Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition:
Position: Beater 1 for the Holyhead Harpies
Prompts:
Write about a light character committing the sin of ENVY
4. (song) 'Stitches' by Shawn Mendes
7. (song) 'Unconditionally' by Katy Perry
10. (quote) 'I have always known who you really are, and that's why I love you.' - Belle, Once Upon A Time
Word Count: 987

Thanks to Lizzie for beta'ing!

'Harry Potter.'

Merlin, how she hated those words.

Ginny bit down on her lip as she opened her bag and pulled out the diary that had become her closest confidant during her first few weeks at Hogwarts. She took a deep breath as she stared at the cover, and again, those words flew through her mind: Harry Potter. No matter what direction Ginny tried to steer her conversations with the man in the diary, they always seemed to come back to Harry Potter. What subjects Harry was best at, how he got on with teachers, even his holiday plans. Sometimes she wondered if she'd ever get to talk to Tom about him.

Ginny flipped open the diary and dipped her quill in the ink on her desk. A droplet of ink fell on the page as she did so, and immediately the words began to appear.

"Good evening, Ginevra. How are you today?"

She sighed to herself. Even his handwriting was beautiful—an elegant cursive so unlike the scrawls of the boys in her classes. "I'm well, thank you, Tom. How are you?"

She smiled as her word sank into the thick parchment. As she waited for her reply, she thought back to when she'd first written in the black book. She cringed as she remembered her immature language, and how she'd whined to him in messy paragraphs riddled with spelling mistakes and blotched with tears.

"Also well, although I'm a little curious." No words appeared for a moment as if he was hesitating. The ink had almost disappeared before he continued. "You don't seem to have talked about Harry for a while. I hope you haven't given up on him; I think you'd make a marvellous couple."

Ginny sighed. There it was again. That name."I don't see the point," she wrote. "He never notices me. You're the only one who ever notices me, Tom. You're my truest friend."

"Perhaps you should choose your friends more carefully, Ginevra. I've done a lot of bad things."

She found that hard to believe. Tom was the most perfect boy she'd ever met—although she supposed she'd never truly met him. How she wished she could meet him properly!

She dipped her quill in the ink. "I'll take the bad with the good, Tom. I'll take you just as you are, because—" Her quill hovered above the page, the words 'I love you' hanging off the tip. "Because you're my friend, and that means I like you unconditionally."

She groaned at her own cowardice and wondered for the hundredth time why the Sorting Hat had put her in Gryffindor.

"Thank you, Ginevra. I fear I'm not worthy of your admiration."

"Of course you're worthy."

"But I still want you to get to know Harry."

She gritted her teeth together until jaw ached. "Why is it so important to you?" Her quill snapped, splattering ink over the page. She looked down at her shaking hands. She didn't know why it made her so angry when he mentioned Harry. She didn't want to believe it was jealousy.

"Ginevra, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Tom, I just knocked my ink." She considered telling him she had somewhere to be, but he knew she didn't have a life outside of writing to him. More than that, she didn't want to leave him.

"I want you to be happy."

"I want you to be happy, too, Tom." She meant it. Even if it meant telling him about Harry all the time, or even when she knew she was helping him even though she couldn't quite remember what she was doing.

"You make me happy, Ginevra. I wish I could so the same for you."

"You do—"

He began writing over her words. "You don't even know who I am. How can I make you happy?"

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she pressed her quill into the page."You're Tom. I've always known who you are. And that's why I love you."

She snapped the book shut, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She slowly peeled back the cover to see his reply.

"Thank you, Ginevra. I've been waiting to hear that."

Two months later.

She thought she'd been hurt before. She thought she had felt hurt when Harry had ignored her, or when her brothers had refused to play with her because she was a girl. But no one had ever hurt her like this.

It had been a month since the Chamber, and still his words echoed her mind as she tossed and turned at night.

"You're worthless, Ginevra. Just a pathetic little girl who'll believe anything. No one will ever love you."

They cut into her like knives.

She'd thought she was so mature, talking to an older boy who paid her so much attention. She hated herself for allowing him to lure her in with compliments and promises, just like a moth drawn to a flame. And now she was left on her own.

But what hurt the most—what she couldn't even tell the counsellor they'd given her at Hogwarts—was that in spite of the whispered insults, the manipulation, and the lies, there was a part of her that still needed him. Not You-Know-Who—Tom was not You-Know-Who. He couldn't have been. He was just Tom, the quiet boy who wanted to fit in. Just Tom, who understood her, who had been kind to her.

She knew she should be grateful to Harry—after all, he had saved her life—but she still hated those words. 'Harry Potter.' The boy who lived. The boy who took Tom away.

Each night, when she woke gasping for air with Tom's voice fresh in her mind, she let hot tears stream down her cheeks and turned the word unconditionally over and over in her mind while she wondered whether any part of him had loved her back.