The Deceased Understanding
By Funkiechick

(I wrote this for my good pal, hyper_hippy-you'll notice she leaves funny reviews, as does Fred_luver, or Sar as she also goes by. Or ...hey I forgot it. Starts with a C. Anyway, hyper_hippy, honey. This is for YOU.)


It makes me laugh. Because it hurts too much to cry. So...
It makes me laugh.

I know it shouldn't. And I don't mean to. But it does. I see Ron, so casually used to his mom and his dad that can he argue with them.

They're ALWAYS there. Yet he ARGUES with them. But I don't really blame him. I can't. Most teenagers do argue with their parents. Because they have them. Because they're used to them.

And still I have this feeling that if my own were alive, I wouldn't. If they were smiling and laughing instead of floating around in the path of Voldemort's dark- I know I wouldn't.

They'd be my best friends.

Not in the same way as Ron and Hermione. I need them too. Those two are everything.

Without them, I'm not sure would have become Harry. I would have been this alone little first year that everyone stared at and whispered about. And no one would bother to try and understand that the most dangerous being on earth wants to kill me. And I'm afraid.

They'd turn and run when I'd go for weeks without talking.

Ron and Hermione don't. And even though they can't understand, and I know they try when they sit with me and watch over me, I wish someone would.

My parents would.

If Voldemort hadn't killed them that night, I would feel them everywhere. Someone would understand me.

They wouldn't BE scared when I'd go for weeks without talking. I wouldn't have to say anything. They would just know.

Ron and Hermione haven't seen what I have- haven't felt alone like I have. So they'll never understand. They'll just stand by me and make sure I'm never alone again. And I need that. They know I do, even if I don't say anything.

But sometimes it gets too strong. People can SAY no one understands them, but I'm really the only one. The only one who gets how I tick. The only one who doesn't get paranoid when I'll sit curled up in a ball on the common room sofa for a whole weekend, not doing anything.

Because I know I'll be alright.

Yet for fleeting moments, when I wont let anyone near me, all I really want is my dad and me to do something lame and cute-ish and...goddamnit. I don't know.

Play catch with me or something.

And I want my mum to hold me. No matter how old I get, it's he only thing that would make everything better.

Goddammnit.

I never actually want anything. Nothing by my mom and her arms around me, and to tell me that she KNOWS. That I don't have to say ANYTHING. She knows.

And it wouldn't matter that the fate of thousands rests on my shoulders. Because at least someone knows how I feel.

But maybe...

Maybe I know Voldemort will lose, and I know that everything will be fine. Maybe I am the only one that does.

Maybe if I know that even though they're gone, they still understand. And when the time comes, I'll come to terms with the fact I wont ever see them again.

Maybe I'll be content with that.

Someday.

But for now, I'm not ready to deal with it. For now, I want to picture them and me...

And pretend my mum is still laughing, and cradling me in her arms.

END