Hey all, this is Jess here, a.k.a. Shadow. Here's my first fanfic ever posted. Go me, whoo-hoo! Anyways, I'd appreciate the reviews, and any questions can go to Sugaluv82790@msn.com. Thanks very much,

Jess

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, because if I did, I wouldn't be drinking soda from a beer bottle.

Rating: Hm.... Let's make this one a PG-13, just to be safe.

Let's roll, huh? R & R!!!

"Ms. Weasley... I would very much appreciate it if you did not doze off in my class!" barked Professor Snape.

The class burst into laughter as Ginny blankly nodded, but continued to stare off into space. She could hear their voices, their cold, cruel insults. They burned into her fair, freckled skin, and lingered for months, and sometimes years. She hated them all.

All except one.

The class was finished, and Ginny sat alone in the dungeons. She prayed that her love would save her, would confess the love and fireworks hidden away so deep for so many years. But Ginny knew it would never happen.

Oftentimes at night, one would think Ginny was being tortured. She lay alone in her dorm, being the only Gryffindor girl in the sixth year. Her sobs could be heard floors above, even the house elves in the kitchen heard her heart wrenching gasps for air. But no one ever bothered to see what was wrong.

No one but her.

Ginny would be lying in bed at four in the morning. Her face would be matted with tears, her long, red hair plastered to her face, tangled in the thick blankets, though summer would be drawing near. And the girl would enter the room, and hold Ginny until she fell asleep, comforting her, disregarding her reckless cries.

But one night, the girl didn't visit Ginny.

And Ginny sobbed harder that night than ever before. Awakening much of the school, she tried to silence herself, but to no avail. Her wails became anguished, heart-wrenching as she realized she was all alone. She wasn't always that way.

But now she was alone, falling, going down into the cruel, sadistic world which she called her own hell.

Ginny found out the next morning exactly why the girl didn't visit her.

"I asked her to marry me," her brother Ron had said the next morning.


Only seventeen and getting married. Ginny avoided the trio as much as she could, even though eventually, they would simply become a duo, and Harry would be very much alone, as Ginny was.

Harry oftentimes would take the girl's place in visiting Ginny. The two would meet late at night, by the lake. They would share their fears, their hopes, their dreams with each other. Ginny soon came to understand why Harry was so angry, so depressed, furious and completely lost in his life. He was different, yet so similar. He loved Ron.

And Ginny loves Hermione. Harry eventually got over Ron, but sixty years later, Ginny sat alone on her porch, reminiscing. She remembered the nights her and Hermione had shared.

And she continued to pine for her love. Many times, she would visit Ron and Hermione, see her nieces and nephews, and their families. Her great-great nieces and nephews were extremely attached to Ginny, and thus begged her to visit them often.

And she did.

Until one day she didn't. She never even got to leave her house. The night before, she was looking through photos of her and Hermione. And she died.

Medi-Wizards said it was a lung problem. Friends and family disagreed, saying it was suicide. But you and I both know, Ginny was suffering from a broken heart for generations. And only Harry knew.

Harry knew it was Ron's fault, Ron's fault that Harry lost the best friend he ever had, Ron's fault that Harry lost his surrogate sister. Ron's fault that Ginny died of a broken heart.