Oblivious

Chapter 13: Picture

-R-

After buying Bianca a few drinks, she asks to go back to my house. Being buzzed myself, I agree, and we Apparate into my room. I lock the door and place a Sound-Proofing Charm on the walls.

Just in case.

As she takes a seat on my bed, I notice that the picture of Hermione and me is still on the floor. Coming back to my senses briefly, I feel terrible at having another girl in my room. It's so painful to be looking at Hermione, while Bianca is over there, waiting for me. And I know what she has in mind for us tonight. I hurriedly pick of the picture and restored frame and slide it into a drawer in my wardrobe. Then I turn back to Bianca.

She's smiling and eyeing me, motioning me over with her index finger. Then she pats the space beside her. I walk over and sit down, trying to keep my mind from Hermione.

Look what she did to you, Ron! How can you still have feelings for her?

I loved her, all right? She was my world.

"Was" is the key word there, mate. Hermione's the past. Get on with your life!

I can't! I can't do this!

Look at the beautiful witch beside you; look at how she's looking at you; look at her body language! Then tell me you can't.

I look over at Bianca and she is twirling a lock of her hair in her fingers, waiting for me to say something.

"Um . . ." I start, lowering my eyes.

That was smooth!

"I . . . I'm kinda new at this. I'm not sure what to do now." I turn bright red at this and peek a glance at her, expecting her to laugh and get up to leave.

But she doesn't. Instead, she smiles again and puts her hands on my hands. "Then let me lead."

I swallow at the lump in my throat and nod once.

Still holding my hands, she lays back onto the bed, pulling me down beside her. She raises my hands to her face, pressing them against her skin, running them through her hair. Then she places them on her waist. Leaning over, she brushes her lips against my cheek and neck, kissing and poking out her tongue sensually every so often. She begins to raise my hands to her chest, releasing them to allow me to continue on my own. I close my eyes and bite my bottom lip. I try to imagine that this beautiful Aussie in front of me is Hermione. I imagine that Hermione is kissing me all over my face, that Hermione's breasts are just inches from my hands, that Hermione's body is arched up against mine.

But I can't.

Just as I feel the beginning of a curve in Bianca's chest, I open my eyes and jerk my hands away. Rolling over before I can see the shock that must be all over her face, I put my large feet over the opposite side of the bed and put my elbows on my thighs, burying my face in my hands as the tears begin to fall.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I can't. I thought I could, but I can't. I can't forget her. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry . . ." I weep as she shifts on the bed, coming over to sit next to me. She places a gentle hand on my arm and I gasp, looking up.

She's smiling empathetically. "There's a girl you love."

I nod and begin apologizing again.

"Don't apologize. It's my fault. I'm sorry for forcing you when you are so obviously nursing a broken heart." She rises from the bed. "I should be leaving now. Thanks for the drinks, R-Ron. It was nice meeting you."

With that being said, she Disapparates, leaving me with my emotions.

Why couldn't I just do it? It would have taken my mind from Hermione. Hell, I wouldn't have been a virgin anymore . . . That's just it. If I couldn't do it with Hermione before marriage, how could I expect to be able to with a perfect stranger? I am such an idiot!

I throw myself back onto my bed and stare up at my ceiling, thinking about another time that I was another girl who wasn't Hermione.

Parvati Patil and I began going out when she asked me after Divination, our last class of the day, a few months into our fifth year. Since she was gorgeous and Hermione seemed to be taking no interest in me that way, I agreed. Immediately, she was attached to me at the hip, with her arms always wrapped around me.

That night in the common room, after a walk around the lake that Parvati had insisted on, I saw Hermione and Harry for the first time since Divination. As usual, Hermione had her nose stuck in a book and Harry was cleaning his Firebolt with his broomstick cleaning kit. Parvati and I, still a tangle of arms, sat down on the sofa next to Harry. He looked up at us and cocked an eyebrow at me, asking for a explanation.

Just as I opened my mouth to answer, Parvati spoke up, quite loudly. "Why, Harry! Ron and I are going out!"

I stole a glance at Hermione, whose eyes flicked up at us briefly. I saw something in them, a look of regret or jealousy. But I had no time to ponder it, as Parvati had just planted a kiss on my cheek, causing Hermione's eyes to harden and return to her book. Wanting desperately to talk to her, I rose from the sofa, but Parvati pulled on my arm.

"Where are you going, Ron? Don't you want to be with me?"

Torn, I looked between her and Hermione, whose eyes were now glued to the page, unmoving, as if she was listening for my answer.

What use would it be to piss off Parvati as well as Hermione? She'll get over it.

I sat back down next to Parvati, who again wrapped her arms around my stomach and kissed me on the cheek. "Good Ron!" she said teasingly, as if speaking to a dog. Then she patted me on the head. I forced a smile to my face and glanced at Hermione again.

But the chair she had occupied was empty.

Hermione didn't speak to me for two weeks after that night, and I had no idea why. What had I done this time? I tried to talk to Harry about it, but Parvati went everywhere I did, so I couldn't get just the two of us alone, when we were both at least semi-awake. A week before Christmas break, I couldn't stand it anymore, so I shook off Parvati somehow and went to find Hermione.

She was in the library, as I expected.

I sat down across from her, barely visible above the tall stack of books on the table. She looked over the top of the book she was reading and silently asked me what I wanted with her glare.

Scooting over the stack of books so I could see her properly, I told myself that I wouldn't lose my temper.

"Look, Hermione, I don't know why you're upset at me this time, and it's driving me mad. What have I done this time?"

She threw down her book and stood up. "Well, if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you!" And she stormed off toward the door of the library. I intercepted her, grabbed her arm, and turned her around, forcing her to face me.

"Hermione, don't do this. We've been through too much togeth--"

"I don't need to hear this from you! You must have a very warped sense of judgment to . . . to . . ."

"To what?" I asked quietly.

She's so cute when she's angry, I thought to myself.

She yanked her arm from my grip, tears shining in her fiery eyes. "To traipse around with that bimbo!"

With that, she ran from the library, leaving me dumbstruck.

When I finally found my head, I thought, S-She's jealous! But how can that be? It's not as if she fancies me or anything . . .

About fifteen minutes after Bianca left, there's a soft knock at my door. Quickly drying my eyes with a charm, I call, "Who is it?"

The door opens slowly and Ginny's face peers around the edge. Her eyes are red, as if she too has been crying. "Can I come in?" Her voice is strained, but soft.

I nod and she enters, closing the door behind her. She stands, hands folded in front of her, head hanging slightly.

Forgetting my own problems, I ask worriedly, "What's the matter, Gin? Come here, sit down."

She sniffs and walks over, sitting gingerly beside me on the bed. Then she begins to weep. I put my arm around her and hold her while she cries, rocking her gently. She grasps the front of my robes tightly with both her hands and cries into my chest. I disregard the wet spot forming there.

What on earth could be wrong with her?

When she's seemingly cried herself out, she sniffles and pulls back, looking up at me with shining eyes. "Have you heard from Harry?" she asks almost inaudibly.

Of course! She still fancies Harry. Why didn't I think of that? "No, not since we parted on the platform. But Dad says he's all right, so --"

"Dad hasn't heard from him either!" she screams, standing up and pacing the room. "He just said that to keep us from worrying. I just heard him telling Mum that no owls have come from him the whole time he's been gone. I'm frightened, Ron! What is something happened to him? What if he's injured or sick or . . . or . . . dead . . ." She whispers the last word and tears fill her eyes again.

"Not meaning to sound rude," I say, standing and carefully approaching her, "but why does it matter so much to you? I mean, he never seemed --"

"Because, Ron," she whispers, slowly bringing her eyes up to mine, "he kissed me last year."

I stare at her, shocked at this news. He kissed my baby sister? When? Why didn't she tell me? Why didn't he tell me?

"I know what you're thinking, Ron. And it's because we both knew you'd go berserk. I can tell you're fighting to keep it in right now, so I guess we were right . . ." She sat down on the bed again and buried her face in her hands, sighing deeply. "I'm so frightened," she whispers.

Overcoming my shock, I sit down beside her and put my arm around her again. "I'm sure he's fine," I say lamely, not knowing what else to say. Then, trying to cheer her up, I say, "Tell me about when he kissed you."

She lifts her head and gazes at me questioningly. "You really want to know." It isn't a question.

"Yeah. It was, after all, my baby sister's first kiss, and it was, after all, with the bloke she's been dreaming about for seven years."

I delight at the small smile that touches her lips. She then says, "All right, but you can't interrupt or pull any faces."

"I won't."

"All right. As I said, it was last year, just before the Quidditch Cup finals. I was sitting in the stands with Hermione when I saw Harry rushing up from the field to where we sat. Thinking something was wrong, Hermione and I both stood up and met him halfway.

"'What's the matter?' Hermione asked, grabbing his shoulders. 'Is Ron okay? Can he still play?'

"'Ron's fine,' he said, then turned his attention to me. 'Actually, I wanted to talk to Ginny.'

"Feeling myself blushing, I nodded and threw a meaningful glance at Hermione, who waggled her eyebrows suggestively. I laughed and followed Harry around the back of the stands, where we had some privacy."

A protest rises in the back of my throat, but I fight it back. Ginny sees this, but continues.

"'What's is it, Harry?' I asked when we came to a stop.

"His eyes darted around nervously as he played with the strap on his glove. I noticed how good he looked in his Quidditch uniform, and not for the first time.

"When he finally talked, his brilliant green eyes met mine unwaveringly. 'Ginny, I just wanted to say that . . . well . . . I'm not really sure how to say it, so . . .' He took my hands and leaned down, brushing his lips against mine. My heart began beating wildly and I felt light-headed and dizzy. All too soon, he pulled away, blushing a deep red.

"'Thanks,' he whispered hoarsely, smiling. He turned and led me back up to my seat, still holding my hand. Once I was seated, he ran down onto the field where the other players were already assembling. And as he mounted his broom, he threw me a wink."

As she finishes, she lowers her head again and stands to leave. Though she seems glad to have finally shared this experience with someone else, she appears to be holding back something else, something that's hurting her.

"He will return, Ginny," I say as she reaches for the doorknob. She turns. "I'm sure of it." I smile reassuringly.

"And I know that things with you and Hermione will work out," she says, weakly returning the smile and exiting my room.

So, Harry and Ginny, I think to myself. I'm not quite sure how I feel about that . . .