Snitch

Dedicated to anyone who debated whether Ginny ‘Got over ' or ‘Gave up ' on Harry.

Don't ask me why or how I know this. I just do.

But from the very first time I ever laid eyes on Harry Potter – even before I knew who he was, I knew that we were destined for each other. Perhaps not as lovers, or even friends, but we would be a significant part of each other's lives somehow.

I told Mum this when I was only ten years old. But the strange thing is that she believed me. She had always told me I had some of my Grandmums ‘seer ' in me, and that she had no doubt that it would come to pass. And it did, Harry Potter became my older brother Ron's best friend, which allowed my interest in him grow into a full blown crush. I would sit enthralled as Ron would spin tales about all their adventures at Hogwarts that year.

So I began my education at Hogwarts the next year myself, and I could hardly contain my own excitement, as I would finally be able to begin our destiny together.

Taken under the possession of Tom Riddle in a secret diary in my first year, I had been forced to open Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets. I unleashed a Basilisk, attacking several students at Hogwarts. It was then that I discovered that Tom Riddle was in fact the sixteen year old memory of Voldemort. Of course Harry and Ron came to my rescue. Harry alone defeated Tom Riddle and the Basilisk, increasing the bond between us even more.

I was sorely mistaken.

Harry had his own crush – Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw girl a year ahead of him. But by the time he had the chance to ask her to the Yule Ball in my third year, she was dating Cedric Diggory, a sixth year Hufflepuff. But Cedric was killed by Voldemort.

So, I decided at the end of my third year to give up on Harry Potter, and start my life anew. When the twins and Harry were kicked off the Qudditch team by Professor Umbridge, I tried out and made the Seeker position. I even have a new boyfriend, Michael Corner, a fourth year Ravenclaw. He is handsome and smart. Michael adores me, and we have the greatest time together. He is practically perfect.

The only problem is . . . he's not Harry.

But never mind that, because I'm over him . . . okay, I'm not over him yet – but I will be soon, I swear.

Psyching one 's self up for a Quidditch match was not usually a difficult task. But then again, if your brother (in other words, the worst Keeper in Gryffindor history) wasn't playing along with me, I wouldn't have much of an issue.

“Ginny, you mind if I come in?” Hermione asked, knocking lightly on the door.

“No, not at all,” I said, drying my hair from the shower I had just taken. Hermione looked nervous – more so than she had been in the last couple of days, as though there was something she was eager to tell me, but couldn't find the words. “What's up?”

Hermione flopped herself on my unmade bed. “Well I know that you have been stressed about the game this afternoon, so I thought I should tell you something to get your mind off of it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Okay . . . “

”Well you know last weekend was our Hogsmeade trip . . .”

Yeah, I remembered it all right. It was Valentines day, and Angelina had forced the team to a day-long Quiddtich practice. Michael was disappointed, so I agreed to join him the next day, letting him take me out to the lake. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't the most gentlemanly with his hands if you know what I mean. Let's just say that if he ever tries to touch me like that again, his hands won't be the only broken appendages on his body. “I remember,” I said only slightly bitter.

“Well I was talking to Harry on Monday,” Hermione said, beginning to fidget. “And I asked him how his date with Cho went . . .”

Suddenly the sausages I had for breakfast didn't sit well with me, and I had to fight hard not only to keep them down, but to act as calm as possible. “So, what does that have to do with anything? I heard they went to Madam Puddifoot's before they met you and that disgusting Skeeter woman.”

Hermione gave me a devious smile. “But I'm sure you don't want to know what happened inside Madam Puddifoot's . . .”

Despite the fact that I have long since given up on seeking a mate out of the infamous Harry Potter, and have decided to seek love and happiness in my lovely Ravenclaw boyfriend (regardless of his busy hands), I still didn't want to know what he was doing with Cho Chang in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop with all the other snogging nitwits. But my heart often thinks faster than my head.

“Go on,” I said continuing to stroke my hair with the brush.

“Well, from what he told me, things didn't go at all well for him and Cho. It seems that she was rather jealous about the fact he was meeting with me that afternoon.”

I smirked. She's insecure, I thought. Then again, I always felt she liked him for all the wrong reasons.

Hermione went on to tell me about the whole scene Cho made at Madam Puddifoot's in front of everyone. “She even went as far as to tell him that Roger Davies had asked her out,” she said.

“Typical,” I said casually, but my heart was thumping hard in my chest. Could it be true? “Did she mention Cedric again?”

“Of course,” she said. “Thought I do think she really likes Harry, I also don't believe she has really got over Cedric yet. And I think Harry is beginning to see that.” Cho's feelings for Harry was not a new topic of conversation for us, but this new information caught me by surprise.

Finally, I stood up from my chair and turned around to face Hermione. Though she didn't say so, it was all to obvious that she had been waiting for a reaction from me. Her hands were now on either side of her as she leaned anxiously towards me.

I didn't know what to say. I felt awful for Harry, honestly. He's liked her for quite a while. And what she did was uncalled for, all because of her silly insecurities. But still, there was that little part of me that jumped for joy at the news. I felt more excited than I could with any beautiful catch of the Golden Snitch I could possibly make.

But honestly, what was I to do? I can't very well change my mind and go after Harry again. What if Cho changes her mind again, and Harry forgives her? I can't put myself through any more longing and disappointment. Not to mention that I have a wonderful boyfriend who adores me, and whom I care about very much. It was too late now.

“Hermione, what do you expect me to say?” I said, walking over and sitting on the bed next to her.

“I don't expect you to say anything, Ginny,” she said. “I just thought–“

”Well, you thought wrong,” I snapped back.

“I'm sorry Ginny. I didn't intend for it to make you upset.”

I sighed. “I know. I – I just don't know how to take this, that's all.”

“It's alright, Gin. But you should take this as good news,” Hermione said reluctantly.

“What? I should be happy that I will have to continue going on with the rest my life without him? No thanks, Mione. I shouldn't even be allowing this to get to me as upset as I am. I just don't know what's come over me.”

Hermione put her hands on her hips and gave me a stern look that was usually saved especially for Ron. “You know that's not true. He just hasn't had the opportunity to see you as you yet. Honestly, he really can be almost as difficult as your brother sometimes.”

I couldn't help but laugh out loud. My brother really was quite a dolt when it came to his relationship with Hermione. He really should just come out and say how he feels about her – then again, although we all know how he feels, he still doesn't have the slightest clue.

Turning to Hermione I asked her, “What am I going to do?”

She brushed some hair from my face, and looked me in the eyes, “You are going to forget all this rubbish I said about Harry and Cho and go finish getting ready for the match. Angelina is nearly as impatient as Wood, and we wouldn't want to keep her waiting, now would we? And lets not forget the potions quiz you said you needed help studying for.”

Hermione always had a way of keeping me focused on the more important things in life.

“Thanks, Mione. I needed that.”

She hugged me and got up. “We 'll talk later, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good luck in the match,” Hermione wished for me.

“Thanks. We 'll need it.”

 

* * *

 

Unfortunately, Hermione's wish for luck only lasted through the match against Hufflepuff. By a freak occurrence, I was barely focused enough to catch the Snitch behind a sneezing Summerby. And though Harry seemed genuinely impressed as he told me how great I was at catching the Snitch in the end, that was where my luck with him ended.

As soon as The Quibbler came out with the expose interview with Harry about the events of the Triwizard Tournament and the return of Voldemort a few days later, Cho was back on him like a dog to a saltlick. And they immediately went back into their same old routine.

I had tried to catch Hermione a couple of times to talk to her about it, but she had been quite busy as well, keeping Ron out of a depression herself. The Slytherins were now at the point of singing ‘Weasley Is Our King ' at nearly every break between classes, and I even ended up threatening a couple of the braver third years by hexing them with bat ears when Hermione wasn't around.

The only comfort I was able to seek was in the arms of Michael. He had found me late one afternoon sulking around one of the greenhouses near Hagrid 's hut. It had been one of my haunts since first year, when I still fancied stalking.

“There you are, Gin! I 've been looking for you everywhere,” he said triumphantly. He surprised me, and I quickly wiped my tearstained cheeks. But I suppose there was no use in trying to hide my sadness, as he noticed my puffy, bloodshot eyes straight away. “Ginny? Is everything all right?”

“‘Lo, Michael. I was just about to come look for you,” I lied.

“Gin, what's wrong,” he asked.

“Nothing. Nothing. I'm fine really.”

“No you 're not, you 're crying,” Michael said, giving me a look of concern. “Do you want to talk about it?” He crouched down and attempted to brush the tears away from my face, but I pulled away before he could touch my face.

“No thanks.”

He spoke softly to me, and I could see the confusion in his eyes. “Is it about that Tom bloke again?”

“Tom Riddle?”

I never really spoke of Tom Riddle at all. My family always seemed to understand that if I was ever alone and crying, I would just mention his name and they would comfort me, but say nothing. No one really knew what to say. I mean, how many people do you know have been possessed by Voldemort and lived to tell about it? And it wasn't something I certainly wanted to share with the school – besides, no one knew who Tom Riddle really was anyway.

So when I met Michael, I told him that Tom was someone from my past that comes back to haunt me every now and again, but it was not something I was comfortable to talk about with him. He told me he understood and left it at that. But after my father was attacked at Christmas, my dreams of Tom had been increasingly worse, and I have the worst feeling that something horrible is going to happen – Especially for Harry.

“Yeah, him,” said Michael, genuinely concerned.

“No, not this time,” I said, wiping the last of my teardrops away.

Michael grasped my hand and looked into my eyes. “Ginny, I wish you could just talk to me sometimes. You 're so distant when you are like this, and I don't know how to react to that.”

There was no way I was going to talk to him about my uncertain feelings of Harry and Cho without it ending very badly. “I'm sorry Michael, but I just can't talk about this.”

“Can't or won't?”

Confused by his sudden change in attitude, I snapped back, “Now what is that supposed to mean?”

He threw my hand down and stood up. “Dammit Ginny! Are you ever going to let me in? There are so many things that you won't tell me, like about this Tom Riddle character. I know he hurt you, but you won't tell me how! And all this crying! This isn't the first time I 've seen you alone crying, you know. You did it after Christmas holiday too.”

At this point, my anger with him was at a steady boil. And in order to control myself, I had decided to get up and walk away from him myself. That is, until he said in a softer tone, “Ginny, I love you.”

I stopped in my tracks. He loves me?

He continued, “Now I don't expect you to say it back right away, but I want you to know that I'm trying to be as understanding as I can Gin. But you 're making it damn difficult for me!”

Not knowing what to say, I stood there, dumbfounded. I care for him loads, but he would never understand what I'm going through. Right?

“I'm sorry Michael,” I said. “It's just that my life is just very complicated.”

Michael's anger swelled once again as he shouted at me, throwing up his arms. “How can that be? You 're only fourteen!”

That was it. I couldn't tolerate his sodding attitude any longer. Why is it so difficult to make someone understand something seemingly so simple?

“Don't you think I know that? You don't know what it's like to wake up everyday and know how different I am from everyone else! I can't explain it, and I certainly can't talk about it. You would never understand, Michael. Never. I told you this when we met, and you said that you could live with it. Well if you can't, then perhaps we shouldn't see each other anymore!”

“Fine!” he shouted back defiantly.

“Fine!”

“Good!”

“Good!” I spat, and fell back to the ground in a sobbing heap.

He stormed off in a huff, and it took me a few minutes before I realized that perhaps I was too harsh on him. Aside from my family, and Hermione, I had really never talked about Tom, the diary or the Chamber of Secrets. Michael was right. Perhaps it was time I open up to people. If he really does love me, maybe he would understand.

I got back up and ran after him. And as I turned around the corner of the greenhouse, I nearly plowed into Michael, who was returning himself.

“I'm sorry,” we both said in a rush to get out the words.

“Me too,” we said again to each other in unison.

Both pausing, we watched looked into each other's brown eyes, waiting for the other to speak. And finally, it was Michael who spoke, placing a warm and comforting hand on my shoulder. “I'm sorry, Gin. I know that you need your time and space to yourself to sort out your issues. And from now on I will give it to you, but I want you to know, that whenever you 're ready to tell me, I will be here to listen.”

I smiled back. “I'm sorry too. I know how difficult it must be not to know what I'm going through. And I want to tell you, honestly. If you can just give me a little more time, please. I hope you can understand.”

I brushed a lock of hair from his tanned face as he told me, “Take all the time you need. Like I said, I will always be here to listen.”

“Thank you, Michael. Thank you for understanding.”

Michael held me in a tight embrace for a moment, before he tilted my chin up with his hand to kiss me. And this time, I allowed him to put his hands on me – within reason of course.

It was a wonderful feeling to be kissed by a boy you care so much about. But my heart, which is in constant battle with my head, won out in the end. And for an instant, I allowed myself to imagine that the light brown hair I ran my fingers through was a deep raven black, and the light eyes behind those closed lids were a most beautiful and brilliant green.