Disclaimer: Of copyrights, I have none. The characterizations belong to the master sensei, JKR, herself.
Chapter 1:
The canary cream found its way into Neville's unsuspecting mouth. The poor sop was falling for yet another one of George's jokes. Again. Sure, it was most expertly placed—who would've expected the innocent-looking treat, perched delicately on top of the all-you-can-eat dessert buffet, a product of yet another Hogwarts celebration feast—but really, that smirk on George's face was more than a giveaway. A cat-that-swallowed the canary smile—or in this case the mouse-that swallowed-the canary smile—was serving as a blaring sign. And the sight George's idiot side-viewers, Ronald, Harry and Lee, hanging off the edge of their seats, practically salivating themselves in expectation… well it was all too obvious what was about to happen.
And yet I couldn't bring myself to utter a warning. Maybe it was the extra study sessions I had crammed in the past week, or the pressure of applying for my Healer's internship this summer—the one everyone expected me to get—but I couldn't work up the energy to protest this lunacy.
George raised an eyebrow in my direction and then winked playfully. I rolled my eyes—to hell if he thought I was going along with this madness. I was just too tired to care.
I tried not to wince at the loud noise that exploded from my left. Closing my eyes, laughter surrounded me as I struggled to reign myself in. If I didn't see it, there's no violation, my conscious argued. I couldn't resist a peek at the now bright yellow feathered Neville.
The sight of Neville as he transformed back to normal—so indignant, feathers sticking out of his hair at odd angles—was so ridiculous, I fought back a smile tugging at my cheeks.
George clapped me on the back, quipping, "Didn't know our little bookworm here had decided to cross over to the dark side!"
"What?" I sputtered. "If you think that for a second I approve this sort of behavior—you must have really gone off the deep end!"
Despite my strong words, I felt the blush creep into my skin. Was I that transparent? My hands gripped my bookbag nervously, wringing the worn fabric.
"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," he smirked, yet again. His hand worked his way from my shoulder to my lower back, sending chills shivering down. He leaned in next to my ear, dangerously close.
"But it's okay, it's sexy as hell" he breathed, his voice suddenly husky. His eyes bore straight into mine, holding me immobilized.
His hand continued to rub frustratingly slow circles on my back. Everything felt gloriously free, like floating in lukewarm water. His arm snaked around my waist. "You should do it more often."
My stomach suddenly dipped. I was falling, but I didn't want to stop. As my bag cluttered to the ground, I broke from my trance, only to face the arrangement of stares coming from the rest of the table. Ginny looked slightly amused, but the rest of the boys—my boyfriend in particular—looked scandalized.
"Oi, get your hands off her, you pervert!" he seethed. I could practically feel the scorch of his stare from across the table. Any embarrassment from George's touch quickly faded as I growled, "I can take care of myself, Ronald!" The rest of the table resumed eating, accustomed to our daily fighting. Only George looked on, bemused.
"Oh is that what you call it? You were drooling all over him," Ron sneered, directing his attention to me. I folded my arms across my chest, trying not to take the bait.
"As if," I said, working my words out slowly, punctuating each syllable. "But you can get over it either way." Calmly removing George's hand from my waist with only the faintest of blushes, I slung my arm across the table and walloped Ron on the cheek. Wrenching my books off the ground, I stood and attempted to make a graceful exit.
I chanced a look at Ron, who sat dumbfounded, and Ginny, who planted a kiss on Harry, rolling her eyes and already rising to chase after me, and despite my anger I felt…awake.
It was good to be back at Hogwarts.
/
The sock I was working on did a little wiggle as I half heartedly flicked my wand. Ginny lay next to me on my very large, comfy bed—one of the benefits of being head girl.
"Yes, but you have to at least try to understand where Ron is coming from. Even if he is a git sometimes." She eyed me warily, as if braced for a reaction. I sighed, closing my eyes. "You're right, of course."
"I'm tired of fighting. Tonight—I tried, I really did. But I was oddly out of control of my emotions." I glanced in her direction, and my breath caught. She was wearing the trademark Weasley grin that looked so distinctly George that it disorientated me.
"Hmm…" I waited for her to say more, but she let me off the hook. Seeming to sense my thoughts, she rolled over to hide a knowing smile. "You have been happier lately," came a muffled reply out of the pillow.
"Yeah, what with class and this internship…" I trailed off, hoping she would humor me and not pursue it. That was one road I was not willing to walk down—not tonight, not ever. I shuddered.
"Hermione, I know better than to take that for an answer. You hide it well, but I'm worried," she said, her voice thick with emotion.
"I just… I feel tired of fighting." The sock shifted from maroon to gold and back again with a wave of my wand. "I mean fighting school and pressure and all that," I amended quickly. Closing my eyes, I hugged my knees to my chest. Don't think about it—don't let yourself. Be strong, Hermione.
A single tear found its way down my cheek, but before time could skip a beat, I plastered on my brightest smile, steadied my voice, and quickly turned to Ginny. "So how about being back for our final year? And you'll be in all of our classes now." I elbowed her playfully. "I bet Harry's happy about that!"
Ginny, thankfully still hidden in the pillow, remained oblivious. "It's surreal," she sighed, "At least now I can see if he's as good with his wand as he says he is!" She peeked at me suggestively.
"Ginny! You—"
"What? Don't act like you and Ron don't know what I'm talking about!" I found myself blushing, yet again. "Actually—," I began…
"What don't tell me Ronnikins hasn't put on the moves yet! He may be clueless, but I know he has more sense than that." I looked away, embarrassed. "I'm still a virgin," I admitted.
"But you two have been dating for a year!" She turned around and sat up to face me. The sock fell to floor, forgotten. "And you liked each other ages before that!"
"Well I just want to be in love before I make that kind of commitment!" Oops.
The teasing laughter stopped. Ginny frowned, obviously puzzled. "You don't love him?"
"Gin—that's not what I meant! Of course I love Ron. I'm just uncomfortable with the idea of giving myself so wholly to someone. It's a big step."
She looked at me skeptically. I do love him! I just don't know if I'm in love with him…
"Seriously."
"Well, okay. But if you think that's makes you off the hook as far as this girl talk goes, you've got another thing coming! I need advice here. Please tell me you've been to second base…"
"Perhaps." Grabbing my pillow, I smacked her gaping mouth before she could react. "But you're never going to know about it." Indignantly, she reached for her pillow, but not before I planted another brilliant shot across her ginger hair.
Laughter echoed through the dorm for what seemed like hours, until a very pompous Draco Malfoy rapped on the door. "Granger! Will you quit your screeching in there? I know you don't understand the concept of beauty sleep, but try to put yourself in my spotless shoes!"
"I don't know what McGonagall was thinking when they made him Head Boy," Ginny gasped out before again dissolving into laughter.
If only she knew. If only she knew the reason why my smiles will never reach my eyes.
/
Okay first chapter up. Please tell me what you think. Do you like this direction? Comments and Criticism welcome.
Always,
F.G.
