He Hates You

Empty, so empty

Lonely, oh so lonely

Filled with emptiness, loneliness

Can I even feel anything else anymore?

I watch as sparkling crimson flows in captivating rivulets

The words freak and worthless carved oh-so-prettily into my porcelain skin

Yet there's one more word that mars the surface of what would otherwise would be beautifully pure, pale skin: hate

Harry grinned with a perverted glee as he watched the blood flow from the freshly carved words. One word flashed his mind before the encroaching darkness overtook him. Deserving. This was what he deserved. After all, he was worthless, a freak. The Dursleys had managed to drill that into him with their many beatings and words before he was taken from the possession to Sirius's house.

When Harry woke he realized he had repressed the fact that he need to bandage his arms before passing out. He sighed as he got up and walked to his closet. He kicked its floor until a loose jolted up and with one good tug it was free of the floor. He tossed the board aside revealing his extra razors, cleaning supplies, towels, some clean and some dirty, and lastly bandages. Harry slapped bandages over the (now visible) words: he hates you.

Harry busied himself cleaning blood from last night from the floor before putting the now bloody towel and cleaning supplies back in the hole in the floor. He rigorously pushed the lose board back in place before tugging off his dirty robes to replace them with clean ones.

His arms were covered just in time. Sirius bounced into the room in his usual happy way pronouncing in a singsong voice that breakfast was ready. Sirius was just about to be out the door when Harry said one plain and defying word. "No."

"What?" Sirius turned around, a disbelieving look on his face. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not going to eat." Harry stated it as if it was the most normal thing in the world to tell his godfather at eight in the morning.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you ARE !" With that Sirius seized his godson's wrist intending to drag Harry to the kitchen and make him eat.

Harry winced as Sirius roughly grabbed his arm right where the new cuts were. Sirius seeing Harry's wince queried softly, "What's wrong, Har?" Sirius's concerned face pulled Harry from where he was staring at his arm and Sirius's hand on it as if it were completely foreign. "Har?"

"What? Oh, nothing, Siri." Harry lied with an ease that came from years of practice. Before Harry could protest Sirius had pulled up Harry's sleeves revealing lots of scars and the fresh cuts that were bleeding again. Sirius's eyes widened, and he stared rather bleakly at the array of cuts alternating between straight lines and words. It took him a while to find his voice and when he did he asked a fairly simply question. "Who hates you?" Sirius was already swearing to himself that he'd kill whoever it was that caused Harry enough pain to do this, and although he was prepared for almost anything the Harry's answer caught him off guard.

"You."

Sirius stared at him before doing a double take. "Har, why would I hate you?"

Harry's answer came at once. "Because I'm worthless, because I'm a freak, and because… because I love you. Take your pick, all apply." The way Harry said it let him know that Harry's love was more than platonic.

"But, Harry….. How can I hate you….if I love you?"

How can one hate if one loves?

How can one love if one hates?

How can one hurt if one is healed?

How can one heal if one hurts?

A/N:If those of you who read this want an epilouge I'll write one. Otherwise this story is ended. Oh, and please, make my day. Leave a review!

EDIT: So... I edited this a bit, after it got another suprising fav. So, thank y'all, for all the love this sad little thing has recieved. Maybe I'll write another Harius, if I can get over my Sirimus addiction long enough to write it and find an idea for it. Love! And edited epilouge will be posted in a short while.