Hey All. This is my first attempt at fan fiction, so please be kind. :) I'll be writing this from different points of view, and I know Ginny isn't too popular out here, and she isn't with me either :) But, hey, give the girl a chance.

This is written in Ginny's seventh year at Hogwarts, and the Voldemort saga is assumed to be over and done with, good riddance Voldy, thank you very much. ;)

Hope you enjoy. I love reviewers, by the way.

Okay, on with the show.

Enjoy.

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, or any of the characters. Unfortunately.

Ends and Beginnings

I'll always remember the vacation before my seventh and last school year. Oh yes, I will.

My house can't exactly be called lonely with six crazy brothers up to no good twenty four seven, (ok, so Percy could be considered an exception) but being the only girl can get hard. Sometimes I feel that my siblings and myself are on completely different pages. It may sound weird, but when all the people you're around seem think and feel so differently from you it somehow makes you feel even more cut off and isolated than if you were actually on your own.

A lot of people would laugh derisively in your face at the mere suggestion of Ginny Weasley being insecure or lonely.

What, the tough girl from a family of entertaining brothers, the one all the boys trail, the quirky red head who starts all the laughs and cracks all the jokes? No way!

And I guess I should be happy, grateful, that I paint that picture in my friends' minds. But, well, I'm not. I can't be. None of them has seen Ginny Weasley curled up under her bed sheet, gazing out at the night sky in the Burrow, teary eyed and blotchy faced, wondering if she was as happy with herself as others were with her. None of them has seen the 'popular, perfect' Ginny Weasley wishing upon all the shooting stars she ever saw that she could be anyone else but herself.

That's not how they see me at all. Oh no, I reserve none of that for my friends or anyone else- I never will.

The truth is, I've never in all my life had the pleasure of being, of feeling, completely understood by anyone. All the times I was in the spotlight, all the times when every person in the room seemed to cling on to my every word, I never quite spoke my heart out. Sometimes, the feeling of my thought processes being weird and different and deviant from my peers would drive me so completely off the edge with fear and worry that I'd contemplate running away and leaving behind everything and everyone who only thought they knew me.

I was never that close to Ron- he is such a typical male. Shallow minded and horny round the clock. My world turned over when Harry strode into it out of the blue. He stole my troubled teenaged heart even before he saved my life from Riddle and the basilisk in the third year. Maybe I saw a little bit of the insecure, misunderstood crowd puller that I am, reflected in those green eyes. My feelings for him might have come across as blatant, though, believe me at the time I tried my best to be surreptitious about it. Guess I'm useless at masking; my emotions tend to be written on my face for the world to see.

It's past me how half the boys I know mistake my frankness for flirting- at heart I'm a person who withdraws into her own private shell the moment she feels exposed.

An introvert at the end of the day.

These past four weeks though, I learned exactly how much I had changed.

In my fourth year and before, the slightest touch from Harry would send delicious tingles down my spine. The way his eyes danced with enthusiasm and determination as they pursued the little golden ball when he played Quidditch would make me feel like jinxing his broom on the spot so that he'd fall right off it and into my hands and I could snog him like crazy because I was so attracted to the boy in every way possible.

But these holidays I never once felt my heart flutter- not even when he'd pressed his lips to my cheek saying 'I'm going to miss not seeing so much of you after the hols, Gin,' after our 'backyard Quidditch' session. Those uneasy heart palpitations, the butterflies in my stomach at hearing his voice- just didn't happen anymore. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he was still struggling with his feelings for Cho- I didn't want to add to his troubles and complicate things further.

Harry was oblivious to my feelings, or rather the lack of them, for the simple reason that I didn't tell him I wasn't attracted to him anymore. Sure I loved him; I just wasn't in love with him. He's an amazing boy; we had such fun over those languid weeks of precious freedom, the four of us. Harry, Ron, myself and Hermione. Hermione- that girl is just- something else. My opinions on her keep changing at the speed of lightning, there are so many facets to her personality.

I'd never really 'noticed' her before, she'd always passed under my radar- to me she was not much more than a quiet book worm and my brother's long time crush. So it was natural that I wasn't exactly hopping mad with delight when I heard I'd be spending my holidays with Hermione Granger the nerd. Except that now 'nerd' would probably be the last word I'd use to describe Hermione.

I'd find myself wanting to hold her interest with tiny, silly things like showing her my deftness in blocking our makeshift goal hoops- I'd increasingly felt like 'proving' myself to her, showing her that I was not some airhead smooth talker- because not only was she by far the most intelligent witch I'd ever come across, but also one of the most secure, sensible people I know. Yes, secure. I'd marveled at how comfortable the girl seemed in her own skin. Not cocky or overconfident, just plain happy with herself. It was endearing to say the least.

I'd first thought she'd be the one fortunate and grateful to gain my friendship- it was the opposite. She'd catch me off guard by bursting out into peals of laughter when I'd least expect it. Like the time Crookshanks snuck up behind one of our lawn gnomes and bit him in the backside- she'd actually fallen all over me laughing then.

'Did you know your freckles dance when you smile?' She'd told me once, when we were out in the fields picking blueberries to put in Mom's pie.

'I hate my freckles,' I'd told her, not without blushing deep scarlet. She had the uncanny ability to embarrass and delight me by her comments.

'Well you wouldn't be my Ginny without them!' She laughed her tinkling, pure laugh and- my heart raced at that small, insignificant declaration from her. It wasn't insignificant for me though, which I suppose it should have been.

At the time I'd swallowed deeply and turned away to hide the annoying tears that had inexplicably sprung to my eyes. Since when was Hermione the funny one and me the human hose-pipe?

Over the holidays, I learned that Hermione was going back to Hogwarts to do a teaching course in Transfiguring, she wanted to become a teacher- probably one of the professions most suited to her, owing to how smart she is and how well she gels with the younger students. I was proud of her for her decision. My whole family was. I had to admit, the main reason she had my support though, was because having her teaching or learning to teach would mean I'd get to hang out with her occasionally at least. Harry had followed his long sought after profession- an Auror. He wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts, but was due to start his training at the Ministry in a month. I knew I'd feel his absence terribly. Hermione still being there helped. A lot.

Ron was pursuing his Quidditch dream, and was keen trying out for the State team. If you ask me, I didn't really think he was 'outstanding' as such at Quidditch. Harry on the other hand was cut out for the part. But we never discouraged Ron- Daddy said he was so proud of him for just trying. I must say I admire my brother's dogged determination in spite of all his screw-ups during school matches.

And me- I felt happy and light headed as I pinned my Head Girl badge onto my coat lapel. Yes, Head Girl. I represented all deviants and people who were confused in general and still searching and hoping to find their 'niche'. I'll get there sometime, I knew.

Right then all I wanted to do was run downstairs proudly sporting my Hogwarts robes and badge, and hear Hermione tell me in her adorable bell-like laugh that my freckles were 'dancing'.

For, if she was proud of me, if she smiled, they definitely would.

Just a little background for the first chapter. Things will kick off from the second.

Without feedback, I'm helpless. Especially as I'm a newbie. Anyway, you will be hearing from me soon. :)