Disclaimer: I don't own any of the stuff discussed in this fic.
Am considering a short sequel. It all depends on the reviews this gets.
Ginny awoke in the middle of the night to rain pattering gently on the roof of the Burrow. It had been a sultry, sticky day and thunderheads had been gathering since noon. Ginny wandered into the living room, tugging on her ratty periwinkle blue robe as she did so. Fumbling in the pitch dark, her hands found two stubby candles and she somehow managed to get them lit. She threw her tired body on the couch, her eyes adjusting to the hazy gloom. The windows were black as ebony and the rain was a steady lullaby in the background. She picked up a magazine that was resting on the end table - the latest issue of Teen Witch. Ginny's mother, Molly, had sent out the subscription in Ginny's name, but the girl rarely looked at them. This particular issued featured a pretty young witch with heaps of dark brown curls and an extremely curvaceous figure. Ginny thought unhappily of her own sparing curves and wondered if they were the reason Harry remained distant. No, she hastily amended her own thoughts, Harry is not that shallow.
She opened the magazine and thumbed through the pages, skimming articles that provided recipes for beauty potions and chest-enhancing spells. Ginny was vain enough to consider attempting the latter, but she quickly cast the idea from her. Ginny was really a very self-confident girl. Quite a few boys had expressed admiration for her fiery red hair, large brown eyes, and sarcastic tongue. It was only when she thought of Harry that her petite figure and dratted Weasley freckles felt like curses.
Ginny had not exactly come to terms with the fact that she still liked Harry. Liked seemed a childish way to put it, but she couldn't bring herself to think in terms of love. She had hidden it well from everyone - except Hermione. Ginny had tried, over the past year, to distract her thoughts from him with an array of eager substitutes, but none of them seemed to satisfy her. She wanted Harry, but couldn't have him. It was as simple as that, and she was miserable.
"Ginny?"
Ginny tossed the magazine aside with a deep sigh. "Hey, Hermione. What are you doing up this late?"
"Couldn't sleep," the other girl replied, taking a seat on the couch next to Ginny. Her busy hair was subdued in a long French braid and she wore a pink bathrobe. "Too many thoughts."
"About what?" questioned Ginny, grinning wickedly. "Or, should I say, about whom?"
Her friend blushed slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled.
"Ron still hasn't said anything," Ginny guessed accurately.
Hermione scowled, confused and suspicious. "Said anything about what?" she demanded.
"About how he's in love with you."
Hermione winced. "Ginny, you're highly irritating, did you know? Why do you think there's something between your brother and me?"
"There isn't anything between you and Ron," Ginny pointed out. "But you both desperately want there to be."
Hermione flushed at Ginny's blunt phrasing, but didn't bother to deny the truth in her younger friend's statement. There was no point - she knew her face gave her away.
"What do you like about Ron, anyway?" Ginny asked curiously. She had always wondered what outstanding traits of his could attract any interest from the opposite sex. As far as she could tell, he didn't have any.
Hermione ruffled like a mother hen defending her chick. "He's really brave - but nobody ever gives him his credit and he doesn't expect it. He's loyal and honest, and he always stands up for those he deeply loves. He's a brilliant chess player but he never boasts. And he's got a really adorable nose."
Ginny snorted at this. "His nose! Ugh, it's horrid! Far too long, if you ask me. It's dad's nose. I'm glad I didn't inherit it."
Hermione seemed to take these remarks as a personal affront to Ron's looks in general for she went on, "And his eyes are the most amazing shade of blue, and his hair curls up adorably at the ends, plus he's tall and strong."
Ginny chuckled internally. Hermione wore a slightly glazed look as she described the rest of Ron's physical features and what endeared them to her.
"What about you?" Hermione asked after a minute.
Ginny folded her arms, as if daring Hermione to bring up the touchy subject. "What about me?"
"You know," Hermione said, lowering her voice. "You and Harry."
Ginny's stomach did a brief flip-flop at the mere mention of his name. "Harry and I are friends. We'll never be anything but friends. I'm resigned to it."
"Ginny," said Hermione gently, "why are you so afraid of showing Harry how you feel?"
"D'you think I want to have my heart broken? I made a fool out myself in front of him for four years, for Merlin's sake. I think I've suffered enough."
"You're more mature now, Ginny," Hermione insisted. "If you indicated to Harry that you had even the slightest interest in being anything other than distant friends, he'd respond instantly."
Ginny did not feel comforted. "How can I do that? I'd feel like an idiot flirting with Harry like I do with other guys. That's the only way I know how to show a guy I like them. I don't want him to think I'm immature."
"Harry is just like any other guy. He likes flirting. He might seem serious and mature on the outside sometimes, but he's just a teenaged boy in reality. He's climbed into a shell since Sirius died, but his teenaged instincts are in there somewhere. I really think you could revive them."
Ginny pondered this for a minute, feeling hopelessly that Hermione understood Harry better than she ever could. But what Hermione had said made sense. Even though Harry had already seen more tragedy than most people see in a lifetime, she shouldn't treat him with careful reverence. He was just sixteen, for Merlin's sake!
Hermione gave an exaggerated sigh. "What a lot of boy troubles we have."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Hermione, you're the one who has hardly any work to do. All you have to say is, 'Ron, you're cool,' and he'll pledge his undying love to you. I, on the other hand, have to delicately pry Harry out of his 'shell', which could take a year for all I know." She sighed. Brightening slightly, she said, "D'you want some lemonade?"
"Sure!"
Ginny padded into the kitchen and retrieved the pitcher and a couple of glasses. She rummaged around in the cupboard and unearthed an ancient tin of cookies. Knowing Molly, Ginny assumed she had put a charm on them to keep them from getting stale. She carried the snacks into the living room and arranged them on the table.
"Is this some sort of party?"
"RON!" Hermione yelped at the same moment Ginny shrieked, "HARRY!"
The two were standing in the middle of the hallway. Harry squinted, his glasses nowhere in sight. Ron still looked groggy.
"Er," Ginny began, "we couldn't sleep. You know...because of the storm."
"You can join us if you like," added Hermione brightly.
"A-a-a-all right," said Harry through a yawn. Ron collapsed onto the battered old armchair and Harry sat down next to Ginny on the couch. "Is that lemonade?" he asked, eyeing the pitcher.
"Yeah," Ginny supplied. "D'you want some?"
"Sure."
"How about you, Ron?"
"All right." With light-footed alacrity, Ginny retrieved two more glasses. "Enjoy." She folded her hands in her lap and gazed around, bright-eyed, at the party. Harry looked so cute without his glasses. His deep-set, emerald eyes stood out more than usual. Hermione was sneaking discreet looks at Ron, who was chugging down his lemonade.
Ginny pondered the future for a moment. At present they were friends, all united under the common purpose of ridding the world of Voldemort. Soon, Ginny felt instinctively, things would change drastically. She could see it in the eyes of Ron, which were now fixed on Hermione with an expression of longing. She could feel it in her own heart, which would not let her conceal her feelings for much longer. She read about terrible forces every day in the Daily Prophet and she sensed them in the air. Things would not stay like this forever. They all knew it. But for now, each of them was content to soak up this rainy night together, laughing, chatting, and sipping lemonade.