Why Should It Matter?
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Well, it's almost been nine months since I've updated this story. Let me relay my deepest apologies to everyone and anyone that was reading this story. My last nine months have been full of a lot of changes, writer's block, and poor grades, which have all distracted my mind from writing on this story. Since summer is coming up once again, I will find myself having much more time to write. I hope that you all that read this story before have not completely abandoned it because of my lack of updates. I hope this chapter is not a disappointment. And I will begin writing the next chapter on Friday, so the next update will not be nine months in the waiting. Once again, I'm sincerely sorry for taking this long.
Felicia.
Chapter Fifteen- Giving Up Isn't An Option
Strange. Unusual. Odd.
Those words described everything, absolutely everything. They described the situation occurring with Ginny. All the aspects of that could easily be illustrated by those three simple, yet complex words.
However, that wasn't the only thing that remained strange. No matter what thoughts flowed freely, feelings about those kisses couldn't be shook. Many emotions were found within them, but were those emotions mutual?
That was definitely the irksome question of the hour.
Hermione sighed, it didn't really matter. She hadn't seen Harry since their little encounter of that afternoon. She didn't know who she could talk to, considering that Ginny didn't have her memories; Ron had more important things on his mind, and with curfew coming, talking to Remus was simply impossible. She was perplexed on how to confront Harry. Maybe everything was a mistake, maybe those kisses weren't meant to happen.
The portrait swung open and Harry walked in. Immediately, he strolled over to her, which surprised Hermione immensely.
"I haven't seen you around since this afternoon."
Harry sat down on the couch next to Hermione, placing his book bag on the floor. "I did some homework and thinking. Talked to Remus for a while and dodged in and out of focus." He laughed lightly. "Have you found out anything else on Ginny?"
The brunette sighed; this wasn't where she wanted this conversation to drift. "Nothing at all. Ron hasn't been around, so I'm thinking he's still in the infirmary or he's gone home to be with his family. Have you seen him?" Harry shook his head. Hermione noticed how his dark bangs fell into his eyes, shielding the emotions swirling around crazily. "I'm sure that if anything happens, someone will inform us."
"Hey, you have your optimism back." He flashed a teasing smile. Hermione swatted him in his arm, causing Harry to grimace. The green-eyed teen closed his eyes, "Old habits don't die so quickly."
Hermione was tempted to lift up Harry's sleeve, but too many people where cycling through the common room. The Gryffindors saw everything and Hermione was guessing that they would definitely spot Harry's cuts. "Would you like to talk about anything later, once the common room is cleared up?" Harry's eyes became ablaze, something Hermione rarely enjoyed seeing.
"No." He hissed harshly. 'I'll never understand his sudden mood swings. Harry just doesn't understand that my intentions are pure. What am I going to do with him?' Hermione looked in Harry's direction, he was massaging his temples.
"Harry, are you alright?" The female Gryffindor stared in a concerned manner.
"Nothing really, I seem to have a headache that I just can't shake." Just then, the portrait door swung open. Ron walked into the common room, eyes looking red and swollen from crying. Hermione and Harry stared at their best friend sympathetically as he moved toward them. The red-head sat down beside Hermione, his breathing uneven and quivering. The three friends sat in silence, excluding a small noise coming from Ron every few minutes. When Ron finally pulled himself together, he looked at Harry and Hermione.
"She woke up a little while ago. Stared at us all like we were complete strangers. It broke mum's heart." He stopped, being unable to say anything more.
Hermione pulled Ron into a hug. She felt his body collapse into an overwhelming fit of tears. Ron had always been so protective of Ginny. Hermione couldn't begin to understand what Ron was truly feeling.
"They sent me out because they were getting ready to perform the countercurse and administer the potion." He said between painful sobs. "What if Ginny's memory doesn't come back?" Hermione didn't know what to say. She didn't want to say that everything would be alright.
"No matter what happens, we'll be here for you, mate." Hermione smiled when she heard Harry from behind her.
"Yes, Ron, we'll be here for you."
Ron pulled away from the embrace, "Thanks, I needed to hear that." He wiped his eyes impatient before standing up. "I've had a long day and they won't know about Ginny until morning, so I'm going to go to the dormitory. G'night."
"Good night, Ron." The two said in unison as they watching his retreating back disappear up the stairs. Hermione sighed when Ron was completely out of sight.
"And I thought my day was confusing," she whispered. Harry shot her a weird look. She silently wished that she wouldn't have said anything.
"Your day was confusing?" His perplexed looks made Hermione sure that those kisses meant nothing to him. 'If they had meant anything, he would've mentioned something about them already. Or he would have known that was truly the reason I said what I did.'
She turned her head, glancing into the fireplace, roaring with raging fire. She felt hopeless, just as she had all those times on Grimmauld Place. The two situations did differ, but she couldn't help associate the feelings. "Never mind that, just a little thought to myself." Hermione didn't need to look at Harry to know his reaction.
"You're a horrible liar." His voice contained both seriousness and amusement, perfectly impossible for most. Hermione turned around, looking directly into those powerful green orbs staring her down. "If what you said meant nothing to me, you would've never thought to voice it."
The female Gryffindor sighed, knowing this wasn't something Harry was going to let pass. "Why did we kiss each other this afternoon?" Those words sounded foreign as they escaped her pale lips. Harry laughed slightly at her apparent uncertainty. After he finished laughing, he said nothing. Hermione was bemused. "You laughed as if I'm missing something, yet you say nothing?"
"Truthfully, I'm not exactly certain on why we kissed this afternoon. More so, I'm uncertain about why I chose you to talk to when I faced my problems this summer. My list of reservations goes on forever when it comes to the events since the summer began. So many questions continually flood my mind." He paused. Harry looked around the common room, as did Hermione. It was nearly empty, with the exception of a few younger years hanging around on the opposite side of the room. "The one that puzzles me the most occupies my mind constantly. Why do I cut myself?"
Hermione thought a second before responding. "You've had a stressful summer and—"
Harry cut her off. "What if there's something more to it? What if this problem is sickly twisted with my projected destiny?"
Hermione contemplated Harry's proposed ideas for several moments. Those two questions made sense yet didn't. She pondered silently for a few more minutes, before finally giving up. There was only one clear pathway that could connect everything together. And that clearly didn't seem rational. "You're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"
"That's exactly what I'm suggesting."
"But why? It doesn't seem logical."
Harry laughed bitterly, "What in this world holds any logic? When you have people that murder parents, people that lock relatives in cupboards, and people that choose evil over good; where does the logic come in?" His eyes radiated with a deep knowledge. "Whatever the reason may be, this is what I believe. You don't understand what it feels like. One moment, I'm sitting here with you, feeling completely content and well; and the next moment, I'm sitting in my bed, my hand coveting for my blade."
"It's similar to earlier. I was slightly angry with you because of your accusations. Then when you apologized, everything was better. And you were so close to me. I noticed something about you that I hadn't before. I felt myself inching in, closer and closer—" Harry stopped himself.
Hermione spoke in a whisper, "Having it be similar would be assuming it was destiny."
Harry smiled slightly, "Maybe it is."
And for the third time that day, Harry leaned in, capturing Hermione's lips.
Sunday morning dawned bringing a violent storm along with it. The turmoil blazing around outside represented much more than it should have. It shouldn't have stood for emotions and feelings; it should've simply remained a storm.
But nature always stood for something deeper and he really believed that. Opening his silver-gray eyes, he looked out the rain-splashed windows. The blackened sky seemed to perfectly match his mood.
The gloom, the anger, and most importantly, the hurt was all embodied within the darkened morning sky. Draco slowly sat up, grimacing with each unsteady motion. He had expected the pain after the events of the previous day. He looked at his wristwatch.
Seven-thirty.
He groaned inwardly, wishing he would've slept for a longer period. Looking over at the other beds in the dormitory, he noticed everyone was sleeping.
Everyone except Blaise.
Rolling his eyes, Draco got out of bed and hissed out in pain. He slowly moved toward the door and exited the dormitory. Walking down the stairs, he sighed just thinking about Blaise. That boy cared too much about people; that wouldn't get him anywhere in life. Caring about people would continuously cause disappointment, resentment, and upset feelings.
Or at least, that's what Draco had always caused the people that 'cared' about him.
As he entered the common room, he saw Blaise sitting by the brightly-glowing fireplace. The blonde hesitated moving toward the couch, but decided he really couldn't prolong avoiding Blaise. Avoiding him would only result in being bothered for a longer amount of time.
"I thought I was the only person that woke up before eight on Sunday," Draco said quietly. He hadn't startled Blaise like he thought he would've. The dark-haired Slytherin turned his head and glanced at his companion. Draco instantly felt uncomfortable being stared down.
"I never went to sleep last night. I stayed up thinking about a few things. By the time I was finished thinking, it was six-forty. Going to sleep seemed pointless by that time." His voice sounded exceptionally drowsy.
Draco smirked, "Maybe you're more tired than you realize."
"Nothing for you to worry about. After all Draco, caring about people doesn't get you very far in life." Plain and simple, Blaise was mocking him. "Don't be a hypocrite. Don't show concern when you won't allow people to do the same for you." There was definitely a strong stab of annoyance within his voice.
Draco admired Blaise's attempts to persuade him, but he wasn't going to cave in that easily. "Remember, I'm an insufferable git. Didn't you listen to anything I said yesterday? Anything at all?"
"Of course I did. But I know you also listened to everything I said." Blaise waited for some indication. When it never came, he continued on, "And you can't tell me that you didn't consider anything that I said. I know that you thought about having someone care about you. You're not narrow-minded, although, you can sometimes act that way. You see the whole picture, regardless of what you've been taught from your father."
Draco shuddered mentally at the mention of his father. "How are you certain of everything you're saying? How can you simply make such allegations; you've no evidence in either direction."
Blaise yawned, "You've seemed to forgotten that we grew up together. You've also seemed to forgotten that I've been your best friend forever. I spent a lot time with you. Don't you remember those times when we'd stay up and just talk? Don't you remember anything from before Hogwarts?"
"Of course I remember," The blonde said calmly.
"Then how can you assume that I know nothing? How can you say that I can't make allegations when I know you as well as I know myself?"
Draco stood up and began pacing. "You may have known my childhood, but you don't know my teenage years. You don't know the pain I've endured or the punishments that took place. Blaise, you only know my distant past because when it comes to my life since Hogwarts, you're pretty much clueless."
Blaise scoffed, "Clueless? The last time I checked, my parents were also followers of the Dark Lord. My father may not be as much of a prick like yours, but I've endured pain. I've suffered through broken bones and strained joints. You're not the only one that has ever experienced punishment."
Draco felt faintly foolish; he knew that Blaise's parents also followed the Dark Lord. However, Lucius Malfoy wasn't his father. "Has your father ever used an unforgivable on you?" There was a dangerous edge in Draco's voice; he wanted Blaise to know he was being extremely serious.
Blaise shook his head. "He's considered it, but he's never actually come close."
"Has your father ever used ancient magic upon you?" The blue-eyed boy nodded. "Magic so ancient that no healing spell or potion can ease your pain?"
"No."
Draco closed his eyes, being assaulted with many of the painful encounters he had been subjected to since starting Hogwarts. "Then Blaise, never say you've experienced punishment. When your father uses the Cruciatus curse on you and when your father uses disturbing ancient magic upon you, you can say you know punishment. But until then, don't compare your pain with mine." He slowly opened his eyes. The shocked face Blaise held was priceless, simply priceless. "You see, you tell me I should trust people. You say that I should let people help me. Well, how do you expect to me trust people or let them help me, when I have a father that uses the most sinister spells upon me. Or when I have a mother that lets him do it. One wrong move with my parents and I end up bleeding or momentarily paralyzed. One word against my father to my mother or the house elves, and I end up cursed and shackled to a wall by wrists in the dungeon. Where can any trust come? Where's the damn love?" Draco took a quivering breath, feeling his chest burn unpleasantly.
"Not all people are like your parents." Draco stared at Blaise with pure bewilderment. After everything he had confessed, Blaise was still forcing his insane ideas of trust and concern.
"Did you just ignore everything I said? Are you even listening to me? My father beats the hell out of me at every opportunity! That bastard made me afraid of my own fucking shadow! And you're going to continue on telling me that not all people are like my parents! I don't care about other people! And other people don't care about me because I'm the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. I'm the son of a Death Eater. No decent person on this earth will ever give a second thought about me because of what I am." His knees gave away and he collapsed upon the leather couch. He rammed his fist into the arm, ignoring the stinging that occurred afterwards.
Blaise frowned, "No decent person? What do you consider me, Draco? I'm not like them. I'd rather commit suicide than take the Dark Mark, and you're saying I'm just like them. Do I not count as decent?"
The blonde sighed, wondering how he could possibly explain his side without destroying his friendship. He might not want Blaise to care about him, but it helped having another person to talk to. Or another person against the absolute evilness that existed within the Slytherin House. "You count for being decent, but you don't count when it comes to being outside this. You're in the same boat as I am. You've experienced to some extent what we're against. You know what being a child of a Death Eater can mean. Blaise, you're not from the other side, so you don't count for that."
The brunette nodded, seeming to understand Draco's words to an extent. "So, your father has hit you with the Cruciatus?" Draco nodded, feeling apprehensive about admitting that. Snape or another Slytherin could be listening in. "Does it hurt as much as they say?"
Draco sneered, "You can't describe physical pain to that extent. Anyone who ever thought of depicting the Cruciatus Curse in words was clearly idiotic." He paused and began again, but much quieter. "It completely succumbs your entire body. This unbelievable mind and body numbing pain takes over everything. Breathing is pointless because it only causes more agony. You can't concentrate on anything that would make the pain lesser."
There was an uneasy silence after Draco finished speaking. Blaise smiled after ten minutes of listening to the firewood crackle. "You're beginning to trust." He said nothing more, before getting up and walking to the dormitory. Draco scowled at the truth in that statement. He couldn't believe he had let Blaise know so much. Sighing, he decided there wasn't anything he could change in the present time. All he could hope for was Blaise to keep quiet about everything. And hope that no one else was listening.
Nightmares had plagued him all night long. Waking up half a dozen times in a cold sweat wasn't ideally a great night of sleep. The boy couldn't help but feeling hopeless, worthless, and eternally cold. The entire situation lacked a general fairness, but he had learned long ago, life wasn't fair.
Along with everything else, he couldn't help but feel partially to blame. He could've paid more attention to his sister. He could've escorted her places she had wanted to go. But he, consequently, had ignored her requests. As his guilt ate away at him, he wished he could rewind everything. It made him wish he could change the past.
But changing the past wasn't possible. So, Ron would have to live with the repercussions of the past summer.
He glanced over at Harry's bed; the curtains were drawn around them.
He wanted someone to talk to. Someone that would understand everything that was circulating throughout his mind and nightmares.
Looking at his watch, he noticed it was nearly nine o'clock. Dumbledore had mentioned returning to the infirmary a little after nine. Stretching out a bit, Ron got off of his bed and walked out of the dorm. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he noticed Hermione reading a book.
Walking over to her, he called out to her, "Hermione, will you go me to the infirmary? I don't want to go by myself." She placed her book down and got off of the couch. Being followed out of the common room by Hermione, eased Ron's weakened nerves slightly. He refused to think any further about the possibilities of Ginny not having her memory restored. Hermione caught up to him, and walked beside him.
"Looks like you had a rough night," she remarked casually.
He turned his head slightly, "Rough doesn't begin to describe it, not at all." Hermione placed a sympathetic hand upon his shoulder.
"What Harry and I said stands, whatever happens, we'll be there."
"I know. I just don't want to ponder around with the negative thoughts at the moment. We'll know soon enough what's going to happen." Hermione nodded.
They continued their distant walk to the infirmary, remaining silent. Ron wished the entire time that Hermione would've started a conversation because his thoughts kept drifting. He couldn't help but think about everything pessimistic. From what he heard Snape and Dumbledore talk about, he was nearly positive Ginny would always remain a stranger.
He would never have a little sister to protect. He would never have a little sister to fight with. Everything, all of their memories together, their disputes, and their time, would mean nothing. Feeling a lump form in his throat, Ron took a deep breath, trying to settle the emotions swirling around. When the salty tears started stinging in his eyes, he found himself being hugged by Hermione. She never missed anything. And for that, he was everlastingly grateful.
They both knew words of encouragement couldn't be offered. False hopes would only be brought forward.
Once Ron was stable again, they pressed on. Within another minute, they found themselves staring at the door to the infirmary. Hermione opened the door, having the entire Weasley family staring at her with teary-eyes. Once she and Ron were inside, they stood beside the remainder of the Weasley family.
Dumbledore, Snape, and Pomfrey stood next to Ginny's bed. Dumbledore extracted his wand from his robes. Ron looked over at his parents. His mother was beyond hysterical, being held within his father's arms. When his dad nodded to Dumbledore, the Headmaster raised his wand and muttered an incantation unknown to the youngest Weasley boy.
After that, absolute silence rung throughout the infirmary. Every single set of eyes stared at Ginny's still form. The seconds that ticked by felt like an eternity.
Then a cough came from Ginny's mouth. Small movements were quickly happening in her limbs. Her eyes opened slowly, revealing her feisty brown eyes.
"Do you know who you are?" Dumbledore asked, sounding uncertain of himself.
The girl opened her mouth and gave an inaudible answer. Everything after that was a blur to Ron, who could only remember his mother fainting and nearly hitting the floor.
A/N: Yeah, kind of a cliffhanger, but I didn't want to give everything away with in this chapter. Please review. I would like some insight before I continue on with the next chapter. AGAIN, Sorry for the postponed chapter.
That's all I have for this day. I'm hoping to have more before the end of the month.
Felicia.