Author Note: Harry Potter series not mine. This is femmeslash, of the Hermione/Ginny variety. If it's not your cup o' tea, I recommend not reading further. First fan fic in years, first HP fic ever, so... be gentle.
I welcome feedback, even criticism, but keep it somewhat constructive, people!
Warning: Not beta'd. Sorry for any mistakes. And yeah, the title sucks... not my forte.
To Catch A Granger
Ginny looked herself over in the mirror, frowning. Wearing hand-me-downs wouldn't be so bad, if she hadn't been the only daughter in a long line of boys. It wasn't even that, really. Truth be told, she didn't mind the clothes themselves, the baggy shirts were comfortable enough, and Percy had been rather small when he was younger, so the pants fit her reasonably well.
She sighed. If only the clothes didn't exaggerate her lean frame, didn't hide what few womanly curves she had managed to develop. She sighed again. Like looking more womanly wouldn't really help her with this particular issue...
The problem had only started rather recently, when she got into the full swing of the whole puberty thing. She had begun noticing someone in... not quite platonic ways. Not the "someone" that she had expected to notice, however. And it was driving her fairly mad. She had waited, for months, to see a boy and get that spark that she had heard so much about. To see in the opposite gender what her dorm-mates saw, when they giggled so incessantly at night, comparing notes on who kissed how. But nothing.
No, the spark came, rather abruptly and unexpectedly, a week ago. And once again, for what felt like the thousanth time in a week, the moment replayed in her mind, the moment that her first, real crush had made itself known.
**********
I could almost feel the warmth of the fire even now. There I was sitting, staring at my blank piece of parchment, fretting over how to start my History of Magic essay. I tapped the end of my quill against my teeth, a habit I'm afraid I picked up from Ron. I realized I was getting nowhere, so I turned my attention to the only other three people in the common room, the golden trio, Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"But Hermione!" Ron whined, "This isn't as easy for me as it is for you. You could write an essay for all of us in the time it's going to take me to write one. Tell her, Harry."
Harry grinned at the Ron, "Sorry, Ron, I finished mine. You're on your own."
"Ron, really. You've had a week. You're setting a bad example for your sister, as well." Hermione glanced over at me. "Ginny is hard at work, and you're sitting there groveling for me to write yours!"
Ron sat up to look at my parchment. "Bollocks! She's hasn't written anything at all. You could write mine and hers in the time it would take for me to come up with a starting sentence."
"No."
"Hermio-"
"No!"
"But-"
"Ron, for the last time, I'm not going to write your essay. You ask me every time, and every time I say no."
"Fine!" Ron sat back with a huff, crossing his arms across his chest. He sat back up and focused on his parchment, and I winced as he began clicking his quill against his teeth. 'I really need to stop doing that...'
And suddenly, I was struck with inspiration. Ron had the right idea, but the wrong execution. Of course she wouldn't write it for me, but perhaps I could get her to "help" me with it. Ask enough of the right questions, and she would probably all but tell me what to say. I smiled to myself.
I scratched my head with the tip of quill and began, "Say, Hermione, I don't suppose you know anything about the Centaur War of 1519?"
She brightened, smiling at the thought of imparting some of her vast knowledge onto an eager learner, and moved from the couch between Harry and Ron onto the large chair, nestled very close to me. Ron furrowed his brow and glared at me for a moment, which only made me smile, "But, but Hermione-"
"Sorry, Ron. She asked first." She turned towards me and winked, which made me smile even wider.
Ron gave up and turned toward Harry. "Can you believe that! Won't even help me. Well, let me take a look at yours-"
"No, Ron."
"But Harry!"
Harry rolled his eyes, "No, Ron!"
Hermione giggled at them before turning her full attention on me. "Well, it started when..."
She rambled through specific dates and battles like she was reading from a book, and I was suddenly awestruck. The words she was saying faded into the background as I began to focus on the mouth that was saying those words. My smile suddenly dropped as my own mouth went dry.
'Oh, God, oh, bollocks, oh, God, oh, bollocks...' It hit me. That was the feeling I had been waiting to get. For months, watching intently as my friend oggled guys, that was the feeling I had been so desperate to force myself to feel, for anybody, just to make sure there wasn't something wrong with me. Though I hadn't felt it before, I just knew. And it had to be directed towards her. Not just a girl, but Hermione, of all people.
"-so when the Trievling clan of Centaurs attacked them, they were already weakened from their previous battle." She leaned over me to point at something in my book, which was laying open on the other side of me, before noticing that it was laying upside down and on the wrong chapter. She turned toward me, grinning.
"Honestly, Ginny, you're as bad as Ron."
I just nodded my head in response, taking notice at how close she currently was to me, exceedingly aware of her thigh pressed against mine in the suddenly too small chair. I didn't trust myself to speak at that moment, and barely managed to swallow.
Her grin fell from her face, to be replaced by concern. "You okay, Ginny? You're pale." She pressed her palm against my forehard, and I couldn't stop the sudden gasp for air. She frowned. "Do you feel sick? Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey."
Her hand was so warm, so soft. Her smooth skin was flushed from sitting so close the the fireplace, and the bright orange flames shone in her eyes. I felt my heart beating rapidly in my chest, and knew that if I didn't leave, right then, that I couldn't be held responsible for my actions.
"Yeah," I squeaked, "I mean, maybe I should head to bed. I'm feeling a little, er, off... at the moment. I, uh, I thought that pumpkin juice tasted a bit funny tonight." I jumped up, more quickly than I intended, and swayed slightly from the accompanying head rush.
Hermione got up with me, and wrapped her arm around my shoulders to steady me. "Here, let me help you upstairs-"
I jumped at her touch. "No! I mean, thanks, but I got it. Really." I forced a small smile, and just barely managed to make eye contact with her. The concerned expression never left her face, and I felt horrible for being the one to cause such worry in her. "Night, 'Mione. Night, guys." I heard one of the boys say something, but I couldn't even begin to tell you what it was. I nearly sprinted up the steps, never looking back but feeling her eyes on me the whole way.
'Great', I whimpered to myself. 'This is just what I needed...'
