Chapter Text
All day it had felt like the walls were closing in on her. Each tick of Ginny's watch had been a loud reminder that time was running out.
It had not been a pleasant summer by any stretch of the word. Her days had been filled with the difficult and frustrating task of trying to remember, and her nights had been full of nightmares, her subconscious replaying things Ginny would rather forget.
Still, the idea of returning to Hogwarts tomorrow filled her with nothing but dread. To walk the corridors she had traversed so unseeingly last term, to share a room with four girls who thought she was a freak, to face the victims who had spent so long in the hospital wing because of her. It all sounded like another nightmare, but Ginny wouldn't have the luxury of waking up from this one.
It was a relief when her mother dismissed her from the long table in the Leaky Cauldron's parlour. She'd barely touched any of the five courses the waitress had placed in front of her and her participation in the dinner conversation had been minimal at best.
Ginny moved swiftly up the pub's rickety staircase, finally coming to a stop when she reached the door with the little brass ten on it.
The room was small, holding little more than two single beds, each of which had a Hogwarts trunk at its foot. The bed farthest from the door was already occupied by a large, ginger cat.
The trunk at the foot of Ginny's bed was in much worse shape than Hermione's, having once been Charlie's. The hinges creaked loudly as Ginny opened it and Crookshanks cracked one large, yellow eye open as if to make it clear Ginny was being too loud.
"Sorry," she muttered as she pulled the first nightdress she could find from the trunk. Crookshanks blinked slowly before rolling over and falling asleep once more.
Ginny had only just pulled the faded, old nightdress over her head as the door opened and Hermione entered the room.
This was the moment Ginny had been dreading since she'd learned she'd be sharing a room with Hermione. It came as no surprise to her when Hermione crossed the room without so much as glancing in her direction, her focus instead, intent on Crookshanks.
"Hi," Ginny said cautiously, willing her voice not to shake as the image of Hermione laid stiff as a statue in the Hogwarts hospital wing rose unbidden to her mind.
"Hello," Hermione replied and Ginny couldn't blame her for her curt tone.
For a moment, the room was filled with a silence so thick, Ginny felt as though she was drowning in it. She fiddled with the hem of her nightdress and watched as Hermione retrieved her pyjamas from her trunk and began to change without once looking in Ginny's direction.
"I can go and sleep in my mum and dad's room," Ginny heard herself offer, though it sounded to her own ears as though her voice was a million miles away.
Hermione froze for a split-second, pausing with her pyjama top halfway on. "If that's what you'd prefer."
Ginny couldn't contain the harsh, derisive snort that escaped her. Her preferences had never been less important.
Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath before spinning to face Ginny. She was chewing nervously on her bottom lip and there was a wetness in her eyes that Ginny would think were unshed tears if she didn't know better.
"Look," Hermione said, her tone matter-of-fact. "I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with and if you'd like to stay in your parents room then I understand, of course, but-"
"Wait, what?" Ginny blurted, cutting Hermione off mid-sentence. "You think I don't want to share a room with you?" It was such a preposterous thought that Ginny couldn't stop herself from laughing.
Hermione, however, did not seem to find the notion quite as hysterical as Ginny had and instead, reached a shaking hand up to brush away the tears that had begun to cascade down her cheeks.
Ginny stopped laughing immediately. She crossed the tiny room in no time at all and guided Hermione to sit on her bed, gently nudging Crookshanks aside.
"Sorry," Hermione said hurriedly. Instinctively, Ginny reached out and tentatively squeezed her hand. "I know that everyone says I'm boring and a know-it-all and that I take everything too seriously-"
Ginny opened her mouth to protest but Hermione was speaking at a speed Ginny had previously thought impossible and there was no opportunity for her to interrupt.
"But I'd hoped that perhaps Ron might have told you that I'm alright once you give me a chance. I thought maybe we could be friends. I understand, if you don't want to, of course -"
"I want to!" Ginny declared loudly, coming to the conclusion there would be no other way to get a word in.
Hermione stopped speaking immediately. She looked at Ginny circumspectly, as though trying to decide if she was playing a cruel joke on her.
"Are you sure you want to be friends with me?" Ginny blurted.
It was too good to be true. Her instincts urged her to accept Hermione's words at face value, to leave well enough alone, but a loud and insistent voice in her mind assured her Hermione was only saying these things for Ron's sake.
"Of course, I am!" Hermione cried, a look of confusion upon her face which didn't suit her in the slightest. "Why wouldn't I want to be friends with you?"
Ginny took a deep breath before answering. "It's okay if you hate me," she said quietly, her eyes fixed firmly on the floorboards. "Ron will understand, it's my fault that you were Petrified. I'm really sorry."
Ginny almost fell backwards onto the lumpy mattress as Hermione tackled her into a bone-crushing hug. "It wasn't your fault," she said softly. "You don't ever have to apologise to me for that."
It was as though a weight that had been crushing down on Ginny's chest all summer had suddenly been lifted. She could finally breathe freely for the first time in months. She smiled shyly as she pulled away from Hermione and found the same expression mirrored back at her.
"Friends, then?" Ginny asked, her smile growing with each passing second.
"Friends," Hermione agreed happily.
Ginny leapt up from Hermione's bed, feeling lighter than air as she crossed the room and began to rummage through her trunk.
"Bedtime snack?" She asked, waving a bar of Honeydukes finest in Hermione's direction.
Hermione looked reluctantly at the floor. "I should brush my teeth," she muttered.
Ginny dove back onto the bed, jostling Hermione and an indignant looking Crookshanks as she landed. She unwrapped the chocolate bar and tossed a square into Hermione's lap. "It's the last night of summer," she said. "Might as well have a bit of fun."
Hermione glanced nervously around the room as though worried Professor McGonagall or her mother might suddenly appear from the wardrobe to tell her off. She relaxed visibly when it became apparent there was no one to witness her tiny act of rebellion and, smirking slightly, she popped the square of chocolate into her mouth.
Ginny reached across the tiny gap between their beds and retrieved her pillow, placing it at the foot of Hermione’s bed and laying down. Hermione shuffled slightly, her head coming to rest on her own pillow. They faced one another with the half-eaten chocolate bar and Crookshanks in between them.
The night grew darker outside the window as Ginny and Hermione laid there. Ginny listened to the gentle rhythm of Hermione’s voice, telling her excitedly about which O.W.L subjects she was going to pick this year, only pausing every now and then to eat another square of chocolate.
Eventually, the room turned from dull grey to pitch black, there was nothing left of the chocolate bar but an empty wrapper and both Ginny’s and Hermione’s breathing slowly turned steady and even.
“Hermione,” Ginny said through a yawn. Hermione hummed in response, turning to look at Ginny through half-lidded eyes. “I don’t think you’re a know-it-all, having Ron as their best friend would make anyone look like a genius.”
Hermione made a sound halfway between a chuckle and a sigh. Her hand reached down the mattress and found Ginny’s. Ginny’s eyelids fluttered closed as she squeezed Hermione’s hand reassuringly.
Slowly, sleep crept over her and for the first time in weeks, Ginny did not visit the chamber.