Disclaimer: I own neither the song that the title refers to, nor the actual characters or any intellectual property that are contained within.

A/N: I've had this thought for quite some time, but I never quite figured out how to best capture the essence of a "life-crisis" until recently. With that said, the song is in the name and, in my opinion, refers to living your life the way you want and this story is supposed to be look at how someone might react to the pressures of being forced to do things that they don't really want to do year after year, dealing with expectations that aren't realistic.

Lastly, this isn't my first foray into writing, but it is my first deliberate one. I'm not a talented writer, but maybe I can become a well-practiced one. I have no beta, and I don't really want one. I write to vent and express feelings. Hopefully it's enjoyable.

Summary: "You ever feel trapped in somebody else's master plan. Go to school, get a job… get a mortgage. All I'm really doing is dying…" "Let me get you some more pills."

Asleep

He couldn't eat. The food was there, it smelled great, looked great and he knew it tasted great, but he couldn't eat. The moment he'd take a bite and start chewing, he felt like throwing up. Cold sweat covered his body, an unspoken anxiety had gripped him and refused to let go. Saturday night still felt like a dream—honestly a nightmare—but one that he knew was reality.

Worse yet, Ron still wasn't talking to him.

His mind flashed back to the last time they had spoken. His stomach churned and he felt more sweat on the back of his neck as he thought about the idea that he hadn't vocalized to his best friend—this tournament was a set up to kill him. Fortunately, Hermione had reached the same conclusion.

In shocking similarity to his treatment when he was dubbed the Heir of Slytherin, the whole school seemed to collectively shun him. Sure he was getting praises from his house mates, but he could feel the eyes on him from the Hufflepuff table. Herbology had left him feeling isolated from everyone but Hermione. He hoped that his letter to Sirius would result in some good news.

Grabbing a slice of toast, he got up and left the Great Hall. Shoving the dry bread down his throat didn't bring about any nausea, but this would hardly fill him up and he'd be famished later. He bumped into two sixth year girls, who glowered at him. Ducking his head, he walked away and shoved the toast in his mouth and trudged down the hall to the dungeons.

Potions went exactly as expected, mockery from Snape with a second serving from the Slytherins. He did have to admit that the POTTER STINKS badges were a neat work of spell casting and was sure that Draco hadn't been able to do that on his own. 'Wonder who actually made those? Did he pay for all of them or was this some sort of scheme to make money?'

"I think we agree that this some plot to get me killed, but how would that work? Like are they going to have us do insane stunts? Is there a record of past tournaments?"

He looked up at his only remaining friend hoping she'd have the answer. She nodded slowly, "There's some records, but this tournament was abandoned for a reason Harry. Quadruple and Quintuple X creates are common to appear. I think they gave up when a Nundu was selected for a task and killed all three champions and half the crowd before a few sorcerers were able to summon a meteor and kill it. This was almost 90 years ago though Harry. I think people have forgotten these things…"

He stared at the wall. "It was so easy first year, we were just a bunch of kids on a grand adventure. All because we thought Snape was the big bad. It was…simple. Life was simple, it was something you'd read in a young adult book. How'd we lose that? Is this what growing up is—just disappointment one after another. From people that are supposed to look after us? Fuckin'ell, how'd McGonagall just let a bunch of twelve years go after the Philosopher's stone?!"

Hermione was almost in tears when he looked up at her. His own eyes prickling, "It was the same thing in second year, no one around to help us when we were saving Ron's sister, it was personal in a way so we trudged on. I think both of us knew that it was probably a one way trip."

She had moved next to him and was staring at him, tears flowing down her cheeks. "Harry… I think we should get back to the dorms and sleep." She tried to pull him to his feet, but he didn't budge.

"Third was more of the same, worse even. Finding out the government is incompetent should have been a shock, but it wasn't. Just hollow. Sirius, Remus… I could have had a family, known magic earlier than I did."

"Harry, thinking like this isn't going to help. C'mon, we can figure out how to prepare for the tournament tomorrow, let's go."

They were about half way back to the Gryffindor dorm when he spoke up again, "I've never seen the world you know. Never been outside of Surrey. I think I want to see the world, Egypt looked nice. I'm sure there are more places."

Hermione bit her lip, "Have you hear back from Sirius?"

Harry continued walking, lost in his thought.

"Madam Pomfrey? Could I get something to help me sleep?"

The matron poked her head out of her office, a strongly worded response already started, "No young man… Mr. Potter? Is everything okay?"

Harry looked awful, it had been a week since his name had come out of the Goblet and the ostracism had piled on. His housemates encouraged him, but his own lack of enthusiasm had poisoned them against him. He'd been too morose and even Hermione had been avoiding him after his recent blowup at her insistence of learning new spells to prepare for the first task.

His thoughts centered around his purpose for trying—what was he fighting for this year? Couldn't he just coast by—make a nominal effort so there were no consequences from the Goblet? What was the point of trying to succeed given the risk? All these emotions had left him unable to get more than a couple of hours of sleep each night and when Friday rolled around he was beyond exhausted and needed undisturbed sleep, hence his post-dinner trip to the infirmary.

"Ma'am, do you have something to help me sleep?" Madam Pomfrey looked conflicted, "Mr. Potter, I can't just go around giving sleeping potions to anyone who asks… this might even qualify as unfair help under the rules of the tournament."

He nodded, another disappointment from an authority figure. "I understand, sorry to bother you."

As he turned around, his feelings bubbled over and he spoke his mind. ""You ever feel trapped in somebody else's master plan. Go to school, get a job… compete in a tournament. All I'm really doing is dying…"

He pulled the door open, when the matron call him back. "Let me get you some dreamless sleep potion Mr. Potter."

He was sitting in a pub across from someone who had to be a supermodel, reaching forward his hand found a bottle – was that beer? - and took a long pull from it. How did he end up here?

"Tomas, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" His attention snapped back to the bombshell who was staring at him lovingly. "You know my family has me on a strict curfew."

Why wasn't I talking? She was looking increasingly worried at my silence. My body moved on its own and I pulled out a small box. I put it on the table and a voice not my own said, "Forget your family, come with me. I'll be the only family you ever need." When had his voice become so smooth and deep. What was going on?

He blinked and the scene changed, the same woman was beneath him. Hair fanned out and sticky with sweat. His face inches from her own, he stared at her as her eyes closed and rolled. He leaned own and bit her neck causing her to moan. He heard himself say, "Stay with me, forever and ever. Promise it."

Before he could hear her response he heard a loud bang and shouts in a foreign language from the floor beneath. "Oh no, the KGB." The woman's eyes had snapped open and look at his own. Before he knew what had happened, his wand in his hand already. With a quick wave, he was fully dressed and ready to move. His magic thrummed beneath his skin and he could feel the rush, the high – better than any orgasm that woman had ever given him. Thoughts that weren't his own filled his mind about she'd outlived her usefulness. He had used her to get his hands on books. The knowledge contained within was invaluable, not because it had spells but because it was a memoir of a man who witnessed – bang!

The door slammed inwards and a man wearing traditional KGB attire walked in waving a pistol. Before security member could say anything, he had shot a spell that separated the man's head from his body. The woman to his right screamed has a geyser of blood shot up. With a wave of his wand, any blood heading towards him and his lover dropped to the ground as if hitting a wall. Another man walked in gun aimed at the woman still on the bed, another victim. This one to light colored hex that pierced his right eye and painted the door frame with brainmatter. He felt the presence of one more about to cross the threshold and tagged him with an unknown spell – the man stopped moving, alive but no longer in control of his body.

Harry felt a smile across his lips as he mentally pushed a command to his newest puppet. The woman on the bed was still staring at him in shock. "Oh my dear, did I never tell you? I'm a wizard, the greatest wizard to ever live."

He crossed the room to her side and kissed her, "Unfortunately dear, you were just a distraction." Right as he pulled back, his puppet dropped her with an precise shot to the temple before shooting himself.

Breathing in the smell of blood, he heard sirens in the distance and the 3 enforcers on the floor beneath his start moving up having heard the gunshots. Scoffing, he twisted in place and appeared on the street beneath the apartment he was just in. "Prague really is beautiful at night!"

Harry awoke with a start. The clock on the wall said he'd been asleep for almost 7 hours. While he felt refreshed, his mind was reeling from the things he'd seen. He knew that he this was because of a connection with Voldemort, but these events seemed old. In another sequence, he'd gotten a look at a reflect of himself and he looked young, maybe a few years older than the version he'd met in the Chamber.

His mind flashed to the other sequences he'd seen - was that the life of a powerful wizard with no constraints and no ties. Voldemort did say that they were similar in the chamber, and while Harry knew he would never be able to kill people so callously, he yearned for the freedom that Voldemort so effortlessly flaunted in his visions.

The days became a blur as he looked forward to seeing miracles and wonders in his sleep. As Voldemort traveled the world, so did he, as Voldemort learned magic, so did he, and while Voldemort experienced a world beyond Hogwarts and the perfectly manicured suburbs of England, he only dreamed of it.

He knew what his future entailed, he had to travel and experience the world. He knew there was so much to offer even in the muggle side, but magic added so much more. He'd seen through eyes not his own the wonder of the pyramids, the sacrificial magic imbued into each sandstone block fueling hundreds of curses and elevating the magical priests to near godhood. The powerful mages of India as they called forth ancient and abstract entities, using natural forces to ascend beyond ordinary wizards. He recalled wining and dining ancient vampires, trading blood and sex for a chance to read ancient texts as his search for magic and power led him across the globe.

Yes, Harry knew he would travel, but first he had to survive this year.

A/N: Hopefully that was passably enjoyable. I envision a few more chapters. I've got quite a hectic schedule and the next bit of the story is much longer. Not sure where I'm going to take this one in the long run, might even die as a one-shot.