I Hate Them

I hate them. Not for what they did to me, but for what they let happen to me. Not for that they hated me in return, but that they didn't love me enough. Not for how they notice me when I am doing something wrong, but for how they ignored me when I needed them the most.

I hate them...

My mother. For how she doesn't trust me enough to leave me alone in a room for too long. For how she loves Harry Potter more than she loves me. For not asking me questions after the "Riddle incident" and waiting for me to heal on my own? For always finding time for me to talk? For her worst nightmare being me dead on the floor? For Always answering my questions directly? For not trying to sneakily hide things from me?

My father. For how he never has enough time for me, when he has enough time for all the boys and Order business. For how he puts up wards around me that warn him whether I am awake, eating, writing, or crying. For how he is always protecting me from injury? For how he taught me how to break into the broom shed without magic? For how he goes into my room every night at ten-o-clock, smoothes my covers, and kisses my forehead? For how every day, before he gets out of bed, he reaches to his bedside table, pulls out his photo album, and watches my first wobbly steps?

Bill. For going off with Phlegm whenever I needed to talk to him. For never telling me anything about himself. For sending me a letter every single day during my second year? For buying me the most beautiful expensive Christmas presents he could find because I was his "favourite sister"? For telling me a bedtime story every night after my first year? For checking for monsters under the bed at two-o-clock in the morning?

Charlie. For watching me under hooded lids whenever I am near him. For never letting me leave the house without telling him where I was going. For sleeping at the foot of my bed every night during the summer after my first year? For sending me a dragon's claw, a baby dragon's tooth, and a sneakoscope to protect me at school? For always telling me I am the prettiest girl in the room.

Percy. For telling on me if I spilled anything, or broke anything, or hit a wall with my fist. For owling home if I got anything less than Acceptable. For being the first to notice that anything was wrong with me? For always dropping everything to help me with my homework? For ensuring that I ate three square meals a day, always turned in my homework, and got to bed on time? For cleaning me up from my mud pie experiments before Mum caught me? For taking four and a half hours to teach me to make chocolate chip cookies?

Fred. For turning my favorite doll into a fine powder. For tripping me so I fell down the stairs and broke my wrist. For taking the powder from the doll, and putting it into a potion to make a valuable, beautiful cameo necklace for me to actually use? For going up to the boy that pushed me off of the swing set and throwing him into poison oak?

George. For feeding me a Fat Pill on the day before kindergarten. For following me on a walk through the woods and "documenting" the occasion. For taking me on "adventures" were I was the brave princess and you were the ogre? For always walking first on our adventures, and as a result getting stung by a wasp, falling face-first in a mud puddle, and getting bitten by a squirrel?

Ron. For not noticing me until it was too late. For ignoring me afterwards in favor of your friends. For making me believe that you loved me enough to save me. For not loving me enough, and eventually, for not loving me at all. For never telling me anything. For never helping me. For laughing when Pansy Parkinson called me "a little tart with no breasts, no butt, and no boyfriend". For never asking how I felt. For running away when we were home alone and I was vomiting my guts up, and just telling me that you had to owl Hermione. For never taking care of me. For never acting like a brother.

For never being my brother.

I hate him...

Not for what he did to me, but for what he wanted to happen to me. Not for that he hated me in return, but that he didn't love me at all. Not for how he never noticed me, even when I am doing something wrong, but for how when he does pay attention it is at the request of others.

I hate him.