Look At Me

Chapter 2 - Blind Eyes Never See

Three weeks went by. Harry's habit of ignoring her in public only continued. He made up for it during their alone time. He was the sweetest boy she'd ever been with when they were alone. He held her and played with her; in those moments, she was happy. She assumed that he had too much on his mind to pay attention to her. Voldemort was rumored to be coming to power again. Everyone knew the Order had only temporarily vanquished him two years before, but no one had any idea that he would be back so soon. Harry also had a Quidditch team to coach, and he had his N.E.W.T.s to worry about. He also had to spread his attentions between Hermione, Ron, Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore, and herself. It made sense that he didn't have much time for her. This was what she told herself until she looked out the window on a Wednesday afternoon and saw him playing Exploding Snap by the lake.

She took to staring out windows at any opportunity during the next week and a half. She tried to be surprised when she noticed that Harry was never studying during their mutual free periods, as he said he was. She was attempting to rationalize this one day as she was sitting in the common room. She was staring vacantly into the fireplace when he entered, looking healthy and happy. His nose was slightly red, probably from the cold air outside, and his hair was ruffled. Hermione and Ron entered after him in much the same state. Ginny tried not to be angry when she noticed them, but she couldn't seem to suppress it any longer.

"Hey, Gin!" He leaned in and tried to kiss her, but she moved away this time. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Harry. Nothing at all." She wouldn't be surprised if he didn't notice that her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Gin, seriously, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

At this he grabbed her wrist, gently, and tugged her from the common room and out of the portrait hole. He didn't release her until he had pushed her into the nearest empty classroom.

"Tell me what's wrong, please?" The look in his eyes melted her resolve slightly.

"I never see you, Harry. You're always too busy for me. Do you not want to be with me?"

His face fell and he rushed forward to grab her hand.

"Of course I want to be with you, Ginny. Why wouldn't I?"

"I just told you, Harry. I never see you, you're always off with Ron and Hermione..."

"It's always been that way, Gin. You never had a problem with it before."

"I never had a right to have a problem with it before. I'm your girlfriend, Harry. That position warrants a little bit more attention than your best friend's little sister."

"I'm sorry...I didn't know it was bothering you. Why didn't you say something?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I'm going to try to fix it okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise."

She smiled and allowed him to kiss her now. He didn't let her out of his arms the rest of the night, even when Ron and Hermione were present.

***

The weeks progressed and Harry fell back into his old habits. Ginny tried to give him time, but she was only becoming more miserable every day. She wanted nothing more than to write in the enchanted journal, but she didn't have the heart to face the mystery man. His last question had stung her more than she cared to admit, and she refused to speak to him until she knew the answer.

It was Saturday. Ginny made her way down to breakfast, all dressed to go to Hogsmeade. Harry had told her they'd be leaving just after breakfast. She sat down in the nearest seat, noting the fact that they didn't seem to have come down yet. She found this strange; Hermione had always been an early riser, and Ginny had run a bit late. Settling herself in and pouring herself some tea, she assured herself they would be there soon. After twenty minutes, only Neville had joined her. She ate some toast as she waited. By the time the last student left the Great Hall, she was more than upset. Neville had excused himself fifteen minutes before, so she was very alone. She got to her feet and stomped from the Great Hall. She walked in much the same way out of the oaken doors, onto the grounds and all the way to Hogsmeade. She stopped for a moment as she passed under the welcome sign to contemplate where they might be. It didn't take her long to decide to enter the Three Broomsticks first.

She passed through the doors, irritated even by the sound of the bell tinkling above her head, and glanced around. Lo and behold, there he was, three tables away, laughing heartily at Ron, who had a spoon balanced on his nose. She could almost feel the steam coming from her ears. She marched over to the table, stood directly in front of Harry and gave him her deadliest glare.

"I need to talk to you."

"Gin! Where have you been? It's a great day!" He looked up at her now and saw the look in her eyes; his face fell.

"I need to talk to you." With that, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the pub. She didn't stop until she was in the field just outside of the Shrieking Shack. She heard Harry rushing after her.

"What's up, Gin?" He was slightly out of breath.

"What's up?! You were supposed to meet me at breakfast, Harry! You were supposed to meet me so we could go to Hogsmeade TOGETHER! You forgot about me, Harry!" She was beyond livid. Every emotion she had felt over the last few weeks seemed to have boiled over at just this moment.

"Not out here, Ginny." He reached for her hand, which she quickly snatched away. He gave her a pleading look and took a few steps backward; she followed. He led her through the small hole in the side of the shack and attempted to help her straighten out once she was through. She almost fell over in her haste to get away.

"I'm sorry, Gin. I totally spaced it." He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it just the way she liked.

"Obviously! This is getting ridiculous, Harry! I'm your girlfriend! Or have you forgotten?!"

"Of course I haven't forgotten, Ginny. I'm sorry, I've just been so busy..."

"Yeah, busy with your friends! I understand that they're important to you Harry, but I don't think I'm being unreasonable!"

"I don't know what to say, Gin..."

"Do you even know anything about me, Harry? Because you certainly haven't taken any initiative to figure out what kind of person I am." She was trying to calm down. She needed to know this.

"What do you mean? I know tons about you."

"Name something."

"I--uh--I know your birthday is August 11..."

"And?"

"And what, Gin? What do you want me to say?"

"What's my favorite color, Harry? Can you answer that?"

"Erm...green?"

Her face flushed with anger.

"Purple, Harry. It's purple. How about what I want to do after school? Do you have any idea?"

"You--uh--wanted to be an Auror too, right?" He had one hand rubbing his neck in anxiety.

"Wrong again. I want to write for the Prophet, Harry. Do you have any idea what my favorite food is?"

"Um--mince pie?"

"WE ARE NOT TALKING ABOUT YOU!" She was nearly in tears now.

"I'm sorry, Gin! I didn't know I'd be tested on these things!" This was entirely the wrong thing to say.

"I shouldn't have to test you, Harry! We've known each other for six years! SIX YEARS! In that six years, I've learned absolutely everything about you. I can't believe you don't even know my favorite color..."

"Gin..."

"No, don't even bother. I could write a book about you Harry Potter, but you don't even know where my story starts." Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks at this point.

"You don't know everything about me, Ginny; please don't exaggerate."

"Exaggerate?! Are you kidding me?! I know everything, Harry. I know that your favorite color is actually brown even though everyone thinks it's green. I know you love mince pie, but only when my mum makes it. I know that you've wanted to be an Auror ever since you first learned what the word meant. I know that you love chocolate, but not chocolate frogs because you don't like the way they move. I know that you'll eat every color of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans except the grey ones, because you once got one that tasted like sulfur and you vomited all over Hermione. I know that you love to fly and that it's the only thing you get homesick for. I know that you're the youngest Seeker in over a century, and that you were so proud when you found out your father was a Quidditch player too. I know that your Patronus is a stag because your father was an Animagus. I know Hagrid gave you Hedwig on your eleventh birthday and that she was the first birthday present you'd ever received. I know that you're better at Divination than you let on, but you won't show it because you don't want Ron to think you're strange. I know that you can't stand the Weird Sisters and that you hate to dance. I know everything there is to know about you Harry James Potter. Everything right down to the fact that you look down and to the left when you lie, and that your eyes get these gorgeous gold flecks when you're really truly happy. I can tell when you're sad because you fidget with the hem of your sleeves. I know when you're distracted because your right foot bounces, and I know that you don't want to be with me, Harry. If you did, you'd look at me." He was fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve when his eyes met hers.

"But I do want to be with you, Ginny..."

"Yeah? Why?"

"Because...because I love you, Gin. I know you may not believe me, but I do. I love you so much it scares me sometimes. I know I suck at this, all of this relationship stuff, but I've never done it before. I don't know how." Her heart melted, just like that.

"Harry..."

He knew a good sign when he saw one. He rushed forward and took her hand.

"I love you, Gin. I'm so sorry." Her eyes teared again. She'd been waiting for those words for six years.

"Harry...I--I love y-you too." She was surprised by her own stutter. She didn't have time to think about it, though, because he leaned in and kissed her quickly. He had never kissed her like this, so insistently, like he really knew she was there. She surrendered to him then. As she snaked her arms around his neck, she inhaled deeply, taking in the musky smell that was Harry.

***

It was in the common room about seven hours later that she had time to contemplate what had happened. She was surprised by her own actions and didn't really know what to make of them. She was so wrapped up in the moment that she didn't even think about it when Harry took her cloak off; she hardly noticed as he began unbuttoning her shirt. When his fingers found the latch of her bra, she realized what was going on. She didn't stop him. She allowed him to slide her skirt and underwear down. She allowed him to cup her breasts and squeeze slightly too hard. She even allowed him to test her with his fingers. What surprised her though, was that she allowed him to strip himself and enter her. It hadn't been beautiful like she had imagined. It had been awkward and strange and painful. Especially when he looked down after they had finished and saw the blood. He gave her a look of disgust before quickly turning away to perform a few cleaning charms on himself before getting dressed. She had almost cried again then.

She had learned a very disappointing lesson that day. Things just aren't as beautiful as you imagine them to be. She had imagined Harry telling her he loved her a million times; she had never thought that he might just blurt it out when she was angry. She was sore, and sad, and it didn't help that Harry was nowhere to be found. She felt her eyes well with tears. Grabbing her slippers, she ran from the room up to her dormitory. She threw herself onto her bed and began sobbing openly. It wasn't supposed to be like this. After she had emptied herself of every tear she had, she laid on her back and stared at the ceiling. Her breathing was still ragged, but she was no longer crying; she no longer wanted to cry. Slowly sitting up, she made up her mind about what she wanted to do. After digging under her bed for some time, she found the journal.

You there?

It took five minutes for him to respond.

Do you want me to be?

Yes.

Then I'm here. You've missed me.

Was that supposed to be a question?

No. I know you did. How are you?

I'm (This stayed on the page for nearly five minutes while she decided what to put.) fine.

No you're not.

How would you know?

It took you five minutes to finish your answer, you can't be fine. What's wrong?

Nothing.

Then why are we suddenly speaking again?

I just wanted to let you know that H does love me. He told me so.

Congratulations.

Thanks.

Is that all you wanted?

No. How have you been?

Peachy.

Are you angry with me?

You're extra sensitive tonight. I'm not angry, just curious.

About?

Why you haven't talked to me in a month. Why you're upset. What H must have done.

I (She left this far too long again.)

You what? You can be honest with me; it's not as if I can tell the whole world.

I wanted to make sure I knew the answer to your question before we spoke again. It took longer than I thought it would...

So you're insecure. Noted.

Don't be rude.

I don't mean to be. Tell me what's wrong.

I don't want to talk about it.

Do it anyway.

I really don't want to talk about it.

Well, I'm not in the mood for small talk, so unless you're going to tell me, I'll be going.

You're evil.

So I've been told. Talk.

H told me he loves me today.

And?

And it was nothing like I expected. He just kind of blurted it while I was yelling at him.

That sounds special. Is that all?

No.

?

I (long pause) had sex with him.

When you were angry?

I wasn't angry anymore. I was happy.

Then what's the problem?

That wasn't anything like I expected either.

Why not?

It was rushed, in the Shrieking Shack, and he thought it was gross.

A boy thought sex was gross? Are you sure he's straight?

No...not the sex.

Understood. Was he a virgin too?

I think so.

Then he might not have known what would happen.

I guess.

He still should have had the foresight to make it somewhat special for you, however.

Thanks.

Why were you angry at him?

Why do you want to know all of this?

I'm a naturally curious person; besides that, you obviously need to talk and I have nothing more pressing to do.

Oh.

Why were you angry?

He forgot about a date.

Is that all?

It's about the fortieth time.

What do you mean? You are allowed to answer with more than one sentence, you know.

He always forgets about me, usually avoids me. I have to go out of my way if I want to see him. He's always with his friends when he says he's studying. I just never see him. Ever.

That hardly sounds fair to you.

I don't know. He says he'll try to do better.

I'm sure.

Why do we always talk about me? Let's talk about you. Anything exciting happen lately?

I was eaten by a hippogriff.

Be serious.

I had a fight with my father, and I gave about fifteen detentions to Gryffindor.

Sounds like you've had fun. What was the fight about?

We're not talking about that.

We are. I had to share, you do too.

Wench.

I could take this journal back to the library.

Huge wench. He has different ideas for my future than I do.

What kind of ideas?

I'm afraid that might give away my identity. Let's just say he's made plans that I have no intention of following.

And you've tried telling him you don't want that?

Yes. My father is not an easy man to reason with.

I'm sorry.

Why are you apologizing for something you had no part in?

You don't deserve that.

You have no way of knowing what I deserve.

It's my opinion, at least.

You should probably be getting back to H.

He's disappeared again.

Making an amazing start, I see.

She couldn't respond to this. Her eyes welled with tears again. It wasn't long until they overflowed onto the page in front of her. His green ink mixed with her black, swirling together like a kaleidoscope. She sat and stared at the page as her tears fell, only stirring when green ink appeared again.

I'm sorry.

Somehow she could tell that the words looked forced, as if he didn't say them often.

For?

Making you cry.

How do you know if I'm crying or not?

In response a strange, orange liquid swirled with the already mixed ink.

Pumpkin juice. I can see whatever you put on the page.

Oh.

Are you okay?

Yes.

How about a new subject. Do you read?

They stayed up for hours that night, talking about everything from books to life aspirations. She was grateful that she had some sort of distraction because she knew that there was no way she would have been able to sleep otherwise. The next morning, after about an hour of rest, she literally dragged herself to breakfast. She was greedily drinking tea and munching on toast and eggs when Harry came to sit beside her. He kissed her good morning before loading his plate. He didn't talk as much as usual when Hermione and Ron sat across from them. He even excused himself early. Ginny tried to stop herself from following him, but she couldn't help it. She found him on the grounds near the Quidditch pitch. He didn't hear her walking up and nearly jumped out of his skin when she spoke.

"Harry!" He whipped around at the sound of her voice.

"Hi, Gin." He was fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing..."

She shook her head at him before speaking.

"You know I know better than that, Harry. What's wrong?"

"I--uh--I'm sorry about yesterday. I shouldn't have been like that."

Her heart jumped slightly.

"Like what?"

"I just didn't know that would happen...I'm sorry."

She nodded before moving forward to kiss him.

"Is that all that's wrong?"

"I love you, Gin." Was his only response before he kissed her again.

***

The next few weeks seemed to be looking up for Ginny. Her grades were good, her klutziness only caused a few bruises, no more ruined clothing. Harry was doing better if she made plans and reminded him about them, and her mystery pen pal was proving to be a very good conversationalist. She was surprised to learn that he enjoyed Muggle literature and had read many of the same Shakespeare plays she had. He had a deep interest in an author by the name of Edgar Allen Poe that she had never heard of, but he told her where to find it in the library. She hardly got any sleep due to their late night conversation, but she was happy to say that she didn't mind a bit.

She had a date with Harry that Tuesday. She had reminded him three times, so she was sure he'd remember to meet her in the Astronomy Tower. She made her way up the stairs after dinner and began lighting the torches that surrounded the room. He entered as she was lighting the last few. They didn't speak much, they never did. He just sat with her and watched the meteor shower she'd been looking forward to all month. He never shared her love for the subject, but he seemed content staying with her anyway. When she finally turned around after watching for nearly an hour, she was surprised to see that she hadn't noticed him moving away from the bay windows. He was sitting on a chair by the door with his right leg shaking. He was occasionally blowing stray specks of dust around in the air. She smiled at him before apologizing for being so boring. He only smiled when she sat in his lap. As she ran her fingers through his hair, he leaned in and kissed her. She knew this kiss.

***

How was your date?

Not quite what I'd hoped for.

And why not?

He wanted to try the sex thing again.

And?

And I don't think I like sex very much.

No good?

No good.

That's too bad.

How was your night?

Uneventful. What don't you like about it?

You really hate talking about yourself, don't you?

Nothing to talk about. Now answer my question.

Say please.

Please.

I don't know really. It kind of hurts, but that's not really it. It's just not that appealing to me to have a naked, though rather attractive, boy on top of me, flopping around and attempting to kiss me but missing and ending up with my cheek in his mouth.

Wow.

What?

You don't dislike sex, love, you dislike sex with H.

How do you know?

Because sex is nothing like that, in my experience.

Well, what is it like then?

Tell me what year you're in and I'll tell you.

Why does that matter?

I don't want to go telling some third year girl about the intricacies of sex.

I'm in my sixth year.

And your house?

Fat chance. Speak.

Sex is not flopping around on top of a girl for fifteen seconds until you get your rocks off. It is taking the time to notice what they like and how they like it. It's working towards getting the girl an orgasm before you allow yourself the reward of your own. H apparently pays no attention to you there, either.

Don't be mean.

I didn't mean to be. I'm being honest.

You seem bitter.

Maybe I am.

Why?

Because you're an amazing girl that is wasting her time on an apparently worthless guy.

I'm not wasting my time.

Yes. You are.

How's your love life? I'm done talking about mine.

It could be better.

Why?

The only girl I'm interested in has a boyfriend who doesn't know she exists, but she still doesn't seem to notice me.

Her heart dropped. She let the journal fall from her hands. She had not been expecting this in the least. After a few moments of calm breathing, her stomach settled enough for her to respond.

I've really got to get to bed. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?

Promise?

Promise. Good night.

Sweet dreams.

She went to sleep with a smile on her face for some unbeknownst reason that night.

***

Ginny spent a lot of the next week contemplating what her mystery man had said. Harry's absence from her life for this week only made her thoughts that much worse. Maybe she was wasting her time. This was the exact thought that was running through her mind when she was sent flying backwards, her bag and its contents scattering all around her. She raised her eyes to see her attacker and saw Draco bloody Malfoy sprawled in much the same position a few feet away. She shot him a death glare before she began gathering her things.

"Why don't you watch where you're going, Malfoy?"

"Maybe if you were a bit more graceful--though I suppose that would require an upbringing your parents can't quite afford."

"You're a pompous git, you know that?" She had almost collected all of her things.

"And you're a dirty blood-traitor. I think my position is much more desirable."

"Oh, go snog a hippogriff." She threw her last quill into her bag.

"Clever. Did you get your humor from your father? About the only thing he could give you, really."

Ginny hated that smirk.

"At least I don't have to listen to my father torturing Muggles in the dungeons."

"The dungeons are soundproof. Though I wouldn't expect you to know anything about that."

"Sod off." She got to her feet and gave him her trademark glare. As they were having their staring contest, Professor McGonagall came strolling into view. She had apparently heard their exchange.

"Miss Weasley, Mister Malfoy, into my office." Ginny glared at him again before following the teacher into the nearby room. All three took a seat in the arm chairs surrounding her desk. Ginny twiddled her thumbs, waiting for someone to speak. She didn't have to wait long.

"Both of your behaviors were despicable. I cannot believe that the two top students of their respective years would dare speak to each other like that within the halls of Hogwarts. You will both apologize to each other and serve detention twice a week for the next three weeks." Ginny sputtered, she heard Draco doing likewise beside her.

"Six detentions, Professor?" He found his voice before she did.

"Six detentions." She nodded for finality.

"May I ask why such a severe punishment?" Ginny knew he was pushing his luck.

"You will be allowed to do your schoolwork during these detentions, but you will serve them together. It will teach you tolerance for each other. Perhaps it will train you to avoid these outbursts in the future." She dismissed them after that. Ginny aimed a kick at his ankle on her way out of the door. He glared at her before turning and walking away.

***

Afternoon, love, how are we today?

Terrible.

Why?

I got detention today.

Me too. It's not so bad. Don't let it ruin your day.

I guess the teachers really are handing them out like candy lately.

There you go. How are you and H?

I don't know, I haven't seen him since this morning.

Breakfast?

Yeah. You know way too much about my love life, but I know nothing about yours. I don't think it's fair.

Every time I tell you about my love life, you stop talking to me. Not a good subject to discuss.

Her stomach did the weird fluttery thing it was always doing when she wrote in the journal lately. She couldn't call it nauseous, but she didn't have any other term for it either. It was worse today, and for some reason this made her feel daring.

Well, I won't stop talking to you today. Tell me.

You just want me to tell you how amazing I think you are.

There was that fluttery thing again. She could feel herself blushing.

Maybe I just want to know why.

That's a laugh.

Why?

You just are. I'm not going to split hairs and tell you all the reasons why.

I just don't understand how you can like me so much when you haven't even met me.

Just because I haven't seen you does not mean I haven't met you.

Flutter flutter. It kind of reminded her of butterflies living in her stomach. Realization dawned on her. That's why they call it that! She smiled as she responded.

Okay, okay, new subject.

I knew you wouldn't last.

What else was there to say?

Whether or not you felt the same way?

I have a boyfriend...

Don't remind me.

Sorry.

You don't need to apologize for your self-centered prat of a boyfriend.

Don't.

Don't what? Tell you the truth?

Stop. I'm not going to let you talk badly about someone you don't know. If I told you who it was, your opinion would probably be different.

I doubt it. I have to go, I have a lot of work to do.

I'll talk to you later?

She waited for twenty minutes but no reply came. She threw herself back on her bed, her eyes welling with tears. Why could he get to her like this?!