Disclaimer: The characters belong to Ms. Rowling. *Sigh*

AN: This is very rambling, very abstract, very pointless, really. I don't know why I published it. It's pretty damn strange. I love what JK Rowling did with Ginny's character in the fifth book, but I feel like writing about the insecure side of Ginny at the moment. Please review, even if you think it's terrible.

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Ginny Weasley knows that she is nothing special.

Of course, she is told countless times – by her mother, by musicians, by the media – that she should never think that way, that her unique qualities are truly beautiful, that she should embrace her individuality, and all that clichéd rubbish.

'Be yourself!' enthuse those dreadful Muggle magazines that her mother is so fond of. 'Make the most of what you have! Happiness lies within you!'

In the same magazines, there are invariably articles about how to plaster your face in make-up, how to enrich your skin and how to get the body of a supermodel.

Yet Ginny is not particularly interested in the mania of self-improvement. She has accepted that she will never be anything more than what she is now. She will never develop into something glamorous, something remarkable or something stunning. Few people do, not in real life. And Ginny hardly has what she considers to be a head start.

At the age of fourteen, she feels like she is still viewed as an unsophisticated child. The picture of fragility. A natural side effect of being the youngest of seven children, probably. She dislikes this groundless perception of her. It makes her feel awkward, deceptive. She does not deserve this label of purity.

They all believe her to be stainless. Innocent. Inexperienced.

Never mind the fact when she was only eleven she would wake up to find her robes drenched in blood.

The aching shame lives on inside her. Her soul, her mind and her heart have been tainted. She has seen things that she should never have seen, and yet she cannot remember them. She isn't quite sure whether this is a good or a bad thing.

She has fallen clumsily into mad, intricate, harmless obsessive teenage love. Just like all the other girls her age, whether they choose to admit it or not (yes, that means you, Hermione Granger). And she wants to enjoy the simple pleasure of indulging in long, tortured chats with her friends about how his emerald eyes and rumpled hair haunt her dreams. She just wants to do what normal girls do when they experience their first taste of romance.

But she can't, because she knows that she's not a normal girl, however much she wants to be. She feels fury at the injustice of it. She is mundane and she is ordinary and she is dull, but she will never be normal. She is childlike and yet she feels corrupted. She lives a life of extremes and contradictions – negatively and unflatteringly so. She is unique, but not in the way that she wants to be.

She knows that if she was ever to tell anyone how she feels about him, they would think her to be deranged. Unjustifiably vain, even. For a girl like Ginny Weasley to have feelings for The Boy Who Lived – well, it immediately sounds like one of the saddest cases of inevitably unrequited love imaginable.

In Ginny's eyes, and in many others', he is the epitome of all that is brave and just. He is the courageous good against the cowardly evil that deceived Ginny so long ago.

And that is why she knows her feelings are senseless. He has integrity. He has a cool head. He knows how to react in dangerous situations. He would never allow himself to be duped by a stupid diary. He would never be as pitifully deluded as she can be at her worst. And most significantly, he would never be pathetic to enough to need to seek solace in something inanimate.

She knows they can never be together. She is weak. He is strong.

The fool will never be loved in the eye of the hero.

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God, that was depressing. Please review, why don't ya?