Tap... Tap... Tap.. Harry was once again oblivious to the world, slowly tapping his wand against the table. The teacher in front of him was drowning on about something or the other, he wasn't exactly sure. Then again he wasn't quite sure what class he was even in, so maybe there were more important things to ponder.
Tap... Tap...Tap... Again and again he flicked his wand against the table, noting somewhere in the back of his mind that it was bothering Hermione who sat beside her. Emerald eyes stared out the nearby window, staring intensely across Hogwarts grounds, though not appearing to see a thing. Somewhere in the world of haze Harry realized the bell had went. He silently got up with the others and followed them out the door. Not contributing to the conversation, Harry walked along side Ron and Hermione, feeling empty. Faded. Dead.
Everything was covered in a haze, blurred, not exactly real. It was the first day of Harry's 6th year at Hogwarts and already he wished he was anywhere else. No where else. For there was no where to go. No matter where he went, the pain did not go away. No matter what he did, the guilt would not leave. All summer he walked in a daze, not really living at all.
Harry dragged himself out of his depression, just long enough to answer the question directed at him. Was it Ron.. or Hermione who had asked.. It doesn't really matter anyways. Harry followed the two into the great Hall, siting down at the same table. Looking down at the same golden plates. But nothing was the same... Nothing would ever be the same.
He pilled some food onto his plate, not really noticing what it was. After a few moments of staring numbly at it, he began to eat. But only because of the looks Hermione and Ron were giving him. The food tasted dull in his mouth, devoid of any taste. He wasn't hungry. He was never hungry. Harry had lost lots of weight over the summer, having no one to push him to eat. All summer long he was left at the Dursleys. Left alone. Letters told him to stay where he was, to be safe. That it was to dangerous to move him. To stay where he was and not to do anything stupid. To sit still, until they needed him.
But then again, thats all that he ever did. Waited until he was needed. Not him, Harry. But Harry Potter. The boy-who-lived. The savior. The chosen one. So many useless words to describe nothing. For thats what Harry was, nothing. Just an object to be used when needed, then discarded in the end. Something expendable. Not a person at all... But a weapon. A means to the end. To the end of a war, he was not interested in. To fight for a way of life, he had never known. To kill for a cause, he didn't care about. But then again, Harry didn't care about much lately. He was numb. Empty. A shell of what he could have been. Something no one cared about. Except his scar.
His scar, the bane of Harry's existence. The only thing that kept him different from others. The only thing people cared about. The only time he had gotten a letter from Dumbeldore.. Was to ask if he had had any dreams about Voldemort and if his scar still hurt. The only reason his parents were dead. Why Cedric was dead. Why Siruis was... His scar, the only reason for everything wrong in his life.
Hell, the thing that had made him and Ron friends, was his scar. The first thing his closest friend had talked to him about. "Do you really have the.. the Scar?" Harry felt even more empty as he looked up at the two across from him. His two closest friends in the world. And they didn't even notice. All summer he was once again left alone.. Only because they were too busy together. Harry gazed at his friends, watched as they smiled at each other, whispered and blushed. Ever since they found each other, they no longer needed Harry. No one needed him.. Except to save the world.. But then they didn't want him for that.. They wanted Harry Potter. The chosen one. The Saviour. The boy-who-others-won't-let-die. The hero. The fraud. The reason for all of his pain. An object. Someone to turn to when they needed help. To blame when no one else was there. To ignore when not useful. To throw away when they were done with him. Harry gazed at all those around them. Smiling, laughing, oblivious. He sat there silently. While inside he was screaming.
Harry couldn't wait until the day he died. But that would never be, at least not yet. For they world never let him die. Not until he defeated the Dark Lord. Not until he saved the world. Played the Hero. Then he could die, would die. They would expect him to. For what did the Saviour of the world do. When the world was already saved. What did the one destined to kill the Dark Lord do. After he was gone. No one would care then. He would have fulfilled his duty. and once again be ignored. And then, only then would Harry be allowed to die. Only then would he be allowed peace. Peace.. was there even such a thing? No.. At least not for him. Not for Harry Potter.. The supposed Saviour.. Even though the few Harry had wanted to save, he had failed them. The one to save the world. To bad he couldn't save himself. Oh well. He was just an empty shell after all. No reason to live. No reason to die. No one there to care. No one to hear him scream. No one to hear his heart break. And his soul shatter inside.
)(Just a short drabble showing how empty and used Harry feels after the fifth book. It might just stay like this, or I might turn it into a story. I havn't decided yet. But if it does end up turning into a story, it will either be a Harry/Draco, Harry/Snape or maybe even a Harry/Tom slash. ie: Male x male. Im not sure yet. What do you think? Continue?
Love
S & T )(