Percy knew. He wasn't stupid.

One didn't live life with the twins and not know when they weren't liked. Pranks, snide remarks told the story quite well with out having to be truly spoken. Body language and tone of voice told the truth more often than actual words.

Oh, Percy knew. But knowing didn't make the hurt go away. After he realized of the twins true hatred, Percy looked at his other siblings. His parents. His former schoolmates and teachers. He even looked at those he worked with. All viewed him as a necessary evil.

He used to try. He really did. No one wants to be hated. But no matter what he did, from trying to take care of his younger brothers and sisters to trying to make the live of with workmates easier they just saw him as attempting to be better than them.

So he stopped. Stopped trying. Stopped caring. Stopped feeling. Why didn't he visit his father while he was at St. Mungo's? Why did he fight with them over Fudge? Visiting wouldn't make him loved. Fudge had seemed as he actually cared about what Percy thought and felt. Percy felt that he mattered.

Percy knew that Dumbledore did not think that he was the right person for the job of Head Boy. He also knew that Dumbledore was aware of how close he was to the edge, the edge of something although he knew not what that something was.

Percy smiled a small, bitter smile. There was no one to save him from himself now. He was alone. So terribly alone and scared. He didn't even have the strength to kill himself. Or change. He knew that to change would take the most courage. So he sat and became more miserable, more lonely.

All he had ever wanted was a friend. One that could accept him for who is was, a shy and insecure bookworm. But that? Never happened.

Percy lay on his tiny bed, in his tiny flat, in his tiny life. The sun would soon rise and so would Percy, the only idea that could lift him from his safe bed was the promise that maybe today, someone would see him for who he truly was and love him.

It was only this hope that could keep him going. Even though, he knew. Percy Weasley was unlovable. Unlikable. Only hated and detested.

But he could hope.