It has been a very long time since I have written. Enjoy. I own nothing except the plot; song and Harry Potter go to their respective owners.
Made a wrong turn
Once or twice
Dug my way out
Blood and fire
Why didn't they see how hard this was? Why can't they? Everyday, every pointed glare only dug this deeper and more painful into his heart. It wasn't his fault! He thought they were going to kill Him. Wasn't he in enough misery already? Enough guilt? It…wasn't his fault…right?
Bad decisions
That's all right
Welcome to my silly life
Mistreated misplaced misunderstood
Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, even Luna had left and abandoned him. Left him to rot in his prison of self-loathing and torture. Every night was another vision, another life, and another death. He could feel the dark magic flooding their bodies and his with its sinful agony. It didn't stay that way though…
Miss "no way it's all good"
It didn't slow me down
Mistaken
Always second guessing
Underestimated
Look I'm still around...
Maybe if he had a friend this wouldn't have happened. Maybe if people didn't ignore him when he walked into a room, he wouldn't have had to MAKE them see him. If they wouldn't give their respect and attention, he would rip it from them.
Pretty pretty please
Don't you ever ever feel
Like your less than
Fucking perfect
Pretty pretty please
If you ever ever feel
Like your nothing
You're fuckin' perfect to me
Just once, he just wanted to hear it one time, those whispered words. It was only natural that he would run to the one person who said it, whose whispers were dark and pleasurable. The one's whose phantom hands caressed and touched him in ways so intimate it must have been illegal. Done things to his body that left him melted and shaking in ecstasy.
You're so mean
When you talk
About yourself
You are wrong
Change the voices
In your head
Make them like you
Whispers, not the good ones, plagued him as he stalked the halls, darting into his ears like droplets of rain. Except these raindrops burned and stung like basilisk venom, he would know all about that wouldn't he? Oh that made him think of the leader of this all. Whose name was spat like the foulest of poison from his sneering lips and disdainful tongue.
Instead
So complicated
Look how big you'll make it
Filled with so much hatred
Such a tired game
He was a pawn for both of them, a simple piece to win this bloody war. One manipulated with lies, secrets, and twinkling visages of kindness, so bright it made on gag. The other, dark and twisted he stood, a true king. Arrogant, handsome, and charming he courted his enemy's piece, promising lavishes of riches and affection for eternity. A pawn to be sacrificed? Or a queen to be cherished and protected?
It's enough
I've done all I can think of
Chased down all my demons
See you do the same
He was done; tired of this utter bullshit he had to deal with. Tired of having to fall down over and over again for them. Of having to destroy his very innocence and soul for their hypercritic views of life and freedom. Bust most of all…he was tired of being in control, of ALWAYS having to be the stand up guy, the Atlas of their world. He decided.
Pretty pretty please
Don't you ever ever feel
Like your less than
Fuckin' perfect
Pretty pretty please
If you ever ever feel
Like your nothing
Their eyes trailed him as he swept by their prone forms. It had been so easy, so simple. The walls, they heard, the LISTENED to him. His lonely crying nights, they were there. So he whispered, told of change of side, politics, and life. The walls they listened. And so did the doors.
You're fuckin' perfect to me
The world stares while I swallow the fear
The only thing I should be drinking is an ice-cold beer
So cool in lying and I tried tried
But we try too hard it's a waste of my time
Done looking for the critics cuz they're everywhere
They don't like my genes they don't get my hair
Stringe ourselves and we do it all the time
Why do we do that?
Why do I do that?
Why do I do that?
Disgust, anger, fear, hope, and pain. Such desperate, powerful emotions. The man, who had hope, was eternal in fortitude. The woman who held disgust in one fist held anger in the other. Fear begets pain, but also begets anger and determination if left to breed. He knew their emotions wouldn't breed. For how can they grow when one is missing a head?
Ooh pretty pretty pretty
Pretty pretty please don't you ever ever feel
Like you're less then fuckin' perfect
Pretty pretty please if you ever ever feel
Like you're nothing you're fuckin' perfect to me
You're perfect
You're perfect
Pretty pretty please don't you ever ever feel like you're less then fucking perfect
Pretty pretty please if you ever ever feel like you're nothing you're fucking perfect to me
It was a long walk to the dais upon which his beloved sat, perched like the king he was. Stepping up, he heard the prisoners draw breath, begging him in silence to fight. Like a snake, he slid to the pale king of Darkness and Shadow. Dragging his fingers down the man's cheek, he let himself be caught and kissed so utterly that he melted. Talented tongue brought him close to release already, before it was ripped away and hips place in the man's lap. Smiling, he turned to the old man bound in front of the dais. "I wasn't perfect enough for you. I am for him. Avada Kedavra." A rush of green, and then cackles filled the air, pleased and sinister. Harry Potter was perfect to Lord Voldemort.