So! If you're here, thanks for bearing with me through these chapters. I know we're probably all frustrated with the fact that Hermione and Ginny aren't yet together. Well, here's another thing to make you upset with me. :grin: And I know I'm breaking fannon. If you really care that much, go ahead and flame me. But honestly, who says I can't make up my own?

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and affiliated characters, along with their settings and the construction of their world, does not belong to me. Suing will be met with many shed emo tears.

Unexpected

Chapter Three: Fireworks

Those last few weeks of summer went far too fast for Ginny's taste. Though normalcy still reigned at the Burrow, she felt like she was walking in a shadow world, observing reality with a clouded gaze. She felt the same that she had after that day in the Chamber of Secrets. Though she could smile and laugh, carry on mindless conversations, it was all running like a well-rehearsed script in her head. She had been cast as GINNY WEASLEY, YOUNGEST AND ONLY DAUGHTER; SHY, AMIABLE. She only told the audience what they wanted to hear.

Ginny couldn't tell if Hermione was doing the same or not. The older witch acted the same as she always had - at least, around Ginny's brothers and Harry. But around the redhead, now, it was as if something invisible had broken and scattered itself across a great distance. Every look they exchanged - and looks were rare - a barely contained something rested in those amber brown eyes. But every time Ginny tried to analyze it, Hermione turned away, distracted by the breeze or the voice of the boys asking for help or audience for another mindless game. They still talked, though; there were still late night conversations over junk food, and there were still days where they sat in the sun and discussed their schoolwork (unlike her three most prominent brothers, Ginny enjoyed academics) and different literary works. But that sense of trust that she used to feel from Hermione felt nearly nonexistent, and try as she did to keep things the same, routines were slipping away like the sun under the horizon - slowly, but noticeably.

Still, the fact that Hermione was pulling away from her didn't bother her that much. After all, the reasoning behind her behavior was clear: how could things stay the same after something so unexpected?

Despite the fact that the sun warmed her back, Ginny still felt a cold chill of gloom sweep through her heart like a crow. The bird settled, like it always did, and scratched away at the good mood she'd been building up all day. Her father was going to set off Muggle "showers of stars" called fireworks (with the help of Harry and Hermione, of course) in celebration of their last weekend of summer. The next week before the anticipated train ride back to Hogwarts would be spent bustling around the house, finishing neglected assignments, searching for lost clothing and supplies, and then setting off to Diagon Alley for whatever new (or used, on the Weasleys' parts) oddities they would need for the upcoming school year.

She half-dreaded and half-longed for the dark, magical castle. Here, the summer days had become routinely broody and falsely optimistic; too often had she smiled without meaning it, only to keep up appearances. During the summer was the only time she always saw her brothers, the only time that what she was feeling really mattered to them. After all, she was just a little girl - for the most part, unwanted or considered unworthy for the boys' games. At school, she could disappear into the crowd, shuffle along from class to class, and only have to talk occasionally - usually to Hermione, or Harry, for a housemate of the same year. Ron cared about her, of course, but he was more often than not too caught up in idolizing Quidditch players or oggling cute girls.

And yet… She sighed, the wind rustling her hair slightly. The attention they did give her during the summer made her feel special. It was as if they all realized she existed, and were glad of it. The only other time they had treated her with such care was after Tom had tried to kill her.

And then there was Hermione…

She wasn't allowed the agonizing pleasure of thinking of the brainy brunette. A shadow was blocking the sunlight; she tilted her head back, and a quick count of the freckles told her it was Fred. Another glance told her that he was without his worse half.

Ginny patted the grass beside her with a curious and welcoming smile. Fred could always cheer her up, even when he was making fun of her freckles.

Fred took the offered plot and leaned back on his hands, seemingly admiring the scenery that had been a part of their lives forever. He looked almost nervous, like he was uncertain of his own skin and mind. Still, Ginny knew not to push a conversation out of him. It would only draw out the process of waiting for him to get to the point.

Finally, the boy spoke. "So, Gin," he said. The uncertainty reflected in his tone as well. "How have you been recently? You've been sneaking out here a lot."

The redheaded girl shrugged, moving to match his position. It was more comfortable than hugging her legs to her chest. "I've just wanted to be alone, is all," she replied indifferently. "I'm fine - honestly." She offered up a sweet smile to his cocked eyebrow.

His face relaxed a little. "Good, 'cause I need your advice," he started, sitting up in eagerness.

Ginny couldn't help but laugh. Every time he said that, it meant he had a crush on a girl and he wanted to know how to go about wooing her. "All right, Fred, who do you fancy?" she asked. A little bit of lightheartedness peeked its head tentatively inside her. Giving advice to the surprisingly clueless-about-girls Fred always ended up lifting her spirits.

Her older brother become typically embarrassed, clearing his throat a few times as if her name were caught there. "Well - it's - Hermione, actually," he confessed with some difficulty. His cheeks become tinted pink underneath his sunburn.

As soon as her name came out of his mouth, it was as if the sun had turned black. Ginny's vision faded. Her stomach sank deep into the earth and refused to be unburied. She wasn't sure how to react; she wasn't sure how she was reacting. Had she said anything yet? Was this really happening?

"Gin?" Fred asked, touching her shoulder. The pain of pressure on a freshly made sunburn jolted her mind out the swirl of darkness, into the dazzling realm of "yes, this is happening."

"That's a little unexpected," she said frankly. "Considering…"

"That I'm not usually attracted to the brainy types?" he finished for her, and grinned. "That's because they don't usually find me charming. And they're usually snots." He ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, and got an almost wistful look on his face. "She's easy to talk to, to be honest. Even though she acts like a know-it-all sometimes, she's rather willing to help out - and -" Fred chuckled a little at himself, and didn't say anything for a few minutes. Ginny had never seen him at such a loss for words. "Well, 'Mione sees past my charade. She knows that I'm smart. And I think that she might actually like me." He looked over at his younger sister and smiled sheepishly. "She's good friends with you. You probably know her better than anyone else. Do you think I should ask her?"

Ginny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, they were wet, and turned towards the beginnings of sunset. They would start setting up fireworks soon, she reckoned. She knew that Hermione had taken a liking to Fred. It had become increasingly clear after the incident. But what mattered more to her: her happiness, or her brother's?

"What I would do," she said slowly, trying to keep the stinging of her eyes at bay, "is take her aside while Dad's shooting off the fireworks. Tell her what you told me, minus the know-it-all part." She smiled, albeit a little bitterly. "That way, the fireworks will create a more special atmosphere. It'll make her feel like you're not just playing with her."

Fred was grinning at her. All of a sudden, she felt his scrawny but strong arms around her small frame. "You're brilliant, Gin," he cooed, and tousled her hair. "And don't stay out here for very much longer," he warned, standing. "Otherwise, Mum'll throw a fit."

He waved as he departed. Ginny waved back and then turned to watch the sunset again. It was fitting, she thought. She felt like she was sinking; she was the sun.

Ginny returned when calls for dinner erupted from the house. Hermione offered the younger girl a smile, and Ginny returned it without meeting her gaze. She didn't want to think about what was going to happen later that evening.

For a while, the philosophy of simply forgetting it worked. She blocked the conversation out of her head; she even played a few games of chess with Ron, and exchanged laughs with Harry. While she had been in her slump, she had forgotten how much she enjoyed conversations with the dark-haired boy. Now that she was seeing more of him outside of school, her hero worship mentality was fading.

They were talking about Quidditch again (a popular subject, no matter who her company was of the male gender), but Harry didn't get worked up about it like Ron - Ron who would start throwing things at the mere mention of anything Quidditch. The ex-Gryffindor Seeker preferred to talk tactics to his young fire-haired replacement. And, of course, she asked him plenty of questions - like how to pull off his more stylistic broom moves in order to score the elusive Golden Snitch. He even let her borrow his Firebolt a few times (under close supervision) in order to practice, though she of the power was lost in her ten-year-old hand-me-down from Percy (who had only ridden it once or twice before giving it her; he wasn't much for flying).

They were in the middle of a discussion about the variations of the Wronksi Feint when Mr. Weasley burst into the house, his arms overflowing with brightly colored tubes. The glint in his eyes and the wide, toothy grin he displayed told her what they were: the fireworks.

With some concern, Ginny noted, Harry jumped up from his position on the living room floor to help him out. Together, they carried them out to the backyard and put them in a neat pile.

"What do they mean by 'matches'?" came Arthur's voice clearly from outside. Ginny saw Hermione politely hide an amused smile behind her hand, and nearly melted from the cuteness of the gesture. "What is it supposed to match?"

"No, no, Mr. Weasley," Harry replied, voice becoming more anxious. "A match - it's a stick of wood with sulfur at the tip that Muggles use to create fire."

"Positively fascinating!" Arthur exclaimed. It took him a few moments to shake off his awed expression before he could return to the task at hand. "Right! Considering we're lacking in these fire-sticks, we'll have to rely on good ol' magic. Ready to go, Harry? Is it dark enough?"

The sky had taken on the dusky indigo of early night. Stars had already poked through the blue, and their gentle twinkling promised a brighter display. As the rest of them joined Harry and Mr. Weasley outside, Ginny wondered if they would be envious of the false stars they would be creating.

Everyone collected a firework from the pile, as well as blankets, and started trekking toward the open field. Harry and Hermione had both agreed that setting some mounds of grass on fire would be better than their house.

Coincidentally, the spot they chose was the same that Ginny had been using as a getaway location. Harry had made sure to go over the instructions of how to set the fireworks off with Mr. Weasley during the walk. Within a few minutes, blankets were laid out on the grass, and Mr. Weasley was setting off the fireworks by sending a simple fire spell toward the fuse at the top.

The sight was amazing, bright fizzing sparks in blue, purple, and green, throwing light over the entire world. Ginny felt her mouth fall open in awe; how could Muggles create something so beautiful and not have used magic?

Hermione came to stand next to her as the second firework blossomed over their heads. The white and red lit up the older girl's face, and Ginny felt the same nervousness of that summer day creep into her stomach. Unbidden '"what-if's" meandered across her thoughts.

It wasn't until the fourth, a magnificent display of gold and red, that Fred sneaked up beside Hermione. Ginny heard his mumbled words and her distracted reply. She tried not to notice when they slipped away, instead trying to focus her attention on the falling false stars and how they lit the night sky on fire.

The two returned again in what seemed like forever. The last firework, green and blue and white, was just fading into nothingness. But they still managed to reflect in Hermione's eyes - and illuminate her and Fred's linked hands. Even during the moments of darkness between the fireworks and a few Lumos spells, the sight still embedded itself in her memory and left her feeling sick.

How did it end up like this?