T/W: Manipulation.

A/N: This is definitely the roughest chapter of the story. It definitely does set up some of the following events, but I can promise that it gets lighter from here on out.

Livid was an understatement. She was half surprised sparks weren't flying with each pounding step she took on the stones. Ron had been her best friend for six and a half years. Not once in that time had he ever asked about her house. Never once had he tried to get himself an invitation. The fact that this came on the heels of Terry partnering with him convinced Hermione that Terry had gone and put some nonsense in his head, hardly aware of the dangers he was posing.

It wasn't like Hermione didn't want Ron to come to her home. She knew he would get a kick out of the muggle village, of the weekly market, and the small back patio with gnomes that didn't require throwing across a field. He'd probably smile at the pictures on the wall, and gape at the sheer number of books in her room. But her parents…

Part of the reason she'd always been able to escape to the Burrow early was the gratitude of her parents who were more than happy not to have to spend time with her. She could argue it had been a long time coming-that ever since she first managed to charm a book to levitate above her cereal bowl at breakfast, neither parental figure warmed to their daughter. Indeed her magic had been the source of real loss to them. No longer could they brag to their friends about her academic prowess. No longer could they participate in discussions of A-levels. After the cereal bowl, her parents had dismissed the nanny she'd had since toddlerhood, sending Leonie back to France without giving Hermione the opportunity to say goodbye. Now, from her cat, to the owls that delivered her messages, to the people she spent time with, her parents were barely tolerant of her "other" life. In fact, if they had any idea about how much danger she was currently facing, there was no way they would let her stay. It had taken all of the hastily planned trip to France the summer before Third Year for Hermione to convince them to let her come back after being petrified.

Which meant that after You-Know-Who returned, Hermione had simply…neglected to tell her parents. It proved tricky. She was sure to cancel her Daily Prophets whenever she was home, and chalked up any stress she was feeling while writing to the boys as "worried about school." She'd gotten lucky after the Department of Mysteries. Had she ended up going to St. Mungo's, an owl would have been sent to her parents detailing her escapades. As it was, she'd concocted a story about her Potions exam going awry and bruising her ribs. Her father had wanted to sue, but she assured him it was entirely her fault and that she'd been able to re-take the exam and get a stellar grade. Her parents were none the wiser that she was best mates with the "Chosen One," nor that she was helping him track down powerful magical objects to defeat the greatest dark wizard the UK had ever seen.

Banking on Harry's relative ambivalence towards anything that wasn't You-Know-Who, Quidditch, or Weasley related, Hermione settled on rarely bringing up her family. If Ron ever asked, gentle as he was, Hermione would pull out one of her few relatively happy memories to share and swiftly turn the conversation back to him. Neither were any the wiser that she didn't get along with her parents. And she was bound and determined to keep it that way. Hers was a delicate house of cards, and she would be damned before she let Terry Boot destroy it.

All too soon, she reached the doors to the Hospital Wing and wrenched them open. Terry was sitting on the edge of a bed, finishing the last of a blood-replenishing potion being given to him by one of the seventh-year helpers. Terry didn't seem pleased that he was given anything lesser than Pomfrey. Though that potion was a foul-tasting one, his eyes brightened at the sight of her. Taking in the fury radiating off of her, the smile dimmed.

'I knew you'd come to check in on me.'

'Where do you get off?' She asked, each word a tiny bullet.

The seventh year wisely understood that between them was not a good place to be, and walked back towards the potions station. Terry watched their retreating second they were out of earshot, Terry turned back to face her.

'Can you clarify? I'm not sure as to what you're referring.'

Hermione resisted the urge to stomp her foot.

'Take your pick! What did you say to Ron?'

'When?'

'Don't play dumb with me,' Hermione snapped. 'During Herbology, when you made the asinine decision to partner with him!'

Terry folded his arms, wincing at the bandage wrapped around his left. 'That's a rude way to speak about your friends, Hermione. Weasley was a great partner. Well, up until he got bile on his nose. Granted it's so long, it's a miracle it didn't happen sooner.' He chuckled to himself.

Hermione tried to take a deep breath, ignoring his insult. 'You know perfectly well what I mean, Terry.'

'I'm afraid I don't,' he countered. 'Blood loss.' With a practised gesture and tiny frown, Hermione assumed he meant to illicit sympathy. He got no such thing.

'You want pity for that?' she asked, pointing down to what seemed like an absurd number of bandages for the minor injury he'd sustained. 'It was quite clear that you cut yourself in a pathetic attempt to get my attention.'

Terry's face changed in an instant. A snarl formed, darkening his eyes. The sudden change made Hermione take a step back.

'I had to do something,' he growled at her. 'All that idiot has to do is trip on his own damned feet and you fawn over him.'

'Wh-Ron?' Terry sneered at her.

'Don't pretend like you don't know. He cuts himself in potions, you take him to the Hospital Wing. He fails his Apparition exam, you try and argue his case with the examiner. He's stupid enough to get venom on his nose and you practically wrap yourself all over him to make sure he's okay.'

Hermione was taken aback. 'He nearly died three months ago. Naturally I'd want to check if he's alright.'

Terry glared. Hermione glared back at him.

'And for the record, none of those injuries he did on purpose, or for attention like you. Did you ever stop to consider that maybe that might be a reason I wouldn't accompany you to the Hospital Wing?'

'Well given I'm the one you're snogging, forgive me for assuming-'

'I don't want to keep snogging.'

A weight felt as though it had been lifted off her shoulders. The words had left her mouth. Terry stared at her, his face halfway between the snarl that had become affixed and something akin to shock.

Hermione swallowed hard. 'I'll finish the project with you but whatever this thing between us is, it's over.'

'Excuse me?'

'You heard me. I don't need this right now. There are far better things for me to spend my time on than you.'

She spun with the full intention of leaving, but Terry had grabbed her wrist and yanked her back to his bedside.

'I don't think so.'

His fingers were like ice, but his grip was tight. Fingers dug into her skin uncomfortably. Her heart began to thud in her chest.

'Let go of me.' Her voice was even. He did not. 'Terry, let go of me.'

'You don't know what you're playing at, Hermione. I will forgive this little outburst, but-'

'It's not an outburst!' Hermione cried. 'You're being a horrid person!'

'Only because you're making me be one,' Terry replied, his voice horrifyingly calm.

Hermione gaped at him. 'What exactly have I done?'

'You've been lying, for one thing.'

'About what?' Hermione was entirely non-plussed.

'You're more than friends with Weasley.'

Whatever she'd been expecting him to say, it wasn't that. She was taken so much by surprise that she started to laugh.

'No I'm not.'

'You spend every summer at his house?'

'How did you…' she trailed off. 'He told you that?'

Terry nodded, a sneer back on his face. 'He's quite proud of it. Enough I had to take him down a couple of pegs.'

Hermione tried to wrench her wrist away from his grip again. 'I told you to leave them out of this! Why are you antagonizing him?'

Terry gave another yank and she was pulled towards his lap.

'Because I want you. And I'll do whatever it takes to have you.'

The blood in her veins went cold at his words. She forced herself to take a calming breath. 'I don't want you.'

'You don't mean that.' If it was possible, his fingers bore even deeper against her skin. The intensity of his gaze frightened her. Hermione resisted the urge to cry out in pain.

'Yes, I do. Now let me go.'

'Or?'

'What do you mean, or?'

'If I refuse to let you go, what will you do? Tell everyone I'm hurting you? That I'm the bad person here? Who would believe you? That you, Hermione Granger, brightest witch of the age could be taken over by me?' He gave a hollow laugh. 'You can certainly try. But all you'll gain is the last of your decent reputation in this school washed down the drain.'

Hermione swallowed as she felt a wave of dread pass down her spine. 'I don't care about that.'

'No? Not even your precious friends knowing you've been a bit of a bad girl? That a boy can distract you?'

'Stop.' Her heart thudded in her throat.

'That you aren't the perfect little miss goody two shoes you portray-'

'I said stop!' Hermione gave one last pull, but her hand would not give way.

'Is there a problem here?' Madame Pomfrey had stalked over. Terry immediately dropped Hermione's wrist and fixed the matron with a winning smile.

'I wanted to make sure Hermione's arm was okay. I thought for a moment she might have gotten some of the venom from Herbology on it. She was quite insistent that there was nothing there, isn't that right, Hermione?'

Madame Pomfrey looked at her, frowning. Hermione stood frozen. What could she say? Terry was likely right. Worse still, if Harry or Ron found out that she was in trouble, they'd stop at nothing to try and help. The last thing they needed was to get expelled. Harry was already on the knife's edge after Malfoy. And Ron…no. Mrs. Weasley couldn't handle another child not finishing their education. She had to handle this on her own.

She nodded, dropping her gaze from Pomfrey's peering eyes. 'He was just being thorough.'

Pomfrey frowned again but seemed to accept this. 'Very well. But do try to keep the noise down. There are other patients.'

'Of course Madame Pomfrey. We apologize.' Terry gave her a winning smile, betraying no sign that he had just threatened Hermione. The sudden change terrified more than anything else in the past few minutes.

With a swish of her robes, Madame Pomfrey was gone. Hermione backed up to make sure she was outside of Terry's grasp.

'Stay away from me,' she hissed.

Without waiting for a response, she turned and fled the Hospital Wing.

Her feet carried her, her body seeming to operate without her brain. She felt trapped and sick and wasn't sure what to do.

Terry had shown his ruthless side. The snarl on his face had surprised her. She'd always known him as caring, if not a bit rude at times. Not like this. Absentmindedly, she rubbed her wrist, where she could still feel the marks of his fingers. A wave of bile rushed into her throat and she tore down the hallway in search of the nearest loo.

Wrenching her way into the first stall she came into, her knees had barely hit the stone before she retched into the porcelain. If she'd been hoping that some of the awful feelings swirling within her would dissipate with it, she was sorely mistaken.

She lay her forehead against the rim, trying to calm her still racing heart. Tears sprang to her eyes and she willed them to go away. This was the last thing she needed. Shame, burning white hot coursed through her, sending her heaving back into the bowl.

'Ooooh,' came a ghostly drawl from the next stall. Hermione froze. The only thing that could possibly have made this situation worse was Myrtle. Staying as still as possible, ignoring the rumbling in her stomach, Hermione prayed that Myrtle would leave.

'Come on!' Myrtle crooned. 'I haven't had a piece of gossip this good since Harry attacked Draco. Who is it?'

The thudding of her heartbeat was all Hermione tried to focus on.

'Eurgh, boring,' Myrtle cried out, before zooming in through the wooden door. Upon realizing who was in the stall, Myrtle went quiet. If it was possible for a ghost to turn white, Myrtle did. She stared at Hermione in shock.

'What are you doing here?'

'None of your business,' Hermione snapped, wiping her mouth as she turned to stare at the ghost. 'You can't just barge into somebody's stall.'

Myrtle crossed her arms as she took in Hermione's form, perched over the toilet, remnants of her sick still splattered in the bowl.

'What are you going to do? Report me? All I'd have to say is that I found you in distress, vomiting in the girls' toilets.'

'I'm not in distress,' Hermione replied quickly.

Myrtle raised an eyebrow. 'Aren't you? No offense, but you don't seem sick. And there aren't that many good reasons to be found upending the contents of your stomach.' Her eyes brightened. 'Oooh, are you pregnant?'

Hermione blushed furiously. 'No! Of course not!'

'Are you sure? Have you taken the potion?' Hermione hadn't seen Myrtle this gleeful since the unfortunate Polyjuice incident in second year.

'Myrtle, I'm not pregnant. Nor do I need a potion to tell me that.' Hermione made a mental note to look up if there was such a potion. Having had little use to study them, she was woefully uninformed about magical contraceptives and anything relating to that particular area.

Myrtle slumped slightly. 'Shame. That would have made me talk of the school for a while. Discovering Hermione Granger; soon-to-be-Mum.'

'For the love of…' Hermione dragged herself into a kneeling position, furious with Myrtle. 'Surely you have better things to talk about! There is a war going on. You-Know-Who is back! Don't you care?'

Myrtle stared at her. 'What does that have to do with you being in here?'

Hermione let out a laugh, mildly hysterical. 'What is it to you if I am?'

The retort seemed to startle Myrtle, who blinked at Hermione. 'You're acting very odd,' the ghost noted.

Hermione gave up. 'Just leave me alone, Myrtle.'

'Gosh, the one time I try to help.' Myrtle floated out of the stall, leaving Hermione unsure if she'd really left the loo or not.

She couldn't be sure that Myrtle wouldn't go about spreading the gossip that Hermione was secretly pregnant. Hard to know who would take this particular bit of gossip more strongly- Terry, who apparently assumed she was getting together with Ron-or Lavender, who would also assume, incorrectly, that she was with Ron. Both would make their lives hellish in retribution.

And the guilt currently coursing through her stomach was partly because she wanted to be him. That she was so mesmerized by him. His solid presence in her life was enough that all he'd had to do while she was panicking during Herbology was smile at her and she'd calmed. It wasn't a good sign that Terry had noticed how quickly she would rush to Ron's side, nor that he'd correctly intuited that had Ron been any further injured in class she would have followed him up to the Hospital Wing, unlike what she had done for Terry.

With a sigh, she leaned back towards the cold stone. At least she'd finally told Terry that she was done, and had no desire to do anything else with him. Even with his scary reaction, she knew it was the right decision. Nothing good could come of spending more time alone with him. Any initial warmth towards him for his intellectual stimulation had dissipated the moment he'd marked her wrist with his fingers.

She bowed her head further against her knees. A wave of exhaustion swept over her. Suddenly the idea of facing class for the afternoon seemed unbearable to her. The stares of the classmates. Trying to keep Harry learning, even if he couldn't understand that she wanted him to be prepared. Simultaneously wishing Ron would break his recent silence and look at her while desperately wishing he wouldn't so her feelings could remain hidden. No, it was too much for her at the moment. She hid in her cocoon on the floor for a while longer.

Unsure how much time had passed, eventually she pulled herself up. The tiredness still clung to her limbs and she reckoned now was the safest time to head to bed. At the very least, she'd avoid Lavender in the dorm. It meant missing Charms, but she would make it up to Flitwick later. He, of all the professors, worried most about her study habits. He would understand her needing a moment. She just needed to sleep.

Walking out of the loo, she was surprised to see that it was clearly time to change class. Had she missed the bell?

'Hermione!' Harry called out to her, pushing against the tide of students approaching. She felt the sting of a blush against her cheeks. 'We missed you at lunch. You alright?'

A split-second decision. Truth? Or a lie? 'No. I'm going up to bed.'

Harry froze mid-step, looking at her in disbelief. 'Bed? Are you sick?'

'Yes,' Hermione said, choosing to massage the truth. 'But don't worry about it. Just female things.'

Few comments could make Harry look more uncomfortable. His cheeks reddened as the rest of his skin paled. 'Er, right. I'll tell Flitwick.'

Hermione nodded and ducked past him, thanking merlin that Harry could be counted upon to be a typical bloke every once in a while.

It wasn't until she was wrapped in the softness of her duvet, curtains firmly shut and Crookshanks purring beside her, that Hermione allowed herself a good, long, cry.

…

She was sprinting through the corridors, running faster than she ever had before in her life. Footsteps echoed behind her, but she didn't dare look. All she cared about were the shouts coming from the floor above. Ears craned, she tried in vain to hear the voice that she most craved. It was too difficult to discern.

She turned a corner, her feet preparing to hit familiar steps. A maw of inescapable black greeted her. A darkness so encompassing she couldn't make out anything within it.

Curses rang from overhead. This was the fastest way to where she needed to go. To him. Without hesitation, she plunged herself into the inky desolation. It clung to her. Lighting her wand, she was shocked to see no more than a pinprick of pale blue down near her hand. It illuminated only the minutest halo. Not enough to see anything. She took a step forward, only to hit a stair. With a yelp of pain, she crashed down into the steps, slicing into her knee.

'Relax.' A familiar voice echoed in her ear, calm and reassuring. 'We'll get through this together.'

'I can't see!' she cried out. 'My wand, it won't…'

'It's okay,' the voice said once more, 'I can guide us by feel.'

As shouts continued to ring out, a soft hand grasped her own. They helped her up to her feet again, and began leading her up the steps, one by one. Slowly they made their way through the darkness.

'STUPEFY!' The cry came from her left, and Hermione's heart leapt. With joy or terror, she couldn't be sure.

'Ron!' she called out, pleased to have heard confirmation that he was still alive. But the darkness swallowed her voice. She couldn't be sure he'd even spoken. Maybe this was a curse? A Boggart hiding somewhere within the vast desolation?

'We'll find him,' the other voice said. Hermione wished she could place it. She hoped she could trust it.

They rounded the last step and found themselves back into light. Hermione had a moment to gaze at the battle raging around her before a streak of red came flying at her, knocking her to the ground.

'Hermione!' It was Ginny's voice this time. Quiet, calm. Out of place with the fury of casting around them.

'Hermione!' Ginny insisted again. Her face was cut, but she looked determined. She opened her mouth as the light above turned a nasty shade of green…

'Hermione.'

Hermione opened her eyes, confused to see Ginny sitting beside her. This Ginny had an unblemished face. This Ginny wore a look of concern instead of determination. Hermione sat up, realizing as the covers slipped that she was still in her bed. A quick glance at the window showed twilight creeping over the castle. How long had she been asleep?

Her stomach gave a gurgle, and she blushed at the sound. Ginny raised an eyebrow.

'You should be hungry. You missed lunch and dinner.'

Hermione rubbed her eyes, trying to hide her surprise. 'I did? I didn't mean to sleep this long, I just…' She trailed off, unsure how to finish her thought.

Ginny sighed. 'What's going on, Hermione?'

'Nothing,' said Hermione, giving her usual response.

'It's not nothing,' Ginny argued, reaching over to scritch Crookshanks between his ears. 'Harry told me you skived off Charms.'

'It wasn't skiving off; I wasn't feeling well.'

'I believe you told Harry "lady problems," or some other bull like that.' Ginny noted with a wry smile. 'When I know for a fact you had your time of the month a week and a half ago.'

'How could you possibly…'

Ginny rolled her eyes. 'You're like the only girl who still insists that tampons are-'

'Alright, alright,' Hermione cut her off, blushing furiously. Despite nobody else being in the room, she couldn't help but feel like a prude at the mention of such things.

Ginny continued to scritch Crookshanks. 'So, you lied to Harry, and then Luna told me to congratulate you on your pregnancy.'

'Oh god,' Hermione moaned, angry that Myrtle had gone about spreading this latest rumour. 'I'm not-'

'Don't worry,' Ginny chuckled. 'I put her straight.' She frowned once more. 'Luna said Myrtle told her, and something about that seems strange.'

'Myrtle saw me in the loo this afternoon,' Hermione admitted. 'She concocted that silly rumour. I thought I dissuaded her from it, but evidently not.'

Hermione pushed curls out of her face. Sour bile still lingered in her throat, and she became aware that she had not brushed her teeth since the incident. Her parents would be horrified.

Ginny frowned at her, pausing her ministrations on Crookshanks. He pawed at her hand, seemingly annoyed at the lack of pets.

'Why would she think you're pregnant? You aren't seeing anybody.'

'I-'

'Are you?' Ginny's eyes had laser focus when she was resolute. Hermione felt hot under her gaze.

'No,' Hermione answered, rationalizing that it was now true. She had cut things off with Terry after all.

Ginny looked unconvinced. 'Then what the hell is going on with you? You're jumpy and twitchy and keep snapping at me and Harry. What are you trying to hide?'

Hermione laughed involuntarily. What wasn't she trying to hide? Harry being the Chosen One? Her lack of relationship with her parents? Her trouble with Terry? Her feelings for Ron?

Ginny didn't take Hermione's reaction kindly. Removing her hands from Crookshanks entirely, she crossed them tightly against her chest.

'Seriously, you're laughing at me? Merlin Hermione, I'm worried about you.'

'Sorry.' Hermione felt chastened for a moment. 'You don't need to worry about me.'

'Yes, I do,' Ginny said, removing her hands and grumpily putting fists onto the duvet. 'You're my friend.'

'And as your friend, I'm telling you not to worry about me.'

'That's not how this works.'

'Yes it is,' Hermione argued. 'I'm fine.'

'No you're not.'

'Yes, I am.'

'No! You aren't fooling me Hermione!'

Hermione huffed, crossing her own arms. 'You should be worried about your OWLS, not me!'

Ginny raised her hands in frustration. 'Hermione, I don't give a toss about my OWLS. I'd much rather play Quidditch for the rest of my life than sit behind some boring old desk at the Ministry. And that's my choice-' Ginny continued, seeing Hermione about to make a retort. 'It's my life. I don't give a toss about grades. But I do give a toss about you. Is this exam stress?'

'What?' Hermione was nonplussed.

'Are you stressed about end of year exams? Ron thinks that might be what-'

'Ron's worried about me?' Hermione interrupted. Ginny rolled her eyes.

'Duh. You skipped class, Hermione. He spent all of dinner complaining that you could come up the boys' staircase to check on him and Harry whenever you want, but he can't come up ours to make sure you're okay.'

A rush of affection made her eyes well. For all the grief everyone gave him, Ron might be the most caring person she'd ever met. Then she remembered that she was supposed to help him, that she'd lied about going to the library to fix Ron's shoe. She clapped her hands to her cheeks with remorse.

'Oh Merlin, I was supposed to-'

'Hermione, what's on your wrist.'

Ginny's tone had changed. There was a tremor of fear in it that scared Hermione. The youngest Weasley was fearless. She'd never heard her sound like this. Slowly she removed her hands from her face and looked down.

Pale blue marks in the shape of fingers circled her wrist. Terry. Hermione covered her wrist with the opposite hand.

'Nothing.'

'Bollocks that's nothing,' Ginny snapped, wrenching Hermione's hand away. 'Who did this to you?'

Shame kept her mouth shut.

'Malfoy? Crabbe? Goyle?' Ginny's eyes searched Hermione's for an answer. She hadn't seen Ginny this riled in a long time. 'Zabini?'

'No, it's got nothing to do with that.' Hermione deflected.

'Then who? Lavender? Parvati? We should be going to McGonagall.'

'No.' Hermione's voice was firm. 'There is no need to talk to McGonagall.'

Ginny gaped at her. 'Clearly there is! Somebody hurt you.'

'It's hardly hurt,' Hermione lied. 'Terry didn't know his own strength.'

A moment too late, Hermione realized her mistake. Ginny dropped her wrist and leaned back. Shock took over her features.

'Terry? As in Boot?'

Hermione could do nothing but breathe shallowly. A multitude of foul language played in her brain. How stupid. Why, why had she let his name slip?

'Hermione, why did that git have his hand around your wrist?'

Perhaps it was because she was tired of carrying the burden all her own, but Hermione found herself unloading the whole sorry story onto Ginny. From the initial kiss all the way to Terry threatening her that afternoon. To her credit, Ginny let her speak without interruption. The only sign she gave that she was listening intently was her teeth furiously chewing on her cheek. After Hermione finished speaking, she drew her knees up to her chest.

Ginny stared at Hermione. Hermione waited for the onslaught of vitriol that she knew she deserved. Ginny opened her mouth and shut it. It was no surprise to Hermione that she'd rendered her friend speechless. Surely everyone would be if they heard about the pitiful state in which she currently found herself.

'You should tell McGonagall.'

Bewildered, Hermione stared at her friend. 'What would that do?'

Ginny's gaze turned hard. 'Stop Terry from hurting you anymore.'

'I'm sure he didn't mean to-'

'I'm pretty sure he did,' Ginny said with finality. 'From what you're describing, he sounds like a complete arse, and a dangerous one at that.'

'Dangerous?' Hermione repeated. 'I don't think so. Besides, it's mostly my fault-'

'This isn't your fault, Hermione.' Ginny looked aghast as she grabbed Hermione's forearm. 'You didn't ask for any of this to happen.'

'Well, no, but-'

'Hermione, he's manipulating you.'

Hermione frowned. 'No, I…' she trailed off. She wasn't the type of person to be manipulated. Who else had been the one to figure out Rita's game? Who understood that Prince was evil? Who figured out to trust Lupin despite knowing he was a werewolf? No, Hermione Granger was not one to be manipulated.

'If I told you half the things you just told me, you'd be all over his arse before I could say a word in edgewise.' Ginny continued. 'It doesn't sound like you wanted any of this.'

'But I kissed him back,' Hermione reasoned.

'Yeah, once. And he's taken that and run with it. To the point where he physically prevented you from leaving.'

They both glanced at her wrist. Hermione felt tears well up once more. Perhaps Ginny was right. Maybe she had been manipulated. She felt so foolish. Some bright witch she turned out to be. 12 OWLS and she'd managed to be hoodwinked by a Ravenclaw. More shame pooled in her belly.

'Please don't tell Harry or Ron.'

'Hermione-' Ginny tried to interrupt.

'No. Harry has enough to be going on with, and Ron would…' she swallowed hard. 'Ron would do something stupid on my behalf and get into all sorts of trouble.' The image of Ron hexing Terry to within an inch of his life came unbidden to her mind.

Ginny acknowledged the truth of her statement with a nod of her head. Hermione pressed forward, leaning to put her hands on Ginny's.

'Please. I'm sorry if this puts you in an awkward position, but I can't…'

'Okay.'

Hermione looked at her, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude sweeping over her. 'Okay?'

'Yes. I think it's stupid not to tell them, but fine. But you need to promise you'll talk to somebody about this, okay? And don't go anywhere alone for a while.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, stick with one of us. He won't try anything if he can't get to you alone. No trips to the library solo or anything like that. Find a buddy for the classes you don't share with Harry and Ron.'

'Ginny,' Hermione began, but she cut her off.

'Fuck Hermione, you do remember I was manipulated by You-Know-Who for months, right? That's part of it. People like that want you alone so you're easier to control. So please, trust me on this.'

Hermione, chastened, went silent. Ginny wasn't a crier, but even Hermione could read the pain on her face. How could she have forgotten? And here she was feeling shame and loneliness, when of course Ginny would understand how it felt.

'You didn't know better,' Hermione muttered softly, squeezing Ginny's forearms.

'Sure I did,' Ginny retorted. 'Dad always told me not to trust things like that. Same way you can tell yourself you knew better and still ended up with a prick like Terry bothering you.'

Hermione looked away, embarrassed that Ginny had cottoned on to how she was feeling.

'For the record, I still think you should talk to McGonagall, but it's your choice.'

Hermione shook her head. 'I can't, Ginny.' The idea of admitting all of this, of having yet more scrutiny placed upon her was too much.

Ginny nodded. 'Will you come downstairs? I know Ron wants to see you.'

Could she face him? The last thing she wanted to see was his pity. Ginny looked sharply at her.

'I'll speak to them first, if that makes you feel better.'

Hermione nodded in gratitude. Ginny gave her a small smile.

'Brilliant, I'll see you down in a moment.'

Before she could face them, Hermione knew that she needed to at least splash some water on her face. Dislodging Crookshanks, she peeled back the bedclothes and padded to the loo. Redrimmed eyes greeted her, a dash of colour on her wan face. Her curls were an utter mess, and she pulled them back in an approximation of a bun. She took her time to wash her face and brush her teeth which left her feeling marginally more human.

As she walked back out to her dorm, she became aware once more of the marks on her wrist. In a flash of remembrance, she recalled the tube of ointment she'd had to use after the twins' punching telescope. She launched towards her trunk and pulled out the small tube. There was precious little left, but all she needed was a little. Smoothing the paste over the bruise, she prayed that it wouldn't be visible for long. Not only to stop unwanted questions, but she wanted no memory of it herself. Better to march forward.

Tugging her sleeves down to her fingers, Hermione prepared to meet her friends. At least she knew Ginny was on her side.

A/N: There is always help to be found, and nobody is alone. Lest you think that any of this sounds far-fetched, part of this was a way of reconciling with a rough period in my own life. We never know what anybody has or is going through, and all we can do is show love and respect to one another. Hermione is so, so strong, but even strong people can be taken in sometimes.

So I send my love to each and every one of you who reads this. Thank you for taking the time. Thank you for your kind words, and thank you for your continued support.

Stay safe,

Ashy