(no subject)
Superman (It's Not Easy) by Five for Fighting
Harry Potter songfic
Rating: G
Summary: Even heroes have the right to bleed.
Genre(s): General
Warnings: Character Death
Characters: Harry
Disclaimer: These are not my characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., and will be returned in the same condition as they were in when I borrowed them. Well, I mean, they'll be relatively unscathed, at the very least!
I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
I'm just out to find
The better part of me
Harry Potter leaned back against the tree he was sitting in and stared up through the leaves at the grey sky. Ron and Hermione would be angry with him later; of course they would be worried as well, but that would seem secondary. Their words would tear him to shreds, these words from his two best friends. It would strain their friendship again, but he didn't care. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. They meant well, and he knew it, but they only reminded him of how time was running out. Not only for him, but for the whole wizarding world. The final battle was looming, everyone felt it. It was in the air, in the water - it was everywhere. Voldemort was out there; waiting, just waiting. The Order had been working relentlessly, but they were no closer now to finding him than they'd been before Dumbledore had been killed. Angry tears sprang to his eyes, and he dashed them away in frustration. He could hear Ron and Hermione calling him now, they would find him soon. From the sounds of their fruitless search, many of the Order members had dropped in when they realized Harry had left the "safe house". Safe house, hah! There was no such thing. There never had been such a thing, not for the Boy-Who-Lived, for the young boy who had always had the eyes of the entire wizarding world on him. Their hopes were weighing him down as always, but even more so in the last few months. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Did they still believe that he was just an attention-seeking prat? How could they, after all he'd done for them!
I'm more than a bird:I'm more than a plane
More than some pretty face beside a train
It's not easy to be me
"No, he's not there. Is he-"
"I'm getting so worried, I just-"
"Have we looked over there? He might-"
He closed his eyes, sighing tiredly. Only a handful of the searchers truly cared about him. The rest of the Order members only cared because he was the "Chosen One", the one who everyone believed would finally destroy Voldemort. He could die in the final battle, but how many people would care about that, as long as he killed Voldemort first? The Weasleys, and Lupin; he couldn't think of anyone else. Cho had used him, his old teachers saw him as the most skilled wizard who ever lived, if they bothered to think of him at all, and Sirius... Sirius had died to save him. If he hadn't been so stupid- If he hadn't believed that his dream was real- If he had learned Occlumency like he was supposed to- If he had just left, and hadn't brought anyone else with him- There were so many things fighting for dominance in his head. As always, he pushed them to the side and tried to ignore his thoughts; it was impossible. With the battle coming soon, his thoughts were always with those who had died to save him.
Wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
About a home I'll never see
His parents had given their lives to save him, when he was only one year old. Sometimes he still heard their screams ringing in his ears when he woke in a cold sweat in the dead of night. Images of a fantasy Godric's Hollow, filled with a ruined, smoking house, and the Dark Mark floating in the air about it. It took all his self control to keep from screaming, and it didn't always work. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd been shaken awake by a worried-looking Ron, with a nervous Hermione biting her nails in the background. But at least his parents only haunted his dreams at night. Often he would be lost in a daze, remembering Sirius, how he'd offered Harry a place to live, a chance to finally escape the Dursleys... Well, obviously that had never worked out. Now Sirius was gone... That ache had faded over the year, but it would always be lingering under the surface. Then a few weeks ago... He almost couldn't bring himself to think of the words. But there was no denying it: Dumbledore was dead. Murdered by Severus Snape, while Harry himself had been forced to watch from beneath the shelter of his father's Invisibility Cloak. He clenched his fists, angry as always at the thought of Snape. Breathing deeply, he forced himself to think of other things: Godric's Hollow, his best friends, Ginny... Malfoy.
It may sound absurd:but don't be naive
Even Heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed:but won't you conceed
Even Heroes have the right to dream
It's not easy to be me
Draco wouldn't have killed Dumbledore, Harry knew it. Dumbledore had believed in Draco, and had offered him protection from Voldemort. Draco had wavered, and finally lowered his wand, letting himself believe that he and his mother could be saved. It had all fallen apart then - the Death Eaters had rushed through the door, pressuring Draco to do something he knew was wrong. Then Snape had charged up the stairs, taken one look at the scene (minus Harry, of course), and killed Dumbledore. No, Harry was angry again. This wouldn't do. He closed his eyes again, forcing himself to stop thinking about that. It worked, for once. Instead he thought of all the places he'd lived, all the places he'd known. Godric's Hollow, well, he didn't remember much. He'd been so young, and they hadn't quite made their way there yet. Lupin had said it was more important to let the Death Eaters think that he was still at the Dursleys; though Harry couldn't see how that mattered when the temporary Fidelius charm they'd placed on him (with himself as the Secret Keeper) concealed his whereabouts perfectly unless he said something. The Dursleys couldn't truly be called a home, so that didn't matter. 12 Grimmauld Place was still unused, since Bellatrix Lestrange knew where it was, and could probably figure out how to get in. The enchantments that Dumbledore had placed upon the house probably no longer held, in the way that Harry had been freed from his spell at the moment of death. Hogwarts was his last home, his true home, and somehow he felt that he would never see it again. There was too much at stake; he couldn't risk going there just because of a foolish notion of home and safety, with the addition of open arms. No, he was sure he would never see the castle again.
Up, up and away:away from me
It's all right:You can all sleep sound tonight
I'm not crazy:or anything:
No one in the castle deserved to be put at risk like this, not one of them. Well, maybe Crabbe and Goyle did, what with their parents being Death Eaters and their own longings to join their ranks, but Harry would rather believe that they'd changed. There was more than enough evil in the world just knowing that Voldemort was still in existence without worrying about all the students of Slytherin house wanting to join him. It was so much easier to believe that they'd changed, so much easier to think that there was still good in the world. They were safer because he had left the school for good, though they didn't realize it yet. Professor McGonagall still hadn't figured out that the Golden Trio had left, and wouldn't realize it until September came and they weren't on the train. Well, they were safe now, and Harry was glad of that, if it could be said that he was happy about anything these days. Even knowing that the wizarding world knew he'd been telling the truth for two years didn't make him happy. What was stranger, not even believing that Ginny was safe now could distract him.
I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
Men weren't meant to ride
With clouds between their knees
"Harry, where are you? Oh, come on, I- I know you're there-"
"Harry, mate, are you listening? This is crazy, what're you-"
"Harry? Harry! Remus, I can't find a trace-"
"He isn't there! We checked before, but we thought maybe-"
"Oh, Harry, if you can hear us, please-"
It sounded like Hermione was crying again. Once upon a time this would have softened his heart, but he couldn't afford to give in to his feelings anymore. Voldemort would know, Voldemort would find out; he often woke in the mornings with the undeniable feeling that Voldemort had been opening his mind again, trying to let Harry see his thoughts, trying to make Harry give away his whereabouts. True, by now Voldemort should know about Harry's two best friends, know who he cared for, but Harry still felt he had to protect them somehow. Hell, if he had to protect the whole world, why shouldn't he make sure that his best friends came first?
I'm only a man in a silly red sheet
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet
Looking for special things inside of me
Harry still didn't quite understand why it had to be him protecting the whole world. There was the prophecy and all, but he was just a normal boy. Just like anyone else. He sighed lightly, knowing he couldn't fool himself. He was different - he was a marked man. The scar he bore, testimony of the failed curse that no one else had ever survived, was proof enough of that. He was what he had to be - Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. The one everybody in the wizarding world was counting on to save them.
"Oh, Harry, please-"
"Come on, mate, this isn't funny anymore-"
Repenting, tired of being alone with his thoughts, Harry grimaced and started to climb out of the tree.
It's not easy to be me.
Harry Potter songfic
Rating: G
Summary: Even heroes have the right to bleed.
Genre(s): General
Warnings: Character Death
Characters: Harry
Disclaimer: These are not my characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., and will be returned in the same condition as they were in when I borrowed them. Well, I mean, they'll be relatively unscathed, at the very least!
I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
I'm just out to find
The better part of me
Harry Potter leaned back against the tree he was sitting in and stared up through the leaves at the grey sky. Ron and Hermione would be angry with him later; of course they would be worried as well, but that would seem secondary. Their words would tear him to shreds, these words from his two best friends. It would strain their friendship again, but he didn't care. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. They meant well, and he knew it, but they only reminded him of how time was running out. Not only for him, but for the whole wizarding world. The final battle was looming, everyone felt it. It was in the air, in the water - it was everywhere. Voldemort was out there; waiting, just waiting. The Order had been working relentlessly, but they were no closer now to finding him than they'd been before Dumbledore had been killed. Angry tears sprang to his eyes, and he dashed them away in frustration. He could hear Ron and Hermione calling him now, they would find him soon. From the sounds of their fruitless search, many of the Order members had dropped in when they realized Harry had left the "safe house". Safe house, hah! There was no such thing. There never had been such a thing, not for the Boy-Who-Lived, for the young boy who had always had the eyes of the entire wizarding world on him. Their hopes were weighing him down as always, but even more so in the last few months. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Did they still believe that he was just an attention-seeking prat? How could they, after all he'd done for them!
I'm more than a bird:I'm more than a plane
More than some pretty face beside a train
It's not easy to be me
"No, he's not there. Is he-"
"I'm getting so worried, I just-"
"Have we looked over there? He might-"
He closed his eyes, sighing tiredly. Only a handful of the searchers truly cared about him. The rest of the Order members only cared because he was the "Chosen One", the one who everyone believed would finally destroy Voldemort. He could die in the final battle, but how many people would care about that, as long as he killed Voldemort first? The Weasleys, and Lupin; he couldn't think of anyone else. Cho had used him, his old teachers saw him as the most skilled wizard who ever lived, if they bothered to think of him at all, and Sirius... Sirius had died to save him. If he hadn't been so stupid- If he hadn't believed that his dream was real- If he had learned Occlumency like he was supposed to- If he had just left, and hadn't brought anyone else with him- There were so many things fighting for dominance in his head. As always, he pushed them to the side and tried to ignore his thoughts; it was impossible. With the battle coming soon, his thoughts were always with those who had died to save him.
Wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
About a home I'll never see
His parents had given their lives to save him, when he was only one year old. Sometimes he still heard their screams ringing in his ears when he woke in a cold sweat in the dead of night. Images of a fantasy Godric's Hollow, filled with a ruined, smoking house, and the Dark Mark floating in the air about it. It took all his self control to keep from screaming, and it didn't always work. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd been shaken awake by a worried-looking Ron, with a nervous Hermione biting her nails in the background. But at least his parents only haunted his dreams at night. Often he would be lost in a daze, remembering Sirius, how he'd offered Harry a place to live, a chance to finally escape the Dursleys... Well, obviously that had never worked out. Now Sirius was gone... That ache had faded over the year, but it would always be lingering under the surface. Then a few weeks ago... He almost couldn't bring himself to think of the words. But there was no denying it: Dumbledore was dead. Murdered by Severus Snape, while Harry himself had been forced to watch from beneath the shelter of his father's Invisibility Cloak. He clenched his fists, angry as always at the thought of Snape. Breathing deeply, he forced himself to think of other things: Godric's Hollow, his best friends, Ginny... Malfoy.
It may sound absurd:but don't be naive
Even Heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed:but won't you conceed
Even Heroes have the right to dream
It's not easy to be me
Draco wouldn't have killed Dumbledore, Harry knew it. Dumbledore had believed in Draco, and had offered him protection from Voldemort. Draco had wavered, and finally lowered his wand, letting himself believe that he and his mother could be saved. It had all fallen apart then - the Death Eaters had rushed through the door, pressuring Draco to do something he knew was wrong. Then Snape had charged up the stairs, taken one look at the scene (minus Harry, of course), and killed Dumbledore. No, Harry was angry again. This wouldn't do. He closed his eyes again, forcing himself to stop thinking about that. It worked, for once. Instead he thought of all the places he'd lived, all the places he'd known. Godric's Hollow, well, he didn't remember much. He'd been so young, and they hadn't quite made their way there yet. Lupin had said it was more important to let the Death Eaters think that he was still at the Dursleys; though Harry couldn't see how that mattered when the temporary Fidelius charm they'd placed on him (with himself as the Secret Keeper) concealed his whereabouts perfectly unless he said something. The Dursleys couldn't truly be called a home, so that didn't matter. 12 Grimmauld Place was still unused, since Bellatrix Lestrange knew where it was, and could probably figure out how to get in. The enchantments that Dumbledore had placed upon the house probably no longer held, in the way that Harry had been freed from his spell at the moment of death. Hogwarts was his last home, his true home, and somehow he felt that he would never see it again. There was too much at stake; he couldn't risk going there just because of a foolish notion of home and safety, with the addition of open arms. No, he was sure he would never see the castle again.
Up, up and away:away from me
It's all right:You can all sleep sound tonight
I'm not crazy:or anything:
No one in the castle deserved to be put at risk like this, not one of them. Well, maybe Crabbe and Goyle did, what with their parents being Death Eaters and their own longings to join their ranks, but Harry would rather believe that they'd changed. There was more than enough evil in the world just knowing that Voldemort was still in existence without worrying about all the students of Slytherin house wanting to join him. It was so much easier to believe that they'd changed, so much easier to think that there was still good in the world. They were safer because he had left the school for good, though they didn't realize it yet. Professor McGonagall still hadn't figured out that the Golden Trio had left, and wouldn't realize it until September came and they weren't on the train. Well, they were safe now, and Harry was glad of that, if it could be said that he was happy about anything these days. Even knowing that the wizarding world knew he'd been telling the truth for two years didn't make him happy. What was stranger, not even believing that Ginny was safe now could distract him.
I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
Men weren't meant to ride
With clouds between their knees
"Harry, where are you? Oh, come on, I- I know you're there-"
"Harry, mate, are you listening? This is crazy, what're you-"
"Harry? Harry! Remus, I can't find a trace-"
"He isn't there! We checked before, but we thought maybe-"
"Oh, Harry, if you can hear us, please-"
It sounded like Hermione was crying again. Once upon a time this would have softened his heart, but he couldn't afford to give in to his feelings anymore. Voldemort would know, Voldemort would find out; he often woke in the mornings with the undeniable feeling that Voldemort had been opening his mind again, trying to let Harry see his thoughts, trying to make Harry give away his whereabouts. True, by now Voldemort should know about Harry's two best friends, know who he cared for, but Harry still felt he had to protect them somehow. Hell, if he had to protect the whole world, why shouldn't he make sure that his best friends came first?
I'm only a man in a silly red sheet
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet
Looking for special things inside of me
Harry still didn't quite understand why it had to be him protecting the whole world. There was the prophecy and all, but he was just a normal boy. Just like anyone else. He sighed lightly, knowing he couldn't fool himself. He was different - he was a marked man. The scar he bore, testimony of the failed curse that no one else had ever survived, was proof enough of that. He was what he had to be - Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. The one everybody in the wizarding world was counting on to save them.
"Oh, Harry, please-"
"Come on, mate, this isn't funny anymore-"
Repenting, tired of being alone with his thoughts, Harry grimaced and started to climb out of the tree.
It's not easy to be me.