However, being alive did not appear to be something he cared about. He just looked tired. The rage around him felt smothered. He appeared to be existing out of sheer obligation.
After three weeks, she caught him by the wrist as he was accepting the envelope in her hand. “Draco, please — look at me,” she said, her voice pleading.
He jerked his hand away and looked up at her. His face and eyes were cold. “Is all this not enough for you, Granger? Is there something else you want?”
“No. I just — I'm sorry.”
He sneered. “Perhaps someday when I have time I can make a list for you of all the things that apologies don't fix.”
Hermione's hand dropped. “Draco, I—“
He was gone.
She returned to Grimmauld Place. Her chest felt hollow.
Everything felt void.
She wanted to get rid of her books, her journals, everything related to Draco. It felt vindictive and cruel to have a notebook with neat bullet points:
— Sensitive hands — cruciatus treatment useful context for physical contact
— Shoulders and neck
— Scars — very responsive
— Lower jaw near ears
— Cheekbones
As well as notes for herself:
— Definite interest in hair
— Loosen braids after foraging, pull a few curls free
— Wrists easy contact — find context for pulling up sleeves
— Likes neck/throat. Possessive trait?
— Wear collared shirts partly unbuttoned or v-necks. Borrow Ginny's blue boatneck shirt.
All the psychology books. The books on emotional trauma. On attachment disorders. On body language and involuntary physical cues. She wanted to burn it all.
She went up to her shared room with Ginny. Harry was currently on a mission in Scotland. The Order was trying to find a way to break into Hogwarts. It was the only place they were almost certain there was a horcrux to be found, but the castle was impenetrable. The Death Eaters were thorough when the prison was set up.
Hogsmeade had been nearly razed in the early years of the war. There was no Shrieking Shack tunnel or tunnel via the hump on Gunhilda de Gorsemoor. The Order kept trying to find a way past the wards without success. It was Harry's third mission there. Harry, Ron, Terry Boot, and Zacharias Smith had been sent.
Harry hadn't spoken to Hermione since Christmas.
She cast the unlocking charms on her bedroom door and pushed it open. As she walked in, she heard a quick gasp.
Ginny was huddled next to her bed quietly sobbing. She turned sharply when Hermione entered the room. Ginny's expression as she turned and caught sight of Hermione was anguished; her chest was stuttering sharply as she gasped rapidly through her open mouth. Even her red hair was wet with tears.
“Ginny,” Hermione said. “Ginny, what's wrong? What happened?”
“I don't know—,” Ginny forced the words out and then started crying harder.
Hermione knelt down next to her friend and hugged her.
“Oh god, Hermione—,” Ginny gasped. “I don't know how—”
Ginny broke off as she struggled to breathe. Choked hiccoughing sounds emerged from deep in her throat as she fought against her spasming lungs.
“It's alright. Breathe. You need to breathe. Tell me what's wrong and I'll help you,” Hermione promised as she ran her hands up and down Ginny's shoulders. “Just breathe. In to a count of four. Hold it. Then out through your nose for a count of six. We'll build up to that. I'll breathe with you. Alright? Come on, breathe with me. I've got you.”
Ginny just cried harder.
“It's alright,” Hermione kept saying as she started taking deep demonstrative breaths for Ginny to follow. She held Ginny tightly in her arms so that she'd feel Hermione's chest expanding and contracting slowly as a subconscious cue.
Ginny kept crying for several more minutes before her sobs slowed and her breathing slowly began mirroring Hermione's.
“Do you want to tell me what's wrong, or would you rather I go get someone else?” Hermione asked when she was sure Ginny was not going to keep hyperventilating.
“No — you can't—,” Ginny gripped Hermione's shirt roughly to stop her. “Oh god! I don't—”
Ginny started sobbing into Hermione's shoulder again.
“I didn't mean to—,” Ginny sobbed, “I didn't mean to. I don't know what to do.”
“Ginny, what's wrong?” Hermione was growing cold with dread. What had possibly happened to make Ginny cry so much?
Ginny was silent for several seconds. Then she drew a deep breath and held it for a moment. “I'm pregnant.”
Ginny burst into tears again.
Hermione jerked back and stared at Ginny in horror. She felt as though she'd been violently punched in the chest.
“How? D-did the contraceptive potion not work?” Hermione felt on the verge of a panic attack of her own. Oh god.
If the contraceptive potion had failed—