She knew that voice so well.
Hermione smiled at him sadly as she curled her hands into tight fists behind her back. “I'm sorry, Harry. I can't break the rules. Not even for you.”
Flashback 26
Warning: This chapter contains an episode of self-harm.
March 2003
Ginny's pregnancy went as smoothly as could have been hoped. She was physically drained from the toll it took on her Magic, but aside from sleeping most of the day and refusing most of the food Hermione had sent, her pregnancy symptoms were relatively minor. After hearing about Narcissa Malfoy's near death during pregnancy, Hermione was paranoid about what kind of toll magical pregnancy could take. But Ginny seemed to handle pregnancy easily.
“It's a Prewett thing; easily pregnant, easy pregnancies,” Ginny said with a shrug when Hermione asked.
“That's lucky, I'd hate to be leaving you alone like this if you were as sick as the books say witches can get from pregnancy,” Hermione said, studying the bright yellow orb fluttering over Ginny's stomach. “The baby has a good magical signature; it seems healthy. But I'm not very practiced with any of these spells.”
Hermione flipped to a different page in the Guide to Effective Care in Magical Pregnancy and Childbirth and practiced a charm to check for placenta previa.
“Have you heard anything from Harry and Ron?” Ginny asked after a few minutes of Hermione manipulating diagnostic charms.
Hermione nodded and cancelled all the diagnostics hanging around Ginny. “They're back at Hogwarts again. They haven't sent any messages.”
“Harry sends his stag at night. I think he must do it when he's on lookout duty. It came into my room last night,” Ginny pressed her lips together and looked on the verge of tears.
Hermione squeezed her hand.
“I feel so bad I'm lying to him,” Ginny said, tugging at the tips of her hair. “And that I'm making you lie too. I'm sorry. I should have been more careful.”
“It's alright. You don't need to worry about me.” Hermione gave a weary shrug as she shrank the book and slipped it into a bag.
Ginny leaned forward and grabbed Hermione's left wrist. “Well, I don't have very much to do in here. And I think you need someone to worry about you. You're so thin.” Ginny ran her thumb over Hermione's ulna as though to illustrate how the bones jutted out. Hermione jerked her wrist free and pulled her sleeves down. “You don't look like you sleep at all. You look like you're made of paper. Don't you have anyone?”
Hermione looked away. “Well, George has offered,” she said with a wry smile. “But I don't think he really meant it.”
Ginny poked her. “Be serious. You can't survive this war alone. No one can carry it. We survive together.” Ginny looked Hermione over carefully. “I mean, maybe you were alright before. But — you — you don't look like you're coping anymore. Ever since Christmas, I don't think I've seen you sleep. Don't you have anyone at all?”
Hermione scrunched her nose distastefully. “I think I've already mentioned that cathartic shagging is not my thing.” She scoffed as she shook her head. “Adding a fuck-buddy is hardly going to improve my coping skills.”
Ginny rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I'm not saying get a fuck-buddy. You don't even have anyone to talk to or get a hug from after a bad day. Whenever anyone tries to reach out to you, you push them away, the way you did with Harry on Christmas. I don't understand why you don't let anyone share the load. I know that look in your eyes; it's the same one Harry gets when the war is crushing him. But Harry knows he has Ron no matter what, and me, and you, and the family, and DA, and Remus and Tonks, and the Order, and even his stupid Muggle fights when it gets too heavy. He's got all that to fall back on when he needs to put it down for a little while. You need to do that too.”
Hermione stared down at her nails and fidgeted with the cuticles for a minute. “What load do I have that anyone would be willing to share with me?” Her voice was bitter.
She turned and looked out the window for a minute before looking back down at her hands. “It's worse, Ginny, to think someone is there for you to lean on and then find they aren't when you need them most. I can't — I can't take that risk. I wouldn't be able to handle it.”
Ginny gave a frustrated huff and poked one of the glamoured pustules on her wrist. “Harry and Ron get angry at you because they care, though. You can't assume that people are going to let you down and just never give anyone a chance. What if they'd be there, and you never trusted them enough to find that out?”
Hermione twisted her wand in her hands. “What if they aren't? When I really need them to?”
There was a pause, and Ginny gave a sad sigh.
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment before reopening them. “This way has become habit for me, Ginny. I don't know how to do it differently.”
“What about me?” Ginny said, with a small smile.
Hermione looked at her. “You?”
“Why can't you talk to me? See? We've been friends for years; we've roomed together for nearly four years. But you never even considered that I'm someone for you to talk to. Even before I became an Order member, Harry and I were still able to talk about things. He could tell me enough. You can talk to me. You can trust me. I won't judge. I'm trusting you. I'm here for you. If you need someone, you can talk to me about anything.”
Hermione stared at Ginny guiltily. “Ginny… I — it's not a matter of me not trusting you. I — just — I don't—“
Ginny's expression fell. “Never mind. I'm not trying to make you. I just wanted to you to know you have someone to talk to. If you ever wanted to. Even if I disagree with you, I'm not going to stop being your friend.”
“Thanks, Ginny,” Hermione said, looking away. “I do appreciate it. If I could — I would talk if I could. But I don't even know where to start. And—” she glanced at her watch, “I need to go. Padma's shift is starting soon, and I'm still helping her manage it.”
“Okay,” Ginny sighed. “I'll let you go then. Is Padma alright?”
“As well as can be expected. She's still adapting to the prosthetic; it gets sore and she tires easily — the charm work is not as good as it could be. Flitwick and I are still tinkering with the balance.”
Hermione gathered her books and potions up and shoved them all into a bag before she walked out of Ginny's room; making a show of removing all kinds of protective wards from her body and applying cleansing charms before heading to change her clothes.
On her way to the hospital ward, she stopped and leaned against the wall for a few minutes. She pressed her palms flat against the wallpaper to try to stop the trembling in her hands.
She hadn't been able to sleep for more than a hour or two at a time since Christmas. She took Dreamless Sleep potion once a week on Monday night, so her hands wouldn't shake during training with Draco.
Everyone else congregated in the sitting room at night when they couldn't sleep, but Hermione found herself unable to bear being there. She stalled the conversations; people tried to cheer her up and include her. She was too tired to pretend.
Most nights, when the house was quiet, she'd sit alone in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, trying to find something to do to to fill all the cold empty hours until sunrise.
She pulled her hands away from the wall and went to take her shift.
Hermione was on the stairs with Padma, helping her practice ascending the stairs without a cane, when the door of Grimmauld Place burst open.
“No! Let go! Let go!” Harry was screaming and trying to tear himself out of Remus' arms as Remus dragged him through the door. “Fuck. LET GO OF ME!! We can't leave them!!”