AN: So, this is probably the first piece I've put out in...what? A year? Not actually keeping track.

Anywoo-this little piece is something that popped into my head and stayed there. I always kind of wondered why Riddle was so successful with his locket, because Ron was always a really true Gryffindor. So I figured it probably had something to do with Harry (because doesn't everything?) and their relationship. I mean, for everything that they were best friends, Ron was still always going to be the one holding the short stick in Harry's life. So this is my take on it.

And I know there are probably a lot of people out there who are going to read this and think "Wow, she needs a beta" and yeah, they'd be right. Anyone want to volunteer? Just for this piece?

I hate you, Harry Potter.

I have your life blood on my hands, and you are not breathing. There is a wound on your chest where Bellatrix got in a cheep shot. I am trying to save your life.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!

I have hated you since the day we became friends, since the day I saw Hermione and thought her too bossy.

I hate you for not breathing, for being the name on Hermione's lips as she cries and holds your hand.

I hate everything about you-everything to do with Harry-Fucking-Potter. I want to rip away everything you love, and destroy it, just so I can see you cry. I want to ruin everything good in your life, so I can laugh and make you want everything I have.

What's so special about you anyway, huh? A little cut on your face left a mark and now the whole world treats you like the goose that shat out god-damn-golden eggs. I could have been the one with a scar, just as easy as Neville or 'mione, or Luna, or Ferret-fucking-Malfoy.

There's nothing special about you. Nothing. Less than nothing. You're actually worse than ordinary-you're less than ordinary. You're worthless. You're a whining, selfish, brainless git that sucks at chess (so what good would you be in a war?) and never thinks of how others might feel when you flash money like it's nothing or cozy up to my girl in an international-fucking-paper.

I think I am going to smack you, because you refuse to suck air into your mouth and make my sister stop crying like a good person would. I hate that you taught me CPR and it's not working. "Breathe, GOD DAMNIT!"

I hate you for your eyes, because they make my little sister write sonnets that get her humilliated and caught up with evil diaries when she's only eleven years old!

I hate your money, because you can buy us all such wonderful things, and then how the hell are we supposed to keep up with that? How are we supposed to give you gifts that are worth anything near as much as that brand-new chess board with dragon-tooth ivory and onyx squares?

I hate your pain-hate that even a tiny twinge or wince gets my sister and my girl all upset and crazed to try and fix it. God forbid you get a splinter, that has to be babied by 'mione and half the girls in the dorm.

I hate that no one can see me, for all my height, my muscles (that I worked so damned hard on this summer, mucking in the garden for Mum), for all my red-haired good-looks (that I know are not just a figment of my ego) because no one can see past your glasses and your scar and your parents' memories, engraved in your face.

"Ron, please!" Lupin is saying somewhere, beyond the haze of your blood and my hands on your chest, "He's gone. He-he's-there's nothing you can do."

"No he is NOT! He's not dead yet!"

I hate you because I am your best friend, the only one you'll talk to when you wake up shaking and screaming in the nights of the summer storms. I hate you because you will never play a mean prank on me, like my brothers, just because you can (and I know so well that you can). I hate you because you crush the spiders for me without being asked in every Potions class. I hate you because you told me you wanted to be the best man at my and Mione's wedding. I hate you because you know what it's like to be starved and locked in a dark space for days; you begged me not to let them bury you in a box (when) if Riddle got you.

I hate you because you are the bravest man I know. I hate you because you compared what I am to what you mom was to Snape. I hate you because I am not afraid of Riddle as much as I am of loosing you to him.

I hate you because I know that, even if you became worse than him, or Snape-that if you ever lost your way-I wouldn't be able to stop you. I could never, ever hold my wand against you, and I think you know that.

I hate you because you wouldn't be able to choose between loosing me or Hermione, but I could. I hate you because you'd die for both of us, and we'd both have to die for you.

I hate you because you are better than blood to me, and so someone that I cannot, will not loose.

So you'd better start-fucking-breathing, Harry, or I might start hating you for real.