Wanted

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She doesn't fit in, she feels so alone

She's in too much pain to survive on her own

The hurt she can't handle overflows to a knife

She writes on her arm; wants to give up her life

Each day she goes on is the day that she's brave

Fighting the lie that giving up is the way

Each moment of courage, her own life she saves.

When she throws the pills out, a hero is made.

~

Hero by Superchic[k]

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Wanted

~

Strong

She shouldn't have been surprised. She really shouldn't have. She had been ignored for the last six years, why would today be any different. She scowled and scolded herself for her self-pity-party that she was holding in the North astronomy tower that night.

Being ignored by every student in the school was something that she thought she had gotten used to. Everytime she walked down the hall, she stared at the floor rather than the chattering students, muttering quietly to herself. She was surrounded all around by lively students but still, she felt strangely isolated. They refused to meet her gaze, overlooking her bent copper head, and averted their eyes when she dared to look at them.

Her world was dull and gray. There was no dramatic color in her world, no difference in hues. She was no one; nothing about her was remarkable enough to be noticed. Everything around her was gray. The students varied in their hue, the walls were black and the torchlight burned white.

Ginny was strong. She was convinced that she didn't need any of her fellow students' help, not that they would ever voluntarily help her. She was convinced she didn't need any friends, convinced she was better without loyalties and attachment.

But sometimes, especially on those nights during the weekend, just like this one, she did feel lonely. She wanted someone to talk to, wanted someone to listen to her. Most of all, she just wanted someone to want and appreciate her.

The sky was black tonight. It looked like a sheet of coal-colored silk in the sky, littered with small diamonds. They glittered and twinkled, and she eyed them wearily. There was a full moon tonight, and it hung like a brilliant silver orb, a round mirror. It shone down and flooded the earth with white, heavenly light. It was blinding, and Ginny wasn't sure if she could keep her eyes open, but, at the same time, it was spellbinding and beautiful, and she knew that she didn't have enough willpower to turn or close her eyes. The moon hung so close tonight.

She sat against a section of the stone wall with her knees against her chest and her long, freckled arms wrapped around them snugly and sighed. There was no awning on this tower, no shadows to hide under. Nothing was hidden.

Her mind began to wander as pictures, thoughts and ideas popped into her head. In her mind's eye, she could picture her brother's smiling face as he and Harry and Hermoine walked past her, laughing happily at some inside joke. She felt a stab of pain inside her, jealous that her brother had found some good and close friends that he could spend his time with.

'That's because he didn't mess up in his first year,' a tiny voice said smugly in her mind. She drew her knees closer to her body.

Mess up. That's what she was. The Weasley failure. The silent one; the stupid one; the hostile one.

No. She shook her head. She couldn't talk about herself like this. She wouldn't. She was strong; she was a Weasley. She didn't need to be heard, she didn't have to be smart, and no one could force her to be friendly. She was not a mess up. She was not a failure; she just hadn't succeeded yet.

Yet.

"Still," she said to her knees. "It'd be nice to feel appreciated." She sighed and rested her head on her two circular bones, blinking away tears. "Sometimes, I feel like I could just die and nobody would notice poor, daft, forlorn Virginia Weasley. Not even her own brother."

"If that happened, then I would have to do a headcount, and sort through my students list to find out which one of you was missing."

"Thank you for affirming my point," she answered grimly.

When it dawned on her that she was no longer alone in her little hideaway of solitude, she lifted her head and looked at the speaker.

A figure was bent over a telescope pointed at the night sky, playing with a small knob. He turned around and looked at her.

"Contemplating suicide, are we Weasley?" Malfoy asked. Of all people.

Ginny automatically put on a scowl. But secretly, she smiled. Someone knew her name; someone was talking to her and looking at her, not through her, even if the 'someone' was Malfoy. "Making my pros-and-cons list in my head right now," she said evenly. She stretched out her long legs as her muscles began to cramp.

It was cool on the clear November night. Her cheeks, having lost their source of body heat, felt the loss of warmth instantly. She rubbed her fingers together to keep them warm.

"Make sure you add 'Twinkies' to your list of cons," Malfoy said as he turned around to look at the telescope again. He wore a pair of black jeans, baggy from the waistband down, and a black button down shirt. His pulled back hair elevated the aura of nobility. It was bright against the black sky, almost the color of the far-away stars. His pale skin seemed even paler in the darkness, but had a healthy glow to it. A simple silver fang dangled out of a hole in one ear. In his left hand was a rolled cylinder of paper, which she recognized as today's Daily Prophet.

Malfoy was one of the Slytherin prefects, much to rest of the student's, save the Slytherins, disgust. Some other prefects and even the Head Girl approached Dumbledore, who had been given the task of naming the prefects of each of the four houses. Dumbledore knew that Malfoy would do something that would benefit the school, maybe something unsightly, maybe something noticeable. The school wondered what it would be, and waited for him to prove himself. In the meantime, he was most arrogantly annoying about it, and took his responsibilities lightly, taking points from the younger students instead of pointing them in the correct direction, and abused the majority of his privileges.

"Twinkies?" Ginny asked, as he screwed the cap off the front of the expensive telescope. It was the color of red wine, bigger and longer than any telescope she had ever seen. There was a smaller pipe, curved upward, attached to it of the same color. The instrument stood on a sturdily built black tripod. The entire thing gleamed. Ginny admired it from afar.

"Yes," Draco said, opening the paper, a happy, childish look of excitement on his face. "Twinkies. Delicious, small, yellow cakes with cream in the center. They come pre-wrapped in a package of two..." He looked at her, and when he saw her blank expression, he blinked. "They're a muggle thing, Weasley. Surely, if I'd thought of anyone, you would know what I'm talking about."

Ginny shook her head, but a Twinkie sounded good. "They're a muggle thing?" she asked finally, confused. "I thought you didn't like muggles. I thought you thought that they were the scum of the earth."

Malfoy scanned the front cover of the Prophet, and then opened the paper. "I do. I don't like muggles. I never said anything about not liking muggle things," he pointed out.

"I don't understand," she said finally.

"I didn't think you would." His gray eyes turned to the third page of the paper. She bit her lip. Negative thoughts flooded her head, fueled by Malfoy's remark. He didn't think she'd understand. Why? Was it because she was too stupid? That she wasn't learned enough to understand a mere Muggle desert?

Malfoy looked back at Ginny. Her lips were contorted in a frown, her face was wrinkled, her brow furrowed and her eyes squinted in a painful grimace. He could tell that she was not at ease, and had not been for a while. He almost felt pity for her; she looked so alone sitting by herself on the stone wall. He would have laughed at her and her misfortune had he not seen the same expression on people that he knew had been sent to St. Mungos. Whatever it was that was going on in her head was more serious than a simple self-esteem issue.

Her copper colored hair fell over her shoulders and trailed down her arm, long and in need of a trim, but she paid no attention. An inner battle was waging in her head, and he wondered who was winning.

Thoughts raged on in her head, each one telling her she wasn't smart enough, or pretty enough, or worthy enough. Her small, positive voice of strength that carried her through each day was slowly wearing away, become quieter and quieter as the insults became louder. They had a distinct voice, but distinctly haunting and frightening, that Ginny was pained to listen to.

Tom.

He told her that she wasn't good enough to have friends; that she wasn't deserving of any. Everyone else had proven themselves and rightfully earned theirs, but she had nothing to give. They would all be ashamed to call Ginny a friend anyway, so they avoided her.

His whispering in her ear as she walked down the hallways said that everyone hated her for what she had done. Not bring him to life, almost to the point of full power, but had nearly killed Harry Potter, and that Harry himself, no matter what he may have told her, would never forgive her and would never forget about the incident, either.

Her breathing quickened as if she was about to begin to cry. But she couldn't cry, Tom said that it was unacceptable to cry, to show weakness. He said that if she wanted friends, she had to be strong. She shook her head.

She was strong, but not for Tom. She was strong, not so she could acquire friends. Ginny was strong for Ginny, and Ginny alone. She did not need Tom. She did not need friends. She didn't have to hear those insults. She relaxed, and they slowly passed away until she was sure that she couldn't hear the monsters' hissing whispers. One day, they, all of them, and their demon lord, would leave her for good. Until then, she was content in keeping them away for a time.

Ginny was strong.

Malfoy was looking at her strangely, a look of confusion and fear. She breathed deeply and glared defiantly back at him as if it was his fault. It wasn't though.

"Don't do it," he said.

She was confused. " 'It' being the antecedent to...?" she asked, trying to sound smarter than she knew.

"Suicide."

"I wasn't going to - not tonight, anyway - but thanks for the advice." She raised her eyebrows. "I'll hold it close to my heart."

"I'm serious. Suicide's only for the weak."

"Are you saying I'm weak?" she snapped.

"No, I'm saying you're stro - not weak," he said. "Look, Weasley, I'm a prefect. It's my duty to advise potential suiciders not to kill themselves."

"Looks like you're taking your task seriously - for once," she added in a mean voice. He glared at her in annoyance.

"Fine, go ahead then. Kill yourself. I won't miss you." She almost expected him to add on 'No one will', but it never came. It surprised her.

"I won't miss you either."

"More power to you Weasley, more power to you," he said in an occupied tone.

At the bottom of the fourth page, Malfoy came across the article that he had been searching for. It was a small schedule, listing the planets that would make their way across Earth's sky for the month of November. His left finger trailed down the list of dates.

18 November: Mars

He folded the paper and placed it under the crook of his arm. He ran his free hand through his hair, and it spread out like an upside down fan.

"What are you doing out here?" Ginny asked. He glanced back at her. For a second, he was about to tell her to mind her own business.

"Would you like to see?"

They were both shocked by what he said. Where had such a preposterous question appeared? Surely, not him! Malfoy resolved to bite his tongue from now on until she left.

Ginny blinked. Yes, she would like to see what Malfoy was looking for. If she told him, would he deny it to her? Certainly he would, he was playing her to get a good laugh. She looked back at him, his bent figure peering into the telescope. She was right.

She opened her mouth to retort a nasty answer when he straightened back up. "Go ahead and look if you want," he said, looking at her with placid gray eyes.

"Why would - oh. Um... ok, if it's ok with you," she said, biting her lip. He nodded and stepped aside. She stood up and wiped the pebbles and dust off of her pants and took a step forward.

'It must be getting late,' she reasoned. 'Malfoy must be too tired to be rude.'

She bent down and closed one eye. There was a hole in the sky, the size of a Sickle and the same shade of her hair. It took her breath away.

"Is that Mars?" she asked, still looking in the sky. Malfoy nodded, and when he realized she couldn't see him nodding, said, "Yes."

She admired it. She admired the red, rusting color of the planet, how deep the color was, and how bright it shone. She admired the small pink and white places in the poles, their glossiness and luster, like a mirror or frozen lake. It was so brilliant against the sky, the black and the glittering white.

"It's beautiful," she said, straightening back up again. Malfoy was looking at the heavens, in the direction where the telescope was pointed. When Ginny strained her eyes, she could make out a bright star, brighter and closer than the rest. She assumed it was Mars.

Malfoy moved over and took her spot at the telescope. Ginny drew her worn coat tighter around her.

"So..." she said, trying to make conversation, "like astronomy?" Malfoy grunted a 'yes' in response.

"Why?" she said, looking straight up. The vast number of stars looking down upon her made her feel dizzy.

"It's very humbling, to study them," he said, straightening up. He rubbed a hand up and down his back with lengthy, stiff fingers.

"I'll say," Ginny agreed. "I feel so small now, smaller than I felt before." Malfoy was silent for a short while before he responded.

"Why's that?" He paused as she brought her head down to look at him. "Why do you feel so small?" She blushed, struggling to think of a sufficient answer without bearing her soul. "Um... because I think about how tiny and insignificant I must be when I compare myself to the cosmos and the heavens. It reminds me that I'm only human, and not to think of myself higher than others," she said with a smile. She would not allow herself to think another thought, afraid of what would happen if she did.

Malfoy gave her an odd look, his eyebrows raised and the corners of his lips indented into his cheeks in a half-smirk. She blushed and looked at the telescope.

"Is this the school's telescope?" she asked, saying the first thing that came to mind. Malfoy snorted. "Hardly," he said.

"It's yours?" she asked, pushing her hair behind her shoulders.

"More or less," he said with a shrug. Her eyes traveled to the small stone barrier that separated the two from the free-fall to the ground. She noticed how smooth and worn the slate colored stones were from age and weather. They were strong, but welcoming and not intimidating. Ginny longed to be like that. "It's my father's, but God knows he never uses it," he said, admiring the telescope. Ginny nodded slightly. Malfoy silently toyed with the idea that she was jealous of such an expensive and powerful telescope like his, but quickly discarded it. He knew she was not the type to submit to jealousy.

"So..." Malfoy trailed off, looking at her. "Did you have a good day?"

Ginny blinked her eyes slowly and cocked her head to the side. "Hardly," she answered. Her hair tumbled in defiant and exotic waves down her shoulders. Malfoy looked at them and admired the color. It was the same color as his favorite planet, Mars.

"No?" he answered in surprise. "I thought you Weasleys were the happy-go-lucky kind of family, always having a good, if not great, almost perfect, day and smiling at everyone 'til they knock your teeth out."

The demons that were subtly laced in Malfoy's words attacked Ginny's sanity inside her head. 'Why aren't you like that?!' they demanded to know. 'Why aren't you like the rest of your 'happy-go-lucky' family, Ginny?' They supplied the answer for her. 'It's because you're not like them. You're the black sheep, the outcast. They're ashamed to have you in their family. They don't like you, but they tolerate you. They can't wait until next year, when you'll finally be out of their care.'

Slowly, she brought her hands up to her ears and plugged it as if she could plug out their voices, their jeers, their abusive words. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Malfoy looked at her, trying to imagine what could be going on in her head. He had seen insane people before, tortured by his father under his father's wand. They would lie on the ground in spasms, kicking themselves, pulling their hair, and yelling for an end. His father laughed when they did that. He did too.

But Malfoy was, in the tiniest bit, a little frightened. Ginny Weasley had touched evil and lived. She had an inner strength that was impressive and awe-inspiring, urging her to live each day. But now she was boarderlining insanity. She was cracking.

At the same time, he was both intrigued and perplexed by her. What was it that was tormenting her? He resolved to find out.

Her brown eyes bore straight ahead, but Malfoy could tell that she was not looking at him. Her breathing quickened and one hand now covered her ear. The other, he noticed, was clenched in a fist.

She shook her head, her red hair moving from side to side. He could see her lips moving, struggling to form words. She screamed furiously. "They're not ashamed. I'm not like them! I don't have to be for them to love me!" Her eyes were squinted shut, and she was breathing hard. In a moment, it passed, and she looked up at him and blushed.

"I - I better be going," she said, biting her lip. She did not dare meet his eyes. She was sure that he had a superior grin on his face, a malicious flash in his eyes. Instead, he had stepped away, his hands out in front of him. He watched her leave hurriedly with her head bent down as if she had been scolded, and she slammed the heavy wooden door shut behind her.

Numbly, he turned to the telescope and began to take it apart. He had expecting to view an exceptionally bright Mars tonight, but instead he had seen something brighter and more mysterious, but all the more intriguing.

A glimpse of Ginny Weasley's soul.