Disillusionment

Chapter 2

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They always sat at that exact table, in those exact chairs near the fire. They'd sit there and do homework together, or play chess or Exploding Snap, or simply sit and chat. Ginny, hidden in her corner of the Common Room, was free to watch them. She wondered what it was like, having friends like that, belonging to a group so tightly knit that words were merely embellishments, and not at all necessary to convey meanings.

Ginny had never had a best friend. She had her brothers, and was friends with most of the people in her year, but there was no one she could call her best friend. There was no one to gossip and giggle with, to spill out her darkest secrets and deepest desires and know that she would still be accepted.

There had been one person like that once. His name was Tom. Tom Riddle. But he'd turned out to be nothing more than a manipulator, a sadist, a coldly brilliant opportunist who'd stop at nothing to achieve his ends. Ginny shuddered and glanced back down at her Charms homework.

A tinkle of merry laughter reached her ears, and she once again averted her attention from her homework to look at the trio. She watched enviously as Harry leaned over and said something to Hermione. Hermione raised her eyebrows, her mouth twitching with a suppressed smile. Ron said something, and Hermione burst into laughter.

Hermione, Hermione, Hermione. Hermione was so lucky. She was easily the cleverest witch in her year, or in the whole school, and she was best friends with Harry Potter. No doubt Harry consulted her opinion before he did anything. No doubt he told her things that he would never tell other people. No doubt he would ask her to the Yule Ball.

Ginny continued to watch. Harry said something to Ron and Hermione. Hermione nodded and smiled, and Harry stood up and headed for the staircase. Ron and Hermione were left alone on the table. Hermione turned back to her homework. Ron said something, and she looked up, scowling. He laughed and playfully swatted her shoulder. She shouted something, he whispered something, and she blushed.

And then—and then it hit Ginny. It was so obvious she couldn't believe she hadn't realized it before. Harry and Hermione weren't an item, not at all. Hermione liked Ron.

Ron. What could she possibly see in Ron? Yet the signs were all there. Hermione leaned forward a bit, her cheeks still tinged pink. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her brown eyes dancing. She laughed, shyly at first, and then more freely, until she was clinging to her chair for support, her breaths coming out in gasps.

Ron grinned at her, said something, and he, too, disappeared into the boys' dormitory. Hermione sat at the table alone. She stared at her book, but her eyes were glazed over, and the quill in her hand never moved.

Ginny's revelation spurred curiosity, and she couldn't stand to sit meekly at her table and watch. She stood up and crossed the room toward Hermione's table, pulled out a chair, and sat. "Hi, Hermione."

Hermione looked up in surprise, and Ginny couldn't blame her. They weren't friends, exactly, merely acquaintances. They'd gotten to known each other somewhat during the summer, when Hermione shared a room with Ginny at the Burrow, but after school began, they stopped keeping in touch. They talked only rarely, not because they disliked each other, but because they hardly ever had the opportunity to talk. Besides, Ginny didn't feel like she could carry on a normal conversation with Hermione without becoming insanely jealous. That, however, was before she knew that Hermione didn't like Harry in that way.

"Ginny," said Hermione, pushing a pile of books off the desk to give Ginny more room. "Hi. I wasn't expecting—is something wrong?"

"Oh, no, nothing's wrong." Ginny propped her elbows onto the table and said a bit too brightly, "What are you doing right now?"

Hermione looked down at her parchment. "This? I'm doing research for house-elf rights... Oh!" She turned to Ginny with sudden excitement. "Do you want to join S.P.E.W.?"

Ginny could only respond with a blank stare. "Spew?"

"No!" said Hermione impatiently. "It's S.P.E.W.! Ron calls it spew too—honestly! S.P.E.W. stands for Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. Did you know that there are house-elves at Hogwarts? I had no idea, until only a very short while ago. It's terribly unjust, the way people treat house-elves. They're not slaves, they're actually intelligent creatures with feelings—"

Ginny wanted to politely interject a comment, but she couldn't get a word in edgewise.

"—and I thought that they should get paid for all the work they do. They work terribly hard, and they don't get vacations, or sick leave, or anything they deserve. At the very least, they should get paid. S.P.E.W. is an organization that—"

Ginny began to tap her fingers on the table, but Hermione didn't notice.

"—works for the rights and protection of house-elves. Our ultimate goal is to free them from the slavery they are confined to—"

"Hermione, do you like Ron?"

"—and perhaps eventually even—What?"

Ginny doubled over with laughter. Hermione looked positively terrified and quickly looked around the room to make sure that no one heard their conversation.

"Do you like Ron?" Ginny repeated, composing herself.

Hermione frantically waved her hands. "Not so loud!" She looked around the room again, then relaxed somewhat. "Is it that obvious?" she asked, her voice barely rising above a whisper.

"Not really. Probably not to most people, anyhow."

Hermione fidgeted in her seat. "Do you think—do you think Ron knows?" Her face turned into the color of a very ripe beet.

"Ron?" Ginny laughed. "Are you joking? He hasn't got a clue. He's thicker than troll boogers. He wouldn't notice if you paraded in front of him wearing a loincloth."

Hermione looked rather shocked, and Ginny laughed again.

"What about you and Harry?" Hermione asked suddenly.

Ginny stopped laughing immediately. "What about Harry?"

Hermione's face split into a wide grin. "He hasn't got a date to the Yule Ball yet, you know. I'm sure that if you ask him—"

Ginny shook her head vehemently. "I'm not asking him. I'm not going to embarrass him and make this more obvious than it already is."

"Ginny, I'm sure he won't mind going with you. I told you, he doesn't have a date yet."

"He will." A thought occurred to her. "I bet he's going to go with that Ravenclaw girl."

"Cho Chang?" Hermione bit her lip. "Oh, I don't know if he'll ever pluck up the courage to ask her. Ginny, if you want, I could drop a few hints to Harry..."

"No! No, thanks. I don't want to go with him if he doesn't want to go with me."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "Yes, I suppose you're right. I wouldn't want you to tell Ron to ask me..."

"Hermione."

"What?"

"I hope you don't mind me asking... why Ron? Of all the people in the world, why him?"

Hermione looked stumped by the question. "I don't know," she said finally. "He's... he's just... he's really... Ron. Yes. He's so Ron. I wouldn't have him any other way."

Ginny nodded slowly.

"What about you, Ginny? Why Harry?"

Ginny thought. There were a hundred thousand reasons, but they seemed all so small and insignificant. "Because he's Harry. Not just because he's Harry Potter, but because he's Harry."

Hermione nodded, and for a few moments, the girls were silent, each lost in her own thoughts.

And from that moment on, Hermione Granger became Ginny's friend.

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Ginny found Hermione to be extraordinarily helpful. The older girl let her borrow all of her third year notes, and it took Ginny two trips, staggering the whole way, to transfer all the notes to her own bedside cabinet. She dropped the notes unceremoniously onto the floor and tidied up the few pages that had fluttered away. Merlin's beard, Hermione must have written down word-for-word what every professor said for every single class.

Ginny grabbed a pile of notes and pulled herself onto her bed. She sifted through them and groaned. This was even worse than reading the textbook.

At that moment, Hermione herself burst into the room, her face flushed and her hair even bushier than normal.

"Hermione?" said Ginny, eyeing her warily. "Is something wrong?"

Hermione replied after exhaling several times. "Can you keep a secret?"

Ginny sat up in interest. "Of course."

Hermione seated herself near the corner of Ginny's bed and twisted her hands. "You have to promise not to tell anyone."

"I promise."

"Especially not Ron. You wouldn't want to know what kind of hexes I can perform if you tell Ron."

Ginny's curiosity rose about five notches. They had not spoken of Ron or Harry since that night in front of the fire. "Hermione, relax. I know how to keep a secret."

"Okay." Hermione swung her feet against the bed. "I was almost going to tell Parvati and Lavender, but then I remembered that if I told them to keep it a secret, the whole school would know before lunchtime."

"Hermione, you can trust me."

"I know. Oh, this is so strange. I can hardly believe that he—that this happened. Maybe I dreamed the whole thing, and it didn't really happen, and I'll look like an idiot when I... next time."

Ginny rocked impatiently back and forth. "Hermione, spill. It's not nice to keep your audience in suspense like this."

"ViktorKrumaskedmetogototheYuleBallwithhim."

Total silence. And then Ginny screamed.

"Are you bloody serious? Hermione—Viktor Krum—" Ginny leaped forward to hug Hermione.

Hermione was blushing furiously and struggling to keep her expression neutral.

"Well?" Ginny demanded. "Details. All of them."

Still blushing, Hermione began. "I was in the library—"

Ginny snorted. "Oh, romantic. Continue."

"I was in the library, looking up flobberworms—"

"Even better. How special."

"Ginny, if you're going to keep on interrupting me, I'm not going to say one more word."

Ginny fell silent.

"So I was in the library, looking up flobberworms for your sake, Ginny, because I think I made a mistake in my notes for Care of Magical Creatures last year—here, I have the research. Do you want it?"

"Hermione!"

"Okay. So I was in the library, looking up flobberworms, and I felt an odd prickling sensation at the back of my neck, as if someone was watching me. So I turned around, and there he was, right behind me, and I was so surprised I fell out of my chair."

Ginny laughed, imagining the scene.

"I was so mortified, but Viktor was really nice about it—"

"Viktor? You've started calling him Viktor?"

"Ginny, what did I say about interruptions?"

Ginny meekly closed her mouth and folded her hands in her lap.

"Right, where was I? Oh, yes—I fell out of my chair, and Viktor helped me up, and he apologized for scaring me. And then he just asked, and he pronounced my name wrong. And then—and then he said that he'd been wanting to ask me for a long time, but he was just building up the courage to do so."

Ginny squealed. "That's so sweet. And?" she prodded, when Hermione didn't go on. "What did you say?"

"I accepted, of course. I mean, it will be very interesting to go to the ball with him and learn all about him—about Durmstrang, and the kinds of classes that are offered there. It's a school known for Dark Arts, but I really don't think Viktor..."

Ginny sighed in exasperation. Every other girl would be delighted to attend the ball with Krum, and here was Hermione, not thinking it was romantic at all, and only contemplating the educational value of it.

"Hermione," Ginny said slowly, as if speaking to a very small child, "you do realize that you've just been asked to the ball by Viktor Krum, don't you? Viktor Krum. International Quidditch star, world-famous—does that ring a bell somewhere?"

"Of course I know he's famous," Hermione snapped. "I know I'm really lucky to get asked by him. But..."

And then Ginny understood. Hermione didn't care that Krum asked her. She wanted someone else to ask her.

"He's still being oblivious, isn't he," Ginny said softly. It was a statement, not a question.

Hermione nodded, fully aware of who Ginny had been referring to. "I don't understand it at all," she said miserably. "Viktor's so nice, and he's a perfect gentleman, and here I am, thinking about Ron... Ron, who makes fun of me at least three times a day. Ron, who eats like a pig and chews with his mouth open. Ron, who procrastinates on his homework and tries to copy mine. Ron, who will never have the slightest inkling of suspicion that I feel this way."

Ginny ceased to be envious of Hermione at that moment. Wordlessly, she put her arm around her friend's shoulder.

"And you know what else?" Hermione said, breaking the silence. "As soon as I left the library and was walking toward Gryffindor tower, I saw Neville. He was going to the library to check out a book to help with the Potions essay that's due in two weeks, but he was wasting his time—I checked out all of the books a week ago. I lent him two books, and then he—he asked me, too."

Ginny's mouth fell open. "Oh, my goodness."

Hermione nodded. "I felt so bad for him—I told him that I was going with someone else, and that I was very, very sorry."

"You did the right thing, Hermione."

"I suppose." Hermione sighed and rolled off the bed. She sat cross-legged on the floor, fingering the carpet.

"Thank you, Ginny," she said abruptly. Her eyes were warm with sincerity.

"What for?" said Ginny in surprise.

"For listening. I couldn't have told all of this to anyone else."

"No problem. No problem at all," Ginny said honestly. "I'm glad I could—I'm glad that you trust me with this."

"That's right—remember not to tell Ron. I'm not at the top of the class in Transfiguration for nothing."

Ginny laughed. "You can't Transfigure me into anything—you can't do Human Transfiguration until sixth year. Besides, McGonagall will have your head."

Hermione just smiled. "True. But really, Ginny, thank you. And if you ever need to talk about anything, you know I'll be here."

Ginny felt a slow warmth ignite the pit of her stomach. "Thanks, Hermione."

Hermione pushed the curtains aside and retreated. Ginny watched the slight swishing motion of the curtains thoughtfully.

Hermione Granger must be lonely sometimes, Ginny realized. Hermione, who was Muggle-born and an only child, who had two oblivious boys as her best friends. Hermione must sometimes wish for a girl to talk to, a girl who hopefully was not named Lavender or Parvati. And Ginny, with her six older brothers... It was nice to talk to a girl once in a while.

Ginny smiled. Even if the Yule Ball turned out to be a complete disaster—even if she wasn't even asked by anyone—something good would have come out of it.

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Author's Note: The second installment is up! I'm predicting that this fic will have a total of five chapters or so. I'd originally intended for it to be a one-shot, but as soon as I started writing, I realized that it was going to be far too long for a one-shot. It's also far too short to be novel-length.

Thanks to everyone who took the time to review! I didn't put in an author's note in the first chapter because I have a tendency to want to beg for reviews, and I hate doing that. Besides, I personally am not affected by begging, so I don't think it does any good. So, review if you want (and thank you!), and if you don't want to, don't.

Oh, yes. Happy early Halloween!

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