Late into the night, the soft glow of the embers from the fireplace flickered gently, casting shadows across the room. Blaise stirred in bed, feeling the familiar pull of something urgent as the flames erupted suddenly with a familiar voice shouting through the Floo.
"Blaise! Get to St. Mungo's, now!" Draco's voice was panicked, breaking through the stillness of the night. "Hermione… she—she attempted to overdose."
His eyes widened as the gravity of Draco's words hit him like a bludger to the chest. He moved quickly, trying to slip out of bed without waking her, but she was already stirring, her instincts sharp as ever.
"What's wrong?" her voice was laced with sleep, but the fear was immediate. As he stood by the fireplace, she noticed the tension in his posture.
He turned to her, trying to keep his voice calm. "Love, it's Hermione. There's been… an incident." He struggled for words, unsure how to soften the blow.
Her eyes widened, fully awake now. "An incident? Blaise, what happened? Is she hurt?"
He hesitated for a split second before breaking the news. "She tried to—she overdosed." The words were raw, heavy in the space between them.
She shot up from the bed, her hands flying to her mouth as the realisation hit. "Oh my God… no, no, not Hermione... Not her," she whispered, the panic already building in her chest. Tears began to well in her eyes, her voice shaky. "My Hermione…"
He crossed the room in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around her trembling form. "Shh, shh, love, it's going to be alright," he whispered into her hair, though he wasn't sure if he believed his own words. His heart was racing, but he had to stay calm—for Ginny, for Hermione.
"IT'S NOT OKAY!" she sobbed, her voice breaking as she clung to him. "It's Hermione, Blaise. She wouldn't… she can't…"
He held her tighter, pressing soft kisses to her temple as she broke down in his arms. He could feel her shaking against him, her breath coming out in frantic gasps. "Listen to me, baby girl, you need to stay calm. Please," he begged softly, his voice steady despite the fear that twisted inside him. "In this condition, you can't come. I'll go to St. Mungo's. I'll be back as soon as I know she's okay. You hear me?"
She looked up at him, her tear-streaked face full of desperation. "But… but I need to be there, Blaise! I need to see her, I need—"
He cut her off gently, his hands cupping her face. "No, love. Right now, you need to breathe. You need to stay here. I'll be with her, I promise. You have to trust me, okay?"
She was crying harder now, her breaths coming in short, erratic gasps. "I-I can't breathe, — she choked out, her hands gripping his shirt as if holding onto him would stop the world from collapsing.
He brought his forehead to hers, his voice low and soothing. "Breathe with me, love. Deep breaths. In… and out. Come on, love." He inhaled deeply, demonstrating for her, and slowly, Ginny tried to match his breaths, though each one felt like a battle. "Good girl. That's it. Deep breaths."
After what felt like hours, her breathing started to slow, though the tears still flowed freely down her cheeks. She clutched onto him like a lifeline, her body exhausted from the emotional turmoil. "Please… Blaise," she whispered between sobs, her voice barely audible. "Please make sure she's okay."
"I will," he promised, brushing the hair from her face. "I'll take care of everything. I'll make sure she's alright. You need to rest now, okay?"
She nodded weakly, still clutching his shirt, but she released him, letting him go with a final tearful plea. "Come back as soon as you can, Blaise. Please."
"I will," he assured her, his heart aching as he pressed one last kiss to her forehead. "I'll be back before you know it."
She watched as he moved toward the fireplace, her eyes filled with worry and love. "Please… take care of her," she whispered again, her voice fragile in the dim light of the room.
He turned back to her, his eyes meeting hers with a fierce determination. "I will. I swear it." And with that, he stepped into the Floo, disappearing into the emerald flames.
She stood there for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest as the silence enveloped her. The house felt suddenly too big, too quiet without Blaise's presence. She sank back onto the bed, wrapping her arms around herself as she tried to keep the panic at bay.
Her mind raced with a million thoughts—what if Hermione didn't make it? What if he didn't come back? The fear gnawed at her, but she clung to his promise, the only thing that gave her comfort in the overwhelming darkness.
She didn't know how long she sat there, waiting, the minutes stretching into what felt like hours. All she could do was pray, silently, desperately, that he would return soon with good news.
But the nagging feeling in her chest wouldn't let her rest. Something was terribly wrong, and she could feel it in her bones.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blaise stood in the dimly lit hospital corridor, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling the air, mingling with the faint echo of hurried footsteps and distant voices. The fluorescent lights above flickered intermittently, casting a harsh glow over everything, but he hardly noticed. His focus was entirely on the scene before him: Draco, hunched over in a chair, his face buried in his hands, wracked with sobs.
The sound of Draco's anguish pierced through the cacophony of the hospital, a raw, heart-wrenching sound that resonated deep within Blaise. It was a stark contrast to the cold, clinical environment surrounding them—a reminder that love could be as fragile as glass, easily shattered by the harshness of reality. He felt an ache in his chest, a heavy weight settling there as he absorbed the full impact of what was happening.
In that moment, he understood something profound about love, a realisation that felt almost surreal. It wasn't just a feeling or a fleeting emotion; it was a visceral connection that could bring someone to their knees, make them weep openly in the middle of a hospital waiting room. He thought back to the stories he'd heard, the way Draco had spoken about Hermione with a mixture of reverence and fierce protectiveness.
Draco had been willing to risk everything—his reputation, his safety, even his life—when he had ventured into the forest to kill and gut Greyback, the beast who had dared to lay a hand on Hermione. He remembered how Draco's eyes had burned with fury, how he'd clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. For Draco, Hermione was more than just a wife; she was his world. The intensity of his feelings had been so clear, yet Blaise had never grasped the full magnitude until now.
Watching Draco now, utterly broken, brought that truth into sharp relief. This wasn't just grief over a friend; this was the manifestation of deep, unyielding love. The kind of love that could drive a man to do the unthinkable in the name of someone else's safety. The way Draco was now, completely undone, spoke volumes about the bond he shared with Hermione. Blaise felt a mixture of admiration and sorrow for his friend, recognizing that love was both beautiful and painful, capable of inspiring incredible acts of bravery while also leaving one vulnerable to unbearable heartache.
He stepped closer, drawn to Draco, the overwhelming emotion bubbling up inside him. "Draco," he said softly, the name barely a whisper on his lips.
Draco looked up, his eyes red and swollen, filled with a mixture of despair and an unfathomable depth of feeling. "What if she doesn't make it?" he choked out, his voice trembling as he wiped at his tears. "What if I lose her?"
He felt a lump form in his throat. "We don't know that yet. They're working on her. Hermione is strong, you know that," he replied, trying to inject some hope into the situation, even if it felt futile. "She's a fighter."
Draco shook his head, anguish washing over him like a tidal wave. "But I should have been there. I should have protected her. I should have seen the signs," he said, his voice cracking as he struggled to find the right words. "I failed her."
"No, you didn't fail her," he insisted, taking a seat next to him, his heart aching for his friend. "You love her. That's what matters most. You would have done anything for her. We both would."
Draco stared at him, the weight of his emotions spilling out in a torrent. "But love isn't enough when it comes to life and death, Blaise. What if my love wasn't enough to save her?" His voice broke, and fresh tears spilled down his cheeks.
In that moment, Blaise was reminded of his own struggles, of the turbulent feelings he had for Ginny. He had always known he cared for her deeply, but witnessing Draco's pain gave him a newfound understanding of the stakes involved in loving someone fully. It wasn't just about passion or infatuation; it was about vulnerability, about opening oneself up to the possibility of loss. The risk was terrifying.
"Love is everything," Blaise said firmly, searching Draco's gaze. "It's what drives us to protect the ones we care about, to fight for them, even when we feel helpless. You're not responsible for what happened to her. You're doing your best."
Draco took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and for a moment, he could see a flicker of determination behind his sorrow. "I just want her to be okay," he murmured, almost to himself. "I can't imagine a world without her."
He nodded, his heart swelling with a sense of solidarity. "Neither can I," he admitted quietly. "But we're here for her. We'll get through this together."
They sat in silence for a moment, two friends bound by their love for the same woman, the gravity of their situation pressing down on them. He could feel the bond between them solidifying, forged in the crucible of shared pain and hope. The hospital felt like a liminal space, where life and death hung in the balance, and every second felt stretched, heavy with uncertainty.
Draco wiped his face with the back of his hand, taking a moment to gather himself. "I've been such a fool," he said, his voice steadying. "I've taken her for granted. I should have told her every single day how much she means to me. Now I'm terrified it's too late."
"It's never too late," he replied, his voice steady and reassuring. "She needs you to be strong right now, just as much as you need her to be okay. Whatever happens, you'll have each other's backs. That's what love is about."
Draco looked up, his expression shifting from despair to something resembling determination. "You're right," he said, a flicker of resolve igniting in his eyes. "I need to be there for her when she wakes up. I need to show her how much I care, how much I love her."
He smiled softly, relieved to see the spark of hope return to Draco's demeanour. "That's the spirit. And remember, she loves you too. You have to believe that."
As they sat there, united in their fears and hopes, he felt the weight of his own feelings come rushing back to him. He thought of Ginny, of the moments they shared, and how precious each one was. He vowed to himself that he wouldn't take her for granted, that he would cherish every laugh, every argument, and every quiet moment together.
In this stark hospital corridor, surrounded by uncertainty and fear, Blaise learned that love, with all its complexities and depths, was a powerful force—one that could both shatter and heal, binding them together even in the darkest of times.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blaise arrived home in the dead of night, his body heavy with exhaustion from the emotional weight of the hospital visit. As he stepped through the door, he was met with the soft light of a single lamp, casting a golden glow across the living room. Ginny was pacing, her face etched with worry, her movements anxious and erratic. The moment she saw him, her eyes filled with relief, and she didn't hesitate—she rushed forward, practically leaping into his arms.
"Oh gosh, Blaise," she breathed, her voice trembling as she clung to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.
He held her tightly, feeling the tension in her body. He could feel the way her worry had coiled inside her like a spring, wound tight and ready to snap. "She's okay, my love," he whispered softly, his voice low and soothing as he stroked her hair. "Hermione will wake up soon. The Healers are confident."
She pulled back slightly, her hands gripping his shoulders as she stared up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. "Thank Merlin," she exhaled, her chest rising and falling rapidly with relief. "I was so worried. I couldn't stop thinking about her."
"I know," he said gently, cupping her cheek with one hand. "I was worried too, but she's strong. She'll pull through."
Ginny nodded, though her lip still quivered slightly. "Theo and Pansy... were they there?"
He nodded. "Yeah, they were. They went over to their penthouse to gather some of their things. They're moving back to Hermione's cottage for the time being, so she'll have support when she wakes up."
"That's good," she said, her voice softening as she leaned her forehead against his chest. "She needs a change. She needs to be somewhere that feels like home again."
"She will be okay," he reassured her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "We'll make sure of it."
She stayed quiet for a moment, her mind still reeling from the night's events. She had spent hours imagining the worst, playing through every possible scenario of what might have happened to Hermione. The thought of losing her best friend had sent her spiralling into a panic she hadn't known she was capable of. But now, hearing that Hermione was stable, that she would wake up, a weight lifted from her chest.
She looked up at him, and for the first time since their marriage, something shifted inside her. Something she had been holding back, something she hadn't allowed herself to fully feel. She had spent so long convincing herself that she wasn't in love with him, that she couldn't be, that she hadn't even realised how much she cared for him until this moment. And now, standing here in his arms, with his calming presence surrounding her like a protective barrier, the words slipped out before she could stop them.
"Thank you so much for being there with her, love," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but the word hung in the air between them like a lifeline.
He froze for a fraction of a second, his eyes widening slightly as he processed her words. Love . She had called him love . Not out of obligation, not out of habit, but with genuine emotion behind it. His heart skipped a beat, and for the first time in a long while, he felt hope blossom inside him.
He smiled, a small, soft smile that was filled with all the love he had for her. "Anytime, my love," he said, his voice low and sincere. He leaned down and kissed her, slow and tender, pouring every ounce of his feelings into that kiss.
When they pulled apart, Blaise gently tugged her toward the bedroom. "Come on, let's get you to bed," he said softly. "You need to rest, and I'll tell you everything in the morning."
She hesitated for a moment, her hand still clutching his, her eyes searching his face. "But what if—"
"She'll be fine," he interrupted gently, leading her to the bed. "She's got all of us watching over her. And I've got you to take care of now."
She allowed herself to be pulled toward the bed, her body suddenly feeling the full weight of her exhaustion. She let out a soft sigh as she sank into the mattress, her hand still wrapped around Blaise's as if she didn't want to let him go.
He pulled the blankets over her, tucking her in with a kind of tenderness that made her heart swell. She realised then, as she watched him move around the room, that maybe she had been wrong all this time. Maybe she had been too focused on the idea of love being this grand, sweeping emotion that knocked you off your feet. Maybe love was quieter, more subtle. Maybe it was Blaise, showing up for her and for her friends without hesitation, comforting her when she was falling apart, and kissing her with a gentleness that made her feel safe in a world that had been anything but.
As he climbed into bed beside her, she turned to face him, her hand reaching out to rest on his chest. He looked down at her, surprised by the gesture, but he didn't say anything. He just watched her, his eyes soft and patient.
"I didn't know," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet room. "I didn't know how much I needed you until tonight."
His heart thudded in his chest, and he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. "I've always been here," he said quietly. "And I always will be."
She felt a tear slip down her cheek, but this time it wasn't from sadness or fear. It was from the realisation that she might have been falling in love with him all along, and she just hadn't known it.
She snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as it lulled her into a sense of peace she hadn't felt in a long time. And as sleep began to claim her, she whispered the words that she had been too afraid to say before.
"I love you."
The words were soft, barely a breath, but Blaise heard them. His arms tightened around her, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his own heart feeling lighter than it had in months.
"I love you too, doll," he whispered back, his voice filled with the promise of a new beginning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The night, already thick with the weight of unspoken emotions, was shattered by a rapping on the door. An insistent, almost frantic rhythm that jolted Hermione and Draco from a sleep laced with worry. Draco stirred first, blinking away the remnants of dreams and reaching for his wand, a reflex honed during years of war. The rapping came again, louder this time, a discordant note in the quiet symphony of the night.
With a questioning glance at Hermione, Draco rose, his hand hovering over his wand as he crept towards the door. Hermione followed, her own wand clutched tightly in her hand.
"Who could it be at this unholy hour?" she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.
Draco shook his head, a sliver of apprehension tightening his features. "Stay behind me, love," he murmured, his voice low and steady despite the disquiet gnawing at his gut.
He cracked the door open with a sliver, revealing a sight that both surprised and relieved him. Pansy, Blaise and Theo stood on the doorstep, their faces etched with concern in the pale moonlight spilling from the doorway.
Pansy, ever the drama queen, rolled her eyes dramatically, a hint of amusement flickering in her gaze. "Merlin's saggy ball sack, you two look like you've seen a boggart."
Blaise chuckled, his usual sardonic air tinged with genuine worry. "Sorry to rouse you from your beauty sleep, but we figured it was high time for a little reunion, wouldn't you say?"
Theo, the quiet observer of the group, surprised them both with a wide grin. "We wouldn't want you lovebirds to have all the fun recovering, now would we?"
Relief washed over Draco, a wave so powerful it threatened to steal the breath from his lungs. He sighed, a mixture of exasperation and gratitude colouring his voice. "Come in, come in," he said, ushering them inside. "But next time, try knocking at a decent hour, shall we?"
A small smile tugged at the corners of Hermione's lips, the first genuine one in days. Stepping aside to let them in, she couldn't help but ask, "It's good to see you all, truly. But why are you here exactly?"
Pansy shrugged, her usual bravado faltering slightly. "News travels fast, Granger," she said, her voice softer than Draco had ever heard it. "We heard what happened. We were worried, and... well, we wanted to offer our support, in whatever way we can."
Blaise nodded curtly, his gaze lingering on Draco for a moment before meeting Hermione's. "We've all been through our share of darkness," he said, his voice gruff but sincere. "And sometimes, the only way out is to face it together."
Pansy reached over and squeezed Hermione's hand. "We're here for you, no matter what. You're part of our family now."
What a lovely little traumatised family.
The pre-dawn gloom slowly surrendered to the tentative fingers of sunlight, painting the cosy cottage in a warm glow. As the conversation flowed, punctuated by bursts of laughter and clinking teacups, memories unfurled like well-worn tapestries. Stories of past pranks (some successful, some hilariously disastrous), whispered secrets shared under the cloak of invisibility, and the harrowing battles that had forged an unexpected bond – all these threads wove a tapestry of camaraderie.
Despite the darkness that had threatened to engulf them, a sense of peace settled over Hermione. Here, in the flickering firelight and the gentle hum of their shared history, she found a haven. They were not merely survivors, but a chosen family, bound by the invisible threads of empathy and a shared journey through war and its aftermath.
With each shared laugh and murmured word, a silent vow was made. They would face the challenges ahead, together. Not as individuals burdened by their past, but as a united front, their strength amplified by the unwavering support they offered each other. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the floor, Hermione knew, with a certainty that warmed her from the inside out, that they would emerge from the darkness, a little stronger, a little braver, and forever bound by the unyielding ties of friendship.
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She arrived at Hermione's cottage the moment Draco had given her the clear sign that it was okay. As she stepped through the familiar doorway, she immediately felt the weight of the past few days lift slightly. The cottage, small and cosy with its warm wooden floors and the scent of herbs lingering from Hermione's kitchen, was a place of comfort—a stark contrast to the sterile, cold atmosphere of St. Mungo's.
"Hello, my love," she said softly as she walked into the living room, her eyes immediately finding Hermione sitting on the couch, wrapped in a soft, knitted blanket. She looked better than she had in the hospital, but there was still a quiet weariness in her expression, a lingering fragility that she couldn't ignore.
"Hello, Gin," Hermione replied, managing a small but genuine smile. Her voice was stronger now, though there was still a sadness behind it, a heaviness that hadn't yet lifted.
She held up a bag she had brought with her, her attempt to bring some joy back into the room. "I brought your favourite movies and some popcorn. Though we could have a little movie night, just like old times," she said, her tone light and hopeful, trying to bring a sense of normalcy back into their routine.
Before Hermione could respond, Crookshanks padded into the room with his usual graceful ease. He immediately spotted Ginny, his sharp eyes brightening as he bounded toward her. Without missing a beat, he jumped up into her arms, purring loudly as if he had been waiting for her all day.
"Hello, old man," she cooed, cradling Crookshanks in her arms. She pressed a gentle kiss to his head, feeling the soft warmth of his fur against her cheek. "Are you keeping my best friend company while she's recovering?"
Crookshanks responded with a soft meow, his purrs growing louder as she scratched behind his ears. He seemed to sense the tension in the room and was doing his best to offer his comfort, as he always did.
She carefully set Crookshanks down beside Hermione on the couch, where he curled up contentedly near her feet, his large eyes watching both women with quiet vigilance.
Taking a seat next to Hermione, she placed the bag of movies and popcorn on the coffee table and turned to her friend, her expression softening with concern. "How are you feeling, really?" she asked, her voice gentle. "You don't have to put on a brave face for me. You can tell me anything."
Hermione hesitated for a moment, her fingers absentmindedly stroking Crookshanks' fur as she looked down. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, more vulnerable. "I'm... better," she said, though there was a heaviness in the way she said it. "But everything still feels... off, you know? Like I'm floating through it all, disconnected from everything."
Her heart ached at her words. She reached out, taking Hermione's hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "You've been through a lot," she said softly, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on Hermione's hand. "It's okay to feel off, but you're not alone in this, okay? You've got Draco, you've got me, and we're going to help you get through this, no matter what."
Hermione nodded, through her eyes remained downcast. "It's just... hard. It feels like I'm supposed to be okay now that I'm home, but I'm not. I'm not sure when I'll feel normal again."
Her grip on her hand tightened slightly, her voice firm but filled with compassion. "You don't have to rush to feel normal. You've been through something traumatic, and it's going to take time. But you've already taken the first steps by coming home, by letting people help you. That's huge, Hermione."
Hermione's eyes finally met hers, and there was a flicker of gratitude in her gaze, a small sign that she was truly listening. "Thank you, Gin," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "For being here. For everything."
She smiled softly, her eyes warm with affection. "Of course. Always."
She shifted on the couch, reaching for the stack of movies. "Now, how about we watch something? Something light, maybe? No dramas, just pure comfort." She rifled through the stack, pulling out one of Hermione's all-time favourites. "How about Pride and Prejudice? You can swoon over Mr. Darcy while I stuff my face with popcorn."
Hermione let out a soft laugh, the first real laugh she had heard from her in days. "That sounds perfect."
She grinned and popped the DVD into the player, settling back beside Hermione as the familiar opening scene began to play on the screen. Crookshanks stretched out across their laps, purring contentedly as the two women relaxed into the comfort of each other's company.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight in the room began to lift, even if just a little.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ginny arrived home, her heart feeling heavy with the weight of everything that had transpired. The moment she stepped through the door, the familiar warmth of the house greeted her, but it did little to soothe the storm swirling inside her. She had been holding it together all day, trying to be strong for Hermione, but the emotional toll was starting to break her down.
Blaise, who was rarely home this early, was lounging on the couch in the living room, reading a book with a glass of scotch on the table beside him. His sharp eyes flicked up when he heard the door close, and immediately, his expression softened when he saw her. He set the book down and stood up, crossing the room to meet her.
"How was it, my love?" he asked, his voice gentle, but there was concern behind his usual cool demeanour.
The moment Ginny heard his voice, something inside her snapped. All the emotions she had been bottling up suddenly came rushing to the surface, and before she could stop herself, she started to cry. Her shoulders shook with the weight of her sobs, her chest tight with the intensity of her sadness.
He was by her side in an instant, his arms wrapping around her tightly, pulling her against his chest. "Hey, hey, baby," he murmured softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Come here. What happened? Tell me."
She buried her face in his chest, the scent of his cologne familiar and comforting, but it did little to ease the ache inside her. She tried to speak, but the words felt trapped in her throat, choked by the overwhelming sadness that consumed her. After a few moments, she managed to take a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper.
"She's suffering," she finally said, her voice breaking as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. "Deep inside. She's hurting so much, Blaise, and I don't know how to save her. I don't know what to do."
His grip on her tightened, his own heart aching at the pain in her voice. He hated seeing Ginny like this, so vulnerable, so torn apart by the suffering of others. She always carried the weight of her loved ones' burdens, and he knew how much Hermione meant to her.
"You don't have to save her," he whispered softly, his lips brushing against the top of her head. "You're doing everything you can by just being there for her. You're giving her love and support, and that's more than enough right now."
She shook her head, her hands clutching the front of his shirt as if she was holding on for dear life. "It doesn't feel like enough," she whispered through her tears. "I want to take all her pain away, but I can't. She's so broken, Blaise. It's like she's drowning, and I'm just standing there, watching her sink."
He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt her chin up so she would look at him. His dark eyes searched hers, his expression filled with understanding and compassion. "I know it feels that way, love. I know you want to fix everything for her, but healing doesn't happen overnight. Hermione's been through something terrible, and it's going to take time for her to find herself again. But she will, doll. She's strong, and with people like you and Draco by her side, she's going to get through this."
She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand as she tried to calm herself down. She knew Blaise was right, but it didn't make the helplessness she felt any easier to bear. She hated seeing Hermione in pain, hated feeling powerless to help her.
"I just wish I could do more," she whispered, her voice small.
Blaise cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the remaining tears that clung to her cheeks. "You're doing more than enough," he said firmly, his voice full of certainty. "Don't ever doubt that. You're the best friend she could ask for, and that's what she needs right now."
She leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hands against her skin. His presence, his unwavering support, was like a balm to her raw emotions. Slowly, her breathing began to steady, and the tears that had seemed endless finally began to subside.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. "Thank you for always knowing what to say."
He smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "That's what I'm here for, love. Always."
For a moment, they stood there in silence, wrapped in each other's arms. Blaise's steady heartbeat against her cheek was soothing, and the steady rhythm helped to ground her after the emotional storm she had just endured. She was grateful for him, for his ability to be her anchor when she felt like she was drifting away.
After a while, she pulled back slightly, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes but a small, grateful smile on her lips. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
He chuckled softly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Good thing you don't have to find out," he teased lightly, his eyes soft as he gazed down at her.
She managed a small laugh, though it was weak, still tinged with the weight of everything that had happened. But it was a laugh nonetheless, and it felt good to have that small moment of lightness amidst the darkness.
"Come on," he said gently, taking her hand and leading her toward the couch. "Sit with me for a bit. You need to rest."
She followed him, grateful for his steady hand as they settled on the couch together. She leaned into his side, her head resting on his shoulder as she let out a deep sigh. The exhaustion of the day was finally catching up to her, but being here, in his arms, made her feel safe. It made her feel like everything might eventually be okay.
"I just want her to be happy again," Ginny murmured, her voice barely audible. "I want Hermione to be herself again."
He pressed another kiss to the top of her head, his arms wrapped tightly around her. "She will be," he assured her quietly. "It'll take time, but she'll find her way back."
She closed her eyes, allowing herself to believe him, even if just for a moment.