Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

It's strange, really, how things like this can happen. It's strange what leaving your room and walking to the bathroom can end up in and it's strange the people who aren't straight can be.

She's pressed up against you, lips pressed against yours and her hand's toying with the hem of your shirt, and you're only now realizing how easily she gives you goosebumps.

You've always had a thing for Ginny Weasley, ever since you first saw her in her first year, standing there nervously, trying to flatten her hair and fiddling with her shirt, trying to make sure that she looked okay. It was sweet, really, that such a pretty young girl could have such bad self esteem, but there she was, so shy and so unsure of herself.

Who couldn't fall for her, honestly?

It wasn't much of anything at first, just you sticking up for her and sitting next to her at meals when you had the chance and carrying her books for her like the boyfriendly friend that you are. You're pretty sure you weren't even out when you were twelve years old. You're not sure if you even acknowledged your ever growing crush on that cute little redhead, but you do know that even then you were aware she meant _something_ to you, and to a twelve year old's mind, something was everything.

You were just leaning against the bathroom sink, rubbing your eyes and shifting uncomfortably, wishing that your clit would pick a time when you're actually in your bed to start throbbing.

Her voice startled you as the bathroom door slammed behind her. She looked at you for a moment, chewing her lip nervously and looking very much like she wasn't in the bathroom to use the bathroom. "Hermione..?" She asked, eyes darting between your face and the floor.

She's got her hands under your bra, your shirt laying abandoned beside your bed and you're wondering if maybe she can feel how all the hairs on your arms are standing on end; the way your breath catches just the tiniest bit in your throat every time you try to breathe out.

You're wishing that she didn't mean a thing to you, because you're realizing you probably don't mean a thing to her. She must do this all the time, you're realizing. She does this all the time and you're the one she picked tonight because you're gay and she was horny and she must have horny-dar better than you used to think your gaydar was or something and that's why she followed you.

It's a shitty realization, but you're still horny and you still have a hottie on top of you with her hands in your bra.

The first time you ever kissed Ginny Weasley was under the tree by the lake in your fourth year while she was studying for some Herbology test, her head leaning against your shoulder and your eyes drifting closed every few seconds, until she broke the silence with the simple question, "So, are you really into girls?"

You remember feeling your stomach sinking and wondering if you say yes, will she take her head off your shoulder? You sat there for a minute, and then finally mumbled what sounded like "Yeah.." but if it hadn't been a yes or no question she would've had no idea what you'd just said.

"Have you ever kissed a girl?" You've always liked her voice. It was high and sweet and girlish but not in an annoying, "Hi I'm the stupidest girl you'll ever meet" kind of way, because you knew full well that she was quite smart. It was the kind of voice that made your head start to get cloudy and whenever you had to listen to her talk for too long you ended up thinking about nothing but what you wanted to do to her and what her voice must sound like when she's moaning your name.

"No?" You remember how stupid you felt, sitting there and admitting that.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

And then she's grinning and kissing your lips and she's got your hair curling around her index finger, textbook in her lap and you can't help but think about how that was one of the few parts of your life that could've been filmed and put into a movie.

"It's nice, isn't it?"

You're kissing her again now, but it's not soft and sweet and simple and there isn't a woodpecker 20 feet above your heads in a tree. Her tongue's in your mouth and you're sucking on it the way that always drove Katie bell on the quidditch team crazy and your bra's laying somewhere near your shirt and her's across the room.

You've got your hands around her neck and she's pulling away from your lips and sucking on your neck, and for a moment you can't help but wonder if maybe she can read your mind, because how else would she know how much that turns you on?

It must come from every other girl she must've done this with.

You're wishing that you could just turn your mind off and have sex with her because she's hot and she's horny, but nothing's ever really that easy and all you can think of while she wraps her lips around your nipple is how long you've wanted this to happen and how much you wish it meant half what it means to you to her. You're wishing your head would just shut up and you're wishing that you could live without it, because if you could you probably would've blown it off by now. You're wishing that she would just stop for a minute and tell you that she loves you.

Shut up. You're biting your lip until she's got her lips against yours again, her hands pinning your arms by your wrists above your head. Shut up shut up shut up. This is hot and she's really really fucking good and you're supposed to enjoy this.

It's weird, though, because something about this feels so much more right than all the times that you hooked up with Katie Bell in the locker room or behind the greenhouse or god knows where else. Because then you knew that neither of you were particularly emotionally invested and neither of you wanted anything other than sex (even though you only really did that once) and it made you feel kind of shitty that you couldn't even get a real girlfriend, so you settled for hooking up with some girl you thought was kind of hot to make yourself feel like _somebody_ needed you.

When did you start being such an emotional wreck over something as stupid and unemotional as having a girl shove her tongue down your throat, anyway?

Her hand's down your pants and you're pretty sure those are going to be joining your shirts and bras pretty soon but you can't do anything about it because she's still got one hand pinning your wrists to the bed, which is actually really, really hot and you're wondering why you never realized that you liked that before now.

You're feeling your chest rising and falling faster, and yes, you are wet as fuck, and yes, this does feel more right than anything you ever did with Katie did, but you still feel like something's wrong as you gasp and moan her name softly, hoping that you're not being too loud and hoping that nobody sees you, but you're sure that this is the kind of thing that roommates just don't mention ever seeing, because you've woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of the bed next to you creaking more than once and you've seen empty condom wrappers and you've heard girls going at it by themselves and you're sure you're not the only one.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit. You're biting your lip hard and you're still moaning through your lips and you didn't even realize that her lips had left your nipple but they're on your clit now and she's sucking on it and you can't help but think that she's better than Katie because fine, maybe you were a little too emotionally invested in what you knew was nothing more than stupid hook ups and you can't help but compare because she's still on your mind sometimes even though she was just a distraction from Ginny.

Jesus fucking christ, how the fucking hell did she get so good? She's supposed to be younger than you and she is (supposed to? What the hell is she doing to your head?) but jesus christ.

Stop.

Just stop thinking.

--

Uhmm.. I'm awful at updating stories that aren't oneshots, so this isn't gonna be very long.. Dx But I've already got most of the second chapter done already.

Err.. I've never written anything Harry Potter before, so.. uhm.. I hope it wasn't too bad! :3


	2. Chapter 2

Seventeen hickies. Seventeen.

No, they're not all on your neck, but still. Seventeen. There's four on your neck and they're not exactly the smallest things in the world and you can't pass them off as bug bites because they're purple and one of them is shaped a little bit like Alaska, and last you checked most bugs don't leave marks that look like the largest state in the United States of America after a small child attacked it with a marker.

At least you don't have a dyke cut or anything.

You're sitting in the transfiguration room and thank god you had a test today because you don't think that you could possibly sit through an actual class. You've been finished for fifteen minutes and you're staring idly at the wall and you still can't get your mind off of her and what she said two nights ago in the bathroom and everything else that happened after and you can't help but feel a little bit stupid and a lot desperate because it was just sex and it wasn't anything more but you'd take anything to feel closer to Ginny.

You can't get her off your mind and you really wish you could and you wish you would just forget that anything had ever happened but you can't and it's driving you crazy and now that you're thinking about it it's making you horny. _Again._

If only you could get her off your mind. That would make everything so much easier but it's really not working out at all.

Christ, you're fifteen years old and you started masturbating when you were four years old, (which is funny because you you didn't really know what sex was until you were in fourth grade, which is even funnier because you started trying to look up porn when you were in third grade) and you should be able to sit through a class without being like this.

"Fifteen more minutes." McGonigal's voice cuts through the silence that had before been broken only by the sound of quills scratching across parchment.

You can't help but wonder if you're the only person who ever acts like this, and you're pretty sure that you are and you're pretty sure you must be a freak of nature or something, because you're positive that this isn't normal crushing behavior at all.

She's too young to be sleeping around that much, and you don't want to be chasing after a whore, because that's what she is, right? A whore. Why else would she be able to corner you in a bathroom and get you to take you back to your room and fuck you and act like it was perfectly normal? Yes, you are trying to make it easier for you to just completely stop caring about a thing she does but it's just making you wonder if she thought that you were okay.

Christ, it's just sex. Lesbian sex, at that, which isn't even sex for anybody who likes guys.

Shut up. Stop thinking about sex, you stupid horny teenage train wreck.

You're wondering how much it would hurt to maybe sever your clit, or something equally barbaric and painful and utterly stupid. It probably wouldn't help and it would make _intercourse_ with girls much less satisfying and dear god, why did you think about that at all?

--

"Hey Harry?"

"What's up?"

You're figuring that even though he's a guy, he's pretty okay and he won't have a total heart attack like Ron would (of course, who wouldn't when they heard that the girl they liked banged their little sister?) and maybe he'll even be helpful.

"Say I slept with somebody. Hypothetically. And I actually liked that somebody a little bit sorta maybe a lot. But I'm pretty sure that it was just a random hook up to them and even though they're younger than me they're hypothetically way way more hypothetically experienced. Hypothetically, of course." How many times could you possibly say hypothetically in one conversation when it doesn't even need to be said anymore? "And hypothetically I would have absolutely no idea if I'm supposed to ever mention it again or hypothetically in this made up world of hypothetical-ness possibly try and maybe sorta get together with them or something because you have to be at least a little attracted to somebody to have sex with them, right? Right?"

You're slurring your words and you somehow found the ability to say everything you just did without breathing once, and by the time you were finished you were breathing heavy and you were sure you looked slightly deranged and sounded more than just a little obsessive and insane and rather terrifying, to be blunt.

"Who'd you fuck?" He's asking, looking at you in a "I thought you were gay?" kind of way, and then after a couple of moments later he's got this look on his face as he realizes that you _are_ gay and that that would mean that sex for you would entail you and another girl. Without your clothes. In a bed and wait shit, how does everything you think about go back to sex and sex with girls and sex with Ginny and fucking christ.

"I said hypothetically."

"Uhm.. Well.. I uhm.." He's stammering and he's blushing and you're realizing what an awkward question that must be to ask a fifteen year old guy, especially after you just gave him the pleasure of thinking about lesbians, which, considering the slight bulge in his pants, he likes.

You're sighing and rubbing your temples, and then blurting out, "Well, would you.. well.. you know, with a girl you thought was ugly?"

"No." He could've just said that. He's supposed to be smart, and last time you checked people who were supposed to be smart didn't need to have things like that spelled out for them.

"So, you're not gonna tell me who you fucked?"

You're looking at him and you consider for a moment, and then you shake your head nervously, biting your lip and wishing that you weren't so eager to run around squealing and telling everybody just what you'd done with Ginny Weasley because you'd had this stupid crush on her since your second year and you couldn't help but feel accomplished that something actually happened almost the way you wanted it to for once.

"I've gotta go to the library. Studying. Ginny wanted help." You're talking like a robot and you have no idea when exactly you forgot how to talk like a normal human being. "I'll see you later?"

You'd actually completely forgotten about how she'd asked you to help her study until just now but it was a good thing that you did because, now that you were away from him, you realized that maybe it was better that you didn't tell Harry, because even though Harry was Harry and Harry was sweet and a pretty decent guy, he'd tell Ron and Ron would flip a shit on you and the last thing you wanted was to be thrown into the rumor mill and have one of your best friends hating you.

And that's how, ten minutes later, you found yourself sitting in the library next to Ginny, sucking nervously on a sugar quill and leaning back in your chair and playing with your hair and doing anything but being helpful. Not that you could really blame yourself, but still. You could at least try to be helpful or _something_ because you not doing anything at all was making the whole thing even more awkward and you're wondering if maybe she's feeling the same way or if she doesn't care at all and she's wondering if maybe you have strep throat and that's why you're not talking.

Shit, what's wrong with you? You're never like this, ever. You're shy, sure, but just in the typical bookworm way, not like this, around somebody who's supposed to be one of your really good friends, because you're actually really kind of crazy around your friends but now you have no idea what to say. At all.

"So, it's snowing."

Wonderful. Make small talk about the weather. You're absolutely brilliant. You should get a medal or something for your sheer genius.

Idiot.

"You okay?" Christ. She could've played along for at least a couple of sentences so that you could at least attempt to regain something resembling composure, but for once you're hating how blunt Ginny can be. Why doesn't anybody take pity on your obviously bewildered and vulnerable and confused and chocolate craving self? Okay, the chocolate doesn't have anything to do with anything, but you _do_ want some, and maybe if somebody decides that you do deserve pity, you wouldn't mind a free chocolate bar while they were at it.

Be blunt, stupid. Just be blunt the way she always is and act like it isn't that big of a deal. Grow a pair, why don't you? Take a chance for once in your bookwormy, homework filled life. "Did the other night mean anything?" You're trying not to be too loud because you're pretty sure that you're not the only ones in the library even though it is getting pretty close to lunch, and people do have a tendency to try to find out some new gossip whenever they see you with a girl.

She's doodling absently on her parchment. All these little stars and hearts and it's reminding you that she's still got so many childish tendencies and for a moment you feel really, really guilty, and actually, now that you think about it, so do you, and then you feel a little less guilty than you did before. But still.

"Do you want it to?" She's asking. Blunt. Like always. She wouldn't be Ginny if she wasn't like that. She's got this look like she does all the time and it won't be that much of a big deal if you say no, you don't want it to have meant a thing but she's like that about so many things, so you really don't have any idea at all.

"Well.. uhm.. I mean.." You're toying with your fingers and you're wishing that she wouldn't leave you to say something on your own and you wish she would just tell you what you want to know so you can be done with it because now you're scared shitless of saying the wrong thing. "Maybe..?"

All you can manage is to just squeak out that one little word and hope that maybe she'll smile and kiss your cheek and let you help her study and now you're getting lost in another one of your stupid fantasies about falling in love and being with somebody and all of the stupid mushy lover-ish things that you could do together even though you're sure that none of them will ever, ever leave your head with her.

But she doesn't say anything at all. She drops the subject completely and starts flipping through her potions textbook and asking you questions and you're just sitting there with your heart beating out of your chest and you're trying not to blush while you give her your textbook answers to her textbook questions.

--

:D Yay! Writing spree!

I didn't like the first chapter that much.. at all. Dx I'm trying to work my way out of a month long writer's block, and I think it's working.. this one turned out much better (imo..) and took _way _less time and effort to write.

:D

Well.. I dunno. I'll let the readers decide I guess :D

I hope you liked this chappy! :3


	3. Chapter 3

It's not cheating, you're telling yourself, because you're really not dating her at all anyway, so you shouldn't even be thinking about her. She shouldn't even cross your mind and you're being absolutely ridiculous and you should just shut up because you're making out with a hottie who's got her hands up your shirt and she wants you and you're pretty sure that you want her to, so why can't you just kiss her and not think about Ginny?

You're wishing that you weren't as obsessed as you are now, because yes, you were sort of a little tiny bit (okay, a lot) obsessed with before and now it's just eating up your whole world. You're hoping that Katie won't notice how you've written "HG + GW" all over your thigh, but with your luck she probably will and part of you hopes that she's going to because you need to talk to _somebody_ who has any idea at all, even if they are your fuck buddy and that kind of thing is really not on the list of things that you talk to fuck buddies about (not that there's much of anything on that list in the first place.."

Katie's sucking on your neck and you can feel her pause as she notices all the other half healed purple marks that she obviously hasn't made because you haven't hooked up with her since the end of your fourth year, and you're wondering if she's jealous or if anything at all is going through her head, or maybe she's lucky enough that she doesn't care at all and she just wants to get some ass. You can't help but be jealous if that's the case.

You're an emotional train wreck and you know it. You're used to her, that's all. That's why it's so easy for you to do this and sit there and still think about Ginny and not even think about sex but just about her, which tells you that you're in way over your head and you wish you weren't but you are and christ, she just wants you for your body.

You've got your hands in Katie's hair and she's pulling your shirt off and you're trying to ignore that she's just the tiniest bit nervous now and you're feeling her hand shake just once and you're wondering if you're suddenly impervious to some ghostly draft in the room.

But then it's gone and she's kissing down your stomach softly and you're wishing that just for now you could stop thinking about her because if you don't you're sure that you're going to go absolutely mad.

Stop. Stop stop stop stop.

"Katie.." She's got her head between your legs and you're deciding that you should walk around with somebody with their head between your thighs eating you out all the time because it actually does work at making you forget about anybody else that you might have your mind stuck on.

And you've decided that if you don't think about her name or the color of her hair or her eyes or any other member of her family or anything she's ever done with you that maybe you'll be able to not think about her and then life'll be so much easier, because really, how hard can it be?

Well, except sex. You're not giving up sex.

--

"So, who's the lucky girl?" Katie's asking, curling your hair around her finger and resting her chin on your head, your clothes still sitting at the foot of your bed, her arms wrapped loosely around you below your breasts and you hate to admit it but this is your favorite part of sleeping with her. She's soft and she's sweet and she smells like vanilla and she doesn't really seem to care that she's fucking you because she acts perfectly normal and you're wondering if it's not that she's special, but you're the only one who still cares at all about sex meaning anything.

Stop thinking about sex, jesus christ.

"Who says they're from a girl?" You're mumbling, blushing and leaning back onto her shoulder and half closing your eyes.

"Hermione, I'm not stupid. I know that you're not bi. In all the time you've been at Hogwarts I've never ever seen you checking out a guy."

Has she been looking for that long?

"So? That doesn't mean I don't like--"

"Stop changing the subject. Who'd you bang?" She's grinning and she's giggling a little bit and you're wishing that you didn't have to take everything so seriously and you're snuggling closer to her and christ, she's warm.

"Why does it matter to you?"

"I wanna know!"

"If I tell you you'll go after her too."

"So it is a girl!" She's squealing triumphantly, and you're so glad that your roommates seem to have all passed out in the common room or something, because she definitely would've woken them up by now.

"Maybe it's a crossdresser that looks like a girl and I'm saying her to be polite."

"But it's not. Who is it?" She's grinning and you're looking at her like she's absolutely crazy, so she adds, "Oh, don't look at me like that, I'm not going to steal her if you're interested. I'm just curious is all.."

It's funny, really, because you trust her. You believe every word she's telling you and it's not because you're gullible because you most certainly are not. It's funny, really, but you're just going to go with your gut feeling because it's been right most of the time and you do want to talk to _somebody _and it's not like Katie's going to go all, "Lesbians are gross!" on you, because you've noticed that to most people around here, being something and acting on it are two completely different things (well, actually, they are, but whatever.)

"Ginny." And then, even though you're pretty sure there's only one Ginny in the school, you add, "Weasley. Ginny Weasley."

"It's about time you guys got together! Sheesh.. and here I was thinking you were going to surprise me or something."

Wait. What?

But then you're realizing that, duh, they probably used to hook up or something and.. and that's all you can come up with, actually, because after that you have no idea where she's getting that whole, "It's about time" thing from, because it's not like Ginny ever talked about you or anything, and you know that you never talked about her but that was just because you were terrified of somebody catching on and you really weren't too wealthy in the friends department and the last thing you wanted was to lose Ron over some stupid crush, because you know he wouldn't like you going after his sister, and everybody knows how Harry feels about Ginny, so if anything got out you'd be absolutely fucked.

Life would be so much easier if you hung around girls more and didn't have to worry about liking the same person as anybody who mattered.

"Uhm?"

"Oh, for god's sake, are you kidding me? You've never noticed her staring at you?"

You're wishing that she would just stop, already, because she's just going to get your hopes up and then they're going to get crushed and you're going to feel even worse than before anything ever happened and it was just a (sort of) innocent crush.

"We're.. not really.." You're mumbling, and she's smiling like she knows everything you could ever want to know, and by the sounds of it her smile isn't lying because the only thing you ever really want to know about is Ginny anyway.

But she's not going to tell you, and she's crawling out of bed and she's fishing around under the bed for her bra, her shoulders sagging just the tiniest bit.

She's found it and she's clipped it on and she's pulled her jeans up and her shirt's over her head and she's not even bothering to fix her sex hair, and right before she walks out you can hear her saying, "She looks at you, you know," and then she's gone.

And you're realizing that Katie Bell's human too.

--

The fact that you're in your fifth year and your teachers have yet to absolutely drown you in homework assignments shows that something is very, very wrong with the world, and you've begun to plan for the apocalypse. Actually, you were really just planning on complaining about how you were going to be completely unprepared for your OWLs at the end of the year, but to you being unprepared is like the apocalypse, so whatever.

Ron's laying sprawled across the couch with his feet on the table, tapping his hand anxiously against the cushion, and Harry's half asleep on the chair next to it, head on his shoulder with his knees at his chest.

"Hey. Let's play spin the bottle."

And the next thing you know, you, Ron, Katie, Harry, Ginny, Alicia and Fred or George (you can never tell which) are sitting around an empty bottle of butterbeer spin around.

Christ, you're sitting in a school full of hidden corridors and textbooks and you can do magic, and the best you can come up with to amuse yourself is making out with whoever a bottle lands on. It's times like these that you're glad you're a bookworm instead of being like every other kid in your year.

"Do I have to kiss him?" Katie's whining, glaring at the bottle as though it could possibly be scared of her (although, once you got a glance of the look on her face, you'd decided that that was a very, very brave glass bottle, and it should be framed or something)

"Hey! That hurts my self esteem, you know.." Ron's mumbling, blushing and cracking his knuckles nervously.

"And your face helps mine." She's saying, but she's grinning so you're pretty sure that it's all in good humor and she's leaning over and just barely touching her lips to his and then squealing and sitting back down next to Alicia and wiping her mouth off, making a face like she just stuck her head in a dumpster.

But all you can notice is her. You don't even bat an eyebrow when Harry and Ron end up having to kiss and by the looks of it they have the same views as Katie: Boys are yucky.

She's there and she's perfect and oh god, she just had to kiss Fred. And that means she's spinning the bottle and shit, shit fucking shit it landed on you.

You're sitting there and you're blushing and oh my god, she's blushing too. Holy fucking shit, she's so adorable.

"Uhm.."

And then she's grinning and the next thing you know she's sitting on her knees in front of you and she's got her arms around your neck and her hands're in your hair and her tongue's in your mouth and she tastes like pancakes and syrup and toothpaste which sounds kind of gross but it's okay because it's _Ginny_ and it's amazing that you know what she tastes like at all and you actually don't mind it at all.

And you're kissing her back and you've got your hands around her waist and you're hearing wolf whistles from all around the common room and if you weren't so turned on right now you'd probably burst out laughing, but you are so you're not and you're feeling somebody's camera flashing on you and you're wondering how long it's going to take for that to be all over the school.

"Uhm.. okay.. that's enough now.." Fred's saying, laughing nervously and he's got this awkward look on his face like, "oh my god, lesbians," but he's trying to make himself remember that one of them's his little sister and the other one's the girl that his little brother has a crush on and that's just _awkward._

She's pulling back and she's grinning at you and there's a tiny little line of spit stuck between your lips (honestly, how often does that happen?) and then she's kissing you again quickly and then she's sitting back down practically on fire and grinning still.

You're glancing over to your other side and Katie's looking at you like, "I told you so," but you're just thinking that she's a flirt. She's a bloody good kisser, but she's a flirt and she's confident and she does that to everybody, and Katie's over there looking like she's got the flu or something all of a sudden and you're wondering if she's looked like that the whole time and you're trying to remember but you can't.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hermione?"

You're with her in the exact same place you were the first time you ever kissed her and she's got her hands in your hair and she's leaning on you just like she was the first time, but this time she doesn't have a textbook and she's smiling just the tiniest little bit like she always does when she wants to say something but she's scared to, and you're expecting any second now for her to blurt something out like, "Okay, fine, I'm kind of into Hagrid," or something absurd like that.

But she doesn't, and she just sits like that for a while longer and you've got your arm around her and she's shivering just the tiniest little bit and you're feeling a lump growing in your throat and your chest's getting tight and you're terrified of doing anything wrong because you want her to stay here with you like this and you want to revel in your nostalgia just a tiny little bit longer because right now it's perfect.

The leaves are all orange and it's the last week of October and you've always loved this time of year because it's not too cold and it's not too hot and there's still leaves and they're absolutely gorgeous and everybody's growing pumpkins and it's cold enough that it makes Ginny shiver and you love that so much.

She seems so much smaller and younger and sweet and soft and innocent when she's cold and when she's scared and when she's tired and when she's not putting on this act of hers and she's not trying to make everybody love her for the outgoing, confident girl that she's absolutely not. She's beautiful when she doesn't try and she's lovable when she's just sitting there trying to figure out the right words to spit out at the world.

You feel stupid, but you can't help but think about your first year, when you were getting off the train at the end of the year and you saw her standing there behind her mom, tugging her skirt gently and almost shaking and so absolutely shy. You didn't even hear her talk and you didn't think too much of it then but when you look back now it's so fucking cute and you sort of wish that she would act like that more often.

"Yeah?" You're talking through her hair and it smells like strawberries and perfume and it's soft and smooth and usually you feel kind of weird leaning on top of people's heads like this but not her.

She's perfect. If you tried to think about everything that was perfect about her you wouldn't be able to do anything for the rest of your life because everything she does is absolutely perfect. And if it isn't perfect, by the time it's there or it's happened or she's done it, it is perfect just because it's her.

You're being ridiculous. You really wish that you could just stop and your heart wouldn't beat so fast and she couldn't do this to you but she can. And yes, you do like it, but you just want to be able to be normal around her and you don't want to always feel like your heart's about to burst and you don't want to be so jealous whenever she leaves for somebody else and you don't want to feel so alone when she's gone.

She's looking up at you and you're looking down at her and she's smiling nervously and she's blushing and you wish that she would be like this all the time because it's what you know she's actually like and it's the way she was before she came to this stupid school.

"You're beautiful." And she's chewing her lip and she's kissing your cheek and then she's snuggling back into her spot on your shoulder as though nothing had happened at all and your face blends in perfectly with her hair as it sits there and burns and you feel your stomach tingle.

You changed your mind.

You don't want her to be like that all the time because if she was then it wouldn't be special that she acts like herself around you and from what you've seen only you and you want to be able to say that you have something from her and you know something that nobody else gets and nobody else knows.

It makes you feel just a tiny bit closer to actually having her.

--

"I told you she looks at you," Katie's saying as she stabs her bacon. She'd glanced up at the window or something and neither of you hadn't said anything and you're wondering for a moment if maybe she stalks you and she saw you and Ginny outside by the tree.

"Huh?" Brilliant response. You deserve a medal or something.

"She was looking over here. Ginny, I mean." Her words are simple and blank and it's kind of odd, because usually Katie's really smiley and bubbly and cheerful about everything, or she's blurting out philosophies or something (but you've hardly ever seen that happen) and you're wondering if maybe she really did used to hook up with Ginny or something and something happened and she's jealous, even though that really doesn't fit with your image of her at all.

"She is?" You're asking, surprised, while you crane your neck and try to see where she is, but she's got her head down and she's reading the paper. "No she's not.."

"She was." And then Katie's forking the rest of her eggs into her mouth and standing up. "Hey. You're gonna be at the game later, right?"

Dear god, did aliens abduct Katie and find a replacement that would do exactly the opposite of everything Katie normally does? She's never asked you to come to anything or really acted like you mattered at all as anything except a hookup until now and she's acting jealous and she's making sure that she has time with you and what the hell?

"Course."

--

"Okay, fine, maybe I do sorta maybe a little like you." Katie's mumbling, looking away from you and grabbing onto the sheets so hard you can see her knuckles turning white.

"I was actually going to ask you if my glasses were under your bra on the table, but that works too." You're saying, blushing and trying to grin at her as though it's no big deal but you're failing miserably.

It's not _not_ a big deal to you, but at the same time it absolutely doesn't affect you at all.

How could something like that not effect you? You've never even had a girlfriend before and this is Katie freaking Bell, for god's sake. She's gorgeous and she's sixteen and she's a star and she's got the perfect body and she's sweetIt's to you and she takes care of you and she lays in bed with you and talks to you and you're not scared like you are with Ginny so you can actually talk to her.

And she knows you. She knows what you're thinking and what you're feeling and she helps you so much and you really don't know.

All you'd said was her name and she turns and she blurts that out and shouldn't she know you have way too much on your mind already and the last thing you need is one more person you have to worry about hurting.

But it's been bothering her and you realize now why it is that she's seemed so down lately and you've got this horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach because she's normally so cheerful and you did that to her. Okay, granted, you didn't really mean to do anything wrong and you didn't mean to hurt her or anything but you've been sitting around asking about Ginny and talking about her and Katie's the jealous type and you feel so unbelievably guilty.

"Do you wanna go again?" You're asking, trying to change the subject because you don't want to think right now and she looks like she feels like an idiot and sex tends to make people pay forget about things, at least for a little while and by the looks of it you both have plenty to forget.

"This is the last time, Hermione."

"Yeah, I know. I have homework too."

"I mean that I can't do this anymore. The next time we do this it'll be because we're together." She's saying and she's trying to sound strong but you can tell she doesn't want to say a single one of those words and she wants to keep hooking up with you but you can't exactly tell her, "No, you can't stop sleeping with me," because it's breaking her.

You're breaking her. You're breaking her like Ginny's breaking you.

And when you don't say anything, she leans over and she kisses your lips softly and she's got on hand resting gently on your cheek and she's got her eyes closed and you can feel her shake just the tiniest little bit and you don't know what you're feeling for her but you feel _something._

It's not like all the other times you've hooked up with her because this doesn't even feel like you're hooking up at all and she's being gentle and sweet and she's so soft and you just want to hold her and keep her safe and you feel yourself shivering and the hair on your arms standing up as she kisses down your stomach.

And two hours later when she's standing and she's got all her clothes on already and you've only got your bra and panties, she's turning to leave and you're grabbing her and you're hugging her.

You don't know how to describe the surprised noise that she let escape her lips, except that it was a noise and it was surprised and she didn't mean to make it at all.

"Katie.."

She's warm and she's hugging you back and she's stroking your hair just the tiniest bit and she's breathing on you and you can feel how much she's struggling to walk away from this.

And then she's gone.

--

Two chapters in 24 hours.. :D

Yay me. This one's kind of short, but I don't want to write any more. (not like, "ew I hate writing" just I really really like that as an end to a chapter)

Thank you SOOO much to everybody that reviewed and added to their alerts.. I love all you guys so much. :D

I would put a heart there but I'm pretty sure the less than sign won't work. D:


	5. Chapter 5

And it's kind of funny, really, because you never really cared about Katie until now, when she's gone and you're more confused than ever. And you don't even know if it would be easier to miss her for the sex or miss her for her, because either way it hurts and you feel awful and you've been taking her for granted for the past year and you never realized that she's thinking all the same things you're thinking about Ginny.

You sit and you wonder and you wish and you touch yourself and you wish that she was here and you really don't know who she is but it's somebody and she loves you and she'll take you away to a place so much more magical than this stupid school and you'll never have to worry or think about anything again.

You're wishing that she was real.

And you're staring out the window and it's the first week of December and there's half a foot of snow on the ground and there's still more falling.

It says enough about the fact that Katie was more than sex by the fact that she wasn't _that_ good and you're still thinking about her way more than you ever figured you would and it's been nearly two months. You're hearing her voice echoing behind Ginny's every word and you see her hair whipping around hallways, but you haven't seen all of her except when she's a hundred feet above the ground on a broomstick.

You're almost ready to give up on Ginny because you never know what to say and when she talks you babble and she just sort of looks at you like you're insane and there's something about her that makes it impossible for you to do anything else but you're so obsessed with her but you know now you don't mean a thing to her.

She's just another crush and she's nothing special and she'll pass like all the other girls who ended up being nothing special too.

And that's why it's been this way for years.

--

"And okay, maybe fine, I do like you a little more than I'm supposed to, and fine, maybe the reason that I always act like an idiot in front of you is because I'm always trying to find the perfect words and I talk like a retard until I do and maybe the way you touch me always sends shivers down my spine and I can't help it and fine, I like you a lot more than I'm supposed to and.." You're standing alone in the bathroom on the second floor and you've got your head against the stall wall and you wish that you would stop talking to yourself and confessing your love to the air because one of these days, somebody's going to say something back and you're not sure if it would be worse if it was her or if it wasn't.

"Who's the lucky boy?" And you're thinking for a moment about the perfect timing of that thought you'd just had about how somebody was going to hear you someday. But you're realizing that nobody's come in the time that you've been here and you're realizing that you're in Myrtle's bathroom. Shit.

"Uhm... I uhm.. nobody?" You're mumbling and you're wishing that you could be half as good at lying as you are at reciting half of Hogwarts: A History from memory but it should be obvious by now that the vast majority of the things you wish for never come to be.

"Oh really now?" Myrtle's asking, grinning evilly at you and giggling a bit.

"Yeah.. I'm uhm.. practicing for a muggle play I'm going to be in over the holiday." Well, at least you tried, right? That should count for something, shouldn't it?

That's like asking that since you had three of the eight words in an answer right, you should get partial credit, and the word you put on your paper was pie.

"Who's GW?" She's asking, glancing at your arm and then back at you, looking smug and proud of herself like she's done so much more than find the ability to read two letters that are part of the english alphabet. "Gregory Waunklick? George Weasley! That's it! You've got the hots for George Weasley and you don't want to say anything because you're afraid that Ron's going to get hurt and then he'll blame his brother and hate him. How noble of you."

You're just standing there and you're hoping that she just sticks with thinking that it's George Weasley and you're reminding yourself to never write on your arms again because there really aren't that many 'GW''s in the school and next time somebody's going to say Ginny instead of George and with your luck Katie will be there and.. wait. Stop thinking about Katie, you like Ginny!

"Oh, but aren't you gay?"

Christ. Maybe if you stopped thinking, bad things like this would stop happening to you (and under normal circumstances, you'd be coming up with something absolutely horrible that could be happening right now that would make the endless teasing you're sure you're about to begin enduring feel like a walk in the park, but considering your recent luck, you're sure that if you do it'll happen.)

But you don't know what she's going to say next because by the time she's finished opening that big, stupid clear mouth of her's, you're out in the hallway and you're feeling your chest hurting and you're realizing that you're breaking and you have no idea.

You just know that you're breaking.

Ginny Weasley's breaking you down without even breaking a sweat.

--

You're watching them all run around and go about their stupid little chores, hanging mistletoe and Flitwick's charming decorations onto the twenty foot pine tree that Hagrid lugged in the other night while everybody was asleep (at least, that's what you assume, considering that you're a part of everybody, no matter how special you may be.)

You can't help but feel just the tiniest bit sad, because the year's almost over and that marks another year that you've sat around and wished and dreamed and never done a single damn thing. You're wishing you could be half as brave as all the girls in all the books you read and you're wishing you could be beautiful and that somebody would come along with a rose in their mouth and their lips on your hand and they'd steal your heart the way romance is supposed to be.

But you have to admit, you're getting better. There's Katie. She makes you feel _something_ and honestly, that's better than anybody else has been able to do for a long time, but you still don't know if you miss her or you miss the sex or you miss the comfort of waking up with somebody's arms around you or knowing that somebody needs you.

You must be really ugly or there must be a ton more dykes in this school than you know about for Ginny to have not shown the tiniest hint of interest in you.

You don't think that you're pretty, but you never knew you were _that_ bad.

You're yawning a bit and you're leaning your head against your shoulder and you can't help but pretend that the hands wrapped around your front aren't yours and then you're asleep at the bottom of the stairway.

And when you've woken up again it's dark and you're finished breaking. There's nothing left to break but she's standing there under the mistletoe and she's looking at you like she's known that this was going to happen from the day that she was born.

She's like a magnet and you're metal and you don't even know what you're doing but you're standing and everybody says that the eyes are the windows to the soul but hers are so cold you can feel chills going down your spine and you're scared.

She's like nail polish remover and you're a dying fire. Your heart's beating out of your chest and you don't really know why because it's just Ginny and she's just standing there but you just need to stand up and you need to lift your feet and walk to her and you're supposed to kiss her because whenever you're stuck under mistletoe with somebody it's just what you're supposed to do.

You really have no idea why, actually, now that you think about it. It's one thing you don't know.

You've never read why you're supposed to kiss somebody under mistletoe and you'd never even heard of it until you'd first gone to school and you feel like you're going to die.

But why's she here? Why's she here waiting for you when she hasn't acted like anything's happened since that one night in the beginning of school and why hasn't she even looked at you the way you've looked at her?

Katie's said so many times that she's been staring but you've never caught her. Not once have you looked up and met her eyes and you're realizing that you don't think you've seen her eyes for months now.

You wish that she would tell you that you're beautiful and that she's waited so long for this and that you're perfect and that she loves you but she doesn't. GInny Weasley's always been the quiet type, deep down, and you're wondering if maybe it's because even a girl like her can't find the words sometimes and you're pretty sure she can't, because this whole "I'm perfect, you know you love me," thing she's got going on is just an act and you know there's more to her than that because you've seen it and you've felt it every time she's shaken under you, just like you can feel it now.

But Ginny Weasley, you're telling yourself as she blushes and plays with your hair nervously, is perfect. Ginny Weasley is beautiful and you've waited so long for this and you're pretty sure that by now you can say that you love her. You've been looking for all these years and you've never found a single thing wrong. You've tried and you've tried and you've told yourself that there's no way somebody could possibly be so flawless but you've never found a single flaw.

You've been looking for all these years.

She's chewing her lip and then she's looking up at you shyly (did you grow?) and then she's kissing you. Full on kissing you, and it's not like the first kiss, which was innocent and didn't mean anything and it was something that just was. It's not like the second kiss or all the other ones that came after, because you're not planning on sleeping with her and you're pretty sure she's not kissing you just to get in your pants.

She makes you feel a million things at once and you feel like dying and you feel like crying and you feel like taking her back to your room and making love to her for the first time (because yes, making love is an entirely different thing than fucking) and you feel like just staying here and kissing her.

You've been looking for all these years and finally, she looked back.

--

Jeez.. Sorry it took so long for me to update. D:

Uhmm.. I might be able to get another chapter or two up, depending on what I'm doing this week, but if I don't, the next chapter'll be up September 7th (when I get back from vacation. :D) and hopefully I'll write a few, so there won't be any delays for a while.


	6. Chapter 6

She's the most confusing, difficult, exhausting person you ever have and ever will meet. Ever.

She kisses you and she sits there and she has the nerve to look at you like that and melt your heart and make your stomach tie itself in knots and make your heart beat the way it always does when she's around you and then she just leaves you standing there alone in the middle of an empty hallway like she has any right to do any of this to you.

You wish you were brave. You wish you were brave and you had something resembling a feeling of self worth and you wish that you could walk up to her and just _talk to her_ but that seems to be so far beyond your grasp.

It's not that you aren't smart enough to find the words, because everybody knows that you're one of the brightest girls that they're ever going to meet and it's not that you're afraid that you're going to lose her as a friend because that's already happened.

You're just scared to know the truth. You're scared that nothing means anything to her and she kissed you because she felt like it and she fucked you because she was horny and Katie's seen her looking at everybody instead of you and you really don't mean a thing to her after all.

Because then your world comes crashing down around you and then there's no more wondering and wishing and dreaming and hoping, there's just cold, hard, solid fact and you don't think that you'd be able to take that. And you know that in a few years or maybe in a few months it won't mean a thing at all to you but you just can't take it right now and you don't know what to do with yourself with her.

You're nothing without her. It sounds so stupid and cliche and it sounds like the kind of thing that a twelve year old says after the get dumped by their boyfriend of two weeks, but it's true. It's not even that you'd be heartbroken if she left (even though you would be) it's just that you really would be nothing if you didn't have GInny Weasley to obsess over. You wouldn't have anything to scribble on the sides of all your essays and across your arms and you wouldn't have anybody to pretend you were hugging every night and you wouldn't have anybody who you'd dream about and you'd wake up smiling.

You're too co-dependant. You can't be happy as you are and you don't know anymore if you love her because she's her or you love her just to love somebody.

You're in love with love but you're not sure if you're in love with her. You're wishing that you could hate her but you need somebody new to steal your heart and you need somebody new to think about every night and you need somebody else breathing on your neck at night.

She's beautiful. She's perfect and you'd stay with her for the rest of your life in a heartbeat if she wanted. You'd go to the ends of the earth if she asked you to and you'd do anything you had to to see her smile. You'd sit up by her bed all night long for three nights in a row if she was sick and you'd bring her medicine and make her soup and if she ever ended up in the hospital you'd bring her flowers and balloons and you'd quit your job to spend all your time with her and if she would just tell you that she loved you, you'd bring her a lily every day because she'd told you once that they were her absolute favorite flower.

You're stupid like that.

It was so much easier when you were little and she was even littler and she was shy and you were shyer and you'd smile at her and she's just sit there and blush and then she'd smile just the tiniest little bit back and she'd ask you to help her with her homework because it was so obvious, now that you think about it, that she had the biggest crush on you back then. Okay, maybe it wasn't the same way that you had a crush on her now, but it was something. She'd sit there and she's blush and she'd ask you in the smallest voice if you would eat lunch with her because she didn't really know anybody and she didn't want to not have anybody to talk to.

She was the cutest little girl you've ever seen in your entire life, and you thought that then and you still think it now. She's beautiful now, though. Oh, god, she's so beautiful now.

Christ. Stop. You have to stop thinking about her, and okay fine, you're not just in love with the simple thought of loving somebody. You don't think you love her but it's something and that something's a lot more than you've ever felt for somebody for so long.

If you could just get her off your mind, maybe you would be able to just do something about her instead of sitting around and beating yourself up over all the little things you never did and now you'll never have the chance unless you grow a pair (which will hopefully never literally happen)

You're wishing that you'd told her that she was beautiful and (back then, at least) she was the sweetest girl you'd ever met and you hoped that you'd always be friends because she always made you smile and you wished that you'd told her you'd always be there if she was sad and that no matter how many boyfriends hurt her (because yes, you'd assure her, you will have boyfriends) you'd always stay by her and you'd make her smile like she made you smile.

You're wondering if maybe she remembers the only time you ever told her that your favorite flowers were sunflowers.

--

"Hey, Hermione?" Harry's asking and his voice snaps you out of your trance-like state. You're turning towards him and you're blinking a few times, wondering just how much time you've spent staring off into nowhere and thinking about god knows what and shit, you really _really_ hope you weren't staring at somebody or something creepy like that.

"Yeah?" You're asking, sounding almost like you just woke up. Actually, you just yawned, so you're wondering if maybe you fell asleep sitting up and nobody even realized until just now.

It only been a day and a half but it's driving you absolutely crazy that you've gone to bed and woken up again the next morning and the world hasn't completely changed for you. You haven't woken up with Ginny laying next to you or in Ginny's bed and she hasn't found you during the day and confessed her undying love for you and told you that she wants your babies or something ridiculous like that, and that's just way too much for you to take much longer before you just burst (or inflate yourself like Harry did to his aunt, whichever happens first.)

"Do you think Ginny likes me?"

You're pretty sure that if you'd eaten anything for breakfast you would've just puked. You feel like somebody just made it possible for your heart to drop into your stomach and start being eaten by your stomach acid and that just happened. Jesus, you don't even know what to feel and you don't know why one stupid little sentence from one stupid little boy effects you so much but it does.

"I don't know." You're saying just a bit too quickly and you're pretty sure you'd be jealous even if she hadn't had that huge crush on him in her first year and that just makes it a million times worse and you're trying to remember if she's ever told you if she's bi or gay or pan or whatever.

He's not saying anything. He's just looking at you a little funny and then he's shrugging through what must be some internal monologue but he's not saying anything.

Thank god.

You're glancing outside and oh, god, you love when it snows like this. You love the holiday season and you love the snow and you really wish you were back home right now and you wish you were ten years old and you'd never given love a second thought and all you really wanted to do was go snowboarding down your driveway.

If you were a normal girl and you went to a normal school you'd probably be squealing with joy and running to the television set and starting to speculate about how many days off you'd probably be getting from school and normally you'd be kind of bummed out about not being able to go and learn new stuff but it'd mean more time with your snowboard and you could do an extra good job on your homework.

"You like the snow, don't you..?" He's asking softly and he's looking at you as though he'll find out all your dirty little secrets and the truth about all your stupid little white lies if he could just look at you the right way and you're wondering what's going on in that little scarred up head of his and maybe he gets that you obviously don't want to think about Ginny being with somebody and he's changing the subject for your sake and hopefully he won't say anything to Ron.

You're nodding absently and you're just sitting there staring at it like you're four and you've lived in Florida all your live and you've never seen snow before in your life and it actually does almost feel like that because you've never seen snow like this before.

Not that you've never seen snow the size of softballs falling from the sky before, it's just that you've never felt like this and it feels like you're a completely different person than you were a year ago and you're only just now realizing how much you've changed and you thought it was just a couple of little things until now you're sitting here wondering who the fuck you are.

Who are you?

--

Something's off today. She's nervous but you have no idea what she's nervous about and she's sitting there moving her eggs around on her plate but she hasn't eaten a single bite since she sat down, even though she's got so much damn food on her plate. Maybe she's sick and she spent the night puking her guts up and she's still sick now but she's starving and everything looks so good but she's scared to eat it because she doesn't want to puke anymore, because if you remember right she absolutely hates puking.

Once, in your third year, you remember you'd been staying with the Weasleys and you'd asked Ron where Ginny was and he'd said that she had a stomach virus and their mother had added from the stove at the other side of the kitchen that she was absolutely miserable and whining about how she'd cried the second time she puked and then you felt so unbelievably awkward because you've never really been very good at hearing that somebody's crying, so you just sat there and blushed.

You've never been very good at doing anything except laughing or crying or kissing somebody back, now that you think about it. You have all the perfect words when somebody needs you or when you're starting the conversation but otherwise you really don't have a clue because all those pretty words you spit out take a bit of rehearsal and you never really get that when somebody's telling you that they've got cancer or their baby died or they're pregnant at fifteen and you're always so scared people won't love your words as much when they're ugly and raw and unrehearsed and they're coming straight from what you're guts are telling you to say.

But for once, you have the courage it looks like Ginny doesn't. You just found the courage that you never had before and you're pushing yourself up on shaking legs and you're dragging yourself over to her and you're going to finally found out what you are to her and what the fuck's been going on and you're throwing yourself down and you're just praying to god you're not flying towards solid concrete and you're not going to lose yourself.

"Ginnyyyy Weasleyyy.." You're saying, grinning and resting your head on top of hers from behind her. You're feeling her jump just the tiniest bit under you and it's the sweetest thing ever but it's reminding you that she wasn't looking at you and you're wondering if maybe it's a sign.

"Jesus, don't sneak up on me like that." You feel like somebody just stabbed you in the heart and maybe you're just way too sensitive and you've been going through this moment so many times that you've forgotten that things go wrong and things don't always turn out the way that they do when they're happening in the ideal world of a stupid crushing idiot. You're wishing that she would sound just a little bit happy to see you but she doesn't. You wish that she would smile and say hello and play with your hair like she would've a few months ago but she doesn't and somehow you're finding strength from that.

If she doesn't care, then neither do you and it's not a big deal anymore, you just want to know for the sake of knowing.

"What are we?" You're asking. Simple and blunt and you're trying to act like it means as little to you as possible but in the back of your head it still means the world and your heart's still beating way too fast even though your brain's telling it that it's okay and it doesn't really matter anymore and it's okay if she says that you're nothing.

You're feeling her breathing in and thank god you're finally, _finally _going to know because you can't take this anymore.

"Hermione, come check this out!" Fred's saying and George has got your arm already and they're assuring you that this is the greatest invention ever and you're too heartbroken to even bother telling them that they can't be testing their stupid inventions on first years and god, you were so close but it's gone now.

You really wish that they weren't so fun and sweet and so noticeable if they mysteriously disappeared. You love them, yeah, but you really wouldn't mind if they were dead right now.

--

You're walking up to your room and you've got a piece of toilet paper stuffed up your nose and you're wishing that you'd had the energy to at least tell them that you didn't really feel like inducing massive nosebleeds with candies today and that you had homework or that you were anemic or anything because now you're exhausted and some second year who's obsessed with you has a small vial of your blood now and you're very, very worried about what exactly he's planning on doing with it.

You're tired and you haven't gotten a scrap of homework done and you're carrying four textbooks and seven rolls of parchment and god, this is one of those times when you really wish that you could just get out and you could relax and be yourself and not have to worry about all of these stupid papers and all of these stupid people ever again and you could just be with somebody who makes you smile.

God, you're so tired you don't even want to know what Ginny was going to say and you're too tired to care right now and everything that happened before barely even registers as something real and solid and something that's part of your actual, real life. It feels like you dreamed it or something and you're still dreaming right now and somebody's got a weighted blanket on top of you and that's why it's so hard so move and why all your muscles are so sore and you've never been so excited to be so close to your bed, not even when you were with a girl.

"Ginny.." You're mumbling under your breath, because talking to yourself has always helped you forget how tired you are and it makes things like climbing two flights of stairs with all the shit you have to carry go by so, so much faster, so you're mumbling her name again and you're saying between breaths that you love her and you think that she's beautiful and you really do wish that nothing had changed.

You're telling your invisible ghosts of your love that you wish she'd never changed and you'd never changed and everything could be the way it's always been, because you were so much happier then and she was always smiling too, so it's not like you're being selfish, right? You're telling her that she really is the most beautiful girl you've ever met, as though one time isn't enough (actually, it really isn't) and she's perfect and you want to leave her lilies beside her bed every day and that honestly, seeing her smile every day isn't enough anymore and seeing her happy isn't enough anymore because you would do anything to be the cause of happiness in her and you'd do anything to be the root of her smile, because god, her smile's the most beautiful thing in the whole world and you just want to be able to be the cause of _something _beautiful.

And you're finally at the top of the steps and you're pulling open the door to your room and there's a sunflower sitting on your nightstand.

--

My hands hurt.. :'( i've been writing for an hour and forty minutes nonstop and i really, really have to pee. D:

i got the idea for the last line after, like, the second paragraph.

well.. i think i like how this turned out. :D

except im really not all that awake, so for all i know it could be the most terrible thing anybody's ever written.

anyway.. i hope you liked it! :) and please review!


	7. Chapter 7

omggg a whole week to myself to just write. :D

i hope you guys like this chapter when i get it up.

--

It's been a day. It's been the longest, most difficult day you've ever had to live through and you barely slept last night and when you finally did, it was with her flower resting on your heart while you laid there, breathing in and out with your swollen eyes and your stupid "HG + GW" written all over your arm, even though you promised yourself you would stop doing that.

And now you're sitting on your bed again and you've got that one stupid flower, the only attempt at anything resembling acknowledgment from that one little girl and it broke your one stupid little heart and you're thinking about how you're just one stupid little person anyway, so it doesn't matter all that much whether or not your heart's functioning normally or it's shooting blood out your fingertips and beating inside your eye, you'd just hope that if that were the case, every mirror in the world would break before it happened.

You're wondering if it's even from her because whoever left that stupid flower next to your bed wasn't nice enough to leave a note saying who they were, but you never really told anybody so who else could it possibly be from?

And it's sad in a kind of pathetic way, really, that even though you tried to ask her earlier and you've got this flower sitting next to you and she walked up to you and fucking kissed you, you can't find the courage that you had six hours ago to just walk up to her and ask so that you just might be able to go to sleep at night again.

She's just a girl. She's one stupid girl and she shouldn't matter so much at all but she does, and even if she might not matter a year from now, there's still the chance that she might and the simple fact that right now she _does_ matter is more than enough to make you want to hole yourself up in your room and never come out again.

And even then, you're wondering if she'd bother trying to break down all the walls you'd surround yourself with and if she'd try to get through to you, or if she'd just laugh and laugh and laugh and you'd suffocate.

--

Just breathe. Just stop and breathe, why don't you?

But you can't. You can't stop and you can't get her face out of your mind and you've got goosebumps and she's brushing against your arm just the tiniest little bit, but it's all you need and you're paralyzed.

She's right next to you and you're still terrified. She walked over and she sat next to you and you're still terrified that you've read everything wrong and nothing means anything at all to her, even though that's what you thought about Katie and you can see the edges of swollen, bright red cuts peeking out from under her clothes when she isn't careful now, so it's true that the know it all can be wrong too.

She's shy, you know that, but why won't she talk? You're not scary and you're not intimidating and it's not like you're really pretty (for some reason you've always been so scared of talking to people you thought were gorgeous) and she's got this stupid act she's putting on and doesn't she have to keep that image up or something?

And then you're realizing that maybe it's her way of showing you that you're different and she doesn't need her stupid act to make you fall in love with her and she doesn't need way too much makeup and stupid fake self confidence and she doesn't need to be stupid and self absorbed.

Or maybe you're just reading way too much into things and she doesn't want to talk to you.

Why does there always have to be a glaringly obvious, incredibly undesirable alternative to all of your hopeful, optimistic dreaming? You really do think that there's some guy with a curly mustache somewhere laughing and pointing his finger at you and maybe your entire life is a great big joke to him and everybody else and you're the only one who's taking yourself seriously and that's why Ginny doesn't really give a shit, after all.

Christ, your brain gets you good grades and everything, but really, you're sure that if you just ate it or something, you would have much better self esteem (assuming, of course, there was some way you could keep living while your brain was being digested)

"Hey.. Ginny?" You're asking, amazed in your ability to even speak.

When did it become such an accomplishment for you to just open your mouth in front of her?

It's hitting you for the thousandth time just how much can change in so little time and you're trying to remind yourself to be careful and you're trying to learn how to catch the signs before everything's gone and you end up looking back at how things are now and wishing that it would be like this again.

"Yeah?" But then she's looking at you and you're wondering if maybe she really is just way too shy to say anything to you. She's blushing just a tiny little bit and she just has this _look_ and you don't have the words to describe it because she just stole all the words you ever could've had, but it just makes your stomach tingle and just looking at it makes you want to smile. It doesn't need to be soiled with any other words that just make it seem like every other beauitful thing in the world, so you'll just say that it's special and it makes you want to smile.

Just ask her. It's probably her and it's just a stupid question like all the thousands you've asked in class before, except this one won't decide whether or not you know the answer to the next test, so it's not even that important.

And what're you so scared of, anyway?

"Did you leave that flower in my room?" You're wishing that you weren't always so blunt about things. You're wishing that you could spit out all the perfect words like you used to be able to and you wish that you could convey emotion and every word would sound like poetry and nobody would ever be able to resist you and anybody you wanted would fall in love with you at the drop of a hat.

She's blushing. Oh, god, she's blushing, and it's the cutest thing that you've ever seen. It's even sweeter than the look and she's not saying anything and you can see her chewing nervously at the insides of your lips and you want to just grab her and tell her that there's nothing that she should ever be nervous about around you, but you know that that's another one of those things that you'll regret later, because you really do like the way she gets when she's nervous and when she doesn't know what to say and you don't want her to turn back into that cocky, overconfident girl that she is for everybody else in the world because she thinks it's what they want to see.

And then she's smiling just the tiniest little bit, and you're pretty sure it's because she's realizing that you're not angry or maybe she saw the look on your face and you think that it looks like you're hoping that she's going to say she did because that's what you're feeling.

"Uhm.. Maybe?"

--

She's laying next to you and she's the most beautiful girl that you've ever seen. Ever. Especially when her hair's all messed up and she's barely awake and you can just barely see her blue eyes and she's holding your hand and oh, god, she's beautiful.

She's the most amazing girl in the whole world, you're realizing as she snuggles against you and you're hoping that you'll be able to wake up in time to get her out of your room before your roommates wake up, because even though you really couldn't care less about what they say, you're sure she doesn't want anything to get started, considering how many siblings she has just in school.

And it's weird, because even though she's your girlfriend and it's not like you stripped her clothes off (without her consent, anyway) you still can't help but feel guilty. Not so much for staring at her or for sleeping with her or that she's a year younger than you, just that you got her. Silly little old you got the most amazing girl in the whole world, and you're just you. You're a plain old normal brainiac and there must be thousands of girls like you all over the world, but there's only one that's like her. There's only one Ginny Weasley and that's it. Nobody else comes close, and there's thousands of girls out there who're just like you.

And even though she's yours and you're hers, you can't help but feel jealous of everybody who's had her before you and even though you've slept with somebody else before too, you can't help but feel like you don't mean a thing to her and you're just another girl on a long, long list and you're another trophy on her wall.

"'Mione..?" She's mumbling tiredly, trying to smile as she kisses your cheek and looks at you through drooping eyelids. Christ, you've never seen something so cute, ever.

"Yeah?" You're whispering, grinning at her and kissing her forehead, wrapping your fingers around her hair absently,

"Have you ever.. uhm.. have you ever done this with anybody before?"

People really do need to stop reading your mind.

"What? Had a girlfriend? Not really no.."

"Well, I mean.." And she made a sort of awkward Gesture towards you and your clothes laying in a pile on the floor and your state of, well, nakedness.

"Oh.. well.. yeah.. I mean.." You're laughing nervously and looking down at yourself like, "well, we just did," and it's weird because she actually gets it.

"Before me?"

"Yeah?" Where's she going with this, anyway?

"Really?"

Why's she so surprised? Does she really think that you're so ugly that nobody would even sleep with you, or something?

"Haven't you?"

"You were my first."

And then you have no idea what to say, because you're realizing that everything you thought you knew about Ginny Weasley and everything you thought she felt about you was wrong. It was so, so wrong.

--

:D i found a cafe that has wifi on the island.. soo.. have a chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

So.. I know I left off the scene where they got together. D:

Frankly, I suck at those. Very, very much. I figured it'd be better to just skip it than have you all gouge your eyes out more than you already do from reading this.

Err.. If anybody wants it, I could try and write it..

--

You're sitting there and she's sitting with you and she's playing with your fingers under the blankets, and you're supposed to be studying, and you suppose you should at least attempt to _look_ like you're studying, especially considering that Ron's right across the room and he's looking right at you with this look on his face like he's trying to actually think for once in his life, and you're the slightest bit worried that he's smarter than he lets on.

But honestly, you can't complain and you don't want to worry and the last thing you ever want to do is have her take her perfect hands off your skin, because she makes you feel things you've never felt before, ever, and you don't want that feeling to go away. You're scared that she's going to take it away and then you're never going to find it again and you're going to sit around forever and think about all the maybes and ifs.

She's smiling nervously at you and you wish that you could be like every other couple and you didn't have to sneak around all the time and you could just grab her and kiss her, but you can't. And it's really not that big of a deal, because hey, yo have her, you should just be happy for that, but you hate it sometimes.

She tugs on your hand gently and she must be thinking the same thing that you are, because she's standing with you and dragging you out of the common room by your shirt sleeve and out the portrait, and it must look like one of you has started her period or something.

At least, you hope it does.

She's grinning at you and she's taken you to some empty hallway and you're hoping that it's going to stay that why for at least half an hour while she pins you up against the cold marble wall behind you and kisses you, her tongue in your mouth and her fingers gently teasing the skin between the top of your jeans and the bottom of your shirt.

And you're smiling against her lips and she's got her perfect hands all over your trembling, nervous body and even though you're supposed to be used to this because, hey, she _is_ your girlfriend, you're not. She makes you feel so, so many things and you can't explain any of them with any words because nothing can measure up.

She makes you feel alive, with your heart beating uncontrollably in your chest until you're sure it can't beat any faster without exploding.

And yeah, part of you does wish that you could just sit down and talk to her without ending up with her hand up your shirt the way it is right now, and you wish that you could fall asleep with her in front of the stupid fire in the stupid common room like every other couple. You're not really in any position to complain, and you really aren't, but it'd be nice. It'd be really, really nice.

But she's kissing down your neck over all the other old hickeys and you can't really think anymore, and she's mumbling that she loves you and you're wondering if most people would think that you're being stupid for acting like this already, because you haven't been together that long but christ, you've been obsessed with her forever.

--

"Hey, Hermione?" Ron's asking from across the table, and you lift an eyebrow towards him, which is as much acknowledgement as anybody's going to get from you right now. Christ, you need to finish this essay and then you have another 18 inch one to finish for ancient runes and oh, god, why did you ever try to have a life during your fifth year? They're trying to kill you, you've decided. Everybody around you wants you to die a horrid, essay and textbook related death. Maybe, just to give them some sort of satisfaction, you'll fill your veins with ink and then when you die, you'll make sure you slice your wrists and you'll sit there in a pool of ink and at least you'll finish your essays.

You're guessing that he gets it, because he's wringing his hands nervously in the way that every girlfriend's brother does right before he says that he wants you to leave his little sister alone.

At least, you're pretty sure he is. You could just be being paranoid, which seems like it's happening a lot lately. You're terrified that there's all these people watching everything you do and they're sitting there with their notebooks and their tape recorders and everything you do with Ginny is all over the school right now, just nobody's bothered to tell you.

"Uhm.. Well.." He's mumbling and christ, you wish that guys would regain that charisma they had around you before you got boobs and god, this is why you like girls more. Actually, no, it isn't, but you like to say that it is to make guys feel bad.

"Fine, okay? Fine. I'm sleeping with her. Now leave me alone." You growl, smacking your fist against the table and then realizing that it's called solid wood for a reason. Christ, that was a bad idea.

Ron's staring at you like you're crazy, and then he's got this look on his face like he's beginning to process what you've just said, and even though it's obvious that he doesn't know who "she" is, the "oh my god lesbians" thing is more than enough to make up for the lack of a second girl.

"Whoa.. whoawhoa.. Who..?" He's asking, but he's got this totally spaced out look and you can tell that he's lost in his own world, and it'd probably be better if you just stood up and left and pretended that nothing ever happened, at this point.

--

She's so beautiful.

She's so fucking beautiful and you really can't help but stare, and the nice thing is that for once, she knows that you're staring and you know she knows and it makes her smile and blush, her cheeks showing the tiniest hint of pink but it looks like so much against her pale skin and bright hair.

"Mione?" She asks, twirling a piece of hair lazily around her finger while she stares out the window, just the tiniest hint of a smile dancing across her lips and god, she's perfect.

"Yeah?" You mumble, brushing your pinky against hers under the wood table you're sitting at in the library, and even though there's nobody else around that you can see, that doesn't, by any means, mean that there's nobody else around.

"Come to Hogsmead with me next weekend?" She's asking, playing with your fingers and lacing them with hers and she's brushing her hand across the underside of your wrist and you're blushing like you always used to around her.

"U..uhm.." You're stuttering, and christ, you never, ever stutter. Why the hell are you stuttering? "Sure?"

Maybe she realizes by now what she does to you.

She smiles and she's still blushing a tiny little bit and she's chewing on her lip the way you always do when you want to say something else but you just don't know.

And then she's leaning over and she's kissing your lips, her hand holding yours over the table now.

She smiles again but she's nervous this time and she mumbles that she loves you, and for the first time, you're realizing that maybe you do the same thing to her.

--

Ick. This is short and I took forever to update. I'm sorry. x.x

I've had a bad week.. ehg..

Well, I've got most of the rest of the story planned out (Dear god, planning? Who am I?) and by the looks of it, this is gonna be 25-30 chapters long. :) I hope that that isn't too long..


	9. Chapter 9

Jeez.. I didn't think school was going to slow down my writing so much. D:

Sorry these last couple of chapters have taken so long. x.x

--

She smiles at you and you never really know what to do anymore. You feel guilty because really, what else can you feel when you've broken the heart of a girl as sweet as her, and you feel even guiltier because she still smiles at you. She still sits there and smiles at you like nothing's wrong but you know everything's wrong.

And you know you've done almost the exact same thing to Ron, but really, you don't care that much about boys, as cruel as it sounds.

You're staring over at her and you wish that you could just walk up to her and hug her and tell her everything's going to be okay eventually, and that you're sorry and you really do sort of miss her, and you wish you could tell her everything that's wrong with you and Ginny.

Even if you had to make up every single word. She needs to hear it from somebody. Besides, you do owe her. She sat there next to you and listened to you wonder if Ginny liked you and you always used to ask her, "Is she really looking at me?" so you really do owe her.

But you can't. You just can't. You're sitting in the great hall and Ginny's running her hand up your thigh and this is supposed to be what you want. This is what you want. This is what you've wanted for so, so long and how the fuck can you possibly be thinking of another girl right now?

Ginny grins at you and pokes you in the mouth with a piece of toast, and you smile back at her and grab it with your teeth, and then you sit there and eat your toast like a dog, because you really don't want to take your hand away from Ginny's, which is where it is right now, under the table while she rubs her thumb against the top of your hand in a way that makes it obvious she doesn't even know she's doing it.

"You're adorable, you know that?" She's whispering in your ear, and once she's started breathing on your neck you've completely forgotten about Katie and the piece of toast sticking out of your mouth.

Christ, why does that girl have to be so fucking hot when she's not even tryin--

Wait. She just bit your ear. Okay, yeah, nevermind, she's definitely trying. It's still ridiculously hot though, so it doesn't really matter and god, why are you still thinking anyway?

Oh, yeah. Right. Great Hall. Everybody in the whole school watching.

But shit, that feels so good.

"Hey, meet me outside here tomorrow..?" She's asking, as she stabs her bacon and settles herself back into a normal sitting position, and within seconds it looks like she'd never even moved, and you're sitting there blushing and wishing that you were alone with her.

"I.. uhm.. Sure?"

You're supposed to be brilliant, but she makes you into the biggest idiot in the whole world.

--

You're sitting at the bottom of the stairs and staring into the Great Hall and you're wondering where she is, because you haven't seen her all day and she was supposed to be here but she's not.

Maybe she doesn't really like you at all, and she's off somewhere laughing at you right now.

Okay, fine, you're paranoid. But she's the most perfect girl in the whole world and you're just a bookworm and somehow she wants you and she's with you and anybody else would be just as suspicious, right?

Of course they would.

You're sitting here picking at your nails and letting your eyes dart nervously all around the hallway and then there's somebody poking you on the back and it's her.

She's grinning hopefully and she's holding a sunflower in her hand and she's wearing a dress and leggings and boots and she's so fucking adorable and you really have no idea at all what to say, and she knows, because she just always knows, so she kneels down and kisses you.

Oh, christ, she really is perfect. How on Earth does she know every single little thing about you and why it is that you do everything you do and that you think that she looks absolutely adorable in a dress?

She's magic. She just has to be magic.

Oh wait.

She's smiling at you and she's kissing your cheek and god, you want her to kiss everywhere on your body. She takes your hand and puts the flower in it and you're wondering if there's a more perfect person anywhere in the world.

"You're perfect, you know that?" You're saying, and you sound dumbstruck and amazed and it's probably because you are. She's still smiling and she just kisses you again and then sits in your lap, arms wrapped around your neck and her tongue in your mouth.

Sweet to hot in half a second.

She smells good. She smells so good and you want to just take her back to your room and you want to touch her and kiss her but you have to go to Hogsmead and act like she's just your newfound best friend and you picked this flower for yourself and you have to hold her hand under tables and whisper that you love her in her ear in case somebody hears you.

She bites your lip and you moan. You really, really didn't mean to and you're not supposed to because it's just a kiss, after all, but christ.

Oh, for god's sake, control your sex drive. Control it. The force is with you.

Actually, you have a hot girl sitting in your lap shoving her tongue down your throat, so never mind. The force hates you.

"Mione..?" Ginny mumbles against your lips, and you've still got your eyes closed and you don't want her to stop just yet, but you're nodding the tiniest bit. "I love you."

And it's simple and it sounds so awkward and it sounds like it doesn't mean a thing, and fine, maybe you're young and it doesn't mean a thing to anybody else, it still makes your heart pound in your chest and she still makes you smile and mumble that you love her too.

And god, you love when you get to be alone with her and she acts like this, instead of like there's absolutely nothing between you and you know it's just because she has to act that way and she's shy, but it still bothers you and it makes it even better when she's like this.

"Jeez, aren't you going to freeze to death?" You're asking, looking up and down her body and at just how much skin she's showing.

"Keep me warm then?"

--

You sit in a booth and she leans against your shoulder and twirls your hair around her fingers, and you can feel her eyes moving up and down your face and you really, really hope that she doesn't hear your heart beating out of your chest.

She sips hot chocolate and huddles up against you and underneath the sweatshirt you insisted she have because her shoulders were turning purple and she sat there shivering and oh, god it was so adorable.

But really. Turns out adorable does kill. Or at least give you frostbite and make you lose a couple of fingers. Either way, you really, really would rather Ginny was alive and had all of her fingers (oh, god what would you do if she didn't have those fingers?)

What you love about being around her is that it always feels like you're the only ones in the world. It's like the entire world just went to sleep for a little while, and nobody's watching you or judging you or thinking, "When did they get to be so close?" and you wish you could come out and say that you loved her, but she's not ready and you don't want somebody in her family to hear and end up hating her.

She kisses your cheek and you're wondering if people are going to start asking questions, but then as you look around, you're realizing that there's nobody else in the little coffee shop except thee guy sitting behind the counter and cleaning mugs.

You really, really love when it's the end of the middle of winter and it's freezing and the snow's all melted so you can't walk outside without getting your pants soaked, and nobody really even bothers to come to Hogsmead when it's like this except the third years, because they've never been here before and it's worth the freezing and the cold and water in fluffy, white, powder form, and they've all gone to the candy shop and The Three Broomsticks.

Wizards don't like coffee, apparently.

Your sunflower's sitting on the table next to your mugs and she's kissing your lips softly and quickly and god, you can't get over how soft they are and the way that she manages to taste good even when she's been sitting here drinking hot chocolate, which usually makes somebody taste absolutely horrible.

It's because she's magic, you're sure of it.

She makes you smile and she's sitting here smiling back at you and it's more than enough for you, so why isn't it good enough for everybody else? And why does it make it better if she was a boy?

Really, it doesn't matter all that much. You have her. That's more than you ever thought you'd have.

You're kissing her and she's kissing you back and then she's laying down with her head in your lap and she's holding your hand and oh, god, you're blushing and she makes you so happy.

How did you live without this?


	10. Chapter 10

I owe you guys chapters. Lots and lots of chapters from when I didn't update for like 2 weeks.

Dx I'll start repaying my debt now, since I'm not quite so busy.. D:

Also, sorry Gentry. :(

--

It's May. It's May and school's almost over and you're wondering where the hell the year has gone. She sits beside you and she plays with your fingers and there's butterflies flying across campus and you really, really think that life can't get any more perfect. Honestly, who actually sees a butterfly when they're this happy and they're sitting in their girlfriend's lap and she's got her arms wrapped around you?

She mumbles into your hair that she loves you and you smile and you press yourself closer to her and god, you love how you feel whenever you're around her.

When you first got together, she kissed you first.

That's what you never forget, even when you're mad at her or you're scared that she doesn't like you or you're just rebound from some other unknown lesbian lover.

She kissed you first. She smiled at you and nodded at you and you've never seen her look so nervous and so hopeful at the same time, and then you grabbed her arm and you pulled her out into the same hallway that you'd been in when you'd gone to Hogsmead, and she's smiled nervously at you and she'd kissed you.

She kissed you first.

And of course, within two hours she was on top of you in your bed. Not to kill the happy snuggly, awww cutest thing ever mood or anything.

She makes you smile.

She makes you think of happy acoustic guitar songs about summer and flowers and all the stupid little things in life that make everybody smile and feel light and happy.

You shiver and she's got her hands on the back of your neck and you feel her breath and her lips brushing against you and all your hair stands on end.

And you wish that you would, for once, stop feeling so paranoid and you'd stop trying to read so far into the tiny little things that she doesn't do and if she thought you were pretty and if she ever thought about anybody else but you. You wish that you could have the smallest scrap of self esteem and then you could smile back at her without wondering, "Does my face look fat like this?"

You feel her hands on your back and you shiver, arching your body towards her and she giggles nervously, her voice getting all tangled up in your hair and her breathing behind your ear.

"You have the cutest hands, you know that?" She mumbles, her hands no longer on your back but on your shoulders and arms and lacing together with yours.

It's another one of those rare moments where she's letting her guard down and she's just trying to make you happy instead of trying to make you laugh at something blowing up or racist jokes or her poking fun and the obviously gay but totally in denial 6th year guy.

And you know that no matter how much you wish that she would be like this all the time, you're much, much happier now than you would be if she followed you around all day telling you things like that. They'd just lose their meaning and you'd get sick of them and you'd wish that she would make you laugh instead, but that'd just hurt her feelings and make you feel like a jerk.

You blush and lean your head back against her and close your eyes.

--

"Thank _god _the OWL's are finally over." Ron groans, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head. He's balanced on two legs and you know it sounds horrible, but you wouldn't really mind if he'd go on ahead and fall out the window behind him, because you hate to admit it, but times like this he really does annoy you to death.

And you want to agree with him, but you realize how un-youish that would seem, and since you actually had really liked studying so much, they'd ask themselves, "Why's she so glad they're over? She just said the other day that she loved all the extra reading." and then they'd think of how grumpy Ginny's been lately and maybe, just maybe they'd get smart enough to put two and two together.

Because yes, she has been rather annoyed that you've been shut up in your room studying and she couldn't even get you to stop when she sat in your lap in a bra and a thong and put her hand under your shirt and mumbled something or other that you're pretty sure was incredibly sexy, and all you said was, "Not right now, have to study." Which, of course, ended in a huge argument about how you didn't think she was pretty.

Harry's nodding and shoving a piece of licorice in his mouth and chewing on it, and you can't help but think that it looks like he's chewing on a bloody tapeworm.

Oh, god, tapeworms scare the living shit out of you.

"So, who's getting smashed with me to celebrate?" Katie Bell's asking as she appears out of nowhere with her head on yours and her arms resting on the sides of your chair. Christ, does she have an invisibility cloak or something? You didn't hear her and you didn't see her and by the looks on their faces, Harry and Ron didn't either.

Why's she touching you, anyway? She knows that you're taken and fine, it's just her head on yours but she's way, way too comfortable with you and it's bothering you, and Ron and Harry are glancing at her and each other and you and her again and they've got this look like they've just figured out everything important in the world, even though they've only really got a wrong answer to their "oh my god who's Hermione been banging?" question.

But who are you to turn down alcohol?

"Depends. What do you even have?" You're asking her, tilting your head up and nearly talking into her chin. She smiles and curls your hair around her finger and you really, really wish that she would stop touching you so much.

She's opening her mouth again, but Harry's interrupting her and asking, "How come you're celebrating? You're not even in our year.."

Katie grins and shrugs, saying that she just wants an excuse to have some fun around here, for a change and then says that you should be at the room of requirement in three hours and then she's gone and you're sitting here and you can't wait to get drunk.

--

"Hey.. hey Katie.. Pass me some whiskey, would you..?"

Okay, fine. This was a horrible idea. This was an absolutely horrible idea and you should've known better but whatever, you're already drunk, so why not have some fun? It'd be a waste of alcohol (and your liver) not to, right?

And it's not like you have a choice, really, because Katie's passed you the bottle that you wanted and now she's grinding with you and it doesn't count as cheating because you're drunk and it's just grinding, right?

Right. Right right righto.

God, you love whiskey. You're chugging it because that's the only way you've ever been able to drink and it's smooth and strong in that weird way that isn't strong at all, but it still makes your stomach jump and you get the thrill you get whenever you're drinking and you're about to puke.

Christ, Katie's so pretty.. She's so pretty and she keeps bringing you drinks and she does everything you ask her to and she's biting at your ear, holding the nearly empty bottle of whiskey between your hands and just, oh god.

She grins at you and you're leaning in and you're about to kiss her and then you're remembering that kissing's cheating, and then you pull yourself away from her and you stumble across the room and you sit next to Harry, who, no matter how drunk you were, you know you would never hook up with.

He glances at you and you massage your temples dramatically, and it's so obvious how drunk you are, even if everything you've had to drink hasn't kicked in yet.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Harry's saying, and you're not quite sure if he's talking to himself or he's asking you or if he's asking your approval to sleep with her. (oh, god, he's probably still a virgin, isn't he?)

You're nodding your drunken nod and casually chugging half a plastic cup of vodka.

He glances over and you and raises his eyebrows a bit, but doesn't say anything and for a moment you wonder if he just watched you down an entire bottle of whiskey.

"Yeah.. she's much nicer without her clothes too, you know." You're saying as you grope around like the blind, drunken lunatic that you are for more vodka or gin or whiskey or even beer.

Wait. No. Ginny. Ginny Ginny Ginny.

You want Ginny. Ginny, your girlfriend. Ginny, who you've been obsessed with forever. What the fuck are you fucking saying? Why do you have to sit here for even a second and try to convince yourself that you love your _girlfriend_?

But you're sick of the way that she'll never kiss you in front of anybody and how she's always flirting with guys (_guys_, for god's sake) and she stares at famous people and declares, "Oh, my god, I want to fuck her." and you just wish she would tell you that she loves _you_ or she'd see you and say she wants to fuck _you_ and you know it's stupid but it bothers you so much that hardly anything is ever about you.

And you're remembering that one time that she went to Hogsmead with you and it was amazing and you were smiling for hours but it was _one time._

"And you would know how..?" He asks, but you're gone. You're sitting there and you've got your head tilting back and forth and back and forth and oh god, there's so many pretty colors in such a boring little room in such a boring little place and then there's Katie. Beautiful Katie and she's looking at you and you smile a drunken smile back at her.

And then there's puke.

There's lots and lots of puke and you're marveling at the one little spot of pink, even as your stomach wretches and the thought that maybe you drank a little too much crosses your mind.

But there's Katie again, and she's like a guardian angel or something because she's always always there when you need somebody and Ginny's gone and disappeared on you, and you suppose that's why you let her guide you into the girl's bathroom and hold your hair back and then help you wash your face off.

Of course, it didn't even cross your mind for even a second that she'd been waiting for you to be drunk and vulnerable and desperate like you are now and that's why she's always been around.

"T..thanks.." You stutter, slurring every last little bit of that one stupid word, and you're smiling but god knows what exactly it is you're smiling at.

Katie really is a sweetheart, isn't she?

You're marveling at that the same way you marveled at the little pink spot on the puddle of puke earlier, and she's smiling and wrapping her arms around your neck and kissing you.

And it's not wrong because you're drunk and you don't really know what you're doing and she _did_ hold your hair back and she has been sitting here watching you running around smiling with somebody who isn't her and she was your first and you owe her something, don't you?

Mostly though, you just like the way her hands feel on you and how your body feels when it presses against hers and the way she isn't scared of somebody hating her because she loves you and she takes care of you, always.

She takes care of you so it doesn't matter if you kiss her back, because she won't let anything go wrong.

--

:(((((((


	11. Chapter 11

She's laying beside you and you're sitting up with one bra strap hanging off your shoulder and you've got a horrible pounding headache and all you can think of is how this isn't who you're supposed to be waking up beside and this is so, so wrong.

You're thinking about how glad you are that she's still sleeping as you pull yourself up and try to pull your jeans back on without waking her up because you're hungover and you're pissed and she's really the last person that you want to see right now.

You rub your temples and you wish all the colors would stop spinning all over the place and she's beautiful but why are you waking up naked next to her?

But denial won't work. You were drunk but you weren't _that_ drunk and you don't remember a lot but you remember enough that you know what happened and your stupid god damned train of thought and how you somehow talked yourself into thinking that it was okay because it was Katie but that really just makes it so much worse.

You remember a glorious time when you could drink bottles and bottles and bottles and not have anything even remotely resembling a hangover, and oh god how you wish it was still like that. Your mouth tastes like warm beer and spit and whiskey and all kinds of disgusting and your tongue feels like a sponge thrown into the middle of the ocean.

You're disgusting. You're disgusting and she's disgusting and everything about everything is disgusting right now.

You pull your shirt over your head and you're glancing at your hand and noticing "HG loves GW" written on your hand and you want to cry. Why the fuck didn't you notice that before? Why didn't she notice and hell, she probably did and how can she be so sweet and take such good care of you and still not have a conscience at all?

She snores and rolls over and you jump at least half a foot. You don't want to see her. You don't want to talk to her and you don't want to deal with her at all, especially not in your half drunk, half hungover state. You're grabbing your shoes and sprinting out of that horrible room and you don't ever want to go back. You don't want to see her and you don't ever, ever want her to talk to you again, and you want her to just leave you and Ginny alone and you wish she would just accept that you love Ginny and she can't change that no matter how much sex she wants to offer you.

It smells like bacon. Oh, god it smells like bacon and eggs and why does everything have to smell so strong?

You're stumbling back up to your room and you've got all your weight on the wall and railways and anything that'll stop you from having to stand on your own, because you most definitely cannot, and it's not just because of the hangover.

You're shaking all over. You shake as you throw your shoes on the ground in your room and you shake as you crawl back into your own bed and you shake as you close your eyes and try to pretend that nothing ever happened, but you can't because you're shaking and you're shaking and you're shaking and it's reminding you with ever shiver that nothing's going to be the same.

Your stomach growls and curls in on itself the same way that you're curled up, and you wonder that with the current absence of anything resembling food in your stomach, perhaps you'll start puking up organs.

When you were in first grade, you asked your teacher why people threw up after you'd come back from the bathroom, and she told you that it was because your body was trying to get all the bad things out.

You're wondering now if maybe you'll start puking out all different sorts of your insides because they're all bad now. They're guilty by association and they're what's keeping you alive and you've turned into something bad, but how do you get you out of you and still have something left?

You're still drunk and you're going on like the drunken moron you are.

You mumble her name like you always used to when you felt like dying and it always used to make you feel warm and fuzzy and light inside if you closed your eyes and pretended that she was there with you, but now it just makes you feel sick.

You're just sick now, You're sick and you're bad and it's not going to go away.

--

Bacon.

You never liked bacon or pork of any sort, really, but you're sitting here and stabbing the piece of bacon that's next to your pile of scrambled eggs and your piece of toast with the one stupid little piece of stupid butter in the middle. And god, you hate how oily it feels when it touches your tongue and you hate how it's chewy and crunchy at the same time and you hate how salty it is but you're still chewing.

You're chewing because it makes you think of her. She loves bacon. She loves bacon and pancakes and breakfast in general.

And she's there and she's eating her bacon and you're so, so scared to even look at her. You're scared that she's going to look at you and she's going to know everything and you can't let her know. She can't know.

You can't lose her.

You don't want her to go away and even if she doesn't want to tell anybody that she loves you, no matter how much you try to tell yourself that it's really just not going to work out, you come back to the same simple conclusion that you've never been happier.

She flashes a nervous smile at you and then stabs a piece of bacon the same way you did.

There's people talking all around you and they're all the center of their own worlds and there's things happening right now that you're never going to know anything about and people are getting their hearts broken and put back together and they're finding out grandma's dead and none of it even touches you, the same way nobody else has even been brushed by your stupid little problems and they're all your fault anyway.

They're all talking and you're hearing all their voices but hers is the only one you ever want to hear.

You're stupid. You're stupid and she's stupid and Katie's stupid and all those stupid voices are stupid and this bacon's stupid and everything's just so, so stupid.

You're going to go crazy, you realize. You're going to go absolutely insane and everybody's going to cry and shake their heads like they ever knew you and they'd never called you a know it all and they're going to say, "Oh, what a shame," while you're being carted off to an asylum.

You love her.

You've loved her for so, so long and maybe it's just stupid little kid love but it's enough for you and it's been there for so long and now you've finally got her and it's too soon for her to go away again.

It's too soon for things to go back to the way they used to be.

And god, you want her. You want her body and you just want her because she's her and nobody could not want her. You want her and you've actually, finally got her and you don't make out with her all the time and you hardly ever even get to hug her but just knowing that your stupid little love or whatever it is is mutual makes you smile.

Just knowing that she's there and she cares makes you smile and it makes it worth getting up in the morning and eating this disgusting bacon.

--

"I heard about you and Ginny." Harry's saying, and for once you're paying attention to him.

You're trying to figure out if you should just shrug and be all, "Aw, shucks," or if you should play dumb or you should start threatening his life and claiming that you know quite a few muggle girls who want to try out castration.

All you really manage to do is snap your head and look at him and look rather bewildered, and he smiles a bit like he knows everything that's going through your head.

"Hey, relax, it's not like it's going around the whole school or anything."

And then you're staring at him and wondering, "Well, then how the fuck do you know, numbnuts?"

He's reading your mind again, or something, because he's saying, "She told me. Me and Ron and she said that you guys have been a thing since like, January or December or something."

You're cringing and he must be mad at you. He must be absolutely furious because you've seen him looking at her too and you know it's horrible, but you always think that it's too bad and he had his chance and he blew it, but he's you friend, your best friend, and you really shouldn't be so jealous over something like that.

But he's not mad. He's smiling and then turning back to his essay and mumbling into his parchment that he thinks that it's cute.

"Uhm.. Thanks.." You're mumbling and you're blushing and this shouldn't be so embarrassing and awkward but it is. And god, you feel so guilty because he's your best friend and you never even told him.

But he's Harry. He understands. He must understand, right? You couldn't tell anybody because Ginny wasn't out and you didn't want her to get hurt and you didn't want her family to end up hating her and you didn't want to whole school to whisper dyke behind her back because she doesn't deserve any of that.

Oh, god you wanted to tell him. You wanted to tell everybody in the world that she was finally _finally_ yours and that nobody else could ever even look at her again because she was your property and only you could look at her and only you got to touch her and only you got to wake up next to her in the morning and examine all the hickeys on her neck and smile and know that they were from you.

You cheated.

Oh, god, you cheated. You fucking cheated and she finally told.

You fucking cheated and she's finally taking you seriously and she came out and you fucking _cheated_.

You were her first and you've had this _thing_ between you two for so long and all those stupid tiny little things that add up into this giant thing and all the kisses and all the hints and _you were her first_ and you just fucked all of that up because you thought that she didn't care enough and you thought that Katie Bell could ever make you happier than she does.

You cheated you cheated you cheated.

"I think I'm going to.. uhm.. I'll be right back.." You're mumbling into your arm and you're standing up and you're trying to look normal as you walk out of the portrait and then once you're in the hall you sprint to the bathroom and you puke your guts up and your body's just remembering how much bad is left inside you.

--

"Mmn.. Babe.. that feels good.." She practically moans, and you hate to admit how much satisfaction that gives you. She's laying face down across the couch in the common room that's right in front of the fire and her shirt and bra hang off the armrest and you really, really love how it feels when she moans and twists and arcs her back.

You're blinking a couple of times and she giggles and you try to laugh a bit too but you can't deny how ridiculously hot that was.

It's just a back massage. It's a stupid little back massage, that's all. It's not big deal or anything, really. Really, really it's not. Just stop thinking so much and it'll be that much easier.

But oh, god, she's laying _right there_ and she's not wearing a bra and you don't think that you've ever been so turned on by something as simple as a back until now. Her shoulder blades stick out and the way they do walks the paper thin line of being incredibly hot and just looking like she doesn't eat enough, and all the little muscles in her shoulders show and it doesn't look manly at all, and no matter how much she complains about her "man shoulders" that's not going to change. It's dark and the fires casting all the strangest shadows and that really isn't helping at all, really.

Thank god she's your girlfriend.

After another moment or two, you're putting your shaking hands back on her back and you feel her shiver whenever you push hard on this one spot right above where her bra would be and it happens every single time you do that, and if you press your thumbs lightly where her neck meets her shoulders she breathes harder and sometimes she grabs at the pillow by her hand and you just sit there and blush and wonder how you manage to make her do that.

And you're so tempted to just wrap your hands around her sides and feel her breasts in your hands and roll her over and fuck her brains out or make love to her and no, nevermind, you just want to fuck her because all those little noises she's making are turning you on way, way too much.

You're rubbing her sides and you're thisclose to them and christ, you want to. They're so soft and every other time you've done anything to them she's closed her eyes and smiled just the tiniest little bit like she's stoned out of her mind, and when you'd run your thumb over her--

Stop. Stop stop stop stop. It's just a back massage and she obviously doesn't want sex, because if she did she would've told you and she hasn't told you so she doesn't and you're thinking way too fast but if you stop you know that you're just going to think about all the things you could do to her that aren't rubbing her back.

You're trailing your finger over her neck and down her back and you're almost positive that you can feel her shaking and you're smiling because you still can't get over that you're doing this to her. You. Your hands.

And you're leaning down and you're kissing the side of her neck and she gasps and god, you love that you can do this to her.

She's grinning at you and you're realizing that she's rolled over and then all of a sudden she's kissing you and jesus christ those are her tits that you've got your hands on.

And you're kissing her back and she's got her hands under your shirt and her tongue's in your mouth and _christ._

"Mione.." She's mumbling against your lips and then you're kissing down her neck and you're sucking on her collarbone and she's got her hands on your sides and you've got yours on her breasts and you're rubbing your fingers over her nipple and you feel her inhale sharp again and you're realizing again that she loves this just as much as you do.

You've got your mouth on her breast and her nipple's in your mouth and she's got her a hand on the back of your head and the other one's in your pants and you're breathing just as hard as she is.


	12. Chapter 12

It's been a while.

I'm sorry. :(

--

"Hermioneeee!" She's squealing from behind you and she's really the last person in the entire world you want to see right now and she should know that and she probably does, but she's still standing behind you and she's got this cutesy little grin like she doesn't think that she's done anything at all wrong. Oh, christ, how stupid can a blonde possibly get?

But you don't want to snap at her, you're realizing. Partly because you simply can't and partly because she can blackmail you now and make you do anything she wants and if you don't she'll ruin everything. And then you just can't, and you know you just said that but god, you can't be mean to _anybody_, can you?

You can't. You absolutely positively can't. If you ran into Hitler in the street you'd say, "Hello, how're you?" because you wouldn't have the heart to be a bitch to him.

_Hitler_, for god's sake.

You're odd, you know, but it's true.

"Well, hello to you too," You're mumbling and it's like you're talking to your scrambled eggs more than anything else. And you don't want to see her and she should be able to tell by the way your shoulders are sagging into your body and you're staring at the table, and actually she probably does know and she's just ignoring it.

You wish she would get it and you wish she'd understand too. You wish she'd get that you don't want to see you right now and you wish she'd understand that you don't hate her (you don't, right?) and you don't want her to go away forever, you just don't want to see her right now and it's just that simple.

You wish for all of these amazing things in an amazing perfect world and you should know by now none of your wishes are ever going to come true and you shouldn't even bother but you do anyway.

She's giving you the look. You can feel it through your hair and your scalp and your skull and your brain and back out again. And for once one of your stupid little wishes is coming true.

"Hey.. I'm sorry, okay?" She's mumbling, and you're wondering where the mood swing came from but you've never been so happy to be around a girl having mood swings, because she's standing behind you and she's hugging you softly and she's got her head on your shoulder.

She's got her eyes closed and you can hear the way she's breathing and she doesn't want to be sorry. She doesn't want to live in a world where she apologizes for having sex with you and where there's ever a time that you don't want to see her and all of a sudden you feel so horrible all over again.

And you should feel horrible, because, honestly, you are. You're horrible. You're so, so horrible and you've turned into one of those disgusting people that you always used to look down on and you're realizing that it isn't going to change now. No matter what you do, it's not going to change and it's never ever ever going to get better.

You feel horrible because you're the kind of person who can really never be mean to anybody, even if they need it. You can never stand the thought of making somebody sad and you can't stand the thought of breaking somebody's heart the way everybody else always seems to break yours and you sit around and you try to make everybody smile until they're all at your throat.

You're trying to make a sound. You want to, oh, god you want to, but all you can do is choke. You're choking on all your stupid, halfhearted assurances that it's okay when it really, really isn't and you just want to make everybody happy but you can't even keep yourself happy and part of you hopes that you really do choke because you really, really deserve it.

"It's okay.." You're mumbling, and she doesn't say anything and she just stays on you and you're feeling her breath on your neck. It's not okay. It's not it's not it's not, but you want her to smile. You want her to be okay. She has to be okay.

And then she's walking away and she's okay and you're feeling your heart breaking all over again.

--

You're smiling at her and you're wondering why she isn't smiling back. You haven't seen her all day and christ, you missed her and didn't she miss you too? Why didn't she miss you too? You miss her and you sit around and write her name all over everything you own and she won't even miss you?

And she's not wearing makeup either, you're realizing. She's got eyeliner smeared around her eyes and she's staring at you and you're wondering why her eyes are so bloodshot.

But you've never been one to put things like this together on anything other than homework, and you're still staring at her with a hopeful smile and you're reaching out to hug her and all she does is push you away.

"Ginny..?" You're mumbling, looking up at her and god, what's wrong?

You're trying to meet her eyes, but she's just looking away. She's looking anywhere but your face and you're wondering why she's doing. Why won't she look at you?

Did you do something wrong?

That must be it. You've done something wrong and you've gone and hurt her feeling and lilies probably aren't her favorite flowers anymore, and now she's all pissed at you because you're her girlfriend and she's your girlfriend and the least you should know is what her favorite flower is.

"Are you okay..?" All you can ever do is mumble at times like these. You can never sound strong or reassuring or romantic or confident or anything. You just sit there and stutter out words as they come to mind and you hope that they don't come out too wrong, even though with your luck, they always have and they always will, because that's just how you and your life are.

Now she's meeting your eyes and oh, god, you're feeling your stomach churn and you think you're going to puke or cry and christ, she's so fucking scary when she's mad.

Maybe she never did like lilies.

Oh, god, maybe she's allergic. Maybe she actually said that she hates lilies or that one of her friends loved them or something, and you just can't remember right and now she thinks that you're trying to kill her with pretty flowers.

"Fuck you." Her voice doesn't waver or break or come out weak or sound like she's doubting herself, the way you always feel whenever you ever have to say anything that you haven't memorized from a textbook.

"Uhm.. I..I'm sorry.. do you not like lilies anymo--" But she won't even let you talk. She just stares at you and you can see a hint of a twisted smile and she spits words like venom at you.

"Don't play stupid, Hermione, it's so unbecoming." And she's laughing now. She's laughing a horrible, twisted laugh and it makes you even sicker to your stomach than you already are, and it only gets worse when you realize that she knows. She knows, oh my god, she knows. "So I was talking to Katie today.."

She knows.

You think that your heart just dropped into your stomach, and it's just words but it feels like she actually just punched you. Hard. You feel like she just knocked the wind out of you, and the way her drunkenly gleeful expression isn't changing is worse than kicking you when you're down.

"Babe.. I was drunk and she.."

"Fuck you." And this time she actually hits you. Slaps you, actually. Hard.

She's gone. She's gone and you're standing there and you're barely able to grasp what just happened, but your face hurts and you're feeling your heart throbbing painfully in your chest, and it's reminding you that whatever just happened, it hurts so fucking much.


	13. Chapter 13

..

12,000 hits.

TWELVE. THOUSAND.

I LOVE ALL OF YOU. T.T (happy tears)

--

"Mione?" His voice cuts through wherever it was that you'd lost yourself between the sound of the train tracks and the sound of the engine and the sound of everybody except you feeling so happy. They're all so happy.

Why can't you ever be fucking happy for more than a second of your life?

And life wasn't even nice enough to give you the chance the bitch and moan about how unfair everything is, because it's your fault. It's absolutely, a hundred percent your fault. Your self loathing arrived gift wrapped with a pretty little bow and a card that had, "Hate, Hermione Granger" scribbled across it.

"Yeah?" You mumble, turning your neck just the tiniest bit towards Harry, realizing just how sore it's gotten from just leaning against the window like this.

"You want some chocolate?" He offers sheepishly, holding out a bar of Honeyduke's chocolate to you and smiling just the tiniest little bit. He's nervous. He knows how messed up you are and he's actually kind of scared of you and he didn't even do anything wrong. He's scared of you and you're scared of you and you hate you and you kind of wish that you would die, because then you'd be happy (skipping over the whole dead thing, of course.)

He's trying to make you feel better. He doesn't even know completely what's so wrong with you and he's trying to make you feel better.

You're realizing what a beautiful thing the relationship with your friends that you've been neglecting for the past 10 months is.

Christ, people can be so forgiving.

You force a smile at him, and even you can tell by the way that your eyes feel that you're lying and you must have a giant neon sign over your head that says that you're faking this stupid smile if even you can tell from your eyes.

Who can tell anything about a person from their eyes, anyway? All that bullshit about people knowing that things are wrong with somebody and seeing somebody's soul and knowing everything and falling in love from somebody's eyes is the most ridiculous shit you've ever fucking heard.

It's all shitty wannabe poets and philosophers and artists and writers not knowing the first thing about anything at all, so they spit pretty words about how somebody's eyes are the window to their souls and they indulge themselves in the fantasy that they're worth anything to anybody.

You really are being bitchy, aren't you?

Yes, yes you are, and fucking christ, nobody's going to do anything about it because you just need to wallow in self pity and hatred and every other pathetic teenage emotion because you feel like there's nothing else that you can do with yourself.

How on earth have your friends put up with you for so long?

"Thanks.." You mumble and you're still smiling at him because you don't know what else to do and then you're sitting there in some seat in some train car going back to the rest of the world and you don't want to go so you sit and you hold onto that chocolate like if you let it go then you'll stay in this world forever.

They talk and laugh and you feel their voices all around you and you feel them breaking into you and eating your inside until there's nothing left of you except your shell and you're sure nobody will ever notice because people only ever started looking at you when you turned pretty, so why would they stop when it's all that's left?

You sit with your knees at your chest and your chin resting on them and god, you hate being alone. You hate feeling so alone and so miserable when everybody around you can be happy on their own and everybody around you is always so happy and they're always smiling and laughing and you can never bring yourself to do that, even when you actually are happy.

They're happy. They're happy with themselves and your lives and you aren't and you never have been and you've always needed to have somebody else filling up all the empty spaces and cracks and holes and you've never completely realized how co-dependant you are until right now.

You used to be funny. You're sure of it. You used to have something resembling wit and you could make everything funny in your own horrible little way and now you just sit around and write essays and cry and eat and mope and write another essay or two.

And you're kind of tempted to try and ramble about what everything about life means and why you're here and why they're there and what is here, anyway? And what is time and what is love and what is anything, really? But you won't because you can't and even if you could, you wouldn't because then you'd be just like all of those stupid poets that you hate so much.

The chocolate bar Harry gave you is still clutched, half unwrapped in one hand on an arm wrapped around your leg and it really is like the last thing that's keeping you anchored in this world you've spent the last year going to school in, and you've adored it for so long but maybe you'll just never be a part of it and right now you're thinking that you don't really want to anymore.

You miss her.

It's over.

And then you're feeding your chocolate craving.

--

"Dude! You're home!" Toby's saying, grinning and hugging you and you've never been so happy to have somebody hug you and you just collapse into his arms and he smells of axe and sweat and dirt and life and love.

You smile into his chest because he's Toby and that's just what he does to you. He makes you smile.

You could use some smiles right about now.

"You meet any girls this year hun?" He asks, one of your suitcases in hand while your parents run around inside making eggs and bacon and it feels sort of like you've been dreaming for so many months and so many years and you're just waking up but you're still so tired.

You're realizing how tired you are from the past couple of weeks. The past couple of years and it's all hitting you.

"Sorta.." You mumble, pulling your suitcase up the front step, thinking about how much effort that doing just that had taken, glancing at the entire staircase you'd have to walk up to get to your room, and then you just drop it and decide that you're not even going to bother even unpacking. You'll just wear the same clothes all summer long.

It'll be better than having to do something that requires physical effort, at least.

"You meet any guys?" You asked under your breath as you grabbed his hand and forced him to abandon the suitcase that he'd been carrying as well and you're dragging him out to your backyard where you sit him down and then you sit opposite him.

You adore Toby. You've been friends for years and he was the first person you came out to and you were the first person he came out to and even though you'd been going to Hogwarts and you had to lie about it, you guys were still so close it was almost scary.

He's always been waiting around by your house on the first day that you've come home and he's given your parents letters to send to you and he gushes to you and you gush to him and you're just a great big gush fest whenever you're left alone with him.

And, as though somebody were telling her when it would be perfectly ironic, your mom walks outside and drops a couple of packages of Fruit Gushers on the picnic table between you and Toby and gives you that, "You'd better not be having sex if I look out the window," look that only clueless mothers can give when they're acting like they know everything.

"So, fill me in. What happened?" He's asking, tearing open the package of Gushers as your mom walks back inside stiffly.

You look at him for a couple of seconds without saying anything, and you're considering just brushing it off like nothing happened at all, or if it had, none of it touched you at all but then you're feeling your jaw trembling and you can't lie about something like that, especially when it's sitting in your chest and eating your heart away.

And then you're telling him about everything and you're feeling your eyes water thinking about what's happened but you have to tell him because you have to tell _somebody. _You're telling him all the stupid little things that nothing really cares about and you're telling him about Katie and you're not going to lie to him about anything and you don't want him to feel bad for you, you just want him to know and you just want to cry.

Christ.

You really screwed up and it's just hitting you as you sit and talk about everything that's happened over the past few years and everything that you've ever felt and the past year and fuck.

You fucked up.

And you'd do just about anything to have her back now even though it's way too late and you don't deserve to even think that.

You want her back.


	14. Chapter 14

You sit in your room on your bed and you stare at the stupid blank piece of paper on your stupid empty desk and you wonder what she's doing right now and you wonder what you'd be doing right now if you hadn't done Katie and you've got your stupid flowery sheets perfectly tucked into your mattress and you can almost do that right and you can almost right this stupid letter and everything's almost because you almost got a relationship right but almost isn't enough.

Almost has never, ever been enough for you because you've always been such a perfectionist but almost has, in the past, been good for everybody else and that's why they've been so happy when you've given always instead of almost and the one time you fall short, they're expecting always. She was expecting everything and everybody expects everything and they never get it and all the people who were always so proud of you were just used to being let down by everybody else.

You're wondering when you got like this. You're wondering when you got so sad and you're wondering now, looking back, if all your happiness was fake and you really were just so horribly sad all along and you were just burying it and burying it until it was so deep underground you'd forgotten about it.

Christ, you want to forget about her. You want to forget about her like you were able to forget about being sad but you have to forget being sad again to forget about her but you have to forget her to forget being sad and you're pretty much stuck.

It sucks.

And now you can't even write some stupid letter and you can't tell her you're so, so sorry because you are and you want her to know how you feel, at least, because maybe then it'll make it a little bit harder for her to hate you forever and you can't stand the thought of her hating you forever, and you know that that's going to change as the months go on, but right now you can't stand it and you want some imaginary hope that she's going to fall for you again and she's going to take you back and you're going to be as happy as you were when you were with her.

You want something to hold onto, because she was the only thing you had that you didn't feel was going to get blown away and she was the only thing you bothered to keep bolted into your heart and now she's gone and you held her so close and it hurts that much more and no matter what you do, she's going to stay in your mind.

You're staring down at this stupid piece of paper again and you're wishing she knew. Oh, god you wish she was here and you wish everything was okay and you wish that somebody was here because you just need somebody right now.

Be okay. Be okay. Just be okay. Just don't fall apart and you'll be okay. Just hold yourself together and you'll get better because you'll always get better in time if you just hold yourself together in the beginning.

You want her to know everything you never said and everything you're feeling and everything you've ever felt because even if it doesn't matter to her, it matters to you and you want to write this stupid letter and fine, so what if you don't send it, you just want it to be written, at the very least.

You want to be able to do just one stupid little thing right for a change.

Motherfucker.

Now you have cramps too.

See? Life is out to get you. Life and your body and your stupid ovaries and your stupid stupid everything and your stupid you and fucking christ.

You would scream and start breaking things but it hurts too much to fucking stand and now you just want to go to sleep but you can't do that either because you feel like somebody just hit you in the side with a brick.

You're gonna put a "please shoot me" ad in the paper and you'll offer to pay in gold coins.

--

A week. A whole fucking week. Seven days.

Seven whole days and all you've managed to write is her name, and considering what all your notebooks from the past year look like, it's not like that's a very big deal or anything.

You want something. You hardly even care what it is anymore, you just want to write something to feel like you've done something, because as piles of words amass, it starts being that much easier to keep going and carry on and write something that might actually matter and it makes it that much easier for you to go ahead and write something perfect and make her see and make everybody see that you can still give always and that she means the world to you and christ, you're such a fuck up.

You were drunk, fine, but honestly.

How the fuck could you be so stupid?

You've done plenty of things while you've been drunk. You've written papers and you played a song on the guitar once, so why the fuck couldn't you just push her off and tell her to go fuck herself because you were with Ginny (and it feels like somebody's slapping you across the face whenever you think that) and you cared about her and you were drunk and why the fuck was she trying to do this to you?

And she wasn't like one of those girlfriends who was always all over you all the time. She was shy. That's it. She was shy. It wasn't that she didn't care. She cared so much and you wish that you would just notice things like this before they'd already managed to slip away. And you're sure it felt like she never paid attention to you, but you're looking back now and all you can see was how you were her whole world and you're wondering how you could ever possibly think otherwise.

You're going to drive yourself insane. You know you are. You're going to sit here and you're going to mumble her name and hear her voice around the corner and you're going to dream about her every night and she's never coming back.

You've got yourself holed up in this little room of yours with your stupid little desk and your stupid little pen and your stupid papers and your stupid scribbles of her stupid name scattered all over the stupid little floor.

You wish you could blame Katie. You wish you could sit here and cry and scream at her and hit her and tell her just how much she fucking hurt you and fine, you hurt her too but there's things that you just don't do to get back at people, and sleeping with them when they're drunk and they have a girlfriend is on that list, but it's your fault. You wish you could make it her fault. You wish you could scream and scream and call her all sorts of horrible names and you wish you could make her feel just as bad as you do right now. You wish she could just see what the fuck she did to you.

Fine. She cares about you. She didn't mean for you to get hurt. She wants you. She wants you so badly and she's always been by your side and she listened to you while you babbled incoherently and tried to figure out what everything meant and she held your hand and she told you that everything would be okay and she really is sweet.

Why can't she just go die? Why couldn't she just not exist and why does she have to be so important now? Why did she ever have to be so important to you? Why couldn't she have just never existed and why, why, why?

"I know it's not enough. It's not nearly enough to you and it's not enough to me, either, but I'm sorry, Ginny. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry and I'm looking at these stupid words now and I'm realizing how empty words always sound, but I'm still sorry. Oh, god, if only you knew. If only you knew everything that's going through my head right now and the way it feels like somebody's stabbing me whenever I think about you or anything that's happened. And fine, it's my fault. It's all my fault and I should never have been so stupid and I shouldn't have been drunk around Katie in the first place, but I was drunk and I don't even know what I was thinking,

I don't know what I'm thinking right now, either, to be honest. I don't know. I just feel numb. And I'm sorry I'm acting like I'm the victim or something because I'm not but it hurts. It hurts so much.

I really have no idea. I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I never want to see you sad and I never want you to be unhappy and I'm just sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Words aren't enough. Words will never be enough for me to express how sorry I am."

You're talking to yourself. You're babbling on again in stupid run-on sentences and you have no idea what you just said and for god's sake, you're talking to yourself. About her. To her. To an imaginary her and you're acting like it's going to change anything. But you wrote it all down in sloppy, quick handwriting and you're feeling yourself start to cry again and it's good enough because it's exactly how you feel and you've always hated getting letters from people where it looks like they read it over a thousand times and the whole message gets lost in attempted perfection.

What're you trying to do, anyway?


	15. Chapter 15

It's sad because I'd originally planned on having a new chapter every 2-3 days and having this done by October.

Obviously, that's working out great.

--

"Hey you," Katie says, grinning and running her hand absently across your shoulder and down your arm. You're sitting by yourself on the train back to Hogwarts and there's three empty seats around you and you're curled up in a ball with your arms around your legs and your head on your knees and you're staring out the window and then all of a sudden she's there with you.

You really have no idea what to say to her anymore, either. So you just smile. It's one thing you've always been able to do. Just look at her and smile and everybody thinks that everything's okay.

"You okay?"

Well gee, so much for that.

"Yeah," You say, and you're realizing now just how much your voice has changed. It creaks and cracks like an old rusty piece of machinery and maybe that's just what you're good for now. You can't do anybody any good but you're nice to look at and you've got an interesting history.

She smiles so much, you're realizing. Katie's such a happy go lucky person and it's almost contagious. Almost. She sits down next to you and she plays with your hair and she still gives you goosebumps. God only knows why, but she does. "You sure?"

There's something about her voice that's always gotten you. When something matters she sits there and mumbles things just above a whisper and she gets really close to your ears and you can feel her breath on your next and why don't you hate her anymore?

You turn and look at her. And that's all you do. You sit there and look her in the eyes and you don't blink and she doesn't either and you don't have an expression but as the seconds go by she looks like she's going to cry or something's breaking in her and you'll never understand just what she sees in you that's so great but she's still here. No matter what you did to her or what's happened or what you've said to her, she's been here and she's obviously willing to do anything for you.

Stop. Stop right now.

You're just going to do something you regret or say something you don't mean and you don't know why you always get like this when you're around her but it really is touching. It is. But you're going to keep thinking that and then you're going to start telling yourself that you like her for her and not because of everything she feels for you and you don't. You'd only ever be interested because you're sick of getting hurt and you're sick of having nothing stable that matters in your world and you're sick of second guessing everything and you're sick of everything and oh god, you are.

You're sick of it all and she's sitting right here.

You can hear people walking by outside the compartment and the sound of the train's horn and you should really be getting changed into your school clothes soon but why bother, anyway?

And then it's over. She's not looking at you anymore because she's looking through her bag and it's over and you're safe and everything's okay. You're okay. It's okay. You're not going to screw up again and you're going to get Ginny back somehow and Katie isn't going to screw things up again and you're not going to make her leave or something because the only way you're going to make yourself immune to her is if you're around her enough.

Right?

"Hey, listen to this?" She's asking, holding out a single earbud and she's got the other one in her ear and she's holding an ipod and you're slightly afraid of what Katie might be listening to but why not, right?

You sit for a moment and you listen to the silence and then she hits play or something and oh my god.

"You like Radiohead?"

"Maybe?" She does the cutest things sometimes. When she doesn't know what to say or she's just feeling particularly shy, she ends everything she says in a question and it gets a bit annoying after a while but it's absolutely adorable at first.

She'd put on Fake Plastic Trees. Your favorite song.

--

"Hey.. Mione.. wake up.." Somebody's saying and they're shaking you gently, whoever they are, and you're blinking and staring up at them and it's Katie. Why are you sleeping with Katie?

Not like that.

What?

Christ. You're so out of it and you hate that feel you get when you first wake up and it's somebody else waking you up and you'd much rather still be sleeping but apparently it's so incredibly necessary that you be woken up.

"What?" You mumble groggily, still looking up at her and you must look stoned out of your mind because you always do when you first wake up and it's just one of those things that you've had to learn to live with.

"Dude."

"Hermione's dead right now, please don't ever call back." You're mumbling, leaning back against her shoulder and it's been two months since you wrote that stupid letter to Ginny and you think you're okay. You're okay and you're learning to live with it and that's why you're sitting here on this stupid train sleeping on stupid Katie and you haven't slapped her and you haven't screamed at her and you haven't told her just how much she screwed things up because they don't feel nearly as screwed up as they did before.

Which is Hermione speak for "I'm in denial, I spent all summer holed up in my room crying over Ginny and eating chocolate and watching stupid romance movies and the only reason I'm not now is because I haven't had to see her yet," but oh well. You can hide from her, right? You don't have to see her, right?

Right.

You can just hide and run away and pretend that you're not in love with her and then everything will be okay for real.

Yeah, in your dreams.

You can pretend though, can't you?

"We have to like.. y'know, get off?"

When did Katie get so charismatic? Her absolutely undeniable talent with words is just killing you. You're not sure if you can take it anymore, everything she says is just so beautiful.

And while you're sitting here thinking all your stupid sarcastic, youish thoughts, she's sitting there and she's looking at you like you're the most perfect thing she's ever seen and god, why won't she stop? Why can't she stop and why can't she like somebody else, anybody else but you?

It's not that you don't like her. You make it sound like you don't like her. And you don't mean that you like her as in love her, because anybody with half a brain knows that you love Ginny, but you don't hate her. You like her. She's your friend. You have a weird history, sure, and your entire friendship is based on the fact that she likes you (as in loves you, not likes you like how you like her) and you're pretty sure that if she hadn't decided one day that she wanted to hook up with you because somebody told her you were gay, you're sure she never would've looked twice at her.

So yeah, you like her. You care about her. But why does she have to be so fucking devoted to you? Why did she have to go and ruin everything when you were finally happy and yeah, okay, it's your fault, but if she hadn't been there and she hadn't gotten you drunk and she hadn't been so fucking in love with you that she had to follow you around all the time then this would've never happened.

Okay. Fine. You're still pissed. You're still really pissed because you're still most definitely not over Ginny because it's going to be a long, long time until you're over her because she's her and you're you and you can't accept that it's over after you've been chasing after her for so long.

You can't accept that you lost her so quickly after you waited around for her for all that time.

And you want everything to make sense. You want love and Ginny and Katie and everything that you're thinking to make sense. You want to know what you're supposed to do and you want to know if Ginny misses you just as much as you miss her and you want to know what she's thinking (you think) and you want her. You still want her.

But Katie's right here. She's still right here next to you, after everything you've said and everything that's happened.

She's here.

Stop. Just stop.

What the fuck are you thinking? Why are you with her?

God knows why. But you want somebody and she's here.

She's here. She's still here.

You're not gonna let her get away too. And you're reaching up and you're kissing her because you know that she'll kiss you back because she's Katie and you're you and you're like Ginny to her.

Oh god. You're to her what Ginny is to you and you're kissing her and she's going to think that you love her and you're going to crush her world but it's too late to take it back now.

And then you don't care. Let her world fall apart. Yours fell apart first and you're lonely and she's lonely and whatever, she owes you this much at least and you want to hate her and you just want to sit here and kiss her all at the same time.

It's not even a real kiss. It's just a stupid light.. thing. Well, no, it's not exactly light. You don't even know what the hell it is but whatever it is, your lips are pressed hard against hers and there's no tongue and you're not actually kissing kissing it's just a kiss.

"Jesus christ Hermione. Get a fucking room, why don't you?"

You don't have to turn around and you're not going to. You know exactly who's voice that is and that's why it feels like somebody just ripped your heart out and stabbed it and stomped on it and spit on it and that's why it feels like somebody just punched you in the stomach and oh, god.

It's just one mistake after another. Now Katie thinks you want her and for about half a second you did and then you heard Ginny's fucking voice again and now you're feeling your heart breaking all over again and you want to turn around and hug her and cry in her arms and beg her to take you back and you want to apologize and kiss her feet and you want to give her the whole world to make her understand just how sorry you really are.

You want her. You've wanted her all along and it's not going to change any time soon and god, you miss how her hands felt and how warm she is and how she just fits and how cute it is that she just barely has to stand on her toes now to kiss you and you want to stop remembering everything but you can't. No matter how hard it hurts, you can't stop now.

It feels like she slapped you. It feels like she just slapped you as hard as she did the last time you saw her and you just had to look at her and she has the exact same look that she had when she broke up with you.

It hurts so, so much and it's all coming back now and oh god, why does it have to hurt so badly?

--

"So, how was your summer?" She's asking from across the table and you're staring dumbfounded at her and she's acting like she didn't just give you the coldest look in the world three hours ago and she's acting like you didn't cheat on her and she's acting like the past three months of ignoring you hadn't happened.

God. Ginny Weasly is the most beautiful, perfect human being to ever grace the planet. She's too beautiful to really be human. She must be an angel or something. And she's sitting right in front of you and you could just reach out and touch her. After all this time being away from you, she's right in front of you again and you can touch her again except you really can't and it's even worse than being away from her because the possibility is there now, you just know that it's never going to happen. Ever. And you have to sit there and tell yourself not to just walk over and hug her or cry on her or tell her how sorry you are no matter how much you want to.

You don't even know what to say to her. What're you supposed to say to her? Should you just nod and smile and tell her it was great, thanks, and yours?

Nobody has ever made you feel the things that she makes you feel. Nobody. Ever. How can you just sit here and act like she's every other stupid person in the world who doesn't mean a thing?

Because she is. Because she's doing just that and it doesn't look like it hurts her or it takes any effort from her at all and maybe it's because she's not really acting, that's just how it is for her now.

Yeah. Yeah, that's it. She's over you. She's over you already and she's moved on and she has a new girlfriend and they spent all summer fucking and telling each other how much they love each other and how much they mean to each other and she's just forgotten you and everything and she doesn't know what she ever saw in you and she's only talking to you because she read your stupid letter and she feels bad for stupid little you because you're just a walking pity party like that.

She seemed so pissed off on the train but it's just because she thinks you're disgusting and Katie's disgusting and if she thinks that you're both disgusting on your own, then of course she would think it was absolutely revolting seeing you two together.

And you actually thought for a second that she might still care.

Ha fucking ha. You're the only idiot in the whole fucking world who would still try to hold onto something like what you had with Ginny after everything.

She meant so much and you meant so much and she still means so much and you don't mean anything anymore.

You're just a memory. You're just an ex girlfriend she can tell people about to make them feel bad for her and you're just a nice comparison to whoever she's sleeping with now and you're a few nice memories of a few happy moments and that's it. She's your whole world and you're just a shred of god knows what in the back of her head.

Yeah. Okay. Fine.

That's how things are now.

She can live with it, fine. So can you.

No you can't. But you can pretend.

"It was okay. How about yours?"

--

Thank GOD. FINALLY a decent length chapter for you guys. :D

Thank you SOOOsoososoososooo much to everybody's who's been reviewing and adding me to their favorites and their alerts and just anybody reading this.

:)


	16. Chapter 16

So I'm on a train to canadia and it's cold and I've been on it since 8 this morning and I'm not going to get in until at least 10 and my ass hurts..

And by the time I post this it'll be like tomorrow. But that'll actually be today. Or something. Because I still have chapter 15 to post XD

Smooth, I know.

--

You're just realizing now, in the beginning of your sixth year at Hogwarts, just how much of a loner you are. After all these years of sitting in the corner studying while everybody else is having fun, you're finally realizing it. And you're just starting to hate it, too. You're starting to hate how much time you always have to yourself to just sit here and think about how much you hate everything you've ever done and how much you regret all the stupid little things you said wrong and how much you want to make it better even though you know that you can't. You just can't. You're a witch and you're magic and you've got your stupid little wand and you should be ab;e to make everything better because you're magic but you can't.

What good is magic if you can't make yourself happy?

You're sick of this. You're sick of sitting off on the side and hating yourself and hating everybody around you and hating everything they do and thinking for hours and hours about one stupid little thing that one stupid little person said and you want it to just stop. You want the few people you let matter to not matter so much. You want them to stop being your whole world but they are. They fucking are. They're your whole world and they're everything you think about and they're everything that you are and you're nothing without them.

You're nothing by yourself.

And it's depressing. It really is. You have Harry and Ron and they're your best friends and you have Ginny and Katie and they're all you can ever think about.

You suppose you'll be happier about it later on, when you're successful and you're pretty and you're smart and all the other idiots around you are still idiots and they're driving your bus and they're making your food and they're ugly and stupid and poor but you hate it now. You hate it.

And then you don't want any of that. You don't want to be pretty or popular (it'd be nice, but whatever) and you just want her. You want her back and you're so obsessed with her and you want to stop but you just can't. You can never stop. You thought you could but now you've got her voice echoing in your head and you saw her and you're going to keep seeing her and you can't get her off your mind.'

You want her gone. You want her out of your head and you want to disappear. Not like die disappear, you just want to disappear and then come back one day and have all of this be over and you want to be happy and you want to stop thinking about her and you want nobody to know who you are and you want to disappear.

You want another chance. You want to just turn into a completely different person and have nobody have any idea who you are (well, the handful of people who do know who you are to stop, at least) and you want to be somebody new on the outside and then you can be with her again and you can tell her everything that she makes you feel and how much you want her and how much you need her and how beautiful she is and how absolutely perfect she is and she'll tell you all about this Hermione girl she used to love but then she got her heart broken and you'll hold her and you'll tell her you'll never ever hurt her.

Why are you so sad?

You're sad. You're such a sad person. You're not sad like everybody else who cries their eyes out for a couple of days and then they're better, you're just sad. You've been sad for so, so long and it's a kind of quiet, unspoken thing and it's there in everything you do. It's like this weight on your shoulders and it's not really all that heavy but it's there. It's there and it's messing you up so badly and you don't even realize it because it's happening so slowly and over so much time but you're sad.

She made you happy.

She made you happy and she's gone and you were going through the motions before her and now you're going through the motions the same way now that she's gone and it all feels so mundane and you want something exciting to happen.

You wish you were exciting and your life was exciting and you could be the life of the party and you were good at something besides memorizing textbooks and yeah, you have perfect grades in every class but that's one stupid thing that you're good at and you're sick of it.

You don't even know what you're going on about. What on Earth are you going on about?

You just want her back. You want her back or you want to forget about her but you can't keep living like this. You just can't. And it sounds so stupid when you think it but it's true and she's just one stupid girl and she's just one stupid thing but she means so much and she's doing so much to you and you have no idea how.

--

"Hermione," She says simply, staring at you. She's looking at you and you're staring back at her and she has the most gorgeous eyes you've ever seen and it's been the longest time since you've looked at them when she hasn't been angry and really is so beautiful.

She gives you chills. She touches you and you get goosebumps and you love how it makes you feel and you want to keep feeling that but it's gone and she's got her hand in her hair now, as though there could possibly ever be something wrong with her.

"Ginny," You say, managing somehow to stumble over a name as simple as hers. You stumble over everything when you're near her. Being around her makes you into a complete and utter bumbling idiot, no matter how smart you're supposed to be or how perfect you try to act or how perfect Katie always tells you you are, you always feel like everything you do around her is wrong. Everything you do is wrong and everything she does is absolutely perfect.

The thing about being with Ginny is that she always did tiny little things for you and most of the time, she never acted like she was your girlfriend and at the time it seemed like she did nothing for your at all and then you look back when all of a sudden it's gone and it feels like she gave you the whole world and you just took it for granted.

And now it's gone. It's gone and she really did give you the whole world. Katie's sweet and she tells you that you're beautiful and she leaves you flowers and she tells you she loves you and she does everything perfectly but it doesn't mean half as much as when Ginny would just hold your hand.

"I missed you, you know," She says, only she isn't staring at you anymore. She's staring at her textbook and her notebook and she's got her gorgeous red hair over her eyes and she's not looking at you. But she said it. She said she missed you and you know she doesn't mean the same way that you still miss her but it still gives you chills the same way she gives you chills when she touches you.

You try not to look up at her too much because you're supposed to be just friends. You're not even really supposed to be friends, you're just sitting across from each other and doing your stupid homework and she's talking to you and you really don't want to screw this up. You can't have her again and you know that but you at least want this. You want to be around her and you need to be around her and you need her. You need her so much and now she's here and you don't feel half as sad as you've felt for weeks, and that's something. You're not great but you're better and you haven't been better for a long time.

You open your mouth to say something, and then you pause. You have no idea what to say around her. You never do. You want to be perfect and you want to have the perfect words and you her to think that everything you say is magic the same way you think everything she says is magic and you want to do to her what she does to you.

"I missed you too," You mumble, and you're not tripping over all your stupid little meaningless words like you were before but you're quiet and you're scared and you want her. You want her so much and you want everything and you want to have the whole world again and you miss it and you miss her. You really do miss you. You missed her and you're going to keep missing her even when she's right in front of you.

She smiles.

She doesn't mean for you to see it and she doesn't mean to do it at all and it's gone after a moment but maybe that's even better. You made her smile. You made her smile and she didn't even mean to smile. She smiled.

It's definitely much better than if she'd realized that she was smiling.

She cares. She still cares. You still can make her smile.

You make Ginny smile.

--

"Are you dating Katie Bell?" Harry asks between mouthfuls of bacon and egg from across the table in the great hall.

That caught your attention, all right. You glance up from your toast at him and you give him this weird look for a couple of seconds, and then you shrug.

You aren't, are you?

No. You're not. Why on Earth would you be dating Katie Bell? You never asked her out. Katie never asked you out. You used to sleep with her and you kissed her but that was one stupid kiss and it was a mistake and it doesn't mean that you're going out with her and it's not like anybody saw and it's not like people would know something like that, right?

No. Nobody saw. Nobody would think that you're going out because of that. Nobody would tell somebody that you were dating her because you kissed her because nobody saw you kissing her.

"No?" You reply, stabbing a pancake with your fork and smothering it in maple syrup. That's one of the few good things about you; you can eat almost anything you want besides chocolate and not break out or gain more than a pound or two that you'll lose again within the next day or two.

"Oh. Okay. I heard you were making out with her on the train ride here," He said, shrugging and shoveling another forkful of food into his mouth, before turning to Ron and saying something or other about Quidditch.

For god's sake. Whatever you think just _has_ to happen, doesn't it?

Somebody somewhere must be laughing at you. Hard.

You start to think about how you really really need to get away from this place and how cute you think the girl sitting across from you at the Hufflepuff table is and all the things you'd like to do to her (yeah, you're a pile of raging hormones.) and then you're realizing that with you luck lately, she's going to look at you and she'll read your mind and then Ron will say loudly how hot she is.

This is one of those many times where you hate your life. Absolutely positively hate.

"Ohmygod, Harry, look at that girl,"

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

Why?

--

Merry day late christmas. :D


	17. Chapter 17

She's sitting across from you on the dirt, and you're staring out at the lake and you wonder again why it is that you're sitting here with her and why it is you still even talk to her and why it is that you kissed her and god, just everything. Why can't just one stupid thing be easy?

You want something stable in your life. That's it. That's why you keep going after her and then pulling away when you come back to yourself and realize how horrible being with her with would be. Because she loves you. She loves you so fucking much and you love Ginny and if you could just make things and easy and love her instead and you could just not care about Ginny, you would. You'd be happy and Katie would be happy and you wouldn't give a damn about Ginny.

And if you could be exactly who she wants to you be and you could be perfect for her and you could make her happy and she would be happy with you and everything could just be perfect again, you would do that. You would make it okay. No matter what it meant or who got hurt or anything. Like you gave a fuck as long as you were with her and she wouldn't leave again and you wouldn't screw things up again and it would just be easy and perfect and nobody would ever bother you and.

Actually, no. That's your dream world. That's your perfect life. You just don't give a fuck as long as you're with her.

But you're not with her. You were with her and you screwed it up and now you're sitting in the grass with Katie by the lake and she's got her arm resting on your leg and you're pretty sure she'd just said she wanted to.. god knows what she said she wanted but you're pretty sure that she didn't say this because you're sure that you wouldn't have said yes. Not to this. Not to her. You don't want her.

Well. Yeah, you do. She's a girl and she's not horrible looking and she loves you and you wouldn't say no to hooking up with her if you just saw her in a bar and you were single and she was whatever and you'd never have to see her again and she wouldn't be as much of a part of your life as she is now. But you don't want to be with her. Not now.

Christ. Shut up. She's just got her arm on your leg and she's flipping through her sketchbook or something. It's nothing but it's bothering you and she bothers you and this whole fucking situation bothers you, even though you're probably the only one who even realizes that it exists. Why are you even here? Stupid little things bother you and this is a stupid little thing and obviously it bothers you.

Wait. What?

Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up shut up. You're being an idiot. You're being such a fucking idiot. Shut up. You hate people like this and now you're acting like one of them.

What's even bothering you so much? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You just love to sit and bitch and moan and whine about how every little thing bothers you when nothing is wrong. Absolutely nothing is wrong. Shut up.

Fine. You will shut up.

You're running your hands through your hair and then you're turning away from the lake and you're staring down at whatever it was that she was flipping through and yeah, it was and sketchbook, and jesus christ. She's good. She's really really good.

"Oh my god, Katie," You're saying, switching between staring at her hands and her sketchbook and her her.

And she's smiling. Just the tiniest little smile but it's like her whole face just started glowing and she looks so happy all of a sudden.

"You like them?"

"Are you kidding? These're.. oh my god, these're amazing!" And you're genuinely amazed. You tell people that the things that they do are okay and then you give them advice when you really think that they're terrible and nothing is going to change that but she's actually really amazing.

Who would've known Katie was an artist?

"What'd you even draw these with?" You're asking, flipping slowly through pages and pages of sketches and what look like watercolors and god knows what else and you're not much of an art person so you don't know what's what but you know what something that you like looks like and she's made it.

"Charcoal.. Really soft pencils.. Watercolors, acrylics.. Like that," She's saying, and she's stumbling over her words the same way you always do and she's blushing, you're noticing. She's blushing and she obviously doesn't show everybody this stuff and then you get this warm feeling in the pit of your stomach and you really do mean something to somebody.

"This is amazing," You pause for a second and look up at her, and she's still got her arm on your leg and now you're staring at her and she's staring back at her and she's too close to you. She's way too close and you're breathing each other's air and she's got her eyes half closed and you're getting that feeling in your chest when you want something and it's never going to happen and you don't even know what you're thinking and you're pretty sure you're going to regret anything you're thinking now because everything you do, you regret and everything you do, no matter how right it seems at the time, turns into a mistake. Everything is a mistake. "You're amazing.."

And you let your voice trail off and you can feel her eyes trailing up and down your body and you can feel her staring at you and you have no idea what to do. You never have any idea what to do and you don't know what to do with yourself. What are you supposed to do with yourself?

You can feel her shifting next to you and she's got her whole body nearly leaning on you and she's got her forehead against yours and you can hear her breath catching in her throat.

"Hermione.." And she lets her voice trail off, and she's staring at you and you have no idea what to do. You never have any idea what to do with yourself or anybody around you and the way her voice cracks makes something almost crack in you.

She's kissing you. She's got her hand brushing just the tiniest little bit against your cheek and it's the softest, most gentile kiss anybody's ever given you and you can feel your stomach flutter and you don't even know what you feel or what you should feel but she's really gorgeous, you're realizing, looking at her face through half open eyes and her lip gloss tastes sorta like strawberries and she smells like her. And most people don't ever see her other than when she's covered in mud and she's not wearing any makeup and she's flying around on a broomstick but now you're sitting across from her and she _is_ wearing makeup and she isn't covered in mud and her hair isn't just sitting back in a ponytail and you _are_ lucky that a girl like her likes you.

Right?

--

You hate her. You hate her and you hate everything about her and you hate her stupid strawberry lip gloss and you hate her stupid drawings and you hate her stupid paintings and you hate her stupid hair and her stupid makeup and her stupid Quidditch and her stupid her. You hate her stupid her. You hate her. She always does this. She always fucking does this and you always fucking do this and you two always fucking do this.

What's wrong with you? What's wrong with her and what's wrong with everything?

Why won't she just leave you alone? Why can't you ever just say no and why can't you ever just walk away and never come back and what on Earth were you thinking earlier and what have you been thinking every single time you thought that you saw anything in her and what were you thinking every time you woke up next to her and god, what the fuck is wrong with you?

Jesus. Jesus fucking christ. Fuck Katie. Fuck Katie fucking Bell.

You're sitting in your dorm room and you're staring at the ground and it's dark out and everybody else is at dinner and you're hiding out in your room. Alone. Because that's the only time that you can ever trust yourself. Wait. No. What? No. That's not it. You just want all these stupid people to leave you alone and you want them to stop asking you things and telling you things and you want everybody to just drop dead for a couple of hours.

Not permanently. You'd be lonely. Just for now.

You feel like shit. You feel like such complete and utter shit because you keep doing this to yourself and you keep doing this to her and you don't want anybody except for Ginny. You want her so fucking much it hurts. It actually, physically hurts you and you hate it and it's even worse because she isn't coming back. Ever. She's never ever coming back and you know it and you should be getting better but you're just falling harder and harder for her every day and it's getting so much more under your skin and fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Fuck everything. You've never felt so helpless. You're sitting here and you know that no matter what you do, every day she's getting further and further away from you and she'll never be yours and you can't just sit there and snap your fingers and say that you're over her and everything's okay. You can't because you can't get over her.

And why do you feel so fucking guilty about kissing Katie anyway? She kissed you so it's not like you forced it on her but that's not what you really care about in the first place. It's the fact that you feel so fucking guilty that you kissed somebody that isn't Ginny and it's been months since you were with her and why do you feel guilty? Why in god's name would you feel guilty about something like that?

You have no idea. You shouldn't. You have absolutely no reason to. But you do anyway. You feel so horribly guilty and you feel like you shouldn't even look at anybody other than her and you don't even understand why. You've never been like this before. Ever. With anybody.

Why does she mean so much? Why is she allowed to sit there and do this to you all the fucking time without even lifting a finger?

It's not fair. It isn't fucking fair.

You want it to stop. You want it to just stop and you want things to be okay and you want to be happy. You want to smile and you want this stupid weight in the pit of your stomach to go away and you want to laugh and you don't want everything to feel bittersweet like it does now and you don't want it to hurt every time you think about her. You don't want to feel like you're getting stabbed or punched or something every single fucking time.

Make it stop. Somebody just fucking make it stop.

And you're pissed. You're so fucking pissed off and you don't even know what it is that you're pissed at but you really just wish the world would shoot itself in the face tonight and for however long it takes for you to be okay.

You really wish that chocolate didn't have so many calories. Then you'd be okay in a couple of days.

God, chocolate is better than love and sex and Ginny. It's better than all three at once, even.

At least, until you gain 10 pounds. Then it's worse than Katie. And that's bad. Really, really bad.


	18. Chapter 18

RAWR I'M SICK AND IT SUCKS :(

--

"Because I'm in love with you. Because I've been in love with you for so, so fucking long and I never said anything for the longest time and I never really did tell you that I actually did love you, did I? That I still love you? That it's been so long and I still can't get you off my mind. Ever."

You're talking to yourself again. You always talk to yourself, your face pressed up against your pillow with blankets upon blankets covering you and you think that it's going to make a difference. You've always fucking done this and you've always worn yourself out and then when the opportunity to actually use all the stupid things you say to your pillow, they're gone. They're all gone.

"I never stopped."

And you want her to be behind you. You want somebody to be behind you and you want somebody to have heard every word you just said and you want somebody to cry on and you want somebody to tell you that it's going to be okay but nobody would ever do that for you because you're the idiot who cheated on her, not the other way around.

You want to do everything for her. You want to be her everything and you want it to be okay again and it's been so long since you and her were together, you're realizing. It's been so fucking long and you want her still. You want her now and you've wanted her always.

She gives you chills. She gives you chills and she absolutely amazes you but that much should be obvious, seeing as how you're sitting up in your bed at 3 in the morning and you're thinking about her because she won't leave you alone, ever. She's always on your mind and you've never been able to stop thinking about her. She's always on your mind and she fills up the tiny little cracks between your thoughts and then when you run out of things to think, she's always right there waiting.

It's not fair. She shouldn't be allowed to do this to you and not even know it. And not even try. It isn't fucking fair. Nothing's fair. Why can't anything be fair?

You can't live without her.

You can't live. You're forgetting how to live on your own.

What the fuck. Shut up. You're 16. You shouldn't be like this. You shouldn't be making yourself so miserable over a stupid girl and how she makes you feel and how you're holding onto her so fucking tightly after all this time has passed but you are.

Food. That's what you need. You need some food.

--

You're just thankful that the OWLs are over and you don't have to take your NEWTs until next year, you're realizing as you glance down at your pile of textbooks and notebooks and parchment and pens and bottles of ink and you suppose it's good that you're picking this year to be your year of "Isn't there more to life than this?" instead of last year or next year.

And you can't ever get her off your mind and that certainly isn't going to help your grades any. And you feel fat. You're fat. You gained weight.

So much for chocolate being your one true love. Okay. Fine. From now on you're on a diet. You're on a diet and instead of sitting around and moping, you're going to go out and do something whenever you feel sad and if you stick to that, you'll be in the best shape of your life in days. Granted, you also won't have a chance to do anything else, but whatever.

Okay. Diet. You can do that.

Homework. Essays. Tests. You can do that too. You've been doing it for years and you've been so good at it. You've been the absolute best at it.

Christ. What's wrong with you lately?

You're staring at all your stupid textbooks and your stupid perfect handwriting and you've got your hands on your head and you're rubbing your temples and you're realizing how much you hate this, all of a sudden.

So much for motivation. Good going.

Stop. Fucking god, stop. The last thing you need to do is flunk out of school, too. It's all you have, at this point. Okay, no that's a lie. But it's the only thing that you feel matters that you have left and it's the only important thing and it's the only thing that you know exactly what you're doing with and fuck. What?

You're good at school. You understand school and you love it.

Don't you?

And then, sitting there at your table in the common room by the fire, you think for the first time in the longest time that you have no idea what you want to do with yourself. You think for the first time that you have no idea where you're going and you have this sick feeling in the pit of your stomach like you're spiraling out of control and there's nobody there who cares enough to grab you. There's nobody around and you've got nothing and you feel like you're jumping off into a freefall.

Nobody's left to fall back on. Nobody's sitting around waiting to share your future with you except yourself and you have no idea what you want now. You've never had any idea what you want.

Her. You want her.

You want happiness. You want to be happy.

Shit. Stop thinking and write the stupid essay, for god's sake.

It's true though. You try to push it out of your mind but it's stuck there because it's true. It's so, so true. You have no idea where you're going anymore.

Why are you screwing yourself up like this?

You sit there and you think about that and you realize that you have no idea why. You don't even know what you're so sad about.

--

It's morning. It's morning and you're dragging yourself out of bed and god, words cannot describe how much you hate mornings. You hate them. Hate hate hate. You hate that gross prickly feeling you get when you first wake up and you hate the fact that you never get enough sleep and you hate the huge purple bags below your eyes and you hate how by the time your bed's all nice and warm, you have to get up.

Fuck.

You hate mornings. You really really hate mornings.

You're walking down the stairs into the common room and you feel like a zombie or something and you really couldn't care less at the moment. You need a shower. You need coffee. Right now.

"G'morning 'Mione," Somebody (your vision's too blurry and it's too early for you to even realize who) says to you from the couch. You turn and you smile at them and you mumble something back and you're sure you must sound like a dying kitten stuck in a trashcan with a mousetrap on it's throat.

Or something like that.

Shower. Coffee. Shower. Coffee. Now.

Yeah. You really are a zombie, just you need coffee and warm water and conditioner instead of brains. Which, you're pretty sure, is probably better for everybody around you (unless they like getting their brains sucked out of their ear by a straw or something).

Ten minutes later you're standing in a shower and you have scalding hot water pouring down on you and your hair is covered in "strawberry milkshake" shampoo, except it smells more like a cherry ring pop.

"Hermione? Is that you?"

Do you have a stalker?

"Maybe."

Oh jesus christ. Wait. That's Katie's voice, isn't it? Yeah. It is. It's Katie fucking Bell's fucking voice.

"What, Katie?" You're barely even aware of the tone that you're using until you hear your voice echoing around the bathroom and you've never, ever snapped at her like that.

And then she's quiet and all you can hear is the sound of water hitting the ground.

You're standing there with shampoo running down your arms and you're waiting for her to say something, and then you're realizing that she isn't going to. And it's horrible, but words can't even begin to describe how relieved that makes you feel.

That's one step on the right path. Get Katie out of your life. And it's a stupid little thing and she'll forget about it by this afternoon but you're realizing that you _can_ get rid of her and you _can_ say no to her and this is good. This is so good.

Finally. Life owes you some good after how miserable you've been lately.


	19. Chapter 19

Hah. I'm glad somebody noticed how little Harry and Ron were showing up.

God. I can't believe how many reviews and views this has gotten. It's just a fanfic, but you guys have no idea how much that means to me, especially after how long I keep disappearing for.

:) Thanks so much.

--

It tried to kill you. You swear to god, it tried to fucking kill you. You were just sitting there innocently and you didn't do anything to it and you were just thirsty and then bang, you're choking.

It tried to kill you.

You're going to sue somebody. You're going to have that glass of water put in Azkaban for the rest of it's cold, liquidy life, where nobody will ever fall prey to it's devious, murderous intents ever again.

"You okay?" George (or Fred, you're never sure) is asking from next to you. You turn and look at whichever twin it is and they've got this concerned look on their face like, "Are you dying?"

"It tried to kill me!" You declare, crossing you arms and staring at the glass of water.

It looks innocent, but that's just on the surface. Deep down, it's pure evil. Really.

"Uhm?"

"Really! It did! I'm not making this stuff up. It's evil. I'm lucky to be alive," You're protesting defensively, still not taking your eyes off the glass.

"Hermione, you tried to chug the entire thing," Fred (George?) is saying, staring at you like you're crazy. You're not crazy. You're really not. You're just in a weird mood. You feel like acting all cute and pouty and hyper and you're realizing you've been acting like a hermit and you're trying to make up for it.

By telling people that a glass (actually, now that you look at it, it's more like a mug) of water tried to kill you. Of course. Everybody makes tons of friends that way.

Definitely. Best plan ever.

"I was protecting the rest of Hogwarts from it's evil," You're saying simply.

"Before you ever had any idea that it was going to 'try to kill you'?"

"Shut up," You're saying, grinning hopefully.

At least you tried to warn them.

They're looking at you (Fred and George, whichever's which, not just one of them and you're not sure what to call them so you call them, well, them) for a moment like they're not sure what to make of you, and then they're grinning back at you and chuckling and then going back to plotting whatever it is that Fred and George plot (you try your best to know as little as possible) and you're left sitting there by yourself again.

And the evil water.

Okay. Fine. You're acting so not like yourself. Fine. Whatever. That's okay. Right? That's fine.

You're just sick of feeling like such a freak. You can't even remember the last time you talked to Harry or Ron or even thought about anybody except Ginny or Katie or you.

You're an idiot. No matter what you do at this point, you're resigning yourself to the fact that you are a total, complete idiot.

Honestly.

You feel like you're falling apart. You feel like everything fell apart and you're sitting there trying to be something you're not to fix something you didn't even realize was broken until now.

Can you go for 10 whole minutes without dissolving into a pile of mope?

Apparently not.

Great job. You should get a pat on the back and a gold star. Good for you.

Puke.

--

It was once. It was one time that you snapped back at her and it was first thing in the morning and a huge part of you thought that she was just going to think that it was because you hate mornings (true) and you really did like her (not true) and she'd come back and act like it was nothing (which it really was, but the level of your dislike for her, on the other hand, wasn't) and you're realizing how insecure she must be that one stupid little thing like that could drive her so far away from you.

Thank. Fucking. God.

You've never been happier about somebody else's insecurities.

You're realizing this while you're washing your hands in the third floor girl's bathroom right before lunch and no, you've got your bag slung across one shoulder and somehow, you don't have scoliosis from doing that yet.

Yeah. You're still more thankful that Katie finally left you alone.

Words cannot even begin to describe your complete and absolute glee. And no, that isn't sarcasm.

You're okay. Sort of. You're the best you've been in weeks. Months. It's still low, sure, but it's the highest you've been. It feels good. It's weird, but it's good.

You're getting better.

It's small. It's a tiny, stupid little thing, but it makes you smile. It makes you feel like you're glowing and it makes you feel like your body weighs half a pound and the fifteen pound bag on your shoulder doesn't feel like anything anymore. You're okay. You're actually okay.

You don't remember ever feeling this happy over something so fucking stupid.

You're not sure if you should stay happy, or feel even more depressed because of how pathetic this whole thing is and how pathetic you've become.

Nah. You're too happy to be depressed. You're happy.

You're alone and you're happy. By yourself. On your own.

Wow.

--

"Hermione," She's sitting beside you. You've been so incredibly overly aware of that fact and you've been listening to her every soft inhale and her perfume's intoxicating and it's filling up your every cell and pore, but the sound of her voice still shocks you. Makes you jump just the tiniest little bit in your seat, and it takes you a moment to realize that she is, in fact, talking to you, not some other mysterious Hermione who's just popped out of thin air.

You. It's you.

"Ginny," You're replying, glancing at her and smiling nervously and then you've got your eyes back on your plate because you're scared to look at her. You're scared because you have no idea how you're supposed to act around her or how you're supposed to feel or how she feels and you don't really know if you want to know the last one, now that you think about it.

You always do this with her. You and her and you sit there and instead of just saying hi like normal human beings and then talking, you say each other's names and it always used to feel like some great little thing that you two would do because you were flirting or whatever but now every little second makes you feel more and more like your insides are eating themselves.

Which, believe it or not, isn't the most pleasant feeling. Shocker, right?

"Geez, it's like you disappeared off the face of the Earth. I never see you anymore," She's saying, and you glance over at her and you try to read her expression because you just have to try. You always have to try, because that's just what you do. You sit there and you try to figure her out and you know that you never will but it's worth trying, at least. You try but she's got her hair in her face and she's staring down at her plate, because her grilled cheese sandwich is obviously the most interesting thing in a room where the ceiling matches the weather.

You overanalyze her. You realized that a long time ago, but it hasn't ever really stopped you. You keep trying to tell yourself that you're just going to get your hopes up for nothing and you're going to get your heart beat up and spit on over and over and over because nothing good will ever come from it because it's not like every little thing she does, she does to make you realize that she wants you again. You've told yourself that. You've sat up for hours at night, just sitting there and trying to get it through to yourself, but it's never really changed anything.

It's just how you are, you suppose.

"I've been busy, I guess," Lie. You've been avoiding her. You've been avoiding everybody on the planet. You've locked yourself in empty classrooms and bathroom stalls and your room and you've disappeared by the lake and you've hidden the second you heard people's voices, but you'd never admit that to her. You'd never admit that to anybody, actually. You're turning into a hermit or something. And you don't know what's worse, the simple fact, or that once you've started to turn into one, you're happy again for the first time in months.

"Well, what're you doing Saturday?" She's asking, and when you glance sideways at her again, she's got her head up and she isn't looking at you but you can see her face. You can tell that she's trying to make sure you can't see her but you can.

She's got this hopeful look on her face. You think.

But you're just going to get your hopes up again. You always do. It doesn't mean a thing. You're probably just imagining it.

"Nothing?" You're acting like you don't want to talk to her. You're being as vague as possible and you're giving her one word answers and you have no idea why.

Yeah you do. You're still in shock that she's talking to you. You're still in awe of her mere presence.

Shit. You really have to stop thinking like that. Even if it _is_ true.

"Well.. Come to Hogsmead with me?" She's asking. Yeah. No. You definitely weren't imagining that hopeful look she had on her face earlier.

And god, she has the cutest voice you've ever heard when she's asking for something she wants. For something she wants. You. She wants you. Or at least, time with you. She wants to actually do something. With you.

You're pretty sure you're floating. You're floating and your heart just exploded and that's why this is happening. You're actually dead. You're dead and you're in heaven right now.

Well, hey. If you're in heaven, nothing'll go wrong. Right?

"I'd love to," You're saying, and you're trying to sound as sincere as possible because there really is nothing that you'd rather spend your Saturday doing and there's nobody you'd rather spend it with.

Fuck.

You're gonna crash later. You know you are. You're going to crash and burn but you don't care because you feel so absolutely, indescribably amazing right now.


	20. Chapter 20

SOOOO I HAVE MY LAPTOP BACK :DDDDD

IT'S BEEN WAY TO LONG :'(

also most of the rest of this is already written, so no more worrying about me dying and giving you guys no updates for 275972 years :DDDD

LSAHGLKAHS YAY :D

--

"I miss you," You're hearing yourself blurting out, and the second you realize what you're doing, you're slapping yourself on the inside and you're wishing that there was some way you could change the subject or change what you're saying but it's such a short sentence that you really can't. It's the damn coffee. You're sitting in a little coffee shop in Hogsmead and she's sitting across from you and you both have mugs of hot coffee sitting under your noses and the whole place smells like heaven, and things tend to go the way you want them to in heaven (at least, that's what you're assuming) and that's your excuse.

But your voice isn't the only one you heard, you're realizing as you take an almost fearful glance at her face.

And she has the same look on her face that you must have. She's scared. Or something. You don't even know what to call it, but it's exactly what you feel, and it's the weirdest thing you've ever seen because Ginny's Ginny and she's not supposed to feel fear and self doubt the same way that you do. She's her. She's perfect. Why would she ever second guess herself?

"I miss you too,"

It's noon and you're freezing. You can feel the snow and ice that's all over your scarf and your coat and your hat melting, and you don't even care because you're with her. Which is pathetic. Especially because you broke up almost a year ago, but it's true. Even after so much fucking time, you'd still torture yourself and let yourself suffer and put yourself through hell and do pretty much anything to just be around her. You're pretty sure that that's really unhealthy, but you're so far past the point of caring.

You spent the last three hours wandering around the village with her and you bought a bag of the weirdest and most painful and most disgusting candy you could find at the candy place and she spent all the time that you were outside holding your arm and for the first time, the thought that she might still like you crosses your mind. Because, of course, there are lots of other reasons that a girl would attach herself to you.

Right.

"I never see you anymore. I wish we had classes together or something," You're mumbling, slurring your words and tripping and falling over them while you try to save yourself. You think that it's a sad, sad attempt and that anybody could see through it, but you think you can see her face falling.

That wasn't what she meant.

You wish you had better self esteem, then you might actually believe that. You do. Sort of. And then you don't. Why would she ever want you again?

Why did she ever want you in the first place? You never thought she did, and you never would've believed it because you never saw it in yourself, because it's been so long since you've seen anything in yourself, but she wanted you then. You were wrong then, why can't you be wrong now?

God, she's so beautiful.

And you're.. you don't even know what you are. She absolutely melts your heart. You're in love with her. You're so, so in love with her and it's been like that for so long and you don't want it to change. That's what you are.

"I miss you," She's saying again, and you know what she means. You can tell by the way she tilts her head a bit and looks up at you and the way she chews on the side of her lip just the tiniest bit. She thinks that people don't notice it or they can't see it, and for the most part, you're pretty sure they don't, but you've always noticed it. It's the cutest thing you've ever seen.

You even love her nervous habits. That's just obsessive.

You look her in the eyes and oh wow, her eyes are just as stunning as they've always been.

And then you just smile a tiny bit at her and she smiles back and then you've gone back to sipping your coffee but it feels so different because she does still care. She still fucking cares.

--

She cares. Wow. Good job. Great fucking job. That doesn't fucking mean shit what the fuck is wrong with you?

You hate how accomplished you felt at the time and you hate how fucking shitty you feel right now and you hate how much you hate every little thing you do and if you do too much, you hate it and if you don't do enough you hate it and you hate hate hate hate hate everything about love.

Life would be so much easier if you could just coast through without having to worry about how absolutely obsessed you are with a girl and how much you need her.

You're turning into an emotastical pile of emo train wreck. It's awful. You want to drop dead. You should drop dead. Right now.

Instead you just lay back down, because it's 3 am and you should be sleeping but you're sitting up in bed and you're driving yourself absolutely insane, even after you just spent an entire day with Ginny.

Actually, no shit you'd be driving yourself insane, but honestly. Sleep. Right now.

--

"Ginny?" You give up. You absolutely give up and you can't take this anymore. You can't fucking take this. You're going to go completely insane and hurl yourself off of a building or something and then you're gonna land and it's going to be really, really ugly. You're bad enough already. You don't want to imagine what you'll look like after you hit concrete after falling a couple hundred feet.

"Hm?" She looks up at you from her textbook and her notebook and her foot long essay.

You absolutely give up. You can't read people and you don't know what people think or feel and you're kind of socially retarded and you're so sick of sitting around and wondering and wishing. You're crazy.

You've driven yourself insane over a girl.

"What are we?"

This feels so, so familiar. Why does this feel so familiar and why have you been through this before and why are you going through it again now if you've already been through it?

God. Can't you at least get a tiny little bit creative with how you find this out?

You feel even more pathetic now.

You're looking at her and she's looking back and she actually looks surprised. Not like bad, "I'm gonna rip your brains out and fry them and eat them," surprised, more like, "So I'm not crazy for thinking that?" surprised. Which is good. Good is good.

Unless you're crazy. But that isn't good.

What?

You're watching her expression change and twist into something else, and you feel your stomach twisting as she practically snarls, "You broke my heart, Hermione,"

You look at her for a moment, honestly speechless. This was the one thing you were absolutely unprepared for. You had all the words for absolutely anything she could've said but they're all gone now.

"You broke mine, too," You say simply, looking at her and then looking at the ground and the sky and anything, anything except her. You mumble a quiet, "I'm sorry,"

She doesn't say anything for what must have been an eternity but really was probably only a few seconds, and in that time you start to regret everything all over again.

And then you can feel her hands on yours, on your legs, on your body, on your face and she's turning you around so that you're looking at her. God, you can't look at her, at how perfect she is and how much you must have hurt her. It hurts, it really fucking hurts, somehow.

But then you can feel her breathing on you like you did all those nights so many months ago, and it's all gone and you can't feel anything except for her and how she's got her lips on yours and the way she makes your body tingle and the goosebumps she gives you and, oh god, it's still there. It's all still there.

You've got your arms around her and your hands in her hair and neither of you've said anything--you didn't have the chance, and you didn't need to, you supposed. It was one of those things where words could only say so much and it wasn't nearly enough. Which sounds cheesy, but whatever, this is Ginny Weasley we're talking about.

As dumb as it sounds, you feel like this is how it's supposed to be.

"God, I've missed you," You hear her mumbling against your lips, and you could've sworn she was smiling before she pulled your mouth against hers again.

--


	21. Chapter 21

"Ginny, stop it, you're distracting me," You're saying, kneeled over one of what you're sure is a dozen essays you're supposed to be writing, while she sits beside you and runs her fingers up and down your thigh, her head on your shoulder and her lips on your neck. And yeah, she still gives you chills. After all this time and after all the hours you must've spent kissing her and just practically attached to her in general.

She smiles, and you don't see it. You just know. Something in her breathing changes and you can feel her lips moving against your skin and you feel your arms prickling as your goosebumps resurface for what must be the billionth time.

"You love it," She half says, half whispers in your ear, and you feel chills running down your spine, which sounds absolutely ridiculous, but then again, the whole thing is rather ridiculous, now that you think about it. Love is ridiculous, and if you sound like an idiot for trying to describe it, fine, whatever.

"I know, but my NEWTS are only three months away," You say, scribbling furiously. You don't know if you wish she could leave you alone so you could finish this, or if this stupid essay (yes, you did just say that something related to school is stupid) would go and die so that you could run off with her and go make out in some secluded hallway. But it's an essay. Essays don't die.

"Mione, your NEWTS are next year,"

You've seen Ron try. They don't die. He got a zero and detention when he tried to explain that he couldn't hand the paper in because it had died. Dying essays don't solve anything.

"Now stop trying to seduce me, we're in the common room," Not that the whole secrecy thing really matters all that much anymore. You're both partially out, so it's not like it's some huge secret or something. But still. You feel like Ron and Lavander or however you spell her name last year, and while you're sure that you and Ginny together are exponentially hotter, you're still pretty sure that most people would appreciate it if you didn't strip each other and fuck on the couch.

Not that you haven't. You just haven't done it when anybody else was around.

And, now that you're remembering that, the images all rush back into your mind and even though you've seen Ginny naked plenty of times, it doesn't exactly make the effect go away, and it doesn't exactly help that the same hands that do what she does to you are on your thigh right now and. Fuck. You need to stop. Right now. You're like a sex addict.

Well, who wouldn't be if they had a girlfriend like Ginny?

"But you love it," She repeats, smiling again as she leans back and props herself up on her elbows, resting on the wooden table and looking up at you through her hair.

"Stop being so adorable,"

She looks at you for another moment, then grins and kisses your cheek.

"You first,"

"Ginny, I'm a school obsessed bookworm.. creature. Last I checked, that isn't exactly the definition of adorable," You're saying, gesturing at the small mountain of books around you.

"I think it's kinda hot,"

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. But you know what I think is hotter?"

"Ginny, stop," You say, trying to sound stern but smiling in spite of yourself.

You let your gaze drift around the common room, and you find yourself gazing at Katie, who'd obviously just been staring. You caught her eye for a moment, and you couldn't tell if the hurt or the sadness or the bitterness burned strongest, but for once, you honestly didn't feel guilty. That's one thing you've learned in the last few months-that you have to care about other people, but in the end, your own happiness matters most. Ginny must've followed your gaze, because she chuckles a little bit and says, "Must suck to be her, huh?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," You mumble softly, looking away and turning your head slightly until you find Harry and Ron, sitting alone at a table in the corner. "Now them, you have to feel bad for,"

"One's sister's dating the girl he likes, and the other's other best friend (that's you, 'Mione) is dating the girl he's creepily obsessed with," You hear her saying, tracing her fingers along her hand. "Must suck,"

"Yeah," You say, looking back over at her. Ron and Harry hadn't exactly taken the whole "Wait, the girl of my dreams is gay?" thing very well. "Oh well,"

She smiles, and you smile, and then she kisses your lips and you smile even more.

You haven't been this happy in a long, long time.

"You have to admit, you were a bit scary when you were like, in love with Harry," You're telling her, grinning.

"Oh come on, I was ten,"

"It was kinda cute,"

"You're delusional,"

--

"Ginny?"

"Yeah?" She replies softly from next to you, her hands wrapped loosely around your waist and her head nestled between your neck and your shoulder. This would be one of those times where you and her had the whole common room to yourselves, and you'd taken an entire couch and claimed it as your own, the last embers in the fire in front of you finally starting to die as the clock struck one.

"I'm sorry," Yeah, you're pretty sure that bringing up the fact that you cheated on her last year isn't really on the list of good things to remind the girl you just got together with about, but it's been bothering you.

She mumbles some confused sound into your neck, and for a moment, you don't say anything.

"About.." You trail off, feeling like a complete idiot for even bringing it up, and honestly, you feel too ashamed to even say it.

"I.. Oh. S'ok, 'Mione," She mumbles into your neck again, shifting towards you a little bit more.

You sit in silence for a few more moments, listening to the clock ticking the seconds away as her breath tickles your ear.

Sounding much more awake, she asks, "Was it because of me?"

Well you weren't really expecting that.

"What?"

"Was it because of me?" She repeats, her foot twitching against your leg.

"I.. Ginny, no. It was me. I was.. I don't know. I was drunk and insecure and.." You trail off again. You're supposed to be so charismatic and you're always so sure of yourself, but never around her. You always have all these words and the second she opens her mouth, they all fly away.

She must have caught onto what you'd said, what you'd implied, or what you felt or something, because she said, "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah.. And you know I love you too.. I'm just.. I don't know. I'm an idiot. I'm sorry,"

"'Mione, you're probably the smartest girl I've ever met,"

"I'm still an idiot,"

She pushes herself up, looks at you, and smiles. "You're forgiven,"

She kisses you, her hands in your hair, and then lays back down, huddled against your body, and you fall into silence again.

"You're staying at my place for Easter, right?"

"Course I am, I've told you about a billion times," You tell her, your smile seeping into your words.

She doesn't say anything for a moment, and then she cranes her head up and kisses your cheek.

A minute passes. Then two, and nearly three.

"I think I'm going to come out," She says, though by her tone, you're not sure if she's talking to you or the empty room.

You don't say anything. This is one of those things that you have no idea what you're supposed to say to.

"Yeah, I'm gonna come out," She repeats, sounding more as though she's trying to convince herself more than anything else.

"I mean, Charlie's gay, or bi, or whatever he is, he keeps changing his mind, and he's like ancient. Mom must know about him, right?" She continues, even though you still haven't said anything. "I doubt she'd blow up or ax murder me or anything,"

"I.. I guess so," You stammer. She's braver than you are, that's all you know. Your parents still have no idea. At least, you're pretty sure they don't.

"Yeah, I'm gonna come out," She says a third time, before she pushes herself back up and presses her lips against yours, her hand sliding up the bottom of your shirt.

--

The days following that, the days leading up to easter break, all went by horribly slowly and completely normally. Normal now including, to your incredible glee, GInny. Ginny, who would walk (or, by the looks of it, run) halfway across the castle to grab you and kiss you after your classes and who sat up with you until one in the morning in the common room. Which, honestly, was completely the opposite of how things had been with her last time. And you hate to think that, hate that you're comparing every little thing to now and then, but you can't help it. You can't help but be amazed at how different things are. How different she is and how different you are, and how much better it is.

Speaking of how different things are and Ginny and how different things are with Ginny, you're actually standing in a bathroom, pressed up against one of the stall walls, her hand down your underwear and her lips on your neck.

"Hey, we've never done this before, have we?" She mumbles as she pulls your shirt over your head and cups your breast, your bra still on but one of the straps hanging off your arm. You don't say anything, mostly because you really don't think that you're capable of comprehensible speech right now. She must realize, since breathing the way you are usually tends to give away things like that, because she continues, "It's kinda hot, huh?"

You bite your lip for a moment as she tugs your skirt to your knees and pushes her fingers, two of them, you think, back into you, and then you let yourself moan a broken, "Yeah," though you're not really sure if you mean that it's hot, or if it's because of her fingers.

If her kissing you gives you chills, words can't even begin to describe what this makes you feel.

She smiles a bit--you can tell by the way her lips curve against your skin, and then she stand back up to her full height and kisses you, before going back to work on the rest of you, kissing your stomach and your hip and you--oh god, that feels incredible.

Yes, things are very, very different this time.


	22. Chapter 22

You're laying in her bed and she's laying beside you and the only light in the room's coming from the moon and a single candle, burning it's way down on her nightstand, and she's holding your hands in hers, twisting her fingers around yours and playing with your fingertips, running her own softly over yours as she breathes on your forehead, blowing little pieces of your hair out of your face.

"'Mione?" She whispers, running one hand absently up your arm.

You're still in absolute awe of her. Of how absolutely perfect she is and how incredibly lucky you are, and you still have to ask yourself every now and then how exactly it is that a girl like her could ever see something in somebody like you. She's perfect. She's amazing.

She makes you happy. And, really, when it all boils down, that's what's really important. You've learned that from all the other amazing, perfect boys that've come chasing after you and how none of them made you feel a thing. Even Katie, the only other girl who's ever been interested in you (that you know of, anyway) never made you feel anything that she makes you feel. You suppose that this is what being in love feels like, what all those stupid romance novels have always talked about. The way it feels like nothing can go wrong when you're around her and the way she makes you shiver when she touches you, and not in a bad way, and the way that you're more yourself around her than you've ever been around anybody else you've ever met. And if this isn't what being in love is, if you're not in love, you have no idea what love could possibly feel like if this isn't it.

You mumble some sort of acknowledgment at her, telling her that yes, you are still awake, and yes, you are still "Mione".

For a moment, she doesn't say anything, and you turn your head up and look at her curiously.

She looks down at you and smiles through the darkness, "You're really beautiful, you know that?"

You don't mean to, but you blush. You blush and you sit there and you have no idea what to say to that, so you're just flabbergasted for a few moments, before you decide that you're not even going to argue and that she must be horribly ill to ever think that, and then you kiss her.

She tastes like mint toothpaste and the pasta Mrs. Weasley made for dinner. Which sounds kinda gross, but it really isn't. That was good pasta.

Yeah, you're back at The Burrow. It's easter break. Ginny still hasn't said anything to her mom, but you've only been here a couple of days, so it's not like she's never going to or she has no time to or anything. And you can't really blame her for not telling her right away or anything. It's being gay and coming out and everything, after all. It's a big deal, and she doesn't really know how they're going to react. You'd stall too. You've been stalling for years and years and years, and you have to give the girl some credit--she's a year younger than you.

That's another thing that's changed from last time, actually, now that you think about it. She never used to do things like that. She'd never hold your hand and tell you that you were beautiful the way she just did, like she actually really does think so.

You're crazy. Of course she did. You probably just don't remember because you were too focused on all the bad things. Actually, no, she probably didn't. Wait. What the hell are you going on about and why is it suddenly so important?

You have no idea.

See? This is what's wrong with you. You always dwell on the past and all these stupid little things that you can never change and that don't even matter anymore anyway.

She wouldn't come out last time, either. Not that you tried to force her to or anything, but you'd brought up. She'd said, "Absolutely not," and then eaten her mashed potatoes.

Okay. No. Stop. Right now. You're going and bitching about things that happened a year ago and you don't even know why, really, because they don't even matter anymore. You need to stop thinking. Right now. Now. Now now now now. Right. Now. You're going to self destruct and fall apart all over again.

No you're not. You're not going to fuck up this time. Not now. Not again.

You're holding her hand in yours and you're lifting it up just the tiniest bit so that it's in the light while you trace your fingers across it.

"Hey, how'd you get this scar?" You ask, your thumb resting on a scar that looks completely ancient on the side of her wrist.

She must know which one you're talking about already, because she doesn't look at it or anything, she just says, "Fell off my broom when I was six. Landed on the fence outside," You wince just thinking about it, and it wasn't even you that it happened to, but she chuckles.

There's silence again, but it isn't the awkward "I have no idea what to say" silence that so many couples go through. You've never, ever had that with her, now that you think about it. Ever. It's just.. quiet. It's like you don't even need to talk all the freaking time around her, she just gets you. What you feel, what you're thinking, everything.

"Hey, wish me luck, okay?" She says, yawning as she leans back down on her pillow and you watch her eyes drift slowly shut.

"Why?"

"I'm telling her tomorrow," She tells you simply, her voice void of all emotion except her sheer determination. Christ. She must be really scared. "And get back to your bed, we don't want my parents throwing a shit fit that we're having sex or something,"

"I.. uhm.. but.." You stumble over your words, not sure what to say and not sure which part of what she said to answer first. You stop for a moment and make an attempt to compose yourself, before you smile and kiss her forehead, whispering in her ear, "Good luck,"

"Thank you," She says, smiling as she plays with your hair sleepily.

"Hey, I hope you know I'm not getting up. You're warm,"

"Yes you are,"

"But-"

"No buts. Out," She says, opening her eyes for a moment, grinning playfully and kissing you. "G'night,"

--

"Well that didn't really go the way I wanted it to," She says lightly, forcing a smile as she bites her lip and throws herself down on a pile of pillows on the floor next to you.

You sit there awkwardly, wondering if you should ask what happened and hug her, or just sit and wait for her to tell you or let it go or whatever she's planning to do.

You go with the former, and ask softly, staring at the floor and feeling horribly guilty, "What happened?"

You don't even know why you feel guilty. You just do. Because you're her girlfriend, because you were the one who asked her to come out all those months ago, and she actually did, to her friends, all these months later, and you know just how badly that can backfire and all the shit people say about you, behind your back and to your face, and besides, you're her girlfriend. And fine, she would've come out eventually, but you can't help but feel like it's because of you that she chose now.

"She just said a bunch of shit about how wrong it is and.. I dunno," She says, still trying to keep that light tone, but you can hear it slipping away with every word she lets fall out of her mouth. Her anxiety and hurt don't show on her face, but it seeps out of her mouth and pollutes the air around you, until you can almost feel it yourself as you breath it in.

"I.. I'm sorry," You mumble simply, trying to convey as much of how absolutely horrible you feel into two simple words and a stammered letter, as you shift closer to her and hug her tightly.

She leans her head against you and smiles as she presses her lips against your cheek. You're not sure what you're expecting her to say, but you're sure it'd be some kind of joke and she'd try to make light of the situation and try to blow off how much she's obviously hurt, which is why you're as shocked as you are when she whispers, "Thank you,"

You fall into silence for the next half hour, trading words for simply sitting there on the floor, your arms around each other as you listen to each other breath and the sound of floorboards creaking as everybody else in the house moves around, going about their merry ways.

--

"You know, I kind of like this whole hooking up in bathrooms thing," You say, grinning sheepishly as she wraps her arms around your waist, her lips against yours and her body against yours as she grins.

"See? I can be smart too," She says, knocking her arm against the shower faucet.

"But you're still a little shorty," You tell her, leaning your forehead against hers. "Isn't the water hot enough already?"

"No. It's never hot enough," Ginny replies, pouting a bit and trying to look like she's had all her dreams crushed by the fact that she can't give herself second degree burns whenever she showers.

You've never liked the whole, "Save water, shower together," thing as much as you do right now. You've never liked showers as much as you do right now either, and that's saying something. You love showers. Showers are like your life. There was a point a couple of years ago where you would take two or three showers a day just because you liked how warm they were.

Yeah, your love is a little bit obsessive and extreme. It's diminished slightly since then, don't worry.

"Hey, put your hand back like th--" You cut yourself off when she puts her hand back between your legs and pushes slightly, trading words for something resembling a gasp. Fuck. That felt so fucking good.

You really love showers. Why have you not had sex in a shower until now?

"Do you have any idea how amazing you are?" You breathe in her ear, stuck between moaning and grinning.

She must, because she doesn't say anything, and pushes a single finger inside you. She must like your reaction, too, because a few moments later, you're pretty sure that she's using two as she--

"Oi, lovebirds, other people need to shower too," You hear a voice you're pretty sure belongs to Harry saying loudly as he knocks irritably on the door.

Fuck. "I hate my life," You whine, feeling yourself deflate slightly as you sigh and run your fingers through your soaking hair. Blue balls. He should know what this feels like and take pity on you and wait another five minutes, it's not like his filth will kill him in that time or something, and you'd get to have your orgasm and life would be good. But noooo.

"We're kinda busy," Ginny practically shouts, laughing into your shoulder.

"I don't care, there are beds for that," He calls back, knocking harder on the door.

"There are sinks to take showers in,"

He falls silent, and you and Ginny look at each other, trying to figure out if you should keep going and ignore him and hope he would shower in the sink, or if you should get out and go eat breakfast and pretend that nothing ever happened. And yes, you can do this without saying a word. You and her are just that cool. You don't need to talk. Talking is for losers.

You both sigh at the same time, turn the water off and clamber out of the bathtub, groping blindly for towels through the mountain of soaking hair in your eyes, like zombies trying to find brains without their eyes (nose? Can zombies see?)

He's still standing out there, leaning against the opposite wall when you open the door.

"Uh.. Hi Harry," You say, smiling awkwardly. What are you supposed to say to your best guy friend in a situation like this, even before you factor in that you're standing in front of him in a towel?

"Hi.. Hermione, Ginny. I'm gonna.. uh.." Her stammers, blushing furiously, before he decides that speaking is simply a lost cause for him at the moment, and practically sprints for the bathroom and slams the door behind him.

You and Ginny look at each other for a moment, at a loss for words, before you burst out laughing.

"God, I love boys,"

"Don't you dare turn straight on me,"

She looks up at you, still chuckling, and says, poking one of your boobs through your towel, "And give up these? No thanks,"

--


	23. Chapter 23

"Hey, what're these?" You're asking, holding up a small pile of unopened letters that you'd just found sitting under Ginny's bed.

She lifts her head up and looks at them for a moment, before saying, while, you're pretty sure, at least, blushing, "Oh god, don't look at those."

You look at her curiously, wondering what on earth could be so awful and embarrassing about a bunch of letters she never even opened. Well, how would she even know if she'd never opened them?

"Why not?"

"Because I said so?" She says simply, smiling hopefully at you, a chocolate easter bunny sitting forgotten in her lap, part of the ear gnawed off. You're thinking in the back of your mind that you hope she never had a pet rabbit, and if she did, you don't want to know why she doesn't anymore.

"So not good enough," You tell her, looking back down at the letters and flipping through some of them. They're all addressed and everything, but by the looks of them, they've been sitting around under her bed for months.

"Please?" She pleads, that hopeful look draining away from her face as she picks up the bunny and bites off the rest of its ear.

You look up at her for a moment, wondering if you should tell her that she has chocolate on her mouth, before you decide that you'll just get it off later and looking back down at the letters.

They're addressed to you. At least, the one you're looking at right now is. You're flipping through them quickly, and, yep, they all are.

"They're addressed to me?"

She sits there for a moment, holding her chocolate bunny halfway between her mouth and her lap, and yeah, she's forgotten about it again. You're jealous. If you had a chocolate bunny that big, you'd never forget it like this. You'd tuck it in at night and carry it around and read it bedtime stories and fairy tales and the second it wasn't looking, you'd devour it.

It's only a moment though, and then she's leapt halfway across the room and she's managed to pin you to the floor in what seems like one movement, before you even had to time react or realize what was happening.

"I.. hey!" You exclaim, overwhelmed and baffled as she hovers over you, your hands pinned to the ground by your wrists by just one of her hands. She's smaller than you, yeah, but she has big hands. Really, really big hands. Okay, no, they're not that big, but compared to yours they are.

Behind you, you hear her door opening, and you lean over Ginny's shoulder to see who it is and why in god's name they don't have the manners to knock.

"Oh, for god's sake!" Mrs. Weasley practically screeches, her eyes screaming bloody murder as she stares daggers at your face and Ginny's back (what did her back ever do wrong?)

"Oh my god, mom, this is so not what it looks like," Ginny snaps, exasperated. "She had.."

You hold up the bundle of letters halfheartedly, smiling sheepishly and waving them around, as though to say, "see? She's not lying. I would never let your daughter pin me to the floor. That's my job," Okay, maybe not the last part, but still.

She looks between the letters, you (your hair, trying to see if you have sex hair, no doubt) and Ginny for a few moments, before she snaps, "Well get off each other, dinner's getting cold," and walks out in a huff.

Ginny looks down at you, and you look back up at her, the letters and your arms still dangling over her head, before she pushes her lips down on yours and you wrap your arms around your neck, as though you just realized how hot the girl on top of you is and the fact that her knee actually _is _between your legs. You can feel her tongue in your mouth, pressed up against yours as she runs one hand down your stomach and back up, under your shirt, her other hand still on the floor and holding her 105 pound frame centimeters above yours.

"Uhm.." You hear a voice--male, thankfully-- clear their throat awkwardly, before stammering, clearly at a loss for words, "You guys should probably.."

You look over Ginny's shoulder again, and this time you're staring back at Ron.

What is it with these people and walking in on you?

He stands there for a few more incredibly awkward moments, before blushing and walking off, probably going to have a jealous fit of rage.

Ginny looks down at you, the same way she did before, before you both burst out laughing and pull yourselves up and stumble downstairs to dinner, holding onto each other as you attempt to survive various giggle fits while you clamber down two flights of stairs.

--

"Hermione, could I have a word?" It's Mr. Weasley, you can tell before you even turn around to look at him. He has the most recognizable voice in the whole family. You'd been attempting to make your way back up to Ginny's room unnoticed and, for the most part, invisible, but you suppose that things like that are just too good to be true.

Everybody else went their separate ways after dinner, and you're the only one that chose this particular staircase. There's nobody around to save you.

Okay, that sounds a little bit extreme, but still. The look, his posture, you're pretty sure you know exactly where this is going.

He stands there for an awkward moment, hands stuffed in his pockets, before he says, "Molly'll come around eventually,"

Well that was unexpected. Maybe there is something in the world that Hermione Granger doesn't know. You'd been preparing yourself for something more along the lines of, "You stay away from my daughter you flaming lesbian, you,"

"I.. uhm.." You stammer. He means well, and you appreciate it, and you're pretty sure he can tell, but that doesn't change exactly how awkward this is.

"She doesn't know about you two, by the way," He adds, looking away and shoving his hands even deeper into his pockets, which you didn't even realize was possible. Maybe he has really small hands or something.

"How did you--" You start, looking up at him and trying to find his eyes, to hold his gaze, as though that will give you all the answers you need.

"I can tell," He says simply, smiling a bit.

You wonder for a moment if maybe he walked by your door last night when you'd stopped bothering about being loud, considering it was two in the morning and most people tend to either have sex or sleep at two in the morning.

Would he smile if he knew something like that?

Would he think it was hot?

Oh god. Oh jesus christ. Jesus Christ that is so wrong on so many levels. Why must you think, _why?!_ Why can't you just go through life with a pumpkin for a head? Life would be so much easier. So much less awkward and disgusting and. Wow. Okay.

"I was young and in love, way back sometime around the turn of the century," He jokes, grinning sheepishly as you chuckle, awkward as ever.

Awkward awkward awkward awkward. Your favorite.

Next time you go to a diner or a restaurant, you're going to order a low fat awkward burger and an order of awkward with cheese. Oh boy. Mmm. Awkward.

Okay. The word awkward needs to stop. Right now. Awkward overload.

You fall back into silence again, and you feel yourself tugging on your clothes self consciously as you glance around the room, and he still stands there with his hands in his pockets.

"Everything'll be okay, alright kiddo? Just hang in there," He finally says, smiling as he pats you on the back and turns and jogs up the stairs, leaving you standing in a cluttered hallway.

He's a good guy, you're deciding. You've never been quite as fond of Arthur Weasley as you are right now. Because, as simple as it was, as awkward as the whole situation was, it was exactly what you needed to hear. It's exactly what Ginny needs to hear, too. Much, much moreso than you. The only reason you're hurt and you're anxious and scared is that it's all coming from Ginny and it's rubbing off on you. You can't begin to imagine how she feels, having her mother telling her that she doesn't approve of who she loves when she doesn't even know who it is. That, essentially, it's wrong for her to love in her mother's eyes.

You don't know why you're dwelling on it so much and why it's affecting you so much, but it is.

No, that sounds horrible. She's your girlfriend, and you're supposed to care, and you do. You care so much and you want her to be okay and you just wish that her mom would get it.

You run your hands over your forehead and through your hair, stare at the ceiling for a moment as you sigh, and then you start making your way up the stairs and back to Ginny's room.

It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. Ginny's mom will come around eventually.

--

"So your dad talked to me," You say, twisting pieces of her ridiculously smooth, red hair between your fingers as she shifts herself in your lap.

She makes a small, indifferent sound of acknowledgement, which you suppose may as well be her way of telling you to tell more.

"He knows about us," You continue, looking up at the ceiling. The whole coming out thing really does suck. You continue, before she starts to panic, "Your mom doesn't know or anything.. he said he can just tell. And he said your mom would come around,"

It sounded a lot better when he said it.

She doesn't say anything for a few moments, she just holds your hand and plays with your fingertips.

"Well that was.." She pauses, "Nice of him,"

You smile softly and kiss her head, whispering, "It'll be okay, I promise,"

She must believe you, because she leans further back against you and closes her eyes.


	24. Chapter 24

She's looking down at you as she hovers over you, her hands in your hair, brushing against your skin and you're looking back up at her, blushing and smiling softly as early morning light creeps in through the blinds hanging over the windows.

It's the last day of the break, and you're planning on savoring every moment of it and attaching yourself to Ginny and turning into an octopus or something that nobody wants to touch, so they can never get you off of her. Which is odd, but whatever, it works for you.

You're about to tell her this, but she opens her mouth first and tells you that you're beautiful, and then all mentions of octopus and turning into one leave your mind and you just lay there, blushing like a tomato.

Well, no, not like a tomato. Tomatoes don't blush. But you're pretty sure your face must look like a potato right now. No. Tomato. Not potato. Totato?

This is why you hate being awake in the morning without half a gallon of coffee.

You smile through your blush at her and lean up, kissing her softly. "Not compared to you," And fine, you're a cheeseball, but whatever. She started it. It's all her fault if you actually turn into a ball of cheese and people start eating you.

And then she's got her hands on yours, her fingers lacing between yours as she lays down beside you, her body pretty up against yours as she breathes in your ear, and if you heart was pounding before, it's beating out of your chest now.

She's usually really good at pretending that nothing touches her, that she's happy no matter what happens, that nothing makes her like that, she just _is. _You've learned that she isn't really the type to run around with her arm linked through yours, telling you that she loves you every other second, and you've learned that you like it much better that way. It makes moments like now, when she's saying, "God, 'Mione, you have no idea how happy you make me," mean that much more.

You're blushing again (did you ever stop, come to think of it?) and you're rolling over, so your forehead's touching hers, and you tell her, "You know that I'm pretty much the luckiest girl in the world, right?"

"Yeah, cause you're freaking gorgeous," She says, smirking as she kisses your cheek.

She gives you this warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of your stomach (except not really fuzzy, because that would be kind of weird) and you absolutely love it. You've wondered, in the back of your head, just how it is that you've liked her for as long as you have and she can still do this to you, but you always shrug it off because you don't care about why you've liked her for so long. Okay, no, back up, rephrase. Everything about her is so incredibly lovable and amazing, you're surprised everybody in the universe hasn't fallen for her. You just.. It's been almost five years. That's practically, like, marriage. Except not really, but it's a long time for a sixteen year old to stay interested in just one girl.

Yeah, there was Katie and you've had other crushes on the side, but they honestly only lasted a few weeks at most, and what Ginny does to you dwarfs every single one of them so much that they don't matter at all.

Even Katie.

You're propping yourself up on your elbow and looking at her. She has a hickey on her neck, you're realizing. Oops. You tell her, and she shrugs. You ask if her mom will care, and she shrugs again, and you wonder if maybe you shouldn't have said anything about her mom, considering the whole "Rawr you're gay ew," thing, and you feel horribly guilty for a moment.

"So, honestly, best kiss ever?" She's asking, and then the guilt disappears, replaced by a feeling that you can't quite put your finger on, brought on by the simple fact that she asked something like that. Which, when you look at it on the surface, really shouldn't, but if you think about it, it's so sweet because she wants to know more about you. Maybe you're just over-analytical (actually, you're definitely over-analytical) but whatever. It's still sweet to you, and that's good enough.

"Well, there was this guy this one time, he must have been like seventy or something, but my god was he a hot piece of ass," You stop there, feeling the edges of your lips lifting into something between a giggle and a smile, and once she realizes that you're joking, she laughs along with you.

"My god, I'm so jealous, I can just imagine how incredibly sexy that man must have been. You should send me an owl next time you're with him, I want in on that action," You laugh along with her for a few moments, until the humor dies away and you can't help but imagine making out with your grand father, and then you kind of want to shoot yourself in the head.

"Seriously though?" She asks, looking back at you after your laughing fit.

You sit there and think, even though you really haven't kissed all that many people. At all.

"Honestly? You," You admit, thinking back to the first time you ever kissed her, which, even though it was years ago and you were barely a teenager, is still incredibly adorable and amazing and all that other fun stuff that makes a good kiss good.

"Well which time?"

"Uhm.. you remember the first time.. when we were like, fetuses?" You stumble over your words like always, which you've accepted as simply being the way that you talk to her. You're actually starting to kind of like it--you don't have to be all perfect words and incredibly charismatic and everything like you always try to be around everybody else. It's nice to sound like an actual, you know, teenager every now and then.

"Oh my god, yes! That was so freaking cute!" She practically squeals, grinning at you. "God, I was such an awful kisser then though,"

"You're crazy,"

"I am not, I was awful," She says, making a half-hearted attempt to pout and make you agree with her.

Well _you_ thought it was a good kiss.

"Were not,"

"Well I'm much better now," She tells you confidently, keeping the same pouty face.

"Prove it," Yeah, you're already perfectly aware of the fact that she _is_ a _very_ good kisser, you just really want her to kiss you, and while, yes, you could just lean over and kiss her, you like it better this way.

She looks at the door for a moment, as though she has x-ray vision and can see through and see if there's somebody outside staring through the keyhole, just waiting for you and her to start having (incredibly hot lesbian) sex, then at the clock she keeps next to her bed, which reads 5:54, then over at you. You look at her expectantly, and she chuckles as she takes your wrists in her hands and presses them against the bed above your head, pulls herself on top of you and rests her forehead against yours.

You're looking up at her again, but she doesn't look back (unless she really has x-ray vision) because her eyes are already closed, and then she's got her lips against yours, pressing hard against you and you feel lips pressing hard against yours, so you let your head fall back against her pillow as she brushes her tongue gently against your lips.

She kisses you hard but slow, and you go along, kissing her the same way back and loving every moment of it as she rubs her thumb absently against your wrists and you can tell how much satisfaction it gives her when you shiver, unwillingly pushing yourself even closer to her.

It's a short kiss, but when she finally pulls back and grins down at you, saying simply, with just the slightest hint of a smirk, "See?" you're laying there, incredibly aroused in spite of your self and half breathless.

"Fine, but still," You admit as she rolls of you, and then just lays there and keeps grinning at you, like, 'See? I'm smarter than Hermione Granger!'

You sit in silence for a moment, and you try to think of the most horribly unattractive things, like the troll that'd gotten into Hogwarts in your first year, and Harry's or Ron's (you can't remember, at this point) wand stuck up its nose to try and make yourself just a little bit less turned on than you are now.

"What were you like when you were a kid?" She asks, pulling you out of your mind and the images of that god awful troll, which you're incredibly thankful for.

Okay, if you thought that whole "best kiss ever" thing was cute, you have no idea to describe this.

She's adorable and sweet and amazing and a bunch of other words that you don't care to rack your brain to come up with.

You smile, the most genuine smile you've smiled in quite a while, and tell her about the garden outside your old house, about the sunflowers in the garden and how they towered over your five year old body, how you would wear dresses and spin around in your kitchen to The Mamas and the Papas songs, the cat that you had until you were three and it died from a tumor, how ridiculously shy you were and how you never learned how to swim or cut steak properly.

When you ask her the same thing, she tells you about the broomsticks she used to "borrow" from her older brothers, the pond by her house that she used to catch frogs in (one she'd named Slimy Feet) and the fact that she absolutely hated blueberry pancakes.

Then she smiles and kisses your cheek as you hear the early risers of the house beginning to stir, showers turned on, toilets being flushed and the smell of coffee being brewed seeps into the room.

--

You're standing next to Harry and the majority of the Weasley family on platform 9 3/4, your suitcase lying abandoned at your side, at least for the moment, as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley say their goodbyes to everybody, offering up hugs and kisses and little leftover chocolate eggs.

Mr. Weasley lingers on you and Ginny for a moment longer, hugging you especially tightly, before offering up a couple of chocolate easter eggs and smiling awkwardly. In his own little way, it's sweet. He's not really one for words when it comes to matters like his only daughter being gay or dating a girl he's known for years, you're realizing, but he makes up for it in chocolate and hugs and his awkwardly slurred words.

Maybe you're crazy.

As you turn to follow the sea of redheads onto the train, you catch out of the corner of your eye, a glimpse of Mrs. Weasley holding Ginny back, and you feel yourself wincing, and wondering if she's going to try to convert her or hand her a package of female condoms.

You're torn between standing outside the train and waiting for her, or hiding out in the car closest to the door so Ginny's parents don't see you.

You opt for somewhere between the two, straining to hold your thirty-something pound suitcase while you wait, trying to pick out what exactly it is that they're saying to each other.

Then the three of them are hugging (well that was unexpected) and Ginny's walking towards you, half blushing and half smiling, looking like she could just start floating right then and there, even without a broom.

"What happened?" You ask nervously as soon as she steps foot on the train, and she just looks at you and keeps smiling. It's only a half smile, but you've realized that those of the most genuine smiles Ginny Weasley has to offer, and anything else is forced.

"They both kinda stood there like mute chimps or something for like, an hour, but then mom said she was sorry and all that jazz," She says lightly, but you can tell, and you know, how big of a deal that is.

"So she's okay with the whole gay thing?" You ask, echoing her smile back at her.

"Pretty much, yeah," And then she leans over and kisses you.


	25. Chapter 25

It's June. It's June and you're siting on one of the hills leading up to Hogwarts, looking down at the lake and you're wearing a skirt and a tank top, and you don't care that you're being eaten alive by mosquitos because if you wore anything more, you would probably die of heat stroke.

Ginny's laying on you, her head in your lap, and this is another one of those moments in your life that could be filmed and put in a movie because the sun's setting and you're sitting here watching it with your girlfriend.

She looks up at you, says, "God, I can't believe it's your last year next year," and she sounds so incredibly sad.

For a moment, you consider failing all your finals so badly that you get held back. Then you realize that you've already taken them.

Fuck.

You lean down, kiss her forehead, and tell her, "Don't worry about it.. besides, we've got another whole year before we even have to worry about that, okay?"

If you made her feel any better, you can't tell.

And you're realizing, finally, and appreciating just how incredibly good things are for you.

You can hear all the bugs around you, and you love it. You love summer. You absolutely positively love summer and you love the feeling of just the gentlest breeze against your hair, and you wrap your arms around Ginny in bliss.

And you're realizing how much you've changed over the past two years, how much you've sorted out your priorities and how much you're sure you've gotten it right this time. That you've finally realized that your happiness comes first, and all else is secondary. Period. No exceptions. And you don't mean to sound preachy, you don't mean to sound superior when you say that, like you have some incredible knowledge about life that nobody else has realized yet, because you're pretty sure that you're one of the last ones to figure that out.

You're realizing just how much Ginny has changed you. And unless you're mistaken, unless you're blind and oblivious, it's been for the better. And fine, you've drifted away from your friends, but you haven't lost them or anything and you're sure they understand--they'd all do the same if they were in your position.

Happiness comes first.

"And I have the whole summer with you," You add, your arms around her.

You're going home tomorrow, and then you're going to the Burrow a week later. You absolutely cannot wait. A whole summer with Ginny. A whole freaking summer. Weeks and weeks and weeks.

You hope she doesn't get sick of you.

This gets a smile out of you, and she leans up, her lips against yours, and you're in heaven again.

You never did find out what those letters you found over easter break were about, you're realizing. You ask her, and you watch her blush and fidget for a moment, before she finally tells you.

"I kinda maybe wrote them last summer. It was dumb, but I mean.." She stumbles over your words, something that only you normally do, before she finishes, "I missed you,"

You smile, just a little bit, but on the inside you're ecstatic.

After a moment of bliss, lost in your head, you finally admit, "I kinda did the same thing,"

She looks up at you, and you wonder if she thinks you're weird or crazy or something, but she just smiles back up at you, kisses you again, and says, "We'll be okay,"

You'll be okay after next year. You'll be okay.

It'll all be okay.

It's all okay now.

--

It's really short, but I think it serves it's purpose. :)

Well, that's it. After 9 months, 50,000 words and a ton of writer's block, I finally finished.

I wanted to say thank you to everybody who read and reviewed and put me on story alert. I know I never would've finished this if it wasn't for you guys. Thank you so much. :)

Don't worry, I've been tossing ideas around in my head for a sequel for the last few days already. I probably won't post anything for a while, but there _will_ most likely be a sequel.


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