Harry arrived at the Potions dungeon promptly at eight for his detention Friday evening to find Snape sitting at his desk scribbling away at a stack of parchment. Snape glanced at his watch as Harry entered, and he thought he detected a hint of disappointment in the other man's expression, no doubt over the fact that he could not berate Harry for being late.

Snape rose from his desk and swept past Harry. "Come with me, Potter," he hissed, as he went into the corridor.

Harry's heart sunk as several unpleasant images passed through his mind. He hoped Snape wasn't going to take him up to the hospital wing for bedpan duty. There'd been a nasty stomach virus going around… On top of that, Harry wasn't be able to have a talk with his Potions master if he was up in the infirmary and Snape was down here in the dungeons marking essays. The entire point of the detention would be lost.

But Snape did not head towards the stairs; instead he turned in the opposite direction and made for a closed door not far from the Potions dungeon. Drawing his wand, Snape muttered an incantation that Harry couldn't make out before motioning Harry into his office. The jars of nasty creatures, which stood on the shelves lining the room were even more revolting than Harry remembered. He noticed a battle-scarred door, which he was sure hid the cupboard where Snape kept his private store of rare and valuable potions ingredients. That was where Hermione must have found the Boomslang skin they'd needed to brew the Polyjuice Potion during their second year.

Harry almost smiled as he remembered the diversion he'd caused so that Hermione could sneak out of class to get what they needed. Snape never had been able to discover who has made Goyle's cauldron explode, although he'd certainly suspected Harry at the time. Harry sincerely hoped now that Snape couldn't read minds. He had no doubt that if Snape ever did learn that Harry had thrown the firework that day, there would be hell to pay, even if it was five years after the fact.

Snape was standing with his arms crossed and looking at Harry with a great deal of distaste. "Sit, Potter," he said at last, pointing to a battered chair in front of his desk.

Harry sat in the chair and immediately noticed that its legs were not all the same length, so that he was forced to brace his feet on the floor and sit stiffly to keep it from rocking. He didn't remember a chair like this from his previous visits to this office. It must be a recent acquisition, Harry thought.

Snape sat down at his desk, pointed his wand at the door and muttered, "Claustrum." Then he turned back to Harry, having guaranteed that no one would overhear their conversation. "You wanted to see me, Potter?"

Harry blinked. "I'm here for my detention."

An unpleasant smile twisted Snape's features. "You melted your cauldron on purpose, Potter, so that I would give you detention. Out with it! What did you want to see me about?"

"I, uh…" began Harry, not sure where to begin. "I was wondering about the spy at Hogwarts." Snape raised his eyebrows. "You told me yourself there was a spy operating at Hogwarts. Have you found out who it is yet?"

"What makes you think that's any of your business?"

"Whoever it is, is responsible for my girlfriend being kidnapped over the Christmas holiday. I want to make sure they're caught."

"How touching." Then he paused, staring at Harry inscrutably. Harry, meanwhile, was to find it difficult to keep his chair steady. Over a long enough period, being obliged to sit so rigidly would definitely become painful. "You don't have to worry about that," Snape went on at last. "We've caught the spy."

"It's not Krum!"

"I never said it was," Snape sneered. "But rest assured, there is no longer a spy at Hogwarts."

"But Professor Grubbly-Plank…"

"I said, there is no longer a spy at Hogwarts," Snape repeated, pronouncing each syllable distinctly, as if Harry was hard of hearing. "The subject is closed."

Harry knew better than to argue. Snape wasn't going to tell him anything, and his evening was going to be wasted. But Harry had seen a flicker of surprise in Snape's eyes when he'd mentioned Professor Grubbly-Plank. What could that mean? He'd have to think about it, but concentration was difficult with the numbness in his legs increasing steadily as a result of maintaining his position on the chair.

"What about Malfoy?" Harry asked suddenly, and this time Snape didn't attempt to conceal his surprise.

"What about him?"

"Did you know he has the Dark Mark?"

Snape's greasy head went up a notch, and he stared at Harry for a long moment. Harry could tell that this bit of information was indeed news to Snape, and he had the feeling the potions master was trying to judge whether or not Harry was telling the truth. "The real question is, how do you know that, Potter."

"I saw it. It's on his left forearm." Harry's eyes automatically glanced at Snape's left arm, where all he could see was the black sleeve of Snape's robe. But Harry knew what was hidden there.

"How did you manage that? Mr Malfoy isn't stupid enough to have shown it to you willingly."

Harry would dearly have loved to argue that point, but doing so would be counter-productive. He wasn't about to tell Snape he'd sneaked into the Slytherin dormitories, for that matter, so he decided to go on the offensive. "It doesn't matter how I managed to see it, but it so happens that I did. The real question now is, can you be so sure there's not still a spy operating at Hogwarts?"

The words echoed in the underground chamber, while Snape's black eyes glittered in anger at Harry's audacity. Harry briefly considered running for it, but then he remembered that the room had been locked down. In any case, there was no feeling left in his legs, and he'd be just as likely to keel over if he tried to stand now.

Snape, however, mastered himself. "This is too important to take chances with," he barked. "You let me deal with Mr Malfoy." He rose and pointed his wand at the door. "Finite incantatem. I believe this meeting is over."

Harry arose rather more shakily, the chair falling out from under him as he did so. It wasn't long before it felt as if his legs were being stabbed with hundreds of tiny needles. He started for the door, happy to be getting out of there. With any luck he could make some more headway on his studies.

"Where are you going, Potter?" Snape asked in a voice too silky to be trusted.

"You said the meeting was over," Harry replied warily.

"So I did. But there's still the matter of your detention. Hospital wing, Potter. I believe Madam Pomfrey has some bedpans that need cleaning."

*

Time started to rush by as Harry struggled to complete all his homework--the evening lost to detention had not helped matters by any means--and soon the Easter holidays were upon him. Professor Grubbly-Plank had still not been sacked, and Harry couldn't decide whether he'd drawn the wrong conclusions about her or if Snape had had his own reasons for not telling him the truth.

Harry couldn't resist the temptation to look down towards Hagrid's old cabin at night, and from time to time, he could see the same sort of flickering light as he'd seen that first night. Whatever was going on, he was sure someone was using Hagrid's fireplace to communicate with someone outside Hogwarts. As much as it tempted him at times to put on the invisibility cloak and investigate, he couldn't afford the lost time anymore. Much as he hated to admit it, he was just going to have to trust Snape to keep a handle on the situation.

Another question in Harry's mind now was Draco Malfoy. Had Snape approached Malfoy about his affiliation with the Death Eaters. More importantly, would Snape be able to influence Malfoy into siding with Dumbledore? Harry tried to keep an eye on Malfoy, but he noticed no change in the Slytherin's demeanour, no indication that he may have chosen one way or another. Here was another situation he had no control over, one in which he'd have to trust Snape, and he didn't particularly like it.

Ron, on the other hand was much more interested in keeping a close watch on Professor Flitwick, in hopes that the diminutive Charms professor would somehow do something, which would give away his identity as Dr Zog. Ron had even gone so far as asking about Entrancing Enchantments in class. Flitwick's reply had been fairly disappointing, as he pointed out that these sorts of charms weren't part of their NEWT preparation, so he couldn't justify taking up valuable class time on them.

During the week before the winter term ended, Harry worked at a furious pace. He wanted to be certain of some free time over the upcoming holiday. He knew he'd still have assignments to work on over the period between terms, but he reckoned that if the worked ahead now, he could purchase a few more leisure hours for himself.

He glanced up at Ginny, who was sitting across from him with Hermione still trying to work out an alternate translation for the runes, something a bit less frivolous than a shopping list. Hermione had thought she was on to something the previous week, but that path had led nowhere, and now both girls were putting their brain power together to find a solution. They were whispering quietly together, and Harry had been able to tune them out for the most part while he read ahead in his text on preparing for the NEWTs.

"Oh!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed, causing Harry to look up from his reading again. "Look, Ginny," she began once more in a lower voice, her tone carrying a note of anticipation. "I think I've got something here."

"Let me see." Ginny leaned closer to Hermione's work and stared at the parchment for a moment. "Yes! And that means this mark must stand for a long E sound, and…"

The girls went on in rapid, excited whispers, while Harry tried to concentrate on his reading. It was difficult, because he was curious to see what they would come up with this time. Ron, who was sitting further along the table pretending to study, snorted.

"There! I think we've got it!" Hermione said after a while, a broad smile on her face.

"What's it say?" Ron asked, his eye glinting with mischief. "Not another shopping list I hope. Perhaps it's Ulrich the Oddball's Hogwarts letter."

Harry gave up the pretence of reading and craned his neck to look at the girls' work. There were a lot of ink blots on the parchment where things had been crossed out.

"Really, Ron," Hermione said lightly. "If you're going to tease, you might try to make it realistic at least. This alphabet fell out of use centuries before Hogwarts was founded."

"Well, what's it say, then?"

" 'One who would cheat death must be defeated'," Hermione recited from her parchment.

"Is that all?"

Hermione nodded.

"Glad I asked then. Don't think I'd have fallen asleep not knowing."

Harry felt like shaking his head. So much for Hermione's feeling that this text might mean something important.

"Must be defeated," Hermione muttered to herself. "Well we know that. Why couldn't it have said how?"

"What are you on about, Hermione?" asked Ron, who had evidently overheard. "You're making it sound as if that text refers to You-Know-Who."

"It does."

"And just where do you get that?"

"One who would cheat death. That's what You-Know-Who wants to do, isn't it? Become immortal. If he managed it he'd be cheating death. And what about his name?"

"What about it?"

"Didn't you ever wonder what it means?"

"Not really."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"It's an anagram," supplied Harry. "If you take the letters of his real name, Tom Marvolo Riddle, and rearrange them, you get 'I am Lord Voldemort'."

Ron started at Harry as if he thought Harry had gone mental. "Been playing word games in your spare time?"

"No, he showed me."

"You-Know-Who?"

"Tom Riddle." He stole a glance over at Ginny, who was looking steadily downwards. "In the Chamber of Secrets."

That was enough to shut Ron up for the moment. Hermione looked intrigued. "Really?" she said, "that's interesting. Did you know that Voldemort also means something in French?"

"Hermione!" exclaimed Ron.

"What?"

"You said the name!" His tone was admonishing.

"Yes, well, it's a bit difficult to avoid that if I'm going to tell you what it means. It means 'robbery of death'. Rather close to cheating death, don't you think?"

"Wonderful," said Ron, "all that to work out that we've got to defeat You-Know-Who. About as useful as a shopping list, that."

"Why couldn't it have told us how?" Hermione asked again, clearly frustrated. "If only there was a clue…"

"This may be one," said Ginny. She'd been quietly studying the parchment, while the rest of them were discussing it.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked her.

"This may not be a complete sentence. There's no punctuation, so there's no way to tell."

"But it's complete on its own."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. But if it was part of a larger text, there might be something about how to defeat You-Know-Who."

Ron looked as if he'd been working something out in his head. "Hermione just got through telling us how old this script is. How can it have anything to do with You-Know-Who?"

"Haven't you ever heard of a prophetic text, Ron?" Hermione replied.

"Well, how are you going to go about finding out if it is part of something larger?" asked Ron.

"Well there aren't that many texts using this script in the Hogwarts library," said Ginny.

"Assuming it's in the library, we can find it," said Hermione. "Especially with the four of us searching."

Ron was shaking his head. "No way! There's no way I'm spending the holiday staring at that scrawl."

"Fine, Ron, don't help us then. You'll help us, won't you Harry?"

"Er…"

Harry was inclined to agree with Ron. On the other hand, Hermione had quite a determined look on her face, and so did Ginny. It appeared as if both of them would be spending their holiday in the library. He thought of the way Ginny had been sitting with him all these nights when she hadn't had to. This was sort of the same situation, wasn't it?

"I guess so," Harry finally agreed.

Ron crossed his arms over his chest and mumbled something about how only Hermione could manage to find them even more work when they'd finally earned themselves a break.

*

As the following day was the very last of the winter term, Madam Pince was quite surprised, and not a little exasperated, when Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny trooped into the library after supper. Ginny showed the others to a relatively small section at the back, which was full of books written in ancient scripts. For an alphabet which, according to Hermione, had fallen out of use a good many centuries before the founding of Hogwarts, there seemed to be an awful lot of books written in it. Ginny handed four to Harry, taking six for herself, and dividing the rest between Ron and Hermione. Madam Pince looked at them suspiciously, as if they were signing out the entire restricted section.

They took the books back to Gryffindor Tower, but it was nearly impossible to concentrate. All the other Gryffindors were making a great deal of noise, as they celebrated the end of term and looked forward to spending the holiday with family and friends.

Harry stared at the parchment, on which Ginny had meticulously copied the passage and compared it to the page in front of him. The runes swam before his eyes. They all looked the same to his untrained eye, and he wondered how he was ever going to recognise the passage they were looking for. He could be staring right at it and not see it for what it was, he felt.

To his left, it looked as if Ron was becoming increasingly frustrated as well. He drummed his fingers, while propping his head up with his other hand when he wasn't running it through his hair.

After an hour, he pushed the book aside. "This is stupid. I'm never going to find this thing. I could read right over it and never know it. And with all this noise…"

"Ron's right," said Harry. "Maybe we ought to wait until everyone has left. It would be a whole lot less distracting."

"All right," Hermione agreed. "It is a bit loud in here, isn't it?"

"You know," said Ron slowly, "I've been thinking. If these letters can change, who's to say we won't come across this combination somewhere…" He waved his copy of the passage. "…and it won't mean what we want it to?"

"We'll work that out when we come to it," explained Hermione. "If the passage where we find it doesn't translate to anything using the system we worked out on the smaller passage itself, then we'll know to keep looking."

Harry wasn't quite sure what she meant by that, but her answer raised another question in his mind. "It took the two of you weeks to work out what that passage meant. Even if we find the whole text it comes from, won't it take about a year to work out what the whole thing means?"

"No, actually," said Ginny. "We've got something to go on now. We just keep applying the same system we got from the smaller passage to the larger text. It's like a code, but we've got the key to cracking it now. There may be some letters missing, but the gaps should be fairly easy to fill in."

"If you say so."

To Harry it looked like complete nonsense, and he was extremely glad he hadn't signed up for Ancient Runes at the end of second year.

They gave up and spent the rest of the evening relaxing, something that Harry hadn't had the luxury of doing since Christmas, it seemed. It was nice to sit on the hearthrug, his back propped against an armchair, Ginny leaning against him, while they toasted marshmallows. Ron and Hermione had gone into a corner to play chess.

Unbidden, his mind wandered ahead in time, wondering where they were all going to be this time next year. Ginny would be here at Hogwarts, of course, almost through her seventh year, working as madly as he was now as she prepared to sit her NEWTs. But where would he be? He had no idea. Ginny had once asked him the question of what he wanted to do with his life. He hadn't really been able to answer it then, and he wasn't any nearer to answering it now, not even privately. He stared into the flames, thinking. Playing professional Quidditch had its appeal, assuming the league was back in operation next year. He just didn't know. Wherever he was, he knew he was going to miss Ginny desperately.

"Harry!"

Ginny snatched at his hand, jerking his marshmallow out of the flames. It had caught fire and was rapidly turning into a blacked glob of goo. Ginny blew on it to extinguish the flames. "You were a hundred miles away, there. What happened?"

"Just thinking. Don't…"

Before he could stop her, she'd eaten the burnt marshmallow. She laughed at his apparent surprise. "I like the burnt ones. They're bitter and crusty on the outside, but on the inside they're still sweet. What were you thinking about?"

"Next year, wondering… well, wondering how we're going to manage." He kept his tone low so no one else would overhear.

"We'll manage, Harry," she said with conviction. "If we want it badly enough, we'll manage."

"Do you want it badly enough?"

He began to hold his breath waiting for her reply, but it was swift in coming. "Yes, Harry."

She was meeting his gaze steadily, and his heart leapt within him. It was the closest she'd come to saying straight out that she loved him, but in that moment, he didn't need to hear it. He could see it shining in her eyes. The noise of the common room seemed very far away, and they began to lean towards each other…

"Get a room!" Seamus' voice shattered the moment in the instant before their lips touched. A second later, a cushion came sailing across the room and hit Harry in the back of the head.

Harry picked it up and threw it back. "Sure thing, Finnigan. You know where all the good ones are. You have any recommendations?"

When their laughter had subsided, Ginny leaned close to Harry and whispered in his ear, "We can have our own room starting tomorrow. The other girls in my dormitory are all going home for the holiday."

Harry stared at her, his heart suddenly pounding out of control, not quite sure how to reply. "Are you sure about this?"

She surprised him by giggling. "I'm sure they're all going home, yes."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

He thought she looked sure for a moment, as if she was going to say yes, but then she bit her lip and looked away. "This isn't exactly the best place to discuss it, though, is it?" He thought she might be hedging now.

"No, it's not. Tomorrow night might be a better idea. Once everyone leaves." She nodded and laid her head back against his shoulder, leaving him to wonder if she was just as confused as he was. There was something comforting about that thought.

*

Most of the students went home the following day after breakfast, travelling by Portkey, as they had at the beginning of the Christmas holiday. Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione were they only Gryffindors who remained at Hogwarts for the Easter break.

Mrs Weasley had written Ron and Ginny a confusing letter the previous week, in which she'd urged them both to come home so that she could see them and, at the same time, admonishing them to stay at school so they'd be safe. It had been difficult for Ron and Ginny to know what to reply, but the following day, an owl had arrived from Mr Weasley telling his two youngest children in no uncertain terms that they'd be better off remaining at school.

"Do you think he knows something?" Ron had wondered aloud at the breakfast table, handing the letter over to Ginny.

"He might have heard something at the Ministry," Harry had speculated.

"If things were that bad, would they let anyone go home?" Hermione had asked.

But that thought had only made matters more worrisome. Harry hadn't dared say anything out loud, but he hadn't been able to shake the thought that Mr Weasley had heard something to make him believe his own family was going to be targeted. No one had eaten much breakfast as a result of that owl.

Now that all the other students had gone home, the feeling of foreboding was becoming more difficult to ignore. Harry forced himself to concentrate harder on the runes. As tedious as it was to look through a lot of scribbling that made no sense to him, he told himself he was at least doing something against Voldemort. He'd always imagined himself going out to fight actively against the Death Eaters--perhaps he still would do something like that--but he'd never imagined that the struggle against Voldemort would involve a lot of poring over ancient texts.

"Wait a minute!" Ron said suddenly, a grin broadening over his features. Everyone looked up at him. "This is it, isn't it? I think I've found it!"

"Where?" said Hermione excitedly.

Ron turned his book so that she could see it and pointed. As Harry watched, Hermione rapidly scanned the text. Then her eyes went back to the top of the page and began again, this time more slowly. "Ginny, what do you make of this?" she said after a moment.

Ginny read over the page, frowning. "That's not it."

"But it's the same, I swear it is," Ron protested.

"No, it isn't," Ginny said patiently. "Look at the copy I made for you. You see how these dots are missing in your version?"

"So?"

"They're important. They're vowels. You change a few of them, and you completely change the meaning. What we're looking for has to be an exact duplicate."

Ron heaved an audible sigh, and Harry was sure he'd heard him mutter "mental" under his breath.

Harry resigned himself to pressing onward in his own text. It was very slow going. From time to time, his heart would give a small jump, as he came across a combination of letters that matched the copy Ginny had given him, but upon closer inspection, there was always some slight difference, one that might seem minor to him, but obviously something that had to be taken into account.

They kept at it until late that evening, taking only the shortest possible breaks for meals.

"You know," said Ron on the way back from supper, "I bet if we asked Dobby, he'd bring food up to the common room for us. We'd get more work done that way."

Harry wanted to laugh at the look on Hermione's face. She appeared torn between telling Ron off for wanting to make more work for the house-elves and agreeing to the plan. Ron simply grinned at her until she grinned back.

By eleven they hadn't made as much headway as they'd have liked, but Ron had clearly had enough. He closed his book and stood, stretching his lanky frame. "Sorry, but if I look at any more of that, I'll go cross-eyed. What d'you say we make a fresh start in the morning?"

Harry saw a significant look pass between Ron and Hermione, and then she stood as well. "Yes, I think we'll all have clearer heads in the morning. Good night then."

Harry looked back down at the page he was going over. He didn't want to watch Ron follow Hermione up to his dormitory.

Across from him, Ginny snorted. "Could they be any more obvious?"

Harry didn't reply. He suddenly felt unaccountably nervous, thinking of Ginny's empty dormitory and what she'd said to him last night. He could feel Ginny's gaze pinned on him. When he could stand her scrutiny no longer, he looked up at her, expecting to see a self-assured expression on her face. Instead, he found her biting her lip again, looking rather… well, nervous like he was.

Harry stood up, and she jumped slightly, as if she hadn't expected him to move. He knew what to do then. He came around the end of the table and held out his hand. She took it, but her own was trembling slightly. He squeezed it.

"Come on," he said, "let's sit by the fire for a bit."

He thought she looked relieved as they went over to a sofa, and Ginny settled in next to him. Harry put an arm around her shoulders and felt her relax against his side. For a while they sat and watched the flames slowly die until Harry worked up the courage to ask her something he'd been wondering about ever since Christmas. "Ginny, this is going to sound stupid…" His face began to heat and he couldn't go on.

"What?"

"Nothing…"

"Harry…just say it."

D'you… D'you love me?"

The room was now thankfully dark enough that she couldn't see very well. Harry thought his face must be purple by now. Ginny seemed taken aback by his question, and it took her a while to answer, which didn't help his nerves by any means.

"Yes, I do," she said at last, and Harry let a breath out.

"Why haven't you ever told me then?"

Another silence. He wondered if she wasn't working out the answer for herself. "I suppose I was scared to, mostly."

"Why? What were you scared of?"

"I'm not sure…" She raised her head so she could look at him. "I mean we're both so young. Are we too young to be deciding these things?"

"Your birthday's in a few weeks, isn't it? You'll be seventeen then. Considered an adult."

"You're seventeen. Do you feel like an adult?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really, I guess. I don't even know what I'm going to do once I leave school."

"At the moment, I don't feel ready to be an adult. Sometimes, I can't wait, but…" She shook her head. "I don't know."

"I guess what I really want to know is, where are we going? Together, I mean. You've got another year of school yet, and times are uncertain…"

"Harry Potter, are you trying to break up with me? Because I won't have it!"

"No!" Then he realised her outrage was false, and he laughed. Her expression looked a lot like one Ron got when he was teasing Hermione. "What I'm trying to do is work out where we stand. It's not going to be that much longer until we're facing a separation, whether we want it or not…"

"I told you last night what I think about that. We'll manage, we'll keep contact, we'll owl, we'll see each other when we can…"

Harry only hoped it would all be as easy as she made it sound; he wasn't so confident of that. But he merely replied, "You've got it all planned out then."

"I have asked Hermione a thing or two…" Ginny sighed. "She's only ever had to go a few weeks over the summer without Ron, and she said it was bad enough."

"So maybe you would be better off with someone in your own year."

"That isn't funny, Harry. I don't want anyone in my own year." She reached up and pulled his face down to hers until they were mere inches apart. "I haven't ever wanted anyone else."

Harry wasn't able to reply, because she kissed him then, and it was a while before Harry could think straight. When he came to his senses, his lips were in the hollow of her neck, and one of his hands was tangled in the hair at the back of her head. The other was holding her by the waist. Somehow she'd managed to climb into his lap, and it seemed she'd topple backwards if he didn't steady her.

His resolve not to pressure her was becoming increasingly difficult to keep, and yet he knew in his heart, both from the conversation they'd just had and her nervous reaction to him earlier, that she really wasn't ready for more. It wouldn't be fair of him to ask it of her.

He tipped her head up so he could look into her eyes. "I think it's time we went to bed." He saw panic fleet across her face for a moment and wanted to kick himself at his poor choice of words. "Not like that, to sleep, I mean."

"Oh." She looked disappointed. "Can't we stay down here a little while longer?"

Harry swallowed. She wasn't going to make this easy on him. "Well, we could, but…"

"But what?"

"The more we kiss, the more I find it difficult not to want… more. But I don't want to push you into anything you're not ready for. And you're not ready, are you?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I think so, but… Sometimes I don't. It's like everything else…"

"Gin, I feel the same way."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"It doesn't show."

Harry smiled. "It doesn't show in you, either, most of the time."

He held her a while longer in silence, enjoying the feel of her in his arms, until he felt her relax completely. She was falling asleep on him. Reluctantly, he roused her. "Time for bed."

"Can't you stay with me?"

Harry hesitated. Sleeping next to her was nice… once he managed to fall asleep. Waking up with her was nice too… And Ron wasn't likely to find out. He wouldn't be spending the night in their dormitory, either, it seemed. "All right."

He followed her up to her dormitory, and when she disappeared into the bathroom, he began to undress, wondering how much he could take off and not give her the wrong idea. He briefly considered summoning his pyjama bottoms from his dormitory but then decided not to bother. He was wearing a loose T-shirt, which would cover a good bit. He reckoned he could get away with wearing that and his boxers.

He climbed into her bed and waited. It wasn't long before she came back, having changed into her night dress and dressing gown. She extinguished the candles before removing the dressing gown and getting into bed beside him, and he was thankful for the darkness, which spared him the sight of her. Just the idea of her getting into bed with him wearing nothing but a length of white cotton, no matter how modestly cut, was making his mouth go dry.

She leaned over to kiss him good night, and it was very difficult to stop at just one. The length of her body was pressed against his on the narrow mattress, and it was all too evident now how little separated them. The blood pounded in his ears, and he wanted to groan out loud. This was going to be torture, but he'd endure it for her. Harry steeled himself and pulled away. "Good night, Ginny," he said as firmly as possible.

She rolled onto her side and curled up beside him. "Night," she murmured sleepily.

It took Harry a much longer time to drift off to sleep than it did Ginny, but he eventually managed it. He sat up suddenly several hours later, heart pounding, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, and his scar burning intensely. He may have been dreaming, but the threads slipped away as he tried to catch them and hold them in his memory.

Beside him, Ginny was mumbling sleepily, "What's happening?"

He slowly turned to her, his hand running over his throbbing forehead, in a vain effort to calm the pain. "I don't know," he said hoarsely. "I think there's been some sort of attack somewhere."