Part One: My Skin
I've been treated so long/I've been treated so wrong/as if I'm becoming untouchable
Harry Potter was quite sure that he could never tell his friends about his destiny. He could imagine the scene in his mind. A quiet tea at Hagrid's hut at the beginning of sixth year, Ron and Hermione shooting each other longing glances while exchanging witty barbs about their study habits while Hagrid guffaws loudly. He'd set down his cup loudly, and all three would turn to look at him.
"I'm either going to be a murderer or a victim," he'll say casually. "It's my fate. So I very well may be dead by next year. Carry on."
They'll stare in shock; he'll take another sip of tea before he asks after Grawp's well being. It's satisfying to think of, for some unknown reason. Possibly because he knows he'll never utter those words, instead choosing to suffer his fate in silence in a lame attempt to spare his loved ones more grief. He's already caused enough pain and destruction for a lifetime. It would be best to stay away now.
Perhaps he'll go with alternate methods of avoidance. If he talks with Ron and Hermione, he can make them realize how perfect they are for each other. They'll become a couple, and spend so much time on their relationship that they'll forget about him for a while. There'd been a period of time when he envisioned himself married to Hermione, when he was young and delusions of grandeur still existed. He figured that his parents had been head boy and girl, and that he would go the same route with his friend. His unexpected affection for Cho Chang put Hermione out of his thoughts. He believes this is beneficial for them both.
He doubts that Hermione will see it that way, when the time comes, but surely that is the least of his worries. He has quite a schedule: classes to attend, exams to take, dark lords to kill.
It is definitely in everyone's best interest if he keeps to himself awhile, he thinks.
I've been treated so long/I've been treated so wrong/as if I'm becoming untouchable
Harry Potter was quite sure that he could never tell his friends about his destiny. He could imagine the scene in his mind. A quiet tea at Hagrid's hut at the beginning of sixth year, Ron and Hermione shooting each other longing glances while exchanging witty barbs about their study habits while Hagrid guffaws loudly. He'd set down his cup loudly, and all three would turn to look at him.
"I'm either going to be a murderer or a victim," he'll say casually. "It's my fate. So I very well may be dead by next year. Carry on."
They'll stare in shock; he'll take another sip of tea before he asks after Grawp's well being. It's satisfying to think of, for some unknown reason. Possibly because he knows he'll never utter those words, instead choosing to suffer his fate in silence in a lame attempt to spare his loved ones more grief. He's already caused enough pain and destruction for a lifetime. It would be best to stay away now.
Perhaps he'll go with alternate methods of avoidance. If he talks with Ron and Hermione, he can make them realize how perfect they are for each other. They'll become a couple, and spend so much time on their relationship that they'll forget about him for a while. There'd been a period of time when he envisioned himself married to Hermione, when he was young and delusions of grandeur still existed. He figured that his parents had been head boy and girl, and that he would go the same route with his friend. His unexpected affection for Cho Chang put Hermione out of his thoughts. He believes this is beneficial for them both.
He doubts that Hermione will see it that way, when the time comes, but surely that is the least of his worries. He has quite a schedule: classes to attend, exams to take, dark lords to kill.
It is definitely in everyone's best interest if he keeps to himself awhile, he thinks.