Disclaimer: The characters Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley and settings Hogwarts, the Hogwarts Express, and King's Cross Station belong entirely to J.. The short descriptions of James, Lily, and Rose in the epilogue that inspired this also belong to J.. The interpretations and plots and characterization and story itself, however, belongs in to me.

Favorite, Chapter One.

"Saying 'I love you' has nothing to do with meaning it." ~Through With You, Songs About Jane, Maroon 5

I held to the rail of the Hogwarts express, whooping and fooling around and enjoying the rambunctious atmosphere of the King's Cross Station, and glanced impatiently at my little brother. He was still talking to Dad, and Dad was comforting him for some unimportant fretting.

My exhilaration shriveled up and died.

Who was there to help me, when I was worried about houses? Not Dad. Not Mum either.

There's not really anything in particular that they don't like about me. It's just that they like Lily and Albus more. Dad sympathizes with Albus because Albus has Dad's green eyes, and Dad subconsciously infers that Albus takes after himself on the inside. Lily's the youngest and only girl of three siblings, so Mum feels a connection.

And what about James, the firstborn son, named after an arrogant, troublemaking grandfather?

Oh, he'll take care of himself. He'll be fine.

Surely it wasn't always this way. Surely there were two precious years, before Albus was born, that Dad and Mum looked upon me as their little angel, their prized boy, theirs to protect and care for.

So what was it, then? A surplus of children or a shortage of parents?

Whatever it was, there was a problem with the manufacturing agency that spat them all out, and I would just have to deal with it.

Oh, deal with it I did. I dealt as well as could be expected, really. I looked at the situation, turned it over in my mind. And, in the deft way of the prepubescent child, I extracted the advantages and milked them for all they were worth.

Eldest. Less attention means less surveillance, and therefore less limits and more freedom. Freedom to do whatever I want. The parents will never know; if they do find out, it'll be too late; if it's not too late, their attention will wander soon enough and I'll be free again.

But there was still that thing that shriveled up and died in me on that day, the eve of my third year at Hogwarts. I was no longer that innocent, prepubescent boy anymore. And I could no longer be so ignorant or naïve.

Independence is hard. There was that moment, hanging on the rail of the Hogwarts Express, that I stood there and it hit me. My lifestyle was unsustainable. Because no matter how much I could tell myself that freedom was better and that my only parents were the Marauder's map and the invisibility cloak (both taken from Dad's cloak, as he probably took it from his Dad), there was that annoying part of me that wanted to throw away all the things that I had earned, my popularity, my mischievous joy, and that just wanted the love and pride of Mum and Dad. There was that core of honesty that was showing through, as my smile drooped and my face fell and in one abrupt motion I ceased my swinging.

But such parts can be suppressed. Ask anybody, Draco Malfoy or the original James Potter, and they'll recount to great lengths of how honesty and sweetness can be suppressed.

I mean, I had to look at what had just happened. That part of my shone through just for an instant, and in that instant my happiness went kaput.

At age thirteen, when you want popularity and comfort and ignorant bliss above all else, you certainly don't let things happen inside you that make your happiness go kaput. At age thirteen, when so much that goes on inside you is beyond your control, you certainly will control what is within your reach.

So I resumed my swinging, I resumed teasing Albus and Lily about houses and thestrals (after all, they get enough spoiling from our parents; I've got a duty to toughen the little suckers up!), I resumed my pranks and joys, and I resumed the enjoying and milking of my popularity. I resumed my happiness, and ignored this little part of me that was sad that Dad and Mum had chosen favorites that did not include me, just like I had ignored it time and time before. Just like I would ignore this sense of bitterness and disappointment and loss time and time again in the future.

I hate it, but I can ignore that, and problems don't matter when they're ignored. This is all just part of living for my happiness. After all, that's all there is to life!

…Right?

It sounded so simple in my head. I told myself, I deluded myself, that it would of course be just as simple in my heart.

But for all the wishes and hopes and wistfulness and yearnings in the world, nothing's perfect.

A/N: The epilogue left me unsatisfied in many ways. Fanfiction is a chance for me to find closure in myself. Please review if you've read the story; I don't care if you love it, hate it, or don't know what to say. The smallest token of pleasure to the most critical analysis is welcome.

Also, please give me your opinion should you have one: Should this be a short chapter story, a one-shot, or a full-fledged fanfic?

Update from February 15, 2010: As you may have noticed, there are a few more chapters coming up. This first chapter still stands alone as a one-shot, of course.