had eyes for Harry. He looked thinner, which wasn’t surprising, seeing as that his appetite hadn’t exactly what one could call hearty since he’d come out of the Triwizard maze.

He was calming down now, his heart rate decreasing as he listened to Ron, Hermione, Fred and George explain what had been going on since they had last seen Harry in June. His anger spiked again when they were discussing Percy’s defection, but that was only to be expected.

Ginny watched him through narrowed eyes. He was different. She’d felt the difference all summer. But he looked different too. Granted he’d grown a couple inches in just those last couple months, but that was the only thing. There was a glint in his eyes that hadn’t been there two months ago and a hardness to his smile that nearly broke her heart.

Ginny sat quietly and let her eyes go out of focus. There, the power she had been able to sense in Harry since her own run in with Tom Riddle, the power had increased. It was closer to the surface now, simmering away like a cauldron just about to reach the boiling point. She shook her head slightly, inadvertently making a noise in the back of her throat. Damn, but someone needed to keep an eye on him; it didn’t look as if it were going to take much to send him over the edge. Like just now . . .

"I didn’t ask – I didn’t want – Voldemort killed my parents!" Harry was sputtering.

Ginny took a deep breath, invoking the Elements silently. No one would notice. They were all too intent on talking to Harry.

"Don’t they think I’d rather it’d never-"

Ginny took a deep breath and, infusing her voice with all of water’s soothing presence, said, "We know, Harry."

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking on hers for a long moment before snapping onto Hermione who had gone off on the inconsistency of the Prophet’s reporters.

I can’t do this, Ginny told herself silently a few minutes later as she followed her mother out of Harry and Ron’s bedroom to wash her hands for supper. I can’t stay on this emotional roller coaster for another year. I’m not his mother! I’m not even his girlfriend! Just because I know we’re going to end up together is no reason why I should have to take responsibility for his actions.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t do it. Ginny knew that she could. With the Elementals power, she could do just about anything she wanted, well, within reason. But why should she? Why should she hang around him, just so that she could keep him out of trouble? And from the looks of that simmering cauldron of his, he was going to be causing quite a bit of trouble this year. Let Harry deal with his own problems this year. She had enough of her own. Michael for one. He’d been writing all summer.

Ginny’s thoughts turned to Michael as she washed her hands with the lavender-scented soap her mother kept in the washroom. The first letter she’d received from him had come when she and her Mum and Hermione had been making the soap she was using right now.

One of the first things Molly Weasley had done when she arrived at Grimmauld Place, and that was replace the rough brown soap Sirius had in the bathrooms with her own lavender-scented cakes. Even though her Mum used magic to make the mixture into cakes, Ginny had still had to stir the pot for hours so it would be mixed according to her mother's exacting standards.

Ginny couldn’t abide the scent of lavender now though. The owl bearing that first letter from Michael had flown in the window, dropped the letter from Michael on her head, and she had promptly dropped the entire letter into the vat of lavender-scented gook she’d been stirring. Her mother had cleaned the letter again, siphoning off the mess, but it forever after smelled like lavender.

In fact, Ginny had become so turned off by the overwhelming lavender scent of the soap that she had to hold her breath every time she used it; and unfortunately, having her hands smell like lavender afterwards made her slightly nauseous, so much so that once when her mother had been out, she had used the basic recipe in "1001 Household Spells and Potions" to create her own soap by hand; purposefully choosing a citrus scent to replace the lavender. She kept her new soap with her shower things, but didn’t have enough to leave a bar in every bathroom in the house. This time she’d just have to grin and bear it.

Ginny had been very careful about her responses to Michael’s letters, trying to be truthful in her replies without giving anything about the Order away, but it hadn’t been easy. She’d be surprised if Michael didn’t think that she was a complete idiot, talking about the weather and school work and saying nothing at all about what she was doing or feeling or any of the rest of it.

Heaving a great sigh, Ginny dried her hands on the towel hanging beside the sink before heading down to the kitchen where dinner would be served.

Ginny looked left, right, then quickly slipped into cat form and made her way soundlessly down the staircase. She kept herself tucked against the wall (feet looked entirely too big from this perspective) but her hyper-acute hearing picked up a good deal nonetheless.

"There are no other entrances. We manage to keep a guard on the one door and we have nothing to worry about." Lupin’s voice was harsh to her finely attuned ears, grating almost.

"They should be Ministry employees though. There’s no way we could explain outsiders." The small, dark-haired witch who answered him was completely unfamiliar to Ginny.

"He will have thought of that." Snape’s voice was as oily as his hair, making the fur on Ginny’s neck bristle. "The Dark Lord thinks of everything."

Ginny bared her teeth, observing the hook-nosed Potions teacher through narrowed eyes. Slimy git actually sounded as if he admired Voldemort’s tactics.

"So he’s not planning on taking it himself?" That had been McGonagall’s voice. The Transfiguration teacher’s beady eyes were narrowed; observing Snape with decided mistrust.

At least someone is keeping an eye on him, Ginny thought, flicking an approving ear in McGonagall’s direction.

"Without alerting the entire Ministry to his whereabouts, are you mad?" asked Snape, his lip curling in its trademark sneer.

McGonagall’s lips tightened perceptibly and she turned away, addressing another wizard that Ginny didn’t recognize.

The knot of wizards was moving slowly towards the door and out of Ginny’s hearing range.

Damn. Well, at least she’d heard something, which was more than anyone upstairs would have. She glanced upwards, and caught a fleeting glimpse of Harry, Ron and Hermione on the landing above and higher up, Fred and George, reeling in their Extendables, expressions of utmost disappointment on their identical faces.

Well, she couldn’t go up, all five of them were headed down the stairs now. Ginny glanced over her shoulder, Lupin, Tonks and her mother were behind her, locking the front door with their wands. She would have to go down and risk changing back on the stairs. Ginny had barely taken a few quick steps towards the door to the basement when she paused, her fur on end, her ears twitching.

There was someone talking at the foot of the basement steps.

She was going to be caught. At the very worst if her Mum discovered her she’d toss her outside. If that happened she’d either have to wait outside for someone to come in and slip in when they weren’t looking, or she’d have to change back into herself and take her chances at just knocking, though she’d have a right time explaining how she, Ginny had gotten outside.

She grimaced, weighing her options; uncertain of which way she should run.

Ginny shrank back into the shadows behind the umbrella stand. With any luck she’d be able to-

Someone had stepped on her tail. Ginny managed not to shriek, but it was a close thing, but it probably wouldn’t have mattered for an instant later Tonks had lost her balance and she and the Troll leg umbrella stand were tangled in a heap on the floor and Mrs. Black’s screeches were making enough noise to have covered any number of howling cats.

In the chaos that followed, Ginny streaked upstairs, changed on the landing, and was back downstairs, tailing the others down to the kitchen before Sirius had managed to wrench the curtains across his mother’s portrait.

Supper was a noisy affair, what with Dung telling stories to Ron and the twins, Tonks switching noses every few minutes, Bill and Lupin going on about Goblins and her mother putting her two cents into any conversation that caught her ear. But it was afterwards, when Sirius offered to answer any questions that Harry might have about Voldemort that things got really interesting. Especially when in spite of all her protestations her mother found herself having to allow Fred, George and Ron to stay for the discussion.

"Fine! Ginny – BED!"

It was inevitable, Ginny thought grimly as she made rather a show of throwing a tantrum at being excluded from the conversation, even going so far as to slam the door behind her when she reached her own and Hermione’s bedroom.

She sat on the edge of the bed, grinning maniacally as she heard her mother put a locking charm on the outside of the door. Keeping her baby safe.

Ginny closed her eyes, fully immersing herself in what Harry was seeing, in what he was hearing. She’d be damned if she let herself be kept in the dark like a little girl. Besides, anything that concerned Harry concerned her as well, not that anyone else realized that yet.

It was her own scream that woke Ginny so abruptly just before 3 a.m. She sat up abruptly, her breathing ragged with terror drenched in sweat and tangled in her sheets. She glanced guiltily at Hermione, but the older girl had not so much as stirred and Ginny silently blessed the Elementals for their effectiveness in maintaining the silencing spell around her bed. It was all right.

Ginny took a deep, shuddering breath and then screamed again as she felt the hand fall onto her shoulder. She leapt backwards, crashing into the headboard and smacking her head against the bedpost.

"Ginny, hey, it’s okay, it’s just me!"

Ginny squinted unnecessarily into the darkness. She knew who it was; she’d recognized his voice instantly.

"Harry?"

"Yeah. " He sat down on the edge of her bed. "I heard you scream Ginny, you okay?"

"You – you heard me?" Ginny’s heart did an odd sort of flip-flop in her chest.

He’d heard her? But what about the silencing charm?

"I – I was dreaming myself," said Harry quietly. "More of a nightmare actually."

"Well, that’s understandable," said Ginny before she could help herself. "I mean, after what happened in June . . ." her voice died away as he turned his gaze on her. She could see his eyes glittering darkly in the moonlight.

"It wasn’t that kind of a dream," he said simply. "Not this time. This time it was . . ." he gestured at the surrounding room. "I don’t know, darker I guess; very dark. There is a voice, a figure in the darkness, it speaks words and my mind just – opens. My mind opens and then he’s there, beside me, inside me, pouring himself into me and everything goes darker then ever . . .darker and . . .and . . .cold . . .and then you screamed, and I woke up. What about yours?" he asked unexpectedly.

Ginny swallowed, hard.

How could she tell him her own dream when he’d just described exactly what she had been dreaming?

"I – It was horrible," she whispered, not certain as to how much she should tell him, but wanting very much to finally share this with someone who would understand. She decided to tell him the truth – well, as much of it as she could. "I was back in the Chamber," she said softly, shivering inadvertently as she remembered the cold grayness of the chamber, the ever shifting shadows and the voice . . .the voice that had persuaded her to open her mind to him . . .to be his forever . . .

"He was there, Harry. Tom was there, in the Chamber. He – he had used me . . .he’d promised me . . .he said that he could make it so I’d never be lonely again . . .he . . .he said that he could show me things more beautiful and terrible than I could ever imagine if only . . ." Ginny swallowed again and took a deep, shuddering breath. "If only I’d let him in and then . . .and then he began to sing . . ."

She’d forgotten about that part! That was the song – the same song that the music box had played, that’s why she’d been able to resist it; she’d remembered . . .her thoughts were brought back to the present with a start when she felt Harry’s hand cover hers where it lay on top of the quilt.

"You’re shaking." Harry’s voice was filled with concern. "You cold?"

"Not really," Ginny whispered, trying to still the fluttering of her heart inside of her chest. "It’s – it’s more . . .more the memory of being cold . . .does that make any sense?"

"Perfect sense," said Harry grimly. "Here, Ginny, are you going to be able to get back to sleep, after a dream like that?"

"Well, usually when a nightmare wakes me up I creep downstairs," said Ginny, grinning slightly at the memory of the last time that had happened. "Sometimes I get something to eat, or a cup of hot chocolate. Sometimes Sirius is up too and we play a game of chess or something," and sometimes I transform and wander around in the dark of night, listening to the house’s whispers "but I think I like this better." She squeezed Harry’s hand and felt him grin down at her.

"Would it help if I stayed with you until you went back to sleep?" he asked unexpectedly.

Ginny stared at him, a thousand thoughts vying for prominence in her brain.

"I – I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep," she managed finally, and it was mostly the truth, thought it didn’t have anything to do with the nightmare. If Harry was this close to her for long – she could smell the yeasty, soapy scent of him even now. How the hell would she be able to sleep?

"Tell you what, scoot over a bit," said Harry, and Ginny, her back still against the wall, scooted and Harry climbed onto the bed beside her, settling himself cross-legged against the headboard. "I’ll just sit here until you go back to sleep," he said simply.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Harry . . .I . . ." she broke off, not knowing how to tell him how much this meant to her. She knew of course that as far as his conscious self was concerned, he was only acting as he felt a big brother would. But she also knew – with a certainty that was terrifying clear, that he subconsciously found himself drawn to her for reasons he couldn’t explain.

"Thank you," said Ginny finally and, without stopping to think, she leaned over and kissed him very gently on the cheek. "

Ginny straightened her twisted sheets and climbed back underneath, taking care to lay down so that she was facing Harry where he sat, keeping guard over her in the dark of night.

"Sweet dreams, Ginny," said Harry softly.

Ginny reached out and took the hand that was resting on his knee.

You don’t know how much this means to me, Harry."

She felt rather than saw him smile.

"No problem Gin, now get some rest."

Ginny closed her eyes and willed her breathing into a slow, steady rhythm. She was so acutely aware of Harry just beside her, of the heat radiating from his body, the sound of his breathing, the feel of his hand on hers that it was all she could do to maintain the illusion of sleep, but sleep she did, and her dreams, when they came, were not the dark and cold of her nightmares, but full of sunlight and hope and happiness yet to come.