Things I'll Never Say

I'm tugging at my hair,

I'm pulling at my clothes

I checked out my reflection in the greenhouse window on the way down to the first Quidditch match of the season. I love Quidditch, but today there was a different motivation to my watching, and it would be riding a broomstick. I was so nervous, I don't know why, it wasn't like he'd be paying any attention to me- not that he does anyway-because he'd be concentrating on finding the Snitch. I looked at my reflection, this time in the lake. Was my hair alright? My robes straight? I adjusted my Gryffindor scarf around my neck. It clashed horribly with my hair.

I'm trying to keep my cool,

I know it shows.

I'm staring at my feet,

My cheeks are turning red,

I'm searching for the words inside my head

The team passed me on the way to the stadium. I caught his eye and turned bright red. I tried to wish him luck, but decided against it at the last moment-all that came out was a squeak. He raised an eyebrow at me, and then passed into the stadium.

I have a wonderful knack of embarrassing myself every time I see him.

I'm feeling nervous,

Trying to be so perfect

Cos I know you're worth it, yeah

I try to be brilliant at everything, to be so good I'd be irresistible. However, I'm in the year below him-he doesn't notice. Even though I get good marks in the end of year exams, he won't see, because the marks are posted in the Entrance Hall with the rest of the year so you can be compared. Quidditch is the only way I can get noticed. Unfortunately, last year, I didn't exactly feel his eyes on me from the crowd.

Sometimes I wonder if he's worth all the effort. He is. He can play Quidditch, he gets pretty good marks, he's so handsome...what more could a girl ask for?

Him to like me back, that's what.

If I could say what I want to say,

I'd say I want to blow you away,

Be with you every night,

Am I squeezing you too tight?

If I could say what I want to see,

Want to see you go down,

On one knee,

Marry me today,

Guess I'm wishing my life away,

With these things I'll never say.

I really should get over this silly little crush. I mean, it's not as if anything's going to come from it, is it?

I settled down in my seat and allowed myself to drift into a daydream involving him sweeping me out of the stands into the air, yelling, "I LOVE GINNY WEASLEY!"

Which won't happen. Ever.

It don't do me any good,

It's just a waste of time,

What use is it to you what's on my mind?

Hermione sat next to me, making me jump. She eyed me suspiciously. I immediately plastered on a fake grin, which seemed to satisfy her.

"Here to see Ron?" I asked.

"Yeah. I hope he's got over his nervousness-I mean, I'm here to see Harry, too." She turned red.

"Oh, don't worry, 'Mione. Ron's name wouldn't be first on my lips either." She looked at me quickly.

"Still not over that?"

I merely looked out over the pitch, where the game, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, was about to begin.

If it ain't coming out,

We're not going anywhere,

So why can't I just tell you that I care?

Because it'll be very embarrassing, that's why.

The game was over in minutes. Gryffindor won 150-0, because Harry caught the Snitch so quickly.

I made my way back to the castle slowly. Hermione said she was waiting for Ron and Harry, but I was willing to bet Harry would get in way before them.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned, expecting my friend Erica.

I was most certainly not expecting the object of my affections.

What's wrong with my tongue?

These words keep slipping away

I stutter,

I stumble,

But I've got nothing to say...

"Uh." I managed, unable to believe he had initiated a conversation with me. Very articulate, Ginny, well done.

"Hi," he said, looking almost as nervous as I felt.

"You-you flew well today, Draco," I stuttered.

"Hmm," he said sceptically, "shame I didn't get the Snitch though. That being the whole point of Quidditch." He tugged at his green robes, to get an invisible crease out of them. He bit his lip. "Ginny, I mean, you, I mean..." he stopped, and we were both very aware that we had just called each other by our first names. "You fly well," he said lamely.

There was a short silence, in which we just looked into each other's eyes.

And as his hand found mine, I realised that there was no need to say anything.