You love Harry. You think that maybe you've always loved Harry. Since the moment you first met him, anyhow. That day when your Mum helped him get onto platform 9 and 3/4 - when it was still going to be a year before you'd join all your brothers at Hogwarts.

You hadn't thought too much of him at the time, didn't know who he was. But then one of the twins - you couldn't remember which one, sometimes they were so alike - ran back from the train to inform your Mother that it had been him- Harry Potter - the boy who lived. You had felt your heart jump, and butterflies in your stomach. It had felt like destiny. Some day, you were going to be someone. The Weasley family was going to have it's fame, and it would be you. You would be the wife of one of the most respected and brave wizards. You two would have beautiful children together, and a house with a white picket fence.

A year later, it had all coming crashing down. So suddenly, too. You didn't see it until it was right on top of you, you had been so love blind.

You're watching a Quidditch match, Gryffindor against Slytherin, when Harry gets the Snitch. Like everyone in the Gryffindor stands, you jump up and cheer. Harry flies over to where you're sitting, with Hermione and Ron, and then it happens. He leans close to Ron - not you - and whispers in his ear. No one else would be able to hear it, but you are sitting closely to your brother.

" Meet me in our room in ten minutes, okay? I feel like celebrating " It doesn't mean anything to you at the moment. Maybe Ron will even invite you to join the celebration - they may have chocolate or some other locked- away good up there.

Before dinner, you see them in the hallway together. They think that they're alone, and you decide not to let them know that they aren't. Harry looks around nervously, and kisses Ron. On the lips. Every thread of hope that you've held onto pulls tightly and then snaps. He loves Ron. Ron loves him. And suddenly, you hate Ron. The one that was your designated playmate as a child, who would sometimes tolerate playing tea party or dolls with you. The one who taught you how to play Quidditch, and fly a broom . You hate every atom of his existance. Harry was meant to kiss your lips! You're the Weasley that he's going to love!

You're so angry that you want to vomit. You watch them tear away from each other and open the doors to the Great Hall. You turn and run back to your room. Everything that you've held onto for the last two years has just died, bringing with it your sense of identity. You're not the-little-girl- in-love-with-Harry-Potter anymore, but the-little-girl-in-love-with-the-boy- that-loves-her-brother. You're so angry. You could have beared it if he had loved Hermione. Or Cho. Or any girl, for that matter. But Ron?!? How can he be the Weasley that is connected to Harry? The fame should be yours! you're going to be his wife, and give him beautiful red haired children!

And then, all of a sudden, it hits you. Like a bolt of lightning. You don't think that you've ever really loved Harry Potter. You've spent the last year of your life chasing after him in vain. You love his name and the infamy that comes along with it more than the person, you love those eleven letters more than his heart and soul.

You take a deep breath and sigh. Let Ron have him. Maybe you'll have Oliver Wood, instead. He is going to be a big Quidditch star someday...