Just a lil thing that popped into my head while I was sitting watching a cheesy chick flick with the girl I was babysitting. :Damns the chickflicks: You sit there wondering why you watch them, but you just can't bring yourself to turn them off!

"They're so stupid, who would watch this? Why not watch something better, something a bit more entertaining?" Notice all the complaining, done by almost all parties who EVER watch ANY type of chick flick. Yet the majority of people sit through it to the very end, few coming out without teary eyes. I do believe the moaning and whining just makes people feel better because they have an excuse to say they don't like it.

Anyway, on the with the show! Enjoy!

What is that thing that men have? That they use to just steal your heart the moment you see them, the one that they manipulate to rip apart said stolen heart until you feel as if the broken pieces could fit through a pin head? Did they sit in their beds at night, sharpening that thing, making it ready for the kill? Did they just enjoy seeing your face after saying those fateful words to you? Both the before and after?

First, they start with the words that make you heart melt, and leave you ready to sacrifice anything in the world just to be with them. The three words that you were told of since you were a little girl, the simple "I love you."

Then they lead you on that, saying it a few times until its a normal occurance, and yet still, it makes butterflies wander around inside of you inside of you until they make themselves at home in the pit of your stomach.

Now, what is it about guys and three letter sentences? Is it a fad that they like to practice? Because the break up line is exactly the same...Three words. "This isn't working." Or, every once in a while, "Lets break up." Sometimes you even get a "Not gonna work."

The only question, really, is why? Why in the world do they even bother to get you to feel for them in the first place? So they can turn around and dump you when you refuse to give them what they want? Why is it so conveniently the day after they unsuccessfully try to get into your pants that they break up with you?

So really, after all this, how can anyone expect you not to come to the conclusion that really, all mean are complete jerks? After all this, why do men keep wondering why we find them unbearable?

And then again, we can only call ourselves complete hypocrites in this ideal. For we know all this, yet we can't help but fall for it every time. We go into a relationship, head over heals for this one guy, but deep inside, we have the gnawing waiting for the end. Every time you would sit with him, holding hands in the dark of the night, you feel this sinking wait for those three words. The bad ones, mind you. So after all this, how can we still go into the relationship at all? Maybe its the eyes..

What was it about him? He was a complete jerk, an ass. He had the worst attitude, the worst mindset, and by lord a ravage brain eating ape with rabies had a better temperament than him. So what was it that had her completely head over heels for him, when he didn't even know she existed? Well...no...take that back...he knew she exsisted...as a little weasel that was a good for throwing the occasional book at...

Maybe it was the eyes...

Ginny spun around in her bed, throwing her hair back as she buried her head in her cotton pillow. Yeah, it had to be the eyes... Just the way that they seemed to sparkle so maliciously.

Sparkle maliciously? Dear god, Ginny, get a hold of yourself! I mean, mysteriously, mischievously, lovingly, caringly, hopefully, but maliciously? What in the world is romantic about maliciously? Nothing, thats what. Malicious is meant to be cruel, stupid, idiot, hot, sexy...There you go again...

She sat up, covering her face with her hands. This was getting to be too much. All he ever does is make fun of you! He hates you, he probably wishes that you could just dissapear so he wouldn't have to go through the trouble of bothering you every other day.

"Well, life goes on, Ginny dear." She mumbled, heaving herself out of bed, scuffling to her bathroom, ignoring the complains and groans from her fellow roommates.

"Watch it, you damned klutz!"

Ginny sighed as she scrambled around the floor where she had fallen, picking up the fallen materials that had flown from her ripped bag. She supposed it was an improvement. The only bad word he used was damned.

"You little bitch."

Well, never mind. She kept her eyes down, fearing that if she looked up, she would be caught forever, and nothing she could do would make her look away. From those eyes of his.

"You're not even going to say anything? You ruined my favorite robes, you tramp!"

Ruined his favorite...? Unable to help her curiosity, she lifted her eyes, and Draco Malfoy came into her view, soaked with the special purple ink George had bought her on her seventh Christmas.

"You better at least offer to fix what you've ruined!" He snarled, looking about ready to pounce on her. Well, don't kid yourself. You'd like that. Bad Ginny! Wrong train of thought!

"Well, go ahead and take them off and I might just miraculously fix them for you." Her eyes went wide, and she slapped her hand over her mouth. Oh god...I so did not just say that...

She was caught in his eyes, waiting for some sort of emotion, anything to suggest what was going to happen to her now. He simply raised an eyebrow, smirked, and moved his thin hands to the top button of his robes.

"HOLY CRAP, I DIDN'T MEAN IT!'" She hollered, grabbing her stuff and backing away quickly, right into the stone wall. Her shout got the attention of a few people, but the minute they noticed it was just little Weasley being picked on again, they went on their way, paying no attention to the two. Draco, no Malfoy, was already on his third button. She knew that the skin to his chest was revealed, but she still couldn't tear her eyes from his. No, no... thats not it. Its him, he's ugly, he's stupid, and I don't want to see anything that-

His snicker brought her out of her thoughts, and she started, clutching her books closer.

"Look at poor, innocent, Weasley. Too scared to look lower than my eyes." His robes were buttoned again, and he was looking at her with that look again, laughing at her inside.

She couldn't say anything, couldn't do anything. She was blank. So she just walked away. Head hung low like a cowering animal. She walked away and didn't look back at him.

Hell, if she looked back at him, she wouldn't be able to look away again.

That was it. It was most definitely the eyes.

BOP! There we go! Now that you're done reading, scrolly with the mousey and clicky with the purply!

:Insert happy google dance here: