Warning: This chapter contains an episode of self-harm.
March 2003
Ginny's pregnancy went as smoothly as could have been hoped. She was physically drained from the toll it took on her Magic, but aside from sleeping most of the day and refusing most of the food Hermione had sent, her pregnancy symptoms were relatively minor. After hearing about Narcissa Malfoy's near death during pregnancy, Hermione was paranoid about what kind of toll magical pregnancy could take. But Ginny seemed to handle pregnancy easily.
"It's a Prewett thing; easily pregnant, easy pregnancies," Ginny said with a shrug when Hermione asked.
"That's lucky, I'd hate to be leaving you alone like this if you were as sick as the books say witches can get from pregnancy," Hermione said, studying the bright yellow orb fluttering over Ginny's stomach. "The baby has a good magical signature; it seems healthy. But I'm not very practiced with any of these spells."
Hermione flipped to a different page in the Guide to Effective Care in Magical Pregnancy and Childbirth and practiced a charm to check for placenta previa.
"Have you heard anything from Harry and Ron?" Ginny asked after a few minutes of Hermione manipulating diagnostic charms.
Hermione nodded and cancelled all the diagnostics hanging around Ginny. "They're back at Hogwarts again. They haven't sent any messages."
"Harry sends his stag at night. I think he must do it when he's on lookout duty. It came into my room last night," Ginny pressed her lips together and looked on the verge of tears.
Hermione squeezed her hand.
"I feel so bad I'm lying to him," Ginny said, tugging at the tips of her hair. "And that I'm making you lie too. I'm sorry. I should have been more careful."
"It's alright. You don't need to worry about me." Hermione gave a weary shrug as she shrank the book and slipped it into a bag.
Ginny leaned forward and grabbed Hermione's left wrist. "Well, I don't have very much to do in here. And I think you need someone to worry about you. You're so thin." Ginny ran her thumb over Hermione's ulna as though to illustrate how the bones jutted out. Hermione jerked her wrist free and pulled her sleeves down. "You don't look like you sleep at all. You look like you're made of paper. Don't you have anyone?"
Hermione looked away. "Well, George has offered," she said with a wry smile. "But I don't think he really meant it."
Ginny poked her. "Be serious. You can't survive this war alone. No one can carry it. We survive together." Ginny looked Hermione over carefully. "I mean, maybe you were alright before. But-you-you don't look like you're coping anymore. Ever since Christmas, I don't think I've seen you sleep. Don't you have anyone at all?"
Hermione scrunched her nose distastefully. "I think I've already mentioned that cathartic shagging is not my thing." She scoffed as she shook her head. "Adding a fuck-buddy is hardly going to improve my coping skills."
Ginny rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I'm not saying get a fuck-buddy. You don't even have anyone to talk to or get a hug from after a bad day. Whenever anyone tries to reach out to you, you push them away, the way you did with Harry on Christmas. I don't understand why you don't let anyone share the load. I know that look in your eyes; it's the same one Harry gets when the war is crushing him. But Harry knows he has Ron no matter what, and me, and you, and the family, and DA, and Remus and Tonks, and the Order, and even his stupid Muggle fights when it gets too heavy. He's got all that to fall back on when he needs to put it down for a little while. You need to do that too."
Hermione stared down at her nails and fidgeted with the cuticles for a minute. "What load do I have that anyone would be willing to share with me?" Her voice was bitter.
