Our Constellation--Dramione

Chapter Twenty

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, plotlines, characters, places, events (etc.) all belong to J.K. Rowling, she is the rightful owner. When a character is created by me, you'll know right away ;)

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2 May 1998

The talk she'd had with Blaise replayed in her mind a thousand times over. The words "I will repay you someday, I promise" rang in her ears reverberating with memories, thoughts, and ideas. Though, perhaps her head was throbbing for the right reasons. Her face was sore from the swarm of irritating pixies, and despite the eery silence she was now sitting alone in, the war itself and cries of death loomed all around the grounds like a blanket of miserable apparition.

She thought back to Blaise. There was nothing she could think of that he would be able to pay her with but his gratitude and safety. Then again, Hermione would do it for anyone. She wasn't barbaric, she didn't believe in letting cruelty be the dictator of life and death.

She sat beside herself in wonder on the stairwell.

She was telling Draco the truth. Indeed there would come a time when he would have to choose sides. With Harry and his battle against Voldemort, she had to believe there was only one plan: victory. None of them could afford to lose any hope, though hope itself seemed futile and unwilling to shine through the gloomy reality. She wasn't meant to know what was going down in the forest, but she had to find the faith in Harry that he would come through, not unscathed, only that would take a miracle, but that he would emerge victoriously and worn from his trials. This entire scheme of not knowing was eating away at her faith, and fear threatened to stop its heart.

Harry didn't know what he was doing. He had an idea, but it was only an idea--a concept he obtained from mere memories from a former Potion's master. This idea that he needed to die.

"Hermione?"

"Oh, Ginny."

The youngest Weasley was holding herself, the only way she knew not to cry. It was never ingrained in Ginny to never show emotion, to never cry, she simply never wanted to. In a world where being a Gryffindor student meant instant hatred by the Slytherins, competitors were built, enemies were formed, and all without really knowing why but that the other was foul news. In any scenario, emotions became a vulnerability. Emotions were weaknesses that a snake could pick up on and target its prey in one swift attack. But for Ginny to abandon this sentiment and lose her strength today meant to Hermione that she was surrendering. Just as Hermione had done millions of times prior.

"Oh, Ginny!" She crawled beside Hermione on the stairwell and rested all her weight on her side. "I know."

Ginny suddenly jerked away from Hermione's touched as if she'd been burned by the mere contact. "How?! My brother is dead, Ronald tells me Harry is giving himself up to Voldemort, and I'm never going... I'm never going see him again!" It seemed as if the moment she spoke the words, reality began to set and resonate with her. And she couldn't breathe. She trembled violently at the notion Harry Potter ceased to exist in her very physical world.

Their conversation was like wading into the ocean. All seems calm at first until the wave crashes over you. Your legs come out from under you as you unintentionally swallow the salty sea, and it burns your nose because you can't clear your airways. Your shins are botched and elbows too and you can't seem to find both your legs to stand or the shallow end of the shore. And every time you try to paddle away, you're swept into the next monstrous wave and tossed under the water as weightless as a tumbleweed. Again and again, this happens, but you're too afraid to give up for fear of dying. Ginny was drowning and thought that Hermione was watching from afar with no means to help, but in truth, Hermione had been drowning longer than her. Metaphorically, she was bruised and beat by the current and had seemingly lost hope to find the shore. And by Merlin was her mouth burning.