And Then You

Most of the time I find myself wishing I was somebody else. Anybody, anything, to get away from this pain.

Nobody knows how hard it really is to be constantly made fun of and victimized, all because I don't fit in. My pain is the price paid for you all to belong.

Nobody realizes what hurt I am going through; how much I wish that it would all just stop.

Though I've never considered suicide, never. Not even when it was too hard for me to take; when I was one foot away from falling off the edge of sanity.

I know suicide would be stupid for someone like me. I was supposed to be strong, right? I was supposed to face up to the bullying and torment with my head held high and a smile on my face. Turn the other cheek, my mother told me firmly.

But she didn't know how bad it gets; she's not around when the people at school kick me when I'm already down.

I'm constantly spinning around, trying to find what's right in all of this. Why me? I'm intelligent and brave enough to go far in life, so why me?

Why can't I be like Lily, stunning Lily Potter, who's fearless, brilliant and popular all at the same time?

But I've never been popular; and I'm not exactly brilliant.

Clever, yes. Cleverness I can deal with - facts and figures and theories keep me from falling apart completely. Burying myself in books lets me ignore the muttering and snide remarks; lets me escape to another world, one I can deal with.

Is my hair the reason for why people hate me so strongly? My red out-of-control hair that Mum says is gorgeous, but everybody else mocks? Is it my perfect uniform, straight O-grades or good manners? Or is it just me, the fact I'm alive?

I've never understood why that should make me a victim to society, but at least I've learnt to accept that. I know I'm not worth anything, and I don't need suicide or cutting to get through life.

But that doesn't stop me feeling so let down all of the time. Every day I wake up and expect something to change; some small little detail. Maybe one of my classmates will smile at me today; or tell me they like my new bag; or eat with me in the evening.

That never happens, hence the feeling of being let down. Am I overestimating civilisation?

Is there nobody out there who gives a shit about their fellow beings who are in pain?

And just when it overwhelms me; when it's all too much for me to ever be able to take ... then there's you.

You make everything okay. Manageable, even.

You, my beautiful baby brother who never had to fight for what you believed in. You're two years younger than me, but you're more mature than anyone I know.

You let my dreams take flight; you let me be whomever I want to be.

You're there through everything, the last strand of hope that I cling to.

You sit with me at lunch, every day, without fail. You're in a different House to me, but you still walk firmly towards me and sit down with me and eat with me.

I'm a mess, Hugh, but you still love me.

When you have the time, you visit me in the library. You pass me notes telling me how beautiful, amazing and intelligent I am, and how I should never let anybody get to me. You've never let me quit the Quidditch Team, even when there was nobody there to help me. You watch me in the pouring rain search for that bloody Snitch; and when our two teams play against each other you're always randomly appearing next to me, flying just close enough for me to look into your blue eyes and give you a shaky smile. You never care for the score of the Quidditch matches; instead, you're joking with me on the ground, battered and bruised with mud over both of our robes.

Surprisingly, nobody has ever made fun of you for this. Sure, you've received your share of funny looks and raised eyebrows; but I think that it's your presence that drives hatred away. You shine, my dear, just like you tell me I do.

I would never, ever be able to cope without you.

I wish that when it all ends, if it all ends, you're still there for me. I wish that life would set me down at the end alongside you.

You can grin at me, wink at me, laugh with delight. Tell me how freaking proud you are of me for getting so far; for being so fearless. So brave, so effing brave to ignore the taunts and insults that were directed at me when I was weak.

And I can smile back at you, my heart filled with such love for you it seems unreal; sees like I could explode with the intensity of it.

You can walk me down the aisle; you can stand next to me as I let one more person into my life. Maybe I'll even let you curse them if they ever let me go.

Hugo Michael Weasley, you will honestly never know how much I appreciate what you do for me. You've faced the fear on a daily basis and done it anyway. You stand up for me; help me back onto my feet; give me wings to fly.

I'll never be as gracious and accepting as you are; I don't think anybody can. Not even little Lily, and we all know she's the only one who reaches out to Lysander when people mock him.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

I would fall without you; and I love you. You make everything perfect. You make it all stop, at least temporarily, in my head.

I could never ask for a better brother, friend or saviour.

Thank you.