Author's note: Well, not much to say. I 'ship DG, but this is the first time I've written one…Hm. Ah, well. I have another fic on the way, but it won't be out for a while yet. But be on the lookout! (Plenty of DG smut. If that's not an incentive to read it, I dunno what is!)

-Back When Someone Cared-

Ginny remembers what it was like when she was younger. Her mum doted on her, as the only girl-Weasley in generations. Her dad tried to spoil her by buying little trinkets whenever possible. Ron wasn't as protective of her as he is now. All her brothers were constantly there for her, whether it was to cheer her up or to play wizarding chess. Back then, people saw her standing there and said hi. Back then, someone was always looking for her. Back then, people cared.

But now…

Ginny must seek them out. Whenever Ginny wants to play wizarding chess, she must hunt for Ron. And most of the time Ron greets her with a grunt of "Bugger off." So she meanders off, looking for someone to play with. Hermione can't; she's too busy studying or reprimanding first years. Harry can't; he's studying as well. Colin can't; he's trying to flirt with some girl in fifth year. So she recedes into the corner, all on her lonesome, to play against herself.

Ginny thinks of her 'invisibility' like something she once saw on a Muggle soap opera at Hermione's house. She is simply standing there, the only person in color, while others bustle by her, ignoring her. When she tries to reach out a hand to grab their attention, it passes right through them. Look at me, look at me. No one hears.


It is another one of those days when no one is noticing her. Harry and Ron are busy with quidditch practice; Hermione is busy with homework; Colin is busy with his girlfriend; and she simply can't find Luna anywhere. (Probably in her common room reading the latest edition of The Quibbler, she thinks.)

Despondent, she lurks around the library, trying to find a book to read. Nothing particularly grabs her interest, so she leaves, on to the next haunt: the broom shed. Sighing, she leans against the wall. Closing her eyes, she thinks about what she will do tomorrow. Nothing. To her, the future was rather dim and monotonous; every day would be the same as the one before.

She thinks back to her eighth birthday. It was dawn and she'd just woken. Silently, she slipped out the back door of the Burrow, still in her pyjamas down to her favorite spot by the tree. She sat down at its base, and leaned her head against the trunk. The sun was beginning to rise, and she closed her eyes, relishing in the warmth it brought. She woke some time later.

She leapt to her feet with a start. Judging by the sun's position, it was nearly noon. The rest of the family had to have been up for quite some time. Ginny dashed into the kitchen to find her parents and brothers calmly eating lunch. Her mother immediately began to lecture her: "Where've you been, Ginny, dear? It's almost noon!" Then she noticed her daughter's attire, and her voice took on a disapproving tone. "And still in your nightie! Go get dressed, Ginevra!" One of her brothers snickered, and she shot them all a look of pure loathing. She ran up the stairs and changed quickly. It wasn't until she was changing into the same pair of pyjamas that evening that she realized no one had remembered it was her birthday.

Sighing once more, Ginny opens her eyes. To her extreme surprise, she finds Draco Malfoy standing in front of her. She emits a squeak, and to her deep chagrin, her legs give out from underneath her. Inwardly cursing, she glares defiantly up at Malfoy, expecting him to taunt her. He merely raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow and offers her a manicured hand.

For a moment, she simply stares at it, not comprehending. She glances back up at him, and his mouth quirks upward slightly: his hand is re-offered towards her, and this time, she takes it. He heaves her up and she wobbles on still unsteady legs. "What are you pulling at, Malfoy?" she opens her mouth to ask, but the look on his face stops her: a true smile has taken reign on the Slytherin prince's face.

"M-malfoy…?" she stutters.

"Didn't expect that, did you, Weaselette?" he says. Mutely, she shakes her head. The smile on his face slips off, to be replaced by his trademark smirk. Leaning closer, he whispers, "Didn't think so." To her shock, he lands a quick kiss on her lips before walking away.

A trembling hand makes its way to her lips. Maybe someone did care about her after all.