Chapter Eight
-
You Don't Know Me
"Have you been thinking about your projects?" Professor McGonagall asked after lunch.
Everyone looked at her blankly.
"The Famous Witches and Wizards projects for the fair," she prompted.
Everyone nodded. "Yes, Professor McGonagall," they chorused.
"Good," she said. "Let's hear some of them." No one volunteered.
Hermione sank down behind Neville, but she knew Professor McGonagall would call on her anyway.
"Miss Granger?"
Hermione stood up. "I – uh – can't think of anybody, Professor McGonagall," she said. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Ginny turn to look at her. Hermione dropped her head forward, letting her hair fall over her ears.
"Keep thinking," the teacher said, "you'll come up with something. But don't reach too far. The best ideas are right in front of us."
Hermione wished she shared her teacher's confidence.
"Neville Longbottom?"
Neville shot to his feet, knocking his neighbour's book on Helga Hufflepuff to the floor.
"Are you doing something on a founder of Hogwarts?" the professor asked lightly.
Neville's eyes widened. "How'd you guess?" he asked as if he'd been planning all along to make that his project.
The class laughed.
Ron was next. "Viktor Krum," he said enthusiastically.
"I'm afraid he isn't a famous wizard, Mr Weasley," Professor McGonagall told him. Ron looked insulted.
Hermione shot him an I-told-you-so look.
Ron shrugged.
Professor McGonagall called on Pansy.
"Newt Scamander," she said.
Hermione glared at her. Pansy was copying her idea, and it made her mad.
"Keep working," the teacher told the class. "We'll talk more sometime in the next week or so."
o-o-o-o-o
"Are you going right back to the common room?" Hermione asked Harry when classes had finished for the day. She was anxious to talk to him.
"I thought I'd hang around, see what the guys are doing," he answered. "Why?"
She shrugged. "No reason. I just thought" – Ginny dropped her assignment notebook – "we could" – Harry leaned over and picked it up – "talk about the projects, but…" her voice trailed off. She was wasting her breath. Harry wasn't listening. He was smiling sappily at Ginny.
Malfoy sauntered over. "Hey, Gin," he said. "Some of us are going to meet in the Great Hall before dinner. Wanna come along?"
Behind him, Parvati glowered.
"Ginny's hanging out with me," Lavender informed him.
"No, she isn't," said Millicent. "She's hanging out with me."
"Who says?" Lavender challenged.
"She got my note first," Millicent replied. "Didn't you, Ginny?"
Unnoticed, Hermione slipped out of her chair and went to the coatroom. The long, narrow room smelled, as it always did, of pumpkin pasties and chalk dust. Setting her books on the wooden floor, she grabbed her cloak. She stood by the door as she put it on, watching Ginny, who sat calmly at her desk, while everyone argued around her. Sighing sadly, Hermione picked up her books and started for the Gryffindor common room.
She was at the bottom of the staircase leading up to the portrait of the Fat Lady when she heard running footsteps behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. "Ginny!" she exclaimed, stopping in her tracks.
Ginny pounded up beside her, laughing and breathless. "I thought I'd never catch up to you!" Her cheeks were rosy, and her red hair was windblown.
Hermione squinted into the distance, expecting to see everyone else running along behind Ginny.
"Where is everybody?"
"Still arguing about who's doing what with whom," Ginny said, her eyes twinkling. "They never even saw me leave:
Serves them right, Hermione thought.
"Are they always like that?" Ginny asked. "I mean just because they write a person a note…"
"And you didn't even read them," Hermione said.
Biting her lower lip, Ginny flashed a guilty look.
"You saw me?" Then she laughed. "I never read notes people send in class. Because if I do, I have to answer them, and then I get caught. I'm the one who always gets caught."
"Really?" Hermione said. She felt exactly the same way about herself, but she imagined Ginny's looks and sweet manner would allow her to get away with anything.
Ginny nodded. "And I have enough trouble in school without making it worse."
Hermione said, "You seemed really nervous when Professor McGonagall called on you to read." Instantly, she wished she could take back her words.
But Ginny was the least disturbed by them. "I thought I'd throw up," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "I hate reading out loud. Everything starts pounding in my ears and that's all I can think about."
Hermione understood that. "I used to get real nervous, too," she said. "I still do get nervous, but not that bad anymore."
Ginny's eyes widened with interest. "How'd you get over it?"
"Well, I try to think of something else."
Ginny groaned. "If I did that, I'd never understand what I'm reading."
"I don't meant I think of something else; I think about the words, but I don't think about reading them out loud in front of everybody."
"You mean you pretend you're somewhere else?"
"I don't think about the place at all."
"So you pretend you're… nowhere?"
Although Ginny couldn't know it, she had just crystallised what Hermione had been feeling: she was nowhere. Hearing it eased the tension she'd been experiencing the last two days. She laughed. "I don't have to pretend that!" she said lightly.
Ginny looked surprised. "You?" she said. "You should never feel like that. You're perfect, Hermione. I wish I could be just like you."
The sincerity in her voice made Hermione uncomfortable. She reached up and unhooked her hair from behind her left ear. "You don't know me," she objected, "or you wouldn't say that. You wouldn't ever say that."
"Oh, I know all kinds of things about you," Ginny assured her. "You're smart and honest and nice." She smiled proudly. "My father says I'm very good at sizing people up." She slipped her arm through Hermione's. "Want to take the train to Hogsmeade next weekend?"
Hermione thought about it. Anyone else in the class would have jumped at the invitation. But Ginny was the reason she had been feeling so gloomy. On the other hand, Hermione didn't have anything better to do. "Okay," she said at last. "Why not?"
