He sits alone on a hill. He can't stop thinking of the mistakes he made. He calls himself a fool. A fool for letting her go. But he should've known she'd go to the hero, shouldn't he? It's what always happens. No one wants the sidekick. The washed up fool that's not good enough to make things happen for himself. They want the hero. The hero will protect them. The hero has powers. The hero is romantic. The hero is everything he isn't.
He tries to laugh at himself, but can't. He's too pathetic. Sitting alone, watching the sun go down on a god forsaken hill. He should be with her. He should be holding her. But she doesn't care. Her blind eyes think that she's made a wise decision. She doesn't care about him. She doesn't care what happens to him. She doesn't care if he's alive or dead, sick or well, rich or poor. All she cares about is what she thinks will be faithful someday, but won't.
He watches the sun go down slowly. He watches the colors of the sky change. From blue to red to purple to orange to yellow. He keeps his feelings to himself. Filing them into the file cabinet of his brain, organized and clean. But through his eyes he's spinning around through the deep brown curls of her fluffy hair. He hopes she'll regret it someday. Realize that she made the biggest mistake of her life. But she won't come back to him. She doesn't like him. No body likes him. He's just a fool. A fool sitting hopelessly on a hill day after day after day.
He looks up at the discolored clouds above him. Wishing he was in one, floating like a fishing boat in the middle of the ocean. He feels himself spin faster and faster in the whirlpool of his life. Nobody listens to him. He's ignored as if he were a just pole on the street.
His mouth has been clamped shut since about forever. But he talks. He's friends with himself. In his mind he's talkative. In his mind he's handsome. In his mind he's smart, funny, heroic. Of course no one listens to him. But then again he doesn't listen, either. He doesn't listen to the birds or the leaves. He listens to what he wants to listen to. And he doesn't want anything. He's his own boss. He's his own pity party. He gives himself his own advice. His own answers.
He is a child's toy top. Spinning as if there is no tomorrow. Because for him there is no tomorrow. For him there is no today and there certainly isn't a yesterday. To him there is only one thing. To him there is only her. Her. She took his soul with her when she made that decision. He is well on the way to the path of nothing. Nothing is there to pull him back or push him forward. And so he just goes. He doesn't go forward. He doesn't go back. He just goes. It doesn't matter where. He has nothing. There is nothing to loose for him. So he goes. He goes on and on staying in the same place. He's moving while he is stationary. He's a twisting tornado.
He's not insane. He passed insane a long time ago. He's not mad. He passed mad too. Now he is blank. Without a soul. Without anything. He will stay there forever. Nobody will notice. They don't like him. All he is to them is a fool on a hill.
His mind changes back and forth, but to him it doesn't. He loves her, he doesn't love her. To him he's always had the same decision. To him he's always had the same thoughts.
And these are all the thoughts of a fool on the hill who lost something a very long time ago. The mixed-up confused words twisted and turned in his head as the world through his eyes.
The light shines on him as a curly haired girl comes to sit next to a fool. He doesn't notice. He is winding and spinning around too fast to notice. What he wanted for so long suddenly is gone. It is now rain that evaporates immediately. She looks at him, but he is nothing anymore. Just a fool on the hill.
Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter related belongs to JK Rowling. The song "Fool On The Hill" belongs to the Beatles.
A/N: In case you are confused that's the way it's supposed to be. It's supposed to show his thoughts that don't make any sense.