Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Really.
I know she'll be there. Sitting at the same table, with the same people. The fiery cloud of red hair is like a huge sign saying "I'm here! Come and get me!"
And I long to try and get her. But to no avail.
I am hated by many at Hogwarts. Raised by my evil Death Eater father to be a Death Eater when the need arises, I've been taught to hate all except for purebloods, to look down upon those of no wizard blood.
No wonder I'm in Slytherin.
I was never the best student - Hermione Granger took that title from me. She studies incessantly, through holidays and school days alike. Never ceasing, never failing. A subject which my father finds laughable, that a bushyhaired girl of no wizards blood could beat his pureblood son. He tosses me away as useless, a good for nothing boy.
I curse him in my dreams sometimes, as I dream of that red hair, dreaming of touching it, stroking her face. Cursing my father for being who he is, a tool of Voldemort. For teaching me to hate, for teaching me to carry on with the family feud between the Weasleys and the Malfoys.
He knows something's wrong with me. In my weekly owls to my family, my handwriting is no longer neat, with each letter carefully penned to compliment the entire word. The thought of red fills my mind, seeping through every crevasse in my mind. I cannot concentrate no longer, the color of her hair takes over me. Thus, my handwriting suffers.
Perhaps this is some sort of punishment. Perhaps I am not meant to love a Weasley. We are entirely different, she and I.
She hates me.
I don't deny that I deserve it. All the things that I, my father, and my family's presence on the Ministry of Magic have done to her, her brother, and her family have been enough. I am self confident, cocky, arrogant, with a sneer permanently attached to my face. No one can make that laughing smile go away from me, it is imprinted into my soul. Perhaps I am meant to carry out this role for my father, I am meant to cause hell onto the Weasley family and help him to change the school of Hogwarts to how Salazar Slytherin intended it.
A year ago, I gladly would have accepted my fate and dug deeper into the Dark Arts. Without mulling over whether this was the best choice for me. Without having second thoughts about what my father picks for me. Things have changed me. Changed mefor the better, I hope. I see and recognise this difference in me, how I act. No one else does, especially not Potter, Weasley, Granger, and the girl.
Ginny Weasley.
I see her all the time in my mind, the red hair falling over her face, slightly hiding her pretty features. As if I were not meant to see them. As if one look from me would mar them forever.
I wonder what she thinks of me. Nothing good, I suspect. Her brother has taught her well. Taught her to hate me, as all good Weasleys should hate Malfoys.
If this is my fate...
So be it.