I Who Have Nothing

I, I who have nothing

I, I who have no one

Adore you, and want you so

Ginny Weasley flopped onto her bed, never taking her eyes off the picture she held in her hands. It was smudged with fingerprints from the many times she held it for hours on end, much to the chagrin of its subject. Ever graceful, he rode on his broom, racing for a snitch. His face lit up when he wrapped his fingers around it, raising his fisted hand in the air in triumph. He landed and jumped off his broom, cheeks flushed from both the wind and adrenaline, looking thoroughly windswept with his disheveled hair and robes.

Sometime over her years at Hogwarts, she had begun to watch Draco Malfoy. She watched him playing Quidditch, watched him studying, watched him making scathing remarks to her friends. The words that spewed out of his mouth. His perfectly sculptured mouth that always pulled up in a perfectly haughty smirk. He was so perfect, so beautifully artistic, that it was utterly irritating.

But even more irritating was loving someone you were supposed to hate.

I'm just a no one

With nothing to give you, but oh

I love you

She had tried thinking of ways she could catch his eye, but had come up with nothing. She was a Weasley. To him, she was a nobody. What could she give him even if she was successful? Nothing. She had nothing to give.

But oh, how she loved him.

She remembered the nights when she'd borrow Harry's invisibility cloak and follow the lone figure to the lake. The moonlight would turn his platinum strands into silky silver and would cast shadows upon his pale face.

He'd sit there, back against the big oak tree for hours, doing nothing. He would hardly ever even move, the pensive, thoughtful expression remaining all the while. Sometimes, though, he would smile. It took her breath away. The soft, unguarded look on his face each night kept her coming back for more. She'd sit across from him, but just to his left, and watch him. Watch his chest rise and fall with every breath. Watch his eyelids flutter closed, hiding those steely gray orbs from her view before opening again. Watch his hand swipe his hair out of his eyes. Watch the gentle breeze whispering in his hair. How she'd long to reach out to him, but hold back in the fear that doing so would ruin these nights so quiet, so intimate.

Another figure running into the picture broke Ginny out of her reverie. A petite young woman with short, black cropped hair ran to Draco and threw her arms around him. As she did so, something large on her hand caught the light.

You, you buy her diamonds

Bright, sparkling diamonds

And just like every other time she came into the picture, Ginny's vision began to blur and she threw it away from herself.

"Damn you, Parkinson!"

Pansy and Draco had been an item for quite awhile. It was expected. They both came from well-respected, aristocratic, pureblood families. They would probably even get married and become the richest young couple in history, with galleons littering the walk to their mansion instead of cobblestones.

But believe me, dear when I say

That she can give you the world

But she'll never love you the way

I love you

Okay, so maybe she was being ridiculous. But they were only together because that was what was expected from them. They might have the money, fame, and everything else materialistic at their fingertips, but they'd never have anything else.

You can take her anyplace she wants

To fancy clubs and restaurants

But I can only watch you with

My nose pressed up against the window pane

Ginny wiped her tears away with a deep breath. She really oughtn't to upset herself this way...

But the memories came anyway, trapping her in their sorrow.

She had been walking in Diagon Alley alone one night, looking into stores and window shopping. She had no money on her, but that didn't stop her. She had needed to get out.

She, in her torn Muggle jeans, frayed sweater and worn trainers, had kept walking, finally entering the high-class part of Diagon Alley. She looked upon the outrageously priced clothing through the windows, seeing the reflection of her tattered appearance.

Soon, she got to the most expensive, most prominent, prestigious restaurant in London; La Château. She paused outside of it, a head of blonde hair having caught her eye.

In the center of the restaurant was a small table that held two occupants with a view of the stage and the orchestra playing on it. One head was fair, the other was dark.

Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson.

Ginny had imagined what it would feel like if it were her sitting there with Draco and not Pansy, so intricately dressed. She imagined it was her hand Draco's rested upon, her eyes he looked into so attentively. What it would be like to run her fingers through those silken locks, what it would be like to have her lips touch his...

It was a moment before she realized why her vision was unclear; her breath had been fogging up the window. As she stepped back and let her hand fall, her small fingers grazed the fogged patch of the window, and she walked away.

Had she looked back, she would have seen the gray eyes that haunted her visions at night looking upon her. As it was, she did not, and the only thing he had left to see was a fogged patch of window and a handprint.

I, I who have nothing

I, I who have no one

Ginny sighed and rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. It was time to get ready for Hogwarts' Halloween Masquerade.

She donned the exquisite robe Hermione had magically enhanced for her. What was once cheap and plain was now elegant and striking. It was a light gold color, which perfectly emphasized her red hair. When she was done, she slipped on the gilded white mask, leaving her hair down, with the curls cascading down her back.

She looked at her reflection critically. Satisfied, she turned the door knob and walked out alone, heading for the transformed Great Hall.

It was truly magnificent, with little tables littering the floor; floating, lit pumpkins spread around the hall which provided the only light; and a band, more specifically the Energetic Elves, setting up on the raised dais.

Must watch you go dancing by

Wrapped in the arms of somebody else

She had arrived a little late, and it was to find the dance floor crowded. And as if they had been waiting for her to arrive so they could rip her heart out, Draco and Pansy waltzed by. She could tell by the gray eyes behind his mask, the platinum blonde hair, and the elegant, expensive robes he was famous for.

The song ended, and with a final spin, Pansy left the circle of Draco's arms and went to the punch table.

She made up her mind. This was her night.

Before Draco could leave the dance floor, she strode up to him.

"May I have this dance?" she asked.

Intrigued by this coy but seemingly determined approach, he nodded. He bowed, and she answered with a curtsey. They began to move around the dance floor, perfectly in synch. He was a wonderful dancer, unlike most of the boys she usually partnered with. She couldn't help but to notice how perfectly their bodies fit, how normal his hand felt on her waist.

But he had Pansy. That was it- Pansy. He'd never need her. She was a no one.

The song was coming to an end, as was their dance. She gathered up the last dregs of her courage and leaned up to softly press her lips to his. Before she left the comfort of his arms, she whispered in his ear her parting words.

"Darling, it is I who loves you."

With that, she walked away, convinced she was unidentifiable to him.

It never occurred to her that the way she could always recognize him in a crowd with that one-of-a-kind hair of his, he could do the same with her fiery ringlets.