Rain, Baby

You never thought anyone could look at you like that. Like she does. You never thought you could be special, or wanted, or even that attractive - but she says she always thought you were.

You noticed her looking. She'd glance at you across the table at mealtimes, a coy look before disappearing again beneath her eyelids, before taking Ron's hand and pretending like everything is okay. That's why she confused you, at first. You didn't know what she wanted, didn't know what she felt. You knew what you felt. But not her. She liked Ron, she had always liked him, always wanted him not you, and that's why it hurts you - you never knew that when he made love to her, she closed her eyes and thought of you.

When you passed her in the corridors she would look at you, hold your gaze as she walked regally by, her head held high, soft curls bouncing on her shoulders, the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen. Her exterior was hard, like glass - stone to others, as they couldn't see through it, but you always could. You knew that was nothing to do with you - you only saw her soul because she agreed to let you in, agreed to let you look through her deep brown eyes into her very being. That night, when you brushed your hair, flickering like red flame as it caught the candlelight, you looked into your own eyes, and you saw her there - that was the moment you knew you would never be rid of her, that she had taken your soul. She let you in in more ways than one, she had never let anyone that close to her before - although she had made love to Him, it had been mechanical, which is why when she was with you she always thought of that day as her real first time.

You remember when she first spoke to you. She had been looking at you for months, holding silent conversations as others talked, through your eyes and hers. You were walking back from the library, hands full of books. You pushed back a tapestry to take the short cut and there she was; a few feet back, face half sunken in the shadows. Rather than stepping forward she pulled you farther in, the tapestry falling closed behind you, plunging you both into darkness. It was because of the darkness that you didn't see it coming.

As her lips met yours you felt the world fall away around you. It was you and her, her and you, and you were numb to everything but her, and you. After a second you felt her soft, full lips pull away slightly, unsure, unknowing. You moved your arms to her waist, not even noticing the texts clattering down about your feet. You heard nothing but her soft breathing, felt nothing but the softness of her blue wool sweater and the flesh beneath it, smelt nothing but the summer in her hair, and thought nothing but her name. Her sweet, pure name. You pulled her closer and this time it was no holes barred. One hand slipped to cup her shapely behind, the other still pulling her in close. Her hands were in your hair, tussling it, releasing the smell of the grass and the sky from lying outside at lunch, and that mingling with the summer of hers was a sweetness almost too great to bear. Her tongue was in your mouth, tracing shapes and patterns in your mouth, and she tasted like the summer too, and pot, and she thought you tasted like cinnamon.

The summer passed too quickly, and she stayed with you and your family, and the days she spent with Ron were forgotten during the nights, spent with you. It was okay for her to be with him - you knew you meant more to her. Of course you meant more to her. She never looked at Ron like that, never once looked at Ron like that. In those nights she would slide into your bed, and she would wrap herself in your arms and all you could think was how you loved her, you loved her, you loved her. And you would work yourself up and she would be pressed up against you, warm and soft, her own full breasts rubbing against your own smaller ones. You always felt inadequate next to her, pale freckled skin next to lucious caramel brown, flame red hair mingled with soft chocolate, and sometimes it seemed you were one person, when she was inside you, moving slowly, and you were inside her, faster, because that's how she liked it. And after she would fall against you, breathing heavily, and she would kiss your neck and tell how she loved you, and how she would always love you, and you never told it back for fear of what she might say, of what that might mean. To love someone is one thing - to be in love with them is another. And you would lie there for a while, occasional kisses between you, sometimes languid, othertimes passionate, but always, always loving, and meaningful. You always fell asleep in her arms.

When you woke in the mornings she would be in her bed again, and you always wondered why you did not notice when she left, but you supposed you were too at peace and too alseep. All the day while she was with Ron, lying back on his chest in a field a few miles away from the Burrow, joint in hand, she would send you those looks, flirty and smiling, and you would smile back as your brother kissed her ear, knowing what the night held. You never supposed it would last, but you never thought either, of what would happen if she chose him, as she had always chosen him before. You never thought of the future - with Her it was always the now.

When you went back to school it started to fade - when you smiled at her and she looked away, almost embarrassed, and she never spoke to you, even if you spoke to her, she simply blushed and looked away. Looked back to Ron, to her security blanket, her hand in his, as he sat unsuspecting of what had happened between Us. You never supposed he knew - why should you?

One night you cornered her. She was coming back from the library, and you waited in the shortcut, in the narrow corridor behind the tapestry. She wasn't expecting you. Her head was down, flyaway hair hanging about her face, her cheeks flushed. She jumped when she saw you, dropping her books.

"Shit," she mumbled, stooping to pick them up, her face flustered, shirt untucked, one sock wrinkled around her ankle. You dropped to one knee and handed her a text. She caught your eye and held it, the look in her eyes - guilt, you thought after? No, it couldn't have been. But then she looked down again, a muttered "thanks" all the words she had to offer. She left the books in a stack on the floor, as you lightly held her elbow to make her stand.

"Hermione," you almost whisper, stepping up close, closer than you would have liked, but you wanted to be near her. "What's wrong? Please tell me what's wrong..." And although you hadn't planned it, she had tears in her eyes, and you could feel her warm breath on your lips, and you wanted more than ever to make her hurting stop. Your blank mind watched as your body leaned forward, catching her lips in a kiss. She pushed back against you for a few seconds, then pulled away. One hand on your waist, she reached up with the other and ran it tenderly down the side of your face. Your skin tingled and you smelt the breeze in her hair and the dope on her clothes and...him. Your heart started beating in your mouth and even though you knew she was his not yours you couldn't make it stop. You felt like your heart had been torn out, and you had no idea why. She sighed deeply and you heard that she was sorry as her breath streamed through her lips, and she told you that she loved you with her hand cupping your cheek. You put your own hand over hers and she blinked and the tears fell, tumbling crystalline down her cheeks, to wash away what you had done, to wash away the nights and her feelings for you, whatever they may have been. Washed away. And she looked at you like no one else ever did. Like you were special. Like you were worth something.

Like she cared.

Her hands fell to her sides and she stepped backwards. She stooped and picked up her books, holding them against her chest like a barrier between you, to keep you safely away. She breathed deeply, and her eyes cleared. She put her facade back in place, and this time you weren't allowed inside.

"Please tell me you didn't think it'd last, Ginny."

You looked at her, your mouth slightly open, hurting, and wanting to scream, but your body seemed to have lost contact with your brain, so nothing came out and you could not move, but to blink, and now it was on your cheeks that the tears fell.

She glanced at her feet, then back up. "I'm sorry."

And she turned, pulling back the tapestry, and Ron was waiting for her outside. She stepped up to him and he put his arm about her shoulders, and she did not look at you again. He glared at you as he too turned away, and you knew that he had known all along, and that he would never blame her for what had happened, but you - he loved her too much to find a reason to let her go.

You leaned against the wall as they walked away, and the tapestry fell into place, and you were in darkness again, but this time alone. You sank into a crouch and you wept, Hermione's crystals or your own, you could not tell.

And she never told you: that she thought you tasted like cinnamon, that she once counted your freckles while you slept, or that you always remind her of the rain. Somehow, you always remind her of the rain.