Disclaimer: I do not own it.

Why do I miss you so?

An outsider looking in would think my life is perfect…but I tend to disagree. All they see is the talented boy whose future seems bright. They see me as the son of an auror who helped save the wizarding world…a werewolf who actually made a name for himself…Do they even notice that they're dead? My godfather is the famous Boy Who Lived. "Does having the famous Harry Potter as a godfather make up for the lack of a mum and a dad? Silly question!" They reply to themselves. "Of course it does"….to them. For me…I don't even know what real parents are…

When I was little I was afraid of the monsters under my bed. I was afraid of the dark. But there was never anyone there to hug me and tell me there was nothing to worry about. I couldn't go jump into my parent's bed. I never knew what it felt like to be asleep and on both sides have people that you love.

I love Harry. I've let it slip sometimes and called him Dad. I don't think he minds though. I even saw a small smile creep up his face when I did once. He knows what its like. He grew up an orphan too. Harry understands me. I realized that back when I was four. I was sitting on the park swing and I couldn't get high up into the air, no matter how hard I tried. The children next to me had their parents swinging them. They looked so happy. The dads and their sons, the mothers and their daughters. I had no one. I told Harry I wanted to go home. He stayed quiet for a minute and then asked if I wanted to be pushed on the swing. I was in a bad mood. I just scowled and said no. Harry is stubborn. I've learned that after all these years. He picked me and swung me through the air and I started to laugh. We both did. He put me down and bent down onto his knees. He pulled me real close so only I could hear him. "It's like flying. Lean back on the swing and look up at the skies. There's no one else around you. No one. Just me and you," he whispered into my ear. Harry grabbed my hand and walked me back to the swings. I flew into the skies that day.

That was twelve years ago. I still miss mum and dad. I never get sick of hearing stories of them. Ever. I knew Dad was a werewolf and I would never be ashamed to admit it. Harry once told me that Dad was afraid to marry Mum, afraid that I would turn out like him. If he was here now…I would tell him…tell him there was nothing to be ashamed of. You are who you are. Don't change it for anyone.

My mother was beautiful. Everyone says I look just like Dad, except for my the color of my hair. I like keeping it turquoise. I don't change it much, but I've heard Mom used to. Why? James asked me the same thing once. I think it was the first time someone asked me that, and the first time I ever thought about it. I thought about it hard too. The reason-because that's how I looked when Mum and Dad last saw me. It's something small, but something I can't see myself without.

They tell me everything I want to know about Mom and Dad. Everything except one thing. I've asked them exactly how did my parents die? I know they were killed in the war-but it always feels as if they're hiding something. Always. I never ask more because I fear the truth. Do I want to know? Not really, but I think it's time for me to face the truth. I am no longer the little boy who misses his parents. I'm now the boy who wants to know why he has none.

A/N: This is just an idea that came to me. Tell me what you think. Please review. I'm not sure if I should continue or leave it so...