I don't own HP at all and am making zero dollars here. Rararar.
AN: Sorry it's shorter- but no less drama filled. Yay!
Breakfast passed without further incident, though Hermione knew Ginny still wasn't completely happy. Well, that was too bad. Hermione wasn't completely ok with things, herself, but one had to move on, hadn't she?
The irony of the thought made her want to die from laughter, but she managed to keep things bottled up. She suspected she'd have a good break-things session later, after her friend left. Speaking of…
"When do you need to get back, Gin?"
Ginny looked up guiltily from where she stood, washing dishes.
"Oh, I…soon, probably. I left while Zabini was still asleep. But the wards we had to have put on our properties are strong enough; he can't get into any trouble while I'm gone."
"And the looks you thought he'd been giving you?"
Ginny turned back around and shrugged. "Those? I was just…imagining things, really. No need to worry about it-"
Hermione watched with narrowed eyes as her friend abruptly dropped the subject. She took in Ginny's hunched shoulders, the impatient shaking of one leg as she sudsed the plate she holding. That was when she noticed it- the bruise on one wrist. Ginny had rolled her sleeves up in order to help wash while Draco stood by quietly and dried as he'd been taught.
And so Hermione's quick eyes took in the bruise, roughly shaped like a hand, that lay about that one delicate structure; and she hissed in anger and walked up to her friend, grabbed the plate and shoved it at Draco; so she could take both of Ginny's arms and twist them about, checking for other injuries.
Ginny glared at her as the washrag dripped all over the floor and tried to wrest her arms away, but her friend was stronger than she. Had been, ever since Hermione had taken up horses and Ginny had quit Quidditch. Had quit everything.
"What the hell is this," Hermione said, bringing her eyes up to Ginny's, anger painting her face.
Ginny tried to pull away again, but Hermione held her fast. Draco took in the situation quietly, though his eyes widened slightly. So, Blaise had not gone quietly. Stupid man. Didn't he want to live? Or did he think being dead, or locked in a tiny room the rest of his life was better than living under a 'blood traitor'?
Stupid man.
Draco took the opportunity of their stand-off to grab the washrag from Ginny's hand. Hermione's eyes flicked to his and he turned away, plate and rag in hand.
"Go on," he said. "I have these."
Hermione's brow furrowed, but she took Ginny's hand and dragged her into the living room anyway, closing the door to the kitchen. Then, instead of yelling straight off, she forced Ginny into a chair and then paced back and forth for several tense, quiet seconds. Ginny frowned at her feet, then buried her head in her hands.
Hermione stopped pacing and looked at her.
"Ginny. What is going on?"
"The way he looks at me…" Ginny whispered, as if she hadn't heard Hermione. "I confronted him. He fought me. When I tried to get him into his room, lock him in, he fought me." She twisted her head about in anguish and looked up at Hermione.
"I don't know how to handle him. I thought I did, but instead of talking we insult each other- don't ask. I know, I know. That's what I wanted, what I thought I wanted. I wanted to grind him up and leave him angry, broken- I wanted to be the death of any of those scum. But when it comes down to it…I can't do it. I hate being this way." She began to cry, head in her hands and Hermione knelt before her.
"Ginny, you have to talk to Harry."
Ginny shook her head. "I can't! I can't…I should be able to handle this, damn it! Tell me how you do it, Hermione. Please, how do you live with them and not fight with them, not murder them while they sleep? Every time I try to show him a little kindness, give him some freedom, he just fights harder, says nastier things. I can't deal with it, Hermione."
"It's not that simple, Ginny," Hermione said. "I think I just got lucky with these two. You can't look at Lucius and not feel compassion, or just pity. Draco…he's a bit much sometimes. But he backs down when I tell him to." She looked off through the front windows, watched the trees they'd planted just yesterday swaying gently in the breeze. She looked back at Ginny.
"Honestly, he's just as tired as I am. Just as hurt- not in the same ways," she admitted. "But still in need of comfort. Tired of fighting." She shook her head. "I'm telling you, it's not easy, but I got lucky. I picked the right ones…if there is such a thing in this situation. In as much as any of this is right," she added bitterly.
Ginny sniffed and wiped her face several times.
"So you can't help me."
"I can advise you to be patient, to not let him get to you. To be firm when he tries to get under your skin. And don't ever let him- Ginny, how did he manage to lay a finger on you in the first place?"
"I don't know," Ginny said and sniffed again. "No, wait. I touched him first. I grabbed his shirt front. He was able to bypass the spell that way."
"But not even that much should have…" Hermione's voice drifted off. "Ginny, you have to call Harry. Or I will. I think it's the wards. Harry put some extra ones on me, on the house, on the Malfoys, since I'm wandless."
Ginny shook her head, but Hermione took her by the shoulders and then handed the phone to her.
"You call him," she said seriously, "or I will."
"I already cast extra spells, after that night," Ginny began, but Hermione started dialing anyway. "Hermione, it's not even eight! You'll wake him up-"
The phone started ringing and Hermione stood up, but kept one eye on Ginny to make sure she didn't go anywhere.
Across the miles, in a flat located in back London, Harry's bedside phone began ringing wildly. He cracked one eye open and stared at it for a second, then closed his eyes again and rolled over. It kept ringing. He rolled onto his back and opened his eyes again, stared at the ceiling.
It kept ringing.
With an exaggerated sigh, he finally reached over and answered it, pressed the speaker phone button. He didn't say anything at first, just yawned, sat up, stretched. He heard a stern, "Harry?"
"Harry, it's me."
"Yes, I recognize your voice, Hermione. What is it?" he asked, unable to help being annoyed. He'd been having a fucking fantastic dream. A cozy cottage in Cornwall, he thought, with a completely naked witch lounging in a very large bed. Which witch was it…damn it, he couldn't remember.
"It's Ginny."
At that he straightened up and immediately began looking to see where he'd thrown his robes last night.
"What's going on?" he asked. He thought he could hear her voice in the background, protesting Hermione's high-handed treatment. That made him smile, despite the worry coursing through his veins.
"Zabini- no, Ginny, shut up and sit down- has been giving her trouble. I want you to double check her spell casting. Obviously the original wards aren't strong enough for the situation."
"What did he do?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling incredibly angry. Of course this would happen, he thought. If only Ginny would let me help her, would come to me before this shit happens- "What's that?"
"I said, you'll have to talk to her about that. If you could meet her at her flat in about half an hour, that would be wonderful."
"I have work at nine. Better make it now. I want to talk to her," he growled.
"Harry, this isn't entirely her fault-"
"I never said it was," he replied. "I don't blame her for any of this- any of it! I never have. But I want to talk to her. It's about fucking time we did, isn't it?"
"Ok, Harry. Ok. Look, can you at least make it five minutes? Give her a chance to get over there-"
"Now," he growled again. "I'll be waiting." He nearly hung up then, but a sudden concern made him stop. "And you? Are you alright?" he asked Hermione abruptly.
There was silence for a second and then her steady voice came through.
"Harry, when am I ever alright?"
And she hung up. Harry stared at the phone, shook his head, and turned it off. Then he shrugged into his robes, cast a quick charm to clean up his evening's beard, and headed out the door.
Hermione threw the phone onto the sofa and then knelt before Ginny again.
"He's going over now; he'll be waiting for you."
"Oh, hell, Hermione-"
"Come on," she said. "I'll drive you off the property. You can have a smoke if you're quick about it." Hermione cast a sidelong glance at Ginny as she plucked her keys from their hook by the kitchen door. She poked her head into the kitchen as well, knocking on the frame first.
Draco was still at the sink and didn't turn at the sound. Lucius looked as if he was enjoying the leftover smells and sounds of morning. Her expression softened without meaning to.
"Can I trust you not to burn down my home? I'm driving Ginny to the end of the drive so she can leave."
Draco shrugged and Hermione turned to go when his voice caught her ear again.
"Is she ok?"
Hermione stopped, turned around again. Her eyes narrowed. "Do you know something about Zabini, Draco?"
He shrugged again. "Just that he's an idiot. The only person he cares about is himself."
Hermione frowned and opened the door again. "We'll talk about this later." Then she was gone.
"Suit yourself," he murmured to the empty air. At the table, Lucius' eyes suddenly focused on the space where Hermione had been. A concerned look crossed his brow briefly and then the nothingness filled his eyes again.
Draco continued to wash dishes, quite unaware of anything but the sun coming in the kitchen windows.
They reached the apparition point quickly enough and Ginny turned to Hermione again, panic behind her eyes.
"Can't you come with me?" she asked as she stubbed out her cigarette on the fence post.
"No, Ginny. Not only will I not leave these two here alone, but this is your problem. Yours and Harry's. He wants to help you. Let him."
"I just-" Ginny tried again and stopped short. She gazed off back down the drive. Hermione was struck by a sudden impulse. She leaned out the window and placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder.
"Come back. Once a week, Gin. Ride my horses. Help me take care of them. You already come out at least once a week- I can give you lessons."
Ginny snorted. "Like what, be one of your therapy kids?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, like one of my kids. You need help- you asked me for help earlier. This is how I help. Please, Ginny. Think it over, ok? Then we can always go back to the house and get good and pissed afterwards."
"I don't know…"
"Just consider it. Tell me what you think next time you call. And, Ginny-"
Ginny looked at her, arms crossed. Hermione smiled.
"Just listen to what Harry has to say. Hear him out. I promise you won't regret it."
Hermione looked so earnest, so eager, that Ginny felt her defenses melt a little. Just a weensy bit. She gave her best friend a short nod, followed by a smile and half hug through the window. Then she walked over the line, waved, and turned on the spot.
Hermione sat at the wheel, watching the space where she'd been sadly. Partly because whenever she saw someone perform magic there was a hard tug in her own chest, the desire to set that part of herself free as well. But mostly, because she hoped- oh, how she hoped- that Ginny would heed her advice. It was about fucking time her two best friends found some peace and started over.
Because whatever Ginny did, Harry Potter would never get over her, and it would be a fucking shame to watch him spend his life wishing after a witch who needed him just as badly as he needed her.
With a small sigh, Hermione put her Touareg in reverse, backed around, and then headed back up to her house- where two wizards who needed her pretty badly were waiting, washing dishes and staring into space, the both of them. She wasn't sure yet if she needed them…but anything was better than the stagnation; the endless nightmares; and the horror of each morning she awoke and Ron was still dead; and her life was still a shambles. Anything was better.
AN: OMG give me a cookie. Now. Nooooowww. :D