Scars That Heal (Dramione Fanfiction) [COMPLETE]

5 - Time Out

The dream didn't come for Hermione that night; however, her sleep wasn't completely undisturbed. She had a dream that Ginny kept telling Hagrid that Hermione was a psychologist, and he wanted her to psychoanalyse some dragons he had acquired. Then Ginny turned into Harry, who told her to keep look out for herself and make sure she didn't buy too many homework projects. Then Malfoy appeared, and he did nothing. He just stared at her, grey eyes against the brown, and she melted into him and they became a puddle of tears falling from a fountain; the Fountain of Fair Fortune.

Then she woke up. Her headache, which had been blinding her the day before, was gone and she felt refreshed. Maybe today will be a good day, she though tentatively. It was a Saturday, so she didn't have lessons; getting those homeworks out of the way would be a good plan. She walked to the Great Hall and helped herself to some pancakes. Nobody rose early on the weekends, so the Hall was empty apart from Seamus and Dean. They were sat next to each other, and were talking avidly. When they noticed Hermione, they moved away and Dean left the room.

"Hello, Hermione," Seamus greeted her, "Have you seen your Prefect duties yet? I think I remember you had one on a Monday and one on a Sunday."

"I haven't looked yet. That reminds me; I need to have a word with Ginny. Have you seen her around this morning?" Hermione mumbled between bites.

"I think I saw her heading to the library," Seamus mused, etching doodles into the table with the sharp tip of his quill.

Hermione finished her food and headed there, trying not to let the nagging voice in her head tell her she should be doing homework. Ginny was sat in the darkest corner of the library, a thin paperback clutched in her hands. Even from a few paces away, Hermione could see sweat glistening on the covers.

"Um, Ginny?" she said tentatively. Ginny snapped the pages closed, and forced a weak smile onto her face.

"Hi, Hermione. Did you want to sit here? I can move if you do, I was just reading..."

"Oh, no thank you. I was hoping to talk to you about something, actually."

"W-What is it?" Instantly Ginny's demeanour changed. Her body was rigid and angular, and she awkwardly moved her leg sideways and started tapping her fingers against the book.

"Harry thinks - and I agree - that there's something not quite right with you. You're not yourself. Why? You can talk to me about anything, Ginn, you know that." There was a pause. Ginny turned paler, and her breathing sped up just slightly.

"No, no, I'm fine. I'm worried about some tests coming up, that's all."

"That's rubbish, Ginny," Hermione said carefully, "You were like this in July, and we didn't know about any tests then - and the teachers have said nothing about tests yet anyway."

"I have to go." And with that, Ginny shoved the book haphazardly onto a shelf, and practically ran out of the library.

Pursing her lips, Hermione sat in the now unoccupied chair, took out her parchment and found another copy of the potions textbook. In half an hour she had finished the Potions essay, and had started to write up the Muggle card game for Professor Gladheart. It was surprisingly difficult to think of some kind of game that hadn't already been created, and it was noon before she felt she had given a good enough response to the learning task. The sun had permeated the whole library, and the corner had lit up considerably.

Finally, Hermione put down her quill and folded up her parchment, preparing to leave. As an after thought, however, she picked up the copy of the book Ginny had been reading. It was called Good Grief; How To Cope With The Loss Of A Relative Or Loved One. She felt a sharp blow to her chest, and all of a sudden Hermione felt she understood. Ginny was going through a horrible mixture of emotions at the moment; of course, Fred was dead, but Harry and plenty of others she cared about had survived. Ginny had no idea what to do when confronted with the place where so many had died, and had turned herself into a recluse to avoid having to worry anyone about it. Already Hermione felt that the psychology book had been taking its toll on her general awareness; at least, she hoped it had.