Yep, after forever and a day, I finally sat down and finished up this chapter. That's all I really gotta say. Read, review, and enjoy.

Leather & Cigarettes
Chapter Six: love and hate

How could she have been so stupid? Ginny's feet tread across the concrete sidewalk of their own accord, the cracks and crannies memorized. She'd traveled these streets far too often, taking the same path – how could they not see a pattern? She cursed herself aloud for being so stupid as to allow this to happen, to get caught up with a woman who was supposed to have been untouchable by her or anyone else. The potential consequences were far too dire; how could she simply let herself carry on in such risky behavior?

How could she have let herself put Hermione in such danger?

Ginny's eyes blurred, and tears slipped from her eyelashes as she blinked. She fumbled for her pack of cigarettes, burning one quickly, sucking in the lethal smoke with a shuddering breath. It was her fault, of course, for going back to Hermione's apartment, for staying there, for sleeping with her initially, for suggesting their carry on… How could Hermione not agree, after being alone for so long?

Ginny bumped into a stranger and mumbled an apology. She saw Hermione's apartment just ahead – she turned quickly to avoid it; she didn't want to have to do it yet. After all, Hermione might still be sleeping. She had only left three hours ago. After leaving the coffee shop, she had returned home briefly to change clothes, before hitting the streets to wander. Every step always led her back to Hermione's apartment.

And what about earlier? Hermione had told her she loved her. There was no mistaking the use of those words, nor their connotation. Ginny could tell the difference; when they had gone to school, Hermione had said the same words, but they had been full of uncertainty, a kind of reluctance. Hermione hadn't gotten used to her emotions yet. But this Hermione, years later, held no insecurity. She had said them with the confidence and the sincerity only the subconscious could muster. It seemed like Hermione had wanted to say them for months now, but circumstance had made her hold her tongue.

As well she should have, Ginny couldn't help but think grimly, through her heart ache. This is so fucked up.

This wasn't a game; if anything bad happened, they wouldn't just be able to start over. Death was death – there was no turning back. And if Ginny would eventually indirectly be the cause of Hermione's death, she knew she would never forgive herself.

There was no choice – she had to let the brunette go. If she didn't, it could mean the destruction of everything they were fighting for. War meant sacrifices. Ginny had already let go of Charlie, her favorite brother. Now she would have to let go of Hermione, the woman she – cared for.

"Gods, do I hate war," she hissed darkly, and turned her course back around to go to Hermione's apartment.

…

The knock at her door took Hermione by surprise. She looked at it suspiciously for a few moments, wondering who it could be; Ginny usually Apparated, as did anyone else from the Order. She waited, hearing nothing but her heart pounding hard and loud in her chest. Perhaps it was just a curious neighbor?

She stood carefully from her seat on the couch and walked over to the door, moving softly across the carpet. The peep-hole showed a head of auburn hair, and her heart leapt pleasantly.

But why was Ginny at her front door, instead of already in her living room?

She undid her many locks and mumbled the incantations to remove a few of the protection spells on her front door so Ginny could come in. They fell easily at the sound of her voice, though it would be more difficult for someone else to remove them – another invention of hers, voice-activated protection spells. She opened the door with a smile on her face.

"You know, you could have just Apparated," she said jokingly, but quickly fell silent. Something wasn't right – Ginny's eyes were bloodshot and her face blotchy, as if she had been crying.

"Going to let me in?" Ginny croaked, and the brunette moved aside, her mood sinking slowly. She shut the door and moved to give the redhead a hug, but Ginny held up her hands, shaking her head slowly. "We – we need to talk. Let's sit down."

"All right," Hermione replied, her voice and hands shaking. She was hurt by the rejection, but had a feeling she'd be feeling even worse in a few moments. She attempted to steel herself to the sting, but felt all her emotional shields gone. Ginny had left her defenseless.

They sat in the same places they had sat in the first night Ginny had been there; Hermione on the chair, Ginny on the couch across from her. Hermione took out her wand to organize the parchment and books on the coffee table, though she didn't know why it mattered – Ginny had seen the mess before. She just needed something to do, something to delay what was coming…

"What is it?" Hermione whispered, finding that she couldn't speak any louder than that. Where's the Gryffindor courage now?

Ginny sighed, her shoulders shaking slightly. Hermione noticed that the redhead refused to look her in the eye, instead choosing to focus on a spot just off to the side, somewhere on the carpeting. "Hermione… We can't…" She sighed again, running her hands through her hair. "We can't do this anymore."

Blood roared in her ears from her still-pounding heart, but everything else in her body, in the apartment, was still. Hermione felt her lungs burn, and quickly drew in a sharp breath. "What?" she said, and her voice showed real confusion. Somehow, she was unable to comprehend what it all meant.

"Are you really going to make me say it again?" Ginny pleaded, looking at her for the first time. Her blue eyes were dark and brooding, like an ocean during a storm. "We can't, Hermione, we can't do this anymore. You have to understand…"

Hermione said nothing. She could feel her eyes filling with the start of tears, but refused to let them fall. Where were all her defenses? How could she have not seen this coming? And yet – how could she have? Ginny had given her no signs that this was going to happen.

"But I don't understand," Hermione replied, frowning. "You've had every opportunity in the past four months to end it, and you choose now? What's even making you do this?" Ginny stayed silent. Hermione felt understanding dawning on her, and she laughed with indignation. "This is about Harry, isn't it? He bullied you into ending it with me, because he told you it would be dangerous, that I would get hurt because you were seen here all the time… Is that it?" Hermione stood, hysteria taking her. "You're ending this because of Harry?"

"This isn't just because of Harry!" Ginny shouted.

"Then what is it?" Hermione pressed angrily, temper rising. "We've been careful! We've made sure nothing bad happens! Merlin, we've even distanced ourselves emotionally! So what's making you end it now?"

"That's the problem, Hermione," Ginny said quietly. Hermione stared at her, an odd feeling in her stomach. "We haven't. You told me… you told me you loved me this morning, when I was leaving."

At first, everything seemed suspended in time. They were frozen; Hermione standing with her arms crossed, Ginny still on the couch, looking up at her. It was so stupid, Hermione just wanted to scream.

"That's absolutely preposterous," she said flatly. "Of course I wouldn't have said anything like that, because then this would have happened."

Ginny growled in frustration, rolling her eyes. "But you did say it, and this is happening."

Hermione shook her head wildly, upset and angry. "No! No it's not! This isn't happening, Ginny, and you're not doing this to me… I wouldn't have said it… I just wouldn't have…"

"Well, did you mean it?" Ginny asked her abruptly. Hermione stopped and stared at her, not speaking. "Did you?"

"That's not the point," the brunette whispered, eyes widening. She was afraid of this, because she couldn't control it. Everything was falling apart, and she was watching it like static on a television screen.

"No, Hermione, that is the point," Ginny replied sharply. "You said it, and I know you meant it. It doesn't matter what we feel for each other, we can't say it. Do you even realize how dangerous that is?"

"Of course I do, which is why I wouldn't have -!" Hermione gave a half-strangled scream and stormed away from the living room, tears scalding her face. This was not how it was supposed to turn out; everything was supposed to be fine; they should have been spending a nice time together, instead of doing this… All because she had to open her big mouth, say what she really felt. She didn't remember saying it, but that didn't matter. She'd been thinking it for months – what would have kept her from saying it when she was half-asleep and not thinking?

She slowly sank to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees, unable to control her sobs. She heard Ginny move from the couch towards her, but she couldn't deal with receiving any comfort from the redhead – it would only drive the fact that she was leaving even further into her heart, like a sharp knife being twisted.

"If you're going to go, you should go," she choked out, not looking up. She saw Ginny's feet pause on the carpet a mere two feet away. "You said so yourself – we can't do this anymore. Just leave, Ginny."

"Hermione," Ginny began, and stopped. Hermione saw her feet take a step backwards, start shuffling in the direction of the door. "Goodbye, then." Her tone was defeated, regretful, hurt. It was the last thing Hermione heard before the door closed.

…

Ginny ran down the stairs blinded by tears, doorways to other floors and the steps that led them there blurred. She wouldn't let them fall here, not until she was in the safety of her own apartment. Even so upset, she still couldn't forget what kind of danger she was in; and the enemy could always be watching.

That's why this is right, Ginny justified to herself again. This is what has to happen. I can't be falling apart if she's hurt, especially if it's my fault. She gritted her teeth to ignore the searing, uncomfortable pain in her heart.

She shoved the door to the street open and groped for her cigarettes, lighting up in record time. The nicotine did little to calm her bleeding emotions, but it was a nice gesture on her part to try. Gods, hurting Hermione had to be the hardest thing she'd ever done – worse than facing Tom Riddle her first year, worse than her first kill and facing death on a regular basis. Somehow, knowing that Hermione was in pain because of her only made the big-scale worse, not better. After all, how was this protecting her? How was this helping? Wouldn't Hermione get upset, lose concentration on her charms, and have more of a chance of being attacked?

Suddenly, Ginny felt her jeans pocket heat, leaving a slight circular brand in her skin. She swore softly and darted out off of the sidewalk onto a closed shop's steps, pulling out the hot emergency coin from her pocket. They had been Ron's idea, crafted by Hermione – like the old coins from the D.A., only these alerted others of specific people in danger and their location.

At first, she couldn't get a clear view of the words; they were still blurred and burning red, still forming. She watched with a sudden rush of blood to the head, her pulse beating hard and loud in her ears, as they changed from nothing into:

HERMIONE GRANGER
1583 BRIAR LN #28C

There was no time.

She raced back down the way she came, her cigarette dropping half-finished somewhere in her haste. The wind and her determination to arrive in time dried her previous tears and left them hanging like stinging icicles in the back of her eyes, making them feel raw and itchy. Her previous thoughts left her kicking herself mentally; of course; how could this have not happened? Harry must have been expecting it, some inside informant tipping him off to the Death Eater's plans; maybe a spy had been tailing Ron and her; maybe someone overheard their conversation in the coffee shop that morning.

There were far too many different scenarios to choose from. Regardless, Ginny knew that any and all of them would be her fault.

A woman was thankfully going out as she was going in. She didn't take the time to thank her or slow down before she threw herself through the open door, taking the steps two at a time.

Why does she have to live on the fucking fourth floor? Ginny snarled internally, concealing her hold on her wand on the inside of her sleeve. It hummed against her skin with the force of her anger.

Out of breath and with aching, tired legs she reached the last floor, rushing down the hallway – consequences of Muggles be damned – with her wand brandished, when she suddenly felt herself connect with a hard, warm solid.

She yelped and put her wand to its neck; she felt a wand move to her own. For a moment, she and Harry stared at each other, bewildered and vengeful.

"What are you doing here?" she snarled.

"I could ask you the same," he replied indignantly.

She rolled her eyes and pulled her wand away. She glared dangerously when he didn't immediately comply and swatted his out of her face like a fly. "That's not important right now!" she cried, moving towards the correct door. "We have to help Hermione."

Harry sighed and nodded grimly, mimicking her movements. They shared one last glance before simultaneously blasting open the door.

They stepped inside while the magic smoke still hid them slightly from view. As it cleared, Ginny felt her eyes narrow in fury and fear.

Hermione was bound to one of her kitchen chairs, hands behind her back and feet chained to each leg. They would be top quality magical rope, probably spelled to burn and cut into her skin if she moved even the slightest inch. There were tears in her blank eyes, skin already bruised across her delicate cheekbone and peaking out from the ripped sleeves of her clothing. They hadn't bothered to gag her; their magic was powerful enough to keep her at bay, in her state.

In her state, Ginny thought furiously to herself. This is my fault.

"Ah, Mister Potter, Miss Weasley." Lucius Malfoy's sinisterly silky voice slipped over their bodies like freezing water. "We've been expecting you."