A.N.: An entirely untypical story for me – I'm having a go at Ginny/Hermione at the moment. Hope it turned out well.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and the books, but this story is mine alone.

She was a girl by CreamTea

She was a girl.

Nothing special, really.

She did what all the girls do – she smoked a little, and she didn't smoke – it just depended on the point of view.

Talking to with her mum, she had never even seen anything alike a cigarette; being inexplicably cool in front of the It-girls of the year above her, she was a chain smoker.

So nothing special, really.

She liked what all the girls liked – boys, she hated what all the girls hated – boys.

But so far, she had been gaining her knowledge from theoretical studies of the other sex only – one should know, what the world was about, after all. And that's what it's about, right? That's the point of it, isn't it? Producing a few children, feed them "pro-grow" and then leave them to be. That's how it's always been. And that's what bothered her.

You know, the thing is – she just couldn't. Not couldn't in the "not able" sort of way, but couldn't in the "deeply reserved and therefore can't – very sorry" sort of way.

Every time she only thought about getting into action with a boy, she could feel the contents of her stomach rise up into her throat – yeah, she liked them; she liked them to stay away. No, really – she liked her best friends, she really liked them – but that was all.

Now, you know, all the worlds of sixteen-year-olds should revolve around other sixteen-year-olds of the opposite sex. Hers revolved around a sixteen year old of the same sex – yes, a girl who had turned sixteen this very moment, currently being patted on the back, kissed on the cheek, slapped playfully on the arms – having the most vibrant red hair anyone could imagine.

You know, she'd only kissed Ron because she couldn't kiss Ginny – she only ran her hands through his hair because she couldn't run them through his sister's. And she only told him she loved him because Ginny wouldn't listen if she told her. Not that she'd ever tried – but she just knew. From all the girls, why should Ginny, her lovely Ginny, have the same perverted desires she had – no, no, that girl was just too pure. Too purely Ginny to ever think about anything else except boys. Oh how she'd listened to her constant rants about Dean, and then about Harry, and after that about Ernie McMillan – she was currently dating the lucky bloke. Hermione never told her that she didn't want her to go out with them, whenever Ginny asked her, she just said, well, tell me about him and I'll tell you whether you'll like him once you are together.

Then she listened to Ginny talking, watched her eyes shine, watched her as she waved her arms, just watched her – and in the end didn't get a word she was saying. This was the reason why she always told her the same after her talks, just go and listen to your heart, she knew that it would always fit in.

Hermione felt all too well that she wasn't following her heart – she knew that it had been caught in Ginny's hands for forever, so she knew that she wasn't were her heart was – she wasn't in Ginny's arms.

Currently, Ernie was there, hugging her tightly, probably nuzzling her neck – she couldn't see it from where she was sitting. "Ginny must like it", she thought, jealousy rising up her throat. When she saw Ginny moving Ernie's hand away from her ass up her back, Jealousy got stuck somewhere, just under her tongue, still leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

They had started to dance – swaying pleasantly, cheek to cheek in the rhythm of the music. Still, when Ginny looked at her, she saw it wasn't Ernie she wanted, it must have been someone behind her. Turning around, she faced the wall.

Then it struck her.

A.N.: Nice cliffhanger! (Truth be told, I always dreamt of writing that word at the end of a story... ;- ) I'll see how you liked it and then I just might continue.