The Padfoot

                        By Shankz

                        Chapter Two: Desperate

I'm cold.  I'm always cold.

I itch.  I always itch.

I'm tired.  Yet, again, lately I've always been tired. 

I think I'm sick.  After eating leftovers out of trashcans you would be too.

I'm scared.  I have reason to be, you know.

I just picked up a newspaper.  It said a convicted murderer was on the loose. 

His name was Sirius Black.

I'm trying to tell myself, it can't be him.  It just can't be.  Maybe my father has come to find me.

But I've been sitting here for too long.  And he still hasn't come.

I sit here, in an alley somewhere around Harrods's.  The bottom of my shoe has long worn off.  It's winter, now.  I wish I didn't sell my jacket for five pence and a sandwich. 

It was ham.  I don't like ham.

I'm trying to imagine a warm, black cloak wrapped around me.  The silver fastenings are glimmering in the sunlight.  In the depths of my imagination, I'm at Hogwarts.

I'm at Hogwarts, with my cloak, and a Gryffindor Lion patch on it.  I could only imagine Mr. Potter and my father having snowball fights with Mr. Lupin and Mr. Pettigrew.

I shudder at his name.  Mr. Peter Pettigrew.  If it weren't for him, I'd have a father.  And I'd be at Hogwarts.

But he told Lord Voldemort about my parents.  And I'm probably the only one to know this.

A/N- Short, I know.  But I want- I need- more reviews.

And, while you're at it, if you want a parody, please read my new story, Behind the Music: The Weird Sisters.  For drama, I wrote a new story called One the ship is H/G.

What? What? I'm getting desperate nowadays.