She sat there. She wasn't doing all that much, just sitting there, chin on her open palm, elbow resting on the table in front of her. There was half a Butterbeer in front of her, but she wasn't going to finish it. For some reason it just wasn't helping. Most of the time the stuff gave her a wonderful feeling of warmth. Yet- for some reason- it wasn't doing it today.
She moved her palm from her chin to her forehead. Oh, what was the point, really? She stared at the table, disgusted with herself. She could be out with her friends. She could even be out with Colin right now; he had asked her to walk around with him. For some reason though, she had chosen to sit in the dark corner, alone.
In truth, she knew the reason. It was the same reason why the Butterbeer couldn't give her that little lift. She was in love.
"What a horrible fate," she muttered softly. Everyone always went on and on about how wonderful love was and how it made life so much more rewarding. But they weren't her. She felt like screaming, she felt like destroying something, she felt like throwing her half-empty bottle at the wall, but all she did was close her eyes. She squeezed them tight, trying as hard as possible not to let the tears fall, as she knew they would.
Love. It was a disgusting word to her. All it meant was that she had wasted almost five years of her life longing for a boy she knew she could never have. It wasn't fair! She knew she wasn't totally ugly. Sure, she wasn't as pretty as Cho Chang maybe, but it wasn't like she was hideous or anything. She could blame it on her brother, but really ... what was the use? The simple truth was he didn't want her. He had never wanted stupid, mousy, quiet, little Ginny, and he never would.
Overcome, she gave up and laid her head on the not overly clean table, tears sliding down her cheeks, and she wondered- how many times had she done this? She was fifteen! Had she really spent her entire time at Hogwarts waiting for him?
Why couldn't she just get over him? Other people did it all the time! She knew from talking to her friends that crushes come and go. People get over them, everyone but her apparently. None of her friends understood her need for this scrawny boy. They told her to find someone else, they tried hooking her up, and in the end they would just leave her to her dreams and depression when they had to.
As if he knew his cue, a voice above her said, "Ginny ... are you all right?"
"No, Harry," she said. "I'm not all right!" She raised her head, tear-filled eyes flashing. "I'm really not and do you know why?" He shook his head, totally lost, so she stormed on. "Because for years I have sat around watching you, waiting for you to come to me and you never came! You never came ... and ... you never will," she finished in a tone of hopelessness.
Or at least, that's what she felt like saying. Instead, she brushed the tears away, looked into those haunting green eyes and said, "Just tired. It's been a hard week."
"Yeah," he agreed. "It has been." He sat down across from her and leaned closer.
She caught her breath very slightly. He opened his mouth, decided that whatever he was going to say was wrong, and shut it again. He took her hand, squeezed it once and muttered,
"Don't wear yourself out okay? You need to... take better care of yourself. I don't want you getting sick." And he gave her hand one more quick squeeze and shot her a lopsided smile before leaving. And once he was gone, Ginny noticed that the warm feeling had finally shown up, but she didn't think it was the Butterbeer that had caused it...