Occlumency was far from my only challenge in the first months of my fourth year.

Since I pride myself on being more patient than Harry, it is no surprise I made it until the second week of classes before receiving my first detention from Umbridge. My classmates, under the impression I was serving two detentions most weeks by two different professors, were only mildly shocked by my behavior. In fact, most marveled at my courage in confronting Umbridge.

When I came back to the Gryffindor common room after what had to be at least my fourth or fifth encounter with Umbridge's demented quill, I was relieved to see that only Harry was still sitting awake by the fire, Ron and Hermione nowhere to be found. He saw me immediately, a small smile spreading across his face, his eyes following me as I sunk into the couch across from him.

"Where've you been?"

Taking a deep breath, I held up my left hand to reveal the still-bleeding message: I must not tell lies. Harry hung his head before holding up his right hand in solidarity.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I wish you weren't involved in this."

"You didn't involve me in this. This is my doing."

He opened his mouth to protest, but thought against it, instead lifting his head to meet my eyes, his face the picture of worry. "Have you…processed yet?" I raised an eyebrow. "That day…when I found you in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom…you said you needed time to process, before you could talk about it. Well, I've given you plenty of time, so…talk."

I bit my lip, which briefly caused a strange sensation to roll off of Harry, but I chose to ignore it because it disappeared quickly. With a sigh, I stared off into the fire. "It's—it's just that I spent two years trying my hardest to get over what Tom Riddle did to me, only to find out I never can. He's part of me, he always will be."

"No, he won't," Harry retorted, without skipping a beat. "We're going to fight him, and we're going to defeat him, and you will be free of him."

Closing my eyes against tears, I shook my head. "No. I'll still have the memories. His memories. I'll still have the cold, and the pain. I'll still hear his voice. His damn, fucking voice."

Harry stood from his chair and sat next to me on the couch. I expected him to touch me, but he didn't. "For the last couple days, Hermione's been pestering me—"

"Hermione always pesters you."

"Right," he chuckled briefly. "but this time it isn't about my bad grades or worse attitude. She—well, she wants to start—I guess she wants to start a club, for lack of a better term, and she wants me to run it."

I raised an eyebrow. "She's willing to relinquish authority?"

As much as he fought against it, a smile formed on his face. "Only because the club she wants to start is a sort of supplementary education in Defense Against the Dark Arts. You know, since Umbridge won't let us within spitting distance of our wands. And Hermione reckoned my…experience, as she called it, would make me a more reputable teacher than her."

I leaned back, taking in what he had just told me. "Blimey. 'Mione's outdone herself. That's a brilliant idea."

"You really think so?"

"Yeah."

"Great," he simpered. "Because I told her I wouldn't do it unless you taught alongside me."

My stomach dropped. "Are you stark raving mad?"

"I know you don't see it, but you're about a hundred times smarter and stronger and better at magic than I could ever dream of being."

"So is Hermione! She's infinitely better than me! Get her to help you."

"Hermione doesn't have what you have."

I scoffed, turning away from him. When I found that was not enough, I stood, walking over to lean my forehead against the mantle of the fireplace. Magic stirred in my fingertips, and I feared its power. "What's that? A fragment of Tom Riddle's soul harbored in her head?"

"Exactly," he said softly, unperturbed except for the customary pang of guilt I knew he felt without even having to look at him. "I'm not dismissing her, of course, I'd probably be dead a million times over if not for her. Still, she doesn't have any souvenirs from facing Voldemort, because she's never faced Voldemort. You have."

"Bully for me."

Harry sighed. "Look…I wish it weren't the case, because I wish I could avoid anyone else getting involved, but…Gin, I can't get through this without your help."

"I know that," I grumbled harshly. "I promised you this summer that I'd be by your side for every battle, and nothing will ever change that. Ever. But what has this club got to do with any of that?"

"People are scared, Ginny. We need to help them."

I gritted my teeth against barking my response. My magic surged through my hands, and I took a deep, shaky breath in a feeble attempt to calm down. Suddenly, I felt hands resting on my shoulders, causing my head to throb, but that was pushed out of the forefront of my brain as Harry turned me around to face him.

"Usually, I'd be scared, too. But you make me feel confident that we can do this."

The intensity in his eyes and voice broke me, and I simply nodded. "Fine. I'll do it."

He grinned. "Brilliant."

As I wrapped my arms around him to hold him close, I felt him relax into me. Then, suddenly, I felt him start to panic, and he jumped back, his face the picture of mortification as a blush crept up his face.

"Er, it's late. I have to—I should go to bed."

Before I could even open my mouth, he was halfway up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. I stood there a moment, trying to wrap my head around what had happened, before deciding I was too tired at that moment to make sense of anything related to Harry Potter.

XoXoX

As I shuffled into the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning, I could feel almost immediately that something was off. My suspicion was confirmed when I took my seat across from Hermione and next to Harry, mumbling a greeting to them both. Hermione returned it cordially, but Harry stood up so quickly that he tripped and fell backwards, only remaining there for a split second before clambering to his feet, muttering something unintelligible and darting out of the hall.

"Am I missing something?" I asked, turning to Hermione, but she was clearly as stunned as I was. She furrowed her brow, staring at me.

"What did you do?"

My mouth fell open. "Me?! He's the one who all but jumped out his skin at the sight of me!"

Hermione frowned. "You mean nothing odd happened between you two?"

I shrugged. "We talked last night, and he convinced me to run that Defense club with him. I went to hug him, like I always do, and then all of a sudden he did pretty much the same thing he did just now and ran off to bed."

"Right," she muttered. "Well, I'll go see what gave him such a fright."

"Good luck," I snorted, watching her saunter away before turning to the spread of food in front of me. With a sigh, it occurred to me that I was far, far from hungry, and decided to get first pick of seats in Charms.

My thoughts remained on Harry for the entirety of the day, and I barely registered the events of my classes. Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the library, watching the sunset out the window, when Hermione settled into a chair across from me. I sat straight, turning all my attention to her.

"Well? Did you talk to him?"

"I tried to find you at lunch, but you weren't there," she said suspiciously, her eyes narrowed.

"I wasn't hungry. What did Harry say?"

"You also, clearly, aren't at dinner," she hummed. I closed my eyes, trying to breathe away the anger, but I only managed two breaths before Hermione continued. "Ginny, when was the last time you ate?"

"I had an early dinner in the kitchens because I didn't want to make Harry uncomfortable," I growled, surprised at myself for coming up with a sufficient lie so quickly. It would appear the years of misleading my mother finally paid off. "Now answer my question. Did you talk to him?"

Hermione still looked wary, but decided to drop it. "Yes, I talked to him," she mumbled, the corners of her mouth twitching as she tried to fight a smile. "It took me a while to get him to talk, but I eventually got him to come out with it."

"Well?" I pushed, curious at the mischievous air Hermione emitted. "What did he say?"

She threw a hand over her mouth as she started to giggle. "I promised not to tell you."

My blood was boiling. "If you don't tell me what he said right this minute, I swear—"

Hermione started shaking her head, trying to quell her giggles. "Oh, I plan to tell you, but just please, allow me my mirth."

"Hermione!"

She took her hand from her mouth, cleared her throat, and looked me directly in the eye. "It would appear Harry had a dream last night."

I raised my eyebrows, confused. "Like a nightmare?"

This caused Hermione to start giggling once again. "Oh no, quite the opposite."

"What are you talking about?"

"Harry had a dream last night. About you," Hermione said forcefully, obviously expecting me to pick up on some hint. When I didn't, she covered her face with her hands, bursting into laughter, and then collected herself a moment later to say, "Let's just say that, in this dream, you finally thanked him properly for saving you from the Chamber."

It took me a few beats, but I finally connected the dots. "Harry had a sex dream about me?"

Hermione, her shoulders shaking along with her uncontrollable snickering, simply nodded. I groaned loudly, burying my face in my hands.

"Why me? Oh, bleeding fucking sodding hell, why did it have to be me?" I ran my fingers through my hair, staring imploringly at Hermione. "Why couldn't he have had a sex dream about you? You're closer to him than I am!"

"Not exactly," Hermione said, her giggles dying down. "Your relationship is much more—how might I word this?—intimate than the one I have with him. He flinches every time I try to touch him. But with you, he instigates contact."

"Hold on," I interrupted, something clicking in my head. "If he had this dream just last night, then why did he scurry away from me in the common room, before he'd even gone to sleep?"

Hermione turned bright red, apparently more uncomfortable with this part of the story than with Harry's goddamn sex dream. She looked down at her hands. "Well, erm, I didn't exactly ask him, but…if I had to guess—" She finished the rest of the sentence under her breath.

"What? What would you guess?"

Sheepishly, she looked up at me. "Er, you said you were hugging him, right? Is it possible that it might have gotten him a little…well, a little excited?"

I could have passed out. All color drained from my face. "W-what? H-h-how? How? I've hugged him loads of times, he's never—that's never happened!"

"C'mon, Gin, he's a fifteen-year-old boy. This is probably a relatively new thing for him."

With a groan, I collapsed over onto the table, burying my face in my arms. "Merlin, he'll never be able to look at me again!"

"That's not true," Hermione said soothingly. "Sure, it'll be a bit uncomfortable for a while now that he's started imagining you naked, but—"

"I was naked?!" I hissed, shooting my head up, more humiliated than I had ever been in my entire life.

Hermione stared at me, perplexed. "Of course you were naked, Gin, it was a sex dream! Don't you know how sex works?"

"Oh, God, this is awful!" I whined.

"Is it?" she hummed. "Think about it, now. This could be your opening."

I glared at her. "My opening? Are you joking?"

"Come off it, I'm not telling you to go jump him in the common room. I'm just saying, this could be a good thing. He's starting to think of you the way you've always wanted him to. Take advantage of it. Go talk with him."

"What exactly do you propose I say during this talk?"

Hermione shrugged. "Tell him that you know he is embarrassed, but he has no need to be. You're not upset with him, you're… flattered. It's a compliment, really. Just let him know he hasn't anything to feel bad about."

I groaned, standing up and collecting my books. "I guess it's worth a bloody shot."

As I walked out of the library, I tried not to think too much about what I was about to do, but it was hard not to get my hopes up. Just as I started to allow my heart to flutter, and a smile to break across my face, my world came crashing down.

When I turned the corner at the end of the corridor, my eyes settled upon the two people sitting on a bench just a few yards away, glued together at the face. Despite the fact that they were glued together at the face, I could tell exactly who they were: it was none other than Cho Chang and Harry Potter.

I don't think I had ever been so angry in my natural-born life. My heart was pounding and my chest was heaving, but what affected me most was the storm of magic underneath my skin. My hands felt like they were flames. I wanted so badly to move, to get out of this corridor, to tear my eyes of the osculating couple, but I had lost control of my muscles, as they twitched and shook with energy.

"Harry…"

Cho leapt away from Harry as soon as she saw me, squeaking his name with trepidation. In retrospect, this is understandable—I must have been a sight. For a second, Harry simply looked at her, but then turned around to see what her eyes were fixated upon, subsequently catching my glance. He immediately stood, looking back and forth between me and Cho, before finally settling on me, his eyes fearful and apologetic.

"Ginny…"

Jaw clenched, I pierced him into silence with my glare, then willed my feet forward, attempting to progress down the corridor. Of course, Harry followed me, reaching out to grasp my shoulder before I rounded the corner. I didn't look at him as I tried to shake him off.

"Ginny, please, can we talk about this?!"

I closed my eyes, turned my head to face him, and snapped them back open, glowering at him as a lowly whispered, "Hermione told me." Taking advantage of his momentary shock, I ducked out from under his grasp and proceeded around the corner. Only a second later, however, his hands were on me once more, this time grasping both my shoulders and spinning me around.

"Please—"

"Let go of me!" I roared, my hands landing on his chest to push him away.

First there was the loud sound of harsh impact, followed by Cho's earsplitting scream. I nearly fell to the floor as I took in the scene before me, trying to comprehend what I had just done. My first instinct was to run forward, through the large hole in the stone wall into the room behind it, to figure out if Harry was okay. But I was too afraid. I was afraid that if I hadn't already killed him, that I would do so accidentally if I approached him.

So I turned on my heel and started running. As I did, the pain started to set in. God, I had never felt pain like that. I didn't know pain like that it existed. I felt as though my skin was separating from my muscle. Still, I kept running, until I found my way to Gryffindor Tower, wailing the password at the Fat Lady.

"Dear, your arms…"

"Just let me in!"

She swung open and I jumped into the thankfully empty common room, trying to brave through the pain that had now progressed from my palms all the way up to my elbows. I ran up to my dormitory, not really thinking about anything but what I had just done, knowing I needed to hide if I stood any chance of delaying the inevitable. Trying to avoid using my hands for fear the pain would get even worse, I fell to the floor and shimmied under my bed, crying in agony when I accidentally bumped my elbow against the frame. Whimpering against my will, I took solace under my bed, trying to think about anything except the fact that my arms felt as though they were torn to shreds all the way up to my shoulders. Just as I was conjuring the courage to glance down at the source of my suffering, I heard the door slam open.

"GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY!"

Holding my breath and closing my eyes, I tried to disappear between the floorboards, knowing this would be my only chance at not being found by Hermione Granger.

"I know you're in here, so come on out!" she screeched, and I heard the distinct sound of furniture being overturned as she tore through the room looking for me. "You better stop hiding right this second and explain yourself before I—"

The bed above me flew off the ground, revealing my cowering form. Frankly, it was rather impressive that Hermione managed to keep it levitating, considering what I looked like. She allowed the bed to drop back onto the floor just a few inches to my right, falling to her knees to my left.

"Oh, Ginny, what did you do?"

Not realizing until then that I was crying, I bit my lip, sniffling as I whined, "Hermione, it hurts…it hurts…"

"I know, sweetheart, just hold on, okay? I'll take you to Madam Pomphrey."

She flourished her wand, this time levitating me off the floor. As she did, I braved a look at my arms. Bile crept up my throat, and I forgave myself for being in so much pain. The sleeves of my robes and shirt were completely gone, as was the majority of my skin, revealing nothing but red, sinewy muscles. I don't know if it was the sight of my injury or if I finally succumbed to my torture, but about three seconds later, I lost consciousness.

XoXoX

I woke up with a start in the hospital wing, sitting straight up as the memories of what had happened flew back into my awareness. As expected, my arms were casted in bandages, although the pain was much more manageable than before. I glanced around the room, finally settling upon a still-unconscious Harry in the bed across from me, my heart sinking.

"Mr. Potter will be fine."

Nearly jumping out of bed, I turned to the source of the calm, steady voice. "Professor Dumbledore," I gasped, but then sighed, relaxing against the pillows. "Of course. Wouldn't be the same if I woke up in the hospital wing without anyone here to explain why."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Ah, as I expected, no amount of injury you sustain could ever harm your sense of humor."

"Evidently," I chuckled dryly. "Right. Well then, how have I gone and defied reality and expectations this time?"

A faint smile spread across his face. "Compared to some of your other adventures, this is rather mundane. I'm afraid to say this happens to the best of us when we perform wandless magic without proper training."

I raised an eyebrow. "Wandless magic?" Then, I began to frantically shake my head. "No…no, it wasn't wandless magic, I didn't mean to do it! It was an accident!"

Dumbledore held up a hand to stop what he wisely predicted to be an endless rant. "Miss Weasley, I am not accusing you of intending to do harm to anyone. In fact, it is my hope that I can show you just how much of an accident this truly was. That is, if you will allow it." I closed my mouth, nodding. "Very well. If I were to venture a guess, this is not the first time you have experienced the sensation of built-up magic surfacing in your hands. Is this accurate?"

I took a deep breath. "Yes, sir."

"For many years, when you have lost control of your emotions, you have felt this. Since you had no outlet through which to release this magic, it has developed and developed, unfettered, and finally reached the breaking point," he explained, his eyes sweeping over my bandaged arms. "Though I daresay, I have never seen such extensive damage."

"Sir," I drawled. "I don't quite understand. I'm fourteen years old."

"And?"

"And even the most powerful witches and wizards are incapable of any semblance of wandless magic until they're at least seventeen, usually not until well after that."

Dumbledore nodded, analyzing me over his glasses. "In most circumstances, Miss Weasley, this would be correct. However, you must understand that due to your unique experiences, you have been granted a head start."

I closed my eyes, clenching my jaw against the realization. "Tom can perform wandless magic."

"Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said firmly. "let me assure you that you are a formidable witch. Although your connection to Lord Voldemort might have propelled you toward wandless magic prematurely, I have nothing but confidence that you would have mastered the art well before your second decade of life began."

Closing my eyes, I nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore stood, letting out a sigh. "Now, if I am not mistaken, Miss Granger is waiting outside. I do fear my presence made her uncomfortable and sequestered her to the hall."

Against my better judgement, I snorted. As I moved to look at the door, my eyes settled on Harry. "Professor, you're sure he'll be okay?"

I felt the amusement bouncing off of Dumbledore. "He woke briefly, only to make quite a fuss upon seeing you in a bed across from him. Evidently, he was inordinately concerned that he had caused you bodily harm, motivating Madam Pomphrey to sedate him."

My eyes widened. "He was worried he hurt me?"

Dumbledore's mouth twitched. "You will have much to talk about when he awakes. Now, shall I allow Miss Granger to check your status?"

I nodded mutely, once again fixing my eyes on Harry. He didn't have any bandages on him, like I did, so I figured I had at least not done any lasting damage. Biting my lip, I looked down at my hands, unable to erase the picture of what they had looked like mere hours before.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, are you trying to put me in an early grave?!"

Not sure whether I should laugh or cry, I watched Hermione storm into the hospital wing, her eyes crazed as she zeroed in on me. However, when she met my eyes, she softened considerably, sinking into a chair next to my bed. She reached out to take my hand, but pulled back upon realization that taking my hand might not be the best of ideas.

"Are you okay?" she murmured.

Tears welled into my eyes as I settled my stare back onto Harry. "I didn't mean to hurt him. I promise. It was an accident, I didn't—I just wanted away, I didn't mean to hurt him."

Hermione got up from her chair and sat on the edge of my bed. I scooted sideways so she could settle in next to me as she pushed the hair out of my face. "Tell me what happened, hon."

I sniffed. "Honestly, I dunno what happened."

"All I know is that you left the library to talk to Harry, and about three minutes later I heard this awful crash from down the corridor, and I ran out to see a giant hole in the wall and you making a run for it. I was chasing after you when I saw that Harry was lying in the rubble, with Cho leaning over him, horrorstruck. I sent her to get Madam Pomphrey while I went to deal with you." She shifted a little, her voice getting quieter. "When I got to your dormitory, I found you under your bed, and your arms were—your arms, Ginny…"

She started to cry, and I yearned to reach out and comfort her, but I figured the feeling of plaster stroking her cheek wouldn't calm her at all. So I settled for my words. "Dumbledore says I used wandless magic, but because I haven't been trained, and the power has just been brewing inside me, uninhibited, it…well, it sort of exploded against my will."

Apparently, this was enough to capture Hermione's interest. "Wandless magic? At your age?"

I snorted. "Yeah, well, we can thank Tom for that."

She bit her lip, obviously debating in which direction she should take this conversation. In true Hermione fashion, she chose in the direction of cold, hard facts. "How long have you been feeling the magic building?"

I shrugged. "Since my first year."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Dunno. I didn't realize it was a big deal. I figured everyone felt it when they got emotional."

Hermione sighed, chuckling a little. "Sometimes you're as thick as your brother."

"Speaking of whom…"

"They know, but they've been ordered by McGonagall to stay put until you and Harry are feeling better."

"How'd you manage to escape her wrath?"

"Well, seeing as I might have saved your life by finding you, she allowed me to visit."

I smirked, knowing Hermione would not soon let me live this down. We were quiet a moment, but then I felt Hermione squirming, anxiety pouring off her body. "What's wrong, 'Mione?"

She sighed. "I have a sneaking suspicion what the answer to this question is, but…what exactly happened in that corridor that got you so angry?"

Oh yeah. In my concern that I had gravely wounded Harry, I had forgotten entirely how furious I was with him. "They were going at it on a bench," I muttered. Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but I cut her off. "Honestly, I didn't mean to hurt him. The thought of hurting him didn't cross my mind. I just—I was so upset, and he wouldn't let go of me, and I couldn't even think, I was so upset. I went to push him off me, and…"

I trailed off, biting my lip as I turned my eyes to Harry. Hermione placed her hand on my cheek. "He's absolutely fine, Ginny. A few broken bones—nothing Madam Pomphrey couldn't take care of with a flick of her wand. You're the one you should be worrying about."

"Is that so?" I sighed, forcing my eyes off of Harry to survey my bandages. "Do you happen to know my prognosis?"

Hermione's voice was timid and broken as she explained, "The good news is there wasn't significant muscle damage. Madam Pomphrey has been accelerating the regrowth of your skin with some potions and magic, but it should still take another day or so until you're ready to take the bandages off."

I winced, but the fear and concern emanating from Hermione reminded me so much of my mother that my defense mechanism kicked into action, preventing me from showing any weakness or distress. "So does this mean I won't have any freckles on my arms?"

Her hand fell from my cheek as she attempted to make sense of my response. "What?"

"If I'm growing all new skin, it won't very well have freckles, will it? Damn, it'll look so weird for a while."

Hermione gawked at me, just about to formulate a reply when we heard a groan from the other side of the room. We looked instantly to Harry's bed. He was stirring, but had yet to open his eyes.

"Ginny…?" he grumbled. "Where—?"

Before he could finish his question, I had bolted out of my bed and was standing next to his, completely ignoring the stinging pain in my hands as I moved to take his, so desperate to feel him that I forgot about the layers of gauze preventing me from doing so. Once I realized I couldn't separate my fingers, I settled for my words. "I'm right here, Harry," I assured him.

"Are you okay?" we asked each other at the same time, not even waiting for a response before we began rapidly talking over each other.

"Ginny, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, o-or hurt you—"

"Harry, it's all my fault, I'm so sorry, I couldn't control it, it was an accident—"

"Cho kissed me, I promise, I barely knew what was going on when she pulled back and you were there, and I swear, I didn't mean to—"

"I never want to hurt you, I don't know what came over me, I'm so sorry, Harry—"

"Gin—"

We both stopped talking then, but not because we ran out of things to say. Rather, it is very difficult to speak when your lips are crashing together in a world-stopping-ly passionate kiss.