Prologue

            Ginny sighed at the book she had been reading and rereading for the past two hours, and decided that she had never written anything especially profound. Her scrawl was empty and done before; nothing was astoundingly fresh. She had written poems about flowers, love, and hurt, and her short stories weren't trekking on anything unknown either. Virginia wanted a break though; anything that might trick people into thinking that she was something above the normal, has-been, youngest, and clumsy daughter of a low class wizarding family, but most of all Virginia just wanted to write.

As I stand feeling the ice cold waves hit me,

I watch him

I watch my friends chase him.

But I do not follow

I just stand there observing

I just stand there with my heart in my throat

Observing him

            Virginia moaned as she carelessly pushed her shoulder length ginger hair behind her ears and ripped the wasted paper out of her notebook. She wondered what in Merlin's name had ever possessed her to write such crap. It sounded like something you would find within the context of one of those cheesy romance novels that her friends often read then giggled about later. She would rather die than continue writing such a mockery to literature.

No, if she was fated to write the romance tales that Hermione begged out of her, the least she could do was put together a more realistic one, no more dancing on gazebos or deserted islands, something that she actually found worth her interest. With those positive ideals running through her parched brain, she hastily scribbled the title of her newest short story, and the bit of levelheaded inspiration that might just change her life. Or in any case earn her a new title among Gryffindor girls other than the budding dramatist who would scribble down a story about you and your crush for a small cost. No, this story really was going to change everything, she decided as she grinned down at the notebook.

"This one will be different. This will be the break I need that will make people realize my seriousness," She whispered to herself giddily, as her bright russet eyes watched her slim hand as it began to scribble across the blank page of her notebook and weave the tale that would change her life.

"The Sexuality of Socks"

A short story by Virginia E. Weasley

Disclaimer: (I'm only posing this once so pay attention.)

I do not claim to own anything except the plot and that awful poem. I do not any characters or ideas from the Harry Potter book series; they are all products from the splendid J.K. Rowling. And the theme is probably not mine, per se, either, so I do not claim to own that either. I know that there is probably tons of Virginia the writer stories out there, so kudos to the person who started them.

With that said, please review. Tell me what you like and what you don't. Any ideas or plot devices will be taken to mind.

Thanks.