I was honestly expected to whip up some more fluff and balance out the heaviness of the last chapter, but my muse refused and so you're stuck with the same melancholy as before. But, as Fred and Ginny both say in this chapter, it can only get worse before it gets better.
Unexpected
Chapter Nine: Rainstorm
"It's raining again." Her hand pressed against the glass of the window left a fogged print. She breathed on it, leaving condensation, and swiped her finger across it to marvel at the change.
"I wouldn't exactly call it rain, considering it's the first week of December." A flat, distracted reply. The sound of rustling pages and the scratch of parchment clashed with the steady, drum-like beat of rain on the grounds, on the castle itself.
"Just because it's partially frozen doesn't mean it's not rain." Ginny looked at the orange-tinted reflection: Hermione was sitting on her bed, still in her school robes though it was an hour or two after her last class, pouring over an essay she had just written. Her quill danced across the page, adding or subtracting a fact or figure that she found in the two books laying next to her. She looked tired and ragged to the redhead, though she was always quick to insist she was fine, and return to studying.
Hermione sighed and shrugged. "I suppose you're right," she said, and finally straightened. "I think I'm done."
"In my opinion, you were done about a half-hour ago," Ginny retorted. She moved away from the window and sat down on the bed as Hermione carefully rolled up the essay and placed it in her satchel, along with her books, quill, and ink. "You're too much of a perfectionist."
Hermione stuck her tongue out and wiped her hand across her nose; an ink mark appeared, smudged on the left side. "There's nothing wrong with being thorough," she insisted, leaning in for a kiss in the empty dormitory.
Ginny evaded the affection and instead wiped the ink away with the sleeve of her black blazer. Hermione smiled, but Ginny remained serious. "You're running yourself ragged," she told the brunette, and put a finger over her mouth to silence her as a protest formed itself on her lips. "No, really. You are. O.W.L.'s aren't for another few months, yet you still insist on studying, on top of the extra homework you do for most of your classes. Not to mention the fact that you're taking far too many classes than is healthy. And that's not just coming from growing up with the biggest slackers in the world."
Hermione huffed, sending a few curls flying from her face, but didn't retaliate. She knew Ginny was right, but the redhead was unaware of the true reason behind her studying. To keep up the constant flow of homework and note taking and reading meant the longer she could go without having to admit to Fred that she was cheating on him. Or that she was cheating on Ginny with him. It depended on what told him: her mind, or her heart. And it wasn't only the homework that was keeping her so exhausted - it was the late nights spent worrying, wondering, thinking about the whole mess she had created, kept creating, and was reluctant to get out of because the consequences seemed so dire. There was no way Ginny could understand them. There was no way that Ginny could see the temporary or long-term severing of familial ties with her brother, the one of two that she always spoke so fondly about before this all started. But wouldn't the story spread to the rest of the Weasley's? Her mother would be shocked, her father probably wouldn't understand, the boys would look at Ginny and be disappointed and look at her and be disgusted. The hatred would tear Ginny's world apart. And Hermione hated herself for being responsible for it.
So instead of dealing with it, she gave Ginny soft kisses that grew in intensity when they were alone and tight, tense embraces as they made each other come, and she stayed awake staring at her sleeping form across the room as she tore herself apart from the inside, beating herself up mentally for slowly destroying the one thing that really mattered to her - more than academics, more than growing up and being a smart, sophisticated witch in the Wizardly world.
"Hermione?" the younger girl questioned, brow furrowed with concern.
Hermione smiled gently and pulled Ginny into her arms, running her hands through her smooth red hair. "I'm fine," she whispered into the other girl's ear, and ran her tongue lightly across her earlobe. Ginny gasped lightly, and Hermione grinned. "Let's go outside. It's nice out."
Ginny pulled away and looked at her like she was crazy, but laughed and went to get her heavy raincoat and boots. Hermione watched her fumble with the buttons, as she herself got dressed for the weather, skin on fire with anticipation for the next few hours.
They kissed dangerously, once, twice, three times down the staircase to the common room. Hermione, for once in a long while, didn't care if they got caught, were seen by any of the eyes downstairs. Maybe it would be easier to get caught in the act, have the newsflash come to Fred either by his own eyes or the retelling by others. Maybe it would be easier for all of them, that way.
But she and Ginny both knew that he didn't deserve it, so they parted their hands at the end of the darkness of the staircase and descended with their masks of strictly-friends back on their faces. There was Fred over by the fire - his smile brightened when he saw Hermione, and much to her dismay, stood and came over to them. He winked at Ginny and ruffled her hair; he put his arms around Hermione, kissing her cheek gently. Hermione's mask blushed; the real girl inside felt a sinking feeling in her stomach and glanced over at Ginny. Ginny's mask was still in place, but barely - the indifferent expression was cracking in a few places. Hermione could feel the tension rising from Ginny's skin and the self-loathing returned. Only five minutes of lightheartedness. She didn't know whom she should dislike more: herself, for letting things get this far; or Fred, for being too in love with her to not see she wasn't interested anymore.
"Where you girls off to all dressed up?" he asked, planting another kiss on her forehead.
"Just outside for a walk," she replied, pulling out of his arms, but she reached up to fix her hair as an alibi, to make him not suspect. Stupid girl, stupid girl, you brought this on yourself, she leered inside. You're playing this game because you want to, not because you have to. And look at Ginny! Oh, wait, you can't, can you? Have to keep that mask up. Have to keep pretending she isn't anything more to you but your friend. She pulled her hands away from her hair before she could pull it out of her skull in frustration.
Fred raised an eyebrow as he glanced out the window. "You don't need glasses or Extendable Ears, do you?" he teased. "It's raining pretty hard outside. You'll catch cold like that." He shook his head and clicked his tongue, patting her shoulder as if she were crazy. Oh, god, no, don't do it, Fred, Hermione pleaded mentally. "I'll just have to come with you, then, to protect you from the elements."
Inside, she deflated. Outside, it was hard to hide. "Well, you don't have to," she started, throwing quick glances at Ginny, who refused to look back at her. "We're certainly old enough to take care of ourselves, and we're both dressed well enough for the rain."
"Rubbish," he waved his hand nonchalantly in response. "Besides, I haven't been able to spend time with you in a few days." He smiled, expression turning tender. "I miss you. And I miss my youngest sibling." He grinned at Ginny, who smiled back. "You don't mind if I cut into your girl-talk time, do you?"
"Not at all," Ginny replied, too sweetly. Only Hermione noticed, though, as Fred brightened considerably and kissed her again, his lips feeling so much harder than the softness of Ginny's. Her heart was screaming, sinking, exploding in her chest. She wanted to scream, yell, do anything to take her away from him, to make him see that she didn't love him, she loved the girl who stood next to her barely holding herself together.
"I'll be right back then," he told them, turning to go up to the boys' dormitory.
"We'll just meet you by the front gates," she called up to him. He waved his hand behind him to show he had heard, and Hermione looked at Ginny, trying to contain the strained expression. "Come on."
They left the common room, taking quick steps and not speaking through the corridors. Ginny was getting worse and worse at containing her pain; as soon as they got to the front gates, she cracked, and angry tears starting falling down her face.
"When is this going to end?" she whispered fiercely, barely heard as thunder cracked across the sky. "Are you waiting for him to figure this out by himself, or are you just waiting for us to get caught?"
Hermione didn't answer; she didn't trust herself to. She was afraid of what might come out of her mouth and stab Ginny; destroy her more than she was already destroyed.
Ginny ran her hands through her already soaking hair, staring up at the sky. She looked so fragile, so full of pent-up lightning; she was a rain cloud waiting to let loose, a whirlwind of emotion that was kept carefully under control, but someone was letting it slowly trickle out of her body through the hairline cracks of her resolve. A storm in a teacup, Hermione thought to herself, a storm I created.
"I don't think you understand how in love he is with you," Ginny continued, after rainfall and rumbling thunder filled the silence. "He talks about you constantly. George has threatened to beat him up if he keeps up with talking about how wonderful you are. He complains to Ron about how he never sees you, but he doesn't realize the connections. He doesn't realize you're always with me." She laughed bitterly. "He asked me maybe a week ago if you were all right. Said that you were being short with him, distracted, and you wouldn't tell him why. I told him you were fine. I told him that you were just worrying about your studies and that you were overwhelmed by your homework." Lightning flashed, reflecting in Ginny's dark blue eyes. "I told him you still loved him. I kept up with your game because I love you, because I keep on waiting for you to come clean to him and make this all better. But you keep on going on like this is okay, that this is normal. Sure, Hermione, people go about lying to one person and sneaking around with another all the time." Ginny shook her head, hiding her face behind her hands. "Yet I can't help but still wonder who you're really lying to."
Hermione was frozen. Her heart was cracking from the weight and sting of razor-sharp raindrops piercing through her thick coat, sinking into her skin with poison dripping at the tips. Hot tears were streaming from her eyes and mingling with the cold rain; she was sure that they were made of blood. Her heart was bleeding out from her pores.
Thunder clapped again as her mouth opened with the front castle doors. Fred stepped out into the storm and looked at them, that oblivious puppy-dog look on his face. Hermione wanted to scream from the injustice of it all.
"I changed my mind," Ginny growled, giving Hermione a hard stare. "I'm going to bed. It's too stormy out here for a walk."
She stomped back inside, past her brother, and slammed the door behind her. Fred looked at Hermione confusedly; the brunette was having a hard time pushing down the pain, the hurt expression, and the self-loathing that she was sure was reflecting in her eyes.
"Well, guess it's just you and me, then," he said, slipping his arm around her waist. "Let's not stay out too long, though - it looks like this storm is going to get a helluva lot worse before it gets better."
"You're right," she replied hollowly, and they stepped out together over the sodden ground.
Hermione returned to the dormitory an hour later, soaking wet and feeling hollowed out. Ginny's candle was still aflame, but the curtains were closed. Despite her reservations, she peeled off her wet clothes and changed into a clean sweater and flannel pajama pants before approaching the closed curtains.
"Ginny?" she whispered. Her entire body was trembling, and it wasn't from the cold.
The body inside shifted. Lavender had looked up from her magazine on the other side of the room, giving Hermione a sad look. Hermione ignored it, and tried again. "Ginny, please talk to me."
Nothing. Hermione stayed poised outside the curtain for a few more heartbreaking minutes before going back to her own bed, pulling the curtains closed around her and curling into a tight ball. Stupid girl, she thought fiercely. You stupid, stupid girl.
The storm didn't lift until nearly one in the morning. The rest of the candles were out; all except Ginny's. Hermione had stared at it, though the flame blurred from the tears in her eyes, for hours now. It never faltered. It never blew out. Until now; and with it, Hermione's composure faded. There was no stopping the sobs now - the pain that she had brought upon herself. She groped blindly for her wand and hurled a silencing spell around her bed.
Perhaps it was because of that spell that she didn't hear the familiar patter of bare feet from the other side of the room across the wood floor, or the metallic scraping of the curtain rings against the bar. She didn't notice the presence of the body next to her until it wrapped its warm arms around her and hot tears that were not her own spilled onto her face.
"I'm so sorry, Ginny," she choked, clinging to the girl as if her life depended on it. "I love you. I don't know how to prove it to you. I don't know how to make this all go away."
"Yes you do," Ginny replied quietly next to her ear. She held Hermione tighter to her body. "But I understand. It can only get worse before it gets better."
Hermione only hoped it wouldn't have to come to that.
Choking on your alibis.