Look At Me

Chapter 1 - No Use Crying Over Spilled Ink

It was the third of September, and Ginny Weasley was already tired of her classes. Dragging her feet to Transfiguration, she couldn't help but sigh deeply. Nothing seemed to be going right for her this week. Her summer had been wonderful. The warm, lazy days were filled with Quidditch and flirting shamelessly with her long time crush Harry Potter. As soon as they had boarded the train two days before, her world had come crashing around her. First she was nearly knocked unconscious as she attempted to store her trunk in the overhead nets. Then, much to her chagrin, it was none other than her ex-boyfriend Michael Corner who rushed to her aid. It had only gotten worse after that. Half-way through the ride, she decided to go in search of Harry, and she found him within minutes, with a short-skirted Romilda Vane on his arm. Ginny gave him a huffy look and stalked off, causing him to follow after her. As she screamed at him, he said entirely the wrong things. "We're not dating, Ginny," he said. "It's not cheating," he said. Bugger that, she thought irritably. Not only had the entire train heard their screaming match, but none other than Head Boy Draco bloody Malfoy had taken points from Gryffindor for "Disturbing the peace." Sod him, her inner-voice crooned. No, this was definitely not her week. What happened next only seemed fitting.

The bell rang loudly for class to begin. Ginny, being still forty paces from the classroom door, cursed aloud. She had apparently spoken much louder than she meant to, because she heard her own voice echoing down the stony hallway. As she pondered this oddity, Professor McGonagall stepped through the doorway.

"I believe it would be in your best interests to spend less time cursing and more focusing on getting to class on time, Miss Weasley."

"Sorry, Professor," she muttered as she closed the distance between them.

"Apologies aside, Ginevra, I will be taking ten points from Gryffindor for your tardiness..." Ginny sputtered in exasperation. "...And ten more for your foul language. Now get inside, and do work on your attitude." The teacher motioned for Ginny to move past her, and she did just that. She threw herself in the nearest chair before allowing her head to fall onto the desk before her. This had to be a record. She had lost her house thirty points within the first three days of school. She was sure she would be receiving a plaque to that effect in the near future. She took her supplies from her bag and resigned herself to taking notes for the rest of the period. She thanked the heavens when the bell rang and she was freed from the dusty classroom.

The next two weeks followed in the same pattern as the days before them. Not only did Ginny's brand new bag split at the seam on her way to Potions, but she managed to spill ink down the front of her favorite oxford and ruin a perfectly good patch of lovage with the wrong watering spell in Herbology. She couldn't believe her bad luck. Now she sat in the common room of Gryffindor Tower, nursing a stubbed toe. This had happened only moments before, as she came down from her dormitory after changing out of her now- stained school robes. She wasn't surprised that this was the moment Harry decided to speak to her.

"Afternoon, Gin. How've you been?"

"Fine," she mumbled, continuing her ministrations on her toe.

"What happened to your foot?"

She looked up at him now.

"I stubbed my toe. What do you want, Harry?"

He was surprised by her frankness.

"I--uh--wanted to apologize, Gin. I was a git on the train."

"And that's unusual?" she whispered under her breath. Harry didn't hear. "Fine, Harry, I accept your apology. Is that all?"

He smiled before he spoke.

"Well, no actually. I wanted to let you know that I told Romilda there could never be anything between her and I because..." He trailed off.

"Because what, Harry? I don't have the patience for you to be vague right now." She cocked an eyebrow at him, awaiting his response.

"Because I like you, Ginny. That's what I told her." He grinned now, expecting this news to please her thoroughly.

"And?"

"What do you mean, 'and?'"

"Am I supposed to be thrilled by this?" She pursed her lips in frustration.

"Well--I mean--I thought that you'd like to know..." He looked entirely distraught.

"Okay, and I know. I have work to do, Harry." She picked up her quill for finality.

"I--erm--I thought you liked me, Gin..." He apparently wasn't done with the conversation. She sighed in resignation before throwing her quill onto the table with a clatter.

"Key word in that sentence would be 'liked,' Harry, past-tense."

"But I thought you just said you accepted my apology..."

"And I do. I forgive you for being a git, but I have wasted far too much time on you, Harry Potter. I spent the entire summer believing that you'd finally come around. After seeing you and Romilda on the train I've realized that you haven't. I've come to terms with it; perhaps you should too."

He looked crestfallen.

"Why are you so angry at me, Ginny?"

"I just told you, Harry. Don't be daft. I'm just tired of waiting."

"But I've been trying to tell you that you don't need to wait anymore..."

Her heart jumped a little. She couldn't help it.

"Don't, Harry."

"Don't what? I like you, Gin, and I know you like me too. What's the problem?"

She flared up at this; she couldn't help but explode.

"What's the problem? What's the problem?! The problem is that I've been waiting for six years! Six years, Harry James Potter! For five of those six years I've been completely invisible to you, and then this summer you got my hopes up. You crushed them not even two weeks ago and you expect everything to be just dandy?! You have got to be kidding me."

"I didn't mean to crush your hopes, Ginny. I just didn't know you thought we were serious..."

"I didn't think we were serious, Harry. I thought that you might be serious about me."

"I don't understand, Gin..."

"You wouldn't." With that she collected her things and headed for the library. She figured she could get some work done there. She was, of course, wrong.

She spread her books across an empty table in an attempt to discourage anyone from sitting near her. She opened the nearest one, for Charms, and began reading the fourth chapter. She was scribbling on a piece of loose parchment when history repeated itself. She moved to dip her quill into the ink well on the table, but as she was pulling it out, it tipped. Not only did it tip, but it went flying; ink splashed over the front of another oxford, the rest pooling inside of her Charms book. She slapped the table in frustration, and after receiving a reprimand from Madam Pince, she attempted a few cleaning charms. She noted the irony. When 'Scourgify' didn't work after five attempts, she slumped forward, slamming her head to the table this time. Once she had taken a few calming breaths, she rose to her feet in search of a replacement she could use until she found a way to clean hers. She marched through the aisles, paying no attention to the students around her. She had trouble finding the object of her desire; she was on her knees in front of the shelf where it should have been when a brown, leather-bound book caught her eye. She pulled it off the shelf to examine it. As she flipped through the pages, she was surprised to find that it was entirely blank. Her heart skipped, but she brought it back to her table anyway. Her heart was racing as she sat down in front of it. She could hardly control her trembling fingers as she opened the cover again; picking up her quill was just out of the question. Inhaling deeply, she tried to come up with a calming thought. That diary was destroyed, Ginny. There is no possible way... She couldn't finish the sentence. She had learned the hard way that anything is possible.

Soon after this little break down she gave up on doing homework. She gathered her things together and prepared to leave, the empty book still on the table. She made it three steps before turning around, snatching the brown, leather book, and carrying it to Madam Pince's desk to check it out. The librarian gave her a knowing smile as she stamped this inside cover with a due date. What she knew, Ginny had no idea. She gave a feeble grin back before taking the book and heading for the grounds. She wasn't willing to go back to Gryffindor Tower when she knew Harry would be there. The brusque autumn air greeted her as she passed through the oaken doors and onto the grounds. She inhaled, relishing the scents around her, before directing her feet toward the lake. After setting her bag down, she sat beside it and pulled out the leather...could she call it a journal? Opening to the first page, she wasn't as nervous as before. Madam Pince wouldn't allow her to check out a book that was dangerous, would she? She guarded the Restricted Section like a sentry; there was no way a book that could bring any harm to a student would be allowed. With this thought giving her courage, she fished a quill and ink from her bag. Hurrying to dip and begin writing before she lost her courage, she managed to drip the black liquid on her stockings. Why do I have to be such a klutz? Sighing deeply, she began to write.

September 16, 1997

All I can say about today is that Gryffindor boys are prats.

She put her quill down and watched it for a moment, excited to see that the ink did not disappear. She hoped that she could find a spell to remove ink; it wouldn't do to return the book with writing still present inside. As she was pondering every cleansing charm she was aware of, green ink appeared on the page in front of her.

Hallelujah.

She hardly noticed at first, but when she did her world turned upside down. She couldn't find her breath, and she raised a hand to her throat in an attempt to physically force air into her body. No longer thinking about her actions, she raised her quill again.

Excuse me?

Her heart was pounding.

Hallelujah. One would think you would be capable of rereading rather than requesting an echo.

Her mind was reeling.

That wasn't what I meant. I wasn't expecting this journal to talk back.

She did her best to sound calm, hoping it was somehow a live person. Even a Death Eater would be better than what her mind was telling her this was.

You are obviously unaware that you weren't writing in a journal.

May I ask what I am writing in then?

She took a calming breath. This didn't sound like Tom.

Obviously an enchanted journal. Big difference.

Pray tell.

She could only think of short answers.

Enchanted journals were big during the 1400s. Lovers used them to communicate over long distances; much quicker than owls.

So you're a live person?

Her heart slowed slightly, only slightly.

No, I'm a Martian. Of course I'm a live person.

Big sigh. Trembles stopped.

Why do you have this enchanted journal? Do you have a lover in another country?

She was fully aware this sounded stupid.

No.

She was surprised by the short response.

Well, what are you using it for then?

Until today I was using it as a normal journal.

What's stopping you now?

You. You're exceedingly slow. How old are you?

Well, you won't have to worry about me. I won't be writing in this book anymore...

And why not? You didn't answer my question.

Well I have no way of knowing you're actually human.

You still didn't answer my question. I am human, I assure you.

Can you prove it?

That entirely depends on how old you are.

How would that be relevant?

If you're near my age, then you must go to Hogwarts.

I'm near your age. Explain?

I'm in the library. I'm going to leave my journal on the table near the door. Come switch yours for mine.

Who says I want to meet you?

Manners would be appreciated. I have no intention of being here when you make the switch.

What makes you want to talk to me badly enough to prove this to me?

It's refreshing. Now.

With that, Ginny gathered her things and headed back to the library. Her pulse was racing as she made her way through the winding corridors. After she had taken the two steps that led into the library, she turned to her right. She knew exactly what table the writer had meant. Her breath stopped as she spied a brown, leather journal, much like her own, lying on the table. She picked it up and flipped to the first page, it was blank now. She quickly set her own down and raced from the room.

Still panting from her hurried pace, she climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitory of Gryffindor Tower. She plopped down onto her bed before inspecting the new journal. There was no name or any sort of identifying mark. Cursing herself silently for not sticking around to find out who the anonymous writer was, she dug in her bedside drawer for a quill. She grinned when she found a self-inking one. Pressing it to the page, she was surprised when green ink appeared before her.

Satisfied?

She chuckled slightly.

Nearly. What year are you in?

Not telling.

Fine, what house?

Secret.

Fine. Who set off the dung bomb in the Great Hall during lunch today?

Seamus Finnigan. Why?

Making sure you're not an impostor.

Not very trusting, are you? You must be in Slytherin.

I'm afraid I'll never tell.

That's fair. Are you satisfied that I am not some monster trying to lure you into my den?

No. But I am satisfied that you attend Hogwarts.

That's good enough, I suppose. So why, may I ask, are Gryffindors prats?

It's a long story.

I've got time.

Ginny smiled to herself before she began scribbling away. She spilled her heart out in the all-too familiar scene. For some reason, this time she trusted it.

***

So essentially you feel that he cheated on you by flirting with another girl, when you had set no official rules for him?

You're twisting my words. I'm upset that I thought he liked me more than he does.

But he told you today that he does like you as much as you think he does...

You must be a male.

Yes, but that's neither here nor there. Explain what exactly you're upset about. It obviously isn't as simple as you are saying.

Ugh! Fine! I'm upset that I cared when I saw them together.

Now jealousy I can understand. I don't think it's fair to be mad at him about your emotions.

Why do you care?

I'm no fan of Gryffindors myself, but I am male, and I don't agree with females being irrational.

I am not being irrational.

You are.

I'm not!

You are.

No, I am not!

You're arguing with a journal, of course you're being irrational.

She couldn't help but laugh aloud.

As are you. What exactly do you expect me to do then?

I didn't start it. I expect you to do exactly what you want to do--march up to him and apologize.

I do NOT want to apologize.

Another very Slytherin statement. Fine, wait for him to apologize again; if he's a Gryffindor, he will. Just accept it next time. Wasting your time being angry hardly seems worth it.

I don't see why you've taken an interest in my love life.

Boredom.

I have to get going. I'll talk to you later?

We'll see.

She smiled at that before closing the book and putting her quill down. The other person had to be human; he had known about Seamus and been able to switch her journals. Still, her family would be very upset if they had any idea. As she got to her feet, she sighed lightly before making up her mind to head down to the common room. She took the steps down two at a time, so obviously, when she reached the bottom two she fell flat on her face. She lay there for a moment with her eyes closed before she broke into giggles. They only increased when she felt hands on her shoulders and a very worried voice speaking to her.

"Ginny! Are you okay?"

She raised her head slowly before opening her eyes.

"Just fine, Harry." She said this with a grin, causing him to give her a befuddled expression.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Because I am a royal klutz."

He chuckled at this before helping her to her feet.

"So...you aren't still angry at me?" He spoke hesitantly as he took a seat near the fire. She sat beside him before giving him a small smile and responding.

"I'm not still angry at you."

He swiped a hand across his forehead and muttered phew.

"Awesome. So--uh--about that liking me thing...is that still true?"

"Yes, Harry, that's still true." His face lit up; she blushed.

"So--uh--would you want to...you know...go with me?" She couldn't help but giggle; he gave her a hurt look.

"Are you asking me out, Harry James Potter?"

"Why, yes I am, Ginevra Molly Weasley."

"In that case, I accept."

She was grinning at him as his expression changed from joyous to something she'd never seen before. She barely had time to take note of it before he leaned forward and bumped his nose into hers.

"Was that you trying to kiss me?" She was still laughing, but she had taken to rubbing her sore nose.

"Yes." He looked like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. She smiled before leaning in to him and pressing her lips to his. He gasped in shock before melting into her. His hand was on her cheek within seconds, pulling her closer to him. She smiled into the kiss before moving away slightly. She rested her forehead on his and sighed contentedly.

***

It was three days later before she talked to her mystery pen pal again. She was sitting in Ancient Runes when boredom struck. She pulled the journal from her bag and opened to the first page. She was surprised to see the familiar green writing already on the page in front of her.

Long time no talk.

How long have you been waiting for a response to that?

About ten minutes.

Good timing. How are you?

I've been better. How are your boy troubles?

Much better. I took your advice.

I'm not surprised. How'd he take the change?

He asked me out.

Go figure.

So why have you been better?

Family troubles.

Care to talk?

Not about this. What class are you in?

Secret.

Wench.

I prefer witch. Any plans for the weekend?

Hogsmeade trip and practice. You?

About the same.

So you must be above third year and on a...Quidditch team?

Of course I'm above third year. There're other teams aside from Quidditch, you know: Gobstones, Exploding Snap, chess. I could be on any team. I'm going to say it's safe to assume that you are on a Quidditch team, however, and not Gryffindor's.

Amazing deductive reasoning. Does this mean you'll be looking into every boy on every Quidditch team aside from Gryffindor's?

No.

Why not?

I don't need to know who you are until you're ready to tell me.

That was a very Hufflepuff sentiment. You're just full of contradictions, aren't you?

You have no idea. Are you taking anyone to Hogsmeade?

I'm considering it.

What's stopping you?

I haven't decided whether this girl is worth the hassle.

What hassle?

You ask a lot of questions. The hassle of a relationship.

How is a relationship a hassle?

The sort of girls I date require a lot of...love.

Love as in...?

Love as in gifts and time and doting compliments.

So you prefer the high maintenance type?

No. The high maintenance type prefers me.

Have you considered trying to date a different type?

No.

Why not?

You wouldn't understand.

Try me.

They're the type I am expected to date.

And expectations matter to you?

They have to.

Understood.

You're quicker than I thought.

So ask the girl. Do you have better things to do than attempt to get down a girl's knickers?

You're very blunt for a female.

I have brothers.

This girl isn't exactly known for being easy.

You don't enjoy a challenge?

Of course I do, but I bore rather easily.

I wish I could say I'm surprised.

And what is that supposed to mean?

You seem a bit arrogant.

Arrogance is something that must be earned. I'll take that as a compliment.

I thought you might. So why is this girl such a challenge?

She's only slept with three guys. Each had to date her for almost a year.

ONLY three guys? And she's a challenge? ...Okay.

You've been with less, I take it.

Yes.

How many?

A gentleman doesn't ask these things.

A lady doesn't ask if a gentleman wishes to get down a girl's knickers.

So manners out the window then?

I don't feel the need to use proper manners with a journal.

I suppose that's fair. So long as the anonymity continues.

I don't see myself sifting through the hundreds of girls above third year that aren't in Gryffindor, so you can rest assured.

Glad to hear it.

So how many?

0.

Oh, really?

Really.

That's interesting.

Why?

I don't know many girls as mature as yourself that are saving themselves.

I'm not exactly saving myself.

Then why?

Okay fine, I was saving myself, but not for marriage.

For what, then?

For H-

As she began to scribble Harry's name, the bell rang. She stopped short and collected her things before heading to lunch. She couldn't believe the terrible timing; she was enjoying their conversation. She arrived to lunch before most of the Gryffindor table. Taking a seat near the middle, she remained still for a moment to think. Her mind traced her steps back to the library a few days before. She mentally searched the room to see if she remembered who had been there. The only faces that stuck out to her were those of Zacharias Smith and Justin Finch-Fletchley. There had also been a mousy, brown-haired boy in the corner, but she couldn't even recall his features. Sighing, she hoped the mystery man hadn't seen her either. He certainly didn't seem to know who she was, but he seemed determined to find her out. Her eyes must have been unfocused because she didn't see Harry walk up. She gave him a warm grin before pouring them both a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Thanks, Gin." He gave her a peck on the lips before sitting down.

"Any time. How was potions?"

"Terrible. Malfoy, the bloody git, 'accidentally'" --he made finger quotes in the air to emphasize this-- "spilled Murdock root into my sleeping draught. Snape drained my cauldron without letting me turn any in."

"Oh no, Harry, another zero?"

"Yes, failing Potions isn't looking too bad."

"You need Potions to be an Auror, Harry. We both know you don't want to fail."

"I'll switch careers if it means I don't have to see Snape's ugly face every day."

"Don't be stubborn. I'll help you; I'm rather good with Potions."

He grinned at her before kissing her again.

"You're 'mazing, Gin," he said through kisses. She couldn't help but laugh.

She was still giggling when Ron and Hermione appeared. Ron shot them a look of approval--disgusted approval--but approval nonetheless, before taking the seat opposite Ginny. The trio chatted happily while Ginny listened in. She never dared to interrupt their conversations; they always ignored what she said anyway. She almost slipped into a gloomy mood as she thought about this, but she perked up when Harry slid his hand into hers under the table. After happily finishing her lunch, she rested her head on Harry's shoulder. She enjoyed the vibrations as he spoke. As the trio rose to head to their next class, Ginny headed instead toward the common room. She had a free hour before she was due in Transfiguration. Without thinking about it, she reached into her bag for a quill and the journal.

Who's H?

Hello?

You're driving me crazy.

You must eat incredibly slowly.

Who the bloody hell is H?

And hello to you too. She was surprised by his impatience.

Who is H?

Never mind who H is, all you need to know is I've been saving myself for him.

So your boyfriend's name starts with an H. This could narrow down my search a lot.

Yes, but not entirely.

Hag. So why have you been saving yourself for him?

I've been in love with him since I was ten. It only seemed right.

You've been in love with him for...at least four years...and he's only just now asking you out?

He was...a late bloomer?

So he's never had a girlfriend aside from you?

Um...he saw a girl once or twice in his fourth year, but not since then, no.

I don't believe it.

Believe what?

That he didn't notice you. You're clever enough.

Are you trying to flatter me?

That depends, is it working?

How about a new subject. How many girls have you been with?

Four.

Wow.

Is that too high for your prudent mind to comprehend?

Just because I'm a virgin does not make me a prude.

Oh?

Oh.

I suppose that can only be seen with time.

I suppose so. Did you love any of them?

Excuse me?

Any of the girls that you slept with, did you love them?

I think so.

You think so?

I told her I did.

Then why don't you know so?

Because I'm not sure.

Then you didn't.

How would you know?

You would know if you were in love.

How very romantic of you. Life, however, is not that black and white.

If you say so.

So you just know that you love H?

Yes.

And you've known for over four years?

Yes.

Since you were ten, correct?

I wasn't positive until I was eleven.

Eleven?

Yes. What's your point?

The point lies in the fact that you are trying to tell me that as an eleven year old, you knew more about love than I do six years older.

So you're a seventh year?

Beside the point.

I'm not comprehending the issue.

Does H love you?

I have to go.

She slammed the book shut without waiting for a response. How dare he ask her such rude questions? Of course Harry loved her, how could he not? She'd waited so long--it was only fair, right? With a frown on her face, she headed off towards Transfiguration. Needless to say, her mind was elsewhere throughout the rest of the day. Even Harry noticed it as they sat cuddled by the fire. She refused to talk to him about it, however, instead blaming her foul mood on a headache. How could someone she doesn't even know get to her like this?

By the next morning she was feeling slightly better. Harry had kissed her good night in a way no other boy had; she took this as a good sign. She headed down to breakfast, thanking the heavens it was Saturday, and took the seat beside Harry. He didn't even look up when she sat down. Her heart sank. Her mood continued to sour with every moment he didn't acknowledge her. It was nearly halfway through the meal when he turned to her.

"Gin! I didn't see you there! Good morning!" He leaned in to kiss her; she let him against her better judgment.

"I've been here all morning, Harry."

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I was talking with Hermione."

"I'd noticed."

He smiled at her before turning back to his conversation.