The Cameo
Judy0902
She was, is and forever will be, just a cameo in his life. There were the main characters, her brother, Ron, the girl, Hermione. They are the regulars in his life, always around, always by him. After the main characters, there would be the supporting cast, Neville Longbottom, Dumbledore, even her brothers and parents. They appear, not always, but they will always be there in his mind, not at the front, but not just a rusty old memory of a little red headed girl who dropped her porridge on the ground.
Of course, next to the main characters, they would need someone to make them look heroic, good, brave, everything that they strive to be, what they were born for, and who might that person be? The antagonist, that is. It's not like she never noticed the antagonist. She had, several times actually. It is quite hard to not notice him with the platinum blonde hair, dark gray eyes, and pale pink lips that always curls up in a smirk, or down in a sneer. He never smiles, it would ruin his image, he is the antagonist, after all. But she couldn't help but wonderm just wonderm what a smile would look like with his pale aristocratic features, breath-taking. She presumed.
As much she noticed him, she knew, he would never notice her. She was just a cameo, in the backgrounds of the people who mattered's lives. A girl to see and forget, a girl who's main purpose is to stay in the background. Sure he wasn't the hero, the prince charming. But she knew in her heart that the antagonist wouldn't even notice her. She was truly pitiful by the standards of her world. The only one who haven't ever had any accomplishments. The girl who's biggest dream was to just simply admire the hero from afar without anyone noticing her.
She doesn't do crowds of people, she prefers to walk alone. She doesn't push or shove she slips in and out. She fades into the background perfectly, she's not a wall flower, she is the wall behind the fancy wall paper. She rarely trips or falls, if she does, she gets up quietly. Her life is a routine, repeated every single day. She doesn't like the spotlights on her, she just doesn't have the courage to face the crowd, she'd rather be in the crowd than up on the stage, with all the eyes focused on her. She's just not the type of person to be talked about. She'd rather sit there quietly listening to other people talk.
The routine goes on and on, day after day, night after night. She will forever remain the same. But she fell down, down and down she goes, down quite a few steps of stairs , down into the cold dark dungeon. But she always gets up by herself when she falls, but not this time, she's just too tired and hurt to even walk a step, so she fell again, right into a pair of pale arms, and she looked up into a equally as pale face with an eyebrow raised.
"If it wasn't the littlest one." The boy said, "What are you doing in the deep dark Slytherin dungeons? Having a little adventure perhaps? I know for a fact that all the Griffidors are foolish enough to do anything their little brain could think of.
He smirked, perhaps waiting for her reponse, he wanted a good bicker, and he was going to get one by the looks of this girl, a Weasley too. But the girl just simply slumped more in his grasp. The boy frowned, his tone getting softer. "What happened to your spunk, Weasley? I thought all Weasleys had it, where did it go?"
The girl shook her head, said in a voice so miniscule and thin, "I'm not like the other people in my family. I don't like to be noticed for my anything. I like to keep down."
The boy's frown got deeper, only then did he realize the paleness of the girl's skin, and the freckles that stood out from it. He began to set the girl on her feet to see if anything else is wrong but then regretted it because the second he let her go, she collapsed.
"Weasley, oh hell, are you okay?" The boy shouted, no longer caring about himself, but more about the pale girl infront of him.
The girl tried to get up, but then her world went black. The boy felt very faint, as he remembered how the girl with the flaming red hair got to the dungeons, she fell.
The next thing the girl saw was whiteness. The whiteness of the beds, the whiteness of the ceilings, everything in white. The nurse passed her a note, her eyes adjusting to the black ink, contrasting to the whiteness of the paper, she read.
Weasley,
I noticed you. I've always liked you, for your spunk. But now, it's slowly fading, get it back before it goes away for real.
DM
And the girl did, bit by bit.
AN: Because I didn't want to think it was Hermione who helped Ginny get a backbone.