Powerhouse
When Ginny Weasley walked into the room, immediately, all heads turned to her. She was now a commanding presence to her coworkers, so unlike the timid, practically invisible girl Harry had once known at Hogwarts.
Today, she had her deep red hair thrown back into a ponytail, her bangs held off her face with a pair of sunglasses. Harry quickly stole a glance at her bright brown eyes, and found himself startled, when he suddenly fought the urge to sigh. She wore black jeans, with a studded belt and black flip-flops. Some how, that ensemble together screamed at Harry of Ginny's newfound power. The attraction Harry felt was great. But somehow, he just couldn't see it working. But them most interesting of what Ginny wore was her top. Lately, she had been displaying a rather keen sense of style. And although Harry didn't much appreciate the subtle art of fashion, Harry knew what Ginny wore was very popular these days in Diagon Alley, being as the younger generations were slowly but surely modernizing wizarding culture. She had on two ribbed tank tops, a black one beneath a light blue one. And on top of those, she had on a black off-the-shoulder sort of top, with an outline of a cat, done in white, in the bottom left corner.
Harry's gaze slowly came back up, and rested on her questioning eyes. It must be the brown jacket she's wearing, Harry thought. That must be the reason her eyes are standing out now...It's not that I'm noticing them more, but they're more noticeable. But another voice, deeper back in Harry's head was strongly disagreeing. For it was not the chocolate corduroy blazer Ginny wore which made Ginny's eyes sparkle. It was the site of Harry, which made them suddenly so alive.
But Harry remained inside his head with his new revelations, even when Ginny greeted him. It was only the second attempt Ginny made that caught Harry's attention, but all he could manage was a mumbled apology and greeting in an incoherent slur.
Inspiration for 'Powerhouse' came from a woman I saw three times on my trip to Montreal. Each time I saw here, I said Now, that person reminds me a lot of Ginny Weasley. I should write about her. But each time I forgot. Finally, the third time, I pulled out my notebook, sat on a bench, and wrote. This is what I got.