Looking in, Looking out

I always found her staring out a window, or at one of the paintings whose subject had abandoned the frame. I always wanted to tiptoe up to her, whisper her name into her ear. I imagined that she would turn to me, and look me in the eye. Look me in the eye the way she never had before. She wouldn't turn away. She'd smile, and blush the way all the Weasleys do. I never had the courage to do that. I would just sit down beside her, wait for her to notice me.

"Oh, Colin," she'd say, always blushing just a little. I imagined that I had interrupted a schoolgirl's dreams of the handsome Harry Potter. I spent my first three years wishing I could be him. Just so Ginny would notice me. I followed him with my camera, hoping to capture whatever it was that made him so appealing to Ginny. I would watch the film develop, see Harry spill his pumpkin juice or dodge a bludger. What was it that made him so much better to Ginny than me?

I'd take her picture too. I kept them in a box with an auburn hair that she left on a library chair. Luckily I had brought a good lock with me, no one could break into my little box of Ginny, my little box of sunshine. Jacob had tried to get into it once, he had cursed and hexed but that did nothing to a simple lock. If I had to share her with Harry I wasn't going to let anyone else have the tiniest bit of her. She had passed me a note in potions once. It was simple:

Colin

How much wolfsbane am I supposed to put in this stupid cauldron?

~Ginny

P.S. Snape is a prat.

She had charmed it to burn up after I had read it. She tried to seem bold, insulting Professor Snape, but she was actually terrified of him. I had blocked the charm, but a teeny corner had been charred.

Today will be different. When I find her I won't wait for her to talk. I'll talk to her first. Maybe I'll have the courage to ask her to Hogsmeade this weekend.

She's sitting in an armchair, and it looks like she's watching Quidditch practice. My little brother is trying to get the quaffle in, but Ron's a darn good keeper. Harry's whizzing around, apparently practicing his quick turns. "I bet we'll knock the sense out of Ravenclaw next week. Looks like they're having a good practice, right Gin?" I had called her Gin, how casual of me. Gin. I like it. I hope she does.

"What?" Ginny shook her head, and looked up at me confused. Oh bother, what do I say to that?

"Well," I stuttered a bit, "I was just saying how good our quidditch team is this year."

"Oh yeah, really great," she said. She hadn't looked me in the eye yet. I was used to seeing her eyes that way, turned away I watched the light shine through them.

"Did you want something Colin?" she said, pulling me out of my examination of her irises.

"Oh, well, uh." Courage Colin! Courage! "I was just wandering if you wanted to head down to dinner early." Not the best save ever, but not too bad.

"I'm not hungry," she looked back out the window. I would never be as captivating as Harry it seemed. I had to pull myself out of this mess.

"Can I bring you a sandwich for later then?" That might do the trick.

"I guess, I like ham and..."

"chedder, tomatoes, no mustard." Oh, well, maybe I shouldn't have interrupted her. Ugh, now she'll think I'm weird. Creepy Creevey she'll call me. Oh, bad call Colin.

"um, yes."

"I'll see you later then," escape Colin! Escape! Oh, I've really blown it this time. Hmmph. I'll go drown my sorrows in pumpkin juice and crisps.

When I got back she was still staring at the window. Harry had come in from practice, straight to dinner. He wiped the sweat off his brow, revealing the scar and started chatting with Hermione. She teased him about smelling like sweat and Quidditch, and Ron put his arm around her, teasing her in return. I excused myself, jealous of their ease and comfort. Why is she still staring out the window?

"Hey Ginny, brought you your sandwich. I coaxed Dobby into giving me a meringue, I thought you might like it."

"You can just leave it on the table."

"Are you okay, Gin?" She seemed sad, even farther away than usual.

"I just always get sad this time of year," she stared out the window again. A tear slid down her cheek. I tried to remember what was so special about the early fall, I thought about my first year. Early fall reminded me of Quidditch and the sorting hat, falling.

"What's so sad about fall Gin?" She whispered something nearly unperceivable.

"What?"

"The diary," she said. Finally looking me in the eye I froze. She looked empty. The tearstains shined down her cheeks, dampening her freckles. What could I say to that? I didn't know how I could make her feel better. I had never been manipulated that way; I wouldn't know where to start. And then I hugged her. Instinct, it seemed, had kicked in.

"I'm sorry Ginny, he's gone now. He can't make you do anything anymore." Where did I find these words? I had never thought about him, his relationship with Ginny. I suppose I was too scared to. "It's okay Gin, it's okay."

"I remember opening it for the first time, so excited to have something all my own. We could never afford one before. I finally had one, and it tore me apart." I patted her hair. Now I really was lost. I'll just try to be quiet, let her talk.

The painting swung open then, I could hear Ron's laugh and the fat lady chatting with her friend. And then it was quiet. Feet quit tromping in.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" Ron ran over, grabbing her, pulling her from my arms. "What's wrong Gin? Do we need to owl mum?"

I was suddenly cold without Ginny next to my skin. There I was, on the outside looking in again. Sighing I stood up and headed to my dorm. At least I had held her once.

And then I heard through her sobs, "I miss Tom."