In which insanity is comforting
Summary: in which Harry's insane. People are trying to comfort him. Warnings: Suicidal tendencies, possible cutting please don't read if these are your triggers. Are a bunch of sad one shots
Possibilities: Slash, maybe.
AN: Enjoy
Chapter one
Artistic Genius
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I like it when the red water comes out. What I do not like is the pain, the mess and the horrified faces of my friends when they see. Look what I did Hermione I think as my fingers drag a smiley face into cool tile, the red water is increasing in viscosity. Ron look, I want to say drawing in hair, it's you that is red hair, right? And I smile a big smile because I want them to see. What an artistic genius I am, look how pretty the light reds mix with the dark ones. A girl I recognize as Ginny runs from my canvas on the floor, she brings another girl, an older girl- they are mother and daughter I believe. The older girl screams, I wonder why, is my drawing of Ron that bad? The only thing that bothers me is the itchiness and achiness of my arms. The older girl goes away.
"Do you hate my drawing?" Asks I to my friend, Ron- he goes pasty white as if he couldn't tell the truth, "It's okay to say yes, Ronald- I'm not that much of an artistic genius," I tilt my head to the side, staring at the smiley face all red with the red hair.
I tap my red fingers against my chin, there are a lot of things I could do to make my drawings better.
I am dragged to my feet in a vice like grip I do not like. One I did not like at all.
What did I do wrong? I wonder, I glance at my tile canvas seeing the smiley faces I made of Ron, Hermione and someone else I can not identify.
"Potter!" The sharp call of a cold voice briefly rips me out from a euphoria I did not know I had. This voice scares me. I am afraid, I do not like the vice grip, or the voice or the scary form that is so near me tugging me from my canvas. I begin to cry, for that is all I could do in a situation as such. I am thrown in front of a group of people, I am told to explain.
I do not understand why they are asking me these questions. A man I know, but couldn't quite place the name mentions a name I do not like. I flinch, involuntarily because I know of that. I do not like to be informed of things I know of. Especially of bad and scary things.
"I like it when the red water comes out," I defend myself, "and I like to draw with the red water- it is very pretty is it not?"
"Harry," My head lifts from the face of the man I knew yet couldn't place to a girl I knew a lot. Her name is Luna. She is like me. She tells me the wrackspurts have not exactly cleared from my mind, but that they are at a standstill, "It scares Ronald and Hermione to see you drawing with the red water. It is beautiful, but do not practice with red water, do not draw with red water. It'll scare everyone. They will not understand,"
I nod. I am very sad however. I like practicing with red water. It takes my mind off of bad and scary things.
"I do not want to think about the bad and scary things Luna. How do I not think about the bad and scary things without my red water?"
I am only looking at her, the others are looking at me. I am searching for an answer within pale blue eyes.
"I will look for a substitute to the red water. I'll bring your real red water. Maybe I'll bring you sticks of red. You can leave red water as your mark on parchment and have it there forever. How does that sound?"
It sounds better than the red water. But there is something that is left out to my fun with the red water. I do not mind it, I did not know of what that thing was anyway. I nod, it excites me that I'll be able to make my friends smile because of the red water.
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AN: Please review! They're like cookies.
Note the "red water" is from a very creepy flash animation show called Salad Fingers. Watch it and you'll see what I mean. I'm playing around with this writing style. So tell me what you think!