~*The Darkness in Me*~

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~*Summary- Ginny never got over Harry. Draco never got over his Dark ways. When Harry discovers his true feelings, he becomes the third person in a disastrous love triangle. *Non-Slash*

~*Pairing- H/G, D/G

~*Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter, unfortunately I do not own Draco Malfoy, and worst of all, I do not own Oliver Wood. Oh yeah, and I don't own anyone else either. The plot is all I have. *weeps*

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               It was late at night when Ginny finally returned to the Burrow. Her hair whipped around her face in a midnight wind as she soared in on her broomstick towards the house. The windows were dark- everyone was asleep. Not that everyone was a lot of people these days. Percy had a nice apartment in London, since it was so much easier to commute to work at the Ministry of Magic from there. Fred and George were long since gone, the joke shop had profited so greatly that the humble shop in Diagon Alley had spread into a chain, one in Paris, one in Cairo, one in St. Petersburg… the twins didn't need the Burrow anymore. Bill and Charlie were away on business, as they had been for the majority of Ginny's life. The only people left were her mother, her father, Ron, and the illustrious Harry Potter.

               Ginny still had mixed feelings about Harry staying at the Burrow. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had invited him to stay with them while he got his feet back on the ground, and he had spent so many of the last years with them that it seemed pointless to leave him out in the cold now. Not that he'd be in the cold anyway, said a snide little voice in the back of Ginny's head. Not with those piles and piles of Galleons that he's got stored away below Gringotts. He doesn't need us, so why is everyone acting like he does? He'd be fine on his own.

               But the other half of Ginny wished that Harry would stay. He was a brother in some ways, maybe even most ways, but he was so much more than that. Things had been strange between them since- well, since forever. Ginny would never forget the day she first laid eyes on Harry Potter in person. Even though she was a small girl, a child, nowhere near being of age, she knew that there was something special about Harry that had absolutely nothing to do with Lord Voldemort. The way his eyes moved down her body, the way his mouth moved when he talked, the way his hair fell across his face, there was something there that made Ginny's heart skip two beats.

               She slid the key in the lock of the door and twisted the knob. Metal grated against metal, and the door creaked as she pushed it open as quietly as she could. The jamb was in need of a good oiling, just like everything else in the house. Ginny firmly shut the door and relocked it as she slid off her jacket and hung it on a peg next to the door. Silently, she walked into the kitchen in her socked feet, not wanting to make any noise lest the remaining people in the Burrow be disturbed from their sleep. She heard a rustle, a strange noise in the kitchen. Slowly she drew her wand out of the back pocket of her Muggle jeans.

               "Ginny." It was a statement, not a question. She could see the outline of a shaggy-haired head in the moonlight.

               "Harry?" she asked, coming a few steps forward. The threatening tip of her wand lowered as she realized that it was indeed Harry, standing at the kitchen window in the dead of night. "What are you doing here? It's late."

               "I'm thinking," he said softly. His voice was colder than she remembered. She didn't dare to ask what he might be thinking about. Harry scared her sometimes, the way he brooded around the house, not wanting to go out, not wanting to fly, not wanting to go to his training for the Auror tests…

               "I don't know you anymore, Harry," Ginny said, her voice almost cracking. She mustered all the self-control that she had and refused to let herself cry. She wouldn't let herself appear weak to Harry Potter. She took a deep breath and steadied her voice. "What's going on with you, Harry? It's like you're losing your grip on everything at the same time." She came a step closer.

               "It's nothing," he said, turning away from the window. Ginny could sense that he was avoiding her gaze. Harry stepped past her and started climbing the rickety staircase two steps at a time. She watched his retreating back melt into the darkness.

               Ginny wasn't tired anymore. She sat down at the kitchen table and pulled a magazine towards her. Harry's face gazed up at her from under his lashes. Everyone's treating him like such a sex symbol now, Ginny thought, annoyed that somewhere out there, little teenage girls might be clipping his pictures out from magazines and pining over them, and they didn't even know. They didn't know who Harry was, or what he had become. Disgusted, Ginny tossed the magazine back onto the table. It slid across the tabletop and flipped over the other side, landing with a slap and a rustle on the floor. Just because he finished off Lord Voldemort, finally…everyone's taking notice of him again. He's the great hero that saved the world and is now looking for love. How sweet, how lovely…

               How utterly nauseating. Ginny slammed her palms down on the kitchen table and stood up. I wish that I had never laid eyes on Harry Potter, she thought. He's made everything so much more difficult than it should be for a 19-year-old waitress. It's not fair…but then, when has it ever been fair? Never. I'm going to bed.

               She climbed the stairs, gripping the railing so hard that her knuckles turned white. I'm finished with Harry Potter, once and for all! A defiant voice in her mind cried out. Ginny was sick of lying to herself, like she had been lying to herself ever since Harry had first come to the Burrow. Harry had never liked her, he never would, he would only think of her as the unwelcome little sister that he might as well have had. I'm a sister to him, if I am anything at all, Ginny thought as she threw the covers over her still-clothed body. I will never be his lover.

               Ever.