"Hurry up, Gin!" Ron called impatiently as his sister bounded upstairs to change her shirt for a bit of quidditch practice in the grove beside the house.

"I'll be down in a second, keep your knickers on!" She shouted back.

Ron, Harry, Hermione and Luna were already outside, the latter two content to sit on a blanket in the shade and watch. Ginny ducked into her bedroom, reaching over her shoulder to tug her shirt off before quickly donning the new one. She spun in search of a hair elastic and her hip caught a book Hermione had left on the corner of her night table, sending it tumbling to the floor with a heavy thud.

"Ugh," Ginny groaned, bending down to grab it. It had fallen beside her roommate's trunk and her overnight bag from the visit to her parents the weekend prior. Ginny was just about to turn and head back downstairs when she caught a glimpse, through the open zip on said bag, of a familiar green and white design.

She froze and turned back, glancing at the door and wavering in place before she reached in and grabbed the t-shirt that was stuffed in with several other pieces of laundry.

"No fucking way," she breathed, examining the article more closely. She quickly flipped it over, looking along the bottom hem for – there. There was a distinct hole burned into the fabric. And Ginny knew that there was a hole in the fabric because she'd laughed her ass off when Fred had put it there when they were living at Grimmauld Place after accidentally igniting the tip of his wand when it was in his back pocket.

Ginny lowered the shirt and looked out the window in disbelief.

"Hermione Granger, you absolute minx."

oOoOoOo

Hermione finished brushing her teeth and then turned, grabbing her small bag of toiletries off the sink and traipsing back across the hall to the room she shared with Ginny.

The other girl had been uncharacteristically quiet all afternoon, nearly knocking Ron off his broom twice while they were practising, and that seemed to be a theme that was destined to carry into the evening.

"Alright, Gin?" Hermione asked cautiously, tossing the clothes she'd worn that day in the hamper beside the door.

"Mmhmm, just fab," Ginny said, tight lipped and refusing to look at her.

"Are you sure?" Hermione prodded, brows pulling together. She and Ginny weren't exactly the best of friends, but she'd always thought they'd got on fairly well, and this behavior was most definitely out of character. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, nothing wrong. Nothing wrong at all."

Hermione sighed. This was why her friendships with other girls never lasted; she had zero patience for this sort of thing. She crossed the room to sit cross-legged in front of Ginny, who was obviously feigning reading the latest issue of The Quibbler, hand-delivered by Luna earlier that day. She licked the tip of her finger and flipped a page so roughly that it tore a bit.

"Ginny," Hermione said impatiently. "Out with it."

"Oh, I see," Ginny huffed, setting the magazine in her lap and straightening up, "Now you want to talk."

"Did I not want to talk previously?" Hermione asked, confused and searching her recent memory for whatever slight Ginny was referring to.

"Must not have," Ginny shrugged, slowly turning to grab something from behind her pillow, "seeing as you've been shagging my brother and you didn't see fit to tell me!"

She thrust a damning black t-shirt into Hermione's lap and crossed her arms tightly across her chest, waiting for a response. She looked unnervingly like her mother when she did that.

Hermione quickly debated the options available to her and, panicking, chose the wrong one.

"Ginny, I just found this in the twins' bedroom when I was looking for something to sleep in the other night."

"Hermione, that is a load of Hippogriff shit! I know for a fact that Fred took that shirt with him when he moved out, it's one of his favorites."

Hermione, aware enough to recognise when she'd lost, sighed in defeat and sank back against the footboard behind her. "Fine. Yes. I am seeing your brother."

"For how long?!"

Guilt washed over her. "Eight months," she mumbled. "Give or take a few weeks."

"Eight mon — I can't believe you," Ginny said, sounding genuinely hurt. "I'm assuming Harry and Ron know?"

"No," Hermione assured her quickly, shaking her head. "No, nobody knows outside of George and Angelina."

And Lee as of two days ago, but it seemed like this fire was burning perfectly fine on its own without throwing petrol on it.

Ginny seemed somewhat placated by this information. She brooded silently for a moment before retorting, "I still think it's rotten that you didn't tell me. We've only lived together every summer for three years..."

"I know, I'm sorry. There was – it's just been an odd couple of months since the ministry." It was quiet for a moment, Hermione running her fingers over the soft, worn article in her lap and finding it difficult to feel too guilty. Finally, she extended her foot, nudging Ginny in the leg and offering a timid smile. "Do you want to hear about it?"

Ginny looked like she desperately wanted to say yes, but ultimately she heaved an enormous sigh and rolled her eyes. "Oh alright, if you must. But keep the naughty bits to yourself, I still need to be able to sleep tonight."

Hermione grinned then, unexpectedly excited to have someone to talk to about all of this. Someone that knew her as more than just an acquaintance.

"Well, we decided to give it a go on New Year's Eve, but really it all started last spring…"