It had been another exhausting night with Michael. Why couldn't he just be... kind, and gentle, and funny? Ginny flipped her hair so it fell in a dramatic curtain over one side of her face. She posed in the darkness of the hallway, and imagined being some fabulous, glamorous star somewhere. Someone men drooled over, and she imagined having someone that bent backwards for her-someone who would be anyone Ginny wanted them to be, simply because Ginny wanted it.
Just once, she wanted to be the most important.
Dropping the pose and feeling more than a little silly, Ginny continued dragging her feet to the Gryffindor common room. It was almost curfew, she could tell by the dimming light and scurry of younger children running back to their houses. Unconcerned and determined to appear so, she kicked the air and slumped over and lolled her head in an effort to stretch her neck.
When she'd left the common room she'd seen Harry, Hermione and Ron studying on a wide couch for Herbology. They were grumbling again about never having had to study for the stupid class before, they didn't usually have such difficult Herbology tests and where was Neville anyway? Ginny had reached out to scratch Ron's head comfortingly, but he had turned to stare at her retreating form.
"Where are you going, anyway?" he'd asked.
"That's not really any of your business, Ron," Ginny had replied, and she had known that if she'd turned around she would've seen his ears perk up and blush pink. She had known that she'd find Harry's inquisitive eyes on her as well. She could practically hear Hermione's eye-roll.
The thought had cheered her, and encouraged her toward another night with Michael. They had strolled outside on the rolling lawns, and stowed away in an empty classroom to kiss and grope each other haplessly through their robes. Ginny was painfully aware that she hadn't laughed once during their conversation and the knowledge made her weary. She hadn't enjoyed herself, and the whole ordeal had left her feeling strangely and cosmically empty.
Pushing the feeling away she walked up to the Fat Lady.
"Cutting it a bit close, dear," she said.
Ginny shrugged and sighed. "I know, I know."
"Oh, Ginny, you seem so despondent. If you ask me, that Ravenclaw boy is no good for you. I don't like the look of him, with that long hair-"
"I didn't ask you," Ginny said with all the self-control she could muster.
The Fat Lady drew herself up. "I see," she said hotly. "I've heard from the portraits in the East Wing what exactly you two get up to, and I think you should heed my advice."
"Glumbubble," Ginny snapped in return, effectively forcing down a blush and mustering righteous anger. The Fat Lady swung her door open with a huff.
Climbing through the portrait hole, Ginny's eyes landed immediately on Harry, curled up on the cushiest armchair in the common room. This armchair was Harry's favorite, and he often pulled it and pushed it where Ron and Hermione were sitting. Sometimes Ginny sat in it specifically because she knew he'd come looking for it anytime he needed to study. Then he'd ask if she'd move and she'd say of course she did, and he'd get on his knees and beg her to get out of the chair and she'd say, oh, Harry's missing his special chair? Maybe he needs to be a big boy and find a different one-and he'd sit on the arm of the chair and poke her until she relented. Everyone would watch their show and giggle to themselves. Sometimes Ron would take Harry's side and throw balls of parchment at Ginny's head, and Hermione would protest because they were almost always an assignment she was halfway through. Then Fred and George would take Ginny's side and it would become another fond memory for Ginny. Years and years later, she'd remember the stitch in her side.
Ginny needed someone to make her laugh. Michael was not that someone.
Collapsing on the armchair beside Harry's, she turned her attention to the couch they'd shared earlier, and saw Ron intertwined with Hermione. Ginny sighed, and wondered how it'd happened. It looked as if Ron had dropped off and literally fallen into Hermione's lap. It seemed as if Hermione had let him, and was nestled into his side. While Harry was twitching fitfully in his sleep, Hermione and Ron were peaceful. Ron had a contented smile on his face, and Hermione, who was a worrier even in sleep, had smoothed out her brow and unbeknownst to anyone else, was getting her first full night of sleep in two weeks.
Ginny wondered if fifth year would be this hard for her, and how she'd break it off with Michael. Ginny wondered why the boy who got down on his knees with a cheeky grin on his face twitched and sweat in his sleep, and how on Earth he could be so beautiful. Ginny wondered why seeing Hermione and Ron so close and so far from each other sent such a pang through her heart.
She sighed. She stood. She went to bed.