Ginny Weasley and the Red Shoes

Chapter 1 – On The Train

A few moments after the final whistle shrieks the train shudders and pulls away from the station. I lean outside the window as it picks up speed, waving as the figures of my parents fall back into the distance. I suppose some think it childish but I don’t care; I watch until they Disapparate from the platform before leaning back into my cabin. Now I finally feel I’m on my way. It’s the first of September, and another year at Hogwarts has begun – my fourth one.

I’m sharing the compartment with a group of my fellow Gryffindors. They’re the other girls in my year, a talkative, lively bunch who have all been very good friends with one another since almost our first day. I sought them out immediately upon boarding and now we’re all busy catching each other up, trading our summer holidays as the countryside flashes by outside the window. After some time talk gives way to discussing the coming year with its usual concerns: classes and teachers, trends and fashion, new friends and old rivals, rumors and so forth. It goes on like this for hours and I’m enjoying it all very much, the laughter and joking and general silliness, and I’m talking so much I think I’ll lose my voice. But I need to savor this: I know it won’t last. And I’m right.

A breathless giggle cuts through the chatter. “So… there’s something I have to tell you all…”

There is a dramatic pause as issuer of this message glances conspiratorially around the cabin. We all fall silent, immediately recognizing this cue for what it is. We’re not fourteen for nothing.

Seeing she has our full attention, her eyes flash exultantly as she moves to huddle in the center of the cabin. I can’t help but notice the other girls leaning in towards her – everyone but me.

“You’ll never guess who owled me over summer!”

“Ooo… who?”

“Aha, I’ll bet I know!”

“You don’t mean…?”

“Yes! Armand – Armand Forrester!”

The squeals that follow this announcement ensure that she’ll hold everyone’s attention for the remainder of the trip. And not only that, but one topic will predominate. I feel a sinking feeling settling in my heart. Unthinkingly, I sigh. A foolish mistake, as it attracts Armand’s objet de l'amour.

“I’m sorry, did you say something, Weasley?” Her bright tone has a brittle edge.

“No,” I say readily. “I’m happy for you. Really.”

I want this to appease her, but I see she isn’t finished. Leaning towards me, she juts out her chin.

“Mmm… well that’s good. I’m really glad you think so. Because you know, since we’re all friends here – and I expect my friends to be honest with me – it’s only natural that I’d want to know if one of them didn’t think he measured up some how.”

“I didn’t – ”

“Oh come on you guys,” breaks in someone, hoping to smooth things over. “She thinks Armand’s fine – right, Ginny?”

“Yes.” And that’s all I can say.

She relents, shaking her head at me in a mocking way, but I see the annoyance in her eyes. I shrug lightly, giving her a slight smile back. But what else can I do? There’s nothing I care to say. I watch her toss her head as she turns back to the others, proceeding to fill them in on the finer points of love letters, and give myself a mental kick.

I think it’s because of moments like these that I’ve never completely fit in with the others as I ought. They all talk openly about the boys they have crushes on. I, on the other hand, mostly just listen and nod my head. I know it bothers them. Sometimes they’ll try to catch me off guard by dropping hints or teasing. Sometimes the teasing isn’t so nice. But I always just smile and shrug, and sooner than not they’ll give up. Then I’ll breathe again.

The truth is I’d like to share. I’d love to confide. Wouldn’t it be grand, to curl up in a private corner and whisper to my best friend all my secret longings? There was a time, too, when I could. And I did so without reservation.

I’ve regretted it ever since.

At this moment I can’t help feeling like an interloper. They all draw together and I can almost feel an imperceptible barrier surrounding them. Joining them together. Keeping me apart. For a moment I feel a flash of anger at them, then at myself.

If I had my choice, there is another compartment I would be sitting in right now. For quite possibly the millionth time I imagine what it would be like. I’d sit next to Ron, to keep him from picking on Crookshanks and Pigwidgeon. Or I’d be talking to Hermione, whispering to her about things only girls can share. Or I might even catch Harry’s eye, share a private joke with him….

But I can’t fool myself. One-on-one I can hold my own with them. Even with Harry, if only to a limited extent. But when all three of them are together, some kind of private club springs up between them – Members Only. Which I’m not.