A/N: Okay, this is a serious fic. I know, what a shock! BUUUUUT it gets worse. You see, the only way i could make this song work was for it to be...H/H. *shudders* UGGGG! I know! But I had to. Anyway, its a song fic to Barenaked Ladies "What a good boy". Which is SUCH a good song! :) So go download it! NOW! Yes, that's an order! *grins*
Disclaimer: I don't own HP or Barenaked Ladies.
****
When I was born, they looked at me and said
"What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy."
When you were born, they looked at you and said
"What a good girl, what a smart girl, what a pretty girl."
"Isn't he beautiful, James? Isn't he?" Lily Potter stared, transfixed, at the tiny babe in her arms. Miniscule tears glistened at the corners of her eyes as a happy smile played on her face. A tall man, strong from years of sports, rushed over to hug her.
"He is...he is..."
Words could not describe how full of joy the young man was. In a time of horror and fear, here was a beaken of hope; of an end to the reign of terror.
"What a good boy..."
We've got these chains that hang around our necks
People want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath
"Do you remember the day I told you?" the new mother's eyes stung with tears.
"Of course I do!" James stared at the lit No Smoking sign as he drifted off into memories.
"James! James!" His new wife pounced on his the moment he walked in the door, worn from a long day at work.
"Yes, Lily, dear?" James slumped in a chair, unloosened his tie and kicked off his mud-brown work shoes.
"The doctor- he said I was...we were...pregnant!!" As Lily's sea green eyes shown with pride, her husband visibly transformed in happiness. He ran over to her.
"Lillers! Lillers! That's wonderful!" He grabbed her hands and danced a quick jig, Lily giggling all the while. Suddenly he dropped her hands and sunk into a kitchen chair.
"Oh...Lily! Our child- what a time to be born! Voldemort is drawing closer, and we can't be so naive as to think we'll be spared much longer. I only worry-" And here James went silent, Lily rubbing a hand over her stomach.
"Don't talk so...No one is going to take Harry away. I refuse." Lily looked dead set, completely sure of her words.
"Harry? Who's Harry? Lily, is that the name of your secret lover?" James said teasingly in an effort to lighten the mood. "If it is, you can tell me, you know!" He put his face right near her and pouted. "Pwease..."
"JAMES! Harry's going to be the name of our baby. Or Harriet, I suppose, if it's a girl."
"Oh, drat. I had my heart set on Wesley." James muttered, faking annoyance.
"Oh, you say that to my face, you little bugger!" Lily jumped on James, and the two giggled and talked, the darker mood gone now from the quiet London home. But the two knew that the chains were already being tightened...
Afraid of change, afraid of staying the same, when temptation calls
we just look away.
"James...James Potter." The Dark Lord spoke in a cold, clipped tone. James stood resolute and strong, a contrast to the tall yet incredibly thin man who challenged him.
"Potter. You know you still have the chance- coming from the stairs James heard Harry's terrified wail- to join me. I would give you all the power in the world." His voice had turned oily, slick with dreams of power and wealth.
"Never." Something in James's voice convinced Voldemort that no amount of bargaining would ever convince him.
"Very well. AVADA KEDAVRA!" And with a bright flash of green light, the color of Lily's eyes, James lay sprawled on the floor. Harry wailed again, almost knowing what had happened...
This name is the hairshirt I wear,
and this hairshirt is woven from your brown hair.
This song is the cross that I bear,
bear with me, bear with me, bear with me,
be with me tonight.
I know that it isn't right, but be with me tonight.
Harry, fourteen years older, stared out of the cold window into the farmiliar Hogwarts grounds. His scar had woken him again, dreams of fire plaguing his thoughts. In his mind, he continued to hear the voice of his enemy.
"I would give you all the power in the world...your father was once proud too...I enjoyed killing your silly mother..."
But would power bring back his parents? His parents, who he'd never known. They had loved and trusted him so much, and how had he repaid them? By bringing back their killer. Harry felt as if the whole world were tumbling down. He sobbed, thinking of Cedric...of his parents...of all the people who would never be. Because of him. Sometimes Harry felt like killing himself. A quick slash- he'd never even feel it. And what a relief, a blessed relief, it would be.
"Harry." Harry spun around, quickly wiping his tell-tale tears. "Please, don't do anything stupid, Harry. It wasn't your fault...it was Voldemort's. DAMN him!" Hermione screamed out the last words in anger and pain.
As Hermione left, Harry's facial features hardened. He knew that he couldn't take the coward's way out. It simply wasn't his style. He knew he needed to stay alive- if only for her.
I go to school, I write exams,
If I pass if I fail if I drop out does anyone give a damn?
And if they do, they'll soon forget
'Cuz it won't take much for me to show my life ain't over yet.
Harry despondently copied notes for History of Magic class. His pencil point had long ago snapped, but he continued to mindlessly take notes. His eyes looked a torrent of emotions- fear, hate, love, and anguish.
"You know you're bored when taking notes is the most interesting thing you can think of doing." Ron tried weakly to make his friend feel better. "Come on, Harry. The class is over." He and Hermione steered the glassy-eyed boy into the next class.
"Why should I bother." Harry's sudden words startled Ron and Hermione. "Why should I even show up? Its all going to be useless anyway when Voldemort strikes."
Ron looked helplessly over Harry at Hermione and pushed Harry into Transfiguration.
I wake up scared
I wake up strange
I wake up wondering if anything in my life is ever gonna change.
I wake up scared, I wake up strange and everything around me stays the same.
"And now, to kill you! HAHAH!"
Harry's eyes snapped open, fear playing on his face. Another nightmare. Would they ever end? Would there ever be a night in which he didn't wake up, his heart beating like a drum- tolling out his doom. Harry almost wished Voldemort would strike. At least, one way or another, it would be over. Because he knew that he would either silence his parents' killer forevermore, or die trying.
His footsteps padded softly on the cool linoleum flooring as he walked to the window. The window. When all else failed, one look at the beauty of the world would keep him from losing his sanity. From slamming himself against the wall; from echoing the mental bruises he'd sustained. Blue and black, he wondered how his mind even worked anymore...
This name is the hairshirt I wear,
and this hairshirt is woven from your brown hair.
This song is the cross that I bear,
bear with me, bear with me, bear with me,
be with me tonight.
I know that it isn't right, but be with me tonight.
"Thought I'd find you here." Hermione's soft, musical voice sounded deadened by the nearly-empty room. She had crept up behind him again. Seen his suffering more times than she wished to remember. She rubbed his back, trying to calm him down. But this time, Harry was not in a mood to be consoled.
"HERMIONE! Because of me, people are going to die! Have ALREADY died!"
Her voice quaked. She'd only once before seen Harry this venemous. During third year, his anger at Sirius Black, who he'd thought was his parents's traitor. She'd been afraid then, and she was afraid now. "Its okay...its not your fault. You couldn't do anything." Harry jerked up angrily.
"You don't understand, Hermione! Just...GO!" he screamed out his rage at the chestnut haired girl beside him. "I HATE YOU! I HATE ALL OF YOU!" Bewildered and hurt, she ran from the room.
I couldn't tell you that I was wrong, chickened out, grabbed a pen and paper,
sat down and wrote this song.
I couldn't tell you that you were right,
so instead I looked in the mirror, watched tv, laid awake all night.
'Damn. Damn!' Harry mentally beat himself over the head with a two-by-four. Hermione'd been right- again. He had no right to snap at her- she'd only been trying to help. 'DAMN!' The common room door opened, and who should walk in but Hermione herself. Her hair was pulled back in a sloppy pony-tail, and she looked as if she didn't know what to do with herself.
"Hermione...I...I mean, I didn't...I mean," Harry sighed, "I'm sorry." Harry hung his head in shame and couldn't quite meet Hermione's eyes.
We've got these chains, hang 'round our necks,
people want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath.
Afraid of change, afraid of staying the same
When temptation calls...
"It's all right." She suddenly changed her voice to that of a master. "Now, pick your head up, slave! You're no good to me dead!" Although trying to lighten the mood, Hermione had unintentially struck a chord. Slave...that's what Harry was. Since before he was born, he'd been trying, trying to get free. His owner wasn't always the same; the chains weren't always stinging to his wrists. Sometimes they were coated with oil...sometimes they were coated with sugar; but the chains...they were always there. And when they tightened...well, the fighter within him awoke, and he would lash out, as a young slave will.
"Harry. You must know. You aren't a slave. A slave who's been so his whole life isn't still brave, as you are. He is weak at heart, and body. But you..." Hermione spoke with conviction. "You look your enemies in the eye and aren't afraid of a few lashings. How brave, how brave, you are..."
This name is the hairshirt I wear,
and this hairshirt is woven from your brown hair.
This song is the cross that I bear,
bear with me, bear with me, bear with me,
be with me tonight.
I know that it isn't right, but be with me tonight.
"Hermione?" Harry looked confused, almost. A look of uncertainty played on his long face.
"Yes?"
"I'm not always brave...not always..." his voice trembled.
"I will be brave for you."
When I was born, they looked at me and said
"What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy."
When you were born, they looked at you and said
"What a good girl, what a smart girl, what a pretty girl, heyy"
*****
A/N: Sigh. Anyway, that might've been good. Or bad. I never know about these things. Please, please review? And tell me what you thought. I think I'm going to die from finals... and my history fair project is due tomorrow! *FAINTS* Okay, so that was totally random. But I'm sure those of you who are in school know the feeling. So just feel proud that I took time to write you guys a ficcy. :)
A/N2: *shudders* Ew...I feel all dirty from the whole H/H thing. I gotta go take a shower. *waves* So ya'll review now, ya hear?
Disclaimer: I don't own HP or Barenaked Ladies.
****
When I was born, they looked at me and said
"What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy."
When you were born, they looked at you and said
"What a good girl, what a smart girl, what a pretty girl."
"Isn't he beautiful, James? Isn't he?" Lily Potter stared, transfixed, at the tiny babe in her arms. Miniscule tears glistened at the corners of her eyes as a happy smile played on her face. A tall man, strong from years of sports, rushed over to hug her.
"He is...he is..."
Words could not describe how full of joy the young man was. In a time of horror and fear, here was a beaken of hope; of an end to the reign of terror.
"What a good boy..."
We've got these chains that hang around our necks
People want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath
"Do you remember the day I told you?" the new mother's eyes stung with tears.
"Of course I do!" James stared at the lit No Smoking sign as he drifted off into memories.
"James! James!" His new wife pounced on his the moment he walked in the door, worn from a long day at work.
"Yes, Lily, dear?" James slumped in a chair, unloosened his tie and kicked off his mud-brown work shoes.
"The doctor- he said I was...we were...pregnant!!" As Lily's sea green eyes shown with pride, her husband visibly transformed in happiness. He ran over to her.
"Lillers! Lillers! That's wonderful!" He grabbed her hands and danced a quick jig, Lily giggling all the while. Suddenly he dropped her hands and sunk into a kitchen chair.
"Oh...Lily! Our child- what a time to be born! Voldemort is drawing closer, and we can't be so naive as to think we'll be spared much longer. I only worry-" And here James went silent, Lily rubbing a hand over her stomach.
"Don't talk so...No one is going to take Harry away. I refuse." Lily looked dead set, completely sure of her words.
"Harry? Who's Harry? Lily, is that the name of your secret lover?" James said teasingly in an effort to lighten the mood. "If it is, you can tell me, you know!" He put his face right near her and pouted. "Pwease..."
"JAMES! Harry's going to be the name of our baby. Or Harriet, I suppose, if it's a girl."
"Oh, drat. I had my heart set on Wesley." James muttered, faking annoyance.
"Oh, you say that to my face, you little bugger!" Lily jumped on James, and the two giggled and talked, the darker mood gone now from the quiet London home. But the two knew that the chains were already being tightened...
Afraid of change, afraid of staying the same, when temptation calls
we just look away.
"James...James Potter." The Dark Lord spoke in a cold, clipped tone. James stood resolute and strong, a contrast to the tall yet incredibly thin man who challenged him.
"Potter. You know you still have the chance- coming from the stairs James heard Harry's terrified wail- to join me. I would give you all the power in the world." His voice had turned oily, slick with dreams of power and wealth.
"Never." Something in James's voice convinced Voldemort that no amount of bargaining would ever convince him.
"Very well. AVADA KEDAVRA!" And with a bright flash of green light, the color of Lily's eyes, James lay sprawled on the floor. Harry wailed again, almost knowing what had happened...
This name is the hairshirt I wear,
and this hairshirt is woven from your brown hair.
This song is the cross that I bear,
bear with me, bear with me, bear with me,
be with me tonight.
I know that it isn't right, but be with me tonight.
Harry, fourteen years older, stared out of the cold window into the farmiliar Hogwarts grounds. His scar had woken him again, dreams of fire plaguing his thoughts. In his mind, he continued to hear the voice of his enemy.
"I would give you all the power in the world...your father was once proud too...I enjoyed killing your silly mother..."
But would power bring back his parents? His parents, who he'd never known. They had loved and trusted him so much, and how had he repaid them? By bringing back their killer. Harry felt as if the whole world were tumbling down. He sobbed, thinking of Cedric...of his parents...of all the people who would never be. Because of him. Sometimes Harry felt like killing himself. A quick slash- he'd never even feel it. And what a relief, a blessed relief, it would be.
"Harry." Harry spun around, quickly wiping his tell-tale tears. "Please, don't do anything stupid, Harry. It wasn't your fault...it was Voldemort's. DAMN him!" Hermione screamed out the last words in anger and pain.
As Hermione left, Harry's facial features hardened. He knew that he couldn't take the coward's way out. It simply wasn't his style. He knew he needed to stay alive- if only for her.
I go to school, I write exams,
If I pass if I fail if I drop out does anyone give a damn?
And if they do, they'll soon forget
'Cuz it won't take much for me to show my life ain't over yet.
Harry despondently copied notes for History of Magic class. His pencil point had long ago snapped, but he continued to mindlessly take notes. His eyes looked a torrent of emotions- fear, hate, love, and anguish.
"You know you're bored when taking notes is the most interesting thing you can think of doing." Ron tried weakly to make his friend feel better. "Come on, Harry. The class is over." He and Hermione steered the glassy-eyed boy into the next class.
"Why should I bother." Harry's sudden words startled Ron and Hermione. "Why should I even show up? Its all going to be useless anyway when Voldemort strikes."
Ron looked helplessly over Harry at Hermione and pushed Harry into Transfiguration.
I wake up scared
I wake up strange
I wake up wondering if anything in my life is ever gonna change.
I wake up scared, I wake up strange and everything around me stays the same.
"And now, to kill you! HAHAH!"
Harry's eyes snapped open, fear playing on his face. Another nightmare. Would they ever end? Would there ever be a night in which he didn't wake up, his heart beating like a drum- tolling out his doom. Harry almost wished Voldemort would strike. At least, one way or another, it would be over. Because he knew that he would either silence his parents' killer forevermore, or die trying.
His footsteps padded softly on the cool linoleum flooring as he walked to the window. The window. When all else failed, one look at the beauty of the world would keep him from losing his sanity. From slamming himself against the wall; from echoing the mental bruises he'd sustained. Blue and black, he wondered how his mind even worked anymore...
This name is the hairshirt I wear,
and this hairshirt is woven from your brown hair.
This song is the cross that I bear,
bear with me, bear with me, bear with me,
be with me tonight.
I know that it isn't right, but be with me tonight.
"Thought I'd find you here." Hermione's soft, musical voice sounded deadened by the nearly-empty room. She had crept up behind him again. Seen his suffering more times than she wished to remember. She rubbed his back, trying to calm him down. But this time, Harry was not in a mood to be consoled.
"HERMIONE! Because of me, people are going to die! Have ALREADY died!"
Her voice quaked. She'd only once before seen Harry this venemous. During third year, his anger at Sirius Black, who he'd thought was his parents's traitor. She'd been afraid then, and she was afraid now. "Its okay...its not your fault. You couldn't do anything." Harry jerked up angrily.
"You don't understand, Hermione! Just...GO!" he screamed out his rage at the chestnut haired girl beside him. "I HATE YOU! I HATE ALL OF YOU!" Bewildered and hurt, she ran from the room.
I couldn't tell you that I was wrong, chickened out, grabbed a pen and paper,
sat down and wrote this song.
I couldn't tell you that you were right,
so instead I looked in the mirror, watched tv, laid awake all night.
'Damn. Damn!' Harry mentally beat himself over the head with a two-by-four. Hermione'd been right- again. He had no right to snap at her- she'd only been trying to help. 'DAMN!' The common room door opened, and who should walk in but Hermione herself. Her hair was pulled back in a sloppy pony-tail, and she looked as if she didn't know what to do with herself.
"Hermione...I...I mean, I didn't...I mean," Harry sighed, "I'm sorry." Harry hung his head in shame and couldn't quite meet Hermione's eyes.
We've got these chains, hang 'round our necks,
people want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath.
Afraid of change, afraid of staying the same
When temptation calls...
"It's all right." She suddenly changed her voice to that of a master. "Now, pick your head up, slave! You're no good to me dead!" Although trying to lighten the mood, Hermione had unintentially struck a chord. Slave...that's what Harry was. Since before he was born, he'd been trying, trying to get free. His owner wasn't always the same; the chains weren't always stinging to his wrists. Sometimes they were coated with oil...sometimes they were coated with sugar; but the chains...they were always there. And when they tightened...well, the fighter within him awoke, and he would lash out, as a young slave will.
"Harry. You must know. You aren't a slave. A slave who's been so his whole life isn't still brave, as you are. He is weak at heart, and body. But you..." Hermione spoke with conviction. "You look your enemies in the eye and aren't afraid of a few lashings. How brave, how brave, you are..."
This name is the hairshirt I wear,
and this hairshirt is woven from your brown hair.
This song is the cross that I bear,
bear with me, bear with me, bear with me,
be with me tonight.
I know that it isn't right, but be with me tonight.
"Hermione?" Harry looked confused, almost. A look of uncertainty played on his long face.
"Yes?"
"I'm not always brave...not always..." his voice trembled.
"I will be brave for you."
When I was born, they looked at me and said
"What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy."
When you were born, they looked at you and said
"What a good girl, what a smart girl, what a pretty girl, heyy"
*****
A/N: Sigh. Anyway, that might've been good. Or bad. I never know about these things. Please, please review? And tell me what you thought. I think I'm going to die from finals... and my history fair project is due tomorrow! *FAINTS* Okay, so that was totally random. But I'm sure those of you who are in school know the feeling. So just feel proud that I took time to write you guys a ficcy. :)
A/N2: *shudders* Ew...I feel all dirty from the whole H/H thing. I gotta go take a shower. *waves* So ya'll review now, ya hear?