A/N: This was written for the Rice-Ball247's Slash Drabble Challenge. To summarize the rules, you have to write a drabble for each of at least five songs within the time limit of each song. Set your Windows Media Player (or whatever you listen to music on) on shuffle, open MSWord (or whatever you write on), and go. You can find the actual challenge at the bottom of her profile page. I'll admit, my drabbles are kinda long, so I guess I didn't really stick to the challenge all that well…

Songs: 'Lies' by Evanescence, 'I'll Keep Your Memory Vague' by Finger Eleven, 'What You Own' from RENT, 'Wide Open Spaces' by the Dixie Chicks, 'Sober' by Kelly Clarkson, and 'Counting Down the Days' by Natalie Imbruglia. Each drabble contains a few lines from the songs. The title is from 'Witness' by Sarah McLachlan.

Note: I was lucky, and was able to string together the drabbles and make them sort of have a plot. They're intended to be Snarry, but most of them are rather vague. First drabble: Harry's POV, during the war, a look at his relationship Severus. Second: Harry's POV, during the war, a minor break up. Third: No POV, during the war, they're back together, but the relationship isn't anywhere near perfect. Fourth: Harry's POV, post war, how he breaks it to those around him that he's leaving. Fifth: Severus' POV, post war, how he deals with Harry leaving. Sixth: Harry's POV, post war, how it hits him that whoops, leaving was stupid.

Warnings: Slash, angst, mentions of sex

Disclaimer: -Yawns-


Lies

I fight for the chance to be lied to again.

Hands, clenching wands tightly, swishing, jabbing, flicking. Moving minutely every time the opponent twitches, keeping the other dueler in range, in sight, in check. Silence, except for panting. They don't need words.

You'll never be strong enough, you'll never be good enough.

Shouting, loud enough to break through muting charms that blanket the walls, floor, and ceiling. Degradations, insinuations, truths, lies. All they have is words.

They'll never see, I'll never be.

Eyes shut tightly, trying to block out the pointlessness of the outside world. Gasps, escaping reluctantly parted mouths. Clothes ripped willingly off of bodies that ache for the absolution that the other needy body offers. No sound. They can't bear words.

I struggle on and on to feed this hunger burning deep inside of me.

I'll Keep Your Memory Vague

You'll never leave these scenes my mind replays.

He rested his head on his arms, but only briefly, pulling himself back into the fog that surrounded him, keeping the all too clear memories at bay. He couldn't allow those remembrances- black fabric brushing against a thigh, lank hair tickling a cheek, cutting remarks flaying innocent ears- to overtake him.

I hope your heart won't have to hurt anymore.

He knew he had to leave. This… this… this… whatever, it was killing them. Destroying everything around them as they lost themselves in their own bubble of sex and unspoken words and anger and tears. And it was hurting- "LEAVE! I don't want you anymore! Just go!"- hurting himself and his lover and all the rest of humanity.

Don't worry, it's okay that you're gone away.

What You Own

Connection in an isolating age.

"You really think that this is reality? Let me tell you something, you idiot boy. This is distraction. This is white noise, nothing but sound that we use to fill the empty to void that this war has left on our hearts. It's fake. Unreal. False."

"Not to me."

That pint of shame.

Slow breathing.

"Is this wrong? Is this what we need right now? Everyone says that this… thing, is a great thing to have, especially now, in this time. Is it? I mean... it does seem to be working for them."

"Are we them?"

Just play the game.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course, why should you ask?"

"You seem to be… different lately. You're just… different."

Silence. A tight smile.

"I'm fine, I swear."

A relieved grin.

"Oh, good."

Leave your conscience at the tone.

"I'm- I'm- c-c-come-"

A hiss.

"Yes."

A strangled scream.

"Oh… God."

A grunt. The slide of skin against skin. The rustle of sheets.

Deep breaths.

"Can I stay down here tonight?"

Silence.

"If… If you wish."

You're what you own.

Wide Open Spaces

Who doesn't know what I'm talking about?

They were the first to know. My friends. They took it hard, thinking I had decided to desert them, not wanting to stick around and deal with war's aftermath. I tried to explain to them that it wasn't like that, that I wasn't deserting them, running away from my demons.

Only; I wasn't sure it wasn't like that.

To find a place in the clouds, a foundation of stone.

I told the two men I considered my family next. They didn't take it well either, except they blamed themselves for my leaving, not me. That was worse than my friends. They thought that they couldn't provide for me enough; that they just weren't cut out to support me when I needed them to. I was hasty to reassure them that no, they were great, and that that wasn't the reason I was leaving.

Only; I wasn't sure that that wasn't the reason I was leaving.

Room to make a big mistake.

I saved him for last, and I'm ashamed to admit that it was because I was scared of his reaction. I couldn't stand for him hate me, and he certainly didn't need to hate himself any more than he already did. I stood outside his door for hours, willing myself to go in and tell him. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the rough wood forward, stepping in timidly. I was immediately pinned with an unreadable stare. My mouth clicked shut, the speech I'd been composing died in my throat.

I didn't need to say anything.

Wide open spaces.

Sober

This could break my heart or save me.

It had been mere minutes- days, weeks, years, lifetimes- since he'd left. Coldness- coldness I'd thought had been burned away forever by his touch- crept over me. I took a breath. Then another. And then another.

I don't know, I could crash and burn.

It had been mere weeks- days, minutes, seconds- since he left me. I am still breathing those cold, deep breaths that I had been breathing since the moment he left, those breaths that I'd breathed before he'd crashed his way into my life. Steady. Even. Life saving.

I'm still breathing.

It's been only a month- year, decade, millennia- since he left me. Those breaths- steady, steady, steady- have been all that keep me going in classes. The coldness is still here, keeping me numb, cooling the temper that- I could never keep around him- terrorized my students for the longest time before… Before he left.

So here I go with all my fears weighing on me.

I no longer know how long it's been since he left. My senses tell me it's been mere seconds, a few lifetimes worth of seconds, and yet my calendar says… I actually don't know. I think I chucked it out. I… I don't know.

But I'm still breathing.

Wake up.

Counting Down the Days

You were right, and I don't want to be here if your going to be there.

I remember, when looking at you that one last time, the look you gave me. I couldn't tell what you were thinking or feeling. I couldn't tell whether you wanted to beg me to stay, or to shout at me for wanting to leave, or to kiss me in that way I like so much, or run your knuckles down my ribs like you does when you're pleased, or-

God, I miss you.

Was that supposed to happen?

I'd felt suffocated, between my friends and my family and my lover and my memories and my demons and my pain-

God, how must you feel?

I'll hold tight, I'll remember to smile, though it has been awhile.

I'm not entirely sure where I am. I remember leaving the school and feeling a strange, vaguely discomforting churning sensation in my stomach. It was worry, and nerves, but I thought it was just anticipation. Funny, how that sort of anticipation felt nothing like what I'd felt while talking with my friends late at night, know that once they fell asleep I could come and see you.

But, despite the difference, I left anyway, because surely to be free of my old life was what I wanted? It doesn't really matter, because I'm free of it now, and I'm… Somewhere. Somewhere that isn't anything like the school. It's warm and sunny, with salt from the ocean in the air. Nothing like those cold dungeons, where I'd shiver and tug my cloak firmly around me and chatter my teeth- and you'd pull me down into the bed and set your hands and mouth to warming me up.

God, where am I?

And without you does it matter?

Every day fills me with reminders of what you are. I'll hear someone shouting angrily, and I'll remember how whenever you were filled with any sort of emotion, you'd get really quiet. Or I'll brew myself a headache potion and remember the time when you were so dissatisfied with my brewing that in detention you actually had me doing work, instead of… Or someone on the street will scowl to themselves, and I'll smile because you rarely looked at me with any other expression. Well, there was also the hooded, smoldering gaze you'd give me whenever you were aroused, and then I'd know that I was going to be pushed against a wall, or down onto a bed, or a counter, or any available surface, and my heart would leap and heat would pool in my stomach.

God, what did I do?

I want to travel through time.

See your surprise.

Hold you so tight.

I'm counting down the days tonight.

I just want to be a million miles away from here.

I'm counting down the days.


A/N: Review and tell me what you think please! Also, I recommend that you check out Rice-Ball247's profile and give the challenge a try. Trust me, you'll be typing so fast your fingers will hurt.