Disclaimer: I own nothing here and am making no money

Warning : mature themes of child abuse and self harm. Read at your own risk

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'I can't take this! Got to get out ,got to get out, got to get out!' Draco Malfoy screamed at himself. He legs were swift and sure in there direction; the bathroom on the second floor, where the ghost of the mud-blood Myrtle slunk around. No one would be there. No one would see. No one would know.

As he neared his destination, the blond tried to calm his thoughts, and get a grip on his shaking hands. The coil of emotion was so tight! So consuming! He had to let it out…

Pushing the door open and stepping into the moon-lit bathroom Draco let a sigh of relief escape him, before walking over to sinks , that lay in the centre of the room. His hands still shaking, he gripped the sink hard, and forced himself to look at his reflection.

Hard cold eyes, light hair that flopped into his eyes, lips that were quite pretty when not pulled into a sneer or smirk. God his father was right! He was just a pretty face, he would never be of any use to anyone. He was never the best in any of his classes, he was useless at Quidditch and he had all the charm and social grace of a drugged up Longbottom .He was lucky he was not drowned at birth…

Be grateful I even refer to you as my son! What good are you! Nothing but a pretty boy; you may as well just become a whore…in fact…

Draco shook his head at the memory, forcing it all back, adding it to the seething ball of lead that was coiling in his stomach. Hands still shaking, the slytherin reached into his pyjama pockets, and pulled out a penknife. It was nothing special. Just a cheap over the counter penknife; Draco was not worth anything better…

At the sight of the sharp object Draco seemed to calm down even more. His breathing evened out, and his gaze became transfixed on the blade. The coil loosened itself, and a jolt of anticipation was working its way around Draco's body.

Methodically, Draco pulled up the sleeve of his night shirt, and placed his arm hovering above the sink. Switching his gaze from the knife to his arm, Draco felt delighted, seeing the fine, silver and pink lines, delicately zigzagging there way around his arm. He felt wonderful, that he was going to add to his little collection…

Maybe now everything would get better…

Holding the edge of the blade, against his skin, Draco breathed out and dragged the blade across his skin, slicing it open, and releasing a thin eruption of blood. At the first cut, the lead in his gut, disappeared; leaking out along with the blood, and taking Draco to new heights of weightlessness.

Again and again, Draco marked his skin, watching the blood drip from his arm to the sink. His almost hypnotic state was only broken by one thought :

'Better get back…Maybe now I can sleep…'

Turning on the tap, and dropping the knife in to the sink, Draco began to wash off the scarlet emotion , cleaning the knife and himself. After he had finish, Draco looked at his arm again. Along with old and thin marks, now lay new red, raw and weeping cuts, marking and tainting the skin all around.

'I'm not a pretty whore any more. Maybe now I will do something right.'

'Maybe being a slut is all you will ever do right! You certainly seem to have the knack!'

Turning the tap off, Draco walked to the wide bay window, and gazed out at the moon, which lay low in the sky.

'Why can't I be better…Constantly coming second to a mud-blood, being humiliated at every turn by Griffindors…Not even high enough for Harry to notice. But lets face it: no one wants a whore.'

Taking in a deep breath, Draco wrapped his amrs around himself.

'They all must know. Fathers friends always seem to . Maybe I do have "easy" stamp on my forehead. That must be why everyone refuses everything I have to offer. I am filth.'

A tiny part of Draco knew that was wrong. It knew that what the older Malfoy did was wrong, and that nothing was Draco's fault. It also knew that this form of night time release was one day going to kill him. But that voice never spoke loud enough.

'Who am I kidding? I will never be good enough. No one will ever want me for anything, except a fuck-toy. And even then, these scars will put them off…Why do I even bother any more. It's not like anyone would care. Maybe it would be easier…'

It would be easier. But he knew he would never do it.

Harry…

Seeing the boy was enough to push Draco through this world. The goal to be worthy enough in his eyes. The attempts to get the dark-haired boy to love him. The one pure thing, left in Draco' s life…

Draco suddenly felt heavy. The previous light fluttery feeling had gone, leaving his limbs heavy and groggy. But at least the coil of self hate was gone, for now at least.

He dragged himself to the door, and stepped out, slowly walking back to the slytherin dorms.

While in the bathroom, the ghost of a girl cried, at the mere thought, of such tainted beauty…

She also knew that, in Draco's eyes, he would never be good enough. The love must die.

Wiping away her tears, she went back to the u-bend to sleep, while in another part of the castle, another lost soul ,was also trying to sleep…

A/N

What can I say, I was in a depressed mood. Any way, please let me know what you think, since this is a whole new genre for me.

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I am sorry if I offended any one.

I thought this could be a one-shot, but I could extend it…please let me know what you think.

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