I have one motto in life:

It sucks.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hear you, I'm young, I'm good-looking, I have the rest of my life in front of me, blah, blah, blah.

You know what?

Who cares?

I don't care about the rest of my life, I care about now.

And at the moment, it's really not looking too great.

I mean, come on, why me?

I didn't ask to be born into this family.

Don't get me wrong, I love my parents, sister, uncles, aunts and innumerable cousins.

But sometimes it gets really hard, you know?

I'm Hugo.

Just Hugo.

I'm the kid that everyone somehow manages to forget.

Being a child of two-thirds of the Golden Trio...well, it's not easy.

Whenever you need them, whenever there's a Quidditch match, or Charms recital that you want them to watch, they're off inducting a new ward at St. Mungo's, or giving speeches about The-Old-Days-Of-Fear-And-Pain.

And, okay, I realize that those things are much more important than watching me sit on the bench at a match...but still.

I can't help but wish, you know?

I love my parents...but I wish they had been normal.

Because then I could be normal without wishing so, so, hard that I was special, just like the rest of my family.

I mean, my parents, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger?

They're almost as famous as Harry Potter- they've had aventures that most can only ever dream of.

My sister, Rose?

She was blessed with mum's brains.

My cousins, Al, James, and Lily?

All Uncle Harry's kids, all exact replicas of people in his family, all talented and good-looking, smart and funny.

Me, Hugo?

I'm the one that everyone forgets.

When I am remembered, it's always, 'Oh, look, its Ron and Hermione's second child. Hmmm, what was his name? Oh yes, Hugo. Or was it Harold?'.

I'm not particularly smart, I'm not all that funny.

I have mood swings, and tantrums, and yeah, okay, I sulk like a five year old sometimes.

Mum says that I'm just like my Dad, that I'll grow out of it at some point.

But hey, Dad got to help save the world.

Me?

I get to fail my next potions quiz.

I mean, really, why did Voldemort have to die so soon?

Couldn't he have stuck around a few extra years so that I could've killed the bloke instead?

But whatever.

I don't envy the Potters their fame, and I'm not jealous of Rosie's brains and talents.

It's just a little lonely sometimes, being the only one forgotten.

Being constantly overshadowed gets to you, you know?

There's nothing special about me, nothing that hasn't been given to me by someone else.

And it sucks.

So I'm just waiting.

Waiting it out, waiting for the next Voldemort to show up and try something stupid.

Because when he does...

Watch out world.

Hugo Weasley's ready.

Heyyy, guys, I'm back(:

This is just a short little ficlet on how poor Hugo might feel when he's young. I mean, we never really hear about this kid, right?

Anyway, please read and review!

~Fanta-Faerie