Triangulate

At four in the morning the following day, Hermione was awakened by the very first rays of the sun shining through her blinds. Then, when she opened her eyes, she thought she might still be dreaming. On the edge of her bed sat Ginny, clad in a white sweater, plaid skirt paired wine-colored boots and a matching scarf. She looked very chic, very French, especially with her minimal makeup, as though she’d just stepped off a movie set.

“Holy hell!” Hermione screamed when she realized what was happening. “Ginny, what are you doing here?”

Ginny’s smirk was miserable. Her brown eyes had never looked more dead.

“And why do you smell like that?”

Like alcohol and cigarettes.

“I just came from a Ravenclaw party,” Ginny said. “I kissed another guy.”

Hermione suddenly felt very awake. And very guilty. It took every effort to remain calm.

“What? Does Harry know?”

No, no, no, she thought. This cannot be happening.

“Who cares about Harry?” Ginny trilled on a tone that let Hermione know that she, in fact, cared very much about Harry.

“This isn’t because of what I said, is it?” Hermione asked, a searing feeling of guilt piercing through her chest.

“It’s not because of what you said,” Ginny said, and by the way she was speaking and twirling her hair and throwing her head back, Hermione could tell she was still drunk. “It’s because of how he reacted. You should have seen his face. It said it all; he didn’t even have to open his mouth. I knew. I just knew.”

“Ginny,” Hermione said, “You shouldn’t have told him that. If he had wanted anything with me, he would have pursued me, don’t you think? Like, I’m just trying to be rational here.”

Ginny threw herself back on Hermione’s bed. The latter sat up completely to give her more space.

“He knows Ron had a crush on you. So, no, not necessarily.”

“I think you’re overreacting.”

“To the love of my life being in love with my best friend? I think you know better than anyone there’s no overreacting to that.”

“You can overreact to anything. I think you weren’t sure about him and are projecting.”

Ginny sat up, and suddenly despite reeking of Firewhiskey, she seemed stone cold sober. “Don’t tell me what I’m feeling or not! You of all people should not go telling people what they are feeling as if you knew better.”

“OK, I’m sorry…” Hermione muttered.

“No, I mean, I am sorry…” Ginny said. “Do you think I overreacted?”

“Did you at least let him get a word in edgewise?”

“I told him to save his breath and ran out. He ran after me, but I told him to leave me alone and he did.”

“Did you go straight to the party after?”

Ginny grimaced. “Yeah…”

“Who did you kiss?”

Ginny buried her face behind her hands. Her many rings glistened in the sunlight.

“I don’t even remember,” she mumbled miserably.

Hermione raked a hand through her hair. OK, so this was bad.

“Did others see you?”

Ginny removed her palms from her face; her eyes looked glassy as she stared at the ceiling, refusing to meet Hermione’s insistent gaze.

“See, I don’t remember that either. I just remember he had dark hair and vaguely resembled Harry.” She paused before adding pensively, “At least in the half-light.”

Hermione wrecked her brain for who it could be.

“Robert Quinn? The sixth year?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Does he have blue eyes and a slightly big nose?” Ginny asked, finally turning to Hermione. The vulnerability in her brown eyes made Hermione’s chest constrict. She fought to quell her breathing.

“I think so,” Hermione said. “That depends on what you consider a big nose?”

“Bigger than yours.”

“Oh, yeah. His nose is bigger than mine,” Hermione said, and they both giggled, forgetting their troubles for a mere moment before their weight descended upon them in another minute.

“Then I don’t know. It might be him,” Ginny said, sighing heavily.

Hermione bit her lips.

“I still love him, Hermione,” Ginny whined, “I still love him, and I want him back.”

“You were the one who ran off. Then kissed someone else.”

“I know. I wasn’t thinking. Maybe I was overreacting.”

“No, really?” Hermione asked sarcastically.

Ginny laughed. For a moment, the past was erased, and they were just two girls again, talking about how Ginny’s feelings.

“Maybe he doesn’t love you at all,” the redhead went on.

Hermione shifted in her seat.

Ginny proceeded, “Maybe I was just projecting my fears and left before he could leave me. So as to avoid the pain. But I’m still hurting.”

“There’s no way to avoid pain, Ginny. It’s the prerequisite to the human condition.”

“Alright, Miss Smarty Pants,” Ginny sighed. Her desperate gaze bore into Hermione’s. “Do you think he’ll take me back? After this? Technically, we were broken up. I hope he never finds out I kissed someone else. Or that he forgives me if he does find out. Given everything.”

Hermione raked a hand through her hair.

Ginny’s brown gaze grew increasingly desperate. “What do you think, Hermione? Will we get back together?”

“I don’t know, Ginny,” Hermione said, “Talk to him. That’s the only way to fix this. And you know, secrets have a nasty way of surfacing when we least expect. I think you should tell him what you did. Get ahead of the problem.”

“But what if he breaks up with me because of that? For good this time?”

Hermione felt her shoulders slump. “Then you can move on.”

“I don’t want to move on. I want Harry.”

“But you argue all the time. Even before you broke up at the Slug Club, for like the tenth time, you kept saying you were miserable with him. Why are you clinging onto this relationship?”

“I slept with him, Hermione,” Ginny said.

Hermione’s heart sank. She had suspected, of course, but hearing it… imagining the two of them losing their virginities together… sharing that experience… especially given how abysmal her and Ron’s had been. Nothing like Harry and Ginny’s, surely; Harry was much more thoughtful than Ron.

This is why you never date your friends, kids, Hermione thought to herself.

“I want to get married to him,” Ginny said. “That’s the only way.”

“Isn’t that kind of archaic?”

“I want what my parents had. They got together in Hogwarts and married straight after. In the beginning, we were happy with Harry. I thought we’d always be happy.”

She had made an irreversible decision when she was feeling good, thinking it would last forever. Happiness never does, Hermione thought, but she hoped with her future husband their shared loved could transform into at least contentment down the line.

“I think the problem is that Harry and I were never really friends, you know. Not like you and him.”

“I was friends with Ron and we still broke up. People need to realize there is no one-size fits all solution. Some people have sex on the first date and end up married.”

“Like you and McLaggen?” Ginny asked, her eyes glinting playfully.

“We didn’t have sex yet.”

“Oh. That’s what the girls are saying.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah… I don’t know. Maybe that’s what McLaggen told them.”

Hermione’s blood froze. “You don’t think he really did? Do you…?”

Ginny seemed to consider the question, furrowing her brows and pursing her lips.

“Honestly, no,” Ginny said. “Those girls have never even kissed anyone; they’re always fantasizing about other people’s love lives because they don’t have one of their own.”

 Hermione chuckled slightly, but her shoulders were still tense.

“Anyway,” she said, to distract herself from her anger, “What are you going to do about Harry?”

“I’ll talk to him,” Ginny said. “I’ll go and take a shower first, get dressed, and then come right back here to tell him everything that needs to be said.”

“You can take a shower here. Ours is much cleaner than the communal showers.”

“I know, but I have my clothes in my dorm,” Ginny said. “But thank you. And thank you for all your advice. You’re the best!” The two hugged each other tightly, their friendship restored for the time being. “Wish me luck. I’m going to need it.”

Hermione crossed her fingers and showed them to Ginny. “Fingers crossed.”

“Thank you!” Ginny said, smiling sadly before getting up to leave. Hermione looked at her receding form with her eyes furrowed with concern. Her premonition could only be ignored at a cost: she knew this would not end well, and it would escalate soon enough.

“Hello, stranger,” Cormac said, grabbing Hermione to kiss her in the library.

Hermione pushed him away with as much strength as she could manage. He had to take a few steps back not to fall. Hermione looked at him, her brown eyes aflame with fury, nostrils flaring. It wasn’t that she couldn’t control her actions; she did not want to. The gravity of the situation had to be made obvious.

“Is there something wrong?” Cormac asked, his eyes softening.

Hermione faltered in her conviction for a second. Finaly, testily did she spit out, “I don’t know, Cormac. Is there?”

Her beau stared at her dumbly in response. “You’re going to have to tell me because I honestly don’t know. Did something happen? Oh, by the way, Jackson Avery was at the Ravenclaw party yesterday night. I think your buddy Harry has some girl trouble –“

Hermione felt the color drain from her face. She began to breathe heavily, feeling her sense of panic mount. “Oh, no,” she said. “Shit, shit, shit…”

“What? You knew about this?” Cormac asked as she began to pace up and down, raking a hand through her thick hair.

“I… Ginny’s my best friend,” she explained.

Cormac registered this information before seemingly appraising her in a new light. Hermione did not like the unappreciative look in his eyes. She was certain that the Slug Club episode that had seen the beginning of their dalliance took on a new dimension for him now, and it didn’t paint her in the most favorable light.

“Oh,” he said. “I thought you only hung out with her because she was Ron’s sister and Harry’s girl. Well, was, anyway,” he added, laughing.

“This is not funny,” Hermione said. “They’re both my friends.”

“Well,” Cormac said. “I heard she’s been doing this, from Avery. But too many people saw it this time.”

“No, she wouldn’t do that,” Hermione said. “Ginny’s not like that. She fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, she –“

“Yes, because no revolutionaries or activists have ever cheated on their spouses. Have you ever heard of Martin Luther King?” he asked.

Hermione decided against mentioning she was surprised he had.

“Look,” Cormac said. “All I’m saying is that people only show a part of themselves. They’re like onions, right? You can peel away a layer or two or three or even ten if you’re close, but, depending on the complexity of a person, there may be many more layers to go until you get to the core of who they are.”

Hermione could not argue this. “I don’t want them to break up…”

“Why? Isn’t this what you wanted? At the Slug Club?” Cormac shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The usual cockiness she had grown to find charming was absent from his brown eyes.

“No,” Hermione said. “Not anymore.”

“Oh,” Cormac said, straightening his spine. “That’s… that’s good to know,” he added with a broad grin.

Cormac pulled her into a hug, kissed her on the forehead. “For a moment I thought… this was going to be when we break up.”

Hermione bit her lower lip. That reminded her of something she might have otherwise overlooked in the heat of the moment. “That being said…” she ground out, pushing Cormac away once more. “I heard rumors about you too.”

Cormac blinked. “What rumors?”

Hermione considered her options. She could enjoy this lighter-than-air dalliance, perhaps it could grow into something more overtime. She certainly hoped it would. But it couldn’t have a shaky foundation. For a moment, she thought she could let it go, live this fantasy for awhile longer. Then she gritted her teeth and forced herself to ask, “Did you really spread rumors about us having sex together?”