Just talk yourself up
And tear yourself down
You've hit your one wall
Now find a way around
Well what's the problem?
You've got a lot of nerve.

I'm not so naïve
My sorry eyes can see
The way you fight shy
Of almost everything
Well, if you give up
You'll get what you deserve.

So what did you think I would say?
No you can't run away, no you can't run away
So what did you think I would say?
No you can't run away, no you can't run away
You wouldn't.

I never wanted to say this
You never wanted to stay
I put my faith in you, so much faith
And then you just threw it away
You threw it away.

You were finished long before
We had even seen the start
Why don't you stand up, be a man about it?
Fight with your bare hands about it now.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter™ belongs to JKR and WB. Song lyrics (For a Pessimist I'm Pretty Optimistic)©Paramore

Betas: Many thanks for my wonderful betas, spauthor, Arya Tai and Julianna Edwards. Links to their profiles are at the end of the chapter

1: Bleeding Hearts

There was the tangy, coppery scent of blood in the air and the frantic, uneven beats of a racing heart. And the pounding, pounding, pounding of feet thudding across tarmac, skidding through gravel and sending wide arcs of water soaring through the air as they splashed through puddles.

Then came the pursuer. She was wearing high-heeled boots rolled over at the knee and a loose dress, the skirt of which whipped around her shins as she sped through the night. Over the bodice was a skin tight waistcoat with any number of strange objects strapped, buttoned or magicked on. Her honey red hair was bunched to the back of her head in a tight bun, a few loose strands smacking against her cheek or falling into her eyes. She was keeping up with the other easily, the only signs of exertion being her quickened breath and the slight sheen of sweat along her brow.

'You still with me, Bunny-boy?' she asked around a breath.

A snort answered her down the head set strapped to her ear. 'Way ahead of you, sister,'the thick American accent replied.

Ginny swore under her breath as she ran through another puddle. 'This dress is ruined forever, you realise?' she asked.

'Too bad, you look good in it. Better when wet, though.'

'Pervert.'

'You love it. I'm at the Rabbit Hole, you nearly here, Red?'

Ginny's eyes closed as she sent a light pulse of magic out around her, taking in her immediate surroundings. 'Park,' she answered simply, opening blind eyes again out of habit. 'Heading South-East-East.'

'Damn, think you can turn him around?'

Ginny didn't even bother to answer that question, instead she shot out another, much more concentrated pulse of magic to explode the bench the target was passing. The man jerked violently away, dashing off again in a different direction. Another exploded bench and he was now heading the right way. He was slowing now, though, breath coming in harsh, rasping gasps. Ginny adjusted her stride accordingly; she did not want to catch the man, that was Rabbit's job. She was simply wearing him down so that, when they did strike, there would be little resistance.

'Red? How's he doing?' the American asked.

'I think Mr White may have given him more than a bruise when she dropped the bucket on his shoulder,' Ginny answered as she caught scent of the blood again.

A laugh came down the line. 'Where are you?'

'Kinton's Road. You ready to play devil, Bunny?'

'What's it gonna take to stop you calling me that?'

'You call me Red,' Ginny reminded, her breathing becoming harder as well as they approached their goal.

'You like being called Red,' he whined.

'So?' Ginny sent out another quick pulse and smirked. 'Five,' she told him. No reply came, but she wasn't expecting one.

The first droplet of rain smashed into her forehead as she stepped up the speed, charging the man, racing ahead and forcing him to take a quick left turning into a dead end alley. At the end of the alley there was a cast iron fire escape, going up three floors before veering away from the wall and dangling at a dangerous angle over the heads of those below. There was a pile of rancid smelling rubbish in one corner and as the man skidded to a stop Ginny saw the flash of a tail and the squeal of a rat as it disappeared into the sewers.

But the thing that caught both of their attentions was the figure at the end of the alleyway, standing on the fire escape, one storey up. He had his back turned to them, long, straight pure white hair hanging half way down his back and blending into the white suit he wore. He was slim, but with the stature of someone who exercised regularly. His hands hung loosely by his side, ivory skin only a shade away from the white of his suit. By rights the bottom of his pressed trousers - as white as the jacket - and the white shoes he wore should have been sullied by the wet, muddy ground. And yet, somehow, they were a perfect white.

'Mr Parkinson,' a smooth, flawless voice said. 'I believe that you owe me,' the man turned and his crimson eyes caught the dim lamp light, making them glitter brightly in the dark, 'your soul,' he finished on a whisper.

The poor man who stood in front of Ginny fainted dead away. She felt him fall to the ground and only raised an eyebrow, turning her disapproving, blind eyes up to the man, who had started sniggering.

'You know that you're not supposed to kill him, right?' Ginny asked him, kicking the ground with one ruined boot.

'Aw, Red, our man ain't dead. He's just a little faint-hearted,' the man replied, laughing out loud now.

'You're a freak,' she told him flatly and moved forward to pick the prone man up.

"Bunny" - The White Rabbit - that's what he was called. He couldn't remember anything earlier than the years he'd spent as a child on the backstreets of New York City. He'd been nicknamed White Rabbit by the dealers who'd hooked him up with places to stay. He was an albino. With pale skin, stark white hair and gleaming red eyes he looked like something out of a Hollywood horror story. He was not the most handsome of people; his lips a little too thin, nose a little too large, cheekbones a little too high, but when you first looked at him you didn't notice those things - you were dazzled by the strangeness about him.

Even those who knew and saw Rabbit on a regular basis still had to blink twice when they first looked at him. The only one completely immune to his charms was Ginny. Rabbit was only a mediocre wizard, with not much power to speak of and very little originality. Therefore, when they had first met - and fought - Ginny had trampled him without a second thought.

Rabbit, like Ginny, was an Unspeakable. He had been picked up by Galvin Cross six years ago, two years previous to Ginny, during a Ministry visit to the States. He had above average athletic ability and there was, of course, the way he distracted people's attention. But the reason that Galvin Cross had chosen him was because of his blood.

He had never known who his parents were, what he was. Like any wizard or witch without knowledge or education of their magic, Rabbit had been able to manipulate a little of the world around him, but the special thing about Rabbit was a skill he'd inherited alongside his magic: Rabbit was a seer. He couldn't choose what to see, or who, but at night, behind closed eyes, he dreamt of a million different people's futures and, every once in a while, he saw something deadly.

A seer was invaluable, especially at this time in history, so soon after Grindelwald's rule had killed so many magical children. At some time shortly after the witch hunts of the fourteenth century the wizarding population had stopped expanding. Although some were still blessed with many children, others were given none, so that in the end the same number of children were born into each generation. For a long time this was a good thing, but it meant that the number of pureblood heritages was decreasing, from the number of metamorphmagi to those with the ability to read others' auras. The Sight was one of those bloodline heritages that was cropping up less and less. Then Grindelwald added insult to injury and started killing any who got in his way, including those with these innate, inherited skills.

Rabbit had dreamt of Galvin Cross's arrival and subsequently he had learnt of the magical world. Teeming with questions Rabbit had followed his future employer and forced himself onto the team - admittedly he had met little resistance.

Rabbit's quick wit and habit for the dramatic had quickly made him a favourite among Galvin Cross's team and once he had settled into his new life he had been fast to start to hone his skill. Unfortunately there was still a lot of guess work involved, but with Ginny's sparse knowledge of her future, the Unspeakables could piece things together for the most part.

Mr Parkinson, their latest target, had links to two of the most prolific mafia groups in the world and, though he himself hadn't done anything, the man had knowledge that the Unspeakables could do wonders with. What they intended on doing - forcing the truth from the man through a truth serum and then Obliviating all his memories of the event - was not exactly legal. However, the Unspeakables had a certain amount of immunity in the magical community and they never intended for anyone outside their organisation to discover their methods anyway. The information they learned from people they captured was leaked steadily and subtly into the auror department, no questions asked.

Besides, Galvin Cross always told his team, if the aurors or any other ministry officials got their hands on any of the criminals the Unspeakables were dealing with, their targets would have faced much worse treatment.

Ginny stooped and, with a little effort, slung the prone man over her shoulder, glaring back up at Rabbit.

'How do you do that?' he asked, taking the head set from his ear and tucking it into one of the pockets of his jacket before leaning towards her and doing the same for Ginny's head set.

'Do what?' Ginny asked.

'Glare at people,' Rabbit replied, laughter in his voice. 'You can't see them, and yet you can turn people to stone with one glance.'

'Are you implying that I'm like the scaly, snake-headed demon in Greek mythology?'

'Well, Red…' Rabbit laughed and ducked the hand that swiped out to hit him upside the head.

Ginny chuckled lightly and walked towards the end of the alley, placing her hand, palm towards the wall, just under the 16th step. A door that hadn't been there a moment before appeared and sprung open. Ginny walked through, ducking slightly to avoid hurting Mr Parkinson any further. Rabbit followed, still grinning. Once the two of them were ensconced in the small room the door shut behind them and the floor and walls shuddered - the only sign that the room they were in was moving them below and around the city.

'So, Red,' Rabbit said, casually leaning over the shorter figure and placing a hand against the wall over Ginny's shoulder. 'How about I take you out tomorrow evening, we go to some crappy pizza place, get blitzed out of our minds and have hot animal sex at your cute little cottage?'

Ginny laughed out loud, this wasn't the first time her partner had proposed such a situation. At first she had awkwardly declined, wondering whether Rabbit really was crazy, but she was so used to it now that teasing back was natural. 'I dunno, Bunny-boy. Will the pizza have pepperoni on it?'

'Probably not,' Rabbit said regretfully, shaking his head.

'Aw, see? I can't go to a crappy pizza place without having pepperoni. I'm gonna have to turn you down, Honey-Bunny.'

Rabbit laughed and pushed himself off the wall, rolling his shoulders and standing straight again. 'Too bad, sister. It would have been good.'

'Are you coming on to me when I already have another man slung over my shoulder?'

'You're too good an opportunity to pass up.'

'Well day-amn do you need a girlfriend,' Ginny said, only half joking.

Rabbit winked lasciviously. 'Or a boyfriend,' he corrected.

'Bunny!' Ginny gasped, raising a hand to clutch at her throat, as though her heart had jumped right out of her chest. 'I never knew you had it in you!' she teased, winking to let him know it was all still a joke.

Suddenly the teasing atmosphere vanished as seriousness seeped into Rabbit's expression. 'You - you wouldn't mind, would you?' he asked hesitantly.

'Mind?' Ginny questioned, genuinely confused and more than a little concerned for her friend's sudden mood change.

'If I fancied another guy?'

Ginny blinked, mind suddenly full of her past - future - whatever - life. Shy Neville Longbottom asking her to the Yule Ball because he wasn't brave enough to ask his crush, later revealing that not only was he interested in boys, but in one particular Slytherin boy. Then came a hundred snapshots of sneaking Neville out or Blaise in, of covering their asses, of kissing Harry that first time to distract him from the two boys sneaking out of the sixth year boys' dorms. Blaise hadn't changed sides, and neither had Neville, both of them too stubborn to change, yet too stubborn to let one another go. Ginny didn't know for sure what happened to Blaise, but Neville had been killed in Voldemort's final blow and the rumours of Blaise's poisoning - suicide or murder? - reached even the echoing ears of the dungeons.

But she really didn't want to dwell on that. Ginny had had years to come to terms with her past, but that didn't mean she liked it anymore for what it was. There had been so much tragedy and loss of life - but she had pulled through. And, maybe, she had saved the world. Maybe. But she didn't want to ponder too long about Tom, either, else a similar ache make itself known in her chest.

'I - I mean - what - I'm - I don't…' Rabbit was stuttering now, his face suddenly very open and vulnerable.

Suddenly realising that she had spent too long in her mind, Ginny smiled softly at the man and sent a warm pulse of magic to envelope him. Whilst it helped her to see him, it also comforted Rabbit.

Ginny raised a hand and cupped the man's face gingerly. 'One of my best friends from… my childhood… was gay.'

'You're sad about that?' Rabbit asked, his voice no less uncertain, but he was no long stuttering.

'He died a long time ago and his lover followed soon after.'

'Murdered?' Rabbit gasped. In their area of work he shouldn't have been quite so shocked about the fact that people had been murdered, but the thought of someone being killed because of their sexuality… it wasn't unheard of - far from it - but someone who shared the same sexuality as him and was murdered because of it, made the whole thing even scarier than ever before.

Ginny laughed humourlessly. 'No. They - my friend and his lover - were on opposite sides of the war. His lover's side won and my friend was killed in the victory. I don't know for certain, but the rumours all agreed that his lover died not long afterwards. Murdered, most thought. No one but me knew of any reason why the young man would kill himself,' Ginny explained, carefully avoiding using any names.

Rabbit stayed silent for a moment, the only noise permeating the air, the quiet hum of the room they were in navigating London's underground. 'They didn't tell anyone?' he asked finally.

'Opposite sides of the war. My friend only told me of his crush shortly before the war broke out. If anyone had found out about their relationship afterwards, they would have been separated for being "bad influences" upon one another, not because they were both male.'

'That's tragic.'

'That's war,' Ginny agreed dully.

Again there was an uncomfortable silence.

'Well that totally killed the mood,' Rabbit said finally after a moment, an unwilling smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

Ginny grinned a little back at him. 'Back to your original question: do I mind that you're gay? Nope. Although I wouldn't tell Cross.'

Rabbit gulped nervously. 'Why?'

'He'd probably eat you up within seconds.'

The albino laughed loudly, glad to have an excuse to do so. 'I really don't think Cross is gay,' he said. 'Bi, maybe.'

'To be honest, I think he's too married to his work to pay much attention to another human being,' Ginny said with a laugh. 'We shouldn't be discussing our boss's sexuality, should we?'

Just as she said that the room they were in slid to a stop and the door sprung open to reveal a mildly amused employer. 'No,' he agreed. 'You s-shouldn't.'

Ginny grinned widely and launched herself out of the small enclosure and into one of the smaller bases the Unspeakables held across London. It was a complex of four rooms: a holding cell, a bathroom, a tiny kitchenette and the main area that had all of the basic equipment, along with a pin board that was smothered in newspaper clippings, photos and Ministry announcements.

'I g-gather the two of you w-were successful?' Galvin Cross asked, his stutter less pronounced when he was among those he was familiar with.

The red-head pouted, swinging Mr Parkinson off of her shoulder and dumping him unceremoniously on the single, tired looking sofa. 'No,' she said. 'He's fat. You never said anything about him being fat! I was expecting some young, stunningly handsome bloke with an aristocratic ego and a sexy ass. Instead I get this lump!'

Rabbit waved at her. 'Hello?' he drawled. 'Your partner; young and sexy.'

'And with the ego to b-boot,' Galvin Cross added with a wink.

'Yeah, but blonde,' Ginny complained. And, added as an aside, 'I love thick black hair.'

'Tall, dark and handsome?' Rabbit asked with raised eyebrows.

Ginny closed her eyes and hummed in appreciation. Two faces floated in her mind's eye. One: not so much handsome as sexy, messy black hair, bright green eyes and a cheeky grin that she had never seen enough of. Harry hadn't been the cutest kid on the block, but he was the kindest, the sweetest and the most startling in how he reacted to things. The other: also black haired, but this hair was a little longer, not quite as thick but twice as smooth. Eyes this time a daring blue-grey and face much more classically handsome. Tom was a little taller than Harry, too, and didn't hunch his shoulders to hide his face as much.

'Oi,' Galvin Cross said, poking Ginny gently in the shoulder. 'D-do you need to g-go home? I still owe you a s-spare couple of weeks.'

Ginny snapped easily out of her daze and stood a little straighter, smiling reassuringly at the two men. 'Things have been tough since Theo died. Him leaving reminds me a lot of two people I've had to leave behind.'

'Eileen still living with you?' Rabbit asked, his brow furrowed in thought.

'Yeah, she's not in a good place,' Ginny confirmed. 'I love her dearly, but having her at home with no one to keep an eye out for her worries me. I just don't know how to suggest that she move back in with her parents.'

'Relations between them not good?'

Galvin Cross stepped out of the conversation, picking up Mr Parkinson and moving him into the holding cell, before busying himself with various pieces of equipment as he prepared to brew the truth serum. Rabbit sank down on to the vacated sofa, dragging Ginny down to sit down next to him.

'It's not that, exactly, it's just… Eileen's parents didn't take well to six years of marriage without a child. She and Theo were both pureblood, so the match was approved by both sets of parents, but they just never had a baby to carry the bloodline on. I don't think Theo was all that excited about the prospect of having a pack of ankle biters around just yet and Ellie agreed with him. That lack of enthusiasm soured Eileen's relationship with her parents,' Ginny explained.

Rabbit shook his head. 'Poor git. He was, how old? 25? I'm older than he is and I'm not even one hundred percent sure on my sexuality yet! Of course he didn't want kids, who does at that age? And to die so young…'

'Yeah, you're really cheering me up here,' Ginny joked poorly.

'Sorry, it just bugs me, this need to have children.'

Ginny laughed properly this time and elbowed Rabbit in the ribs. 'You could adopt, you know.'

'What and run the risk of having kids prettier than me that aren't the fruit of my loins? No chance!' Rabbit exclaimed, hiding his face behind his hands dramatically.

Galvin Cross looked up from the cauldron he'd just prepared and said to Ginny, 'And how are Ricky and K-Keara at the moment?'

Ginny rolled her eyes and jumped to her feet. 'Oh, you two are insatiable! I hope you live a long and fruitful life together making loin-babies. Wait! No!' Ginny winced and palmed her forehead. 'Bad images, bad!'

The two men laughed, each subtly turning away from one another in an awkward attempt to declare themselves utterly uninterested.

'You know, Cross, since we're not too busy at the moment, I think I will take a few days,' Ginny said. 'If you need me, you know how to contact me. And tell Mr and Mrs White not to touch the kidney stone on the gamma base worktop, will you? I have a nasty feeling it'll explode. Not that that'll stop them, but it'll make a bit of a mess.'

Galvin Cross chuckled a little and nodded his acquiescence. 'Take however l-long you need.'

'Yeah, see ya, Red,' Rabbit said. 'I'll let you know if I see any tall, dark and handsome fellas in the near future, 'kay?'

'Thanks, Bunny-Boy. I'll see you both in a couple of days then.'

Galvin Cross nodded. After a brief hug Ginny and the other two split ways, as Ginny disapparated back home.

Keara stormed into the kitchen, face darker than the starless night sky outside.

'Bad day?' Ginny asked lightly, leaning casually against one of the work surfaces while she waited for the kettle to boil.

'To say the least,' the younger girl groaned, flopping down into one of the chairs and resting her face in her hands.

Soundlessly Ginny pulled another mug out of the cupboard and opened the pantry to find two slices of extra-special, emergencies-only, double-chocolate cake that was the secret recipe of the Potter family and only given to those who were close family friends. Once the cake had been cut and the cups of tea poured Ginny set them out on the table and waited patiently for Keara to start talking, as she undoubtedly would.

'It's just so… unfair!' the other young woman finally blurted out. 'I mean you're twenty five, almost twenty six!'

Ginny blinked, her expression changing to one of insulted amusement.

'I don't mean - I just… eight years!'

The red-head's amusement disappeared in a flash, her face falling. 'Not today, Keara, please,' she begged.

'Why not?' the girl asked, righteous fury for her sister swelling her breast and making her face flush with indignation. 'He left you! He said he'd come back and he hasn't! And you've stayed here waiting for him, putting off anyone else-'

'Keara!' Ginny snapped.

'No, listen to me, Gin. I love you, I really do, and you need to move on. If Tom hasn't come back yet he's not going to! I hate seeing you like this. You're better now than you were before this job of yours, but I can't watch you waste your life away.'

Ginny stood up, pushing the untouched cake away from her and leaning heavily against the table, her head lowered and her eyes closed. Keara did not attempt to interrupt the other woman's thoughts, but refused to shrink back in her chair like a scolded child.

'Keara,' Ginny said quietly, not raising her face. 'What is it that's bothering you? I know that it is not simply Tom's continued absence.'

'Oh? How do you know that?' Keara asked of her, baiting her to rise.

Ginny tilted her head back and stood straight, picking up her cup of tea and nursing it in both of her hands. She sent out a strong pulse of magic that was not needed in a place that had been inhabited by magic for eight years. But the magic was tinged with anger and laced with fierce pain that made Keara shy away from her sister.

'You know not to talk about Tom like that to me,' said Ginny quietly into the ensuing silence. 'You know as well as I do that Tom will come back one day. Yes, he has been gone for eight years, but what is eight years to me? Time during war is precious, but now that I have peace I have no need to rush my life. I'm only twenty five, as you said. That's not even a quarter of my life.' Ginny paused then and Keara could have sworn that she was looking her straight in the eye, despite being blind. 'Now that you have reminded me of something I do not need to be reminded of, will you tell me what's wrong?'

Keara lowered her face into her hands again. This was a great way to continue an already rubbish day. Now she had hurt her pseudo-sister and it meant that neither of them would get any sleep tonight. Ginny would not be able to sleep for thinking of Tom and Keara would not be able to sleep for guilt.

'I… it's going to sound so stupid, especially to you,' Keara said, whispering a moment later, 'Especially now.'

'I've heard my family and friends say lots of stupid things, I'm sure I won't hold it against you.'

'That's… not particularly reassuring,' Keara weakly tried to joke.

Ginny sighed and lowered herself back into her chair. 'I'm sorry,' she apologised briefly, offering no explanation or excuse.

Keara hesitated a moment longer before starting her tale. 'There's a group of kids that we've been working with, who are all suffering from 'unknown' diseases.'

'Why the inflection?' Ginny asked gently.

'There's one girl who I've been working with quite closely who was having difficulty breathing, had become very pale and weak and had lost quite a bit of weight even though she was eating normally. She… bruised easily and when she received a gash to her knee she bled excessively, the blood refusing to clot.' Keara stopped and screwed her eyes tightly shut as if trying to guard her mind from the vision that surely haunted her. 'We thought it was haemophilia, at first,' Keara continued, whispering now. 'But no one in her family had it and women rarely suffer from it.'

Ginny listened to the story with a sinking heart. Many of the girl's symptoms were very similar to those of one of her mother's friend's children. With the proper medical treatment the child had survived, a little magically disabled, but able to live a normal life.

'What happened?' Ginny probed gently.

'About three days ago I figured out what it was but… we were too late to save her. We tried, but the professional Healers were reluctant to use Muggle methods to bring her to a safety zone. She… she passed away today.' A quiet sob broke from Keara's chest and Ginny was immediately by her side, holding her tightly and rubbing comforting circles into her back.

'Leukaemia?' Ginny asked gently.

'Yes, how…?' Keara couldn't complete the question as she clung to Ginny.

Ginny clutched her back, hugging the young woman tightly in reassurance, then she related the story from her previous time.

'Do they get better, then?' Keara asked, eyes wide as she pleaded, not really with Ginny, but the wizarding world in general.

'Better?'

Keara rubbed furiously at her eyes to try and dispel the dampness there. 'At accepting Muggle methods,' she clarified.

'I… I have no idea,' Ginny admitted truthfully. To be honest she didn't think so. The wizarding world was incredibly… up itself. Many wizards could not accept that maybe the Muggles had a better solution to something; Muggles were, in many people's minds, stupid, useless blobs that were merely getting in their way and causing an unwarranted hazard. It was thoughts like that that had forged the initial Death Eater group, but as time passed the lines blurred. Sometimes Ginny wondered if perhaps the so called 'light' side wasn't as biased and prejudiced as Voldemort and his cronies.

Shaking her head to rid it of thoughts of a future that would now hopefully never come about, Ginny tried to reassure Keara. 'Whether they become receptive of Muggle ideas or not, by the time I left the Healers could cure Leukaemia.'

'But how many people have to die first for some stupid preconceived notion?' Keara spat out distastefully, desperation colouring her tone.

Ginny hugged Keara tightly and planted a kiss on top of her head. If only she had the answers to that. Ginny had saved the world from one menace, but it seemed the greatest monster the wizarding world had to fight was itself.

She had just opened her mouth to say some nonsense that would fill the silence with empty promises when the doorbell rang. Kissing Keara's head again Ginny straightened and moved into their narrow hallway that lead to the door. Pulling it open Ginny was astonished to see a grim looking Galvin Cross on her doorstep.

'What's happened?' Ginny immediately asked. She had not been joking with Rabbit before when she had said that Galvin Cross was married to his work, none of his employees had ever seen him off the job and he was always at one of the bases or at the Unspeakables' headquarters whenever anyone called him. Galvin Cross didn't do social and he most certainly did not do house calls.

Galvin Cross didn't hesitate to answer, replying bluntly, 'The Minister is at St Mungo's with severe hex trauma after a failed assassination attempt earlier this evening.'

'Shit,' Ginny swore. 'Give me two seconds,' she requested, ducking back into the house and leaving the door open in invitation, though she really didn't expect Galvin Cross to enter.

'Keara, I'm off. The Minister was nearly killed and they need me,' Ginny said hurriedly as she dragged her shoes on and quickly wrapped her slice of cake up in a food preservation charm, shrinking it and stuffing it into her pocket.

Keara's tear-reddened eyes went wide and she spat out her mouthful of tea and jumped to her feet. 'St Mungo's?'

'Yeah,' Ginny answered. 'Love you kiddo, see you later,' she shouted after her as she ran out the front door.

With the kitchen suddenly very silent Keara stood for a moment in indecision, before dropping her fork and performing the same spells on the remains of her cake as Ginny had on hers. Putting it somewhat more carefully into her jacket pocket as she pulled it on Keara raced out the front door in time to see Ginny and her boss disappear just down the road in a familiar pop of Apparition.

Knowing that her place wasn't with her sister, but at the hospital, Keara, too, cleared the Apparition wards set around their house and popped away from their home. When the streets outside St Mungo's formed around her Keara wasted no time making her way into the hospital.

She had been uncertain as to the kind of reception that would greet her. Ginny had only mentioned an attempted assassination of the Minister, she hadn't said anything about the circumstances or whether any civilians had been caught up in the attempt. But, whatever Keara had expected, it was not the anarchy she was faced with the moment she stepped through the door.

'Shit,' she said, unknowingly repeating Ginny's earlier sentiment.

The reception area alone was in chaos. More people than she could have imagined could fit into the area were crammed in, all babbling for attention and only a small percentage with any sort of injury. The crowd had the odd blue-coated healer trying to force their way through, but no one was getting very far very fast.

Appalled, Keara did the first thing that came to her mind. Climbing atop one of the plastic chairs so she stood over the crowd she yelled out loud enough to make everyone cringe, 'Sonorus!'

A sudden quiet fell over the reception area for a moment as people paused in whatever they were doing, but the cacophony soon started up again, louder than before.

'SHUT UP!' Keara yelled, getting everyone's attention again and making them stay quieter for long enough for her to actually start saying something this time. 'Who the hell do you people think you are?' Keara continued a little quieter. 'There are people dying in this building and they're not getting the medication they need because you lot are getting in the way of the Healers! How would you like the death of the Minister on your head?' she asked rhetorically. The crowd would not, obviously, be blamed if the Minister died, but with the number of medics attempting to rush to their jobs and not being able to, it could well be.

'Now,' Keara said, talking again before the crowd started to protest. 'Those of you who have no valid reason to be here please take the first door to my right.' She indicated the large glass doors with the large, white letters 'EXIT' pasted on them. 'And those of you who are actually suffering from something will follow me so I can find you a more comfortable waiting area.' She finished, eyeing the majority of the crowd accusingly.

The Healers in the crowd merely spared her a glance before continuing on their way. Un fortunately and as Keara had expected, the entire crowd crushed forward in an attempt to follow her, to gain closer access to their Minister. Whether to finish the botched assassination, to try and help or just to get in the way Keara neither knew nor cared.

Forcing her way through the crowd she reached a door that was currently locked and would lead into a store cupboard. A little bit of transfiguration and a prayer to her superior that she wouldn't be kicked off the training program, Keara unlocked the door but kept it firmly shut. It would now lead into a corridor beyond that would not interfere with the Healers' work if it was infiltrated with patients, as she was planning on herding those actually in need of medical attention through that way.

Keara looked at the perfectly healthy looking man in front of her, asked for his name and performed a quick diagnosis spell. When the spell confirmed her suspicions of there being nothing wrong she thanked him before moving to the next person.

'What?' the first wizard shouted loudly. 'I'm ill! Let me in!'

Keara fixed the man with a steely gaze and fingered her wand lovingly, the significance of this action not escaping the 'patient' as she said, 'You, Mr Hislop, are suffering from something known most commonly as man flu. There is nothing whatsoever wrong with you. Now stop wasting my time and get out of here before I hand you over to the Aurors.'

'What Aurors?' the man scoffed.

Keara cast Expelliarmus, Silencio and Petrificus Totalus in quick succession and levitated the man to prop him up against the wall behind her, tearing the man's name off the parchment she had annotated and using a sticking charm to attach the man's name and wand to his immobile forehead.

'Next please,' she called calmly. Perhaps she had been a little out of line, but she had to make an example and that incident had cleared many unwanted visitors from St Mungo's reception. Of course, it didn't stop all of them and, within an hour, Keara had three others stacked up against the wall with their names and wands stuck to their foreheads and a small cut on her cheek that was still bleeding a little.

It took her a good five minutes to notice the presence at her shoulder. 'Bertram,' she greeted, pausing momentarily in her assessment of the patients.

'Hey, Keara,' the young Healer replied. 'You need me to take over for a minute? You look dead on your feet.'

'It's been a long day,' Keara said simply.

Bertram snorted. 'To say the least,' he muttered. Then, softly and just to her he said sympathetically, 'I heard about the little girl. My condolences. The first is always the worst.'

Keara stiffened and her eyes, that had been glittering brightly under the attention he was giving her, dulled and she turned her face away. 'I need a coffee. Do you want one?'

Realising that he'd made a faux pas, Bertram shook his head in a negative response. As Keara started to walk away he laid a hand on her sleeve and apologised. Her lips flickered in a tiny, not-really-there smile and she turned away to find herself the coffee that she needed.

As she made her way across the still crowded reception, Keara's eyes seemed to grow increasingly heavy. Just as she was about to turn out of the room she glanced back to check that Bertram didn't need her help. When she did she caught a glimpse of pitch black hair and steel blue eyes that had always been older than the face in which they were set.

Then she blinked and the figure had disappeared back into the crowd, if he had ever existed there at all. Shaking her head and rubbing her eyes furiously Keara brushed it off as nothing more than a product of an over-tired mind. Why would Tom be in St Mungo's, of all places? After eight years why would he be back at all? A mirage, a hallucination, that was all.

With a sigh Keara filled a small polystyrene cup with weak, disgusting coffee, drank swiftly and turned back round. She may not be there officially, but it was her job to help the hospital and, at the moment, it needed it.

Faced once more with the expansive crowd Keara knew that it was going to be a very long night.

Ginny didn't say anything as she and Galvin Cross walked briskly down the road and away from the anti-Apparition wards she had set about the house. As soon as they were clear he placed a hard hand on her shoulder and they disapparated, appearing outside the back door to the ministry.

Instinctively knowing that people would have already started congregating in the ministry, clogging up the main entrances, Ginny made no mention of their use of the little known entrance that lead straight down to the court room levels of the building. Striding straight down into the very heart of Galvin Cross's empire neither of them paid any heed to the spinning doors, both pulsing out their magic to still the doors and tell which was the right entrance.

The door they took led down a nondescript white-wash corridor that extended a little way before splitting to the left and right. If you took the wrong direction you would get hopelessly lost in a maze of tunnels that had nothing to distinguish one from the next. After Ginny's explanation of her escapade down to the Department of Mysteries in her fourth year, the hallways and the spinning doors had been spelled to repel any magical or Muggle forms of marking them. The only people who could find their way around were the Unspeakables themselves.

After making their way through a fairly short, but intricate, series of turns and more than one set of stairs, Ginny and Galvin Cross found themselves in the headquarters of the Unspeakables. It was a massive area, larger than the Great Hall in Hogwarts and was full of files and folders. Each of the walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases that groaned under the weight of an impossible number of books and items. In the centre of the room was a large square table that had all the evidence of the latest 'hot case' set upon it. Across the room were series of other tables, each with a current or recent case spread across its surface.

In the farthest corner of the room a highly complicated system was set up surrounding two rectangular tables set out in a 'T' shape. The tables themselves had several objects set on them; some highly normal, such as a pair of scissors, and others less likely, one looking suspiciously like a human heart that was still beating furiously. Surrounding these tables and the objects was a myriad of tiny tubes that arched and swarmed in continuous, seemingly erratic movement, creating a pulsing web that encapsulated all within.

Moving in and out of those tubes flawlessly, but with little grace, were two white-cloaked figures. And, buried in a book with an anxious frown across his features as he searched frantically for something, was another: the last of their group.

'OK, people!' Galvin Cross called out, his voice echoing about the room and snapping his employees to attention as they all dropped their tasks and made their way over to him. 'I'm s-sure you've all heard b-by now about the Minister,' he said, cutting straight to the chase. 'Auror Wheadon w-wants us to take care of the case whilst he and h-his department sort out the public whiplash th-this incident has caused.'

'St Mungo's?' Mr White asked.

Mr and Mrs White were about the oddest couple anyone would ever see. Mr White was a stick thin, stern looking woman in her late forties with mousy brown hair that was always held back in a tight plait that was curled and pinned to the lower back of her head. Her husband, Mrs White, was a brawny man with a heavy jaw and heavier eyebrows. He kept his hair cropped very short and often looked more like a criminal than the criminals the Unspeakables dealt with. Despite appearances Mrs White was very much the woman in their relationship and the couple had a deeply loyal bond that was never questioned by their colleagues.

'My sister was present when Cross delivered the message. She'll know to take care of things,' Ginny supplied.

'She isn't one of us, you trust her to do that?' Mr White asked, not entirely unkindly.

'Too nosy for her own good. And she knows how to take care of herself,' Ginny assured the older woman.

'Good.' Galvin Cross interrupted them from continuing that line of conversation. 'Now, as for what h-has actually happened. The M-minister was walking through Diagon Alley this morning with t-two Aurors disguised as civilians. He was about to enter Flourish a-and Blotts when his group was attacked and an attempt on h-his life was made. As yet we don't know all o-of the spells that were used, b-but one of the Aurors was severely injured by a c-cutting curse to the leg. The other escaped w-with nothing more than a case of easily r-reversible warts. The Minister himself was forced back and fell through th-the shop's front windows when he r-received a blasting curse to the chest.

'We don't know which type of b-blasting curse it was specifically, but it restricted the Minister's breathing a-and according to the emergency Healers on the scene he s-suffered several cracked ribs. His skull was the first p-part of him to hit the glass and the ground when he landed, giving him t-two basic fractures that he should recover from with little more th-than slight memory loss. The main problem at the moment is the p-pressure that the Minister's heart is under. It means that the n-numerous cuts he has from the glass can't be m-magically healed which is, of course, prolonging his r-recovery.'

'Will he live?' Rabbit asked. The question was not born of concern but of the necessity to know the facts.

'If n-no one interferes with the h-healing process?' Galvin Cross asked rhetorically, 'Yes.'

Whilst the Unspeakables were a rather undefined branch of the ministry, a branch of the ministry it was. The allowances made for Galvin Cross's department varied a lot from one Minister to the next. The current one was fairly serviceable and allowed the Unspeakables to do what they needed to get the job done, which got him the results he wanted, no questions asked. Previous Ministers, however, had gone so far as deciding who was to be employed and who was not in the Department of Mysteries. If there was going to be a new Minister the Unspeakables had to know as soon as possible. They had to know who the new contestants were likely to be and how they would handle their department.

There were only the five of them, but between them they could sway public opinion and assure the future of their jobs and, hopefully, the wizarding world. More was relying on the success of the Unspeakables' ventures than most people would dream.

'Mrs White,' Galvin Cross continued, 'I w-want you to find out exactly what happened. I want to know what s-spells were cast, who cast them and the e-exact details of what happened. Rabbit, I know y-you're best when working with Ginny, but I need you to use your p-people skills to mingle with the crowds and g-give me all of the rumours and gossip that's being spread around. I want to know who's saying what, w-when and to whom. Mr White, I want you to search through all o-of our surveillance to support Rabbit's w-work and to see if we can find out who d-did this.'

'Whoever's done this is too smart to get caught in our surveillance,' Mr White said a little doubtfully.

Galvin Cross scowled at her. 'That's what myself and G-ginny are going to sort out. Nonetheless, I want you to look. If or w-when you find nothing, follow the Minister's movements for the p-past week. Then, as I said, support Rabbit and f-find all of the political rumours that are being spread at the moment. I d-don't care if it seems inconsequential, I want to know it. Ginny, you're with m-me.'

Waiting only long enough to see if anyone had anything to add, Galvin Cross spun and stalked out of the room, heading once more into the maze of tunnels with Ginny hot on his heels. Mrs White and Rabbit also left the main room, but both immediately went in different directions, their footsteps quickly muffled by an atmosphere thick with magic. Ginny loved being in the Department of Mysteries for that reason alone: the air was so thick with magic it was almost - almost - as if she could see again.

Leaving no time to reminisce on her first time back down here in this time Ginny and her boss were soon above the surface, faces suddenly red as a crisp autumn wind embraced them with icy fingers. They had emerged in a small enclosed area occupied only by several overflowing skips and an indeterminate number of vermin. Galvin Cross quickly opened the wire gateway out onto a badly paved street, leading Ginny swiftly through streets lit only by a half-full moon.

Both walked swiftly through the London streets until they were in a more upper-class, but just as empty, area of the city. Recognising her surroundings and sensing threads of her own magic from previous movement through this part of the city Ginny frowned a little, though she said nothing.

'There's something I m-must tell you that the others can't kn-know,' Galvin Cross told her, seeing her expression.

Ginny nodded silently as the two of them made their swift way into one of the other bases the Unspeakables held. Like when she and Rabbit had caught Mr Parkinson they entered through a complex elevator-like system, to reveal a base that was also very similar. The only slight changes were a different, but just as worn, sofa and the notice board which was arranged a little differently.

But, the thing that immediately drew Ginny's attention, was the small, black object that was resting on the table. To anyone else there was nothing extraordinary about the object. It was a thin leather-bound book with a crease in the spine to show that it was well used. But, if you were to open it, you would see nothing written on it. Not a word, just tens and tens of blank, empty pages. The paper was soft from use, some of the pages creased from where they weren't folded over properly or got caught on a sleeve of a writing hand.

Ginny stood stock still at the entrance to the base, with her head tilted to one side and eyes shut as though she had fallen asleep where she stood. Galvin Cross strode forward and picked up the book and thumbed through the pages, once more looking for some kind of clue as to what it was.

'Do you r-recognise this object?' he asked her sotto voce.

'Yes, from my time,' Ginny replied, just as softly. It was not a lie. In this time she had believed that Tom had not written a diary, had not siphoned off a piece of his soul through the death of another and placed it within the pages of a simple black book.

'W-what is it?' Galvin Cross asked his employee.

Ginny didn't open her eyes, but held up her hand in a silent request. Galvin Cross threw her the diary and she caught it neatly, her eyes still shut, face still curiously peaceful. Ginny ran her fingers over the front cover of the book and felt the dark magic pulsing from within, drawing her to it just as it had when she was eleven. Opening the book carefully she ran her fingers over the pages, savouring the taste of Tom's magic on her skin. There was a part of Tom in this book. Her Tom. The one she remembered from her first year of Hogwarts, one so similar to the Tom she had met when she first came back to this time.

'What is it?' Galvin Cross asked again, his voice shaking more than usual from curiosity.

Ginny paused a moment longer, considering her reply before she answered him. 'I'm sure you can sense the darkness in it,' she began, phrasing her sentences carefully. 'And I am just as sure that you can sense the power. In my time I was never given a proper explanation of what this is-' this was a blatant lie, but it was one Ginny was unafraid of telling '-but I know that it is a part of something, once beautiful, made ugly by time and by having pieces of it chipped off and taken away. I can not tell you much more than that, I'm afraid, except that this beautiful thing used very dark magic to do so.'

'This thing d-did it to itself?' Galvin Cross asked, disgust mildly colouring his tone.

'Or was coerced into doing it to itself,' Ginny said, thinking of her encounter with the older, crazy version of herself and the control that monster had had over Tom. 'But you're thinking like it is a body part that has been cut off,' Ginny continued. 'This object can be reconnected to its original home with very little damage done. I don't know when or how this was made, or to what it originally belonged and how large a part of that this is.'

'But?' Galvin Cross prompted when Ginny stopped talking. 'I-I sense a 'but' th-there.'

'But I do know that long exposure to this object can lead to memory loss, to erratic and unexplainable actions and a fierce protectiveness over the object in question, despite personal disgust in it.'

'You s-sound as though you're speaking from p-personal experience.'

Ginny snapped the book shut almost violently and a quick shudder forced its way through her as her mind became flooded with images of Tom, of things he had done, had shown, had said and, finally, of the way he had almost killed her down in the Chamber of Secrets and Harry had come to her rescue, almost dying from the Basilisk's venom and being saved at the last moment. 'I am,' she said quietly.

Galvin Cross took a step closer to her and reached to take the book, but Ginny kept it from his grasp.

'You mistake me,' she continued in the same, quiet tone. 'I speak from experience of training against such objects as this.' This, too, was a blatant lie, but there was no possible way that Galvin Cross could know that and Ginny needed to keep the diary. 'It was a painful experience, but I am now not easily susceptible to the diary's tricks.' She hoped. There was no way of knowing whether she truly was or not. 'I would feel safer if I kept it away from you and the others to lower the chance of it… drawing them in.'

'What does it do?' Galvin Cross questioned, dropping his hand and nodding in silent acquiescence to Ginny's plea. 'You called i-it a diary?'

Ginny ran a finger down the spine in silent contemplation, before she tucked the magically prolific object into her coat pocket. 'This book was once a diary. The owner poured his heart and soul into it. The significance of such an emotional object surely does not escape you?' Ginny paused as Galvin Cross shook his head to show he knew. 'It was easily susceptible to magic and so it was easy to use as a receptacle of the object now within it. As for what it does… the thing within it has a sort of intelligence. It has read the pages of the book and now it wants to live. It wants to have a life like that of the owner of the book.'

In many ways what Ginny was saying was the truth. In others, it was not. The book was a diary and it would have been easier for Tom to literally pour a bit of his soul into the pages after having done so in writing. And, when Ginny had held the diary in her first year, the piece of soul within did want to live as it once had. Now, however, with the majority of Tom's soul still within a presumably perfectly healthy body, there was no need for the Horcrux to want to revive that life. And so, for the moment, the diary was on hiatus, ready for use as soon as it was needed, but until then it was in a form of hibernation.

'But what is its p-purpose?' Galvin Cross pressed. Ginny had told him what the thing did, but not why someone would create such a thing, what the point of the thing was.

Ginny shrugged. 'This thing will kill to achieve its goal. Perhaps it is created to kill someone. Or perhaps just to control them. Or, maybe, in that it wants to become the person that once used this book, to preserve the life of that person?' Ginny's voice trailed off. She hoped Galvin Cross wouldn't figure it out. He was extremely clever, but not the most observant of people and so she hoped that if he ever had heard any mention of a Horcrux, which was unlikely, he wouldn't remember. For some reason she couldn't explain she really did not want her employer to know what it was. The implications of having created such an object as a Horcrux were huge and dark. In his line of work Galvin Cross would be more open to the practice of Dark magic, but he most definitely would not support the murder of someone to try and forge immortality.

'Where was it found and why are you showing it to me now and just me?' Ginny spoke up, deciding now was the time for her to start asking the questions.

'I am showing it to you b-because of who and what you are. You are from th-the future and will, therefore, already know o-of things, of spells and magic that m-myself and the others do not. You are also b-blind. Unlike all the other blind people in our world, w-which are very few, you have utilised that disability and t-turned it into an advantage. Because of your blindness, even if y-you didn't have a clue what that book was, you h-have an intimate knowledge of the magic that m-makes things. You'd be able t-to tell me more about it th-than the others,' Galvin Cross explained.

'And why just me?'

'Because I-I need answers and I'm not immune to the d-darkness or the allure of that thing. I want as f-few people as possible kn-knowing about it.'

Ginny nodded very slightly and her eyes which had, until that moment, still been shut, opened. The moon white orbs seemed to see everything in that room, despite their blindness, but if they made Galvin Cross uncomfortable he didn't show it. 'Okay,' the red-head said, accepting his explanation. 'But why tell me now? There has just been an attempt at the Minister's life, surely that's more important than this, even though it's so dark?'

Galvin Cross regarded Ginny thoughtfully for a long moment before ignoring her question. 'How will we know if the d-diary has possessed you?'

Ginny started at the question, but smiled a little painfully as she remembered the effects of the diary. 'I'll withdraw into myself. I won't want to talk to anyone and will become moody. You'll find I also won't want to talk about the diary at all, or touch it. I will, however, always have it on me, despite my disgust in it. I won't allow anyone to touch it or take it. Now answer my question; why now?'

'It's evidence,' Galvin Cross said bluntly, a flicker of a smile touching his lips as Ginny's astonishment spread across her features.

Evidence.

The word echoed around Ginny's head with a strange sense of finality to it. Evidence. It had been found at the crime scene and not just as some inconsequential part of the setting, but as a possibly active part of the attempted assassination itself. Was that merely because of what it was, a hugely powerful dark artefact with an undeniable lure to it, or was it because someone had tried to use it against the Minister? Ginny wasn't entirely sure how that was possible, but where Tom Riddle was concerned, anything was possible.

But the appearance of the diary meant more than just trying to cover her - ex-boyfriend's? - footsteps. It meant that Tom had come back to Wizarding Britain, back to Diagon Alley. It meant that he could very well be involved in the conspiracy to kill the Minister. It meant that Tom had already taken the first steps towards becoming Lord Voldemort. And, on a much more personal level, it meant that Tom had come back and, in spite of his promises to the contrary, he had not returned to her.

Ginny kept her face carefully masked as a wave of emotions swamped her. Love, pain, curiosity, a hint of regret but, mostly, anger: an overwhelming wave of anger pumping through her veins at Tom and at herself. That he thought he could just come waltzing back into her life, expecting her to clean up the mess he left behind and not even drop in for a quick hello. It had been eight years, how could she still have believed he'd still want her? Still - dare she even think it - love her?

Keara's words from earlier filled her mind; 'Eight years!… He left you! He said he'd come back and he hasn't! And you've stayed here waiting for him, putting off anyone else… If Tom hasn't come back yet he's not going to!'and suddenly Ginny knew what Keara meant. To Tom she was probably little more than a memory by now.

Breathing deeply Ginny turned her face to the ceiling and tried to focus on things other than her anger. After a long moment she said, 'We have a job to do.'

'Are y-you OK?' Galvin Cross asked, clearly thinking that Ginny was having difficulty with the diary's allure.

'I'm going to be fine,' Ginny assured him. 'It just… brings back a lot of memories.'

Galvin Cross nodded, accepting her explanation. 'Very well, let's continue.'

Then he led her back out of the base and the two of them hurried away into the night to do their job.

AN: Oh wow. Wowie, wowie, wowie. Are you excited? I'm excited! The first chapter! I feel like Neil Armstrong: 'One small step for mankind...' etc. The first step on a whole new Gin 'n' Tom fic journey. It's goood. Well, I think it's good. What are your opinions?
Oh! Before I get any 'wuh?'s over the issue, I'll say it in English for you: Mr White is a woman. Mrs White is a man. They have a very strange relationship, the details of which I am NOT going into. I just thought it'd be cool to have a backwards couple like that. The Unspeakables in the actual stories always struck me as too ordinary. Maybe that's just me. Another thing that was really complicated was the tense I should use when talking about Ginny's past, but the world's future. I've decided that time-travel fics, although my absolute favourite type of story, are way too complicated for my liking.
Well, please let me know what you think so far!

Much love,
Cal
xxx

PS My betas' links: www (dot) fanfiction (dot) net/u/1504573/spauthor

www (dot) fanfiction (dot) net/u/800397/Arya_Tai

www (dot) fanfiction (dot) net/u/46623/Julianna_Edwards