A/N and Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, yada yada yada, blah blah blah, etc., don't sue . . . you get the point, yes?

Anywho, I wrote this as an entry to a Final Prophecy contest, and so it might be depressing. This will be the only author's note I write for this story (gasp).

Trzy serca. That's Polish for "three hearts". Think "Jerry Springer" for a second here. Total love triangle fiasco. Three hearts, one loving the other two, and the other two loving the one. How can you choose between someone you love and someone you, well, love?

I'm Ginny Weasley, and I never expected to have to ask that question myself. I always figured it would be one way: Harry and I, me and Harry, Ginny Potter, Mrs. Potter, the whole deal. Destiny. I've always loved him, and, finally, in my fifth year, he fell in love with me. I'd never felt that way before. Then again, I had only been eleven when it had started.

I remember it so well. I had been in my first year, the year where the Chamber of Secrets was opened. I had been going mad, following orders from a book, from Voldemort (I can say his name now). At last, the book took me into the chamber itself, draining me of my life. My last thought before blacking out was that I would die here, alone, controlled, and worthless.

But I did open my eyes once more, and there was Harry Potter standing over me. He assured me that Riddle was gone, the basilisk, too. He comforted me when I was afraid. He defended me so that I would not be punished. It was this that made me fall in love with Harry Potter.

Oh, I know I had a crush on him earlier than that. Many did. But that's different. This was real, true love that could last forever.

And then he left me, and I found Draco Malfoy.

It was really only about a year ago when everything happened. That was when Harry had told me that he couldn't be with me anymore. He had said that Voldemort would try and kill me if he found out that we were together. Really, I didn't—I don't—care about that, but I respect Harry. I guess he wanted to do what he wanted to do.

So I saw him, just a month later, at Bill and Phlegm's wedding, which was where this whole story will begin.

I stood there in my gold dress, pretty happy for the most part. I gave Harry a big smile and teased him, like I would on any other day. But I missed him. A lot.

Phlegm came down the aisle in this long, satin, pearl white dress, which was surprising, since I had expected dress robes. She looked pretty, though. Her golden hair practically shone through her veil, which was woven in little diamonds (wonder how much that cost?), and she was very graceful. In other words, she looked like a veela. I wanted to smack Ron. Sitting there, drooling at the person who was soon to become his sister-in-law! What a git.

Fred and George were looking . . . mischievous. I wasn't sure if they were planning anything, or if their faces were just stuck like that. Whatever it was, they looked like they were planning on setting off their fireworks. I found out later that they had put contents of Skiving Snackboxes in the food for the reception.

Charlie came late, saying something about a Norwegian Ridgeback on the loose, but he stood proudly at the front as Bill got himself into actually being married to that stupid Barbie.

Percy never showed. Mum was so upset about that, she must have been crying for two hours. As for Dad, he just sat there, stone-faced, like he always does when Percy comes up in conversations.

But other than Percy not being there and the fact that she disliked her son's bride, I think it was probably the happiest day of Mum's life. Through her tears, she had smiled wider than that cat from that odd muggle book, Alice of Wonderbread or whatever it was. You could just tell how proud she was.

And Dad . . . he was happy, but he was just bitter about stupid Percy. Percy really ruined it for all of us, I swear.

But anyway, it went as all weddings usually go. Phlegm's little sister, Gabrielle, was pretty nice, and she smiled shyly at me and rolled her eyes at Phlegm and Bill, which made me laugh so that Mum told me off. Bill and I Fleur /I were married in a lovely sunset. I guess we were all pretty happy.

Of course, when I saw Harry in his bottle green dress robes, I wanted him to hold me, kiss me, just one more time. That's kind of depressing when you know that's not going to happen. So, when the others used apparition to get to the reception, I said that I would walk. I needed some alone time.

"Are you sure, dear?" Mum asked worriedly. It was dark now. "It's a bit far, and this is hardly the time to be out walking alone. Perhaps Ron—" But Ron gave her a look, and she resigned, much to my surprise. "Well, be very careful. Keep your wand at the ready. And don't go looking for trouble!"

"Why would I go looking for trouble?" I inquired.

"Oh, I don't know." She sighed. I stared at her for a bit, and watched as they apparated, a few people going side-along, and were gone in the blink of an eye. Then I turned and headed on my way.

I had been walking for ten minutes or so, my hand clutched around my wand, when I was grabbed from behind and pushed into a bush.

I tried to scream, but a hand was clasped tightly around my mouth. My wand had fallen from my hand and lay uselessly on the other side of the bushes. No matter how I struggled, I couldn't escape. Even when I bit into the hand holding me and could taste the blood seeping into my mouth, still then my captor did not release me.

I thought wildly about what was going on. This seemed like an awful stupid way to die, and it couldn't have been in a more pathetic time in my life. But maybe it was meant to be. I relaxed, and a voice spoke to me (and not in my head—this was an actual voice).

"It is not wise to go roaming around by yourself after dark these days, Miss Weasley." The cold voice sneered. I knew that voice. "You may find yourself in danger."

"Let her go, Snape!" Another voice called. I knew that voice as well, and I can't tell you how surprised I was to hear him trying to help me.

Nevertheless, Snape's cold, greasy hands released me, and I fell backwards, hard into the ground.

I probably would have made my escape right about then, but unfortunately I was dizzy and black spots kind of blocked my vision.

I was still strong in mind, though, so I spat, "What do you two Death Eaters want with me?"

The owner of the second voice knelt down to me and held out his hand, which I refused to take. I had never liked him, and now, I never could. He, after all, had set out to kill Professor Dumbledore, before his accomplice finished the job. I hated him. Draco Malfoy. Taunting, teasing, sneering, cursing, hexing, jinxing, torturing, murdering Draco Malfoy.

I blinked a few times, clearing my vision. I smacked his outstretched hand out of my way and got up unsteadily by myself. But I noticed something.

Draco wasn't smirking. He wasn't laughing and hoping that, somehow, he could give me to his master so that he would not be murdered for not doing his job. He wasn't jeering at my being pushed around so easily.

Instead, he was looking at me with a lost expression. He seemed worried and anxious. He then shot a dirty look at Snape and actually asked me, "Are you okay?"

I looked straight into his eyes, which were not cold and lifeless as they usually were, but pleading, full of sincere worry and fear. And something else, something I couldn't identify. Yes, I stared straight into those ice-blue eyes and slapped him across the face.

"Get your bloody hands off of me." I ordered coldly.

A hurt expression formed on his pointed face. He took a step back, and opened his mouth to speak, but I stopped him. "What do you want from me?" I demanded.

He stared at me as I glared at him. Neither of us said a word. It was starting to get really annoying, this silence, when Snape broke it.

"Answer the question, Malfoy." He had no feeling, no emotion in that voice, which really got on my nerves. I hate Snape, and always will. Is that so unorthodox?

"I want to tell you," Draco began slowly, and glanced at his former head of house. "Snape, could you give us a bit of privacy?"

That was weird. What would he need to say to me that Snape couldn't know? The two-timing prat seemed to agree.

"Anything you can say to Miss Weasley, Malfoy, you can say in front of me." Okay, so this was really getting weird. Did this mean that Snape had no idea what they were doing? Why was I here, anyway?

"Fine." Draco replied flatly. "I came here to tell you . . ." he hesitated. "To tell you that I love you."

Okay, so I gaped like a fish. Draco Malfoy, love me? Draco MALFOY?! The person who had called me a blood traitor and looked down on me for five years? Maybe even longer than that, I'm sure I'd have met him before. This had to be a joke, that's all. Or some weird, crazy way of luring me into his vast eternal . . . I mean, his evil plans.

But then I looked at Snape. His usually expressionless face (I swear, he'd be an excellent player at that muggle card game, poker) was betrayed ever so slightly by his wide eyes. He seemed as surprised as I was at this random, unexpected outburst. But he said nothing. And I said nothing. Once again, we were met with a long, uncomfortable silence. And then I looked at Malfoy and opened my mouth.

"Yeah, right." I went to jump over the bushes, but he pulled me back, Draco did. Not before I got hold of my wand, though, which I turned on him. "Let me go," I breathed. "Or I'll give you the worst case of the bat bogey hex you've ever had."

He smiled for the first time at that. "I remember . . ." but he wouldn't let go. I'm telling you, I was not finding this situation enjoyable at all.

"But Ginny," he gazed at me with pleading eyes. "You have to understand, I'm not lying to you. I really do love you. I only just realized it last year. I can't live without you."

It couldn't be true. Not Draco Malfoy, no matter what his eyes were trying to tell me. "Like you would ever go out with a 'blood traitor' like me," I spat.

He did the most remarkable thing right then. He just pulled me to him and kissed me, right then and there.

When it was over, I searched his eyes again, and I knew it was true. My heart started pounding, and my hands got all sweaty, and I realized, with despair, that I loved him, too.

I loved two men that I could never be with. How unfair is that?