A/N: Yes this is a Harry Bashing story. I have always been a fan of the misunderstood suicidal Lily Luna Potter.

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i. forgetting all the hurt inside, you have learn to hide so well

I assume that when you think of the great Harry Potter, you think Hero, vigilante and above all a family man.

At least that is what he looks like on the surface. He parades us around like trophies, attending functions and dances in order to impress and lesser those around him. We are a display piece, put on show so the weak can feel weaker. Yet if you dared to enter the Potter manor, you would find a much different sight indeed.

Harry Potter is not an approachable father, he is cold and distant. He yells from dark corners of a drink and strikes from even darker ones. He uses acid in his words to put us down.

"Once again I was embarrassed by a daughter who fidgets all night," he said after a particular annoying function.

"Dad," I whined trying desperately to remove the heels that were stabbing into my feet. But he was gone by the time I looked up, spitting angry words as he entered the study.

I am numb to it now; he no longer hurts me with words of anger or hate. The part of me that cared is long since missing.

ii. pretending someone else can come and save me from myself

I was naïve to think it would work, but I did it anyway, and in the process I was set on fire. I have done it as long as I can remember. I became accustom to the feeling; cool blade against my arm or leg, the hot rush of crimson blood, the sudden relief of evaporating pain.

I was covered with scars of varying intensity; I was hurt, battered and bruised from the inside out. Yet, I always wanted more, I had developed and unhealthy obsession with being in pain. It was after all, the only connection to my father I had.

My father had been particularly awful one day before an important Order function. He was stroppy, and sober, a dangerous combination. He was yelling, from the landing, and I was being stubborn. Eventually he got fed up and stormed into my room. I was not fully dressed and there was my father starring at the deep purple scars that littered my limbs.

At first I was shocked, I could feel tears brimming against my eyes, could feel the walls closing in. Then suddenly I realized this is what he needed. He needed to see me for what I was, he was my father, and he would protect me.

It was a few seconds before he spoke, he was looking at me curiously, and then in an earth shattering moment he smiled cruelly.

"Attention seeker behaviour, like many girls your age who cannot deal with others fame," he teased. I could feel my stomach jump up into my throat. I could not breathe, I could barely see through tears. "Just get dressed." Then he was gone.

ii. i can't be who you are.

Needless to say I did not attend that function; I stayed into my room, barred the door and cried. My father eventually gave up and left with the rest of the family. I could feel every part of my body hurting; every muscle pulsed with weak stiffness.

So I write a note and lay in bed, because absolutely nothing matters anymore. I feel each pill fall down into my stomach, the more that fall the harder my stomach tenses. I am nausea and weak, and tears have coated my face. I am no longer prepared to pretend. I am no longer prepared to be his perfect little girl.

When I am found by the famous Harry Potter, my body will be lifeless and cold with a note that reads: Don't Resent Me.

He will have no one to blame but himself.

…

For Hogwarts Online Music Club – Prompts: Suicide, Don't Resent Me, Angst, Crimson, Missing

For 2015 News Year's Resolutions and Goals Challenge – Write a Suicide Fic

For Twelve Days of Christmas Challenge – Level Five: Write five era fics – Next-Gen

For Mega Songs Prompts Challenge – #26 "When you're feeling empty, keep me in your memory, leave out all the rest," Linkin Park, Leave Out all the Rest

For Character Diversity Boot Camp – #32 Tears

For If You Dare Challenge – Suicide