How many times have you told me you love her?
...As many times as I've wanted to tell you the truth.
How long have I stood here beside you?
I lived through you;
you looked through me.

Oh, Solitude.
Still with me is only you.
Oh, Solitude.
I can't stay away from you.

How many times have I done this to myself?
How long will it take before I see?
When will this hole in my heart be mended?
Who now is left alone but me?

X

X

X

A light snow was falling as I walked out of the Hogwarts entrance hall with Harry. Ron and Hermione walked ahead of us, talking about who knows what, and the way they seemed to shrink in height told me that the snow was already fairly deep. I sucked in air as the cold white stuff immediately filled my boots, and from the similar sound Harry made, I knew the same thing had happened to him. I caught his eye and we laughed.

"Better get a carriage before they fill up," said Harry, and awkwardly we hurried through the knee-deep snow to the nearest empty carriage. Harry climbed in and helped me up, and almost immediately the carriage began to bounce down the road to Hogsmeade. I dried my robes with my wand.

"You reckon Ron and Hermione even knew we were right behind them?" I asked.

Harry laughed. "Probably not. I told him yesterday that the Cannons stink and he just said, 'Okay.' I was surprised he answered me at all."

I couldn't help but giggle. "He's so oblivious. Sometimes I wonder how he made it through his OWLs." The carriage began to slow down and a glance out the window confirmed that we'd arrived at Hogsmeade. Harry jumped out and helped me down, and I wondered when Harry got so gentlemanly. Certainly not from Ron; I could see the carriage in front of us, and Hermione hopped out into the snow, nearly losing her balance in the depth of it all, and Ron jumped out right next to her. Hermione's cloak was already soaked, while mine was only damp around my ankles. I smiled in spite of myself.

All of the shops' roofs were covered with so much snow that the lot of it looked like it would avalanche on the next passer-by at any given second; the look of the people bustling around the village made everything even more magical: Honeydukes had lines in the street, mostly of students, and a steady flow of bodies lead into the Three Broomsticks. All the houses down at the far end of the street looked like gingerbread houses in a fairytale.

"Shall we find a table in the Three Broomsticks?" asked Harry. "We'll need to hurry if we want one." I nodded and together we hurried into the small inn, which was already overcrowded with people, mostly people standing at the bar. I gave Harry a worried glance as we looked around. Then, miraculously, I spotted a table receiving many glares – Ron and Hermione were saving two seats for us.

Nodding our thanks as we sat, Harry and I both started to ask, "How did you know-"

"We always come here," said Hermione simply. "Plus, you two were in the carriage behind us, didn't you know?"

I chanced a glance at Harry; he wasn't looking at me, but was trying and failing to hide a smile. I laughed out loud at that, and Harry shot me a quieting look, obviously too late. Ron and Hermione just looked confused.

And we'll let it stay that way, thought I.

Ron and Hermione were once again engaged in conversation, which was unusually quiet and toned-down. Harry was getting up from his seat and asked, "Would you like a butterbeer?"

"Sure," said I, and I watched him walk up to Madame Rosmerta. I tried to shake the thoughts out of my head, though I could not evade them all.

Getting to know Harry had been my first priority for five years, and at first it was usually everything I ever thought about. What was he really like; what did he and Ron do that was so exclusive to me; was he afraid of You-Know-Who; did he ever miss his parents? The last had been almost torture to think about. I could only imagine not having Mum around in the kitchen, or not having Dad tinkering around with plugs. I would cry and Mum wouldn't know what to do about these random outbursts. Yes, that year at home without Ron, Harry was all I thought about. A whole ten months of wondering how on earth Harry got by without parents.

Now I knew. Harry lived never for himself, but for everyone else. It was his shoulders on which he laid everyone else's burdens. He made his friends' problems his own. He hated being famous, and hated the Daily Prophet after what it had said about him for the last two years. He didn't admit to his 'hero-complex,' Hermione's description that is very true; he didn't like to be reminded of the reason Voldemort had led him to supposedly save his godfather. This year he didn't want anyone to know that he had limits and had a life that should be normal like everyone else's, because that's just not Harry, according to Harry.

I had crept into Harry's life as subtly as I could. I had truthfully gotten over my crush of four years, but that had nothing to do with becoming his friend. I appreciated small moments that we could talk, that I could slyly tell him that I cared, as did everyone else. I made him realize that he wasn't the only one to have suffered Voldemort's wrath; that I could relate. And slowly that had worked. Then the horrible things I had seen at the Department of Mysteries - the things that had forced me to put into practice several months' worth of DA meetings - that had been something I would rather have skipped; would rather not have endured. But that summer, it wasn't so bad sending letters to Harry, receiving letters from Harry, and really cracking the code on his 'hero-complex.' Yes, Harry takes all of the blame, for everything, especially Sirius's death.

Looking up from my thoughts, I realized Harry hadn't returned with the drinks. I looked toward the bar and saw him standing there, talking to Madam Rosmerta and Luna Lovegood. Two very good people, but I was beginning to feel thirsty, and bored with sitting by Ron and Hermione in their current state of 'we're-alone-together-in-the-world.' Not wanting to stare, I pretended I was listening to the conversation nearest me, and, unfortunately, while doing so I actually did catch bits of it. After about ten seconds, I tried to close my ears.

Suddenly Harry was by my side with only one foaming mug of butterbeer, and before I could ask any questions, he said, "I'm going to have a walk with Luna, is that all right?"

"Of course it's all right," said I, smiling, before my heart could tell me to say otherwise. "Go ahead."

Harry's face - Harry's wonderful face - lit up; his cheeks were flushed with gratitude; his brilliant smile practically blinded me in its wake. I knew what it was like to wear that smile, and knew what was going on behind it. My stomach nearly dropped out of me, and I tried to keep my mouth closed.

"Thanks, Gin," said Harry, his voice only cracking a little. Was it from raw emotion? "I'll find you later." And he walked away. I let him walk away. He walked away, and I let it happen.

I sipped my butterbeer, and for the first time, it did not warm me up. I was ice cold; cold-hearted, selfish, jealous. I nearly spat it out, but managed self-control at the last second. Leaving my butterbeer on the table, I got up to leave. Neither Ron nor Hermione looked up.

Hogwarts students milled around the shops, cheeks raw with the bite of the December chill. Harry and Luna, thankfully, were already out of sight. I wrapped my scarf around my neck and ears and tightened my cloak, and set off for Honeydukes. Sweets, I thought, would cheer me up from my sudden revelation.

The chocolate tasted like dirt, the Sugar Quills like salt, and the toffee like sand. My mouth was all gritty now, and I wished I still had my butterbeer.

My eye caught Zonko's Joke Shop, and immediately I looked away. For one thing, I missed Fred and George now more than ever, what without their usual mayhem in the common room as Christmas approached. For another, Harry and Luna were walking right past it. I tried in vain to hide my red hair, but the wind spilled it out over my shoulders subsequent to each new attempt. Instead I sought shelter in the Post Office, watching through the window until the two were out of sight.

Harry didn't show up for dinner that evening. Ron and Hermione were worried, and kept asking me where he was. Annoying as this was, I was worried, too, for more than one reason. I hadn't seen him in the common room when I'd got back (early, for lack of things to do in Hogsmeade) and I hadn't seen Luna anywhere either.

Late that night, I was alone in the common room, and the fire was burning low. I still had a Potions essay that I wanted to finish before the holiday, so in order to complete this goal it had to be done tonight. Just as I was looking up the properties of moonstone, I heard a disturbance in the direction of the portrait hole. I turned around in my seat on an armchair, and jumped up when I realized it was Harry.

"Where have you been?" I asked exasperatedly.

"What?" said Harry, and it seemed he'd just realized I was there.

"I said, 'Where have you been?' You missed dinner; Ron and Hermione were worried, and I had nothing to tell them."

Harry looked around as if for some sort of escape. Then he looked at me, and I stared straight at him, so piercingly, I expect, that he had no choice but to make it a mutual eye contact. He cleared his throat. "Well, I... Ginny, you sound a lot like your mother."

"I ought to right now; no one's known where you've been for the last several hours! Which reminds me," I said sarcastically, "Where have you been?"

Harry mumbled something.

"Sorry, didn't catch that," I said, a little too scathingly.

"I've been with Luna, alright?" said Harry; his face was bright red, and I felt my face go pale. There had to be a reason for him to be embarrassed. "We were just talking, and... well, she gets me."

I froze. "What d'you mean she gets you?"

"Like... I dunno, I see all this weird stuff, and she knows what it means. We have... things in common, I guess." Harry's colouring could've rivalled my brother's when embarrassed.

"Weird stuff?" I said, lost for anything else to say.

"Yeah," said Harry vaguely. "She could see the thestrals-"

"Well Harry, that's not really weird stuff, some people do-"

"I know! But the beginning of fifth year, I didn't know what it meant, and I thought I was crazy 'cause 'Loony Lovegood' was the only other one that could see them. Then there was the... the veil." At this point, Harry was staring at the ground, fists clenched. My hardened features lost their stony appearance, and I neared him. "Harry, I heard them too..."

"Yeah, but do you know what it means, what's behind there?"

"No," I admitted quietly.

"I didn't either. But Luna does."

"Did she tell you?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what did she tell you?"

Harry looked at me, and I saw sadness. I knew right then I wouldn't get an answer. I knelt, my back to him, and started packing up my things.

"Ginny, I'm sorry, I just can't-"

"It's okay, Harry," I said, and my steady voice nearly failed me. "It's between you and Luna; I understand."

Harry appeared in my peripheral vision, and he knelt down beside me. The fire was almost completely dead, and the shadows on Harry's face made him look quite eerie.

"It's more than that, Ginny," he whispered.

I dropped my ink bottle and it smashed. Harry muttered, "Scourgify," and put his wand back into his robes. It was uncomfortably silent for a while after that, and as I debated whether or not to move, Harry spoke again.

"I think I like Luna more than a friend, Ginny," said Harry, and if we hadn't been alone I probably wouldn't have heard him. "I've never felt like this before."

I thought my chest would heave with heartbreak, but it didn't betray me. I just felt my eyes burn, and knew that they would be the traitors. My voice, I didn't want to think about.

"Say something, Ginny," Harry begged, and he brought a leg up under him. I still hadn't moved for the last minute. "This is getting, er... awkward."

"You're telling me," I said, and, obviously too late, I realized I had spoken aloud. My cheek burned (crimson, no doubt) and I felt Harry shift again. Before I knew it he was right in front of me, gripping my arms just beneath my shoulders and looking into my eyes, over which I had lost control and which were now looking back at him, threatening tears. Lucky it's dim in here, I had thought.

Then he said the absolute wrong thing, the thing that ruined it all: my deceptiveness, my concealing.

"I'm really glad we're friends, Gin. I knew you'd understand."

Every muscle in my body contracted, and Harry released his grip suddenly. "Understand?" I repeated. I backed away. "Did I speak without realizing it? No, I don't think I did; I never said I understood, Harry. I don't understand you at all. It's Luna? And you think you love her because she has the answers you want?" Harry stuttered, and I laughed bitterly. Tears flowed freely down my cheeks; I rose and Harry copied my movements.

"Love isn't about getting answers, Harry; it's not just about things you have in common. It's about caring for another person so much," –my voice was rising steadily- "that you want to hold them when they're sad, and smile when they laugh, and dance when they're happy; you want to understand them so much that you end up knowing nothing at all; you don't care where they've been or what they've done, but who they are and how they treat other people." I was breathing very hard, and pacing from the hearth, whose fire was nearly dead, to the armchair, which almost half an hour ago had held my calm figure.

Harry stared. "I'm not using her, if that's what you think," he said, and by the tremor in his voice I knew he was angry. At that point, I could care less.

"Oh but what am I supposed to think, Harry? You just said she has answers to your questions, weird things in common with you; aren't those just the surface? Do you even really know her?"

"Of course I know her, I spent the whole day with her!" protested Harry.

"Which reminds me," I said through clenched teeth. "You left me to hang out with Mr. and Mrs. Lovebird; let's think how that went...? Yeah, everywhere I went, nothing felt right. I saw you and Luna by the shops and I hid in the post office. I left Hogsmeade early because I figured homework would give me something better to do. That must've been the first time I chose homework over freedom." The phrase itself didn't mean much, but my tone drained the colour from Harry's face.

"Ginny, I'm sorry, I didn't think-"

"No, you didn't!" I half shouted. "It's only when there's a hunch nagging at your brain that you think, isn't it, Harry? Not when something so bloody obvious is right in front of your face!"

Harry's face looked as blank as the average History of Magic student. "What are you talking about?" he asked, barely above a whisper. "Last year, Hermione... She said you didn't... Ginny, I thought we were just friends."

"Harry," I said, my voice and lip trembling, new tears flowing over dried ones. "I could never be just your friend," I whispered, and to my own ears I sounded insane; and before my mind could make a better judgment, I stepped forward and kissed him.

It would have been wonderful, if it hadn't been for the fact that Harry had basically told me ten minutes ago that he was in love with Luna. The thought of another's lips on the ones to which I was now owned made me sob into Harry's mouth and back away. I hastily wiped away the tell-all tears obscuring my vision, and made to pick up my bag of school books. But I was prevented from doing so when Harry placed himself between me and my destination. I vaguely remember telling him to move; him refusing; me begging him to let me pass.

"I can't let you go now," he said, and the first meaning that came to mind broke my heart all over again. He just wanted to take care of this so it didn't hang over into tomorrow; not what my heart naturally wanted to feel.

"I'm afraid I don't understand any of this," he confessed, shaking his head to prove his point. He sat me down on a sofa, and we were so close that I forced myself to scoot down to the end.

"I'm afraid I don't have an answer to that," I retorted.

"It wasn't a question."

I almost smiled. Almost.

"Ginny, you have to talk to me," Harry pleaded. "This past year I thought you were... well, over me..." –his voice faltered slightly- "And we got to be really good friends, and I appreciated that, what with Ron and Hermione... you know."

I remained silent. I wasn't going to willingly express my emotions that had kept me feeling solitary every time I got to know Harry better. That would make it too easy; though I couldn't count on self-control for too much longer.

"Ginny," Harry prompted.

And I lost it.

"Oh Harry, are you really that daft? Can't you see? All along it was me! I've loved you since I first set eyes on you; since I was eleven years old! I kept waiting; hoping that I had it wrong; hoped that you weren't so blind to my love. But you saw right through me, didn't you? That's how Tom Riddle nearly led me to my death, isn't it? You and Ron were so involved that you missed the solution, the answer - that which you so desperately sought - and it was right in front of you. I was right in front of you. Then summer before last you thought you were rid of me. Great, you thought, that little girl doesn't have a bloody crush on me anymore. She doesn't bloody care so much anymore. But you were so wrong, Harry – I cared even more. I cared so much that all I wanted to do was get to know you, and the only way to do that was talk to you. Yeah, I started dating, and that helped me get over the silent, nervous convulsions I went into at the sight of you, at the sound of your voice. I was subtle, yes, and evidently that's worked. And now that I'm so bloody jealous of Luna, I've told you everything. I've given you the answers, just like you always need. And I hope you're satisfied, 'cause that's all you're going to get."

I walked. Ignored the pleading; just walked. Ignored the last minute apologies; only the sound of my feet hitting the stairs and my heart beating in my ears kept me tuned out. Silent tears flowed, the dreaded reminder of my never-ending solitude.

X

X

X

Oh, Solitude.
Forever me and forever you.
Oh, Solitude.
Only you, only true.

Everyone leaves me stranded;
Forgotten, abandoned, left behind.
I can't stay here another night.

"Your secret admirer."
Who could it be?

At last, a post. I'm working on the next one for the Old Lot, so have no fear. I'd been wanting to finish this one for a while, though, and I opened it up today and realised I had finished! Hurrah, I am happy. Mostly because I know everyone is going to be so bloody eager to review... -.-