A/N: So this is my first Drarry fanfiction so please don't be too harsh! I know this chapter is kinda short, but I couldn't have written more without making it incredibly long and probably writing three chapters worth. Anyways, I hope you like it!
Triggers: self-harm
Chapter 1:
Harry Potter sits in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place, wrists bleeding profusely. He waits about five minutes before spelling his wounds to stop bleeding although he doesn't use a healing spell. He never uses healing spells, letting his wounds scar his wrists, reminding himself of what he's capable of doing whenever he needs relief.
Harry hasn't always been this weak. He used to be strong, or at least, stronger. He's done what was expected of him-nothing more, nothing less. But now that Voldemort is dead, Harry has felt lost. He's done what his sole purpose of living was; what else is there? Harry receives praise everyday for his duties done to the wizarding world from random strangers, people he has never seen in his life, yet he still feels he doesn't deserve any of it. Now that he's killed the Dark Lord, there really is no reason for Harry to be alive.
He gets up off his bed, grabbing his packed bags and apparates to Platform 9 ¾. Harry and most of the rest of his year are coming back to Hogwarts for what they have termed their "eighth year" at Hogwarts. The Hogwarts professors had all agreed that the former seventh year students would much benefit from another year at Hogwarts and invited all of the students that hadn't died (or had been sent to Azkaban for their involvement in the wrong side of the war) back to complete their schooling. Harry only knows of three Slytherins that chose to come back, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson.
Harry doesn't know if he's looking forward to going back to Hogwarts, but he knows he's glad that he will not be living alone anymore. He's excited to see his friends, especially Ron and Hermione. He hasn't seen them since the battle, frankly because he hasn't wanted to leave the simplicity of his home. He hadn't felt like being hounded by photographers and reporters every time he walked out of Grimmauld Place, and he certainly didn't want everyone's attention on him. Yes, he had saved the wizarding world, but he'd always hated the publicity he got just because he had a stupid scar on his forehead. Harry just wants to be treated like a normal person for once, and even though he loves Ron and Hermione he knows that even they won't treat him the same. The one time they had fire-called them had been awkward; Hermione had tried to turn it into some type of therapy for trauma victims and Ron had tagged along with his girlfriend, trying to get Harry to "talk about his feelings" and "let out some of his pent up anger about the war." He knew they were just trying to be good friends but he's not some basket case. Yeah, he still gets nightmares and flashbacks and sometimes he cuts himself, but that doesn't mean he's crazy. Ron and Hermione don't even know that about him. Harry doubts Ron even knew what he was talking about, just trying to make his girlfriend happy.
Yet another thing Harry feels uncomfortable about. Harry loves that his two best friends found happiness through the pain and destruction of the war, but that doesn't stop him from feeling like a third wheel, even if he hasn't talked to them since the fire call one and a half months ago.
"Harry!" He hears the voice of Hermione through the crowd at King's Cross Station and turns to see her running towards him, smiling widely. She throws her arms around him, hugging him with force that Harry frankly hadn't thought she had.
"Hey," He says, smiling at her when she lets him go. Over her shoulder he sees Ron, struggling to carry all of his and Hermione's bags. Hermione lets out a small laugh and levitates the bags over to her and Harry.
"How was your summer, Harry?" Ron says, after giving Harry a slightly awkward hug.
"It was great," Harry lies, faking a smile.
Harry's summer was not great at all. He slept through most of it, though not soundly, suffering from nightmares plagued with Voldemort and death and destruction. When he wasn't having a nightmare he was slowly cutting himself to death leaving his body riddled with scars. Harry knows it's not healthy for him to cut himself, but he can't help it. He's found himself addicted to the sight of his blood flowing freely out of his arms, wrists, stomach, and thighs. He spent days without eating, just drinking bottle on bottle on bottle of firewhisky until Kreacher, a now very loyal and considerate house elf, would have to help him up to his bedroom so he wouldn't hurt his neck if he passed out on the couch or at the dining room table.
"What about you guys, what did you do over the summer?" Harry asks, smiling a little brighter at his two best friends.
"Hermione and I went and found her parents in Australia, took us a while too, with Hermione's damn good anti-tracking spells. No wonder she's the brightest witch of our age. Anyway, after we found them she took their memory spells off, didn't even know that was possible. We spent about two weeks there catching up before going to Paris for a romantic getaway. Figured that after all this time we deserved something fun and just for us, you know?" Ron explains. Hermione smiles at him and Harry can't help but feel jealous of their relationship. Of course he was so excited about it all but at the same time he felt lost and alone and even a little bit scared.
"C'mon boys, let's get on the train," Hermione speaks up. Ron and Harry oblige and get on the train for their last ride to Hogwarts.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione managed to find a compartment near the middle of the train, right across from Seamus, Neville, Luna, and Dean. It's halfway through the ride to Hogwarts and Harry's already changed into his school robes, but Hermione and Ron aren't, no doubt taking the time it took Harry to change to snog a little before he came back. The trolley had just finished going around and, although considered legal adults in the wizarding world, Harry and Ron were acting like twelve year old boys when they caught sight of the candy, buying almost half the cart full. "I'm excited for this last school year, maybe it will finally be normal, and not completely crazy like that last six right mate?"
"I hope so," Harry replies to Ron, after swallowing a chocolate frog. Hermione scrunches her nose up in disgust at the amount of candy the boys bought, ridiculing them for acting much less mature than they should be.
"There are first years on this train who look up to you both; you shouldn't be stuffing your faces with sweets!" Hermione had exclaimed as she noticed what they had bought after the trolley left. Ron just rolled his eyes, while Harry stifled laughter.
"I'm going to get on my robes; you should too, Hermione," Ron gets up and grabs his school robes. Hermione follows and soon Harry is alone in the compartment. Harry tries not to think too much, but whenever he's alone his mind gets the best of him and he usually ends up getting pulled into the world of the war again.
Although Harry is excited to go back to Hogwarts, he's terrified at the same time. He knows that he has bad nightmares and flashbacks away from the site of where it all started (and ended.) Harry's terrified of what will come once he reaches the place where he fought evil for the last time, where he used to call his home, but it now just full of frightening memories (even though they seem like much more than that.)
Harry knows he's not prepared to see Hogwarts again. Harry knows he's not even prepared to see his teachers again. He can already imagine the look on McGonagall's face when she sees Harry again for the first time. Or Professor Snape, who surprised Harry by living when Nagini had attacked him, only having passed out after giving Harry his memories. Harry isn't even sure he wants to see Hagrid, his first friend he made before coming to Hogwarts, the half-giant who had carried him through the forbidden forest, when Voldemort had thought he was dead. Harry just doesn't know if he's prepared for any of this.
Harry is abruptly broken out of his thoughts by the compartment door roughly sliding open. Harry looks up to see Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway, rather awkwardly. "Um, hello, Potter," He says glancing around the compartment. "May I come in?"
Harry nods, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat when he took in the sight of Malfoy. "H-hello," He says, not knowing why he stuttered.
"I just wanted to say thank you...for… you know… saving my life in the Room of Requirement," Malfoy said, sitting down across from Harry, looking up at him through his blond hair that had grown a little longer over the summer. The effect was not completely lost on Harry, who stifled a gasp at how handsome he found Malfoy to be. Harry knew he was attracted to boys, one of the reasons he has broken up with Ginny a week after the battle ended, but he never thought he would be attracted to Malfoy. Harry told himself it was only his looks though, obviously, because Malfoy's personality was never that attractive after all.
"You really don't have to thank me," Harry replies, rather awkwardly. He certainly doesn't need thanks from Malfoy, just like he doesn't need thanks from anybody else. Harry did what was right and now that he killed Voldemort, people don't have to pretend to care about him anymore. The only question was, why were people still pretending to care about him? The thought always stumped Harry, who had thought about it greatly over the summer, having nothing better to do. "Please don't actually. Anybody would have done it, so there's really no need." Harry shies away from any type of thanks. Surely, it wouldn't have been needed if his sole purpose in life since birth wasn't to bring down one of the most powerful wizards of all time. Surely if Voldemort hadn't instilled some of his power in Harry when he gave him that wretched lightning scar, Harry wouldn't be as powerful as he is. Harry hates being the saviour of the wizarding world, wishing that he could be nothing more than a normal wizard for once in his life, someone like Seamus or Dean or even Malfoy. He hates being Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Harry hates himself.
"I really hope that we can put our past behind us," Malfoy says, getting up. "I would hate to end this year at each other's throats, especially after what you've done for me." Harry glares at Malfoy when he says that, prompting him to then say, "Which I will never bring up again unless absolutely necessary."
"Thank you," Harry says, smiling slightly. He stands up as well as says, "Maybe we could become friends, Draco?" Harry smirks a little at the surprised look on Ma-Draco's face when he hears Harry use his first name.
"Of course," Draco replies, once again putting on the Malfoy mask of indifference. He holds out his hand for Harry to shake, which Harry gladly takes. They shake hands, in a not completely awkward fashion, and then Harry hears Draco gasp. "What did you do to your wrist?!"
Harry glances down and sees that as he shook Draco's hand, his robes rode up a bit making his scars and newest cuts visible, a vibrant red against Harry's pale skin. Harry quickly shoves his sleeve down past his hand and looks up at Draco shocked. "N-nothing… Just… Battle scars… From the war, you know?" Harry tries making a pathetic attempt at an excuse, but he knows Draco isn't buying it. He thinks to himself that he should have just used the cliche cat excuse but he used that when Kreacher saw them and even he didn't believe him, muttering things like "Master should not be cutting himself" and "Kreacher hopes Master is okay" throughout the entire week after that.
Draco looks at Harry worriedly, and says, "Well… Even though we just started being friendly and everything… if you ever want to talk, you can come to me." Harry sees pity in his eyes. Harry hates it when people pity him. He knows Ron and Hermione pity him. He knows the Weasleys pity him. Hell, even Kreacher probably pities him.
Harry wonders where his two best friends might be, as it has now been at least twenty minutes since when they left to get their robes on. He decides to go and find them, so Harry gets out of the compartment. It's not long, less than thirty seconds, before Harry finds Ron and Hermione. He doesn't actually see them, but he hears the voice of Ron telling a joke and Hermione laughing along with everyone else in the car across from him, the one with all of their other friends, the ones Ron and Hermione would much rather be hanging out with. Of course, who would want to hang out with the self-deprecating, depressed Harry Potter? Harry can't think of anybody, not even those he believes are the closest to him. Harry feels tears prick the edge of his vision and quickly makes haste towards the restrooms.
He locks himself in the mens' toilet and pulls out his blade from his left pocket. Tears now freely flowing down his face at his friends' rejection, Harry starts cutting.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please review! Like I said, this is my first Drarry fic, so constructive criticism is welcome! Also, please disregard any grammatical errors I made, it's almost 2:30 am so I'm running on pretty much nothing. Anyways, thanks for reading! Nicole