A Ginny Story
Ginny looked down at her blank parchment. She had never been asked to write a fictional story before, yet alone a love story. She looked back at her scratchy History of Magic Notes. There it was: write a love story about two people, one of which dies and becomes a ghost. She had hardly thought about the assignment's absurdity as she'd scribbled it down in the margin of her notes before going back to sleep.
She tickled her chin with her quill. Anne, she wrote on the top of the paper. Anne is a gorgeous girl with blond hair, high cheekbones and a lovely posture. She is top of her class at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Ginny dipped her quill into the ink and thought. Now for Rupert. Rupert is a well-mannered boy. He is the Gryffindor quidditch captain. Anne and Rupert have been dating for over a year. They manage to balance school work, quidditch, friends and dating into their busy, but perfect lives.
One day Rupert has a terrible quidditch accident. Just before catching the golden snitch to end the game and guaranteed Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup for the 7th straight year, the Slytherin seeker, Dorko Malicious rammed his broom into Rupert who had his hands off his broom to capture the tiny snitch.
As Rupert fell he cried out, "Anne I love you." The spectators gasped as they watched him falling, horrified. At the moment his body hit the ground, Rupert's ghost rose from his stiffened body. He vowed to seek revenge on Dorko Malicious and to always watch over Anne.
Ginny took a look at her paper and snorted. It would have to do. She rolled it up and tossed it in her bag. She scribbled out the rest of her assignments the best she could before heading down for dinner with her roommates. It was only the second week of September, but already Ginny could feel the effect of large amounts of homework taking its toll on her.
The fourth year was a new phase in her studies at Hogwarts. In Muggle Studies, Ginny had learned that muggles enter "high school" at fourteen years old. Although Hogwarts students begin taking certain electives third year, the fourth-year was when their magical studies become more advanced. It was terrifying.
Ginny squeezed between Neville Longbottom and her roommate Julia Livingston. She glanced around the table. Harry, Ron and Hermione were at the end, horridly conversing with each other in whispers. There had been a time when Ginny would have done anything to be included in their schemes, but no longer.
"Want some," Neville offered holding out a plate. Ginny had sent owls back and forth with Neville all through the summer. Neville listened. He understood Ginny like nobody else. He understood the way her family made her feel like a child, and how horrible it felt to be excluded from Harry, Ron, and Hermione's clique. He felt this too. Together they had promised to have each other as friends, and not to feel excluded again. It was tough especially when Harry came to live at the Burrow for a month, but Ginny would read Neville's letters and smile. She had a friend who wanted her. She was no longer a child. She would not follow Harry around like a puppy dog, waiting for things to change. She had Neville.
When he had told her about his parents, Ginny cried. She felt worse for Neville than Harry because his scar was internal. Nobody pointed at Neville in public. He was not a hero of the wizarding world. Instead, most who knew Neville thought he would never amount to much. The more she thought about, the madder she was that Harry had taken all the fame for defeating you know who. Neville's parents had worked very hard to defeat him, something that Harry's parents hadn't done. They were only trying to protect themselves and their child.
Neville lived with his Gran, a sharp and magically talented lady. On the day that Ginny tumbled out of their kitchen fireplace, she had made them some grilled cheese sandwiches with a few flicks of her wand, and then retired to the sitting room to read.
Neville showed Ginny his herb garden. It was perfectly kept and organized, very much the opposite of the burrow's garden; there wasn't a gnome in sight. They awkwardly chatted for a while. Suddenly Neville stopped talking about the herbs and looked at her. "What are you thinking about?"
Ginny thought about how easy it was to spill her deepest secrets to Neville in her letters, but how hard it was to talk about such subjects now. "Nothing really, this is an amazing garden."
"Oh," he said, disappointed. "Come, there's a really old oak tree by a stream down the hill over there." He took her hand and she followed him over the hill. She looked up and could no longer see his house. "My gran could see us out the window before." Ginny reddened as she realized she his gran could no longer see them.
They nervously shredded some grass in silence for a while. "Ginny." She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and wondered if he could hear it. She remembered dancing with him at the Yule Ball. He had stepped on her feet repeatedly as she had looked around to see Harry. She felt a pang of guilt. Had he known?
She knew he was going to kiss her and there wasn't anything she could do about it. She felt vulnerable and awkward and ugly. Her legs were thick and her breasts were small and childish. She had long ago given up counting her freckles. And what did she know about kissing? She had once caught her brother Percy snogging at school, and recently discovered Fred and Angelina kissing (he was pretty sure it was Fred anyway).
He looked like he wanted to say something, but his mouth was dry. His hand was trembling as he reached up and touched her hair. She would do anything to have soft wavy blond locks instead of her dead limp red hair. She could feel him leaning in and she felt herself doing likewise without signaling her brain to do so.
It was a quick kiss, a brush of the lips, but nonetheless her first. They pulled away silently. She looked at the ground for a while, wondering who would speak first. It was Neville. "I, er, was hoping you would, uh, want to be my, uh, girlfriend?" He looked up at her quickly and shot his eyes back to the ground.
It had been almost two months. Ginny grasped Neville's hand beneath the table. She glanced back towards Harry. She didn't need him. He had too many troubles. Maybe it was better that nobody knew how amazing Neville was. She knew. She wondered if Harry knew, and what he'd say. She finished eating dinner in silence, squeezing Neville's hand from time to time so he wouldn't become concerned.
Ginny gathered her schoolwork for the next day. She glanced at the History of Magic story again and tore it to shreds. She drew a new parchment from her desk and took out a brand new quill and a bottle of ink.
Anne is short, plump and redheaded. She cleans cauldrons for a living and isn't particularly good at magic. She has six older brothers and her parents are very protective.
Ginny looked down at her blank parchment. She had never been asked to write a fictional story before, yet alone a love story. She looked back at her scratchy History of Magic Notes. There it was: write a love story about two people, one of which dies and becomes a ghost. She had hardly thought about the assignment's absurdity as she'd scribbled it down in the margin of her notes before going back to sleep.
She tickled her chin with her quill. Anne, she wrote on the top of the paper. Anne is a gorgeous girl with blond hair, high cheekbones and a lovely posture. She is top of her class at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Ginny dipped her quill into the ink and thought. Now for Rupert. Rupert is a well-mannered boy. He is the Gryffindor quidditch captain. Anne and Rupert have been dating for over a year. They manage to balance school work, quidditch, friends and dating into their busy, but perfect lives.
One day Rupert has a terrible quidditch accident. Just before catching the golden snitch to end the game and guaranteed Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup for the 7th straight year, the Slytherin seeker, Dorko Malicious rammed his broom into Rupert who had his hands off his broom to capture the tiny snitch.
As Rupert fell he cried out, "Anne I love you." The spectators gasped as they watched him falling, horrified. At the moment his body hit the ground, Rupert's ghost rose from his stiffened body. He vowed to seek revenge on Dorko Malicious and to always watch over Anne.
Ginny took a look at her paper and snorted. It would have to do. She rolled it up and tossed it in her bag. She scribbled out the rest of her assignments the best she could before heading down for dinner with her roommates. It was only the second week of September, but already Ginny could feel the effect of large amounts of homework taking its toll on her.
The fourth year was a new phase in her studies at Hogwarts. In Muggle Studies, Ginny had learned that muggles enter "high school" at fourteen years old. Although Hogwarts students begin taking certain electives third year, the fourth-year was when their magical studies become more advanced. It was terrifying.
Ginny squeezed between Neville Longbottom and her roommate Julia Livingston. She glanced around the table. Harry, Ron and Hermione were at the end, horridly conversing with each other in whispers. There had been a time when Ginny would have done anything to be included in their schemes, but no longer.
"Want some," Neville offered holding out a plate. Ginny had sent owls back and forth with Neville all through the summer. Neville listened. He understood Ginny like nobody else. He understood the way her family made her feel like a child, and how horrible it felt to be excluded from Harry, Ron, and Hermione's clique. He felt this too. Together they had promised to have each other as friends, and not to feel excluded again. It was tough especially when Harry came to live at the Burrow for a month, but Ginny would read Neville's letters and smile. She had a friend who wanted her. She was no longer a child. She would not follow Harry around like a puppy dog, waiting for things to change. She had Neville.
When he had told her about his parents, Ginny cried. She felt worse for Neville than Harry because his scar was internal. Nobody pointed at Neville in public. He was not a hero of the wizarding world. Instead, most who knew Neville thought he would never amount to much. The more she thought about, the madder she was that Harry had taken all the fame for defeating you know who. Neville's parents had worked very hard to defeat him, something that Harry's parents hadn't done. They were only trying to protect themselves and their child.
Neville lived with his Gran, a sharp and magically talented lady. On the day that Ginny tumbled out of their kitchen fireplace, she had made them some grilled cheese sandwiches with a few flicks of her wand, and then retired to the sitting room to read.
Neville showed Ginny his herb garden. It was perfectly kept and organized, very much the opposite of the burrow's garden; there wasn't a gnome in sight. They awkwardly chatted for a while. Suddenly Neville stopped talking about the herbs and looked at her. "What are you thinking about?"
Ginny thought about how easy it was to spill her deepest secrets to Neville in her letters, but how hard it was to talk about such subjects now. "Nothing really, this is an amazing garden."
"Oh," he said, disappointed. "Come, there's a really old oak tree by a stream down the hill over there." He took her hand and she followed him over the hill. She looked up and could no longer see his house. "My gran could see us out the window before." Ginny reddened as she realized she his gran could no longer see them.
They nervously shredded some grass in silence for a while. "Ginny." She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and wondered if he could hear it. She remembered dancing with him at the Yule Ball. He had stepped on her feet repeatedly as she had looked around to see Harry. She felt a pang of guilt. Had he known?
She knew he was going to kiss her and there wasn't anything she could do about it. She felt vulnerable and awkward and ugly. Her legs were thick and her breasts were small and childish. She had long ago given up counting her freckles. And what did she know about kissing? She had once caught her brother Percy snogging at school, and recently discovered Fred and Angelina kissing (he was pretty sure it was Fred anyway).
He looked like he wanted to say something, but his mouth was dry. His hand was trembling as he reached up and touched her hair. She would do anything to have soft wavy blond locks instead of her dead limp red hair. She could feel him leaning in and she felt herself doing likewise without signaling her brain to do so.
It was a quick kiss, a brush of the lips, but nonetheless her first. They pulled away silently. She looked at the ground for a while, wondering who would speak first. It was Neville. "I, er, was hoping you would, uh, want to be my, uh, girlfriend?" He looked up at her quickly and shot his eyes back to the ground.
It had been almost two months. Ginny grasped Neville's hand beneath the table. She glanced back towards Harry. She didn't need him. He had too many troubles. Maybe it was better that nobody knew how amazing Neville was. She knew. She wondered if Harry knew, and what he'd say. She finished eating dinner in silence, squeezing Neville's hand from time to time so he wouldn't become concerned.
Ginny gathered her schoolwork for the next day. She glanced at the History of Magic story again and tore it to shreds. She drew a new parchment from her desk and took out a brand new quill and a bottle of ink.
Anne is short, plump and redheaded. She cleans cauldrons for a living and isn't particularly good at magic. She has six older brothers and her parents are very protective.