This is another one shot ficlet, it's a song fic, obviously. Review if you feel like it.
-Sam
- - -
All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere..
I'm staring into the fire and watching the flames flicker, and leap, and crackle...I've done this before. Drowning in my own thoughts, I count the seconds... the hours until it is time. I touch my hair, it is perfect... I'm sure of it. I glance at my robes. I smooth out a wrinkle. I can see my reflection in mirror over the mantle. Everything in it's place. It's funny how I look like a person from the outside.
Pansy Parkinson and her group of friends are sitting in the corner, stealing glances at me out of the corner of their eyes. They point and whisper once they know I'm watching. Things have been very different since my father failed.
I see Crab and Goyle playing exploding snap, I can't hear them, and for once in these past few God forsaken months I miss them. They avoid my glance and grunt a few things to each other.
I continue to stare into the fire. Although I'm barely 3 feet away, the warmth hardly reaches me. The boy in the reflection stares at me. His eyes are so cold. I wonder if they can see what he feels inside.
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression..
It's snowing. I can see it out of the window in my Gryffindor common room. I'm sitting in the corner at my favorite spot. I see my brother, Harry and Hermione. They are talking, heads bent. I glance down at the homework I should be doing. The words blur and shift, saying anything but the properties of fishwort. Saying things people don't often hear. Things I try not to listen to.
Someone is waving their hand in front of my face. It's Dean. He wants to show my a drawing he has just completed. After several moments he walks off, looking annoyed. It only takes me a second to realize I am still staring at my paper.
I lean my head against the chair and think about the spell book under my bed. That book. It's not an easy book to find. I think of using it and wonder what would happen. Would they cry? Or shake there heads? One Weasley down, maybe? I think of doing it..
Instead I go to tell Dean that I like his drawing.
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow..
Pansy is looking at me again, sneering. She enjoyed my company not long ago. I'm at the Slytherin table and she is directly across from me, looking from me to Goyle. It seems she finds him more satisfactory. I glance to my left. Crab has clearly has never heard of chewing with his mouth closed. I sigh and pick at my meat loaf, it's dry and I am still counting.
I look across the Hall. Potter, Weasel, and their Mudblood friend Granger are laughing at some joke one of them has told. Granger, who is in the middle reaches over and squeezes Potter's hand. He turns a funny salmon color. I notice all of this without even trying. It's so automatic for me. Every time it's like this. Every time I want to go scream at them. Tell them that they have no right to be like this. I want to remind them of the deaths. The deaths to come. I want to hear them cry. I want to feel their hurt.I want to feel their pain. Theirs.
And not my own.
And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I am sitting on the cold floorbeds in my dormitory, alone. I lean against a crimson bedpost and think, toy, with the idea of reaching beneath the bed and looking at the book. I bite the inside of my lip so hard it draws blood. I am a coward, I think. A shame to the Gryffindor house.
So I stand up and dust myself off. I walk to the Great Hall, hating myself all the way for not having the courage.
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take...
I walk slowly down the stone corridor. Most everyone is still at dinner. I've been counting...one, two, three...my steps echo along the walls. My breathing is deep. I tell myself this is what I want do to. After all I've put my family through. After all I've disgraced them. I want this.
But by the time I reach my room my face is wet.
When people run in circles
It's a very, very mad world mad world...
I have just seen Draco Malfoy walk out of the Great Hall. I watch him often. He does not know this. No one does.
I despise him, I really do. I hate him for hating me. For hating my family, my friends...and this is why I always wonder...why do I see something else in his eyes? Something sad.
I tell myself he is a horrible little boy. A spoiled brat. Someone who does not deserve my pity...especially because I'm not one to give such a thing.
And yet my eyes stay glued to the door he has left several minutes ago.
And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had...
I rush over to my vanity. The mirror sighs, seeing my reflection. Tells me crying does horrors for the complexion. I block it out. One. Two. Three. I grab the bottle. Twist the cap. Empty it into my hand. One. Two. Three. 50 pills. Maybe more. This is what I want. I stare into the mirror as I swallow them one by one. The boy again. He is sobbing. Hair in his face. Circles under his eyes. He is usually more composed.
I swallow the rest of the pills along with a bottle of Odgens Fire Whiskey. I don't know how long it takes before it works, but I stare at the boy the entire time. One. The room begins to spin. I feel like vomiting. Two. My ears are ringing. This what I want. Three. The boy once more. His world is black.
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take..
They found him in his dormitory, still warm. They say he could have been saved, if they had found him moments earlier. I agree, he could have been saved. But not like that.
It's disgusting really, how so many in this school took it when they heard the knews. Everyone was shocked of course...that was all. It's ironic how I'm the only person who feels anything. I saw it. I did.
I'm sitting on the steps of Hogwarts. My friends are inside, by the fire, fine. As fine as you can be these days. I'm sitting here...and I'm thinking about the book under my bed, and Draco Malfoy and what he was inside. How he felt when You-Know-Who killed his father, what he did when his mum lost it. And it makes me want to cry because I never said a kind word to Draco Malfoy.
After all this no one can see... after all we've been through. So I sit on the rough stone and think. It all seems to be a bit of an anti-cliax. I think about this until nightfall. Until it begins to snow again.
...When people run in circles
It's a very, very mad world.
- - -
-Sam
- - -
All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere..
I'm staring into the fire and watching the flames flicker, and leap, and crackle...I've done this before. Drowning in my own thoughts, I count the seconds... the hours until it is time. I touch my hair, it is perfect... I'm sure of it. I glance at my robes. I smooth out a wrinkle. I can see my reflection in mirror over the mantle. Everything in it's place. It's funny how I look like a person from the outside.
Pansy Parkinson and her group of friends are sitting in the corner, stealing glances at me out of the corner of their eyes. They point and whisper once they know I'm watching. Things have been very different since my father failed.
I see Crab and Goyle playing exploding snap, I can't hear them, and for once in these past few God forsaken months I miss them. They avoid my glance and grunt a few things to each other.
I continue to stare into the fire. Although I'm barely 3 feet away, the warmth hardly reaches me. The boy in the reflection stares at me. His eyes are so cold. I wonder if they can see what he feels inside.
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression..
It's snowing. I can see it out of the window in my Gryffindor common room. I'm sitting in the corner at my favorite spot. I see my brother, Harry and Hermione. They are talking, heads bent. I glance down at the homework I should be doing. The words blur and shift, saying anything but the properties of fishwort. Saying things people don't often hear. Things I try not to listen to.
Someone is waving their hand in front of my face. It's Dean. He wants to show my a drawing he has just completed. After several moments he walks off, looking annoyed. It only takes me a second to realize I am still staring at my paper.
I lean my head against the chair and think about the spell book under my bed. That book. It's not an easy book to find. I think of using it and wonder what would happen. Would they cry? Or shake there heads? One Weasley down, maybe? I think of doing it..
Instead I go to tell Dean that I like his drawing.
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow..
Pansy is looking at me again, sneering. She enjoyed my company not long ago. I'm at the Slytherin table and she is directly across from me, looking from me to Goyle. It seems she finds him more satisfactory. I glance to my left. Crab has clearly has never heard of chewing with his mouth closed. I sigh and pick at my meat loaf, it's dry and I am still counting.
I look across the Hall. Potter, Weasel, and their Mudblood friend Granger are laughing at some joke one of them has told. Granger, who is in the middle reaches over and squeezes Potter's hand. He turns a funny salmon color. I notice all of this without even trying. It's so automatic for me. Every time it's like this. Every time I want to go scream at them. Tell them that they have no right to be like this. I want to remind them of the deaths. The deaths to come. I want to hear them cry. I want to feel their hurt.I want to feel their pain. Theirs.
And not my own.
And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I am sitting on the cold floorbeds in my dormitory, alone. I lean against a crimson bedpost and think, toy, with the idea of reaching beneath the bed and looking at the book. I bite the inside of my lip so hard it draws blood. I am a coward, I think. A shame to the Gryffindor house.
So I stand up and dust myself off. I walk to the Great Hall, hating myself all the way for not having the courage.
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take...
I walk slowly down the stone corridor. Most everyone is still at dinner. I've been counting...one, two, three...my steps echo along the walls. My breathing is deep. I tell myself this is what I want do to. After all I've put my family through. After all I've disgraced them. I want this.
But by the time I reach my room my face is wet.
When people run in circles
It's a very, very mad world mad world...
I have just seen Draco Malfoy walk out of the Great Hall. I watch him often. He does not know this. No one does.
I despise him, I really do. I hate him for hating me. For hating my family, my friends...and this is why I always wonder...why do I see something else in his eyes? Something sad.
I tell myself he is a horrible little boy. A spoiled brat. Someone who does not deserve my pity...especially because I'm not one to give such a thing.
And yet my eyes stay glued to the door he has left several minutes ago.
And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had...
I rush over to my vanity. The mirror sighs, seeing my reflection. Tells me crying does horrors for the complexion. I block it out. One. Two. Three. I grab the bottle. Twist the cap. Empty it into my hand. One. Two. Three. 50 pills. Maybe more. This is what I want. I stare into the mirror as I swallow them one by one. The boy again. He is sobbing. Hair in his face. Circles under his eyes. He is usually more composed.
I swallow the rest of the pills along with a bottle of Odgens Fire Whiskey. I don't know how long it takes before it works, but I stare at the boy the entire time. One. The room begins to spin. I feel like vomiting. Two. My ears are ringing. This what I want. Three. The boy once more. His world is black.
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take..
They found him in his dormitory, still warm. They say he could have been saved, if they had found him moments earlier. I agree, he could have been saved. But not like that.
It's disgusting really, how so many in this school took it when they heard the knews. Everyone was shocked of course...that was all. It's ironic how I'm the only person who feels anything. I saw it. I did.
I'm sitting on the steps of Hogwarts. My friends are inside, by the fire, fine. As fine as you can be these days. I'm sitting here...and I'm thinking about the book under my bed, and Draco Malfoy and what he was inside. How he felt when You-Know-Who killed his father, what he did when his mum lost it. And it makes me want to cry because I never said a kind word to Draco Malfoy.
After all this no one can see... after all we've been through. So I sit on the rough stone and think. It all seems to be a bit of an anti-cliax. I think about this until nightfall. Until it begins to snow again.
...When people run in circles
It's a very, very mad world.
- - -