Watcher

Watcher

I am always a watcher, Draco. I know you see me. You know I see you. I love you because I watch you, Draco.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see you smile. When I reach up to flick a piece of copper hair out of my eyes, I catch a glimpse of you laughing. When I'm carrying my bag to class, when I "drop" it in front of you, you look in my eyes, false confusion etched into your face.

I know you know: I'd give my life for you. I may still be Innocent Little Girl on the outside, but on the inside it's the thoughts I have for you that make me quite different, quite the opposite of innocent.

I want to know you'll be there when I look behind me, and not the other way around. I stay behind you always, hoping you'll fall so I can catch you. But you always were graceful, you'd never let yourself even stumble.

I watch, and I see. I see that look you give Pansy when you think no one else is looking, the look that shouts "my room, midnight." And I see her giggle and blush, throwing her hand across her stuck-up nose in mock knowledge. She knows nothing. She claims she loves you but love is a dangerous word to play with. She doesn't know what love is, but I do. Pick me, Draco, the small girl with the auburn hair and dark eyes, the one behind you. Turn around. That's all I ask of you: turn around and be graced by my presence, and follow me. Walk with me.

I'm a girl who gets what she wants; I just don't always know what I want. Like when I wanted Harry. And I got Harry, and I hated him. That was years ago, Love, and I was so ignorant. I see now the sickening kindness to him. He makes me gag.

But you, you're perfect, a jewel among the sand, a diamond in the rough. That's the only reason why people hate you. But hate is also a dangerous word to play with. They really should love you for being so perfect, like I do. Know that I love you for your charm, beauty, strength. I do not know you, but I watch. And observation leads to knowledge. I have become quite knowledgeable.

Do you even know my name, Draco? It's Ginny. Ginny Weasley. But do not be tricked by my surname. I am not a fool like my brothers. I know enough to tell them nothing because they are worth nothing. I know this because I watch, Draco. I stay in my corner and I watch. I learn and I watch.

What surprises me--well, not surprises--nothing surprises me--what I wish, though, is that you would do something about the knowledge you hold. You know that I love you; why not give me a try? I'm free anytime.

I think you secretly love me, too. It might be deep down in your icy heart, but the feeling is true and it's there.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

You hurt, Draco. You stung and you twisted and you gave me--no, granted me--pain. Blissful pain. So after that one night of warped paradise, you left me and went trotting back to Pansy. She never knew, the stupid prat. But you still loved me. I knew because I watched. I watched when you didn't even know I was there. I have become sneaky like that. And my eyes will never betray me. I know you long for my touch as much as I long for yours. Make me bleed, Draco, make me bleed again and do it for you because you deserve it. And I love you.

But people found out about us. You must have told them; you cannot blame it on me, for I am a watcher, and I see. I do not speak unless spoken to, and even then you might not hear my voice. But if you ever ask to hear my voice, a voice you have never heard, I will talk to you until you tell me to stop. I would sing for you, Draco, something I have never done. Force me to try new things, give me more pain.

Now when I walk the halls, I hear people mutter "slut" and "whore" in the air behind me back. You do not do or say anything about it, so I just look straight at them and I smile. I smile, and I nod, but I do not speak, for I am a watcher and I see.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

Ten lonely years have gone by, and my feelings have not changed. You come to me and give me my pain every so often. You come to me and you enter me, taking what I have built up of me from the last time you came. Then you grant me more pain and one last powerful kiss, biting down on my lips and making me scream, scraping your fingers down my back, and you leave, as quickly as you had come.

My brothers--all of them--are dead. I killed them, you know. I killed them with my own wand and my own smile, the one that you gave to me. I did it because it would make you laugh; your hatred for them was so great.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

I am no longer Innocent Little Girl. People do not know me by my name, but they know my face. And I know theirs. I am now Girl with the Troubled Eyes, but my eyes are not troubled. They are experienced, because I am a watcher, and I see.