Beautiful Eyes

Your beautiful eyes

Stare right into my eyes.

And sometimes I think of you late at night

I don't know why

I want to be somewhere where you are.

- Taylor Swift

Harry Potter. He was nothing like she imagined. He was unremarkable, first of all. Just a boy – barely older than she was, skinny as a string bean, insecure and clearly lost. Harry Potter – Harry Potter – was a name spoken with reverence and awe that she'd heard her whole life. She pictured someone strong, intimidating – dangerous, maybe – but skinny? Wearing oversized clothes and poorly mended glasses?

And those eyes.

Her heart sped up just thinking about them. Underneath the ridiculous mop of hair and the terrified expression, those eyes were the most piercing shade of green she'd ever seen. Before she even knew his name, he'd glanced at her and given her the funniest feeling in the center of her chest. And when Fred and George announced to everyone that he was Harry Potter, she begged her mum for a closer look.

Not because he was Harry Potter, but because she wanted that feeling in her chest back. She wanted it always. And she wished, lying in bed that night, that she could do anything other than relive the brief moment his eyes had met hers.

When Ron's letters arrived – infrequent as they were – she found herself riveted by any mention of him. She dreamt of long summers with Harry Potter (because Harry felt strange, still) and late night chats at the Burrow. She would show him their gardens and the pond nearby and the clearing they played Quidditch in.

Then, next year, they would return to Hogwarts together. She could see him every day if she liked.

Ginny sighed. She unfolded her last letter from Ron and reread it. She skimmed the parts about the obnoxious girl, Hermione, and the ghastly potions teacher, and reread her favorite part –

"Harry's muggle relatives are barmy – I reckon he should come stay with us next summer. You'll love him, Gin. His humor reminds me of you sometimes."

It was a delicious picture. Ginny smiled, closed her eyes, and promptly fell asleep.

Things I'll Never Say

I stutter, I stumble -

Like I've got nothing to say.

I'm feeling nervous

Trying to be so perfect

Cause I know you're worth it.

- Avril Lavigne

Ginny yawned and wondered what woke her up.

Crash!

She rolled her eyes and silently cursed whoever'd made mum angry. Molly only ever clattered around the kitchen this violently when someone did something truly out of line. Normally, it was the twins.

She stretched, pulled on her dressing gown, and padded slowly down the stairs.

"Don't know what you were thinking of! Never would have believed it!"

Heavy silence followed each of her mum's outbursts.

"I don't blame you dear. Arthur and I have been worried about you, too."

Her next words were lost in the clamor of pots and pans, but Ginny's curiosity was piqued. Who would have been part of something that angered Molly but still escaped her wrath?

"…illegal car halfway across the country – anyone could have seen you!"

Ginny gasped. What in Merlin's name could she be talking about?

"It was cloudy, Mum!"

"You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!"

"They were starving him, Mum!"

This was a scene straight out of a bizarre dream she might have. The twins took the car? And flew it?

"And you!"

Ginny rounded the corner and shrieked. Harry Potter – green eyes, tousled hair and all – sat innocently at her kitchen table.

In the next instant, she dove back behind the wall.

Her heart raced as her brain tried to process everything she'd just seen and heard. And now she'd made a complete arse of herself! She pressed her ear to the wall as she heard her name in Ron's low murmur.

All she could make out, however, was "Ginny … sister … all summer."

She'd heard enough and, blushing furiously, she fled to her room. By the time she slammed her door shut, the tears overflowed. Couldn't they at least given her some warning? She supposed he'd stay the rest of the summer – ruddy perfect – her birthday was in a week and a half. Yesterday, she would have said that Harry Potter's presence in her home would have been the perfect birthday present. Now, however, it was clear that it was going to be a disaster.

It took over an hour for Ginny to pluck up the courage to face the world again. Then, she had to wait for mum's screaming to subside – poor dad – before she could emerge. She hoped her mum would wrap it up soon – she was starving. She ducked into a third landing room with the most honest mirror in the house, which told her that she looked lovely and barely splotchy at all. "Barely splotchy" was just going to have to do – her stomach groaned loudly.

"I'm going to talk to him. He's just a boy. He's just another of Ron's stupid friends. I'm going to talk to him."

"If you say so, dearie."

Ginny glared at the mirror. "You don't believe me? Just wait. I'm not some stupid, moon eyed pansy. I'm not afraid of a boy. Even Harry Potter."

Resolve heightened, she spun on her heel and marched to the door. She swung it open, and her eyes fell on a mess of black hair and startling green eyes.

Before she could stop it, her arm slammed the door shut, and she collapsed against the back of it, mortified.

"Ginny … you don't know how weird it is for her to be this shy. She never shuts up normally."

Ginny heard Ron's words through the wood and they did nothing to help. She put her head in her lap, moaned, and then made herself feel a bit better by picturing the various ways in which she could persuade the twins to hex Ron.

"Cheer up, love. At least this time you didn't shriek at the boy."

She looked up at the mirror – way too honest, now that she thought about it – and wondered how she might turn herself invisible so she could sneak down to the kitchen for some food.