Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Nothing. DO YOU HEAR ME, WORLD?! I HAVE NOTHING! YOU'VE TAKEN IT ALL, YOU COLD, CRUEL, HEARTLESS...(insert sounds of tranquilizer dart hitting my neck and me falling to the floor.)
Sweet Dreams
The boys are asleep
They're tucked in their beds
With sweet Quidditch dreams
Flying round in their heads
But Ronald is not
He's lying awake
Thinking of winning
And the Cup he'll soon take
But, hark! What is this?
A sound from Harry's bed
As the happy Quidditch dream
Is driven from his head
Is he all right?
Is it You-Know-Who?
Ron listens close
So he will know, too
A whimper, a moan,
A voice in the night
But none other awakens,
The cry is so slight
Ron heard it though,
He's heard it before
"Sirius!" Harry cries,
And dreams no more
He wakes with a start
And sits up in bed
Hoping no one else heard
What he screamed in his head
He looks round the room
And sees all asleep
He returns to his dreaming
And slumbers quite deep
The boys are asleep
They're tucked in their beds
With sweet Quidditch dreams
Flying round in their heads
But Ronald is not
He's still wide awake
He pretended to doze
His snoring was fake
He thinks now of Harry
And how he won't tell
His friend's grim secret
Of his nightly trips to hell.