Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own the Harry Potter characters, I don't. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Notes: There will be SLASH in this fic. If you do not like it, then I highly recomend you do not read. This is my first fic and I have warned you...And I shall once more. There will be SLASH. in this fic. Enough? Okay, now that I've said that, HELLO. This is my first fic so please give any advice that might help in future chaps. But, please be constructive. Thanks. Oh yeah, and I have only a vague idea as to where this fic is going so...please be patient.

Pairings: Harry/Draco (seriously, if you cant deal then dont read), maybe Hermione/Ron? (tell me if you like)

Warnings: I will add this in the warnings too. SLASH! hehe. Also, the rating will be high incase I decide to use some...very physical...contact! lol! Maybe not even very, but better safe then sorry right?

Don't Touch

by: LustAintLove

Chapter 1

His touch was cold. Rough even. I wanted to reach for him, kiss him, but I couldn't. He wouldn't let me. I felt foolish and ashamed after each unsuccessful attempt. Though I was nothing to him, he was everything to me. My sanity. He had no clue. He didn't realize how I hung on every painful thrust, every brief touch, every sharp nip. I needed him. I wanted him.

He didn't want me. He refused to kiss any part of me. Refused to be gentle. To talk to me unless I should try and touch him 'Hands off Potter.' I would shrink under the harshness of his words. They were burned into my head now. The low throaty growl he'd let out in an even bigger attempt to show his disapproval. The anger reflecting in his cold grey eyes.

It became pointless. He didn't give the slightest about how badly it hurt me. How each time he refused to make contact with me, my whole world seemed to break. And I made a mistake. I stopped going to him. Stop depending on him, relying on him to keep me sane. I had nothing to live for. Nothing. He didn't care that I left. I was just a quick fuck for him. Just an easy shag. A broken boy who would do anything to fix himself. Yet only seemed to become more frail and mangled over time.

No one ever saw my breakdowns. My panic attacks. My fear, loneliness, pain. They didn't want to see it. Voldemort lived still. All they wanted to believe was that their precious 'Golden-Boy' would save them. They wanted to see a strong and able leader in me. Ha, I could laugh. Me, strong. I didn't try to make any of their twisted hopes reality. Sixth year resulted in the death and suffering of very close persons in my life. And still, Voldemort hadn't been defeated. Hadn't even been hurt. He was becoming stronger every second and the thought scared me. Made me depressed. How could I be expected to kill him when even Dumbledore couldn't.

Summer came and I left without the tiniest regret. I didn't try to coax my way out of staying with the Dursleys. I didn't care. I wanted to be away from everything and everyone. I could still remember the hurt expression on Hermione's face as I voiced that aloud. She looked on the verge of tears. What made it worse was the cold almost chilling smile I gave her. She was allowed to be weak. Allowedd to cry and pout. Yet I had to be 'strong'. What bull. Then I turned away from her and boarded the train. She and Ron followed soon after but the ride lasted forever and longer with not even a word spoken. It was relaxing.

Summer was exactly what I wanted. No one bothered me unless I was to do chores or make food for the bloody bastards. And every now and then, Uncle Vernon would, in a drunken rage, beat me senseless. I didn't speak. I didn't complain. I was like a zombie. Including resemblance. It was heaven; in a sick and twisted way. I didn't eat. Didn't work on school assignments. Every now and then I would reply to Ron and Hermione's letters. This was only because I didn't want them to think I was dead and send someone to take me away, to bring me back to them. The notes were short and to the point. 'Yes, I'm fine.' 'No, haven't started that essay. Actually, I haven't started any.' 'I told you, I don't want a birthday present.' 'Really, I don't mind staying here.'. Never once did I lie to them.

I loved the color of my blood. It calmed me to no end. I would watch silently as small trails of it dripped down over my palms, along my fingers, and fell like thick crimson tears. Soon, the rush and joy I got from seeing it disappeared. I liked bruises though. The contrast of purples, blues, and greens against my pale, almost white, flesh was actually very nice. I spent hours looking at the bruises scattered randomly along my body. The ones on my face were most preferable seeing as though they made me almost unrecognizable. In their house, I wasn't the 'soon to be hero' the 'golden-boy' the wizarding world's famous 'weapon'. I was Harry. The worthless boy who disserved nothing. Who should be thankful for what little he got. Though, I did disserve a few things. Like the beatings. The lack of food that, even if I were given alot, I wouldn't have ate.

School was to start soon and even after asking them not to, Ron and Hermione had sent gifts. The first one I opened was a box of chocolates. These went to Dudley. Ha, he thought I was trying to poison him. Next, some Quiditch supplies, including another polishing set, a few books, and, as a joke I guessed, some bandages. Yeah, funny. More packages held quills, different colored parchment (mostly reds and golds), and so on. A few quick 'Thank You' replies ended my seventeenth birthday.

I was to leave early to get my school supplies, but not without a thorough goodbye from dear Uncle Vernon. This resulted in a broken rib, a bloodied nose, a fractured wrist, and a number of painfully swollen bruises. Ha, he's given me a birthday gift without even realizing. I covered the bruises along my face with a thick pasty cream, which healed them instantly, to rid it of any evidence, but left the rest. Walking proved difficult, but biting my tongue to the point of bleeding helped a lot with that issue. Life was great. And I was bitter.

The looks I got on first returning to Grimauld place weren't welcomed at all. They were worried, shocked, sad, sympathetic. No one wanted to admit that I made myself this way. Mad-Eye wasted no time apparating to the Dursley's place, and honestly I didn't care. Uncle Vernon, though I barely felt any of the pain, was asking for a good hex or whatever it was Mad-Eye planned. Mrs. Weasley instantly shoved food in my face while speaking in a most profane manner. I couldn't help but chuckle which earned myself a few 'is he mad' looks from Ron and the twins. Hermione looked to caught up in my appearance to have noticed. "Not hungry." I said and stood to leave. Mrs. Weasley wouldn't have it though. She placed both hands on my shoulders and forced me to sit. I hissed with pain, as it had a very unpleasant effect on my ribs. "You, Harry James Potter, will eat everything on that plate." she said not noticing the sound that had previously slipped from my mouth. I glared up at her and smiled falsely. "I said," standing up, I used the most acid filled tone I could muster. "I'm not hungry." Her eyes widened with surprise and the shock kept her frozen in place. Without another word, I left the room. They would all have something to say later.

As known, Hermione and Ron came first. They spoke quietly as if scared I would suddenly explode with rage and stayed near the door. I lay on my bed looking at the ceiling and frowned as they began to speak.

"Harry?" Ron was the first to say anything. He glanced at Hermione when I didn't reply. "Umm…Harry, are you…okay mate?" his voice held fear and worry. I looked at him and narrowed my eyes.

"Why wouldn't I be 'mate'?" My eyes shone with amusement and he swallowed a bit coward like.

"Why…why are you acting like this Harry? We're only worried about you. I mean….look at you. Your practically…." I cut Hermione off with a bitter laugh.

"Worried about me are you? Is it me that your worried about, or is it the 'Golden-Boy' that you care about. You want to fix me up so I can kill Voldemort? So I can be your hero? I mean, it seems that you only care about keeping me out of harms way. Is that so I won't fail you? So I will do my 'duty'? I don't want you to worry for me. I want you to leave me alone." Her eyes watered and she began to stutter through words.

"No, that…mmm…that's not…no…that isn't what…you see…I don't want…please Harry. I…no…we care about you." she stopped talking suddenly and the tears came. Ron soothingly hugged her and loud muffled sobs erupted throughout the room. Suddenly something within me snapped. I froze at the sight of my friends, both distressed, one crying, the other glaring and confused. 'What did I do?' My eyes softened and I blinked a few times. Then, standing up, I made a slow and very difficult path towards them. Reaching out very hesitantly, I placed a soothing hand on Hermione's back. She almost pulled away from the touch, but stopped herself.

"Don't…don't cry." I felt smaller for some reason and my voice sounded far away. "Please, I didn't mean to…" her sobs stopped. I shrunk away and tried to take a breath. Something was happening to me. I didn't want to hurt them. I just…wanted to be alone. My attempt for air seemed to fail.

"Harry?" Ron looked at me worriedly but I shook my head violently. Both he and a tear stained Hermione advanced trying to calm me. "What's wrong Harry? Talk to me." I stared horrorstruck as Ron tried to reach his hand towards me. 'Don't touch' . I backed up quick to avoid him and tripped, falling to the floor with a thump.

"What's wrong with him?" Hermione shrieked and, not understanding that I didn't want to be touched, placed a hand on my forehead. My reaction startled me along with the other two. I yelped and swiped at her hand. Her touch was like ice. It left a cold burning sensation along my skin.

"He's burning up Ron. What's wrong with him?" Ron looked bewildered but quickly turned and ran from the room. Obviously in search of an adult. Not a few seconds later did I hear a loud booming voice that came from downstairs. I jumped at the sound and my eyes widened.

"It's okay Harry. I wont leave." she didn't try to touch me again, but looked very tempted to do so.

I managed a very struggled breath and tried to increase my distance from her. 'What's wrong with me?' It was like nothing I've ever experienced. I was scared for no real reason. Loud footsteps sounded from somewhere near and I heard panicked voices. My eyes began to haze and I vaguely saw a black figure before everything went dark.

Professor Snape's POV

I sat in the kitchen waiting for what was left of the order to arrive. Molly looked a bit shaken but I ignored her and sipped at the mug she had handed me. Tea. This was becoming very agitating. Waiting for the stubborn bastards to actually come on time for once. Though I never got my expectations to high. Isn't Potter returning today? Yes, maybe he was already here. Maybe that's why everyone was gone. Giving the boy more unneeded attention.

"Exactly what am I doing here if no one else is going to show up?" I sigh aloud and Molly glances at me.

"Huh? Excuse me, what did you say?" she looked lost in her own little world. With a low growl, I waved the topic away and took another sip of the bitter tea. A loud commotion came from somewhere upstairs and Molly jumped slightly. Then, putting herself back together, she shook her head.

"I swear, their going to make that wretched portrait start howling again." she frowned and returned to cooking that nights dinner. A shrieking voice was heard and soon after, loud thudding footsteps could be heard making their way down the stairs.

"FILTHLY, DIRT WIZARDS! DISCRASES! I'LL…….." Molly had, in fact, been correct with her assumption about the portrait. Following the loud eruption of curses came an even more disturbing sight. Ronald Weasley rushed into the kitchen. His eyes wide, face red, and breathing disturbingly loud. He looked ready to explode.

"Mum…Professor, Harry! Harry…he's gone mad." The boy scowled at his own words. "No, he's gone….there's something wrong with him." he looked much more pleased with the choice of words.

"I could have told you that Mr. Weasley." I scowled at him and was surprised to see the viciously hateful look he shot at me.

"What the bloody hell are you just sitting there for. Did you hear me? Harry, he needs help." I heard Molly gasp at the young boys choice of words. After finally registering what the boy had said, I stood up and made way to follow him; Molly at my heels.

We walked past the still fuming portrait and up the steps, stopping at an open door. The red head stepped aside and I entered to find a very scared Miss Granger and a wide eyed, sweaty Mr. Potter. He lay on the ground looking fearfully at the girl and suddenly glanced up at me before his head dropped to the floor with a thud and his eyes closed. Out cold.

"What…what's wrong with him Professor?" Miss Granger looked at me pleadingly. I narrowed my eyes and scowled.

"If you would, Miss Granger, give me moment, maybe I could see." she shrunk away and looked back at Harry while tears began to stream down her face.

"Come, the two of you." It seemed that was all the women could say, as her eyes were glued to Mr. Potter's unconscious body.

"But mum…"the boy began to object but stopped at the fierce glance she shot him. Reluctantly, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger left and with a last glance at Mr. Potter, Molly followed.

"What the hell happened to you?" I sighed with frustration and took my wand from my robe. The boy looked near death.

Hermione's POV

I followed Ron down to the kitchen. My eyes were still leaking unwanted tears. 'How could Harry say those things? What's wrong with him? First he's all……mean, then he's all…scared?'

"Mione'?" I glanced up to look at Ron. His soft blue eyes were filled with concern as he watched me. "You okay?" he took a seat by me a draped a arm over my shoulder. Smiling unconvincingly, I nodded. "I really don't understand what happened. I mean, one minute he's perfectly fine, if that's what you call it, and the next minute he's freaking out." I narrowed my eyes and shrugged his arm away.

"What do you mean 'if that's what you call it'?" He looked taken aback by my sudden mood change and put his hands up defensively.

"I just meant that he was acting weird. You saw how he snapped at mum. And Harry would never say those things to us. He knows we care about him. At least I thought he did." Ron's head fell slightly and he frowned. He quickly pulled himself together and glanced at Mrs. Weasley. "Mum, do you…umm…think that Harry's….umm…uncle made him like this?" I looked to her and waited for an answer. She only frowned and kept silent.

"Really Ron! What do you think! I mean, he wasn't like this before the summer! He….." I was almost screaming, but he interrupted me with a snort.

"He wasn't? I tend to remember him having a fit similar to the one he just had." Ron frowned and looked at the floor.

"What? He never screamed when we touched him." I could still feel the sting in my hand as he slapped it away.

"Not that!" For the first time I felt like Ron knew more then me. This, I didn't like. "I'm talking about before we left Hogwarts. He said he was happy to leave. Happy that we wouldn't be around." Ron looked hurt by the memory and I felt my heart sink. It was true. He had been looking forward to leaving. I almost cried that day. Not because he didn't want us around, but because he sounded so harsh. He was even amused, or so it seemed, when my eyes began to water. Ron was right, but then….

"Why did you even bother asking your mom that idiotic question if you knew he was like this before the summer?" This annoyed me.

"Well, he wasn't as…mean before the summer. And he never dared to act like that round mum." Ron whispered. "He's even skinnier." he added.

This was all true. The moment he entered the kitchen I froze. He looked so frail and breakable. His skin was pale, while it used to be a soft bronze. Even the letters he sent over the summer showed me a different Harry. They were short. Very short. I feared that something was wrong, maybe he was depressed from being away from us for so long, so I wrote long detailed letters. Mentioning all the things we would do when he returned. Though, soon, I believed them pointless since he still didn't increase the amount of conversation in his own letters.

"You two stop it. It shouldn't be so hard to see what's wrong. We all dealt with great losses the past year and Harry has lost almost everything. First his parent, then Sirius, then Lupin. He needs time to cope. We just need to be there for him. Now, stop worrying. It just takes time." Both I and Ron jumped at his mother's sudden input. Of course Harry had been hurt with all the more resent deaths of Sirius and Lupin, but he said he was fine. He said….. 'Oh quite it! Of course he wasn't going to tell us everything. He was lying. He was acting Hermione. Just stop thinking about it. Just……he's going to be fine. We'll make him better. Me and Ron.'

LustAintLove: How did ya like it? Bad? Good? Should I continue?R&R please. Love getting feedback! Be harsh if you must, just have a point behind it. Thanks for reading. And sorry if you dont like h/d pairing, but I wont change it.