And as I glance at him from across the common room, I can't help but hate myself. Hate myself for being so damn shy, for having such a low self esteem. I hate how creepy it sounds when I have to confess to myself that I nearly know everything about him and yet, he knows near enough nothing about me. I'm lucky if he even acknowledges my existence at times. I've always wondered whether I even have a chance? I mean, do I? Will I ever? I clench my fists tightly together, digging my sharp nails into my fists. Stop thinking, Ginny. Just stop.
I do a bit more of my Potions essay for a while but then I think of Snape and how much Harry hates him. Everything I think of eventually brings me back to him. There never seems to be any escape. Ron and Hermione are sitting next to him, arguing about something minor, no doubt. Harry doesn't seem to have noticed, though. He just looks withdrawn, so lonely. Maybe he's thinking about Cedric. I know he blames himself for Cedric's death. It takes a whole lot of will power to not walk over there and just hug him and cradle his hands. I haven't been so careful with my discreetness when looking at him this time and he seems to sense a pair of eyes locked on him. He looks up and catches my eye. I start and quickly pretend to be writing on my parchment in deep concentration, making my long hair hide my burning face. Well done, Ginny. Seriously. God, he must hate the fact that his best friend's sister a complete stalker. I don't know why but I can't help but glance up again and when I do, our eyes meet again and he gives me this look of exasperation, nodding towards Ron and Hermione. A genuine, quiet laugh escapes my mouth and I realise that I haven't laughed in ages. I don't expect him to want my company for much longer, so I force myself to draw my eyes away from Harry's and draw my attention to my essay again, trying to push him out of my mind when suddenly I start again because he's moved away from Ron and Hermione and is sitting opposite me.
He's smiling politely at me at first, about to say something, perhaps a joke when he notices the abashed look on my face and seems to mistake it for me not wanting his company.
"I - er, sorry. I just couldn't be bothered with them so I moved over here. Don't worry, I'm not wanting to start up a conversation. You can carry on with your homework."
My brain suddenly clicks in action a few seconds after he finishes his sentence and I shake my head.
"Oh, no! It's okay! I'm er, nearly done, anyway." I reply, with a slight waver in my voice. (God, I hope he didn't notice that.)
He nods, smiling politely again, not really seeming that interested before glancing around the common room. People watching. He does that a lot. I can't help but notice with a stab in my heart, that he tends to spend a lot of that time staring at the more prettier girls in Gryffindor. It looks like he's thinking about someone, though. With another stab to my heart, I bitterly remember the way I've seen him watching Cho Chang before. It's not the way he looks at Hermione. Or Ron. It's completely different. He looks at Cho with longing in his eyes. The same way I look at him, I guess.
I scribble a few more sentences on my essay but I can't concentrate, not when his legs are practically centimetres from mines. Again, I am trying to gather all I have to stop me from leaning my legs against his and linking my hands with his but I am not strong enough and I find myself faking a yawn and stretching so that I can reposition my legs between his, so that our knees and the first parts of our thighs are touching. My heartbeat is shooting so fast, my whole body feels like there are tiny little fireworks being set off everywhere. I can't look at him in the eye, though and concentrate solely on reading over my essay. Don't look at him, don't look at him, don't look at - The fireworks abruptly fizzle away as he moves his legs away. Whether he is alarmed or angry or amused, I don't know. I don't want to look. I can't. I just feel so hollow instead and sense my confidence plummeting downwards. I guess I was right earlier. I never will have a chance with him. I feel my eyes prickling and I bend lower over my work, begging that he hasn't noticed. I can still feel his body heat, he hasn't left. I guess that's something. I want to leave for the dormitories for the comfort of my bed and just be alone but I can't. That would make me appear weak. I can't be seen as weak. I can't. I begin to hate myself even more for even letting some guy make me feel this way. When I was younger, I hated those girls. I swore I would never be one of those girls. Look at me. The hollow feeling in my stomach is replaced by a angry, churning fire. For Merlin's sake, Ginny, pull yourself together! I clench my fist vowing to get over him.
"Ginny! Have you still not finished the essay yet? Would you like me to help? I know how awful it is to have Snape as a teacher. Very practical but you have to admit he hardly does anything by the textbook.." remarks Hermione as she pulls into another one of the spare seats around the table and then she seems to see the internal emotions that have spilled out to my slightly flushed face and she pauses for breath.
She looks suspiciously at me for a few seconds and then Ron comes along.
"Hey, Ginny! Cor blimey! That's a long essay! What's it for?" Ron leans in closer to my paper. "Oh! Potions, of course! Bloody Snape, eh? Gave Harry detention today for telling me what page we were looking at!"
Harry chuckles but the waver in his laugh does not suggest that he is relaxed.
"You sure did your best to help me out" he responds with his crooked smile.
Ron opens his mouth wide, mock offended.
"You can't blame me for not finding the thought of spending an hour in a dark dungeon with him appealing."
Harry laughs but still does not sound comfortable.
He's trying to act as if nothing happened. I'm partly grateful. Grateful that he's trying to be such a gentlemen about it, of course he would. Highlighting one of the things I love about him. Yet I am angry too. Furious to verge of abandoning magic altogether and shoving him out of his chair and beating him until I feel like he is feeling the pain I am feeling but that thought only passes through my mind momentarily, my lust for him stronger than my hatred. He can't help what he does or doesn't feel for me. My nails are digging into my palms again and I know Hermione's watching me. I am determined to avoid her gaze.
I fade back into the conversation again and listen to Ron finishing off his story.
"-and so, then, she glanced at me and I smiled and then she smiled back and so I just couldn't handle it and I just started laughing uncontrollably and offered her the sandwich I was eating and -"
"- I'm sure she was swept off her feet" I say, a harsh bite in my tone. "I'm going to bed."
And with that, I violently push out my chair and walk coolly until I get up to my bed, where I drop everything and just crawl into bed, bitterly telling myself that Snape would have to wait an extra day for his essay.
Despite how tired I am, my longing for the safe haven of my dreams seems to stop any chances of me getting to sleep. So I lie awake with my eyes closed, torturing myself with my thoughts for what must have been hours. At one point, I hear Hermione come in and whisper my name but I keep up the pretence that I am sleeping. I can't bear the thought of telling anyone that I was rejected by Harry. I can't even bear telling myself that I was rejected by him.
The next morning, Harry is already at breakfast before I am and yet again, I am grateful for I can sit as far away from him as possible. I try to act as normal as possible, cracking the occasional joke but all my laughs are empty and anytime I am not being distracted, my mind just slowly swirls with thoughts of Harry. The same goes for the duration of the rest of the day. I'm also a huge amount more sensitive than I normally am. Snape's demeaning remarks (which would just normally float happily past me) hurt me. I just feel so raw. If anybody noticed my low mood, nobody said anything. Well, apart from maybe Luna who joined me halfway through lunch and smiled dreamily at me, her bright eyes full of love. Something none of my other classmates seemed to have in their eyes.
"I would be careful with your fork."
I'm bemused, I guess I was expecting something thoughtful or insightful.
"Why?"
"Nargles." she says, nodding and smiling. 'Father just found out that there might be some living at the ends.'
I'm not really in the mood for this but I have always prided myself in being nice to Luna for she would never harm a soul.
"And.. is that.. a bad thing?"
"Well, no. It seems like a bad thing. It's not, though. It's a very good thing. Me and Father are going to work on ways of inventing a new piece of cutlery that could be used instead of a fork. Imagine that, Ginny. Something better than a fork."
She smiles, picking lightly at her food with her pale fingers but she looks at me again to say the next bit. "There's always something good to made from a bad thing, Ginny."
And as if that concludes things, she begins to hum a lullaby under her breath. Despite the fact she didn't know what was wrong, it still felt like she was trying to help me and to be honest, she did a little. I told Luna I worried about her and then hugged her. She wasn't even taken aback, she just returned the hug as if it was something I do everything.