Hermione's Problem, Ginny's Addiction Part III

A/N: As always, for more info go to Face the Issue or search Google.

I DISCLAIM! They aren't mine. Never will be mine. Enless I buy them on e-bay....hmm.....

About Hermione's Clothes: The reason they don't fit isn't because Hermione's fat, it's because the clothes are really really old. I'm guessing around 2 or 3 years old. I was going to slip that into the story, but it didn't fit. So I'll just slip it in here.

This chapter is very short. I'm guessing half of it is A/N. Lol

To my reviewers:

someone: I'll work on longer sentences. I'm a very lazy person. I write what inspires me, and sometimes I am inspired to write short sentences. This is also the reason why sometimes it'll be a few months between updates.

Demonic Barbie Doll: First of all, nice name. I love it. Second I did have it planned out as solid naration at first, but this was easier for me. I am an extremely lazy person (wait...did I say that already?)

kendra is cheese: ty - I feel lurved.

This story is dedicated to those who've overcome one of these issues, and to the family of those that could not.

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Hermione's Thoughts and Point of View

I woke up with everyone surrounding me. Everyone but Ginny asked me what happened. I lied. I told them I was really tired. Apparently I looked it because they thought it was plausible. Once Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ron and Harry had left I walked into Ginny's room, shut the door and locked it. I needed to talk to her.

Ginny's Thoughts and Point of View

Hermione wasn't out long before Mum used a charm to wake her up. Hermione said she was tired. Everyone bought it. Kind of like the time I told Mum that Crookshanks was knocking dungbombs around, when really I was throwing them at the door to see if the extendable ears would get through. Only different. Sort of. I think. Anyway, after Mum, Dad, Ron, and Harry left Hermione like...pushed me into my room. I tripped a little and started laughing. It was funny. Hermione didn't laugh though. She just locked the door.

Naration

"I need to talk to you," Hermione said when Ginny stopped laughing.

"Can it wait? I'm kinda hungry. I really don't know why. I ate a really big breakfast. Wow. If I'm hungry, you must be starved. You hardly ate. You look sick. And kinda angry. Are you mad at me? I remember this one time, at muggle camp, Fred got mad at me, because I smashed the bird house he made, and he was really really mad. He was so mad that when we got home he took my favorite stuffed animal, this one that looked like a phoenix and it was all red and glittery and squishy and soft, and he got George to use spellotape to keep me in a chair and hold my eyes open, while Fred took my stuffy and ripped his head off right in front of me. Then Mum caught him and whipped him good the muggle way. She made Fred and George cut the limb themselves off one of the trees out back where the boys play quidditch. Then she fixed my stuffy. His name is Bob. He sits in that corner over there. Wow, is it just me or are the colors in my room even brighter?" Ginny rambled at Hermione.

"It's just you. Now Ginny, we need to be serious. I know what you saw me doing, and you know what I saw you doing."
"You mean when I saw you throwing up, and you saw me snorting coke, or am I way off base?"
"No, Ginny. You're quite right. If you tell anyone that I've been making myself throw up, I'll tell them that you've been doing cocaine. Is that clear?" Hermione said slowly and calmly.

"You wouldn't tell on me. You can't tell on me! Please, Hermione, don't! I need this. If I don't have it I might die!"

"I won't tell on you, if you promise not to tell on me. Do we have a deal?" Hermione asked, extending her hand to Ginny.

"Yeah, yeah. Deal. Woah..." Ginny said, taking Hermione's hand. "Your hands have lots of...lines....."