Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Perfect is written and performed by Simple Plan.

Warnings: Self-harm, self-hate

A/N: I think every fanfiction writer, at some point, finds inspiration for a songfic. They aren't always happy songs or happy stories, but they're there. This is one such story. It's a Harry Potter song fic in a universe where he has a twin and his parents survived. I am not really planning to write more into this universe and considering how long I've held this back, I probably never will. Also, I may have made mistakes in the lyrics, this is semi-intentional, in that the words fit the fic, but also on accident because it means I mis-transcribed the song.

Harry glanced over the crowd at the celebration and nodded to the rest of the band. Their first gig was almost over, they were on the last two songs of the set and it was time. Nervously, he touched his cheek, imagining that he could feel the glamour he was using, not to protect his identity, but to help with his stage identity of Wolf. Beside him, copper curls like a halo, Ginny Weasley watched him for his signal, her brown eyes calm under the Fox glamour.

Lifting the microphone to his mouth, Harry looked out over the crowd, all of whom had finally gotten over the shock of seeing one of the Potter boys fronting a band. It wasn't like it was Charlie Potter, after all. "All right, this is the second to last song and I dedicate it to anyone who feels the music. This particular number is called Perfect."

The audience applauded as Neville, known as Cat, started the intro on his guitar. Harry took a deep breath as he looked out to where his family stood in an uncomfortable knot. His father was towards the back of the group, but seemed closer as their eyes met. Magic, old Potter family magic, flowed into the music with the words, binding the crowd to him. He'd spent hours in Dumbledore's pensieve finding these images, all of them calculated to tell a story, one that his parents would hate.

Hey Dad look at me,
think back and talk to me,
did I grow up according to plan.

A young James and Sirius were showing a baby Harry and baby Charlie how to hold their kiddy brooms. James was holding Harry, carefully curling his hands around the broom and smiling happily, as Harry laughed. Lily came in with a camera and smiled fondly as she watched him.

An older Harry sat in a small room at a desk, writing in a Muggle spiral. He appeared to be about 14, he had a fierce look on his face as he looked up and out the window where James and Charlie were playing Quidditch. On the desk beside him was a picture in a frame, ragged on one side, it was the picture Lily had taken of James teaching Harry to fly, torn where Charlie and Sirius would have been.

And do you think I'm wasting my time
Doing things I want to do
But it hurts when you disapprove all along

Lily and James fussed over Charlie, who was having a green inked letter excitedly, the crest clear enough to identify it as a Hogwarts letter. Harry watched from the hall doorway, holding an unopened letter in his own hands with the Hogwarts crest. He had a look of longing on his face, a clear yearning to be a part of the celebration before him.

Harry stood at the window in his bedroom, a single tear on his cheek as he looked out on a birthday party; so proclaimed by the HAPPY 13th BIRTHDAY CHARLIE banner. In Harry's hand was a picture of two babies under a single banner, "Happy First Birthday Harry and Charlie!" Again, James was the one holding Harry, while Lily carried Charlie.

And now I try hard to make it,
I just want to make you proud

Charlie gripped a broom proudly, Nimbus 2001 clearly visible, and pointed at a letter as he grinned. The letter became visible, a list of names and numbers with "First Year Rankings" at the top. A grubby finger pointed at it and the line 8. Potter, Charlus, became clear, right over 9. Weasley, Ronald. The list skimmed up to the top three. 1. Granger, Hermione, 2. Malfoy, Draco and 3. Potter, Harry. The image pulled back to Harry, standing in his room holding the list dejectedly.

I'm never going to be good enough for you
I can't pretend that I'm all right
And you can't change me

Harry was in the music room at the piano cautiously pressing keys. He looked to be about eight years old. His smile was pure delight as he began to experiment with the different keys together and separate, teaching himself. In the window behind the piano, James and Charlie were playing catch on the ground with the Quaffle.

Harry was in Diagon Alley with his family when a music shop caught his eye and he stopped to stare at the different instruments until James showed up and pulled him away to Quality Quidditch Supplies, not even looking at what had caught the attention of his son.

But we lost it all

Voldemort burst into a nursery with wolves, deer and dogs on the walls in Gryffindor colors and Lily standing before a crib, wand raised, defiance in her every movement.

Nothing lasts forever.

The next image was of Charlie and Harry, both bloody, screaming in their cribs with Lily on the ground before it, broken wand beside her.

I'm sorry, I can't be perfect.

Charlie stood before a group of reporters, chin raised high, inverted 'V' on his cheek clear as day. The somewhat lanky auburn haired boy grinned cheerily and waved, his hazel eyes sparkling with mischief and enjoyment.

now it's just too late

A very young Harry watched James holding Charlie with a soft smile. When James put Charlie down, Harry held his arms up for a hug, but James didn't see him, turning instead to hug Lily. Harry stood, staring up at his dad with a look of such pleading that there wasn't a person who couldn't sympathize there either.

And we can't go back

Harry stood facing James, anger and defiance clear in his stance. Beside him was a muggle guitar covered in wrapping paper and a very distinct tag read To Harry. Charlie stood behind his dad with a bloody nose, staring at his brother as if he'd never seen his twin before. Lily stood in the doorway, her uncertainty obvious to any observer.

I'm sorry I can't be perfect

Harry stood in his room, the guitar on his bed. He was staring at the door, where Charlie was giving him a look of utter disgust around his swollen nose. Charlie raised his wand and cast a spell, destroying the guitar with a look of glee on his face.

I try not to think
About the pain I feel inside

Twelve year old Harry was sitting at Hogwarts, reading, while Charlie held court. He was part of the group in that he was sharing the bench with his twin, but he was somewhat apart because he was not looking at his twin.

Harry was training in the grey light of dawn on a school broom, fumbling the ball, and unable to make even a single goal. He didn't give up, simply fetching the ball every time he dropped it and making another attempt, oblivious to the people on the ground, one of which held up a POTTER STINKS banner.

Harry was in Transfiguration, trying, and failing, to turn beetles into buttons. Beside him, Hermione had two and behind him, McGonagall was trying to help Neville. A sudden bang and puff of smoke filled the room and revealed Harry, now dressed in a hot pink bunny suit.

Did you know you used to be my hero?

James and Charlie knelt over a battered old school trunk looking at the debris of James's Hogwarts years. James was showing his nearly perfect OWLs to Charlie with a proud smile. Harry stood in the doorway to the living room watching.

James was playing a game of pick up Quidditch as Chaser, scoring easily and showing off. Charlie was playing against him, but Harry watched the game from inside, at his desk, writing in his spiral.

James flicked his wand, transfiguring things for Ron and Charlie to have an indoor sleepover with unconscious ease. Harry watched from the kitchen table, where he was drinking something. The look on his face was nothing less than raw envy.

All the days you spent with me
now seem so far away
and it feels like you don't care any more

Thirteen year old Harry sat in a group including Hermione, Ginny and Neville, studying in the library. Charlie was nowhere in evidence and Harry kept glancing up with a slight smile, as if he couldn't believe he was where he was.

Harry was dressed in practice gear, carrying a Nimbus 2000, chasing the Snitch along with a group of five others. He easily surpassed them all. The scene changed, now he was dressed in a uniform, beating out Draco Malfoy for the Snitch in a game.

Thirteen year old Harry stood in a classroom with Remus Lupin, wand upheld. A large, silvery wolf stood between him and what appeared to be a dementor. Remus's smile was fond and paternal as Harry turned to him for praise.

I'm never going to be good enough for you
I can't stand another fight
And nothing's all right

This time, the paper read Fourth Year Rankings, and Potter, Charlus was listed as number seven, while the top three were Granger, Hermione (1) Potter, Harry (2) and Malfoy, Draco (3). Charlie had a new and gorgeous horned owl while Harry gave owl treats to a snow white owl.

Cause we lost it all

Lilly, James and the Marauders help baby Harry and Charlie open presents under a Christmas tree.

Nothing lasts forever

Eight year old Charlie rips open a Christmas present, a tag goes flying, a name briefly visible, To: HARRY. Harry watches from a distant chair, sitting with his knees to his chest, tears on his face.

I'm sorry, I can't be perfect.

Charlie, age 8 holds up a set of Montrose Magpie Quidditch robes excitedly.

Nothing's going to change the things that you said
And nothing's going to make this right again

Harry and his group, now 15, are in an old classroom, Neville is playing guitar while Harry sings. His friends are nodding along with the music and exchanging pleased grins as Harry closes his eyes. Hermione has paper in her hands and is writing music as she listens.

Harry in detention writing 'Music has no future' with a blood quill under Umbridge's eye, beside him is Ginny. They flick glances at each other and sometimes their free hands twist into signs and thumbs up. Even as fresh lines as craved into the backs of their hands, their eyes reflect their unbowed and unbroken spirits.

Harry winning Quidditch matches, snatching victory after victory. He escapes the locker room by following his twin out and letting the Quidditch fans jump all over the 'famous boy-who-lived' instead of him.

Harry is helping his friends in defense, learning the spells with Hermione's help and then showing it to the others to do the spells as well. He shows Neville how not to choke up on his wand too much for the spells and coaches Ginny in pronunciation.

Please don't turn your back
I can't believe it's hard just to talk to you
but you don't understand.

James and Lily hold the twins up to see falling snow as babies. James is cradling Harry, who claps his hands and laughs when James tickles him.

James, Charlie and Padfoot have a snowball fight, Charlie is sixteen or so, bright eyed and laughing when he nails Padfoot on the rump with one.

Harry watches from his window, a bloody knife in one hand, an arm covered with cuts is pressed against the window. His face is a study of misery and a single tear slides down his cheek as he watches. Blood from the cuts slides down the window pain, and he tries to wipe it away, obscuring the view of the snowball fight with a blood smear.

Cause we lost it all
nothing lasts forever
I'm sorry I can't be perfect
now it's just too late
and we can't go back
I'm sorry I can't be perfect.

James and Lily hold the twins for a family portrait, there are pumpkins and bats around them giving the scene a Halloween atmosphere. They are a young and happy family with little sign of the horror that had sent them into hiding.

James, Lily and Charlie pose before a "HAPPY 17TH CHARLIE!" banner grinning. There is a party going on just out of view of the camera, with a live band, a large crowd and a long table of food. Harry is conspicuous in his absence, from the photo and the crowd.

Harry packs a stack of books into his trunk. His room is empty of all personal effects save for some papers on the desk. The top one is the mid-term rank list, where Potter, Harry has finally topped Granger, Hermione. It is dark outside, but in the window reflection, Lily Potter is watching her son.

Harry let the magic fade. He couldn't let the last memory play, his brother already looked almost shattered. Besides, Harry knew they wouldn't see what was really happening. No one would understand. They would only see him, Harry Potter, casting a spell at Voldemort and destroying him. They wouldn't see the link between him and Charlie unbroken in that one moment, flooded with their shared magic. No, they would hail him the defeater of Voldemort, and Charlie would be ignored. Let them assume Charlie had dealt with Voldemort even if he couldn't remember how. Charlie was born for the spotlight.

Harry could make out the flush of pink on James's face that is the first sign of his father's rage. After sharing a long look, Harry nods his head once, sharply, and then turnsed away. A look and Neville has started the next song. By the time Harry is out the back stage door, Ginny is filing the room with her signature solo.