A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy is as good as any
Hermione was free to go after another night of observation. Between Luna, Malfoy, and Ginny, she had company to sit with her most hours of the day.
When Ginny had visited, Luna took Willa for a stroll to the neighborhood boulangerie – Luna insisted the pastries tasted better when the bakery was French.
Hermione didn’t quite care where her pastries came from, if she was being honest.
“So,” Ginny prodded, “What did Nott have to say for himself?” To Hermione, Ginny looked incredibly silly in the plastic chair that barely contained her fur coat.
This time, Ginevra Zabini was decked out in something that looked like a mafia wife might have dressed up in. Well, at least in the movies that Hermione had seen. Ginny’s hair was larger than Hermione had ever seen it, banded back by a thin jersey ribbon at her temples and seemed to tie at the nape of her neck. The sheer volume of her tresses had to be magic. This time, her fur coat looked more Muggle in origin. The blacks and browns of the furs were blended together like a wolf. Her tights were so sheer Hermione wondered why even bother with them at all – they couldn’t possibly provide any sort of comfort or heat. Ginny tied the ensemble together with crimson high-heeled leather boots, a charcoal silk dress, and a plump red lip that was hard to look away from. Hermione did adore the color of the gloss and made a note to ask Ginny where she got it. She even smelled expensive…whereas Hermione was in desperate need of a bath. She admired the pearls at Ginny’s neck, completely lost in thought about how large the outfit was for the bareness of the hospital room.
“Well?” Ginny prompted.
Hermione shook herself out of her reverie. “From what I gather,” Hermione took a deep breath, “swear you won’t tell anyone? Especially not your husband–,”
Ginny thought this over for a moment before nodding.
“And don’t tell Malfoy either. No one should know this before he’s ready–,”
“I swear,” Ginny whined, “all I want to know is what the bloody hell happened, H, honestly.”
“Theo thinks his bloodline was cursed by his father and another witch. You can put the pieces together, but he thinks he is unable to have children.” And he thinks he’s going mad.
“A bloodcurse doesn’t explain your seizures, though,” Ginny replied.
“The unspeakables collected my ring from Malfoy a while ago. They’re testing to make sure I didn’t accidentally wade across some dark magic outside of the manor.” Hermione was hesitant to tell Ginny about the bookstore. What if she reacted like Theo?
“Does he think that the bloodcurse would affect those that he loves, too?”
“He must,” Hermione nodded, “I think that he’s worried he might end up like his mother.”
“Wasn’t she mad as a hatter?” Ginny quipped, without thinking. Her mouth popped open with a little oh. “I see,” Ginny murmured.
“Whatever shall I do?” Hermione’s question was rhetorical, the softness of her voice and the tone made Ginny look away from her, holding back.
“Do you love him?”
Hermione paused. “In some ways, of course I do.”
“I would think that it would be that simple, then, but I know it isn’t.”
When Willa and Luna returned, Ginny and Hermione had moved on to new topics of discussion. Ginny and Blaise were planning a massive gala to celebrate their wedding anniversary in the Italian countryside.
“And since you weren’t at my second wedding, I imagine you will want to be at my third?” Ginny raised an eyebrow, smiling wryly at her. “And little WG here can be a flower girl!” She exclaimed, pulling Willa into her lap.
Hermione smiled softly, watching her old friend hold her daughter close. Her mind began to wander again and she found her thoughts drifting towards Malfoy.
She hadn’t seen him since he left the hospital after he handed the ring to the unspeakables. It was refreshing that he hadn’t pried into what she and Theo had spoken about. Hermione had expected a thorough examination.
But perhaps he could tell that she was devastated.
It wasn’t that she was giving up all hope on Theo – no. She was, however, concerned about the fact that he seemed to think he was going mad. Hermione had to wonder how much of this was the blood curse versus worry. A self-fulfilling prophecy is just as good as any.
She had hardly noticed that she was seizing again. It felt like falling asleep.