Chapter Two: Terms of Endearment
Hermione wakes up the next morning to the feeling of warm sunlight caressing her face and playing across her closed eyelids. She guesses that it is around nine o'clock and that Ginny has opened the curtains, allowing the rays of the newborn sun to stream into the little room.
Slowly Hermione opens her eyes, wincing slightly as the white light assaults her sensitive retinas. She feels marginally better than she did the night before, despite a vague sense of nausea and a slight headache.
"You're awake!"
Hermione looks up at the sound of Ginny's soft voice. Her sister-in-law is standing in the doorway, balancing a breakfast tray on one hand and holding a vase of wildflowers in the other. She is still wearing her bedclothes—a long, thin white nightgown edged with lace—and her small feet are bare despite the cold floor.
"How are you feeling?" Ginny asks, moving to stand next to the bed. She sets the vase of flowers down on the bedside table. Hermione looks at the flowers and smiles.
"I'm much better," Hermione says. She grimaces when she notices how weak her voice sounds. Ginny looks at her doubtfully.
"You don't sound much better than you did last night," the younger woman says. "Are you up for some breakfast?"
Hermione examines the contents of the tray dubiously. Ginny has prepared all of her favorite foods—bacon, waffles, and toasted muffins with butter—but none of it looks particularly appealing at the moment.
"I'm not really hungry," Hermione says.
"Well, you've got to eat something," Ginny says, "even if it's just one muffin. Can you sit up on your own or do you need help?"
"I've got it," Hermione says. She gingerly raises herself to a seated position, propping her back against the headboard. Ginny sets the tray down on Hermione's lap.
"Can I—?" Ginny gestures awkwardly at the empty space on the other side of the bed.
"Of course."
As Ginny settles herself into a seated position next to Hermione, the older woman picks up a muffin. She holds it loosely in her fingers, making no attempt to bring it to her mouth.
"Hermione, you've got to eat," Ginny says, her voice soft.
"I'm sorry, Gin, I can't. Not now," Hermione says, dropping the muffin back onto the plate.
She realizes what she has said a split second after she says it. Gin—her old nickname for Ginny. A name that she hasn't used in years.
Hermione turns to look at Ginny, who is staring at her with wide eyes. The young woman's lips are parted slightly, her breathing ragged.
"What did you call me?" Ginny whispers.
"G—Gin. Like I've always called you," Hermione says. Ginny shakes her head.
"You haven't called me that in years."
"Well, I should have," Hermione says. "I like that name. It suits you."
"That word—it isn't just a nickname," Ginny says. Her voice is shaky. "It's a term of endearment. Only the people who are closest to me call me that."
"Are you saying we're not close?" Hermione says, hurt.
"Not since the war ended," Ginny replies. "Not since—you know. That day."
Hermione sighs. She leans her head back against the headboard and closes her eyes. She is too tired and too sick to talk about that day.
After a moment, Hermione feels the weight on the bed shift as Ginny gets up.
"I'll leave you to your breakfast," Ginny says. "Please try to eat something."
Hermione keeps her eyes closed until she hears the bedroom door swing shut. Once she is sure that Ginny has gone, Hermione allows her eyelids to flutter open. She moves the tray off of her lap and sets it on the recently vacated spot next to her. She then moves her body back into a lying position, pulling the blankets up to her chin.
"Oh Gin," she breathes, shutting her eyes once more. "I'm so sorry, my sweet, sweet Gin."
A/N: I think that I'm just incapable of writing a long chapter. Oh well. Next chapter should be up later tonight or sometime tomorrow morning—questions will be answered and old feelings will be revisited. Please review!