Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Hell, I don't even own the books. And let me tell you, that does not make it easy to write fanfic. There are times when being a penniless college student sucks.

Setting: Beginning of Chapter 30, "The White Tomb." It's in the days leading up to the funeral.

Avoidance

Ginny didn't think much of it when she heard sobbing in the bathroom. It felt like she'd heard nothing but sobs since Dumbledore died. She only paid attention when she recognized the scuffed book bag dropped haphazardly by a stall.

Ginny walked over to the stall. "Hermione?"

Silence. A few sniffs.

"Hermione, I know that's you."

"Ginny?"

"Yeah. What's wrong, Hermione?"

Hermione didn't answer.

"Hermione, come out of there. There's no need to hide. Everyone is crying."

She didn't respond.

"This is ridiculous, Hermione."

"I don't care."

"Please, Hermione, open the door."

Hermione dried her tears and took a few deep breaths. She shook her head quickly, trying to clear it.

"Hermione?"

"I'm okay now, Ginny," she said shakily. Hermione opened the door. "I just… I couldn't take it anymore."

"Of course." Ginny hugged her friend. "Don't run from us, though. We can't help you if you're crying all alone."

Hermione felt the tears coming again and hung onto Ginny. "I wanted to take care of it myself."

"Don't think like that. We all have to take care of each other."

"I just wish he'd stop saying that," Hermione sobbed.

"What?"

"Ron," Hermione choked out. "He keeps asking if anyone we know is dead. I can't take it anymore."

Ginny didn't know what to say.

Hermione pulled away from Ginny and started pacing around the small bathroom. "Because it's such a stupid question," she ranted, ignoring her tears. "How can he keep asking that when—when Dumbledore is dead? We knew him, Ginny. He wasn't just the Headmaster. We knew him." She stopped suddenly and leaned against one of the sinks, her back to Ginny. "Harry knew him."

Ginny stayed where she was.

Hermione gripped the edge of the sink.

"Has anyone else you know died?" Ginny asked.

Hermione whirled around. "Don't you start, too," she begged.

"Answer me."

"No, no one else," Hermione admitted.

"Exactly." Ginny took a step toward Hermione. "That's the point. They're still alive. Ron's reminding us of that."

"You think?"

Ginny shrugged. "He's not as thick as he seems."

"I know that," Hermione snapped.

Ginny took another step closer. "It's his way of coping, of helping us move on."

Hermione moved to face the sink again and turned on the tap. She splashed some water on her face.

Ginny walked over the sink next to Hermione.

"I just wish I didn't have to check before I answered him," Hermione said. "I wish I could tell him that everything is okay without looking through the bloody paper."

"Me, too."

"I shouldn't have to check," Hermione exclaimed. She shut the water off and faced Ginny. "I should be able to assume that the people I know and love are okay. But I can't, Ginny, and he keeps reminding me."

"He's reminding you that they're okay."

"But that it's possible they're not."

"He's doing the best he can, Hermione."

"I know that. But it's not good enough." She started crying again. "And that's what so horrible," Hermione whispered. "I want it to help, but it doesn't. I want him to fix it, but he can't."

"Oh, Hermione—"

"And how stupid is that?" she interrupted. "I mean, it's so sexist. I'm hiding away, crying, because the boy I love can't fix everything. What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you."

Hermione started pacing again. "No, there is. I'm an absolute embarrassment to the female gender."

"That's not true, Hermione. You're strong and brave and brilliant. You're not an embarrassment."

"I'm crying in the bathroom like a first year."

"You said it yourself, Hermione. We're all allowed the occasional breakdown, especially during a war."

"Why aren't Ron and Harry falling apart, then?" Hermione demanded.

"How do you know they're not?" Ginny countered. "Do you really think Ron's keen on crying in front of you?"

The door open and a blonde girl walked in. Hermione grabbed her book bag and left.

"I'm not done talking to you, Hermione," Ginny called. She marched off after Hermione. "Don't you dare walk away from me."

Hermione spun around. "We have to get back, Ginny. We'll talk later."

"Ron and Harry can handle ten minutes by themselves."

"Really? You think so?" Hermione bit out. "Have you seen them lately?"

Ginny grabbed Hermione's upper arm and directed her into an empty classroom. "Yeah, actually, I have seen them. Thanks for the reminder. But this'll only take a minute."

Hermione let herself be dragged into the classroom. "Fine. Say what you want to say so we can get back to them."

Ginny glared at her friend. "Are you at least going to sit down?"

Hermione dropped into a desk chair with a huff. She gestured for Ginny to get on with it.

Ginny sat down in the chair next to her. "Hermione, have you and Ron spent any time together since—since Dumbledore… shit, I can't say it."

"Since he died?" Hermione said dully.

Ginny shuddered. "Well, have you?"

"We're always together, Ginny. You know that; you're there."

"No, not like that," Ginny said. "I mean just the two of you."

Hermione shook her head. "Have you been with Harry?"

Ginny nodded.

"What? When?"

"At night. He's not sleeping, Hermione."

"And you're staying up with him?"

"I try."

"When was the last time you slept?" Hermione asked.

"Dunno," Ginny shrugged. "It's not important. What is important, is spending time with the boy you love."

"Does it help?"

"Spending time with Harry?"

"Yes."

"As much as it can," Ginny said. "I can't do much for him, though, because he still won't tell me anything."

"Still?"

"Still."

"Have you asked?"

Ginny nodded. "I saw him looking at this—this chain thing last night. I begged him to tell me what it was."

"He didn't." Hermione rubbed her eyes. It wasn't a question.

"No. He didn't."

"I'm not telling, either."

"Yes, you are," Ginny said softly. "I need to know. I know you don't want to tell me, I know Harry trusts you to keep quiet, but I also know that Harry's broken and I can't fix him unless you tell me what's going on. Please, Hermione, please tell me what's going on."

Hermione shifted in her chair. "I can't betray Harry."

"But I can't save him," Ginny whispered.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Look, Ginny, I can't tell you his secret—no, don't interrupt, let me finish—but I can tell you one thing. I don't know if it'll help, but… it can't hurt, right? And you probably already suspect it, anyway."

Ginny didn't move. She was afraid of breaking the spell.

Hermione nodded quickly, convincing herself she was doing the right thing. "The Daily Prophet isn't always wrong, Ginny. Harry's going to be the one to kill him."

Ginny closed her eyes. "Not him him, right?"

"I'm sorry."

She opened her eyes and saw that Hermione wasn't joking. Ginny swore under her breath.

"My sentiments exactly," Hermione said.

"I can't believe this." Ginny ran a hand through her hair. "I mean, I know it's true, I think I always knew, but I can't believe this. He's only sixteen, Hermione. Why him?"

"Trust me, I've asked myself that a million times. I can't figure it out."

"I can't believe this," Ginny repeated.

"And I don't want to."

"But, how? How is he going to kill him?"

Hermione hunched over and buried her face in her hands. "I have no idea," she said, her voice muffled. "I've been doing everything I can; I research and I read and I try to figure it out, but it's not enough. I don't know how he'll do it."

"But he will," Ginny said. "He has to."

Hermione sat up straight again. "Of course he will. Of course. I will not let him die."

"Die? What do you mean die? Harry's not dying," Ginny said wildly.

"They can't keep doing this dance, Ginny. Next time Harry meets Voldemort, one of them is dying."

"Not necessarily."

Hermione chewed her lip nervously. She desperately wanted to tell Ginny about the prophecy. Ginny had a right to know. But then, she also had the right to hear it from Harry. And Harry had a right to keep his business private. She furrowed her brow. Everything was so damn complicated.

"What aren't you telling me, Hermione?" Ginny asked sharply.

Hermione shook her head. "I've already said too much."

Ginny swore. "I'm not a silly little girl. You can tell me what's going on. I can help him, I know I can."

"Why do you always call yourself that, Ginny?"

"Call myself what?"

"A silly little girl. You always defend yourself by saying you aren't one," Hermione said.

"But I was a one."

"When?"

Ginny's eyes flashed. "You know when."

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione breathed. "He's still in you head, isn't he? Voldemort left a mark."

"Are you saying he deformed me?"

"No! No, of course not. I'm saying that you can't possibly go through that without it affecting you."

"Well, I'm fine now." Ginny stood up.

"Where do you think you're going?" Hermione asked.

"We have to get back. I need to be with Harry."

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Ginny."

"I'm not doing anything," Ginny protested.

"You avoiding talking about Voldemort, about what Tom did to you."

"Now is not the time, Hermione. And unless there's anything else you feel like explaining—which I very much doubt as you like to avoid that topic—we really do need to get back to the common room."

Hermione studied her frustrated friend for a long moment before finally nodding. "We'll talk again later, okay?"

Ginny nodded impatiently and swept out of the room. Hermione followed.

xxxxx

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Thanks so much for reading. Hope you liked the penultimate chapter.