Hermione's fingers clenched nervously around fistfuls of comforter.
"Why, Ginny?"
There was no answer from the small body beside her, but only the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the sound of the air as it passed her lips.
"Why do you come back when you know that I have nothing to offer?"
There was a sharp intake of breath from the other girl, a break in the rhythm.
"You return each time to bare cupboards and broken memories, a scarred existence, and always, always, the promise of more bad news. Another death, another loss, another gain for Voldemort. You could stay away."
Still Ginny didn't answer. Her breath came in short gulps, quickened, tension mounting to hysteria.
"I hurt you, Ginny. I can see it in your eyes."
The mattress creaked as Hermione turned to face the younger girl, eyes questioning. Ginny remained indifferent, her eyes boring holes into the ceiling, masses of red hair spilling outward across the pillow. Angelic, almost. And yet –
"Look at me, Ginny."
Ginny's eyes fluttered closed as she clenched her jaw, her resolve unflinching. Hermione lifted her arm tentatively, hesitating before reaching the distance between them. She thought she felt Ginny shiver as she ran her fingertips across Ginny's cheeks, wandering to a stop on her lips. God, she was beautiful.
Without waiting for permission, Hermione lifted her finger and replaced it with her own lips, pressing a kiss softly against the luscious red skin. How long had it been? Three months, she thought, maybe four. She moved slowly away from Ginny's mouth, planting a trail of warm, wet kisses across Ginny's cheeks, her final kiss coming to rest on her forehead.
Her free arm roamed Ginny's body, trailing down her arms and resting on her hands, fingers tracing circles on her palm. Ginny's fingers uncurled slowly, as though struggling to remember long-forgotten motions. One by one, their fingers fell into place and closed around one another. Bodies linked, pale hands grasping each other for comfort.
Hermione's lips lifted from Ginny's forehead as she pulled her body away. Cold air enveloped her, a reminder of the lonely nights that she lay awake waiting, ears straining to hear the creak of the gate, the click of the front door, the padding of feet down the unforgiving stone hallway. Her hazel eyes flickered to Ginny's chocolate ones, searching desperately for an explanation.
But Ginny stared silently back. Her eyes reflected only exhaustion and pain, and Hermione sighed as she lowered herself back onto the bed beside Ginny, her body pressed against the other girl's for warmth. Their hands remained linked, whispering to each other in the dark.
Minutes passed, the soft tick, tick of the clock the only marker of the passage of time. Hermione's breathing slowed, the soft undulations of her body matching Ginny's in perfect rhythm. A soft voice, reminiscent of hurried whispers and frightened shadows, spoke out into the void.
"It's because I love you, Hermione."