If she smiles sweetly and lets him kiss her a little, maybe touch her breasts, he lets her look at his photo collection. And Colin's collection is pretty impressive, a record of six years of following Harry around and snapping a shot whenever he can. She wonders what he'll do to fill his time next year, when Harry's left, when there's no one to hero-worship.

She's over her obsession, of course, so much so that's it's nothing more than a fading memory. Something to think about on occasion, and wonder how on earth she could ever have been that devoted to anyone.

It suits her, however, to let Colin believe that she's still attracted to Harry. It's a convenient excuse for not being able to give him what he wants, despite his urgent pleas, and it's the reason she's giving for wanting to look at the photos.

Because she knows the way Colin's mind works, and she's not surprised when she comes across a picture that wouldn't be out of place in a porn magazine. Harry and Hermione, in the Gryffindor showers. Ginny knows exactly when it was taken, because she helped Hermione sneak in there, telling her when everyone else was gone and the coast was clear. The water's pouring down over them and they're wet and slippery, Harry touching Hermione, Hermione touching Harry, Hermione spreading her legs, Harry pumping into her.

Ginny can see, if not hear, Hermione moaning as she comes.

The first time she saw this picture, Colin paled. "Uh -"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Colin, this is sick."

Colin stared at the ground. "I didn't mean to -"

"Can I borrow it?" she smiled shyly.

Colin looked relieved. "Oh. Sure."

She kept it tucked away inside her books, furtively glancing at it whenever she could. Colin asked for it back a few days later, and she reluctantly handed it over, before asking if he had any more.

He didn't. But he would.

They have their routine, now. Colin slips around taking his pictures, and Ginny gives him what he wants, and they go through the photos together, before retreating to their separate rooms.

She slides the solo-Harry pictures ("Colin, are you sure you're straight?") to one side, and stares at the Harry-and-Hermione.

The one thing she notices, that feels like a dagger through the heart, is how happy they both look.

Of course they look happy, she snaps at herself. They're screwing.

But she's never seen them look so free of worry outside of these pictures. It makes them look so much more attractive. Falling for Harry would be too much like returning to childhood, so she fantasises about Hermione instead.

Hermione, sporting a light tan from being outside watching so many Quidditch practises, with light brown hair falling to her shoulders, and a grace that's rare in schoolgirls, is the perfect candidate.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Ginny asks softly. In their shared silence, she starts to see Colin as something of a confidante.

She forgets, of course, that he's a teenage boy.

"What?" Then, "You fancy Hermione?" She can tell he's probably picturing it in his mind, because his mouth stretches into an appreciative smile.

"Is that why you wanted to see the pictures?" he asks.

She shrugs. She's not sure. Curiosity about what the two of them get up to? About what exactly Hermione's been doing with her spare time lately?

"I suppose," she says.

The pictures are still moving, scattered on the floor. A sex overload. She really should leave. She should tell Colin to stop taking these pictures.

It's her friends that they're watching, whose lives they're invading, whose escapades they're getting off on.

Something about it feels dirty and sick and wrong.

She should leave, but instead she's grabbing Colin and kissing him and taking off his clothes, and letting him do the same to her. He's thrilled, of course, it's his lucky day. Screwing Ginny Weasley amidst photos of Harry Potter jacking off - it's probably his number one fantasy.

She watches the pictures, watches Hermione come over and over again, until eventually they're moving in unison, Ginny moaning at the same time as Hermione.

She slips the photo into her pocket as she dresses, telling Colin she'll see him tomorrow.

She's not sure that she wants to, but she knows she'll turn up, anyway.