I've always wanted to write a songfic, but I was never satisfied with
exactly how the songs I like would fit in with a story. Then I was
listening to my Staind CD, and I heard this song, and I was inspired. ^_^
You should feel lucky. I haven't been inspired to write anything in a long
time.
Disclaimer: The few characters mentioned belong to J.K. Rowling. The song, Waste, belongs to the band Staind.
Warning: This story has language that isn't fit for young eyes. But don't blame me; blame Staind. They put potty-mouth words in their songs. The story also deals with child abuse and suicide. A third thing to be wary of is the fact that this is my first Harry Potter story. You have been warned.
Now, on with the story!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Waste
* * *
Your mother came up to me
She wanted answers only she should know
Only she should know.
It wasn't easy to deal
With the tears that rolled down her face.
I had no answers 'cause
I didn't even know you
* * *
I shouldn't have come. It isn't my place to be here. We never got along; we never agreed...I never cared. Now, I find myself thrown in a situation that, under any other circumstance, probably would have made you laugh at me. I'm sure you hated me, and I'm sure you would have found this whole awkward situation most enjoyable.
Your mother is looking up at me, her brown eyes filled with tears. You had the same lovely brown eyes. Though, I can't recall a time that I'd seen yours filled with tears. Your mother asks a question...I can't answer. I don't know, in all honesty. She shouldn't ask me...I knew nothing about you. How was I supposed to know these things? Another question...again, I shouldn't know the answer, though I doubt that many people in all of Hogwarts would know. It's not something a girl talks to her friends about, let alone her most despised teacher.
* * *
But these words
They can't replace
The life you,
The life you waste.
* * *
I finally decide that this is too awkward. I rest my hand on the woman's shoulder and look at her in the kindest way I can. I try to reassure her, but if I were in her position, I would be sick of people trying to reassure me, trying to tell me it was okay. I fail to see how it could be okay, and I never even bothered to get to know you.
You were always a brainy know-it-all Gryffindor. You laughed with your friends, you disregarded my rules, you aced every exam. You had so many friends, despite the hardships you dealt with. You never let the bad things get you down...you always continued to be bright, cheerful, and happy. Perhaps that's why I always treated you the way I did. Because you had so many friends, and you were so popular.
You made your first mistake, Hermione Granger. You never should have done this. Even if only to save your lovely mother these tears, you shouldn't have committed such a rash act. I'd always known you to think before you jumped...your friends must have rubbed off on you. But at least you had friends. Now, they sit in the pews, a few rows behind your mother. They're crying too, and comforting your peers as they pass by. Why did you have to be so stupid?
* * *
How could you paint this picture?
Was life as bad as it should seem
That there were no more options for you?
I can't explain how I feel
I've been there many times before.
I've tasted the cold steel
Of my life crashing down before me.
* * *
I pass by your coffin, closed and cold. A picture of you sits atop it, smiling and cheerful. As I stare, if only for a moment, at the picture of you smiling, I can't help but wonder what it was that caused you to snap. What could possibly have been so bad in your life that you would do something like this?
You had wonderful friends, didn't you? And your mother loves you. Why else would they be here, crying? What about all your classmates who have come to say goodbye? You were Potter's best friend. Weasley loved you, though I'm sure he never would have gotten around to admitting it, and I must say I would have done everything in my power to keep him away from you if that were to be the case. Longbottom's going to blow up my dungeon's now, thank you. You knew what he was like, and you still insist on putting me through this. Thank you, really.
I believe I even saw Draco Malfoy wandering about somewhere. I'm sure he came without his father's permission, but he was here nonetheless. I bet you never would have expected either him or myself to be here, did you? You probably thought we'd be laughing together about it. I must beg to differ.
I know what it's like to live life in pain and misery, despite how everything looks on the outside. I know what it's like to be abused. I know what it's like to have such high expectations that you could never possibly reach your goals. It's a horrible feeling, and it would have left you scarred for life...had you a life to be scarred.
* * *
But these words,
They can't replace
The life you,
The life you waste.
* * *
I apparate to Hogsmeade and use a fireplace to Floo to Hogwarts. I can't stay in that funeral parlor any longer. I am not bright and cheerful, by any means, but the mood of the funeral parlor is a little too depressing for my tastes. I need a drink. Quickly, I summon a house elf that appears immediately. I tell it what I want, and it returns only a second later with a glass of strong brandy. I fall into a chair and take a sip.
Alone in my room, I contemplate what used to be your existence. I think back to the first day I saw you, eagerly taking notes in my class and offering to answer every question I asked. From step one I had no doubt you knew the answers, and you never ceased to maintain that high standard. Never once was I able to actually stump you. You were indeed brilliant.
I can also marvel at your ability to help Longbottom. I've tried, in my own way of course, to improve his skills. Sadly, I believe it is an impossible task, though somehow you managed to help him keep from destroying the entire potions classroom. You would have made a great teacher. You had a bright future ahead of you, and you went and threw it away.
Why the hell did you have to be so stupid?
* * *
Did daddy not love you?
Or did he love you just too much?
Did he control you?
Did he live through you at your cost?
Did he leave no questions for you to answer on your own?
* * *
High expectations from parents are nothing to kill yourself over. Especially when you have the ability to do exactly what they want and more. Lord knows my parents had high expectations, but I dealt with it. My father was especially critical of everything I did. Every mistake on my part seemed to warrant a beating.
Was your father like that? He wasn't at your wake...did he expect only the best, only to show you the worst side of human nature if you failed to succeed? Did you ever even fail at anything? I fail to see how a parent could abuse a child such as you. If I had ever planned on cursing the world with my offspring, I suppose I would have liked to have a daughter like you. I know many parents would wish they had a child with your drive to succeed. You could almost have been in Slytherin with that drive.
Damnit Hermione, why did you have to kill yourself?
* * *
Well fuck them and fuck her
And fuck him and fuck you
For not having the strength in your hear to pull through.
I've had doubts; I have failed
I've fucked up; I've had plans
Doesn't mean I should take my life
With my own hands.
* * *
I throw my glass of brandy across the room. It shatters noisily against the bricks of the fireplace, scattering minute pieces of glass across the plush burgundy carpet. I find myself growing angry with you. Perhaps the brandy was stronger than I'd originally though. Lord knows I don't drink that much, so it's not like my alcohol tolerance is very high.
You would have been such a great witch. You would have been Head Girl next year, and you would have continued to aspire to great heights after you'd left Hogwarts. But no, you had to go and slit your wrists while your parents were out, didn't you. You had to ruin your friends' lives. You had to make the world that much more depressing, just because you felt like you weren't up to standards. I hate you.
You think your life was hard? Yeah, okay, so your best friend is the boy-who-lived; big deal. I was a Goddamn Death Eater for almost ten years! I murdered people, I tortured Muggles. Now, I get to live with that on my conscience for the rest of my life. Not only that, but I get to go to Death Eater meetings, where the most common form of entertainment is 'Let's see how many times we can cast Cruciatus on Severus before he passes out.'
Life sucks, Hermione. That's a plain, simple fact that anyone could tell you. You make mistakes, too. Everyone does. It can't be helped. But just because you happen to screw up every once-in-a-blue-moon doesn't mean you need to kill yourself. If anything, you should stay alive and pay for your mistakes with more pain. But, of course, you're a Gryffindor. Bravery to the end and all that shit. Fuck you, Gryffindor.
* * *
But these words
They don't replace
The life you waste.
* * *
I summon a house elf to clean up the shattered glass. Then, I stand and head to my bedroom, ready to sleep. It takes only a few moments to go through my nightly routine. I alter it only slightly this time, though. I reach into the cupboard in the bathroom and pull out a small vial. Dreamless sleep potion. If not for it, I would not have survived these past few nights, knowing what you'd done to yourself. I only hoped I could get over the need of it soon.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I discovered angst, and this is the byproduct. It's your own damn fault for letting me see angst stories. Reviews are nice!!!
Disclaimer: The few characters mentioned belong to J.K. Rowling. The song, Waste, belongs to the band Staind.
Warning: This story has language that isn't fit for young eyes. But don't blame me; blame Staind. They put potty-mouth words in their songs. The story also deals with child abuse and suicide. A third thing to be wary of is the fact that this is my first Harry Potter story. You have been warned.
Now, on with the story!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Waste
* * *
Your mother came up to me
She wanted answers only she should know
Only she should know.
It wasn't easy to deal
With the tears that rolled down her face.
I had no answers 'cause
I didn't even know you
* * *
I shouldn't have come. It isn't my place to be here. We never got along; we never agreed...I never cared. Now, I find myself thrown in a situation that, under any other circumstance, probably would have made you laugh at me. I'm sure you hated me, and I'm sure you would have found this whole awkward situation most enjoyable.
Your mother is looking up at me, her brown eyes filled with tears. You had the same lovely brown eyes. Though, I can't recall a time that I'd seen yours filled with tears. Your mother asks a question...I can't answer. I don't know, in all honesty. She shouldn't ask me...I knew nothing about you. How was I supposed to know these things? Another question...again, I shouldn't know the answer, though I doubt that many people in all of Hogwarts would know. It's not something a girl talks to her friends about, let alone her most despised teacher.
* * *
But these words
They can't replace
The life you,
The life you waste.
* * *
I finally decide that this is too awkward. I rest my hand on the woman's shoulder and look at her in the kindest way I can. I try to reassure her, but if I were in her position, I would be sick of people trying to reassure me, trying to tell me it was okay. I fail to see how it could be okay, and I never even bothered to get to know you.
You were always a brainy know-it-all Gryffindor. You laughed with your friends, you disregarded my rules, you aced every exam. You had so many friends, despite the hardships you dealt with. You never let the bad things get you down...you always continued to be bright, cheerful, and happy. Perhaps that's why I always treated you the way I did. Because you had so many friends, and you were so popular.
You made your first mistake, Hermione Granger. You never should have done this. Even if only to save your lovely mother these tears, you shouldn't have committed such a rash act. I'd always known you to think before you jumped...your friends must have rubbed off on you. But at least you had friends. Now, they sit in the pews, a few rows behind your mother. They're crying too, and comforting your peers as they pass by. Why did you have to be so stupid?
* * *
How could you paint this picture?
Was life as bad as it should seem
That there were no more options for you?
I can't explain how I feel
I've been there many times before.
I've tasted the cold steel
Of my life crashing down before me.
* * *
I pass by your coffin, closed and cold. A picture of you sits atop it, smiling and cheerful. As I stare, if only for a moment, at the picture of you smiling, I can't help but wonder what it was that caused you to snap. What could possibly have been so bad in your life that you would do something like this?
You had wonderful friends, didn't you? And your mother loves you. Why else would they be here, crying? What about all your classmates who have come to say goodbye? You were Potter's best friend. Weasley loved you, though I'm sure he never would have gotten around to admitting it, and I must say I would have done everything in my power to keep him away from you if that were to be the case. Longbottom's going to blow up my dungeon's now, thank you. You knew what he was like, and you still insist on putting me through this. Thank you, really.
I believe I even saw Draco Malfoy wandering about somewhere. I'm sure he came without his father's permission, but he was here nonetheless. I bet you never would have expected either him or myself to be here, did you? You probably thought we'd be laughing together about it. I must beg to differ.
I know what it's like to live life in pain and misery, despite how everything looks on the outside. I know what it's like to be abused. I know what it's like to have such high expectations that you could never possibly reach your goals. It's a horrible feeling, and it would have left you scarred for life...had you a life to be scarred.
* * *
But these words,
They can't replace
The life you,
The life you waste.
* * *
I apparate to Hogsmeade and use a fireplace to Floo to Hogwarts. I can't stay in that funeral parlor any longer. I am not bright and cheerful, by any means, but the mood of the funeral parlor is a little too depressing for my tastes. I need a drink. Quickly, I summon a house elf that appears immediately. I tell it what I want, and it returns only a second later with a glass of strong brandy. I fall into a chair and take a sip.
Alone in my room, I contemplate what used to be your existence. I think back to the first day I saw you, eagerly taking notes in my class and offering to answer every question I asked. From step one I had no doubt you knew the answers, and you never ceased to maintain that high standard. Never once was I able to actually stump you. You were indeed brilliant.
I can also marvel at your ability to help Longbottom. I've tried, in my own way of course, to improve his skills. Sadly, I believe it is an impossible task, though somehow you managed to help him keep from destroying the entire potions classroom. You would have made a great teacher. You had a bright future ahead of you, and you went and threw it away.
Why the hell did you have to be so stupid?
* * *
Did daddy not love you?
Or did he love you just too much?
Did he control you?
Did he live through you at your cost?
Did he leave no questions for you to answer on your own?
* * *
High expectations from parents are nothing to kill yourself over. Especially when you have the ability to do exactly what they want and more. Lord knows my parents had high expectations, but I dealt with it. My father was especially critical of everything I did. Every mistake on my part seemed to warrant a beating.
Was your father like that? He wasn't at your wake...did he expect only the best, only to show you the worst side of human nature if you failed to succeed? Did you ever even fail at anything? I fail to see how a parent could abuse a child such as you. If I had ever planned on cursing the world with my offspring, I suppose I would have liked to have a daughter like you. I know many parents would wish they had a child with your drive to succeed. You could almost have been in Slytherin with that drive.
Damnit Hermione, why did you have to kill yourself?
* * *
Well fuck them and fuck her
And fuck him and fuck you
For not having the strength in your hear to pull through.
I've had doubts; I have failed
I've fucked up; I've had plans
Doesn't mean I should take my life
With my own hands.
* * *
I throw my glass of brandy across the room. It shatters noisily against the bricks of the fireplace, scattering minute pieces of glass across the plush burgundy carpet. I find myself growing angry with you. Perhaps the brandy was stronger than I'd originally though. Lord knows I don't drink that much, so it's not like my alcohol tolerance is very high.
You would have been such a great witch. You would have been Head Girl next year, and you would have continued to aspire to great heights after you'd left Hogwarts. But no, you had to go and slit your wrists while your parents were out, didn't you. You had to ruin your friends' lives. You had to make the world that much more depressing, just because you felt like you weren't up to standards. I hate you.
You think your life was hard? Yeah, okay, so your best friend is the boy-who-lived; big deal. I was a Goddamn Death Eater for almost ten years! I murdered people, I tortured Muggles. Now, I get to live with that on my conscience for the rest of my life. Not only that, but I get to go to Death Eater meetings, where the most common form of entertainment is 'Let's see how many times we can cast Cruciatus on Severus before he passes out.'
Life sucks, Hermione. That's a plain, simple fact that anyone could tell you. You make mistakes, too. Everyone does. It can't be helped. But just because you happen to screw up every once-in-a-blue-moon doesn't mean you need to kill yourself. If anything, you should stay alive and pay for your mistakes with more pain. But, of course, you're a Gryffindor. Bravery to the end and all that shit. Fuck you, Gryffindor.
* * *
But these words
They don't replace
The life you waste.
* * *
I summon a house elf to clean up the shattered glass. Then, I stand and head to my bedroom, ready to sleep. It takes only a few moments to go through my nightly routine. I alter it only slightly this time, though. I reach into the cupboard in the bathroom and pull out a small vial. Dreamless sleep potion. If not for it, I would not have survived these past few nights, knowing what you'd done to yourself. I only hoped I could get over the need of it soon.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I discovered angst, and this is the byproduct. It's your own damn fault for letting me see angst stories. Reviews are nice!!!