The Incredible True Story of Two Witches in Love

The Ministry had been reluctant to give Hermione the Time-Turner during her senior year. It had taken a summer's worth of begging that this was her last year and she would never again have an opportunity to formally study these subjects to convince Professor McGonagall to intervene on Hermione's behalf.

Finally, they allowed her to take one, but with spells on it which would only allow it to be turned over once. This left Hermione just a little under five minutes to run from class to class, which was usually enough. Harry had bought her a self-filing notepaper pad which apparated each finished page into a file in her room, so she only had to take notes in one book. Two minutes before the bell rang, she would put away all her books but the notebook, get out her books for the next class and thread her arm through one strap of her backpack so that she would be ready to run to the next class the instant she heard the bell. The only problems arose on running from Advanced Astronomy to Care of Magical Creatures, which was both down the tower and all the way across campus.

So it was that on Tuesday morning at 10:53am that Hermione Granger was running full speed down the corridor outside the Potions laboratory, her trainers skidding on the worn stone, her heavy bookbag jostling against her back, her long hair and grey pleated skirt belling out behind her and the leather bound textbook clutched against her chest.

"Please don't be late," she chanted to herself as she ran down the corridor, around a corner and straight into Ginny Weasley.

Ginny had been emerging from the Potions lab, carefully carrying a mortar bowl full of fine white powder. Intent on her burden she had not seen Hermione at all. As the two of them collided, the book skidded into the wall and the mortar bowl upturned and shattered on the floor.

"Ginny, are you all right?" asked Hermione. Ginny looked horrified. They were sprawled across the corridor in a bruised and mussed heap of books and shattered ceramic, entirely covered in white powder.

"Oh, Ginny, you're cut, "said Hermione, turning Ginny's chin gently in her hand to examine a small scrape on her cheek.

"Oh, no," said Ginny softly. "Oh, no."

Professor Snape appeared in the corridor, his thin lips curled into a sneer. He stood over them, making no effort to help either of them up. From where they lay on the floor, he looked about ten feet tall.

"Miss Weasley, I assume this used to be your homework?" Snape said softly, emphasizing the words "used to be". It was not actually a question.

"It's my fault, Professor Snape," said Hermione, "I bumped into her and...."

"You must have been running," said Snape, "to have bumped into her here. Ten points will be taken from Gryffindor for running in the halls. Miss Weasley," he said, turning his sour gaze on Ginny, "fifteen points will be taken from Gryffindor for your missing homework." The bell rang loudly in the empty corridor. Snape cocked his greasy head to one side, and listened to it ring. "And now I believe you are both," he paused for dramatic effect, "tardy. Five points each will be taken from Gryffindor for being tardy." With a slightly self-satisfied look, Snape folded his arms across his chest and strode back into the classroom.

"What was that powder?" Hermione asked when she had cleaned and healed both of them.

"P...p...pepperup powder," stuttered Ginny.

"Good, now I won't catch cold," said Hermione with a reassuring smile, but Ginny ran into the lecture without a word. "At least I know Hagrid won't take points," she sighed and ran off toward the stairs.

-----

All through her next classes Hermione couldn't stop thinking about Ginny. "I hope she's all right," she mused, idly putting potting soil onto the table instead of into the planter in Advanced Herbology.

"Pay attention, Miss Granger," said McGonagall in Human Transfiguration as Goyle's lumpy nose exploded into freckles. In History of Magical Warfare class she began to wonder if there was something wrong with her. She had made so many mistakes that day, she thought, as she slid into the desk behind Harry and Ron. She had taken the class mostly to be with them, since it was the only elective they had both signed up for and most of the required classes which they would have had together she had already taken. She placed her textbook on the desk next to her notepad. Professor Binns began diagramming self loading magefire catapults on the board.

Hermione stared at the back of Ron's head. His hair was almost as mussed as Harry's, she thought fondly. The place where the stray strands brushed the top of his neck seemed exposed and vulnerable, almost innocent. Hermione felt a sudden longing to brush those strands away and kiss the back of his neck. She imagined the way his warm smooth skin would feel against her lips. She had never really noticed before how much Ron looked like Ginny. He had the same red hair and golden highlights, which looked somehow gaudy and expensive even though they were natural. It was as if Weasleys were born with ruby encrusted crowns on their heads. His skin was the same colour with its scattered constellations of freckles. She felt a desire to put her hands on him, to run her fingers through his messy hair and.....

Ron turned around with a quizzical look.

"Are you all right?" he whispered.

"Ah .....well, fine, yes. Why?" asked Hermione.

"You were making little noises, like something was hurting you," said Ron.

"Fine," Hermione insisted.

What was wrong with her, she wondered. Fantasizing about Harry in History class was one thing, but fantasizing about Ron was another. She usually thought Ron's head from the back looked like the House Cup, with enormous ears for trophy handles. "Could it be a love spell? But who would have cast it, and why? Not Ron, as he would never do something like that, not even as a prank. This is just like that dream I had," she thought, " where Voldemort kidnapped Harry and Ron and made them take off all their clothes while he glided around the room on roller-skates singing, 'I've got a brand new pair of roller-skates, you've got a brand new key.' I'm never eating an entire bag of Every Flavour Beans before going to bed again," she thought, and tried to pay attention.

-----

Ginny ran out of Potions and down the hallway to the Prefects' bathroom. "Perfect record," she said to the door, stepping through and locking it behind her. She needed to be alone, to think. Everything had gone wrong, everything! She slid down the marble wall and covered her face with her hands. "Why did Hermione have to come around that corner at that moment? Why was Hermione always around?" She thought of Harry and felt the familiar butterflies that had been there ever since she had heard stories about him as a child. She had always assumed back then that he was the same age as her, since her parents always described him as "about your age", and then he had turned out to be one year older. "Why should one year make such a difference?" she thought angrily, and hot tears sprang to her eyes.

She had wanted to go to Hogwarts that year so badly, but she had to wait, and one year had been enough. It was long enough for him never to be in a single one of her classes, long enough for him never to hang around with her, even though she was Ron's sister, and it was long enough for him to meet Hermione. She had always hated Hermione for that, and now she was going to have to love her.

Ginny could feel the powder working the minute she had seen Hermione's face in the corridor asking if she were all right. The powder she had spent so many hours hiding and preparing covered Hermione's hair and clothes like icing on a chocolate cauldron cake. Her brown eyes didn't sparkle. In fact they didn't look striking at all until Ginny looked into them and saw in their depths that quiet composure which never left Hermione; and something else, tenderness, which Ginny had not noticed before. Hermione had been on her hands and knees and Ginny realized she could see down the front of Hermione's shirt to her cleavage. Her bra was white cotton with little blue flowers. Ginny recognised it from the Vivian's Secret window last fall. She found herself wondering if Hermione had the panties to match.

"Stop it!" she told herself, but it was too late. She had been having these thoughts all throughout Potions and it had been all she could do not to burst into tears in the middle of class. The powder had no antidote. She had made sure of that. There was only one way to get it to wear off, but how could she ever persuade Hermione to do THAT? What if Hermione went to Dumbledore? "I could be expelled," Ginny thought, and felt numb with shock at how badly things had gone wrong. When she had first thought of the plan, she had been so delighted with it and so impressed with her own wickedness. Every morning she had looked in the mirror and said "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," just like Fred and George used to do with their map.

It was a perfect plan. She could be sure that Harry would finally notice her, but not notice that anything was wrong, and since it wasn't permanent there would have been no harm done. There were worse things than being attracted to your best friend's sister, especially if she was cute, and if she ever wanted the spell to end she knew how. She thought she had planned for everything. Then Hermione had hit her and the powder and its mixing bowl had fallen and shattered on the floor, along with the plan. "Maybe Hermione will feel tortured and think she's an actual lesbian!" thought Ginny. "It would serve her right. Then she'll graduate and move far away with her lesbian lover and leave Harry with me." Ginny laughed weakly. "That would be the only solution," she thought grimly. Right now there was nothing she could do. Well, maybe not nothing. She could take care of the feelings and fantasies for a little while so that she could at least think clearly.

Ginny looked to see if the painted mermaid was watching, but the rocks and the sea were empty today. She folded her skirt up over her thighs and slid her hand underneath the waistband of her panties. Leaning her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes and began to stroke herself. She tried to think about the usual things, but Hermione's face kept replacing them. Finally Ginny decided that if that was the way her fantasy wanted to go she would just let it. She was surprised at the intensity of her own reaction. As her fingers traced slow circles she crossed and uncrossed her legs, feeling the pressure increase and decrease in waves.

Hermione was in the room with her and candles were lit. It was very warm. The bath had been drawn and rose petals floated on its surface. She could smell the faint trace of Hermione's citrus scented shampoo as Hermione reached over and began unbuttoning Ginny's shirt.

"You got to see me, now I want to see you," Hermione said softly. Slowly they unfastened each others clothes until the floor was strewn with robes and skirts, and they were naked. Ginny's eyes flickered under their closed lids. Hermione's wet hair was plastered to her face in thick wet strands, but it fanned out under the water to curve in mermaid tendrils around the edges of her small breasts. Her knees were above the water and Ginny was between them. She could feel the heat of the water's currents around her legs as Hermione moved forward to kiss her.

In the dim candlelight, the dark shadows Hermione had gotten under her eyes from so much studying gave her a haunted look, almost like Harry. Hermione put her arms around Ginny, lowering herself down until they were against the back of the tub and Ginny could feel the weight of Hermione's body resting gently over hers, half supported by the water. Hermione's lips were wet with condensed steam and her cheeks were flushed, but her mouth was cool inside, her tongue was cool as it slid softly and deliberately over the inside of Ginny's upper lip.

As Ginny gave herself over to the kiss in the daydream, she licked her own lips and pressed her knees together. Her wrist was now trapped between the top of her thighs and she was squeezing hard enough to cut off circulation but she didn't stop. She imagined every texture of the dream, Hermione's smooth skin pressed against hers, their arms around each other, their breasts touching, the closeness of her face, the electric contact of the kiss, and the ache inside her intensified. It felt so good that for a moment it actually hurt and then her whole body tensed. Ginny shut her eyes tighter and bit her lower lip involuntarily, shuddering. As the shaking subsided, a sense of relief and resignation replaced it. Ginny took a deep breath and sighed. "Oh, bloody hell," she said softly to the empty room, "I'm in love."