A/N: This may or may not remain a one-shot, depending on what I decide to do with it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except my socks.
Envy
Ginny felt a pair of eyes staring past her, gazing at a point somewhat to her left. She knew instinctively, without turning around, to whom they belonged. She groaned softly. Again?
Michael adjusted his right arm more comfortably around her shoulder. "What'd you say, Gin?"
She squirmed slightly under his possessive grip. "Oh, nothing," she said, trying (and failing) to keep her voice neutral. "I just remembered that I have a Charms essay to write for tomorrow." He rolled his eyes sympathetically and gave her shoulder a little squeeze. She wriggled away from him, pecked him quickly on the corner of his mouth and hurried off, slinging her book bag over her shoulder as she went.
There was no Charms essay, of course. She simply had to get away. It was just too much, sometimes, to withstand Michael's inherent dullness. He was quick attractive, obviously, and very bright, but no matter how you looked at it, the boy was boring. She endured hours of it, just sitting companionably, silently, side-by-side, waiting for something to happen. Occasionally they discussed homework, and sometimes Quidditch. And then there would be a few moments of blessed relief, but soon they would invariably lapse back into silence.
It didn't seem to bother him. She didn't know for sure, because they never discussed their feelings, but she vaguely sensed that he enjoyed her company and liked just sitting next to her. Unsurprising, really, since there appeared to be so little on his mind. Calm, relaxed, comfortable silence was his natural state of being, and as far as she knew, he was happy with her.
But Ginny noticed things. Small things, unremarkable things, maybe. She noticed that her good friend Hermione was clearly in love with her brother, Ron, and that Ron was hopelessly in love with Hermione (though that was obviously to nearly everyone by this point). She noticed that although Professor Snape had disgusting, greasy hair, he had very clean fingernails and surprisingly white teeth. She noticed that Harry's bright green eyes were the exact same shade as her favorite nightgown. She also noticed that some people found her boyfriend much more interesting than she did herself.
People like Cho Chang, for instance.
Ginny despised Cho, had ever since her second year, when her beloved Harry Potter had first begun to blush brilliantly at the mention of her name. All through third year, Ginny had watched despairingly as Harry had mooned away over the pretty older girl. Ginny had wiled away countless History of Magic classes merrily concocting various tragic (and painful) demises for Miss Cho Chang.
And now the same Cho Chang, the very same Cho Chang who had been the bane of Ginny's tortured existence for so long, now the same lovely, hateful, intelligent, horrid Cho Chang wanted Ginny's boyfriend Michael. Unbelievable!
A vague, irritating conscience in the back of Ginny's mind told her that clinging to Michael just so Cho couldn't have him was wrong. That same niggling, annoying voice trickled disgustingly kind and thoughtful poison into her brain whenever she caught Cho looking at Michael. The voice was there now.
They're perfect for each other, it oozed. Just think about it! He could put his arm around her comfortingly—silently—while she sobbed about whatever it is she cries about all the time. And she could weep into his shoulder and feel nothing but solid, constant support radiating from him. You know he'll never even look at her until you break up with him. He's too honest and good. Leave him so he can be happy. It would be a perfect match.
"No," Ginny whispered quietly to herself. "I can't, I cannot let another boy of mine," for Harry had always been hers, at least in her mind, "slip through my grasp into Cho's slimy, waiting arms. No!"
"And besides," she continued miserably, knowing exactly what she ought to do, "any boyfriend is better than none at all, right?"