Okay, I don't know exactly what made me write this fic, but it just…sort of…came to me. Anyway, I don't know how you would classify this fic…Probably fluff. Ah…who knows? ^_^ Anyway, please enjoy, and YES, it IS Hermione/Ginny, so if you don't like that, just click the convenient back button. That's what it's for, after all! Hope you like, and please r/r. Thanks! ^_^

Hermione's Pickle

By

Utena_Anthy_Antics

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            Hermione was in a pickle. And it wasn't the kind of pickle one usually used as a metaphor. She was literally trapped inside a pickle. No, she wasn't turned into one; she was imbedded in the center of the pickle Neville had been trying to change into a flower. She could even see the warts that sprouted in the green film she stared out of.

            Her precious bubble of air was gradually getting smaller and smaller, but she couldn't do anything about it as, unfortunately, her wand hadn't survived the journey. It was wrenched at her side, poking her and annoying her crazily. It also didn't help that the left side of her face was smashed into the pulpy wall, and her arm was starting to cramp where it was situated between her and the pickled cucumber. Her legs were bent only slightly less than they would normally be if she was in a fetal position, but she could feel the brine start to seep into her clothes.

            "GET ME OUT OF HERE!!" she yelled as loud as she could, beating against the pickle with her right fist. She didn't have time to grimace as the wall slurped at her fist and a giant seed fell onto her head. Hermione had one mission, and that was to get OUT!!! And she didn't care the method.

            Squinting her eye, she could barely see Neville's disbelieving stare as he looked at the pickle on his desk.

            "Uhm… Professor McGonagall," he stuttered, "I think there's something in my pickle."

            "That's impossible!" the Transfiguration teacher scoffed, walking over and peering down at the offended pickle.

            "But it's true!" Neville protested, right as Hermione hammered the walls again, yelling.

            Out of desperation, she started eating the section of pickle near her mouth to get space to open her mouth and breathe brine-free air. "IT'S ME!" she hollered, "DAMN YOU, NEVILLE! PROFESSOR McGONAGALL, GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

            Professor McGonagall's eyes widened, and she took a step back. "Good gods, Neville. What did you do? Miss Granger's in there!"

            "Hermione? Hermione's in there!?"

            "YES YOU IDIOT! NOW GET ME OUT BEFORE I SUFFICATE!!" She didn't have any choice but to repeat herself.

            Hermione slowly floated in and out of anger and fear. Fear as her air supply ran steadily out, and anger as she was jumbled and jostled by the exchange of many hands. "HEY, I CAN FEEL EVERYTHING, YOU KNOW!" she yelled out, exasperated, her voice growing hoarse by the many times she had yelled to be heard through the walls of her smelly prison.

            Pickle dripped into her eye, and she shut it, wincing as her eye stung. "Damnit," she muttered, her breathing speeding up, "I hope my True Love comes quickly; I'm about to die now." Wedging her shoulders into the slimy wall behind her, she lolled her head back and tried to regulate her breathing, not caring that someone almost dropped her. She idly dug into the wall, the dent she had made so depressingly small (she had quickly tired of trying to eat her way out). A tremor rocked the pickle, and her stomach curled, hopeless tears coming to her eyes.

            "It's no use," she moaned, "For all I know, my True Love doesn't even exist. Who could love the Bookworm-Mud-Blood Hermione Granger?"

            For you see, the only way to get the imprisoned Hermione out of the pickle was to find her True Love. Hermione was not in any relationships, nor had she expressed any interest in anyone at Hogwarts, and even the two obvious candidates – Harry and Ron – had resulted in no freedom. Professor McGonagall had even hunted down Draco Malfoy, but no such luck there. Hermione, herself, had no ideas.

            It was driving Hermione sick, the waiting. Her lungs were beginning to burn, and her head was starting to spin. The smell of brine overwhelmed her, and all she wanted to do was sleep. Aware that that meant her air was rapidly depleting, Hermione rested her head on the wall and sardonically smiled to herself. "So this is how I'm going to die, huh?" she mused to herself, her eyelids too heavy to keep open anymore.

            She slipped into dozing right as someone grabbed the pickle, and she heard a soft voice mutter, "Well, here goes."

(Three minutes earlier)

            "Hey, what's going on?" Ginny pushed herself through the crowd to where Ron and Harry stood. Ron glanced at her and pointed to where Neville stood sniffling, staring down at a pickle on his desk.

            "Neville accidentally trapped Hermione inside that pickle, and no one can get her out. Her air's running out, and it may be too late to save her."

            "Yeah, and we still haven't found the person that can kiss the pickle to get her out," Harry said, looking forlornly at his best friend's prison.

            Gazing up at her brother's white face, Ginny scoffed and pushed forward, shaking her head. "Boys," she muttered, "Don't send them to do a woman's job."

            Approaching Neville, she got there just as Malfoy spluttered, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Why don't you just eat her – it might rid the world of one more Mud-Blood!" he spat as he went off with his henchmen to get out of the line.

            "You're just saying that because you didn't save her, Malfoy," Ginny retorted, stomping up to Neville and snatching the pickle containing her friend in it. "Well, here goes," she muttered, shrugging her shoulders.

            "Wait! Ginny! Only her True Love can-!!" Ron's voice drowned out as her lips skimmed against warty vegetable.

            With a BANG, Hermione suddenly sagged in the startled girl's arms. She was covered with brine and seeds, strings of pickle webbing across her robes and matting her hair. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she smiled slightly. Whispering faintly, she delivered one line of speech before fainting with the lack of air, "I never did like pickles…"

            "I'm glad you aren't claustrophobic," Ginny quipped, smiling gently at the unconscious girl in her arms. Raising her head, she called at the gawking students and teachers around her, "Hey, I could use some help here!"

            "But-but!" Ron stuttered, staring at his sister, "Only her True Love could save her!"

            She shrugged at her brother, smiling slightly to herself as Madame Pomfrey helped her up after placing Hermione onto a floating stretcher, "Stranger things have happened. And now," she turned, following her friend to Madame Pomfrey's, "I have stuff to do. Bye!"

            She disappeared out of the door.

            Harry and Ron stared at the empty doorway, and Ron repeated senselessly, "But…True Love…"

            Harry shook his head and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Ron, let it go. All questions will get answered later. Now let's see if we can find out HOW Neville got Hermione in there in the first place."

            Ron looked at him, his expression suddenly turning serious. "Yes, Neville," he advanced on the poor boy who tried to sneak into the corner, where, unfortunately, Professor McGonagall waited for him, "How DID you get her in there?"

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            There, did you like it? Wasn't it weird? Oh, and if you would like a sequel, just tell me in a review (or E-Mail: revolutionary_rose@hotmail.com) and I will do my best. Thanks! Okay, that's all. Bye now!