A/N: I'm back, I'm back, I'm back, I'm back! I'm back! Okay, okay, okay, I know that this took me forever. I said that I would hopefully start updating again at the end of the month, meaning the end of August, and here we are, in the middle of September! But things were really hectic for longer than I anticipated, but it's all finally calming down again which means regular updates (hopefully)! Just so you all know, during my little time away, getting notifications of new story followers and getting reviews and stuff made me very very happy and made me really anticipate being able to write again, so THANK YOU. And thank you for being patient with me, and I'm baaaaack!

"Wait."

"Ouch!"

"Sorry!"

"Hold on. What if you-"

"Ow."

"Shit."

"Just…."

"Try putting your legs like…."

"Wait. Okay. I think…."

"Is that…?"

"Better."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Why they chose a sofa, of all places, to have sex again, Ginny had no idea. They hadn't really planned it. It just seemed like a good idea. But they were hardly skilled enough in a bed to be able to really figure out how to do it on a much more narrow area, with a back and arms and cushions that knees sunk in between and that seemed to keep wanting to slide towards the floor. But they were determined to make it work.

Their day trip into a muggle town had been going really well. Nobody bothered them. They wandered around aimlessly. And then Harry remembered that he technically owned a house. An entire empty house.

First, they fucked in the room that Ginny had slept in whenever she had stayed at Grimmauld Place. Then they redressed, and Ginny followed Harry as he wandered around, looking at the place. He told her that he hadn't been there since the day he infiltrated the Ministry with Ron and Hermione. He said that things were surprisingly tidy, given that he was sure that the house had likely been torn apart when it had been found out that they were there. He said that it was probably Kreacher's doing, and told her more about the elf's drastic change of attitude.

Then, they fucked on the sofa. At least, they tried to.

Ginny's hands were grasping onto Harry's shoulders, her legs on either side of him, moving up and down in his lap. His hands were firmly pressed against her butt, moving with her. He moved his hands, arms wrapping tightly around her waist and holding her close to him as he came, and then they both sat there, tangled together, rocking their hips slightly as they caught their breath.

"I wanna make you come," he murmured in her ear. "Tell me what to do."

"Touch me," she said, and he did. They shifted so that Ginny was on her back, against the arm of the sofa, a leg thrown over the back, and Harry was between her knees. He did what she told him to. And when words failed her due to moaning, he just kept doing whatever it was that he was doing.

"Mouth," she gasped out, and he went down on her. She could feel it, the feeling in the pit of her stomach, in the way her toes curled and the way her legs shook. She gripped tightly onto a cushion, her body tensing, and she needed release, she needed it, she needed it but it wasn't coming.

"Come on, come on," she urged her own body, and she was at the very very edge but she couldn't get over it, couldn't get to the other side. Harry was trying so hard. His movement didn't cease, even for a moment, fingers and tongue both hard at work, but nothing was happening. She was just teetering, and it began to be too much.

She let out a loud, frustrated groan, as she reached down, pushing Harry away, too sensitive to take any more.

"Am I doing something wrong?" Harry finally asked her after some time.

"No. It's not you. I don't know what's wrong with me," she sighed.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with you."

"You're doing everything just fine. My body is just refusing to cooperate."

"I'll keep trying. Whenever you want. As many times as it takes," Harry offered.

"We only have three days left before I leave," she reminded him sadly.

"Three days gives us plenty of opportunities."

"Yeah, I guess so," she smiled.

"How long have we been gone?" Harry asked suddenly, looking towards the clock.

"A while. We should probably head back soon."

"Yeah. We wouldn't want your mom to get suspicious…."

"Hey, we have plenty of evidence that we were in muggle towns, just like we said we were!"

"Fair point. But we shouldn't stay much longer."

"Alright. Have you seen my underwear?"

…

Three days seemed to pass by in an instant. The night before her return to Hogwarts, after Ginny had packed everything into her trunk, she laid atop her bed with Harry, not saying anything, just lying there with each other, being together. Ginny wouldn't be able to sneak into Harry's room later that night to sleep in his bed with him. Hermione was staying over so that they could leave for King's Cross Station together the next morning, and she would be staying in Ginny's room with her. As much as she knew that Hermione would hardly make a fuss if she saw Ginny leaving and not returning until morning, she figured that it would just be easiest for her to sleep in her own bed.

She didn't know how long they had been laying there. She also didn't care. She wanted to stop time and lay there with him forever. But, just as the past three days had taught her, wishing for time to move slower only seemed to speed it up.

Hermione arrived. Everybody had dinner together. And before she knew it, she was getting ready for bed.

"Are you nervous to go back?" Ginny asked Hermione as they settled down to sleep.

"Yes," Hermione admitted from her cot. "For about a million different reasons."

"Not having Ron and Harry around?"

"That's one reason. One of the main ones…. Having to take classes with a brand new group of people…. I mean, my year, they at least were used to me, you know? And being in classes with me and everything. But…."

"Are you worried that they will tease you for being a bit of a know-it-all? Because if they do, I will hex them and tell them that you're part of the reason we're all still alive," Ginny said, and she could hear Hermione laugh softly from across the room.

"Are you nervous at all?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," she shrugged, even though she knew Hermione couldn't see her. "Last year was so…. I mean. I know this year will be better, so at least there's that."

"Are you going to sign up for counseling?"

"No. Are you?"

"Yes, I think so. I don't think it would hurt to give it a shot."

"You don't think it will be weird?"

"No," she said. "I don't think so. My parents used to take me to a psychologist when I was a kid…."

"Why?"

"Oh, they were worried about me. I didn't really have any friends, and when I started telling them that I could move things with my mind…. I just thought that I had telekinesis, but that's probably because I had just read Matilda, and then I read Carrie, but that book is really not suitable for any nine-year-old, and it frightened me, and I started having nightmares, and…. well, my parents had plenty of reasons. So they took me to a psychologist once a week and I mostly just played games and did puzzles or talked about school…. And it turned out that the telekinesis was just magic, and then I went to a school to learn magic and I made friends…."

"How long did you have to go?"

"I started going when I was nine up until I found out that I was going to Hogwarts."

"And you didn't mind it?" Ginny asked.

"Not really. It was kind of nice to have somebody to talk to, even if it was just about trivial things," Hermione answered. "You don't want to sign up for counseling because you think it will be uncomfortable?"

"I don't know," Ginny sighed. Truthfully, she had been going back and forth on the matter for quite some time.

"You have another night still to decide. Think about it."

"Yeah," Ginny agreed. "I will."

…

Everybody was staring at them. It was expected, of course, but still unsettling.

"You really didn't need to come," Ginny said to Harry, standing on the train platform while nearly every person that passed by them did a double-take, and sometimes stopped and stood, staring at them. She could hear the whispers, even over the sound of the train and the shouting and the owls and everything else. Yitzhak sat in his cage, atop Ginny's trunk and she and Harry stood beside it, facing each other. Next to them, Ron and Hermione had been wrapped in the same embrace for the past few minutes.

"I wanted to come," Harry said. "I should be able to properly see my girlfriend off, shouldn't I?"

"Ah, yes, your girlfriend. That's what people are gonna know me as, you know? Harry Potter's girlfriend. That's me! Nothing more. Just the whore that Harry Potter was kissing on Platform Nine and Three Quarters," Ginny said, and she was well aware that her tone made it difficult to tell if she was joking or not. She wasn't even sure if she was joking or not.

"I hope that's not the case. I never want you to be reduced to just my girlfriend," Harry replied, eyebrows furrowed together.

"Oh, but I will be. They'll call me fat."

"But you're not."

"A slut."

"You're not."

"Boring."

"You're definitely not."

"Ugly."

"Not even close."

"They'll say I'm only after your money."

"You're not."

"Oh, actually, that one is true. I am."

"Oh! Well...that's fine," Harry shrugged, and they both laughed, and Harry wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. "Nobody else matters."

"I know," Ginny nodded, and they kissed. Ginny was aware that people were watching them, but as their lips met, everyone around them simply faded away. And they didn't matter.

The train blew its whistle. It was leaving soon. Ginny stayed wrapped in Harry's arms for just a moment longer.

"I'll miss you."

"I'll write."

"Make sure to let me know your first Hogsmeade weekend. I'll be there."

"Okay."

They reluctantly pulled away from each other. Next to them, Ron and Hermione were still saying their goodbyes.

"I love you," she heard her brother say.

"I love you, too," Hermione replied.

Finally, they broke apart, and Hermione looked towards Ginny.

"Ready?"

"I guess so."

"Isn't it strange," Ron said to them, "That you might actually have a normal year at Hogwarts for once?"

"A normal year at Hogwarts?" Hermione laughed, and Ginny joined her.

"Now that would just be weird."

…

Just as Ginny had expected, people stared at her as she walked through the train. They stared at Hermione, too. Whispers followed them as they searched for an empty compartment. Finally, they ran into Luna who had already secured them a compartment. The train ride was rather relaxing - they didn't talk about the war or deaths or Harry, or anything that Ginny had no desire to talk about. It stayed lighthearted and fun until the light outside became darker and they eventually changed into their Hogwarts robes. When the train stopped, they got off, and it was all so completely normal - Hagrid was calling for the first-years, the sights and sounds were familiar and comfortable, Ginny had Hermione and Luna by her side. For the first time, Ginny actually felt a small twinge of excitement about returning to Hogwarts, knowing that this year wouldn't be at all like the one before it.

"Oh," Hermione whispered beside her. Ginny looked at her and followed her captivated gaze towards the carriages that would take them to the castle. And the thestrals.

"You can both see them now, can't you?" Luna asked, and Ginny nodded.

"It's probably alarming at first, but they're really quite beautiful once you get used to them."

"No. They are beautiful," Ginny said, moving forward towards the carriages. They got into one and began to move towards the castle. It wasn't long before they were inside, in the Great Hall, saying goodbye to Luna as she went for the Ravenclaw table, and then finding a seat at the Gryffindor table. Ginny glanced around, looking at the other around her. The familiar faces, some looking excited, others nervous - especially the faces of the younger students. She caught sight of Dennis Creevey, and her stomach lurched, remembering that Colin should be there, but he wasn't. She quickly looked away, and looked instead at the table at the front of the Great Hall. She smiled, noticing Professor McGonagall in her rightful place at the seat of headmistress. There were new faces that she didn't recognize.

"How many new professors are there?" Ginny asked Hermione.

"Well, obviously there's a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor… There will have to be a new Transfiguration professor…."

"Transfiguration without McGonagall?!"

"I know, I don't even want to think about it!"

"Oh, look, the first years are here," Ginny said, looking towards the entrance and seeing a line of first years following Professor Flitwick who was barely shorter than any of them. The Sorting Hat was more beat-up looking than ever before. but its message was cheerful. The first years were sorted, and then Professor McGonagall stood up from her seat at the staff table.

She opened her mouth to speak, but as she did so, somebody farther down the Gryffindor table shouted out "headmistress!" followed by whooping and a smattering of applause which quickly broke out along the entire Gryffindor table and spread throughout the entire Great Hall. People stood, clapping for their new headmistress. Even professors at the staff table got to their feet to cheer for her.

"Okay, okay," Professor McGonagall said, waving her hands, attempting to quiet them. Finally, the noise began to cease, and people took their seats once more.

"Thank you for that...very warm welcome," McGonagall smiled. "And I would like to welcome you all. Those who are returning, and those who are here for the first time… welcome. There are several matters to discuss, but before we get to that, let us first eat."

And with that, the feast began, and Ginny ate.

"So now that you're back," she said to Hermione "are you going to start up with S.P.E.W. again?"

"I would like to!" Hermione nodded.

"Are you going to leave hats lying around the common room again?"

"No. I've thought about it, and I've decided that that wasn't the best approach. I haven't thought of another approach yet, though."

"You will," Ginny assured her. "And when you do, I want to help."

"You do?"

"Yes. Harry told me about Kreacher… about how you all treated him kindly and how he changed… I agree with you, that house-elves deserve better than enslavement. That they should be respected."

"Oh, I wish I had S.P.E.W. badges! I got rid of them all when… well, I don't have any anymore, but when I make new ones, I'll be sure to give you one!"

"I can't wait," she grinned.

As dessert cleared from the tables, Professor McGonagall stood up one more, and the chatter began to die down throughout the Great Hall.

"Now that we are all fed, I would like to first introduce our new staff members," she announced, and proceeded to introduce a new Transfiguration professor, a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and a new Muggle Studies professor. "As you are all aware, this past May, the Hogwarts castle was home to a tragic battle in which lives were lost. However, this battle also put an end to a dreadful war. Last year, the school was under the control of dark arts. Many of you were subjected to things that nobody should ever have to face, especially while as a student at Hogwarts. We return here with the absolute certainty that this year will be better. None of you should have ever had to feel unsafe here. And I…" she trailed off, her voice sounding slightly pinched, and Ginny watched as she quickly reached up to wipe at her eyes. She shook her head, cleared her throat, and continued.

"And I shall do everything in my power to make sure that not a single one of you will feel unsafe at Hogwarts ever again.

"That being said, to ensure the well-being of those of you who were here last year, as well as to anybody who needs it, I have employed several trained witches and wizards to give weekly individual counseling sessions to any student who signs up. It is not mandatory, but strongly recommended. All you must do is speak with your Head of House. And for Gryffindors, since the Head of Gryffindor House has not yet been replaced, I will be continuing on the role until further notice."

McGonagall continued on, telling them the parts of the castle that were still off-limits due to damage, discussing the items that Filch had banned, and other usual start-of-term things. Once she had finished, there was the scraping of benches as students stood up to head towards their common rooms for the night.

"New Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"Will undoubtedly be better than nearly all of the others we've had," Hermione said as she and Ginny walked with the other Gryffindors. "Transfiguration?"

"Eh. Not McGonagall, not interested."

"I'm glad she's still our Head of House! Even if it's just temporary."

"Me too," Ginny agreed as they reached the Fat Lady. As she crawled through the portrait hole, into the common room, she was suddenly struck with the memory of the last time she was there.

After the battle. Fred had just died. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all asleep in the boy's dormitories. They were going to go back to the Burrow once they were awake, once everybody was ready. She had sat next to her mother, leaning against her, both of them too grief-stricken to cry any more. George was nowhere to be seen. They would later find him drunkenly wandering the deserted and destroyed hallways. Nobody would ask where he had gotten the Firewhiskey.

She remembered it all so clearly. She remembered every single thing that she was feelings. The tightness in her chest. The pit in her stomach. The burning and stinging of her eyes. The feeling of desperation for something that she wasn't even sure of. And the feeling of guilt for not being there when Fred died, for not being able to do anything for her mother or for George, for not being completely overjoyed that the war was over because she just wanted her brother back.

It all hit her at once, the memory and the feelings, and she gulped hard, looking around at the common room. This common room. The one with the burning fire and the happy faces of students. Not the common room from after the battle with the tears and the grief. It was the same location, but it wasn't the same place. Not at all.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," she assured Hermione. "Just tired. I'd really like to go to sleep."

"Me too," Hermione agreed. "It's been a long day."

…

The memories kept haunting her. As Ginny lay in her four-poster bed in the girl's dormitory, she couldn't help but remember the last time she was in her bed at Hogwarts. The night before she left to go home for her Easter holiday. She didn't know that she wouldn't be returning. She had spent every single night thinking about Ron, Hermione, and Harry. She had wondered what they were doing, where they were, if they were okay, if they were still alive.

She eventually fell into a fitful sleep, and when she woke the next morning, she hardly felt rested at all.

…

Ginny's head was pounding. She assumed it was because of her lack of rest. Either way, the first day of classes hadn't even begun yet and she was already miserable. She sat at the Gryffindor table with Hermione, staring down at her toast, willing herself to eat it.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Hermione asked for about the fifth time. "Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey."

"I'm fine," Ginny shook her head. "It's just a headache."

Professor McGonagall was handing out schedules to students a little ways away from them. Ginny was sincerely hoping that her schedule would give her a break in classes later just so that she could possibly take a nap and get rid of the ache in her head.

"Miss Weasley."

McGonagall had reached them. Ginny looked up at her.

"I expect that putting a Quidditch team together this year won't be an exceptionally easy task, but I do expect a Gryffindor win."

"I'll do my very best, Professor," Ginny smiled.

"As for your schedule, Miss Weasley, you've not signed up for counseling?"

"No, Professor."

"Is that intentional?"

"Yes, Professor," Ginny nodded, and McGonagall looked at her, studying her over the tops of her spectacles, and suddenly, Ginny felt very small.

"Have you thought it over?"

"Yes. Sort of."

"Miss Weasley, as I've already said before, it's not mandatory by any means, but… I would greatly urge you… with everything that… that you've… Well, I believe that it would be quite useful," she said. Ginny knew that McGonagall was being sincere, and she knew what she was really trying to say: that Ginny was the perfect candidate for counseling. Apparently, everybody thought so. And yet, she still felt the need to hold back, as if going to counseling was admitting some sort of weakness. She still felt very small, and also guilty.

"Okay," she gave in. "I'll do it."

"Very well then," McGonagall nodded, and she tapped a parchment with her wand, and then handed it to Ginny.

"Thank you," she said and looking down at her new schedule.

"Well, looks like we have a break today," said Hermione, having already looked over her own schedule. Ginny grimaced and let out a soft groan.

"I don't. I've got my first counseling session today. Potions, counseling, lunch, Transfiguration."

"Who've you got as your counselor?"

"S. Bellamy," she answered, reading from the parchment.

"Me too! Not for another two days, though."

"Lucky," Ginny grumbled.

It looked like she wasn't going to get her nap after all. She closed her eyes, her head still throbbing, and took a deep breath. Maybe she would go to Madam Pomfrey like Hermione had suggested. She didn't know how else her headache would go away.

…

After Potions ended, Ginny split up from most of the other seventh years who had breaks between classes, and instead, walked through a crowded corridor towards the room where she would have her first counseling session. She was nervous. She didn't know what to expect. She didn't really want to go.

She opened the door to the room to find what looked like a small office. There was a desk with parchment, quills, and a few decorative items on top of it. Pictures hung in frames along the walls. Some of the pictures moved, but others stayed still. There was a comfortable-looking armchair in front of the desk. Behind the desk sat a woman, who Ginny guessed was S. Bellamy.

"Hi," S. Bellamy smiled at Ginny, and she glanced down at a piece of parchment on her desk. "Ginevra?"

"Ginny," she said, and she just stood there in the doorway, not sure what to do.

"Ginny, then. Hello. I'm Simone."

Her skin was pale and her hair was dark, brown locks pulled up into a messy bun, but several strands falling around her face. She wore very little makeup, and she looked quite young, but the fine lines around her eyes made Ginny think that she was probably older than she appeared.

"You can have a seat if you'd like. Get comfortable."

Ginny finally moved towards the desk, dropping her bag on the floor and sitting in the armchair in front of the desk.

"How has your first day of classes been so far?"

"Fine," Ginny shrugged, not looking at her.

"And you're in your seventh year, right?"

"Yeah."

"Before we begin anything, is there anything you'd like to know about what we'll be doing or anything like that?" Simone asked her. Ginny was staring at the walls, mostly at the non-moving pictures in frames, fixating on one picture in particular. It was unsettling to her. It was all black with two red hand prints and a name scratched across it in white.

"Who is Macbeth?" Ginny asked. Simone followed her gaze, and then looked back at her.

"Macbeth is the name of a play by William Shakespeare, about a Scottish man who is told by three witches that he will become king of Scotland, and so he goes to great lengths to achieve that," she explained. "The inclusion of witches in a muggle play intrigued me when I was younger. It was one of my favourite plays for a long time."

"Are you muggle-born?"

"I am."

"A lot of your pictures don't move," Ginny explained. "That's how I could tell."

"Observant."

Ginny didn't say anything else, and Simone was also quiet. Ginny stared down at her hands in her lap, feeling Simone's eyes upon her, not sure what to do.

"Professor McGonagall told me that you might have some difficulty at first, opening up, talking about things," Simone said.

"She did?" Ginny asked, looking up at her, almost startled to see her shockingly blue eyes looking straight at her.

"She did," she nodded. "Do you know why that might be?"

"No. I don't know," she shrugged.

"No idea at all?"

"Other than the fact that I don't know you?"

"Do you not often open up to people you don't know well?"

"No," Ginny said flatly.

"Why is that?"

Ginny was silent for a moment, weighing her options. She was already growing agitated with all of the questions. She did not understand how any of this would help her with anything at all.

"Because the last time I made the mistake of opening up, I was possessed by You-Know-Who, got a bunch of people petrified, and woke up lying on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets. Ever since then, I've kind of been a little more careful about who I say things to."

Simone didn't show any signs of surprise. Either she had already known all of this, or she was just good at her job.

"So, you don't trust easily. And for what seems like a very good reason," she said. "So we will start slow. Build trust. Get to know each other. Does that sound okay to you?"

"Sure," she muttered.

"Is there anything you would like to know about me? Aside from the fact that I am muggle-born?"

Ginny took a slow breath in, and then let it out just as slowly. She didn't care about this woman at all. She didn't want to be here. But she was here. She had agreed to this. She wasn't about to back out now.

"I don't know, um. Did you go to school here?"

"No, I didn't. I went to Beauxbatons," she answered, and suddenly Ginny was able to pick up the slightest bit of a French accent. It was very subtle, nothing like Fleur's, but now that she was made aware, it was definitely there.

"You're French?"

"Yes."

"My brother's wife went to Beauxbatons."

"Did she? Are you and her very close?"

"No, not really," Ginny shook her head. "We get along fine, but we're not close."

"Do you have just the one brother?"

"No, I have six- five. I have five," she corrected herself quickly, and then realized that the conversation had somehow turned back to her. "What about you? Do you have siblings?"

"I also have brothers. Two. Twins. Younger than me," she answered. Ginny felt a pang in her chest at the mention of twin siblings. Of course Simone had twin brothers. Of course she did.

"I had twin brothers, too," Ginny said, picking at one of her fingernails, speaking casually. "Older than me, though. For now. Fred died, though, so I guess in a few years, he won't be older than me anymore. That's how that works, right? This is the kind of stuff I'm supposed to be saying, right? This is what I'm supposed to talk about?"

"When you're ready to discuss that, then yes, I would very much like for you to talk about it," she answered calmly.

"I just don't really understand the point of all of this. I'm sorry, you seem very nice, but I don't… I don't get it."

"The mind," Simone said after a brief silence, speaking slowly and deliberately, "is simultaneously the most resilient and the most delicate thing we each possess. It can go through hell and back and remain intact. But we need to take care of it because it won't always return in one piece. There might be a break. When we break a bone, we mend it. But when a piece of our mind breaks, we often ignore it. Because we can't see it. And maybe we don't even feel it. We can push it back into the very depths of our minds, but it's still there. And eventually, some way or another, it will show itself and it will hurt. The mind isn't as easy to mend as a broken bone or a cut in the skin. It is a long healing process. And sometimes the healing is just as painful, if not more so, than the break itself. But ultimately, I believe that to be at peace is worth the pain that it takes to get there."

"Are you saying that I'm not at peace?"

"Are you?"

"I don't know. I don't even know what that means."

"You seem like a very strong girl, Ginny. I would take a guess and say that you're the kind of person who doesn't like to show signs of weakness," Simone said.

"I'm not weak."

"Having weaknesses doesn't make you weak. It makes you human."

Ginny stared past her, at the wall, at the Macbeth poster, not knowing what to say, so choosing to say nothing at all.

"My father was a psychologist," Simone said, seeming to realize that Ginny wasn't going to speak. "Which is a sort of Healer in the Muggle world, specifically for the mind. My mother was an actress, and that's what I wanted to be, too. But when I began at Beauxbatons, I learned about how much magic could do to help people, but was shocked to learn that there didn't seem to be much in terms of psychology or anything dealing with human mental illnesses. After all, mental illnesses affect people, regardless of whether they are a muggle or have magic. So much of Healing had to do with the physical, things that had been caused by an outside source and could be cured with spells and potions. When I was finishing up my final year of school, I was invited to take a position at St. Mungo's by a Healer who had also been working towards a better mental health system for wizards. It's come a long way since then. We don't call ourselves psychologists, much like Healers aren't called doctors. We're counselors and we want to help people when magic can't always do the full job."

"What kind of mental illnesses are there?" Ginny asked, wondering if maybe there was actually something wrong with her and if that something had a name.

"Many. The main ones that I'm looking out for most amongst the students are… anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder, depression…."

"And magic can't fix any of those?"

"Magic can help. It can help a lot, actually. There are a lot of potions that can help people struggling with mental illnesses go about their day-to-day life. Sometimes mental illnesses never really go away. However, while I'm here doing counseling at Hogwarts, I hope to not use magical remedies, unless I believe it to be needed."

"So what will you do instead? Just talk?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," she answered simply. "A lot of traumas have been suffered by a lot of people, and so much suffering has been done in silence. And so, I am here to listen to people, to talk with them, to help them make sense of things that don't really make any sense at all. We don't have to be silent and we don't have to be alone."

Ginny looked at her. She seemed to be genuine, but Ginny still had reservations. She was reluctant. She was doubtful. She was stubborn.

"Does this sound like something that you want to try, or are you still missing the point of it all?" Simone asked her. Ginny was silent for a moment, trying to think it over.

"I don't know. Everyone keeps telling me that I should do this."

"Do you think there is a reason why?"

"Sure. A lot of shit has happened."

"And do you think that's a good enough reason to give it a shot?"

"I guess," she shrugged. "I don't know how easy it will be, though. For me to talk about things."

"That's okay," Simone assured her. "We don't have to jump right in to anything too heavy. We can start slow. Build trust, just like I said before."

"Right."

"So, let's start slow. I hear that you're the captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team?"

"Yeah, I am."

"How long have you been playing?"

Ginny began to talk. She talked about quidditch. It was simple, it was easy, it was almost enjoyable.

"Well, Ginny," Simone said, interrupting their discussion of the Quidditch World Cup from a few years earlier. "We've run out of time for today. Will you be returning next week?"

"Yes," Ginny nodded. "I will."

"Alright," she smiled. "See you then."