Disclaimer: This is fanfiction.net. I highly doubt anyone will get sued.
This was loosely based on a rant which I wrote myself, trying to get a story idea ... read on, I don't think it's too awful.
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Hi. I'm Ginny, and I'm trying to write a story. I don't know what about, though. I love to write things, but my mind is usually extremely busy and I find it hard to focus on one idea at a time, so I'll just keep going on until I can think of something to write and hope that seeing a trail of thought on paper will make it easier.Let's see ... Setting. Yes, that comes next. I'm sitting in the common room, in a chair between the staircases to the dorms. It's a really comfy chair; I think I might come back here often. It's after dinner, a little after ten o'clock.
Oh, dear ... Harry just came in. OK, deep breaths ... Just in case someone else ever reads this (which will mercifully only be after I'm dead, I hope), Harry is ... well, he's my brother Ron's best friend, and he's ... amazing. I can't even describe what he does to me ... when I see him, I ... Oh, no. Oh, he's coming over here! He's so good-looking ... I could die staring into his eyes, they're so gorgeous ... green, and bright, like they're lit from behind... of course, that'll never happen. I may well die staring at him, but he certainly won't be staring back. He'd never have me. I'm just Ginny, Ron's sister, not a girl he'd ever notice. Yep, there he goes. Right past me, up to his dorm.
Not like anyone ever does notice me. I'm not pretty, or special, or anything worthy of a second glance. Why do I even bother with him? He's a jerk. Doesn't even speak to me. Dolt. OK, so he does normally say hi to me when he sees me. But not with the emotion I'm so desperate to hear. I bet he feels obligated to, since he's such a nice person ... Oh, he's so sweet ... brave ... kind-hearted ... When he came and saved me in second year down in that – that place, after everything that happened, I was pretty weak, but when I saw it was Harry I was so happy it was him; I felt so much like crying ... heck, I probably did.
Sometimes I can tell he's feeling tortured; I can read his eyes now, I've taught myself how. When he furrows his brow, it means he's thinking about something confusing or difficult. His eyes slide out of focus and he walks into things only when he's especially worried about something, and sometimes when he stares out a window and tunes everything out, I think he's wondering about his future, and what will happen to him in the end.
No one else can compare to him. No one else could have defeated You-Know-Who. The love I have for him is so full of admiration. He's so remarkable, so wonderful ... Ugh, I'm babbling.
It just hurts so much. I wish he would notice me, look at me, with love in his eyes to rival mine ... but it'll never happen. I'm only Ginny, only the girl who's in love with Harry Potter, and he doesn't seem to care.
Yes, you heard me. (Read, rather.) I really think I'm in love. I didn't know you could be in love with someone when they don't love you back; it's always been the way, in those stories mum used to tell us of princesses and knights, that they fell in love with each other, not just one to the other. It sometimes happened, but then the knight always fell in love with the princess right back after the she had won his heart, or vice versa.
That's a laugh. I can say for sure that'll never happen; I'll never be able to win anyone's heart, certainly not Harry's. I'm way too shy around him. When I think about going up to him and telling him? Yikes. He'd probably nobly fight back chuckles when he told me he wasn't at all interested, and then go have quiet laugh. Because after all, I'm just Ginny.
That's the thing about Harry. He's so polite, so moral, so ... he's such a gentleman. He'd never be mean to me, he never has ...
But he doesn't have to be mean to hurt me. He hurts me more than he'll ever know. It hurts to write it, it hurts even to think it, but I want to. I think I enjoy it; in some morbid, self-mutilating way, I need to feel the pain. The pain keeps me ... alive.
Harry, I wish I could tell you, wish I could get rid of the ache ... I want to free myself from thoughts of you, but I know I'll never be able to. From where I stand, my whole life will be this way. A long, seemingly endless life without you.
What am I going to do?
I know, I'll ignore him. Hmph. I'll show him. Jerk. He doesn't know what he's missing. Yeah, one day I'll find some fantastic guy (more fantastic then Harry, though, that'll be a challenge) and get Harry to meet him, and then I'll tell him how I've felt all my teen years, and then I'll laugh right in his face. That'll show him. By then, maybe I'll have evolved into some spectacularly gorgeous thing, since I'd have to be to get some fantastic guy. To get Harry. Hmph. I'll show him. Bastard.
Yeah, there he goes again. He's walked by me three times tonight and said 'Hi'. For such a great guy, he sure does forget a lot of books in his dorm if he keeps going up there to bring them down ... what if he – well that's stupid. I always want to think he might think of me the same way I do him ... Oh, I wish I could just ignore him. I wish I could just not look at him, not watch him, not follow his every move when I'm around him ...
I think I should talk to Hermione. Maybe she can help. I hope she can. She's the only girl that's ever been able to really help me out. I tried talking to Anna, this girl in my dorm, but for a fourth year, she's pretty dumb. She'd say stuff like 'Omigod, I completely know what you mean, I do that all the time,' etc., etc., etc., when, really, she's out in some random meeting place all over Hogwarts with some random guy almost every night. There's no way she's ever had my problem. She's nice enough, but she's not too bright.
Harry just walked by again. What on earth? I'll ask him.
Forgetful, eh? I'll bet he's trying to see what I'm writing. I, of course, have thought of this, and have charmed the parchment so that only the writer, i.e. me, can read it. I could wave it in front of his face if I wanted to. But I won't. He'd probably think I was utterly mad. Hmph. Jerk. But what a jerk ...
Off that topic. OK, I can't think of anything else at the moment, so I suppose I'll stop writing now, as it's getting late and I've not done any of my Muggle Studies essay. I might write tomorrow, since I still haven't gotten any story ideas. I've actually quite enjoyed this, even if it didn't help me at all. Right, then. See you.
-Virginia Weasley
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To quote the goddess J.K. Rowling: 'Poor Ginny, eh?' We have no reason to think she isn't attractive, and we know she's a perfectly lovely girl, I just felt I'd try and get inside her head. It's ... OK, I can't really explain it. Please submit a review, whether you liked it, or you didn't.
