Disclaimer: Okay, I may be a stupid American, but even I know that I don't own the Potterverse, *tear* but I'll settle for messing around with it and (like I'm doing now) adding in moments that I feel were... forgotten.

WARNING: Told from Voldemort's point of view. That being said, if you hate Voldemort, even with a fiery passion of a googolplexillion suns, you should still read this; many of my friends that read this and a few complained about Voldemort being OOC.

From Me, At Least

He was weak. It was sickening, how dependent he, the only person to ever defeat me, that he was so dependent on another to make himself feel whole.

He was in immense distress. It pulled me into his mind.

She's lying on the hospital bed, still unconscious from taking a Bludger to the head. Half of her flaming hair is covered by a sterile white bandage, courtesy of a Ravenclaw Beater, a friend of that vile, evil little bitch, Cho Chang. I never should have agreed to sharing the Quidditch Pitch with them, especially not with the upcoming match for the Quidditch Cup. Idiot! And now Ginny's paying for it.

Merlin, I hate myself.

I'm – no. Not me. Harry. - holding her hand tightly, gripping onto it as if my life depends on it – as if her life depends on it.

It's getting dark. Hermione drags Ron off to the Great Hall for dinner. She tries to convince me to go, too, but I can't. I can't even pretend to be hungry, not when I don't know if Ginny's okay.

The stained glass window behind the bed casts an eerie green light around her. It dances across her hair, and, for a second, all I can think of is her – not the helpless little eleven-year-old, but her – laying on the cold Chamber floor, fading fast, and I can't save her.

She's dying, right in front of me, right there, on the freezing stone, and I can't stop it.

But you did, a small voice reminds me, and I see a flash of Godric Gryffindor's sword plunging into thee basilisk's head – My poor baby! - and a fang getting stuck in my arm, but that didn't matter – it had never mattered, so long as Ginny was safe. She is. You saved her.

Yeah, she's fine. She's okay. I know she's okay. I see her. In my memory, I see her.

At the Yule Ball, dancing with Neville. I remember being jealous of him, because he was dancing with her. Merlin, she was pretty. Of course, I was still lusting after Cho Chang at that point – I was an idiot – but I would have much rather taken Ginny than whichever Patil twin I had ended up going with.

At the D.A. Meetings last year. She took every chance she had to show her brothers up – at everything.

At the Ministry. Fourteen-year-old Ginny fearlessly faced the Death Eaters because of my stupid bloody dream. She was there, fighting, firing off curses and hexes and jinxes, limping along on her broken ankle. All because of my bloody dream!

At Christmas. I was hiding, afraid of what everyone thought of me. I, as a snake, I had attacked Mr. Weasley, and I was scared that I was being possessed by Voldemort – Me? Yeah, well, I guess, it was possible... - and she... she was the one to remind me that I wasn't the only one to go through it, that he had possessed her – Wait, what? I did? Huh, I don't remember that... She reminded me that it wasn't over.

After the trial. Ginny and the twins just kept yelling, "HE GOT OFF!". She didn't even seem upset about her birthday being forgotten the day before. Ginny honestly just seemed happy that I didn't get expelled. Maybe she really was happy for me – I think she was, at the time, at least – but as I found out later that night, she's good at hiding things she doesn't want anyone to see.

Dating Micheal. He was never good enough for her. At the time, I thought it was just because she was like a little sister to me. This year, though, with Dean, I felt the same thing, but I knew it was for a very different reason. Hearing their arguments was always hard for me, and rather bittersweet. Of course, I was happy that there was trouble in "paradise", but Ginny was always depressed, and, even though she tried to hide it, I could tell she cried. A lot. That made me angry. Ginny should never cry. No one should ever do anything to make her cry. No one should ever be able to hurt someone so perfect. Anyone that can deserves to die. Whenever they were fighting, I had to convince myself that that wasn't true every time I saw Dean asleep across the room. It was so hard to keep myself from strolling leisurely across our dorm and strangling him in his sleep. But that would have upset Gin even more.

Playing Quidditch. Another thing she'd taken up for the sole purpose of proving to her brothers that she could, but had found a real talent and love for. Ginny wants to play professionally, and she could, she really could, if it weren't for this stupid war. Right now, she can only play within the safe confines of Hogwarts. That's okay with her, for now , and more than okay with me. Seeing her hair flying behind her like a flaming wave at practice, or even a match, makes I hard to keep my eyes, my mind, on the Snitch...

Somewhere in his quest to assure himself that she was alive, Harry drifted off to sleep, still clutching Ginny's hand. His hold on me relaxed to the point where I could leave if I wanted to, but I didn't. I kept watching, transfixed, as he dreamt .

I watched as he found himself in a bright, flowery meadow, laying on in the tall grass with the pretty redhead. She was asleep in his arms, wearing a short, summery white dress.

She stirred and large brown eyes blinked up at Harry. A smile spread across his face as he plucked a nearby daisy from the ground and tucked it behind her ear, brushing her hair back with it. He gently kissed her forehead. She flung her arms around him, like she was about to kiss him – quite passionately, might I add – but she didn't.

Instead, she took full advantage of her balled-up fists to dump two handfuls of grass blades down his shirt. She used his momentary shock to spring up and run, barefoot, across the meadow, laughing as she went.

He caught up with her quickly and tackled her – gently, of course! - twisting in mid-air so that he landed on his back with her wrapped safely in his arms. Ginny giggled as Harry reached up behind her and sprinkled her with blades of grass like it was confetti.

They went on doing their couple-ly stuff, like Harry counting and kissing every one of the – his word, not mine – adorable freckles on her face. All in all, it wasn't the worst dream he could have had about a girl, him being a teenage boy. In fact, it was probably one of the best, most innocent, happiest dreams he could have about Ginny. I zoned out, letting him have his romantic dream without my intrusive eye. He wouldn't want me there.

But I was glad I was. Here was a boy who everything had been taken from – that I had taken everything from – parents, family, home – and yet, he still retained the ability to love.

Not just love, like how he felt about his friends, or his redheaded friend's family, or even his godfather, but real, honest-to-Merlin love. The kind where you care about a person more than anything else in the world.

When you put their every need, their every want, before your own.

When you want to be where they are, simply because they are there.

When nothing is as important as their happiness, not even your own.

When you know, if they were gone, you'd have nothing to loose.

I knew how that felt. I knew how desperate you become when a love like that is lost. The logical side of me knew that a desperate Harry could ruin everything, but that's not what was controlling me right then.

It was my heart – contrary to popular belief, I actually did have one, once upon a time. An echo of the compassion, the understanding, I once had, cried out , begging me to leave this beautiful thing alone, and I... I listened.

I knew I'd have to kill him, one day. But that didn't mean I was looking forward to it.

I'd taken everything away from this kid, and he didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve that I was going to kill him some day, but this? This happiness, this beauty, this love? This, he did deserve. I couldn't guarantee that I'd never hurt him again, that I'd never take anyone away from him again, but I swore to myself, right then and there, that I would never ruin this.

He jerked awake and I was pulled back into his head.

Ginny's hand slips from mine. I'm awake in half a panicked heartbeat, afraid something bad is happening. Thank Merlin, she's still there, groggily wiping her eyes. When she opens them, she blinks, apparently surprised I'm here. "Harry?" she asks hoarsely.

"Hey, Gin," I say, handing her the glass of water Madam Pomfrey left on her nightstand before I brush her hair be hind her ear, just like I did in my dream. I love you, I want to add, but I don't. I'm too afraid to. So I just plaster a small smile on my face instead. "How are you feeling?"

"Like somebody hit me in the head with a Bludger," Ginny complained grumpily, but there was a glimmer of... something in her beautiful brown eyes. "Do you think they realize that I'll retaliate on Saturday?"

"Well, there go our chances of loosing. They really should know better than to mess with a Weasley, especially Ginny Weasley, the week before playing Gryffindor for the Quidditch Cup. Really, what in Merlin's name were they thinking?" I laugh. "I should probably go and tell Madam Pomfrey that you're okay."

"Umm-kay," she sighs, settling back down on her pillows and closing her eyes again.

I really do love her.

I know you do, Harry, I thought, and, for that reason, I will never harm her.

From me, at least, she is safe.

Ta-de! My very first Fan Fic. Please review, even if you hated it – that's kinda what I'm expecting from anyone , anyway... Anyway, flames are good! I can take the flames and make s'mores and then send those mental s'mores to everyone that reviews, even the evil flame-givers!

So, I hinted at a few stories that I'm planning. Anyone figure out what they were?

Oh, twell, I'm done with my rant and my boring story, so...

See ya!

Forever, With My Love,

Me