Chapter 3

The first week had gone by in a blur. Harry had learned Monday morning that eh could indeed take potions and go forward with his dream to join the Aurors. Since Professor Slughorn was now the potions master, the standard for advance potions was lowered, and Harry's Exceeds Expectations was enough to get him and Ron into class.

That day, Slughorn had offered a prize for the best brewer of the Draught of Living Death. Ron and Harry had burrowed copies of the text book, and Harry's copy was so covered in notes from the previous owner he'd not been able to make out the proper instructions.

Yet, halfway through brewing his potion, he'd noticed that the untidy handwriting was giving hints on better brewing. Harry was tempted to try the hints, but something in the back of his mind warned that it could be some horrible trick, and the potion might explode. Memories of the Diary in his second year came to mind.

So he followed the instructions as best as he could. His potion was much better than it would have been with Snape teaching the class, but it still wasn't good enough to win the prize. By the time Slughorn called for them to stop, Harry's caldron was full of a steel gray thin liquid, that smelled of sweat socks.

In the end, Hermione had won the prize of a vial of Felix Felicious, or Liquid Luck. Professor Slughorn promised that there was enough in the tiny vial for a full twelve hours of luck, or one perfect day. Hermione had a little skip in her step as they exited the class. Harry felt a hint of jealousy, though he was proud of his best friend.

The first lesson of Defense Against the Dark Arts with Snape turned out to be the most brutal lesson that any Harry had ever suffered in Potions. Snape had them learning to cast defense spells silently. Snape had even tried to make Harry an example, though Harry had protected himself brilliantly, he'd not cast his shield charm silently and Snape deducted points for lack of discipline.

Friday evening came very quickly, and Harry was on his way to his very first private lesson with Dumbledore. He had been looking forward to this, as his curiosity about what he might be learning from the Headmaster had him and his friends curiosity's piqued. He had received a letter that morning from Dumbledore inviting him to the Headmaster's office at seven that evening. Harry raced through dinner, actually putting Ron to shame by shoveling his food into his mouth in a blur, and swallowing most of it whole.

Harry said a fast goodbye to his friends and made his way out of the Great Hall. He was nearly to the Headmaster's office when he was grabbed roughly and pulled into a side classroom. He turned angrily to face an equally angry looking Daphne Greengrass.

"I thought I made my case quite clear on the train, Potter." She hissed through gritted teeth. "Do I have to write the letter of request for you, or do you truly wish to be chained to someone against your will? Isn't your existence complicated enough?"

"How the hell would you have any idea how complicated my life is?" Harry shouted, tearing Daphne's hands from his robes.

"Please, Potter. I do my research. Besides the blindingly obvious situation with You-Know-Who, you've got to put together a champion Quidditch team, you're Slughorn's new obsession, not to mention the hordes of desperate scheming girls who wish to be the one to have been the Boy-Who-Lived's first sexual conquest. You really don't need this problem as well, nor do I. It is in both our best interests for you to get a copy of the bloody contract so we can find a way out of it." Daphne said, crossing her arms as she wrapped up.

Harry eyed her critically for a few moments. Daphne was a very attractive young woman, just as Neville had said on the train. This was the first time that Harry had ever given the Slytherin girl any sort of critical examination. Daphne had medium length blonde hair, which she had tied back in a ponytail, and out of her face. He lips were a little pouty looking, and painted an enticing shade of pink. She was slightly shorter than Harry, with gentle, very feminine curves, hidden somewhat by her robes. Harry imagined she might have a lot hidden under her school robes, and then chastised himself for thinking about the Slytherin girl in that way.

Daphne's most entrancing feature, Harry noted, was her deep dark brown eyes. They smoldered with her obvious anger at the moment. Harry could see something in those deep dark pools that softened her, something that she was trying to hide and that he couldn't put into words.

Her stance was nothing short of defiant and her foot was tapping softly as she waited for a response. Her mouth was set in a very grim frown, and her eyebrow was arched over her angry dark eyes.

"Are you quite finished ogling me with your eyes?" She asked irritated.

Harry took a very long breath and let it out slowly, rubbing his forehead as if to ease some pain and to hide his embarrassment. He knew that the only way to end this ridiculous farce was to actually write to Gringotts and try to get this supposed contract. When none ever showed, she would leave him alone at last.

"I can't believe I'm going to go along with this. Alright. I will write first thing tomorrow morning. As soon as I hear back from them, I will let you know. I swear. Is that acceptable?" Harry asked wearily.

Daphne nodded gruffly and left quickly. Harry couldn't help but take a very long look at Daphne's posterior as her hips swayed away from him. Harry shook his head to clear it, and ran to the Headmaster's office.

"You are late." Dumbledore said as Harry entered.

"I'm very sorry, but I have another little problem."

"Is there anything I might do to help?"

"No, well…maybe. Can you tell me about marriage contracts?" Harry asked, looking hopefully at the Headmaster.

"Marriage contracts? Why would you like to know about that?" Dumbledore asked, obviously puzzled at the question.

"There's a girl who is trying to convince me that her parents and my parents made a marriage contract for the two of us, and she wants me to write to Gringotts and get a copy out of my family vault. All that's in there is gold, sir.

"That's not true. The vault in which you access to buy your school supplies is a trust vault, refilled each year. The Potter Family is very old, and it is possible that you possess several vaults. Dumbledore said. Harry's eyes went wide.

"Several?" Harry asked in awe

"It is possible. I was not privy to your parents financial situation, and do not know. ."

"If there truly is a marriage contract, how would I be able to see it?" Harry asked now truly curious.

"I think a letter to the account manager would help. They should be able to get a copy of any documentation regarding a Contract of Marriage for you. If I might ask, who is the young lady?" Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling madly.

"Daphne Greengrass."

"Interesting." Dumbledore said with the hint of a smile.

"What is it, sir?" Harry asked, but the old man merely shook his head.

"We've not the time for such a discussion. I suggest you write to Gringotts, and make your request. I would be happy to help you when you receive the contract. For now, we have much to discuss."

Harry's mind came back to the present. His excitement rose substantially as the Headmaster rose from his seat and made his way to a locked cabinet. Harry followed him and stared in wonder as the headmaster opened the cabinet filled with tiny crystal vials of silvery liquid.

"Sir, what is it you'll be teaching me?"

"History."

"Oh." Harry said, obviously deflated.

"Harry, one of the reason we should learn our history is to make sure we don't repeat the mistakes of those who came before us. You and I will be learning together, for we will be examining the history of a particular individual. Lord Voldemort."

Harry perked up once again and at Dumbledore's beckon, joined the Headmaster at the pensive. Dumbledore poured a small vial of memory into the stone bowl and he and Harry dunked their heads into the silvery liquid.

Harry had some trouble understanding why he was watching these particular memories. It was of a small, destitute family living in a shack near Little Hangelton. The Gaunts were a pure blood family, supposedly descended from Salazar Slytherin himself. During the course of the memory, an employee from the Ministry of Magic came to speak to them about the eldest boy's harassment of muggles. In the end, a fight had broken out which led to the arrest of the family's patriarch Marvolo Riddle and his son, leaving only the homely looking girl, Merope, alone.

An hour later after the memory finished, Harry and Dumbledore rose out of the bowl, both looking disturbed and confused. They both sat at Dumbledore's desk and discussed all that they had seen. Dumbledore, having been far more observant, and to his admission having seen these memories before was able to point out much to Harry that he'd only glanced at.

When Dumbledore finally excused him for the evening, Harry's mind was whirling. There had been so much he'd learned of Voldemort's origins. The young woman, Merope gaunt had brewed and used a powerful love potion on a muggle by the name of Tom Riddle, whom she had secretly loved for years. Merope and Tom were married and soon after, Merope was pregnant. It was then that she stopped using the love potion, thinking that Tom Riddle would love her on his own, only to be devastated when he left and returned back to his family.

He couldn't wait to get back and share all he'd learned with Hermione and Ron, who were waiting for him anxiously. He had barely sat down when they began assaulting him with questions about his private lesson with the headmaster.

It was very late when Harry finally made it to bed. As he pulled the curtain around him and laid his head down, images flooded his mind. He saw himself laughing with Ginny Weasley, laying under his favorite tree at the Burrow. He felt exhilarated when she bent low and kissed his lips, and ran her hands through his hair.

Harry had never felt such strong feelings for anyone, even Cho Chang. Harry wondered how Ron would feel if Harry were to date his younger sister. He knew that Ron had been quite angry with Dean Thomas, Ginny's current boyfriend, and even Harry had felt a sort of animosity towards his dorm mate. Harry knew in his heart it was jealousy, but he refused to acknowledge it. He wasn't going to alienate himself from Ginny by causing problems for Dean.

Harry fell asleep a little while later, dreaming of holding Ginny as they laughed at Crookshanks chasing a snake and tearing it open. Something spilled out of the snake that screamed at the two of them, and charged. Harry grasped Ginny's hand and began running away from the charged shadow.

They came into a clearing in the Dark Forest, and Harry spun to check on Ginny, who he could hear was just as out of breath as he was. Harry screamed out when he saw Ginny staring at him with red eyes, and a contemptuous sneer.

"You can't win, Potter!" Lord Voldemort snarled. "I will kill you and everyone you care for."

"Harry!" A voice called. Harry turned to see a angelic blonde girl shouting his name and reaching for him. "Harry!"

"Harry!"

It was Ron. He was shaking his best friend frantically trying to wake him.

"I'm ok." Harry said sitting up. There was light coming into the dorm from the window. "What time is it?"

"Nearly ten. You missed breakfast." Ron said, sighing with relief. You were sound asleep, so I let you have a lie in. When I came up here just now, you were thrashing about, so I woke you up. What the hell were you dreaming about?"

Harry shook his head. "Just another nightmare." Harry said thoughtfully. The truth was this wasn't his normal nightmare. Ginny had turned into Voldemort, and the strange blonde woman trying to save him. He couldn't figure out any reason why he would be dreaming of the Slytherin girl at all.

It was then that he remembered his promise. Harry got up and tended to his morning ritual before coming down to the Gryffindor common room where he quickly penned a letter to Gringotts.

"I'm going to the Owlery, would you guys like to come along?" Harry asked of his friends, who both agreed to a nice walk.

On the way, Harry told them of his meeting with Daphne the night before. While Ron began a long tirade against Slytherin house, Hermione seemed lost in thought. Harry noticed her silence and made a mental note to talk to her about it a little later on when they were alone.

When Harry sent Hedwig off, the three of them went down to see Hagrid, who was a little upset with them at first, but finally warmed up to them and informed them that Aragog the acromantula was not well. The trio comforted Hagrid as best they could, and talked with their friend for the rest of the afternoon.

Daphne was finishing her essay for Ancient Runes in the library, hidden away at the farthest table hidden behind shelves of books. Most students were unaware of this table, which Daphne liked. No one ever bothered her there and she was free to work in peace.

She finished the last sentence on the essay and made sure the ink was dry before rolling it up and setting it aside. She then reached over to the stack of books she had pulled in order to do some research on the remainder of her homework. As soon as she opened it, however, Tracey Davis sat down heavily.

"I should have looked here first." Tracey said.

"I waited for you, but you just can't seem to get going on the weekends." Daphne said softly.

"Hey, I'm usually up before you during the week. I'm allowed a lie in on the weekends."

"Well, I pulled all the books you'll need. Obviously Granger has either finished, or hasn't been here yet." Daphne said haughtily.

"You still can't let it go. It's not that the little bookworm is smarter than you, it's that she just does more. She's not that bad. She can actually be quite nice."

"I just hate that she's such a teacher's pet." Daphne said. "And how do you know what she's like?

"Does it really matter? Once we leave school, none of this is going to matter." Tracey smirked. "Once you and Potter tie the knot…"

"ENOUGH!" Daphne quietly hissed. "I am sick to death of all these little jokes about me and Potter. You think I enjoy this. It's a nightmare. I feel like there's an axe swinging over my head."

"Come off it." Tracey glared now. "In all the time I've known you, you've only ever been with two boys, and I honestly don't think you should count that bloke from Durmstrang. I know that you are focused on studies but it wouldn't kill you to spend a little time locked in a broom cupboard exploring male anatomy."

"Oh, do you have to be so graphic?" Daphne nearly vomited.

"The point is, you're more tightly wound than Granger, and that girl needs a sexual release badly. If she would just drag Weasley into a broom cupboard, maybe she would lighten up."

"You still think they've got it bad for one another?" Daphne sighed happy for the change of topic. She'd heard this theory since fourth year. Tracey loved to hypothesize about different people and relationships. Daphne was positive that Tracey would make loads of gold as a matchmaker. She had this uncanny ability to see two people and decide if they would be a long lasting couple.

"Oh, I know it." Tracey said proudly. "You just have to look at the way they bicker. The stare at each other constantly, when the other isn't looking of course. There's some serious sexual tension going on there."

"What about you?' Daphne said, turning the conversation on her friend. "Who is this year's victim?"

"If by victim you mean boy who is going to be the focus of all my affections this year, I have widdled the list down to three very lucky candidates."

"Last year was Theodore Nott, whom, as I recall, you dumped when you found out he was…what was the phrase…not well equipped?" Daphne was trying not to chuckle. Tracey laughed openly.

"That was Blaise, as you know full well. Blaise was not well equipped. Theo was and still is learning about himself."

"That's right. Theo is the one that you're convinced is gay but unaware of it yet." Daphne laughed into her hand.

"No boy spends that much time on his outfit and hair. This year, I am venturing out of the hallowed halls of Slytherin house. There is a whole world of boys just waiting to be taken advantage of."

"Look out Hogwarts, Tracey Davis is on the prowl."

"You're damn right. But let's refocus on you. Don't get defensive…" Tracey stopped Daphne before she could utter a word.

"I just want you to think about a few things, ok?" Tracey said sincerely. When her best friend finally nodded.

"Maybe you and Potter isn't a bad thing. He's very good looking, and genuinely sweet. Yeah, so he's got a Dark Lord chasing him, hell bent on killing him, but it's kind of sexy, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about?" Daphne gasped.

"Ok, forget that. You and Harry Potter could be a smart match. With your brains and insight, and his fame you two can do anything. Besides, word has it, he's just as inexperienced as you are in the love department."

"TRACEY!" Daphne hissed.

"All I'm saying is to give it some thought. You could do a lot worse than the Boy-Who-Lived. Now, let me see your essay, I want to do well on this one."

Daphne did think about it, and it angered her that Tracey was right. Daphne could do a lot worse than Harry Potter. She had watched Tracey flounce around with different boys, usually upperclassmen, but always Slytherin. Each and every boy had failed to keep Tracey happy, and inevitably, Daphne would hear every sordid detail of her best friend's adventures in dating. All this did was to make Daphne cringe at the thought of having a boyfriend. How could anyone deal with all those hormones and animalistic desires, without some kind of intellectual connection. It seemed all wrong to her.

And still, she was a sixteen year old girl, and her mind often wander into the realm of fantasy where she dreamt of being held by some faceless member of the opposite sex. Whenever she would think of these things, she always swore that she would find herself a good man who would be a good match for her, eventually. Her schooling took precedence.

Sunday, as Daphne and Tracey were studying in the common room, Draco Malfoy entered with his usual swagger and began loudly talking to his friends so everyone could here about how Terrible he felt Hogwarts was becoming, and how it was all due to the growing number of "mudbloods".

Daphne and Tracey stole glances at Draco and his cronies as the Slytherin Prince laughed about things he'd love to see happen to the whole lot of muggleborns. Draco was obviously still seething over his father's incarceration, Slughorn's apparent distaste for the Slytherin prince, and the potions teacher's in amour of Harry Potter and his "mudblood" friend Granger. Draco had been running his mouth all week about Granger winning the vial of Liquid Luck on Monday. Daphne was sure that Draco was angry at losing for another reason, one that had caused Draco to lose sleep over, but had not even hinted at.

Daphne looked about at her housemates, specifically the males trying to see something attractive in any of them. Sure, many of them were good looking, but outside of that, what did they offer that might attract her. Many were too ambitious, too zealous in their lust for fame and power, and above all, just cruel bullies. They'd forgotten or never truly learned what it meant to be Slytherin. Most of them believed as the rest of the school that if you were in Slytherin you must be evil. There were no muggleborns in Slytherin, and only a handful of half-bloods, and those who admitted to it were ostracized by the rest of the house. It was why Tracey had never admitted to anyone save Daphne that she was half-blood.

Daphne wanted someone who was honest, not just to her, but with themselves. Someone who stood for what they believed, and was as ambitious as she was. Daphne was not seeking fame and glory, as was many of her housemates. Daphne had other ideas for her life. She liked the thought of becoming an Unspeakable, researching the most mysterious branches of magic. Just the idea of discovering the secrets hidden deep within the Ministry made her break out in gooseflesh.

Daphne also loved the idea of opening her own apothecary, which would specialize in rare and hard to get items. Thanks to her father, Daphne had been introduced to many people who would be willing to help procuring supplies for her store. It would also give her the opportunity to work more with Potions, which Daphne loved. She was quite gifted at it to be sure, but was often beaten in class by Granger. Daphne tried to not let it get to her, and just focused on her own work.

All her dreams seemed to be in danger because of this damnable marriage contract. Daphne was not unlike any other sixteen year old girl in that, she often dreamt of meeting some wonderful guy and being swept off her feet in a whirlwind romance like in some of the trashy romance novels Tracey had let her borrow. But in her dreams, the boy was not being hunted by the most dangerous wizard in history, nor was he a scrawny, messy haired bespectacled slob. Harry Potter always looked like he'd only come off the street. His clothes were way to big for him, save his school clothes which seemed to be the only thing that fit him correctly. His hair was always sticking up, and he always seemed so awkward in his own skin.

Daphne couldn't help but wonder how all those rumors began. The Chamber of Secrets where he fought a Basilisk. The Sorcerer's Stone where he supposedly fought and destroyed Professor Quirrell. Or the rumor where he fought off a hundred Dementors. Yeah, sure, he'd out flown a dragon, saved both Weasley and that French trollop's sister under the lake, and won the Tri-Wizard cup. There was also the story that he'd fought a resurrected He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named before returning with the body of Cedric Diggory. Daphne had been one of those who did not believe until she had read the article in the Quibbler. Now she was on the fence. It was very well written, and the way it told Harry's tale made it hard not to believe, there was also the fact that You-Know-Who was spotted in the Ministry itself at the end of last year, seemingly torturing Potter.

Daphne's reasoning was that maybe Potter knew of the Dark Lord's return, but it was impossible for a fourteen year old to face You-Know-Who and walk away unless he was allowed to. It was the only way that Daphne could believe the story.

Then there was the mass rumor that Potter had led a group of rebel students in a secret Defense Against the Dark Arts club right under Umbridge's nose all year. Students had gone to him to teach them, and they had all gotten exceedingly good marks on the OWL test, even Longbottom who was supposed to be near squib status if you believe Malfoy.

So the question burned in Daphne's mind, what if all of it were true? Could Harry Potter truly be as powerful as the rumors depicted him? If so, why would she not want to be with him. His clothes were a mess, and his hair was just pitiful, but his eyes were amazing to look at. She had experienced it on the train to school. His eyes could truly see into her if he had wanted to, she was sure.

Potter had an ease about him, even when he was uncomfortable, which seemed to be when any girl approached him. She had laughed with Tracey the year before at the tragedy that was Potter and Chang. They had secretly giggled every time Chang even looked at Potter and he would lose all higher brain function.

But what if all he needed was someone to show him the way. Not that Daphne had a lot of experience. She had only kissed one boy and that had been fourth year with a Durmstrang boy. Unfortunately for the boy, he'd gotten a little grabby and she'd had to hex him quite badly. Still, it had not been unpleasant. Even now she thought back fondly on the experience, wishing she could have a repeat performance, with someone different. The problem was twofold. First was that very few boys ignited any sort of fire in her, and second was her reputation. She was the most unapproachable girl in all of Hogwarts. Boys actually ran to avoid her in the halls, except Malfoy, who thought he was Merlin's gift or something.

Daphne stifled a giggle that had Tracey looking at her inquisitively from across the table. Daphne couldn't hold the thought to herself, and so she shared her secret joke with her friend.

"What do you think Malfoy would do if the "Ice Queen" suddenly began being escorted around the school by the Gryffindor Golden Boy?" She asked in a very hushed whisper. Tracey's face scrunched as she tried to hold in her own mirth at the thought.

"You mean after Madam Pomfrey repaired his mind after it exploded in his skull? She'd have a full infirmary as I think most of the school would be suffering from seizures. Malfoy would be nothing compared to his best friend, Weasley. That boy might simply die from the shock."

This had Daphne choking on her own laughter.

"So does this mean you've been thinking on it, then?" Tracey asked. Daphne's mood fell back into utter despair and anger.

"Yes, unfortunately. I can see many positives for it, and there are only a few negatives, but they are major negatives. Not to mention the fact I would like a choice in my love life. How would you feel if it were you?"

"You mean in a contract , or in a contract with Potter?" Tracey asked coyly.

"Can you please…"

"Keep your panties on, I'm only having a laugh. Yes I would be extremely distraught over the entire situation, no question, and you have every right to be upset. I think any girl would be, unless it's Pansy being promised to Malfoy. But, as I said, you could not do much better. If you chose to, you could mold that boy into shape in no time and become the envy of this entire school. Even you have to admit he's not bad on the eyes."

"Ok, I admit that Potter has a few attractive attributes, but he's such a mess."

"Granted, but how much of it is his doing. I've been doing some research on the enigma that is Potter, and have uncovered some things that are a bit startling. Now, understand that I have no positive evidence to back up what I've heard, but it does make sense." Tracey said looking quite satisfied with herself.

"What, oh sneaky one, have you learned on this great mystery?" Daphne asked. It never ceased to amaze her how Tracey came by information. Daphne often thought that Tracey would make a great spy.

"Not much. Potter's very secretive, which leads me to believe his home life isn't a very good one. I understand that his relatives are quite large, and if I had to guess, I'd say his clothes were all hand me downs. I can't ask around because then people might start to talk, and I don't need Potter think I'm interested. I've overheard a lot of things, that other people have overheard. So I honestly don't know what's fact and what's make believe." Tracey thought.

Tracey's words gave Daphne pause. It was true that no one really knew Harry Potter, save for the stories and rumors that were constantly circulating about the boy. He never talked about himself, that she knew of at least, but no one else ever talked about the boy other than to spread rumors.

"So I'm guessing that you're trying to suggest I actually talk to the boy and offer my help?" Daphne asked dejectedly.

"As I've said many times now, you my dear, are in a very unique position. There is a very large female contingent who would give their lives to be where you are right now. To have a chance to get to know, I mean really know, Harry Potter. On top of that, he's yours to snog senselessly."

"Oh, you are so hormonal." Daphne sighed, rubbing her temples.

It was a very bleary eyed Harry Potter who came to breakfast Monday morning. He had slept very little since Friday night. He had spent most of the weekend doing homework and trying to understand what Dumbledore had shown him. The memory of what he'd seen kept replaying in his mind.

Harry had already known that Voldemort was the Heir of Salazar Slytherin. He'd learned that in his second year. But it amazed him to see how a supposedly powerful and ancient house had fallen so far from the greatness that most purebloods held in such regards. The Gaunt family lived like outcasts, in a small hut just outside of where Voldemort had resurrected himself.

Harry and his friends had been trying to understand the point of it all. In fact the only thing that had stood out as important was the ring that Marvolo Gaunt had shown off. The same ring that resided in Dumbledore's office.

On top of that, he'd been dreaming of Ginny Weasley a little more. The night before, Harry had actually posed the question to his best mate, and Ginny's older brother, Ron.

"Ron, how would you feel if I asked Ginny out?" Harry had asked, a little shakily.

Ron stopped rummaging in his trunk, where he'd been looking for his Quidditch magazine. He stopped and stared at Harry for a long time before he spoke.

"I knew it. The way you seemed to always stare at her over the summer." Ron smiled slightly. "Look Harry, you're my best mate, and nothing would make me happier than to see you happy. It's the same with Ginny. If you two ended up together, than I'd be ecstatic for the both of you. Unlike the other losers she seems to go for, I know you wouldn't try to take advantage of her."

"Ron, I think you really underestimate her." Harry defended.

"No I don't. I know she's extremely powerful, and I know she can take care of herself. But it doesn't protect her from heartbreak when some bastard tries something and she has to defend herself. Everyone gets me wrong. I know I play the over protective brother a little too much, but I still see little Gin-Gin, you know?"

Harry nodded his understanding. He still saw the glint of innocence in her pretty blue eyes sometimes, especially when she smiled.

"I guess it really doesn't matter, though. She's with Dean." Harry said, mostly to himself.

"Harry, since we're having a heart to heart, what do you think my chances are with Hermione?"

Harry's eyes nearly popped out of his skull at that moment. "Really? I mean you're actually considering asking her out?"

"Yeah. I know we fight a lot, but I really like her. I don't know exactly when it happened."

"I'd guess fourth year, right around the Yule Ball."

"What?"

"Nothing." Harry smirked, then he became quite serious.. "Honestly Ron, I think you'd need to show Hermione what you're capable of. I don't mean impressing her so much as reaching your potential. That means doing your own homework with out her help, and really trying in class. Stop being a lazy git. Hermione cares for you, and maybe she likes you in that way as well, but you need to show her that you're worth her time, you understand?"

"Yeah, I do. You're telling me what I already figured out. I just don't know how to go about it. Can you help me?" Ron asked hopefully.

"I suggest trying your hardest not to fight with her, even if she's wrong about something."

They talked a little while longer about the girls that interested them so completely. Ron asked questions about Harry's time with Cho Chang, and they both discussed some of the finer Hogwarts female students. When Harry finally went to bed, his mind soothed him with fantastical images of he and Ginny walking along a beach, sharing a sunset and kissing in the surf. He also dreamt of a picnic with Ron and Hermione joining them.

And then his dreams turned again to the horrific image of Ginny melting into a twisted version of Voldemort. Harry's limbs were suddenly frozen and the snake like visage of his enemy hovered over him, hissing greedily. Harry looked all around for help. Hermione and Ron were lying near him, dead.

Harry felt anger welling inside him as Voldemort taunted and laughed. And then his arms and legs were free. He could get up, and Voldemort's face turned to one of fearful anger as a beautiful blonde stepped beside Harry. Her dark brown eyes were angry and determined. She stared the Dark Lord down, and the evil wizard seemed to cower.

Harry got to his feet and faced the woman who had obviously come to his rescue. She was stunningly beautiful, and her eyes, when she looked at him, filled him to his core with something indescribable.

Harry awoke rattled. He couldn't understand what these dreams meant. He was sure that it wasn't Voldemort messing in his head, because the Dark Lord wouldn't be afraid. He couldn't understand why Ginny always seemed to be the one to change into the serpentine like figure of Voldemort, or who this blonde woman was who always appeared to help him.

"Good morning Harry." Hermione said cheerily.

"Mmph." Harry huffed as he sat heavily on the bench and began piling eggs onto his plate.

"Another rough night?" She asked.

"I keep having weird dreams." Harry mumbled.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not right now." Harry shook her off. At that moment the morning owl post came. Hundreds of owls came swooping in, delivering packages and letters to students. Harry was surprised when Hedwig landed with a large package bearing the seal of Gringotts.

Harry went rigid as an uncomfortable conversation with a very pushy and abrasive blonde Slytherin girl suddenly came to the forefront of his mind.

"It's here."