Unofficial Portkey Archive

Life and Times

Rating: R

Ship: HHr (main emphasis)

The (unlovely) procedure: all rights go to JKR for previous plot and characters, Scholastic, Warner, and whoever else has their hands in HP.

Author Note: Hermione leaves her parents after the nightmare. Emilie and Frederick are left in the shadows of truth, or Hermione's intent for safety of her mother and father. She takes residence at the soon-to-be Mister and Missus Longbottom's flat where she revitalizes one Weasley's mood. How many definitions are there for "friend"?

***

Chapter Thirty-Nine - Friends

***

Paralyzed.

I don't think I could move anymore.

After hearing, seeing, and feeling terror…

I remember being in an office. I knew by the distinctive archaic stone architecture, history corroded into the very walls that I was inside Hogwarts. The various banners of the Houses, numerous bookshelves and shelves containing gadgets and whirling gizmos, the desk in front of me and the chair… I was in the Headmistress's office. The chair, which always faced the entryway, where I'd come from, was turned around. In a malaise, a swirling state of consciousness, I all but stumbled my way forward.

"Professor?" I asked, slurring.

Fawkes shook his thick, feathery mane, blinking at my drunken steps.

A glowing pensieve, its bluest of blue colour dazzled in its corner.

I heard the Sorting Hat snoring while it slept.

Everything was…dreadfully silent.

"Professor?" At the desk, the gigantic Head chair masked any sort of familiarity or unfamiliarity.

I tensed, waiting for the inevitable shock of horror, the pattern with these mind-trips.

A multitude of small and large, tiny and tall, clocks all ticked non-unison.

Goose pimples erupted along my skin the moment I saw a burnt hand, the skin on its fingers flaking off after each bend like charcoal. I saw a ring glimmer, the gold band, the onyx, diamond-shaped stud in the centre. I knew it, the cursed jewelry, the horcrux Harry had in his snitch; the piece Dumbledore wore on his hand, killing him.

Going backwards, I readied my wand and pointed it directly at the Head chair, gilded in gold and stylized with plum crescent moons. The disheveled hand rose as if to free me from worry, but I wasn't born yesterday. I kept vigilant and tight, the crosshairs square on whatever being sat still. The hand lowered, the fingers, the joints sounding like each one broke as it curled around the armrest's leading edge.

"Come out." I'd had enough of these games. I was done waiting.

The being stalled and I could hear more bones crunching.

"Come out now!" I demanded, shouting and outright disturbing Fawkes who drew several shrill caws towards me, its neck outstretched and its reddened feathers ruffled.

I heard shuffling, a cough… Soft cloth hitting the floor… White, long hair coming into view.

The person's hands were raised, palms facing forward so I could see them. On Muggle police shows one would derive this person was being accosted for his wrongdoings right down to the trepid, cautious walk before the good guys. Blue eyes bore at me from behind half-moon spectacles. Each wrinkle of his skin scarred his severely-aged face. He looked tired, shoulders slumped, back bent in a hump, his figure taken by tented robes.

"Miss Granger…"

"How long did you know?" The point of my wand never left the elderly male. My voice was incredibly still, though my mind was in maddening chaos.

A beleaguered silence impregnated the air, only to be stirred by a crippled reply of:

"…I apologise."

"How long did you know?!" That wasn't enough. He wasn't going to cut loose that easily.

More silence, and it struck me like a dagger.

I gritted my teeth and shook out of it.

"We have to clean up the mess you made!" I spat my venom. "You could have stopped it! YOU COULD HAVE PREVENTED WHAT HAPPENED!!"

He merely stared at me, his Adam's apple bobbing up-and-down. In that second he resembled a nobody, a criminal, a homeless person wrapped in a single soul.

"You did Harry wrong… You did everyone wrong! What say you?! Speak!"

The aged man let out a pent huff and shook his head, "Miss Granger, I can still be of assistance. I can help."

I shook my head quick, jerking it back and forth to rid myself of this plea.

"No you can't…," I swallowed hard, my voice calming cold. "…Because…"

He watched me as if he could… Read my mind.

Read it.

"…You're dead." I didn't breathe in-between.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The brightly green flash from my wand drowned the atmosphere, leaving me blind.

…I heard footsteps when I lingered just at the edge of sleep, removing myself from twilight and into what I considered bleak reality. I stared at a wall, mated in a grey-coloured hue, the tint of my worldly glasses. Green-and-beige sheets surrounded me. My head on a soft pillow, the room smelled of flowers with a hint of cinnamon, recognised as nothing apart of Number Twelve nor my parent's home in London.

I remained stationary with languid eyelids and a limp body. Someone had to have tucked me in for I hadn't strength to do much of anything. How I managed my senses was a feat in of itself. I heard something turning above me and shifted ever-so-slightly to see a fan rotating, its blades churning this awful, almost heartbeat drum. I blinked, eyes dry, but with a full stomach. I'd eaten a sandwich and soup after I'd come to Gin and Neville's. I practically broke my parent's hearts when I succeeded in telling them I wanted to go with Gin, stay with her.

If they wanted me… Death Eaters… I wasn't about to witness them strike my family. I had to relieve them of the burden they had no recollection about, obliviating them for time on the run. They thought they'd done something terrible to cause my anguish, and for me to wave goodbye and to see my mum take it so hard… I could see her leave my presence when I told them, Gin by my side with my belongings, that I didn't want to be there anymore. I knew when mum left she left to cry much like the emotion dad held back as he digested my reasons, or excuses. Safety from any danger, that's what I wanted and that's what was needed.

They were sitting ducks while the environment stayed as it did. If the Death Eaters were primed to watch my every move, I'd be better off near the wizarding world where the boundary wasn't so thick. Besides, I thought as I turned farther over by the ounce of will I had left, having a very blatant wand ready-as Gin did stuck from her pyjamas-wouldn't exactly be understood in the other society. More like a…fashion faux pas, a presumably wooden stick shown from inside your trousers. We wouldn't want any questions raised.

"You're awake," She spoke low. Quietly, she bundled plates and glasses together atop one another, the clink of porcelain softened by her slowness. She looked at me as she did this.

I nodded with my head against the cool pillow.

"Did the chicken broth taste all right? Did I put too much pepper?"

I shook my head.

She went to take the plates and glass from the tray, but set them down to sit upon the bed. She lay on her side, positioning herself so she came in front of me with her legs off the mattress. I watched her, and then felt her hand on my cheek, on my forehead, sifting around in my hair and circling back to my cheek where she stroked the skin.

I could see the uncertainty mixed with the same distress as mine within her focus, her eyes heavy, and her hair not princess-perfect.

I closed my eyes, the stroke soothing, but re-opened them to her voice, asking, "Did you take that hot shower you promised?"

I nodded.

She frowned and leaned in.

My eyes shut on reflex while I felt Ginny's lips peck-kiss my forehead. She let her nails gently graze my cheek, tracing my jawline in an action to remove her hand. She pushed from the guest bed with that hand and hopped off. Picking up the kitchenware, and moving aside the tray, she affirmed, "I'll be right back, okay? In seconds."

I nodded, my own voice struggling to respond, "…Okay."

"Okay…," Her voice trailed off, disappearing beyond the doorway only to have another take her place.

Neville gently knocked on the opened door. "How you doing there, lovely? Can I get you anything?"

I made a grin, and shakily replied with, "Nah… And, I've been better."

"Don't you worry about a thing, all right? I'm sure they've caught those bloody arseholes and showed them a thing or two. If it's true the investigation teams, or the Aurors for that matter, have been dabbling in Middle Aged devices for interrogation, I hope they lop off all their heads with the ol' guillotine and be done with it. Bloody…"

He paused.

"…I can't even think of a word to describe them. Pure, hellish evil."

I looked from his dress robes, Ministry-ordered with an embroidered "M" and the number 899 sewn into a breast pocket. He had his hair combed over, his tie straight, briefcase in hand, and knew he set for work. A feeling of trudging on a person's practice crawled within my gut, and I started to feel uneasy. Not so much uneasy from being here, but for being here, another place where I sullied a routine.

I believe I began to get up. Neville hadn't a clue, his eyes leaving mine to see into the hallway. On my shoulder, and glancing in reflex to objects moving, something halted my impromptu actions. Gin, shuffling between Neville and the door, briefly looked at her soon-to-be husband and walked on into the guest room. She went for the tray and let down the kick-stand, placing it behind a cabinet out of the way. She did this without really looking at anyone other than me, and furtively, seeing how my body had risen. She pointed at me, and then pointed down.

I fell back to the mattress without discourse.

I heard clearing of one's throat, and both Gin and I gazed at Neville. He had his arm above him, propped on the door's frame. He watched his beloved, and how he watched her reminded me of…

I lifted my legs and curled myself into a ball where none could see.

"You forgot something," he said with a smirk.

"Hm?" Gin had stopped in the middle of the room, halfway from the cabinet and halfway somewhere else. While examining her fiance, she used her fingers to tuck in that Weasley-red behind her ears, a habit I'm sure picked up from me.

Neville patted his lips with the pad of his index finger.

"Mmn…," She made a tiny sigh and trekked to Neville. She planted a kiss on his cheek and lingered there a bit, especially when Neville took his hand and ran his fingers alongside the curvatures of her face.

I had to close my eyes, my throat clenched tight.

"I'll be back in the morning. You know how to reach me if anything happens," I'd opened my eyes again to see Neville's lips pulling from Gin's forehead. Gin peeked at me from the side, her hand on Neville's chest. She migrated from him, pushing away and headed towards the bed. "The trick charms are armed."

"Have a good night, Hermione," Neville smiled friendly. "I'll try and see if I can get in touch with Harry. I'm not relying on Ministry officials to remember every little detail; though, I am a lowly employee without much clout. I'll do my best."

"Tha-," I squeaked and recovered. "…Thank you, Neville."

"I love you, Gin."

Gin closed her eyes. She was at the bed, having gone to me. She turned around and put on a grin. "Love you too," she replied softly. "Be safe."

I saw Neville go, and then heard doors shutting at a distance, their noises muffled by the length between the guest room and the front door.

I then heard what sounded like wind chimes.

Withdrawing the sheet that crept on my face, tickling the tip of my nose, I breathed the cool air and gazed at Gin who hovering above. She'd turned back around, though hadn't looked at me. Something on the bed procured her interest, and when I shot a glimpse at her vision she quickly averted her golden brown irises. She smiled warmly and set to adjust the sheets surrounding my form, smoothing where the sheet wrinkled and loosening parts I'd tightened.

She stood back straight after combing a bit of my hair with a nail. She smiled again, observing my form fidget and release from the ball. I smiled in return and yawned, reaching out to take the pillow underneath me. She sat down on the edge and asked, "Anything else I can do to make you more comfortable? Some freshly brewed tea maybe? I'd say wine, but Neville's…he's thrown out…"

She shook her head, closed her eyes and breathed. "We have crackers if you're hungry."

I just shook my head "no".

"All right then," She removed herself and patted smooth the place she had sat on. She looked me over before saying, "Well, I'll be in the bedroom if you need anything, anything at all. Even if I've gone to sleep, wake me up. I'm there for you."

I grinned, and I could feel my very heart grow; an unusual feeling after so many days without a soul.

"All right," She made a move, stopped, nodded which made her hair fray about, and started off.

With each step away that growing heart shriveled. It was like…a metaphor. I don't know. I just didn't, couldn't let Ginny leave me. I didn't want anyone else to leave me. No more of my loved ones leaving me-ever, ever, ever again.

"Ginny!" I shouted, which caught us both. I hadn't meant to yell, but it came out that way. I'd shot from the mattress, the sheet slipping down my side. At the door, her hand on the knob, she didn't stammer. She flipped to face towards me, flaming red hair and all swishing.

"Please," I begged after a moment of pause. "Please…don't leave me…"

I started to cry, my only true release.

I'd dropped my head, and by the time I looked back up she was there. No wavering, she pulled the sheets down and slid in beside me. Instantly, she wrapped her arms around me and held me against her. She rubbed my head, stroked my cheek with a tranquil hand and offered several "Shh's".

"I feel so alone," My teary, puffy eyes upon hers. The streaks of sadness quivered my vocal. "I don't… I don't know anymore. It's so cold… It's been so very cold…"

Gin, putting her hand to cradle the back of my head, lightly caressed my forehead. I settled, or tried to, aside her and within her warm aura. I felt her secure arms about me, and for a first time since Harry's departure for the Ministry I felt a sort of safety.

"You won't be alone anymore," She announced quietly, firming her grip of me. I'd slipped in closely, so close our knees touched. She felt of my flannel. I felt of her cloth. I snuggled into my best friend and shook with the emotional remnants.

"You'll never be cold again," She declared. "I won't have it-never again for as long as I live."

"Do you think he'll be there for your wedding? Do you think he's okay? Do you think he's safe where he is?" Each question raised the exhaustion of my very fibre.

***

I awoke, hearing odd noises.

So relaxed and cozy, I'd forgotten where I was until my eyes flittered open. Above the usual rainstorm, a thump, and then another resounded into the guest room from the hallway. The door had never been shut, so the sound easily echoed. I realised, however, by the white drapes in front of me, translucent and filtering in a struggling sunlight through dense rain clouds that this wasn't my master bedroom, my Number Twelve.

On my left side, not facing the open door, I went to lift but stopped when I felt a tightening grip. At some point in the night I'd rolled over, now spooning with Gin. Those were her warm arms around me, her breath at my neck; though, her breathing shifted by the halted action. I settled back in, and she began to wake. She wiggled and pulled me closer, pushed her face into my backside and hair, and breathed in a deep morning breath. I heard her yawn, her fingers finding my hand once more, or where they lay intertwined at my chest.

Another thump, and obvious bumbling inside the house instantly had her rise. Where I'd started to close my eyes and slip into sleep again, she was up and out of bed. Rolling on my back, I first felt the sheet flip from her and the chilled, dry atmosphere hit my form. I rubbed my eyes and watched her hop to the edge and leap from the room, stumbling when she smacked into the doorframe on her way out. I laughed a little at her silliness to have her come around and stick her tongue out at me.

"Neville's home," she hastily whispered. Amidst raising an exposing leg shifting from a single night shirt, she had a sock in her hands and jumped on one foot to get the other clad with it.

"Mm…," I groaned, placing my palm over my eyes a second. The steady rain kept the silence out.

Pushing off the bed, and seeing Ginny do another hop while she slid a sock over her opposite foot, she gave me a quick little grin and said, her grin floundering by another bumble beyond the bedroom, "He's never one to tell me, but he gets rather hungry. Sometimes he leaves here with only a bran muffin. So, when he comes home I feed him. Would you like anything special for breakfast? I usually fix toast and eggs, maybe sausage links… Unless he's too tired, and then I fix sweetened oatmeal and coffee."

"Whatever is fine," I didn't really understand why she went about all this with haste, and thought it was more of that routine I treaded on. I shook my head, my tassels flattened on one side with bed-head. I went to comb the side out by hand.

"Would you mind if I helped? I need to do-"

"No," She cut me off. "No. You stay right there in bed. Not like you need beauty sleep, but I swear if you get out I'll scold you, possibly beat you. Possibly. I'll find the broom, wherever it is. I swear."

I wasn't going to argue. I was tired, and she seemed to be a woman with a plan. I flopped right back down into the soft sheet folds and mattress.

"Stay cozy and I'll come and get you when it's ready."

"Yes, mother," I imitated that frustrated adolescent dialect. "Whatever you say, mother."

She made a gasp and smirked, "You're becoming less and less spoiled! Imagine that!"

I would have thrown a pillow at her if she hadn't walk from view and merge into the hallway. Instead, I lightly chuckled with my hand back over my eyes.

It didn't take me very long after getting still to find my twilight.

***

I usually didn't drink coffee, but I wouldn't waste Ginny or Neville's hospitality. So, when Neville offered the pitcher while I stood at the counter buttering my toast, I smiled and poured some in a mug. To hide the insanely bitter taste, I found the cream and sugar and soon the coffee drank more like hot chocolate. My hand on a jar of strawberry jam, I dipped a spoonful and slathered the two pieces of bread I had. Neville had given me the spoon, and he observed my spreading precision. Not a single sticky drop landed on their white plate.

"You know," Neville said while sipping his black coffee. He had his mug up to his lips and let out a sigh after he swallowed.

I glanced at him amongst my obsessive compulsiveness.

He looked between me and the selected food. "The short time you've been here has given Gin vinegar. I don't know what you do or say, but keep doing whatever it is."

He looked passed me, and I swished my head to his visual direction to see and hear Gin whistling while she prettied the silverware at our chairs. I smiled when I saw her brilliant smile, her radiantly white gnashers and her flames lively giddy.

"She missed you."

I turned back to Neville. His eyes went to mine, and I smiled when he did.

My eyes went back to Ginny.

She peeked upwards and cocked a brow. "What?" she inquired with scrutiny.

"Nothing." I heard Neville laugh, sipping his coffee mug.

Her eyes narrowed.

He wandered on over to the table with his bowl of oatmeal.

"You two are scheming something… I just know it. The moment I turn my back something's going to happen, right?"

"You've caught us," I smiled, walking my toast and coffee to the table, too. The bottoms of my soft Merlin slippers tapped the floor, taking my time to a chair. "The wizard's out of his robes, now."

Ginny bounded around to me and put her arms loosely about my neck, her chin on my shoulder, her cheek against my own. She ruffled the unbuttoned upper part of my royal blue-and-black checkered flannel shirt as she embraced me. Then, she put her mouth to my cheek and…

…Blew a raspberry, and loudly. It sounded…unpleasant, and I scrunched up my nose and fought against her now vice-like grip.

I chuckled into a bite of toast and patted her arm, my cheek left with a very wet mark.

***

Ginny wanted to make chocolate chip-flavoured biscuits.

It was humourous seeing her with a gigantic spoon, going at the inside of an enormous bowl as if she were fighting to squish something inside it. She'd already made a batch, the rack cooling on the oven top. She dared me with a warning that if I touched it, she'd bite my finger off. And, she meant it, wagging her finger at me.

She wore this pink homely apron and had a handkerchief in her hair. I'd come from the living area, watching the news which depressed me, the anchors discussing morbid events or Dark Mark scares across the English Channel. Or, they'd begin taking shots at Harry, or me, or Harry and me. I changed the channel to some movie, but became disinterested by spectacle and no intelligence fast. Disgusted, I clicked the off button on the remote and ventured into the kitchen with Ginny.

I had a cup of tea in my hands. I leaned so my back sort of lay at an angle on their countertop's ledge. I was on Ginny's right and watched her actually picking up some sweat with all her work. But, she happily sang the tune on the radio, a peppy song I'd never heard of, so I was sure the musicians were based primarily in the wizarding society. The high spirited music sounded as if it came straight from the circus, a uniquely acoustic mix of drums, horns, and guitar. I think I even heard a xylophone and a pan flute concoction.

Fixing the red cuffs around my elbows, the jacket I wore fidgeting upon a black t-shirt, I said the obvious whilst placing a hand in my black shorts.

"You look like your mum."

I sipped my tea and, eyes widening, saw a monster enrage as Gin pushed from her bent position in the oven. Daggered, she shot, "Don't. Ever. Say that again."

I let a laugh out when Ginny puffed some of her Weasley-red from her eyes. She stuck her tongue out at me.

"In that ungodly frilly thing you're wearing…"

"Hey!" She pointed at me, and then let a smirk form. She laughed at my wonky expression, eyes crossed. "This was a gift from my grandmum!"

"And hey," I set my tea down on the counter and put my hands about an inch above my breast. "You're halfway there already."

Ginny pushed me, and pushed me hard. I did a step to my left, laughing and seeing Gin laugh as well.

She pushed on me again the moment I could stand. I stepped in the same direction, and laughed again, doubling over at her stern, yet smirking face. She put her hands on her hips, which made her more `Molly Weasley'. "For your information, I am dreading the fact that we'll all turn into our parents whether we want to or not. Now I've only a hundred pounds left to gain…"

"All those cheeseburgers and chips…soda…sweets… That double chocolate frog with whipped cream filling I saw you eat that one day. That had to set on a few-"

She pointed at me with the batter-ridden spoon.

"Hush you!"

She closed her eyes and shuddered.

I laughed.

"Sorry we can't all be a hundred pounds, thin, royally perfect like someone I know." She took off and tossed the apron as if it was fire, and she was ablaze. "That's it! I'm tossing the biscuits out!"

"Don't you even!"

"You called me fat!"

"Oh shush. I'm pulling you. You're gorgeous."

She stuck her tongue out. "Quit being so damn thin and eat something."

"I do… Just not twelve at a time."

"I hate you, you know?"

"Shut up, you love me."

"Well…maybe," She smirked. "At times, at very rare times. Maybe. Always possible. With luck."

I laughed through my nose. "Are you ready to be Missus Longbottom a couple days from now?"

"Sure."

She dropped her eyes from me and I took her diverted look, coming in an escaping with one of those cooling chocolate chip biscuits. She gasped, and went to grab it from me, but I'd already bit.

To spit it out right away.

My features soured.

"What?" She asked concerned, following me to the paper towel roll and spat it out there. "What? Was it too hot?"

I explained when I could, scraping all of the biscuit off my tongue. "It's…a bit salty."

"Salty?" Ginny proclaimed. "I don't understand. I followed the directions strictly. I mean, I've made two batches with a third in the oven! Mum's recipe!"

"Let me see the recipe card…"

She gave it to me after blowing off some cooking flower.

All it said for the salt content was: a dash.

"How much salt did you put in the mix?"

"It called for a dash!"

"Show me how much `a dash' is."

I held my hand out.

Ginny picked up and carried over salt-shaker, the container's lid gone. She took my hand and poured the tiny white flakes. I observed, and it didn't come to a surprise nor did it stump me for long that she'd put in way too much. A mountain now sat of pure white in the palm of my hand.

With my free hand, I covered my mouth and made a giggle.

"What!" She snapped.

I dumped the mountain of salt in the sink and took a bit, tossing it over my shoulder. "That…was more like a handful. Not a dash, love."

"Well… I tried."

"It's a sign you won't be like your mother, though."

I giggled, and Gin, that smirk carved back in her face, prodded my stomach with her fingers.

I bent when she did and laughed.

"Here," She said, picking up the mixing bowl and dipping out a chunk of biscuit stew from the bottom. "Maybe this batch will taste better. Try it."

She went to put her biscuit mix-covered fingers beside my mouth, but raked it all over my nose, cheek, and chin. The more moist parts dripped on the floor, some landing on my black tights and boots.

"Hahahahaa!"

I scowled.

I didn't think it was funny, but…

I whisked away the bowl, snatching it and took a handful of the mix myself. I slathered Gin's face, and dodged when she came at me. Or tried to, to have Gin's hand smother my nose, forehead, and my hair in goo. I shrieked into laughter, and Ginny did the same, sparring and cleaning the bowl completely out. We were biscuits ourselves, thick with crusting, drying bread and chips after a while. I had to wipe my eyes a few times, feeling the dough everywhere.

Though, I made sure to get Ginny dirtier.

She wasn't getting off easy after starting this war.

The kitchen a mess, bits of splattered biscuit dough on the cabinets and walls taken from our very clothes to throw. We sat at opposite ends of the room breathless, but giggling, laughing at how messy the other looked. Neville came in. I guessed the ruckus woke him. He glanced at Gin, to me, to the kitchen, and back to Gin before rubbing his face.

He just shook his head and shrugged before leaving us to make the area speckless once again.

"Women." He announced while climbing back upstairs.

I looked at Gin.

She looked at me.

And, we both burst into laughter.

***

"Accio."

Gin dropped her wand aside her the second her hand caught the hairbrush. I sat on the floor in front of her with a napkin of biscuit crumbs. Their coffee table had them stacked like a pyramid, still slightly warm, moist, but cooling while they further lay. The television was on, namely their film player. A Muggle would think they've tampered with a DVD player, what with the machine being turned on completely by one's voice. All Gin had to do was tell the player to, "Play Edward Scissorhands," and it went straight to the movie.

I felt Gin above me, taking the brush and gently brushing my locks. Each strand, in thick lines, would begin to curl on their way down starting slightly and then fully at the end. Naturally, I hadn't done anything but shampoo and condition my brunette mane. Hypnotised by the rhythmic strokes scratching my head, I went trance-like and I think I could have went to sleep, my eyes closed.

Only when Gin spoke up did I become fully aware.

"I feel so bad."

"Why?"

She sighed. "Spoiling this gorgeous hair. I'll never do it again, I swear. Something so soft should be in a record book somewhere. It's crazy."

I grinned, my eyes slowly going to close as I felt Gin sift her fingers in my hair, and then produce another cascading brush stroke.

"I'm jealous, Mi. I almost want to shave it all off."

"Don't you dare come back into my room then, witch." I threatened in a smirk. "I'll have my wand bedside."

Ginny chuckled. "Yeah, well… I'm still obscenely jealous. You're so fucking beautiful it kills me. You could wear a brown bag and still be centre of attention. If you get any more pretty, I'll just have to steal you away…"

My brow rose, to hear Gin conclude after a beat. "…and put you in some trophy case."

"Are you excited?" I asked. Something in my subconscious tripped.

"For…?"

"Guess I'll have to explain to Neville."

"What?" She stopped brushing.

"…That he's marrying some dumb bird. Honestly."

"Quiet you." She patted my head and resumed brushing. She hesitated when saying, "I've got quite a lot on my mind. Don't expect brilliant communication. I'm not a Granger after all. Super woman."

"Psh." I huffed. "I wish. Then maybe I'd have half my sanity back."

I'd been smiling, and genuine, my mind taken from the loneliness of missing my Harry…

A slip of the tongue was all it needed to pull me right back in.

Ginny sensed the dynamic change of my aura.

"Mi…?"

It'd been so long now…a little less than a full month…

"…Mi?"

I stared in front of me, but really didn't stare.

The world in my vision became a blurred version where all colours blended into a single disgusting dirt-brown. In my hand I crumpled the napkin and pushed away the plate of biscuits in waiting. I wrapped my arms around myself, my chest, and gathered the extra stretchy, yet tight cotton sleeves of my black-and-white striped shirt into my hands. I held myself. Hugged myself. My sight dropped onto the starkly different colour at my knees. Holes purposely ripped, I could see their knobbiness protrude and pale leg. I curled them underneath me.

"No, no, no…" Gin repeated, dropping the hairbrush on the table. The plastic made a thud against the hard, stained grain. She urged, putting her hands on my shoulders and squeezing them. "Eat another biscuit."

"I'm done." I said, period. "I'm without hunger anymore, through."

"Then come up here with me," I heard Ginny hop on the sofa, and felt her poke me.

I turned to see her, my hair jostling and covering up that one side of my face diagonally.

"Please?" She sat now in the crook of the armrest, arm out and motioning for me.

I wanted to cry, and I don't know where I found the will to move. I suddenly felt cold without my other to keep me warm. Isolated. Removed. Withdrawn. I rolled onto my side and had to climb my way up, finding Gin who supported me by hand. I found my way into the pocket she created for me, my head, my cheek to her chest. I still had my sleeves bundled in my palms when I placed them around her, my face towards the television screen. She wrapped her left arm about my middle, her right hand cradling my head.

I lay there for a while, until she caressed the top of my delicate mahogany and cinnamon threads.

I snuggled into her form, my cheek rubbing against the silky cotton of her collared shirt.

I let my eyes close when she began to run her hand along my back, very carefully, so carefully the tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose. I sighed, opened my eyes once more to see Kim kissing Edward. I'd seen this dozens of times and knew they'd never see each other again, for him to protect her at any cost. She fled the scene, the camera closing in on Edward's saddened face as he watched her run from his castle.

"I missed you," Ginny peeped in.

I closed my eyes and a tear trickled down my cheek.

After a pause, after witnessing Edward's lovely angel ice-sculpture, Kim's ethereal dance in the ice-flakes, his gift, Gin expressed an, "I love you."

To which I replied, "I love you, too."

{The song listened to while picturing/ writing their cookie-batter fight was Rusted Root's Send Me on My Way. A light-hearted, fun little piece given to a much lighter chapter aside from the beginning and its conclusion. I hope it showed they're still young even though they've had to digest some seriously disturbing and psychologically burdensome situations past and presently}

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