The Incredible True Story of Two Witches in Love

They were lying together in Harry's bed. The sun streamed in through the tower window, illuminating swirling motes of dust and coating the bed with a buttery light. Hermione knew it was wrong to be skipping class, but it felt so good to be alone with Ginny, she didn't care. Harry's pillows smelled like Harry, like boy, a cut grass and earth smell. Harry's Quidditch uniform was huge on Ginny, and Ginny giggled as she kicked her feet in the too-big boots and waved her hands in the hanging striped sleeves. Hermione snuggled in closer to her, laughing and wrapping her arms around Ginny's slender body.

Ginny's face became calm and serious, almost solemn, as she leaned in and kissed Hermione on the mouth. Ginny's eyes were wide and translucent, her lips were warm and her pale skin was blushing under its veil of nutmeg coloured freckles. The buckle of Harry's Quidditch uniform was pressing into Hermione's stomach. She pressed back, squeezing Ginny's hips between her thighs as she opened her mouth.

"What if one of the boys walked in?" Hermione thought, but that did not make her want to stop.

Ginny pulled her lips away, choosing instead to follow the arc of Hermione's chin with feather light kisses and licks up to her ear and then down her neck to the hollow of her collarbone, one finger toying with the rim of Hermione's pale cotton bra. Hermione ran her hands down the front of Harry's Quidditch uniform, over Ginny's ribs, over the rough canvas trousers towards the belt buckle. She felt hot all over and the tingling in her legs was moving up her spine. She arched her back, reaching for Ginny's lips but Ginny smiled teasingly and held her face just out of reach.

Hermione's hands reached where the belt buckle should be, but instead of the buckle she felt something long and hard. The grain of the wooden handle and its inscription were familiar. Harry's racing broom? Ginny put her hand over Hermione's so that they held the shaft together and Hermione could not pull her hand away. Drawing it up between them in an attempt to get Ginny to let go, Hermione felt the smooth handle sliding up between both of their legs until they had it pinned between their bodies and the bristles itched her knees. Ginny's left eyebrow arched mischievously.

"What should I do with this?" she whispered.

"I.....I don't know," stammered Hermione, and woke up.

The room outside her four-poster bed was dark and silent, but Hermione had charmed a small crystal to glow at six in the morning to wake her up so she could study before class. The crystal grew brighter until it seemed like dawn behind her curtains although the rest of the dorm was dark.

For a few minutes Hermione lay in bed trying to get back into the dream. It had been so lovely, and Ginny had been in it. She had felt as if something was about to happen, and then she had woken up. Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply but she could not get back to the dream. She thought of Ginny, asleep in her bed one floor below her and the thought sent a pleasant anticipation through her, along with a pang of sadness. Although she could remember everything that had happened, with the moment the powder spilled like a dividing line across her life, and could remember not being in love with Ginny, she was still sad.

She knew that she should be furious. Ginny had tried to trick Harry with a love potion, with dark magic. She had enlisted Malfoy's help. Hermione could still feel the sting where Malfoy slapped her and knew he had enough violence in him to hurt Harry very badly. After everything Harry had endured he seemed simultaneously fragile and indestructible to Hermione. The thought of someone hurting or humiliating him with Harry unable to fight back filled her with rage, but it was all directed toward Malfoy, not Ginny. When she thought of Ginny now all she could think about was that they had slept together twice, and the next time would be the third time. Then the spell would be over. Hermione tried to imagine what it would be like not to love Ginny anymore, but she could not.

When her enchanted poetry alarm clock began to recite "Awake, for morning in the bowl of night," she got out of bed and dressed. Cautiously she crossed to the boy's side.

"Stop right there!" said the portrait of Lord Ulrich the Upright as she approached the landing. "Young lady, I cannot allow you to jeopardize your reputation by entering this chamber as I am honour-bound to prevent the slightest possibility of besmirchment to your fair person."

Hermione straightened her Prefect's badge.

"Ah, my apologies, Prefect. Carry out your duties." The door swung open.

Hermione crept over to Harry's trunk. She opened it as quietly as she could and pushed aside the jumble of clothes and Quidditch gear. At the bottom of the trunk there was something that felt like silk. Hermione checked to be sure she couldn't see it and stuffed it into her bookbag. Harry shifted slightly in his sleep.

Hermione stood quietly and looked at Harry. His glasses were on a chair next to the bed and his robes were thrown over the back of the chair. One striped pyjama covered arm was flung out over the side of the bed as if he were already reaching for the glasses. The covers were twisted around and under him and there was a small crease between his brows under the scar. He looked worried, but his eyes stayed shut. Hermione knew better than to watch him too long. Harry was a very light sleeper. She tiptoed out the door with the invisibility cloak in her bag and set off for the library.

----

Ginny sat down at the breakfast table next to Colin and folded her napkin in her lap, turning to him with a cheerful smile. "Good morning, Colin," she said brightly. He turned to look at her, his face a mixture of surprise and hesitation. His hair was still wet from the shower. The camera was on the bench between them. The rest of the sixth years turned to look at Ginny. The fact everyone knew she always sat next to Ron wasn't going to make this easy, Ginny realized. She tried to smile innocently back at them.

Colin looked a little nervous, as if would curse him suddenly if he said something wrong.

"Good morning, Ginny," Colin said shyly.

Ginny decided the direct approach would work best. "I've been wondering if I could bother you for a favour?" she asked. Colin smiled. She took that as her cue to continue. "I was hoping you would let me borrow your camera."

Colin almost pouted. "I'll need it for Hogsmeade this weekend," he protested, but curiosity got the better of him. "What's it for?"

"Muggle studies class," said Ginny, "I was hoping to get extra marks if I could use a Muggle device."

"Oh," exclaimed Colin. "Well, you see," he said excitedly, "Muggle cameras work differently than the magic kind. Instead of a divining stone they have a lens, just like a pair of spectacles, and instead of Rememberall crystal dust the paper is coated with a mixture of chemicals which are highly sensitive to light when reactive..."

Ginny made a point to look into Colin's eyes and smile often as he, delighted to be an expert at something in front of an admiring girl, explained how to work the camera.

She walked away with it tucked under her arm, feeling more as if she had done Colin a favour than like she had tricked him.

Hermione was waiting for her in the girl's bathroom, sitting on one of the new gleaming sinks, reading. The entire bathroom had been redone after second year, but still no one used it, and faint moans accompanied by what could have been soft retching noises still floated up from Myrtle's now white and shining stall. Ginny stood for a moment and admired Hermione. It was easy, she had discovered, to stare at Hermione when she was reading because she scarcely noticed the world around her at all, and she was almost always reading. Ginny could study her face for hours and Hermione would not even look up. Right now she had her reading face on, and her expression was a mask of calm like the face of a Buddhist statue Ginny had seen once in the Museum of Magical Artefacts.

Hermione's hair was braided down her back in a long thick rope with a tuft at the tip like a lion's tail. She was bent over the heavy leather bound book until her round rear end was about to slide into the bowl of the sink and her posture was shaped like a question mark. The spine of the book was pressed into a V between her thighs and the grey wool pleats were creased out around it, each pleat a small suggestive shadow tugged out of place by the sharp edge of the large book. Hermione's knees were perfectly clean. Ginny had never been able to keep her own knees clean. In a skirt and knee high socks when she was always bending to pick something up in the courtyard or sitting on grass, they became dirty, smudged with grey or streaked by the dust from the flagstones where she had been sitting by the fire. Hermione's knees were so white that they seemed to glow, like little moons.

Ginny crept up to Hermione, trying not to let her trainers squeak on the tile, and stared at her from several feet away. Her round dark eyes were colder than when she looked at Ginny, moving over the lines of text like a bird skimming the surface of the lake. Their darkness looked bottomless, as if the knowledge in the book could fall into them and travel forever through the space behind them. She looked so serious that Ginny wanted to laugh.

Instead, she licked the tip of Hermione's nose and jumped back quickly. Hermione was startled and slid into the sink. She stood up, crinkling her nose and rubbing it on the back of her hand. She put her arms around Ginny and they stood, leaning back to look in each other's faces, casually using each other for support.

"Got the camera," said Ginny proudly. "Now would you please tell me what this is about?"

"Well, I've been thinking perhaps we should give Malfoy a sip from his own cauldron. This is the plan; Malfoy only has one free section today- at three o'clock. That's pretty much the only time when we can catch him completely alone. We'll meet here at four and use the time turner to go back one hour. That way we won't miss any lectures!"

Great, thought Ginny.

"We'll put on the Invisibility cloak. It should cover both of us, as I know it can cover Harry and Ron. We'll go down to the dungeons after Malfoy. If he can spy on us, then we can spy on him. I know how to use a Muggle camera. We'll get a few shots of him alone and use them to blackmail him right back."

"What makes you think Malfoy will use his free section to do anything illegal? Just because he would be alone in the Slytherin Dungeon..."

"Not illegal, embarrassing. For Malfoy, really embarrassing. Did you notice anything on his robes that night?" Hermione continued without pausing to let Ginny answer. "There was a little red thread on the hem of his robe. I saw it when I was getting up. It was exactly the same colour as Harry's missing sweater." Hermione paused then, as if that explained everything, and gave Ginny the triumphant, know-it-all look she had seen so many times before.

"You think that Malfoy stole Harry's red sweater to curse him?" Ginny asked, "but why would he do something as obviously traceable as a Personal Object Hex, and why would he need the passwords to the Tower to cast it?"

"Ginny," Hermione explained, "Harry's sweater has been missing for months. If Malfoy were going to hex it he would have done that months ago." She paused. "What were his conditions for giving you the powder's ingredients?"

"He wanted to know the exact time and place where I would use the powder. He said he just wanted to see the look on Harry's face. I figured maybe he thought being in love with a Weasley was punishment enough."

"The look on Harry's face?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "He actually said that? Ginny, what would have happened if Malfoy had pushed you out of the way just as Harry opened his eyes?"

"I suppose Harry would have fallen for Malfoy..."

Hermione nodded, "and you would have been expelled for using dark magic, and Harry would have had to have sex with Malfoy three times to break the spell or be in love with him forever."

"But why would Malfoy want to cast a love spell on Harry?"

"Because he already loves Harry!"

Ginny's eyes opened incredulously, but Hermione kept talking, nodding her head as if she were explaining some difficult Arithmancy equation.

"The reason that he stole Harry's sweater but didn't hex it is that he loves Harry. His plan was quite clever, actually. He gets to have Harry, you take the fall for the spell, and his fellow Slytherins never need to know that he has any feelings for Harry besides hate as he can blame it all on the powder. Even if you told people what he did, at that point who would believe you?"

"He watched us together," Ginny said, creasing her brows. "Why would he do that if he were queer?"

"He watched us together," Hermione repeated, "and he was disgusted. He could have asked us for anything, but he asked us for the Tower passwords, and then he walked away. From two naked girls."

Ginny's head spun towards Hermione. "Oh my God he IS queer!" she exclaimed.

"Who's queer?" came a sniffle from the stall.

"Stay out of this, Myrtle," said Hermione.

Ginny felt like she had lost her balance. She had no trouble thinking of Draco liking boys; in fact it sort of suited him, as if he had clicked into place in some puzzle in her mind. What was hard to believe was that he could be in love with Harry, that he could be in love with anyone. The only emotions she could recall having seen on Malfoy's face were pride, fury and indifference.

There had been only one time when she had seen him look differently. It was after a Quidditch match in which he and Harry had been both been injured. She had gone to visit Harry in the infirmary but they were both still under sleeping spells. Against the white pillow Malfoy's hair had seemed yellow instead of white and his cheeks were pink instead of sallow. She realized then it was only the Slytherin colours which made his complexion look yellow and his hair seem silver. His short eyelashes and the faint stubble on his cheeks were almost gold. He looked serene in his sleep, like a boy angel from an old painting. Ginny had paused as long as she could to look at him and decided that, under very different circumstances, her hated enemy could have been quite beautiful.

She wondered if he had been in love with Harry even then. Ginny realized that Hermione had been talking for some time and had just asked her a question.

"What?"

"Does the camera have film in it?"

"Yes, and Colin showed me how it works. How are we going to get the Invisibility cloak?"

"I've already got it. We'll meet here at four o'clock."

They kissed until the first chimes summoned them to lecture, and Ginny ran to her classroom with the camera in her bookbag.

---

The Invisibility cloak did not, Hermione thought, make you feel invisible. It wasn't like a potion or a spell where even you couldn't see yourself. You saw yourself perfectly well and you could also see the cloak. Its swaying folds made the rest of the world seem under water, as if they were the ones who were less than fully visible. Malfoy was only a few steps ahead of them. Hermione could hear herself breathing and felt exposed. Ginny was pressed against her, huddled under the cloak shuffling forward and trying not to step on her feet.

They stood as close to Malfoy as they could manage when the portrait hole opened and followed him in. Hermione had never seen the interior of the Slytherin dungeon and was surprised by how comfortable it was. Something called a dungeon made her think of a place with a dank, cold atmosphere, uncomfortably furnished and depressingly decorated with chains. Now that she looked, she could see that it had once been a working dungeon. The iron rings set into the wall looked strong enough to hold a troll and there were cracks in the plaster around the windows where bars had been removed. The windows themselves seemed to look out into green flickering depths and Hermione wondered if they were far enough below Hogwarts to be under the lake. The enormous fireplace was large enough for Hermione to stand upright and had racks of pokers next to it, but the furnishings were opulent.

The couches were leather. The tables and shelves were polished dark wood. There were rows of crystal goblets in a locked cabinet and a decanter of what looked like brandy.

They followed Malfoy down yet another portrait hole with its own password.

Typical, thought Hermione. Only Slytherin would have password locked rooms inside its dormitory. The spiral staircase Malfoy descended was built for one person and Hermione and Ginny were forced to press together and step down one stair at a time. It slowed them down and Malfoy was far ahead of them in reaching the bottom. Fortunately there was no third password. At the bottom of the stairs there was a single room. It had no windows but the ceiling was enchanted to look like the sky outside. The illusion wasn't as detailed or realistic as the one in the Great Hall, but real sunlight still seemed to filter down through the clouds and it felt like the bedroom was outdoors. A Prefect's room.

Hermione had declined to have one set up for herself when she became a Prefect, since she studied mostly in the library and only really used her room to sleep, so she had offered the room to her housemates as a games room and now she could not cross it without stepping on irate chess pieces or sharp four-sided dice.

Malfoy had made no such sacrifices. The bed was actually more queen sized than twin and most of the furnishings seemed to have been sent from home. An enormously long table had been converted into a desk and was covered in letters, scrolls, and leather bound books, some of which Hermione recognised as library books and at least one of which was long overdue as she had been waiting for it for over a month. For someone who used that much Stayput and Sleekeazy on his hair, Malfoy's desk was surprisingly messy. She supposed he must have told the house elves not to touch it and then never tidied up himself.

His racing broom was on its hooks on the wall with the kit and his gear folded on a trunk beneath it. There were wizarding photographs in frames around the room, full of many blond people smiling their familiar Malfoy half-a-smile and posing for the camera. The largest photo was of his family standing in front of a fireplace in what she assumed was Malfoy Manor from the Malfoy crest carved into the wall over the mantel.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy stood on either side of Draco, standing so straight it almost looked like it hurt. His father's hand was on his shoulder. He was not smiling and it seemed like the hand, a gesture of pride, was holding him to the spot.

The largest thing in the room was the bed. Its hangings were green and silver of course and a green silk bell pull hung next to it, but it had the whitest, fluffiest feather duvet Hermione had ever seen. The duvet cover was monogrammed in white stitching and had matching monogrammed pillow covers for the feather pillows.

At the moment Malfoy was reaching into the top drawer of a wardrobe next to the bed for something, which turned out to be Harry's red sweater. It was the only red thing in the room and looked almost as if it had been imported from a foreign country. It was worn around the cuffs and had grass stains on both sides. Malfoy pulled a copy of Quidditch magazine off his desk and threw it onto the bed. He pulled his vest off over his head and hung it on the back of a chair.

Watching Malfoy lift his vest off with his back to her, Hermione couldn't help noticing that his shoulders, although narrower than most boys', were still broader than any girls', and the compact and slender v of his waist and hips were such that she wasn't sorry when the shirt and tie followed.

Ginny's face was pressed into Hermione's neck and she turned to place her lips to Hermione's ear.

"Is it supposed to be this warm under an Invisibility cloak?" she whispered, taking Hermione's earlobe gently between her teeth. Suddenly Hermione was afraid. They could be expelled just for being here and Ginny was treating it like some kind of game. She put a hand in Ginny's hair and pulled her head away. Glancing at Ginny, she told her no with a look, but she could see her own reflection in Ginny's eyes, flushed and sweating. They put their faces side by side and watched Malfoy. Hermione put her arms around Ginny's waist to hold her there and felt her breathing.

Malfoy kicked off his shoes and lay on his side in only his grey wool trousers and darker grey socks. Flipping to the back of the magazine, he took the red sweater, held it to his face and inhaled deeply.

From where they were, near the door, Hermione could see that the photo on the back page was Harry and Malfoy, diving for the snitch, with the caption "Harry Potter, What a Save! Boy Hero Set to Take Hogwarts Cup Again." Malfoy watched the photo for a long time, as the two figures spun and dodged across the page. He ran his hand over Harry's image and it turned and waved at him, smiling. The sunlight from the enchanted ceiling fell on Malfoy's pale shoulders and Hermione noticed for the first time the light blond hair on his chest and the line of gold as it ran down under the waistband of the grey trousers.

He took his trousers down around his hips and Hermione had to suppress a giggle. She had seen pictures of male anatomy in the anatomy textbooks but this was the first time she had seen an actual boy naked. Compared to Ginny's smooth curves and hidden places his body seemed awkward and almost silly yet somehow managed to be intriguing and dangerous in a way that Ginny had never been.

The way he touched himself started out similarly to what she had experienced but soon became startlingly different both because it was so fast and because it was so rough. It looked like it should hurt, Hermione thought. If Ginny had ever touched her like that she would have been screaming in pain but Malfoy seemed soothed by it.

His posture relaxed, his eyes closed and fluttered open glancing at the picture of Harry, who was staring at the snitch with one arm outstretched and an intense look on his face. The more she watched him the harder Hermione had to try not to laugh. There was so little variation in his movements. It was less like a caress and more like a metronome, a single mechanical action performed at a single speed with a force that was almost violent and a desperate urgency which made Hermione think that if Malfoy were not so bigoted she could have liked him. She certainly preferred this Malfoy, the desperate silly one whose darkest secret was that he didn't hate Harry, to the snobby, popular, and confidently cruel person who thought nothing of getting Ginny expelled and practising dark magic on the object of his affection. Still, she had to admit that he was beautiful to watch.

She was reminded of once in Potions class, after they had made a particularly dangerous concoction, when Professor Snape had given them Scouring Potion to clean their cauldrons. The Scouring Potion itself was clear and innocuous until you added water to it and said a spell whereupon it became froth so acidic that it sizzled against the iron as it burned it clean. If having Ginny under the cloak with her were like the scouring potion in the cauldron, an unspoken but understood potential for release, then the pictures of Harry were the water, cool and ordinary yet catalytic for the itching heat which was making Ginny squirm and bite her lower lip, and Malfoy was the spell that set it all off.

She hated him and he was impossible to look away from. He loved Harry and she couldn't decide if that were an unforgivable sin which was exactly the way things should be or a miracle which should never have been allowed. She became aware of a soft rhythmic rustling next to her and realized Ginny was touching herself. The heat of Ginny's body made the scent of her skin intensify and Hermione felt the now familiar pleasant dizziness and weakness in her own body and knew that she wouldn't need to use her hands, the situation was enough.

Ginny leaned against her and she felt something bang against her leg. The camera. With a sudden embarrassment she remembered the reason they had come down here in the first place. Taking the camera to the edge of the cloak she pressed the button. There was an audible click. She advanced the film and clicked again. Malfoy paused. He turned his head in their direction. She held the camera very still.

"Baron, you have exactly two seconds to remove your chain-rattling perverted apparition from my chambers or I will find a way to make you feel pain regardless of your lack of corporeality. One!" He listened for a long dreadful moment.

Ginny bit Hermione's shoulder through the cloth and Hermione bit her own tongue to keep from laughing. She didn't blame the Bloody Baron one bit for haunting Malfoy's bedchamber.

Having decided that he was alone again, Malfoy turned over onto his back with the feather pillow behind him and his eyes closed and resumed his rhythm. His eyes flickered under thin lids as if he were dreaming and his breath came in uneven gasps although he never moaned or cried out as she and Ginny did. Instead he dug his heels into the duvet and pressed his hips forward until he was almost curving off the bed, as if he were suppressing the sounds so far down that they expressed themselves through his hips and heels. Every limb of his body was rigid except for his hand, which was moving almost faster than Hermione could see and at the edge of each soft exhalation was a faint consonance. Hermione thought at first that he couldn't breathe, and then saw suddenly and clearly that it was a sound, a letter, which ended in abruptly each time. This was Malfoy not saying Harry's name.

Tears were sliding down Hermione's cheeks and she couldn't tell if they were from sympathy or mirth. When Malfoy held his breath he took the hem of the red sweater and held it carefully away at the top of his chest, tipping his head forward until he was almost kissing the fabric and revealing the trail of blond hair again over clenched stomach muscles as he convulsed silently. The metal of the camera was cold and slippery in Hermione's hand. She heard a sudden silence, the absence of a sound she had not been paying attention to and knew that Ginny had stopped. She felt something inside her which had been holding on let go, as if she had somehow shared Malfoy's experience from across the room and could now breathe again.

Malfoy lay on the bed as his breathing slowed. A single strand of hair had come unglued and was plastered to his forehead with sweat. He let go of the sweater and pulled his wand out of his pocket, did one cleaning spell which not only tidied up but also put crisp creases in the pleats of his trousers, sat shirtless on the edge of the bed and turned the red sweater over in his hands. He tucked the strand of hair back into place, put the sweater away and dressed.

He looked oddly untouched to Hermione with his clothes back on, surreally exactly as he had looked before. He was a known quantity with clothes on, a jerk who hated her because she was Muggleborn and hated Ginny for being a Weasley and who was not above getting them expelled to trick Harry into having sex with him against his will. Still, she knew she could not follow him up the stairs because her legs had not stopped shaking. She watched the back of his head disappear up the spiral steps and heard the portrait close behind him.

As soon as the portrait closed Ginny's mouth was on hers. They fell to the floor and as the Invisibility Cloak fell off them everything suddenly became a brighter colour. She knew she had hit the stone floor fairly hard and would have a bruise later but even that felt good to her in that moment. She wanted to tell Ginny not to do this as her fear of being discovered made her heart beat as if it were going to jump out of her chest, but Ginny was kissing her and it was too much. Everything she had just seen spun around in her mind, being in the Slytherin Dungeons and Malfoy not saying Harry's name and Ginny's warm lips opening to french kiss her and on top of it all she couldn't help thinking about Harry. Did he ever do to himself what she had just seen Malfoy do, and whose name did he try not to say when he did? Something had to stop Ginny, she thought, before they were discovered and what would Harry say?

In the distance the chimes sounded. Thank God, Hermione thought, I'm late for class. She pulled away from Ginny, helping her up with both hands. Ginny threw the Invisibility cloak over them as they went up the stairs.

-----

Malfoy was waiting for them in the Charms Classroom that afternoon. "So, Ladies," said Malfoy confidently. He paused to give them a look that said they were definitely not ladies. "Have you considered my generous offer?" Malfoy tucked around the lapels of the tailored cloak, smoothing them. He had hands which were incongruously large on his slender wrists. "A small boy with large hands," thought Hermione, and a smile began to form at the corners of her mouth. "He could have been the greatest Seeker Hogwarts had seen in a hundred years, if it hadn't been for Harry."

"We have decided," she said, raising her chin and managing to look down her nose at Malfoy despite her lack of stature, "that if you do not agree to leave us alone and keep quiet, then we will give this to the press." She held out the photograph. Malfoy snatched the photograph out of her hands.

"Keep it!" Ginny shouted, her eyes sparkling, "We have plenty of copies. Skeeter will have kittens if she discovers you're in love with Harry!"

Malfoy turned bright red. His complexion was so fair that the blush was visible all the way up into the part of his perfectly combed hair. "Love?" he said sarcastically. "Is that what you think I was thinking about? I could have been thinking of anything, Weasley."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Ginny sweetly. "I guess you weren't fantasizing about having sex with Harry...you were fantasizing about being Harry!"

By this time Hermione was shaking with barely suppressed laughter, but Malfoy had recovered his composure and was staring calmly back at them.

"Or maybe," he said softly "I was fantasizing about Potter being dead, and I was doing the dance of effortless superiority on his freshly planted grave."

"Oh is that what you were doing?" Hermione asked sharply.

"I had better not ever see those pictures again, or you can be certain I will make your lives every bit as awful as mine." With this, Malfoy looked daggers at both girls, turned on his polished heel and strode out of the classroom.

The moment he was gone they collapsed in fits of laughter. All of the tears of pity and mockery Hermione could not shed in the dungeon poured out of her. She couldn't stop them. She could tell Ginny couldn't stop them either and they were both on the floor, on their backs, helpless with laughter. As the giggling gave way to sighs Ginny reached over her head and took Hermione's hand.

"You were brilliant," said Hermione.

"No, you were brilliant, you thought of it," Ginny replied.

Hermione took the red thread out of her pocket and kissed it. Ginny rolled over and put her arm across Hermione, kissing her gently on the temple. Their cheeks were flushed from laughter and there were tears at the corners of their eyes. The remnant of the morning's fire glowing in the grate made the room warm and the wooden desks smelled of lemon polish potion.

"Wait," said Hermione. She drew her wand, crossing the room and opening all of the cupboards and closets. Ginny sat on the edge of one of the desks, crossing her legs and loosening the red and gold tie at her throat.

"So, Hermione, do you declare this room snake-free?" she asked, smiling.

Hermione came and stood in front of the desk, between Ginny's dangling legs.

"It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you."

Ginny put her hands under Hermione's chin, drawing her face in to kiss her. Hermione put her hands on Ginny's knees above the grey knee socks and slowly ran them up Ginny's thighs towards her hips, pushing the grey pleated skirt up in folds over Ginny's lap. They kissed with their eyes closed and without urgency. Ginny held Hermione's hair back from her face with both hands and Hermione trailed her fingertips back and forth across Ginny's inner thigh, listening to the soft sounds she made. Ginny pulled Hermione towards her, arching her back and sucking gently on Hermione's lower lip. Hermione felt her knees buckle and pulled away.

"Hermione, please," Ginny whispered. "I know it will end the spell. I don't care. I want it so badly." Hermione looked away at the floor with a small smile. Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"I, er," said Hermione, "I have a request."

"What is it?" asked Ginny, bringing her lips to Hermione's ear and whispering. Hermione brought her head forward until their cheeks touched, one pale and one rosy with light brown freckles, and whispered her request back to Ginny. Ginny grinned.

"Let's," she said, pushing herself off the edge of the desk. She took Hermione's hand and led her on still shaky knees out of the classroom.

The common room was deserted when they arrived, as were the stairs and the boy's dorm. Ulrich the Upright was asleep in his portrait. Everyone was still out at Hogsmeade, although it was off limits, or playing in the games room. Hermione recalled that this was the third time she had snuck into a boy's dorm. Not much of a Prefect, am I, she thought. She found herself tiptoeing although the Tower was mostly deserted. Ginny seemed accustomed to trespassing in boy's rooms. She went over to Harry's trunk and threw it open. She pulled the Quidditch gear on over her uniform and jumped on the bed. She picked up Harry's pillow and threw it at Hermione, who caught it and brought it over to the bed, placing it carefully back against the headboard.

"Perhaps this isn't such a great idea," Hermione said.

"Nonsense, it's brilliant!" said Ginny, bouncing down next to Hermione and deftly pinning her hands behind her on the pillow. "A bed," said Ginny, "an actual bed, is actually bloody brilliant." She kissed Hermione, crawling over her and trapping her in the centre of the bed. Harry's leather Quidditch gloves were soft against Hermione's wrists and Ginny's red hair fell down around her face. The knee guards made deep indentations in the mattress on either side of her. Hermione put her hands under Ginny's skirt, feeling the soft skin above the knee guards. Ginny closed her eyes and slid down until Hermione could embrace her and they lay on their sides with one of Ginny's legs over Hermione's hip, kissing.

They had never been in a bed before and Hermione had to admit, once they were in it, that it was bloody brilliant. She never wanted to get out of bed, only to stay there with Ginny in her arms forever. There was only one thing which could make it more perfect. She began taking off her clothes.

She loosened her tie and pulled tie, shirt and sweater off together, leaving only her bra. Then she kicked off her shoes and undid her skirt, wiggling out of it as Ginny watched. When Hermione was naked and her clothes were cast haphazardly around the floor between Harry and Ron's beds, Ginny tossed Harry's Quidditch gear back into his trunk and stripped as well, standing naked on the bed above Hermione as she laughed. They got under the covers, and that was even better. Hermione felt warm and safe. Harry's pillows did smell like Harry and she wanted to breathe it in forever.

As they kissed she felt Ginny's hands sliding over her and was glad that she had had the courage to ask for this. It felt natural to be next to Ginny, as if they had always been together, an intimate and friendly feeling made stronger by the similarities between their bodies. When she had been touching herself in the dark, it could have been Ginny, different but familiar, a second self which she could hold in her arms.

Ginny's hands were confident, as if they knew her secrets and did not need to ask her permission. Hermione reached across from her and took Ginny's body in her own hands so that they were moving together. The sheets were almost over their heads and Hermione could hear both of them breathing. Ginny's breath smelled like warm milk and mixed sweetly with the floral scent of her shampoo and Harry's pillows. When she looked up, Ginny's face was across from her but when she closed her eyes it was Harry. Her hands were his hands, confidently stroking her and her breath, loud under the sheets, was his breath. She could feel herself getting closer to the end and she could tell by Ginny's responses to her and the strength with which she kissed that she would soon follow.

A note of pain began to build in her as she tried to slow the feeling down. She didn't want to think about going back to class, about getting dressed, and least of all about the way she would feel when the spell was gone, but the spell seemed to have taken on a life of its own. It was like a wind which swept them up together and carried them over some imaginary edge like scraps of paper. She couldn't have stopped if she had to. Images flashed through her mind. Ginny, covered in white powder. Ginny, biting her lower lip in thought. Ginny at the top of the stairs waiting for her to say I love you. Draco in his bedroom with pictures of Harry. Harry in his red sweater. Harry in his Quidditch gear coming through the portrait with his eyes bright from practice and his hair stuck to his face with perspiration. Then the images went away and there was no room, no bed, no light and finally no Hermione. No thought to hold onto as the wind carried her over its edge and she lay in Ginny's arms in Harry's bed.

She suddenly felt very sleepy. They were breathing hard and the covers were stuck to Hermione's skin, but she was having trouble staying awake. She looked across the pillow from her and saw that Ginny's eyes were already closed. It made no sense, for her to be sleepy, she thought. It was the middle of the afternoon. It must be the spell, Hermione realized as she struggled to keep her eyes open. It must have been intended to make both participants fall asleep so that one could crawl away in the morning while the other slept and neither had to bear the uncomfortable silence which could ensue after the spell wore off. If only the Spellbook had mentioned this, she thought, but then not everything about spells that old was written down in the books.

"Ginny! Wake up!"

"Mmmph.." said Ginny.

"Ginny, we can't go to sleep here," Hermione said, but her eyes were already shut again.

"Five more minutes," insisted Ginny, and that was the last Hermione heard before she was fast asleep.

---

"Ssh," Harry whispered to Ron, bumping into him as they crossed the portrait hole. "Stop bumping into me, Ron."

"I dent!" said Ron, a bit loudly. "I did-ent," he enunciated. "You bumped into me." They laughed, leaning on each other and wheezing in an attempt to laugh and whisper at the same time.

"This is the last, the last," Harry said, gasping for breath, "last time I sneak out of school to go get drunk at The Three Broomsticks with you."

"Why?" asked Ron, leaning on Harry's shoulder and looking upset.

"Because we do things when we're drunk, Ron. Stupid things. Like that business with Rosmerta's shoes and the chandelier."

"Well, yeah," said Ron, "but on the other hand, we now know that Rosmerta wears thong knickers."

"I can just see the headlines," said Harry, still worrying "Harry Potter expelled for drunkenness."

"Oh no!" Ron laughed. "You'll be the boy who couldn't make a living."

"Shhh! If Hermione is studying upstairs and she finds us here, we'll catch it," insisted Harry. Ron bit his lower lip. They crept cautiously up the stairs to the seventh year boy's dorm and opened the door.

There was a moment of silence.

Ron's bookbag clattered to the ground. "Aaaugh!" shouted Ron, clapping his hands over his eyes. Hermione and Ginny woke up. They hastily pulled Harry's bedspread with the Gryffindor crest on it up to their necks and huddled beneath it, faces flushed and hair tousled.

"I can explain," said Hermione. Ginny looked at Ron, his hands still over his eyes, made a small squeaky noise and put the bedspread over her face. "Malfoy cursed us," said Hermione.

"Yes, Malfoy cursed us!" squeaked Ginny from under the blanket.

"The only way to lift the curse was... to be in a boy's bed," Hermione said with only a slight hesitation.

"Naked?" asked Ron.

"Yes," said Hermione emphatically. "He meant for it to be his bed, but Ginny told him to sod off." She managed a single glance at Harry. His mouth was partly open and his eyes were almost as large as his spectacles. It made him look very young. She looked away, feeling deeply guilty for lying to him and for being in his bed without his permission.

"Right," said Ron. He took a deep breath and sighed. For a moment Hermione thought he didn't believe a word of it. Then he said "I'm off to kill Malfoy, then," quite matter of factly, turned and started toward the door.

"Wait!" both girls cried at once.

"That's what he wants you to do," said Hermione. "He's trying to get you and Harry in trouble."

Ron threw his hands in the air without turning around. "What do I do then?" he asked.

"Um, could you just, turn around so we can get dressed?" Ginny asked timidly, poking her head out from behind the bedspread. Harry turned around.

Hermione felt Ginny's eyes on her as she dressed but she didn't return the look. She felt frozen, as if she were dressing very slowly and it was an effort to move her limbs. The knot that had been in her stomach since the first day of the spell was rising into her throat and she felt queasy. She was lying to Harry. What if he didn't believe her? It felt like a bad dream.

She made Harry's bed quickly and heard Ginny say "You can turn back around now." Harry's eyes were still wide with surprise but his mouth had closed. Ron opened two of his fingers and peeked through them. Finding them dressed, he removed his hands from his eyes and crossed them over his chest defensively. Harry seemed to find his voice.

"You were in my bed," he said simply. "Both of you. You were..." Words failed him.

"Harry, I'm really very sorry we did that," said Hermione.

"Well," said Harry, "that's all right."

Hermione felt like crying from relief. "Oh, thank you for being so understanding!" she exclaimed. Harry fidgeted with his glasses, adjusting them. There was an awkward pause.

"Fine, then!" Ginny shouted suddenly and ran out of the room.

"I think you embarrassed her, Ron," said Harry. "I embarrassed HER?" Ron protested, sitting down on Harry's trunk and folding his arms again.

"It's not your fault, Ron," said Hermione, "we should have told you."

Ron looked up, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. "Just tell me you got even with Malfoy."

"Oh, don't worry," said Hermione, "we did."

"What did you do?" asked Ron.

Hermione thought of the picture of Malfoy, in Harry's sweater and no trousers, and smiled. "Let's just say he'll never feel entirely safe again."

"Strong work, Hermione," said Harry and for a moment she almost felt sorry for Malfoy. "How?"

"I'd rather not talk about it if you don't mind," said Hermione. "Can't we just go off to study? I've had, er, quite a day."

Harry and Ron exchanged curious looks. "Sure," said Harry. They walked to the door together.

"So," said Harry casually as he held open the door for her, "How much did you and Ginny, I mean, how far did you..."

"Shut up Harry," wailed Ron.

It wasn't until the portrait had closed behind them that Ginny crept out of from behind one of the wingback chairs. She sat on the couch with a red pillow clutched to her chest and shook with sobs. At first the noises she made were nearly inhuman, high keening sounds like the ones the owls made in their cages at sundown. Slowly she calmed down until she was able to let go of the pillow, sniffling.

She reached into her pocket and withdrew the small piece of paper, carefully folded into a square. Her note, the one where Hermione had said that she loved her. She stood and walked over to the fireplace. For a moment she held it out towards the flame, and then she pulled her hand back. Turning the little square over to be sure it had not burnt, Ginny climbed the stairs to her bed. It felt strange for the spell to be over, like walking after getting off a broom, Ginny thought. It seemed she was walking slowly and heavily.

There was an empty place in her chest where the love had been just minutes ago and she felt cold inside. A sudden feeling of familiarity crept over her as she sat on her bed with the note. This was how she had felt when she woke up on the wet stone floor with Harry bending over her and realized that Tom was gone. She remembered what McGonagall had told her about enchantments being lesser forms of Imperius and for the first time felt genuinely ashamed of having made the powder. She had done to a lesser degree with Hermione what Tom had done with her through the diary, and she would have done it to Harry if the plan had worked.

The shame burned her face and she sat down on the floor by her bed, feeling every breath and wishing she could forget her own life. The touch of Hermione's lips, the softness of her breasts, their legs tangled together, Hermione's secret smile, these were things which would never happen to her again. Ginny tried to picture herself kissing Hermione now but the images kept getting mixed up in her head with daydreams she had about Harry, or Tom, one dark head becoming another, brown eyes turning green. None of those eyes had ever returned quite the same look she had given them. Ginny took a deep breath and tried to cry, but nothing more would come.

She reached under her bed and withdrew a flat wooden box. "Pickled toads," Ginny said to the box, and it opened. Inside were a photo of Harry with his arm around her shoulders at the World Quidditch Championships the previous year and a folded piece of blank paper with one torn edge and a watermark reading "Vauxhall Books". Ginny placed the note in the box and quietly engaged the lock.

The End