Disclaimer

All Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Lyrics belong to My Chemical Romance. In simple terms, I own nothing, and if you sue, you'll get nothing.

Author's Notes

This was written before reading Deathly Hallows, so deaths are different, and whatnot. Basically, ignore DH, and just go with it. This is not my favorite thing I've written by any means, but I'm still, quite pleased with how it turned out.

I'm Not Okay

By Persephone's Nautical Nun

Well, if you wanted honesty that's all you had to say
I never want to let you down or have you go, its better off this way

The war was over. The boy who lived, didn't – taken out by Voldemort in a blaze of glory. At least he managed to take down the Dark Lord with him. Ron was gone, killed moments before Harry in a stupid attempt to save him, and Hermione had taken up smoking.

She knew what everyone thought, and heard what everyone told her, but it didn't matter. None of it did. She was the smartest girl at Hogwarts when she was there, and she knew exactly what the nicotine was doing to the inside of her lungs. Ignorance was not the problem. The problem was that she just didn't care.

She hadn't seen her family in years, and occasionally would wonder if they survived. Muggles had nothing to do with the war, but Voldemort had been known to kill them in his time. They were in danger just by being the parents of one of Harry Potter's friends. They hadn't tried to contact her at all, and she had never told them what was going on in the wizarding world, so odds are they died by Voldemort's hand, or more likely, one of his Death Eaters.

As she took another long drag off her cigarette, she wondered about the people she had left. Only a few of the Weasley clan survived the fallout, but she was thankful for that, at least. Charlie was good to go to for good older brother advice, but didn't do so well when too many emotions were involved. Fred and George were always good for a laugh, and managed to take her mind off of her grief.

Then, there was Ginny.

Ginny had surprised everyone. She had proven to be gifted in both offensive and defensive spells, and had been one of their best assets against the Dark Lord. No one knew where it had come from. Sure, she had gotten some practice in during her fourth year when they had formed the DA, but that wasn't enough to teach her how to kill countless Death Eaters. Most people just chalked it up to raw talent, Hermione included.

What was interesting was that none of the death's had seemed all that painful. Oh, sure, their bodies would squirm a bit when they realized their fate, but they never shook in agony, or contorted into impossible angles. She had never used any of the forbidden curses, and no one had been able to duplicate the spell. She had become known to both armies as the Red Reaper.

Ginny had also been, for lack of a better term, a rock. She had lost most of her family, but Hermione had never seen her cry. She imagined the red head must have, at some point, but she was never there for it. Not only that, but she had been a comforting shoulder for Hermione on several lonely nights. She felt like an asshole, having never really taken the time to consider Ginny's feelings. There she had been, crying over the loss of the first love of her life, while Ginny had lost her brother. First loves never last, after all. Family is forever.

"I know I've told you this before, but those things are going to kill you one day." Hermione didn't physically react to the voice. She had gotten used to Ginny popping up in her apartment at various times, just to check up on her. She didn't think she was that much of a pathetic sight, but maybe she was wrong.

She was standing on the balcony, leaning against the railing and blowing smoke into the wind. "One day, I'll take a puff, and it'll finally be the one that blows a hole through my lungs, right?" she asked, not bothering to turn around and face her visitor.

"No," Ginny said casually, walking up next to the brown haired girl and mimicking her position. "One day, you'll be trying to cross the street and lighting one at the same time. All of a sudden, POW, a car slams into you," she joked, hitting her fist into her palm.

"Oh, is that how it's going to go down?" Hermione asked, finally turning to look at her companion, a slight grin on her face.

"No, that's how you're going to go down," Ginny replied, pointing her finger at Hermione for extra emphasis.

The brunette crushed her cigarette out on the cement of the railing and walked inside; knowing Ginny was close on her heels. "How silly of me." She sat down on her couch and looked up at the girl with the flaming red hair. "What are you doing here?" she asked, quietly.

All traces of humor left Ginny's face as she sat down, heavily. "Just dropping by to see how you're doing."

Hermione tried to stifle the sigh bubbling in her throat, but wasn't quite successful. "What will it take to get you to understand that I'm fine?"

Ginny wrapped an arm around the smaller girl's shoulders and pulled her closer. "Nothing. I know that you're fine; I just like to make sure once in a while. Why is that wrong?"

There was something about the close proximity that didn't quite feel right to Hermione, regardless of the fact that the two had been in this very position many times before. She gently shrugged her shoulders, and moved over to the other side of the couch, trying not to notice the confused look on Ginny's face. The truth was that she didn't know why she detested these times. She should have been thankful for the company, but she just couldn't be happy. "I can't ask you to do that."

She watched in a strange form of horror as Ginny threw her head back and laughed. "Who's asking?" she managed to choke out between giggles. "Besides," she said, once she had calmed herself down. "Do you really expect me to spend all my time with Charlie, or Fred and George?"

There was a small amount of logic to the question. Ginny had always been slightly detached from her brothers, being the only girl, and having gone through things that they could never understand, but Ginny never lacked for company. She was charismatic, and charming, and people liked to be around her. Even Hermione would relish in her presence if she didn't think she was somehow taking advantage of the girl.

At Hermione's silence, Ginny narrowed her eyes and gave her a quizzical look. "What if I told you I'm here because I want to be?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I'd say I'm not the most fun person to be around," she explained in all seriousness.

"You never were."

The brunette tried to take offense, but couldn't once she saw the teasing smirk that had crept its way onto her friend's lips. Instead, she grabbed a small pillow from the couch and whacked her companion with it gently.

"Hey," Ginny cried, as she caught the pillow. They smiled at each other for a few moments before Hermione turned away again, looking at something only she could see. "So, are you really okay?" she asked, finally.

Hermione looked at her. She thought about replying with an emphatic yes, but the lying was getting to her, and she wasn't sure if she had it in her to do it, anymore. "No."

Ginny nodded.

What will it take to show you that it's not the life it seems?
I've told you time and time again, you sing the words but don't know what it means

It felt as if a weight had been lifted, and yet, Hermione still felt as if she were being crushed. There was just too much shit unloaded onto her tiny frame for the one weight to make that much difference. Sure, it felt good to tell the truth for once, but even that didn't seem to matter. She and Ginny had sat in truthful silence for a whole of an hour before the guilt came crashing into Hermione like waves.

Here she was, almost ready to lean on the strongest person in the world when she had no business doing so. Hermione Granger was not a sniveling cry baby, and it was time to move on. It was time to stop clinging to the people who never had a chance to grieve. She was put into Gryffindor for a reason, regardless of the fact that everyone thought she should have been in Ravenclaw.

She had managed to get Ginny out of the apartment shortly after, ignoring the hurt look that flashed across the girl's features. She was an asshole no matter what she did. If she had let Ginny stay, she knew her resolve would have weakened, and everything would start pouring out all over again to the last person it needed to be pouring out to. So, she had kicked her out, hurting her that way, but Hermione figured if she had to be a bad person, she might as well be proud and dignified.

Now, here she was again, out on the balcony, blackening her lungs. She lived in a small apartment complex in Hogsmeade. The town was something familiar, and she liked looking out the window to watch over the small wizarding town. The Three Broomsticks was just a short walk from home, and that fact was comforting somehow.

Without giving much thought to her actions, she slipped on a coat and a pair of shoes, and made her way downstairs. Sure, she could have apparated there, but she thought the walk might do her some good. The air outside was crisp and clean, and she almost choked on the purity of it. She made a reach for her cigarettes, but Ginny's warning was still ringing through her brain, and she decided against it.

The Three Broomsticks was crowded, as it normally was, and she made her way to a small table in a darkened corner of the room. People watching was a new hobby, and one that she enjoyed very much. Some people were so easy to read, like the couple by the window. The man looked ashamed, and the woman ripped a ring off her finger and threw it at him. Hermione could just imagine some blonde waiting outside for him.

Two women sat a few tables over. They were smiling, and made a lot of eye contact. Every once in a while, the stares would get too intense and one of them would look into the depths of their drink. Hermione thought this must be what a first date looked like.

She would have been perfectly content to stay here for hours, and just watch the people, except that there were too many of them. It was too loud, and cluttered, and she suddenly felt very claustrophobic.

The Hog's Head was much better suited for her mood, but the people were slim pickings. Everyone at this particular place was mysterious, and shrouded in darkness. Well, that was just fine. Darkness was a comforting thing sometimes.

What wasn't comforting was a certain head of red that made its way into the bar not long after she had gotten there. Hermione kept silent, and slumped in her seat, hoping the shadows would hide her presence, but she was out of luck. Ginny turned her head, and spotted her in an instant.

"I thought you said you wanted to be alone," she said teasingly, as she sat down across from Hermione.

"I am."

Ginny cocked and eyebrow and smiled. "In a room full of people?"

"There are only a few," Hermione replied, looking around the room. She was right, the Hog's Head was almost completely empty, save for a few people at random tables.

"Not buying it, 'Mione," Ginny said with a shake of her head. She studied the girl in front of her for a moment before leaning forward on her elbows. "Look, if you don't want to hang out with me, just say so. I'm actually very good at rejection."

Somehow, Hermione didn't believe her. She didn't think anyone had ever rejected Ginny. They would be crazy to let her go, with her fiery red hair, and clear blue eyes. She was lively, regardless of what she had seen, and was a damn good person. Ginny Weasley had never seen rejection in her life.

"It's not that, it's just…" It was one of the few times when words eluded Hermione, and she was frustrated. She let out a heavy sigh, and stared off in the distance. "Do you ever wonder what might have happened if Voldemort had never returned?"

Ginny visibly relaxed in her seat. "What, you mean like, you and Ron would have gotten married right out of Hogwarts, and had lots of little red headed babies?"

Part of Hermione wanted to lash out at the girl in front of her for mentioning what could have been so casually, but logic kept her from doing so. She had posed the question, after all. "No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't think that would have happened."

"What do you mean? You guys were perfect for each other."

Hermione sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. "Maybe. He was the first person I ever loved, though. Those don't really last."

Hermione could feel the other witch's eyes on her, but refused to look up. Ginny could study all she wanted. Maybe she'd be able to find something new, and come up with an answer. Hermione just wished she knew the question.

"Are you finally getting over it?" The question was so soft, that Hermione almost didn't hear it.

"I don't know," she said, just as softly. "No. His memory still makes my heart hurt. I just don't know if we would have been the great love story everyone thought we'd be."

Silence passed between them for a long while, until Ginny stood up and went to the bar. A few minutes later, she came back with two fire whiskeys in her hand, setting one down in front of Hermione, declaring that it was definitely time they started drinking.

To be a joke and look, another line without a hook
I held you close as we both shook for the last time, take a good hard look

Hermione and Ginny held onto each other for support as they landed in the living room of Hermione's apartment. The feeling of apparating there was decidedly bad, and it was everything they could do to remain upright.

"Did I ever tell you," Ginny started, her words slurring. "That I hate that I can just apparate in here?"

"Liar," Hermione replied, letting go of the taller girl and making her way to the couch, falling onto it with a flop. "You love being able to pop in whenever you want."

"No, I mean…" the red head trailed off, looking for a place to sit. Standing just wasn't cutting it anymore, but Hermione had taken up the entire couch. She opted for sitting right where she was.

This set both of them into a fit of giggles, because sitting on the floor was so illogical. After composing themselves somewhat, Hermione made room for Ginny on the couch, and she sat down next to her. "You mean what?" Hermione asked once she was situated.

Ginny looked at her, confused. "What?" She had completely forgotten what they were talking about.

Luckily, Hermione's brain was not quite as fuzzy. "You were talking about why you don't like that you can just apparate in my apartment."

"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed, her face set in a caricature of realization. "I don't like it, because if I can, then anyone can."

"You want to be special?"

"Yes." Ginny stopped for a moment, taking in the surprised look on Hermione's face, and going over what they just said. "I mean, no. I want you to be safe. If someone bad were to find you…"

"Ginny, the war's over," Hermione exclaimed, thinking the other girl was worried about Death Eaters to come finish what Malfoy started.

"No, I know, I just…" Ginny stopped and looked at the girl next to her, somehow sitting closer than she remembered. "I don't want to lose you."

Hermione heard the words, and saw the features, and lost herself in the familiarity. This was okay, because she was drunk, and didn't know better. She ignored the voice in the back of her head that told her alcohol was an excuse, and the other one that told her this was somehow wrong. She had been close with Ginny for years, and she was starting to miss the girl in her self-imposed isolation.

She pushed herself forward and wrapped her arms around Ginny, burying her face in the crook of her neck. "I miss you," she whispered.

She felt the other girl stiffen in her arms before relaxing a minute later. She could feel a quickening heartbeat in her neck, and wondered if Ginny was nervous, and why. "I'm right here," she could hear Ginny say as the arms around her tightened. She looked up into clear blue eyes, looking for something that told her they were okay. She didn't know why they wouldn't be, but she just needed to be reassured. She looked into those eyes, so similar to the ones she used to look into before the war, but brighter, and before she knew it, there were lips on hers.

This was okay. They were okay.

It was just a drunken kiss, after all.

You said you read me like a book, but the pages are all torn and frayed

It had been a week since Hermione had seen Ginny and she had taken up chain smoking. Days and nights were passed out on the balcony, burning through cigarette after cigarette. She fumbled with her lighter, frustrated that she couldn't get it to light. She supposed she could have used magic to light her next cigarette, but she liked the callous she was getting on her thumb, and they always tasted a little funny with fire from her wand.

"Here," a voice from behind her said, accompanied by the flick of a lighter. Ginny reached over her shoulder and held the flame in front of her.

"Thanks," Hermione mumbled as she leaned forward, putting the end of her cigarette into the fire just long enough for it to catch. "What are you doing here?"

"Just checking up on you," Ginny replied, lifting herself up and sitting on the railing of the balcony.

Hermione turned around to face the red head, fully prepared to call her a liar when she saw the position she was in. "You're going to fall and kill yourself."

Ginny shrugged, and flailed her arms a bit while keeping her balance. "Yeah, well, at least it'll be quicker than the way you're doing it," she quipped with a grin.

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "I should push you over for that," she said, before finishing her cigarette and going inside.

Ginny jumped off the railing and followed her. "Yes, but you won't, because you love me so much, right?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Why would I do that," Ginny started, perching herself on the arm of the couch. "When you do it so well for me?"

Hermione leaned against the counter in the kitchen a few feet from the living room. "You're pushing it."

"I always push it, that's what I do," Ginny replied, casually flipping through a TV Guide. After a few moments, she put it down and approached Hermione in the kitchen. "So, this is going to sound strange, but I was thinking about your side the other day. How is it?"

The brunette shrugged noncommittally. "Fine, I guess. It still bothers me from time to time, just like any other wound."

"Yeah, but magical wounds are the worst," Ginny replied. "It may not have left a scar, but it'll keep flaring up occasionally." She reached out and trailed her fingers along Hermione's side, where she knew Malfoy had done some damage.

That had been one of the worst nights in both of their lives. Malfoy had had it in for Hermione since their first year, so when Voldemort wanted Harry's friends captured and tortured, Malfoy had taken on Hermione gleefully. He really didn't have time to do too much damage before Ginny stormed in and took his life, but he had managed to fuck her side up pretty badly, and it had taken a good long while for even the best magical nurses to stop the bleeding, and patch her back up.

"You know what I never understood about that night?' Hermione's voice was soft, but it was enough to snap Ginny out of her thoughts. "You saw what he did. You were there, but when you killed him, you did it indifferently, just like the others."

Ginny had never stopped to consider Hermione's feelings on the matter. It had all happened so fast, and she hadn't really had a chance to see the shape the other girl was in until Malfoy was already dead. "Would you have liked me to have used the killing curse?"

The brunette was silent for a few moments, thinking over the question in her mind. "No." Using a painful spell like that would have lowered the other girl to his level, and even though she thought he should have suffered, she wouldn't have sacrificed Ginny for it to happen.

Ginny's hand was still on her side, and the warmth was becoming too much for her to handle. She moved away, just out of reach.

"Sorry," Ginny mumbled, pulling her hand back as if she had been burned.

The two were silent once more, and Hermione found that she didn't mind it as much as she thought she would. She was becoming more comfortable in the other girl's presence, like they had been right after the war. It was only when Hermione realized that she was depending too much on the red head that she started to pull away, and distance herself.

"Look, are you we going to talk about it?" Ginny asked after an eternity.

Hermione sighed. "What's there to talk about?" She suddenly felt very weary. "We were drunk, and you look a lot like Ron."

She knew that was the wrong thing to say even before the words left her mouth, but she was powerless to stop herself. That was the excuse she kept telling herself, using it to rationalize the fact that she kissed Ginny with as much passion as she had, and she enjoyed it.

Anger flashed through Ginny's eyes, turning the blue into a dark grey. "So, that's all, right?" There was a rage laced along her voice that frightened Hermione, and she visibly flinched.

The action didn't go unnoticed by the red head. "Oh, my god," she whispered. "You're afraid of me." It wasn't a question. It was a statement she knew to be true. "'Mione, I'm harmless."

It was at that moment that Hermione realized Ginny wasn't lying about the rejection thing. She must have had a lot of practice at it. Who wants to be with the girl who took down a countless number of Death Eaters without breaking a sweat? "You're not harmless," the brunette said. "You're the fucking Red Reaper."

Ginny nodded, her eyes looking away, and her lips thinning into a small line. "Right. How many Death Eaters did you kill, Hermione? Who killed Lucius?"

It was only after the questions reached her ears that Hermione realized how much of a fool she had just been. They had been in a war, and they were all guilty of murder. Ginny just happened to kill more than anyone else. "After what his son did to me…" she still felt a need to defend herself, though.

"Malfoy was already dead!" Ginny yelled. "What did torturing the man do?"

Ginny was right. Hermione had tortured Lucius to his breaking point before she ruthlessly killed him. She was more of a monster than Ginny ever was. "It's not like his son got what he deserved."

Ginny sighed, shaking her head at the complete lack of logic the girl in front of her was showing. "Would you just make up your goddamn mind?" She turned and made her way to the front door, yanking it open. She wanted a dramatic exit, and apparating just wouldn't cut it this time. The fresh air might do her some good, anyway.

Hermione's voice reached her seconds before she got the door closed behind her. "We're not okay, are we?"

"No."

But, you really need to listen to me
Because I'm telling you the truth
I mean this, I'm okay
Trust me

It had been a week since Hermione had seen Ginny, and the smoking had stopped completely. It had been okay for her to destroy herself as long as no one else got hurt. Now, she had hurt Ginny, and while smoking wasn't the culprit, it was at least something she could fix. That didn't stop her from sitting out on her balcony every night, looking over the town, and wondering if Ginny was ever going to pop up again.

She had forced herself to go back over the last conversation the two had shared and come up with real reasons behind the things she said that she absolutely didn't mean. The sad truth was that she was covering up her own feelings. She wasn't lying that night when she told Ginny she missed her, and she had liked the kiss they shared. That frightened her, though. She was meant to wind up with Ron, and now that he was gone, she found herself falling for his younger sister. There had to be something wrong there. That wasn't normal.

"Hermione Granger, you're anything but normal."

The brunette jumped, and whirled around to find Ginny grinning at her. "Since when can you read minds?"

Ginny arched an eyebrow. "I can't. You were muttering to yourself."

The brunette searched her memory, and realized she had to have been. It was something she'd been known to do in the past, and she shouldn't be surprised to find she had been doing it again. "What are you doing here?" she asked, after deciding that she had, indeed, been talking to herself.

The red head chuckled. "Just checking up on you. Do we have to go through this every time?"

"Yes." Hermione's voice was small. "It's familiar, and comfortable."

Ginny nodded a slow tight tilt of her head. "Yeah, I suppose it is."

Without talking about it, they both moved to the door and made their way inside, taking seats on the couch. "Look," Hermione started after a while. "I'm sorry."

"I know." Ginny was trying to make it easier on the other girl. She knew that sometimes she said things that she didn't mean, and while Ginny was hurt for a while, she got over it.

"I know you do," Hermione started, a sad smile gracing her lips. "But, there are things I have to say, and I need you to let me." She looked over at her couch mate to make sure she understood, and was greeted by an open face, waiting for whatever it was she needed to get out. She took a deep breath before beginning. "I'm sorry about the things I said about you during the war. I'm just as guilty as you are, if not more so. I was completely out of line." She watched as Ginny made to interrupt her, but kept going. "I know that you would never hurt me." At this, Ginny simply nodded.

"About what happened two weeks ago…" she trailed off, not sure how to word what was going on in her head. "I loved Ron. You know that, and a part of me still does. The truth is that I really, really liked what happened, but part of me feels like I'm betraying him."

"Ron's dead, Hermione." There it was, out in the open, and raw. It was slightly appalling how nonchalant Ginny could seem at times, but accepting it was probably better than refusing to say it.

"I know that, but I loved him. He was goofy, and fun, and not all that bright, but had a great heart…"

"I can't be him, Hermione."

"I know that, too," the brunette said, meeting Ginny's eyes. "I don't want you to be. You're smart, and sarcastic, and fiery, and I love that. You're nothing like Ron."

They were both quiet, just looking at each other and taking each other in, trying to decide where this left them. "So, what are you saying?" Ginny finally asked.

"I'm not entirely sure myself," the brunette disclosed, shaking her head. "All I know is that I want to see more of you, and want more of what happened two weeks ago."

Without fanfare or introduction, Ginny leaned forward and captured the other girl's lips. The first time around, they tasted of alcohol and nicotine, and while it was pleasant, it was nothing like this. Now she tasted sweet, and clean, and Ginny couldn't get enough of it. There was no excuse for this one. Neither of them could blame it on anything other than the fact that they wanted to, and that warmed her from the inside out.

When they pulled away, Hermione kept their heads close, her fingers tangled in Ginny's red locks, and their breath mingling together. "Are we okay?" Ginny asked, not quite sure what to make of Hermione's still closed eyes and ragged breathing.

Hermione nodded vigorously. "Absolutely."