AN: I really do not hate Ginny. I can't believe I'm doing this to her, again. But she's a strong girl, she can handle it :)

And if you don't like it - just remember, JK really owns the characters, not me :)

When people look at me, they laugh behind their hands.

They nudge each other, and they point surreptitiously, and they whisper.

I pretend I don't notice. When I walk past these same people, moments later, they show me respect, and they greet me, 'Hello, Ginny,' and I smile smoothly and say hello back.

They pretend they don't know the truth, the same as I pretend I don't.

Then, I move on, and they point and laugh and smirk again, because they know, the same as I know, that Ginny Weasley is nothing more than a joke, and it is because of one man: Harry Potter.

Harry, my boyfriend, the guy of my dreams, supposedly. I guess once you're with someone like him, you're with him for life, regardless. I was so silly when I first met him – I was your usual school girl with your usual school girl crush. I was a nobody. And it never crossed my mind that Harry – Harry Potter – would ever talk to me.

But he did.

And suddenly, I wasn't just that other girl – was it Jenny? Janie?

I was Harry Potter's girlfriend, and with a new label, I became a new person. I was now a Somebody. If this were the muggles' Hollywood, I would be photographed on the red carpet; fingers intertwined with Harry's, making hot-couple lists in every magazine.

But just like magazines, and their spidery, slippery words, glossy and meaningless, the 'new me' I found was nothing more than another nobody, but with a different title.

Still, that didn't stop me at first. I graduated from a little school girl, started looking after my appearance, started to become more sociable.

The minute someone finds out you're Harry Potter's girlfriend, they want to know you.

I allowed the people and the places and Harry's words – Harry's promises – to sweep me up, and I allowed myself to spin into it all so quickly that the motion sickness still hasn't worn off. I am always constantly sick to my stomach, just wondering why he chose me.

And after a while, my thoughts start to wonder, why he keeps me.

Harry cheated on me. I knew this; he must have known I knew. He cheated with Hermione. Hermione, who dumped me the moment she dumped my brother, Hermione who helped Harry stop You-Know-Who and was therefore more popular than I could ever be. If this were Hollywood, their relationship wouldn't even make a scandal. It would just make sense. The most admired boy and the most popular girl deserve to be together.

Even I know this.

So I do nothing. At home, I watch, as though it's someone else, as I stand there. Harry comes over and starts to tell me he loves me. He tells me he has a meeting to go to, that he's going out with Ron and Dean afterwards.

As he talks, I feel his lies run their coarse hands up and down my body. I feel their heat on the back of my neck, their body move in closer to mine. They possess me and I can't even bring myself to argue because as horrible as it sounds, I love the lies. I love the idea that maybe it's not true, that he's not cheating on me and there really is a meeting, and he really is going out with the boys. I love the idea that these lies, stroking my hair and telling me I'm beautiful, are really truths. I love that, I need that.

And so when Harry slips out the door and I am finally, literally, alone, I allow the lies to stay. They keep me company, as I secretly know, somewhere downtown, Harry is keeping Hermione company.

People, of course, they know the truth. They might have known before I did; I don't know. And when they see me now, they laugh because they know what a fool I am. What sort of a woman stays with a man who loves somebody else? Hermione, I heard she denied even knowing I existed. To her, I am not 'Harry's Girlfriend'. I am not Ginny Weasley, or even Jenny or Janie. I am a Nobody. To her, I don't exist, and because of this, I know that it is only so long before Harry realises it as well.

But for now, I deal with the people. They can laugh all they like. When they actually talk to me, it is respectful, because on the surface we all know what it is meant to be: I am Harry Potter's girlfriend, and therefore I command respect.

But deep below, they know he doesn't love me, not like he loves her.

They know that he lies to me, and that he will one day leave me.

But I can't bring myself to leave first. Harry Potter made me a Somebody. He warmed me, he gave me life.

I love the feeling of his hands on my body; I love his secret whispers of love as he breathes into my ear. I love it all. I love the way his lies caress me, like he never has. His lies, I love them the most, because I still dream, every day, that it's actually the truth.

And if it's the truth, well then the people can laugh all they like.

Who cares if I am a nobody?

Harry Potter loves Me.

AN: What do you think?

I'm not sure if I like it or not - it still feels all rough and draft-y to me. Plus, the whole 'Harry cheating on Ginny with Hermione' thing might seem a bit odd to you. Like with 'The Cruellest Lies', I only just decided at the end to turn it into a Harry Potter story - Ginny was quite clearly asking for more heart-ache lol. But I kind of understand how it works, in my head.

Maybe, should time/creative waves/energy persist, I will write a story to explain how they got to that stage. But probably not.

Anyway, so on my last story, I got about 45 hits, one favourite author add, and no reviews. You know how much that kills a girl? A lot, for those of you playing at home.

So please please review, even if it's just to say, 'Dude, this is the most terrible thing I've ever read!' (Although, if that's what you're writing, please also leave tips for me to improve).

Cheers muchly.

Peace. =)