A/n: Hey! Wow, I've made it past the 100 review mark for the first time ever!!! And I have to thank all of you that read this story for making that possible! Now, to reply to some reviews:
LexiLou: would it be better if I said the frying pan had a plastic handle? -shrug-
kingsdork24: I really do think she would have blushed b/c Harry isn't her son, and I think she's coming to realize that. Thanks for debating.
SnakeEyesHannah: thanks for the excellent reviews and boosting my morale…perhaps your suggestion will come in useful!
specialpastry: "you're driving me insane"…funny, that's what my ex-boyfriend said…lol
cherryblossom08: actually, Trelawney was about to say "Gift", like Seer gift, not "Grim". Heh. I love her too, tho.
also, thanks to:
JamieBell, Nightwing 509, Luna Lovegood 2, Carmel March, ferggirl99, assakura, Gryphonmistress, jennifer, kallasilya, candice, luisa, keli, kat, Marauder Angel, coyote/spike, Shinyu, Mesa, armed, milky way bar, ChibiMangaAngel, riotgirl2718, skittish, craftygurl, Queen Guenevere, Sango'n'Miroku4ever, Dragon Girl Revlis, hyper yo yo boy
and anyone else I missed…sorry! But I love you all!
Favorite reviewer quote that tells me I'm doing something right:
"I don't really think it's one of those stories that burns a hole in your teeth because of the extreme sweetness and fluffyness. This actually makes you go through the complications and the thoughts surrounding when you're realizing you're falling in love with someone..."
--SnakeEyesHannah
C H A P T E R T W E L V E
Ginny didn't comprehend what was happening until she had to come up for breath. Her face flushed, lips crimson, and eyes wide, she gawked at Harry. He looked nearly as shocked as she felt. Using the arm she had wound around his neck as a lift, Ginny eased herself to a standing position. Harry still had a supporting arm upon her back.
They were about three inches apart, gazing at each other, wondering what the other was thinking.
"It's my fault," said Ginny abruptly, taking a step backward and unthinkingly licking her lips. Harry kept his hold on her.
"Wha—? Ginny, it's no one's fault, it was—"
"It was what?" she interrupted coolly. "A mistake? An accident?"
Harry didn't know what to say. Ginny smirked scathingly.
"Of course. It was my fault for letting you get caught up in the moment, for not warning you something like this might happen."
And to both their horrors, Ginny's eyes began to water.
"My mistake. It was my mistake," she whispered. "What was it to you, Harry?"
She turned away and fled up the staircase.
Harry stood there, momentarily stunned. He heard a door slam as he sat down at the table, watching the candles flicker in the fireplace's dying light. The music player was still going. Harry yanked the fedora off his head and placed it in front of him. He blew out the candles and a complete darkness filled the place.
"What was it to me, Ginny?" he murmured to the stillness. "It was brilliant."
Seizing his glasses, Harry went upstairs to bed.
---
It had been five days (counting today) since she and Harry had last spoken, Ginny realized, studying the calendar on her night table. Quite an amazing feat, considering they were the only two students in the castle. She managed it, however, by seeking refuge in her dormitory whenever McGonagall gave them a spare moment.
So now, Ginny sat on her bed, wrapped in her favorite yellow bathrobe and slippers, her hair loose and wavy from her bath, eating chocolates and in a very anti-Harry sort of mood.
How he could use her that way! What was he thinking? Why had he done it?
These same questions had been running like a broken record in her head every night since. They were now in such a jumble she needed to siphon them off somehow. Opening the drawer of her night table, Ginny pulled out a quill, ink, and parchment. She polished off one last chocolate and settled at the vanity desk in the corner.
But how to begin?
Ah, she thought in a grim sort of way.
Dear Tom,
I really don't believe it. Not one bit. Five years. Nearly five years I wait around for
this bloke, and during that time I never got so much as a wink. Sure, I said I got over him
ages ago, but guess what, I lied.
So what? Loads of people do it—you did it, and I used to hope he did it, too. That
when he didn't notice me it was a lie—that really, he would watch me from afar and
was slowly falling in love with my wit, my charm, my inner beauty.
But of course, who would fall in love with a Weasley? A silly little red-headed girl
with a spray of freckles and a blush to rival the setting sun. When did the hero ever fall
in love with the worshipper?
Never.
And so, after that night in the chamber, I knew I must become stronger. I thought
he wanted a hero, someone like him; I think, at a point, I tried to become him. I went
through my second year with a new hope, only to have it crushed again.
Finally, when the Yule Ball came around, I made a choice. I knew my attempts were
not working. I told myself, Ginevra Weasley waits for no one. I decided to let him go.
What was the point of waiting for something that would never come? To be a spinster, an
old maid at thirteen? Why, when I could find love with someone else? And, even better,
have it returned.
I found Michael Corner, and was happier than I had ever been. But after three
months of bliss in fourth year, something inside me said "This isn't right. You don't love him
like you loved Harry." I was back were I had started, but this time, with a new skill. I had
become a fighter. I didn't need anyone to save me now. I thought I could fight myself,
save me from myself and win.
For awhile it worked. I devoted myself to Michael, but began to find little things
about him irking me. He still felt deeply for me, though, and I even felt a bit guilty for
lying to him, for still being with him when I knew, deep down, my feelings for him were
dying.
I don't think I was ever really in love with Michael. I think it was more of an infatuation.
It was actually a relief when he went off to comfort Cho. Dean Thomas, Harry's
roommate offered to thump him for me. I'd always thought Dean was good-looking,
and really nice. Technically, we're not together, but even so a part of me hoped
Harry was jealous when he heard.
And now, after all this time, after how long I've waited, he does this.
He used me, Tom. Used me for an escape. Used me for freedom. If it were anyone
else I could hate them for it—but no, not him. I can't hate him. He reminds me now of
how I was then—helpless, lost, surrounded but alone. And the fact that I can help him
is my escape. I'm not worthless anymore; I mean something to him, as a friend.
We never said anything about love.
I didn't expect to fall in love with him again, and definitely not so hard. And part
of me wonders…what if he did it because he wanted to? What if, after all this time, he
really is falling in love with me? I doubt he'd realize it. But even so, I can't just run and
throw my arms around him, give myself completely. I know his life's full of hardships, but,
because of him, mine has been, too.
To get what we want, we must work for it.
Love always,
Ginny
She read it over twice and pushed the parchment aside. Reaching for a new piece, Ginny picked up her quill and began to scribe a letter to Dean.
---
Still in her robe and slippers and cognizant of a snoring Harry, Ginny tiptoed across the boys' dormitory. She eased open Dean's bedside cabinet, placed the letter inside, and slinked away.
Unnoticed by anyone, a second letter fell from Ginny's pocket and fluttered to the floor.
a/n: haha, I think you're right—I might have a thing for mini-cliffies!
Will Ginny notice her letter is gone? What if Harry reads it? Is Harry really as thick as Ginny gives him credit for? And will good reviewers get to finish Ginny's chocolate?
Find out next time in Freaky Flying: Summer Nights!
HiPa Loves You (Yes, you)!
sorry for bad formatting...:-(