An earsplitting howl erupted around Harry as he sat on the floor next to his bed. 

Oh Lord, don't set my fields on fire

Oh God, don't kindle your wrath against me

Against me

I know you feast on fire…

His lips formed a bitter smile as Harry lifted the bottle to his lips.  He took a large swallow and leaned back against the bed.  The massive stereo in the corner of the room continued to blast the room with its loud, comforting despair.

I got a wife; I got a family in those fields

 I believe in my mother's religion

 And I will, and I will change

We got to church; we go to church on Sunday

And we're back drinking,

Drinking on Monday…

Harry closed his eyes and let the bottle fall from his hand.  He thought about the summer.  After Siri... After Sirius died, and Harry was sent back to the Dursley's, he lost it.  The black depression finally claimed him.  He had needed to find a way out.  Harry snuck to Diagon Alley that first week and took a chunk of his inheritance out of his vault.  It was amazing how much Muggle-money he could get for a couple thousand galleons.

We got by in the past

But what about tomorrow?

Oh Lord I got a life in those fields,

Don't set my fields,

Don't set my fields on fire…

He bought that huge stereo, and some music that to him sounded like it would fit his mood perfectly.  Harry looked for any way out.  He had tried suicide, but the slashes on his wrists kept magically closing.  He tried taking a couple handfuls of trazodone, but his stomach would not accept them.  So he finally settled on being really fucking ripped...all the time. 

With my anointing waits,

It waits in those fields,

And if it was true yesterday,

Then it's true today

Today

Surprisingly, Dudley was really useful here.  The fat bastard had more contacts in the city than Harry could have ever thought possible.  And, since Harry was now technically a millionaire in Muggle terms, he could afford whatever he wanted.  He lifted his bong and took a hit.  He looked down at the bowl.

"Damn...cashed," he muttered.

Oh Lord, Don't set my fields on fire

Oh God, give me one more day...

He got up to find a cigarette and change the cd.  He took the Murder City Devils out and decided on some AFI.  He threw the Art of Drowning in and hit the shuffle button.  "Wester" immediately started up.  Harry lit a cigarette and moved to the window.

I can feel you waiting for me as the sun retreats to the hills and I,
beneath the blanket of a burning sky, wrap myself within.
Embraced by dead leaves as the rain leaves trails of black down my face,

"Goddamnit," he swore to himself.  "I thought they'd have figured it out by now! I don't want to talk to any of them!"

I creep through the twilight to that
hidden place beyond the lonely.
I'll meet you tonight in the whispers when no one's around.
Nothing can stop us now.

Hedwig began tapping at the window and he let her in.  She nipped at his ear affectionately, but he brushed her off. 

Tonight in the whispers where we won't be found.
I can feel you dreaming of me and the time when our steps are retraced…

"Who's it from?  Hermione? Fucking hell..."

And I creep through the twilight to that hidden place,
beyond the lonely, I'll meet you.

He took the letter from Hedwig and grabbed his lighter.  He flicked it once and a pale flame shot up and started licking the bone-dry parchment.  Within seconds the majority of it was reduced to ashes.  Harry flicked his cigarette out the window and tossed the last bit of the parchment out with it.  Harry slammed the window down and turned away, stumbling his way back to the bed.

Beneath a dream, lost in a dream tonight.
Smile.

The scrap of letter floated on the wind as the moonlight bathed the four words written on it in silver…

I love you, Harry