Enjoy.

You're watching him.

Again.

Admiring the scenery, you like to call it.

He's sitting across from your brother on the maroon carpet with a Wizard's Chess board between them. Ron's winning, as usual. He has that crease in his forehead as he contemplates his next move, but he knows it's pointless, because Ron is the self-proclaimed King of Wizard's Chess, among other embarrassing things as Slytherins deemed him. Ron has never lost a game, especially to Harry, who was fairly mediocre. For such a dense, idiotic, evil-fighting sissy, he was great at chess. Ron was quite the blowhard.

Your eyes skim away from your brother's smug face and move your gaze over to his friend. Best friend, you correct yourself. Messy black hair, pale complexion, deep green eyes shielded by round glass with black wire trim, and a half smile. Your heart beat accelerates just looking at him. He turns his head and looks at you for a moment to smile. Your heart almost stops. Hesitantly, you smile back, knowing to control it from becoming a face-splitting grin. You know how eager you can be. You could've died from oxygen deprivation but you finally release the breath you had been unconsciously holding when he turns away.

It's become a ritual now. You know his routine like the back of your hand. It's your daily goal to get him to speak to you at least once. That goal hasn't been reached as of yet. But you sigh, knowing that it's still early in the day.

You still have time.

He's had this control on you since day one and he doesn't know it. At least, you hope he doesn't. He might just take advantage of that. But wait… Is that really a bad thing? If he returns the feelings… then no, it's far from a bad thing. But if he doesn't return them… what could happen? What would he do with that power over you? Shaking your head, you relieve yourself of those thoughts. He wouldn't do that: he's too much of a nice person to ever do that.

You really hope that he returns those feelings. You watch him everyday from afar, you flirt with him heavily, and you've been pining over him for years. You've done everything! (Well, you've done everything except tell him about your feelings.) But there is that question that haunts you every moment of every day.

Does he like you back?

Some say, "You're Ginny Weasley! Guys would kill to have you. Harry is no different!" But you know that last part holds no truth. Harry is different. He isn't one of those love sick, shallow boys you've gone out with before. He is special.

He will always be special.

That's why you're on a mission. Your task: Get Harry Potter to fall in love with you at all costs. No matter what it takes, you will get him to fall in love with you. Or else. "Or else what?" you may wonder.

Fail this mission, and you will find that out. You really hope you won't find out.

You tell Lavender about your situation.

You tell her you like Harry. She interprets it as, in her words "a cute and cliché love story that will most definitely have a happy ending," insert girly squeal here, "and all you have to do is tell him you're in love with him!"

This reassurance makes you feel a million times better and more confident than you were moments ago. "Do you think he likes me?" you asked, still slightly self-conscious.

"Yes!" she said without hesitation. "Have you seen the way he looks at you?"

Your heart flutters and your stomach does 360s. "How does he look at me?" The anxiety and excitement in your voice is completely evident.

"His eyes absolutely sparkle. He feels the same way about you, I'd bet my life on it." This third party opinion gets your hopes up. "He's quite friendly around you, if you catch my drift." It's a nice boost to your self-esteem, and Lavender seems quite generous on giving advice and kind words, so you encourage her to encourage yourself.

"Has he said anything?" you ask in a longing voice. You start daydreaming about the rest of your high school years together with the Harry Potter, hand in hand.

"I don't really speak to him, but I listen to his and Ron's conversations. You're always brought up, even for the briefest of moments." You love the words that spill out of her mouth, and you revel in the positivity. You grin at her and she returns it. She says something about meeting with Ron, and you're left with your thoughts on the tattered couch in the Gryffindor common room.

You sit there and ponder what to do with this situation. If Lavender thinks that Harry is as in love with you as you are with him, then you must tell him. You cannot let this opportunity pass you by. But even with all of this confidence and optimism, you wonder what the downside to this is.

There isn't one.

You stand up and walk to the 5th year dormitory for bed. Tomorrow would be the day.

Apparently, today was not the day.

You decided that Lavender would be able to help because she is a girl and she is in a relationship with your brother. But finally, you think about that decision. Was it the smartest one to make? If anyone was daft enough to be in a relationship with any of your brothers, she might not be the sharpest nail in the tool box. Whatever that was. Goodness, those muggle saying were really getting to you. Thanks Hermione.

Turns out you forgot about the fact that Lavender has a huge mouth. She tells Padma who tells Parvati who tells Alicia who tells Katie who tells Fred who tells George who tells Ron who tells Hermione who tells Luna of all people who doesn't say anything but some nonsense about her mythical creatures.

You hope to Merlin that Ron doesn't go back in the cycle and blabs to Harry.

You find out soon, though, that your hopes were ignored.

But it's too late to take it back. You can't go back in time without a Time-Turner and obliviating all of your peers' minds would take so much energy.

So now you're forced to face the music. (Oh look, another muggle saying!)

But how?

Here you are again, in the common room, just admiring the scenery.

Again.

He's been slightly awkward, but nonetheless, he's been polite. You decided to get rid of the awkward air, you had to tell him. Inhaling a lot of air, you stand up determined to get this over with.

He's contemplating a move on the chess board with his head tilted down and his hair covering his eyes. He still hasn't won a game yet and it's already his 6th year. How was Ron so good at this game but so incompetent in others?

You're standing on the maroon carpet with your feet by the chess board. Two heads, one red and the other black, turn up to look at you. You tilt your head down and shift it to the right to gaze into Harry's eyes. You watch him gulp, and his Adam's apple slides up and down. Because of the close (but not close enough) proximity to him, you almost forget how to speak.

You almost forget the reason you walked over there.

You catch the thought in your mind before it slipped away completely. "Harry," you voice cracks a bit and you feel the heat in your face. How did the room get noticeably hotter so quickly? He nods at you. "May I borrow him for a moment, Ron?" You gaze never moved from his.

His eyes are sparkling.

You feel like exploding.

Ron grunts primitively and Harry stands up. You lead him onto the empty couch you were resting on moments before. Now you're really feeling nervous. You feel the beads of sweat forming onto your brow and underarms. How unladylike. You inhale once more, feeling the anxiety, butterflies, and conflict build up inside of you.

This is the right thing to do.

"Harry," you start. Now all you have to do is finish. You can't look at him. "I know you're heard already, but I think it's more appropriate that you hear it from me." Another inhale. "I really like you."

All of that built up emotion spills out and you feel free. That was easier than you thought!

"Oh."

You're confused. "Oh?" You look up at him. His eyes are flickering. He must be having his own inner conflict. "I was hoping you had something else to say," you state somewhat shyly.

It's his turn to inhale. "Look, Gin," he starts. He's not smiling. He isn't happy. He is much too serious. You know this definitely isn't good. You wish you could just run. Your chest is burning, and your heart feels like it's being pulled at both sides. You don't want to hear the rest of this. "I'm really sorry but I don't like you in that way."

It seems that your body is going through a domino effect from this confession. The fire in your chest expands, the pull of your heart starts tearing it bit by bit, you feel a cold shiver, and goose bumps arise all over your body. Your ears are ringing and your hair is standing on end. You muster enough strength to smile. "Oh, okay. Thanks for being honest, Harry."

Harry half smiled back looking pained. "Are we still friends, Ginny?"

Friends. What an evil word. You can only nod.

You stand up and walk away, leaving him on the couch. You cross your arms over your chest to give yourself some comfort, at least until you get somewhere safe enough to break down the wall and cry. The tears start to cloud your vision and you stifle the sobs attempting to escape from your mouth. You reach the girls' dormitory and touch the knob, but you can hear the happy chatter inside. You can't risk it. You turn on your heel and you escort yourself into the girls' lavatory. It's empty, you conclude to the best of your abilities. You don't even glance at yourself in the mirror. You can feel how much of a mess you are.

You just stroll into an empty cubicle, lower the lid, and sit yourself down. You scoot back, feeling the cool porcelain of the toilet, and raise your feet to the lid so you can hug your knees. You finally allow yourself to sob to your heart's content. You sit there well after your bum goes numb and your legs fall asleep. You cry so much, your face hurts.

But even with all of the crying, with the release of the pent up sadness and anger at yourself, the wrenching in your chest and empty feeling that joined it hasn't gone away. If anything, the clenching got harder and the void extended. Through your wails, you hear the door to the lavatory open. You quiet yourself the best you can and blink repeatedly.

You watch as a pair of shoes get closer to the door. Your pulse quickens and you can feel your heart beat harder in your chest. Could it be—?

"Ginny?" a voice coincides with the knock on the cubicle door. A female voice, you realize. You sniffle and wipe your nose. How long have you been in there? You slowly stand up, uneasily at first because of your numb lower body. You hold onto the toilet paper holder. You open the door and see Hermione standing there with a very concerned look on her face. The tears continue to fall and the sobs erupt once more.

Hermione rushes forward and envelopes you into her arms. She doesn't say anything and you're grateful. She lets you weep onto her shoulder and she rubs circles into your back. You continue to mourn your broken heart, but at least now you have company.

And you couldn't love Hermione more.

The grieving comes to a slow halt. Your sobs eventually stop, and your tears seem to have run out.

Hermione leads you to the 5th year dormitory after you wash your face and leave all signs of your emotional breakdown inside of the lavatory. You look normal enough to return to the dormitory without being questioned as to why you were gone. You hug Hermione one last time before she turns and walks to her own dorm.

His eyes never sparkled for you.

You sigh.

You're alone once again.

And all you can think is what did I do wrong?

You see Harry, Ron, and Hermione at breakfast days later.

You contemplated skipping many meals because the sight of him made you hurt on so many levels but you decided, with Hermione's help, that eating would actually better your health. You're a strong girl. You wouldn't let a boy ruin your life. You wouldn't let him have that control any longer. Your eyes graze over his face. You choke up and your chest burns as expected, but you continue past the trio. You smile at Hermione and touch her shoulder as you walk by. You wipe your eyes of the threatening tears and finally find an empty seat at the end of the table.

It just so happens to be next to Dean Thomas.

He grins at you and you feel a small smile form onto your lips. "Sleep well, Gin?" he asks. You sigh and begin to think of the night previous, but you shake your head. You need to stop wallowing in self-pity. You need to prove to everyone, and yourself especially, that you are the strong person you say you are.

You look up at Dean.

"It was fine," you say simply but you're not completely convincing. I'll be fine eventually.

"Great!" he said, knowing all too well that it wasn't fine. But he didn't want to push it. "Are you excited for the next Quidditch match?" You nod at him, smiling.

Dean is a good friend, you think. Being in his company makes you feel a bit better.

You'll feel better eventually. Of course it'll take quite some time, and of course, it'll always hit a nerve to think about it or talking about it, but you'll be fine. You're still growing up, and it's all part of it, this heartache and heartbreak.

You're strong.

You're a hot headed, short tempered, female Weasley.

You'll find someone new.

You look up at Dean and smile a real smile.

You look over at Hermione and try to catch her gaze. She looks up from her plate of food and grins.

Yes, you'll find a way to carry on again.

I'm not JK Rowling.

This is dedicated to the girls who've felt the sting of unrequited high school love.

Ironic, though. I made you relive the pain.

Did you like? :)

Review!

kthxbai.