A/N OK this is just an idea that wacked me up-side the head about 2 months ago and I finally got off my lazy bum and wrote it. Beware that this is my first fanfic so the quality is probably not that good. Please leave a review and tell me what you think and if you have a fanfic that you want me to read, I will. But please beware that I WILL NOT read slash. I am a firm H/H shipper and I don't mind reading it but I will probably never write it, I'm no good at writing romance… it just comes out…ugh…
By the way, the fic is supposed to come out in italics, whether it will or not is another matter…
Flame, criticize, do what you like, I want to know if people like my writing, but if you don't, please say so. Also, please say if you want me to write another part and I suppose I could get off my lazy ass and write another chapter…
Enjoy! (please…….)
ITo whom it may concern,
If you're reading this, it means that I'm dead. At the hands of my own family. You know, I always thought that I would be killed by Voldemort, my life was sure heading that way, but my own Uncle? It's almost laughable really…
For the first few days since arriving here, I wasn't worried about the beatings, it would be over soon, someone would realise that I wasn't replying to their letters…Ron. Hermione. Sirius….someone…
The days turned into weeks, weeks into months….you get the idea. I realised that no-one was coming. Didn't anyone care? Did they care that my own Uncle was abusing me while my Aunt and Cousin looked on and laughed? Did they care that I was being treated worse than a house-elf? Did they care that all I was being fed on was stale bread and sour milk? I slowly started to believe that no-one cared, no-one loved me. I just wanted someone to hold me, tell me that everything was going to be alright, tell me that I didn't have to hurt anymore. Hell, even Snape, though I seriously doubt he would.
Everyone thinks that I love being famous. That I'd do anything to get just a little bit more fame. Well, you were wrong. I hate being famous. There's nothing more than I would've liked than to just disappear into the shadows and not be noticed. I remember last year when I had a fight with Ron. He was jealous of me, jealous because I got entered into that stupid tournament and got Cedric Diggory killed. But he got it all wrong, I was the one that was supposed to be jealous, jealous of him, and I was. Why? Because he had the one thing that I always wanted. And the one thing that I'd never have.
A family.
A family that thought the world of him. They thought of me as part of their family of course, but it wasn't the same. Mrs. Weasley always looked at her children with such pride, even if it was when she was yelling at Fred and George for some prank that they pulled on Percy, she loved her sons and daughter, and she was proud of them. I wanted that, a parent to be proud of me. Sirius once told me that he was proud of me and that he loved me, in his letters. But he doesn't love me for me, he loves me because I'm James' son, just like everyone loves me because I'm the boy who lived. If I hadn't defeated Voldemort, they wouldn't give me a second glance if they passed me in the street. But I didn't defeat Voldemort. My Mother, Lily Potter, daughter of muggles, gave me the protection I needed to survive. I wish she hadn't. Snape's right, I don't deserve special treatment. I'm not special, after all.
Ron, I want you to have my firebolt and the key to my Gringotts account. Thank you to the Weasley family for all you've done for me.
Hermione, I want you to have all my books and my invisibility cloak. Maybe you could use it to sneak into the library at night?
Sirius, I want you to have the photo album of my parents. I'm sorry I couldn't give you more, in many ways.
I'm dying now, I can feel myself slowly wasting away.
I can't remember when I last ate.
To tell you the truth, I'm scared.
Ironic isn't it? The Boy Who Lived, scared of death, when he's faced it so many times already
I don't want to die.
I just want to be loved
Is that so much to ask?