AN: Another short, angsty one-shot. Characters aren't mine, neither is Hogwarts.
All I can do is watch, knowing that I'll never get a chance to be with her. There are too many obstacles in the way, not least house prejudices. I'm allowed to glare from across the Great Hall, and I can make snide remarks as we pass in the corridors, but nothing more. And she, of course, will make some fiery retort back, eyes flashing with anger.
They say redheads have tempers to match, and she certainly does. I'm sure you know who I'm referring to by now, the youngest Weasley, Ginevra. Not that we use anybody's first name in Slytherin, except for each other's, and not always then. She's generally Weaslette, or sometimes Red.
This morning, she poured an entire pitcher of pumpkin juice over her brother's head, and half of Slytherin cheered. She'd have made a good Slytherin, she's very cunning and clever. Pity that her entire family have been in Gryffindor though. I might get away with speaking to her if she wasn't a Weasley. After all, it wouldn't be the first time that inter-house relations got, shall we say, intimate.
But she is who she is, and I am who I am, so that means I'm resigned to this. Just watching her.
AN: Over to you, now. Click the review button, it's lonely.