Chapter 6

"All right. I want you all to be prepared for anything at this point. We know for sure that we're playing Hufflepuff, so just remember," Harry announced to the team the next day at practice. "ANYTHING."

They walked out of the locker rooms, hopped onto their brooms, and took off into the air. Ginny was suddenly awakened by the fresh breeze blasting onto her face. Not that she had been tired beforehand, or drowsy in the slightest. Her mind was preoccupied with other things.

Other things meaning her poem.

Harry had decided that if he was going to go about professing his anonymous love for Ginny, he was going to do it right. He'd rather she figure out who was writing the poems for herself. She would never believe him if he were to reveal it was he. That was something he just couldn't understand.

Why is she so insistent upon the fact that it isn't me?

He knew that if hew as going to write her poetry and expect her to figure it all out, she couldn't do it alone. He was going to have to help somehow. He decided to spend more time with her every day, talking about things that had nothing to do with Quidditch. He took Hermione's advice, and asked her if she was having trouble in any of her classes.

Of course, Ginny was a star student, not unlike Hermione. She was always willing to study and get her work done, and was never behind in class. Yet when Harry offered help, she couldn't help but put her acting skills to the test.

"Well," she said, pulling off a fabulous worried and frustrated look. "I'm having some trouble with Herbology. I really don't understand the difference between yarrow and yew. It's just a jumble of words to me." She couldn't help but flush at her lie. The two easiest herbs to study in the book were yarrow and yew.

But Harry noticed that even after he helped her with Herbology and she offered to help him clean up after Quidditch practice every day, she still wasn't any closer to figuring out it was him. He even offered subtle hints.

"Any closer to figuring out your mystery poet?" he would occasionally ask. She would only smile and shake her head. She always felt strange talking to him about her poems. She felt so close to him suddenly that revealing her feelings about it seemed almost awkward. Yet he must have really cared about her feelings to as ask as frequently as he did.

Her feelings about it relented one day when she allowed Harry to take it and analyze it. He cracked a smile while holding the paper. It had been folded and unfolded so many times the paper was worn and the ink had faded. Harry suggested a Restoration Charm, but she claimed she didn't want to use magic on the poem at all. It had enough magic without the use of a wand.

Harry read it over four or five times (more for show than anything) and sighed.

"What do you think?" she asked, staring from him to the page.

"Well, it's obvious," he said, turning it over in his hands. He glanced up at her quickly as she stared with large, questioning eyes. "Whoever wrote this is madly in love with you."

She stared at him incredulously. "You got that… from this?"

He nodded. His face was turning beet red, but he knew he had to say it. Maybe it would make it a little more obvious to her. "Well, I'm just saying… you know how you felt a strong magical connection to the letter when you opened it?" She nodded. "Well, I guess I did too."

Her eyes widened. "Y-You did? How is that possible, I mean… who could have written it? It couldn't have just come out of thin air."

"No it didn't," he answered too quickly. She looked at him cautiously but then the moment passed. Ginny, you almost had it.

The Quidditch practices were becoming just as tense as his feelings were. Like always, Ginny sat in the front row in the locker room. Harry was going on about fouls to look out for from Hufflepuff, and since Ginny had been in his presence the day before while he was talking about it, she drifted off. Her fingers found her ponytail and Harry stopped speaking when he saw the twirling.

The entire team noticed his abrupt halt, and looked at Ginny questionably. She broke out of her daze and noticed the locker room was silent, staring at her. "What?" she asked.

Harry had to shake off his uncontrollable urge to walk up to her and play with her hair. So instead, he feigned anger and said, "Ginny, can you pay attention please? You're a little distracting."

The rest of the team notice the comment he made before he or Ginny had time to make the connection. Harry continued on with his lecture before he allowed the team to go out and practice.

The practice that day went surprisingly smoothly, and Harry was very pleased when he let them go back. He had once again taken Hermione's advice, and decided that making practices longer and more arduous was not a great way to go when it came to Ginny.

The team left to go in, leaving Ginny and Harry to their own devices. She stayed behind to help him clean up, when Harry asked her about her progress with the poem. She didn't want to talk about it, which surprised him.

"Why won't you say anything?" he asked.

She shrugged. This was almost going too far. She still hadn't come to the conclusion that he was the poet and she wasn't willing to talk about it anymore. He tried not to let his emotions get the best of him. "Come on, talk to me. You've been telling me about this poem since you got it last week. Why aren't you willing to share anymore?"

She sighed. How could he possibly understand? Well, first off, Harry, she'd say to him. I was just beginning to realize that I'm in love with you when this love poem drops into my lap from a secret admirer. Now I've got the problem of being in love with someone I can't have, and having some random person being in love with me. Why am I not willing to share?

Ginny only waved him off. "It's not important, all right?"

"Sure it's important! Is there something wrong with me, J? Do you not want to share things with me?"

"You're taking this completely out of context. I never said anything like that."

"You may not have said it but I heard it."

"Well then you need to get your ears checked."

They were standing apart now, the box of practice balls completely forgotten. They were bickering! FIGHTING! Harry now felt like Ron. Now he knew what it was like to scream at the woman you were in love with.

"I'm not going to fight with you on this," Ginny said, her cheeks blazing red, her eyes aflame. It was obviously a Weasley trait to become passionate when involved in an argument. "I shared my emotions with you about that poem, and I don't want to anymore. Is that so hard to understand? Leave me alone."

Ginny stared at him for a few seconds, and before Harry had the chance to retaliate, she clenched her fists, spun around, and stalked off.

Harry watched her retreating back and felt like kicking something. Why couldn't she just wake up and see? He was concerned about the poem because he had written it. Why else would he care? If he were to act like the average sixteen-year-old wizard at Hogwarts, he would have rolled his eyes at the mention of a love poem and then teased her about it. That's what Ron would have done.

But he wasn't Ron, and Ron was her brother. That made it a little bit different. He could only imagine what Seamus or Dean would say if they knew Harry had been writing love letters. Then again, they would have left Ginny alone about it. Was she too thick to see that?

He stopped himself. He remembered suddenly that she was a Weasley.

He put the rest of the Quidditch balls away on his own and stormed back into the castle. He had calmed down some before he reached the common room, but was grateful when he didn't see Ginny in there. The only person he saw occupying the empty room was Hermione, sitting at the table where she and Ron always played chess, studying.

He sighed, moving forward to her and without looking up, she greeted him with, "No need to say anything. Ginny was just in here."

And Harry let go of all of it. "I don't understand girls, Hermione! You say that we boys are thick, but I am getting so frustrated with her! I took your advice. I read that book¯" at this, Hermione looked thrilled, "¯and I got an idea from the stories in the back on how to go about getting her attention. So I did it, and now I'm trying to get her to see and we just got into a huge fight…"

Hermione's jaw dropped. "So you are the romantic poet!"

Harry stopped rambling and stared at Hermione. He nodded. Hermione squealed with delight and jumped out of her chair. Unexpectedly, she wrapped her arms around Harry and all he could do was smile awkwardly and wait for her to back off.

Once she did, she glanced up to see the confused look on his face and she quickly explained herself. "Oh, that poem is all Ginny's been talking about since she got it! She showed it to me and I couldn't believe it! I had an idea that it was you because I recognized the handwriting and I remembered the story in the book. Harry, she's completely nuts about it. She's been trying to solve this mystery all week."

Harry couldn't say anything, for he was shocked into silence. Ginny had told Hermione?

"I was waiting for you to admit it," she answered, now positively beaming. She looked happier than when Ron had finally told her he loved her.

Harry ran his fingers through his already messy hair. "Well, the thing is, I wrote her that poem, and I've been trying all week to get her to realize it's me. I made a point to say something right in there for her to look for me. She doesn't seem to get it! Why hasn't she opened her eyes, Hermione? She doesn't even want to talk about it anymore. Doesn't she get it? Why would I always ask about the poem if I hadn't written it?"

Hermione only smirked at her friend and Harry cast her a dark glare. "I'm glad you're enjoying all this. Are you going to help me?"

"Ah," she sighed. "That's the beauty of love. You get to figure it out all on your own."

"Are you sure? You haven't read some book called Love and What To Do When It Happens To You At Sixteen?"

She glowered at him. "You know, I do learn some things without the use of a book." She grinned playfully. "Granted, it's only some, but I digress. Harry, you're complaining about Ginny not opening her eyes, but why don't you open yours?"

He frowned.

"She had a huge crush on you for two years without you even taking the time to look at her! Don't you think it'd be a little odd for her to think right off that you wrote her poetry after all that?"

A light flickered in Harry's brain. "Hermione… I-I don't know¯"

"Then think about it, Harry! She's only just gotten used to the fact that she's not madly obsessed with you. How likely is it to her that the exact person she's been dreaming about is in love with her?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Well, that makes sense, but¯"

"So don't you think she's already convinced herself that it's not you?"

"Yeah, but¯"

"I read the poem. As obvious as you wanted it to sound, it really wasn't. She hasn't got a clue who it is. You need to give her a little more credit, she's really trying."

Harry couldn't think of anything else to say. Hermione crossed her arms. "What do you think you should do?"

He remained silent a few more seconds, contemplating. At great length, he spoke. "I don't reckon she'll believe me if I just waltz up to her and admit it."

"Probably not at this point."

Harry stared at Hermione for a moment, and then turning on his heel, he bolted up the dorm stairs. He was going to write another poem and if she didn't get it this time, he would be thoroughly frustrated.

Ginny sat in the empty Charms classroom with Ron, fuming. After talking to Hermione in the common room, she had calmed down some. She had just come from the Quidditch field after her bout with Harry. How could he be so nosy? It was her private property. No one else's, especially not Harry's.

Ron had been in the classroom alone, armed with his wand and what appeared to be a small golden heart. Several books were opened around him as he poked at the small object on the table. He welcomed Ginny with a broad smile on his face and explained that he was working on something for Hermione for Valentine's Day. So far he wasn't having much luck.

"The one time I desperately need her is the one time she can't be here," he muttered angrily to himself.

"What are you trying to do?" Ginny asked him, laughing at the trouble he was having.

He scratched his head and stared at the book, bewildered. He ignored her question and stared at the contents of the page. "How am I supposed to say this while concentrating on that and waving my wand like¯whoa. I need to sit down." He tossed his wand on the table and took a seat, shaking his head. He finally turned his attention to Ginny and asked, "What seems to be troubling you, dear sister?"

She bit her lip. What was she going to do? Spill to her overprotective brother that she was in love with his best friend, had received an anonymous love letter, and was now frustrated beyond belief because the very person she wanted didn't really want her at all. She was reminded by all of this whenever he asked about the poem.

"Quidditch trouble."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Quidditch trouble, eh? Interesting. Better not let me down, sis. We have to win the Cup this year."

She shrugged. "I suppose you're right. So what exactly is this thing?" she asked, daring to reach over and grab the heart.

He smacked her hand instantly, causing the heart to fall straight out of it. "Ah, ah, mustn't touch."

"What'll happen if I do? Will I get some sort of love sickness for you?"

His ears turned bright red. "Well, if you must know," he said, thinking to himself that he was beginning to sound more and more like Hermione every day, "in December, when I got the Fidelis from Professor Sprout, she gave me this as well. I was supposed to give it to Hermione for Christmas but I couldn't bring myself to give it to her. It gave me such strength when I was around her that I needed it. But then after all that happened, I realized I didn't really need it. So I've been looking up some stuff on how to enchant it… but I just don't know how."

Ginny scooted her chair closer to Ron to peer into the books. "What kind of charms are you using?" she asked. She was particularly good at Charms.

They scanned the book together, looking for something useful. Ron wasn't sure what he wanted to do, but he had confessed to Ginny a few of his plans.

"I think that last one is a great idea," she said offhandedly.

"Really?" he asked, frowning. "I don't know if she'd appreciate it."

"Please," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "You could throw mud at her and if you say it's out of love, she'll only use a Scouring Charm and kiss you."

Again, his ears brightened. "I mean… what if she opens it with a bunch of people around?"

"So? Aren't you proud of your love?"

"Of course! I just don't want a bunch of people to be around when she opens it. It will kind of be private."

"Then take her some place private."

He bit his lip in frustration. "What Charm do I need for it?"

"Well, I'd suggest sonorous," she suggested, letting her finger trail down the page. "And then you could use quietus for this other part…"

The pensive silence was broken when a screech above caused the Weasleys' heads to peer upward. A large, tawny owl was circling overhead. Ginny's heart leapt in her chest. The owl was carrying another pink letter.

The note dropped onto the desk and Ginny scrambled to grab it. It couldn't be… it just couldn't be… another one?

"What's that?" Ron asked, watching the owl fly from the room.

"I have no clue," she said. However, Ginny managed to forget that she was terrible at lying.

"Oh come on, you know perfectly well what it is. Are you going to open it?"

"No."

"Yes you are."

"RON!" she screamed in protest as he extended his long arm to steal the note. She moved out of his reach by jumping from the chair and rushing toward the door.

"What's the big deal?" he asked, standing up. He packed up his books, pocketed the heart along with his wand, and then turned to look at her. "What's so bad about that letter?"

"N-Nothing. I have to go do some homework, Ron," she said, disappearing out the door.

Sighing disgustedly, Ron took off into a run after his sister. He didn't catch up with her until they reached the common room. Ginny had gone straight to Hermione and before Ron could say anything, the two girls disappeared up the stairs.

Ron sat on the couch, frustrated.

Girls.

Ginny and Hermione jumped into Ginny's bed and pulled the posters shut. They wanted absolute privacy.

"I just can't believe he sent another one so quickly!" Hermione said. Of course she knew exactly why he had. Now she was just anxious to see what it said.

Ginny sighed nervously. The letter was wrapped in magenta ribbon this time, and as soon as she untied it and pulled the seal open, the parchment sprang to life. Instead of having a dove fly from the page, a huge explosion of red and green sparks flew above the girls and materialized into a long stemmed red rose. It dropped right into Ginny's hand.

Hermione huddled close to the younger girl, eager to see what Harry had concocted this time.

'I see your smile like a ray of light

Shining through the gray

Bursting through those dreary clouds

And brightening up the day

I watched you at the Quidditch match

Soaring through the air

With a beating heart and shortened breath

I watched your beautiful hair

I can't believe your improved skill

How it blossomed in a year

Your sharp skills and breathtaking moves

Never fails to summon tears

Keep close watch on where I am

For I may be quite near

I might be close enough to kiss your face

Or to whisper in your ear.'

Ginny's cheeks were flooded with tears once again. Hermione was even on the verge of tears, mostly because she knew more than Ginny was allowed to know at that point. She had never even thought of Harry being so romantic at heart.

"He loves my hair," Ginny croaked after she read the poem a couple more times. "He knows I'm on the Quidditch team."

Hermione chuckled. "Of course he does. Everyone in Gryffindor does."

"Yes, but how does he know that my skill has improved? This is my first year."

Oh, Ginny! Make the connection! Hermione than cursed Harry silently. He now had her encouraging Ginny to solve the puzzle.

"Does that mean… that it's someone on the team? I bet it's someone on the team!" she smiled at the rose, sniffing it lightly. "It's someone on the Quidditch team."

Hermione got up from the bed. "It's a lovely poem, Ginny. Good luck finding your secret admirer."

Ginny frowned, watching her friend leave. "What's wrong?"

Hermione shook her head, pushing a few stray brown curls out of her eyes. "Nothing, nothing. I just want you to think really hard about that poem, and who knows you well enough to write it."

She turned and left the fifth years' dorm room and went back downstairs. Ginny allowed herself to lie backward on the bed. A few more tears escaped from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

He loves my hair. He's close. He wants to kiss my face and whisper in my ear. He loves my smile. He loves me…

Ginny closed her eyes and sighed happily. Her new mission was to find out who this was so she could forget the unrelenting crush she had on Harry Potter. Maybe whoever this was would treat her like a woman, and not just the little girl she used to be.

Keep close watch on where I am.

Ginny smirked as she let herself drift off into a blissful sleep. Don't worry, she thought. I'll keep a close watch, all right.