Hey. This is my first attempt at a fanfic so please review and tell me what you think. I would really appreciate any feedback at all, good or bad.
DISCALIMER: I don't claim to own any of the characters or anything in the story. It all belongs to J K Rowling and I'm just borrowing them for my story!
Warning: This story contains adult themes that some people may find disturbing such as male/male relationships and also depression and cutting. Please do not flame if these themes offend you in anyway. Just don't read the story!
Thank you and on with the first chapter...
Chapter 1: Thoughts and Thunderstorms
Thunderstorms were terrorising the whole of Britain and Little Whinging was no exception. The once pristine gardens of Privet Drive were now waterlogged and the gutters were overflowing from the sheer amount of rain. The streets were deserted and the only sign of life came from the flickering of television sets from behind closed curtains. The only house which was devoid of the constant flickering was number 4.
The usual residents, the Dursleys, had gone away to France for 2 weeks and so far had managed to avoid the worst of the weather. However, the house was not deserted. In the smallest bedroom, curled up on the small bed there, lay Harry Potter, the saviour of the Wizarding world.
He was fast asleep and lost in a world of dreams. His dreams, however, were far from pleasant. Nearly every time Harry fell asleep he would see his godfather, Sirius Black, looking back at him from beyond the veil, where he had fallen in Harry's 5th year. Every night Harry would replay the events of that night over and over in his mind and try to rescue Sirius but no matter how hard he tried Sirius kept falling through the veil and there was nothing Harry could do to save him. He often woke up in a cold sweat and would then cry himself into a fitful sleep full of thoughts of death and helplessness.
On the occasions when it all got too much for Harry he had taken to releasing the pain he was feeling another way. He had managed to sneak one of Petunia's pairs of scissors up to his room and he had hidden them under the floorboard along with his most prized possessions; his wand and his family photo album.
Some nights he would take out the scissors, roll up his sleeves and make a few shallow cuts along his arms. He never cut deep enough to do any serious damage, just enough to help ease the pain he was feeling at the loss of Sirius. He still blamed himself for what had happened even though he had been told countless times that it wasn't his fault.
In Harry's mind it was his fault. He had led everyone to the Department of Mysteries. He had not only led his friends into extreme danger but he had gotten his godfather killed in the process and now there was no way to bring him back.
Harry's 6th year had passed by in a bit of a blur. Ron and Hermione had finally admitted their feelings for each other and had spent the year making up for what they called "lost time". Harry was happy for them he had found himself wishing more than once that they would stop 'making up for lost time' as much as they were. Harry had taken to making excuses to spend time alone and he spent many hours sat on the ledge of the astronomy tower staring into the distance letting his thoughts wander. Ron and Hermione were too wrapped up in themselves to notice anything different about him and Harry liked it this way.
Harry had also got sick and tired of the constant bickering with the Slytherins and he had approached them about a truce between them and himself. He was half expecting to get hexed within an inch of his life and so was shocked when they agreed. The thing that astounded Harry the most was that it had been Draco Malfoy who had agreed first. He had extended his hand and Harry had only hesitated slightly before taking it. Since then Harry and the Slytherins had not had any confrontations and were managing to be civil towards one another. On a few occasions Harry had even been invited to the infamous 'Secret Slytherin' parties although he had always politely declined the invitation, preferring to spend his evenings in the Astronomy Tower or taking a walk around the lake.
No-one at Hogwarts seemed to notice that Harry was slowly closing in on himself they all seemed too preoccupied with their own affairs. Ron and Hermione were together, Seamus and Dean were exploring new angles on their friendship and towards the end of 6th year Neville and Ginny had hesitantly got together and were trying to hide it from Ron.
The teachers were all caught up in the threat of Voldemort and Dumbledore had spent most of his time with the Order trying to fight the attacks that were happening on Muggle villages all over Britain. Harry had expected to have another encounter with Voldemort but the year came and went without much trouble.
Harry still had visions from his scar but he had come to accept them as a part of his life and with the silencing charms he placed around his bed every night no-one had noticed his screams when the pain got too much. He had of course reported everything he saw to Dumbledore like he was supposed to but it seemed that he was becoming less and less useful and had begun to stop telling Dumbledore as much unless it was very important.
The year ended uneventfully and Harry soon found himself back at Privet Drive with the Durselys.
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Harry sat awake with a start. He rubbed his eyes and reached for his glasses. He could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks but he made no attempt to stop them. Once again he had dreamt about Sirius and him falling through the veil. He let the familiar feeling of hopelessness surround him and he reached for the loose floorboard.
He pulled out the pair of Petunias scissors and just held them in his hand for a while, feeling the weight of them. His mind was full of thoughts of Sirius accompanied by thoughts of how he had failed everyone by leading them into such danger. He felt useless and pathetic. He opened the scissors and slowly ran his finger along the sharp edge on each side.
It had been 3 days since he had last taken the scissors out and he absent-mindedly ran his finger along the scars that were left behind. With tears freely rolling down his cheeks Harry put the blade to his skin and pressed down.
He felt the scissors pierce the skin and as he dragged them along his arm he watched the blood run out from the cut. He felt slightly better, as though he was getting what he deserved. He made a second cut, this time he pressed harder feeling the metal slicing through his pale white skin. He felt angry at himself and as his anger built so did the frequency and severity of the cuts.
After about ten cuts he laid the scissors aside and watched as the blood flowed freely form both his arms. He sat like this for a few minutes before wrapping tissues around the wounds and walking through to the bathroom to remove the rest of the blood.
When he returned to the small bedroom he sat on the windowsill staring out at the rain that was still going as hard as ever. He let his mind wander freely. He would be returning to Hogwarts tomorrow to begin his final year at the place he had come to think of as his home. He dreaded to think what he would do after his graduation.
That was of course if he lived to see his graduation. After hearing the prophecy in his 5th year Harry thought that when the final battle finally came, it would be more likely that he would be the one to perish. After all what chance has a 17 year old wizard got against the greatest Dark Lord since Grindenwald?
Looking at the clock Harry saw that it was already 4am and knowing that he had to be awake early in order to get a taxi to the train station he lay back in his bed and promptly fell asleep until his alarm went off 5hours later.
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So what did you think? Review =o)