"This was your idea, Dad," Hermione sighed. "Everything is going to be fine."

"The cheek, Hermione Elizabeth," her father warned checking her-again- for fever. "You'll behave yourself, yes?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded.

"You'll write me tonight?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione stood as straight as she could.

She wasn't nearly as horrified by crowds as she'd been two years ago, but she still didn't like the throng of people moving around them. She couldn't move without stopping before risking bumping into someone. They were loud, and everywhere. It was hard to focus on her father with so many talking around her. Hermione blamed her first eleven years of her life sequestered to their living quarters; but it was easy for Hermione to be overwhelmed, overstimulated. She dug her nails into her hands to stared at her feet. Diagon Alley was always crowded. She would have to get used to crowds if she ever wanted to spend August with Hiro in Tokyo. Though despite his letter inviting her next summer, she doubted she would get her father to agree to such an arrangement.

"Professor Snape?" a voice called. "Hermione?"

The two turned to see a short plump woman with curly red hair, freckles and brown eyes beaming at them. She almost didn't recognize Mrs Weasley. She stood straight and proud, rather than hunched over her small girl, she smiled, but it didn't touch her eyes. Though Mrs Weasley seemed happy, she also had a powerful, strict air about her. Hermione had the sudden inclination to think of Mrs Weasley as a lioness. She could be gentle, but she felt Mrs Weasley wouldn't hesitate to destroy anyone who harmed what she held dear. And she felt as though the fake smile, and cautious gleam told her Mrs Weasley hadn't made up her mind about Hermione.

"Yes," her father said. "I would say we already met, but the circumstances were less than ideal."

"Yes, they were, weren't they?" she said briskly before bending to Hermione's eye-level. "We haven't officially met, dear. I'm Mrs Weasley. The boys and Ginny are with Arthur-Mr Weasley. Ginny and I are so thrilled to have another girl in our numbers."

"Good afternoon, Mrs Weasley," Hermione nodded.

"So polite," Mrs Weasley smiled. "Ron tells me you were advanced two years and still were on the top of your year. You and your wife must be so proud."

He told you I was top of my year but not that I had no mother? Hermione sank her nails deeper into her flesh. Things didn't end well when the woman who gave birth to Hermione came up.

"I would refrain from making assumptions about the composition of other families in the future, Mrs Weasley," he said coolly. "I do not have a wife and I happen to be the only parent Hermione has any recollection of."

Mrs Weasley stared at them, her brown eyes widening as she covered her mouth. What Mrs Weasley said was insensitive, but she couldn't help but feel pity for the squat middle-aged woman being stared down by a man who towered over her. Her face drained and she lowered her hand, looking at her father with a mixture of guilt, embarrassment and pity.

"Oh, d-erm-professor," she said in a small voice. "I didn't know, I am so sorry."

A long silence passed between the three of them, Hermione swore the air around them grew thicker and heavier. Mrs Weasley turned her pitying gaze to Hermione. A thousand emotions crossed her chubby freckled face. Guilt and pity yes, but something in her wide, maternal gaze seemed to communicate confusion and...maybe she was reading too much into it, she had a terrible habit of doing so, but it seemed like Mrs Weasley was horrified by the idea that a mother could simply walk out on her child.

"Thank you for offering to look after her," he said placing a hand on Hermione's head. "I assure you she will be on her best behaviour. Won't you, little girl?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded.

"It's no issue at all," Mrs Weasley gave a forced smile.

Is she...judging us?

"I mentioned when I agreed that she tends to get ill, yes?" he asked.

Hermione braced herself for her father to disclose every flaw of hers to Mrs Weasley. Her stomach churned and she clasped her hands together, digging her nails into them as she prayed for him to get it over with.

"You did," Mrs Weasley nodded. "She'll be well looked after."

"Very well," her father nodded.

Hermione drew out a sigh of relief. He had no idea how much leaving the specifics out meant to her.

The two of them said their good byes, her father hesitant to hand her off to another and giving her a thousand reminders that she was to take care of herself, be on guard, go nowhere alone and not to make things difficult for the Weasleys. She hated to admit it, but a tsunami of relief washed over her when he disapparated, leaving her alone with Mrs Weasley.

That relief was short lived. Mrs Weasley led her along the streets with an unwelcome arm around her shoulders and seemed to have come to a decision about Hermione. She gave Mrs Weasley that she was well-meaning, and but that didn't make the situation any less uncomfortable.

"Hermione, dear?" Mrs Weasley placed her hands on both her shoulders once they entered the Leaky Cauldron.

"Yes, Mrs Weasley?" she replied, venturing eye contact.

She wished she didn't. Mrs Weasley's expression was soft, but serious, looking more like a close friend about to offer advice than a perfect stranger that she'd only met in passing. And she could feel her damn pity emanating from her.

"I know we've just met, dear," she gave her shoulders a squeeze. "But I want you to know you can ask me anything. I was a girl your age once and I know that the next few years will be a very confusing time for you. With the exception of the incident last year, of course, there's nothing you're going through I didn't already. I know I'm not your mum (Bitch, we just met!), dear, but please, come to me if you need to talk about anything at all."

What the hell was this? Hermione wrung her hands and averted her gaze. She was tired of McGonagall violating her boundaries to discuss things that 'a woman ought to with her' and now this perfect stranger was doing the same? Hermione's father was by no means perfect, and she had only just started recognising the ways he'd hurt her in the past. But for all his flaws, she didn't feel that he was so incapable of discussing such things. True, Hermione preferred to figure things out on her own, it was just easier that way, but if she came to him he would. And if Hermione needed an older woman to model herself after, she would have reached out-okay, I wouldn't have. And I know she means well...but she can't- I can't- I'm not remotely the favourite person of any of your children, nor am I some neglected orphan like Harry...Why are you doing this, Mrs Weasley? What possible reason could-I mean-we just met. My own moth-why are you doing this?!

"I appreciate the offer, Mrs Weasley," Hermione nodded before forcing a smile. "But I'm fine, honest."

"Of course, dear," she smiled. "Let's go meet the boys and Ginny."

"Oi, Hermione!" Ron called her over, waving from the throng of redheads.

"Hey, Ron," she said weaving between the twins to reach him, Mrs Weasley's arm still on her shoulders.

Ron's blue eyes combed her over and she noticed he got even taller, and his usually pale skin was a bright pink with even more freckles than before. Though he beamed happily at her despite what Hermione could only imagine was a very painful sunburn.

"How was Egypt?" she asked.

"Brilliant!" Ron beamed."How was Japan?"

Fred threw an arm around Ron's shoulder with a mischievious grin, looking just as burned as his blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "Oh, yes, Hermione, do tell us!"

"How is dear Hiro?" George threw his arm around Ron's other shoulder and stared at her.

"Erm," she squeaked staring at her feet. "Fine, Japan was fine, Hiro is-erm-fine." Hermione was certain she'd flushed to the same colour as the Weasleys.

She wasn't ashamed of Hiro, she adored him, perhaps more completely than anyone had ever adored anyone...Don't be so dramatic, you stupid little girl...but she felt so embarrassed then. Anyone would be embarrassed by the teasing-maybe. The desire to tell someone she and Hiro were involved and the desire to not be tormented by the twins warred within. Though she wasn't sure if anyone at Hogwarts was safe to tell. If the wrong person let it slip that she was dating to her father...He could do absolutely nothing, you stupid piece of shit!

"Boys," Mrs Weasley placed her hands on her hips and stared daggers at them.

She seemed to possess the same power over the boys that her father had over her, as they shut up immediately.

"You must be Hermione," Mr. Weasley, a tall, lanky man with balding redhaired man with horned-rimmed glasses framing blue eyes. "I'm Arthur Weasley, I'm not sure if you remember me. Quite a bit went on."

There's nothing I don't remember from that night... "Good afternoon, Mr Weasley," she nodded.

"It's so hard to believe you're in Fred and George's year," he chuckled. "Taking the OWLs at twelve, you must be so excited, and nervous!"

Hermione's stomach churned at the prospect and her mind spiralled in confusion. OWLs, her whole future was riding on those tests, and she had no clue if she were ready for them. What if she choked? What if she got sick? She was certain she would be then, and dug her nails deep into her hands as she tried to steady her breathing.

"Arthur!" Mrs Weasley hissed.

"Right," he nodded. "Sorry, Hermione. I'm sure you'll do just fine."

Nope, that made things worse. Hermione tried to think of something that made her happy. The smell of cherry blossoms, the opening of the bamboo flower, Hiro's lips on hers...So infatuated with someone so far, what if he- Damn it! She forced a smile and nodded again. "Thank you, Mr Weasley."

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

It wasn't her fault...none of it was her fault... Ginny blinked her brown eyes at her and reached out a pink and freckled hand to her. Hermione had to remind herself that the person who threw her down the stairs, dragged her to the chamber and tormented- almost tortured you, almost killed you, the spells never went off, you little idiot- her was a completely different person. Ginny was the small, unassuming girl that she had tried to befriend at the begining of the previous year. She was no different. It was no fair to treat her like she was.

"I'm fine," Hermione forced a smile. "Did you enjoy Egypt too, Ginny?"

Hermione listened intently as Ginny's face lit up, describing the pyramids, with Fred and George elaborating on finer points, here or there, and ribbing the poor girl where they saw fit. The other brothers jumped in, save for Ron, who was uncharacteristically silent. She dug her finger nails in and focused on Ginny's animated stories, the way her face lit up, innocent things that divorced her from Riddle. Ginny has to have it worse...don't be a coward...It's not her fault...

Guilt gnawed at Hermione as she wished that the Lovegoods weren't unavailable. Luna had sent Hermione a letter saying they just decided to go to Iceland mid-August. So, when her father did decide to send her off for the last week of August, the Weasleys were the only option. Though sharing a room with Ginny might make her have to face her issues. If she could mend things with Saiyaka- That was completely different. Baby steps.

"Ginny's grown a bit, and we don't have any girl uniforms to pass down," Mrs Weasley explained with a smile. "So we're going to get her robes at the second-hand shop. Do you need to come with us?"

Hermione just got down stairs to be ambushed by the offer. She regarded mother and daughter, Mrs Weasley holding Ginny's hand, and Ginny hiding under a veil of long straight, flaming red hair. Ginny was at least eleven, and had to be twelve by Septemeber first-and Mrs Weasley thought it was okay to hold her hand in public. So, I guess that is normal.

"Mum," Ginny whispered taking her hand back.

Mrs Weasley gave a sigh and adjusted her purse-something to do with her hands, Hermione guessed. She beckoned Hermione over, and she got the distinct impression that Mrs Weasley had an ulterior motive to this girls' outing. Did she do this with Harry? Or was it simply that Hermione was a motherless daughter? At seven, didn't she have enough children? Why attempt to burden herself with Hermione as well?

"Erm," Hermione bit her lip. "I al-"

"Oi, Hermione!" Ron called, rushing down the stairs and grabbing her arm.

Oh, thank god! "Hey, R-"

"Ronald Weasley," Mrs Weasley snapped. "That is no way to speak to a young lady!"

Ron's face-if it was possible- grew even pinker and his ears flushed scarlet as he stared at his scuffed trainers before murmuring. "It's just Hermione, Mum."

"'Just Hermione'?" Mrs Weasley scoffed. "Ronald Weasley, apologise."

"It's fine, Mrs Weasley," Hermione blurted. "Erm, what was it, Ron?"

"Harry's already here. Let's go look for him, shall we?" he said, now in a less confident voice.

"Yeah, I'm sure he'd like the company," Hermione nodded following him out of the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry sat in the summer sun looking rather peaceful as he dug into a comically large icecream sundae. Hermione noted that, unlike Ron, he didn't physically change over the summer. He sat, dwarved in his oversized jeans and jumper, untidy black hair framing his too thin white face, and his glasses were once again mended at the nose with cello-tape. She wondered if that meant his cousin was using him as a punching bag again.

"Hey, Harry!" Ron called waving as he ran over to him.

Hermione dashed beside him. Ron getting taller meant he had long legs, and he easily out-paced Hermione, where Hermione had only just managed to regain the height she lost back in November due to a transfiguration mishap. It was too bad she didn't keep the keen speed and reaction time.

"Hey, Ron, Hermione," Harry rose and proved Hermione wrong. He'd gotten taller too, and his cheek bones were less pronounced than before-making him look a little less starved.

"We heard about you aunt!" Ron leaned in with excitement. "Did you do it? Blow her up I mean?"

What?! Hermione's eyes grew and she couldn't stop herself from staring at Harry. Blew her up? Like exploded...what the fuck? No, don't be an idiot, not even Harry Potter would get off for that, and regardless of how nasty his bitch of an aunt is, he'd be a little disturbed, even if it were an accident.

"I didn't mean too," Harry explained, looking at Hermione nervously. "She said some stuff about my mum and dad and suddenly she just inflated, blew up like a balloon! She even floated off into the sky-" he chuckled at this. "Okay, I found it funny, but it was an accident, honest!"

Hermione sighed in relief. "I thought-when he said blew up-"

"What the hell, Hermione," Harry gasped. "You didn't think I'd make a person explode?"

"Not on purpose!" she squeaked. "I-I-"

"Harry wouldn't be sitting here eating ice cream if he murdered some one, Hermione!" Ron snapped. "Merlin, you know, I really do think Snape dropped or shook you as a baby."

I literally had my brain transfigured and shortly after recovery sustained a severe concussion and you're making brain damage jokes?! "That would explain why I still hang around you, wouldn't it?" she hissed. Don't cry.

"You hang around us because we're the only ones who tolerate you," Ron scoffed.

"I'm certain I only imagined Luna, Skylar and O'Malley, or Lee and your brothers," Hermione spat.

"You two can stop re-enacting my aunt and uncle's marriage when they think nobody's watching," Harry groaned. "Why are you two always like this?"

"Sorry," Hermione sighed, digging her nails into her hands. Be the bigger person... "To both of you."

"'Salright," Ron shrugged as if he had done nothing wrong.

Didn't just do what, love? Between her father and Ron, Hermione felt she should just get used to non-apologies and if she wanted to be anything but alone, she'd have to be the first to cop to her wrong-doing, even if it was in response to someone else. Harry and Ron simply started joking, Ron helping himself to portions of Harry's sundae, as if nothing had happened. It didn't matter that Ron just called her brain-damaged again when she was certain there was something wrong with her.

It doesn't matter...

"You know, Hermione," Harry said with a chuckle. "I'm surprised you didn't already know about the incident with my aunt. You normally follow the news so thoroughly-I mean it didn't explicitly make the paper, thank god. Just mentions of an incident in Little Whinging. But I also assumed Snape would have tried to use it as an excuse to try and get us to stop hanging out."

Ron laughed at this. "I can imagine it now. 'This boy is a delinquent, little girl. No good can come of this friendship. Indeed, I think the boy's a terrible influence.'"

"It disturbs me how accurately you can portray him," Hermione sighed. "We didn't hear about it because-" I got attacked by dementors twice? Had to be rescued again. After I spent my time failing to produce a patronus, instead? No! "I have so many subjects, I've been reading school books all August."

"Didn't you just get out of school in Japan?" Ron grimaced. "You need a life, Hermione."

"I know," she sighed with a shrug.

"Oh!" Ron leapt up. "Scabbers has been a bit off colour since we got back from Egypt. I need to buy him a medicine. Wanna come with me to the pet store?"

"Works for me," Hermione said rising. "I'm picking up a kitten."

"Snape gave you pocket money and permission to get a pet with no practical purpose?" Harry scoffed.

"Dad thinks I'm seven and can buy my forgiveness with a kitten despite the fact it's been six years since I've asked for one," Hermione shrugged. That sounded fucking catty-you stupid bitch. He's not that bad... "I didn't mean- I sound ungrateful. And he's actually improved quite a bit, honest! I just-ugh!" she sighed. "I don't know who the woman who gave birth to me was-"

"Are you allergic to the word 'mother'?" Ron laughed.

"Anyway," Hermione sighed. "I don't know who she is, but if I inherited anything from her it's the ability to harbour a grudge indefinitely-whether or not I'm in the right to."

"Yeah, I'm not so sure it's her you picked that up from," Harry mused.

The Magical Menagerie was empty, run by an older plump woman with wiry white hair who leaned on her desk, next to a raven perched beside the register that cawed upon their entering.

That raven set off the flock of smaller ravens screeching in the oversized bird cage (It was like a room its own) on the right side of the room. It must have held at least fifty, Hermione couldn't quite figure out how many exactly. Too many of them flapped around, many becoming blurry, black clusters. Hermione approached them trepidatiously, trying to determine if the birds were simply overstimulated or if the birds were mistreated. Surprisingly, she found no trace of blood or droppings, but peanut shells strewn across the floor.

"Shut up, Ned!" the witch rolled her eyes.

The bird at her side did, but the others continued on.

"You looking at a raven, little girl?" asked the witch.

Hermione shook her head, shrinking at the approach. What was that Dad said about not raising a wilting wall flower? He must be so ashamed of how I turned out.

"Okay," she sighed. "What about you boys? I'll give you a discount if you can relieve me of one of those cawing gits."

Ron presented his suddenly underwieght-it had been a very fat rat before- grey-brown rat to her, nearly shoving it in the poor old woman's face.

"My rat's been off-colour since we brought him back from Egypt," he said.

"Let me look at him, dear," she set the rat down on her desk. "No injuries, fever, or evident signs of illness. How old is he?"

"We're not exactly sure," Ron said. "My older brother took him in about twelve years ago, and he wasn't exactly a baby."

"And his powers?" she asked.

"Erm," Ron's ears turned pink. "I don't reckon he has any. He's kind of useless."

The witch sighed and looked at Ron with something other than disinterest- sympathy. "I'm afraid if he's a normal rat, he won't be long for this world. They normally only live two to five years. For him to be older than twelve-I'm sorry, kid."

"Is there anything at all you can do?"

"I might be able to interest you in a younger more spray rat?" she gestured to a cage behind her.

An adorable and chubby white rat with brown spots climbed the cage before doing a backflip.

"Show-off," Ron muttered. "Anything you can do to help this rat?"

"I make no promises, kid," the witch sighed producing a red, glass vile. "This rat tonic should help him feel a bit more himself for whatever time he has left."

"I'll take it," Ron counting out his knuts. "How much is it?"

"Tell you what, kid, what do you have th-Crookshanks!"

A very large, long-haired ginger cat leapt down from an unknown perch, nearly pouncing on Scabbers when Ron snatched him from the counter. The cat leapt forward, trying for the horrified rat in Ron's hands before the witch grabbed him. He still struggled, trying very hard to get out of the witch's grasp, yowling and hissing. Ron and Harry backed away until the turned and ran from the store. The cat immediately quietened.

The cat-Crookshanks- approached her and she looked into his wide yellow eyes. He was a beautiful cat, part persion she thought by the flatened snout. He rubbed his head against her hand and started purring.

"Aren't you sweet?" she asked. "What was that all about?"

Crookshanks sat and locked eyes with her. She wasn't sure, she'd never tested her theory since the incident, but she felt he was communicating with her. That something was not right with the rat-off. Whatever it was, set Crookshanks off. And a sense of familiarity. And also-a deep lonliness, despite being surrounded by other creatures. A sense of abandonment, confusion, and a dejected acceptance that his situation would never change.

"You've been here for a long time, haven't you?" Hermione asked. "Years? You poor thing."

"How did you-?" the witch rolled her eyes. "Yes, he's been here twelve years."

"Twelve years?" Hermione gasped. "That's horrible."

"Well, everyone looking for a cat wants a kitten, don't they?" she groaned.

Hermione got an image of a cat, barely old enough to be grown, but too old to be a kitten hiding under the sales desk and hissing. Then one of constantly being looked over for his more attractive and younger peers. Hermione felt that pain on a level that she was certain she did not need to have her brain altered to understand. She wondered if her mother had a better, younger and prettier child out there...

"Not me," Hermione declared. "I'll take him. Erm, much is the tonic?" she added, awkwardly at Ron's forgotten tonic.

"Crookshanks is adorable!" Ginny squealed.

Hermione forgot that Ginny, too, was a great lover of cats. She bet Luna would like him too, the way she fawned over her when she was transfigured to a real-life version of a manga cat-girl. Hermione put the thought from her head and while she mulled over the fringe benefits from the failed spell. Crookshanks didn't give her those images, it was something constructed from the ideas communicated to her, like how she pictured things when she read novels. It was such an automatic response, she had to think about the communication-perhaps she imagined it?

"He is, isn't he?" she said, shutting the instant messaging journal, having said goodnight to her father and promised she was safe.

I can't be trusted to keep myself alive for a damn week, she thought bitterly. Hermione told him that the Weasleys were treating her well,that she was eating (Mrs Weasley watched her like a bloody hawk at the table!), that she was rooming with Ginny and that she had already picked up her cat. She 'neglected' mention that Harry joined up with the Weasleys. He may have sent her away because he felt bad about confining her to their living quarters after the second incident with the dementor. But he'd probably regret that decision a whole lot less than having her under someone else's supervision with Harry Potter close by.

And the way he talked abut Sirius Black. Hermione should have searched through the archives before her confinement! Whatever he did, to make her father's voice catch like that...It had to be horrific...

Ginny moved from the floor to sit on the bed net to her, her flaming eyebrows knit in confusion. "Ron never picks up on it, but you've been on edge this entire time. Just-" she sighed. "Please be honest with me, Hermione. Is it-is it me?"

Damn her insight. How did she know? Hermione made a point of being perfectly normal with Ginny, how could she ever...what did she do wrong? She never wanted to hurt Ginny. Though that wasn't what she was thinking about at that moment, she could deflect the question without ignoring that plea for honesty.

"I was just thinking about Sirius Black," she sighed. Don't back away, coward. It's not her fault. "I'm worried about Harry. I don't think his reaction to discovering a mass-murderer is after him will be to allow others to safeguard him."

"I hate and love- I mean like!-that about him," Ginny nervously laughed. "Do you think he's really in danger? Mum won't tell me anything about Black."

"Ugh!" Hermione cried, rolling her eyes. "Why don't grown-ups ever give us information about dangerous situations? I swear, they're all useless!"

Ginny backed up at this, her brown eyes growing large, looking at Hermione as if she had suddenly become someone else. Hermione bit her lip and looked away. "Sorry, Ginny," she breathed. "I didn't-I-"

"It's because of February, isn't it?" Ginny looked away. "I haven't been the same either. Riddle living inside my brain, manipulating me. Oh, he knew the perfect things to say. He could play me like a fiddle...then suddenly, I was losing time. I-" she choked.

A silence passed between the girls, and Ginny finally turned to Hermione, her freckled face near white, and her eyes filled with tears. "I thought it was all my fault. That I never should have trusted that bastard! And now, I-trusting people who say they know what's going on-it-it-it isn't easy. It's like any time anyone says something re-assuring, or tries to convince me I'm safe-I -I-"

"Can't believe them," Hermione finished, her own voice catching. "Ginny, it's not-"

"But you," Ginny whispered. "You broke through that. I don't know how I know this, Hermione, but I wouldn't have been able to stop him from-" she started to sob. "From torturing you or killing you. That first time you broke through...I suddenly woke up. I heard your voice, I could feel his intent. I didn't even know what those curses were, but I knew what he wanted to do with them. I couldn't let him. I fought for control of my own body, harder than I ever thought I could, but he was so strong. I still managed to stop him. I could stay dormant because I thought I was too far gone-no one would forgive me. Colin was my only friend, and we only ever talked about Harry. But you-you of all people reminded me that I have a family, that I have people that think I deserve a second chance. That you would be there for me, that you thought I deserved a second chance. You didn't see your best friend's kid sister, or the pathetic girl with a pathetic crush. I thought, because of the things you said that maybe you were fine. You kept saying you were fine. I even visited you in the hospital, spoke to you when you were released and you said you were fine. I meant to write you while you were in Japan, but we won that trip to Egypt, and I welcomed the distraction."

Crookshanks leapt up in between the two of them, and both girls absently scratched behind an ear each, letting his purring fill the cold void Ginny's silence made. Hermione wished she had never said anything. This seemed too painful for Ginny to confront, and there she was, describing the event in a painful detail that made Hermione's heart literally ache. What hurt the most was seeing just how much Ginny blamed herself-and how much Hermione going back on her words-even if she never meant to-reopened them. Hermione still had nightmares about the chamber, she still heard Riddle's words with Ginny's voice, saw her expression change before she pushed her down the stairs. And how he taunted her, using the voice and face of someone she trusted...

I'll kill you when he comes for you and leave Ginny just in time for the little blood traitor to see the last breath leave your frail, little body.

Hermione would never forget those words as long as she lived. But you could...he did it once against your will, he might do it again if you ask him. And say what? 'I can't live with these memories? I'm too-what? Stupid? Pathetic? Weak? Frail? To process-fuck, does it even count as trauma? Ginny was possessed, Harry did the fighting...And could I even trust him to just erase the memories I ask him to?

Ginny's hurting, stop being selfish, you stupid piece of shit!

"My point," Ginny swallowed. "Is that I know what it's like not to trust anything before you. I'm still dealing with it and I'll probably be dealing with it for a long time. But you helped me a lot. You don't seem to know that."

How? You just said I woke you to some of the most traumatic shit you've lived through...

Luna's voice of all things came into her head, I think you're way too hard on yourself...

Why she heard Luna's words there, she didn't know. Hermione reviewed her reactions to things, and the mistakes she made concerning Ginny, and came to the conclusion that she wasn't nearly hard enough on herself. So why did she hear them now?

"Ginny, I-"

"Do you think I don't know what crippling guilt looks like, Hermione?" she snapped and suddenly grew fierce. "I've been convinced that this was all my fault since we got out of that chamber! The way you looked at me-I didn't want to acknowledge it-you kept saying you were fine and I wanted to believe it because you were the one that pulled me out of my own dark place. It's not your fault-and I still feel like it's mine."

Hermione placed a too cautious hand on Ginny's shoulder. Part of her wanted to hug her, the girl was so upset, but last time they "hugged" it was Riddle trying to muffle the sounds of Hermione's calling out. Coward...

"It's not your fault, Ginny. If what I said back in the chamber pulled you out of it, then some part of you has to know that."

Ginny nodded stiffly. "I'll probably feel at fault for a while. I talked to Mum about it when we came home. I was too ashamed the first week, but I'm sure you've noticed, she's stubborn," Ginny gave a weak laugh. "But it helped me see something. As much as I feel it was my fault, it wasn't. I'm just a kid and I was taken advantage of. Anyone else would have faired the same in my shoes. I keep having to remind myself that. I have to remind myself every day, but Mum did help me see that it wasn't my fault. And it's not yours either. I'm not even sure how it could be. Mum says our minds will play tricks on us after experiences like that. That sometimes it's better to feel guilty, but in control than it is to admit it wasn't our fault. I don't know how that's true, I'd much rather just think of myself as a victim than feel this guilt. But she's been right about a lot of things."

Another silence passed between them as Hermione processed her words. Hermione was the opposite, it was easier-familiar even-to acknowledge that she was a fuck-up than a victim. If she just did things right-if she followed the rules her brain laid out for her, maybe she could not be a fuck up. She just had to try harder...but she needed that control.

"Honestly, Hermione," Ginny said in a soft voice. "I know you said you don't trust grown-ups, but talking to my Mum helped, a lot. We still talk about it sometimes. It sounds weird, but it does help. I could ask her to talk to you."

Hermione moved her gaze to her cat. It wasn't just the incident in the chamber that she felt guilty for. She thought about every mistake she made, all culminating to Ginny's hurt, and that man on the cliff-would she ever not think of him? Could she tell anyone? If they forgave you as a scared little girl for not doing something sooner about Ginny, they'd still think you a monster for walking away from him...But I didn't think he'd do it, I don't even know if he did...

"I'll-erm," Hermione dug her nails into her her hand. "I'll take it under advisement."