Chapter 5

"Miss Weasley, are you aware that the time to receive mail is not during class?"

Professor Flitwick did not usually get upset quite so easily, but when Pig had flown in during Charms, hooting excitedly, he had to say something.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said, turning red as she set the letter on the side of her desk.

"You'll do me the respect of not opening it until we are through with class, Miss Weasley?"

She nodded and the professor turned back to the lesson they were covering. It was rather an odd thing to be studying as a fifth year student. She really didn't see the point of love charms. What was the point of knowing what it took to charm someone into your heart? She had no one to feel that way over.

But thinking back, she really knew she did. She just wouldn't allow it to take form in her mind. She had gotten over the famous Harry Potter a long time ago.

After being around Hermione so much, she really got to see who the real Harry was. He was a great person, and definitely not just the hero she had built him up to be. He was a real person all of a sudden, and her childlike crush vanished. She was grateful for that. At least she didn't feel like hiding whenever he walked into a room or turning dark red whenever he said a word to her.

Besides that, she was now on the Quidditch team. That was suddenly starting to mean everything to her. She now understood why Ron and Harry talked about it like it was the only thing that mattered to them in the entire world. It was no wonder. It was a great sport to play and she enjoyed it a lot. She was close to all of the other members of the team and got along with them famously. It somehow didn't stop her from thinking about Harry in that special way again.

Yet this was a different… special way. She wasn't even sure what it meant herself. She had been crazy for Harry for two years of her life and saw what a complete fool she had made of herself. But then, the new feelings started.

She saw Harry in a different way, but in the same way. He was a great person. He always made the team work their hardest and gave them great compliments even while listing things they could do to better themselves. She never walked away from a practice feeling insulted.

He was great with her brother as well. Ron had been so stubborn in denying his feelings for Hermione that he'd lost his grip on reality. Ginny had been there when Harry was comforting Ron, and it warmed her heart to see the way Harry used his sensitivity to help his best friend.

She had also been acutely aware of his growing charisma. He had grown so much taller and so much broader in the past few years. She hadn't noticed until she cleaned out her room one day, getting rid of all of her Harry Potter memorabilia. She spotted an older picture of him and made the comparison. He looked so much different. His green eyes were bigger and brighter than before, his shaggy black hair was adorably messier, and his voice had deepened several octaves.

Sighing, Ginny stared out the window of the Charms classroom and thought about practice. She couldn't wait. She loved Quidditch practice more and more each time she went. Being on her broom always felt like coming home.

Her eyes wandered back to the letter on her desk. It was pink. Who would have sent her a pink letter? No one she knew even owned pink parchment. Of course, she couldn't be one to judge. She was using turquoise parchment at that very moment.

But who would write her using pink parchment? Who would write and send a note in the middle of class? It had to have been someone outside of the castle… it just had to be.

The bell sounded for students to leave class and Ginny grabbed the letter, hurrying out of the classroom. She needed to open this letter in private, away from everyone who had just seen her receive the letter.

Ginny ducked out of the mainstream of students. There were too many people around for her to read the letter without someone getting curious. Her safest bet was the common room.

She arrived at the portrait hole not a moment too soon. Hermione and Ron had just stepped out, on their way to the Great Hall.

"Hello, Ginny," Hermione greeted her and then frowned. "Where are you going, aren't you on your way down to lunch?"

"Uh… well… I… uh…" she stuttered. She wanted to tell Hermione about the letter, but considering her brother was there, she couldn't very well go blabbing about some secret note. He'd only take it and run off, trying to read it. Either that or he he'd hold it at arm's length, where he knew she wouldn't be able to reach it.

However, Hermione was quicker than Ginny expected her to be. Her eyes traveled down and met with the letter. She gave Ginny a short nod, then took Ron's hand and left for the Hall. Of course, her brother, being the obnoxious prat he was, kept screaming, "Oy! What happened? What did I miss? Will you tell what's going on?"

Ginny laughed, stepping into the portrait hole. Most of the Gryffindors had cleared out to go to lunch and she was relatively alone.

She settled onto the couch closest to the fire, setting her book bag down. Whoever had sent this letter had gone to a great deal of trouble to keep it secret. It had been sealed three or four times with hot wax and wrapped up in lilac ribbon.

Frowning, she unwrapped the ribbon and managed to get the letter open after a great deal of trouble. As soon as she unfolded it, she felt a strong magical connection. Before she had a chance to read, a white dove flew out from the pages. She watched it wing its way around her head before it dispersed into white sparks that fluttered down into her hair.

She smiled widely. Receiving a dove could only mean this was some kind of love letter. She opened up the page and gasped to herself.

It was a poem! A love poem! Who would send her poetry? She knew her prior theory couldn't have been correct. It was definitely someone in the school. She knew no one else outside of Hogwarts that well. But who?

Her eyes misted over as she read the poem again and again. Who could it have been?

'If ever my eyes were open

I never noticed before

Because it seems that you have gone

And opened every door

The hallway in which I hold my heart

Was dark and cold it's true

But I felt a light so warm and soft

The day I set eyes on you

I never thought I'd feel this way

I've tried with all my might

To harbor all these feelings

Like shadows in the night

But listen to me and you shall hear

My voice cry out your name

And look for me, for you will see

My love holds little shame.'

Ginny's eyes filled to the brim with tears. It was so beautiful, and someone must have thought highly of her to write such a poem. Her eyes scanned the page for a name. However, all there was on the page was the poem. She touched it lightly with her fingertips, as if that would somehow bring her closer to the author.

'Look for me and you will see…'

Obviously the writer needed her to find out who he was. Yet this put her in a funny place. Not minutes ago, she had been thinking about Harry and how much her feelings for him had changed. She wasn't a lovesick little girl anymore, drooling every time she heard the name Harry Potter. Instead, her heart pounded against the walls of her chest. She was unbelievably attracted to her Quidditch Captain.

What would happen when this anonymous romantic found out she had such strong feelings for someone else? What would this poetic genius think when he knew his efforts were all in vain?

She loved the poem. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever read, and it was for her.

'My love holds little shame…'

Who did she knew that could love her so deeply? So deeply that they were willing to write her a poem and be so brave as to ask her to look for him? If she wrote a poem, she'd never¯

Her face blushed bright red. She HAD written a poem before. How could she forget such an experience? She hadn't been able to look Harry in the eye for two whole months. Not that she really could to begin with.

The mystery was one step closer to being solved, though. If it was someone really so daring, it had to be a Gryffindor. Besides thinking that, it was the only logical explanation. She didn't know any Hufflepuff boys, she only knew one or two Ravenclaw boys (thanks to Quidditch), and Slytherin… forget it. What Gryffindors did she know capable of such wonderful poetry?

Obviously it couldn't be Ron. Neville was far too preoccupied remembering potions to write poetry, as rude as that sounded. Seamus was still very smitten with Lavender, and Dean barely even spoke to Ginny.

She wouldn't even consider the possibility of it being Harry. Sure, she was always around him, but she was just Ron's little sister. She wasn't Ginny to him. She never expected to be much more. Of course, he told her regularly that she was one of the best Chasers he'd ever seen. He usually talked to her when Hermione wasn't around to chat with. But surely… he couldn't be in love with her. There was no possible way. She pushed the thought away altogether.

Who? Who? Who?

The door to the common room swung open. Ginny jumped a mile and looked up to see Harry climb in through the portrait hole.

"Hullo, J," he said cheerfully. "I came to find you. Why aren't you in the Great Hall?" His eyes searched her hands and landed upon the letter. His expression changed slightly. Ginny frowned at this.

"I was um… reading…" she said, flushing. She hadn't done that in front of Harry in almost two years.

"Reading? At lunchtime?" he tried to act as natural as could be, but he knew very well why she was alone, reading. It was his poem. She had gotten it. She wanted to be alone to read it. Was this a good thing? Was it bad? What did it mean? Did she like the poem?

"Sure… um… did Ron send you up here? He's such a worrywart. If I'm gone for more than ten seconds from a room he goes positively nutters¯"

"No, actually," Harry cut her off. "I was kind of wondering. Ron's been a lot different lately, you know that. He actually cares about what Hermione's reading. He even went so far as to ask her. She took it as a great compliment."

Harry stopped. He knew he was babbling. He was just trying to shake the questions he had from his head. Changing tactics, he nodded toward Ginny's hand. "What have you got there?"

Ginny looked down, startled. Should she tell Harry about the anonymous poet? Would he just laugh at her and tell her she was being childish? No… that was Ron, not Harry.

"Well," she said, lifting up and looking at it. "I'm not exactly sure what to think of it."

Harry frowned. Had she not understood the meaning of the poem? Did she get it? It had said so right in there… look for me… my love holds little shame.

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

She scratched her head in confusion, and Harry suddenly found himself yearning to touch her hair again. He ripped his eyes away.

"I mean… I know exactly what it is, but I'm trying to decide how to interpret it," she answered.

Again, Harry stood in front of her, looking confused. "Well, what is it, or do you not want to tell me?"

Ginny's large, dark eyes glanced upward at him. Did she want to tell him? He wasn't at all like her brothers. She could just hear the heckling she'd get if Fred or George ever got their hands on this poem. This was Harry though, and he wouldn't even crack a smile when it came to her expense. At least, she thought he wouldn't. She decided to take the chance.

"Harry," she whispered, opening it again. "It's a poem."

"Oh?" Harry averted his gaze.

"Yes. It's a-a love poem."

Harry couldn't stand it anymore. He had to ask, "Did you not like it or something?"

Ginny looked up at him quickly. She had been right. He wasn't going to make fun of her. He was concerned. "Oh no! It's not that. I love it… it's the most beautiful thing I've ever read."

"Then what's the problem?" Harry asked excitedly. It was the exact thing he had hoped she would say.

She opened the letter, feeling her heart pound a mile a minute. She was going to go so far as to hand it over to him… and let him read it. "Well," she said, offering it to him.

He smiled at her as he took the poem. He looked it over, as if pretending to just notice it for the first time. He even widened his eyes for affect. "Wow, Ginny, who gave this to you?"

"That's my problem," she sighed, taking the poem back almost instantly, looking it over again. She was desperate. "I am sitting here, trying to figure it out… I mean… Harry, whoever wrote this, wants me to find out who it is. They said so… look for me for you will see my love holds little shame."

He looked at her, impressed. "You've already memorized the stanzas?"

She nodded helplessly. "He's in Gryffindor."

Harry blinked. "Excuse me?"

"He's in Gryffindor," she repeated, folding the note up and sitting down to put it away in one of her books.

"How do you know that? You don't even know who it is, there's no name."

"I just… I just know. Harry, sit down, you're making me nervous," she laughed. She wanted to get this all off her chest, and for some reason, she felt like Harry would understand. He sat down and moved close to her, just where she wanted him to be. After seeing the shocked expression on his face, she had become crestfallen. There went all of her hopes that it could possibly be Harry. Not that it would have been anyway, she was only kidding herself.

"What's going on? Why are you so confused?" He wanted to slap himself. He was being far too obvious.

Ginny sighed, staring at her hands. "I, well… I got the letter in Charms and I came right up here to read it. I mean, at first I thought it must not be anyone from Hogwarts because no one I know would send me a poem while I was in class¯" at this, Harry turned slightly pink, "¯so I just took it and decided I need to be alone to read it. When I opened it, Harry, it was like I knew who it was from."

"Wait… you know?" he stopped her, confused.

"No… no… but I felt like I did. Instantly… the moment I opened that letter I felt connected to it. It was like I really knew the person who wrote me. Then I saw that dove… and just got confused. Harry, I don't know anyone who loves me that much. I don't know anyone who would ever want me to feel so beautiful inside and out. I've been sitting here trying to think of who it could be… but I've come up with nothing."

Harry stared at her as she bit her lip, still thinking. "Absolutely no one?" he asked, his voice cracking.

She shook her head in answer. He wanted to scream at her in all of his frustration, but he held back. "So what are you so confused about? The fact that you don't know who it is?"

"YES!" she sighed, throwing herself backward into the fluffy couch. "I mean… does it make sense to you, Harry, to be in love with someone you just can't get to… And then have something like this throw you off course?"

He gulped. "What do you mean?"

She looked at the poem. "I don't know what I mean anymore. Things have just gone all awry. Does that make sense? Am I making any sense?"

Harry looked at Ginny, meeting her eyes head on. He wanted to touch her hair… he wanted to play with it, let it run through his fingers, smell it, kiss it, put his cheek against it. Red and soft and silky it was… Ginny's hair.

"I don't reckon I know anymore, J."

She smiled after a tense moment had been broken. "Are you ever going to tell me what that means?"

He shrugged, staring at her hair. "Maybe, if you're good to me."

"Aren't I always?"

They stared at each other a few more minutes before the portrait hole swung open, and a crowd of Gryffindor second years came in. They pulled their eyes off of one another, gathered up their things, and left.

All Ginny could think about was the hopeful look in Harry's eyes while they discussed the poem.

Maybe… maybe…