Ginny sighed as she looked at her reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror. Although her red hair shone against her pale face in the flickering candlelight, all she could see was the horrible pink color that crept into her cheeks every time Harry looked at her. She gave her reflection a final glance and swept out of the bathroom.
Upon entering her small bedroom, Ginny was both relieved and anxious to see that her temporary roommate was still awake. Hermione was propped up against the pillows on her camp bed, pouring over the pages of what looked like a well-worn copy of Hogwarts, A History. Crossing over to the bureau, Ginny pretended to look for something in her jewelry box. Overwhelmed by conflicting emotions, she toyed half-heartedly with the notion of just going to bed, but, on an impulse, instead spun around to face Hermione.
“Er “ Hermione? Can I talk with you about something for a minute?”
“Mm-hmm, sure.” Hermione had not even looked up from her book.
“It’s kind-of important….”
This time, the mixture of uncertainty and frustration in Ginny’s voice penetrated Hermione’s intellectual cocoon and she snapped the book closed, setting it on the nightstand. “What’s up?” she said, looking at Ginny with concern.
Of course, now that she had her roommate’s full attention, Ginny wasn’t sure how to broach the subject that she most wanted to discuss. It wasn’t exactly a secret that she had feelings for Harry, at least not after what had happened with the diary and the Chamber of Secrets during her first year at Hogwarts. But that didn’t make talking about how she felt any easier; if anything, it made it harder because she felt so exposed. Not to mention the fact that although Ginny and Hermione got along quite well, Hermione was one of Harry’s best friends.
Playing for time, she absentmindedly picked up a hair ribbon from the bureau and began to tie and untie it repeatedly into a bow.
Still staring at the ribbon, Ginny began, “I always turn the color of a Remembrall whenever he talks to me or even looks at me. And I hate it. And I hate myself for letting him get to me like that.”
Stealing a quick glance at her roommate revealed dark brown eyes full of nothing but concern and sympathy. Feeling somewhat reassured, Ginny resumed her feigned fascination with the hair ribbon, took a deep breath, and plunged on.
“I’ve always had a thing for Harry, ever since the first day I met him “ I’m not quite sure why. And I’ve never been able to relax around him, to be myself. Then there was the whole fiasco that was my first year at Hogwarts. I shared my most private thoughts about Harry with that awful diary and not only did it almost kill me, but Harry found out what I had written when the diary came alive and then it was Harry who almost died trying to save me!”
Ginny shuddered as she recalled Harry standing over her in the Chamber of Secrets, his robes drenched by his own blood. Squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to block out the memory, she continued, “I mean, how can I possibly act normal around him after that? When he knows exactly how I feel about him and I have no idea how he feels about me? And I feel so awkward to be around him all the time, when I almost got him killed, because he’s my older brother’s best mate. Will he ever see me as anyone other than Ron’s pathetic kid sister with a school-girl crush?”
The words tumbled out of Ginny’s mouth before she could stop them. Two years’ worth of bottled-up desire, guilt, and frustration had broken free at last. The ribbon that, up to now, had appeared to be her sole focus fell from her hands and landed in a heap on the floor. Following suit, Ginny crumpled onto the corner of her bed. Although experiencing a sensation akin to relief at finally giving voice to her emotions, her stomach felt as if it was filled with flobberworms. Sharing a house with six brothers, she was used to keeping things to herself, and having a girlfriend in whom to confide was definitely a new experience. She just wasn’t sure if she’d done the right thing by telling Hermione how she felt….
“Ginny.” Hermione’s voice was soft, gentle. With great reluctance, Ginny raised her head to meet the older girl’s gaze. “Ginny,” Hermione repeated, “First of all, you are anything but pathetic.”
Ginny started to pull a face, but Hermione rapidly shook her head, her bushy brown hair flying. “I mean it! And the sooner you get that through your head, the better.” Hermione’s features had now assumed a somewhat sterner appearance, so that she bore a striking resemblance to Professor McGonagall. “Anyone who knows you, well, that is, anyone who knows the real you, knows that you are smart, funny, passionate, and one of the most non-judgmental people he or she will ever meet.”
Ginny stared, open-mouthed. She had no idea that anyone thought of her as being any of those things and felt a surge of affection for Hermione. But, at the same time, Hermione’s words seemed to completely disregard the very thing that had her so upset.
“But that’s just it! I can’t ever seem to be myself around Harry! So how is he ever supposed to see the ‘real’ me?! How is he ever supposed to see these wonderful qualities you say I have?! How is he supposed to see me as anything besides Ron’s “ ”
“I wasn’t finished,” Hermione cut across Ginny’s frustrated tirade. Grudgingly, Ginny bit back her retorts and glared at a point on the floor somewhere near the older girl’s camp bed.
“I know things have always been a bit, well, awkward between you and Harry,” Hermione continued. “Lots of people have trouble trying to figure out the right thing to say or do around someone they like, especially when they aren’t certain if the person likes them in return. Plus, guys in particular can be a bit daft sometimes; you know, it’s really rather annoying how utterly oblivious they can be to what’s right in front of their noses….”
As Hermione’s voice trailed off, Ginny got the distinct impression that they were no longer discussing just her and Harry anymore. Sure enough, when she chanced a glance at Hermione, she noted with no small trace of amusement that her bureau was on the receiving end of a rather withering look. But after a moment, Hermione gave her head a little shake, as if to clear her thoughts, and picked up where she had left off.
“I agree that you never really got a fair shake with Harry. It was exceedingly cruel of Tom Riddle to share your innermost secrets with him: although Harry got to discover exactly how you felt, you had no way of knowing how he felt. And then he almost died while saving you! I can only imagine how awful it must have been “ still is “ to know that the person you love nearly died simply because you loved him too much.”
Ginny suddenly felt as transparent as Harry’s invisibility cloak and averted her eyes to resume studying the floor. Hermione sighed.
“But you have to remember that it wasn’t your fault “ it was Tom Riddle and that dreadful diary that hurt you and Harry! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named took advantage of the fact that you keep your emotions bottled up inside “ and you do, Ginny, just look at tonight “ and used them to hurt you and the one you love. But loving someone is never wrong and, I really mean this, you need to let go of your guilt.”
Although Ginny hated to admit it, what Hermione was saying made sense. In fact, if she were being truly honest with herself, Ginny had thought the same things many times. But the nagging guilt she felt was just too hard to dispel, not to mention how agonizingly exposed she felt every time he looked at her….
Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Hermione’s voice, when she resumed speaking, was very soft and a little hesitant.
“And as for not being able to be yourself around him, well, I think that’s only natural considering everything the two of you have been through.” She took a deep breath. “That’s why I think it might be best for both of you if “ if maybe you just backed off.”
The writhing flobberworms in Ginny’s stomach vanished as suddenly as they had appeared, giving way instead to a plunging nothingness. Back off?! Give up on Harry? Ginny had banished this possibility to the furthest corners of her mind and to hear it spoken aloud was almost too much for her to bear. She had spent almost every waking moment (and plenty of non-waking moments) of every day thinking about Harry for the past three years, ever since the day she met him in King’s Cross station. How did she just extinguish her feelings for him? It wasn’t as if she could point her wand at her heart, mutter a quick “Nox,” and turn off her emotions!
But the longer she thought about it, the more Ginny’s thoughts turned from those of despair to self-righteous anger. What about all those things Hermione just said about how loving someone is a good thing? About how none of what happened during my first year was my fault or fair to me? If what Hermione say is true, why should I be forced to give up Harry when I’ve done nothing wrong? It was all very easy for Hermione to tell her to give up on Harry; she still got to be with him practically every day!
Far from crying, Ginny shot up from the corner of the bed and glared down at Hermione. “What? You want me to just give up on Harry? You want me to just walk away?”
Clearly shocked by Ginny’s abrupt change in demeanor, Hermione sat motionless, her face clouded with dismay, as Ginny began to pace in front of her bed. She launched herself off her camp bed and crossed the room, pointedly blocking Ginny’s path. Catching hold of Ginny’s hands, Hermione met and held the fierce brown eyes fixed on hers.
“No, no! I don’t want you to give up on Harry! Definitely not! What I am saying is that I think you should give him some time “ give both of you some time. I meant that I think you should back off for a while, not forever.”
Despite a slight tremble, Hermione stood her ground, her eyes imploring. Hermione’s words had the desired effect: Ginny felt her righteous anger abate into a heavy hopelessness. She slowly withdrew her hands from Hermione’s and sank down onto the bed, staring miserably at the floor in front of her without really seeing it.
“I just want to be able to be myself around him. I just want him to see me for who I really am.”
The words that escaped her lips were so quiet that Ginny wasn’t even sure she had actually uttered them aloud or merely thought them to herself. She realized that she must have voiced her thoughts when she heard the soft reply, “You will be and he will.”
Ginny felt the mattress compress and saw a mass of frizzy brown hair appear in her peripheral vision. Hermione let out a long sigh and continued in the same quiet tone.
“I think you and Harry need some time to sort out your own issues. Harry is very good at keeping things to himself, like you. After spending ten years with the Dursleys, where he was at best ignored and at worst abused, I think Harry became rather used to suppressing his feelings. He relied on himself and only himself to get through the bad times.
I also feel that his reintegration into the Wizarding World has both helped and hurt him. On the one hand, he is finally learning to open up a bit to those he cares about and realizing that he can and should rely on others. Over the past few years, Harry has shared lots of things with Ron and me, and I really think he is making progress in trusting others with his emotions and letting us bear some of the burdens he carries.”
Hermione paused, tracing a seam on the worn patchwork quilt upon which they sat, before continuing her explanation.
“But at the same time, I think the number and size of his burdens has only increased since Hagrid told him he was a wizard. The daily stress of being ‘The Boy Who Lived’ affects him far more than he lets on. As if his unwanted fame isn’t trying enough, Harry has had to endure more horrific ordeals at fourteen than most witches or wizards see in a lifetime! Even though he’d never admit it, I’m certain that those dreadful memories and the constant fear, not so much for himself as for those he cares about, haunt him endlessly. But he rarely, if ever, discusses any of this with Ron or me; he just keeps it inside. I can’t force it out of him: it’s something he’s got to work through on his own. I hope that someday he’ll feel secure enough to really let Ron and me in “ to let you in….”
Hermione’s hand returned to her lap as her voice trailed off. The room was quite still, as it was well past midnight. Ginny continued to stare at the bedroom floor, but instead of the worn wooden planks, she saw the untidy black hair and handsome face of the young man sleeping several floors above her. And, for the first time, Ginny saw the pain and suffering Harry’s emerald eyes so carefully concealed from the rest of the world.
Her heart ached for him. Doesn’t he know that he doesn’t have to endure everything alone? Doesn’t he know that I will always be willing to stand by his side, no matter what the future holds? Hermione is right: Harry neither knows nor understands and, until he figures it out, he won’t let me in. Caught up in this sudden realization, Ginny barely registered that Hermione had resumed speaking.
“And you, Ginny. You need some time too. You need time to learn to open up to other people as well. You and Harry both keep things inside because you aren’t used to having anyone in whom to confide. I mean, even though you have a large family, as the only girl and the youngest, well, I suppose that you must feel a bit overlooked at times.”
Hermione paused and Ginny could tell that she half-expected her to lose her temper again. Ginny felt a slight pang of remorse for making her roommate so nervous; after all, she was the one who had initiated this conversation. So Ginny simply continued to stare at the floor and, to her relief, she heard Hermione take a deep breath and plunge on.
“So “ erm “ like I was saying, even though I’m sure all your brothers are great and care loads about you, I imagine you don’t often sit down with them to chat about your feelings, at least not when it comes to your feelings about boys. Something tells me they might not be the most, um, objective listeners.”
Ginny grimaced. That was an understatement.
“And your poor parents are always so busy just trying to keep up with the day-to-day that, even though I’m sure they don’t mean it, they just don’t have time to sit and talk with you. So you, too, have learned to keep to yourself. Is that about right?”
Ginny felt as if she had traveled back in time to her first year at Hogwarts, but instead of Riddle revealing her most private thoughts, it was Hermione. Yet this time, Ginny did not feel so agonizingly exposed; rather, she experienced an odd sense of relief to know that someone understood how isolating it could be to live in such a large family. Behind her unfocused eyes, opposing emotions of depression and affection battled for dominance: Hermione had acknowledged each of Ginny’s weaknesses and yet still remained solidly, comfortingly by her side. Hermione had shown a willingness to accept Ginny for who she was, and had shown her who she could be, something that Ginny herself had never been able to do.
She raised her head and turned to face Hermione. Brown eyes met brown eyes and, ever so slowly, Ginny nodded. A cautious smile crept onto the older girl’s face and she reached forward, clasping Ginny’s right hand in both of her own.
“I know it won’t be easy for you to let go of the years of guilt and self-doubt. Confidence doesn’t come overnight. I’m sure there will still be times that you feel embarrassed and awkward around Harry. But the more you work on healing yourself, the more you’ll begin to see all the wonderful qualities in you that we see. And as you become more comfortable with yourself, maybe, if Harry isn’t completely oblivious, he’ll look up one day to see a strong, confident young witch who just happens to be his best mate’s sister.”
A tiny pinprick of rekindled hope began to glow in Ginny’s heart, causing the corners of her mouth to quirk upward.
“And you don’t have to endure things alone, either. I “ well, I don’t have any brothers or sisters. And while it’s great hanging out with Ron and Harry, well, they’re boys and there are just some things I can’t talk to them about. Whereas with you…it’s been so nice having a girlfriend.”
Hermione broke into a true smile now and Ginny felt a gentle pressure as Hermione squeezed her hand. She felt slightly overwhelmed with emotion looking back into those earnest eyes. If what Hermione said was true, she still had a chance with Harry. If she could learn to accept what had happened in the past and use those events as a source of strength rather than a source of weakness, perhaps a stronger, revitalized version of herself could be her future. And, with a little luck, this improved Ginny might just catch the eye of a similarly changed Harry.
But what made her eyes suddenly glassy with unshed tears were Hermione’s last words. After growing up with six brothers and then having such a disastrous start at Hogwarts, Ginny didn’t have any close friends, much less a best mate. She and Hermione had always got on well, but she considered her to be more Ron’s and Harry’s friend. Now, blinking back her tears, Ginny realized how much Hermione valued their friendship and, in turn, how much she herself did.
Flinging her arms around the older girl’s neck, Ginny sobbed into her bushy mane, “I r-really like having a gir-irlfriend too!”
The two girls rocked back and forth, neither breaking her tight hold of the other. Although she rarely cried, Ginny could no longer contain the years of suffocating isolation, guilt, and doubt that escaped her body in racking sobs. Hermione simply held Ginny, stroking her silky red hair and murmuring soft words of comfort.
Several minutes passed, and Ginny’s sobs began to subside. The tears seemed to have a cleansing effect upon her; Ginny felt freer and lighter than she had in years. Releasing Hermione at last, she sat back on the bed and turned a watery smile on Hermione.
“Thanks, Hermione. For everything. I know it won’t be easy, but “” Ginny took a steadying breath and smiled hopefully at her friend before continuing. “Knowing I have a good friend to turn to makes it seem possible. I’ve wanted to become a better me for a while and, now, maybe I can.”
“You can and you will. And I’ll be here, no matter what.” Hermione gave her another quick hug and then slid off the bed.
“Now, we’d better get to bed or we’re not going to have an opportunity to work on your self-confidence because your mum’s going to kill us for oversleeping and missing our portkey to the World Cup!”
Ginny’s face broke into the first true smile she’d had since she began this conversation as she imagined her Mum’s echoing shouts about how they were becoming as bad as Fred and George. Interpreting Ginny’s grin as agreement, Hermione covered the short distance to her bed, climbed in, and turned out the light.
Ginny lay down and pulled the well-worn quilt over her body. Her bed felt wonderfully warm and inviting; she only just now realized how tired she was. As sleep started to tug at her mind, Ginny mumbled, “Goodnight, Hermione.”
An affectionate voice responded from the darkness, “Goodnight, Ginny.”
And as Ginny began to slip into the oblivion of sleep, her thoughts turned not to the dark-haired boy with emerald eyes, but to a girl with bushy brown hair who had helped her finally understand Harry and, more importantly, herself. With Hermione’s friendship and a stubborn determination to let go of the past, she now thought that the future looked rather brighter. Just before slipping into unconsciousness, Ginny smiled to herself: She’s a smart girl, that Hermione.
*Quote comes from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, page 647, U.S. edition.
Smart Girl, That Hermione* by Slvr_Otter_Solicitor
Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: I do not claim to have any proprietary rights to anything in the Potterverse. I am not making any money off of this piece. I am simply dabbling in the genius that is J.K. Rowling’s imagination because I never want the tales of the Boy Who Lived to end.
Chapter Endnotes:
A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed my first fic! A big thank you to my beta, trophywife, for her assistance with this one-shot. Please R/R - feedback is always welcome! :-D