A/N: Oish, it's been a while since I wrote fanfiction. The idea just flew into my head today after I finally got around to rereading HP & the Deathly Hallows. Oh, that's a good book...
Anyway, I was just wondering how hard it must be to find out that you possess no magical ability, so I decided to write about it.
It's an OC story, obviously. So many OC stories are focused on witches and wizards, so here's one that's not. =3

I looked eagerly at my parents as they sifted through the post. Today was the day!

There was the normal post; Muggle bills, adverts, things like that – then out of the pile came a different letter. My mother delicately picked it out, skimmed her eyes over the address, and handed it over... To my twin sister.
Of course, of course! I told my frantic heart to slow down; it was only natural that Francine should receive a letter too! After all, she was my twin. The daughter of a witch and a wizard. It only made sense that she too should receive a letter.
A few moments later, the shuffling of the letters increased in pace, and I looked up from my sister's jubilant face into that of my mother, who glanced worriedly at my father, then at me. For that briefest of moments, she looked older than I'd ever seen her. Worry was etched into her delicate face, which was pale at the best of times but now had gone ghostly white. My father had turned equally pale, a contrast to his usual tanned appearance, gained from the work he did with goblins oversees. Working with goblins, he had learned how to control his facial expression. After all, the creatures couldn't be trusted, and your face could give away valuable knowledge. So when I saw my father's face drain of colour, mine soon followed suit. Where was my letter? Why had I not been sent word of my acceptance into Hogwarts?

A hand gently slipped into mine, and a turned to look in horror at my twin, whose face said it all. There was no shock there, no surprise that my letter hadn't arrived too.

She'd known. She's always known. In my heart of hearts I'd always known too.

The rain never fell when I was sad, never left when I was happy. I'd never made sparks appear out of thin air or levitated the next door neighbour's howling cat for fun. I'd never miraculously escaped uninjured after an accident. I had a knack for potions, greater than my sister's, in fact, but that was it. I'd read up on the History of Magic and Hogwarts – I knew everything I needed; a contrast to my sister wasn't interested at all; I'd read The Tales of Beedle the Bard many times over, as well as other Wizarding stories and myths – but I'd never shown any remarkable power, unlike Francine.

Even as my parents, who were still trying to convince themselves that it was impossible, attempted to console me, to say that my letter must have just got lost in the post, or forgotten, or something like that, the word hung threateningly over us. The truth sat on the tip of our tongues, waiting to be said out loud.

Perhaps it was my destiny to keep my family in touch with the Muggle world in some way. Perhaps it was meant to be that I'd do GCSEs instead of OWLs; A Levels instead of NEWTs; Ancient Greek instead of Ancient Runes. Perhaps it was just fate.

But it wouldn't stop the whispers. The jeers. The curses.

It wouldn't stop the fact that Francine would never mention me to her magical friends.

It wouldn't stop the simple fact that I dishonoured the family.

I could be amazing in the Muggle world. I could save a species from extinction, discover a new star, cure the common cold – but they wouldn't care. After all, what was I now but a second rate citizen? Could my parents ever be truly proud, knowing what I was? Could they even bring themselves to say it?

It hurt, but the facts had to be faced.

No letter.

No Magic.

Squib.