But For a Single Rose...

[Mickey]

A Broken Picture

A morning dove flew by Ginny Weasley’s window singing a merry song to wake her gently from her slumber, rays from the sun illuminating her hair to show all of her shades of red. She lay listening to the gay song for a moment or two, not wanting to be disturbed, not wanting to leave the shores of sleep. The pillows were so soft, the blankets light weights of comfort, keeping her in a close and gentle embrace. Her eyes blinked lightly open, the world coming into focus. She
smiled at the bird that had awoken her, now sitting on the cherry tree that lay outside her window. After a few moments, her gaze dropped to her alarm clock. Slowly her mind registered that it was around time to get up, so she sat up with a yawn showing all of her perfectly white teeth. A spell of Ginny’s own invention ensured that. She then stood, turned around and wrapped a dressing gown around her, before reaching for her wand and making her bed with a casual flick. She then walked to the bathroom, her slippers making “schuch, schuch” noises across the hard wood floor.

Once out of the shower, she again reached for her wand and flicked it once up and down her body so that she was instantly dry. Next she tipped her wand towards her head and parted her hair, performing a spell that enabled her to charm her hair so the natural frizz was gone and she had her hair perfectly aligned around the oval shape of her face. She took a small butterfly plait and twisted it into the left side of her hair, and then cast a few spells to keep it there.

‘Now for make-up’ she thought to herself, again tilting her wand at her face. After a few moments of incantations, spells, and glitter though the air, her face emerged with her skin touched up to highlight its pinkness, a light pink lip gloss, brown eyeliner, and a natural-looking, light baby pink eye shadow. The best part of using magic for make-up was that it looked one hundred percent natural, the chocolate brown of her eyes illuminating and the pink in her skin standing out.

Other girls would have felt instantly perfect and that the world was waiting for her, but she merely glanced at her self and then flew out of the bathroom door, her hair flying so that its careful, frizzles, straight-as-sticks ‘do’ was instantly loosened to give it an even more natural looking appearance. She casually strode to her wardrobe, picking out a warm fall tone cashmere sweater and with a chocolate brown khaki pair of paints. She slipped the sweater on over a white tee, and then it was out into the hallway. Though she looked absolutely perfect, the entire process of getting up had taken less than ten minutes. She walked down the stairs with not a care in the world, looking as though she was incredibly content and there was not a problem in the world.

This of course was not true. In fact, she was one of those who had more problems with the world then should be allowed for someone who had only just turned 17. What, you might ask, could this young witch have to deal with? The list was endless, but it all came down to the return of Riddle. In fact, the name Riddle alone showed you the mature ness of Ginny, who still called him that despite the fact that he was known as “You-Know-Who” to the world. That came from the incident that had occurred when she was 11, at Hogwarts, down in the chamber of secrets, where she had been processed and nearly died at his hands. If it hadn’t been for Harry.

Harry…

Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the Chosen One. Her savior, her knight in shining armor, and the man who had broken her heart.

But that was in the past. Ginny wasn’t 11 anymore. She wasn’t hung up on the greatness of Harry Potter. To her, he was just another hero who couldn’t get over himself and allow himself to be happy. Though humble in the respect that he hated media and press, and never wanted fame, he was still stupid enough to not accept help from the one he loved.

Or did he? Did he still love her? He had said he did, but that was well over a year ago, before Dumbledore had died and there was still some light and normality in the world. She remembered every second of the day of Dumbledore’s funeral, the way he had looked distant and alone, despite her arms wrapped around him. The way he had told her that she was a distraction from Voldemort, that she would get hurt.

Her heart started blazing again as she sat down on the couch, wrapping a pillow around her legs, and picking up a picture of Harry that had stayed on the table. That was what drove her crazy. Why did he think she couldn’t take care of herself? She wasn’t 11, she was in no need of a ‘knight in shining armor’. She was in need of a partner, someone who respected her, thought himself lucky that she was with him. Not distracted from some greater destiny.

She stared at his face, so alive, so alight with happiness, as the picture Harry wrapped his arms around the picture Ginny, stroking her silky red hair and smiled. Her eyes started to well and she threw the picture against the floor so that a large crash sounded out, before she threw her head down on the pillow.

Mrs. Weasley came into the room in a rage. “Ginevra Molly Weasley! What are you still doing here? Its half past ten!!”

“So Mum?” Ginny mumbled into the pillow, trying to get Harry out of her head.

“Its September the first!!” Mrs. Weasley shrieked!

September the first…so?. As Ginny lifted her head, Her mind searched frantically for an answer. Slowly a panicked expression came over her face as she realized…

“Hogwarts!” Ginny shrieked as she jumped up off the sofa, her cashmere sweater rubbing warmly against her body. She started flying towards the door so that on the other side she could apparate. She grabbed her black coat and multishade brown scarf, and threw them on as she got out the door into the brisk air. She couldn’t be late, she was Head Girl & Quidditch Captain for goodness sakes!

“Ginny! Your trunk!” Mrs. Weasley said dragging it to the door.

“Right Mum.” Ginny said breathlessly, grabbing hold of it.

“..Have a very good term, I’m sorry I can’t accompany you there but as you know the security is so tight now..You have your Apparition bracelet?”

The Ministry had administered bracelets and bands for those who would be apparating to Kings Cross so that they would get past the boundary. Everyone else would merely be thrown back to where they had come from.

“Yes, Mum. I’m fine.” Ginny said very frazzled as she held up her wrist, the silver bangle dangling off of it.

“Ok then, well have a safe journey, owl me as soon as you get there!” Molly Weasley looked at here youngest in pure terror, knowing the dangers of traveling in these dark times.

Ginny gave a terse nod, spun on her heel and was off.



Mrs. Weasley turned around, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. It was incredibly hard for her to let her youngest go like that, for she had already had one son mauled by a werewolf, and one son dead, without ever having made up with her over Mr.Weasleys fight.

She walked slowly to the sofa, where Ginny had just been sitting and thought back to the loud crash she had heard. She wondered what on earth that could be about, and twisted her head so that her curly, frazzled locks spun tightly around.

There.

She tilted her head as she saw the picture frame on the floor. The picture seemed unharmed but for a few scratches, thought the glass was broken. Wondering why on earth Ginny would have thrown a picture, Molly stood and walked over to it. She knelt and had the answer in an instant. As Harry & Ginny’s faces looked up at her, Molly felt her heart break for her daughter all over again. She knew that Ginny still loved him, and believed him to be alive, even though he had gone missing almost 5 months ago, after the destruction of You-Know-Who.

“Reparo.” Molly mended the picture with an almost inaudible spell, and held it to her heart.

“Let them be safe.”

[Mickey]

The Rules.

Ginny walked briskly through the trains’ cars, happy that she had turned out to be right on time. Her sandals, which she had slipped on once she had arrived and discovered she had forgotten to talk off her slippers, hit the ground with thumps as she walked. A seventh year such as her was quite comfortable in front of the other students, and she intended on giving every appearance that she was happy. She was headed towards the heads compartment, the badge gleaming on her chest. Her letter had said that she was to receive her instructions, before going to tell the prefects there’s. As she slowed in front of the compartment, her trunk dragging behind her, she took out her wand to bewitch the trunk so that it would be feather-light, and then opened the door with a flick.

She walked into the room, her perfect smile plastered on her face, a sense of euphoria sweeping through her. She sat down, noting that she was the only one in the compartment at the time, levitating her trunk up to security. She crossed her legs, and took off her coat, allowing her hair to fall against the white cashmere sweater.

Thoughts about the thrown picture crossed her head unbidden, and she suddenly grew stern and annoyed with herself.

“Ginny Weasley. You have to get better hold of yourself.” She said to herself, mentally addressing herself as her mother. For a few seconds she merely laid there, trying to collect her thoughts. A thought came to her after a few moments. All she needed to do was organize her self. She remembered the diary her mother had given her last Christmas, that she had refrained so far from using due to her history with diaries. The previous evening she had been packing in a hurried manner when it had caught her eye, and she had thrown it in with the rest of her belongings. She reached for her bag and dug through it for a moment, before coming up with the bound, dark red, and diary. She flipped open a page and reached for the muggle pen she kept in her coat pocket. Her mother thought she was insane for doing that, and her father had simply wanted to know where she had come across the pen.

September 1st.
Compartment 24B
On the Train
Hello?

Hello?

Just checking. So I’m not really the dear diary type of girl. Not anymore anyways. So I think I’ll simply start with my list and then probably have to go and do Head Girl stuff.

Rules of Life: To Live By.
<i>
Rule #1: Forget about Harry Potter.
Rule #2: Never pass up a dating opportunity on the grounds of Harry.
Rule #3: Disregard the last statement about Harry, because as you can see, he is forgotten.
Rule #4: Appearances matter. There is no reason that you have to be deaf to the world of men around you. Especially if that reason is because of Harry.
Rule #5: Stop ending every rule with Harry.
Rule #6: Keep up with this diary this year.
Rule #7: Gryffindor will win the Quidditch Cup this year, for I am Captain as well as Head Girl and will not permit them to lose.
</i>
That’s about all of the rules that I can think off. I’ll most likely have to add some as I think of them though.


“Hello?”

Ginny’s head snapped out of the book as a dreamy voice penetrated her thoughts. A blonde Ravenclaw was standing in front of her, wearing what looked like small dangling owls from her ears that were hooting distantly. But then, that was Luna. Fashions like that were what made her, well, her.

“Hi there, Luna.” Ginny said flashing a warm smile to her friend. She was glad that Luna was a prefect, even though Ginny would have her quarters with the Head Boy this year. And to say that Ginny was worrisome about that, would be repetitive for it went without saying. Sharing a dorm with a boy?

“Oh it’s you Ginny! Wow. You look…different.” Luna tilted her head. “You know, it’s not always smart to change your looks and make up a façade when you know you’re miserable.” She said matter-of-factly, showing her knack for unwanted truths.

“I am not miserable.” Ginny stated haughtily. “I am completely over- Harry.” Her face was perfectly composed as she said Harry’s name, though her chocalate eyes sparkled as she said it, and she paused to swish her vibrant hair over her shoulder and take a quick breath before saying it.

Luna smiled serenely and sat down across from Ginny, bringing out the latest edition of the Quibbler, sticking a large wad of Droobles in her mouth, and sticking her wand behind her ear as she always did. Ginny looked at her uncertainly, before returning to her diary and scrawling her name across the page, after rereading her rules. They didn’t seem to be very solid yet, but Ginny felt much better now that there was a definite system.

The compartment door slid open again. Ginny stared at her rules, not even bothering to look up again.

“Ginny?” The boy’s mouth dropped open as he took in her appearance.

Ginny froze. She knew that voice. Oh how she knew that voice. She looked up slowly.

“Dean…” Ginny said slowly and giving a shaky smile. What in the world was her ex-boyfriend doing in the prefects compartment when he had left school last year?

“Wow. Uh- wow.” Dean said.

“Dean…what are you doing here?” Ginny said, not sure that she really wanted the answer.

“Well…uh, I left school last year because well, the war. but uh.. I just thought that I had to come back and finish my schooling. Headmistress McGonnagol is allowing all students who left during the war to return. The Patil twins..”

Ginny gave a terse nod. She had known that. “ I know that. I meant, what are you doing <i>here</i>? You aren’t a prefect.”

She was hoping against hoping that the answer was not what she thought it was going to be.

“I’m Head Boy.” Dean said pointing at the badge on his chest.

Crud.

Ginny’s mind was whirling with thought. This meant that she was going to have to spend the entire year with him. Him. An ex-boyfriend, not to mention the fact that he had been one of her distractions from…well her original way of getting of him. She had never really felt anything for him, even if he had been exceptionally good at snogging. But then.. Her new rules floated to the front of her brain. <i>Rule #2: Never pass up a dating opportunity on the grounds of Harry.</i>

Ginny smiled at Dean in a most flirtatious way, pulling down on her tight cashmere sweater trying to make it even tighter.

“Well aren’t you a lucky boy then, because it so happens that I am Head Girl, which means you will be spending( here she nudged him a bit and then walked a tad closer) the entire year with me.” She smiled, stepped back and then sat back down. Luna gave a little snort across the compartment, while Dean merely smiled and sat down next to her. Ginny scooted a little closer to him, but not close enough that he would be able to touch her. Her mind was sort-of on pause mode.

Dean however lay back on his hands, against the backing of the compartment with a very self satisfied smirk on his face.
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The Hogwarts Express was rolling over the country-side, mountains passing swiftly past Ginny’s window where she sat, now thoroughly discontent and confused, as Dean’s hand was wrapped around her shoulder, and would have migrated to her waist, had Ginny not braced herself against the back of the compartment. Headmistress McGonagall had long since given them and the prefects instructions. Dean and she were to stay in the compartment while the prefects made rounds and “get better acquainted”. It at least ruled out Ginny’s theory that Dean was Head Boy purely to torment her, because McGonagall didn’t seem to know that they had dated for quite some time.

“So. Shall we, erm, get acquainted then?” Dean said, after they had sat in silence for some time. He had a large grin on his face, as though he thought it to be very funny.

Ginny gave him a flirtatious smile, though she kept her backside pressed firmly against the compartment.

“In what way?” She inquired, trying to think of something to say. She couldn’t believe she was sitting here with Dean, again. She was about the break it off before he tried to kiss her, when Harry’s face swam into view. Her look hardened, and she nudged a bit closer to Dean.

Dean took that as an invitation to move closer to her as well. He seemed to be very confident, and very arrogant. Ginny wanted to slap herself for letting herself back in with him. Slap him more likely. But Harry’s face had cleared her thoughts.

“We could…”Dean moved even closer, which immediately unfroze Ginny’s thoughts.

“-catch-up” She said in a teasing tone, moving back even further on the seat. “It has been a year mister, since I saw you last.” Ginny said trying to remain flirtatious (though she didn’t know why) and at the same time not kiss him.

“I guess that’s true. We have become different people.” Dean said, clearly put out by her moving away from him.

<I> ‘That is certainly true.’ </i> Ginny thought to herself in regard to his shameless flirting, self satisfied smirk, and his eagerness.

“Yes.” Ginny said cautiously, clearing her head for the final time, emptying it of all thoughts except those of Dean.

“Over the past year, I have changed quite a bit actually.” Ginny said to him, trying to drop him a hint that perhaps she wasn’t the right girl for him. Then she realized she was breaking Rule #2. For what other reason would she turn down Dean?

“..So I suppose your going to have to get to know me all. over. again.” Ginny said moving closer to him again, and then pulling back in a very teasing way.

Dean reached out and grabbed a lock of her hair, twirling it around his finger. Ginny gave a coy smile, for the first time thoroughly enjoying herself with him. Two thoughts were racing through her brain. Rule #2, and How much fun it would be to get back in the dating game. She relaxed fully, all thoughts of her anger at Harry leaving her, losing herself in the playfulness of Dean’s touch.

“Oh really?” He said lightly, moving in closer to her. This time Ginny did not pull away. She simply moved in even closer, so close that she could feel his hot breath upon her cheek.

“Yes.” Ginny said slyly, her mouth leaning in…-

“Ms. Weasley, Mr. Thomas! That is enough!”

The two broke apart with their lips mere centimeters apart, shocked by the sudden entrance of Headmistress McGonnagal. Dean stood up quickly and backed away from Ginny. Ginny remained seated, stunned at had what transpired, as a peculiar feeling overcame her. She felt like she her brain was slowly coming back, along with the fact that she had almost kissed Dean. She wasn’t quite sure what her brain was making of the information, but she was glad that the Headmistress had walked in.

“As Head Boy and Head Girl, you will both be expected to abide by the rules, and that includes public display of affection.” McGonagall’s eyes narrowed.

“Is that understood?”

Ginny and Dean’s heads both snapped in a crisp nod of agreement, Deans already messy hair being blown over his eyes, and Ginny’s perfect hair, loosening to fall around her face cleanly.
~~~~> ~~~~> ~~~~~> ~~~~~~> ~~~~~> ~~~~~~ >~~~~~> ~~~~~~> ~~~~~> ~~~~~~> ~~~~~>


McGonagall clapped her hands briskly, and waited as the roar over that hall deadened completely. Ginny felt her heart wrench. She still imagined Dumbledore doing the same thing, as he waited for the Great Hall to quiet down, but he had done it with a warm sense of welcome, a twinkle in his eye, while McGonagall simply gave a stern sweeping gaze that brought forth an instant hush.

Ginny had gotten off of the train with Dean, her mind on pause, and completely not listening to him. He had shown signs of wanting to renew their flirting all the way to Hogwarts as the rode in the carriage together, but she had merely stared outside into the black sky with dots of white illuminating the stars around them. She had felt very small; an inimitable speck in the expanse of the universe, and had curled up against the plush leather red seat of the carriage.

It had been a relief to get to the castle, and proceed into the hallway, even though it felt odd to do so without the class above her. She had gotten on well enough with her class, but it had been the year above her she had hung out with once she started dating. She saw no Micheal Corner, no Terry Boot, no Zacharias Smith (Good Riddence)…

In fact, she had felt so odd that she hadn’t realized she had walked in with her hand clasped in Dean’s until she needed her hand to eat with. He had taken it to give her help out of the carriage and hadn’t let go. He kept giving her nervous smiles, which Ginny responded by smiling slyly, and coyly, but said no words to him.

“May I have your attention please?”

There really was no need for that request; the hall was already deathly quiet. Ginny supposed McGonagall simply wanted to appear to be asking for their attention for appearances. She made a mental note-<i> Rule #4 : Appearances include good manners. </i>

“Thank you. For one moment, please look around you. Grant a glance at the empty chairs of students who should be sitting beside you. “ McGonagall bowed her head briefly as silence fell through the hall, showing one of the only public shows of humanity Ginny had ever seen her show.

“I want each and everyone of you to please give them a moment of silence. Each of you know what occurred a mere five months ago on the day of April 13th. Good people gave their lives so that you may now grace these seats and take up your place in the world of learning. For those of you are returning to complete last years interrupted schooling, I applaud you. Your determination is why Voldemort is no longer alive today.” McGonagall paused for a moment or two, where the whole school remained silent, except for a few sobs.

Ginny glanced around the student body. Colin Creevey was staring into the distance as though the world was still. She saw his black armband, emblazoned with a silver D for his younger brother Dennis, who had been found dead two days before the Invasion of the Ministry. She saw the Parvati looking shatteringly at the seat that Lavender used to take next to her. Lavender had been brutally injured and still lay in the hospital in a coma. It was doubtful if she would ever wake up. Ernie Macmillian, the straightforward prefect, had killed a Death Eater, and been killed himself a second after. As Ginny turned her head around the school she noticed that each of the students were either staring, or crying, or comforting. No-one had been spared in the brutal wartime of Riddle. Even Filch looked sad, or at least less gruff. Professor Flitwick and Hagrid at the staff table had dissolved into tears.

Ginny felt strangely distant from them. She had shed no tears over her brother Percy’s death, nor over…<i>his</i>. Something in her heart had closed off the minute he had left her to protect her. At the time it had merely seemed practical, but now Ginny was wondering if there was something wrong with her. Dean’s warm hand slipped into Ginny’s underneath the table with a tight, comforting grip. Though Ginny took it, and thanked him internally for the support, she did not look in his direction, but her eyes remained glued on McGonagall, waiting for her to send them off.

After a few silent moments, McGonagall raised her head and said, “This is why it is important that we remain as united as we are now. Several relinquished their life to give us freedom. We do not want to disappoint them. Therefore, please listen carefully as I explain the school rules. First years should note that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off limits, as is the Restricted Section of the library. Mr. Argus Filch has asked me to remind you that there is a blanket ban on objects purchased at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, even though they have a new branch in Hogsmeade where Zonko’s used to be, and also that no mud, filth, garbage, or litter is to be trekked into the school. Quidditch Try-outs..” The hall gave an excited murmer. Quidditch had been banned the previous year. Several of the staff smiled, including the Headmistress who had always had a secret great interest in the sport.

“Yes. That is right, Quidditch will be played this year, and every year. Professor Hagrid has spent the summer doing going over the field so that it is in tip-top condition, and has brand new posts.”

A few students now gave whoops and cheers. Ginny smiled in Hagrids’ direction. He had a pink blush atop his cheeks and was smiling. ‘<i>It had been a tactful and compassionate thing for him to do</i>, Ginny thought, <i>to raise student morale. </i> The entire school was smiling now, save for the few who didn’t like or know what Quidditch was, the feeling of respectful sorrow entirely lifted off the crowd.

“There is one staffing change this year. We have a new Defense against the Dark Art’s teacher, Professor Tonks.” Ginny gave a start of surprise, then a happy grin as an old bald man stood up next to Hagrid, with a very stern look on his face. The hall was taken aback, at the man’ s look. Then, he screwed up his eyes so that it looked as though he were trying to remember something, and a second later the old man had a head of hair that was a vivid blue, the wrinkles on his face smoothing out and becoming highlighted with make-up. A second later, Ginny recognized the Tonks she knew, with vivid pink hair, a twinkle in her eye, and a wide grin. She waved to the school and then sat down.

McGonagall did not look amused, but the whole school was giving appreciative whoops, cheers, applause and laughter. After it had subsided somewhat, the Headmistress clapped her hands once and closed out.

“Prefects, please show the first years to the common room. Head Boy & Head Girl, please remain after the feast and come and talk to me.” McGonagall gave a glance in their direction.

“Now, I expect you all to get a good nights sleep. I will see you bright-eyed in the morning.” Headmistress McGonagall gave one of her rare smiles to the school and waved her arms.

There was the usual deafening roar as the entire school stood and began to exit the Great Hall, excitedly discussing plans to visit the Quidditch Field the next day. While this parade went on around them, Ginny and Dean merely sat there, their hands still clasped, waiting until they could reach the Headmistress.


Within five minutes, the Hall had completely emptied out, and they stood and walked up to McGonagall, who was waiting for them. She gave a disapproving sniff at their hands clasped together, and Ginny let go of Dean’s hand quickly.

“Well thank you, Miss Weasley. Now, if the pair of you will follow me, I will show you to your dorm.”

[Mickey]

She set off briskly behind the head tables. At the end of the hall was the door which teachers always used in the morning. Ginny had never really given it much thought before, though now that she thought about it, had she really expected the Professors to sleep in their classroom?

Sure enough, they passed into a long corridor of lined with several paintings. Ginny glanced around at the assortment of paintings that looked as thought they all had to do with classes. There was a large tapestry of the milky way galaxy, an image of books being levitated and dropped, a potion simmering…

“That comes out in the main hall,” McGonagall said pointing at the end of the corridor, where a large portrait hole was. Ginny was amazed, she had never even known that this was here.

“The password to get in here is “Unified”. And the password to get in <i> here </i>,” McGongall motioned to the large portrait of a broken Hogwarts Crest, “ is “Harmony, for that is what is expected of the Head Boy and Head Girl.”

Professor McGonagall gave them a stern look over, and then walked off, back into the Great Hall, leaving the pair of them standing outside of the Head’s Dorm. Dean smiled at Ginny turning and saying,

“Well you’ve been quiet. I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got off the train.”

Ginny merely walked up to the portrait and said “Harmony.” Instantly the crest, previously splintered apart melded together, and in the center a large handle emerged. Ginny grasped it and pushed through, looking in aw at the room. Dean followed looking a little confused by Ginny’s treatment of him.

As you walked into the room, you treaded on a thick red plush rug that was emblazoned in the Gryffindor Lion. A countertop lay next to it on the life, where you could set down your books or a purse, and was carved out of mahogany to have all of the Hogwarts animals protruding forward. A large rack stood on the side, in a Slytherin silver, with a moving serpent circling the base. On the other side of the counter there were two large red couches, each with gold tassles and red throw pillows that had golden “G”’s on them. A table sat in between the couches, one that was copper with badgers on it. Tall white lamps stood near them, with a raven magically flying through the air between them. On the other side there was a fireplace that resembled the carved counter. Near that were two large writing desks that had the founders names in gold written on the sides of them. They stood back to back to each other, with lions paws forming the bases and each had wooden, blue cushioned chairs with ravens on the back. On the other side of that was a door, which Ginny discovered led to the bathroom, which had a large bathtub like a pool and a shower. There were two golden sinks on opposite sides of the room with a curtain that could be drawn between them.

On the right side of the room was several book shelves, a table near the floor for snacking and working and two doors side by side that formed the bedrooms. Ginny headed into one quickly claiming it for herself. The bed was much larger than that of the one in the Gryffindor common room and had no sheets on it. In fact the room was quite bare save for a vanity that also had the animals on it, a closet and the bed. Ginny quickly understood that this meant she was too decorate it herself, and drew out her wand. She quickly unpacked her trunk via the wand, and then added the exact same looking sheets she had pulled herself from that morning. She hung a curtain on the window that was covered in roses and then moved the desk from outside to inside with a flick(and to Dean’s annoyance). Ginny then set a lamp on the desk, laid her quills and parchment on it, and a picture of her family on it. Ginny then laid down some rugs and hung up several pictures of her and Ron and Hermione, and her mom and dad, and then some mirrors. Ginny then pointed her wand at her clothes and swapped them with her nightgown, and slippers.

When she had finished she sat on her bed and looked at the room happily, a tired smile on her face. She didn’t let her thought stray near Dean or Harry for a few moments; instead she looked at the picture on the desk quickly, noticing instantly (to her annoyance that it was still the first things she thought of) that Harry still wasn’t there, which made it acceptable for use. The picture had been taken at Grimmauld Place, three Christmas’s ago. Harry had walked off it after he had left for god knows what mission.

A knock came on the door. Ginny sighed. Dean. She stood and looked once at the mirror, decided that Rule #4 was being followed, and called “Come in!”.

Dean entered, also in his pajama’s. He smiled at Ginny and said ,” Am I allowed to talk to you now?”

Ginny gave him a warm smile. “ I’m sorry Dean. I’m just very tired.” She yawned poignantly. Dean, who previously had looked offended, nodded understandingly.

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Dean said, standing near her, looking ready to leave, yet not moving. Ginny waited and then realized something.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Ginny said embracing him, wrapping him in a tight and brief hug, before wandering out of arms reach. Dean smiled and walked out the door, closing it with a click behind him. Ginny gave a sigh, climbed into the bed, wrapped the covers around her, and fell asleep with a small smile frozen on her face.

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<i> Pow! The jaw popped out. Angrily, the boy fixed it pointing his wand at his face. His messy black hair hung over his eyes as he looked in the mirror. His jaw fixed, he spun around ducking under his companions right hook. His companion’s legs were glued to the ground, the result of tonights’ argument. Over the course of the months, their had been dozens of fights that had ended that way, him only just winning and restraining him. It was hell. He had to watch the companions every move, and he only had two eyes for the task. He couldn’t help but notice the fire in his eyes that burned whenever his companion looked at him, the pure fury and agony, the pretense. If his companion was truly helping him, it would have been over ages ago and he wouldn’t be locked up, gluing feet to the floor. He moved out of his companions way, swearing angrily, over the screams of rage and frustration the other boy was letting out. He wished that he had Veritaserum, but being a dead man he couldn’t walk to the corner carry out and get a vial, not to mention the fact that the Ministry’s entire stock had been utterly destroyed, causing a nightmare for them with all the escaped and enraged Death Eaters. The other boy stopped howling, leaning against the table a self satisfied smirk across his face.

“She’ll never get it.” He said, his eyes narrowing terribly. “You’re dead to her, and not just physically.”

The boy flicked his wand at him, letting out a curse which glued his companions tongue to the roof of his mouth. He looked troubled, whispering to himself that it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

As he moved to the windowsill, he noticed the snowy owl in the distance, flying into the night, the single rose clamped tight in his beak.
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it was too long for one post! haha. I find that funnny.

[Mickey]

  Chapter Two: Cryptic Messages

*Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz* A loud, brazen alarm jerked Ginny from a comfortable sleep. Annoyed, her eyes flew open, and she smacked her arm at the table, snatched up her wand, and muttered a ‘Silencio’ charm on the alarm to cease it’s infernal racket; she then proceeded to throw the covers over her head and try to forget that she had to get up. 

*Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz* Ginny let out a surprised squeak as the alarm went off again even louder (if it was possible) then before, nearly rolling off the bed in surprise, and she thrashed around for a second. The alarm continued to go off, so Ginny chucked a pillow at it, thinking to herself that it would teach her to try to silence a Hogwarts alarm clock; the pillow flying in the air thereby freed her head from the mess of covers and forced her eyes to take in the light from the window. She groaned, and stood up, her long golden nightgown swishing against the floor. She had many golden nightgowns because pink and purple clashed so horribly against her hair. 

As she walked groggily into the bathroom, she gave a huge yawn and her eyes fluttered shut. She held her hand over them, groaning at the light in the bathroom. Without releasing her firm cover on her eyes she waded over to the sink and turned on the warm water and began to wash her face. As the water rubbed over her eyes gently flickering them open Ginny glanced at the mirror, where she spotted Dean reflecting back a look reminiscent of a deer in a headlight. 

It took Ginny a few moments for her brain to fully realize the situation; she had walked in on Dean coming out of the shower, and even if she hadn’t seen anything(thank god for the towel, scanty as it was), had momentarily frozen her and Dean. Then she screamed. 

The scene immediately unfroze and jumped into action. Dean hopped back into the shower, and Ginny <i>scampered.</i> Back through the door, back through the dorm, back into her room, where she shut the door quickly, breathing heavily. 

A full five minutes later, which Ginny spent laying out her clothes, there came a timid knock on her door. Ginny sighed, for she was still a little horrorstruck at what had transpired. 

“Erm…Ginny?” 

Ginny tied her robe tightly and then walked to the door, took a deep breath and opened it a crack. 

“Dean.” She said nodding her head matter-of-factly. “I think we need a system.” 

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Ginny emerged from her dorm room wearing her robes, with a cropped scarlet skirt and matching heels visible. She also wore a simple white top with a  Gryffindor lion inscribed in the corner. She and Dean had worked out a little system, that she would get up first and take a shower. The reason behind this had nearly infuriated Ginny, as Dean had insinuated that Ginny was a girl, and therefore took longer in the bathroom, but Ginny had let it go. She <i>would</i> need more time anyways. 

After taking her shower and getting dressed, she had filled her bag with her diary, some quills, ink, parchment and a notebook so that she would be well prepared for her classes, and had proceeded out the door. Dean had already left, and was no doubt expecting her for breakfast. 

Ginny froze as that thought crossed her mind. Of course he would expect her for breakfast. After all, Ginny was single, and totally insinuating to him that she was interested in starting it up with him again. Which she was. Right? 

Right.

But still… 

Ginny stood in the hall, her brilliant shades of red hair clipped back with scarlet clips, her skirt hanging down, and suddenly had no intention of going to breakfast to meet him. She wondered for all of two seconds as to why, and then made up her mind and reversed her direction back into the dorm with a quick “Harmony.” She reentered the room, and for the first time noticed a note on the counter as she dropped her bag. She recognizes the Headmistress’s stern cramped style of writing and picked it up quite intrigued. 

<i>Dear Miss Weasley,

I have been informed by several portraits of your mishap this morning with Mr. Thomas. Please refrain from this ever occurring again, although that is not my reason for this correspondence. Enclosed is your classes’ schedule, as well as a list of hopefuls for the Gryffindor quidditch team and a schedule of duties for the Head Girl. I would also like you to know that Head Girl & Head Boy may also instate anything they feel would benefit the students in any way. Please notify me first, with <b>fifty</b> students signatures that they would partake, at a <b>minimum</b>. 

Thank you, and Good Luck as Captain! 

Headmistress McGonagall </I>


Ginny closed the letter with a mingled expression of surprise and happiness. What would benefit the students that McGonagall wouldn’t approve of? She wracked her brain for a while, and then decided to let it drop. 

She glanced once more around the room, feeling her cheeks burn with shame when she peered at the bathrooms. She stared at it for a few moments, convincing herself that the only reason she was avoiding Dean was because of the run-in this morning, for after all, there was no other reason for her to avoid him. 

Ginny nodded to herself, shaking her head like a bobble head, and then moved her gaze from the bathroom, to the bookshelf, realizing with a shock that the books were no longer stationary. As she gazed in wonder at the shelf, several books rearranged in place, revealing more that she hadn’t known were there. Though she hadn’t given the ornate shelves a good look yesterday, she was sure that they had all been red covers, and that there had been no green ones, as the one that was now flying at her. 

Wait, flying <i>at</i> her? 

A shriek pierced the air as the redhead threw herself to the ground with a loud “thump”. The flying book went over her head, to land on the caramel table behind her, fluttering open to a certain page, before lying still. The shuffling shelves ceased as well, and when Ginny gave the shelf a wary gaze, the books were all red and still. 

Shakily, she rose from the ground, annoyed at herself, for her perfect hair was now a flyaway frizz. Once again, rule #4 was not being followed. How many times had she broken it that morning alone? Walking in on Dean…indecent, and therefore against Rule #4, for it showed she was not well-mannered. Avoiding Dean… against Rule #2, except that it of course was due to her embarrassment. (Of course it was). And now…. throwing herself to the ground because of a flying book?

<i> The bottom line is, </i> Ginny thought to herself as she ran her fingers through her hair and regained her bearings, <i>I’m off to a terrible start.</i>

As Ginny’s refocused, she turned on her now steady feet towards the book that had flown off the previously shuffling shelves. She walked warily towards it, confused and a little upset, though of course there were no outside signs of it. She was perfectly poised, her hair tucked behind her ears, and her face frozen in a very small pleasant smile. She tilted her head towards the book as she stood over it, and her hair flew out of place behind her ear. 

The book was very skinny, with crisp white sheets seemingly begging to be written on. Yet as Ginny stretched a hand towards it, writing began sprawling across the page.  

Ginny jumped back in fright. It was too familiar, too close to another book she had had, one that she had considered a friend. 

For several minutes, she merely stood there, staring at the page. She was very tempted to merely throw it out, though where she didn’t know. After long stretches of time passed, Ginny stepped cautiously forward, curiosity getting the better of her. 

“Merlin.” Ginny whispered to herself as she picked up the book, forgetting about the stray strand and about Riddle, seemingly in a trance. 

The book was open to a page entitled “September 12th 1977’ ” Words were scrawling across the page as she gazed in wonderment. 

<i> Hello. I know I’m supposed to be keeping a history of Hogwarts in here, as it is every Head Girls duty, but I am afraid I simply had no time to write. Fortunately, I have concocted a spell that will allow me to translate all my thoughts and observations, as well as the headlines that I read, into this in a matter of mere moments. Its quite simple, and works on the same principle as making a Pensieve, but much condensed. Instructions on how to operate this charm will follow. I am sharing it with the Head Girls of the future, for I think it is absolutely absurd to expect all Head Girls to take the time to write everything that occurs everyday. 

Lily Evans, Class of 77’. 

</i> Ginny’s' eyes were as wide as saucers. Lily Evans? As in, Harry’s mother? That must be she, for she knew her name was Lily, and was head-girl that year. Ginny’s eyes scanned over the instructions for the charm that were being scrawled for several minutes, for she was eager to learn more about this Head Girls duty. The charm did seem simple, though she was still confused. 

What did it mean when it said “..keeping a history of Hogwarts in here, as it is every Head Girls duty..” ? 

“Merlin.” Ginny reiterated her previous statement. This book held the entire history of Hogwarts from each Head Girl’s point of view? 

After memorizing the charm, Ginny flipped all the way to the beginning. The book flipped for a very long time, before reaching the front, despite its puny size. The book suddenly looked very old, with frayed pages, and the writing was very faint as it also scrawled across the page, in loopier handwriting than Lily’s had been. 

<i> 

‘987 August 30th 

Thou art foundeth a great find. Ye readeth what I expect for most of ye is a most olde document, and that fact exhilirateth me. Thine eyes have layeth upon what I expect will be a magical marvel. 

Ye all Head Girls, must keepeth this record of histry’ of Hogwarts. Record thou art thoughts, feelings, observations, and important events. Thou mayest draw maps and whatever thou feels appropriateth for a histry’. 

Most important is that this must remainest a secret from all. Thou may imagine what this power would be in the wrong hands. Knowledge is perhaps the greatest thing of all, and it beeth the most dangerous as well. Guardeth this with thy life. 

Thou may puruse the contents inside this histry’ by merely speaking the date that one wishes to see, followed by the type of document you wishest too see. This book has been most cleveriy charmed so that the book will give you any information you are seeking if thou need ist dire. Secrets of this book will be found by many, or never found at all. It is up to you. 

I will keepeth this for now, until such time as I may passest it down to the first ever Head Girl. 

Rowena 
</i> 

Rowena! Rowena <i>Ravenclaw</i>! Trepidation and excitement coursed through Ginny’s body, but also a twang of fear. How many people knew about this book? One Head Girl a year could translate to hundreds of people. Surely one of them had told Voldemort? 

Yet even with these doubts clouding her mind, she knew that it was a great treasure with which she had been bestowed. What other great treasures might these rooms hold? What secrets were there that might never be found? 

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The heavy desk flew through the air and landed with a obnoxious ‘thud’. 

Ginny stood a few feet away from it, a small smile on her face, her wand raised in the air, small sparkles still flying out of the air from the non-verbal banishing charm she had just demonstrated as review for Charms. 

The N.E.W.T class was a rather small class, completely void of Slytherins. Ginny had come to the class a little early, and grabbed a desk in the back. She had left the little book there when she had volunteered, and she kept giving it nervous glances. Maybe she shouldn’t have taken it with her. Maybe someone would inquire as to why Ginny had two composition notebooks with her; one of them marked “poems”(she had thought that it should be disguised at the very least). 

“Very good Ms. Weasley! Oh well done!” came the chirp that was Professor Flitwick. 

Ginny’s flashed her small smile at him, avoiding eye contact with the students, most of whom had been shocked to see her flick her wand and send the desk flying. As she swung her gaze around however, she noticed two odd looks at her. Luna sat with her large unblinking eyes never leaving Ginny’s face as though she thought that Ginny was hiding something. Deans small brown eyes were shooting vibes at her, though the more she analyzed his gaze, she thought he was staring a point a foot from her eyes. 

“Ms. Weasley?” Professor Flitwick squeaked. 

“Oh! Sorry.” Ginny apologized, realizing that he must have asked her to return to her seat. She gave him an apologetic smile, trying to play the part of a ditzy forgetful student, so that the Professor wouldn’t read more into her inattentiveness. As she walked quickly back to her desk, she saw that Luna’s mouth had curled into a small frown, and that Dean was now smiling at her, his gaze locked on her mahogany orbs. Maybe it had been the distance that had detracted his gaze. A trick of the light. 

She sat down, and opened her book to begin scribbling down the notes that were flying across the board. 

As her hand scribbled down the answers, her mind floated back to the book that sat in her bag, a hasty “Poems” scrawled on the fake notebook cover she had hastily constructed.  A wealth of information (and a possible death sentence) was now accompanying her everywhere. 

Curiosity was growing in her stomach, as though tearing at her insides. It was too much. She had to read some of it. Slowly she reached a hand into her bag. After rummaging around for a second, her skin brushed against the shoddy fake cover. She gripped the cover, carefully lifting it out of the bag, while her mind shot her down. 

<i>’Not here in class, Gin!’</i> She told herself sternly. <i> ‘How would you tell the book what date you want? Even if you managed to do that inconspicuously, how would you explain the book fluttering there on its own? Surely that would make a loud noise.</i> 

As the book reached the desk top, her mind won, and she dropped it back in her bag with an entirely too loud “thump”. A small grimace tugged at the corners of Ginny’s mouth as there was a simultaneous snap of heads in the room, and pairs of eyes burned into Ginny’s head. A pink flush crept up Ginny’s neck as Professor Flitwick gave her a confused, yet still strangely cheery, look. 

“Sorry. Again. Drop..Dropped my notebook.” Ginny gave a ditzy smile, and reached down and picked up the notebook. 

Giggles swarmed around the room, silently laughing at Ginny’s clumsiness. Ginny was not amused. Now the book was sitting on her desk, begging to be read. She opened it to one of its resolutely stubborn blank pages and leaned forward, with her quill poised at the top, so that she looked like she was going to write in it. 

“Now that Ms. Weasley has finished with her disruptions, we will get back to the fundamental application of wandless magic. Under desperate circumstances, most wizards are able to accomplish magic without a wand, though I think it would be better to be able to at any time the need would so require. As with all magic, wandless magic has limitations. For instance, most hexes and conjurings prove too difficult to accomplish without a wand. While they aren’t impossible, we will instead be focusing on manipulating objects without a wand, and vanishing as well. For instance,” 

Professor Flitwick waved his hand over the desk with a sweeping motion, and all of the scattered pens and papers were swept off into the corner, stacked in a neat pile. 

“..Or..” 

He wiggled his finger at the door, which swung open, and then shut again with a ‘click’. 

“..Or even..” 

This time, Professor Flitwick jabbed his finger at a girl in the front whose name, Ginny thought, was Olivia North, a Ravenclaw, and her hair, which had previously been in a neat ponytail, untied itself, and hung limply down around her shoulders. Olivia gave a startled cry, and pointed her wand at her hair, and it tied itself back up again. 

Ginny’s attention was rapt as Professor Flitwick began to describe the mental state one must be in for you to access the magic that is with-in you without a prop, but she felt it slide sideways back towards her bag, where she silently replaced the book. 

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[Mickey]

“Ginny!”  

Ginny’s head snapped up in surprise at the sharp cry for attention, and promptly walked straight into the door she was about to head out of. 


As the twangs of pang shot through Ginny’s head, she slapped a hand towards the sore spot, and used it as a distraction to drop the book back into her bag, for she had been reading it, and had lost track of things. 

“Are you ok?” Dean asked with a genuine look of concern alit upon his face, and gestured towards her with his arms. “I’m so sorry, I should have known better than to call out at you like that.” 

“I’m fine Dean.” Ginny said, though in truth her head was throbbing. She had always resented the way he treated her so fragilely, as though she could break at any moment. His constants “are you ok? Are you ok?” ‘s  got rather annoying, and quickly. 

“Ok.” Dean said, still with that concerned look on his face, though it had softened somewhat. 

“So…” Ginny asked quizzically, forcing a smile at him, trying to act as though her head was not throbbing as though it had a heartbeat. 

“I saw you headed out the door. What class do you have next?” 

“Care of Magical Creatures.” Ginny murmured. She wasn’t too enthralled to be taking the class, but she could never let down Hagrid like that. Besides, it would give her the opportunity to talk to Hagrid, because he had been avoiding her at all the Phoenix meetings, and Ginny wanted to know why. 

“Me too!” Dean said, his concerned look being replaced with one of happiness. Tentatively, he reached out and looped his arm with Ginny’s. When Ginny gave no protest, but instead smiled, Dean tightened his grip and wrapped his other arm around her waist. Ginny was taken aback for a second, and then broadened her smile. She hadn’t been held like that in a long time. 

They proceeded down the lawn, with Dean was talking Ginny’s ear off about how he wanted to work with magical creatures, and he thought they might be the only ones in the class. [Ginny whispered to herself that it was rather likely, but that she wasn’t sure if she was happy about it or not].  

The grass rustled around Ginny’s sandals, a brisk air reminding her the end of summer was near. There was still a cold mist hanging over the place, though it had lifted somewhat, considering the Dementors had finished the breeding process. Still, something about the walk down the lake towards the hut that held her friend was cold, and distant. In fact, something about Hogwarts felt separate, as though Ginny truly didn’t belong there, she belonged somewhere else. 
They finished walking down, and Ginny was not surprised that her and Dean were the only ones continuing on. Dean seemed very happy about it. 

“Looks like I was right! We are the only ones! Let’s find Hagrid!” Dean gave a jovial grin with these words. What did he think they were going to do? Snog while treating a chimaera? 

Ginny, her face ever one of perfection, smiled back, and nodded at the Hut, where a large man with a burly beard was standing with a rapt look of serenity upon his face. 

Ginny released Dean, and wriggled out of his loose hold, walking forward towards Hagrid with one of her first genuine smiles since she had arrived. Here at last was someone who understood her, who had loved…him…as much as she had, and who was one of her oldest and dearest friends. She walked smiling broadly, suddenly floating atop the grass. 

Hagrid gave a broad smile in return and as Ginny reached him, wrapped her in a tight hug. 

“How you doin’ Gin?” came Hagrids’ rough and at the same time warm grunt. 

“I’m doing just fine.” Ginny’s response was a little muffled as his buckle was rubbing into her face as he gripped her round her middle.

“No yer not. But you will be. It’ll be ok.” Hagrid said, not letting go of her. 

Dean came up behind them, still smiling jovially. Hagrid finally released Ginny, and she took a few steps back as she stood a little taken aback by his abrupt ending to the hug. It left her quite wrong-footed, and wondering about his words. 

“Alrigh’ Dean?” Hagrid asked, his voice seeming to be more cheerful. Now Ginny was really confused, for Hagrid’s words of comfort held some double meaning to her. They seemed to be layered in something cryptic, something she couldn’t really understand, but vowed she was going to. 

“Doin’ just fine, Professor.” Dean answered, shaking Hagrid’s large hand. 

“Tha’s good..tha’s good.” Hagrid said, glancing over his shoulder as though looking for someone, but he did it so fast that Ginny barely caught it, and Dean was in full flow looking in the pasture, which lay empty. 

“Erm, Professor?” Dean’s quizzical voice penetrated Ginny’s whirling thoughts of conspiracy, and she too glanced at the empty pasture. 

“Er- what, Dean?” Hagrid asked tilting his head. 

“Where are the magical creatures for today’s lesson?” Dean asked pointing out the empty pasture. 

“Oh!” Hagrid gave a spare glance towards the fenced in area, “Well since, there’s only two of ye, I thought this lesson could be more of a get to know what you want to do this year. What sort of magical creatures are you interested in?” 

Dean was very excited by the prospect of choosing his own curriculum in a class. Immediately, he started pouring out lists of magical creatures, everything from knarls to dragons, to wondering if they could get special permits for experimental breeding because it was a class. His babble worked as a great cover for Ginny, who had no interest in choosing any sort of magical creature. 

At Hagrids’ words, she had tried to come up with a magical creature, for she didn’t want to disappoint him. Her first idea was one of the unicorn, for those were lessons that had been the most enjoyable in her opinion, but Hagrid had covered them pretty thoroughly, so that didn’t work. She thought it might be cool to have a lesson on normal creatures, ones that weren’t magical, so that she could tend to ALL animals, but again, it wouldn’t fill to much time. She was sure that a dragon would never be allowed on grounds, no matter how cool it would be, and as for arachnids, she wasn’t interested in learning more about that acromantulus it was rumored lived in the forest. 

Dean’s rambling came to a stop as Hagrid lifted up a hand to silence him, letting out a guffaw of a laugh. 

“It seems we will be busy this year, trying to conquer that list of yours Dean.” Hagrid said, still through peals of laughter. 

“Yes sir.” Dean said, excited. Ginny almost wanted to snort at his eagerness, but she figured Rule #4 had been abused enough that day. 

“What about you Gin’?” Hagrid turned his beetle eyes on her, and gave a soft smile, “Which magical creature interests you the most?” 

Ginny frowned slightly, for she still didn’t have an answer for him. Magical creatures paraded through her mind, but nothing seemed to fit, until one stopped halfway through, the hoofs beating into her brain. She had an answer now, and she said it quickly, without thinking about why it was the truth, and why she shouldn’t say it. She knew that it would interest her in learning the truth about why it was his anyways. 

A slight smile formed at the edges as she uttered one small word. 

“Stags.” 
+~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*+ 

 <i>Dear Diary, 

*heavy-sigh* This day has been far too long, and really confusing in some cases, and exciting in others. I have a pound of homework, from reading up on “expi-breeds” to writing an essay on the application of wandless magic. I’ll start reading the breeding book later, because I’m very excited/scared about something. 

See I was avoiding Dean at breakfest… Hey! I heard that! I know I know, I’m not supposed to be avoiding him, but I walked in on him in the shower for merlin’s sake! I was a tad embarresed! Rule #4 has already been ripped to sheds, from my messy hair, to me tripping like a clutz in charms. I guess tomorrow is a brand new day… 

But anyway, I was avoiding Dean, and this little green book started FLYING at my HEAD, and was revealed to have the entire history of Hogwarts in it, from the Head Girl’s point of view! Which means that I still have to record today in IT as well! It’s also amazingly aggravating, having this amazing treasure, with Rowena Ravenclaws’ SIGNATURE in it, yet I can’t do anything about it because I have to keep it a secret, and I haven’t been able to read more than a page yet because today was so hectic. 

I also saw Hagrid today, and he comforted me, but his words seem to…I dunno. I’m a little thrown. He said “It’ll be ok.” I know it sounds just comforting, and all, but doesn’t it also sound like he knows something that will be just as comforting?

Hang-on. Somethings at the window. I guess I’ll write more tomorrow, I’m beat. 

Ginny. </i> 

Ginny stood up from her diary, shutting it and tying the scarlet ribbon with a neat bow. <i> Tap. Tap. </i>

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Ginny said, annoyed  slightly by what must be an owl at the windows insistent sharp tap on the glass. Tap. Tap. “ I said I’m coming.” Ginny snapped, as she plopped her diary in the desk drawer, and shut it. She turned to the window, her robe hanging limply on the floor for she hadn’t tied it tightly enough. 

A small gasp escaped her lips, and she clasped a hand to her mouth for she was under the element of surprise. For some time she merely stood there, listening to the sharp taps on the window pane, her ears ringing, and experiencing several unpleasant and pleasant feelings at once. 

Relief was the first one she discerned, followed instantly by rage, burrowing from her underbelly, eating at her as she stood there. Questions instantly clouded her brain, as though trying to shove thoughts in her head, and to justify responses. The thoughts shoved each other out of the way, pushing and crowding there way into her brain, making it impossible for her to focus, and a headache was quick forthcoming for the rap being played against the building was drilling a tiny hole in her head. 

Then one clear thought pierced her brain, that she couldn’t stay her, listening to the infernal racket. In one smooth movement, as though she had meant to do so all along, Ginny stepped forward, and opened the window, ceasing the sharp taps. 

A snowy owl, with a reproachful look in her eyes, fluttered dignified-like into the room, spreading her majestic white wings so that she landed on Ginny’s carven bedpost, and opened her beak with a flourish, dropping a single rose, as red as a fresh crisp apple, with a green stiff stem into Ginny’s open palms. 

+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~~+~+~+~+~+lalalalalalalala............~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~~+~+~+~+

[Mickey]

Disclaimer: These are all J.K.Rowling’s toys; I am merely playing with them. 
Last Chapter:  A snowy owl, with a reproachful look in her eyes, fluttered dignified-like into the room, spreading her majestic white wings so that she landed on Ginny’s carven bedpost, and opened her beak with a flourish, dropping a single rose, as red as a fresh crisp apple, with a green stiff stem into Ginny’s open palms. 

Chapter Three: Scarlet Shades of Retaliation 

Swirling, violent shades of scarlet jumped out at her, clouding her eyes. The rose lay in her hands, where the thorns were prickling into thumb, and blood was beginning to form little droplets that were splashing to the oak floor of the room. Ginny stood frozen at the rose, trying to digest what had occurred. The owl hooted angrily in her ear, its beak snapping shut in annoyance. She lifted her head from her hard stare at the red rose, the red red rose,  to flicker in shock back at the owl. 

“I don’t have anything for you Hedwig.” Ginny snapped back, aggravated, and in pain. She finally moved the stem of the rose so that it wasn’t drilling into her thumb, and lifted her thumb to her mouth, feeling the steely and cold drips on blood in her mouth, trying to stem the flow. 

Hedwig, visibly affronted, ruffled her feathers and flew off the bedpost to circle the room. Ginny’s mind, which was still frozen, barely grasped the fact that Hedwig must have been ordered to stay, because despite the fact Hedwig wanted to leave, she was still flying over head. The constant flutter of her wings was interrupting Ginny’s swirling thoughts, and invading what she was trying to decide. 

<i> He’s alive? How can he be alive? Why hasn’t he contacted me? How could he contact me? He <B>walked away</b> from <b>me!</b> it’s on HIM. How could he contact me now, when I’m finally moving on? It’s selfish! Irresponsible! If he was interested in my well-being, he should have contacted me immediately, or better yet never have gone away! Well, <b>this</b> ship has sailed! I’ve moved on! I’m happy! I am! Aren’t I? ….He’s alive?</i> 

These thoughts continue to swarm around her head, in the same flight pattern as Hedwig, as Ginny sat down on the back, her state of surprise beginning to ebb away, being replaced with the burrowed rage clawing at her. How dare he? 

A hard set struck in her jaw, and she thrust the red red rose at the wall, where it made no sound, as it fell to the ground, except for the small sob that Ginny let escape, before resetting herself. Anger was clouding her thoughts now, and as the rose, the red, red rose struck the wall, it was as though a gong was played in Ginny’s thoughts, a low sad note, marred by the rage. 

She stood, as a single tear coursed the side of her face, she grew angry with herself even more, for allowing him to get to her like this. So there was a message from a ghost of her past, she was fine. She bit her lip in frustration as an indiscernible need to strike back, a need to retaliate, hit her in the head, nearly knocking her over. Ginny didn’t know what change she was experiencing in her gut, but she knew that she couldn’t just stand there, biting the lips that he had once called beautiful, once called home. She had to do something, she had to do anything, anything at all. Something crazy, something against the law, anything, but do <i>something</i> .

And so she walked to her mirror, ran her brush through the tangle of frizz her hair had become in the few moments she had laid on the bed in a state of shock, and applied more make-up than she though she had ever worn in her life. Red blush lightly clung to her cheeks, and glitter powdered her eyes. Dark red, voluminous lipstick lay on her lips, making the red stand out even more on her cheeks, and was lined with a maroon lip liner, holding the violent shades of red on her lips in. Eyeliner and mascara weighed down her eyes, and she even tweezed a few extra hairs out of her eyebrows. 

Steps hit the floor followed by the creak of her wardrobe opening. Ginny pointed her wand at a stunning red dress inside of it, having it fly over to her, and neatly land on the bed.  The dress was strapless and short, with a bouncy fringe dancing across the bottom, sparkling in the dim lighting in her room. Ginny quickly shedded her nightgown, donned the party dress, and laced up silver high heels. She stood there for a second, and then reached for her silver purse, which she thrust the make-up, brush, mirror, her wand and a few galleons and sickles into, before walking out the door. 

As she walked, she realized she must have look like quite the seductress, for she was wearing dark, alluring red make-up and a skimpy, red party gown. She found she didn’t care, for it was something she had never done, and was quelling her need to do something bad nicely. 

Spotting Dean, who was sitting on the couch, his nose in a book on the tactics of Quidditch, she stepped over to him, silently moving behind him. She stood behind him and then cleared her throat. 

Dean jumped two meters in the air, and backed away from Ginny quickly at the noise. It took him several moments to realize it was Ginny, and another few to take in her appearance. 

“Ginny?” He gasped, before regaining his composure. “Ginny.” He repeated himself, this time with a calmer voice, as though he had been waiting for her to do something. 

“Hello, Dean.” Ginny said, walking steadily forward around the couch, her short frills sweeping over the red couch. Dean’s eyebrow’s raised, but he did not back away from her. 

“Hello, Miss Ginny.” Dean said, a peculiar smile on his face. 

Ginny laid a hand on the couch, her dark red fingernails matching the alluring tone of her dress, and she casually drummed her fingers against the sofa. 

“So, are we going to go out tonight?” 

The words tumbled out Ginny’s mouth, in a tone that she didn’t even know she had, and she wasn’t even sure she knew what she meant. Out?? There was nowhere out to go! It was as though the her mind and her mouth weren’t speaking, or though she was a voice of reason outside of her body, watching herself come on to Dean for Merlin knows what reason. Yet she felt oddly satisfied, as though this was exactly what she needed, a way to move on, and Dean had always been very kind to her. 

“Out?” Dean asked surprised. “ Out where?” 

Whatever he had been expecting with that peculiar smile, it wasn’t going out. Ginny was actually very surprised at his response, but her face did not betray any feelings, except for a thin smile, and a lady-like bat of the eyes. Dean looked amazed, and it was obvious to her, even though he seemed to be striving to act as though it was exactly what he wanted. 

“Yes. O-U-T. Out. Did I stutter?” Ginny spat, with traces of anger startling the atmosphere as she slapped a hand down on the couch with each letter as she spelled it out, as though she were a elementary school teacher, striking a ruler on the desk to explain a concept to a child. What was so hard about the concept of going out? 

“N-No. You definitely didn’t stutter. But, Gins’, where?” Dean asked, he seemed afraid of her, as though the sane Ginny had left somewhere, replaced with this seductress, evil and seductive. It was the same to Ginny, for she didn’t know where the words were coming from, and was incomprehensibly angry without a cause. Somewhere between leaving the bedroom, she had changed. But her body was telling her, it was what she needed, she needed to move on, she needed to do something that wasn’t her, because she wasn’t her anymore. The sweet Ginny Weasley had died four months ago, with the death of Harry. It had been the mark of the end of era, and a new beginning for her. 

Her mind started racing, searching for a place for them to walk to, because she knew she had to go out, though she didn’t know why. Her mind alighted upon an answer immediately. Her memory of her first year was very hazy, but because of her experiences then, she had several passageways out of the castle, unknown to others, in her head that she could trace. It was her secret, that she retained info shared with her by Riddle, and had in the past used it to sneak outside so that she could be alone, alone with her thoughts. She had never shared it with anyone, even Harry. Somehow, the knowledge that Dean would know, and Harry wouldn’t was immensely satisfying. 

“Hogsmeade. I know a very, romantic spot we can go, and I know how we get there.” Ginny’s words dripped with charm and flirtations, step-by-step walking towards the door, and casually taking her black shawl off the rack, before briskly stepping out the door. As she threw the shawl over her shoulders, she noticed that Dean wasn’t following. He was still standing there, shell-shocked and looking more than a little confused. Ginny popped her head into the room again. 

“Are you coming, or not?” Ginny said, placing a pout on her lips. 

Dean took a moment’s hesitation, but made up for his indecision with a smile and he uttered two words that would send Ginny on a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings again, just when they had quieted down. 

“Of course.” 

+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

To an outsider, there escape from Hogwarts would have been mistaken for two mice scurrying around in the dark. They made no sound as they tiptoed past the dormitories of the slumbering teachers, they used no lights of any kind, and they stayed on opposite sides of the corridor. Once they were out of the teachers’ hall, and into the main Entrance Hall, only then did Dean get closer to Ginny, and even then it was just for an innocent touch. Dean, of course, didn’t know the way, so he nudged Ginny gently on the shoulder when she stopped momentarily. There two shadows joined as one at that moment, and Ginny gave an involuntary shudder at the symbolism. 

What turned Ginny around, was how different the Entrance Hall was at night. She did not remember the specifics of her previous endeavors down the passage her and Dean were about to undertake, only the gist of where it was, and where it would go. Once she had located the staircase, she and Dean scurried up two flights of stairs, and stopped abruptly in front of a statue. 

Stone upon stone, glittering in the dark, made up this prodigious structure of a lion. It stood menacingly, had always stood there menacingly, and Dean had never given it a second thought. They were mere feet from the Charms office, and it had never struck Dean until know how large and odd it was, for he had always been in a hurry to get into Charms. 

Ginny was standing shell-shocked in front of it, momentarily unable to move, for the previous times she had scurried this passageway had been to get her, no, <b>use</b> her, to get outside of the walls, and the memories were threatening to overcome her. After a few moments of that, Dean again nudged her, and the touch grounded her in reality. She rolled back the shawl she had donned, and unwaveringly reached her small, manicured hand to the lions nose. Upon contact, she took her other hand and used her index finger to trace a large G on the chest, while circling her other hand around the lions carven nose. Upon completion she removed her hands, giving the nose a sharp rap as she retreated. 

For a few moments, nothing happened, and Dean was afraid Ginny might have lost it after all, as he stared into the lions monumental, slowly blinking, eyes. 

<i>Blinking?</i> 

The lion reared back, and off its podium, silently (<i>“How was he doing that?” Dean pondered.</i>) pounding the floor as he pranced around the pair. Ginny was quite calm, as though it were an every day occurrence, but then, she had been expecting it. Dean, on the other hand, had clasped a hand to his mouth to refrain from shouting in alarm, and had backed up against the wall in fright. 

The lion, noting his discomfort, stopped prancing around excitedly, and instead moved towards him slowly, nodding his head and extending his nose. Dean slowly, cautiously, with his hand shaking, struck out his hand towards the oncoming nose. Upon contact, the lion ceased movement altogether. Dean marveled at this, and gave a sharp ‘wap’ on the nose again. The lion reared back in pleasure and resumed his joyful prance around the corridor. 

Ginny gave no input on this remarkable occurrence; instead, she re-wrapped her shawl, and stared at the lion, pleased that she had remembered how to bring it to life. After allowing the lion to enjoy his sojourn from the podium, Ginny walked smartly up to it, halting it with a gentle touch. She motioned to Dean and then whispered as silent as a mouse into the lion’s ear, “Hogsmeade.” 

Had a first year been walking down the Charms corridor at that moment, they would have probably run screaming from the premises, to see a statue come to life, and two seventh-years proceed to mount it, one of them in a shiny red dress, and then gallop into a passageway that moving three bricks behind the lion had uncovered, would surely have been too much to handle. 

Ginny, after widening the gap in the bricks with her wand, had indeed motioned to Dean to get on, and hiked her skirt up to allow her to climb aboard. Once the two of them were set, the lion, for the third time that night, reared back, and pounded his way into the discovered passage. 

A well-placed spell of Ginny’s closed the passage behind them, leaving their silent escapade locked safely behind them. 

+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+~+

The lion emerged into a secluded grove, ceasing his run and bringing Deans quivering body to the ground, who had not expected such an abrupt ending to the journey. Ginny made a much more graceful dismount from the lion, rapping it smartly on the nose so that it would remain still. 

Dean stayed on the ground for a few seconds, puzzling over the extraordinary events the last half hour had brought. Ginny had emerged from her room, seeming to throw herself at him, and when she had accepted, she had shown him an unforgettable passage out of the castle and into this spooky, secluded, and peaceful orchard. The castle could be seen at a huge distance, but more present was the small red shack that lay less than fifty feet away from them. It was tiny, but with beautiful craftsmanship, adorned with what looked like rubies, and carved roses. 

Ginny turned to Dean, and extended both her hand, and an apologetic smile. 

“I’m sorry about that, I just hate walking that entire way, and the lion was placed there to provide passage. At least, I think it was. I’m not sure about where it came from actually.” 

Dean accepted her hand, and apology, gratefully, responding with a simple,” It’s fine,” as he came up from the ground, held by a surprisingly strong and sturdy hand. 

“Oh, alright then.” Ginny said, lowering her voice to flirt some more, and turning to walk teasingly towards the red shack, her red dress fluttering in the wind as she walked surprisingly fast.
Dean grinned at the back of her dress, and walked after her as though compelled to follow this scarlet, shining, radiating gown and the seductress underneath.

The brisk wind catching up to her, Ginny entered the shack with gratitude towards the warm interior. She hung her shawl on the coat rack, and turned as the door admitted Dean as well. Dean, who had thought the night held no more surprises for him, stared around the shack and realized that Ginny was never going to cease to surprise him. 

Though modest and quaint, the little shack was surely one of the most romantic places Dean thought he’d ever been too, without the suffocating power of Madame Puddifoots. It was small, adorned with simply two couches, also with the cherry-red of the wood, a rug, upon which lay a table, and a roaring fire. Off in the corner lay three bookshelves, so that one could relax here alone, as well as with company. There was also a door, which was carved intricately with a mixture of roses and other flowers, and also contained the inscription; “Love is Wondrous.” 

“May I take your coat, sir?” 

Dean jumped and Ginny giggled as the shacks’ attendee appeared from the shadows, and offered a hand to take Dean’s jacket. 

“Erm-sure.” Dean said embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed the man. 

“Very Good, Sire.” The petite butler retreated towards a counter that Dean had also failed to notice. Ginny giggled again as Deans’ cheeks flushed with a warm tint of red that matched the surrounding. 

“Oh shove off.” Dean muttered, as the pair moved steadily towards the couch, causing Ginny to giggle even louder.

“Oh no, I think its cute how little your perception was.” Ginny stated, waving her hand to hang loose and in the middle of the air. Dean read this as a sign to take her hand, and casually placed his hand in hers. 

His hand stuck to hers, and for a brief moment he wondered why, before looking down at the hand. He lifted it up and exclaimed, “You’re bleeding!” 

Ginny snatched her hand back, and applied pressure to the thumb again. 

“Its nothing. I pricked my finger earlier.” Ginny said, visibly shifty, trying to stem the flow again. Inside, she was angry that the rose had interrupted the evening again, and filled her with a desire to speed things up, and she took Deans hand with her other hand, with a new aggression. 

Dean felt his hand be snatched back, with a new aggression, all lost of gentleness, as though she was trying to grab a lifeline. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind now that something was wrong, and he took her shoulder and flounced her down to the sofa. 

“Are you ok?” He asked, trying to search her eyes. 

A lilting, “Fine.” Came back, and she definitely didn’t meet his eyes as she said it. 

Dean took her chin carefully with both hands, and held her gaze for a moment. “Are you sure?” He asked again, his hands inadvertently caressing her cheeks, and she finally looked into his eyes, filling her thoughts with red-hot passion. 

As their eyes met, Dean was surprised to see that her normally bright brown eyes were now darkened, with some sort of red pigment that made her seem even more alluring. Dean was filled with excitement, drawing from the red mixed her eyes, but Ginny was filled with anger as she realized that his eyes held no excitement for her, and instead filled her with renewed thoughts of Harry. Recklessness was taking over her body, and she dropped her gaze to her own gown, smoothing out its wrinkles on the couch. 

“Butterbeer.” The attendees voice penetrated the pair’s thoughts, and Ginny gratefully reached for it, twisting her head so that Dean’s hands dropped from her face. 

“Here you go.” Ginny murmured trying to regain the ‘upper hand’, as the attendee walked away. 

Dean took the glass and sipped the butter beer carefully, hoping that Ginny hadn’t lied, and wondering about her newly darkened eyes, for her face remained impassive. They remained…what was the word he was looking for? 

“Did you know I’m the new Gryffindor Quidditch Captain?”  Ginny put in, resuming the evenings festivities a good three inches from him on the couch. 

 “I did not.” Dean said, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he also resumed feeling comfortable, “that makes you my boss.” Dean surmised. 

“I suppose it does.” Ginny giggled, her laughter adding a pleasant air to the atmosphere. 


Ginny’s laughter unnerved Dean, despite his gladness at being the cause of it. It was too…pleasant and upbeat. Too…again the word escaped him.

<i>”In fact.”</i> Dean pondered to himself, keeping his face pleasant. <i> “It is as though she is…always pleasant. Always…perfect.”</i>

That was it. Ginny was acting too perfect. 

*~+~*+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*

The evening passed with small talk, and all too soon in both of their minds, they had remounted the lion and returned to the castle. All too soon Ginny had re-stilled the lion atop his podium, and all too soon they had scurried back to their hallway and returned to their hallway. All too soon had Ginny replaced her shawl and all too soon had they come to a pleasant halt in front of her door. 

“I suppose...this is good night.” Ginny said, with a pleasant smile. 

“I suppose so.” Dean added. 

Their eyes met again in front of the door, and Ginny again was filled with rushes of aggression, rushes of passion, and the mysterious lack of excitement, yet fill of anger. Her eyes clouded over again, and it was as though she were seeing red for real. 

She stood for a moment, fighting her urges, before her mind fixated on the broken picture of Harry she had thrown. <i>This is getting old.</i> Ginny thought and reached out and pulled Dean towards her. 

His lips crashed against hers in a daze. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the kiss. It was pleasurable, and light. Dean almost seemed to be afraid of hurting her, per the gentleness of his touch. The kiss remained light, remained airy, and they stayed together for several moments, their senses reeling in the old familiar world they had made together. 

After the several moments, Ginny began to realize that she was actually kissing Dean. Again. <i>Dean</i> She felt no excitement, no rush, just pleasure, and she was unconsciously reminded of why she had broken up with him. 

She broke it off, and noticed that he had been running hands through her hair, and she hadn’t even noticed. She gave a small smile and flew into her room, leaving him standing outside. 

Her red dress fluttered around her, and she dropped her head releasing a small sob, standing with her back leaning heavily against the door. She couldn’t believe the events that had transpired, and she was reluctant to even recount them. Guilt was slowly seeping through her, but she pushed it away. 

Instead, she collapsed on the bed, and stared at the rose, the red red rose, which still lay on the floor, slightly smooshed from where she had thrown it, and sighed. 

Only one thought was piercing her now, as she reached, finally, a zen about the whole thing. 

Harry was alive. He was alive. 

As Ginny took comfort in that thought, she laid back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, hearing once again, the racket that was the circling Hedwig. 

<b>A/N<b> Yay! It’s finally done. I’ve been working on this chapter for 3 weeks, rewriting it a lot, because I don’t want to portray Ginny as though she collapsed by this reach-from-Harry  thing. In regards to the title of the chapter, its because of the amount of red in the chapter, the differences of it. Red in my mind symbolizes excitement, anger, love, passion, aggression, and speed. I tried to use all of that, as well as the lack of it in some cases, and that’s why I titled it that way. 

I would like to add some questions for reviewing purposes, and theorizing purposes, because I love theorys <3.You can answer them, or not, whatever ? Thanks in advance. Please read and review!!! 

1. What was the door that read “Love is Wondrous”? Or: What room was it? (giggles)
2. Where do you think the shack originated? (There will possibly be a separate short story about this, in my mind it dates way back) 
3. Did you like the lion? 
4. How do you think Ginny will rid herself of Hedwig? 
5. Who were the people at the end of chapter one: The Rules?
6. Is Harry alive? 
7. What does Hagrid know?
8. Was there escapated as really as secret as it seemed? 

[Mickey]

Disclaimer: These are all J.K.Rowling’s toys; I am merely playing with them. 
Last Chapter:  A snowy owl, with a reproachful look in her eyes, fluttered dignified-like into the room, spreading her majestic white wings so that she landed on Ginny’s carven bedpost, and opened her beak with a flourish, dropping a single rose, as red as a fresh crisp apple, with a green stiff stem into Ginny’s open palms. 

Chapter Three: Scarlet Shades of Retaliation 

Swirling, violent shades of scarlet jumped out at her, clouding her eyes. The rose lay in her hands, where the thorns were prickling into thumb, and blood was beginning to form little droplets that were splashing to the oak floor of the room. Ginny stood frozen at the rose, trying to digest what had occurred. The owl hooted angrily in her ear, its beak snapping shut in annoyance. She lifted her head from her hard stare at the red rose, the red red rose,  to flicker in shock back at the owl. 

“I don’t have anything for you Hedwig.” Ginny snapped back, aggravated, and in pain. She finally moved the stem of the rose so that it wasn’t drilling into her thumb, and lifted her thumb to her mouth, feeling the steely and cold drips on blood in her mouth, trying to stem the flow. 

Hedwig, visibly affronted, ruffled her feathers and flew off the bedpost to circle the room. Ginny’s mind, which was still frozen, barely grasped the fact that Hedwig must have been ordered to stay, because despite the fact Hedwig wanted to leave, she was still flying over head. The constant flutter of her wings was interrupting Ginny’s swirling thoughts, and invading what she was trying to decide. 

<i> He’s alive? How can he be alive? Why hasn’t he contacted me? How could he contact me? He <B>walked away</b> from <b>me!</b> it’s on HIM. How could he contact me now, when I’m finally moving on? It’s selfish! Irresponsible! If he was interested in my well-being, he should have contacted me immediately, or better yet never have gone away! Well, <b>this</b> ship has sailed! I’ve moved on! I’m happy! I am! Aren’t I? ….He’s alive?</i> 

These thoughts continue to swarm around her head, in the same flight pattern as Hedwig, as Ginny sat down on the back, her state of surprise beginning to ebb away, being replaced with the burrowed rage clawing at her. How dare he? 

A hard set struck in her jaw, and she thrust the red red rose at the wall, where it made no sound, as it fell to the ground, except for the small sob that Ginny let escape, before resetting herself. Anger was clouding her thoughts now, and as the rose, the red, red rose struck the wall, it was as though a gong was played in Ginny’s thoughts, a low sad note, marred by the rage. 

She stood, as a single tear coursed the side of her face, she grew angry with herself even more, for allowing him to get to her like this. So there was a message from a ghost of her past, she was fine. She bit her lip in frustration as an indiscernible need to strike back, a need to retaliate, hit her in the head, nearly knocking her over. Ginny didn’t know what change she was experiencing in her gut, but she knew that she couldn’t just stand there, biting the lips that he had once called beautiful, once called home. She had to do something, she had to do anything, anything at all. Something crazy, something against the law, anything, but do <i>something</i> .

And so she walked to her mirror, ran her brush through the tangle of frizz her hair had become in the few moments she had laid on the bed in a state of shock, and applied more make-up than she though she had ever worn in her life. Red blush lightly clung to her cheeks, and glitter powdered her eyes. Dark red, voluminous lipstick lay on her lips, making the red stand out even more on her cheeks, and was lined with a maroon lip liner, holding the violent shades of red on her lips in. Eyeliner and mascara weighed down her eyes, and she even tweezed a few extra hairs out of her eyebrows. 

Steps hit the floor followed by the creak of her wardrobe opening. Ginny pointed her wand at a stunning red dress inside of it, having it fly over to her, and neatly land on the bed.  The dress was strapless and short, with a bouncy fringe dancing across the bottom, sparkling in the dim lighting in her room. Ginny quickly shedded her nightgown, donned the party dress, and laced up silver high heels. She stood there for a second, and then reached for her silver purse, which she thrust the make-up, brush, mirror, her wand and a few galleons and sickles into, before walking out the door. 

As she walked, she realized she must have look like quite the seductress, for she was wearing dark, alluring red make-up and a skimpy, red party gown. She found she didn’t care, for it was something she had never done, and was quelling her need to do something bad nicely. 

Spotting Dean, who was sitting on the couch, his nose in a book on the tactics of Quidditch, she stepped over to him, silently moving behind him. She stood behind him and then cleared her throat. 

Dean jumped two meters in the air, and backed away from Ginny quickly at the noise. It took him several moments to realize it was Ginny, and another few to take in her appearance. 

“Ginny?” He gasped, before regaining his composure. “Ginny.” He repeated himself, this time with a calmer voice, as though he had been waiting for her to do something. 

“Hello, Dean.” Ginny said, walking steadily forward around the couch, her short frills sweeping over the red couch. Dean’s eyebrow’s raised, but he did not back away from her. 

“Hello, Miss Ginny.” Dean said, a peculiar smile on his face. 

Ginny laid a hand on the couch, her dark red fingernails matching the alluring tone of her dress, and she casually drummed her fingers against the sofa. 

“So, are we going to go out tonight?” 

The words tumbled out Ginny’s mouth, in a tone that she didn’t even know she had, and she wasn’t even sure she knew what she meant. Out?? There was nowhere out to go! It was as though the her mind and her mouth weren’t speaking, or though she was a voice of reason outside of her body, watching herself come on to Dean for Merlin knows what reason. Yet she felt oddly satisfied, as though this was exactly what she needed, a way to move on, and Dean had always been very kind to her. 

“Out?” Dean asked surprised. “ Out where?” 

Whatever he had been expecting with that peculiar smile, it wasn’t going out. Ginny was actually very surprised at his response, but her face did not betray any feelings, except for a thin smile, and a lady-like bat of the eyes. Dean looked amazed, and it was obvious to her, even though he seemed to be striving to act as though it was exactly what he wanted. 

“Yes. O-U-T. Out. Did I stutter?” Ginny spat, with traces of anger startling the atmosphere as she slapped a hand down on the couch with each letter as she spelled it out, as though she were a elementary school teacher, striking a ruler on the desk to explain a concept to a child. What was so hard about the concept of going out? 

“N-No. You definitely didn’t stutter. But, Gins’, where?” Dean asked, he seemed afraid of her, as though the sane Ginny had left somewhere, replaced with this seductress, evil and seductive. It was the same to Ginny, for she didn’t know where the words were coming from, and was incomprehensibly angry without a cause. Somewhere between leaving the bedroom, she had changed. But her body was telling her, it was what she needed, she needed to move on, she needed to do something that wasn’t her, because she wasn’t her anymore. The sweet Ginny Weasley had died four months ago, with the death of Harry. It had been the mark of the end of era, and a new beginning for her. 

Her mind started racing, searching for a place for them to walk to, because she knew she had to go out, though she didn’t know why. Her mind alighted upon an answer immediately. Her memory of her first year was very hazy, but because of her experiences then, she had several passageways out of the castle, unknown to others, in her head that she could trace. It was her secret, that she retained info shared with her by Riddle, and had in the past used it to sneak outside so that she could be alone, alone with her thoughts. She had never shared it with anyone, even Harry. Somehow, the knowledge that Dean would know, and Harry wouldn’t was immensely satisfying. 

“Hogsmeade. I know a very, romantic spot we can go, and I know how we get there.” Ginny’s words dripped with charm and flirtations, step-by-step walking towards the door, and casually taking her black shawl off the rack, before briskly stepping out the door. As she threw the shawl over her shoulders, she noticed that Dean wasn’t following. He was still standing there, shell-shocked and looking more than a little confused. Ginny popped her head into the room again. 

“Are you coming, or not?” Ginny said, placing a pout on her lips. 

Dean took a moment’s hesitation, but made up for his indecision with a smile and he uttered two words that would send Ginny on a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings again, just when they had quieted down. 

“Of course.” 

+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

To an outsider, there escape from Hogwarts would have been mistaken for two mice scurrying around in the dark. They made no sound as they tiptoed past the dormitories of the slumbering teachers, they used no lights of any kind, and they stayed on opposite sides of the corridor. Once they were out of the teachers’ hall, and into the main Entrance Hall, only then did Dean get closer to Ginny, and even then it was just for an innocent touch. Dean, of course, didn’t know the way, so he nudged Ginny gently on the shoulder when she stopped momentarily. There two shadows joined as one at that moment, and Ginny gave an involuntary shudder at the symbolism. 

What turned Ginny around, was how different the Entrance Hall was at night. She did not remember the specifics of her previous endeavors down the passage her and Dean were about to undertake, only the gist of where it was, and where it would go. Once she had located the staircase, she and Dean scurried up two flights of stairs, and stopped abruptly in front of a statue. 

Stone upon stone, glittering in the dark, made up this prodigious structure of a lion. It stood menacingly, had always stood there menacingly, and Dean had never given it a second thought. They were mere feet from the Charms office, and it had never struck Dean until know how large and odd it was, for he had always been in a hurry to get into Charms. 

Ginny was standing shell-shocked in front of it, momentarily unable to move, for the previous times she had scurried this passageway had been to get her, no, <b>use</b> her, to get outside of the walls, and the memories were threatening to overcome her. After a few moments of that, Dean again nudged her, and the touch grounded her in reality. She rolled back the shawl she had donned, and unwaveringly reached her small, manicured hand to the lions nose. Upon contact, she took her other hand and used her index finger to trace a large G on the chest, while circling her other hand around the lions carven nose. Upon completion she removed her hands, giving the nose a sharp rap as she retreated. 

For a few moments, nothing happened, and Dean was afraid Ginny might have lost it after all, as he stared into the lions monumental, slowly blinking, eyes. 

<i>Blinking?</i> 

The lion reared back, and off its podium, silently (<i>“How was he doing that?” Dean pondered.</i>) pounding the floor as he pranced around the pair. Ginny was quite calm, as though it were an every day occurrence, but then, she had been expecting it. Dean, on the other hand, had clasped a hand to his mouth to refrain from shouting in alarm, and had backed up against the wall in fright. 

The lion, noting his discomfort, stopped prancing around excitedly, and instead moved towards him slowly, nodding his head and extending his nose. Dean slowly, cautiously, with his hand shaking, struck out his hand towards the oncoming nose. Upon contact, the lion ceased movement altogether. Dean marveled at this, and gave a sharp ‘wap’ on the nose again. The lion reared back in pleasure and resumed his joyful prance around the corridor. 

Ginny gave no input on this remarkable occurrence; instead, she re-wrapped her shawl, and stared at the lion, pleased that she had remembered how to bring it to life. After allowing the lion to enjoy his sojourn from the podium, Ginny walked smartly up to it, halting it with a gentle touch. She motioned to Dean and then whispered as silent as a mouse into the lion’s ear, “Hogsmeade.” 

Had a first year been walking down the Charms corridor at that moment, they would have probably run screaming from the premises, to see a statue come to life, and two seventh-years proceed to mount it, one of them in a shiny red dress, and then gallop into a passageway that moving three bricks behind the lion had uncovered, would surely have been too much to handle. 

Ginny, after widening the gap in the bricks with her wand, had indeed motioned to Dean to get on, and hiked her skirt up to allow her to climb aboard. Once the two of them were set, the lion, for the third time that night, reared back, and pounded his way into the discovered passage. 

A well-placed spell of Ginny’s closed the passage behind them, leaving their silent escapade locked safely behind them. 

+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*~+~+

The lion emerged into a secluded grove, ceasing his run and bringing Deans quivering body to the ground, who had not expected such an abrupt ending to the journey. Ginny made a much more graceful dismount from the lion, rapping it smartly on the nose so that it would remain still. 

Dean stayed on the ground for a few seconds, puzzling over the extraordinary events the last half hour had brought. Ginny had emerged from her room, seeming to throw herself at him, and when she had accepted, she had shown him an unforgettable passage out of the castle and into this spooky, secluded, and peaceful orchard. The castle could be seen at a huge distance, but more present was the small red shack that lay less than fifty feet away from them. It was tiny, but with beautiful craftsmanship, adorned with what looked like rubies, and carved roses. 

Ginny turned to Dean, and extended both her hand, and an apologetic smile. 

“I’m sorry about that, I just hate walking that entire way, and the lion was placed there to provide passage. At least, I think it was. I’m not sure about where it came from actually.” 

Dean accepted her hand, and apology, gratefully, responding with a simple,” It’s fine,” as he came up from the ground, held by a surprisingly strong and sturdy hand. 

“Oh, alright then.” Ginny said, lowering her voice to flirt some more, and turning to walk teasingly towards the red shack, her red dress fluttering in the wind as she walked surprisingly fast.
Dean grinned at the back of her dress, and walked after her as though compelled to follow this scarlet, shining, radiating gown and the seductress underneath.

The brisk wind catching up to her, Ginny entered the shack with gratitude towards the warm interior. She hung her shawl on the coat rack, and turned as the door admitted Dean as well. Dean, who had thought the night held no more surprises for him, stared around the shack and realized that Ginny was never going to cease to surprise him. 

Though modest and quaint, the little shack was surely one of the most romantic places Dean thought he’d ever been too, without the suffocating power of Madame Puddifoots. It was small, adorned with simply two couches, also with the cherry-red of the wood, a rug, upon which lay a table, and a roaring fire. Off in the corner lay three bookshelves, so that one could relax here alone, as well as with company. There was also a door, which was carved intricately with a mixture of roses and other flowers, and also contained the inscription; “Love is Wondrous.” 

“May I take your coat, sir?” 

Dean jumped and Ginny giggled as the shacks’ attendee appeared from the shadows, and offered a hand to take Dean’s jacket. 

“Erm-sure.” Dean said embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed the man. 

“Very Good, Sire.” The petite butler retreated towards a counter that Dean had also failed to notice. Ginny giggled again as Deans’ cheeks flushed with a warm tint of red that matched the surrounding. 

“Oh shove off.” Dean muttered, as the pair moved steadily towards the couch, causing Ginny to giggle even louder.

“Oh no, I think its cute how little your perception was.” Ginny stated, waving her hand to hang loose and in the middle of the air. Dean read this as a sign to take her hand, and casually placed his hand in hers. 

His hand stuck to hers, and for a brief moment he wondered why, before looking down at the hand. He lifted it up and exclaimed, “You’re bleeding!” 

Ginny snatched her hand back, and applied pressure to the thumb again. 

“Its nothing. I pricked my finger earlier.” Ginny said, visibly shifty, trying to stem the flow again. Inside, she was angry that the rose had interrupted the evening again, and filled her with a desire to speed things up, and she took Deans hand with her other hand, with a new aggression. 

Dean felt his hand be snatched back, with a new aggression, all lost of gentleness, as though she was trying to grab a lifeline. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind now that something was wrong, and he took her shoulder and flounced her down to the sofa. 

“Are you ok?” He asked, trying to search her eyes. 

A lilting, “Fine.” Came back, and she definitely didn’t meet his eyes as she said it. 

Dean took her chin carefully with both hands, and held her gaze for a moment. “Are you sure?” He asked again, his hands inadvertently caressing her cheeks, and she finally looked into his eyes, filling her thoughts with red-hot passion. 

As their eyes met, Dean was surprised to see that her normally bright brown eyes were now darkened, with some sort of red pigment that made her seem even more alluring. Dean was filled with excitement, drawing from the red mixed her eyes, but Ginny was filled with anger as she realized that his eyes held no excitement for her, and instead filled her with renewed thoughts of Harry. Recklessness was taking over her body, and she dropped her gaze to her own gown, smoothing out its wrinkles on the couch. 

“Butterbeer.” The attendees voice penetrated the pair’s thoughts, and Ginny gratefully reached for it, twisting her head so that Dean’s hands dropped from her face. 

“Here you go.” Ginny murmured trying to regain the ‘upper hand’, as the attendee walked away. 

Dean took the glass and sipped the butter beer carefully, hoping that Ginny hadn’t lied, and wondering about her newly darkened eyes, for her face remained impassive. They remained…what was the word he was looking for? 

“Did you know I’m the new Gryffindor Quidditch Captain?”  Ginny put in, resuming the evenings festivities a good three inches from him on the couch. 

 “I did not.” Dean said, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he also resumed feeling comfortable, “that makes you my boss.” Dean surmised. 

“I suppose it does.” Ginny giggled, her laughter adding a pleasant air to the atmosphere. 


Ginny’s laughter unnerved Dean, despite his gladness at being the cause of it. It was too…pleasant and upbeat. Too…again the word escaped him.

<i>”In fact.”</i> Dean pondered to himself, keeping his face pleasant. <i> “It is as though she is…always pleasant. Always…perfect.”</i>

That was it. Ginny was acting too perfect. 

*~+~*+~*~+~*~+~*~+~*

The evening passed with small talk, and all too soon in both of their minds, they had remounted the lion and returned to the castle. All too soon Ginny had re-stilled the lion atop his podium, and all too soon they had scurried back to their hallway and returned to their hallway. All too soon had Ginny replaced her shawl and all too soon had they come to a pleasant halt in front of her door. 

“I suppose...this is good night.” Ginny said, with a pleasant smile. 

“I suppose so.” Dean added. 

Their eyes met again in front of the door, and Ginny again was filled with rushes of aggression, rushes of passion, and the mysterious lack of excitement, yet fill of anger. Her eyes clouded over again, and it was as though she were seeing red for real. 

She stood for a moment, fighting her urges, before her mind fixated on the broken picture of Harry she had thrown. <i>This is getting old.</i> Ginny thought and reached out and pulled Dean towards her. 

His lips crashed against hers in a daze. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the kiss. It was pleasurable, and light. Dean almost seemed to be afraid of hurting her, per the gentleness of his touch. The kiss remained light, remained airy, and they stayed together for several moments, their senses reeling in the old familiar world they had made together. 

After the several moments, Ginny began to realize that she was actually kissing Dean. Again. <i>Dean</i> She felt no excitement, no rush, just pleasure, and she was unconsciously reminded of why she had broken up with him. 

She broke it off, and noticed that he had been running hands through her hair, and she hadn’t even noticed. She gave a small smile and flew into her room, leaving him standing outside. 

Her red dress fluttered around her, and she dropped her head releasing a small sob, standing with her back leaning heavily against the door. She couldn’t believe the events that had transpired, and she was reluctant to even recount them. Guilt was slowly seeping through her, but she pushed it away. 

Instead, she collapsed on the bed, and stared at the rose, the red red rose, which still lay on the floor, slightly smooshed from where she had thrown it, and sighed. 

Only one thought was piercing her now, as she reached, finally, a zen about the whole thing. 

Harry was alive. He was alive. 

As Ginny took comfort in that thought, she laid back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, hearing once again, the racket that was the circling Hedwig. 

<b>A/N<b> Yay! It’s finally done. I’ve been working on this chapter for 3 weeks, rewriting it a lot, because I don’t want to portray Ginny as though she collapsed by this reach-from-Harry  thing. In regards to the title of the chapter, its because of the amount of red in the chapter, the differences of it. Red in my mind symbolizes excitement, anger, love, passion, aggression, and speed. I tried to use all of that, as well as the lack of it in some cases, and that’s why I titled it that way. 

I would like to add some questions for reviewing purposes, and theorizing purposes, because I love theorys <3.You can answer them, or not, whatever ? Thanks in advance. Please read and review!!! 

1. What was the door that read “Love is Wondrous”? Or: What room was it? (giggles)
2. Where do you think the shack originated? (There will possibly be a separate short story about this, in my mind it dates way back) 
3. Did you like the lion? 
4. How do you think Ginny will rid herself of Hedwig? 
5. Who were the people at the end of chapter one: The Rules?
6. Is Harry alive? 
7. What does Hagrid know?
8. Was there escapated as really as secret as it seemed?