Chapter 8

Virginia Weasley had done something very uncharacteristic the day before. She had fallen asleep in the library. Madam Pince woke her up angrily, telling her to get back to her common room. She shouldn't be studying as hard as she was anyway.

"But I've got O.W.Ls!" she protested. Truly she was doing anything to avoid Harry again. Feeling the perfect way she had fit into his arms and how comfortable it had been being that close to him was far too much for her to take. It was becoming too real.

So she'd made her way back to the common room and, to her relief, had not found Harry anywhere in sight. She'd gone straight to her bed to do more work. She pulled out her fancy colored parchment and, much to her dismay, realized she was finally out of turquoise and lavender. She was down to her last two colors, pale yellow and rose. She would have to make a mental note to go back to Hogsmeade and buy more.

However, she suddenly remembered that she had not bought the parchment the first time.

The tension in the castle was great. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, though normally very close and pleasant toward one another, had started blocking off. The Quidditch Cup meant a lot to Hufflepuff, but the Gryffindors had put more stake into it. At least Harry had.

He was the famous Harry Potter, and a fantastic Seeker. He felt like he had a reputation to live up to. There was tremendous pressure on him as the Captain to do a good job. He prayed that with the added stress of the Ginny situation, he'd be able to pull out of it like he always managed to do.

His best friends had been giving him nothing but support throughout everything. It seemed as though Ginny was the only person in the Gryffindor Tower who didn't know. Seamus, Dean, Neville, Parvati, Lavender, and even Colin Creevey had managed to find out in the course of a day that Ginny Weasley was receiving love poems. Of course, most of them didn't have to be told who it 'could be.' It was obvious to everyone but her.

The entire house of Gryffindor was gearing up for the Cup Final. Dean Thomas had drawn everyone a button with a lion on it that clawed and roared. Of course, he had gotten help from Hermione to make the buttons do just that. Many of the buttons were being confiscated, but Seamus Finnigan had devised a way to charm the buttons so they would return to the owner after the class had ended. The professors would think they had just misplaced it.

Ron was in such a great mood because of the team's progress that he had charmed Hermione into putting her studies away early all week to spend time with him. Of course, he had done all this without the use of his wand.

Ginny wandered about the corridors, aware that her cheeks hurt greatly from smiling so much. Everyone was wishing her good luck, the Gryffindors were all flashing their buttons at her proudly, and she couldn't help but feel somewhat disappointed. What if she couldn't be all she could be? What if she failed, and Hufflepuff won the Cup? Of course, the stakes weren't as high as it would have been if they were playing Slytherin, but it was pressure nonetheless. It was weighing on her.

Just as the poem situation was going out of her control. She felt like everyone knew what was going on now. Did they all know who it was? Was it Andrew?

The entire Quidditch team knew, of course, that she had been receiving love poems. They all knew who it was as well. Ginny was infuriated to no end when she replayed Carly's taunting voice in her head.

"You don't know? Come on, Gin, it's so obvious!"

What did it matter what they thought anyhow? It was definitely someone on the team. Andrew had been giving her very shifty looks, and she was sure she had him pinned. She was close… so close…

Or was she?

Sighing in frustration, Ginny hauled her school things down to the common room. She was intent on getting all of her homework done before she went to practice. She had an essay for History of Magic, no less than two feet in length, and homework for Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. Not to mention she had to read a whole chapter for Care of Magical Creatures. She could feel her head spinning as she started on her most important assignment, Potions.

Harry was storming down the hall, Andrew and Carly in hot pursuit. They were talking to him about tactics while Harry carried their play board toward the common room.

"Don't put the Chasers there, Harry!"

"What happens if Dane can't keep that one out of there?"

"What are you going to do with Dietrich and Jack?"

"Surely Ginny can't play right there!"

They were rattling things off to him so fast that he felt completely dizzy. All he had to do was find Ginny so they could all sit down and discuss their plans. He also had to rush up to the Owlery and deliver the poem to Ginny. He'd reread it several times, fully satisfied. If she didn't figure it out after this, he wasn't even going to bother trying.

Hermione's voice replayed in his head.

You need to give her a little more credit, she's really trying.

"But, Harry, there's nowhere for Ginny to go when she's¯"

"How do you expect Ginny and me to¯"

"Ginny and Dane could¯"

"Ginny¯"

"Ginny¯"

"QUIET ABOUT GINNY!" he screamed suddenly. Carly and Andrew stopped abruptly, staring at him.

Andrew frowned. "We weren't talking about her. We were talking about Dietrich and Jack, and where they're supposed to be on the pitch."

Harry felt himself turning bright red. At that point, he almost didn't care. The three of them stood outside the portrait hole while four or five second years walked past them, flashing their buttons happily.

Harry felt his fingers gently reach into the pocket of his cloak, where the third poem was. It comforted him somehow.

"Oh, the only way she's going to realize it's you, Harry, is if you hand it to her yourself."

Carly's patronizing voice broke him out of his daze. He blinked a couple of times. "What did you just say?"

"You heard her," Andrew said, rolling his eyes. "I can't believe you're being so daft. Everyone knows you wrote Ginny those poems."

"Everyone knows… about the poems?"

Andrew and Carly nodded. "You don't even realize it, and that's the weird part. You are both trapped in some little world where you don't notice anything between each other…"

"What are you talking about little world?" Harry wanted to be disgusted, but he could only feign it. He and Ginny were in a 'little world?' Since when had Ginny been interested in him enough to be in a 'world' with him? Save her first two years, of course.

"Blind, blind people," Carly sighed, giving the Fat Lady the password and stepping into the common room.

Ginny looked up abruptly. She saw two of her teammates… and Harry clamber through. She wanted to throw down her books and homework at once to go join them in a triumphant Quidditch practice, but thought better of it. She kept her head bent down toward her work.

Harry saw the top of Ginny's flaming red hair bent over a large textbook. He wanted to do something very much like Ron. He wanted to take her books, run off, and demand that she spend time with him and not her books. Of course, Ron had the ability to do that to Hermione whenever he felt like it with people thinking him ridiculous of. Harry did not.

"Gin! We need to talk to you about the game."

She looked up and smiled widely at Andrew. He was glancing at her and then quickly back to Harry, as if nervous about something. This confirmed her beliefs even further.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I really can't. I've got far too much work to do. I'll be busy up until practice," she said, her smile waning as she bent back over the Care of Magical Creatures textbook.

"J, will you please talk to us for a few minutes here?" he asked, knitting his eyebrows together. All he wanted to say was, Put down your book and spend time with me… and just me.

Ginny couldn't resist the hopefulness in his tone, something that, if she were being completely stupid, would have sounded like he meant something different.

She set her book down and looked over at the poster board. "What have you got?"

Andrew and Carly exchanged a knowing look, and the four spent almost a half-hour discussing strategies.

Ron and Hermione broke their concentration by bursting through the portrait hole. It was obvious that this was not one of their best moments. Hermione had her head held up high, carrying her books tightly to her chest. She was red in the face. Ron followed her, red in the face and angry. His fists were clenched and his breathing was heavy.

"Don't walk away from me, Hermione," he demanded.

She scoffed. "What are you going to do if I don't?"

Ron grabbed his hair and tugged gently in frustration. "What are you going to do? Hate me forever just because I happened to¯"

"Oh, no, of course not. I love you," Hermione said with sarcasm dripping on every word. She whirled around and faced him, intense fury in her eyes. "I love the way you eavesdrop. I love the way you sneak around. I love the way you don't trust me enough to relay the information when you are ready to hear it. I love the way you lie to me."

Ron's face was so red that it almost completely matched his hair. "Don't you use that against me in a fight… that's not fair! I meant every word of that! EVERY WORD!"

"Oh and I have no doubt you did! I never said you didn't mean it! Quit twisting my words!"

"Quit calling me a liar!"

"YOU ARE!"

Ron bit his lip, refraining from saying anything more. The two of them gave identical grunts of irritation and stormed up the stairs to their separate dorms.

Harry looked at Ginny cautiously. He caught her eyes on him for a second before she looked away again. None of them said anything until they heard the both set of doors slam upstairs. Ginny jumped up, gathering her books.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked frantically. Carly and Andrew were starting their next few sketches on the poster board.

"Wood, I'm sorry, I really have to study," she said, and without another word, she bolted. Harry waited for the inevitable door slam and felt completely crestfallen when he heard it.

His fellow teammates looked at him with the utmost sympathy in their eyes. He wasn't looking at them, however. He was staring up the dorm stairs.

"Harry," Carly broke through his thoughts. He looked at her. "Why don't you go give her the poem?"

"WHAT?" he screeched, jumping out of his chair and away from them. "Just hand it to her? Are you daft? Do you realize¯"

"Slip it under her door," Andrew suggested quietly. "Knock and then bolt. It'll be exciting to her, knowing that her secret admirer was only a few feet away. Then she'll know for sure it was someone in Gryffindor."

Harry contemplated this thought for a while before he decided he would. Taking the poem out of his robes, he looked at Carly and Andrew. They smiled at him encouragingly and watched as he made his way cautiously up the stairs. The last thing he needed was to bump into her on the way down.

Once he was sure he had made it up safely, he approached the fourth years' dormitory and made sure no one was around. He bent over slowly and slid the note under the door. He heard someone bound off their bed and before he had a chance to think, he scurried down the stairs. The door flew open just as he had gotten around the corner.

Ginny opened the door, looking around excitedly. He had just been here. It was him! Her romantic poet! And he had left her yet another note.

She bent over and retrieved the poem, looking around once more before shutting the door. She clutched the poem in her hands, practically flying to her bed. Once she had flung herself down upon it, she nearly ripped the paper in half trying to get it open.

The ribbon was red now. Ginny had not missed the fact that the letters all seemed to be more adamant in their devotion. Whether it was the color of the ribbon, the magical prize that came out of it, or the pure and raw passion of the poem, it steadily increased. Whoever this was wanted her to find out it was him, and quickly.

The letter fluttered open on its own, sending a burst of magical red and pink sparks fluttering all over the place. The sparks then joined together, and in another burst of light, they turned into a red and pink bouquet and dropped heavily onto her bed.

Amazed, Ginny reached out to touch the bouquet and felt to her delight, that it was soft as could be.

She opened the poem and gasped as she read it to herself.

'So much love inside my heart

Aches to be set free

All my insides are screaming

For you to figure out it's me

I watch as you walk on by me

Not giving in at all

I ask about this but nothing comes

And then I can feel my heart fall

I wish for you to open up

And see my love for you

J, your face, it keeps me going

Honestly and true

I need to tell you all the time

I want you in my life

But until then my love poems

Will just have to suffice.'

It was the third time such a poem had brought tears to her eyes. However, these tears were not of joy and awe, but of mourning.

How could she have been so blind? It was so obvious to her now. He had used her name.

'J, your face…'

What did that name mean anyway? She had to go find out.

Brushing the tears out from under her eyes, she rushed out of the door of her dorm and raced toward the stairs. The common room was still full of people, but there was one person in there she wanted to single out. There was that one person who had made all of her dreams come true. He had charmed her heart for so long now that she had wanted to pretend it wasn't him.

But it was. He was sitting there, laughing and talking in all of his wonderful glory. He was her mystery poet. He was the one who thought she was beautiful. He loved her hair and her smile and everything about her. He loved her.

Staring around the vast common room, Ginny suddenly realized that in her world, no one but this mystery poet and she existed. She wanted to go and be with her romantic. Her secret admirer.

Her Harry.