"This is uncalled for!"

Harry leaned forward and let his words drift into Draco's ear, breath hot and lips trailing against skin as he spoke. "Can't take your own medicine, Malfoy?" A sharp thrust of fingers punctuated his question.

"Ah! That's not the point!" Since when was Harry this forward? Draco knew Harry was anything but a pushover, but usually he and Luna let Draco set the pace in bed, deferring to his air of greater experience. The fact that his actual experience before this mess was limited to Pansy wasn't something Draco had felt compelled to mention.

"I don't like points; they usually hurt even if you learn something useful, and far too many people learn the wrong things instead," said Luna, her eyes suddenly serious. She added Draco's balls to her ministrations, drawing an overwhelmed gasp. "But Draco, you said it yourself: all we do is have sex and argue. I want to find what my mother and father had, to have someone look at me the way they looked at each other. We don't have that now, but we could; I can feel it. Maybe we just need to try new ways to get there. Right, Harry?"

Harry was silent for several seconds, his hands still. Then, "Yeah," he said. "That's exactly right. We have to learn to trust each other more, to see if we can build something worth keeping. And Draco? We're starting with you."

They might have had a point, and not a terribly painful one either, Draco admitted afterward as they lay collapsed together, his hands still fastened to his ankles. He'd never been in the middle before, never wanted to give up control or admit that he'd grown to care enough for his partners that he'd regret losing them; if he was always in charge, he could pretend he'd just grown tired of them if they left. But Luna had amazing hands, Harry had a wonderfully filthy mouth when he was running the show, and they'd used those ribbons in mind-boggling places...

Still, there were limits!

"Weasley's insane," he mumbled, "asking Patil do this to him every night. Absolutely barking mad."

"So says the man who not five minutes ago swore he was having the best sex of his life and begged us not to stop," said Harry dryly. He leaned down and snagged his wand from the floor.

Draco shrugged as Harry banished the ribbons. "I'm a Slytherin. Obviously I was lying."

Harry jerked upright, but Luna reached over from Draco's other side and poked Harry in the collarbone. "Harry," she said, pale eyes glimmering, "think. Which time was he lying?"

Most people dismissed Luna out of hand as slightly mad, but Draco knew better. Loony she might well be -- for Merlin's sake, who actually believed in Crumple-Horned Snorkacks? -- but she was still a sodding Ravenclaw and too perceptive for his peace of mind. Draco met Harry's questioning stare with a blank face, and stifled a groan when the idiot suddenly grinned and winked at him. Couldn't they leave a man some secrets?

Apparently not, but neither Harry nor Luna pressed the issue. Instead, after a few cleaning charms, courtesy of Harry, and a few furtive kisses and 'accidental' touches, they pulled up the covers and settled in for the remains of the night.

Several hours later, Draco woke to the faint glimmerings of dawn and the realization that Harry's wand was balanced on the headboard. He smirked. They were similar enough that they could make some use of each other's wands, and he owed Harry revenge, now more than ever.

One quick charm later, pink silk ribbons tangled in Harry and Luna's hair, and, for the final touch, a pink satin bow rested snugly around Harry's cock. Draco returned to sleep with a smile.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Hermione stared blearily at Ginny, trying to figure out how she'd got from Crimson to her own bed, along with a complete change of clothes. While she was at it, she'd like to know why her furniture and walls were swaying, why the air felt thick, and why her breathing sounded so loud. Then she noticed the pile of bras in Ginny's arms.

"You undressed me!"

Ginny edged toward the door. "Er, yes. But don't worry about it! This is just a dream; go back to sleep."

"I'm not asleep. And you saw me naked!"

"Yeah, that happens when you undress someone," said Ginny, and then winced. "Sorry. Er, I didn't want your clothes to get rumpled? And you had your knickers on, anyhow," she added defensively.

Hermione shifted herself so she was leaning against her pillow, propped up by the headboard, and massaged her forehead. "I can't think. But I don't think that sounds like a good excuse." They weren't really her clothes, were they? Were they Ginny's? That would explain why she didn't want them rumpled. But if they were Ginny's, then they wouldn't have fit Hermione. She thought not, anyway.

Her brain wasn't working properly.

"Well..." Ginny began, obviously fumbling for some farfetched excuse.

"Nevermind," said Hermione. She could figure this out if she could just get her thoughts clear. Think, girl, think. She hadn't bought the clothes; they'd just been waiting on her bed...

Wait a minute, forget the clothes. "You saw me naked!"

"Look," snapped Ginny, "it's not my fault you went and got yourself drunk and came onto me. I don't see what you're so upset about anyhow -- you're the one who asked me to have sex with you! And that tends to involve seeing the other person naked."

Hermione blinked. "Sex?"

"Yes, sex! You blabbed at the top of your lungs that you've never had sex, and you were practically begging anybody within twenty feet to fix that."

Hermione gaped. "I never! I didn't. I couldn't have." Especially not to Ginny.

"Oh yes you did!" Then Ginny blanched. "Er, that is to say, no. You didn't. I must have been imagining things. In fact, you're imagining things now -- I'm not really here, this is all a dream, and you'll forget all about it in the morning." She dropped the bras and started backing toward the bedroom door.

"Oh no you don't!" Hermione lunged to her feet, lurched as the room wobbled around her, and managed to latch onto Ginny's arm. "I'm not that drunk. You stay here and explain yourself. Tell me exactly what happened at that nightclub." She paused. "We were at a nightclub, right?"

Ginny let her hand fall from the doorknob and sighed. "Yeah, we were at a nightclub. We met Harry, Luna, and Draco, found out that they're having some sort of ménage à trois, and you decided to get shitfaced. Do you remember that?"

Well, now she did. Hermione winced. "I remember hoping I wouldn't remember that. That's why I was drinking."

Ginny shot her an amused look. "I'm sorry to disillusion you, but alcohol isn't usually that helpful. Anyhow, you got drunk off your arse and started dancing like mad. Then you complained about Ron not having sex with you, said you wanted to know what sex was like, and..." She gulped. "And asked me to, well, do it with you."

Oh, shit.

"So I got Harry and Draco to help bring you back here," continued Ginny, oblivious to the ice running through Hermione's blood. "You fell asleep on the way. And that's basically it."

Hermione stared blankly forward, cudgeling her sodden brain into something that could pass for rational thought. She'd asked Ginny to have sex with her. Shit. She wasn't supposed to do that! She'd known Ginny would be horrified, known the other girl -- no, woman, sod it all, woman -- only had eyes for men. Hermione had been fine with an occasional lingering glance at Ginny's shoulder, or her breasts, or that maddening navel ring, or... Anyway, she'd sworn to never say anything!

She knew going to a nightclub would be trouble. Ginny had the right idea -- pretend this was all a massive hallucination.

"So... I asked you to have sex with me?" Hermione heard herself saying. No! Stop acting as though this is really happening!

"Yeah," said Ginny. "Er, you can, you know, let go of my arm. I'm not going to run away. Probably."

Hermione blinked. "Oh, sorry." She let go of Ginny's arm and tried to take a step back, only to find the room swaying, the air suddenly thinning and refusing to support her. "Ohhh, I drank too much... turn off the room!"

"What? Are you okay?" Ginny stepped forward and steadied Hermione, hands firm around her shoulders. Whatever was making the room swim didn't seem to be moving her.

Hermione leaned gratefully against her friend, soaking in the warmth from body contact. "I can't think right now. Don't let go."

Why was she saying things like that? She was trying to pretend this wasn't happening. Stupid alcohol, making her lose control of her mouth. Ginny obviously wanted to go away and pretend nothing was wrong. She shouldn't ask her to stay.

Then again, Ginny was holding her...

Sod it. Thinking could wait until morning. Right now, Hermione was going to enjoy cuddling against Ginny.

"I meant it, you know," she admitted. "Do you mind?"

Ginny squeaked, then cleared her throat and said, "Not really? Er, that is, I'm flattered? And totally confused. And we're not doing anything because you're still drunk, and you'd better agree with me about that or I'm leaving and I don't care if you fall over." By the end, Ginny's voice had settled firmly into the I-know-what's-best-for-you tone she'd picked up from her mother, the one that suggested both great affection and a great capacity to inflict pain if the person addressed didn't shape up and follow orders right now.

Hermione admired that tone. When she gave orders, she sounded screechy or hysterical, not calm and confident like Ginny, or like Harry when he wasn't busy doubting himself.

Wait, Ginny had told her to do something.

"Yes," she murmured into Ginny's neck. "Yes, of course."

"Oh. Well, that's good," said Ginny a bit awkwardly. She patted Hermione on the back. "Let's get you back to bed now -- I promise to stay until you fall asleep -- and we can talk about this in the morning when you're not drunk and I don't feel like you could knock me over with a feather."

"Mmm-hmm," agreed Hermione, letting Ginny maneuver her back toward the bed and closing her eyes to shut out the swaying furniture. The dresser had to be doing that on purpose to make her dizzy. Perhaps it was a hex. She'd have to look into that in the morning.

But not now.

Hermione let herself be tucked into bed, and she drifted off to the wonderful sensation of Ginny stroking her hair. She'd definitely feel embarrassed in the morning, she thought distantly, but right now she couldn't possibly care less.

Luna's first conscious thought, upon awakening, was that there was something in her hair. She blinked, examining herself in the mirror on the opposite wall: the pink ribbons were a bit tangled, and she really preferred orange in her hair, but they were a sweet thought. Now, which of her boys...?

She blinked again, noticing Harry's matching ribbons and the one bow further down. Ah. She nudged Draco with her foot and shook his arm where it lay across her stomach.

"Thank you for the present, Draco," she said.

He snorted something that might have been an acknowledgement, and snuggled up to his pillow. Harry grunted and tightened his grip on Draco's other arm.

Luna sighed. It could be hard, being the only morning person in a relationship.

Since there didn't seem much chance of a repeat of last night, she supposed she might as well clean up and start fixing breakfast, including the strong tea and coffee the boys used to pry themselves awake after club nights. Checking on Hermione might not be a bad idea either -- Luna hadn't been paying much attention, but she didn't think the other girl was used to that much alcohol, and she had seemed overly upset about being a virgin. That was a silly thing to worry about, in Luna's opinion, but she'd never really understood Hermione. She rarely understood people with minds so tightly laced and blinkered.

It was a pity. Hermione was quite brilliant, and if she'd only been a bit more accepting, she could have been a great help to Luna's investigative reporters.

She sighed again and slipped out of bed. Her wand was still on the dresser, along with the paperclip jewelry Harry had tangled when he summoned his wand to hex Draco. Luna carefully detangled the flimsy pieces of metal, mind drifting as her fingers worked.

She'd always liked little contraptions like paperclips, corkscrews, rubber bands, pocket knives, and those retractable ballpoint pens Muggles had. They were fascinating to fiddle around with, and often much more practical than their magical equivalents. It amused her that wizards so often neglected basic technological advances while touting their superiority over Muggles. Closed minds made for some very silly social patterns.

Electricity was generally useless around zones of high magic -- Luna would grant magical supremacists that much -- but what was the harm in replacing parchment scrolls and quills with white paper, staplers, and pens with their own internal supply of ink? Besides, there were so many ways to decorate pens, whereas a feather quill was pretty much a feather quill, regardless of minor plumage variations. You couldn't make quills that had little trains drifting back and forth in a liquid capsule, or quills that had seasonal figurines on the ends. And you couldn't unscrew and rearrange the pieces of a quill while you were trying to think; all you could do was pluck out the little barbs that made up the feather, leaving yourself with a bare, ugly stem.

Ah. The paperclips were detached from each other and bent back into shape. Luna swiftly hooked them into a chain, wrapped it multiple times around her left wrist, and fastened the first clip to the last. There! Aesthetically pleasing, fast, a useful source of transfiguration materials, and cheap enough that she'd have no worries if someone took it, the way people often seemed to take her things. True, that happened less often since she'd left Hogwarts, but her staff seemed to have an odd obsession with hiding her office supplies until she extended their deadlines.

Luna lifted her wand to her hair and charmed the pink ribbons orange. Then she tidied them until they were arranged in a sort of crown, ran a brush through her now-loose hair, and transfigured her abandoned clothing into a purple paisley bathrobe. That ought to be decent enough for wandering around her friends' flat on a late Saturday morning.

After tugging the sheet up over her boys -- you never could tell who might accidentally open doors, and she was the only one who got to see them naked and relaxed -- Luna ambled into the main room of the flat.

She knew her way around practically blindfolded -- she and Ginny had lived just above this flat for over a year, and had spent most of their time down here with their friends -- and as such she managed not to trip over any of the furniture. Luna wasn't fond of furniture. Sofas and end tables had a tendency to attack her when she wasn't paying attention, unless she'd used subduing charms on them. Fortunately, she'd long since charmed all the furniture in this flat. Hermione and Ron had given her peculiar looks, but Ginny had stared those two into submission before they could open their mouths.

Harry had simply shaken his head and sighed. Luna smiled now, remembering that. He had a mind as closed as Hermione's in some ways, but at least he didn't try to force his blinders over her thoughts; he just tried to explain why some people thought her actions were odd. And he was getting better about keeping his disbelief off his face. Perhaps that meant he was even getting rid of his disbelief.

There was always hope, after all.

Luna knocked softly on Hermione's door. When nobody answered, she peeked in. Then she jerked her head back, shut the door, and slapped her hands over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

Hermione was lying curled up against Ginny, head tucked into Ginny's neck. Ginny's leg was thrown over Hermione's, and both girls had their arms tangled around each other. Granted, Ginny was fully dressed, and she was on top of the covers while Hermione was under them, but that wasn't at all what Luna had expected after Ginny's blatant discomfort at Hermione's drunken advances.

"That'll teach me not to expect surprises," she murmured to herself, smiling. Hmm. Judging by the visual evidence, perhaps she could have mentioned her occasional fantasies about Ginny, back when they had shared a flat, without risking their friendship... but then, if she'd approached Ginny romantically, she might not have ended up with Harry and Draco. Things did seem to have worked out for the best, and meddling with what-ifs was a dangerous business, especially since the Ministry kept a chokehold on the timeline.

Luna headed for the kitchen, planning to make pancakes. Draco and Harry still needed breakfast, after all, and she didn't particularly want to be near Hermione's room when either one of those girls woke up.

That should be amusing.

She had started the coffee steeping -- Hermione had thoughtfully set up a number of Muggle appliances, including a coffee machine, behind a miniature protective ward -- and was mixing batter for the pancakes when a pop of displaced air signaled somebody Apparating in the main room. Luna frowned. Who would visit at this hour on a Saturday? More to the point, who had the keys to the house wards? Hermione and Ginny had let some of the protections lapse since Harry had moved out -- they didn't have to worry about hero-worshipping stalkers, after all -- but it was still fiendishly difficult to break into this flat.

"Oi, anybody awake?"

Luna slipped her wand back into her pocket and sighed. Ron. She ought to have known; the boy did have a talent for turning up at the most unfortunate times.

This might be a bit awkward.

"Hello, Ron," she said, carrying her bowl of pancake batter into the main room. "What are you doing here?"

Ron gaped. It wasn't a particularly good expression on him, Luna thought absently, and it was one he wore too often for her taste. That had been one reason they hadn't worked out as a couple, aside from his complete inability to open his mind or at least stop trying to close hers.

"I'm checking on Hermione," he said now, "making sure Ginny hasn't mucked up on relaxing her. What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

Luna shrugged. "We helped Ginny bring Hermione home last night, and decided to stay instead of risking the Underground. Now hush -- everyone's still sleeping and I don't want to wake them until breakfast is ready."

"'We helped'? Who's this 'we'? And don't worry -- I'll just wake Ginny -- she's used to it." Ron moved over to Ginny's bedroom and opened the door before Luna could protest.

"Oi, Ginny, time to wake-- she's not here!" He spun around with a worried look. "Luna, where's Ginny? Her bed isn't slept in... who was with you last night?"

Luna sighed. He was jumping to paranoid conclusions again, a classic symptom of a closed mind. She didn't think the other girls would want him to know the details of last night... how should she put this, then? "Ginny is fine. Hermione drank a bit too much and Ginny seems to have -- no, don't go in there--"

She was too late; Ron had flung Hermione's door wide open and was gaping in fish-faced shock at his sister and his best friend sharing a bed, one in club-wear and the other in a nightdress, their arms wrapped around each other. Ginny had shifted so Hermione's face was visible, her lips clearly pressed again Ginny's neck.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"

Hermione and Ginny jerked awake to Ron's thunderous question, blinking in shock at their position and his presence. Luna caught Ginny's eye and shrugged. "I tried to stop him. You explain, and I'll have the pancakes ready when you're done." She was fairly sure this was going to take a while.

"You're damn right she's going to explain!" shouted Ron, looking like he was winding up for a melodramatic tirade.

"Oh, bugger me, it's Weasley."

Ron whirled. Draco and Harry were both leaning out the doorway of the spare bedroom, bleary curiosity on their faces and scraps of pink ribbon decorating their shoulders like confetti. Luna glanced downward, noticed they'd both found loose trousers somewhere, and nodded to herself. If Ron was reacting this badly to Ginny and Hermione, she didn't think he would have survived seeing her boys naked together.

Although... his expression if he'd found the three of them in bed... no, funny as that might have ended up being in retrospect, she was sure it wouldn't be at all pleasant to experience. Currently they were all at least semi-clothed and this was going to be awkward enough.

"Luna! Is this the 'we' you were talking about?"

"Yes."

"You and Harry were out with that dirty bastard Malfoy?"

Luna frowned. "Ron. Harry and I are going out with Draco. I realize you may be slightly jealous since I used to be with you, but please don't insult him in our presence."

Harry made a strangled sort of gasp and ducked back into the bedroom.

Ron turned purple.

"YOU AND HARRY ARE GOING OUT WITH MALFOY? AS IN, HAVING SEX WITH MALFOY? DRACO MALFOY, THE DEATH EATER? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR BLOODY MINDS?"

Luna sighed. This must have been what Harry meant when he said Ron would explode at the news. Draco opened his mouth, presumably to make some sort of sarcastic insult; Luna motioned him to be silent.

"According to you, I've been out of my mind for years," she told Ron. "Even though I doubt you'll understand anything, we'll explain what's going on. But first I'm going to finish making pancakes while Ginny and Hermione explain their own situation."

As Ron spun back to face the other girls, who had neglected to let go of each other's hands, Luna smiled to herself and walked back into the kitchen. This was definitely going to be a bit awkward, but at least she didn't have to face it alone.

Ten loud and confused minutes later, which Hermione spent hiding in the bathroom and Ginny spent flatly refusing to tell Ron anything until he stopped acting like an unholy combination of Percy and Mum, everyone ended up at least semi-decent and squashed around the kitchen table facing a platter of pancakes and large pots of both tea and coffee.

Ginny speared a pancake with her fork, sliced it into twelve equal pieces, and dropped one tiny dollop of strawberry jam on each piece before looking around. On her right, Hermione was staring blankly into a coffee cup as if ignoring the world would somehow erase last night. Draco and Luna had flanked Harry, who was picking at his food and pretending not to stare at Ron. On Ginny's left, Ron himself was attacking a stack of syrup-drenched pancakes as if they had threatened to kill the family and needed to be destroyed.

When he finally stuffed a bite into his mouth, Ginny spoke. "Okay. First of all, this is none of your business. It's between Hermione and me, and you get no say."

Ron jerked his head up. "Bufth--" He swallowed. "But you're my sister. And Hermione, you're my best friend. Of course it's my business!"

Hermione twitched. Ginny tapped their feet together under the table, resting her toes on the arch of Hermione's bare foot.

"No, it isn't," she said, dragging out the Stare of Ultimate Disdain and leveling it at her brother. "We had a little too much to drink last night, spilled a few secrets, and are going to see what happens. And whatever happens, it's between us. Not between us and you."

Ron looked like he was going to protest again, and Ginny upped the intensity of the Stare. "Do I ask what you and Padma do in your private time?"

"But--"

"Well?" She upped the Stare again.

"No," mumbled Ron.

"Right. So you don't ask what Hermione and I might or might not do either. Because it's none of your business, you toad-licking idiot!"

Ron stabbed a pancake resentfully, but didn't respond. Ginny nodded in satisfaction; it was nice to know she still had it. She would have liked to chew him out even more for just barging into the flat and their bedrooms, but she didn't think it would help Hermione if Ginny reminded her how they'd woken up. Hermione was twitching enough as it was. Ginny rubbed her foot against Hermione's ankle in what she hoped was a soothing manner.

"Am I at least allowed to ask what the bloody hell is up with you, Harry," Ron growled, "or are you going to bite my head off too?"

Harry twitched even more violently than Hermione, but drew a breath to answer. "I'm going out with Luna and Malfoy."

Ron glared at his pancakes. "Right. Draco bloody Malfoy? Are you stark raving mad? And since when have you been into blokes? I thought you were normal!"

Hermione sank further into her chair. Ginny leaned forward to scream in her brother's ear, but Harry beat her to it, furious in an icy way she hadn't seen since the war. "Normal? Normal compared to what, Ron? To you?" Harry glared across the table, looking more like a battle-ready soldier than a tired young man in baggy pajamas. "Would you like me to drag out the sordid details of your sex life?"

For several seconds Ginny thought Ron might literally explode from anger... but then he took a deep breath and slumped back in his chair. "Oh, sod it all. It's not worth it."

Ginny blinked.

"What's not worth it?" asked Harry, voice still cold.

Ron waved his hand aimlessly. "This. Yelling at you. I'm sorry -- didn't mean to say all that." He poked at his pancakes, shoving the uneaten pieces around the plate. "It's just... I thought you two were the normal ones, see. And now you're in a threesome with Luna and bloody Malfoy, Harry, and you were sort of in bed with my sister, Hermione. Couldn't you have told me?"

"He was afraid you'd take it the way you just did," Draco pointed out in an aggressively reasonable voice.

Ron scowled. "If you hadn't run like a baby in the last month of the war..."

"Yes, but I did realize I was wrong, I gave information to your side when I left the Dark Lord, and you've already killed my father, which should be quite enough to satisfy whatever bizarre family feud you seem to think we have." Draco favored Ron with his Stare of Ultimate Contempt; Ginny was pleased to see how well he'd adapted her lessons to his own use. His Stare didn't have quite the same effect on Ron that her own did, but then, she was Ron's sister. She had an unfair advantage.

"Bastard."

"My parents were quite happily married, thank you."

"Draco, hush," Luna broke in. "And Ron, please try to behave. It's really your own fault for not telling anyone you planned to visit."

Ron mumbled something that Ginny couldn't catch.

"What?"

"I said that's what Padma told me. I should have listened -- she's always right -- it's just so bloody annoying sometimes."

At this Hermione finally looked up from her silent contemplation of her coffee. "She's always right? It's annoying? You should have listened to her? You bastard, that's what you used to say about me! What does she have that I didn't have? I practically threw myself at you! I could have tied you up if that's what you wanted!"

Ron stared, and Hermione flushed. "I don't want you anymore! But... what on earth was wrong with me? Why didn't you want me?"

Well. What did you say to that? Apparently Ron had no more idea than Ginny did, since he just sat dumb as a stone, fork held motionless in midair.

"Nothing is wrong with you, Hermione," said Luna. "I meant it when I said that people would love to have sex with you. I assume Ron was just too blind to appreciate you back then."

"Well? Is that right?" Hermione stared at Ron, demanding an answer.

He leaned his elbows on the table, cradling his head in his hands. Ginny restrained the urge to pat him on the shoulder; she loved her brother, but he deserved a bit of pain right now. "Bloody hell -- whatever I say is going to be wrong, isn't it."

Hermione sniffed. "I already know you have the emotional capacity of a teaspoon and you have no idea how to deal with 'mushy stuff.' You won't shock me. But we've been best friends for years, and I think I have the right to know why you dumped me."

"She has a point," said Harry, the ice finally melting out of his posture. Then he grinned. "Besides, you've just made us explain our love lives to you -- the least you can do is explain yours in return."

Ginny grinned back at him across the table.

"Very funny, you wanker," said Ron. "Oh, fine. You all hate me now anyway. Hermione... it just wasn't working. I thought you knew that -- you hardly ever kissed me, even -- and I didn't want to keep beating my head against a wall." He shrugged, looking helpless. "It wasn't going to work with Susan either, but I didn't care about her. It didn't matter with her. It would've mattered with you and I didn't want to screw up. You know I'd've screwed up. Emotional capacity of a teaspoon, remember?"

"You screwed up anyway," said Hermione, sounding slightly hoarse. She took a long swallow of coffee. "Of course I knew it wasn't working. But I wanted to make it better. I thought sex might be a start. And I love you, you idiot."

Ron gulped. "As a friend, right?"

Hermione waved her hand. "Oh, now, certainly. But then..." She looked up from her coffee and seemed to notice the others for the first time. "Er, this may not be the best time for this conversation."

"Oh, go on. I think this is fascinating," said Draco as he leaned forward. Harry swatted the back of his head. "Ouch! Potter, that was uncalled for."

"You! You're having... you're having..."

"Sex, Ron," said Ginny, amused. "They're having sex."

"Shut it, you. Malfoy, I can't believe you're having sex with Harry and you still call him Potter! Harry, what the bloody hell do you see in this bastard?"

Ginny hauled the Stare of Ultimate Disdain out again. "Ron, how many times do I need to say it's none of your business?"

"Thanks, Ginny," said Harry. "But Ron's my best friend. He deserves some sort of answer." He reached out and grabbed Luna and Draco's hands -- Luna smiled while Draco looked surprised at the contact, but both held him reassuringly. "They... they make me happy."

"That's it?"

Harry looked pensive. "Yeah. It's hard to be happy. I wasn't until Hogwarts, and even then there was Voldemort. And afterwards I was... drifting for a while. You and Hermione and the rest of your family make me happy, but Draco and Luna do too. I'd be sad without them. Not that I wouldn't be sad without you, but it's different."

Ron snorted. "I bloody well hope so -- no offense, Harry, but there's no way in hell I'd shag you."

"Thanks, Ron," said Harry. "It's nice to know I'm in the same boat as Hermione."

Ron winced, and Hermione snickered. Good, thought Ginny. If Hermione could see the humor in that, she was feeling better. Ginny nudged Hermione's foot with her own and smiled when Hermione's toes started wandering around her ankle in return.

"I think," said Luna suddenly, "that we've covered everything that needs to be covered in public. Also, the pancakes have gone cold. Harry, do we want the other Weasleys to know about us?"

"Oh, tell them, Harry; we don't bite," said Ginny. "Mum will have hysterics but she'll get over it. She got over Fleur; she'll get over this too. She thinks Luna's adorable, so you're one up already."

"You're forgetting Malfoy. She might get over it after twenty years. Maybe," muttered Ron. Idiot -- they were trying to reassure Harry, not scare him off. Then Ron shrugged. "Yeah, let me tell the others -- we're practically your family, after all. Mum will just have to cope."

"Good God, I'm going to be almost-related to a pack of Weasleys," said Draco as if he'd just realized this and considered it a fate worse than death.

"We'll make an exception for you, Malfoy," said Ron, glaring. "Well, Harry?"

Harry fiddled with his glasses. "Er, I suppose. And... would you tell Remus too? And Neville? But not until tomorrow, please?"

"For a man who wanted to waltz into Voldemort's fortress without any backup, you can be a real coward sometimes. Yeah, okay, I'll be your messenger boy, but you're on your own when everyone shows up to grill you." Ron stood from the table and stretched. "I should get back to Padma. See you around?" There was a general chorus of farewells, and he Apparated out with a pop of air, leaving the others to clear away the remains of breakfast.

Ginny snorted. Typical Ron -- show up, throw everything out of order, and vanish before you could make him clean up his mess. Family was wonderful, but there were times, many of them, that she'd be happy to trade in her brothers for only two Knuts.

She wondered whether Hermione was going to pretend that nothing had happened.

Hermione washed the dishes by hand rather than trusting them to either the Muggle dishwasher or a charm. It gave her time to think and kept her from looking at anyone else in the apartment. She still couldn't quite wrap her mind around Harry being with Luna and Malfoy -- no, Draco; she supposed she'd have to get used to calling the insufferable twit by his first name. She couldn't believe she'd grilled Ron about their failed sex life in front of her friends.

And she especially couldn't figure out what was going on between her and Ginny.

That little game of footsie, Ginny's comparison of them to Ron and Padma, and the way she hadn't insisted that nothing had happened, seemed to indicate that Hermione hadn't driven her friend away and that Ginny might even be up for something more... but Hermione wasn't certain. The only other time she'd considered a physical relationship had been with Ron, and look how that had turned out. She was sure Ginny would at least be more considerate about turning her down, but she didn't want to risk that. It was safer not to even ask.

She'd leave the next move to Ginny.

Ginny had put away Hermione's clothes and was now firmly ensconced in the shower, while Luna had herded Harry and Draco back into the spare room -- it still seemed odd not to have Harry sleeping there regularly, though Hermione already had trouble remembering that Ginny's bedroom had belonged to Ron just a few months ago -- presumably to tidy up and get dressed.

Ginny had been right; strange as it was to think of him that way, long after their quickly-fizzled attempt at a school romance, Harry was hot stuff. Luna was a certifiable nutcase, but she had a peculiar, dreamy self-confidence that compensated for her lack of grace. And, Hermione added in the privacy of her mind, while Draco Malfoy was still a rat-faced, whey-skinned bastard, he didn't look half bad bare-chested.

She still liked Ginny best, though.

Hermione hoped she hadn't sounded too desperate last night. Her memories were still a bit blurry, but she suspected that if she'd lost her inhibitions enough to hang all over Ginny and ask for sex, she might also have let slip that she'd been thinking about her friend for a while now, and hadn't been looking particularly hard for new objects of lust to distract herself.

"Hermione?" She looked up, making an inquiring noise in response to Harry's question.

He was leaning in his old doorway, a set of crumpled sheets in his arms; miniature Snitches darted across the orange fabric, flashing in and out of sight in the folds. "Why were you using Ron's sheets on the spare bed? You hate them, and he's been trying to find them for months."

"You mean those aren't yours, Potter?" Malfoy -- no, Draco -- chimed in from somewhere out of Hermione's sight.

Harry turned in the doorway and pulled a face. "I have some taste, Malfoy, and I'm not obsessed enough with Quidditch to want flying balls on my sheets."

"The possible innuendo in that is so obvious that I won't even bother mocking you for it." Draco joined Harry in the doorway, dressed once again in his tight trousers and red shirt, looking much more rumpled than last night. "So, Granger, why do you have Weasley's sheets? Still pining for him despite your protests?"

Hermione clenched her hands around the sponge and carefully didn't throw it at his smirking face. "Not that it's any of your business, but no, I'm not. As for the sheets, you'd have to ask Ginny."

"The Quidditch sheets? That's revenge for letting the twins at one of my potions," said Ginny, reappearing from the bathroom, face glowing and dark red hair dripping down the back of her fluffy robe. "They replicated it, used it in a chocolate, and got a patent so I had to pay them for the right to use it instead of the other way around."

She grinned, the twinkle in her eye reminiscent of Fred and George at their worst. "Actually, don't bother cleaning the sheets. I'll give them to Ron as is and tell him what you used them for."

Harry coughed suspiciously, while Draco threw back his head and laughed openly. "Weasley, you're my kind of evil. Take pictures."

Hermione felt that she ought to step in to defend Ron, since no one else was, but she'd sided with Ginny in the original fight over the 'misplaced' potion, and she was still peeved at him for barging in this morning. He'd decided to spend the weekend with Padma instead of helping her unwind, which was perfectly reasonable, but he should have trusted Ginny not to let anything awful happen. They were grown women; there was no need to come check up on them.

Besides, Ron was always saying she needed to develop her sense of humor. This certainly ought to count as a step in that direction.

"Make sure to get duplicates for me," she said, setting the last plate in the drying rack and rinsing her hands. "I want to know how long the dead fish expression lasts before he realizes what he's holding."

Harry adopted his own dead fish expression, while Ginny and Draco gave her unsettlingly similar considering looks. "Granger, I think I could get to like you," said Draco after a few seconds. "What do you say -- friends?"

"You're a snide, self-absorbed twit, but you must have some redeeming qualities or Harry wouldn't like you," said Hermione, drying her hands and moving into the main room. "I suppose we can give it a try."

"Oh, that's a relief," said Luna, joining Harry and Draco. "It's always best when people get along."

Hermione restrained herself from rolling her eyes at the platitude.

"But arguments are so much fun!" said Draco. "Think how boring our life would be if we agreed on everything. You'd go mad in days... oh, I forgot -- you're already--"

Luna pinched Draco's arse. He broke off with an undignified yelp reminiscent of his days as their incompetent school nemesis, and Harry laughed, a smile splitting his face as Draco pouted and tried to look pitiful, overacting as always.

Harry said they made him happy. Hermione hadn't quite believed that, hadn't seen how Luna Lovegood and Draco Malfoy, of all people, could fit together with him, but maybe they did. It made no sense on the face of it, but then, love had proved itself to be anything but logical.

Maybe love was supposed to be senseless -- sweeping into ordered lives to shake things up, pushing people down paths they'd never consider on their own. Maybe that was why she and Ron hadn't worked out. There was nothing surprising about their relationship, after all, no paths she hadn't considered a hundred times before they first kissed... at least until he'd broken things off. That she hadn't expected.

Hermione glanced at Ginny, who was watching the byplay with an indulgent expression. The idea of kissing Ginny hadn't so much as crossed her mind until the day she'd looked up from lunch as her friend stretched her arms above her head and her navel ring glinted in the sun, making Hermione's mouth go dry. Even after that, she'd confined herself to the occasional idle fantasy, assuming her interest would fade sooner or later, and Ginny would never reciprocate anyway.

She had no idea where they might go if they did start anything. Ginny hadn't ever shown any interest in a long-term relationship, just going off with a succession of one-night conquests -- 'playing the game,' as she said, 'scratching the itch.' Was there any hope she'd want something more serious with Hermione? Was there hope she'd give up her string of men for a woman? Would she be willing to kiss Hermione, touch Hermione, have sex with Hermione?

Hermione had no idea. She had no plans. It felt very strange.

"We should head out," said Harry, "and let you have your flat back. Ginny, where do you want the sheets?"

"Dump them on the bed." Ginny walked over to hug Harry and Luna, and pat Draco on the shoulder. In her bathrobe, no less -- she had no shame. It was one of her more interesting qualities. "Now that you're not hiding from us, I expect to see you people more often!"

Harry looked uncertainly at Hermione.

She sighed. There were days she would love to steal an experimental Time Turner and whisk him away from the Dursleys before they convinced him he was a worthless freak, but that was impossible. "The flat's always open to you," she said, smiling. "I don't want to start losing touch with my best friends again."

Harry relaxed a trifle, but still looked utterly surprised when Hermione hugged him. Luna smiled indulgently, and Draco tipped her a small salute behind Harry's back, silently mouthing, 'Thank you.'

Maybe he really wasn't half bad these days.

Luna checked the boys to make sure they had all their things, deposited the dirty sheets on the spare bed, and grabbed Harry and Draco's hands. Draco raised his wand, winked, and Apparated them away, leaving Hermione and Ginny alone in their flat.

Hermione looked nervously at her friend. Ginny shuffled her feet.

"So."

"Yeah," said Ginny. "Er, we should talk."

"Yes, that would probably be a good idea."

"Yeah."

They stared at each other in silence.

"So," Hermione tried again, and couldn't think what to say next.

"Okay, this is ridiculous," said Ginny, flopping onto the sofa. "We could stand around all day without getting anywhere, and that would be utterly stupid. Listen, I meant what I said to Ron -- I'm willing to see what happens. But I don't know what you want to happen. And I never thought about sex with girls before, not seriously anyhow. So tell me what you want and we'll go from there."

Hermione gulped. She didn't want to make the first serious move, didn't want to lay any expectations on Ginny. What if she drove Ginny away? And how on earth could Ginny talk about sex so calmly?

She needed to be calm. Rational. List her hopes and expectations and make them into a plan.

"Er, first of all, I still want to be friends," she started. "And more, if you're willing -- we could kiss, and touch... And... and only me, not other people too. I don't want just one night, like you usually do. You... you mean a lot to me, and..." Hermione trailed off, watching Ginny's neutral face. "You don't want that, do you."

Ginny tapped her fingers on the sofa arm, thinking. "I don't know," she said eventually. "Of course we'll still be friends. And I'd be okay with kissing, at least -- I've done that much before. As for sex, I suppose that depends on how the kissing goes."

Hermione bit her lip. "And the rest?" New paths were opening up in her mind, paths that went further than just one-sided admiration or a no-strings bit of fun. Maybe she could tie herself and Ginny together and build something lasting -- but not against Ginny's will, not unless it was a mutual choice.

Ginny had gone still. "You're asking a lot, especially since we don't know it will even work once. I don't do well with long-term things."

"But why? You don't have any trouble with long-term friends. Is romance really so different?"

Ginny shrugged, pulling her bathrobe more tightly around herself. "It's more -- you give up more of yourself, tell more of your secrets, need more in return. I don't like being vulnerable. Not since..."

Hermione sat down beside Ginny. "You already know most of my secrets. I trust you with them. Can't you trust me?"

"...I want to say yes." Ginny leaned against Hermione, pulling her feet up onto the sofa and curling in on herself. "I know you wouldn't betray me. But I'm out of the habit. Since... since Tom, really. And now you know one of my secrets." She smiled, clearly making an effort to lighten the mood, but it didn't reach her eyes.

Hermione bit her lip, damning Tom Riddle and his diary. She'd never suspected this... this wariness was hiding under Ginny's confidence and easy smiles. This complicated things. But Ginny was still Ginny, still funny, smart, gorgeous, sexy, and definitely worth Hermione's time and effort. She was worth a lot more than she thought she was.

"I can go slowly," said Hermione. "You don't have to tell me everything until you're ready. But can we at least try?"

Ginny turned to face Hermione, damp hair straggling around her face. "Try what?"

Hermione shrugged. "A kiss?"

Ginny looked thoughtful, then leaned forward and pressed her lips against Hermione's. It was only a soft contact at first, letting them both get used to the feeling, to the idea of kissing each other. Hermione held still for several seconds, trying to convince herself that this was really happening. This was really Ginny in her arms. This was really Ginny kissing her.

Tentatively -- she hadn't done this in years, after all, and this was Ginny! -- Hermione let her lips part, breathing against Ginny's mouth.

Ginny's tongue flicked out and danced along the inner edge of Hermione's lip.

Oh! Hermione let the little jolt of surprise and sensation curl inside. Ron had never been that delicate; he'd pushed harder and spent more time on other things, mostly involving his hands. This teasing was strange, but she thought she liked it. She let her tongue run across Ginny's lips, slowly, lightly.

Ginny hummed in her throat, the sound vibrating in her teeth and jaw and tingling against Hermione's tongue. Her hands left her bathrobe, coming to rest on Hermione's waist and rubbing, while her tongue danced around the front of Hermione's mouth. Then she pulled back, holding Hermione's lower lip between her teeth for just a second, extending the contact, and then letting go.

"That was nice, but I'm not feeling wild, desperate passion here," said Ginny, smiling. "Are you sure you want to have sex with me?"

"Ginny! Er, yes. I do."

Ginny's eyes crinkled with mischief. "Prove it, then. Kiss me like you mean it."

"But--"

"Go on, be sloppy, be wild. Sex isn't all sweetness and rose petals, after all -- it's fun, it can be great, maybe even beautiful, but it's a sweaty mess as much as anything else. Kiss me like that and we'll see what happens." Ginny grinned. "Unless you're too scared when you're sober; maybe this was all just an alcohol-induced--"

Hermione shifted her grip to Ginny's shoulders, pulled her in, and -- ignoring the part of her mind that was screaming for caution, for carefully laid plans -- kissed her, biting, licking, and doing her best to keep Ginny from talking. Her hand slid inside Ginny's bathrobe, exploring downward, hunting for that infuriating navel-ring. Aha! There it was; she tweaked it, rubbing around Ginny's stomach and dipping even lower to--

An odd sense of déjà vu swept over Hermione, and she pulled back, breathing heavily.

Ginny blinked, took a deep breath, and said, "Okay, so it wasn't just the alcohol."

"I tried that last night, didn't I," said Hermione.

"Kissing me? Not like that. Getting your hands into my knickers, yes." Ginny looked speculatively at Hermione. "You're not half bad at this, for a virgin. It's still a bit weird, thinking seriously about sex with a girl -- with my best friend! -- but... this might actually work. At least the sex part." She grinned. "I have wondered what breasts feel like in bed, once in a while..."

Hermione bit her lip. "And the rest? You already know most of my secrets."

After a few seconds, Ginny shrugged. "Well, you know one of mine now, too -- nobody else knows that about me and Tom -- and I'm not dead yet. Let's take it one day at a time. Like I told Ron, we'll see what happens."

That wasn't exactly what Hermione wanted to hear, but it was probably the best she could have hoped for under the circumstances. And in all honesty, taking it one day at a time didn't sound that bad. She trusted Ginny. Maybe that was enough. Maybe this time she could let the illogic of love and emotions run its course without trying to interfere.

Yes. She could do that. "As long as 'what happens' includes me not being a virgin anymore."

Ginny smiled, reaching out to undo the buttons on Hermione's nightdress. "I think that can be arranged. But let's move this to a bed -- mine, I think, since yours will just remind me of Ron and other irrelevant--"

Hermione silenced her with a kiss.

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The End

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AN: Thanks for reading, and please review! I love any and all feedback, but I'm particularly interested in knowing what parts of the story worked for you, what parts didn't, and why