CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: DREAMS

Ginny wrenched herself into a sitting position, her breath coming in short, hard gasps.

But the feeling of dread hadn’t subsided, like it usually did at the end of a nightmare. If anything, she felt worse. A wave of nausea washed over her as she remembered the taste of blood her mouth. Ginny bolted across the dormitory, barely making it to the rubbish bin before she lost the contents of her stomach.

"Ginny? Ginny! What is it?" Lisa was beside her, a hand on her shoulder, a concerned look on her face and Ginny was suddenly hit with just how many times she had found herself in this exact position; sick and unable to move because of something that was happening with Harry. Unable to help herself, Ginny began to giggle.

"Ginny, what is it?" Lisa looked alarmed now as Ginny wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and staggered across the room to sit on the edge of her bed.

"Just a nightmare," Ginny managed in between giggles; giggles that had soon turned into near-hysterical laughter. "A nightmare about my dad!" She nearly shrieked, bent double. "A nightmare about my dad, and it wasn’t even my own!" She threw herself back on her bed, trying to control herself, but it was too late now. Both Mandy and Laura were peering out through their hangings, exchanging exasperated looks with each other.

"A nightmare?" asked Lisa, handing Ginny a tumbler full of water, which Ginny sipped gratefully.

"Yeah, he got bit by this giant snake," Ginny suppressed another giggle. "And that wasn’t the best of it," she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "I was the snake! So it was me who bit him and the he – I mean I – woke up."

"And you found that funny?"

"Well," Ginny hiccuped, then took another sip of water. "You really would have had to have been there." She giggled again. "Sorry!" she said loudly, waving to Laura and Mandy. "Just a bad dream!"

"Yeah, well, dream a little quieter!" grumbled Mandy, tossing her head and disappearing back behind the hangings.

"Ginny, what did you mean when you said that the dream wasn’t really yours?" asked Lisa quietly as Ginny slipped into a clean nightgown and crawled back into her four-poster.

"I-" Ginny stopped short, not certain what to say. It had been Harry’s dream, she’d realized that almost immediately, but what could she say, really?

"It – it didn’t seem like I was the one dreaming," said Ginny carefully, not meeting Lisa’s eyes. Damn she didn’t like putting Lisa off like this! This girl was one of the best friends she had. She’d stood by Ginny through everything. She deserved better than lame excuses, but what could she say? It wasn’t her right to tell the dream, especially since it had been Harry’s, she was certain of that now.

"Really, Lisa, I’ll be all right," Ginny said seriously. On an impulse she pulled Lisa into a hug. "I can’t tell you how much it means to me Li, to have a friend like you!"

Lisa went pink.

Ten minutes later Ginny was back under her covers, trying desperately to get back to sleep, to ignore Harry, who was now talking to Dumbledore. Dumbledore?

Ginny sat upright, her heart suddenly beginning to beat a syncopated tattoo in her chest. What was he doing talking to the Headmaster?

Injured? Her dad couldn’t have been injured! It had been a dream, just a stupid dream. Hadn’t it?

Ginny sat, eyes wide, heart beating wildly as Harry waited, the tension in his chest causing every muscle in his body to ache in sympathy.

St. Mungo’s? Thought Ginny wildly. How could someone be injured by a dream?

Ginny was on her feet . . . .had on her slippers . . . .was tying her robe . . . .her wand in her pocket, yes. Barely a minute later she had slipped up the boy’s staircase to Fred and George’s dormitory was tugging on George’s arm.

"Wake up! George! Wake up!" she hissed.

"Wharisit?" growled George, blinking at her groggily. A second later he was sitting bolt upright, all thought of sleep gone from his eyes.

"Ginny? What the devil . . .?"

"I’m okay, dad’s hurt though, they’ve taken him to St. Mungo’s. We need to go, now, McGonagall’s coming to get us."

George didn’t even bother to question how she knew, but had pulled on his own robe and poked Fred awake with a none to gentle jab of his wand.

Muttering darkly, Fred followed them down the spiral staircase and into the common room just in time to see Professor McGonagall clamber through the portrait hole.

"Oh good," she said grimly, her mouth a tense line. "Come with me, all three of you."

McGonagall waited until they were out of the common room before repeating the news.

"Harry saw your father have an accident," she said curtly, holding her wand aloft to light their way. "He’s waiting with Ronald in the Headmaster’s office."

"What do you mean, Harry saw him have an accident?" said Fred sharply, sounding wide awake for the first time since he’d gotten out of bed.

"Just stay quiet and follow me," said McGonagall, lowering her voice as they passed the corridor where Umbridge’s office was located. "No need to alert the whole castle now, is there?"

George said nothing, but gave Ginny a curious look behind McGonagall’s back.

A few minutes later they had entered Dumbledore’s office to find Harry (who looked very pale) and Ron (who looked rather green) standing in front of Dumbledore’s desk. Both of them were clutching their wands and looking scared, although Harry looked distinctly angry around the edges- frustrated, Ginny knew, from this whole business taking so long.

Fred made a convulsive movement, as if he wanted to reach out and grab Harry, shake him maybe. Ginny cleared her throat.

"Harry-what’s going on? Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad hurt-"

"Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix," said Dumbledore before Harry could speak. "He has been taken to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius’s house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than the Burrow. You will meet your mother there."

Ginny felt her knees go suddenly weak and she clutched at George’s arm. He had his arm around her an instant latter, holding her up. A flash of flame in the very middle of the office produced a single golden feather.

"She must know you’re out of your beds . . . .Minerva, go and head her off – tell her any story-"

He was talking about Umbridge, Ginny realized, looking from Dumbledore to McGonagall, who swept out of the office, looking grim.

"Come here, then," said Dumbledore, motioning to the ugly black kettle on his desk. "And quickly, before anyone else joins us . . .You have all used a Portkey before? Good. On the count of three then . . .one . . .two . . ." Ginny felt the surge of hatred so intensely that she very nearly lost her grip on the kettle. She glanced up, just in time to see Harry’s shocked expression before the Portkey was whirling them away in a swirl of colors and a rush of wind.

* * *

Ginny swallowed her scream, sitting bolt upright in the chilly, damp darkness of the room she shared with Hermione at number twelve Grimmauld Place.

"Damn!" Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth, looking guiltily towards Hermione’s sleeping figure in the next bed. It had to be this house it just had to be! She hadn’t dreamt about Tom’s coming out of the diary since she’d left this place.

Still breathing hard, Ginny pulled on her robe and slippers. She slipped out of the room as quietly as possible, closing the door with only the faintest of clicks. A thrashing sound from the next room stopped her in her tracks.

"No! Ginny, no! You can’t have her!"

Harry’s voice, muttering, almost incoherent, but she understood what he was saying, for as she closed her eyes she could feel him dreaming. The dream was continuing from where she had woken up, Tom was inside of her now, his essence filling her with an icy darkness and terrible understanding that she had never been able to truly rid herself of.

Her slippered feet silent on the floor, Ginny crossed Ron and Harry’s room and sat down on the edge of Harry’s bed. He’d thrashed so that he was all tangled up in the sheets now, wrestling with his pillow, which now lay on top of him.

"Harry!" she leaned forward, whispering it into his ear, and into his mind at the same time. "Harry, it’s all right, it’s just a dream!"

"So – so cold!" Harry moaned.

Ginny put a hand on his face, rubbing gently. "Harry, please, it was just a dream."

"Wha . . .!" He sat bolt upright, his eyes staring wildly around the room, coming to rest at last on Ginny, his eyes widening slightly, as if he couldn’t believe she was really there. "Oh, thank god, Gin! You’re okay!" he muttered, and, ignoring the pillow between them, he crushed her into a bone-shaking hug, murmuring incoherent gratitude into her ear.

"I thought he’d gotten you, I thought-"

"Shh, Harry, it was just a dream." Ginny smoothed his sweaty hair away from his face, amazed as always at the length of his eyelashes without his glasses on to hide them.

"But it happened, I saw you," Harry reached for her, pulling her down to lay beside him, wrapping an arm around her waist until she was tucked up against him, the warmth of him at her back "And I was there Gin, I found you, remember? Down – down in the Chamber." He paused, swallowing hard. "You – you were so – so cold! I thought – I thought you were . . .dead."

"But you came in time," Ginny whispered, laying her hand over Harry’s where it rested on her waist.

"I – I didn’t know . . .did he . . .did he really . . ." Harry’s voice died away, his thought unspoken. Was it really as bad as it looked? Did he really do what I think he did? Did he . . .

"Rape me?" whispered Ginny, and she felt him stiffen in shock. "Only mentally, Harry. He – he just took me. He didn’t ask. Well, not really. He said . . .but none of that matters now. It’s over."

"I hate to think of what would have happened if I hadn’t made it in time."

"Then don’t," said Ginny quietly. "You found me, that has to be enough."

They lay quietly for several moments, Ginny very much aware of the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck.

"What’s with the dreams Gin?" Harry said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It’s the house I think," said Ginny, giving a delicate shrug which brought her in closer contact with Harry’s torso, his grip on her waist tightened reflexively. "The dreams are always worse here."

"Yeah," said Harry dryly. "I’ve noticed."

Hating herself, Ginny made as if to pull away. "I have to get back to my own room, Harry."

"Don’t go," said Harry, pulling her closer against him. "I – if you go Gin, I’ll dream it again, and I don’t think I can stand it."

"I’ll stay until you fall asleep Harry, okay?" Ginny offered. "It’s my turn to repay your sitting up with me last summer."

"Sounds good to me," murmured Harry sleepily into her hair. His lips brushed the back of her neck. "Sweet dreams, Ginny."

"Sweet dreams Harry."

What seemed like only moments later, Harry was snoring gently, his grip on her waist relaxing enough that Ginny could reluctantly slide out from under his arm and slip back into her own room.

He wouldn’t remember what had happened. She couldn’t let him. He wouldn’t understand . . .not yet. Ginny sat, huddled against the metal headboard of her coldly damp bed and silently called her Elementals, they could make him forget, at least temporarily . . .at least until he was ready.