This story was written for Jessica in The DG Forum Fic Exchange – Summer 2013. For more details please visit the DG Forum.


Part One - January 2001

On the morning of January 8th, Ginevra Molly Weasley talked her way out of her informal Quidditch practice. It wasn't a requirement to be on the team, but as a general rule if there was training, you came.

Even so, she'd been going to see him every Monday at 9:25 am since early December, and she wasn't willing to change her schedule for unofficial training. She'd already had to switch from Wednesdays since the new training schedule released.

And so, at 9:15 am that morning Ginny slipped on her best sneakers and walked the two blocks from her little flat to the tiny office nestled between a sweet shop and a hairdresser and promptly went inside.

The secretary at the small counter waved her past with a cheery little smile, and Ginny murmured a quiet hello as she passed.

She opened the wooden door slowly, trying to avoid the squeak it usually gave off as the wood creaked against the metal frame.

She hated that sound.

But like always, it still came.

He was sitting at his desk like he always was. His hair was a carefully styled mess of grey, his eyes a muddy brown. For his age, she'd always thought he still managed to pull off attractive.

His name was Scott and he was a muggle.

He was also her therapist.

XxX

As the time drew closer to the end of her session, Scott pulled a sheet of paper. He waited patiently for her to ask, but she did not wait very long anyway.

"What is this?" She gently took the paper from his hands, her eyes glancing over the words.

Group Therapy

Meets weekly on Tuesdays

6:30 pm

"I'd like you to come to group tomorrow, Jenny. I think it's the next logical step in helping you get better."

If she were being honest with herself, it was probably true. It would probably go a great deal to helping.

But there was that bubble in her chest that started to expand at the thought of group therapy.

She nodded her assent, though, before her brain could catch up with the rest of her.

XxX

After talking to Scott, she usually baked. It wasn't a nervous habit by any means, and had just started to feel like an extension of therapy. There was something a little bit calming about it.

Of course, she wasn't cooking for anyone else these days. Just herself and her plants, and they weren't picky eaters.

It wasn't enough to keep her calm today, and she felt the panic begin to rise again.

Before long, she was curled up on the floor of her kitchen, head between her legs trying to stop the thick sobs that wracked through her entire body, and the catches her breath made in her throat as it struggled to work.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed there before her sobs faded to silent tears and her breath managed to wrangle itself into something resembling normal behavior.

She was glad that she was managing not to have an attack in front of anyone else. It had been over a year since she lost it in front of her mother, and almost two months since she'd lost it in front of Scott. But Scott was the exception, since it was the nature of the conversation that broke her down and they both knew it was coming.

All of her - limbs, chest, head - felt heavy and exhausted by the time she managed to climb off the floor. She considered sluggishly making her way to her bed and sleeping the rest of the day, but she knew that was the opposite of what she should be doing.

XxX

She ordered her lunch in from the Thai place down by Scott's office and ate it while sitting on the counter of her kitchen.

Today would be her last free night of the week, with regular practices picking up again at six tomorrow morning. She loved Quidditch, truly. It was one of the only things she could ever do without feeling as if there was an absurdly high risk of a panic attack.

She supposed it was the adrenaline, the rush of the wind, the crack of a bat, the eruption of cheer. Or perhaps it was just easier to separate the game from everything else?

She didn't really know, but she was glad for it. She wasn't sure if she could handle another thing that made her feel like she was splitting at the seams.

After she finished her lunch, she had originally intended on visiting her parents and spending the day at the Burrow. But given the way she had broken down into a mess already, the last thing she wanted was to walk into the house she'd grown up in with all of her brothers and spend several hours looking at baby pictures.

She was too frayed today to comfort her mother.

It was selfish, she knew, to not want to visit.

XxX

She talked to her parents over a cup of tea an hour after she'd eaten, and after about ten minutes, it became a little tense on her side-what with her mother asking if she'd "met a nice wizard yet", and "I hear Neville is still single."

It was an accident, really, that she blurted out she was meeting someone tomorrow night after practice. It was true of course, she did have her first group therapy meeting - where she'd potentially meet lots of new people. But her mother wouldn't shut up about it and she'd already been tired before the conversation started.

Her father had caught her weary look and managed to get her mother shuffled into another room so Ginny could leave the house with relative ease, before the mountain of questions about her "mystery beau" and the inevitable box of pictures could come out.

So now, her mother was probably ecstatically calling her brothers to talk about her "new wizard" and she would be stuck with a great big mess.

She closed her eyes and sighed, flipping her way onto her mattress now that she was back in her flat.

Life could wait. She was exhausted.

XxX

Ginny woke up the next morning at ten to six, and went through a flurry of panic trying to get ready before she could head to the pitch for practice. She managed to get out the door at 6:01, and was on the field two minutes later but it was still too late. She'd been put on probation and benched for the next two months.

It wasn't as if she hadn't come to every other practice on time since she'd joined the team at the start of last season. She had. But she'd also known they had a strict late policy. She might have been able to have some wiggle room if she hadn't thought missing the unofficial practice the day before was worth it for her mental health. Not that she'd any intentions on telling anyone that.

Her mental health wasn't exactly doing the greatest now, as she sat in the empty locker room trying to stave off an impending attack.

They couldn't see her like this. She'd be kicked off the team for sure.

XxX

After practice - which she was stuck watching and not participating in - she waved off her fellow teammates and left by herself. The idea of greasy pizza from the little shop in London they liked after a strenuous practice did sound delicious, but she didn't feel like socializing with the boisterous witches.

She knew she was making backwards progress again, and she'd feel embarrassed when she eventually relayed that to Scott, but for the moment she couldn't care less. Between the idea of group, being benched, and accidentally making her mother excited over the prospect of a nonexistent boyfriend, she felt like sobbing into her pillowcase and then throwing up. Repeatedly.

She ended up getting Chinese takeout at the shop across the street from her flat, and was thankful that she hadn't recognised anyone the entire way there and back. She'd picked out her flat because it was far enough removed from the usual Wizarding flats, but close enough to Diagon Alley that she could walk if she were so inclined. A long walk, but a walk nonetheless.

She lived above a bookstore that was far from flourishing, but the rent was modest and the space was plentiful. She ended up sitting on the spiral staircase at the back of the store that led to her flat, eating her Chinese and watching the owner reshelving first editions as she spoke to a regular.

The owner was a woman nearly ten years older than Ginny, and she had been very kind when they'd first met two months ago. She had a wild mane of light blonde hair, and dark blue eyes. She wasn't classically beautiful, but she was pretty enough. Her name was Susan, and she had inherited the store - and Ginny as a tenant - from her grandfather when he'd passed away in November. Ginny hadn't known him well, but she was on her way to becoming friends with his fair-haired grandchild.

Her grandfather had at one time owned the whole block, but eventually sold off most of it to local families as the neighborhood grew - saving only his bookstore and the space he'd given to his son when he married Susan's mother. Susan's parents had died when she was in college, leaving her a fair amount of money and their restaurant.

Susan had to close the restaurant not long after their deaths in order to get her life back on track, and it had been left boarded up ever since. She'd told Ginny that after she'd taken over, when Ginny had enquired about why it was closed.

And like her therapist, Susan was a Muggle.

XxX

If she were honest with herself, Ginny would have to admit that Susan being born without any innate magical skill was probably half the reason she was willing to get to know her. Susan didn't know Ginny from any other person in London, there was no instant recall of "Oh, it's the Weasley girl!", she gave her no "she's famous" attitude, and she was certainly not aware of her past.

The woman was sweet, and she obviously loved books with much of the same deep passion that Hermione held.

The quiet tinkling of the bell above the door pulled Ginny from her thoughts and brought her attention back to the inside of the store.

"Ginny? Are you doing okay?" Susan's voice was soft and quiet, but Ginny could practically hear it reverberating in her ears like she'd yelled it.

"Yeah. Just something with work, not a big deal." Ginny smiled widely at the older woman, trying to put as much happy into it as she could. The look in Susan's eyes told her that she'd seen right through the attempt, but Susan didn't push it.

"Let me know if you need anything. I'll be in the shop until close." Ginny nodded at her and then turned back to her food.

She didn't really want it anymore, but forced herself to finish it anyway.

XxX

By six, Ginny had changed her clothes three times and had very nearly fallen into another panic. She wasn't sure she was ready, she knew she wasn't ready, how could anyone think this was a good idea, she had to stay home - Ginny caught herself in the middle of another near attack and splashed water in her face. She had to leave while she still had the nerve.

She ended up arriving ten minutes before group started, and was thankful when Scott's secretary ushered her into the room he used for group, which was empty. Obviously no one had arrived yet. If they had, Ginny wasn't sure she wouldn't bolt out and forget she ever attempted this.

There were eight chairs sitting in a circle in the room. The black one faced the doorway and had a caduceus stitched into the fabric backing, so she assumed that was Scott's chair. The others were dark reds and blues, but Ginny didn't think that meant anything. She took a seat in the blue chair two left from Scott's, and waited.

The room filled up quickly after she sat down. There were four women and two men, besides Scott. She kept her head down and stayed silent through most of the hour. She would have gone the full hour, but like everyone else in the room, Scott directly asked her a question.

She froze, briefly, but decided to focus on Scott and try to get it over with. Her voice was a little unsteady, but she managed to answer her question.

By the end of the night, she successfully answered three questions in front of the strangers in the room. Nothing had been terribly personal yet, but she knew that was because it was intended to guide her into the group. They'd been asked more personal questions like, "Carmen, what did you do after your breakdown?"

Still, she considered it a success, and left Scott with the promise she'd return for next week's group.

XxX

And the next week, and the week following, she did. She still didn't like it, of course. There were too many people around her, discussing her issues. But she knew Scott thought it would be good for her, and she was determined to make it work.

XxX

On the evening of January 30th, she had to miss group therapy to make an appointment with the team manager to discuss her probation. The meeting left her frustrated over her continued probation, but they were letting her join practice again and that was, at the least, a balm to the issue. She was still benched during games until the second week in March, unfortunately.

It was her fault alone though, so she did not protest much. If she'd not overslept it wouldn't be an issue.

So, it wasn't until the 6th of February that she was able to return to group.

But by then, something had changed.


Jessica's Prompt #1

Basic premise: The war is over (how long ago it ended is for you to decide) and no one knows quite what to do now. Many people have been traumatized in different ways, including Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley. What problems do these characters face now, and how do they get through them?

Must haves: Draco and Ginny are not friends when the story begins, but through realizing that they each have their own problems, they see a new side to each other and begin to support each other in some way.

No-no's: I hate the word "Weaselette" as an insult for Ginny and "'Mione" as a nickname for Hermione.

Rating range: Any.

Bonus points: This story obviously calls for some solemnity, but if you can throw some humor in, that'd be cool. Also, people sometimes make bad decisions when they are grieving, so a strange side pairing that clearly doesn't work out in the story could be interesting.