A/N: Well, here it is. Sorry it's taken so long, but R/L has been a bear lately. Hope y'all enjoy it.
Chapter Two
Harry awoke ten hours later with the morning light peeking through the shades and Crookshanks licking his face.
He sat up and looked around. Hermione was still asleep on the bed. He hadn't really gotten a good look at her last night, but now, as he studied her in the feeble light, he realized just how tired and worn she looked.
"Oh, Hermione," he whispered, "How did it come to this?"
He got up and used the bathroom. He shook his head at the lipsticked message on the wall, and then looked around for a sponge to clean it and the blood up. There was nothing.
Sighing, he went out to the kitchen, and discovered, much as Hermione had yesterday, that there was nothing to eat.
He found her purse, took the money out of her wallet, and put it, along with her keys, in his pocket. He put some food down for Crookshanks, patted him on the head, and let himself out of the house.
He wasn't worried about Hermione waking up before he got back. She was still under the charm. He walked back down the street and to the market he'd stopped in the day before.
"Hello again," said Mrs. Thompson with a cheery smile. "Did you find her?"
Harry smiled weakly. "Yes, yes I did."
In a manner of speaking, he mentally added.
"Is she all right?" asked Mrs. Thompson.
"She's been better," he replied. "She's sleeping right now. I came in for some food and some cleaning supplies. I was going to take her back to England with me, but I don't think she's ready for that yet. That house of hers is a complete mess, and there isn't a bite to eat."
"Go ahead, dear," she said. "If you haven't got the money right now, I can extend you credit. You take care of that girl, you hear me?"
"Yes, ma'am" said Harry. He grabbed a shopping cart and went up and down the aisles, buying enough food for three people for a months worth of meals, and assorted cleaning supplies.
"Oh, my," she said with a smile, "You think you have enough there?"
"I hope so," said Harry.
"It's a good thing you're cleaning the 'old-fashioned' way," she said with a conspiratorial air as she looked at the cleaning supplies. "Out here, where people like us are few and far between? The F.B.M.I. tends to take a dim view of foreigners just using their abilities without a by your leave."
"The F.B.M.I.?" asked Harry.
"Yes, the Federal Bureau of Magical Investigation; they enforce the Statute of Secrecy here in America ."
"Oh," said Harry.
She rang up all the groceries and the total came to quite a bit more than Harry had removed from Hermione's purse. He went to give her what he had as a down payment, and she stopped him.
"Keep that for when you need to go some place that won't extend you credit. I'm not worried; I know you're good for it."
Harry smiled. "It's nice to know that there are still such nice people still in the world."
She let him borrow the shopping cart to carry all of the groceries home in, provided he brought it back later, which he cheerfully agreed to. He thought that he must look rather strange pushing the cart down the sidewalk, but no one that he passed even gave him a second look. He reached the house and took the cart under the carport and back by the kitchen door so that it would be easier to bring the groceries in the house. After he'd carried the groceries and cleaning supplies into the house, and put the groceries away, he cleaned up the kitchen, and went to clean the bathroom.
Now that he had a moment to actually look around the bathroom, he realized that it reeked of dark magic. He frowned, wondering why. It's not like Hermione would have intentionally been casting dark spells, he thought. He pulled out his wand and tried a "scourgify" on the lipstick on the wall. It didn't come off.
Really frowning now, he tried again, with the same lack of effect. He shook his head, and then remembered the cell phone that Tonks had given him. "Maybe somebody at the Ministry will know how to get rid of this," he thought.
He pulled the phone out of his pocket, along with the business card, and dialed the number.
"Minister of Magic's office," said Tonks' welcome voice.
"Hi, Tonks," he said, "It's Harry."
"Harry! Did you find her?"
"Yeah," he said. "It's bad Tonks. I stopped her from killing herself last night."
"Oh, no, Harry," she said, horrified.
"Yeah. She's in no condition to come home yet. I think I could really use some help here."
"What can I do, Harry?" she asked.
"Would you mind seeing if Ginny would want to come for awhile? Hermione still thinks that everybody is dead back home, and seeing some one else might really help."
"I don't think that'll be a problem, Harry."
"I think I can have somebody bring her up here," he said, "I'll have to check though." He ran his hand through his hair. "Tonks, I need to know how I can clean up dark magic. The bathroom I found her in last night reeks of it, and the blood and lipstick simply won't come off. I've tried."
"Oh, Harry," she said sadly, "Wait...lipstick?"
"She wrote the phrase 'Emergency Exit' on the wall. I don't know why, although I can imagine. Scourgify won't remove it."
"I'll see what I can find out. Let me contact Ginny and set up her travel arrangements and I'll get back to you."
"I don't know how to thank you, Tonks. You guys have done so much for me."
"Harry..." He could hear Tonks sniffing in the background, "Harry, you've done far more for us. Take care of yourself and I'll be talking to you in a little while."
"Thanks again, Tonks." He hung up the phone. After a moment, he pulled out the card that Amanda had written her numbers on and dialed her cell phone.
"Yo! It's Manda," she said.
"Hi, Amanda," answered Harry, "It's Harry."
"Hey! Did you find your friend?"
"Yes, I did. Um, Amanda, would you mind doing me a favor?"
"Whatcha need?" she asked.
"A friend of mine should be portkeying in today or tomorrow, and I was wondering if you could bring her up here. I can let you know the time once I know."
"Is everything okay?" she asked.
"Not really," said Harry. "I walked in on her just as she was trying to kill herself."
"Oh, geez," she said. "Is there anything else I can do to help? I've got the next couple of days off."
"Other than picking up my friend, I can't think of anything at the moment," answered Harry. "I'm still trying to adjust to everything."
"I can understand that," she said. "Well, let me know when your friend will be arriving, and I'll pick her up."
"Thanks, Amanda, I appreciate it."
"De nada, amigo. TTYL." She hung up the phone.
Harry stared at the phone for a moment. Americans certainly used the strangest phrases. "TTYL" what did that mean? He shook his head and put the phone away.
He went back into the kitchen and began to cook breakfast. He was standing in the kitchen reading the directions on the back of a package of blueberry muffin mix, when the phone rang.
He answered it, "Hello?"
"Hey, Harry. Tonks here. Ginny should be arriving this afternoon about 2 p.m. your time. You got transportation arranged?"
"Yes, it's a woman named Amanda. I'll tell her what Ginny looks like, and she'll probably be waiting for her."
"Ok. Regarding your other question, I'm sending a book along with Ginny. It's all about psychic residue left by emotional trauma, and how you can clean it up.
"Thanks, Tonks."
"Well, I gotta get back to keeping the gears of Government clicking along. See ya later, Harry."
"Bye, Tonks," he replied.
"Bye."
Harry hung up the phone. He tossed the box of muffin mix on the counter, disgusted with the incomprehensible American measurement system, and then dialed Amanda again.
"Yo! It's Manda."
"It's Harry."
"Hey! So when's she arriving?"
" Two o'clock . She'll be the tall, skinny, red-headed teenager. Her name is Ginny, Ginny Weasley."
"The Ginny Weasley? Ron Weasley's sister?"
Harry sighed, "How do you know so much about that?"
"It was big news here, and I read all the articles. If the truth be known, I found Ron to be rather attractive."
Harry snickered. "I think he would've liked that, Amanda. He probably would've found you attractive as well." He cleared his throat. "Do me a favor though, and don't bring up Ron with Ginny. She's still kind of sensitive about it."
"I won't, Harry. I'm sorry; I must be coming off like some kind of demented groupie or something."
"No," he said, "You're not. It's just... Well, we're all a little tired of all the notoriety. We're famous for all the wrong reasons. Hey, I need to go wake my friend up, so I'll talk to you later?"
"Sure. Ginny Weasley. 2 p.m. Portkey station. I'll be there, Harry."
"Thanks, Amanda, I really appreciate it."
"Hey, what's your number? So I can call you once we get closer to Dade City and you can tell me where you are."
"Actually, Amanda, I don't know what it is. I was given this cell when I left England , but I don't know its number. Besides, it's probably an international call for you. However, directions are easy. Remember the market you dropped me off at?"
"Yeah."
"Turns out the house is only a block up the street from there. Look for the house with no car in the driveway, and an overgrown front lawn with a palm tree."
"Okay. Will do. TTYL." She hung up.
-*~*~*~*~*-
He entered the bedroom and stood over her, noticing that the worry wrinkles had smoothed out in her face, and she looked much more like the Hermione he remembered before everything had gone so wrong.
He passed his wand over her, and muttered the counter charm that would let her wake up naturally, rather than force her awake.
After a few moments, she started to toss and turn and mumble in her sleep, and with a shout of "Harry!" she snapped awake.
She opened her eyes and looked at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then turned frightfully pale. "Oh, my God," she moaned, "It wasn't a dream. You're really here."
"Yeah, 'Mione, I'm really here," replied Harry with a smile.
"Oh, God, Harry, what you must think of me." She burst into tears. "I'm a drunk, a doper, and a suicidal idiot all in one."
He reached out and took her trembling hand in his. "Hermione, I don't see any of those things. I see a horribly hurt person trying to understand why everything she ever cared about was so callously ripped away from her. I see my friend, my best friend, who needs my help."
The love in his voice was almost more than she could bear, and she burst into a fresh torrent of tears.
"Where were you?" she asked, finally. "I needed you so much in those first days, and you just weren't there."
"I know. I was lying in a hospital bed on the continent in a coma. I didn't wake up until four months later, and when I did, I couldn't remember who I was. It took me another five months before I regained my memory."
He paused, and then looked at her. "I went back to Diagon Alley, Hermione, and there I discovered some wonderful things."
"Like what?" she asked.
"For one thing, I ran into Neville and Ginny. They were the first people I saw when I entered the Alley," he said earnestly.
"But...they're dead," she whispered, but with a hint of hope in her voice. The first hope she'd felt in a long time.
"No they're not, 'Mione. And neither are Fred, George, Charlie, Molly, Tonks, or Professor McGonagall. Oh, actually I should call her Minister McGonagall now; she's the newly elected Minister of Magic."
She burst into tears again.
"'Mione, what's wrong? I'd thought you'd be happy to hear that," he said anxiously.
"Oh, Harry, I feel like such a fool. Here I am, supposedly the smartest witch of our generation, and I'm sitting in a dump in the States drinking myself into a coma without even bothering to find out if it's necessary!"
"You can change that, you know," he said. "I've got a pair of portkeys spelled to take us home anytime we want. We just grab them, and zip, we're standing in the Burrow. When you're ready, that is."
She nodded and was silent for a moment. "So Ron really is gone then," she said.
Harry nodded, "Yes he is, Hermione. I saw him take two Death Eaters down with a single spell before two killing curses hit him at the same time. I don't think he even knew what hit him."
Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, "He was one of the best friends I ever had, and I will miss him always. But don't you go dying on me too; I don't think I could bear it."
He looked away for a moment, blinked to clear his eyes of the tears in them, and then said, "Come on, we need to go eat breakfast, and then we have some work to do."
"Work to do?" she asked, curious.
"Yes," he replied, "We're having a guest arrive today, and I don't think you want to have the house looking like this when Ginny arrives."
"Ginny's coming?" she asked, with the first hint of excitement he'd heard out of her.
Harry smiled. "Yes, she'll be here this afternoon. A witch I met when I arrived is bringing her up here. She's also the one that gave me a ride up here."
"Is she pretty?"
"What?" asked Harry.
"The witch, is she pretty?"
"I...I suppose so," he stammered, "I wasn't really paying attention. I was more worried about you."
"Oh, okay," she said, not looking at him.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said. She looked at him and smiled weakly, "Really, there's nothing wrong. I'm starving, can we go eat?"
He smiled uncertainly, "Sure. You get changed in here, and I'll go start breakfast." He started out of the room and then stopped, "Oh, don't go in the bathroom in the hallway, use the one in here."
She grimaced. "Did I leave a mess last night? I kind of remember what happened… Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry!" She jumped off the bed and pulled him into a hug. "Thank you for stopping me from doing something really stupid!" Tears were running down her face.
She let go of him and stepped back, and then looked down at herself; at the bloodstains that decorated the clothes she'd been wearing the night before, and her face twisted in disgust. Without considering that he was still in the room with her, she ripped her shirt off over her head and threw it across the room. She hadn't been wearing a bra under the shirt, and Harry swallowed and turned away from her, but not before he'd gotten a glimpse of her body. What he had seen horrified him. Hermione had never been anything but skinny to begin with, and now she had lost so much weight that she had wasted away to nothing. Her breasts were flat masses sitting above protruding ribs; she looked like a walking skeleton.
"I'll…I'll be in the kitchen," he said.
"What's the matter, Harry," she asked in a hurt voice, "You don't find me attractive? Unlike this nameless witch you mentioned?"
Where did that come from? He thought. Why is she bringing that up? And, hell yes, I find you attractive, Hermione! When you don't look like you do now, anyway. He turned back to her, took her upper arms in his hands, and stared into her eyes, mostly so that he wouldn't be staring at her wasted body.
"Hermione," he said, "Let's get a few things straight here. Amanda, the witch I mentioned to you, is nothing more than a very friendly person who gave me a ride up here and offered to help if I needed it. That's all she is!"
He bit his lip, suddenly not sure what to say, "Hermione…I love you. But to see you this way…" He shook his head, "I…it breaks my heart, love. Why you had to go through this…" His eyes suddenly felt very wet, and he blinked furiously.
He let go of her arms, and stroked her face with one hand. "I love you, and only you. I knew it that day at Hogwarts when you begged Ron and me not to go out to face Voldemort, and I knew it when I regained my memories in Rome . That isn't going to change," he said softly. "But first, we've got to get you better."
She burst into tears. "I am such a fool," she sobbed. "I'm all funny inside, Harry. Nothing makes sense anymore. I can't get past this feeling that I failed you and Ron somehow-that I wasn't there when you needed me."
"Hermione, that isn't true!" said Harry earnestly. "You didn't fail us. How could you think that?"
"If I'd been up front with you and Ron in the beginning, I wouldn't have been hit by that rock. But I was scared, and I…I…" Tears were running freely down her face as she looked up at Harry with a look of utter despair that broke his heart.
He hugged her to him with all the strength in his arms, desperately trying to show her that everything was all right; that he was here and that he loved her. "'Mione," he said softly, "Ron and I never thought that you failed us. I understand about being scared; I was so scared back then that I could barely think straight." He squeezed her tight again. "And I'm scared right now," he added softly.
She pulled away from him, various emotions crossing her face. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?" she asked with a disgusted tone to her voice. "I'm failing you-hell, I've failed you for the past year by not being strong; by not getting through this."
"Hermione! No!" he shouted. "You haven't failed me! Bloody hell, Hermione, you haven't failed anyone! It was just bad luck that rock landed on you, okay? It was nobody's fault I wound up in a hospital not knowing who I was! And given what you thought at the time, I'm not so sure that I wouldn't have done the same thing you did! I'm certainly the champion at feeling guilt for things I had no control over!" He stopped, breathing heavily, realizing that he had just shouted this entire speech not six inches from her face.
"'Mione," he said gently, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout. It's just that nothing I was saying seemed to get through." He sighed. "I'm going to go cook now, okay? You'll be all right?"
She nodded weakly, turned away, and went to pick through the laundry covering the floor for clothes. Harry watched her for a moment, and then turned and went out to the kitchen.
A few minutes later, as he was putting bacon in a pan on the stove, he heard the shower turn on in the bedroom, and he smiled to himself. It was almost a half-hour later, just as he was putting their breakfasts on the table that she came in, hair wrapped up in a towel, wearing a loose fitting light blue sweatshirt with a picture of some species of dragon that Harry didn't recognize on it, and a matching pair of light blue sweatpants.
"Hey," he said cheerily, "just in time!"
She smiled at him uncertainly, and then said quietly, "Thanks for being here, Harry."
She looked down at the table, and the rather large meal that Harry had cooked. He'd conjured some of it; he wasn't nearly as good as Molly Weasley, but he wasn't bad either. There was bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, blueberry muffins, fresh fruit, cereal, milk, juice (both orange and pumpkin), and coffee.
"Harry, how are we going to eat all that? I don't eat all that much; I just don't seem to have much of an appetite anymore." She looked down at the floor sadly.
He walked over to her and lifted her chin with his fingers. "'Mione, you want to get well, yes? Then you need to eat. This isn't healthy."
"Eating your cooking, you mean?" she quipped with a half-hearted smile.
He pulled out a chair for her at the table and seated her. "Now I want you to at least try to eat a little bit of everything here." He seated himself next to her, and reached for the glass he had set out for her. "Would you like pumpkin or orange juice?"
" Orange ," she said.
He filled her glass with the orange juice, and then watched as she gingerly took a sip of the yellow liquid, and then nibbled at some bacon and toast. "Try some eggs," he said, "I made them special."
"How so?" she inquired.
"I conjured them!" he said.
She looked at him superciliously for a moment and then tried a forkful of the eggs. She spit them out again almost immediately with an expression of extreme disgust on her face. "Harry! Those are horrible! Yuck! They taste like sawdust mixed with engine oil."
He tried them, and had to nod in agreement a moment later as he spit them out and then took a huge gulp of pumpkin juice to rinse the taste from his mouth. He looked at the plate of eggs for a moment and then began to laugh, "Oh, well, Mrs. Weasley I'm not."
Hermione snickered, "No, you definitely aren't."
For a moment, they laughed together, and everything felt normal, like it had before the world had gone to hell. Except that Ron wasn't there, and to Harry, that would never feel normal.
Harry looked at his watch, "Where did the day go? It's almost twelve-thirty, and we haven't even started on the cleaning."
Hermione yawned and then looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm just so tired."
He looked at her with concern. "Why don't you go take a nap then? I can handle the cleaning."
"Harry, it's my mess. I should clean it up. It's not fair to make you do it."
Harry smiled. "I don't mind. You were always cleaning up after my messes; it's only fair I return the favor."
"Harry, I…"
"Look," he said, "the biggest help you can give me is to get well. If your body says you need sleep, then go get some sleep. I'll wake you when Ginny gets here."
She looked pensive for a moment. "Harry…"
"Go," he said encouragingly, "I can handle this."
She finally gave in. "Oh, all right. But you promise to wake me when Ginny gets here?"
"Yes, I will."
She got up from the table and headed toward the back of the house. Harry poured himself a cup of coffee. At least she'd eaten something, he thought. She's so bloody skinny! There's nothing there! He took a gulp of coffee, his feelings as bleak as the coffee was bitter.
Once he was done with the coffee, he got up and went back to check on her before starting to clean. He found her curled up asleep on her bed, body shivering even in her sleep. He pulled the sheets and comforter up around her, and stroked her forehead gently until the shivering went away.
"I love you," he whispered.
He went out to the kitchen, grabbed the trash can that he had bought, and dragged it out to the living room. He started tossing the empty whiskey bottles that littered the floor into the can, followed by the one sitting on the coffee table, and finally the contents of the ash tray. He opened the blinds and let the bright daylight into the dingy room, and then opened the window and the front door to let outside air refresh the stale contents of the house.
Hermione didn't have a vacuum cleaner, so there was very little he could do about the dirty carpet. He dragged the trash can into the kitchen and proceeded to clean out the rest of the whiskey, dumping each bottle down the sink before tossing it in the can. By the time he was done, the can was full. He opened the kitchen window above the sink so that air would circulate through the house, and he hoped that wouldn't make Hermione too cold. Not that it was cold outside; it was June in Florida after all, but she'd been shivering an awful lot, and Harry had read somewhere that people who'd lost as much weight as her had trouble staying warm.
He put the lid on the can, and dragged it outside just in time to see Amanda's Mustang pull into the driveway. He looked at his watch and noted that it was three o'clock . Ginny's head popped out the passenger side window and she waved at him. "Hi Harry!"
He smiled at her. "Hi, Ginny."
Amanda brought the car to a halt, and opened the door. "I found her, Harry, although it was a bit of a challenge. Seems that convention I mentioned to you earlier was going back home, and the station was packed. Of course, that means you could come down and get a car now."
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Maybe later. I've got my hands full right now."
Amanda and Ginny got out of the car and went around to the trunk. Amanda pressed a button on her key ring and the trunk popped open. Ginny reached inside and pulled out a rather Mugglish looking suitcase. Amanda closed the trunk.
"How is she, Harry?" asked Ginny, looking serious. "Tonks told me a little bit about last night."
"She's sleeping right now," he answered. "I got her to eat a little bit this morning, but she looks like she hasn't eaten in weeks."
"Oh, Harry," said Ginny with a sad look.
"You're probably going to be shocked when you see her, but try to stay cheerful, okay? She doesn't think much of herself at the moment; she feels that she failed me and Ron somehow by having that rock land on her leg." He shook his head. "It's frustrating."
"I'm going to go, Harry," said Amanda. "I think y'all need some time alone with her before you go and introduce a stranger to her."
"I can't offer you something to drink, Amanda?" asked Harry.
"Nah. You've got my number. Give me a call when you need transportation out of here."
"Thanks, Amanda, I appreciate all of your help."
"De nada, Amigo. See ya." She got back in the car and pulled out of the driveway, heading off down the road.
Harry looked at Ginny. "Well, let's go inside and wake Hermione up."
"Are you sure? If she needs her sleep, we can wait," replied Ginny.
"She made me promise to get her up when you got here," he answered. He looked at her seriously. "She's been drinking and smoking pot, Ginny, and she looks terrible. I'm telling you this so you'll be prepared when you see her; I got her to take a shower this morning, and she cleaned herself up fairly well, but…"
"Did you help her with the shower?" asked Ginny with a grin.
"No, I didn't," he said, irritated. "I don't think either of us is ready for that kind of change in our relationship."
Ginny frowned. "I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to…"
"It's alright, Ginny," said Harry with a smile, "I'm feeling a little out of sorts at the moment. Last night was a bit of a shocker, and I'm still trying to come to terms with it." He gave her a hug. "I'm glad you're here."
He took the suitcase from her and led her into the house. She wrinkled her nose at the sour smell that still pervaded the air, even though Harry had opened the windows and the front door.
"Phew," said Ginny.
"You should've smelled it last night," said Harry, "It was even worse." He put the suitcase down on the couch. "Shall we go get her up?"
"You don't need to," announced Hermione as she entered the room. "Ginny!" she said with a smile as she went to hug her friend. "Oh, God, Ginny, I missed you so!" Hermione started to cry. "I thought everybody was dead!"
Ginny was looking at Harry over Hermione's shoulder and he could see her horror at Hermione's condition written in her eyes. He knew that she was feeling the same bones and the same sense of fragility that he felt when he hugged Hermione. Finally, she stepped back.
"Hi, Hermione!" she said, with a forced smile.
"I look terrible don't I?" asked Hermione with a sad smile. She shrugged, "It's just another way I've failed to live up to what everybody expects."
"Hermione!" said Ginny, "You haven't failed anyone!"
"Excuse me if I don't believe that! Your brother is dead because I failed to be there when he needed me!" snapped Hermione.
"My brother is dead because Voldemort's Death Eaters killed him!" snapped Ginny. "You had nothing to do with it!"
"I could've done something!" answered Hermione. "I'm supposed to be the smartest witch of our generation. I could have figured out something to help him!"
"And you might not have," answered Ginny. "It was absolutely insane. Spells flying everywhere; people dropping right and left; the bloody giants tossing rocks like they were quaffles…it was a bleeding madhouse out there." She stopped suddenly, breathing heavily, overcome with her memories.
"Hermione…" said Harry gently, "No one blames you for what happened. No one. And especially not Ron, Ginny, or I." He went to hug her and was amazed at her reaction.
"Don't…don't touch me!" snapped Hermione.
"Hermione?" asked Harry.
"You're taking her side, aren't you?" she asked with tears in her eyes. "Of course you would. I saw the way you hugged her…out there…in the driveway!" She glared at Ginny. "You're in love with her, aren't you?" She threw her hands up in disgust, and then ran out of the room, crying. A second later, they heard the bedroom door slam.
Harry stared at Ginny in amazement. "W…where did that come from?"
Ginny frowned. "I don't know, Harry. I've never seen her this way." She smiled briefly, "And it would be disappointing news to Neville that you and I are together."
Harry smiled back, "Well, let's not do anything that would upset Neville. He's probably got plants that are a LOT worse than that Mimbulus Mimbletonia."
Ginny giggled, remembering Harry covered in stinksap.
Harry flopped down on the couch, sighing. "What do you suggest we do now?"
She shrugged. "I don't know." She sat Indian style on the floor and opened her suitcase. She reached in and pulled out a book which she tossed to Harry. "Here's that book that Tonks said you wanted."
"Thanks," answered Harry and looked at the book. It was rather garish for a wizarding text, and looked more like a Muggle self-help book. It was entitled "Magical Melancholy: Dealing with the Depressed Wizard or Witch" in bright yellow letters on a white background. The author was someone named Ami Blue.
He opened the front cover and looked at the table of contents. He was relieved to see that at least it appeared to deal sensibly with the subject matter. There were chapters dealing entitled "Recognizing Depression in Witches and Wizards" and "Dark Magic: Its Role in Depression."
Interested, he flipped to that chapter and started reading. After a few moments, he looked up at Ginny. "Listen to this: "
He read, "'Depression and suicidal thoughts in a witch or wizard present an additional hazard in that they can create a miasma of dark magic around the affected individual. The depressed person is not aware that they are utilizing dark magic, and due to the nature of such magic, it reinforces the person's illness. It's a common misconception that dark magic consists of the forbidden curses and the like; nothing could be farther from the truth. Intent counts for a great deal.'"
"That's interesting," said Ginny.
"She goes on to explain that most of the time the dark magic infects the place that the person is living, and that only by removing them from the environment will they have a chance of recovering."
"Hermione is not ready to leave here yet," replied Ginny.
"I know," he replied with a sigh, closing the book. "I just don't know how to help her, Ginny. I could handle Voldemort, and he was just as bad. But there, I had a target; something I could point my wand at and make go away. This is different."
He got up from the couch, setting the book down on the coffee table as he did so. "Are you hungry? I am. In my quest to get Hermione to eat something this morning, I didn't eat much myself."
"Sure," answered Ginny. "Can I help?"
"You pick up any of your mother's cooking skills? I tried making eggs the way she does this morning and failed miserably-they tasted horrible."
"I've learned one or two things," she answered with a smile. "Let's see what you've got."
Together they trooped off to the kitchen to cook.