Disclaimer: I do not own Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, or anything else belonging to JK Rowling. This is simply fanfiction and only the plotline and story are mine. I am not receiving any profit from this.

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Nothing I Can Do

Her red hair is blinding, especially when the sun reflects it as it does so often. She's swishing it around without noticing anything but the conversation she's in. Even so, she's oddly aware of the other Gryffindors sitting around her, some staring as I am, others too consumed in their own conversations.

It's almost the end of my sixth year, and I'm supposed to be swapping the candies and sweets from Zonko's that we've stolen from a group of third- years last week, on our last trip to Hogsmeade. Someone's just shoved a cheap half-empty box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans into my lap, and taken five chocolate frogs from the pile before me in exchange.

But I don't notice. Ginny Weasley is sitting under a tree by the lake, talking to the Mudblood. Why are they best friends? What's so good about Hermione Granger - or Ginny Weasley, for that matter?

Plenty.

She's gotten rather popular, even coming from a family such as her own. Her hair has grown longer, her eyes that much brighter and bigger. She plays Quidditch; she's helped Gryffindor win. She scored high on her OWLs this year - the results were given early. Beautiful, athletic, and smart.

Someone hits me on the shoulder hard; I haven't moved my eyes since we sat down. I stand up and walk across the yard, pausing between where I had sat and where she and the other Gryffindors currently do. I find a nearby tree and walk sideways to stand behind it.

She's laughing. She no longer giggles and blushes - I haven't seen her blush since my fourth year - but now she seems genuinely happy. As she keeps laughing, she bows her head to try to stop, and locks of her fiery hair fall from behind her ears and cover her face, and all I want to do is move them aside.

A boy beside her and Granger turns to them and tells another joke, sending them both into more laughter. Soon, nearly the whole crowd is sitting in a circle, sharing funny stories and reviewing all the fun they had this year. I wish she would just leave. Leave and come see me, and talk about how nervous she was about all that revision for her OWLs, and how funny it was when Potter slipped in the Great Hall and slid all the way to the teachers' table, and how she noticed how I've been looking at her during meals every day.

But she doesn't leave. She doesn't notice.

She laughs and laughs, and pushes her hair back every time it falls.

Stupid Weasleys. Stupid Granger. Stupid Potter.

As I think this, he strides over to their tree, whispers something in her ear, and they excuse themselves. Lavender and Parvati giggle and huddle close to gossip, and Granger and Weasel get up themselves, and head towards the lake.

Ginny and Potter walk towards the castle, and I follow. I can feel eyes on me, coming from the direction of where I sat, and I can vaguely hear my name being called. But it doesn't matter.

I follow the "couple" up the steps and into the corridors, keeping back a small distance and making an effort to be quiet. At some point I'm stopped by a professor who notices what I'm doing, but again I don't care, and only barely hear him.

Students stop me in the halls, demanding why I've been ignoring them even worse than usual lately. Are these my friends? I'm being interrogated. I push away, and run as fast as I can to catch up to Ginny and Potter.

I finally see them, but I'm too loud. They hear my footsteps and my shortened breath, and turn around. I've had it. I can't do this anymore.

I walk right up to them, and they ask what I'm doing simultaneously.

Look at her. She doesn't know what she's doing.

Neither do I.

I stand in front of her. I can't do anything; I can't even move.

I give her a quick hug, and a polite kiss. I stare at her for a moment, and she does the same. Potter doesn't even protest, but stands there stupidly with his mouth wide open. Ginny's eyes are wide and almost sympathetic. I don't want sympathy, and she knows it.

There's nothing else I can do.

I walk down to the dungeons, say the password, and enter the Slytherin common room.

At dinner that night, I'm looking down at my plate. But Ginny Weasley is staring at me, and she doesn't stop until Potter takes her away.