A/N: something I emailed to myself a while ago. I was bored and thus, I copied it into word and edited it…please vote on my poll. And feel free to request something or me to write a one-shot for you… I have major writers block and little 100-word ideas that don't even make sense to me…
Disclaimer: lets put it this way since your little brain doesn't seem to understand any disclaimer I've written so far. I would be dead without spell-check. Do you think a 12 year old could write a world-best selling novel series? Especially if they can't spell to well? If you do you must be daft… American spell check hates British phrases/spellings FYI…
A/N2: Set at the end of the deathly hallows when Harry's about to go to the forest and face his death. An insight on a more in depth analyze of his thoughts…this is why my parents don't let me read past midnight…
Title: Instincts like glass
Summary: Instincts are a bit like glass. You can tell some things there. Have a vague idea. But it's twisted and you always miss something. And sometimes they break. You see something that's not there and the glass gets broken. The glass is stained. It's your entire fault. Maybe it's not as clear-cut as you think. Or maybe it too clear. And the painted picture isn't one you want to see…
They mean well.
You know they do.
But it's driving you insane.
Their willingness, to rush into danger, all on your behalf.
You wonder if this is how they feel when you act 'noble' and go off to do your 'saving people thing' as they call it.
You told them, long ago, that they could turn back and you would go it alone.
They've had time to turn back, and they never did.
Some small part of you kinda wishes they did.
Because you have a bad feeling about this.
That there's not going to be some perfect happy ending.
It's not some mystery to be solved anymore.
It's war.
Life and death.
Dumbledore's not there to protect you anymore.
Love and luck can't save you forever.
Even the luck of the devil runs out sometime.
You realized to late whom the bad guys and good guys were.
And now you're paying the price.
People have died.
It's all your fault.
You kinda wish they would turn back and save them selves.
You're going to have to die.
You know it.
And your instincts are never wrong.
You have a feeling it's the last time you might see some of their faces.
But the longer you look and dwell the harder it will be to pull away.
You wish they turned back.
It would be easy.
No family or friends to live for.
They wouldn't have to die.
But some small raw human emotion part of you, untouched by the cruelty of the world is glad they didn't.
It's selfish, but it may be what saved you from a fate like Tom Riddle's.
Your instincts are never wrong.
Some of you will not get out alive.
But you're glad their there with you.
You sealed their fate. I
It's your fault.
And what scares you the most is your not sorry for it.
You're a bit like shattered glass.
Stained, cracked, broken and colorful.
Like a kaleidoscope.
Shards.
Where you see a piece but never the entire story.
Barely holding together.
Your instincts are never wrong.
Time to die.
But you never saw something far worse.
Coming back to life, while the others died.
It's time to move on, but you're a bit like glass.
Always leaving pieces and wounds and scars behind.
You kinda wish they had turned back.
But your glad they didn't.
For surly you would have broken, like tom riddle.
Funny how the one thing that ruined your life, also saved it.