Hermione's grip tightened on the still scalding mug she was already holding ever so tightly. Her insides were cold. There was no need for her to feel warmth on the outside. Her brow furrowed in concentration, she laid a delicate hand on Mrs. Weasley's. "You must know how this feels," she pleaded, thoughtfully. "Didn't you go through the same thing with Bill?"
She could feel her hands trembling slightly as she said this, she bit her lip. "I know I've made a made a mistake that I can't fix, but surely you know how I feel. Surely I can't be alone." Mr. Weasley and Ron had went out on the field, trying to comb over this catastrophe of a dilemma they had.
Leaving Mrs. Weasley and Hermione in the house, unsure of what to say. Hermione attempted to strike at conversation several times, but did not earn so much as a nod. "Please, just tell me that I'm not alone... That's all I need," she pleaded, her eyes started to sting. "I'm scared. I'm more scared than I've ever been in my life, I just need to know that I'm not the only one."
She hung her head down low, her hair a nervous mess. She shook her head slowly. Mrs. Weasley stared thoughtfully at her and sighed quietly. Yes, she was much more of a mess than she was as a teenaged mother. Although she did not go through the same extreme extent as the young girl, she felt her trying to reach out to someone pleadingly.
Of course, Molly believed that all of her son's and daughter's friends were her children, but she saw Hermione as an official member of the family, and as for Harry. To see Hermione so desperate and frightened was heartbreaking. Hermione sniffled, opened her eyes, and briefly looked up. Her eyes were glossy as if she were about to cry.
She looked back down and stayed that way, silent as she wiped the tears away aggressively. "I remember how terrified I was," said Mrs. Weasley, gently. "I didn't know what to do. I was a sixteen-year-old. The closest I had gotten to motherhood was babysitting my younger siblings.
"Luckily it happened so late in the year that no one noticed, but I can't imagine how you feel. But you should also know how wrong that was, although I'm sure you do already. I know you're so guilty that it hurts, I know. But honestly, you are handling this much better than I thought. I admire that.
"And one day, Ron is going to end up breaking down, he'd have been waiting to do so for months but was hesitant to. Just make sure you're there to catch him, because he's going to need you like you needed him. Abrupt as it may seem, don't fight it, welcome it gracefully."
Hermione lifted her head up and half smiled, nodding. Her smile gradually vanished as her hands started to shake jerkily. She balled them up into fists in an attempt to stop them.
Mrs. Weasley took her cold and seizing hands in hers, shooting a knowledgable look at her, raising an eyebrow. "Slow down, Hermione," she cooed softly as Hermione stifled a cry. "Why don't you go rest for a few? Go on." Hermione blinked a few times, but obliged openly, stepping out of her chair and mounting the stairs.
After a few steps, she turned around and whispered,"Thank you." With that, she continued up and found Ginny's room on instinct. She gazed out of the window, her eyes resting on the orchid field, swaying stiffly. She was like those tall and skinny plants.
Too stubborn to move ahead, but too scared to be left behind. Maybe a bit too headstrong sometimes, but always meaning well. She sighed and leaned against the wood paneled wall. Her mind was racing with unpleasant thoughts, feeling as though they were all stabbing her sharply in her chest.
A frown overtook her neutral facial expression. Her legs felt weak. She stumbled slightly. Her hands started to shake again. Her eyes seemed out of focus. She suddenly had the feeling that she was falling, but she never remembered hitting the ground.