Disclaimer: Harry potter (and its characters) belongs to J.K. Rowling. A-
huh.
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It such a shame you're dead Lily, for I had something to tell you. Something important...
Remember that kid with the scruffy, snow-white hair? So white it was nearly invisible. His wand was a hand-me-down; likewise for his clothes. It seemed everyone else hated him, and his lack of money. He wasn't good at anything- not just subjects, but friends. Others assumed he had no friends because he was such a loser, but it wasn't that. He just couldn't handle the responsibility of others. And others detested him for it. But I wonder if any of them had ever even tried to image what went on behind those jealous bright green eyes. I had. I didn't have much choice; I was him.
You probably don't even remember me. Well, if you look back at the photos from Hogwarts- you'll clearly see my face. In the corner of every photo...there I am. You probably can't put a name to my face. For a while even I forgot my own name in the midst of nicknames.
I don't know why I was accepted in the first place. My whole family came from descendent, after descendent, of muggle born parent. But I do understand why I was put into Griffindor. Because I'm alive today, aren't I? I survived 19 years of hell and I'm still here. Then again, that's no miracle, because do you remember that boxing day? That Boxing Day in sixth year?
I won't blame you if you don't. It doesn't matter anymore. Well, not to you. But to me it changed my life. You saved my life. You found the note before anyone else, and you rushed me to the hospital wing to heal my sliced wrists. Dumbeldore warned us not to tell anyone. So you didn't. And we never spoke again.
It's kind of funny, though. I don't know if you saved my life, or if you just left me to rot in the hell for longer. For how could I toss your act of kindness aside? Lily Evans, I fell in love with you.
And now I'm here at your grave. I found your note far too late. There was no wing for me to rush you too. No nurse to clean you up. As I glance to the grave beside yours, my heart clenches. James Potter made you happy. Not me. Never me. And each day that burden ways heavier and heavier. I couldn't take the guilt of letting your life slip, not when I owed you mine, and so it gnawed at me. Until I came here.
So I lay down the flowers, to what so rightly is attached to your name. But maybe it was a good thing that I never spoke up when you were alive. For didn't you and James make The Boy Who Lived? I passed by him the other day. His scar was there, like they had said. But below that, behind his glasses, I saw too furiously bright green gems scan over me. He doesn't know what you did to me. But he will, I plan to make that clear. For someone has to know the love I held for you, even if you never could.
*^*^*^*^*
I don't *know* where that came from! But let me know what you think anyway. It's different, I hope. Very different.
*^*^*^*^*
It such a shame you're dead Lily, for I had something to tell you. Something important...
Remember that kid with the scruffy, snow-white hair? So white it was nearly invisible. His wand was a hand-me-down; likewise for his clothes. It seemed everyone else hated him, and his lack of money. He wasn't good at anything- not just subjects, but friends. Others assumed he had no friends because he was such a loser, but it wasn't that. He just couldn't handle the responsibility of others. And others detested him for it. But I wonder if any of them had ever even tried to image what went on behind those jealous bright green eyes. I had. I didn't have much choice; I was him.
You probably don't even remember me. Well, if you look back at the photos from Hogwarts- you'll clearly see my face. In the corner of every photo...there I am. You probably can't put a name to my face. For a while even I forgot my own name in the midst of nicknames.
I don't know why I was accepted in the first place. My whole family came from descendent, after descendent, of muggle born parent. But I do understand why I was put into Griffindor. Because I'm alive today, aren't I? I survived 19 years of hell and I'm still here. Then again, that's no miracle, because do you remember that boxing day? That Boxing Day in sixth year?
I won't blame you if you don't. It doesn't matter anymore. Well, not to you. But to me it changed my life. You saved my life. You found the note before anyone else, and you rushed me to the hospital wing to heal my sliced wrists. Dumbeldore warned us not to tell anyone. So you didn't. And we never spoke again.
It's kind of funny, though. I don't know if you saved my life, or if you just left me to rot in the hell for longer. For how could I toss your act of kindness aside? Lily Evans, I fell in love with you.
And now I'm here at your grave. I found your note far too late. There was no wing for me to rush you too. No nurse to clean you up. As I glance to the grave beside yours, my heart clenches. James Potter made you happy. Not me. Never me. And each day that burden ways heavier and heavier. I couldn't take the guilt of letting your life slip, not when I owed you mine, and so it gnawed at me. Until I came here.
So I lay down the flowers, to what so rightly is attached to your name. But maybe it was a good thing that I never spoke up when you were alive. For didn't you and James make The Boy Who Lived? I passed by him the other day. His scar was there, like they had said. But below that, behind his glasses, I saw too furiously bright green gems scan over me. He doesn't know what you did to me. But he will, I plan to make that clear. For someone has to know the love I held for you, even if you never could.
*^*^*^*^*
I don't *know* where that came from! But let me know what you think anyway. It's different, I hope. Very different.
