Chapter Text
Ginny woke abruptly the next morning. She looked down to see Hermione fast asleep next to her. When she shifted, sharp tingles spread down her arm from where it had been crammed beneath her body to make room on the twin bed. The two of them had talked into the early morning and finally fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion.
She took in Hermione’s sleeping face, just a few inches from her own on the pillow. Her dark eyelashes were long and fluttering lightly against her cheeks. Her eyes darted back and forth behind her eyelids. Hermione looked so right next to her. It made Ginny’s heart swoop painfully and her palms sweat. And then, seeing the matching dark blue of their nails side by side, she had an embarrassing realization. The sheets from her first hot dream had been the exact shade of Hermione’s nail varnish. Her subconscious was an arsehole.
Suddenly Ginny was too warm. And panicking about morning breath and body odour and the possibility of drool. Just as she resolved to climb over Hermione as sneakily as possible, the girl stirred. Her hand nudged Ginny’s, which was pressed to the bed between them. Then their knees touched beneath the blanket. It was as effective as a body bind charm. She froze in place, feeling the warm contact intently, all thoughts drifting away.
She lay still until she had caught her breath, not daring to move a muscle. Then her mind raced, skipping over her dreams and the numerous excruciating moments over the past week she’d been bursting with things she could never say or do. No matter what she did, no matter how she pushed her feelings down, they kept coming back. She knew what the problem was, of course. If she wanted to get over this she would have to pull away from Hermione for real. Just the thought of which made her stomach drop.
As she lay there, Hermione’s revelation from the night before came back to her. There was a chance the person she fancied was a girl. Ginny’s blood boiled as she considered the possibilities: Lavender, Parvati, Abbot, Bones… And why wasn’t it possible with them? Did one of these prats not realize how amazing Hermione was? Were they thick enough to reject the smartest and most beautiful girl in the school?
She was still stewing when Hermione shifted again, and her eyes fluttered open. She smiled sleepily at Ginny and stretched, making their legs collide again in many small ways.
“’lo,” she mumbled and settled back down, facing Ginny on her side. “You’ve got this one freckle…” she said dreamily, and lightly tapped Ginny’s nose with the pad of her finger. Ginny’s ears burned. Hermione took her hand back quickly and cleared her throat.
Ginny tried to scrape some thoughts together.
“Were you dreaming?” she finally croaked.
Hermione cleared her throat again and rubbed a hand over her face. She rolled onto her back. Her nose was decidedly pink. Maybe they had spent too much time in the sun.
“I was, actually,” Hermione began tentatively. “About, er, the library.”
Ginny laughed out loud.
“Even in your dreams you’re at the library?” she asked incredulously.
“Well,” Hermione looked embarrassed and smiled sheepishly. “Yes.”
“So...” Ginny prompted when she didn't elaborate. "What happened?"
“Well, I was running through the aisles, trying to find a book on Transfiguration,” Hermione began, frowning slightly. “And then I was on a broomstick, flying through the stacks... I was starting to panic – because I hate flying – when I realized someone was on the broom behind me, guiding it. I tried to look around, but I couldn’t. Just when I’d finally found the book, I turned to thank them - and then,” she paused. Her cheeks flushed. “Woke up before I could see their face.”
“Do you think it means something?” Ginny asked.
“I don’t believe in that sort of thing,” Hermione replied quickly.
“Right. I forgot you hate Divination,” Ginny teased.
“I don’t hate it,” said Hermione adamantly, crossing her arms. “I just think it’s utter rubbish and that precious school resources are being wasted on teaching students to stare into glass spheres, come up with ridiculous predictions, and listen to the ramblings of a blatant fraud.”
“Oh, is that all?” Ginny laughed.
Hermione smacked her arm.
“Who do you think it was?" Ginny asked. "Helping you in the dream?”
Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it. Then just shook her head.
“It’s not important,” she said. Ginny started to protest, powerfully interested now, but Hermione cut across her, “What did you dream about?”
Ginny gave her a look but decided to let it go. She would ruminate on her own time – and probably drive herself mad.
“I didn’t actually,” she said, and realized it was true. Thank Merlin for that small mercy. She couldn’t imagine the consequences of dreaming about her friend when she was actually in Ginny’s bed. Just the thought made her blush crimson.
Hermione did not fail to notice. She pointed at her accusingly.
“You’re lying.”
Ginny sighed.
“C’mon,” Hermione needled. “I told you mine.”
Ginny shook her head.
“Did you dream about the girl you like?” Hermione joked. There was a slight tension in her face that Ginny couldn’t read.
Ginny tried to look unsuspicious, but Hermione was not having it. Having feelings for someone this brilliant was turning out to be a colossally bad idea.
“You can tell me,” Hermione said seriously. “Isn’t that what friends are for?”
Ginny realized she wasn’t going to let this go.
“Fine, yes, I’ve dreamt about her,” she said grudgingly. “But I didn’t have one last night.”
“Then you’ve been dreaming about her often…” Hermione deduced.
Merlin’s fucking beard. Ginny clamped her mouth shut stubbornly.
“You must really like this girl,” Hermione said thoughtfully.
“Hm,” Ginny mumbled. She tried desperately to think of a way to steer the conversation away. In literally any other direction.
“What do you want to do today?” Planning was usually a good distraction tactic with Hermione.
“Nice try,” Hermione said dryly. “I’m going to get it out of you one of these days.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Ginny sighed, realizing it was true. “But until then you’ll have to live with the mystery.”
Hermione let out a frustrated harrumph.
“Speaking of mysteries…” Ginny said, unable to help herself. The question that had been gnawing at her for the past ten minutes burst out, “Is the person you fancy a girl?”
Hermione squirmed next to her.
“I’m not giving you this information for free,” she said.
“You really should have been in Slytherin.”
“Ah that pesky blood purity thing.”
“Fine, I’ll trade you one fact,” Ginny proposed.
Hermione wasted no time. “Okay, what’s her name?”
“Nope. Disqualified.”
Hermione wrinkled her nose. “Fine. What house?”
Ginny hesitated for a moment, her heart rate picking up.
“Gryffindor.”
If they kept at this, Hermione would piece together the clues. There weren’t that many girls in Gryffindor to choose from. Hermione shot her a look, wearing a pensive expression Ginny associated with the library. Then the other girl picked at the edges of the blanket, betraying her nerves.
“Yes, mine is a girl,” she confessed finally, pulling on a loose thread.
Ginny didn’t know if this was better or worse.
It was the last Monday in August, only a week before the end of summer break, and a Goblin Bank Holiday. Fred and George had a large supply of homemade magical fireworks ready for the occasion and a few other surprises Ginny couldn’t pry out of them. Molly had given them all strict orders to have fun, which apparently included party preparation chores, so Ginny was currently ‘helping’ Fred string twinkle lights through the bushes. Which meant she was sitting atop the hedge while he did it magically in about five seconds.
“So…” Fred said casually. “How have things been here? Any drama?” He raised his eyebrows at her. Ginny scowled at him.
“What are you on about?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Fred said innocently. “Unrelated, how’s Hermione settling in?”
Ginny chose not to dignify that with a response. She didn’t know how he knew, but it didn’t surprise her. Fred and George had always been good at reading their siblings’ body language. Usually this information was weaponized for their own amusement. But every so often, especially for Ginny, it was used to help.
This was not one of those times.
“I was talking to Ron,” Fred continued unfazed. “And he hasn’t seen much of you two.”
“That’s just not true,” Ginny scoffed and shook her head, looking away to hide the red of her cheeks. “Git.”
Fred smirked and leaned against the bush next to her, watching the others setting up around the garden. Hermione was helping Bill transform a cluster of stumps into a picnic table. Fleur was with Ron, setting up the music, and turning him into a bumbling fool. Through the windows they could see Molly racing around the kitchen, shooing Arthur this way and that.
“Seriously, Gin,” Fred said, dropping the smile and leaning back against the bush to look at her.
Ginny sighed. She watched Hermione grin triumphantly as Bill followed her instructions and the stumps merged to form a large wooden table.
“Nothing’s happening,” Ginny said quietly. “And I’m fine. Really,” she answered his unasked question.
She could feel Fred’s eyes on her and when she looked over, he gave her a disbelieving sort of half-smile.
“By the way,” he looked across at Bill, who was now cracking open a crate of Butterbeer. “While us adults are busy by the campfire tonight, I might lose track of a bottle of Firewhisky. It would be terrible if it ended up in the hands of youngsters,” he said deadpan. “So… please make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Ginny shook her head her brother but felt her lips twitch.
“You’re making the huge assumption…” she said. “That Hermione will be willing to break the rules with me.”
“Hm,” Fred hummed, and Ginny followed his gaze to Hermione, who was smiling at Ginny and beckoning her over. “I think she’d do anything for you.”
Ginny started and turned towards him, but Fred was already walking away. He shouted gleefully at George, who just had arrived with the explosives – ahem – legal fireworks.
They all stuffed themselves full of grilled sausage, fresh vegetables, and Molly’s baking. And then spent a considerable amount of time lying on the ground moaning. Many complained they could never eat again. Molly and Arthur went off to the kitchen for a suspiciously long time - that none of their children wanted to think about - leaving the rest of them to start the campfire. When Bill had coaxed it to a gentle roar, they sat gazing into the flames and telling horrible dad jokes – most of which Arthur had indeed cracked.
Just as Bill finished telling a particularly crass one, Arthur and Molly emerged with slices of pie and ice cream. Molly tutted at Bill, but Arthur let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
They dug into their pudding, forgetting all earlier declarations. Arthur sat down next to Ginny and gave her a loving pat on the knee.
“How are you then, Ginny, hm? Having a good time with Hermione?”
She nodded, glancing at the girl on her other side.
“Have you started that Muggle book yet? The Scientifikal Fiction one?”
Ginny suppressed a laugh.
“It’s ‘Science Fiction’, dad,” she said with a smile, and he gestured with his fork to go on. “It’s really good... Did you know there’s wizard fiction like that?”
“Really!” he exclaimed. “Tell me more…”
They fell into easy conversation, the way she never seemed to be able to with her mum. Arthur mentioned some of the funnier aspects of his otherwise gruesome job and Ginny told him about her Quidditch training and hopes for the school year. They hadn’t gotten to spend much time together this summer and she had missed him.
Then they overheard Bill and George arguing about the lyrics to ‘Old Man Merlin’ and she sighed. She knew what was coming.
“Boys, boys!” Arthur jumped in loudly. “It’s ‘down the winding rivers of Horden’ not ‘down to the gallows of Borden’.”
And from there, to none of his children’s surprise, he jumped into song, letting his rumbling voice ring out proudly.
Despite a few groans, the group fell silent and listened.
Ohhh the Old Man Merlin sat on his rump
Asking the stars for more than this stump
He cast his three letters into the river
Hoping for things only she could deliver
Everyone but Hermione chimed in for the chorus.
One… to own something better than silver
Two… for guidance through evil unfamiliar
Three… to help others just as well as the river
They sang through the many verses until only Arthur knew the words. After listening awhile, Hermione sang along for the chorus. Bill and Fleur started dancing and the twins performed a jig before pulling Molly up with them. She laughed loud and delighted in a way that made Ginny's heart fill. At last, the final triumphant note rang out across the night and left them all grinning around the flames. Molly gave Arthur a loving kiss, eliciting shouts from her children and a smile from Hermione. When Arthur and Molly continued to stare into each other’s eyes the family broke into conversation again.
Fred caught Ginny’s eye from across the fire and winked. Then stealthily snagged a bottle of Firewhisky from the table. Ginny caught Hermione’s attention.
“I have a surprise,” she said under her breath and shone her full mischievous grin at Hermione. The other girl looked at her skeptically but couldn’t suppress a smile as she stood up.
“You’re a terrible influence,” she whispered and they walked away quietly.
They passed Fred on their way out of the garden and Ginny took the whiskey from him and a blanket from the table.
“Ginevra Weasley,” Hermione said in her Prefect voice. “What is that?”
Ginny just grinned at her and pulled Hermione along. Finally, they reached her favourite stargazing spot on a slope not far from the Burrow. They sat down side by side and wrapped themselves in the knitted blanket. Ginny popped the top off the bottle.
She glanced over at Hermione, who was watching her, and took a brave sip.
“Eeeechh,” she gritted out, making a face. “Yup, that burns.”
She offered the bottle to Hermione, who hesitated for a moment and then mumbled something that sounded like, “Fuck it,” and brought the bottle to her lips.
She took a generous swig and made an identical face.
They took turns passing it back and forth, slowly getting used to the burn in their throats. Hermione coughed.
“I’ve never heard of that song before. The one your dad sung,” she said, looking up at the stars. A few were starting to show.
“It’s one of those folk songs no one writes down,” Ginny explained. “It just gets passed down, generation to generation. I bet the lyrics are completely different from the original,” she smiled to herself. “Dad used to sing it to us before we went to sleep. For the longest time I didn’t know any of the verses past the fourth. It’s genius” - she grinned at Hermione – “no kid is making it through to the end; it’s almost ten minutes long.”
Hermione chuckled brightly and Ginny’s heart snagged in her chest for a moment.
It was painful sometimes; how beautiful Hermione was. She probably stared a bit too long at the other girl’s wide smile and sparkling eyes. She couldn’t tell. The whiskey was making her body and mind melt pleasantly.
“What?” Hermione asked.
Ginny shook herself.
“Nothing,” she coughed. “What did your parents do to make you go to sleep?”
“Well,” Hermione looked up thoughtfully. “They tried reading to me, but that did not work,” she giggled. “At all. I had a lot of questions: how did the cow manage to jump as high as the moon? If bears could talk and live like people, where were they?”
“Valid questions,” Ginny laughed.
“Eventually, they made up a game called ‘Mione’s Question Time’ – “
“Adorable.”
“- where I would ask as many questions I could think of and they would answer until I ran out or fell asleep.”
“That is the cutest, most Hermione, thing I have ever heard,” Ginny managed to say.
Hermione caught her eyes, which quite possibly had cartoon hearts in them, and shrugged. They held eye contact for a moment before Ginny looked up at the sky. If she didn’t, she would do something stupid.
Like tell Hermione that she was the best person ever.
Or kiss her.
Hermione eventually lay down, pulling the blanket around herself. When Ginny joined her, the other girl snuggled against her side, radiating heat onto Ginny’s cool skin.
“There’s Pegasus,” Hermione said, pointing up at a cluster of stars. “And Andromeda.”
“Isn’t she the one who was chained to a rock?”
“Yes. Sacrificed for being too beautiful," she grimaced.
“I always thought Circe got it right,” Ginny mused. “Just transfigure all the men into literal pigs.”
Hermione let out a surprised snort. Then shot Ginny a look.
“Sappho had a good idea too," she said. "Just live on an island of lesbians and write gay poetry.”
Ginny laughed loudly.
“The dream...”
They turned their heads to look at each other, both smiling wide. Hermione shifted onto her side facing Ginny.
“Your eyes look crazy in this light,” she said quietly, when they had been staring for a moment.
“Oh great,” Ginny smiled. “I have crazy eyes.”
Hermione shook her head, “I meant they’re a crazy glowing amber colour. Beautiful,” she gazed into the eyes in question. “I’ve always admired your eyes.”
For a long moment, Ginny felt the whole universe was in Hermione’s pupils. There was something dangerous stirring in her chest. Like the feeling before she made a risky flying move.
She turned onto her side as well, bringing their noses close. She heard Hermione’s breathing change and suddenly she had no choice. She brought her freckled hand up to Hermione’s chin and tilted it towards her as she shifted their bodies even closer. Hermione licked her lips. Ginny felt her heart slamming out a crazy rhythm and leaned in, not thinking any more, feeling the echo of Hermione’s earlier ‘Fuck it’–
“Ginny! Hermione!” someone shouted from nearby.
Ginny snatched her hand away and sat up abruptly. There were loud footsteps approaching. She looked over and saw Ron jogging towards them.
Her heart was racing, and she felt her body pulsing with it. Her head spun, but that might have been the alcohol. Hermione lay still beside her.
“Fred and George are starting the fireworks,” Ron said, panting, as he reached them. “Also, mum’s been asking about you two and missing Firewhisky…”
Ginny stood up and wordlessly collected the blanket, surreptitiously wrapping the bottle in it. Hermione stood as well and dusted herself off distractedly.
Ginny glanced quickly into her eyes, which were wide. She could practically see the gears start to turn behind them. She looked away again, heart in her throat and led the way back to the Burrow.
They had almost kissed. Ginny had almost kissed Hermione.
She hadn’t been thinking. There’d been the alcohol and the stars and who wouldn’t find that romantic. And Hermione had looked like she would let her. Let Ginny kiss her.
It was a huge mistake.
It was a disaster.
Now Hermione knew that she was the one Ginny couldn’t be with, the one Ginny dreamed about. Ginny had gone and done exactly what she had continuously promised herself she wouldn’t do. She had stepped all over their friendship and made it messy with her feelings. Her typical bullheaded, rash behaviour. Her stupid impulses. In the moment it had felt so right, but reality crashed into her like a physical blow.
She knew what was coming, but she didn’t know if she could handle it.
Soft grass was crushed beneath each step of her trainers. An owl hooted nearby and Ron rambled on about something.
Ginny’s heart sunk even further as she envisioned the inevitable conversation. Where Hermione would explain kindly that she didn’t think of Ginny that way. She would be so nice about it. And it would break Ginny’s heart. And things would never be the same between them.
Ginny finished the walk back in shock, her mind skipping between thoughts. The whisky still hummed in her veins and made everything fuzzy.
When the three of them reached the garden, they were folded into the excitement and Ginny lost track of Hermione.
She watched numbly as the twins shouted, “3… 2…. 1!!” and lit a cube with their wands before tossing it into the sky.
Everyone oohed and aahed as it exploded into butterflies, forming the initials W.W.W, and then broke into stars that showered down on them. Ginny’s dad put his arm around her and hugged her close.
As the twins set off the next set, Ginny looked across the crowd just to see Hermione look away from her. She felt a hollow sadness settle in her chest. Whether it was the lost opportunity or the realization she had messed everything up, she didn’t know. But she relaxed into her dad’s comforting solidness for a moment and let her mind go blank.
Tonks arrived midway through the displays and helped the twins set off a particularly large set that ended in a rainbow arching over the entire cottage. Ginny couldn’t help but smile at that. Tonks still had less than her usual amount of overflowing clumsy enthusiasm, but she looked a bit better.
When the show was over, Ginny’s older brothers cracked open another bottle of whiskey and she went inside. She made her way up the stairs with Ron, feeling exhaustion sweep over her.
Her mind’s frantic whirring had slowed. She was tired down to her bones.
“Did you actually convince Hermione to nick alcohol?” Ron asked, incredulous.
She looked at her hands as she climbed the stairs - there was dirt under her nails.
She nodded absently.
“You really are the Granger whisperer,” he said, and Ginny barely contained a choked laugh.
When she reached her bedroom and bid Ron goodnight, Hermione was sitting on the edge of her cot.
She looked tense.
Ginny walked to her dresser and started pull out her pyjamas, hoping she could postpone this. If they could just wait until the morning… Well, it wouldn’t be much better. At least she would be alert enough to play along.
But Hermione seemed determined.
“Gin,” she began quietly, but with a hint of steel. “Can we talk?”
Ginny sighed and sat down on her own bed, looking at the floor.
“Tonight, when we were – you know…” Hermione began, quickly becoming flustered.
“It’s fine, Hermione. It’s nothing,” she said to the floor and then squared she shoulders. She looked up at her friend, because she was a Gryffindor after all.
Hermione looked confused.
“I mean, we’re friends and we had some drinks, and nothing happened, so.”
“Is that what you-,” Hermione began.
“Look, let’s just not-,” Ginny closed her eyes, trying her best to ignore the pain in her chest. “Can we just not talk about it?” she asked, flitting her eyes away from Hermione’s.
Hermione nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want.”
Ginny nodded back then stood quickly. “I’m going to go shower. I think Fred and George put essence of dung bomb in the fake stardust.” She gave a weak smile and left the room clutching her pyjamas.
After Ginny closed the door, Hermione put her head in her hands and swore.
Harry arrived at the Burrow about an hour later, but Hermione and Ginny were already asleep.
When they went downstairs for breakfast, in a tense silence neither could break, they heard the news and rushed to see their friend. Ginny got intercepted by early morning Phlegm, who told her to brighten up and then decided to bring Harry breakfast in the most obnoxious way. As if Ginny didn't have enough to deal with without living with the devil incarnate. As usual Ginny was pulled away by her mother when she'd been talking to Harry, Hermione, and Ron for a while.
In this instance she didn’t mind. She kept accidentally meeting Hermione’s eye.
Ron, Harry, and Hermione got their O.W.L. results later that morning. No one was surprised to hear Hermione had an almost perfect score and had become a Prefect. Ginny couldn’t help but smile at Hermione’s suppressed disappointment over her one Excellent. Then Ginny found out Ron had received a Prefect badge as well and burst out laughing. His look of shock was priceless. She couldn’t wait to tell the twins.
All in all, Hermione and Ginny managed to avoid talking to each other directly for the next week. In odd moments Ginny caught Hermione looking sad and it made her feel terrible. She’d gone ahead and made the best friendship of her life messy and incomprehensible. In fact, she was surprised Hermione wasn’t more angry at her.
The time passed in a hurry despite Ginny feeling like shit. It was easier with Harry around. He was up earlier than Ron, so it was never just Ginny and Hermione.
There was one awkward moment when Hermione managed to crash bodily into Ginny during a Quidditch game and they ended up lying in a heap on the ground, winded. As they caught their breath Ginny had felt the points of contact between them like fire.
And another time, Ginny joked about giving Hermione much needed one-on-one flying lessons. This was after a game Hermione had barely managed to stay on her broom, let alone play quidditch. Ginny's joke was nothing, or it should have been nothing, but Hermione caught her eye, and something passed between them. Something sad with a twang of tension.
There was a ‘before’ hanging there now. Before, Ginny would’ve looked forward to getting Hermione alone, maybe would’ve shared a broom with her. Now they nervously skittered around each other and there was a distance between them. The boys of course, were completely oblivious.