Ridiculous

A/N: Alas, I don’t own any of JK Rowling’s characters or any of Dido’s lyrics. I don’t even own the lovely Fanart, \'Ridiculous\' by Mistress Scarlett (that can be found at mistresscarlett .deviantart .com ) that inspired this story. ::le sigh:: ;)





“So you’re with her, and not with me.

I know she’s sweet, and so pretty.

I hear she comes delightfully.

A little angel, next to me.

When you see her sweet smile baby, don’t think of me.

And when she lays in your warm arms,

don’t think of me.”



— Dido, ‘Don’t think of me’





Ridiculous



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“Does it bother you now all the mess I made?”

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Wild auburn hair floated in the stillness, surrounding her clear blue eyes, shining with unshed tears. They usually looked like a bright summer’s sky, but now, now they were the rage and fury of an untamed ocean, waiting to engulf the unwary sailor.

The dormitory lay in a shambles behind her.

I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.

I. Will. Not. Cry.

Ginny was so sick of it. So sick of all this pretense, the way everything had to be smoothed over, swept under. A perfect bloody facade. “Please Ginny, don’t make a scene”, she’d said. Well fuck her.

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“Does it bother you now, the clothes you told me not to wear?”

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Black boots. Buckled up her calf, almost to the knee. Fishnets covering the exposed flesh. “Strumpet’s stockings”, she’d called them. Ginny’s eyes followed the curve up to Hermione’s waist, the black fabric caressing her hips, as her fragile hands tried to pull the skirt lower. A flowing purple shirt with elf-like sleeves and a mauve choker finished the picture. A liberal dose of Sleekeezy’s potion and those beautiful chestnut locks were under control. Pursed lips in that wonderful dark shade of red. She really should dress up more often.

“Ginny, I look ridiculous.”

Dubious brown eyes surveyed the redhead, clad in figure-hugging black. They took in the skin tight leather pants, the black singlet cut off mid-stomach, the studded collar, the wild crimson hair cascading halfway down her back, and finally, the painted black lips, currently in a smirk.

“You’re not actually going to go out dressed like that are you?”

Hermione looked slightly disconcerted.

Ginny simply laughed and took her hand, pulling her towards the door. It wasn’t often that Hogsmeade staged Avada Kedaver, the occasional Goth club in the room above the Hog’s Head, and Ginny planned to enjoy tonight as much as she could.

Dragging Hermione along was all her idea, of course. That girl would never leave the library if somebody didn’t make her.

The club was already quite busy when they arrived, the dancefloor packed with Slytherins. Ginny headed straight into the throng of gyrating bodies, but Hermione held back, protesting that she needed a drink first.

“Suit yourself.” Ginny shrugged, and began to move heps tps to one of her favourite songs, ‘Hemlock Heart’, as she joined the mass of green and black.

After a few songs, Ginny wandered over to the bar and managed to charm the young, dark haired wizard there into serving her a firewhisky, even though she was clearly underage. She spotted Hermione down the other end of the bar, chatting to a very out of place Cho Chang. Decked out in an enveloping blacess ess and lots of eye makeup which, strangely, suited her, Cho looked like she’d been dragged there against her will as well. Ginny greeted the two older girls, and rolled her eyes at Hermione, who was nursing a tall glass of iced water.

“C’mon, you’re coming with me!” Ginny shouted over the music, grabbing Hermione and throwing a wave back at Cho, now all alone at the bar.

“But poor Cho’s been abandoned by her friends, we can’t just leave her...” Hermione trailed off, looking concerned.

“What are you talking about? There’s heaps of other people from school here, and she can come dance if she wants.” Ginny wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Pulling Hermione into the middle of the scuffed floor, she wrapped her arms around the taller girl’s neck and grinned at her as she started to move.

Hermione still looked a little uncomfortable, but began to dance as well. Looking around at the others on the dancefloor, some of their costumes giving off an ethereal glow, she started to look self-conscious again.

“I look ridiculous.” She repeated, smiling sheepishly at Ginny, who was now swaying to the music with her eyes closed. A magical smoke was beginning to wind its way in between the people dancing, enchanted so that it obscured the others from view. Ginny opened her eyes and looked at Hermione.

“No, ‘Mione. You look sexy.” She had a wicked look in her eyes, her hands were firmly on Hermione’s hips, moving theirs in sync, and as she closed the gap between their faces, her dark lips met those red ones she’d so admired before.

The room smelled of stale smoke and fresh sweat, mixed with the heady aroma of students letting loose and relieving the stress of homework and classes. Hermione smelled like a country rose garden; clean, lilting and pure. Even her scent is out of place here, Ginny thought. She was sure Hermione could taste the firewhisky on her breath, and waited for the reprimand she knew was coming when their mouths parted.

“Have you been drinking?”

Ginny looked at Hermione, and replied sarcastically.

“No, Mum.”

Hermione sighed.

“You know I’m only looking out for your best interests, Gin. Underage drinking won’t look good on your permanent record...”

“Is that all you care about?” Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “God, why can’t you just live a little, for once?”

Her blue eyes were wide, dilated due to the dim lighting. Her hair was a mess, flying in all directions, like the mythic Medusa and her snakes.

She moved away, to the other side of the floor to dance with some Ravenclaw seventh years, leaving Hermione to be jostled by the bodies still moving around her.

As she emerged from the back entrance on Hog’s Lane a couple of hours later, Ginny saw Hermione sitting on the side of the road, hunched over, obviously brooding over something.

Ginny felt a stab of shame. She shouldn’t have been so harsh on Hermione. This wasn’t really her scene, it was true. And to abandon her in the middle of the dancefloor...

“Hey.” She said softy, coming up behind the huddled figure. Ginny put her arms around Hermione, and kissed her neck, feeling the frizziness that was now returning to the older girl’s hair.

“I’m sorry.”

Hermione looked up, her serious eyes searching Ginny’s face.

“You know that I care about you, don’t you?”

Not an actual apology, but it would do.

“Of course I do.” Ginny smiled wryly. “That’s why you nag me all the time.” She grinned.

“Ginny! I –”

But Ginny had silenced her, with a finger to her lips, and a quick peck on the tip of her nose.

“We better go. Filch was in a worse mood than usual this afternoon, and I don’t like our chances if he catches us now.”

She looped her arm in Hermione’s, and headed up the path to the school. Hermione looked down at Ginny’s flushed, dishevelled appearance, and frowned.

“I wish you wouldn’t wear such revealing clothing. It doesn’t really leave much to the imagination. ”

Ginny cocked an eyebrow.

“Why, jealous of the attention I get?” she gave Hermione a lascivious smile.

“No, nothing like that. I just think you might be sending out the wrong message...”

Ginny scowled.



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“Does it bother you now, all the angry games we played?”

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Dark brown hair. Masses of it. It almost choked her, but Ginny didn’t mind. Her arm curled around that far too skinny frame, hand pressed against the flat stomach, Ginny buried her face in the mountain of hair and sighed happily.

She’d always teased Hermione about having such unruly hair, but in truth, it was just one of the things she loved about the girl. Like the infuriating way she had to reason everything out, how everything had to make sense, and how it irritated her no end if there was something she didn’t know.

But what a lot of people didn’t guess was that behind all of that ‘know-it-all’ rubbish was a very insecure young woman, desperate for praise and approval, drinking it up like a dying man in the desert. Typical Virgo. Ginny smiled.

They had always been good friends of course, but still Ginny had always felt a little left out. Girly chats in bedroom light, whispering secrets, giggling about how stupid the boys could be, watching the lamplight glint off those dark brown eyes, as they smiled with an openness rarely seen in public.

It had never been enough for Ginny, though. She had always had to watch from the sidelines as Hermione went off with Harry and Ron all the time. It was as if Hermione chose boys for best friends to avoid the emotional complications of other girls. And it hurt that Ginny could never be a part of that side of her life.

Ginny had thought that after they became lovers that would change. She had thought she and Hermione would become closer, but in fact the opposite had happened.

Hermione suddenly disentangled herself from Ginny’s arms and sat up, putting on her dressing gown.

“Why do you always have to run away?” Ginny complained, yawning.

Hermione drew back the hangings, and turned around to face her, standing next to the bed.

“I don’t think it would be the greatest idea for a prefect to be found seducing a younger student.”

Why does she have to distance herself every time?

“Oh, come on, practically everyone knows, or at least suspects that we’re –”

“I would prefer not to give them direct evidence.” Hermione’s tone was clipped, not inviting disagreement.

“You’re ashamed of me then. Afraid that I’ll tarnish your perfect fucking record!” Ginny’s voice was rising. She was being irrational, but she didn’t care.

“Shh! You’ll wake everyone up. Of course I’m not ashamed of you! And you know I’ve been friends with Harry and Ron far too long to have a ‘perfect record’. Don’t be stupid.”

“Right. Sure. Stupid Ginny thinking that she could ever mean as much to you as those two. You’ve always shut me out. I was always too young, too naive, too stupid to be a part of anything.” Her eyes felt hot, and itchy. Ginny blinked fiercely.

“Ginny what are you talking about? I –”

“Whatever. Just go.” She rolled over, her face to the wall.

Hermione looked confused, and angry.

“I’m so sick of all your games. What is all this about?”


GinnGinny sat up, eyes blazing.

“Me? I’m playing games?! I’m not the one who runs back to her dorm room every night. I’m not the one who still pathetically tries to pretend we’re ‘just friends’ to everyone else. God, you’re such a hypocrite!”

“Ginny please, you know it’s not as easy for me as that. I can’t – I can’t just... be myself so openly as you.” Hermione looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“Why not?” Ginny demanded.

“Because – B-because, I told you – I’m just... not ready yet. Why do you have to do this? What do you want from me?”

Now the tears were streaming down Hermione’s face, but somehow, Ginny didn’t feel any pity.

“You’re so clever, you bloody well figure it out.”

And with that, she closed the hangings around her bed, leaving Hermione standing in the middle of a silent dormitory.



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“Does it bother you now, when I’m not there?”

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Sitting at a table in the tiny tea shop in Hogsmeade, Hermione watched as Cho paid for their drinks, and smiled over at her. She smiled back, and gazed out the window. Cho was such a lovely girl. Soft spoken, but very friendly. She’d come out of her shell a lot more too, since she seemed to have gotten over Cedric. That fiasco with Harry seemed all but forgotten. When they had bumped into each other at the club, they had sat at the bar and chatted, about school, about exams, and about what they planned to do after they graduated.

Hermione wondered why they hadn’t got to know each other sooner, they had so much in common. She had often thought she should have been sorted into Ravenclaw, be surrounded by others as academically driven as herself, and she saw it now when she was with Cho, who just understood. She was very pretty too. Wide dark eyes, a small, finely boned face, and across her nose, a smattering of freckles...

...freckles covering that milky white flesh, across her shoulders and back. Amazing how many there are. She says her mother had always told her they were kisses from the sun.

“I’m going to kiss every one of them.”

Delighted giggles, and those russet strands vibrate as they glow in the candlelight, her skin smells like vanilla and cinnamon, and my lips caress that ivory smoothness...

She shook her head. It had been good while it lasted, but it could never really have worked. Ginny was too demanding, too hot-headed. She never really understood why Hermione hadn’t wanted to make their relationship public.

Hermione didn’t think Hogwarts had ever had a Head Girl who was queer. Not that the school was homophobic, but the whole ‘coming out’ business was still just so... scary. And there were still people who had a problem with it, and she saw the way Ginny was treated by some people, called a ‘Gryffindyke’ by Pansy Parkinson and her bitchy friends. Ginny just seemed above it all, like it could never touch her.

And Hermione wasn’t even sure that this was what she really wanted, she still had so many things to figure out in her head... Like what her parents would say. They were so proud when she was made a prefect, but would they be so proud of their daughter if she told them she preferred girls? Molly had been wonderful about it with her daughter, of course. She was so accepting and open, just like Ginny. Which was one of the things Hermione loved most about the young Gryffindor.

This was all so completely pointless. Why think about that now? It was over, Ginny had made that much clear. And it made much more sense to be here with Cho. Didn’t it? Cho was like her. Cho understood, and didn’t ask for more than Hermione could give. She never had to explain herself to Cho, never had to deal with screaming matches, with angry scenes...

“Please Ginny.... Please, don’t make a scene...” Looking frantically at the doorway, praying that the others are still down at dinner, not here to witness this.

“I’ll make a fucking scene if I bloody well feel like it!”

Her eyes are rimmed with red, hands in fists at her sides. The same hands that wrought havoc on this room, in a fit of incandescent rage, the same hands that wound themselves so easily around my neck while she kissed me with that beautiful mouth. The same mouth that’s now open, shouting again...

“What’s the matter? Afraid that someone might walk in on this little ‘lover’s quarrel’?”

She’s sneering now. It doesn’t suit her. Her vivacious features scrunch up in anger and pain.

“You. Are. Such. A. Fucking. Hypocrite!” Each word choked out between sobs. “You never really wanted me. You just wanted a convenient little friend who’d be there when you were tired of Harry and Ron, or when you felt lonely. I can’t – I don’t want to deal with this anymore, with – with always playing second fiddle to everything else.”

I can’t breathe. I feel like I’m choking. Her words are making themselves into a chain in the air, and winding around my neck, ready to garotte me.

“Ginny, you’re not being fair...”

She looks at me disbelievingly.

“Fair? FAIR?!”

And suddenly, a book, flying towards my face...

Cho waved her hand in front of Hermione’s face as she sat down with her coffee.

“Everything alright?”

Hermione looked over at the girl sitting opposite her, trying to collect her thoughts.

“What? Oh... um, yeah.” She smiled again at Cho.

“Were you thinking about Ginny?” Cho’s soft voice mirrored the concern written over her delicate features.

“No I.... yeah.” Hermione looked up, to gauge Cho’s reaction. She was smiling sadly at Hermione.

“You miss her.”

Hermione kept her face absolutely calm.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”





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\"So when you see her sweet smile baby, don’t think of me.

And when she lays in your warm arms,

don’t think of me.

Well it’s too late, and it’s too bad.

Don’t think of me.\"

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