Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs to JK Rowling.
A/N: This story was written for a young writer's contest at my local library. I couldn't seem to get the words out, so I wrote it in the form of a fic and then converted it with my own characters. Here's the original, that actually inspired me.
This is very AU.
"Harry?" It was Ginny Weasley, coming up to her good friend Harry Potter one September afternoon.
Looking up, Harry saw the red hair of his friend, glinting in the sunlight behind her. Ginny was a good friend of his; his best mate's younger sister who was only junior to them by a year. When her brother Ron started going out with his other best mate and Ginny's best friend Hermione, he and Ginny had spent a lot of time together.
"Hey Gin!" He replied loftily. "What's up?"
Ginny looked nervous. Usually, Ginny was a bright and bubbly girl, stubborn and incredibly fun to be around. Something was clearly bothering her.
"Well, Harry, see the thing is…" she continued speaking, but her voice was so low that he couldn't hear a word she was saying.
"What was that?"
Again, her mouth moved, but no sound seemed to come out. Standing up from his rather comfortable position under the big oak tree, he placed his hands on her small shoulders. He still couldn't believe that Ginny was sixteen and only five foot two. Harry himself was a good six feet.
"Ginny, I can't hear you. It can't be that bad…" his smile was soft, green eyes meeting brown.
"I need you to talk with me!"
"Whoa, Gin, not that loud!" Harry laughed. "Of course I'll talk to you."
"But I also need to sketch while I'm talking to you." Ginny said her voice at a normal decibel now.
"Okay…" Harry agreed uncertainly, as he really had no idea what was going on.
"Well then, sit." Pulling Harry down with her, she sat beneath the tree, taking out her sketchbook from her bag.
"Ginny, why am I doing this? Why not Ron or Hermione?" He asked, truly curious.
Ginny's hand had started to sketch slowly, but gained speed as she spoke to him.
"Well, Ron and Hermione are gone somewhere in the school, and this sketch is for an assignment due Monday." Her free hand had gestured to Hogwarts behind her.
"Wait a minute Ginny; you're drawing a picture of me?" Harry asked his jaw dropping.
"But neither of them are inspirational, you know?" Ginny continued on, ignoring him. "I mean, Hermione would tll me that I'm not being responsible for not doing it before and I couldn't sketch Ron well enough to make it into the display." Colored pencils now.
"And what makes you think I'm inspirational?" Harry asked, truly and deeply curious.
"Well for one thing, you're always fun to talk to. You always listen, hardly ever judging. But you aren't afraid to tell me if I'm wrong, or to yell at me.
"You also have this strange way of inspiring me to do my best. Just making me want to do my best and not be who everyone wants me to be, but to be who I want to be." Ginny paused, biting her lip as she studied her drawing critically. Not once had she looked up at him.
"For some odd reason, I always know what I want when I'm with you. Ideas just start flowing to me. Things to draw, or write. Inspirational is what you are."
The next few hours passed lazily as Ginny drew and talked with Harry, laughing about silly things, memories and trivial subjects.
Sunday, Harry had looked for Ginny everywhere. Hermione informed him later that she wouldn't even come out of her dormitory to eat.
It wasn't until dinner Monday night that Harry saw Ginny again, when she came flying into the Great Hall.
"I did it! My picture – it made it into the display!" Harry congratulated his friend, picking her up in a giant hug and twirling her around.
"I can't wait to see it Ginny, I can't wait!" He said truthfully.
The display was that Saturday, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all searching for her drawing. Splitting up, Harry and Ginny were the first to find it.
"Ginny… What is it?" Harry asked, trying to sink it all in.
The title said "Inspiration," but is this what inspiration really was? A mix of color not representing any set shape or figure, but forming into each person's imaginative view? But that's just it. It was different to everyone.
"It's inspirational, Harry. It's everything that's good and bad. Color, black and white, light and dark. It's different for everyone. I see you, and broom rides, walks in the garden. Some might see pictures, or sweets. My Professor saw flowers and waterfalls. What do you see?" Ginny asked, staring at her own drawing.
"I see the color green. And Snitches… And-and everything." Harry said, amazed at what could be seen in the ensemble of colors.
As Harry thought, he realized that inspiration is no set thing; it's a matter of viewing things differently, finding things in corners of your mind. In his mind, he knew that the title of this art was true – it really was inspiration.