Poking her head into the Great Hall, Ginny ascertained that both Ron and Harry were at the Gryffindor table, but Hermione was nowhere in sight.
Perfect.
She darted back into the hallway and half walked, half ran to Hermione's room, eager to finally ask her how she was doing - it had been a week since she and Neville had gone on their midnight-mission, her desire to talk with Hermione abandoned in favor of musing Malfoy's actions.
Ginny paused in front of the common-room door and recited the password, closing the door behind her with a courteous amount of noise, indirectly informing Hermione of her presence.
Strangely, Hermione didn't answer to the resounding thud, nor to Ginny's voice when she called Hermione's name.
How odd. It's past nine... she should be up by now.
Ginny went to Hermione's door and rapped tentatively on it. "Hermione?"
She pushed the door open. Hermione's room was unusually tidy, even for the 'Queen of Organization,' as she had been dubbed by the Gryffindor girls as a first year.
Ginny observed the room. The feature that stuck out the most was the bed, which had been made neatly. Too neatly.
It doesn't look like it's been slept in at all...
She ventured further into the room, feeling the side of the unwrinkled bed with her fingertips. The outside door closed gently, its gentle creaking making it obvious that someone had entered who wanted to remain unnoticed by any still-sleeping occupants.
Ginny went back into the common room just in time to see Hermione, her hair in disarray, tiptoeing across the floor.
"What in hell's bells are you doing?" asked Ginny, her hands on her hips. Hermione stopped abruptly, taking in the stern, red-haired figure before her.
She looks a bit like her Mum right there...
"Well?"
Ginny walked up to her, arranging her friend's hair. "My goodness, where have you been? Have you slept at all?" Ginny sounded worried.
"Yeah, I'm fine..." Hermione replied.
"I haven't talked to you properly for ages," said Ginny, hugging her friend. "And don't tell me nothing's been going on, because Ron says you keep coming in later and later, and it doesn't look like you've slept in your own bed for days!"
"I haven't," sighed Hermione.
"So where have you been?"
Hermione took a deep breath. "I'm having an affair with a teacher."
Ginny's eyes widened. "Sirius was one thing, but a teacher?"
Hermione's head jerked up.
When did I tell her about Sirius? I never did! Or did I?
"Who is it?" asked Ginny quietly.
Hermione chewed on her lip again. "Snape."
Both Ginny's eyebrows shot up in utter surprise, and just a little bit in disgust.
Hermione stifled a smile.
"Snape?"
"Yeah."
"Are you just trying to get back at Sirius?"
What is she going on about?
Hermione's face looked troubled. "No -"
Hermione looked up quizzically at Ginny, who seemed equally confused. "When did I tell you about Sirius?"
"Oh, way back towards the end of June. You said you... well, that you loved him, remember?"
Her brows furrowed as Hermione's focus shifted inward. When did I tell her I fancied Sirius? I guess it must have been that long ago, though I can't seem to remember... At the end of June . . . well that was before anything happened!
"We were washing the dishes and Sirius asked if he could help, remember?" said Ginny slowly. "He winked at you... and you blushed and I asked you what it was about... and you told me everything."
"I honestly can't remember." Hermione shrugged her shoulders, trying to fluff it off. But the feeling of panic was gnawing at her.
"Oh." Ginny sighed. "Alright, well I hope you've been using contraceptive spells?"
The other girl nodded. "Every time."
---
It was the first Quiddich game of the year, Ravenclaw vs. Gryffindor. Harry had made a spectacular save, catching the snitch in a nosedive with the Ravenclaw seeker. It had won Gryffindor the game, though they had been lagging behind on points. All in all, it had been an exhaustingly long day, and dusk had fallen on the pitch where Harry lingered, sitting back in the damp grass. He didn't feel like celebrating - he just wasn't in the mood. Sirius kept sifting to the forefront of his mind- Harry hadn't heard from him since the letter he'd sent about Hermione.
---
The warm water opened its mouth and swallowed Luna whole, tickling her cool flesh, licking away the stress of the school day. She sighed inwardly, letting the water pleasure her.
Letting go of the edge of the marble bath, she slipped further into the water, coming to rest on the stone seat submerged in the water. Her arms she rested on the ledge beside her.
The steam caressed her face, the room obscured in its loving mist. Luna let her legs drift apart and her mouth relax as the water was allowed between her thighs.
The heat surged around her, melting away the biting air. It surrounded her, inside her, the warmth moving below her belly.
Her hand followed it, moving over her chest, flicking her nipples. Her fingers followed the outline of the breasts, tracing them under the water in slow spirals.
They crept downwards, her nails raking her stomach every so gently, pulling the heat with it. Leaning her head on the edge of the bath, her hair billowed around her like a nebula as she slipped to the edge of the seat, her feet on the sides of the submerged pool.
Her hand moved over her hips, teasing herself.
The water around her splashed over the sides of the tub, beads of perspiration on her nose and upper lip as time passed, but finally she let her arm relax. Luna leaned back sensually in the later, breathing deeply and concentrating on the pleasing throb she felt in her sex, content with herself and her solitude.
---
The cold radiated from the walls. It numbed Ron's feet, which poked out of his bed as he lay very, very still. He listened for her voice whisper the password, for the door to creak open, for her to shuffle into the next room, for her to close the door.
This is Wednesday. Hermione hasn't come back to the room at a decent hour since the week before last.
Ron's face tightened in meditation.
What the fuck is she up to?
Resignedly, he threw off the covers and left his haven, stepping silently to her door. Hand poised to knock, he stopped, when he heard her... talking in her sleep.
He pressed his ear close to the door.
"No, really, I'm fine, I don't want to talk about it. We just got in a row, that's all." He heard her toss around fitfully. Something fell off her bedside table with a clatter. He stepped back. After a minute or two of silence, he pressed his ear back to the cool wood.
"No, I'm fine, I don't want to talk about it. I just never want to see him again! Look, don't tell anyone, don't... I wish I could forget it all."
Her voice rang of desperation. It made turmoil auditory.
Eyes wide, Ron listened harder. He could hear her crying.
Is she asleep or awake?
He opened the door and moved softly to the shadow that was her bed. Her eyes were closed lightly and her voice sounded strangely lucid.
"I would do anything, anything to forget."
Horrified, Ron stepped backwards and went quickly back into his room, shutting the door firmly behind him and pressing it closed, as if someone was trying to get in.
It's like she was awake... or in some kind of trance.
His heart was racing.
---
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