Numb
CHAPTER ONE
Disclaimer: Neither the characters or locations are mine; they belong to J. K. Rowling and various affiliated companies. No plagiarism or copyright infringement is intended. All characters will be returned safe and sound with smiles on their faces and food in their bellies. :D
A/N: So I started another fic…so I'm not studying…so what? This is to ease my rage at the OAC who are screwing me around to no end! Grr… Enjoy.
Harry sighed softly as he sat in the stands surrounding the Quidditch pitch in the first snowfall of the season, ignoring the icy cold that tore through his inadequate clothing with its fingers. He remembered the frivolity of youth; even at the Dursley's he'd loved to catch snowflakes on his tongue. He tried it now but they just tasted bitter. He had too much responsibility, too much blood on his hands to enjoy the simple pleasures of life. He was the Golden Boy, Saviour of the Wizarding World. It was all too much for him, although he'd never tell anyone that. He was sick of the sugary sweet lies that spilled from everyone's mouths. He just wanted them to tell the truth for once; was it really that hard? Why hadn't anything changed with Voldemort's death? He lay back, shivering, and wondered idly how long it would take him to freeze to death. His reverie was broken by the one voice he never wanted to hear.
'Hey look, it's a Pot-sicle.' Malfoy jeered.
Harry tried to stay very very still. Maybe if he didn't move they'd leave him alone. Despite the fact that most Slytherin's were grateful to Harry for what he had done (although admittedly it was begrudging), Draco would never forgive Harry for saving him. He knew he should've died…would've, were it not for the Great Harry Potter.
'Uh…do you think he's dead?' Harry heard someone ask.
'You numbskull! He's shivering. Corpses don't shiver.' He heard Malfoy respond.
No, they don't shiver…but they accuse. With their staring eyes they accuse me of not saving them. Constantly. Something struck him in the head and he opened one eye, peering at those surrounding him before closing it again. Great, he thought, it's the whole Slytherin Quidditch team. Which means they are wanting to practice. Which means I have to leave. Harry groaned and sat up, rubbing his numb face with his icy hands. He stood up but was immediately pushed back down again, stormy eyes glaring into him. Fan-fucking-tastic, could this day get any worse? Harry thought, staring defiantly at Draco, waiting for something to happen. And suddenly it did, as Ginny's voice rang in the air.
'Perfect.' Harry hissed.
Draco raised an eyebrow.
'Trouble with the Weaselette, hey Potter?'
Harry sneered, thinking you don't know the half of it. He stood up and pushed past Draco, missing the flash in his eyes at the sudden contact. As Malfoy stumbled he knew he would pay for that later, but strangely he didn't care. He had more pressing matters at hand. Ginny, for instance. What to do with her? He sighed as the red-headed girl flung herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, claiming him as her property.
'Hey you.' she whispered.
'Hey.' Harry mumbled, kissing the tip of her nose as he knew he was expected to.
He allowed himself to be led inside, Ginny gently admonishing him in a mothering fashion. He looked down at the top of her head and wondered if he'd ever loved her. He wanted to be back in the snow, alone, not entangled with Ginny, who wanted more than he could give. As Ginny's mouth and hips pressed against his – How did we get from telling me off to this? – he flinched slightly and pulled away, running a hand through his hair.
'Uh, look Gin…I'm really tired tonight.' He said softly.
Ginny didn't bother hiding her disappointment, but kissed him gently and left him standing in the centre of the common room. He waited a moment before going up to bed and crawling fully clothed beneath the covers. He drifted into a fitful sleep, plagued with nightmares.
--
Walking into the Great Hall with Ginny attached to his hip like some sort of growth made Harry feel vaguely nauseous. He had to get rid of her, but how could he? This was Ginny Weasley, who had adored him since she'd first laid eyes on him, adored the idea of him before that even. She was his best friend's little sister. She'd just lost one of her brothers in the war. Everyone suffered, his subconscious hissed, especially you. He shook his head. As he went to sit down she tried to kiss him but he turned away from it.
'Don't.' he muttered, sitting.
Ginny stared at him, tears in her eyes, and then fled the Great Hall. From the look on Hermione's face he knew he was expected to chase after her, pleading with her to return. So he did, hoping it didn't sound as fake as it felt. He took a few steps before plaintively calling out to her.
'Ginny…please…come back.'
Harry continued out of the Great Hall, finding Ginny leaning against a wall, sobbing. He felt awkward, largely due to the lies he knew he was about to tell.
'Ginny…I'm sorry. Please. I've just been so stressed lately…you wouldn't understand.'
Ginny turned into him.
'Make me understand.' She whispered, covering his mouth with her own.
Why is she so needy? Harry pushed her away roughly as her hand fumbled with his belt.
'I don't want you.' He growled.
Ginny spluttered at him then stalked off, holding her head high. She was strong and proud. She'd get over it. And Harry knew one of his problems had been dealt with, without jeopardizing his relationship with the Weasley family. He hoped. He turned and saw Draco staring at him, something in his eyes Harry couldn't name.
'Gryffindorks don't make girls cry.' Draco sneered, stepping toward him.
'Sod off Malfoy.' Harry replied, pushing against him yet again.
That was twice now, Draco thought. He will pay.
--
Harry stared numbly at his cauldron, aware that any minute now it was going to explode and bring the wrath of the potions master down on him. He rolled his eyes as it happened and Snape's greasy face appeared mere inches from his own.
'You, Potter, are a menace,' Snape snarled. 'You are exceedingly lucky that I do not fail you and kick you out of my class. 20 points from Gryffindor and you will write a 5-foot essay on the potion you just exploded and why it exploded. Due in tomorrow's lesson.'
Harry moaned and dropped his head to the desk, hitting perhaps a little too hard.
'Harry…are you ok?' Hermione whispered.
'Fine.' Harry grumbled in response.
Why aren't things different?
--
Finally it was the last lesson of the day, a fact for which Harry was extremely grateful. It helped that the lesson was Care of Magical Creatures, one of the few he was passing. What didn't help was that he was now paired up with Malfoy, walking the edge of the Black Lake; looking for…Merlin knew what. Harry had forgotten but suspected that there was nothing to be found, like most of the time Hagrid sent them on these "excursions". Harry slammed into Draco who was suddenly standing still.
'That's the third time Potter.' Draco hissed.
Harry blinked slowly, owlishly, as Draco swiveled, his wand pointing at Harry's throat, but made no move to go for his own.
'What are you talking about Malfoy?' he asked quietly.
'One: in the Quidditch stands. Two: after your spat with the Weaselette. Three: moments ago.'
Harry frowned before putting it all together. He'd pushed him. Twice though, not three times.
'It was only twice. It's not my fault you stopped suddenly.'
'Do you want me to hurt you, Potter?' Malfoy snarled.
The tension between the boys grew as neither said anything, green eyes locked onto grey. Draco slowly realized that Harry did in fact want him to hurt him. He sneered as Potter collapsed to his knees on the snow-covered ground, aware of Draco's realization.
'I want to feel something…anything…' Harry whispered so softly that Draco barely heard him.
'Happy to oblige.' Draco said, his teeth glinting in the light as he grinned evilly.
Harry cried out in pain and Draco walked away. He felt satisfied, but there was also another unfamiliar feeling. Whatever it was, he didn't like it.
--
Harry sat alone in the Gryffindor common room, staring blankly into the fire. The attack from Malfoy had hurt…Merlin how it had hurt. But that was the point. Harry was amazed and glad that he had felt it…it meant he could still feel things. He sighed, throwing some powder onto the fire and, as it turned green, called to Remus. The werewolf's head appeared in the fireplace, blinking wearily.
'H'lo Harry…how are you feeling?' he asked.
'I'm…fine…' Harry muttered, avoiding his gaze.
'Did you need anything in particular?'
'Oh. I disturbed you. Sorry.'
'Nonsense m'boy. Come, tell me what's on your mind.'
'I…I think I'm going to fail potions. And if I fail that…'
'You won't become an Auror. And you're afraid of disappointing your parents and Sirius, because that is what they would've wanted.' Remus' voice cracked as he mentioned Sirius' name.
'It's what everyone wants!' Harry cried, his eyes blazing.
'Except, apparently, you.'
Harry hissed softly through his teeth.
'I think, perhaps, you need to find a tutor Harry.'
'I asked Hermione already. She's too busy with all of her extra classes and trying to keep Ron from going under.'
'She's not quite who I had in mind. You need the best help you can get. Ask the best student. Now, er, I have to go. Think things over Harry.'
And with that Remus disappeared and the fire returned to normal. Harry scowled at the suggestion; he'd rather fail potions. But some part of Harry knew that he would ask Malfoy for help, because if he didn't he would fail and disappoint everyone. And he didn't think he could handle that.