Author's Note: It's HarryxGinny because they are the main characters; NOT because they're romantically together (at the moment). Don't bitch at me to change the pairing because I won't do it.

The only Disclaimer I will make for this story: "Superman" is on Taylor Swift's third album Speak Now: Target Edition. JKRowling owns Harry Potter. Infringe her and I'll Crucio your sorry ass. (:

First Year

The quiet clatter of silverware rings out through the mostly empty Great Hall. Maple syrup and the heavenly smell of coffee make my stomach turn into a hungry baby dragon. It's kind of early to be awake, but for some reason we both are. Not many other students are here eating breakfast. It is half past six in the morning on a weekend. Now that I think about it, I'm wondering why I am not currently snuggled under my blankets and fast asleep.

The Gryffindor table is strangely quiet in the early hours of the morning. Fred and George are not up to any mischief since they are the typical sort of teenagers who need thirty-six hours of sleep per day, so there's no pranking going on at the moment. Lavender Brown, that girl in your year who never shuts up, is not at the breakfast table either. With no inane gossiping going about, no one has any real reason to talk to each other.

You're sitting by yourself at the far end of the Gryffindor table. My brother and Hermione aren't by your side for once. I stare at you and feel this strange sort of tugging in my heart. I don't understand what's going on with me, so I blush and avoid your eyes when you notice me noticing you.

A few minutes go by, and as soon as I decree my face isn't the same colour as my hair anymore, I chance a look at you again. I study your trademark messy dark hair and your tall posture you manage to keep even when you are sitting down. I also note how you sort-of resemble that Muggle superhero in comic books. You know, the one who looks all super-manly. Is that his name? Superman? It sounds right. I think I'll call you that from now on.

You finish your last bite of chocolate chip pancakes and gulp down your chocolate milk. You catch my eye once more and give me a big, toothy grin. I giggle at your milk moustache and blush at the attention you're giving me.

Then you put your school papers into your book bag and stand up with a stretch as you get ready to walk away out of the Great Hall. You run a hand through your messy hair and adjust your glasses. You look like you're getting prepared to save the world (the fact that you are Harry Potter only enforces the image), but I know you are just preparing yourself to go to work on your boring school papers. Either way, it's the same thing to me. You wiggle your fingers at me in lieu of goodbye as you exit out the Great Hall.

Bye, Superman.

.

.

Months fly by and you still are so awkwardly perfect. You give me butterflies in my stomach whenever our eyes meet. I love your eyes – your mother must have been extremely pretty if she was a redhead and had beautiful green eyes like yours.

There is a certain sadness clouding your mind lately. All the sparkling smiles have oddly been dimmed. The times that we talk are few and far between, and often you're discussing in hushed whispers with Ron and Hermione. I wish we were closer so you felt safe enough to tell me what's wrong. I hate seeing you so troubled.

I write this all down in my diary.

.

.

I'm sorry. I am so terribly sorry. If I had known that I was the one who was aiding Tom Riddle... I swear I had no idea. Please forgive me, Harry. I never meant to open the Chamber of Secrets.

Thank Godric you have your father's ambition and talent for disobeying the rules. I thank you with all my heart for rescuing me.

You really are Superman.

.

.

The scarlet smoke of the Hogwarts Express billows out into the cloudless blue sky. Sunlight beams upon your face and I surreptitiously observe how the light dances across your irises. It's a beautiful day outside which is fitting since the summer holidays start as soon as we step foot off the train.

Ron ever-so-graciously allowed me to share a train compartment with you and Hermione. Neville was here too, but he lost his toad and now he's on some Dora-the-Explorer search for Trevor.

I only know about that Muggle show from one of our many short and random conversations we had while I was in the Hogwarts infirmary. You would visit me a lot while I recovered from being in the Chamber of Secrets. I think you were my number one visitor – even more so than my mum which I find rather surprising. Not that I am complaining, mind you. I prefer your seemingly senseless rambles of the Muggle world and anything and everything you could think of over Mum's nagging and coddling.

You've been awfully quiet on the train ride. I give up on being stealthy and look blatantly at you. Your eyelids have fluttered shut and your head has lolled slightly to the side. Suddenly the Hogwarts Express makes a sharp curve and your head plops right onto my shoulder, pushing your glasses askew. You don't wake up, though, so I gently take off your glasses and put them the pocket of my black school robes.

Across the compartment, Hermione flashes me a soft knowing smile. I blush furiously and fervently hope that Ron has missed this entire exchange. It's bad enough that my family alerted you of my pathetic school-girl crush on you. Luckily they seemed to have dropped the matter lately. I desperately do not need them start up the teasing again.

You nuzzle closer into my neck and let out a quiet sigh of contentment. That messy black hair of yours is rather tickle-y. I wish I had the nerve to run my fingers through it but that would come across as weird and creepy, especially since you are oblivious to the world right now. A faint clean smell of lemon and sage drifts up from your head, and I realise that I absolutely love the scent of your shampoo.

Trees pass in an unfocused blur as the Hogwarts Express speeds closer and closer to King's Cross Station. I wish time would slow down or something so I could capture this moment for forever. This is the closest you have gotten to me all year, and for once I feel like you completely trust me.

"Ginny," I hear Hermione murmur. "We're almost there."

"Mm," I say back, and you snuggle even closer to me. As much as I try, I cannot seem to hold back the smile that graces my face.

Hermione sighs regretfully and then tells me: "He needs to wake up and change into his Muggle clothes before his aunt and uncle give him a harder time than they usually do."

The mention of your guardians and their attitude towards you puts a damper on my happiness. How could anybody be so rude to such a sweet, kind guy like you?

"Oh, all right," I grumble and gently brush the hair out of your eyes. "Harry," I whisper to you. "Harry, wake up."

You slightly stir and mumble some nonsensical things before flopping back onto me with a firm and resolute: "No."

"C'mon, Harry. We're almost at King's Cross." I nudge you off of me and immediately miss your warmth.

You groan and moan and blink groggily. "Ungh," you grunt.

I laugh at your impressive vocabulary. Hermione giggles as well and mouths to me, "Boys." I shrug and reach into my school robes for your glasses.

"Here," I say. "I was holding onto them for safekeeping while you slept."

"Thanks," you tell me as you put your glasses on. Then you frown and say sheepishly, "Did I lean on you? I'm sorry if I did."

I wave a hand airily. "I didn't mind."

You just nod and then stand up to stretch out your legs. A big yawn ripples throughout the compartment, starting with you and ending with me. I watch as you get your trunk and start rummaging through its contents – presumably for your Muggle clothes.

I wonder if you know how much I am going to miss you this summer. I know I'm going to miss the random talks in the infirmary and your laughter and your twelve-year-old-boy immaturity. I'm going to miss the way you say my name and that lovely shampoo scent of yours. I'm going to miss watching you play Quidditch and the steady ease and confidence you exude on a broom. Maybe one day you could come over to The Burrow and play in one of the infamous Weasley Quidditch tournaments with my brothers and me.

I'm going to miss you.

You grab your things and then sit back down. Then you start talking animatedly with Ron and Hermione. I listen with rapt attention to your conversation and hang on to every word you say. You make an effort to include me from time-to-time but I get the feeling that you three want to talk alone. I politely excuse myself, give you an understanding smile, and then exit the compartment in search of Neville or some Gryffindors in my year.

All too soon, the Hogwarts Express is pulling into King's Cross station. I make my way back to the train compartment you, Ron, and Hermione were occupying, but I find it empty with only my trunk left on the luggage rack. Regret courses through my body when I realise that you left before I could say goodbye.

I step off the train, trunk in hand. Easily, I spot my family. After all, we're the only gingers that are grouped together and extremely loud in the station. I head over and receive the expected hug-and-squeeze from Mum. Over her shoulder, I spy your all-too-familiar shock of tousled hair. You're heading over to two stand-offish people who are looking at you as if you were Dobby's sock. Then, Fred and George distract me as they re-enact one of their pranks for Dad's amusement.

Once the twins finish regaling Dad with their tale, I chance one last look at you before you leave the platform with two stiff, uncomfortable adults who look absolutely nothing like you. Suddenly a trolley stacked full of luggage crosses in front of my line of sight. By the time it moves past, you are gone. I sigh in disappointment, already counting the days until September 1 so I can see your face again.

Author's Note: I find it incredibly adorable that Ginny views Harry as Superman. (:

Review, story favourite, and story alert if you want to be a superhero.