A/N: This will be an angsty sucide fic containing cutting and, well,
eventual suicide. The song is 'Tourniquet' by Evanescence, yes, I know, my
favorite. I have changed it since you first saw it so it fits with Order
of the Phoenix.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own Evanescence's 'Tourniquet' either. Honestly, if I did, do you really think I'd be sitting typing on my computer while I had literally MILLIONS of dollars to spend. No, at the least I'd be sitting in a mansion, counting my money. Over and over again. ^_^
The ~ ~s mean it's the song.
Well, I know I was going to post this later, but I'm sort of bored and I had the inspiration to write it now. So, here goes. ~pushes play~
~*~*~*~*~*~
The Loss of Innocence
Chapter One: Harry
Harry pressed the blade slowly down onto his wrist, watching the thin line of blood rush to the surface of the superficial cut. He barely felt the sting as he traced his finger over the long red line.
It needed to be deeper. Deeper so the blood would overcome the pain. Deeper so the memories might fade, even if it were only for a little while. Deeper so he could feel something, anything was better than the nothing he felt as each day passed. Even pain.
~I tried to kill the pain
but only brought more~
Cedric's death had caused his mind to reach an understanding: wherever Harry might go, no matter how isolated or urban the location, he would only cause pain and death. He put everyone he'd ever met in danger for their lives. Sirius had been first.
~I lay dying
and I'm pouring crimson regrets and betrayal~
Fifth year had been the worst of any for Harry. His godfather died before his very eyes. Before Harry had even had the time to say what really mattered. That he loved Sirius. But he never got that chance.
~I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming~
Returning to Hogwarts after this trauma in his life hadn't been as welcome as he'd thought it would be. But, two years ago, his friends' faces had still held him to the surface, allowing him to continue. Now even they failed to bring him joy.
~Am I too lost to be saved
am I too lost?~
Then came the next obvious attack on the Dursleys'
He remembered clearly the day the Dursley's had died. He'd been with Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Weasley's the summer before sixth year. They'd returned to Privet Drive to find, hovering in the sky, a lurid green Dark Mark.
The house had been in disarray; pictures lay shattered in millions of pieces on the floor, the lock on every door broken, and three bodies lay next to each other, all bearing the same look of terror and disbelief on their faces.
Voldemort's attacks slowed after his attempt at the Dursley's, but they had by no means stopped completely. That spring had been the last time he'd seen Hagrid. Until the funeral, at least.
The final battle had been on French soil. The casualties for both sides were great, but the Dark had overcome the Light by a wide margin. Their methods to kill were grotesque, but nonetheless effective, and Aurors became few as they saw the bodies after the Death Eaters were finished. The day he found out about his old friend's death was the first time he'd pressed the blade into his skin. He smiled at the memory. He still had the knife.
That was when Harry had been brought in. The Order of the Phoenix was an elite group dedicated to fighting the side of the Dark. Harry had been trained by their best and was soon pushed into battle. Sinking deeper into his own self-created darkness, the death he saw on the battlefield did nothing to prevent him from crossing the line, only his subconscious.
He knew, deep down, he had a purpose. He reminded himself daily that he had created all the pain and death every day. He needed only to defeat Voldemort, and he knew then he could lay himself eternally to sleep.
~My God, my tourniquet
return to me salvation,
my God, my tourniquet
return to me salvation~
When Hagrid died, on the eve of Halloween during his sixth year. The date was set by Voldemort. He wanted to inflict as much pain onto the youth as he could, and he succeeded by murdering a faithful friend exactly fifteen years after the death of his parents.
~Do you remember me
lost for so long
will you be on the other side
or will you forget me?
I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming~
Then seventh year had come. With Harry fighting the battles for them, the Light was finally beginning to see hope. Battles were sporadic and quick, the outcome almost always being in favor of their saviour.
At last, spring came and Harry's graduation was just around the corner. The final battle, too, came with it. Voldemort's forces were strong and ready. Giants, dementors, and Death Eaters were beside their Master waiting only for his call.
It came. For the first time, Harry fought Voldemort head on, blocking curses and sending his own toward the Dark Lord. Catching Voldemort in a weakened moment only minutes from the end, Harry felt a curse flying at him from behind. He quickly spun with the words "Avada Kedavra" and killed the one who held the wand. Finishing Voldemort with a similar, yet more potent spell, he turned to see who had cast it.
Draco Malfoy. He wore an expression not unlike the Dursley's. The image burned into Harry's mind, and he was unable to forget what he saw. Draco Malfoy would never graduate, never have his own family, and never see his future. Harry knew the blond boy had chosen the losing side, but he had never intended to take another peer's life.
~My God, my tourniquet
return to me salvation,
my God, my tourniquet
return to me salvation~
At graduation, the pause where Draco's name should have been said was like a knife in Harry's heart. The only word that managed to cross his mind was "murderer" and he no longer fought it.
That night he took out his blade for the final time.
~My wounds cry for the grave
my soul cries for deliverance~
He stood in the deserted bathroom of the boy's dormitory and pressed the knife into his arm. Pressing harder to feel the most pain. Pressing to see the dark blood thicken on his otherwise white wrist.
He pressed deeper until the world began to spin around him. He thought vaguely to himself that he'd done it. He'd finally succeeded everything he'd meant to in life. He'd finally brought resolution to the lives of others over the death of their own loved ones. He'd finally succeeded in bring an end to his own.
It was with this final thought that Harry saw the world around him fade into blackness and he fell to the floor, not to be discovered by anyone until morning.
~Will I be denied Christ
Tourniquet~
When he was found that morning by Neville Longbottom, his death was announced at breakfast in the Great Hall. His friends were left in denial and his teachers in disbelief. The only question being asked was 'Why?"
And only one person ever knew.
~My suicide~
~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: I know, it's angsty, but I was having a bad day, and this is the result. Please review and read my other fic while you're at it. It's not done and the chapters are short but, if you like angst, you'll like it, I guarantee.
Thanx for reading
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!
Oh, and
R/R
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own Evanescence's 'Tourniquet' either. Honestly, if I did, do you really think I'd be sitting typing on my computer while I had literally MILLIONS of dollars to spend. No, at the least I'd be sitting in a mansion, counting my money. Over and over again. ^_^
The ~ ~s mean it's the song.
Well, I know I was going to post this later, but I'm sort of bored and I had the inspiration to write it now. So, here goes. ~pushes play~
~*~*~*~*~*~
The Loss of Innocence
Chapter One: Harry
Harry pressed the blade slowly down onto his wrist, watching the thin line of blood rush to the surface of the superficial cut. He barely felt the sting as he traced his finger over the long red line.
It needed to be deeper. Deeper so the blood would overcome the pain. Deeper so the memories might fade, even if it were only for a little while. Deeper so he could feel something, anything was better than the nothing he felt as each day passed. Even pain.
~I tried to kill the pain
but only brought more~
Cedric's death had caused his mind to reach an understanding: wherever Harry might go, no matter how isolated or urban the location, he would only cause pain and death. He put everyone he'd ever met in danger for their lives. Sirius had been first.
~I lay dying
and I'm pouring crimson regrets and betrayal~
Fifth year had been the worst of any for Harry. His godfather died before his very eyes. Before Harry had even had the time to say what really mattered. That he loved Sirius. But he never got that chance.
~I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming~
Returning to Hogwarts after this trauma in his life hadn't been as welcome as he'd thought it would be. But, two years ago, his friends' faces had still held him to the surface, allowing him to continue. Now even they failed to bring him joy.
~Am I too lost to be saved
am I too lost?~
Then came the next obvious attack on the Dursleys'
He remembered clearly the day the Dursley's had died. He'd been with Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Weasley's the summer before sixth year. They'd returned to Privet Drive to find, hovering in the sky, a lurid green Dark Mark.
The house had been in disarray; pictures lay shattered in millions of pieces on the floor, the lock on every door broken, and three bodies lay next to each other, all bearing the same look of terror and disbelief on their faces.
Voldemort's attacks slowed after his attempt at the Dursley's, but they had by no means stopped completely. That spring had been the last time he'd seen Hagrid. Until the funeral, at least.
The final battle had been on French soil. The casualties for both sides were great, but the Dark had overcome the Light by a wide margin. Their methods to kill were grotesque, but nonetheless effective, and Aurors became few as they saw the bodies after the Death Eaters were finished. The day he found out about his old friend's death was the first time he'd pressed the blade into his skin. He smiled at the memory. He still had the knife.
That was when Harry had been brought in. The Order of the Phoenix was an elite group dedicated to fighting the side of the Dark. Harry had been trained by their best and was soon pushed into battle. Sinking deeper into his own self-created darkness, the death he saw on the battlefield did nothing to prevent him from crossing the line, only his subconscious.
He knew, deep down, he had a purpose. He reminded himself daily that he had created all the pain and death every day. He needed only to defeat Voldemort, and he knew then he could lay himself eternally to sleep.
~My God, my tourniquet
return to me salvation,
my God, my tourniquet
return to me salvation~
When Hagrid died, on the eve of Halloween during his sixth year. The date was set by Voldemort. He wanted to inflict as much pain onto the youth as he could, and he succeeded by murdering a faithful friend exactly fifteen years after the death of his parents.
~Do you remember me
lost for so long
will you be on the other side
or will you forget me?
I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming~
Then seventh year had come. With Harry fighting the battles for them, the Light was finally beginning to see hope. Battles were sporadic and quick, the outcome almost always being in favor of their saviour.
At last, spring came and Harry's graduation was just around the corner. The final battle, too, came with it. Voldemort's forces were strong and ready. Giants, dementors, and Death Eaters were beside their Master waiting only for his call.
It came. For the first time, Harry fought Voldemort head on, blocking curses and sending his own toward the Dark Lord. Catching Voldemort in a weakened moment only minutes from the end, Harry felt a curse flying at him from behind. He quickly spun with the words "Avada Kedavra" and killed the one who held the wand. Finishing Voldemort with a similar, yet more potent spell, he turned to see who had cast it.
Draco Malfoy. He wore an expression not unlike the Dursley's. The image burned into Harry's mind, and he was unable to forget what he saw. Draco Malfoy would never graduate, never have his own family, and never see his future. Harry knew the blond boy had chosen the losing side, but he had never intended to take another peer's life.
~My God, my tourniquet
return to me salvation,
my God, my tourniquet
return to me salvation~
At graduation, the pause where Draco's name should have been said was like a knife in Harry's heart. The only word that managed to cross his mind was "murderer" and he no longer fought it.
That night he took out his blade for the final time.
~My wounds cry for the grave
my soul cries for deliverance~
He stood in the deserted bathroom of the boy's dormitory and pressed the knife into his arm. Pressing harder to feel the most pain. Pressing to see the dark blood thicken on his otherwise white wrist.
He pressed deeper until the world began to spin around him. He thought vaguely to himself that he'd done it. He'd finally succeeded everything he'd meant to in life. He'd finally brought resolution to the lives of others over the death of their own loved ones. He'd finally succeeded in bring an end to his own.
It was with this final thought that Harry saw the world around him fade into blackness and he fell to the floor, not to be discovered by anyone until morning.
~Will I be denied Christ
Tourniquet~
When he was found that morning by Neville Longbottom, his death was announced at breakfast in the Great Hall. His friends were left in denial and his teachers in disbelief. The only question being asked was 'Why?"
And only one person ever knew.
~My suicide~
~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: I know, it's angsty, but I was having a bad day, and this is the result. Please review and read my other fic while you're at it. It's not done and the chapters are short but, if you like angst, you'll like it, I guarantee.
Thanx for reading
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!
Oh, and
R/R