Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

Written for the Secrets Challenge by Namacub95.

Ginny had been lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling for several hours.

Obviously, she couldn't sleep. Well, actually she could.

She just didn't want to.

She could and should sleep, but she refused to sleep.

She just wouldn't.

So she closed her eyes, once again savoring the bittersweet memories that she shared only with herself...

*Flashback*

She was walking out of the Great Hall when she felt his eyes watching her.

His eyes, they were Blaise's eyes. Blaise Zabini, to be exact.

She didn't know why, but she somehow knew that something was about to happen.

Instead of running, she walked even slower.

She was so bored, bored of everything. It was all too tame after the war, and nothing was interesting and fascinating anymore.

This staring was out of the ordinary, almost exciting, so she welcomed it, even if it might mean trouble.

She was thinking on this so much that she didn't notice him trip her as she walked past.

And so she fell.

Expecting him to walk away, smirking and laughing, she was incredibly surprised when he stuck out his hand.

"You're supposed to take it," explained Blaise.

"I'm capable of standing up by myself, Zabini," she said angrily.

She was also confused as to why he had attempted to do something relatively nice.

"Aren't you also capable, then, of not falling over?" he asked her.

"You tripped me!" she exclaimed.

"That's debatable," he replied with a sardonic smirk.

And before she ran up to Hermione Luna and acted like nothing had happened, she thought she heard him murmur, "Sorry."

He said it as quietly as the rush of wind when it goes across the grass.

She was sure that he had said it.

But if no one else heard it, then how could it have been?

*End Flashback*

Ginny opened her eyes again, waves of drowsiness pouring over her.

She should probably sleep now, but how could you sleep, even if you were dead tired, when you were thinking?

It wasn't possible, she realized. Not unless you got yourself stunned, perhaps killed.

She wondered what she would dream of if she ever fell asleep.

Would she ever sleep again?

That was debatable, to quote her problem.

It depended on whether or not the interesting things stopped happening.

She wanted sleep, but she wanted him even more...

The blackness finally overcame her as she realized that her aim at staying up this late had been to realize this.