AN: All recognisable characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
"We always end up doing the thing we are second best at."
- Marcel Proust.
He'd always been a minor character, never in the thick of things, always on the side. Sure, he got in on the action sometimes, but he was never center stage.
Quidditch had been one. He'd done well in his senior years, but Katie Bell had secured the spot. He had known that although Harry Potter had tried his best to be fair, four years of Quidditch experience was bound to have tipped the scales against him.
Studies had been another thing. In their house, only Hermione Granger had beaten him. No matter how hard he had tried or studied, she would always be ahead. But he had never felt jealous, or teased her, like their housemates, of her knowledge.
Dating Ginny Weasley had been perhaps the best period of his life in Hogwarts. She was pretty, popular, witty, good at Quidditch, brave, loyal, knew how to hold her own in a fight. But the way her friends had looked at them—at him—as though they had wished he was someone else, had not been lost on him.
Their wish had been granted soon enough, though, hadn't it? A few months after Ginny had graduated, she and Harry had married. He had been invited, and of course, he had attended. He had never felt bitter towards Harry. Admittedly, he had lost his cool when Harry had first kissed Ginny, but that was only because he had been prickly about Ginny dumping him. It had come as a surprise, that was all.
Dean had gotten married, himself, to Lavender Brown. If he had to be honest, he had felt some feelings for Hermione, but he had quashed them before they could grow. He had been amongst the many who saw Hermione and Ron's denial.
Lavender had left him three years and two children later, for his best friend Seamus Finnegan. But he had never felt sorry for himself; he had had two beautiful children out of his marriage. He had never felt jealous of his best friend; after all, it had been Seamus who had picked up the Ron-broken Lavender and fixed her up. It had only been Dean who had plucked up his courage and had asked to date her.
When his daughters had decided to live with their mother, he hadn't tried to make them stay. He had known they needed to be looked after by someone with the 'female touch' once they got to that age. He had visited them regularly, and had always made it enjoyable, never once trying to turn his daughters against their mother.
His first grand-daughter had been born seven years later. Her first word had been "Mama", and "Gramma" had come before "Grampa". But he hadn't minded, as long as she had flashed her beautiful smile.
But as he watched Lavender get their third grand-daughter ready for bed, he felt the first twinge of sadness, of longing.
For once, he wanted to be preferred, instead of a fall-back plan. Maybe he'd given the people he cared about too much freedom, afraid of restraining them and having them think that he was clingy. Maybe they thought he didn't care to try.
For the first time in sixty years, he felt regret.
"No," little Mia whined. "I want Grampa to read me a story."
The light re-entered his old eyes as he smiled. It didn't matter if he was the best or not; his grandchildren loved him all the same.
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.
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AN:
Written for Indy-x's Second Best Challenge.
Review your thoughts and opinions.