Title: Storybook
Author: Arsenic
Rating: R
Fandom/Pairing: HP, HG/GW
Disclaimer: Property of J.K. Rowling and her minions.
Summary: Ginny wants the fairytale. Sorta.

To Allecto, on the event of her birthday. Because she sees promise in Ginny.

The first time Ginny saw Harry, she thought she was seeing a knight in shining armor. Not in the way that Bill, who still gave her piggy back rides even though mum yelled that she was too big, was. Or the way that Charlie was, sending her pictures of pretty dragons that breathed fireballs at her and calling her "his little Peruvian Vipertooth". Certainly not like Percy, who helped her with her homework and didn't make fun of her for wanting to go to school. Nothing like the twins, who spent half their time scaring the wits out of her and the other half making it up to her in laughter. Not even like Ron, who listened to her and played with her and even let her win sometimes at chess, though she wasn't nearly as good.

No, those were real heroes. Harry was the storybook variation.

It hadn't mattered that Harry was kind of disgustingly skinny, or that the scar wasn't really good looking so much as red and puffy. Even the nest of knots and gnarls atop his head hadn't disturbed the vision. Standing in front of her had been The Famous Harry Potter, and in that moment he had become her hero, her knight, her Boy Who Lived.

It hadn't helped matters that he'd had to go and actually play out the role, taking her safely from ultra-secret catacombs inside Hogwarts walls and fishing her brother out of the bottom of the lake. No, that hadn't helped at all.

Nothing had really helped until she noticed the twins stockpiling their money, whispering secrets that didn't sound at all like the secrets they had always kept, harmless, useless secrets. The twins were making plans. She couldn't be sure of what kind, but that much was clear. In turn, Ginny whispered to herself in the mirror, the only twin she had. She whispered, "Time to get yourself a plan, Vipertooth."

Even if she wasn't exactly the fairy tale princess type, Harry was her hero. He had to notice eventually.

*

Mostly, Ginny just felt sorry for Hermione, who had spent all her time as a kid with too many books and not enough siblings. Not any, for that matter.

For all that Hermione had pretty eyes and was the smartest girl in the school, Ginny noticed how it hurt her when Harry would pick Ron over her, and vice versa. Which was practically all the time.

At first Ginny thought it was only child syndrome that made Hermione do things that would invariably result in her being brushed aside. It wasn't until Ginny's second year, when Hermione chanced Harry's anger to possibly save him (a fact that Ginny only knew courtesy her pastime of eavesdropping -- being the youngest meant getting left out a lot), that Ginny began to respect Hermione.

Ginny had watched George and Fred writhe against the grain of her parents' expectations long enough to know that fighting for something a person believes in is rarely fun. Underneath the twins's gaiety, there was a small store of hurt, shown only to each other, and someone clever enough to watch for it.

Hermione was nothing like the princesses those heroes that Ginny had read of were always saving. She wasn't exactly the hero, either. Hermione wasn't of a storybook, but she wasn't exactly real either.

She was something of her own. Ginny had always wanted something like that.

*

Ginny knew better than to pine. Her mum was a regular font of clichés and Ginny was well aware that a watched pot never boiled. So when Harry fell for Cho, stunning, talented, vapid Cho, Ginny flirted with Michael as a diversion. As diversions went, in Ginny's rather limited experience, he was a nice enough one, but she wasn't terribly disappointed when he stole Cho away from Harry.

It left Harry open to a campaign of seduction, but Dean reached her before she could start planning, and really, Dean was far too much fun to pass up. He transfigured a set of quills into flowers for her, and let her wear his favorite jumper under her robes, and kissed like one of the heroes in the Muggle romance novel that Dad was always bringing home for Mum.

Which meant that a good time was had by all until the two of them both got tired of the extra effort involved in being boyfriend-girlfriend and went back to friends without the prefixes. By that time, though, Harry was involved in some kind of odd courting ritual with Luna and it seemed sheer cruelty to take anything good from Luna.

That was fine by Ginny, because being the last of seven children she had learned the fine art of waiting without watching. She concentrated on becoming a better Beater, passing her OWLs, and having a bit of a time on the side with Draco Malfoy, who was a complete prick but rather hot on his knees, eating her out. She squashed any feelings of guilt she had about sneaking around by reassuring herself that she was training him well for the day when he finally decided to own up to what his animosity toward Ron was truly about.

In the midst of all this, Hermione caught Ginny sneaking back in the dorm and wouldn't let her go to sleep until she told Hermione, "What's it feel like?"

"It?"

Hermione didn't blink. "Sex. Stuff. Whatever it is you meet up with Malfoy for."

Ginny's stomach lurched. "You can't tell."

"You seem pretty capable of taking care of yourself. What's it feel like?"

Ginny walked toward Hermione, so close that her lips brushed Hermione's when she asked, "Still wanna know?"

"Mm."

Ginny kissed her, closed lips only at first, then open lips, then more, Ginny's hand coming up to grip the back of Hermione's neck, the other one sneaking up her nightshirt, wrapping around a tiny, almost too-pert breast. Hermione was squirming, muttering inside Ginny's mouth when Ginny backed away, flushed and only half aware of why she was stopping, "Someone'll come."

Hermione took a second to catch her breath. "Tomorrow, after dinner, third floor corridor, right hand side."

Ginny nodded. The location sounded slightly familiar, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. "All right."

Hermione turned to go. "Night."

When breakfast came, Ginny was still awake.

*

The room was midsize and empty, not much to look at. That didn't matter for long, as Hermione almost immediately removed her shirt and bra, transfiguring the two items into blankets and arranging them on the floor. She laid down on her back, for all the world looking somewhere between a centerfold in the monthlies that George and Fred used to hide from mum and a maiden about to be ravished. Ginny took a breath and waited for the dizziness to pass.

Hermione was warm under Ginny even in the chill of the room. Her hair was soft, apt to tangle in Ginny's restless hands. Ginny drew Hermione's panties slowly over her knees, off, throwing them aside, leaving her skirt, shoes and socks carefully in place. Spreading Hermione's legs gently, Ginny ran a hand each up the length of her thighs. In the moment before she reached her target, Hermione panted, "Schoolgirl fantasy?"

Ginny answered, "Evidently," even as she knew perfectly well that this wasn't about fantasy at all. Hermione wasn't the storybook heroine. Which didn't stop Ginny from burrowing under the skirt, nibbling at Hermione's clitoris just the way Ginny liked it, allowing Hermione to use her fingers on Ginny afterward.

*

Ginny broke it off with Draco to spend more time with Hermione. She discovered that Hermione's book smarts came in quite useful when paired with a healthy sense of sexual adventure. Whereas Ginny had started all this off as the tutor, she was fast becoming the pupil, which was just fine by her.

They were experimenting with the slick-edged thrill of necking in a semi-public place, Hermione pressing her up against the wall behind the Three Broomsticks, when Hermione asked, "You know Luna's dating George, yeah?"

Ginny went still, because, well, no, she hadn't known. It wasn't that Fred and George never kept secrets from her, they kept secrets from everybody who wasn't one of them, but this was larger, something she should have known before Hermione. Plus, Harry Potter breaking up was News, and Ginny prided herself on being well and truly aware of what was happening.

Hermione frowned a little. "Nobody much knows yet. Harry told Ron and me."

Ginny made herself articulate, "George?"

Hermione shrugged. "I guess things happened when Harry invited her to meet him at your place over the hols."

Which just added insult to injury. "I didn’t even know he liked her."

"I think she liked him."

Ginny gave Luna points for aggressiveness.

"You know she had a thing for Ron, right?"

"Who didn't know?" Actually, Ginny admitted in her mind, lots of people, but nobody who really mattered.

"She likes people who make her laugh. I can't exactly blame her." Though it was clear that Hermione didn't exactly set her free of blame, either.

Which reminded Ginny, "Why are you telling me this?"

Hermione fixed her with a look. "Harry's free. Open for the taking. Available-"

"Why, Hermione?"

"Isn’t he what you want? This is…just a diversion, right?" Hermione loosened her grip on Ginny's arms.

Ginny felt unstable. Harry was hers to take. That was what Hermione was saying. Hermione knew about that. Ginny walked back into the bar, spent an indecent amount of her savings on butterbeer, and didn't talk with anyone for the rest of the night.

*

Ginny tried to take interest in the chase. Really, she did. After all, he was Harry Potter, The Harry Potter, and she supposed he deserved that much. Only, it was hard. Harry was great fun on a Quidditch pitch and good help as a DADA tutor and even nice to sit by the fire and just loll with for a bit, but when Ginny got to thinking about pouncing every image of Harry's reactions were replaced with ones a bit more…well, girly.

She couldn't talk current events with Harry because everything somehow pinged on another sore subject, and Quidditch talk could only hold Ginny for so long. Put her on a broom and she was engaged, but the subject itself did not hold infinite attraction. Plus, it was somewhat disturbing to know that the boy she was pining after held more loyalty to her brother than he did to her. Not that she begrudged Ron the loyalty, far from it, it just splashed a dose of ice water over the process of becoming hot and bothered.

The two of them were in front of the fire one night, chatting about Lavender's new hairdo, the one she'd been crying about for three days straight, when Ginny veered off the topic. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I have to go meet someone."

Harry eyed her oddly. "Now?"

She shrugged. "I forgot. I told them I would and I just now remembered."

"All right." Harry didn’t look all that upset by the news, which decided things all the more.

Ginny stood and made her way through the halls, up to the library. She found her quarry tucked in a cubicle, the one that Madame Pince had actually given to Hermione for her remaining years at Hogwarts. Ginny leaned over her back and whispered, "Harry wasn't real."

Hermione's voice faltered. "I…I don’t get it."

"It was sweet of you to offer, better than I would have been, and that's why I'm turning the offer down. Because you're better than I have any right to expect, but if you'll take me, you're the real thing, and I'm tired of chasing after everything else."

Hermione turned slightly, frowning. "Everybody wants the Hero."

Glancing around quickly to make sure they were hidden, Ginny kissed Hermione. She pulled just far enough away to tell her, "Not me. I want the schoolgirl. Fantasy or otherwise."

Hermione said, with a touch of surprise, "That's me."

Ginny knew.