Disclaimer: No, I don't own the HP charactars.

Short one shot. Hope you enjoy.

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The man in the white told me to write you a letter.I said you wouldn't read it. He nodded.He 'understood' he said it was 'part of the healing process'. I was silent, things are easier that way.

Pent up anger he said. I'm just an angry little girl he said. I need serious help, that's what he said. Molly cried. Arthur shook his head. Ron yelled. Ron always yelled. Always, when I was doing something wrong. I was always doing something wrong wasn't I? It seems I was with you. It seems I was wrong with you. Or maybe we were wrong together. It hardly matters. What matters is that I'm sitting here, in this white room. This horrible white, padded room, and I'm writing a letter to you. You won't read this, I know that.Your gone.Your fucking free.

Pity you forgot me, isn't it? Pity you forgot to take me with you. You always were selfish, always were thinking of yourself. Always getting what you wanted. Spoiled, selfish, Slytherin that you were. Arrogant, horrible, helpless, hopeless, fragile, fucking fucked-up little Slytherin boy that you were. Just tell me this...are you happy now? Did you get what you wanted now? How do they notice you now hmm? How do they fucking remember you now? Does daddy love you now? Does everyone fucking love you now? Just like you wanted them to? Trust me. They don't. They don't remember you, just like they don't remember me. Don't you get it? Don't you fucking see it now? No one will ever love you like I did, not now. Not ever. I tried to tell you. I tried to warn you. I tried to save you. I tried to fucking save you, you know.I tried so fucking hard, and in the end it destroyed me. My compassion, my empathy, and most of all- my fucking love was my own undoing. Even I can't blaim you for that. Even I can't hate you for that.

But I don't suppose you care, do you? I don't suppose it matters to you one bit or another that I'm writing you this letter. I suppose your laughing now, I suppose your sneering now. Snickering, scowling, being that sordid Slytherin boy I thought I had all figured out. Or perhaphs your crying for me. Perhaphs your cutting yourself and sobbing like you were that night we first met. Perhaps you're screaming, like I am. Perhaphs your fucking rotting now, or perhaphs you feel no pain. Perhaphs you love me after all. Perhaphs I'm Juliet and you; my Romeo.

Perhaphs. Then again...you never were fond of ancient muggle playwrites. Or muggle anything for that matter.

Except maybe that gun...and how ironic.

I'm laughing now. I'm laughing and I can't stop. My hand is shaking as I write you this letter. Tears are streaming down my face. Do you think it's funny? I do. I think it's hilarious. Poor Ginny Weasley, she went crazy after Draco Malfoy killed himself. She went insane when he pulled the fucking trigger.Now she's in a nuthouse.Now she's fucking confined to a fucking padded room. I'm a danger to myself, can you belive it? I could kill myself any moment, I could take this quill and stab it right through my chest. What a laugh. It doesn't take a fucking shrink to realize that inside...I'm dead already.

Ron's yelling agian. Molly's crying again. Arthurs shaking his head again. I can see them through the tiny window in my door. The man in the white is coming for me, this time I'm not afriad. He told me to write you this letter

...and I said you wouldn't read it.