Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, surveyed the people around him. "Disgusting," he thought, "how can all these people be so happy? Why do they get the chance when I'm miserable?" It was then, he locked eyes with someone from across the room, is silver eyed angel, Draco Malfoy. Of course, no one knew he held such a fondness for the Silver Prince except that prince himself. Harry had told him the last night of school everything, poured his heart out. Had told him how much Draco mean to him, how he would do anything for him, and he was simply brushed off. It had hurt Harry more then anything, he had given up everything for his silver eyed dragon, his heart, his soul, his blood, his dignity, his health, everything, and then he was simply brushed off like an annoying fly. It had hurt so much Harry had gone numb. Nothing mattered, nobody cared. It didn't help the matter that Ron and Hermione were now going out and completely ignoring Harry.
The young wizard tore his eyes away from Draco's and stared with loathing at the lump of food on his plate. He found it disgusting how anyone could eat anything so fattening. Without casting another glance at anyone he stood and left the Great Hall, not noticing a pair a moon like eyes following his retreating form.
Harry walked towards Gryffindor tower and then with a thought changed his course. He would rather be left alone right now and people would start coming back from dinner soon. Yes, it was much better to wait until everyone was asleep to return. When he reached his destination, the Astronomy Tower, he sat down heavily. He felt like weeping but knew it was a lost cause, the last time he had cried had been quite awhile ago. His mind started to wander as he sat staring into the pointless nothingness that made up the classroom. His mind wander to Draco, to the scars he hid under his clothes, to the under-nourished body hid under extremely oversized clothing and magic, to the dagger his godfather had given him, which Harry was sure he hadn't intended him to use as he was, to Ron and Hermione, and there's where it stayed. He hated them, couldn't stand that they were so happy. Was it right for them to be so much in love while his heart was shattered like a fragile mirror dropped from the tenth story of a building and his chest felt like it was made of lead every day. Then again their romance did have it's advantages, as they were so immersed in themselves they didn't notice Harry's quickly diminishing body and lack of happiness. That didn't, however, change the fact that he wanted to strangle them until they ran out of breath from something other then kissing.
Harry jumped as the door opened and then scowled as he realized who had entered; it was the Silver Prince of Slytherin himself, the cause of all of Harry's pain. Draco looked at Harry, smiled with what looked like relief and sat down next to Harry.
"I'm glad you're ok, I thought you might have done something stupid," Draco muttered.
"Stupid by your standards, Malfoy," Harry thought bitterly. "Why do you care what happens to me eh Malfoy?" Harry spat, voice coated with venomous hate.
"Because you mean something to me Harry."
"Mean…. Something to you?"
"Yes, of coarse."
"You know Draco," Harry started slowly, sounding doubtful, "I do love you a lot. It hurts so much sometimes, but I'd do anything for you, without you my world would shatter, you're the only reason I'm still here."
Draco sighed, "I've heard this before, and I'm sorry but I just don't think of you like that. I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea from what I said. Listen, we should leave, if Professor Sinistra comes decides to come up to her office and we're found here we'll be in trouble." With that done and said Draco stood and left.
Harry, feeling thoroughly crushed and self-hating stood after he knew Draco was well gone and left. He entered the common room quietly and soon realized he had been in the tower longer then he had thought. Harry walked up to his dormitory and plopped into bed without changing clothes. He grabbed a razor he kept under his pillow for when he was too tired to care and started the normal nighttime tradition. He cut his legs, his arms, his chest. He wasn't aware of the pain anymore, his heart hurt too much. Nor was he aware of the hunger pains in his stomach that hadn't been properly fed in over a year and a half. He felt like crying, but the tears wouldn't come. He felt like screaming, but he couldn't, his throat had closed up. He wanted to sob, but he couldn't. He wanted to be held, but who would want to hold him? He swallowed a lump in his throat and an idea came to him. He got out a piece of parchment, a quill, and his dagger and then left for the Prefects' bathroom. Draco was always the first one there in the mornings.
Around 5 A.M. Draco Malfoy entered the Prefects' bathroom and what met his eyes made him want to scream, cry, think it was a dream, but all he could do was fall to his knees and weakly crawl to where Harry Potter's body lay, surrounded by a pool of his own blood.
"Why?" Draco croaked through dry lips, "WHY DAMNIT!?!" He sobbed until his eyes had gone dry and he felt sick. Then through his blurry eyes he spotted a spotless piece of parchment on the sink area. He weakly stood and numbly walked over to pick up the paper. It was Harry's suicide letter, which read:
Dear Draco,
I'm sorry I couldn't be what you need, but I don't blame you. Who would ever want someone like me, eh? Who would've thought Perfect Potter would take his own life? Well I did, and it was for you. I know I made things hard for you, please forgive me. I wish I had never been born, and then you would never have had to give me a second thought. This was my gift to you, thank you for being there. Without you it would have all ended sooner, you kept me here. It's best this way though, you can be happy with whoever you want and Ron and Hermione can be happy as well. I love you.
With deadened love,
The Boy Who Had Lived
p.s. I thought this was fitting:
I'll draw you a picture,
I'll draw it with a twist,
I'll draw it with a razor blade,
I'll draw it on my wrist.
And if I do it correctly,
A red fountain should appear,
Washing away my sorrows,
Washing away my fears.
Draco looked over at Harry and sure enough, on his wrist he had managed to carve a dragon. Draco felt sick and immediately purged himself of whatever was in his stomach. Once again he fell to his knees and wept, and that's how they found him hours later, surrounded by blood and vomit with Harry Potter's dead body right next to him and the suicide letter clutched in his hand.
Needless to say, the Gryffindors blamed Draco for Harry's death and the other two houses were mixed. The Slytherins were upset as well by the death, but they knew it had hurt Draco. They gave their support and condolences. The teachers, even Snape, were in a slouch as well because of this occurrence. No homework had been given for months after, but no one was in the mood to say much about it. The Dursleys had been quite happy about the death of their "freak nephew." This had almost earned them a curse from Snape and Draco. The whole wizarding world had mourned the death. However, with Harry's death Voldemort had died, but once again no one had the will to celebrate this.
Life eventually went on, for everyone but Draco anyway. He lived his life, fully blaming himself for Harry Potter's death. One day, 20 years after that fateful day Draco took the dagger Harry had used to take his own life and slit his wrist, and on the wall he wrote "Once I hold on I won't let go till it bleeds. For you, Harry. I never realized how much I loved you until you were gone" in his own blood. And that's how Narcissa found her son when she came to visit, and she wept until she felt sick.
_--------------------------------------------------------------_
Yes, very angsty indeed. I hope, you well…. I don't know if enjoyed is the right word, but enjoyed the fic. I'm really proud of how this turned out. I of course do now own Harry Potter, they are the property of the lovely J.K. Rowling and those bastards Warner Bros. & Co. Also, the second part of Harry's suicide letter, the p.s., is a quote I found some where and have been hearing quite often, it does not belong to me in any way, shape, or form, nor does the first sentence of what Draco wrote on the wall. That is from the song "Bother" by Stone Sour and I found it quite fitting. This fanfic was inspired by needing to write something for International Slash Day, listening to "Bother" probably over a hundred times in a row, and reading a fic I love about Harry being mad at the world. However, this is in no way like that fic, that fic actually has a happy ending. Well, if you have a twisted mind like mine you could probably find this slightly a happy ending, I mean now they're both dead and can't feel the pain anymore and maybe they can meet up in death. Anyway, that's it, I'll go now, bye bye.