Disclaimer: I do not own the lyrics to the song "Maybe" from the Annie
soundtrack. Nor do I own the characters and places created by J.K. Rowling.
Summary: This is another song fic showing what it would be like if Harry
Potter were a musical. In this one Harry is eight and thinking about his
mother and father, and yes, he is singing.
Rating: G
A/N: Ummm...I really don't know if this is any good. Well I guess, I think
it's good, but I'm not sure what others will think, I just thought this
song fit Harry well, and it fits even better before he knew anything about
his parents. If you don't like it, please go easy on me and send
constructive reviews.
MAYBE SONGFIC
Harry Potter, a scrawny boy of eight with tousled hair and an air of sorrow
lay awake in his "room", a cupboard under the stairs. He dreamed about what
it would be like if his parents hadn't died. He sighed and sang in the
sweet soprano of a young boy.
Maybe far away
Or maybe real nearby
He may be pouring her coffee
She may be straightening his tie
Maybe in a house
All hidden by a hill
She's sitting playing piano
He's sitting signing a bill
Harry smiled at the thought of a happy home. He dreamed of a place where he
was actually loved and wanted, unlike the house on Privet Drive, where he
had been dumped on his aunt and uncle's doorstep. His parent's faces in his
fantasy were blurry; he had never been told what they looked like. He
didn't even know what kind of people they were.
Betcha they're young
Betcha they're smart
Bet they collect things
Like ashtrays and art
Betcha they're good
Why shouldn't they be?
They're one mistake
Was giving up me
Had his parents not died Harry would not have been sentenced to many years
of misery. His air of sorrow would be gone. Harry brushed his hair from his
eyes and tried to remember his parents clearly. But he tried in vain.
So maybe now it's time
And maybe when I wake
They'll be there calling me baby
Maybe
He hoped that is fancy would come true. He prayed that in the morning he
would wake up and find his mother calling him down to breakfast. Harry
snuggled under his rough blanket and tried to remember her voice.
Betcha he reads
Betcha she sews
Maybe she's made me
A closet of clothes
Maybe their strict
As straight as a line
Don't really care
As long as they're mine
He only had one simple desire, to know the love of his parent's. He didn't
care if they were strict or unlike other parents, as long as they loved
him. Love was something he had never been given within his memory. His aunt
and uncle didn't love him. The boy fell asleep and dreamed of how life
could have been. Just then he was at peace, though he would awake in the
morning to find his prayer unanswered.
(a choir sings softly)
So maybe now this prayer's
The last one of its kind...
Won't you please come get your baby
Maybe