Authors Note: I wrote this on a whim, I have no idea where this idea came from. Plot Bunnies are evil. But just so you know, this is all from Ginny's point of view. No, it doesn't follow strictly follow cannon, (I made all of this up) but that's the happy part about FanFiction.

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I think that I know what it really means to be ignored. It feels as though you are in a room crowded with people you've known and loved, yet they can't see you. And no matter how much you yell and scream and jump around to get their attention, they just don't realize you're there waiting to be seen, waiting to say something. And it hurts.

I'm not truly ignored. I have family and friends and I love them all dearly. But lately, it seems like there is just one person who can't see me. Or won't see me.

Harry.

We've known each other for the longest time, and have been on friendly terms for a couple of years, and he notices me. But just not in the way I'd wish. It's like I'm just that random person who's just there.

To him I'm like the kid who sits beside you in History of Magic. The one who you play hangman with because you're bored, but once class is over, you're not going to talk to that kid and have conversation and hang out, you're going to go to your real friends because he's just the kid in your History of Magic class. I don't like being that kid.

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I don't feel right. I'm not sick, I don't think, just, slightly off color. It's a weird feeling. But I can't go fretting about it now because I'm walking down to the pitch with Harry and Ron for practice. Maybe I'll think about it later.

We're having polite History of Magic type conversation, Harry and I are, with Ron occasionally butting in. Can't he just go away, and let me for once just talk to Harry on my own. Maybe, maybe if we can talk for long enough, he can see that I'm worth noticing. But then again, he's not signaling for Ron to go away, he's just going along with it.

All of a sudden I feel, gross. My hair feels greasy blowing in the wind so I stop to put down my broom and tie up my hair. Harry and Ron keep walking a few steps, not realizing that I've stopped walking with them. I don't know if this is physically possible, but my heart sinks a bit. Just a little. He didn't notice me again. But then he turns around and paces back a bit to where I am and carries my broom for me.

Was he noticing me, or was he just helping the kid in History of Magic answer a problem?

I trot back to Harry and Ron and grab my broom, almost dropping it. My hands are sweating. Why? I think that once I just get on my broom and in the air, I'll be able to sort this out. Flying always seems to help.

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Standing on the pitch Harry starts giving instructions. He doesn't really look at me directly, just gives me a passing glance, as he faces all of us. It's giving me a bit of a helpless feeling, like my knees are going to buckle from under me. I wonder if anybody else notices that I don't feel my best, Harry especially.

Up into the air again, and for some reason, I don't feel better. I feel chilly, and dizzy. I have goosebumps on my arms from the wind and my head is spinning a bit too much for comfort. My head always spins for a moment once I take off, because of the change in altitudes, but never does it last this long. What is wrong with me?

Maybe the kid in History of Magic needs the Hospital wing.

Somebody throws the Quaffle at me. I can't tell whom because they flew by so fast. I caught it but only barely and passed it on again. I flew sharply to the left and heard the sound of my robes flapping. It was so loud in my ears I could feel a dull headache coming on.

Somebody throws the Quaffle at me again and I catch it for a second time. My hands feel so clammy, I know that if I hold it for another second, I'll drop it. So I threw that red ball as far away from me as I could. Did it go through I hoop? I don't know but my arm's feel limp. Like wet noodles. I need to sit.

Flying down towards the ground of the pitch my eyes start to water. I stopped suddenly so I could wipe the tears out of my face. It's probably because my eyes were hit by the wind. But even though I've stopped moving so fast my eyes are still streaming.

Why is the kid from History of Magic crying?

Still only five feet away from the ground, I start to see dark spots. Dizzy dark spots are swaying in front of my eyes. If I just close my eyes now I won't feel anything. I won't feel the eyes that go straight past me as though I'm not there. I won't feel the little drops my heart makes. I won't feel clammy, or dizzy, or have a headache. And I won't be the kid in History of Magic anymore.

So I do the easy thing. I close my eyes. And it's so much better now, its cool and dark and there's no whipping wind or tears or anything. There's no people to see past me like I'm just the kid in History of Magic. Good.

Did the kid from History of Magic pass out today?

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I wake up in a bed that's not my own. Not my bed at Hogwarts in my dorm, and not in my room at the Burrow. Where am I?

Has anybody seen the kid from History of Magic?

There are thin sheets over me and a comforter over it but I'm still cold. I'm shivering in fact. So I leave the comfort of the calm darkness and tighten the covers around me and open my eyes. And suddenly, I think I can only see two colors. Black and white. Black when I close my eyes, and white when I open them. I blink a few times, hoping to find more colors, when a wave of hurt splashes over me. My head, my legs, my arms all hurt. I think I'm in the hospital wing, where all the white of Hogwarts is located. It's weird. How did I get here?

Does anybody know who took the kid from History of Magic to the Hospital wing?

Over to my right I hear soft voices, the kind you use near someone who's on their deathbed.

"Can I please go talk to her?" That was Harry I think. Hermione must be sick too. Which bed is she in?

"No, Mr. Potter. She is still sleeping. She needs rest." Madam Pomfrey, definately. She's like a mother hawk holding on to her little babies.

"No she's not, her eyes are open. Can I please talk to her? Please?"

"She has the flu, I don't want you catching it. You're already in here enough with your injuries." Hermione has the flu? When I get out of here I'll come visit her and bring her chicken noodle soup.

"Madam Pomfrey, please? Can't I just talk to her for five minutes?" Harry really, really wants to see Hermione bad doesn't he?

"Very well. But when you get sick, don't say I didn't warn you."

Now that that conversation is over, I'll go back to sleep. Then maybe I'll ask how I got here and when I'm getting out.

But before I can get to roll over somebody says, "oh, are you going back to sleep?"

Apparantly not, Harry, you hot sleep-depriver.

"No, I guess not." I don't know how I can make jokes, I hurt so bad. I turn to face Harry who looks very worn out, but is still for some reason sitting in the chair beside my bed.

"Are you feeling okay?"

No. Are you?

"Not, so much. I hurt all over. What happened? How am I in here?"

"At practice you started going down to the pitch during the middle of our scrimmage, and we started to call to you. But you didn't seem to hear us. So I flew down behind you and then you fell off your broom and blacked out. So I got off my broom and picked you up, and walked you to the hospital wing. That was about five hours ago though."

Was somebody being nice to the kid from History of Magic?

"That was awfully nice of you."

"It's okay, I would have done it for anyone." Ouch, Harry. That hurts. "But I don't like to see you sickly and in pain so I had to come check up on you."

Aww. How sweet of him. Maybe I'm not completely transparent. Maybe just translucent.

"So, seeing as I'm not going to get any sleep anytime soon, why don't we just, talk." Maybe if we talk enough I'll become completely opaque.

"Sure." Harry grins and my heart starts to do gymnastics. He starts to shift and for a second I think he's trying to become a little more comfy in his chair but then he stands up and walks closer to the foot of my bed. He climbs onto the foot of my bed and sits crosslegged, as I sit up more to give him room.

Then we talked.

And I have no idea what about. I do know we talked for a long time. When we first started to talk there was sun streaming through the windows, but now the sun is starting to set.

I do know that his emerald eyes were twinkling and sparkling as though somebody infused them with glitter. I had never seen his eyes light up like that before. It was beautiful. So much green.

I do know that he kept pushing his hair out of his eyes, not with his hands, but my shaking his head so that the jet black follicles would stay out of his eyes.

I also know, with extreme happiness, that he picked up both of my hands and held them in his own, then said "whoa, your hands are cold", then proceded to make them warmer by rubbing them with his own creating friction. Friction that I can still feel even though he was shooed off by Madam Pomfrey a little over ten minutes ago. I also know, that even when my hands were warm, he didn't let them go.

Who's flirting with the kid from History of Magic?

So lying here in my hospital bed I've come to a realization. I was overreacting. I'm not invisible, and I'm not translucent. I was always here 100 percent of the time. Nobody's been overlooking me, Harry especially. I blame Ron, the overprotective brother, for my short-lived depression, because I think he haunted over me and Harry, never letting us on our own to speak with one another.

Things aren't completely different now. Harry and I aren't going to be caught in a broom closet snogging each other, anytime soon. We're friends and we've always have been. It's just, our friendship is a little tighter now, knowing that he took care of me and waited for a long time just to see if I was okay. Its like now, I feel completely foolish for thinking that I was invisible and nobody.

The kid from History of Magic is such a Drama Queen.

Oh. I also know another thing. Once I get out of the hospital wing and am fully recovered, I will eat dinner with the kid who sits beside me in History of Magic. Maybe its time for me to notice Jerry. Maybe I'll make a new friend.