Sleep to Dream

CliodnaHPFan

Rating: R
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 5
Published: 17/03/2005
Last Updated: 13/04/2005
Status: in_progress

Ginny Weasley returns to her sixth year at Hogwarts expecting it to be like it usually is - but fate has other plans.

Chapters

1. Chapter 1

2. 2

1. Chapter 1

Sleep to Dream

“There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.” - Friedrich Nietzsche

Dear Diary,

School starts back today, and I have to admit that I'm not quite sure what to expect. I'm not sure if I can face the other students again. They knew - by the end of my first year, they all knew what had happened to me. Rumor (fueled by the Slytherins, of course) spread through the school, and it moved faster than I'd ever anticipated. My real friends have ignored the talk for the most part - Harry, Ron, Hermione, and a few other of my housemates have turned a deaf ear to the gossip, but mostly because Harry has explained what really happened to me.

But not everyone is like that.

It's the beginning of my sixth year, and yet somehow I feel like I did at the beginning of my second year. I want to go back to school, but at the same time, I don't want to. I don't like the way people look at me when they pass me in the hallways. I don't like the way they whisper when I walk past them in the library. It's as if I've been marked somehow; marked with some sort of brand that's invisible only to me. Everyone else around me sees it, and it causes them to condemn me before I even have a chance to open my mouth and say anything to them.

How can these people pass judgement on me, based on some shaky rumors that have been greatly exaggerated for close to four years now? It's not fair.

Ginny stopped writing and stared at the last sentence she'd written. It's not fair. Since when had anything in her life been fair? The last child of seven, she'd gotten used to the hand-me-downs (yes, even from her brothers she received hand-me-downs; she spends the summers and holidays wearing Bill and Charlie's old shirts and jumpers). She's grown used to the babying inflicted on her not only by her parents, but by her two eldest brothers, as well.

It would only make sense that after her first year at Hogwarts, the babying and the monitoring and the coddling at home would intensify; she just hadn't expected it to reach the point that it had.

“Ginny, are you quite ready yet, darling?” her Mum's voice called upstairs. Ginny hurried to shove her journal deep into her bookbag. While it was easy enough to hide her journal from prying eyes, it would be difficult to explain the ink stains that currently marred the pale skin of her fingers. She grabbed her bag and hurried down the stairs, taking two at a time.

“I'm ready, Mum.” She tried to skip past her mother, but Molly Weasley was too quick for her. She shot a hand out and gripped her daughter's forearm lightly.

“Ginevra Weasley,” her mother chided, turning her hand over and inspecting the black stains. “What on earth have you been doing?”

“Taking a bath in her inkpot, looks like,” Ron offered, peering over his mother's shoulder. Ginny narrowed her eyes at him.

“No one asked for your opinion, Ronald,” she snapped. Ron shrugged and turned away, but Ginny caught the beginnings of a smile as he did.

“You don't have time to go and wash it off,” Molly said, exasperated. She pulled out her wand. “Evanesco!” Nothing happened. Molly frowned. “Have you been into that pot of permanent ink that I confiscated from Fred and George?”

“No, Mum,” Ginny sighed.

“Then why won't it come off?”

“I don't know.” Molly dropped her arm and tsk-tsk'ed at her.

“I'll look for a remedy in Gilderoy Lockhart's book when I get back from King's Cross - and when I find it, I'll owl it along to you.”

Knowing that it would be pointless to argue with her mother, Ginny merely nodded and allowed herself to be bustled out of the house, and into the waiting Ministry car. Since her Father had become the Minister of Magic, he had not allowed his family to leave the house without Ministry protection. The Weasley family was a prime target for loose Death Eaters, should they desire to strike out at someone.

The whole way to the train station, Ron droned on and on about Quidditch and Harry and Hermione. Whenever he would mention Hermione, his cheeks and ears would turn pink, and his voice would soften. Ginny wondered when Ron would notice that Harry did the same thing where Hermione was concerned, and she feared for the safety of all in their vicinity when they realized that they were both seeking the affections of the same girl. For the most part, Hermione seemed oblivious to the situation - and Ginny supposed that that had to do with her time being occupied with Viktor.

Hermione had tried to discourage Viktor's romantic advances ever since the Yule Ball, but it wasn't because she didn't like him. She had confided in Ginny that she was actually rather fond of him - it was the distance and age factors that really put a damper on any potential relationship. Hermione was just too damned practical when it came down to it. Ginny reckoned that one impulsive act might actually short-circuit Hermione's brain - any action that wasn't pre-planned, mapped out, or entirely thought out would do the trick, she was sure.

“Ginny?”

She turned, startled, to look at her brother. “What?”

“Aren't you coming?” She glanced around and felt the heat rising into her cheeks. The car was sitting in front of King's Cross Station, idling and waiting for its last passenger to exit. She grabbed her bookbag and clambered out of the car, ignoring Ron's concerned looks. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” she said glibly. “Isn't that Harry over there?” She pointed to a large group of what appeared to be Ministry Officials, and watched as Ron left her to make his way through the crowd. “I'm fine,” she repeated softly to herself.

She gripped the strap of her bag tightly as she made her way to the train, giving watery smiles to anyone who braved a look in her direction. It was still there, that stigma. Ginny Weasley was possessed by Voldemort. She could snap at any time and return to him. Who knows what he made her do? I'll bet she did more than help petrify those students.

She took a deep breath and forced the whispers away as she stepped onto the train. She purposely ignored the scant other students that she passed as she made her way to the car that was closest to her, and she heaved a sigh of relief as she slid the door open and ducked inside.

She dropped her bag onto the floor in front of her and leaned her head against the seat. As soon as she had closed her eyes, she heard the door to her compartment slide open.

“Bugger off,” she mumbled, turning her face away from the door. She heard the sound of feet shuffling, and someone clearing their throat.

“Oh - okay, then,” Harry's soft voice came. Ginny straightened up almost immediately and looked at him apologetically.

“Oh, Harry, it's you. No, you can stay - it's fine, really.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, you're fine.” Harry looked relieved and gave her a small smile before sliding onto the seat across from her. “I forgot that you didn't have any Prefect meetings to go to.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry shrugged and glanced out the window. “I've gotten used to it, I reckon.”

“I'll bet Hermione was thrilled to be named Head Girl,” Ginny commented, carefully watching her friend's expression. Harry's cheeks slowly turned scarlet as he turned to face her.

“She was. It's all she's been talking about all summer in her letters.”

“How exciting,” Ginny teased, smiling. Harry grinned.

“It's stupid, but it's kind of hard not to get excited for her when she gets so worked up about something,” he admitted.

“It's not stupid,” she offered. “Excitement can be infectious.”

“So how was your summer?”

“Same as ever, although Ron drove me nuts because you didn't show up like you usually do.”

Harry looked extremely uncomfortable and shifted in his seat. "I just
couldn't do it this summer, Gin."

She nodded at him and gave him a sympathetic smile. "I understand,"
she replied honestly. "Believe me, I do."

“He's still my friend,” he amended quickly.

“I know.”

They were silent for a moment. The snack trolley passed by, and Harry purchased chocolate frogs for both he and Ginny, and then thought better of it and purchased one each for Ron and Hermione, as well. Ginny thanked him for the treat, but didn't open it. Instead she dropped it into her bag.

“Been writing a lot this summer?” Harry asked as he bit off the frog's head. Ginny gave a start and arched an eyebrow at him.

“What makes you ask that?”

“Your fingers have ink stains all over them,” he commented, gesturing towards the offending digits. Ginny shoved her hands beneath her thighs and shook her head.

“Not especially much,” she lied. It was Harry's turn to arch an eyebrow, but before he could probe any further, the door to the compartment slid open.

“Harry!” Hermione flashed a brilliant smile at the dark-haired boy as she stepped into the car, and Ginny noted with some satisfaction that Harry's ears turned the same shade of scarlet that Ron's did when Hermione smiled at him. “Ginny! How have the two of you been?”

“We've been getting on well,” Ginny said, silently observing how Hermione slid onto the seat next to her and crossed her legs. Harry took one look at Hermione's bare knees peeking out from atop her socks and flushed. He turned towards the window again. “How was your summer?”

“Oh, I expect it wasn't as relaxing as yours and Ron's,” Hermione said, extracting a book from the bag she'd carried into the car with her. “My parents insisted that I accompany them to my Aunt Laverne's house.” Hermione scowled as she opened her book, and Ginny blinked.

“What's wrong with Aunt Laverne's?” she probed.

“Aunt Laverne is of the mind that women should not read too much, think too much, or speak too much, especially not if she wants to find a suitable husband. Unfortunately enough for her, I do all of those things. We really rattle each other's nerves when I visit.”

“Your Aunt thinks you read too much?” Ginny laughed. Harry grinned as he turned to look at Hermione.

“All right, I knew that if I told you, you'd take the mickey out of me. Go ahead and get it over with, you two.”

“Our Hermione - talk too much?” Harry gasped, feigning surprise. Despite the furious blush that rose to her cheeks, Hermione smiled at him.

“That's quite enough, Mister `if-it-isn't-dangerous-it-isn't-worth-doing,'” she said, her smile widening at the color that crept into his cheeks.

“Who are you taking the mickey out of?” Ron asked, slipping into the compartment and taking the seat next to Harry.

“She's teasing Harry,” Ginny informed him, her voice thick with amusement. It seemed to Ginny as though everything in this moment had been prearranged somehow; everything was perfect. The four of them were laughing and teasing in unity - it was one of the rare moments when Ginny didn't feel like the odd man out, and she found herself wanting to savor every moment of the afternoon.

It wasn't to last, however.

Ginny could feel the warmth being sucked out of the compartment as the door slid open and the silver Prince of Slytherin stood smirking at them.

“Well, well,” he drawled slowly, his eyes landing on each of them in turn. “I had wondered what the stench was that's present at this end of the train, but now that I've been here, I suppose I know, don't I?”

“Please,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “The only thing that stinks in this compartment is your hair gel, Malfoy.” Ron and Harry burst into incredulous sniggers, but Ginny remained silent, simply observing the scene that was unfolding before her. She'd found that the less she moved or said, the less likely she was to be noticed - and therefore she was able to observe more.

“As if he's going to listen to a filthy Mudblood,” Crabbe snorted. Malfoy turned and glared daggers at his goon before turning back to them. Ron's cheeks had turned pink and his smile had faded. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Harry was simply faster.

“Don't call her that,” he said slowly, his eyes glittering dangerously.

“What's the matter, Potter?” Draco asked, amusement thick in his voice. “Can't Weasley's girlfriend speak for herself?”

The trio spoke in unison.

“She's not my girlfriend!” “She's not his girlfriend!” “I'm not his girlfriend!”

Malfoy was not the only one who was momentarily startled by their vehement denials; Ginny turned her eyes to them and blinked. The movement of her head was what gave her away, and Malfoy turned his attention to her as though he'd suddenly realized that there was another person in the compartment that he hadn't had a chance to mock yet.

For some reason, though, when Draco opened his mouth, he promptly closed it again. Ginny didn't have time enough to frown or to question it before he was gone with his mates following closely on his heels. She turned back in time to see Harry and Ron shoot concerned glances at Hermione, who rolled her eyes for the second time.

“Honestly, you two,” she said, giving them an affectionate smile. “It's sweet of you both to defend me, but I'm rather used to that particular insult coming from ferret boy, so it really doesn't phase me anymore.”

Ron and Harry were visibly relieved, and went back to teasing and laughing with Hermione. For Ginny, though, the moment had been broken - and now, on top of that, she had something new to contemplate.

Why had Malfoy not insulted her?

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2. 2

Chapter Two

The Sorting Feast went smoothly, and Ginny felt some degree of normalcy return to her while she was eating. Harry, Hermione, and Ron argued over the semantics of using Arithmantic methods of comparing compatibility, which Ginny tuned out for the most part. She chose instead to concentrate on her food, though occasionally slips of conversation would penetrate her bubble of solitude.

“You can't entirely trust that method, because the implications -”

“If it helps you find your soul mate, what does it matter if the process was a little wonky to begin with?”

“It matters, Ronald, because if the process was `wonky,' you'd always have lingering doubts as to whether or not the thing had predicted accurately.”

“If you're such a disbeliever in the accuracy of it all, then why are you so keen on taking it?”

“I'm not a disbeliever in the accuracy of it,” Hermione snapped crossly. “I just don't think that it was created in order to predict date compatibility.”

“Well then, how about an experiment?” Harry suggested.

“What sort of an experiment?” Hermione asked cautiously, wary of the gleam in her friend's eyes.

“We can create a chart to determine compatibility with other students, and then try to date them and see how accurate the chart was.”

“That's preposterous,” Hermione snorted. “I'm not going to date Merlin only knows how many boys in order to prove a ridiculous point to the both of you.”

“So keep it to the three of you, then,” Ginny suggested suddenly. The trio turned to gape at her. “If you don't want to date a bunch of different boys, then it only makes sense to do a chart for the three of you.”

Hermione's mouth opened and closed, then opened and closed again. Ron and Harry exchanged amused glances, and then turned back to Hermione. It was rare to see her speechless, and it was clear to Ginny that the two boys were enjoying it immensely.

“Well, there you have it,” Ron said, grinning cheekily.

“What do you say, Ron? Should we help her start?” Harry asked. Hermione clamped her lips together into a thin line and frowned.

“I'll help you start,” Ginny offered. Harry shot a grin at her.

“Excellent. Thanks, Ginny.”

“Brilliant idea, Gin,” Ron added, his grin widening. “Shall we go now and start?”

“To the library with us,” Harry laughed, rising from his chair. Hermione pursed her lips disapprovingly.

“I can't believe you're encouraging them, Ginevra Weasley,” Hermione said finally, as they disappeared from the Great Hall.

Once they were seated comfortably (or as comfortably as they could be, given the nature of the high-backed wood chairs) in the library, Ginny pulled some parchment and a quill from her bookbag. Harry handed her a pot of ink from his own bag and waited patiently.

“So you know what you're doing, then?” Ron asked eagerly. Ginny arched an eyebrow at him.

“Of course I know what I'm doing,” she said, irritated. “Why else would I have volunteered to help you?”

“Just to make Hermione want to come and do it,” Harry offered. Ginny shook her head and wrote Harry's name at the top of the parchment in big, scrawling letters. “What are you doing?”

“I have to figure out your numbers before I can compare you to Hermione and Ron,” she explained. Ron pulled a face.

“I don't want you to try and set me up with Harry,” he said, disgust evident in his voice. Harry sniggered.

“Come on, Ron,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “I'm the catch of Hogwarts, remember?”

“Catch or not, I'm not interested.”

“Enough with the naked male insecurity,” Ginny laughed, shaking her head. “No one's calling your sexuality into question, Ronald.” Harry snorted as Ron's ears turned purple with embarrassment. Ginny began scribbling numbers, which Harry watched with interest.

H A R R Y J A M E S P O T T E R

8 1 9 9 6 1 1 4 5 6 7 6 2 2 5 9

“What does that mean?”

“Those are the numbers for each of the letters in your name,” Ginny explained. “Now I have to figure out your character number, heart number, and social number.”

“What?” Ron asked, feeling stupid. “What are those?”

“The character number is a basic number that tells what your personality is like. The heart number is supposed to tell what your secret hopes and fears are, and supposedly is the number that best represents your life. The social number is the one that's supposed to tell about the way others see you.”

“Is it accurate, do you think?” Harry asked, becoming somewhat nervous. Why couldn't she have started with Ron instead of him?

“In this capacity, I don't know,” she admitted. “I've never tried it for the purposes we're intending to use it for. I guess we'll find out, won't we?”

The boys watched intently as Ginny scratched out some figures on the parchment. When she finally sat back, Harry peered at the writing.

“So what do these numbers mean?”

Ginny withdrew her textbook from her bookbag and flipped to a bookmarked page. She looked back and forth between the parchment and the book, and made tiny notations next to Harry's numbers before she tried to explain the results.

“Okay. You got a five as your character number, which means-“ She glanced at the book again. “It means instability and imbalance, change and uncertainty. It says that you're attracted to several different things at one time, but you don't commit yourself to any of them. You're adventurous and energetic and you like to take risks.”

“Spot on,” Ron said, impressed. Harry frowned.

“And it means that you like to travel and meet new people and see new things, but that you won't ever stay in one place for too long. Bad parts of the number five are that they tend to be conceited, irresponsible, quick-tempered, and impatient.” She sat back and looked at Harry, whose frown only deepened.

“So not totally spot-on,” Ron amended sheepishly.

“Okay, so what do the other numbers mean, then?”

“Your heart number is nine,” she said, looking at the book again. “That means-“ she laughed.

“What? Is it bad?” Harry asked quickly.

“No, it's just very contradictory,” Ginny explained, still giggling a bit.

“Well?” Ron asked. “Are you going to tell us, or are you just going to sit there and laugh at Harry?”

“Fine,” she said, clearing her throat. “Nines represent completion and achievement to the fullest degree.”

“Sounds like Hermione,” Ron interrupted darkly.

“Do you want to hear this or not?” Ginny asked.

“Fine, go ahead.”

“Nines dedicate themselves to service, most often as teachers and humanitarians. They are determined, work tirelessly, and are an inspiration to others. They can also be arrogant and conceited when things don't go their way.”

“If these numbers say one more bad thing about me-“ Harry began ominously. Ginny rolled her eyes.

“I wouldn't take everything to heart, Harry. It says that most people with these numbers tend to have these traits, not they that always do.” Harry relaxed a bit.

“What's the last number?” Ron asked, pointing to the parchment.

“It's Harry's social number - the way others see him. It's a five, so it means the same as his character number.”

“All right, now do me.”

“Okay.”

R O N A L D B I L I U S W E A S L E Y

9 6 5 1 3 4 2 9 3 9 3 1 5 5 1 1 3 5 7

“Well?”

“Your character number is a one, which means that you're an individual - a solitary person. You are independent, focused, and determined. You set a goal and stick to it.”

“Definitely not spot on,” Harry said, shaking his head. Ron pulled a face at him and Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Ones are leaders and inventors, they don't work well with others, and they find it hard to take orders. They can be self-centered, egotistical, and domineering.”

“I agree with Harry,” Ron said, his expression clouding over. “This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this again?”

“I think it's actually pretty accurate in your case, Ron,” Ginny said, her voice devoid of humor. “You are pretty focused when you want something, you know. And you don't like taking orders from people.”

“Just get on with it,” Ron said, his face flushing with pleasure nonetheless.

“Your heart number is a three, which indicates completeness. It gives a list of threesomes in here.” Both boys' jaws dropped simultaneously.

“Threesomes?”

“Oh, you perverts,” she said, exasperated. “I meant threesomes as in words. You know, like `past-present-future,' or `mind-body-spirit.' Not the perverted kind.” The boys relaxed. “No wonder Hermione didn't want to do this,” she muttered.

“Ha, ha,” Ron snapped. “Keep going.”

“It says that threes indicate talent, energy, and artistic nature, humor, and ease. Threes are usually easygoing, lucky, and highly successful.”

“Not so bad, then,” Ron remarked.

“But they can also be unfocused, easily offended, and superficial.”

“Bad, then,” Harry said. “Ron and I sound very much alike in some areas.”

“Ron's social number is a seven, which indicates perceptiveness, understanding, and they enjoy hard work and challenges.”

“Are you sure you're looking at Ron?” Harry asked, his brow furrowing. “And not Hermione?”

“It's Ron's number,” Ginny said, double-checking her figures. “Anyway, sevens are serious and scholarly, and interested in all things mysterious.”

“She's gone round the twist,” Ron whispered loudly to Harry. “That's Hermione for sure.”

Ginny ignored them. “Sevens find that originality and imagination are more important than money and material possessions. They can be pessimistic, sarcastic, and insecure.”

“That's not me,” Ron commented, his cheeks high in color. “That's Hermione, to a T.”

“Fine, then let's figure Hermione's numbers,” Ginny challenged.

H E R M I O N E J A N E G R A N G E R

8 5 9 4 9 6 5 5 1 1 5 5 7 9 1 5 7 5 9

“Hermione's middle name is Jane?” Ron asked, grinning. Harry grinned back, and Ginny ignored them.

“Okay. It says here that Hermione's character number is a seven, which is the same as the number I just read Ron for his social number.” Ron flushed happily, and Harry frowned.

“I told you it was Hermione,” he said.

“Her heart number is a one, which is the same as Ron's character number.” Harry's frown deepened, and Ginny worried that it might leave permanent lines creased in his forehead. Ron's grin widened.

“Her social number is a six.”

“Neither of us has had that number,” Harry remarked quietly. “What does it mean?”

“Sixes represent harmony, friendship, and family life. They are loyal, reliable, and loving.”

“That's Hermione,” Harry said, a faint smile playing about his lips.

“To a T,” Ron said, the same wistful smile on his face.

“Sixes adapt easily. They do well in teaching and the arts, but are often unsuccessful in business. Sometimes they are prone to gossip and complacency.”

“Okay, that last part isn't Hermione.”

“What? The gossiping part?” Ginny asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Hermione's never gossiped in her entire life,” Ron said, screwing up his face. “She's just not like that.” Ginny noticed that Harry remained silent on the issue, and she wondered how well her brother knew his friend.

“Right,” Ginny said, shrugging. “Well, now you know, anyway. I hope it wasn't too boring for you.”

She started to rise from her chair, but Harry stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. She gasped and looked down at it in surprise, causing him to withdraw it.

“Can you do one more thing for us before you go?” he asked quietly.

“Er - okay.”

“Can you figure up your numbers?” She stared dumbly at him.

“Why?” she blurted. His cheeks turned pink, and Ron just stared at him.

“I'm just - I'm curious, is all.”

“I guess I could, but I don't understand-“

“Just do it, Gin,” Ron interjected. “I'm curious, too.” Ginny glanced between the two boys, then resumed her seat and began figuring her numbers silently.

“Okay,” she breathed finally. “My character number is a nine.”

“Wasn't that one of Harry's numbers?” Ron pointed out quickly. Harry flushed.

“Yes, it was his heart number.” She ignored Ron's triumphant look and continued. “And my heart number is a five.”

“Another one the same as Harry.”

“Would you shut up, Ron?” Ginny snapped. “And my social number is a four.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asked gently.

“Fours indicate stability and firmness and enjoy hard work. They are practical, reliable, and down to earth - they prefer logic and reason to fancy. They are good at organization and getting things done. They are predictable. They can be stubborn, suspicious, overly practical, and prone to angry outbursts.”

“That sounds more like Hermione,” Ron commented.

“Well, now that you know, I'm going to be heading back to my room,” Ginny said, rising from her seat. Her heart was fluttering in her chest in a way that she couldn't explain, and that she wasn't entirely sure that she liked.

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