Dedicated to SecretKeeper and ALittleFallOfRain, two amazing people who keep me writing.
Disclamer: You've heard it before. All characters, etc. belong to JK Rowling. Though she may not deserve them after HBP.
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“Hermione, what do I do?” I moaned, sprawled across a lumpy mattress, staring up at the ceiling of the tent. “He’ll never notice me,” I sighed, raking my fingers through my long, red hair.
“Oh, of course he will, Gin,” Hermione’s soothing voice floated up from the bottom bunk. “Harry’s just… he’s got a lot on his mind at the moment is all.”
“I dunno…” A blurry green firework streaked across the canvas surface. “I’m probably just a child to him- oh, Hermione, I can just hear him now-” I set my voice to a deeper tone, slightly mocking, “‘Ron, your kid sister is such a freak; why’s her face turn bright red every time I enter the flipping room?’ God knows what he thinks-”
“Ginny Weasley, shut up!” Hermione sounded scandalized. “I know for a fact he doesn’t think that- Harry would never…”
“Oh, but of course you know what he thinks,” I said huffily, turning to look past the edge at my friend lying below, my face burning. “He actually talks to you, you’re his best friend, his darling Hermione, the heroine to his hero, but does he ever give me a second glance? No, he doesn’t!” I raved, swinging my legs over and hopping down to sit next to Hermione.
“He does not think that way about me, Gin,” she said softly, not looking me in the eye, blushing in the golden candlelight. I crossed my arms and snorted in frustration.
“Oh, then humor me. How does he think about you, o brilliant one?” I asked, my jaw set.
Hermione bit her lip and stared at the wall of the tent in the direction of the boy’s camp. “He- I’m his friend, that’s all. That’s it. I’m… I’m just like Ron to him,” she mumbled quickly.
“Sure, right. But Ron’s an idiot,” I rolled my eyes, loosening up a little.
“Well… yeah, a bit,” Hermione agreed, grinning. We broke into a fit of giggles, reducing but not eliminating the previous tension. I lay down and closed my eyes as Hermione began stroking my hair consolingly.
“But still,” I continued, “what should I do about Harry?”
Hermione’s hand stiffened the slightest bit, but she answered me. “Maybe… maybe you should just calm down for a while… try and date some other guys, plenty of fish in the sea, you know?” She paused. “This sounds so cliché, Gin… but you really should just be yourself. Act like you do when you’re around me, or your brothers, and he’ll pay attention.” I opened my eyes and saw her smiling warmly at me, her big brown eyes kind, so my grimace turned into a smirk.
“Thanks, o brilliant one,” I said, quickly hugging her and climbing back to my own bed.
“Anytime. Night, Ginny.”
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What is the matter with you, Hermione? I scolded myself. Harry is, as you said, just your friend. Why did that thought bother me? It was as if something was tugging at the back of my brain, telling me I was wrong… but I couldn’t be…
He’s my best friend.
So? Ginny’s allowed to fancy him, isn’t she? The word no flashed through my subconscious before the rest of me could catch up.
Well, yes… but still.
But still what?
Harry… he just shouldn’t have to deal with girls right now, on top of everything he’s been through.
He deals with you, doesn’t he? I couldn’t even lie to myself; how pathetic.
Well… I’m different, I guess.
Different from Ginny? How?
Leave me alone!
I turned over restlessly, frustrated with myself for… for what? For helping Ginny? No, that wasn’t it… It was that yanking at the back of my head, that thing that made me tense up whenever anybody- and trust me, a lot of people, some complete strangers- asked me for advice about Harry. Didn’t they know the poor boy had enough to get on with as it was? And honestly, what did I know about Harry’s love life?
Even though I never gave them one-hundred-percent honest answers.
Why was that? Why did I feel as if I had to save that advice? Was no one good enough for Harry? I knew Ginny was desperate- and I told her to forget about him! What is wrong with me? I twirled a frizzy wave of brown hair around my finger, growing sleepier by the second.
He’s my best friend.
What about Ron?
Oh, not you again!
Why is Harry so different from Ron?
You are really quite the over-analyzer, you know that? Well, he’s more sensible, for one. And trustworthy- I know I could trust him with my life. And… comforting, like when he took me on Buckbeak last year- me whimpering, shaking, but holding on to Harry I felt like I would be safe. And he’s not as boring as I am; though he can always use some help on his homework. He can make me laugh… even though he can’t always figure out why. I smiled to myself, picturing Harry’s bemused expression- how he raises his eyebrows into that ever-messy, jet-black mop on top of his head, causing his glasses to shift ever-so slightly, the faint shine in his deep emerald green eyes-
Stop that!
Why?
You love him!
My tired eyes widened and I grew hotter even under the thin sheets. Well, of course I do- he’s my best friend! I thought defiantly.
Oh, don’t give me that! I know you-
Obviously- have you realized how bizarre this conversation is?
Listen!
Don’t really have a choice, now, do I? I thought, my eyelids drooping.
Honestly! You must be the cheeky side.
I’m sticking my tongue out at you.
How childish. You know you love Harry. You know it and I know it-
You are me.
Shut up. You love him.
So back off, Gin, he’s mine.
Ours. And with that, I slipped off to sleep.
When I woke up to the rushing and screaming around the campsite, I couldn’t remember anything except for my conversation with Ginny, though the back of my head did feel rather sore.