Scarlet Fever (Hermione/Ginny, PG)
Title: Scarlet Fever
Pairing: Hermione/Ginny
Rating: PG
Category: Fluffy romance
A/N: Written as a back-up fic for Magdalen - sorry you had to wait so long for it! :) I wrote this from a bunny I got last Christmas, which is why it's a Christmassy fic even though we're in the middle of summer XD
In winter the Burrow is a comfortable maze of hand-knitted jumpers and cushions that are charmed to stay warm until you turn them off. And then of course there’s the hot chocolate, the heavenly Wizarding kind that make you wonder how you ever lived eleven years of your life without tasting it.
Ginny appears in the kitchen doorway, and breaks the silence with a yawn. She looks very small in one of Bill’s t-shirts and nothing else except a glimpse of green cotton knickers. “Where is everyone?” she asks, and for a second you think she looks uncomfortable, but then she rubs her eyes and you realise that she just isn’t quite awake yet.
“Gone to Diagon Alley to get Ron some new shoes. Honestly, I don’t know how his feet get so big.”
She sits down, opposite you, and you pass her the mug of hot chocolate you’ve been keeping warm for her. She takes it gratefully, her fingers curling around it for warmth. She has short pale fingers, with chipped dark nail polish that creeps onto her skin as though it’s trying to inject some colour into her.
“Harry too?” she asks, and looks up for a moment.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?”
“I thought I’d stay and keep you company.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” Does she say it too quickly, or are you thinking too much today? But your suspicion is confirmed when she looks away, staring into her hot chocolate.
“I wanted to. Besides, shopping with Ron isn’t my idea of fun.”
Ginny smiles at you then. She stands up, crossing the room to where her hairbrush lies on the top shelf of the bookcase, and you notice that she’s wearing odd socks that are far too big and keep slipping down around her ankles. If you could, you’d give her your old clothes to wear, rather than have her wear boyish clothes that hide her away - but you are a different shape to Ginny, taller and thinner.
She stands on tiptoe to reach the hairbrush, and her t-shirt rises up, revealing her faded cotton knickers. Your gaze flits all over the place now, as though you’ve caught the habit from Ginny. Your fingers tighten on the mug, and you raise it to your mouth to distract yourself. Honestly. What’s the matter with you today - why does everything need thinking about twice? Why are you getting jumpy about everything?
Ginny tugs her t-shirt down again, hairbrush in hand and you feel as though maybe she looked away as you looked up again, but you’re trying to stop thinking these kind of anxious thoughts. So you attempt to break the spell and act perfectly normal: “Your legs must be freezing.”
Ginny pulls her socks up. “Not really, my t-shirt’s long enough.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Perhaps you’re coming down with a cold - you were bound to catch Harry’s sooner or later.
Ginny sits down and brushes her hair, pausing every now and then to drink her hot chocolate. “People are always saying how you and Ron are going to get together someday,” she announces, tentatively.
That’s a question, and you know it. “I don’t know where they get that idea from. We’d probably kill each other. No… I think we can only just survive being best friends, to be honest.”
She smiles. “I think that too.” She puts her hairbrush down on the table and then stands up again as though she just can’t stand still. In her haste, she almost knocks her chair over. “I’ve got something for you,” she says, steadying the chair and then heading towards the door. “I’ll just go and get it.”
“Something for me?”
“A present. For Christmas.”
She is half way up the stairs already, footsteps echoing around the house. When she returns a moment later she is breathless and flushed, her eyes sparkling. She thrusts something towards you and says, “Go on, open it.”
“But, Ginny, why so early? I should save it for tomorrow.”
“No, you shouldn’t. I want you to open it now.”
The present is carefully wrapped in shiny red paper, creased as though it’s already been used once. It’s small and square, settled in your palm.
“Go on,” she urges.
You give in and begin to pull at the ribbon, slowly. When the paper falls away and you move to open the box, you begin to realise what this must be. You’re right.
“Ginny!” you gasp, as you take the ring from its box. “This must have been so expensive, I can’t take it…”
“I didn’t buy it,” Ginny insists, quickly. “Mum gave it to me, it’s been in the family ages.”
“Even so, you can’t just give it to me, Ginny, I’m sorry. You should keep it in the family.”
“Mum said I could do what I liked with it and you’re practically family anyway. Aren’t you?” To your dismay, you see tears glinting in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” you say, hopelessly.
“If you don’t like it, just say so!” Ginny snaps, and grabbing a jumper from the table she darts out of the back door before you can stop her.
Your surprise slows you down and as you move to follow, there is a noise in the fireplace and Ron steps out in front of you, clutching his new shoes.
“We had a bloody brilliant day,” he says sarcastically, dumping the shoes on the table and then stands uselessly in front of the back door, in your way. “We froze to death.”
“Yeah, and your moaning only made it worse,” Harry teases, as he steps into the kitchen.
“Piss off,” says Ron, amicably, and luckily Molly arrives a second too late to hear it.
“What’s up, Hermione?” Harry frowns. “You’re very quiet.”
“Nothing,” you insist. “Just thinking about homework.”
“Typical.” Ron rolls his eyes and begins to search the cupboards for chocolate that doesn’t bear the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes logo.
“Hello, Hermione, dear,” Molly says, cheerfully, ushering Ron away from the cupboard. “Ginny’s not still asleep, is she?”
“Um, no. She’s gone to see Luna.” It’s an automatic lie and you hate yourself for saying it. Molly’s practically your mother and should be the first person to go and comfort Ginny anyway. But you can’t bring yourself to admit that you upset her so badly. You suddenly realise then, that the ring is still in your open hand and you shut it quickly but it’s too late.
“Oh, so Ginny gave you the ring, did she?” Molly asks. “She said was going to, but then she wasn’t sure. She gets terribly shy sometimes, you know. But she should’ve waited until tomorrow, really.”
“Yes, I know,” you say, and fervently wish that you were anywhere but here, and that Ginny had been doing anything but crying so bitterly when you last saw her. And so when Ron engages Molly in an argument about what’s for dinner, you take your chance and slip out of the back door.
It’s much colder than you’d expected, even though you are wearing trousers and a jumper and you run in your socks through the snow, clutching your boots until you are around the corner and can quickly put them on. You hop about on one leg as you pull them over your horribly wet cold socks, and in the end, you fall backwards onto the snow with a thud, which brings tears of frustration to your eyes.
When your boots are finally on, you get up, feeling damp and shivery and take a deep breath. This will do your cold no good, but you are desperate to find Ginny, even if you have no idea where she will be or even what you will say to her. Perhaps she will be at Luna’s and then you won’t have lied after all.
You slip the ring onto your finger, if only to keep it safe, and look at it for a moment. It glints in the harsh winter sunshine, red against your pale skin. It reminds you of Ginny, and not just because she gave it to you. The deep red of the ruby shines like her hair, glows like her blush, glistens like her lips…
You put your hands in your pockets for warmth and set off down the hill to the village. Ginny can’t have gone far, it’d be too cold to stay outside for long and she only left a few minutes ago anyway.
But what if Ginny had grabbed one of the broomsticks and flown far away? You didn’t check as you left the house. Should you run back? But no, what if she turns out to be only a few paces ahead of you?
You walk on, as fast as you can when you’re so cold. Walking faster always helps you to think faster. Why had Ginny over-reacted so? But then, when it came to that, hadn’t you over-reacted too? Why did you insist that you couldn’t take the gift when she clearly wanted you to have it? And Ginny was right - you are practically family. So, why were you so stupid? Perhaps you were too surprised, you’d expected something so much smaller by the state of the ribbon and the second hand wrapping paper.
Your teeth are chattering by the time you reach the village but at least the snow is less thick on the ground here. You find Luna’s house quickly, having been shown it once or twice by Ginny on trips to the shop, but you’ve never been in.
You knock at the door nervously and only then think of the possibility that it might not be Luna that answers. You don’t feel in a fit state to talk to anybody at a time like this, and you can’t think why because with a best friend like Ron it’s not like you’ve never argued with anyone before, and all you’ve ever felt then is anger and impatience, not this stupid awkwardness. But then, this thing with Ginny, it’s not really an argument, is it? But what is it then?
Luna opens the door then and interrupts your thoughts. Always one to get enthusiastic about things, she is festively dressed, with gold tinsel around the top of her slippers, around her neck, her cuffs, and on her head.
“Hello,” she says, and then “Come in,” before you even have a chance to explain yourself and you hesitate hopelessly on the doorstep for a moment before pulling yourself together and stepping into the house.
In the hall, a house elf is waiting with a plate of cookies. You shake your head, numb from cold and surprise, and know that in normal circumstances you would reprimand Luna for this.
Luna smiles and leads you through the house, still not expressing any question as to why you are here. This must mean, you realise, with relief, that Ginny is here and has told her everything.
The corridors in Luna’s house are narrow and seem to go in circles as though they make the journey longer, not shorter. The house seems much bigger than it looked on the outside, like the Burrow, and notes are stuck on the walls, with scribbled handwriting that you assume must be that of Luna’s father. And there are books, too, more than you could imagine, stacked from floor to ceiling, with bookmarks sticking out from between the pages.
Luna’s bedroom is also festively decorated, with yet more tinsel and a sprig of mistletoe over the window, where on the sill a music box tinkles to the sound of carols. There are more books and Quibbler issues here, but a considerable lack of Ginny.
“Ginny’s not here?” you ask, fear running through you again.
“No. Have you lost her?” Luna sits down on the bed and looks up at you. You could kill her for being so casual about this, but you don’t have time to waste.
“I should go.” You turn towards the door.
“She’s very sensitive,” Luna says, and you pause in the doorway, and realise she must know something after all.
“You’ve seen her? How long ago?”
“Not today.”
“Look, if you can’t help me, I’d better go-“
“I can help you,” Luna says, staring at you, so you give in and sit beside her.
“We sort of argued, that’s all, and she got upset - she ran out, she was only half-dressed, if she’s not here, I don’t know where…” To your horror you find there are tears pricking your eyes and you blink them away furiously. Crying won’t help anything, and if you don’t take control here you’ll learn nothing from Luna.
“I don’t know,” Luna says, and doesn’t even sound like she’s thinking about it.
“Stop it!” you blurt at last, and she blinks at you. “Stop being so casual about it all and just tell me what you know!”
“What did she get upset about?”
You lift your hand to show her the ring, hoping that Ginny will have told Luna about that already, because you can’t bear to tell the whole story. Luna looks at it, and says, “I see.”
You bite your lip and wait, because although talking to Luna is infuriating, you’re just hoping it’ll be worth it.
And then Luna smiles and says, “Ginny will be hiding in the garden shed at the Burrow. That’s where she always hides when she’s upset. But make sure you think properly on the way.”
“Think about what?” You feel dazed suddenly. So Ginny was nearby, all the time. You’ve wasted too much time.
“Why she gave you the ring, of course.” Luna tells you. “Now, you should go. Go and think and then do.”
“But why did she give it to me?”
You feel sick suddenly, and for half a moment you wonder if your cold is turning into flu, and then you kick that thought away because of course it’s not anything like that, it’s just you being hopeless at this kind of thing, whatever it really is.
“Think about it,” Luna repeats, kindly, and then stands up, ushering you to the door. You are guided back through the house seemingly faster than you were guided in, but maybe that’s just because your minds still spinning a little, and you blurt out a thank-you to Luna at the front door, and she just smiles a little and waves at you, and then offers to lend you a pair of gloves.
Her dark pink gloves are also tinsel lined; they scratch at your wrists and cover up the ring on your finger, but at least they will keep it safe. You thank Luna again, and she nods and tells you to hurry up.
On the way back to the Burrow, you think carefully, or as carefully as you can at the moment, anyway. You think about Ginny’s bedroom and her faded flowered wallpaper, and the way she blows on hot chocolate to cool it down and the way she always wears her brothers’ clothes that make her look so delicate and fragile, and the way she smiles and laughs so honestly and the way her cheeks go red and she bites her lip when she cries.
You start running then, thinking of that, desperate to get back to the Burrow and find Ginny. You should never have left, you should’ve known where she would hide, because after all you are practically her sister, one of the family - why does Luna know where Ginny’s hiding place and you don’t? Because you’re the person Ginny wants to hide from, of course, and that’s an idea you can’t bear.
Trying to run up hills in snow is never a good idea - especially when you’re scared and angry at yourself - and you’re finding yourself breathless sooner than you imagined. You’re almost there, you can’t stop now.
But then, suddenly, there is a glimpse of red from behind the trees and Ginny appears, slowing to a sudden stop as she catches sight of you. Time seems to have frozen and you wonder if she’s really there, or if you’re hallucinating due to fear, or maybe it’s just this flu you - but stop it, it’s not flu at all, it’s stupidity, that’s what it is.
“Hermione!” she manages, clearly as breathless as you are. She’s got trousers on now, but she’s still only wearing a t-shirt on her top half. You instinctively move towards her and tug off your jumper; at least your t-shirt is long sleeved.
She catches your hand as you near her, holding it still. “Say something, Hermione, I’m sorry, I’m…”
You know you really should say something back, say you’re sorry, but you still can’t think of anything, can’t do anything but stare back at her hopelessly, squeezing her cold fingers with your warm gloved ones.
“Luna’s gloves!” she says, suddenly, looking down at your hand. “Is that where you went?”
“Yes.” You find your voice at last. “I couldn’t think where else you might be, I was so worried, I-“
“I shouldn’t have run off,” she says, and breaks her hand away from yours suddenly as she lifts it to her eyes to rub the new tears away. “I was just…”
“No, I shouldn’t have been so horrible!” You grab her hand back again. “I was surprised, I didn’t think-“ you tail off hopelessly and then take off your glove, showing her the ring. “I do like it, Ginny, honestly, and I’m flattered you gave it to me.”
“You will… take it then?” Ginny asks, tentatively, and you are relieved that you can smile and say “yes”.
You aren’t sure what you expect Ginny to do or say in reply, but you certainly weren’t expecting her to burst into tears - properly crying, not just damp cheeks. She clings to you, burying her face in your shoulder and chokes back sobs.
“Ginny, please don’t - how can I make it better?” Your arms fall naturally around her, fingers in her long hair. Her sobs are making her shake, but part of that must be cold; you squeeze her in an attempt to stop her from freezing.
She looks up at you then, attempting to take a deep breath, and you see that yes, she is crying, but she’s also smiling. “You already have,” she says, between sounds that could be sobs or laughter but don’t really matter when she looks at you like that.
“Well, then,” you say, feeling a bit shaky yourself, because any time you’ve made up with anyone else, there’s been quiet apologies and polite avoidance until it’s all forgotten about - nothing like this. “We should get inside now, you’ll catch cold.”
“But, Hermione, wait - I…” Ginny falters again and looks very serious, despite the odd sniff and deep breathes. “Did Luna tell you?”
“Tell me what? She said you’d be in the garden shed… but nothing else - oh, Ginny, no, wait…” Ginny has her head against your shoulder again and you can’t see her face but it doesn’t sound like laughing at all. “Ginny, please, I don’t understand…”
“I just thought maybe she’d have said…” Ginny says, not looking up at you. “Because I told her… she knows that I’m too scared…” She lapses into sniffs, her face still pressed into your shoulder.
And then you - you, Hermione Granger of all people! - tilt her head up gently and kiss her on the lips. Of course it makes sense, of course it’s the right answer, of course you could never do anything like this if you weren’t so sure she’d kiss you back like that, hesitant but firmly, cheeks still damp and lips cold and soft. This isn’t flu, stupid, it’s love, or something like it.
“I’m stupid,” Ginny says, at last, when you break apart. You hate to stop kissing her, but she’s really starting to shiver now and you want to get her inside (and upstairs. Honestly, who’d have thought you’d have this in you?)
“We’re both stupid,” you say, and take her hand again. “Come on, we should go inside.”
Pairing: Hermione/Ginny
Rating: PG
Category: Fluffy romance
A/N: Written as a back-up fic for Magdalen - sorry you had to wait so long for it! :) I wrote this from a bunny I got last Christmas, which is why it's a Christmassy fic even though we're in the middle of summer XD
In winter the Burrow is a comfortable maze of hand-knitted jumpers and cushions that are charmed to stay warm until you turn them off. And then of course there’s the hot chocolate, the heavenly Wizarding kind that make you wonder how you ever lived eleven years of your life without tasting it.
Ginny appears in the kitchen doorway, and breaks the silence with a yawn. She looks very small in one of Bill’s t-shirts and nothing else except a glimpse of green cotton knickers. “Where is everyone?” she asks, and for a second you think she looks uncomfortable, but then she rubs her eyes and you realise that she just isn’t quite awake yet.
“Gone to Diagon Alley to get Ron some new shoes. Honestly, I don’t know how his feet get so big.”
She sits down, opposite you, and you pass her the mug of hot chocolate you’ve been keeping warm for her. She takes it gratefully, her fingers curling around it for warmth. She has short pale fingers, with chipped dark nail polish that creeps onto her skin as though it’s trying to inject some colour into her.
“Harry too?” she asks, and looks up for a moment.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?”
“I thought I’d stay and keep you company.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” Does she say it too quickly, or are you thinking too much today? But your suspicion is confirmed when she looks away, staring into her hot chocolate.
“I wanted to. Besides, shopping with Ron isn’t my idea of fun.”
Ginny smiles at you then. She stands up, crossing the room to where her hairbrush lies on the top shelf of the bookcase, and you notice that she’s wearing odd socks that are far too big and keep slipping down around her ankles. If you could, you’d give her your old clothes to wear, rather than have her wear boyish clothes that hide her away - but you are a different shape to Ginny, taller and thinner.
She stands on tiptoe to reach the hairbrush, and her t-shirt rises up, revealing her faded cotton knickers. Your gaze flits all over the place now, as though you’ve caught the habit from Ginny. Your fingers tighten on the mug, and you raise it to your mouth to distract yourself. Honestly. What’s the matter with you today - why does everything need thinking about twice? Why are you getting jumpy about everything?
Ginny tugs her t-shirt down again, hairbrush in hand and you feel as though maybe she looked away as you looked up again, but you’re trying to stop thinking these kind of anxious thoughts. So you attempt to break the spell and act perfectly normal: “Your legs must be freezing.”
Ginny pulls her socks up. “Not really, my t-shirt’s long enough.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Perhaps you’re coming down with a cold - you were bound to catch Harry’s sooner or later.
Ginny sits down and brushes her hair, pausing every now and then to drink her hot chocolate. “People are always saying how you and Ron are going to get together someday,” she announces, tentatively.
That’s a question, and you know it. “I don’t know where they get that idea from. We’d probably kill each other. No… I think we can only just survive being best friends, to be honest.”
She smiles. “I think that too.” She puts her hairbrush down on the table and then stands up again as though she just can’t stand still. In her haste, she almost knocks her chair over. “I’ve got something for you,” she says, steadying the chair and then heading towards the door. “I’ll just go and get it.”
“Something for me?”
“A present. For Christmas.”
She is half way up the stairs already, footsteps echoing around the house. When she returns a moment later she is breathless and flushed, her eyes sparkling. She thrusts something towards you and says, “Go on, open it.”
“But, Ginny, why so early? I should save it for tomorrow.”
“No, you shouldn’t. I want you to open it now.”
The present is carefully wrapped in shiny red paper, creased as though it’s already been used once. It’s small and square, settled in your palm.
“Go on,” she urges.
You give in and begin to pull at the ribbon, slowly. When the paper falls away and you move to open the box, you begin to realise what this must be. You’re right.
“Ginny!” you gasp, as you take the ring from its box. “This must have been so expensive, I can’t take it…”
“I didn’t buy it,” Ginny insists, quickly. “Mum gave it to me, it’s been in the family ages.”
“Even so, you can’t just give it to me, Ginny, I’m sorry. You should keep it in the family.”
“Mum said I could do what I liked with it and you’re practically family anyway. Aren’t you?” To your dismay, you see tears glinting in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” you say, hopelessly.
“If you don’t like it, just say so!” Ginny snaps, and grabbing a jumper from the table she darts out of the back door before you can stop her.
Your surprise slows you down and as you move to follow, there is a noise in the fireplace and Ron steps out in front of you, clutching his new shoes.
“We had a bloody brilliant day,” he says sarcastically, dumping the shoes on the table and then stands uselessly in front of the back door, in your way. “We froze to death.”
“Yeah, and your moaning only made it worse,” Harry teases, as he steps into the kitchen.
“Piss off,” says Ron, amicably, and luckily Molly arrives a second too late to hear it.
“What’s up, Hermione?” Harry frowns. “You’re very quiet.”
“Nothing,” you insist. “Just thinking about homework.”
“Typical.” Ron rolls his eyes and begins to search the cupboards for chocolate that doesn’t bear the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes logo.
“Hello, Hermione, dear,” Molly says, cheerfully, ushering Ron away from the cupboard. “Ginny’s not still asleep, is she?”
“Um, no. She’s gone to see Luna.” It’s an automatic lie and you hate yourself for saying it. Molly’s practically your mother and should be the first person to go and comfort Ginny anyway. But you can’t bring yourself to admit that you upset her so badly. You suddenly realise then, that the ring is still in your open hand and you shut it quickly but it’s too late.
“Oh, so Ginny gave you the ring, did she?” Molly asks. “She said was going to, but then she wasn’t sure. She gets terribly shy sometimes, you know. But she should’ve waited until tomorrow, really.”
“Yes, I know,” you say, and fervently wish that you were anywhere but here, and that Ginny had been doing anything but crying so bitterly when you last saw her. And so when Ron engages Molly in an argument about what’s for dinner, you take your chance and slip out of the back door.
It’s much colder than you’d expected, even though you are wearing trousers and a jumper and you run in your socks through the snow, clutching your boots until you are around the corner and can quickly put them on. You hop about on one leg as you pull them over your horribly wet cold socks, and in the end, you fall backwards onto the snow with a thud, which brings tears of frustration to your eyes.
When your boots are finally on, you get up, feeling damp and shivery and take a deep breath. This will do your cold no good, but you are desperate to find Ginny, even if you have no idea where she will be or even what you will say to her. Perhaps she will be at Luna’s and then you won’t have lied after all.
You slip the ring onto your finger, if only to keep it safe, and look at it for a moment. It glints in the harsh winter sunshine, red against your pale skin. It reminds you of Ginny, and not just because she gave it to you. The deep red of the ruby shines like her hair, glows like her blush, glistens like her lips…
You put your hands in your pockets for warmth and set off down the hill to the village. Ginny can’t have gone far, it’d be too cold to stay outside for long and she only left a few minutes ago anyway.
But what if Ginny had grabbed one of the broomsticks and flown far away? You didn’t check as you left the house. Should you run back? But no, what if she turns out to be only a few paces ahead of you?
You walk on, as fast as you can when you’re so cold. Walking faster always helps you to think faster. Why had Ginny over-reacted so? But then, when it came to that, hadn’t you over-reacted too? Why did you insist that you couldn’t take the gift when she clearly wanted you to have it? And Ginny was right - you are practically family. So, why were you so stupid? Perhaps you were too surprised, you’d expected something so much smaller by the state of the ribbon and the second hand wrapping paper.
Your teeth are chattering by the time you reach the village but at least the snow is less thick on the ground here. You find Luna’s house quickly, having been shown it once or twice by Ginny on trips to the shop, but you’ve never been in.
You knock at the door nervously and only then think of the possibility that it might not be Luna that answers. You don’t feel in a fit state to talk to anybody at a time like this, and you can’t think why because with a best friend like Ron it’s not like you’ve never argued with anyone before, and all you’ve ever felt then is anger and impatience, not this stupid awkwardness. But then, this thing with Ginny, it’s not really an argument, is it? But what is it then?
Luna opens the door then and interrupts your thoughts. Always one to get enthusiastic about things, she is festively dressed, with gold tinsel around the top of her slippers, around her neck, her cuffs, and on her head.
“Hello,” she says, and then “Come in,” before you even have a chance to explain yourself and you hesitate hopelessly on the doorstep for a moment before pulling yourself together and stepping into the house.
In the hall, a house elf is waiting with a plate of cookies. You shake your head, numb from cold and surprise, and know that in normal circumstances you would reprimand Luna for this.
Luna smiles and leads you through the house, still not expressing any question as to why you are here. This must mean, you realise, with relief, that Ginny is here and has told her everything.
The corridors in Luna’s house are narrow and seem to go in circles as though they make the journey longer, not shorter. The house seems much bigger than it looked on the outside, like the Burrow, and notes are stuck on the walls, with scribbled handwriting that you assume must be that of Luna’s father. And there are books, too, more than you could imagine, stacked from floor to ceiling, with bookmarks sticking out from between the pages.
Luna’s bedroom is also festively decorated, with yet more tinsel and a sprig of mistletoe over the window, where on the sill a music box tinkles to the sound of carols. There are more books and Quibbler issues here, but a considerable lack of Ginny.
“Ginny’s not here?” you ask, fear running through you again.
“No. Have you lost her?” Luna sits down on the bed and looks up at you. You could kill her for being so casual about this, but you don’t have time to waste.
“I should go.” You turn towards the door.
“She’s very sensitive,” Luna says, and you pause in the doorway, and realise she must know something after all.
“You’ve seen her? How long ago?”
“Not today.”
“Look, if you can’t help me, I’d better go-“
“I can help you,” Luna says, staring at you, so you give in and sit beside her.
“We sort of argued, that’s all, and she got upset - she ran out, she was only half-dressed, if she’s not here, I don’t know where…” To your horror you find there are tears pricking your eyes and you blink them away furiously. Crying won’t help anything, and if you don’t take control here you’ll learn nothing from Luna.
“I don’t know,” Luna says, and doesn’t even sound like she’s thinking about it.
“Stop it!” you blurt at last, and she blinks at you. “Stop being so casual about it all and just tell me what you know!”
“What did she get upset about?”
You lift your hand to show her the ring, hoping that Ginny will have told Luna about that already, because you can’t bear to tell the whole story. Luna looks at it, and says, “I see.”
You bite your lip and wait, because although talking to Luna is infuriating, you’re just hoping it’ll be worth it.
And then Luna smiles and says, “Ginny will be hiding in the garden shed at the Burrow. That’s where she always hides when she’s upset. But make sure you think properly on the way.”
“Think about what?” You feel dazed suddenly. So Ginny was nearby, all the time. You’ve wasted too much time.
“Why she gave you the ring, of course.” Luna tells you. “Now, you should go. Go and think and then do.”
“But why did she give it to me?”
You feel sick suddenly, and for half a moment you wonder if your cold is turning into flu, and then you kick that thought away because of course it’s not anything like that, it’s just you being hopeless at this kind of thing, whatever it really is.
“Think about it,” Luna repeats, kindly, and then stands up, ushering you to the door. You are guided back through the house seemingly faster than you were guided in, but maybe that’s just because your minds still spinning a little, and you blurt out a thank-you to Luna at the front door, and she just smiles a little and waves at you, and then offers to lend you a pair of gloves.
Her dark pink gloves are also tinsel lined; they scratch at your wrists and cover up the ring on your finger, but at least they will keep it safe. You thank Luna again, and she nods and tells you to hurry up.
On the way back to the Burrow, you think carefully, or as carefully as you can at the moment, anyway. You think about Ginny’s bedroom and her faded flowered wallpaper, and the way she blows on hot chocolate to cool it down and the way she always wears her brothers’ clothes that make her look so delicate and fragile, and the way she smiles and laughs so honestly and the way her cheeks go red and she bites her lip when she cries.
You start running then, thinking of that, desperate to get back to the Burrow and find Ginny. You should never have left, you should’ve known where she would hide, because after all you are practically her sister, one of the family - why does Luna know where Ginny’s hiding place and you don’t? Because you’re the person Ginny wants to hide from, of course, and that’s an idea you can’t bear.
Trying to run up hills in snow is never a good idea - especially when you’re scared and angry at yourself - and you’re finding yourself breathless sooner than you imagined. You’re almost there, you can’t stop now.
But then, suddenly, there is a glimpse of red from behind the trees and Ginny appears, slowing to a sudden stop as she catches sight of you. Time seems to have frozen and you wonder if she’s really there, or if you’re hallucinating due to fear, or maybe it’s just this flu you - but stop it, it’s not flu at all, it’s stupidity, that’s what it is.
“Hermione!” she manages, clearly as breathless as you are. She’s got trousers on now, but she’s still only wearing a t-shirt on her top half. You instinctively move towards her and tug off your jumper; at least your t-shirt is long sleeved.
She catches your hand as you near her, holding it still. “Say something, Hermione, I’m sorry, I’m…”
You know you really should say something back, say you’re sorry, but you still can’t think of anything, can’t do anything but stare back at her hopelessly, squeezing her cold fingers with your warm gloved ones.
“Luna’s gloves!” she says, suddenly, looking down at your hand. “Is that where you went?”
“Yes.” You find your voice at last. “I couldn’t think where else you might be, I was so worried, I-“
“I shouldn’t have run off,” she says, and breaks her hand away from yours suddenly as she lifts it to her eyes to rub the new tears away. “I was just…”
“No, I shouldn’t have been so horrible!” You grab her hand back again. “I was surprised, I didn’t think-“ you tail off hopelessly and then take off your glove, showing her the ring. “I do like it, Ginny, honestly, and I’m flattered you gave it to me.”
“You will… take it then?” Ginny asks, tentatively, and you are relieved that you can smile and say “yes”.
You aren’t sure what you expect Ginny to do or say in reply, but you certainly weren’t expecting her to burst into tears - properly crying, not just damp cheeks. She clings to you, burying her face in your shoulder and chokes back sobs.
“Ginny, please don’t - how can I make it better?” Your arms fall naturally around her, fingers in her long hair. Her sobs are making her shake, but part of that must be cold; you squeeze her in an attempt to stop her from freezing.
She looks up at you then, attempting to take a deep breath, and you see that yes, she is crying, but she’s also smiling. “You already have,” she says, between sounds that could be sobs or laughter but don’t really matter when she looks at you like that.
“Well, then,” you say, feeling a bit shaky yourself, because any time you’ve made up with anyone else, there’s been quiet apologies and polite avoidance until it’s all forgotten about - nothing like this. “We should get inside now, you’ll catch cold.”
“But, Hermione, wait - I…” Ginny falters again and looks very serious, despite the odd sniff and deep breathes. “Did Luna tell you?”
“Tell me what? She said you’d be in the garden shed… but nothing else - oh, Ginny, no, wait…” Ginny has her head against your shoulder again and you can’t see her face but it doesn’t sound like laughing at all. “Ginny, please, I don’t understand…”
“I just thought maybe she’d have said…” Ginny says, not looking up at you. “Because I told her… she knows that I’m too scared…” She lapses into sniffs, her face still pressed into your shoulder.
And then you - you, Hermione Granger of all people! - tilt her head up gently and kiss her on the lips. Of course it makes sense, of course it’s the right answer, of course you could never do anything like this if you weren’t so sure she’d kiss you back like that, hesitant but firmly, cheeks still damp and lips cold and soft. This isn’t flu, stupid, it’s love, or something like it.
“I’m stupid,” Ginny says, at last, when you break apart. You hate to stop kissing her, but she’s really starting to shiver now and you want to get her inside (and upstairs. Honestly, who’d have thought you’d have this in you?)
“We’re both stupid,” you say, and take her hand again. “Come on, we should go inside.”