9

August 23, 1999

Hermione lay in bed staring at her ceiling, rehashing the conversation with Ron, Ginny, and Harry a few days prior. Ron, somehow, had been a voice of wisdom, shaming them all for their hesitance with forgiveness.

Thinking back on it made her shake her head in disbelief. Ron. Ron had never been the one to speak sense into anyone.

Perhaps he's grown even more than we all realized.

After Ron had convinced her that even Malfoy "deserved a second chance," Ginny spoke up as well. She hadn't exactly agreed with Ron, particularly regarding the entire Malfoy family, but she and Harry both agreed that Hermione should at least give it a try.

"I think it's getting worse, 'Mi," Ginny said, sitting her glass down onto the table in front of her. "You have to realize that."

"Gin," Harry said, giving his girlfriend a stern look.

Hermione sighed. "No, Harry, she's right. Clearly, I can't handle this on my own. I don't even know how everyone else is okay. I can't sleep or even think about all I've gone through without blowing up my bedroom."

Both Ron and Harry gaped at her and then both started talking at once.

"What do you mean 'blew up your bedroom?'"

"When did that happen?"

"Are you okay?"

Ginny held up a hand, silencing them both. "She's fine. You're looking right at her," she said, rolling her eyes and waving her hand casually toward Hermione.

Hermione continued looking down at the remnants of whisky left in her cup. "It was this morning. I… I thought that if I tried to just let myself really think about everything rather than pushing it away again, maybe that would help me to try to move past it. But apparently that isn't the right answer either. I came to when Ginny blew my door off the hinges to get inside. I didn't know what was real and what was in my head."

Thankfully, they didn't bombard her with questions, but she could feel them staring at her. She wiped her palms on her jeans and looked up. Ginny was looking back expressionless, and Harry was staring at his lap, fiddling with the hem of his jumper. She looked over at Ron, meeting his gaze.

There it was, again. Pity.

Sighing, she finished the last swallow of her drink. "I could've killed you today, Ginny, and-"

"Well, you could've tried," Ginny said, raising one eyebrow.

Hermione chuckled, "You know what I mean. I never would've forgiven myself had I hurt you."

She closed her eyes and bit down hard on her cheek, willing the pain to push the tears away. "It is getting worse… Honestly, I'm so fucking sick of pretending like I'm okay. I'm just too tired to do it anymore."

They sat in silence for a moment before Harry spoke up. "Well, we've looked at this emotionally, and though I agree it would be hard to forgive Malfoy or to open up in front of him or anyone else there for that matter, it's definitely worth a shot. And from a physical standpoint, you definitely need some help in controlling the accidental magic. Morally speaking, I know how you feel about the work that Susan and Alys are doing for the wizarding community. Not to put more pressure on you but having you there would be a big step toward opening some doors for them. It would definitely get them some good publicity if you were willing to talk openly about your experience."

She looked up at him, wide-eyed. Talking to a counselor was one thing, even talking openly in a group session, but trying to tell her story to a reporter or a board of old curmudgeonly blood supremacists at St. Mungos? Nope.

"I don't mean your experience with the war, but just your experience in therapy. Maybe if you could talk about how much they're program has helped you, assuming that it does, then maybe that would be a big win for them. Like it or not, you are the Golden Girl."

She grimaced.

"Only you would try guilt tripping me into seeking help. How many 'big wins' have you handed out there, Chosen One?"

He shot her a smirk. "Hey, I've done my part. I've already agreed to speak to the board about how Susan's therapy helped me."

Ron looked at him questioningly. Harry only shrugged at him before adding, "I think the work they're doing is worth taking a chance on."

Knowing they were all looking at her for some sort of answer, Hermione said, "Fine. I'll go. But if I kill Malfoy, you better play the 'Boy Who Lived Again' card and get me out of Azkaban."

She lay in her bed, once again contemplating a thousand ways to get out of going to The Willows in – she looked over at her bedside table and groaned when she saw that it was 5:00 am – two hours, she thought, her stomach already in knots.

Her conversation with her friends had been two days ago, and she had backed out at least a dozen times since then, if only in her own mind. She even considered running away once, but more than anything Harry's argument about helping Susan and Alys had weighed heavily on her mind, enough to make her reconsider.

Damn you, Harry. He knew good and well that playing toward her 'defender of the downtrodden'sensibilities would be the thing that forced her hand.

She sat up in bed and flicked her wand at the lamp in her corner, filling her room with a light orange glow. She picked up the list of items to bring to the retreat and began going back over everything for the hundredth time.

After checking and rechecking her bag, she heard a faint knock at her door, and then Harry peeked his head in.

"I saw that your light was on. Need some company?"

"Sure," she said and scooted over allowing him room on her bed beside her. When he sat down, she threw her comforter over both of their legs and asked, "What are you doing up so early?"

He shrugged. "Are you angry at me?"

She turned to look at him confused as to what she could possibly be upset with him about. "Why would I be angry at you?"

Sighing, he said, "I know this is hard, and I'm sorry if I've pushed you into it. I just want you to feel better, 'Mi."

She leaned her head over onto his shoulder. "Of course, I'm not angry at you. I know I need help. I know I do. I just …"

"You know, you're great at just about everything. I don't think there's ever been a single thing that you've tried to do and failed. But one thing that you're absolutely dreadful at," Harry turned to look at her, causing her to lift her head from his shoulder and raise her eyebrows questioningly, "is asking for help. There's no way I could have taken on Voldemort or hell even gotten to that point without you and Ron beside me. It's okay to need help. It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you."

"I know. Logically, I know that. It's just infuriating that I can't simply move on with my life. I can't sleep without nightmares. I can't even eat in a loud restaurant. And gods forbid someone touch me. What the hell, Harry? I feel like the only one who isn't able to just be me anymore."

She hadn't even realized that she was crying until Harry reached up and wiped the tears from her face.

"'Mi… none of us are us anymore. We're all different people than we were before this war. I know Gin and I have told you a hundred times, but surely seeing all the people at that meeting the other night proves to you that you aren't alone in this. Just like Susan said, everyone processes things differently."

"Again, logically, I know you're right. I'm just so sick of it." She tilted so that her head rested on his shoulder once again. Sighing, she said, "You'll come visit, right?"

"Well I'll need to check my schedule… Of course, I'll visit. We all will," Harry said, his green eyes glinting with the flame of the lamp.

Harry and Ginny made arrangements to go into work late, and Ron had spent the morning with them for breakfast as well. Harry made bacon and eggs while Ron and Ginny tried to keep her smiling.

But it never seemed to reach her eyes. Hermione knew that she'd see them in only a week, but still she felt as if she were on the brink of some major shift for all of them. No matter what, she felt a weight resting heavily on her chest that told her that no matter what things were about to change. It was a strange feeling. Being concerned with the inevitability of change while also loathing every single second of life as it was.

So, she ate her breakfast, drank the coffee that Ginny poured for her, sans-whisky, laughed at all of Ron's normal antics, and felt something breaking inside of her – or perhaps it had already been broken.

At 6:55, she hugged them all goodbye, Ron pulling her toward him and wrapping her in his characteristic bearhug. Ginny pulled him off her and took her turn as well, whispering, "We'll be right here waiting for you." When they both stepped away, Harry was left standing in front of her, each of them looking at one another with sad eyes. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, and she rested her head beneath his chin.

"I'll see you in a week," she said, sniffling.

"I know. But … this will be the longest I've ever gone without having you around."

She breathed in deeply before pushing away from him. She wiped a tear from her eye and smirked, "I'm sure Ginny can remind you to pick you dirty clothes up off the bathroom floor."

He chuckled, "Yeah, I'm sure you're right."

She exhaled through her mouth and pulled the same marble from her pocket from last week. Throwing her bag over one shoulder, she looked up at them and said, "See you guys soon, yeah?" She gave them a halfhearted smile and, clutching the marble tightly, she pulled the handkerchief from around it and felt the jerk of the portkey as her world shifted around her.

She landed roughly on the same lawn overlooking The Willows just as she had the week prior. Now, however, she could fully take in the view. In the blackness of the night on her last visit she could see the cream-colored mansion and lake as well as the trees bordering it on three sides, but now with the sun beaming down on the manse she could see the stables off to her left and two large granians grazing in the pasture beside it.

The place really was massive.

She stood marveling at the view for a moment before a loud whoosh from a few feet away caused her to jump.

Parvati and Seamus appeared right behind her, each clutching the end of a piece of rope. When Parvati tripped as the ground righted itself beneath her, she reached out and caught her before she managed to hit the ground.

"Thanks, Hermione," she said with a smile while smoothing the front of her robes. She cleared her throat and gave Seamus a stern look.

"Uh.. yeah, so I'm sorry for last week," he said, rushing through the words. He clenched his jaw and looked away, gazing across the sparkling waters of the lake.

You definitely sound apologetic, she thought, rolling her eyes. She looked over to Parvati who only shrugged.

His whole body tensed as a loud pop resonated behind her. She turned to look over her shoulder and found Malfoy buttoning the front of his suit jacket. He gave her a curt nod before walking toward the doors to the dining area, his lithe frame ramrod straight and his nose in the air.

Apparently, some things hadn't changed.

Hearing Seamus scoff, she remembered where she was and turned back to him. His face was red and his nostrils flaring as he said, "Besides, I have bigger things on my mind."

He stomped away, his shoulder hitting Hermione's as he walked past her.

"Seamus, what the –" Parvati started to call him back, but Hermione cut her off.

"It's fine, Parvati. Don't worry about it," she said.

"I'm sorry. I tried talking to him. He's just so angry all the time. I don't –"

"It's fine. Really." She watched him stomp toward the front doors, never once looking back. "We'd better get in there," she said. "We're already late."

When they made it inside, they found a full breakfast laid out on the tables in front of them, reminiscent of Hogwarts. Alys and Susan both stood from one end of the table and said, "Sit anywhere you'd like."

Beside them sat Mr. Ollivander and Luna, who smiled and gave Hermione a small wave before returning to listen to what he was saying. On the other side of Susan sat Dennis Creevey, Nicola Greengrass, and Seamus, who was currently staring daggers at Malfoy sitting directly across from him. Malfoy, however, placed his napkin on the table and stood as Hermione and Parvati approached the table, his gray eyes meeting hers only briefly before she looked away, glancing back and forth forth between the only three seats remaining.

Sitting beside Seamus was out of the question, as Parvati was already walking toward it. Sitting at the end seat would be incredibly rude. Malfoy would know that it was simply to not sit beside him.

They definitely weren't friends, but still, it seemed petty to insult him over something so trivial.

So, she took the seat beside him, placed her bag on the floor beneath the table, and thought, well this won't be uncomfortable at all.

He retook the seat to her left and resumed eating. She felt herself exhale, not realizing that she had been holding her breath. She still had no idea what to say to him. The revelation that he was being forced to attend here by the Wizengamot was shocking in and of itself, but she had no idea what to do with his pseudo-apology last week.

Things had changed drastically for all of them, but for some reason she thought she would somehow prefer his cutting remarks. At least that she knew how to handle.

Reaching across from her, she poured herself a cup of tea. Just then the chair beside her was pulled out and Walt sat down. His steely hair was tied back in a loose knot rather than hanging freely by his shoulders as it had been when Hermione saw him last.

It reminded her of something her mother said once to her father when his hair had just begun to gray. She remembered sitting next to her mother on the couch when her father walked by and caught his reflection in the mirror hanging in their den. Turning his head from one side to the other, his eyes scrunched up as he looked at the gray streaks emerging on either side of his face. He asked, "Should I dye my hair?" Her mother had stood and wrapped her arms around her father's neck, resting her chin on his shoulder so that both of their faces were visible in the mirror. "I think you'll be a silver fox in no time, my love." Her father had rolled her eyes at this, but it was obvious to Hermione that he was enjoying the compliment.

She would have described Walt in the same way. She hadn't noticed the last time, but perhaps that was due to Seamus's behavior then, but he was rather handsome. He appeared to be in his mid-40s, and it was clear that he took good care of himself.

He removed his glasses and folded them into his shirt pocket.

"Good morning, everyone. Welcome to day one." His smile was carefree and genuine as he looked around the room, taking everyone in.

The noise in the room abated as everyone listened to him.

"We're so glad that all of you decided to attend our first retreat here at The Willows." His eyes lingered on Hermione a moment longer than everyone else, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. She hoped no one else noticed, but then she saw Malfoy stiffen beside her out of the corner of her eye. Clearly, he hadn't forgotten their conversation.

His eyes left Hermione's as he continued to look around at everyone else at the table. "Today is going to be pretty easy-going as we all try to adjust to being in such close quarters. Each of you should get yourself unpacked, and feel free to decorate your rooms as you see fit. You are all free to explore the grounds as well."

This time his eyes remained focused on Seamus for a half a beat longer than normal, as he said, "There are, however, a few rules that we have in order to help everyone feel safe. First and foremost, none of you are required to like one another, but it is of the upmost importance that we each show everyone the respect that we would want to be shown. Muggles refer to that as 'the golden rule,' and we will all abide by it without question. Problems will arise, I'm sure, but we will each strive to meet them head-on, respectfully and cordially. This includes respecting one another's boundaries. Though you're free to explore, you are also expected to remain out of one another's living quarters unless expressly invited."

His voice then lost the stern, business-like quality, and he returned again to a bubblier tone.

Hermione took a moment to look around and noticed that no one seemed to be bothered by Walt's comments… except for Seamus. His face was flushed, and his jaw clenched as he glowered across the table at Malfoy. Hermione risked a glance at Malfoy to find his eyes boring into Seamus's, unblinking.

She took a moment while he was occupied to really look at him, to see how much different he had become. There was no trace of the childish sneer he wore so often at school. She couldn't imagine the man beside her whinging about or exclaiming, "My father will hear about this!" He actually looked more like Lucius than she had ever seen him. His ashen face, hard as stone, was expressionless. With his head angled toward the table, he met Seamus's gaze from the tops of his eyes with enough ferocity and control that Seamus, despite his clear hostility, looked away first.

Malfoy tilted his head just enough to make eye contact with her, and she knew she had been caught. For the second time that morning, she felt a warm blush rise up her neck as she quickly turned away, only just now realizing that Walt had been speaking the entire time.

" – to your rooms once you're finished with breakfast, and you'll have the rest of the day free to do as you please. Tomorrow morning, we'll start one-on-one sessions with each of you, and our first group session will be tomorrow evening."

He stood to leave, and then added, "Oh yes, and you'll each find some information on the desks in your rooms regarding weekly chores and activities as well."

"I'm sorry, …" Parvati said. "But chores? As in chores that we'll be doing?"

"Oh yes, Miss Patil." Walt smiled jovially, as if they were talking about a picnic rather than cleaning up after one another. "The staff, in order to help your transition here, will also not be using magic, so we'll all be pitching in together, like a regular old family."

"Not to be a bore, but that seems rather uncivilized," Nicola spoke up for the first time. She hadn't seen it in the restroom when she first met her, but now she could see the polished refinement that all pureblood families possess. … except the Weasley's, she thought, smiling to herself.

Nicola continued, "Couldn't we have house elves or something? I have a few at home that we could use during my stay." Hermione immediately felt a bit of the respect she had for her diminish. "Binky was actually sobbing when I left," she added, looking around to everyone with a smile. "I'm sure she'd love to come help." She had to remind herself that there were some house elves that actually enjoyed the work they did. I don't see how, she thought, shaking her head in disbelief.

Susan chuckled at the opposite end of the table. "No, that won't be necessary. I assure you, we weren't excited about doing dishes either. But this is actually an important part to recovery. For many of you, life has become unmanageable. Having a daily routine that requires mutual responsibility helps to put structure back into your lives and also teaches that you can rely on other people to help meet your needs."

Hermione didn't really have an issue with doing chores. Honestly, she preferred to clean by hand on most occasions. She and Ron had argued about it on multiple occasions actually. Mrs. Weasley, being the domesticated witch that she was, swore by magical cleaning methods, as did all her children, but having spent the first eleven years of her life without the help of magic, Hermione learned the "better" way to do things. Ron still told her it was barbaric, but she felt that it was good for you to get your hands dirty every once in a while.

Hermione met Dennis's eyes and, remembering that he too was a muggle-born, they shared a knowing smile. At least she had an ally when it came to the better way to clean.

Susan stood as well and joined Walt at his side of the table. "We're all going to go unpack as well. Again, feel free to look around, catch up with one another, swim, … though I wouldn't swim in the lake if I were you. The selkies here aren't exactly as friendly as those in the Black Lake."

She immediately thought of the gray skin and yellow eyes of the merpeople in the Black Lake and the way they had tried to fight with Harry. When he refused to leave Gabrielle Delacour behind at the bottom of the lake during the Triwizard Tournament, their laughing faces had turned to angry sneers as they demanded that he only take his own prisoner, Ron. Harry had told her that the only reason they let him go was because he drew his wand. She couldn't imagine what the selkies here were like if those were considered "friendly."

Before she finished her tea, most of the other guests had already left the room, including Malfoy, who had stood immediately following Susan's remarks and silently strode from the room, not once looking back at Seamus whose stare was burning a hole through his back, while Parvati rolled her eyes and followed him from the room. Only Alys and Nicola remained, talking at one end of the room.

Hermione finished her tea and walked over to join them. "Well we've been here for less than an hour, and Seamus and Malfoy already look as if they want to kill one another."

Alys laughed, but Nicola looked toward the door where everyone else had retreated with her brow furrowed in a look of worry. "I wouldn't worry about Mr. Finnigan," Alys said. "After last week, I doubt he'll do anything to risk getting removed from the program."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. Seamus didn't seem the type to be worried about retaliation at all. And if the program is voluntary, what could they possibly have to make him want to stay?

"I can't really talk about his private matters outside of the program here but suffice it to say that it's in his best interest to play nice," Alys said before excusing herself.

Hermione and Nicola left the room together and began walking toward the living quarters. "I wanted to thank you again, for the other day. I really appreciated it."

"It was no problem at all, dear. As I said then, I know all too well what it's like to need a shoulder from time to time." She pulled her chestnut waves across one shoulder, twirling a lock around her finger absentmindedly. The behavior seemed at odds with her otherwise aristocratic demeanor.

"What song were you humming, by the way?" Hermione asked. Nicola turned to her, a look of puzzlement on her face. "That night, I mean. You were humming, and it seemed familiar, but I only heard a few seconds of it before I noticed your perfume."

"Oh," Nicola smiled, closing her eyes briefly, before turning and continuing their walk. "That was Heart, do you know them?" When Hermione nodded, Nicola continued. "'Dog and Butterfly.' I used to sing it to my girls when they were little. My husband has never quite approved of my infatuation with Muggle music." Chuckling, she turned to look at Hermione but then realized she had stopped walking a few steps back.

Nicola walked back to her side and took one of her hands. "Are you alright, dear? You're white as a sheet."

Hermione swallowed roughly. Her throat felt as if it were filled with sand. "Sorry, I … I was somewhere else for a moment." She shook her head briefly, and they began walking again. They made it to their rooms. "Nicola" was written in gold letters on the door directly across the hall from the one reading "Hermione." They bid one another goodbye, and Hermione noticed "Draco" and "Dennis" were the only others in this hallway.

She entered her room and wondered how it was it that not only did Nicola Greengrass wear her mother's perfume, but she also sang the same Muggle music to her children that Helen Granger sang to her as a child.