Some Things Aren't Meant To Be
by Herminia

Rating: G
Ship: Harry & Hermione
Canon: Books 1 - 6
Genre: Romance
Status: In progress
Length: 899 words in 1 chapter
Published: 23 Sep 2006
Last updated: 23 Sep 2006

At Bill and Fleur's wedding, things don't go according to Ginny Weasley's plan. Anti-Harry/Ginny, pro-Neville/Ginny,
with strong hints of a budding Harry/Hermione relationship...

From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/6526/

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1. Some Things Aren't Meant To Be

Summary: I always seem to write Harry/Ginny break-ups with the focus on Harry and Hermione. This time, I decided to try
something a little different... Let's just say that Ginny Weasley's love life is NEVER boring.

WARNING: Semi-stream of consciousness at points.

* * * * *

Stomp.

Stomp.

Stomp.

No response.

Ginny Weasley gathered up the folds and flourishes of her golden bridesmaid's dress and sprang back down to the landing
- as nimbly as one could spring while perched precariously on three-inch heels - only to clomp up the stairs again.

Stomp.

Stomp.

STOMP!

He was supposed to come after her. He was supposed to beg her to rejoin the wedding reception that was rapidly devolving
into a drunken revel in the Weasley's garden paddock.

In fact, Harry Potter was supposed to do and be a lot of things that he simply wasn't.

That's what you get for five-and-a-half years of pining after him from afar, said a knowing voice in the back of her
mind, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Mrs. Weasley's. Or Hermione's.

She shook her head to clear it. She knew she mustn't think of Hermione. Hermione and her “just be yourself and he'll
come around” doctrine. Hermione and her well-intended, wrong-footed advice.

Hermione and Harry.

Et tu, Brute?

She peered out the crooked window to see Harry sulking in a corner, pacing like a caged animal. Even as she watched,
Hermione moved to his side, her lips forming around words of comfort, a soothing we'll-put-it-right look on her face.
Ginny could see it from here. The look. The way he leaned towards her as they spoke. The quiet manner with which she put
him at ease. Ginny could see her chances with Harry slipping away with every word spoken and every gesture made. She
only wished that her friend looked smug, self-satisfied, while she was stealing Ginny's one true love away; it would be
easier to hate her if she did.

Now, Ginevra - her mother's voice again -- you know there are plenty of perfectly good boys out there. Plenty of other
fish in the sea.

She harrumphed and turned her back on the stairwell, empty but for a pair of Wellington boots and a cluster of discarded
dungbombs. Her feet aching, she slid out of her sandals - hand-me-downs from some distant cousin or another who was
probably happily wedded off by now - and pitched them over her shoulder and down the stairs, relishing the clattering
ruckus they caused as they bounced from rickety step to rickety step.

“Ouch!”

She whirled around - eyes wide and fearful - and found herself face to face with Neville.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, but one glance at him - massaging the welt rising on his temple - softened her
temper. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, I'm fine,” he said, giving her the inexplicable impression that he would say he was fine even on the verge of
death, if it would spare her feelings and smooth her path. “I was just wondering where you'd disappeared to.”

“I just needed to get away,” she said evasively, hoping to shake Neville off as quickly as possible. It was easier to
rage and feel sorry for herself when no one was around.

But Neville Longbottom showed no sign of budging. She gestured hopelessly at the window and Neville stepped up to stand
beside her - the better to see, she told herself, dismissing the goosebumps that erupted on her bare arms as he brushed
past her.

“Did you love him?” Neville asked, his tone straightforward and simple.

“Yes,” she snapped, sitting down in a frump of taffeta and hurt feelings. She felt a seam tear along the side of her
dress. Nothing Mrs. Weasley couldn't put right.

“Oh” was all Neville said, ducking his head and shuffling his feet as he stood before her. “I can just go, if you'd
rather.”

“No—” she said swiftly, motioning for him to sit beside her. “I think,” she confessed, after several moments of silence
had passed between them, “that I loved the idea of being in love with him.”

Neville rested a comforting hand atop her knee, sending chills down her spine.

“Some things aren't meant to be,” she said bravely, raising her eyes to meet his steady gaze. How could she ever have
felt that she deserved better than Neville Longbottom? That she was somehow superior?

He was so close.

“Some things aren't meant to be,” she repeated dazedly, leaning in to him, seeking something that she found in his kiss.

Some things aren't meant to be.

Other things are.

* * * * * *
AARGH! Fluff, why must you keep creeping into otherwise quality pieces of writing?! This is why I don't like writing
fics where the characters end up together at the end, for the obligatory snogging and cuddling. ANYWAY, this is my
longest N/G fic to date, so some feedback would be nice.
