Loving someone so enigmatic can definitely be a burden to you.
Someone who you really aren't sure whether he loves you or not. Someone who you have to literally ask and beg to know what feelings he has for you. Someone who you have to risk a lifetime of mortification just answer a question.
"Harry," Ginny Weasley began to say one day, inwardly hating herself for feeling so diffident. She wasn't used to doubting her feelings—it was always the feelings of the other of which she placed no trust on.
"Hmm?" Harry Potter murmured, distrait. Ginny felt so annoyed with his preoccupation; can't this boy ever loosen up for once? She detested it when she felt his anxiety and moodiness oh so clearly—it was like he was making her feel incapable of being a good girlfriend.
"Harry," she started to say again, sounding very impatient, "do you love me?"
She didn't really mean to say it so bluntly and angrily, but Harry was getting on her nerves. It was always on her mind. She'd liked Harry James Potter ever since, and liked him even more when he became a somewhat of an adopted son of the Weasley family. And—for the love of all things holy—she's loved him already! Can't he see that? Is this boy—the Boy Who Lived—blind?
Her companion was ripped out of his musings, and stared at the red-haired girl—no, woman (he should always correct that, for Ginny was far from a little girl)—in front of him. He looked at her, absolutely perplexed, unable to think of a reason for her sudden query. Finally, he decided on—
"Why do you ask, Gin?"
He was surprised to hear sadness in her reply. "You never seem to show how you feel. It makes me...insecure. It's like you're with me, but not with me at all." She frowned, not really certain whether she sounded as though she made any sense. "Loving you, Harry Potter, makes me insecure."
Harry grinned. "Gin, I really don't understand what you meant, but answering your earlier question—"
Ginny, suddenly panicking, covered his mouth with one hand, silencing him, and using the other to cover her ear. "No, no ! I am not listening! Continue speaking, but no one's listening, Harry James Potter! No! No one's listening to you!" she screamed, drowning out his voice.
Harry laughed, in spite of the hand preventing him to. "Ginny—" he tried to say, but in vain; all that came out was a muffled sound.
"No-no, Potter! You are not talking!" Ginny continued to yell, sounding very childish. Jeez...is she PMSing or something? Why in Merlin's name is she suddenly so...emotional? His girlfriend was starting to get infuriating.
"I will not listen to you!" Ginny shouted, "Oh no, I am not! Forget what I asked you! Don't mind it! Dammit, Potter, forget about it!"
Harry could see a faint blush on her cheeks, and laughed as he finally realized that Ginny Weasley was, unbelievably, mortified.
"Why the hell are you laughing, Potter?" she demanded indignantly.
He went on laughing as he wrenched (oh so gently, mind you!) her hand away from her mouth. She huffed, pouted, and crossed her arms in disdain.
"You know, Weasley, I never thought you could be so incredibly insecure," he teased.
"You're becoming too suicidal, Potter," Ginny threatened, fingering her wand, but Harry ignored her.
"I never thought that Firecracker Weaslette could be so...eloquent...so deep!" he went on mischievously. Ginny blushed scarlet.
"Whatever, Potter."
She ignored him as best as she could throughout their walk in the Hogwarts grounds. Harry continued to grin smugly, but inside he was contemplating on a very serious answer to her question. Little did little Ginevra Molly Weasley know, Harry James Potter knew how to work his charms—whether consciously or not (but really, mostly unconsciously)
So after a long while—
"Ginny."
"What?" she immediately snapped. He ignored her venomous glare. Ginny continued to glare at him, despite being struck by the sudden intensity in which he looked at her. Harry did not look away, but rather, looked into her gorgeous brown eyes, inwardly melting at their beauty.
He took her hand gently, and pulled her closer to him by her waist and— with the starry night exploding with bliss—he swept her into an ardent kiss. Ginny thawed out. Harry was pleased with the effect. When the kiss ended—with Ginny finding herself incoherent with thoughts and speech—
"I loveyou, Ginny Weasley, and even though I don't frequently show it, I do. So don't you go worrying yourself over something so obvious—do you understand me?"