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Startled out of sleep Ginny found herself bolted upright, limbs tangled in bedsheets and sweat dripped from her brow. Moonlight trickled in the chink of her bedside curtains and pushed the nightmares into the recess of her mind. She sighed a heavy sigh.
Ginny had suffered night terrors since waking in the Chamber of Secrets with little to no recollection of the academic year, simply a puppet of Tom Riddle. There were times these terrors manifested themselves in the day, Ginny would swear it on her magic that in her peripheral vision she could pinpoint his spectre watching her, waiting for another moment of weakness.
She had never told a soul, least of all Harry, they would worry – especially Harry. Ginny, for the umpteenth time, pondered on her childish crush and laughed, fondly, at memories of being tongue-tied and red-faced whenever she and Harry were in the same room. Harry would always be her first crush but sadly nothing more. She loved him fiercely but was certainly not in love with him and that, she knew, was an important distinction.
Adrenaline coursed heavy in her system; it was evident that returning to sleep would be impossible. A quick charm let her know that it was far too early. Or late depending on the perspective, either way, no one else would be awake in her dorms. Throwing on an old, knitted sweater and sliding into comfy slippers, Ginny decided on a walk. The vacant halls of Hogwarts were a place of solace for Ginny in the hours before dawn, she knew the prefect schedules, thanks to Hermione, and knew the best secret passages and alcoves thanks to Fred and George.
She cast a small Lumos and began to walk her favourite path through the castle.
A quarter of an hour later, a floor away from Gryffindor tower, Ginny was startled. Specifically, by the noise of someone trying to be quiet and failing. Ginny wandered these corridors religiously; this particular classroom had been abandoned for years and no one in their right mind would use this for after-hours snogging, not with plenty more suitable locations. Raising her illuminated wand, the beginnings of a vicious Bat Bogey Hex on the tip of her tongue Ginny kicked the door wide open.
“Bloody hell! What on Earth are you doing?”
Perched in the centre of a desk, hemmed in by mounds of parchment and books sat a frightened Hermione – as pale as Nearly Headless Nick.
“I was just – well, I needed some space you know to – well, urm – spread everything out.” Hermione stuttered, jumped to life and knocked all her supplies to the floor. The clatter of books and parchments made a beautiful flush of embarrassment creep up the contour of Hermione’s neck.
Ginny gave herself an internal shake. She couldn’t think of Hermione in that way, she wasn’t allowed. Ron was halfway in love with Hermione even if the pompous git was too chicken to admit it. Yes, he was currently attached to Lavender Brown by the mouth, it was only temporary. Several inter-house wagers did not believe Won Won and Lavender would last, plenty of people hoped it would end sooner rather than later - it was truly uncomfortable to watch.
Ginny was sure Hermione cared for Ron too. She had to, why else would Hermione be standing in an abandoned classroom wearing Ron’s infamous, and horrid, maroon Weasley sweater?
“Yes, but why here Hermione?” Ginny asked, “Of all the places, why here and not the common room?”
“I’m avoiding Ronald if you must know,” Hermione replied, her tone curt. With a wave of her wand, Hermione charmed her supplies to organise into neat little piles and dropped herself onto the bench nearest the window.
“I see, you two still haven’t kissed and made up?” Ginny cajoled, sitting next to Hermione.
“Not likely, in all honesty, I don’t think I like Ron in that way.” Hermione nestled closer to Ginny as she spoke, her head resting on Ginny’s shoulder.
It was as though all the oxygen vanished in her proximity, the jasmine scent of Hermione’s curls overriding Ginny’s senses.
“Is that why you’re wearing his clothes?” Ginny flinched at the accidental bitterness in her tone.
“Oh this,” Hermione said, tugging at the fraying sleeves “this was to wind up that daft bint.”
“Lavender?”
Hermione nodded, still nestled into Ginny’s shoulder. Ginny could not help but think how natural it felt to be this close to Hermione, breathing synchronised and Ginny wondered why she was ever scared to be this close in the first place. Thoughts of containing this moment with a stasis charm were derailed as Hermione spoke, soft as a whisper. Hermione explained that her feelings for Ron were silly, only a crush really.
Ginny beamed internally.
Hermione continued to reason her anger at Ron was misplaced, Hermione had been annoyed that Ron did not give them a proper chance.
“Probably for the best.” Hermione finished, the sun rising behind them, it plunged the room into a delightful glow. “Seeing him with Lavender made me realise we would never have worked.”
Distracted by how comfortable Hermione looked, curls wild and a perfectly oversized, albeit wrong colour, pullover Ginny's mouth ran away with itself.
“Mine would look better on you, you know,” Ginny said flourishing her wand, transfiguring Hermione’s sweater from maroon to blue, embossed with a G, not an R.
“I was right,” Ginny whispered, a soft smirk playing on her lips. Compelled by instinct she moved forward, gazing into Hermione’s honey eyes, and pressed a gentle kiss to Hermione’s cheek, close to the corner of her lips.
An almost kiss.
Ginny sauntered from the classroom, leaving a stunned Hermione in her wake; she found that she quite liked how surprise looked on Hermione, skin flushed and eyes sparkling.
Returning to her dorms, Ginny was, for the first time, thankful for the night terrors and night-time strolls. She was asleep as her head touched the pillow, settling into dreams of jasmine and honey.