Always in your shadow. Never in your light. Your world revolves around the girl with all the brains and might.
--
You walk into the great hall, a tired scowl across your face. I open my mouth to torment you, to make you look my way. But as I do you quicken your pace and take a seat beside her, the long brown haired mudblood, who's stolen all your attention.
Do you even notice the weasel? How he glares at you so, it's as if you've forgotten him completely as you two laugh amongst yourself. Do you notice the red haired girl? The freckled weasly child? As she sits down across from you with a solemn smile, waiting for yours in return. But you, oh you're to caught up in yourself to notice anyone else.
--
All we are are shadows, shadows of yourself.
--
To you we are all shadows, simple figures that blend in with the darkness. That darkness that surrounds you. You laugh amongst the three of you, with your mudblood and weasel at your table, you never let your eyes wonder, you never let them leave what your so focused on, cause nothing else matters, but you. So you keep smiling, keep lauging... and you never bother to look up and see me, see me starring at you.
--
We've all heard it before, everyone, your tale of your life-long story, told like a fariytale. The one-year-old who defeated you-know-who with nothing more then a lightning bold scar as proof.
I knew who you were far before you even did, I knew more about you then I ever wanted too. And I bet I still know more about you then you do, like how you eat one thing at a time, starting with your meat and last with your vegtables, or how you always have your arms swinging in the opposite direction as you walk, how you always swipe your hair back and push up on your glasses when your nervous.
But no matter how much I, or anyone else notices, you notice none of us. To you, we are nothing more then your shadows... and I should know.
--
'Draco, eat your carrots, Harry Potter ears his Carrots' 'Draco don't run in the house! Do you think Harry Potter runs in the house?' 'Do you think Harry Potter writes on the walls?' 'Harry Potter does his chores' 'Harry Potter cleans his room.' 'Harry Potter, Harry Potter, Harry Potter.'
--
When you walk past, I stop, watching as you walk past, and waiting for you to turn, turn and look at me, to notice me. But never do you, no, because you don't need to notice me, becaue to you, I am no one. And so I open my mouth, but I don't know what to say, and does it matter? Would you even look may way? Would my words even reach you? So instead I insult you, throwing out a destructive Comment: 'Mudblood' or 'weasel' or 'Petty Potter', something about your mother and father. Anything for your attention. Because even though you hate me now, and even though you hit me, and attack me with any curse you can throw, it's alot better then being nothing, because now if you look back, and now if you hear my name, you'll feel something, something for me, even if it is hatred, at least it's something...and to me, that's everything.