I'd always thought of myself as 'reasonable.'

I was the girl in the corner. The one that you don't really notice when you walk into the room, the one with her nose jammed into a thick book, taking in whatever details I could derive from its words. Yes, that was me before. When I say that, I don't want you to think that I changed – well, I did, but that's far beyond the point – but rather that an event came and changed my life.

I'm sure that sounds a bit strange, and I don't blame you for thinking that, but there's a lot of things in my life that never made sense. This was mainly because of my bookish lifestyle that led me to never look beyond the facts and into the truth. I was very standard, and really, I don't know what I would've done if he hadn't come around that day.

He? Oh yes. The typical romance, isn't that what you're thinking? Well, that's what I would've thought had I read something like this, from a girl who scarcely exists. Sure, I'm mentioned in some random gossip exchanged between the giggling groups of girls, but still, you wouldn't exactly call me the topic of discussion. You see, I was too far away, too distant for that sort of thing. I chose my own route of unpopularity, and with it came both rewards and consequences.

It wasn't that I wasn't pretty. I was told that many times over the years, by members of both sexes. I just never 'applied myself,' or so Lavender used to tell me. In other words, I never dated anyone. I never wore make-up. I never slept in the same bed with a member of the male species – unless you count my cat, which I assure you was a completely innocent matter. I swear.

Now that I'm actually putting it out in words, I guess that I was a bit different from the rest of the 'brave house.' Everyone stereotyped us. Everyone had a nickname, or so it seemed to me and, well, to a great deal of the rest of the house. Harry was the Brave Hero. Ron, my brother by blood but most certainly not by personality, was the Trusty Sidekick. Hermione was the Brainy Thinker. And me? No, no one had put one out for me. For years, I'd been shy, too afraid to voice my opinions about anything. The most outrageous thing I'd done in my fifteen years of living? I'd sent a singing cherub to the most popular boy in the school, only to be thrown down by a year's worth of laughter – and no, they weren't laughing with me.

Granted, I've put myself past those years. I wasn't one to deal with childish things such as that. I was mature enough to handle myself in times of trouble, and yet still managed to get myself into the very traps that I feared the most.

Over the years, I got my first boyfriends. Attending the ball with the Boy Who Constantly Lost His Toad made for a very interesting ride to be sure, and I soon found myself weary with the boy. He was a year older than I was, yes, but had the attention-span of a two year-old. It was quite aggravating, really.

I guess I'd be used to invisibility. After all, I'd always been the one that was looked over as a child, in a family of seven children. My six brothers often clouded my existence, and when I wasn't being ignored entirely, I was being smothered to the point of insanity. I'd always wished for a normal life. Normal meaning 'getting just the right amount of hugs each year.' Not nonexistent love, and certainly not a love that was forced to make me feel better. Both were torture, and I'd never been able to stand them.

There had been only one person in my life that really paid attention to me until he came. That person was Harry, and perhaps that was the reason why I'd fallen for him so early in life. Then again, I suppose that my feelings had probably appeared due to his fame and fortune. I'd been a bit of a gold-digger as a child, I'll admit. I used to go and make friends with the little girls my age, and they'd all tell me that I needed to eat more. So, what would I do? Oh, I feel horrible about it as I think back on all of those incidents. But really, I would just ask them to buy me something. Cleverly, of course, for I'd always been sly enough to get my way.

Sly. What an interesting preposition! Why, that one word would have such an effect on my life that I… Well, I don't know what I'd do without it. My sins have led me to the most bewildering areas of the human mind, and yes, it scared me at first. I remember my first kiss – it felt so wild, so mad, so out of place. Tom had a knack for kissing me often, and he'd often call me a Red Fox just to set my heart afire.

Now, I don't want you to think that I had ever fallen for Tom. No, that wasn't it. He was my last resort, however attractive he may have been. The thing was, he was no more than a ghost, even if he had a solidified form. He was a phantom. A menace in my history.

But either way, he helped me to realize who I was. I needed him, however much strength he took out of me, however many times his lips met mine. It showed me a side of me that I didn't know existed – I was persistent. Brave. For the first time in my life, I realized that there was a reason for my family constantly being placed in the Gryffindor house. For the first time in my notoriously short life, it all made sense.

I'd always been attracted to the brave ones, but the only ones that lasted were sly. Slick as ice. They were the ones that made me feel lesser than them – whereas there were people like… Well, like Harry. I could always predict what he was going to do next. But him. I could never predict him if I tried. I recall, in the first times that I started to develop feelings for him, feeling ridiculously stupid whenever I'd see him. I wanted to be mysterious, and he'd only laugh at me, the smirk never fading from his face.

I remember the day that I first told Ron. Oh, I thought that he was going to murder me, the way that he clenched his fists! Not that I could blame him. Why, if I'd used Hermione's Time-Turner and told myself only a year ago that I would fall for him – for him, of all people! – I think that I may have just driven myself to insanity. Now, whether that would come from shock of the news or from talking to myself, that was an entirely different question.

I suppose that you'd like to know just who and what I'm talking about by now, wouldn't you? Well, I don't blame you. I'd want to know everything there was to know, too. Have I introduced myself? I don't think I have.

My name is Ginevra Weasley, more frequently referred to as Ginny. People knew of me, sure, but none of them knew of me as deeply as he did. Let me start at the beginning of my story – the start of my fifth year at Hogwarts. We had just gotten out of the Hogwarts Express, and I'd been delighted to meet so many of my friends and acquaintances from the years before. The Feast was about to begin, as it had so many times before. I was ready for the new year… or that's what I thought, anyway.

Well, one thing's for certain. I wasn't ready for him.

"And I said, 'If there's anyone fit for the job, it'd be Ron!'" I laughed with Hermione, a grin spreading across my face. My summer had been lovely, and I don't think I would've had it any other way. Ron had been recommended for a job in London, one that required as little effort as he had – all that he had to do was watch Quidditch games all day with Dad and Ludo Bagman and tell them how to make them more interesting for the younger age-group – of course, he wasn't alone in this decision, but there were plenty more students from various schools. So I suppose that Ron had a good summer too.

But there were more elements to my summer than that. I'd gone and volunteered with Hermione, my newest best friend, at the local homeless shelter, so that'd done some good on my conscience. It felt good, to put it simpler.

The Great Hall was packed full, more crowded than I'd ever seen it before in the past four years. Amazing. We must've had a large first year group this year or something.

"And there's the Virgin Mary." I heard the voice from behind me. It was indirect, but I knew it well. The torment in my head, the same voice that had teased me so often throughout the halls. I couldn't stand it. Hermione's eyebrows were raised in annoyance, and that only confirmed my suspicions. With that, I whipped around, my fiery burgundy curls stinging against my skin.

"Malfoy," I said, taking in the enjoyment of his name. I'd hardly ever spoken to him, but oh, he'd spoken to me so very many times. "Get a life." It was the best insult I could come up with, never having much experience when I was growing up. A few words that could've described me? Knowing. Clever. And above all things, I was insecure. But at least no one else knew that.

"Oh," the boy sneered, that smirk never evaporating, never fading. "Learning from the Mudblood, I see."

I think that if Dumbledore hadn't been within a close proximity of me, I would've punched him. I'd been known to do such things in the past, after all. Throughout my years of growing up 'normally,' I'd been the tomboy of my family, growing up with none but males to teach me otherwise. Granted, there was Mum, but she hardly did anything other than sew and do housework. Sometimes it seemed to me like she never had any time for us anymore. Well, I s'pose that it all comes with maturity and age. The older you get, the more you forget things!

"Just leave, ferret," I heard Hermione say from behind me, and a cool grin came to my face, ice breaching every warm spot on my cheeks. She was so brave sometimes, and it really made me wish that I could learn from her. The thing was, I wasn't very good at learning things from people my age unless they actually taught me. I had difficulties with that sort of thing.

Right. You don't know what the bloody hell I'm talking about. Gotcha.

It's been like that ever since he came along, now that I think about it. I was reasonable, made good decisions, and well, I considered myself fairly sensible as well. But you know what?

He was anything but reasonable.