Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter. JK Rowling does. You get that? Good.
Note: Be warned: I was in a very angsty mood when I wrote this. The same thing happening to the girl in this story is happening to me right now. It sucks being a teen sometimes.
The In-Between Stage
It was like being suffocated in his presence but then feeling like near him, she had too much room. Sometimes her heart rate would fly up and other times it would stay like it always was, just pounding slowly like he wasn't moved at all by seeing her there, radiant as the sun. The way he walked and moved was perfect, and she clung on to every word he said, every sentence he breathed from his mouth. It was like catching fireflies; you had to snatch them before they got away.
She knew that sometimes he looked very awkward in her presence. At the same time, she'd feel strange too. She'd start flirting with boys her own age, and chilling with the guys who even gave her a second glance. She'd spend nights dreaming about him, but then for days she would barely give him a glance across the common room. He'd be sitting there, chatting with his friends, and she wouldn't give a damn. She'd just stay where she was, doing her own thing.
Knowing that he didn't like her thrust her deeper into the pit she was already stuck in. She would try desperately not to feel envious, but at the same time she smiled whenever he struck it lucky with the girl he did like. Every time that girl gave him a look, he practically melted, and strange happiness would flow through the other girl standing near, invisible.
But at the same time, she despised the girl he liked with a passion. She'd pound her to pieces in her journal, calling his crush a "bitch" and other insulting names. She wrote poems about how the girl didn't give a shit about anything, just wanting to find her place in the world and knock everyone else down below her. It made her feel better, but at the same time it hurt so badly that she'd scrawl "sorry" over and over on the next few pages.
She didn't know whether she still loved him or not. Ever since she had first laid eyes on him, her heart had fluttered madly, and hopelessness mixed with joy settled upon her whenever she saw him standing in the halls. She wrote him valentines and became his friend.
At the same time, two forces were pulling her deeper into the decisions she didn't want to make. One force was telling her, "Everyone should have kissed by now! Why don't you have a boyfriend? You're old enough!" To her, it made sense. All of her friends had boyfriends, and one was even the girlfriend of a boy one year older, just like the girl I'm telling you about wanted to be. She wanted to grow-up, to find love, and to be a woman.
But at the same time, something else was prodding her. "You're too young. Love doesn't exist. If you get a boyfriend, it won't last. You're still a child. Enjoy your youth." In a way, she didn't want to grow up. She didn't want to face all the responsibilities, and she didn't want a million failed relationships before she turned eighteen. So now she was stuck again; she wasn't a child, but she wasn't an adult. She was too young but at the same time too old.
Did she love this boy, or was he just her brother's best friend? Did she love seeing his face, or was it just another guy to look aside and say, "Hey, let's just be friends"? She didn't know what to choose, stuck in between love and "growing up" or not having the feelings, staying young just a little bit longer.
And if you knew HER, Ginny Weasley, you know it would suck to be in that stage.
Especially when if you knew HE was the Boy-Who-Lived.
Note: Be warned: I was in a very angsty mood when I wrote this. The same thing happening to the girl in this story is happening to me right now. It sucks being a teen sometimes.
The In-Between Stage
It was like being suffocated in his presence but then feeling like near him, she had too much room. Sometimes her heart rate would fly up and other times it would stay like it always was, just pounding slowly like he wasn't moved at all by seeing her there, radiant as the sun. The way he walked and moved was perfect, and she clung on to every word he said, every sentence he breathed from his mouth. It was like catching fireflies; you had to snatch them before they got away.
She knew that sometimes he looked very awkward in her presence. At the same time, she'd feel strange too. She'd start flirting with boys her own age, and chilling with the guys who even gave her a second glance. She'd spend nights dreaming about him, but then for days she would barely give him a glance across the common room. He'd be sitting there, chatting with his friends, and she wouldn't give a damn. She'd just stay where she was, doing her own thing.
Knowing that he didn't like her thrust her deeper into the pit she was already stuck in. She would try desperately not to feel envious, but at the same time she smiled whenever he struck it lucky with the girl he did like. Every time that girl gave him a look, he practically melted, and strange happiness would flow through the other girl standing near, invisible.
But at the same time, she despised the girl he liked with a passion. She'd pound her to pieces in her journal, calling his crush a "bitch" and other insulting names. She wrote poems about how the girl didn't give a shit about anything, just wanting to find her place in the world and knock everyone else down below her. It made her feel better, but at the same time it hurt so badly that she'd scrawl "sorry" over and over on the next few pages.
She didn't know whether she still loved him or not. Ever since she had first laid eyes on him, her heart had fluttered madly, and hopelessness mixed with joy settled upon her whenever she saw him standing in the halls. She wrote him valentines and became his friend.
At the same time, two forces were pulling her deeper into the decisions she didn't want to make. One force was telling her, "Everyone should have kissed by now! Why don't you have a boyfriend? You're old enough!" To her, it made sense. All of her friends had boyfriends, and one was even the girlfriend of a boy one year older, just like the girl I'm telling you about wanted to be. She wanted to grow-up, to find love, and to be a woman.
But at the same time, something else was prodding her. "You're too young. Love doesn't exist. If you get a boyfriend, it won't last. You're still a child. Enjoy your youth." In a way, she didn't want to grow up. She didn't want to face all the responsibilities, and she didn't want a million failed relationships before she turned eighteen. So now she was stuck again; she wasn't a child, but she wasn't an adult. She was too young but at the same time too old.
Did she love this boy, or was he just her brother's best friend? Did she love seeing his face, or was it just another guy to look aside and say, "Hey, let's just be friends"? She didn't know what to choose, stuck in between love and "growing up" or not having the feelings, staying young just a little bit longer.
And if you knew HER, Ginny Weasley, you know it would suck to be in that stage.
Especially when if you knew HE was the Boy-Who-Lived.