A.N.: This was a song-fic just begging to be written...seriously, I've been meaning to write this for a long time...the song just works so well!!!! But it's hard for me to do for some reason...but I really have to get it out of my system. Now. So, here goes nothing...some of it's kinda hard like TV and phone and nintendo since they don't have those in wizarding world, but hey, I tried my best. Warning: highly anti-Viktor. Actually, I rather like Viktor as a character, but like I said, it's a songfic, gotta go with the song. About all of it (except the beginning) was written during the wee hours of the morning (like, 12:00 a.m.) so little mistakes must be forgiven. :-) Not very good...I had to force this out of me...
Disclaimer: Hi, I'm J.K. Rowling and I own everything! *waits to get sued* *nothing happens*
She paints her nails,
And she don't know,
He's got her best friend on the phone.
"Where's Hermione?" Ron looked at Harry with mild concern. "I've looked everywhere -- not with McGonagall, not in the library, nowhere."
Harry sighed. "Painting her nails...again. I swear to God, that's all she ever does. Painting her nails for Viktor..."
Ron looked nervous. "Um...I've been meaning to tell you...remember when we saw that girl who Herm told us was her muggle best friend? And she was talking on that...that what's-it-called..."
In spite of the clear tension that was in the air between them, a tension waiting to be broken or to break the two apart out of fear, Harry laughed a little, a half-humorous, half-nervous laugh. "It's called a cell phone, Ron."
"Yeah," Ron said, not seeing the humor in the situation. "Well..I talked to her a little and...um, she was talking to Viktor...turns out she's really a squib and knows all about him. She told me they've been going steady for two years and they've...done a lot of...um, stuff together."
Harry's face was a stiff one with a visage of incomprehension for a moment and then it broke into one of shock and horror. "But -- but --" he couldn't seem to bring out the words he meant to say. "Herm --"
"Yeah," Ron said. "Herm."
His dirty clothes,
They're all he gives to her.
"But...they seemed so in love," Harry said, looking like a shell-shocked soldier. How could he? Hermione...Hermione was someone he loved, not as a girlfriend but as a sister, and to see her hurt...he put his head in his hands. You're just making this into a bigger thing than it is, he tried to tell himself, but another voice came in: Harry, you've gotta face it, he's a player who couldn't care less about his girlfriend.
"Harry," Ron's voice called Harry back into reality and he shook his head, trying to clear it of the stupid thoughts and voices. Here was Ron, being the stable one and him being the one practically going insane. Damn. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. "They only seem in love when you look at it with a blind eye. I mean, come on, what does he give to her?"
Nothing more than his dirty clothes, Harry realized. Nothing more.
Of all the girls he wished she was.
This is *not* going right, Ron thought to himself. Not at all. He shivered as a cold wind swept across the field the two were standing in the middle of. "He charmed all these images of these girls he *really* wants, the ones people like Herm and her best friend are just stand-ins for. You know, Celestina Warbeck and all them..."
"Oh damn him," Harry suddenly said, the words echoing off the hills in the far distance.
Her boyfriend,
He don't know,
Anything about her.
He's too stoned,
Nintendo,
Words he had heard her say to Krum ran through Harry's head like rampant creatures. "You're everything I ever dreamed about," she had told him. "You're everything...everything...everything."
Everything. A cruel word, for when everything has disappeared, you have nothing to cling onto, only despairing, cold nothing.
And he'd say, "You're so beautiful," but really all he knew was what he saw, and he barely even knew that...too busy being stoned by life's superficial pleasures to notice his girlfriend.
I wish that I could make her see...
She's just a flavor of the weak.
"We've gotta tell her," Harry said at last. "She needs to know."
Ron's voice was bitter: "No use, I've tried. She gives me the, "You're just jealous," treatment and stops talking to me for a while. She doesn't want to here it, Harry, she doesn't. She doesn't want to know.
Harry just shook his head and both thought the same thought simultaneously: I wish that I could make her see.
She's all alone,
He's a million miles away.
"Well, at least we can go up to the commonroom," Harry said at last. "You know...keep her company or whatever."
"You know that precious Viktor apparates to see her specially every Friday night...hell, he knows our password," Ron started muttering curses under his breath, swearing like a blacksmith.
"Might as well go see anyway..." the two trudged up.
And there she was, looking alone, forlorn, swept away in an alternate universe as she waited for HIM to show up.
The TV's on,
He's connected to the sound.
In walked Viktor, too late for a normal person to be fashionably late but never so late that Hermione didn't love it. "Hey Viktor," she said softly as he came up to hug her, not even noticing her two friends wincing in clear pain.
"Hermione," he said quietly, and suddenly Ron realized that Viktor was watching a SeeRee -- SeeReplay -- behind those sunglasses. Why else would he be wearing sunglasses in the middle of a cold Bulgarian restaurant. He whispered it into Harry's ear and Harry groaned. "The TV's more important than the girl, per normal."
"Huh? TV?" Ron asked, only half-curious.
"Never mind," Harry shook his head, now just weary and worried and angry. "Never mind."
Of all the girls he's loved before.
"Herm, I love you so much," Viktor's voice wafted over to the two boys as though coming from a far, far distance. "I have never loved anyone as I love you."
Harry suppressed a snort. "Yeah right, I bet he has a collection of all the girls he's loved before."
"He has their pictures too," Ron said before he could stop himself.
Her boyfriend,
He don't know,
Anything about her,
He's too stoned,
Too stoned,
Too stoned...
Hermione takes something out of her pack. It's a new recording of some pop singer's. "I know you love ya-da-ya and dee-da-dee," she's saying, or something like that. "This CD has *so* many of the songs you love."
Viktor looks on at her and smiles. She knows so much about him...look at the way she tries to use that to get him exactly what he wants and exactly what will please him. Good. That's the kind of girl a player like him wants.
Seeing Viktor's harsh, sardonic smile, Ron sighs. Hermione knows all his favorite songs and he probably is too stoned to even say her last name to save his life. What an asshole. What a total asshole.
She's just a flavor of the weak.
"She's supposed to be so goddamn smart, so why can't she see that all she is is giving him another flavor of weakness?" Harry muttered, half to himself and half to Ron.
"I'm gonna tell her right now," Ron said, voice determined, looking sure as he strutted up to the two in an almost Percy style, and if he wasn't so mad Harry would have burst into laughter just then. But Ron's voice cut into his reverie...
"He's using you, Herm. He's a filthy guy who doesn't deserve any of your love or anything else. He's going to tell you other stuff but would you please listen to me for once? I've been your best friend for five years, Hermione, five years...
Krum just laughs sardonically and Hermione joins in, saying only one word: "Jealousy."