Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in the book.
I was laying on my bed, looking around. A shabby old orange tapestry peeled its way slowly down to the floor on the right side of my almost ancient bed. That's how old it was. I reckoned it already belonged to my father when he was around my age. God it sucks to be 16. It sucks to be a fucking Weasley. Let's see what else there is in this miniscule room. Ah yeah, left side of my bed. Old closet. Old worn out clothes in it. Shabby robes. On it and around it posters of the Cannons. My favourite team. The cage of Pig. God I hate this bird. Why does everything I more or less own have to be this ruddy old? Or worn out? Or plain shabby? Or plain fucked? And on a more important note…why the hell am I not fucked?
I go over to the mirror. What I see doesn't satisfy me at all. I see a gangly tall boy with dirty clothes on. He has red hair and freckles. His feet and hands are too long for their own good. He has a long nose. No wonder the mirror boy can't get a girl. Now his best friend doesn't have those problems. Oh Harry. Yeah Harry. How much I loathe him these days. Why can't I be like Harry? Rich, nice looking, girls after me, good grades, with no worries except Voldemort. I think my parents pay more attention to him, than they ever did to me. Would they even realize when I would be gone? Just like that? I look over to the window. I walk over to it. I could just jump out now. No one would realize. On the other hand…my house is so shit that the windows aren't even high enough to jump out of them and die. Might just break a bone or two. Frustrated I went to my bed again. There are other ways. I could Avada Kedavra myself. Thinking about it…I don't think I could do a Unforgivable… I could fly high up in the sky and just drop off the broom like that…if it even flies that high…God my life is so crap I can't even kill myself.
Getting really frustrated about my shit life I wonder what the hell I'd need to do to get some attention from my parents. I could do it like the twins. Just cause some mayhem. I could do it like my older brothers and be a perfect little twat. I could be like Ginny. No, I can't I'm not the youngest and they naturally get attention. As I come to no solution I start to let my mind wander off again. I remember listening to that one record Hermione gave me. Stupid whore won't do me either. Wait, she's my friend I shouldn't even think like that. She's no random slut. Though I wish she was sometimes. Reminiscing some more over Hermione's delicate body I started to hum some of the songs. What was the band called again. Ah right Nirvana. That would suit my mood now. Yeah I should play their record. The man who ruled the world. Kurt sure was. Heard the Muggle kids talking about him. He sounds amazing. I roll over on my back. I take a knife in my hand. It's silvery shiny blade reflects some of the last sunrays of the day. It looks very pretty. And sharp. I let it slide down my arm casually. It cuts me. At first I am a bit shocked, but then I watch a fine line of blood running down my left arm. It feels warm and nice. As if some of my depression just flows out of my body. Touching it, I feel the smooth consistency of my blood. My blood looks nice. It reminds me of the old robes muggle kings used to wear. Closing my eyes I lean against the wall and start to relax.
Just when I began to feel really good and in peace with myself my mom calls for dinner. I would have almost forgotten to put something over the wound if I wouldn't have heard Fred and George running down the stairs, talking about some pixie blood they need for a new invention (Peculiar Pixie Pasties). Hastily I wrapped something around it, not that there was much of a need for it, it almost stopped bleeding.
"Wow mom this looks fantastic." She really outdid herself again. If I ever marry a girl, I hope she can cook like my mom.
"Hey Ron, what's that tissue for around your arm?" Fred asks.
"Nothing, just a little cut, nothing bad really.
"Why's that?" Comes Ginnys small voice from the end of the table.
"Nothing really, I just….I just… I just cut myself on my old cauldron."
"Good you remind me Ron, we really need to buy Ron a new cauldron. He won't pass Potions this year otherwise. Arthur do we still have money left?"
A worried glance of my dad up to my mom ended the conversation. Good for me. Looking over to George I can't help but realize that he stares at me in a weird way.
"Everything okay George?", I ask.
He looks quite interrupted in his thought. A smile flashes up. "Sure no problem."
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It was the Second week of August when Harry came to visit the Burrow for the rest of the holidays. Normally I look really forward to it, because, well, because Harry is my best friend and we usually have a lot of fun talking about Quidditch, playing Quidditch outside and well just enjoying each others company. But this summer I couldn't help feeling grumpy about his visit. I mean hey it's the only time of the year I get to spend with my family and I can actually spent alone without someone asking what the fuck my problems are. I even need to share my room with him. Well at least it's not as bad as it was when the Quidditch World Cup took place and we had to share with the twins also.
When Harry arrived everyone was really excited. Mom put on her best robes and cooked something very delicious, Ginny spent hours in the bathroom and my dad couldn't wait to get more muggle stuff of him. And there he was. Geesuz he really grew into his self over the past few weeks. He must have worked out to fight the boredom or something.
"Wow mate you look great"
"Cheers Ron not looking too bad yourself" ("Liar!")
"You've been working out?"
"That and I actually got a tan from laying outside in the garden, watch!"
And then this bastard took his shirt off. Ginny almost collapsed beside me and I wish I could have vomited directly in his face. I'm a straight guy, but I have to admit he looked really err… hot. He built up a six-pack and the tone of his skin was the one of café latte. Smooth skin it was. I remember thinking that I thought it must feel like silk. His arms looked muscular and later I figured out he also got himself some contact lenses. His hair was nice and shiny. Jet-black like always. Ruffled. He must have looked amazing to Ginny. I just felt uglier myself. Much more than normally I felt like being the ugly duckling with swan Harry by my side. The faithful sidekick like Malfoy did say one time. While Potter-Boy got a grip on himself and put his shirt back on ("Ron you would do good looking a bit more like Harry", Ginny whispered in my ear) mom started to serve dinner. I for myself had to get up to my room really quick to prevent myself from killing Harry and to calm down a bit. Shit man, I felt like crying.
Up in my room my eyes met the shining blade of the knife again. Thank God, that's what I needed now. I quickly sat down on my bed and started to cut my wrist again. My mood was totally different from what it felt like the last time I did it. I was almost in a fever. I NEEDED to do it. The first cut was almost like ecstasy. I wanted that again. Second cut. Third one. But the feeling didn't get better. Blood ran down my arm now. Smooth. Red. Shiny. Yes. Yes. Yes. I loved it. More, more, I need more! Feverishly I got myself some more cuts.
The doors banged open. It was George. "Ron, why are you not….FUCK! I mean… no mom everything's alright. We are coming in a minute" He edged closer to me. Whispering, he said "Ron why are you doing that?" He looked very concerned. His face was in wrinkles and his eyes looked shiny. I couldn't do anything but to stare at him. Words didn't pass the big stone that started to form in my throat. All I could do was gaping. George didn't say anything. There was a single tear rolling down his face, when he took the knife away and started to heal me magically. I never knew he could do that. He mumbled something. I didn't understand it, but it seemed to be the words for the spell. I can still remember that it felt really good to see him…caring… for me.
"Ron, we need to talk. Come to our shop in Diagon Alley tomorrow. We're taking a little trip. I'll tell mom. Just come. Don't worry bout Harry. He'll do fine without you for one day."