What was the difference in blood? Surely his wasn't so horrible; it looked the same as everyone else's, or at least
all he had seen. And he had seen many other people's blood during his life. People thought so much about blood.
His aunt and uncle use to say his was dirty. But their blood had looked the same the night he'd killed them.
Purebloods always spoke so much about it. There was a difference, they thought the magic in his blood was good,
but it was not pure. So the tables had turned from being beaten for having it to being tortured for not having
enough. Snape hated him for having his farthers blood. Another strike against him, every time the professor would
lash out at him, he'd hate his blood even more.
That was when he began to cut; he liked to watch the blood, the thing that seemed so important. He hated it so
much, but he was addicted to it. Then in fourth year his blood had been used to bring back Voldermort. It had hurt
him again, he wasn't surprised. Harry often wondered what would happen if he bled himself dry, sure he would die
but then the blood would be gone. Still he couldn't help but love his blood, and watched it daily, as he mutilated his
own skin to let it escape his horrid body.
Eventually he couldn't take it anymore and as his uncle beat him for being unclean he snapped. Using the knife
that had only ever sliced his own skin open he killed his 'family'. He learned that night how much blood a body
held. Dumbledore cleared everything up, claiming self defense. But no one looked at him the same again.
Sixth year came and he was begging to understand why Voldermort, some one with the same blood as him,
killed. He hated his muggle blood, and he began to hate muggles, and mudbloods. He withdrew from his friends,
and stayed far from those like him, with ugly blood. Voldermort came in his dreams, but he did not fight him. He
met him on Halloween eve. Voldermort hated people with dirty blood, he hated himself, he hated Harry. Harry felt
the same way. As they fought their body's was decorated with wounds. Mid curse Harry stopped and stared at their
blood, watched as it slowly became one. It was sick it was wrong. Voldermort felt the same way. But they both
loved it.
They like to watch each other bleed. They hated each other so very much, and hated their blood even more, but
they were obsessed. Harry knew that all blood might look the same, but blood holds so many secrets and so very
little truth.
A/N It is almost bloody three in the morning and I wrote this odd little thing, well, we all knew I was insane.