Ginny's Ode to Harry Potter
ShadowRomantic
(A/N: This is my first, and will probably be my only songfic. "Ode to Harry Potter," is a song by the Switchblade Kittens. I would strongly recomend that you hear it. I know that it can be downloaded on Kazaa. It's a cool little song.)
Ginny Weasley pulled out some old robes, scrolls, and used quills from the bottom dresser drawer. Her room was usually a comfortable place, one where she could enjoy a few seconds of quiet before someone from her burgeoning family would interrupt her. When she was younger she would pore lay on her bed, writing in her diary. After her first year, that habit had broken. Now she would spend time on homework, or dream.
Ginny's dreams would wander wherever and everywhere. When she first woke up in the morning she would find herself wondering about boys, her future, and her family. Pleasant images and unpleasant memories would mingle in her thoughts.
That was the usual course. On this day she found herself cleaning her room. It wasn't something she did very often. The Weasley house, hectic at best, allegorically chaotic at worst, seldom lent time for cleaning. She generally kept her room appearing tidy. Of course the closet was a mess, as was the dresser she stuffed her sentimental items.
A smile slid over her features when she found her first diary. She moved away from the mess she'd created in an attempt to organize her personal effects and fell onto her soft bed. Opening the little book she saw the first entry. Her eyes gliding over the inked words, Ginny could feel the excitement that had prompted her to write down her first experience with Harry Potter. When she went to Platform 9¾ with Ron, he on his way to an enchanted world of adventure at Hogwarts, she knew she would be alone at home. Her parents would be there, but no other child. She had already known that she would start a diary, something to keep her thoughts company, but she had had no idea that her first entry would be about how she had seen the legendary Harry Potter.
When she thought about her crush on him, the one that had somehow survived for more than three and a half years, Ginny's face became hot. When she glanced over at her mirror she saw that, as usual, her face was beaming scarlet. Seeing Harry now didn't have the same effect, but thinking back to her first school girl crush on a boy, that was embarrassing enough. A wry grin spread along her lips when she remembered a certain butter dish.
Shoving those less than dignified thoughts away, Ginny dropped her old diary onto her bed and hopped back to the dresser filled with mementoes. Minutes went by as she organized old essays and class projects into different boxes for storage. Those minutes turned into more than three hours. Like most things in the Weasley household, her dresser drawers were enchanted. Each drawer was about a foot wide, and seven or eight inches tall. They might have been a foot to a foot and a half deep, but they could hold a lot more than one would expect.
Finally Ginny made it to the bottom of the drawer. She pulled out some pieces of parchment that had her initials and Harry's initials encircled by hearts. When she thought through the different items she found, most of them were somehow touched by her old feelings for Harry, feelings that were gone, or so she told herself.
She stuck her arm into the drawer and felt around, just to make sure she didn't miss anything. Ginny found the drawer's last item, a scroll shoved off to the drawer's corner. She pulled it out; in her hand she squinted at it, trying to remember just what it was.
The parchment was yellowing, light and felt brittle. Ginny felt like she should know exactly what she held, but somehow the memory refused to come to her beckoning call. After a few more seconds inspection, turning it over in her hands, tossing it in her palms, she put her fingers to the ribbon. Gently she started to pull at it.
A shock rippled through the ribbon into her fingers. The scroll fell to her lap when she let go, waving her hands through the air, her fingertips still burning. Squeezing back the irritating moisutre that had risen up into her eyes she scrutinized the little scroll.
"Why won't you open up?" she whispered to no one in particular.
"You failed to give me a password," replied the scroll. The parchment's end moved like a mouth. "Give me a password young woman and I shall open up."
It seemed like she should have remembered exactly what she had written in that scroll. Somehow though no memory came into play. The scroll had been locked with a charm she had learned at the end of her first year. Thinking back to the password she always used back then, she told the scroll, "Emerald eyes."
"Ah, very good Ms. Weasley," replied the scroll. It levitated about a foot above Ginny's lap then unrolled.
She stared at the small script that lined the paper. The memory of writing the scroll ripped out of her mind's depths. Ginny's mind grappled with the sensations of a shuddering hand, trying to write out the letter poem she wrote so many years ago.
Even as her face started to go red, her heart pounding in its cage, Ginny read the letter she wrote at the end of her first year.
*****
Ode to Harry Potter
By Virginia Weasley
I can't help but blush when you're near me
But you just exclude me from your circle of three
I'm right in front of you, but you don't see
You treat me like I'm a Colin Creevey.
I love you
But it seems you don't love me
My friends say you're so brave
And I know
You will see that we were meant to be
When you miss me it will be too late
I have swallowed so much love that my hair grows red
You come over to my house to see my brother instead
You didn't get my Valentine, didn't know what it meant
Every page about you my dairy's read
I love you
But it seems you don't love me
My friends say you're so brave
And I know
You will see that we were meant to be
When you miss me it will be too late
Even though you're the one I adore
Next year at Hogwarts you'll see I've transformed
I will hold my head up high, I'm a Gryffindor
And you won't need to save me anymore
*****
Sighing a deep, long breath of air, Ginny shook her head. Still wearing the same wry grin she remembered exactly how wrong she had been. Despite her determination to get over Harry, to grow up, she failed. When she saw Harry again, his emerald eyes, and mess hair, her face had gone red, her heart beat wildly, and a frustrating little layer of sweat had enveloped her palms.
Ginny held the scroll, wondering what to do with it. She glanced at the two boxes around her, one marked for storage, the other for the trash. With deliberate grace she rolled it up. Quietly she placed it back on her dresser without retying the ribbon.
She let herself fall back onto the bed. It was soft, comfortable and patient as she thought about the decision she had to make. After a minute or five she sat back up and went over to her dresser again. On top of it sat a few keepsakes. There were pictures of her family, each image smiled up at her before waving. Gently she placed the letter on her dresser.
Still remembering the feelings she once had, the ones she claimed her gone, Ginny went back to work cleaning her room.
Feel free to review. I always like to know what everyone thought about my story. Terrible? Enjoyable? Suggestions? How can it be imporved?
ShadowRomantic
(A/N: This is my first, and will probably be my only songfic. "Ode to Harry Potter," is a song by the Switchblade Kittens. I would strongly recomend that you hear it. I know that it can be downloaded on Kazaa. It's a cool little song.)
Ginny Weasley pulled out some old robes, scrolls, and used quills from the bottom dresser drawer. Her room was usually a comfortable place, one where she could enjoy a few seconds of quiet before someone from her burgeoning family would interrupt her. When she was younger she would pore lay on her bed, writing in her diary. After her first year, that habit had broken. Now she would spend time on homework, or dream.
Ginny's dreams would wander wherever and everywhere. When she first woke up in the morning she would find herself wondering about boys, her future, and her family. Pleasant images and unpleasant memories would mingle in her thoughts.
That was the usual course. On this day she found herself cleaning her room. It wasn't something she did very often. The Weasley house, hectic at best, allegorically chaotic at worst, seldom lent time for cleaning. She generally kept her room appearing tidy. Of course the closet was a mess, as was the dresser she stuffed her sentimental items.
A smile slid over her features when she found her first diary. She moved away from the mess she'd created in an attempt to organize her personal effects and fell onto her soft bed. Opening the little book she saw the first entry. Her eyes gliding over the inked words, Ginny could feel the excitement that had prompted her to write down her first experience with Harry Potter. When she went to Platform 9¾ with Ron, he on his way to an enchanted world of adventure at Hogwarts, she knew she would be alone at home. Her parents would be there, but no other child. She had already known that she would start a diary, something to keep her thoughts company, but she had had no idea that her first entry would be about how she had seen the legendary Harry Potter.
When she thought about her crush on him, the one that had somehow survived for more than three and a half years, Ginny's face became hot. When she glanced over at her mirror she saw that, as usual, her face was beaming scarlet. Seeing Harry now didn't have the same effect, but thinking back to her first school girl crush on a boy, that was embarrassing enough. A wry grin spread along her lips when she remembered a certain butter dish.
Shoving those less than dignified thoughts away, Ginny dropped her old diary onto her bed and hopped back to the dresser filled with mementoes. Minutes went by as she organized old essays and class projects into different boxes for storage. Those minutes turned into more than three hours. Like most things in the Weasley household, her dresser drawers were enchanted. Each drawer was about a foot wide, and seven or eight inches tall. They might have been a foot to a foot and a half deep, but they could hold a lot more than one would expect.
Finally Ginny made it to the bottom of the drawer. She pulled out some pieces of parchment that had her initials and Harry's initials encircled by hearts. When she thought through the different items she found, most of them were somehow touched by her old feelings for Harry, feelings that were gone, or so she told herself.
She stuck her arm into the drawer and felt around, just to make sure she didn't miss anything. Ginny found the drawer's last item, a scroll shoved off to the drawer's corner. She pulled it out; in her hand she squinted at it, trying to remember just what it was.
The parchment was yellowing, light and felt brittle. Ginny felt like she should know exactly what she held, but somehow the memory refused to come to her beckoning call. After a few more seconds inspection, turning it over in her hands, tossing it in her palms, she put her fingers to the ribbon. Gently she started to pull at it.
A shock rippled through the ribbon into her fingers. The scroll fell to her lap when she let go, waving her hands through the air, her fingertips still burning. Squeezing back the irritating moisutre that had risen up into her eyes she scrutinized the little scroll.
"Why won't you open up?" she whispered to no one in particular.
"You failed to give me a password," replied the scroll. The parchment's end moved like a mouth. "Give me a password young woman and I shall open up."
It seemed like she should have remembered exactly what she had written in that scroll. Somehow though no memory came into play. The scroll had been locked with a charm she had learned at the end of her first year. Thinking back to the password she always used back then, she told the scroll, "Emerald eyes."
"Ah, very good Ms. Weasley," replied the scroll. It levitated about a foot above Ginny's lap then unrolled.
She stared at the small script that lined the paper. The memory of writing the scroll ripped out of her mind's depths. Ginny's mind grappled with the sensations of a shuddering hand, trying to write out the letter poem she wrote so many years ago.
Even as her face started to go red, her heart pounding in its cage, Ginny read the letter she wrote at the end of her first year.
*****
Ode to Harry Potter
By Virginia Weasley
I can't help but blush when you're near me
But you just exclude me from your circle of three
I'm right in front of you, but you don't see
You treat me like I'm a Colin Creevey.
I love you
But it seems you don't love me
My friends say you're so brave
And I know
You will see that we were meant to be
When you miss me it will be too late
I have swallowed so much love that my hair grows red
You come over to my house to see my brother instead
You didn't get my Valentine, didn't know what it meant
Every page about you my dairy's read
I love you
But it seems you don't love me
My friends say you're so brave
And I know
You will see that we were meant to be
When you miss me it will be too late
Even though you're the one I adore
Next year at Hogwarts you'll see I've transformed
I will hold my head up high, I'm a Gryffindor
And you won't need to save me anymore
*****
Sighing a deep, long breath of air, Ginny shook her head. Still wearing the same wry grin she remembered exactly how wrong she had been. Despite her determination to get over Harry, to grow up, she failed. When she saw Harry again, his emerald eyes, and mess hair, her face had gone red, her heart beat wildly, and a frustrating little layer of sweat had enveloped her palms.
Ginny held the scroll, wondering what to do with it. She glanced at the two boxes around her, one marked for storage, the other for the trash. With deliberate grace she rolled it up. Quietly she placed it back on her dresser without retying the ribbon.
She let herself fall back onto the bed. It was soft, comfortable and patient as she thought about the decision she had to make. After a minute or five she sat back up and went over to her dresser again. On top of it sat a few keepsakes. There were pictures of her family, each image smiled up at her before waving. Gently she placed the letter on her dresser.
Still remembering the feelings she once had, the ones she claimed her gone, Ginny went back to work cleaning her room.
Feel free to review. I always like to know what everyone thought about my story. Terrible? Enjoyable? Suggestions? How can it be imporved?