Title: Story of a Girl

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. At all. If I did, I'd have more money then God and would never have canceled BtVS and Angel.

Summary: A teenage girl is given an impossible destiny. She's taken away from everything she knows and everyone thinks she's dead. Eight years later, she's back, and in for one hell of a fight.

Distribution: Just ask if you want to use this.

Spoilers: All of Buffy and Angel. Through GoF, and some minor ones from OotP.

a/n: I just started writing this right after I posted Chapter Six, so sorry, but no review replies here, but I will be replying to them in the next chapter for both this chapter and Chapter Eight. For anyone who might have thought Harry was a little out of character I'd like to mention my reasoning for writing him the way I did. First, there were difficult circumstances. Big duh. Then, you've got one of his former best friends pretty much ignoring him, even though he and Ron have been missing Buffy for years. Harry expects things to pick up the way they were before Buffy left, but they can't. He's pretty much acting like Buffy really did die and come back to life, and she hasn't changed at all. Which she has. Then there's some serious frustration with life in general. Remember, he's been helping fight against Voldemort for the past eight years. They aren't winning, people are dying, and he feels pretty damned helpless with an added touch of superiority (think Holden Webbs' analysis from Season Seven) because he's the only one who can save the Wizarding World. I hope that will cover everything for now.

Ron stared at the flames in shock, not really seeing them at all. How could things have turned out that badly? What had happened?

Everything had turned out wrong. Nothing was right in the world. The redhead truly wouldn't be surprised if Snape started wearing pink and handing out valentines. Harry and Hermione. Fighting. Screaming words that had probably hurt more then either would ever show. Why? What could have done this to the once unbreakable trio of friends? Oh, but of course, Hermione had a brand new bunch of friends, and they were damned scary.

But why would Hermione turn on someone like that? Turn on them? She had looked like she was about to kill Harry, almost as scary as his fellow redhead, and that was something. When did things become so wrong? Ron wished he could take a time turner back to their First Year, and make sure nothing bad happened. He wanted to change everything, make Hermione herself again, and get rid of Voldemort. But he couldn't. He never could. Even if it was possible for him to be more then a sidekick, Hermione was her own woman now. Unfortunately, that was a woman who wanted nothing to do with them anymore. How had Hermione changed so much? It didn't seem possible for anyone to have such a different outlook on life. But she did. In the space of a few years, Hermione had moved on from them and into a new family, like they were clothes she had grown out of, or toys she didn't want to play with. Damn it! This wasn't fair!
There didn't seem to be any hope left. It was just…gone. He felt empty inside. Like there was no reason to keep going on anymore. And maybe there wasn't. If the two people he had once trusted more then anyone else to be there were currently about three seconds away from killing each other- or at least casting some nasty and embarrassing jinxes- who could he trust?

Dumbledore had proven that he would look out for the greater good over any one individual. His family? But there were too many Weasleys, and if he was in trouble, chances were someone else needed to be saved, too. Draco? Sure, but he knew the other man felt out of place with them sometimes. In the past few years, the moments had been too few to count on two hands, but they were still there. One day it might get to be too much for the blonde, and he might decide to leave.

Leave like Hermione had. Which brought Ron back to the source of all of the turmoil. He wasn't even sure that it was Hermione they had spoken to, if you could call it that, earlier that night- or morning, depending upon how you looked at it. Now it was definitely morning, five o'clock, to be exact, and Ron found himself wondering what Hermione and her friends were thinking right now. Were they angry with her? Were they hurt? What had they planned to do today, before they found out about all of Hermione's lies?

Now that he thought about it, Ron had a lot of questions about Hermione and her new friends. What were they like? What was their favorite thing to do together? How had the Hellmouth been? Did they really save the world? What had those flashes from Snape's potion been about? Naturally, he understood most of them, particularly the early ones, but some of them were sort of confusing.

There was so much he wanted to know, so many questions he wanted to ask. He wished things hadn't gone so badly, because he wanted to trade memories with Hermione, things might be a little different, Ron knew that, but maybe if they all tried to get into each other's lives more, things could go back to normal. And they could really use any extra help offered when it came to Voldemort.

Once upon a time, the worst things in Ronald Weasley's life had been the Potions exam that he hadn't studied for. That was the way life was supposed to be. The only things he had cared about were his family, friends, Quidditch, and the occasional annual adventure. And he had still considered them to be adventures back them. Because he'd had his one staunch belief, like a small child's security blanket, that had given him faith in the face of everything from his sister's almost-death to dementors. His friends would help him through it all. They would always be there for him. How he wished he could go back to that innocence.

"Ron? Come on, the meeting is starting," Harry said wearily.

Ron nodded and stood up, following his best friend downstairs.

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"This meeting of the Order of the Phoenix is called to order on August the Twenty Ninth, 2004," Dumbledore said regally from his place at the head of the long table.

As soon as the scared, defeated, and altogether unhappy group had returned from Buffy's loft, Dumbledore had called together a meeting as fast as he could, the result being a number of extremely worried witches and wizards. The second the venerable old Headmaster had finished speaking, voices broke out. They sounded so loud that the aged wizard had to shoot off several loud firecrackers from the end of his wand to get the occupants of the chaotic room's attention.

"Harry, will you please report on your findings at Miss Granger's?" he asked, causing an immediate hush in the room.

Most of the people assembled weren't sure if the fact that this meeting hadn't been called because of something Voldemort had done was good or bad. They settled for looking perplexed.

The silver haired man- and he was a man, no matter how many people idolized him as a god of some sort- watched the Boy Who Lived closely. Something wasn't right, that was plain to tell. Emotions were warring across Harry's face to win supremacy, and none of them were good. Right now, a mixture of self-loathing and sadness seemed to be the victors of his internal fight. Obviously, things hadn't gone well at all. Dumbledore's suspicions were confirmed as he heard Harry's detailed account of what had gone on at the Slayer's home. Alarms went off in his head as the young man recounted what the two young witches had done, and more importantly, what had happened to them. No, things hadn't gone well at all.

People all around the room were looking scared as they heard about the two powerful witches. The Headmaster saw Molly and Arthur Weasley looking at their three- and yes, Harry was as good as blood for quite a few of the older generation- youngest children with expressions of concern written all over their faces. He was willing to bet that all six people involved in the supposed "rescue" mission were going to be firmly in Molly's motherly clutches for the next few days, starting with the end of the meeting. They were clearly worried about their children, and with good reason, not to mention what had happened to Hermione. Which was why Dumbledore regretted having to say what he did as soon as Harry finished his monologue.

"Well, I guess you will have to go back later today, won't you?" he asked, the twinkle absent from his bright blue eyes.

The six who would be going nodded resolutely. Although no one had appreciated last night's initial meeting, it seemed they wanted to try to fix things. A look of grim determination was quickly spreading over Harry's features, and the former Professor knew that he was determined to do whatever it took to get back in Hermione's good graces.

The wizened old wizard heaved an almost imperceptible sigh. He remembered the days when Harry, Ron, and Hermione could have been counted on to get into some scrape or the other, research and get involved in things he wished they wouldn't. Those had been days of relative peace, compared to the ever-present terror of today. Once upon a time the students and children he had watched grow up to become so many different things had been safe. He didn't have to make decisions that might ultimately end up with several deaths, and those same deaths weren't normal. But that was a long time ago, and in the present there was still a fight to win. One that would either guarantee a lasting peace for the Wizarding World, or condemn it to the darkness of Voldemort's reign forever.

"Perhaps you should meet them for lunch," Dumbledore suggested, "that way you will have enough time to speak with each other, and you have quite a few hours to rest. After all, there's no place to bond with a person better then the table."

It was one of his normal, slightly eccentric, quotes. Most people were fooled into thinking he wasn't overly concerned. Everyone except the people who mattered the most. Harry and the others had been with him too long not to notice the grave expression in the eyes that could tell so much, and yet, so little.

"We'll leave at twelve," Draco said, speaking up.

It was unusual for the young Malfoy to stay quiet at any time, let alone an Order meeting, but Dumbledore attributed it to shock and the fatigue catching up to him. None of the six people who had gone to visit the wayward witch had gotten any sleep for the past two days, now, with meetings keeping them up late- or early- all night both last night and tonight- or day.

He wished this horror story would just end, and turn into something with a happy ending. But that wouldn't happen unless they all worked for it, and they'd have to work harder then Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters.

"I think that's everything of importance," the old man said tiredly.

With uncertain eyes, he watched the six people whose decisions today could change the world leave the house. He hoped to God that they managed to get through to Hermione and her friends in time. Who knew what that kind of power could do in the wrong hands, and if Voldemort managed to corrupt them there would be no hope left. The Order's forces were scraped thin as it was, and the Ministry was literally helpless to do anything to help-or hinder- in the fight. Most of the tasks they took care of were menial compared to getting rid of Death Eaters, and they had almost no Aurors who weren't either dead or working for the Order. The- oh what did Harry say they had called themselves? Oh yes, the Soupy gang would have to join the Order's side as soon as possible in order for there to be a chance of victory. What a strange name, the Soupy gang, but Muggles were a strange type of people. Fascinating, but strange.

    

Ginny was wondering what they would say to Hermione when they saw her in a few hours. She was so clueless that the witch lie awake in bed perusing the thought.

Their last encounter with the one time brunette had been a spectacular disaster. And a very large surprise, too. Growing up, Ginny had always felt a little excluded from the famous Trio, who had always done everything together, and she was still young when it broke apart. She hadn't been old enough to process any of the small flaws in the formerly inseparable friendship, and because of that, had always had them on an unconscious pedestal in her mind. So it had come as quite a shock to see two thirds of said Golden Group ready to continue for hours in either a spoken attack or a physical one, and she probably would have witnessed exactly that, had the Muggles and the powerful witch not have stopped the two old friends.

Friends, Ginny mulled the word over in her mind. It could mean so many things. A new acquaintance that had the possibility of becoming a good friend. Someone who was always there for you, no matter what. A buddy to go shopping with. A person you traded owls with once a month, or on holidays and birthdays. An individual who you felt something romantic towards, but didn't want to admit it. The term could be used so loosely, yet could be one of the strongest things in the world. And Ginny had never thought that she would see the day a rock-solid friendship deteriorated to nothing more than a loud argument, all because there were people in the world who had had to ruin the lives of one young girl and everyone who cared about her.

Yet, in a way, everyone should be grateful to those self-serving bastards, whoever they might be. Because those little twists of fate, however cruel, and how you react to them are what truly shape a person. And while Hermione had made her share of mistakes- and hadn't they all? - things would work out in the end. They had to, and if Ginny couldn't cling to one of the last beliefs she had left, she didn't what would happen to her.

Once upon a time Ginny had wished for nothing more then a few cute dates, cuter clothes, and the possibility of having a real friendship, the kind her older brother shared with Harry and Hermione. She'd wished to be considered an adult and not some annoying tag along. The future had been filled with thousands of possibilities, different paths to be chosen, each one more adventurous and exciting then the next, and Ginny had wanted to try them all. She had wanted to find her own identity, away from the Weasley name, and away from the long shadows cast by her older brothers. Most of all, Ginny had wanted to prove herself. She'd always had the feeling that people didn't expect her to amount to much. After all, with all of the talented Weasleys out there, there had to be one bad one, one dud, and since all of the good ones were boys, then the dud had to be the one and only girl. She had mostly gotten rid of that feeling, and now she's give almost anything to go back to simple times when a feeling of inadequacy was her worst problem.

Too bad no one ever could.