She still remembers the first day she met him. The way his glasses were wonky, half broken. The way his shirt hung like a tent over his skinny, little body. This hair, black as the night sky, suspended in bangs over his forehead, hiding his trade mark scar. But it was his eyes that had struck her as a goner. Those eyes. Those shimmering, emerald green eyes. They say the eyes are the window to your soul, but Ginny found the the opening to something bigger. Love. She did not know it was love at the time, of course. She figured the butterflies were because she was nervous about being in the same room as such a respected hero. Her parents took no notice of her infatuation whereas her brothers constantly teased the poor girl.
He was a quiet boy, wouldn't say boo to a goose. Upon the moment she had met him, Ginny had also become shy. Quite a contrast the Ginny the family knew who, by far, was the most confident and out going of all the Weasleys. She wanted to talk to him. Not about what he had done of course as she knew all about that unforgeable night at Godrics Hollow from books and stories her mother had told her as a young child. No, she didn't want that. She just wanted to say hello. Maybe ask how his morning has been. Just the simple things. Sadly this over whelming timidness had completely possessed poor Ginny's body and she was paralysed from head to toe. She had also suddenly become of a muted state. No longer able to speak a coherent sentence, Ginny sprinted up the stairs like a bounding hare and entered her room, closing the door with an unintentional slam. She did not notice she had been blushing until she had sat behind the door and felt the heat leave her rosy cheeks.
She had never felt this before. She had obviously seen pictures of rather dashing men in her story book but they had only mad her smile, not become so flustered. But Harry did not look like these men in her books, In fact, Harry looked quite the opposite. He was small and thin whereas all these men in the pictures had been lean and muscular. A complete contrast to Harry. It could quite obviously not be sexual attraction, definitely not at her age. I guess the thing that puzzled her the most was the fact that he hadn't even spoken to her, nor she him. She had literally just glanced at him for a manor of seconds before he rash of red came creeping up her neck and across her freckled face. It made absolutely no sense. Ginny knew little of love at first site but of what she did know, she believed it to be a myth. It seemed to irrational to love someone without knowing their personality or characteristics. But in her current situation, Ginny's beliefs were clearly contradicted.
Harry was not only complete different to how she had imagined him but also a complete contrast to the time of man she though she could be interested with. Ever since a young age Ginny ad imagined herself with someone well dressed and sophisticated. Someone with an important job at the ministry and someone who always had the latest broomstick. Harry was completely polar opposite to this picture in her mind. He had no visible muscle. He was not sophisticated and definitely did not dress well. She didn't understand how she could find someone like this young boy remotely attractive let alone have him consume her mind. Maybe she had high standards, ridiculously high but love is a very fickle thing.
That was it. She was smitten. Completely obsessed with idea of being the second half of Harry Potter. This fantasy would hold both heaven and hell for the young girl although she couldn't possibly know that at such a tender age. All Ginny had was the naive sense of hope that eludes even the most intellectual of us as a child. If only she had known the troubles that eventually accompanied this passion, she might ave stayed clear of it. After all, everyone knows that love and happy endings only exist in muggle fairy-tales.