Kiss the Girl

Kiss the Girl

Chapter Ten

Confessions and Crazy Conversations

~*~

***

The most important thing in conversation is hearing what isn't being said.

-R. Lanz

***

"It's awful, you can't even begin to understand. I've been sullied, did you know that? I had an association with Draco Malfoy, whom I absolutely detest. It'll take years before I can ever talk to Ron about the month of October again. I don't know what we'll do if he ever asks me for the date next year.

"My life was going okay, it really was. The end of last year was a nightmare, don't get me wrong, and I'd trade anything to have never lived it, but besides that, my life was great. Except for those ten years with the Dursleys. But besides that everything was going fine. But then fifth year starts and BOOM, everything goes wrong! Both of my best friends are angry at each other and Ginny, well, don't even get me started on Ginny. All that, and I think my Charms' grade is slipping. I just don't know what to do." Harry fell back into the newly fallen snow from his seat on the edge of the Quidditch pitch. He'd come here to escape reality, but someone had followed him and was now the recipient of this pouring out of emotions. "So, what do you think?"

Crookshanks, Hermione's Tabby, only cocked his head to the side. However, he was wearing an amused grin that bewildered Harry to no end. In fact, it wouldn't surprise the boy if the cat could understand everything he was saying, and was secretly laughing at his mistress' funny friend with the big mouth.

He would probably go and tell all the other cats about it later, and they'd all laugh at him--or whatever cats did to express that they found something pretty damn funny--mewing about that comical boy with the thing on his head that went around talking to them like they'd answered. They probably didn't even think him worth a reply!

Harry shook his head, very scared of where his thoughts were going. He blamed Ron and Hermione for this mess, never before had he imagined such...peculiar daydreams involving cats. Of course, that was before he'd started trying to get them together. It still amazed him that he'd started the whole project to protect his sanity, and now felt it slipping away as if it had never been there at all. 'Wouldn't Rita Skeeter like that,' he thought wryly.

The month of November, aptly dubbed "The Aftermath" by Harry and Ginny, had been hell. It seemed that it an effort to forget about their date, Hermione had taken to acting as if she was angry with Ron. This, among other things, Ron could not even begin to understand. He hadn't been the one to run out on their date, he hadn't been the one breaking hearts, it had been her.

So, in response to Hermione's anger, Ron too became permanently annoyed. He hadn't even been in the mood to make up fake prophecies about death for Divinations, something that Ron loved to do. The two couldn't even watch his Quidditch games in the same bleachers, as it usually resulted in fights that would cause them, as well as the thirty or so people surrounding them, to miss huge portions of the match. Both had started to use he and Ginny as sort of buffers, never doing anything for or with each other unless they could communicate through one of them. Just that morning at breakfast an example had occurred, going something like this:

"Harry," Hermione said, "do you think you could ask Ron to pass that plate of Scrambled Eggs that he is so rudely hogging to himself."

Harry hesitated for only a moment, not in the mood to have Hermione seek vengeance on him as well. "Er...Ron, Hermione wants to know if she can please have the eggs."

"Well," Ron had answered, pretending he hadn't heard any of the conversation that most of Gryffindor was listening raptly to. "I suppose she can have them, if she could just have a little patience and wait for me to finish with them." He then began to scoop eggs onto his plate...very slowly.

"Uh...Ron says he'll be a moment," Harry told Hermione.

"He didn't say that, the huge prat said--"

Ginny had been awaiting the impending shouting match with a sense of dread. She quickly broke in before Hermione could finish the sentence. "Wait! Both of you stop for just one minute!" She then grabbed Hermione's plate and the spoon from Ron's hand, before promptly dishing eggs out for the older girl. She then tossed the spoon back to Ron--none too gently, Harry noted--and gave the plate to Hermione, who accepted it with a curt nod.

"Ginny Weasley, the girl who gave the breakfast table peace," Joy, a girl in Ginny's year stated, patting her friend on the back. Fred Weasley started to clap, and soon the entire table was applauding the red-haired girl, whose face had begun to turn pink and was slowly working its way up the color wheel. Hermione and Ron looked ashamed of their actions (though not enough to talk to each other) and went back to eating their breakfast in stony silence.

The memory dispersed as a cold gust of wind hit Harry's face, making him think, 'Hey, it's cold out here. Maybe I should go inside...'

Just then, another voice echoed the question. "Harry, have you forgotten it's December? Where on Earth is your scarf?"

Harry looked up to see Ginny Weasley staring down at him, one eyebrow raised and her arms akimbo. "Hi there, Gin. I'm just..." he trailed off, trying to think of something less blunt then, "hiding from my friends."

"Hiding from Ron and Hermione?"

Okay, Plan A had died, time to move on to Plan B: Denial, Denial, Denial (that was its name, Harry hadn't had time to really concentrate on the title so much has accomplishing the act it was named for.)

"No, I'm just..." he looked up at Ginny's questioning eyes, "hiding from Ron and Hermione," he admitted. Deep inside himself a little piece of Harry Potter was wondering why he could defeat demonic psycho's intent on taking over the world but couldn't think up a halfway decent lie. "I suppose that sounds horrible."

"Harry, don't be silly. What do you think I'm doing?" They both laughed and sat down, it seemed that hiding together was quite a bit more entertaining than hiding alone.

On the other side of the pitch an orange cat sulked off, intent on telling all the other cats in the castle about that weird Harry Potter character.

***

"You wanted to see me, Professor Dumbledore?" Ronald Weasley shut the door to the headmaster's office, a bit nervous about his reasons for being here. Nobody ever went to the old man's personal office for scones and tea. And if they had, he had never been invited. Which left him with the notion that he'd done something wrong. Though he'd racked his brain for exactly what he'd done when Professor McGonagall had summoned him to the headmaster's office, he hadn't come with anything better than the incident last week when he had dropped a bottle of ink on Mrs. Norris.

It was so an accident.

"Mr. Weasley, what a nice surprise!" Dumbledore smiled. Ron just looked confused, wondering how his visit could be a surprise when he had been called here. Of course, wonderment only lasted so long, this was Dumbledore, after all. "Sit down, sit down," the aged wizard behind the desk used his wand to draw out a chair. Ron sat, fidgeting like a little toddler.

"Did you know, Mr. Weasley, that I have been observing you this past month?"

Ron swallowed his pride and prepared to beg, "Sir, I'm sorry I dropped the ink on Filch's cat, I swear, I didn't do it on purpose--" Dumbledore interrupted the tirade.

"This isn't about the cat, Mr. Weasley, though that's very interesting."

"Oh."

"However, seeing as I my ears have been going in and out of deafness since I became Headmaster here, I'm willing to attest your story to them." Ron blushed and Dumbledore smiled.

"So...Professor, what are we here to talk about?"

Dumbledore only smiled. "It's been said that the present is only an empty space, that it lies between the good and the bad."

"Like You-Know-Who?" asked Ron, growing solemn.

"Yes...much like Voldemort. But it also applies to the rest of life. At every moment you are affected by your past, which in turn, means that you are creating your future. The smallest action or conversation could become the fabric of your destiny."

"Sir, I'm Ron Weasley. Do you--do you want me to go get Harry, because this really sounds like something you should be telling to somebody like him.

The headmaster's eyes gave way to their familiar twinkle, "Even those who are not 'heroes' must live their lives, and fulfill their destiny, Mr. Weasley. Now, I suggest you think about what your future should be, how you want it to be. Perhaps that will help your present situation a little more." Ron thought back to his hellish date that he'd shared with Hermione and wondered just how much Dumbledore knew about his "present situation."

"Is this about Hermione, sir?" Ron's mind was slowly cleaning the dust off the cranks, as it gave way to deep thinking.

"Mr. Weasley, did I ever tell you about the time a student here was hit over the head with a frying pan by his future wife?"

Ron looked frightened, was Professor Dumbledore warning him about Hermione being a prime target for assault and battery? "No, Professor," he said.

"Yes, well, you're much to young for that story anyway. But, just for curiosity's sake--do you know Miss Granger's birth date?"

"Um..." Ron thought. "I think it's in September, sir."

"You'd do best to find that out exactly." Dumbledore stood up and Ron followed suit. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Weasley, I hope you think about what was said here today." Ron smiled and said his goodbyes as he climbed down the stairs leading him back to the main halls of Hogwarts.

***

Three days later Ginny walked into the Gryffindor Common Room through the portrait hole. There was snow in her hair and even more covering her cloak. Her cheeks were tinted a healthy pink, and her eyes were sparkling with life. She, Harry, and the twins had just had a snowball fight against a group of students from Ravenclaw, and had come out much the victors.

Ginny thought about one particular moment of the battle.

Earlier that Day...

"Alright, Ginny, you take the first quadrant, Harry, you the second. George and I will work on ammunition. Use what you have wisely, and whatever you do, don't get hit. The Ravenclaws are clever little buggers; they've got lots of brains and a whole lot of snowballs." Fred peeped out from the giant mound of snow that the four were hiding behind, before quickly ducking down again as a ball of snow whizzed past his head.

"Yes, sir, Captain, sir!" George saluted and began making snowballs, Fred nodded and began to help.

"Ya know, Fred...you sounded a lot like Percy when you just said all that."

Fred didn't look up, "George, I was just thinking up a plan that involves live bait."

"Really, mate? It doesn't involve Ginny, does it?"

"Alright, alright, I'm going," their sister had mumbled, making Harry laugh. The two parted ways, taking a pile of snowballs with them as they went. However, before they did so, Ginny enquired as to the whereabouts of Ron and Hermione.

"Last time I saw them," started Harry, "they were fighting over the color of parchment."

"Harry, be serious."

The boy in question looked her in the eyes, "I am."

Just then a snowball the size of Ginny's head fell by the girl's foot, showing quite clearly that it was time to carry out the plan.

Ten minutes of bombardment followed, neither Ravenclaw nor Gryffindor backing down as they battled for total domination of the snow. Nobody noticed when one Ravenclaw threw a perfectly aimed hit at Ginny's head, nobody except Harry, that is.

"Nooooooo," he called, watching in slow motion as the white object followed its trajectory towards Ginny's now widened eyes. Doing the only thing he could do, Harry dove long and hard, taking the snowball in the chest, before falling to the ground in a heap.

Ginny blinked. Fred and George roared with laughter, which was soon echoed by the Ravenclaws. Harry didn't move, not even a finger.

"Harry?" Ginny asked, breaking off a giggle. She took a step closer, then leaned down to tap him on the shoulder, a bit worried at his lack of movement.

"ARGG!" Harry had grabbed for Ginny's knees and sent her crashing down into the snow, screaming like a banshee at the scare he had given her.

Ginny was looking livid. "Harry Potter, you git! I thought you were a dead!"

George, who had come over to point and laugh at his sister, piped up, "From a snowball, Gin?" Just then another snowball came flying at the three, and Ginny took out her wand (which was strictly prohibited in snow ball fights) and enchanted it to fly into her brother's mouth.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other before bursting into laughter.

Back at the Portrait Hole...

Ginny walked over to the fire and took off her mittens, laying them down near the hearth so they could dry. The common room was near empty, all of the other students off doing various activities. She noticed a few of the younger students at a table by the window, the only occupants to be seen.

That was when she noticed Hermione, cuddled up with a book in a large red chair. Ginny quietly walked up behind her, looking down at the book.

It was upside down.

"So, Hermione," Ginny began, watching as Hermione jumped a little, "what are you reading?"

Hermione put a hand to her heart, "Really, Ginny, you shouldn't scare people like that!" The younger girl rolled her eyes.

"Well, what are you reading?"

"Um...Hemingway." Hermione didn't sound too convincing.

Ginny turned the book right side up in her friend's hands, "I think it helps if you hold it like this." Hermione's face turned crimson. "You weren't thinking about Ron, were you?" Hermione didn't even reply. "Because, I've been wondering lately just why you're acting so mean to him."

Hermione looked into her friend's eyes, "Him? What about me?"

"Oh, yes, well...I don't know your side of the story." Ginny gave Hermione a pointed look. "Nobody does."

"Really, Ginny," Hermione scoffed. "It's obvious, isn't it?"

Ginny looked at her incredulously, "Not so much, no."

"You're not going to make this easy on me, are you?" Hermione gave Ginny a weak smile. "Maybe it'd be good for me to tell..."

"That's right, Hermione. A burdened soul is a sorry soul indeed."

Hermione laughed, "Ginny, you never were a poet."

Ginny laughed in return, "No, I wasn't." The pair sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. Finally, Hermione spoke.

"I don't have a lot of friends who are girls. I never could find a use for them. They were always talking about their hair, their nails, makeup, the boys they like...the list goes on and on." Hermione sighed. "Then, last year, I realized something: I was kind of jealous."

Ginny scoffed, "You? Hermione Granger?"

"I always look composed, and like I don't care, but sometimes I wish I were pretty like other girls, and that boys would like me. When Viktor asked me to the Yule Ball I was in disbelief, I had said yes before I realized that we really had nothing in common except the fact that we both haunted the library.

"Then Ron got all angry about him, it wasn't until then that he discovered I was female. I had never forgotten it though. He and Harry have always been closer to each other than to me, sometimes boys need boys and girls need girls.

"But, Ginny, until you and I started to talk, I had never had a girl friend to depend on."

Ginny was very moved by Hermione's speech, never before having realized that Hermione Granger, resident genius, was only a teenager, and had teenage problems like herself.

"When Ron showed interest," continued Hermione, "I couldn't believe it."

Ginny blinked, "You mean...you know Ron wants more that just friendship?"

"Of course I do, it didn't take long before I realized that. At first I was extraordinarily happy, but then I wasn't." Hermione stopped, and Ginny fought back the urge to push her on.

"You like him, too, then."

Hermione smiled, "Tons."

Ginny leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees. "Then why, Hermione?"

"Because...because I was scared. More scared than I've ever been in my life. Even when I came face to face with that stupid Basilisk in second year, I wasn't so scared. At least then it only lasted a minute. But this...it's like a never-ending queasiness in the pit of my gut. Did you know it made me feel so ill I only got a ninety-eight percent on my Arithmancy test last week?"

"That must have been dreadful," Ginny pretended to be truly upset over this.

"Ginny, what if this is all just because I'm here. I'm Ron's only friend who's a girl, what if I'm just a last resort? Boys have never fancied me, Ginny, I don't understand why he would."

The redhead couldn't believe her ears. "Hermione, you can't be serious! You are amazing, and my brother is head over heals because of it."

Hermione wiped away what looked suspiciously like a tear, "Ginny, what should I do?"

"I think there's only one thing you can do."

______________________________________________________________________________________________

If you think Ginny's going to reply: "Join a cult and organize a mass suicide," you're wrong. Sorry. You'll have to tune in next time to find the answer.