Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Every meal I sit through is the same. I pretend to eat, pretend I'm not looking at you, and pretend I care who's winning the house cup or what the Quidditch scores have been. None of the idiots around me would know victory if it bit them in the ass.

I don't bother going to dinner. I've seen too much of you as it is, and it's not like I want the food. Well, maybe I want it, but telling myself I need it would be telling myself I'm weak, and I'd rather run until my calves are burning, until I can hardly stand and my head spins in the shower when hot water falls over my body. My hair has started falling out. Not too much of it, but enough that I notice a difference. I wonder how much longer the thickening spells I use will hide the difference. I guess it doesn't matter. If anyone starts to worry, starts to suspect there's something wrong, I'll do what I've always done, lashing out and pushing them away with icy stares until they don't feel sure anymore that there was something going on with me in the first place.

"Ginny, are you alright?" Hermione is always worried about me.

"I'm fine." I push past her into the dorm, toweling off my damp hair.

"You weren't at dinner."

"I was going for a run. I'll grab something from the kitchen later."

"You're getting thin."

"And you're getting on my nerves. I'm fine. Asking me over and over won't change that."

"You haven't been yourself."

"How would you know?"

She pushes me against the wall, forcing me to meet her eyes when she talks. "Ginny, I know you. I care about you. And I'm not the only one who's noticed there's something going on with you."

"Maybe you should mind your own business for a change."

She sighs, massaging her temples, obviously annoyed and in way over her head. "Ginny, please talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me what's wrong." I know she cares. I know they all do, and if they fully understood that I'm doing to my body, they would never leave me alone. And that's all I want right now, to be left alone so I can destroy myself in peace. It's wrong, but it's what I want, maybe even what I need right now.

I push her away, for what has to be the millionth time. "Nothing is wrong. I'm going to bed."

"It's still early, and I thought you were going to have dinner."

"Later." I mutter. "Please just give me some time alone. I'll be fine, I promise." I'm lying to her, but I've been telling so many lies lately that this almost feels natural. She sighs, I know she isn't giving up, but she knows there's no point in pushing harder tonight.

I fall asleep moments after my head hits the pillow. Sleeping is wonderful. I wish I could spend more of my life consumed by this gentle oblivion. Sadly, my body seems to object. I wake up a few hours later knowing I won't be able to sleep again tonight. At least everyone should be asleep now. At least I can get some peace and quiet. I slip out into the icy corridors. I almost never get caught. I'm good at being invisible, good at hearing approaching footsteps before the other person could even hope to hear me. The twins left the Marauder's map out where I could get to it one summer before I was old enough for Hogwarts. Feeling left out and alone, I studied it, copying the lines and curves until I knew the layout of the castle well enough to find my way around even with its constant shifts. I put it back before they even noticed it missing. I think they gave it to Harry, but I really don't care either way. Knowing the layout of the secret rooms and passages is almost as good as being able to see someone coming when you can hear them the way I do.

I've spent a lifetime watching from the shadows as my brothers played and fought, part of the family but at the same time a separate entity. They always saw me as something delicate and unique, more in need of protection than I could be capable of providing it. Even now, I know they think me weak. It's easier, though, to go unnoticed and underestimated, than it ever would be if I had to prove my strength again and again. Better if they just don't know.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm crazy. I certainly don't have much in common with other girls my age.

I've almost made it to freedom, to that door Filch never thinks to lock, to rich dewy grass and crisp air that feels like starlight in my lungs. I hear a soft shuffling against the floor behind me, like socks whispering against the stone, but when I turn, there is no movement. No one who patrols the halls could be this stealthy, so I'm not concerned. Whoever is behind me probably wants to be seen far less than I do. I ignore them and move forward, throwing myself into the wonderful night air, gasping it in, fulfilling the only hunger I allow myself to sate.

My sneakers are damp from the grass by the time I reach the Quidditch pitch. Organized sports don't appeal to me, really, but I'm a sucker for wind whipping through my hair. I love it much more than I hate combing through the tangles it always leaves.

I know, by this point, that I'm being followed. I've feigned obliviousness to the occasional snapping twig or bit of cloak vanishing behind a tree, but I know my pursuer is drawing close now as I unlock the broom shed. I've always had a knack for getting in to things, after all.

I stroll casually toward the tree and the person it obscures, imagining the fear of getting caught, desperate urges to run far, far, away, and that optimistic paralysis, not daring to blink, or even to exhale, on the off chance the cover isn't completely blown.

I continue my casual approach, counting on that paralysis, and am not disappointed. Quickly, stealthily, I slip around the tree, my forearm shoving soft neck so I can hear the soft crunch of a human head hitting the tree bark.

"Lumos" I whisper, and the face my wand points at threateningly is suddenly illuminated. Oh.

Oh.

It's you. I lower my wand slightly, but let my body keep yours pinned in place, even though we both know you could easily throw me to the ground.