Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Really.
They all think I'm pathetic, annoying. A sort of tagalong that they have to be nice to because I'm "Ron's Little Sister." I don't want to be known as that. I want to be Ginny Weasley. Is that so hard to ask?
I have a crush on Harry Potter, the famous boy of Hogwarts. The boy that defeated Voldemort several times, and will do it again. In some terrifying moment of daring, I actually sent him a Valentine. Did he acknowledge it? Even a simple "thank you" would have appeased me.
Not one word.
Nothing at all.
I'm just that girl that follows him around. A pain, a bother, I suppose. He likes Cho Chang, I know. My heart breaks to see him look at her, his eyes full of longing and sadness, for he knows (yet still dreams) that she will not look back.
I know that look far too well.
I see it in my own eyes.
He will never return my look. Never. I know this to be true. I am just "Ron's Little Sister" to him.
Ron's Little Sister.
Why do I have a crush on Harry Potter? I honestly don't know. He's nothing special, besides being...well..Harry Potter. Is that why I like him? Because he's famous? Because his vast wealth could sustain my family for God knows how many years?
I know he doesn't like me the way that I want him to. I know, believe me. There's just something about him that makes me want to be with him, have him protect me. Like he protected me in the Chamber of Secrets.
I don't remember much of it. I don't remember much at all. All I saw was red, as my life force drifted out of me and into Tom Riddle. A red haze around my eyes, hypnotizing me, lulling me into a gentle sleep. I could still hear Riddle's voice in my head.
"No one cares about you, Ginny. Give yourself to me."
I hear those words in my dreams.
No one cares about me.
No one cares about me.
Taunting me, because they seem so true and yet so false. Riddle still had a grip on me. He made me into an attention seeker, constantly worried that I would wake up and no one would notice.
As though I were wearing Harry Potter's invisibility cloak.
As though I did not exist.
And I would hear them asking.
"What happened to Ron's little sister?"
Enough of that.
I will make them notice me.
And I will stop liking Harry Potter.
