Categories > Books > Harry Potter
Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
I'm tired and I
I want to go to bed
Whoever came up with the concept of blood singing in ones veins during battle was damn right. Cliche though it might be, it describes the combined euphoria, focus, and frenzy that comes with fast movement and faster thinking, especially after days, months, years of sitting inside, looking at the walls, dying slowly, brain cells first.
An easy dodge, a quick thrill of fear and how could anyone stop from laughing?
"Come on, you can do better than that!"
Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
And then leave me alone
Don't try to wake me in the morning
'Cause I will be gone
You can and you do, and this is where the blood song fails, isn't it? Where I fail to move fast enough and everything goes red and the music becomes a scream. Ground gives way to air, the room spins...falling...I hadn't expected that. But the song's still singing, somewhere, I'm not dead yet. I can't be dead, not when I'm just now alive again...
Alive after twelve years of sitting...of dying...
Don't feel bad for me
I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart
I will feel so glad to go
She's screaming again, the one with the high scream that sounds like nails steel or the breaks on my bike when they didn't catch. I miss my bike...
...miss freedom...
....miss James and Lily...
Of course, they're dead...dead and the rest of the world blames me...
No. No, I'm innocent, I didn't do it...
I want out of here...away from the prison walls, the damn Dementors...I want to feel again, breathe again...I'd give anything...
...anything to be out...
Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
I don't want to wake up
On my own anymore
Another day wandering listlessly through halls I never wanted to see again...
Worrying about tasks I never wanted to do...
I think a dust bunny tried to crawl down my throat last night, or maybe that was Kreacher trying to strangle me. Can't tell. Don't care.
You know, I was happier on the run. At least then my mind wasn't stagnating with boredom...I could move...
There wasn't that pain in my chest when I woke up in the morning to an empty bed. I didn't have a bed. I couldn't have had anyone there if I had...too much risk...
Safety meant sharpness, not ennui.
Not watching people walk out of the door on a daily basis.
Not another prison.
Why did I bother escaping?
Don't feel bad for me
I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart
I really want to go
Stupid wishes. "Be careful what you wish for." I never could listen to simple advice, especially when faced with the same barred window, day in, day out...
...listening to mother's screaming...
I'll never hear it again. They can't lock me away again, ever. Albus won't have to convince them...won't need to get Peter...
I'll be free for good.
Black...fabric...me...
Why am I scared? I'm free.
I'm free...and Harry's screaming.
Someone tell Harry that it's okay.
I'll believe it if he does.
There is another world
There is a better world
Well, there must be Well, there must be
Well, there must be Well, there must be
Well ...
"Sirius."
"Harry, stop screaming, please."
"Harry's not here, you goof! Now open your eyes, for Merlin sake."
"Huh?" I blink. Hazel eyes look down at me, mussed hair..."James?"
"No, Bertha Jorgenson." You laugh. I remember that laugh. "Get up, that ground looks cold."
It is...cold...and when I push on it, it's springy. My back is damp when I sit up. There's an odd sound...next to us...a river. Moss under me and fog and you sitting there grinning.
"Where are we?"
"We're in the next big adventure, silly. Now stop fussing about the last one and let's get going."
"But...Harry, Albus, Remus...the other's..."
"The living take care of themselves, Sirius. We only need to worry about us."
You start to walk away through the fog, but I hesitate, looking behind me. The living take care of themselves. But they'll hurt...shouldn't I worry?
I watch you fading into the strange white, moving toward the river. You should be careful...there could be danger...
...but what? There is no Azkaban with its bars and screaming. There is no house to clean while people go in and out...in and out...
The song is still there, in my blood, still singing.
Why do they call it death? I've never been more alive. I can do anything...
...laugh...
...run...
...tackle my best friend as who's now a faint swirl of passing fog...
"Hey Prongs, wait up!"
Bye bye
Bye bye
Bye ...
~Finish~
Sing me to sleep
I'm tired and I
I want to go to bed
Whoever came up with the concept of blood singing in ones veins during battle was damn right. Cliche though it might be, it describes the combined euphoria, focus, and frenzy that comes with fast movement and faster thinking, especially after days, months, years of sitting inside, looking at the walls, dying slowly, brain cells first.
An easy dodge, a quick thrill of fear and how could anyone stop from laughing?
"Come on, you can do better than that!"
Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
And then leave me alone
Don't try to wake me in the morning
'Cause I will be gone
You can and you do, and this is where the blood song fails, isn't it? Where I fail to move fast enough and everything goes red and the music becomes a scream. Ground gives way to air, the room spins...falling...I hadn't expected that. But the song's still singing, somewhere, I'm not dead yet. I can't be dead, not when I'm just now alive again...
Alive after twelve years of sitting...of dying...
Don't feel bad for me
I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart
I will feel so glad to go
She's screaming again, the one with the high scream that sounds like nails steel or the breaks on my bike when they didn't catch. I miss my bike...
...miss freedom...
....miss James and Lily...
Of course, they're dead...dead and the rest of the world blames me...
No. No, I'm innocent, I didn't do it...
I want out of here...away from the prison walls, the damn Dementors...I want to feel again, breathe again...I'd give anything...
...anything to be out...
Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
I don't want to wake up
On my own anymore
Another day wandering listlessly through halls I never wanted to see again...
Worrying about tasks I never wanted to do...
I think a dust bunny tried to crawl down my throat last night, or maybe that was Kreacher trying to strangle me. Can't tell. Don't care.
You know, I was happier on the run. At least then my mind wasn't stagnating with boredom...I could move...
There wasn't that pain in my chest when I woke up in the morning to an empty bed. I didn't have a bed. I couldn't have had anyone there if I had...too much risk...
Safety meant sharpness, not ennui.
Not watching people walk out of the door on a daily basis.
Not another prison.
Why did I bother escaping?
Don't feel bad for me
I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart
I really want to go
Stupid wishes. "Be careful what you wish for." I never could listen to simple advice, especially when faced with the same barred window, day in, day out...
...listening to mother's screaming...
I'll never hear it again. They can't lock me away again, ever. Albus won't have to convince them...won't need to get Peter...
I'll be free for good.
Black...fabric...me...
Why am I scared? I'm free.
I'm free...and Harry's screaming.
Someone tell Harry that it's okay.
I'll believe it if he does.
There is another world
There is a better world
Well, there must be Well, there must be
Well, there must be Well, there must be
Well ...
"Sirius."
"Harry, stop screaming, please."
"Harry's not here, you goof! Now open your eyes, for Merlin sake."
"Huh?" I blink. Hazel eyes look down at me, mussed hair..."James?"
"No, Bertha Jorgenson." You laugh. I remember that laugh. "Get up, that ground looks cold."
It is...cold...and when I push on it, it's springy. My back is damp when I sit up. There's an odd sound...next to us...a river. Moss under me and fog and you sitting there grinning.
"Where are we?"
"We're in the next big adventure, silly. Now stop fussing about the last one and let's get going."
"But...Harry, Albus, Remus...the other's..."
"The living take care of themselves, Sirius. We only need to worry about us."
You start to walk away through the fog, but I hesitate, looking behind me. The living take care of themselves. But they'll hurt...shouldn't I worry?
I watch you fading into the strange white, moving toward the river. You should be careful...there could be danger...
...but what? There is no Azkaban with its bars and screaming. There is no house to clean while people go in and out...in and out...
The song is still there, in my blood, still singing.
Why do they call it death? I've never been more alive. I can do anything...
...laugh...
...run...
...tackle my best friend as who's now a faint swirl of passing fog...
"Hey Prongs, wait up!"
Bye bye
Bye bye
Bye ...
~Finish~
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