--eight-thirty pm, Friday evening--
They stepped through the fire in Minerva McGonagall's study and out into the kitchen of the Burrow late that night. Molly was waiting for them and sat them down in front of a meal, before shooing them upstairs. She kept up a light flow of banter about her redecorations that demanded no response, but managed to be light and comfortingly ordinary, and Hermione let it flow around her with some surprise. When had she learned to find this constant chatter comforting? Two responses warred within her, and she bit down on both the urge to rage and the urge to weep, and ate her food in silence.
"Into the bath with both of you," Molly said, briskly, and Hermione obediently turned at the landing to go into the bathroom, stopping short in surprise. Clearly Molly had redone the bathroom as well. Instead of an ancient castiron tub that was so short only a child could stretch out in it, and a rickety shower stall that leaked badly unless reenchanted each time, there were shining tiles and a tub that was surely big enough for two, in which even one of the lanky Weasley males could have stretched out in comfort.
"It IS nice, Mum," Ginny said behind her. "You said it was an early birthday present from Fred and George?"
"Yes, indeed. They said that it was just repayment for all the years of scrubbing them clean that I should get my own private spa." She smiled. "All the conveniences, although Arthur did have to do some enchanting to get everything to work properly. But it's all legal." She flicked a couple of switches, and said, "Now, go on, girls. Your bed will be waiting when you're done."
Hermione began to strip her robe off, and was folding it when she saw Ginny doing the same.
"Oh, I'll wait if you...."
"Nonsense," said Ginny, in much the same tones as her mother. "That tub's big enough for four, let alone two. It looks heavenly, and I for one am tired and sore. Go on, Hermione, " she said, and turned her back to finish undressing.
Hermione stripped, and stepped in, water almost too hot to stand. It felt good, though, and she leaned her head back against the edge, letting herself bake.
A disturbance in the water signaled Ginny's entry. "We were doing a practical in DADA today. Hit someone small with a heavy spell and you knock them down. I think my rear is permanently bruised," she said with a scowl. "Oh, Merlin and Circe, this is....ahhhhh," she said as she settled down, a blissful smile on her face.
"They're serious about it in there," Hermione said with a nod. "It does feel good."
She picked up the sponge and soaped it, and began to wash her face and neck, scrubbing her ear and neck where Malfoy had kissed her, washing herself clean. And suddenly a hand covered hers. Ginny had knelt up and moved over, stopping her, and in the moment of pause she felt the skin where she had been washing going hot with pain.
Oh.
"You can't wash him off you, you know, " she said quietly. "And scrubbing your skin raw won't help you."
"I...." And then she exhaled, and let Ginny take the sponge.
"Will you let me?" she asked quietly, and Hermione, feeling suddenly very, very tired, nodded.
She pulled Hermione to her knees in the water, and began to wash her. It was tender, and although Hermione was reminded of the time in the hotel shower, she realized there was nothing of that in the touch she was being given. Ginny washed her right hand, dipped it to rinse it, and kissed it.
A chaste kiss, but suddenly Hermione was aware of the sensations around her. The warm water on her skin, the perfumes of the soap and bath salts hanging in the air, and the question that hung in the air.
And she couldn't answer. Too afraid, too tired, too soiled by that moment the day before to even consider taking what was offered, to believe anyone wanted her with any kind of tenderness. She froze.
Ginny knelt up, and put her arms around her, wet skin to wet skin in the steamy warmth of the room.
"If you don't want to, I won't push," she whispered. "But I'll be damned if I let Malfoy kill that part of you, that part of us."
Hermione shivered once, convulsively.
"Let it out, Hermione," Ginny said. "It'll poison you, all your life, if you don't. It'll poison us if you don't. Talk to me, tell me what happened... You were taking your shortcut back to Gryffindor Tower from the library, weren't you? Never did tell me why you like that way..." she added in a grumpy aside.
"Only one staircase and it doesn't move very often, " said a voice into her shoulder. "So it's quicker than playing roundabouts with the main stairs."
Ginny nodded, feeling some relief. There were words. If there were words, there was a crack.
And she began to pick at the crack with words, and with her embrace, and with small encouraging silences. Patient work, and time seemed to not pass at all, until Hermione broke and sobbed into her shoulder, and let go of the pain and the anger and the self-hatred, letting them swirl away with the water.
They stepped through the fire in Minerva McGonagall's study and out into the kitchen of the Burrow late that night. Molly was waiting for them and sat them down in front of a meal, before shooing them upstairs. She kept up a light flow of banter about her redecorations that demanded no response, but managed to be light and comfortingly ordinary, and Hermione let it flow around her with some surprise. When had she learned to find this constant chatter comforting? Two responses warred within her, and she bit down on both the urge to rage and the urge to weep, and ate her food in silence.
"Into the bath with both of you," Molly said, briskly, and Hermione obediently turned at the landing to go into the bathroom, stopping short in surprise. Clearly Molly had redone the bathroom as well. Instead of an ancient castiron tub that was so short only a child could stretch out in it, and a rickety shower stall that leaked badly unless reenchanted each time, there were shining tiles and a tub that was surely big enough for two, in which even one of the lanky Weasley males could have stretched out in comfort.
"It IS nice, Mum," Ginny said behind her. "You said it was an early birthday present from Fred and George?"
"Yes, indeed. They said that it was just repayment for all the years of scrubbing them clean that I should get my own private spa." She smiled. "All the conveniences, although Arthur did have to do some enchanting to get everything to work properly. But it's all legal." She flicked a couple of switches, and said, "Now, go on, girls. Your bed will be waiting when you're done."
Hermione began to strip her robe off, and was folding it when she saw Ginny doing the same.
"Oh, I'll wait if you...."
"Nonsense," said Ginny, in much the same tones as her mother. "That tub's big enough for four, let alone two. It looks heavenly, and I for one am tired and sore. Go on, Hermione, " she said, and turned her back to finish undressing.
Hermione stripped, and stepped in, water almost too hot to stand. It felt good, though, and she leaned her head back against the edge, letting herself bake.
A disturbance in the water signaled Ginny's entry. "We were doing a practical in DADA today. Hit someone small with a heavy spell and you knock them down. I think my rear is permanently bruised," she said with a scowl. "Oh, Merlin and Circe, this is....ahhhhh," she said as she settled down, a blissful smile on her face.
"They're serious about it in there," Hermione said with a nod. "It does feel good."
She picked up the sponge and soaped it, and began to wash her face and neck, scrubbing her ear and neck where Malfoy had kissed her, washing herself clean. And suddenly a hand covered hers. Ginny had knelt up and moved over, stopping her, and in the moment of pause she felt the skin where she had been washing going hot with pain.
Oh.
"You can't wash him off you, you know, " she said quietly. "And scrubbing your skin raw won't help you."
"I...." And then she exhaled, and let Ginny take the sponge.
"Will you let me?" she asked quietly, and Hermione, feeling suddenly very, very tired, nodded.
She pulled Hermione to her knees in the water, and began to wash her. It was tender, and although Hermione was reminded of the time in the hotel shower, she realized there was nothing of that in the touch she was being given. Ginny washed her right hand, dipped it to rinse it, and kissed it.
A chaste kiss, but suddenly Hermione was aware of the sensations around her. The warm water on her skin, the perfumes of the soap and bath salts hanging in the air, and the question that hung in the air.
And she couldn't answer. Too afraid, too tired, too soiled by that moment the day before to even consider taking what was offered, to believe anyone wanted her with any kind of tenderness. She froze.
Ginny knelt up, and put her arms around her, wet skin to wet skin in the steamy warmth of the room.
"If you don't want to, I won't push," she whispered. "But I'll be damned if I let Malfoy kill that part of you, that part of us."
Hermione shivered once, convulsively.
"Let it out, Hermione," Ginny said. "It'll poison you, all your life, if you don't. It'll poison us if you don't. Talk to me, tell me what happened... You were taking your shortcut back to Gryffindor Tower from the library, weren't you? Never did tell me why you like that way..." she added in a grumpy aside.
"Only one staircase and it doesn't move very often, " said a voice into her shoulder. "So it's quicker than playing roundabouts with the main stairs."
Ginny nodded, feeling some relief. There were words. If there were words, there was a crack.
And she began to pick at the crack with words, and with her embrace, and with small encouraging silences. Patient work, and time seemed to not pass at all, until Hermione broke and sobbed into her shoulder, and let go of the pain and the anger and the self-hatred, letting them swirl away with the water.