The reunion felt more heavily-tinged with pain than she'd expected. Of course it wouldn't be simple, but somehow she hadn't expected it to be so immediately complicated. She hadn't thought she would feel obliged to legitimise something as intensely personal as her relationship with Draco.
“You shouldn't have hit him.”
Ginny stared at her, disappointed resignation written across her face. “You could do so much better than him, Hermione.”
Hermione scoffed, her stomach twisting. “I don't really care what you think. He saved your life. I would never have been able to save you on my own.”
Hermione could see a dozen objections in Ginny's expression, but she sighed and closed her eyes.
“Right.” Ginny slid the door shut. “If that's what you want, I won't say anything else. I just — Hermione—” her voice caught, and then she hesitated for a moment. “Never mind.”
There was a long, uncomfortable silence.
Hermione looked up and down the hallway slowly. “Where are we?”
Ginny looked around with her. “We're at the top of the house. Or — do you mean where is the house?” She shrugged a shoulder and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I don't actually know. Malfoy says we're somewhere in East Asia, but that could be a total lie. We're on an island — somewhere. It takes about half a day to walk across it. I've never left. I'm not even sure how to leave it. The elves go for supplies every few months, but they don't take orders from me.”
The light coming through the walls shifted, and Hermione realised she could see the shadows of the trees through the walls. She reached out and touched a latticed wall and found the lattice was set with paper.
“It takes a while to get used to,” Ginny said as she watched Hermione. “Most of the walls slide, so you can open the house and rooms up so that it's open, or section them off. Malfoy — he said you didn't like it if it's too open, so I had the elves put all the walls up.”
Ginny slid open a second set of wooden doors facing the doors they had entered through. It revealed a room with a large circular window that looked over treetops and the ocean beyond.
The furniture reminded Hermione of Malfoy Manor, spindly Victorian chairs and chaises.
Hermione's hand slid slowly to her pocket, and she gripped her wand tightly as she stared at the window.
She forced herself to take a few hesitant steps forward and then froze, trying to absorb it. She was certain the building was already enchanted to be calming or Draco wouldn't have left so quickly. Still, she wanted Draco to be there, beside her, where she knew he was safe.
They were never going back.
He would never go back.
She squeezed her eyes shut and reassured herself of it.
If she could see him, she'd feel more convinced of it. She'd feel more certain that it wasn't a beautiful dream that would turn to dust the moment she really let herself believe it.
She should be with Draco. He might use blood magic again. She didn't know if he had any Blood-Replenishing Potion with him.
Instead she was with Ginny, whose brown eyes were conflicted and sad as she watched Hermione stand motionless in the doorway.
Hermione pressed her lips together and made herself refocus, trying to think of something to say. “Where's James? It's — James, right?”
Ginny gave a hesitant smile. “Yes. James. He's napping. He sleeps a few hours every afternoon. I'd take you to see him, but he's a nightmare about sleeping and if he wakes up, it'll be a terrible introduction.” Ginny reached out slowly and touched Hermione's arm. “Let's go to your room. You're so thin. You should eat something and then lie down.”
Hermione nodded slowly and looked away from the open sea.
“The house sprawls.” Ginny slipped a hand into Hermione's and squeezed it. “It's not magical aside from the protection, so you don't have to worry about the hallways rearranging themselves or anything like that. There's a massive web of protective magic here though. I thought Grimmauld Place had a lot of wards, but this place leaves Grimmauld in the dust as far as paranoia goes. Malfoy is absolute nut about it. Every time he came, he'd spend at least an hour adding more wards.”
The house was fitted against a large forested hill. The portkey had dropped them near the top of the hill, and the rest of the house flowed in a vague U-shape, down over boulders and around the trees, as though it had been fitted there like a puzzle piece.
It wasn't one building, but dozens that were joined by the roofs and bridges that connected to the veranda of each building. There was a large, lush garden in the centre.
Ginny pointed to things along the way.