Disclaimer: I own nothing of this fic. Well, actually, I own some of it,
because it only has a few references to HP and Hogwarts. I own the
Tapestry.
A/N: This fic is kinda strange, and short. I don't know if everyone will
understand it, but I like it anyway. It can be whatever POV you like,
except Harry's. I rather like to picture it in Draco's and Hermione's.
The idea of Hermione hating her parents appeals to me somehow. Oh, and
that's why it can't be Harry's. Harry obviously can't hate his parents,
because he doesn't know them. Got it? You'll understand once you read.
Tapestry
My life is like a portrait. I painted it myself, all there in my mind. But, a long while back, it became more than a portrait. It became a Tapestry, decorating the walls of my mind.
Decorating my Tapestry are all the things that have ever affected me in my life. My best friends, my enemies, my schoolwork, my parents, much as I despised them, they were still a part of my life, Dumbledore, Hogwarts and so many others.
I loved to improve my Tapestry. I would delve into that one section of my mind impenetrable to anyone else. There was my Tapestry.
To work on my Tapestry I had to try and picture what I want to go on it, then it appears, woven in with everything else, as if it had always been there.
Working on my Tapestry took all of my energy, and I usually collapsed from pure exhaustion after leaving my mind, with my Tapestry left behind, always. Many were confused as to why at various times during the day my eyes would focus on something that isn't there and lock there, for anytime from minutes to hours. Then, when it seemed I had finally re-inhabited my body, or maybe it had finally re-inhabited me, I would get up, try to stand and fall, my legs unable to support my weight.
No one, absolutely no one in this world has any idea who I am. There are many who think they know me, but they are wrong. And always will be. For I will never open up to anyone. To open up is to die.
But there were times when I wished to die. No, more than just wished. There are times I fell into such depression I looked through my Potions books, looking for a poison to kill. All I ever found was the Draught of the Living Dead. And that would have just put me to sleep forever. I wanted pain, craved it.
But then, after searching and searching to no avail, I would exhaust myself and collapse on my bed, face wet with tears. I would retreat then to my Tapestry, and finally, finally snap out of my obsessive suicide spree.
Miraculously, no one ever found me when I was deep in the clutches of my suicide spree. For if anyone were to, I would have been taken to Madam Pomfrey and kept in the hospital wing. And, while I could have reached my Tapestry there and that is all I ask, I would resent being locked in one room like that.
My Tapestry was my most prized possession. I valued it above all others, though it only existed in my mind. It portrayed my whole life, it was my whole life. It hung, in its entire splendor, always, there in my mind. It was worn, wan and weary, like I am. But it still retained a shred of dignity, and of humanity, as I do.
But these times are Dark times. And Dark wizards are about, each worse than the last. And they will stop at nothing to destroy me, to convert me. Eventually, sometime, someday, they will find a way to get into my mind, where I cannot escape them. They will get at what I most love.
And that is my Tapestry.
So I must destroy it, against my better judgment. I will regret it horribly the instant after my Tapestry has been destroyed, but then I will console myself, telling myself that it was the best, the only choice.
So I delved within myself, to the one sacred place I have peace. And pictured flames. They consumed my Tapestry, licking at its edges and turning it to charcoal. Always hungry, the flames destroyed my Tapestry utterly. Turned it to ashes, there in my mind.
One day, maybe not long from now, maybe in years and decades, I will find the best person to make my Tapestry again. They will use all the finest threads, silk and satin, and make it up again, just as I describe it for them. It will no longer hang in my mind, but in my bedroom, once again fine, displayed fro all to see.
But until that day.it is gone.
Oh, my Tapestry.
Tapestry
My life is like a portrait. I painted it myself, all there in my mind. But, a long while back, it became more than a portrait. It became a Tapestry, decorating the walls of my mind.
Decorating my Tapestry are all the things that have ever affected me in my life. My best friends, my enemies, my schoolwork, my parents, much as I despised them, they were still a part of my life, Dumbledore, Hogwarts and so many others.
I loved to improve my Tapestry. I would delve into that one section of my mind impenetrable to anyone else. There was my Tapestry.
To work on my Tapestry I had to try and picture what I want to go on it, then it appears, woven in with everything else, as if it had always been there.
Working on my Tapestry took all of my energy, and I usually collapsed from pure exhaustion after leaving my mind, with my Tapestry left behind, always. Many were confused as to why at various times during the day my eyes would focus on something that isn't there and lock there, for anytime from minutes to hours. Then, when it seemed I had finally re-inhabited my body, or maybe it had finally re-inhabited me, I would get up, try to stand and fall, my legs unable to support my weight.
No one, absolutely no one in this world has any idea who I am. There are many who think they know me, but they are wrong. And always will be. For I will never open up to anyone. To open up is to die.
But there were times when I wished to die. No, more than just wished. There are times I fell into such depression I looked through my Potions books, looking for a poison to kill. All I ever found was the Draught of the Living Dead. And that would have just put me to sleep forever. I wanted pain, craved it.
But then, after searching and searching to no avail, I would exhaust myself and collapse on my bed, face wet with tears. I would retreat then to my Tapestry, and finally, finally snap out of my obsessive suicide spree.
Miraculously, no one ever found me when I was deep in the clutches of my suicide spree. For if anyone were to, I would have been taken to Madam Pomfrey and kept in the hospital wing. And, while I could have reached my Tapestry there and that is all I ask, I would resent being locked in one room like that.
My Tapestry was my most prized possession. I valued it above all others, though it only existed in my mind. It portrayed my whole life, it was my whole life. It hung, in its entire splendor, always, there in my mind. It was worn, wan and weary, like I am. But it still retained a shred of dignity, and of humanity, as I do.
But these times are Dark times. And Dark wizards are about, each worse than the last. And they will stop at nothing to destroy me, to convert me. Eventually, sometime, someday, they will find a way to get into my mind, where I cannot escape them. They will get at what I most love.
And that is my Tapestry.
So I must destroy it, against my better judgment. I will regret it horribly the instant after my Tapestry has been destroyed, but then I will console myself, telling myself that it was the best, the only choice.
So I delved within myself, to the one sacred place I have peace. And pictured flames. They consumed my Tapestry, licking at its edges and turning it to charcoal. Always hungry, the flames destroyed my Tapestry utterly. Turned it to ashes, there in my mind.
One day, maybe not long from now, maybe in years and decades, I will find the best person to make my Tapestry again. They will use all the finest threads, silk and satin, and make it up again, just as I describe it for them. It will no longer hang in my mind, but in my bedroom, once again fine, displayed fro all to see.
But until that day.it is gone.
Oh, my Tapestry.