Sorry for the long wait. Will try not to happen again! Say hi to Ginny this chapter!


Chapter Four

It was a bad idea to be rude to Harry. That's all I can think as I stand in the stream of the shower. The water is ice cold, but it's all I deserve. Harry is just trying to take care of me.

I don't deserve his care.

I don't need his care.

Goosebumps shock over my skin, but I can't seem to get up the nerve to turn around and adjust the temperature. There was a point when it was at least lukewarm, when I stepped in maybe. How long ago was that?

My eyes travel to the bottom of the tub, where a small trickle of reddened water slides down my leg and pools towards the drain. Shit. Damn nails.

With one last shiver, I release my arms and shut off the water. It was numbing me so I had no clue I was even clawing into my skin again. The pain just felt natural. I stumble out of the tub and immediately reach towards the drawer that holds my nail clippers. Pruney fingers struggle with cutting off the water-softened nails, but even while cold and wet, I'm able to cut them all. I slam myself onto the ground to get at my toenails next.

Finally, I stand, the breeze causing me to shiver again. Right, I'm naked and hairless. I chance a glance at the mirror and then reach for a towel with disgust. I have no right to a good body, so it's good that I am still as flat-chested as I was when I was thirteen. Men wouldn't like my personality, so why should they like my body?


With a scoff, I slam the Daily Prophet down on my kitchen table. Same old news—somebody dies too young, somebody else wins a lottery, this famous band has broken up, that pureblood is losing even more of his family's wealth to gambling (the shock!).

The gossip page also mentions me and my fantastic disappearance. Apparently, I seem to be suffering from a chronic magical disease that some healers from Greece think came from a bug that flew across the Mediterranean and infected me. Maybe Malfoy was right and I need to get him to sign off some forms to get everybody off my back.

Hey Wizarding world; I'm not dead! I'm just dead inside.

Yes, that would work fabulously.

The buzzer from the front door rings and I shove myself away from the table to answer it. Ginny's early, of course.

"Yes?" I inquire after pressing the button.

"Oh, shush now—Hermione! Hi, I know I'm a bit early, but I figured it would be alright. It's Ginny, by the way." Ginny sounds like she has taken little James with her. I hope he won't be a bother, but I know that's impossible.

I buzz them in without giving an answer and hobble back to the table. I was finishing a cup of hot chocolate before the Prophet made me so upset. It's cool by the time I touch it again, so a quick charm and steam begins to rise. As I take warm sip, there's a knock at my door, followed by the waggling of the handle.

"James, don't do that—oh! Hermione, you left your door unlocked!" Ginny calls as she enters with her son.

"I know. You can lock it behind you." I don't bother to shout; I probably don't have the energy anyway.

The hot chocolate has started to warm my stomach. Lupin had always given us chocolate third year after the dementors were near. I mentioned it to Malfoy during our last session and he suggested trying different chocolate treats to not get bored. While I don't know how much the chocolate is helping my endorphins—I'm actually just happy a pureblood like him knows about the chemicals in our brains (he went to university, Hermione, remember that)—it's at least getting me to eat. Calories are calories at this point.

"Aunty Hermione!" James rushes over on his shaking legs. He's barely two now, but thinks he's all grown up. It's adorable and can never fail to bring a smile to my face. I can't wait to have a child of my own…

Ginny runs after him, crying, "You come back here, little man!" She sits beside me with a huff, but lets him wander around the flat after I return his hug. "You know, I think I'm getting more of a workout with him than I ever was with the Harpies."

I let out a low chuckle, the most I can laugh at the moment. "Don't let your old captain know. She might force motherhood on all her girls, then."

Ginny's eyes widen at the thought. One of her old teammates refused to even come to her baby shower because of her abhorrence towards children—kids weren't even invited.

She reaches across the table to take my hand. "How are you feeling?" she asks, voice soft, but with an edge of importance. "Has my cream been working? Harry told me he gave it to you."

Truth be told, I haven't used it since the first time. It scares me, what it did to me. I wasn't in control at that moment and I'm already so out of my own control that I can't handle losing any more of myself. Instead, I smile slightly and hold up my mug. "I'm okay, I think. Using the old tried-and-true Lupin method of fixing everything with chocolate."

Ginny giggles. "I can never forget that—you know Teddy's favorite food is chocolate, right? He's a growing boy, I get it. Seven years old, but he needs more than just chocolate or he'll end up like his Uncle Dudley!"

This. This is what I need. Ginny isn't treating me like a fragile China doll. I'm a person to her, the same Hermione as always. And it feels more natural to talk to her than Harry at the moment.

But then she lapses again. "You are eating more than just chocolate, right? I mean, this is cocoa, but you've had food, haven't you? Here, I'll make you a sandwich." She stands without any prompting and starts strutting around my kitchen as if it's her own.

Oh. Now I understand why she came early.

"Hermione, how can you be out of turkey slices? You love turkey! And tuna. And watercress. Cheese? Okay, I'm going grocery shopping while you're with Malfoy—this is a travesty!" She at last finds peanut butter and some frozen bread she pops in the toaster.

"You're turning into your mother," I comment offhandedly, trying not to even be in the room anymore mentally. Maybe I can find James in the living room. He likes going through the bottom few shelves of my bookcase and look at all the pretty covers and colors.

She won't let me go. "Oh, that reminds me! Mom made you this so you won't catch a cold." She pulls something out of her pocket and throws it at me before turning back around to finish her sandwich.

It's a knitted cap, like those you see cancer patients wearing. I guess I could pass myself off for having just gone through chemotherapy. The others at the office wouldn't know anything and it would explain, well, everything. But that is a disgusting lie that I refuse to use. I'm already disgusting enough without using a serious condition to cover up my imperfections.

Ginny finally hands me the sandwich on a small plate, taking the hat from my hands and covering my head gently with it. "There you go, all better."

All better? Is she disgusted by my baldness? At least there's a little fuzz starting to grow. But…Great, now I disgust her physically as well as any other way my existence already did.

If I had any appetite before, it's gone now, but I still force myself to eat the sandwich, even if it's just for Ginny's sake. She seems proud of me that I eat, so I have that going for me. Yet I don't want to elicit pride for such mundane actions like eating. This is what I've become, though, and I guess I have to live with it if I want to keep Harry and Ginny happy. It's all I can do now, anyway.

Once I'm halfway through the sandwich, Ginny stands and wanders off in search of James. She seems to look around as she goes, as if making a mental list of anything she needs to buy on her shopping trip for me. I can't believe she's doing chores for me now. I hear the distinct sounds of books being put back on their wooden shelves, so I know she's tidying up after James.

A little while later, and she comes back with my purse and jacket. "Ready to go?" she asks warmly, if not a little too gently for my liking.

I nod and stand, flicking my wand so my dishes fly to the sink. At least it's something close to cleaning up instead of them piling up on the table instead. I grab the purse and jacket from her and head to the front door.

"Hermione, don't forget to lock it again," she reminds me as I start down the hall. I groan internally but head back to lock the front door. What does it matter?

At this point, I've resigned myself to seeing Malfoy twice a week, seeing as he is still the only one who actually listens to me and understands what I'm going through. It's disturbing, thinking that after all these years, my worst enemy is a better friend than my own best friends, but then again, it is his job. He's stated that enough times for me to understand. This has nothing to do with Malfoy suddenly being nice and everything to do with his apparent passion for helping wizards of all walks of life.

We walk to the main street by my apartment complex and Ginny hails a cab. Right, she can't drive, only Harry. That's a little annoying. I'd rather we apparated there. It's quicker and cheaper. I guess she doesn't want to put little James through that, though. Perhaps I can go by myself from now on, just to apparate instead of going through the traveling across London.

Once at St. Mungo's, Ginny hugs me and wishes me luck, then instructs the driver to take her to the nearest grocery store. She lets me head in on my own, for which I'm eternally grateful. Little freedoms at a time, Hermione. Get them to trust you again.

Inside Malfoy's office, he sits with one leg crossed over the other, like usual. It's a comfortable stance to make me feel more welcome, while also making him look more powerful and in control. I hate it. Either way, I shut the door behind me and sit. I feel proud that I don't immediately take a pillow from the top of the stack.

"Afternoon," he starts with.

I nod in greeting. "Afternoon."

"How are you doing today?" He keeps asking that.

Before I can help myself, I reply, "Annoyed." Great, now I'm going to have to talk about that.

"Annoyed? Why?" His eyebrows knit in concern but I can't tell if it's fake or not.

I look away and back with a sigh. "They keep treating me like I'm this fragile thing. Like, I can't take care of myself. Okay, so I realize that maybe coming here might up, maybe. I'm able to get out of bed most days, even if I can't do much more than that. But that's something, right? Harry and Ginny should understand."

"So are they the ones making you annoyed? How are they treating you like you're fragile?" He steeples his fingers, elbows on his propped-up leg.

I explain how Ginny came early to make sure I ate and to batter me with questions, how she and Harry won't let me come here on my own, how she's even going grocery shopping for me as we speak.

"I see…" Really? Do you? "What would you rather them do instead?"

"Instead?" I hadn't thought as much about that. I just hate what they're doing now. I shrug and finally reach for a pillow, this one with red beaded tassels all around its edge. My fingers twirl one of the beads while I think. "I just want them to treat me like I'm normal but not expect me to go back to whatever they consider the 'normal Hermione.' You know?"

Malfoy nods. "Have you considered telling them that while you appreciate what they're trying to do, it's not helping in your recovery?"

I look straight into his eyes. He's not joking. Just tell them? Absolutely not. They love me; I couldn't break their hearts by saying stop being my friend.

"I think you misunderstand me," he corrects himself, an airy chuckle coming out. "You don't have to say that you want them to stop whatever they're doing. Just tell them what you want. You want them to trust you, it seems like. You need control, I know that, and they're taking it away from you while treating you like a child. You have every right to tell them this, that you need to take back the control in your life that you're currently struggling with maintaining. That can include your diet, sleeping schedule, and even your therapy appointments. They'll still love you even if you ask them to back off a little."

I highly doubt that, but I say nothing. Maybe Malfoy has a point. If I explain gently enough, they could "back off" as he said.

"By the way, I like your hat," he adds offhandedly, gesturing to his own hair.

My eyes widen and I quickly pull the offending knitted piece from my head. I forgot it was even there. "Mrs. Weasley made it," I respond. His eyes narrow and I know he's calculating—why don't I want to cover my head now? Why am I offended by a hat?


My main lesson from the session comes to a head when the moment I step into the hallway outside Malfoy's office, my phone buzzes. Ginny has texted me.

waiting outside in taxi, block north

Great, that means she has too many groceries to carry around. Just great. I just need to tell her that I need to be able to control my life right now, that's all. I can do this.

James hugs me as soon as I step into the backseat, squealing about missing his Aunt Hermione.

I can't do this. What if she takes offense and won't let me see James or Teddy anymore? What if…

No, Hermione, keep it together. Wait until you're alone at your flat and then explain it all to her calmly. She's more logical than Harry. It will be easier to talk to her than Harry—Malfoy said so.

I help her carry the grocery bags upstairs and then put everything away myself. She's impressed that I have such initiative—I am too, but say nothing. I just don't want her rummaging around my things and thinking she knows where everything goes when she doesn't. Once she leaves, I'll be rearranging whatever she put back that James had moved around anyway. There's a system!

She eats an apple while watching me scurry around the kitchen and pantry. Wow, Ginny actually thought of everything. Three years ago, she could barely keep her own fridge stocked.

I used to have to help her.

What has happened?

That will change, though, and soon. I finally sit across from her at the table. Ginny smiles at me kindly, as if I'm a hospital patient.

"Oh!" she exclaims. "Where's your hat?"

I mentally berate myself. How stupid can I be? She obviously hates seeing me bald; I should have put the darn hat back on before getting in the taxi with her. "Sorry," I apologize. "It's in my coat pocket—warm in Malfoy's office."

"Okay, as long as you didn't lose it. Do you want me to get it for you?" She really wants me to wear it. Definitely not about my health at this point, all about her comfort level. Screw that.

I pull my sweater hood over my head. "Nah, this is just fine." A fire in me wants to ignore her discomfort at my state, but I can't offend her more with what I'm about to say. Best stay as much on her good side as possible, or I'm down to more friends.

"Ginny…" I finally start.

"Yeah? You okay, Hermione?" She leans forward. James makes a screech from the other room and we both glance through the doorway to see him excited at whatever program is on the television. Ginny looks back with more concern than ever.

"Ginny…" I try again. "I'm…I think I'm…getting better. Slowly, obviously. But…hey, I'm alive, right?" She smiles, a little nervous now. "I mean…I think that…" Here goes. "I think that you and Harry need to back off," I rush out, unsure if what I said was even English or just gibberish.

Her eyes bug out. "Excuse me?"

"I can take care of myself, Ginny. You can stop babying me."

"We're just trying to help, Hermione."

"I know!" I nearly bellow. I toss my head back before looking at her again, as if asking for strength from God. "But it's not…helping. I mean…I need…" I let out a frustrated sigh.

"What do you need? Do you need space? You were always welcoming of Harry and me and Ron before. You love entertaining us and taking care of any of us when we're sick, even if Harry has me now. Why can't we just return the favor, hmm?" Yup, she's offended.

"It's not like that," I try explaining. "I need control, Ginny! You know me. I need to control every detail and if I want to get my life back, I need to start taking back my control. Thank you for everything you and Harry have been doing for me this past week, but I need—Malfoy says—"

"Oh, Malfoy says. Great, so you'll listen to that git but only when it means getting rid of your actual friends?"

"What? No, I was listening to him, too, with the chocolate thing—"

"You said Lupin taught you that!"

"I brought up Lupin in our last session and he said why not? I need to start getting my endorphins actually working again, so why not?"

"What the fuck are endorphones?"

"Endorphins! They're chemicals in my brain that are fucked up when I have a mental illness like depression! Oh, Merlin, Ginny. You have a cell phone, but you still don't know anything about Muggle science?!"

"At least I admitted to myself I had post-partem depression and got help. Isn't that good enough?"

"Not when you don't tell your best friend when all she wants to do is help!"

"Sound familiar?" Ginny sits back down with a resigned look on her face, her arms crossed. I didn't even realize we had both stood up.

I stare at her blankly, falling back into my own seat. I take a deep breath. "I need to take control of my life again, that's all," I say in summary of our wonderfully painful fight.

"Fine," Ginny finally agrees after an uncomfortably long pause. "I won't be here on Thursday. You can find your way there I'm guessing?"

I nod, not used to the feeling of my hood scraping directly against my skin. (Then again, I am also not used to it fitting over my head.)

"Come on, James!" Ginny calls as she heads towards the kitchen door. "We're heading home."

James whines, but goes with his mom. The front door slams behind them.

I'm an idiot.


Next chapter, I'm really looking forward to writing, so it should come out sooner. I'll try to get a better writing schedule now, as well. Don't forget to favorite, follow, and review! 3

(PS: No, most wizards still don't know basic muggle science in the story's world. Hey, at least they're starting to embrace technology, right?)