Title: It's Always Raining

Author: Chosentwo4381

Email: chosentwo4381@yahoo.com

Feedback: Would make me happy

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Notes: I got this idea listening to Epiphany by Staind. You should download it if you don't have it. This is not a song fic. It is rather angsty though.

Rating: PG

Ginny's POV:

It's raining. I'm sitting in the window seat staring out across the lake. Without even looking around I know she is staring at me. Trying to figure me out; attempting to identify the problem so that it can be solved easily, like some arithmancy equation. Then my brother says something to her and she is once again a part of that world. That world that doesn't include me and leaves no space in her heart for someone that's not the youngest Weasley male or the Boy-who-Lived.  I tried to be part of that for so long. I feigned a crush on Harry Potter, because that was what was expected. Hero of the wizarding world, and handsome to boot, must be the perfect male specimen. If I can't fall in love with him, then there is no hope for me.

To her I'm not just Ron's little sister. I'm Virginia Weasley; Ginny for short. I'm her confidant when she can't talk to the boys about something. She can't stand Parvati and Lavender and their facades. She says I'm real to her. We were talking one night at the Burrow, both of us sitting on my bed, talking about what we wanted to do with the rest of our lives. After the war she wants to teach, either Defense against the Dark Arts or Muggle Studies, which she thinks should be mandatory if you aren't at least partially muggle-raised.  I told her that I wanted to write; poetry, novels, anything as long as I got to write. That's what got me into trouble with Tom. At the mention of his name she pulled me close for a hug, and after she released me, she tucked a strand of fiery red hair behind my ear and kissed me on the forehead. Sometimes when I concentrate, during those melancholy contemplative moments, I can feel the press of her soft, full lips against my skin.

I'm alone in the common room now; the rest of the house has gone down to dinner. She was the only one to stop and see if I wanted to go join them. I told her that I wasn't hungry. In reality I'm famished, but it's not food I'm starving for. It's her love, that I have no chance of having and cannot find the words to ask for even if I did. So, instead of sitting at the table, alone in the crowd of people that is supposed to be my family here, I stare out the window.

It is raining.

And my face is wet with tears.


Harry Potter

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