The Last Song I'm Wasting On You

AN- I only own my OC.

So run, run, run,
And hate me, if it feels good,
I can't hear your screams anymore.
Evanescence – The Last Song I'm Wasting On You

I never asked for this.

I never asked for magical blood to flow through my veins.

I never asked to be different, special.

All I ever really wanted was to be normal. To be loved.

I grew up in a small orphanage in London. It was a dingy place, drab and dreary. There was no colour to it. No life about was certainly no love. Well, that last part was a lie. There was love. Love for money, and love for power. That's the only reason any of the staff worked there, the salaries were high, and the work was fairly easy. After all, they never had to interact with just had to make sure we didn't run away, and that we were fed.

Growing up, I had my place in the orphanage's hierarchy. At first, I was fairly near the top. I'm reasonably attractive, definitely intelligent, and I seem to have a good way of communicating with people. Then my magic started to show, and I was branded a freak. Cast way down the hierarchy, wya down to the bottom.

Being the lowest o the low meant all the other children could do what they wanted to me. I was always the butt of jokes. Always being pinched and prodded. Always got my hair pulled. I was always the one blamed when the others got caught doing something wrong. The adults knew what was going on, but they didn't care. They saw me as a freak too, and allowed the other children to taunt and bully me for it.

I began to hate myself for my innate magic. I suppose if you're told something often enough, you start to believe it. I cried myself to sleep most nights, wishing that things were different, wishing that I could go back to the days of having friends.

Finally, on my 11th birthday, I was offered an escape from the orphanage. A school for people like me, Hogwarts, had offered me a place. It was a chance to be amongst other children who had magic. A chance to learn, a chance to make a fresh start. I took it gladly.

In my first year, I made friends with Harry Potter. He was an orphan, like me, and had been brought up by his aunt and uncle. He understood the bullying I went through, having been bullied by his cousin and his cousin's friends for as long as he could remember. Also, like me, he sometimes found himself overwhelmed by the wizarding world, having lived as a muggle his whole life. Harry quickly became like a brother to me, we were practically inseparable. I even made it onto the Quidditch team with him, as a chaser, making me the youngest chaser in a century. When Harry went to save the Philosophers Stone, I went with him, along with Ron and Hermione, our other two best friends.

Hermione was my closest girl friend, my sister almost, something I had been sorely lacking in the orphanage. Neither of us were typical girly girls, much preferring books to clothes and make-up. We balanced eachother out as friends remarkably well, her cool logic often calming my hot temper. Ron on the other hand was just as hot-tempered as me, and we often had massive rows, which Harry and Hermione always had to fix. Nonetheless, Ron and I are just as close as Harry and I. We even look like we should be related, as I too have fiery red hair, pale skin and freckles. My eyes are green though, unlike Ron's startling blue ones.

Our second year was hard, both me and Hermione were petrified as we left the library that one day. Being petrified was horrible. Like being trapped in your own body. Not really conscious or aware, but somehow knowing something isn't right. Lucky for us, Harry and Ron saved the day.

So here I was at the orphanage, packing my trunk for my third year at Hogwarts. I was meeting the Weasleys and Hermione at the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley and spending my last week there with them before starting school again. I was glad to be leaving the orphanage again, nothing there had changed, I was still bullied and ridiculed. I was looking forwards to getting my wand back from Hermione, I had left it with her so the other orphanage kids didn't snap it, and it felt like I was missing a limb.

After another hour I was packed. Grabbing my trunk, and a small pouch of Floo Powder given to me by Mrs Weasley, I headed to the main office, the only room in the building with a real fireplace.I had no-one to say a goodbye to at the orphanage, just the Matron, and even that was so she knew I had gone in case of fire or emergency. I tossed the Floo Powder into the roaring fire, grinning to myself as the flames burned emerald green. Stepping into the fire, I yelled, "THE LEAKY CAULDRON!" With an unpleasant lurch I was transported to The Leaky Cauldron.

Stumbling out of the fire, I was immediately assaulted by my bushy haired best friend, Hermione. She helped me carry my trunk up to the room I would share with her, and at a mile a minute, began telling me about her summer.

After hearing stories of her holidays with her parents (she was a lovely shade of golden brown) she tossed the Daily Prophet at me. "Have you heard about this? It's awful isn't it? He killed 12 muggles and a fellow wizard, and now he's on the loose!" She continued to chatter on about the man who had made the headlines, as I read the article. I didn't know it then, but this man was the man who would change my life. This man, Sirius Black.

AN – First chapter done! What did you think? Now, this is starting (obviously) in Harry & Co's 3rd year. It will eventually be Sirius Black/OC but not in a 30-odd year old & 15-year old. It'll be a Time-Turner fic, just to forewarn you! Hope you enjoyed chapter one, chapter two will be up soonish X