Two Words

Title: Two Words 1/1

Author: Sivan Shemesh sivan325@walla.com

Beta: So Yun

Rate: K+

Warning: AU. Angst, emotional feelings on the line. Tissues?

Disclaimer: Not mine, though the plot bunny is mine.

Summary: Two words, that’s all what Harry wished to hear.

Note: I’m not sure about the date, if I am wrong, let me know.

Note2: First fic at this Fandom.

~*~

Under the stairs…

Harry saw himself in the mirror, scanning slowly with his hand over the scar at his forehead touching it slowly, it pained him when he did, but he did it only to remember his parents, and no matter how much its hurts him, he knew that he had to.

His parents whom had loved him more than the Dursleys, who fought to death just so he remained alive.

And yet, he felt like nothing, as his adoptive family act over him with anger like hitting him, starving him like he was an infected or something.

No, no, nothing seemed the wrong word, useless, no. Harry fought in his mind, no, he felt worthless and of course, there was also lack of love, as the Dursley did not give. Though they gave him those neglected and not fitting feelings, as he felt not belonging, and lonely.

He had never felt loved or be loved by a family as the Dursley abused him mentally, letting him live under the stairs.

He was jealous of Dudley; knowing that he has parents who love him, while Harry stayed in the dark, and nobody seemed to care.

Harry sighed heavily, and tried to calm himself down; knowing what would happen if he got angry just like what happened with Aunt Marge.

There was a torn paper on the floor, sitting next to him.

31st of July was written on it.

It was his birthday date, the only thing left from his parents to him, the day that he was born.

He was a nobody child.

He was now a grown teenager, with no parents that would say those words that he wished to hear.

To know that someone actually loved him, to say those with smile, and might give him a tiny present as well. Harry knows that the gift would mean nothing; though saying those words meant heaven to him.

In a moment of breakdown, Harry’s fist hit the floor, and then he laid his head on a mere pillow, moved his hand blindly over the paper and quietly sobbed.

Why does his birthday come in the summer? Why not in the time of school where his best friends could tell him those words that he was eager to hear?

He imagined his mother’s voice, saying with grace to him those two little words, as her hand moving to weep the tears that kept fallen from her son’s eyes.

‘Happy Birthday.’

The End