Unaffected

Ginny Potter examined her reflection in the bathroom mirror, and then reached up to adjust her lime-green cap. She groaned silently. She had detested the uniform color from the moment she'd first put it on, even though her mother had assured her that it complimented her copper hair. She sighed and brushed some errant strands away from her face, then nodded. This was as good as it was going to get.

She left the ladies' bathroom and headed back towards her office. She smiled briefly at the other Mediwitches she passed on her way through the hall. She loved her job, and she loved the people she worked with. Life couldn't get any better - almost.

She pushed open the door to her office and was startled to see someone waiting for her. When her eyes fell on a familiar bush of chestnut hair, she smiled. She took her seat behind her desk and grinned at her friend.

"How are things today, Hermione?" she asked gently. Hermione gave her a forced smile, and Ginny tried her best to ignore the thick, black circles beneath her eyes.

"Same as usual," she said, her voice quivering momentarily. She shook her head as though to clear it, then smiled again. Ginny was pleased to note that it seemed like more of a genuine smile this time. She pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, and waited for Hermione to continue. "Ginny, why do they make you wear a Mediwitches' uniform?" she asked curiously.

"I suppose for conformity; to make me look more like a real healer," she laughed softly. Hermione frowned.

"You're just as much of a healer as anyone else out there," she protested, fingering the thin, golden band that encircled the ring finger of her left hand.

"Well, as much as I hate to say it, people here don't tend to think of me as a certified healer. Just because I chose to become what more closely resembles a Muggle Psychiatrist..." she left off with a vague shrug.

"But you can prescribe medicine and distribute potions," Hermione pointed out. Ginny smiled.

"True. Alright, enough babble about me, let's talk about you. Have you given any more thought to what we discussed in your last session?" Hermione's eyes dropped to her lap, and Ginny put her quill down with a sigh. "You haven't thought about it at all?"

"No," Hermione admitted, biting her lip. She took a deep breath, and her words all tumbled out in a rush. "I swear I can still hear him out in the garden sometimes, Ginny. I'll come home from work and half expect him to be there, drinking coffee in the kitchen, like he always did." Her hazel eyes filled with tears, and Ginny handed her the box of tissues that she kept handy.

"Hermione," she said. Her voice was extremely gentle, but firm as well. "Believe me, I know how hard it can be to let go. But he's gone. He isn't coming back. And he wouldn't want you to put your entire life on hold because of him! Think of Alice." At the mention of her daughter's name, Hermione smiled.

"I know you're right," she said, nodding. "I know. And I feel horrible for neglecting Alice when I'm at work, and ..." Her voice died as fresh tears began to fall.

"You aren't neglecting Alice when you work. You have to put food on the table somehow, don't you?" Hermione nodded hesitantly, dabbing at her cheeks with her tissue. "Alice loves you dearly, and you're an excellent mother. Don't ever let anyone tell you any differently."

"Thanks," she sighed, giving her friend a lopsided grin. "I know I get all worked up over nothing, but ever since... since... well, you know when, I find myself getting all flustered and upset over anything! I thought I had moved past my grief, but then something will remind me of him, and I fall to pieces."

"That's perfectly understandable, Hermione. He was a big part of your life - your husband, your best friend, your child's father. But you also have to remember that even when you finally move on, it doesn't mean that you have to forget him in the process. No one's asking you to do that; no one would ask you to do that."

"I know what you're saying is making perfect sense to my head," she said, a small sob escaping between words. "But I wish someone could make my heart understand." Ginny nodded and waited until Hermione's sobs had nearly subsided before she spoke again.

"No amount of talking from anyone is going to help that. That's something that you're going to have to tackle by yourself. But in the meantime, I'm here, and I'm willing to listen and offer any help that I can."

After their hour-long session was up, Ginny stood and embraced Hermione tightly. She pulled away and smiled at her friend, whose face was now red and puffy from all the crying she'd done.

"Please, don't stay away so long next time. You're still my friend, and I'd like to see you outside of this office sometimes, too. Why don't you bring Alice over this weekend? Lily hasn't seen her in ages and I know she'd be tickled pink." Hermione smiled.

"That sounds nice."

"Alright, then, it's a date. Tea at my house Saturday afternoon." She linked her arm through Hermione's, and then led her down the hall towards the main entrance. "Take care of yourself, Hermione."

"You, too, Ginny." They hugged one last time, and Ginny watched Hermione leave before she went back to her office. She was scribbling some notes about their session when someone knocked at her door.

"Come in," she said. The door opened, then shut with a soft click. She didn't look up from her notes. "Go ahead and make yourself comfortable, Mrs. Malfoy." The gaunt woman settled herself in the plush chair that faced Ginny's desk. She put her notes away and smiled at the woman, not really expecting her to smile back.

The initial meeting with Narcissa had been a complete shock to Ginny. Never in a million years would she have thought that a Malfoy would seek out therapy of their own free will; let alone from a blood traitor Weasley. She'd gotten over her surprise quickly, though, when she'd heard the woman open up to her and understood that she had been just as affected by the war as everyone else had. And shouldn't she be allowed to grieve just like anyone else? Even if he had been a cruel, overbearing man, she had loved her husband.

And as Ginny knew full well, war didn't discriminate based on bloodlines.