Disclaimer: Harry belongs to JK Rowling, not me.

A/N: For the HP ficathon, July 1st.
Thank you to HPalto87 for beta-ing.

Forgive Me If

Forgive me if I am nervous. I know I have to do this, but that knowledge doesn't make it any easier. War is never easy, is it?

I don't want to fight Voldemort. I never did. I would rather be a normal teenage boy, who's biggest worry is whether or not to ask some girl out. Instead, every day I have to face the idea that I may not live past my eighteenth birthday.

So forgive me if my confidence is faltering.

I can't express these concerns. I have no one to trust with this, not even Ron or Hermione. They're good friends, but they don't know what it's like to be marked for death by the purest evil of our time. Besides, it would just worry them further than they already are. They don't need that.

I have become a symbol, a savior, even though the battle for which I will be famous hasn't happened yet. The whole Wizarding world is counting on me, even though I wish they wouldn't.

I am just a kid, after all. Voldemort has more power and more experience than I do, and loyal followers ready to die for him and his cause. I suppose there are people ready to die for the Order, as well, but it's a resigned sort of ready. We try not to dive into suicide missions.

Forgive me if I'm afraid. I'm scared for myself and my friends, for the people who I have adopted as my family. For once in my life, I have people who love me, and I'm so scared of losing them, the way I lost Sirius or Dumbledore. I feel like I have to protect them, but I don't know if I can.

Forgive me if I fail, because that is always a possibility. Voldemort has been adamantly trying to kill me for the past six years. So far I've gotten by with a great deal of luck, but that luck can't last forever. There's no guarantee I'll live through this.

Forgive me if I die. If I die, there is still hope. There are still powerful wizards on our side who can take down Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Don't give up hope, and don't dwell on it. War is not the time for that.

I know there are people who would mourn my passing. That cheers me a bit even, in a morbid sort of way. A few years ago, I wouldn't have been able to say that.

So please, on this lonely eve before the final battle, forgive me.