Harry would never have put it this way to himself, but he sometimes missed the days where Ginny was starstruck by him. He could do without the watching him from afar and the intense silences and the timidness, sure. But he'd liked the twinkle in her eyes as she watched him do anything, the way she would smile when he said anything to her. But after the summers he'd spent at the burrow, the common room dinners, her dating other boys... The novelty must've worn off.
She looked at him like he was an extra brother now. His fifth year moodiness and prophecy secrets probably didn't help things either. He wanted her to look at him with some kind of wonder, admiration... Or even lust.
Harry pondered the best way to get Ginny to look at him, to make her desire him. He didn't want to mess with her brain (since he'd seen a young merope in the pensieve, he was wary of any and all love potions) but he thought that getting himself some improvements wouldn't be cheating. Much. Wasn't magic basically cheating in the first place, anyway ?
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