Hermione's tears slowed and a new determination overtook her, the kind brought on perhaps only by the accepted knowledge of one's imminent and desired demise.
All she had to do now was scribble out what lies she could to assuage her friends' grief and then decide upon the best time and place to work the spell. It shouldn't be in the dormitory, where one of the other girls would have to find her, and definitely not on the grounds, where the task might fall to Hagrid. Maybe she should try walking to . . .
Lost in her thoughts, Hermione almost missed hearing the creak of the door and it took her a few seconds to pull herself together and register who was standing there.
"Herm?," Ginny said, so gently that Hermione nearly didn't hear.
When Hermione didn't answer or even react to her presence, Ron's sister sank down beside her on the stone floor, and placed one of her hands over Hermione's own. "Herm, I . . ."
"Ginny," Hermione interrupted, finally finding her voice and with it her ability to lie and divert, "I, uh, aren't you playing in the match?"
Not looking at her, but still holding her hand, Ginny replied distractedly, "I asked Arnie Chatian to go on in my place. He's that seventh year who was second at the tryouts. I had something more important to do."
When Hermione didn't answer or ask what this more important thing was, Ginny, still looking at the floor, said barely above a whisper and in a choked tone Hermione had not heard from the younger girl before, "Tell me."
A minute went by and still no answer, so she repeated it, this time shifting her gaze to Hermione. There were tears in her eyes, "Herm, tell me."
Hermione, not able to bear a gaze so full of concern, turned her own eyes away and knew she had to answer. "I . . . It's been so hard since my parents died. I didn't want any of you to know how, how upset I was about it, losing them, and Crookshanks, my whole family . . . I, I know you said I could talk to you, but I couldn't before, because, well, umm . . . it's just so hard to talk about them. I'm sorry. Sometimes I just need . . . need to cry, but once it's out . . . I'm okay now."
"No," Ginny said, the same edge to her voice, her eyes now cast down again.
"No?," Hermione parroted, caught off guard by the last reaction she expected, one that really didn't even make sense.
"No," Ginny repeated, biting her lip and then releasing it, "Not about your parents. I mean, I know how much that upset you, and I know how much it still does. But you know that wasn't what I meant. You know that's not always what's bothering you. Hermione, please, please . . . just tell me."
"I . . . I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione replied quickly, trying to still her rising voice. "Of course it's just my parents. You can't imagine how hard it is, knowing I'll never see them again! It's only ever been that . . . really, Ginny. I don't know what else you're imagining, but I promise you . . ."
"Don't!" Ginny said, standing and surprising both Hermione and herself with the intensity of the anger in her voice.
"You know, Hermione," she started again, barely restraining the frustration in her voice as she paced back and forth between the sinks, "I used to believe that. I did. But it's not true, is it, Hermione? It's not true at all . . ."
When Hermione, shocked into silence and unsure how to react, again didn't respond, Ginny missed barely a beat before continuing her pacing and her words, "I believed you all year. 'I'm okay, it's just my parents.' I believed you even after I started noticing how deep your pain ran, how long you took in the shower, how you never seemed to sleep. I believed you when you didn't come to the Burrow for Christmas, and . . . until today, it didn't make sense. I believed you, but before, it just didn't make sense."
Softening her tone to match the stream of tears now running down her face, Ginny took a shaking breath, sat down once more next to Hermione, and continued gently, "And, now, now I think it does. Hermione . . . Do you remember that night before school started, when you were sleeping in my room and had a nightmare? . . . I remember. I remember what you said to me, when I woke you up. 'Don't hurt me. Don't touch me.' . . . I thought your explanation seemed a bit off, but we were both tired, and I must have been a complete git to never put it together, not until today, not until Seamus . . . "
Hermione stiffened when the name left Ginny's lips, suddenly reeling in the fear of where it might be headed. "Ginny, don't. Please. I can't. Don't," she mumbled, new tears overtaking her.
"Herm," Ginny said, her voice steadier and both her hands now clasping the other girl's. "Herm, I was watching you when Seamus told that awful joke. I saw the look in your eyes, and when I did . . . when I did, I finally understood what your words that night meant. 'Don't hurt me. Don't touch me.' Who, Hermione? Who did hurt you? Who did touch you?"
The words had left her mouth before Hermione even realized her tongue had formed them, had realized that her eyes were once again meeting Ginny's, "Jacob, my . . . my biological father, the one I live with now, it was Jacob . . ."
With a heart-rending sigh, Ginny closed her eyes and nodded once, before letting go of Hermione's hand. Then, Hermione felt the other girl's arm wrap tightly around her back, and felt both anguish and surprise with the realization that she was still there, still touching her unrepulsed despite the words that she had just spoken.
Overwhelmed and broken, Hermione buried her head against Ginny's chest, soaking the front of her Quidditch robes with her sobs. Ginny only pulled her closer, lightly running her fingers through Hermione's hair. Then, the younger girl pressed her own head gently against the older's, and whispered the truth that needed to be spoken, "he raped you, didn't he, Hermione?"
And Hermione, exhausted and still shocked that someone knew, could only nod and continue her crying.