Author's Note: This was pretty much a challenge story. My best friend told me to "…type me an angsty piece!...I'm evaluating your angst skills! Go!" And so I did. Thus Scarred was born. I've never really written from a "villainous" point of view before, but the idea just wouldn't stop nagging me. This story ends up being Crabbe/Goyle, so if you think that's gross, don't read it. I'm happy for this idea because it's helping me practice several skills! Angst now! Next chapter….slash! :D The story can end here for you non-slash-loving people. The slash truly isn't necessary to the plot, but it's going to be fun! No copyright infringement intended, I'd love to read reviews, and…yeah, that's all I can think of! Enjoy! Oh wait! This is set during 6th Year. Sorry for leaving that out! :P Read on!

Scarred

I woke up yet again, stifling my own screams. It was second nature by now. I'd been having nightmares, more specifically nightmare, for as long as I could remember. It was always the same. I ate, I went to bed, I dreamed. Unpleasantly. There was nothing to make it better, but at least nothing made it worse. The dream rolled through my mind, unbidden. She is there. Looming over me. Her wand runs through my hair. It's so real I can almost feel the wood "stroking" me. I'm scared, even though this is just a memory. The wand catches on my ear and I try not to flinch. She brings it under my chin, tilts my face up to meet her. Her dark eyes glint in the firelight. They glint with malice. I know what's going to happen. I knew the other times too. There's nothing different about this time. She's going to have her fun. And I'm going to pay for whatever my wrongdoing was. I don't know and I don't care to know. It doesn't matter if I find out and try to fix whatever it was; she'll still want her fun. The wand is withdrawn. The knife takes its place under my chin, breaking the tender skin there. "Poor, poor Vincent." she simpers. "You know, darling, you have far, far too much flesh here. Why don't I just take a little…off?"

She puts more pressure on the knife, and scoops toward her, as if my skin was ice cream. As she pulls away, a hunk of myself falls and splats on the floor. "Why, sweetheart! You're bleeding. Let me just fix that…"

With these words, out comes the needle. She threads it through the lips of flesh and pulls it tight, not bothering to numb me. The tears are coursing down my face, but I dare not make a sound. Not even a whimper. I am to keep my breathing even, calm. "Now, dear, doesn't that look much, much better?" she says, handing me a grimy mirror.

Never once has she put me in a critical condition. She knows the body, specifically the neck, much too well. The stitches are holding. They always do. Surprising, isn't it? A pureblood giving another pureblood stitches. After all, stitches are so primitive, so muggle. But it's the most painful way, and she does so enjoy pain.

Gasping, I return to reality, my hand clutched at my throat. The scars are there. All of them. She made sure of that. I reach for my wand, shaking. No. I won't cast a silencing charm just so I can cry. No. No. NO. I am stronger than that. It takes me a while to pull my hand away from the stick of wood that could make me or destroy me. "Vince?" someone mumbles.

"What, Greg?"

"You okay?" he asks, voice muffled with sleep.

"Yeah, just…thirsty. Go back to sleep, Greg."

"Kay, just…tell me in the morning." he yawns, turning back over in his own four-poster.

If only I could, Greg. If only I could.

Morning came, bright and early. I didn't wake up. Why? I hadn't been asleep. People sometimes wonder why I don't talk much. I never get enough sleep. Plus, the coffee here is crap. Greg was still sleeping, as were Draco and Blaise. I'm always the first one up. Always. Even when Greg and Blaise try to do something special for my birthday. I just say that I'm an early riser. Which is the truth. Sort of. I rouse myself from my thoughts, stretch and put on my robes. I trudged my way down to breakfast and downed a cup of coffee. Black coffee. Then I grabbed another. I felt like an alcoholic. This did nothing to make me feel better, but then, it never did. Soon, Greg joined me. I was on my fourth cup. "That one your first?" he asked like he does every morning.

"Yeah." I said like I do every morning.

He rolled his eyes like he does every morning and sat, pulling a tureen of eggs toward himself. He served two plates. I ate out of necessity, not hunger. He seemed to know that too, but didn't say anything. I wished I could talk to Greg about the dreams, but I…I just couldn't. I couldn't talk about it. It hurt to even think about it. "Earth to Vince!" Greg said, teasingly.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, what were you saying?"

"I wasn't saying anything, actually." He laughed, "You were just spacing."

I managed a small grin. "Sorry, this coffee's crap."

I held the cup out for him and he tasted it. Grimacing, he handed me back the cup. "You're right about that. The eggs are great, but this coffee… Why is it so bad?"

"I don't know. It's this bad every morning."

"I know, you make me drink it every morning!"

I rolled my eyes at him and returned to the coffee. "Morning." Draco said as he took a seat across from me.

Blaise joined us and soon after Pansy. We ate in silence as we do every morning. "Ugh, you're such a pig Greg!" Pansy whined, "You eat that way every morning!"

Her tone was so similar to hers that I flinched. "Leave him alone, Pansy. If he wants to eat that way, he damn well should be able to!"

Her eyes widened. So did Draco's. "Well, Crabbe. I'm surprised you have that much to say. I thought you needed your crappy coffee to wake you up. And how many cups have you had exactly? Because I'm not buying the 'This is my first.' anymore."

I set my jaw. "None of your business."

"Leave him alone, Draco." Greg said, "I'd need more than one cup too. This coffee really is crap."

Our group never fought. I didn't know why we suddenly were. "I'm going to go." I replied after swallowing the last of my coffee.

Greg looked at me with concern. I didn't want him to be concerned, but I definitely didn't want him to know why I was so upset. Or, maybe I did. But I didn't want to tell him myself. I made my way to the boy's lavatory. I sat in a stall, willing myself to not throw up. The coffee wasn't great going down, but it certainly wouldn't taste better coming back up! "Vince!" a voice called.

Sighing, I let myself out of the stall. I must have looked a mess, even though I hadn't vomited. "You look like hell, mate." he told me seriously.

"Thanks."

"Are you okay?"

I nodded. He raised his eyebrows. "Why do I not believe you?" he asked sarcastically.

"Greg… I really, really," I winced at my own words, "Don't want to talk about it."

"Come on, Vince, you know you can tell me anything, right? Whenever you want to talk about it, tell me, okay?"

I bit my lip. "Okay."

He gave me a small smile and drew me into a quick hug. I returned it, reveling in his warmth. "Let's skive off lessons today, Vince."

"Oh, come on Greg, we've got to go to lessons."

He pouted. "But…But…Please!"

I sighed. The offer was tempting. "Okay, okay."

He smiled. "I've turned you into a delinquent."

"I already was!" I teased.

"Let's go, mate."

We turned and headed out into the corridor, making our way toward one of our hiding places.

Greg and I spent the morning down at the lake. There had been a tense moment when he was stripping off his robes and loosening his tie. "Aren't you hot, Vince?"

I always wore my shirt buttoned up. You can't see my scars that way. "No, I'm fine."

"Really? It's hellishly hot today."

"Really." I said, firmly.

"All right…"

"Don't worry about me, Greg."

He nodded and didn't pester me about it. I was hot, but I couldn't risk it. There would have been questions. Awkward questions. And I would have had to answer them. The tense moment passed however, and we continued joking around until the bell rang for lunch.

Greg and I sat apart from the group. I would have been okay with it, but Greg insisted. "Look, Greg, there is something I want to talk to you about."

I had decided that I wanted Greg to know. I wanted help. I wouldn't allow her to ruin my life, my friends. "Really? Because, Vince, if you don't…if you're not ready or something, I don't want to force you to…talk about something…painful."

"It…It is painful, but I want you to…I want to get it off my chest. But I can't tell you here."

Greg understood. We ate quickly and started our way back to the common room. "Look! Crabbe and Goyle are going back to the dorm for some 'alone time.'" Draco taunted.

"Shut it, Draco." Greg growled.

"Oh, of course. You don't want anybody to know that you're doing it? Oh well, I guess they know now!" Draco said pointedly.

Our little group was falling apart. Greg and I were drifting away from that core that was Draco. It looked like we would have to make new friends. I didn't care, as long as Greg stayed with me. I was about to tell him my darkest secret. The part of me that I didn't even want to show myself.

We sat together on my bed, skipping yet another class. "When…When I was younger, my…my…" That one word would be the death of me. "Mother," I choked out, "Used to…torture me."

"Oh my God, Vince. Seriously?"

I loosened my tie and unbuttoned the top few buttons of my shirt. My scars were clearly visible. Greg was shocked. He reached out and traced one of them. His touch made me shiver. The only person who had touched them in years was me. "How…?" he didn't have to finish the question.

"She would start by…saying there was too much flesh there. Then she would cut it off. She closed the wound primitively. Without magic."

His eyes were as wide as they could be. "When…How old were you?"

"Young. Seven, maybe. My childhood's a blur. She did less extreme things when I was younger than that."

"Like what?" he asked, obviously horrified.

"My thighs, my stomach. Anywhere too 'fleshy' for her taste."

"Oh my God." he covered my hand with his own. "What happened to her?"

"She died. Prematurely. She hated fat so much that she refused to eat. The hunger pangs probably felt good to her. She loved pain. Essentially, she starved herself."

"Who did you live with?"

"Grandmother. It took a long time for me to trust her." I said, biting back tears.

Tears were shining in Greg's eyes though. I found that so touching that my tears began to fall. For the first time in years, I let go. I cried and cried into Greg's shoulder, letting him hold me, console me. I cried for what felt like hours. "Thank you." I murmured as the last few tears coursed down my cheeks.

"It's not a problem, mate." he said, cupping my chin.

I looked at him and was surprised by the emotions I saw in his eyes. I saw love. Love for me, written across my best friend's face. Of course I loved him, but did I love him? Still shocked, I didn't even react when he leaned forward to kiss my tears away, kiss my troubles away.

Author's Note: This chapter is rated T, but BE WARNED! Chapter two is rated M. As in Mature. For adult situations (sexual content) and language. Please, please, PLEASE don't read it if you don't want to. I really can't afford to be sued right now. This story doesn't make any money and neither does Encounters with Toads. (By the way, you should read that too! (: ) Anyway, seriously, don't read it if slash offends you or you find it disgusting. Thanks!