AN: This Fic is based on the Song of the same name by a band called Garbage. It's a great song that you should check out alongside the story. Some of the content may be seen as triggering so if you of a bad state of mind I would suggest not reading it. And I'm very sorry if any of you that read this can relate. Review and let me know what you think. Thanks!

Bleed like me

A loud growl broke the silence in the 6th year dormitory. Ginny Weasley pushed her hands against her flat stomach trying to ignore the aching pain radiating within. She had told her friends she was sick so that she didn't have to face sitting in the great hall watching everyone around her shovelling heaps of fatty food into their mouths without much thought while she struggled to even lift a folk full of rice and veg into her mouth.

Another hunger pang attacked Ginny and she gritted her teeth through it. She stood up rather quickly and walked to the middle of the room. She felt herself go light headed and stopped short. A wave of nausea thundered threw her and she noticed she was shaking. She grabbed onto the nearest bed post to steady herself.

She looked up into her own judging eyes, as she came face to face with the mirror pinned to the back of the dormitory door. She had chosen to wear a loose fitting tang top and jeans. She only ever wore things this revealing when she was by herself and usually kept covered up in case anyone started to notice. Her faded handy down jeans hung loosely off her hips, the black belt wrapped around her, the only thing keeping them up. Through the pale pink tank top Ginny could see the outline of her rib cage. While other bones at her hip and collar stuck out perfectly.

A jaded smile made its way to her lips. Her eyes looked dark and shadows clung to her skin. She was pasty white and her face was starting to look hollow. But still she smiled to her reflection. Her bony arms looked skeletal as she moved her arms to let her child-like fingers trail across her skin, up her top until she pulled it up enough to survey the damage she had caused. Her once voluptuous body had concaved on itself, her skin stretching over nothing but bone. She traced her figures along each rib bone with a sickening fascination.

The door opened fasted then Ginny's mind could comprehend. She moved her hands down to hide her body but not before it was too late. Her big brother Ron stood there with a broken look on his face, but that didn't stop him from pulling her into a huge bear hug. She knew everything would be okay now.

Hey Baby Can You Bleed Like Me?

Blaise Zabini took a moment to compose himself before he walked out of the room of requirement. He took a breath and paused again before opening the door. He looked down at his outfit. The shoes pinched his feet, the tights he wore were a slightly different colour to his skin and the skirt was entirely too short, but he wanted to fit in so had to dress like all the other girls in this god forsaken school.

He had been experimenting with spells and clothing for months. He had finally mastered the changing sex spell which meant for a few hours he could truly be himself without being bullied. The spell worked at softening his facial features and minimalizing facial hair. He did however need to make his own womanly body parts and so had taken to stuffing one of his mother's bras with tissue till it looked adequate enough. He had stolen the girl's uniform from lost property, putting together different pieces of clothing, enlarging and tightening where it needed, till it looked normal.

His hair, normally shaved to a No. 2 was now elongated to a perfect bob framing his face. He had painstakingly learnt to apply make-up effectively, or enough to make himself not seem like a first timer. He cringed as he remembered being caught trying make up on in this very room two nights ago by none other than Ron Weasley. But strangely enough, it seemed Weasley hadn't told everyone like Blaise expected. No one stopped him in the hallways to laugh at him, he hadn't heard a single derogative word thrown his way, and no one seemed to notice him any more than normal. This surprised Blaise greatly as he thought Weasley would run and tell the whole school what a freak he was.

Blaise looked back up at the door. He was ready for this. He knew he was. He had been ready for a long time but now he was here, he started to doubt himself. Is this really what he wanted? Yes. But what if it wasn't all he wanted it to be? What if after this he never wanted to be boy Blaise again? He pushed open the door and decided that was a chance he had to take.

Hey Baby Can You Bleed Like Me?

Hermione Granger sat at the Gryffindor table surrounded by her friends. Ron was once again stuffing his face and talking with his mouth open. What she used to see in him, even she doesn't know. He was chatting to anyone about anything. Hermione didn't even think anyone was listening. He was clearly trying to fill the quiet. Everyone seemed to be in their own bubble since the War ended, Except Ron, he was always trying to make things easier on everyone. Next to him sat Harry who was abnormally quiet. He had been like that a lot since defeating the dark lord. Ginny was nowhere to be seen but that was nothing new. Dean and Seamus were sat across from her throwing not so subtle loving glances at each other. Luna waved at her from across the room.

"Hermione?"

She glanced up surprised; apparently Ron had already asked something. She looked blankly back.

"I said, aren't you hot? I'm hot and I'm in short sleeves, how can you go around with those long sleeves in a heat wave like this?"

Ron didn't say anymore on the subject but Hermione could see the pleading in his eyes, did he know? He must know. He glanced down at her arm again and back to her with a sad smile. Yeah he knew. But before she could say anything Ron jumped onto his next convocation, about the Hogsmead visit tomorrow, with Lavender, but it was clear he was only doing it to move the convocation back away from Hermione. Hermione just shrugged it off with everyone else.

All these people around her that loved and cared for her and yet she felt so alone. So isolated. So Numb. She thought she couldn't trust these people. They would think her weird for doing what she did. For thinking what she though. They would think her insane. She couldn't deal with the way they would look at her.

She reached over to get some potatoes and felt a twinge in her side. She pulled her arm back with a jolt not expecting the shooting pain. It was in her hip, when she reached she had twisted at an odd angle and the fresh cuts on her hip had stung. She would love to roll her sleeves up, like Ron had said it was swelteringly hot but she knew she couldn't show off her arms. Not with all the cut, scars and burns lacing her elbow and wrist together.

Sometimes she tries to stop but then the emotions just keep boiling up inside her. She wishes she was healthy, happy. She knew even if she did stop there was no way she would stop hurting inside and this was the only way to make the emotions go away. She had to bleed it out of her. She would never give this up. Both her and her trusted razor knew that.

Hey Baby Can You Bleed Like Me?

Pansy watched as all the other 7th years left through the front gates for the weekend at hogsmead. She should be going too but instead she was stuck watching through a window.

"Pansy?" said a quite calming voice pulling her attention back into the room.

Pansy was sat on a comfortable red sofa with her legs folded under neither her. A woman sat across from her in a matching arm chair looking only at Pansy. Floating in the air next to her was a quick quill and a piece of parchment poised and at the ready.

"Maybe you'd like to tell me how your weeks been?" the older blond lady said softly.

Pansy flinched. "My last week, well let's see. This is the first I've been out of my room for the last week; so far it's been great!" she replied sarcastically.

"Okay, well I know that's not true. You Head of house told me what happened. Would you like to talk about it?" she prompted.

Pansy sighed and stood up from the sofa, walking to the window she replayed in her head how she had gone to dinner and sat alone as always with a big gap between her and all other students like she was a leper…or worse a Gryffindor. She then recalled going back to her room and hearing the whispering that followed her until she made it to her room to find it had been trashed and someone had written nasty comments over her door, over her walls, over her bed sheets.

"No."

Whore. Death eater. Wench. Bitch. Pathetic. Attention seeker.

"You know what? Yes. Yes. I do want to talk about it! I want you to know how much I am hurting! The love of my life was killed last year. Dead. Gone. He was killed by the people I have to see every day and pretend that it doesn't hurt. My Parents are in Azkaban. For life. I have nothing to live for and yet here I am. You keep telling me to be strong and that it would get better but look at me. LOOK AT ME! I have nothing to live for. I wish that basted Ron Weasley hadn't caught me before I tried to jump. I wish I had done it. But now I will never get the chance again. Not with you around. Not with the teachers watching me. And now everyone knows. They judge me. They, then hate me."

She finished with a whisper. "You don't understand. No one does."

Hey Baby Can You Bleed Like Me?

Somehow Harry Potter had managed to sneak away from his faithful group of friends. As much as he loved them, he needed a breather, he needed to get away. He needed a drink! When he agreed to go back to Hogwarts to finish his education he hadn't thought about all the things he wouldn't be able to do that he had become accustomed to over the summer. Like drinking for example.

He walked into a dodgy looking bar that he knew none of the other students would even glance twice at. He walked up to the bar tender and ordered,

"A double vodka. Neat."

The bar man obliged and then harry said,

"Leave the bottle."

Again the bar tender nodded, after all who says no to the boy who lived twice?

Harry walked over to a table in the back and continued to poor himself drink after drink. He like it. He like the way it burned down his throat; He like the fire in his stomach; He liked that if he drank enough of it, he could forget that he was the boy who lived - The boy who let others die. He could lose the guilt he carried around constantly.

He thought about the others who by now were probably in the three broomsticks having a social drink. Harry didn't see the point in drinking socially. He drank to get drunk. What was the point otherwise? When he was drinking but not drunk it made him think even more about all the people he had let down. All the people who had lay down their lives for him.

He slammed his glass down and refilled it. He needed to drink faster to make them go away. He could see them all around him. His Parents. Sirius. Fred. Ramus. Tonks. Mad Eye. Snape. Dumbledore. One by one they disappeared from his sight only to have their deaths replayed in his mind.

The first time Hagrid told him the real fate of his parents. Watching Sirius get hit by Bellatrix's curse. The mocking voice as she sang her taunting words. The News that Mad eye had died while rescuing him. The anger he felt. Seeing Ramus and Tonk's bodies lying motionless on the floor next to each other. The pain at knowing their son Teddy lay sleeping at home unaware his whole life just changed. Seeing the Weasley family clubbed together sharing their grief over Fred. The look on their faces will forever haunt him. Snape shedding a tear so that harry could see his most intimate memories. The hurt her felt. And finally Dumbledore. His trust that he would be save with Harry. Harry not being able to protect him. His calm face as he fell of the side of the tower.

Harry couldn't take it. He needed this drink. He gave up poring it now. He glugged it down, straight from the bottle, not caring who saw. He didn't stop for breath. He finished the rest without registering. He took a few breaths and felt a quiet hum within that signalled it was starting to take effect.

He felt the numbness coming over him and he knew he could stop drinking now. It had worked. Muggle Vodka always worked better than any of the crap the Wizards used. It was a harsh reminder of what had started the Wars; prejudice against muggles. It had worked. It always did. He had spent most of the time between the end of the war and the start of the year in this shape. No one knew except Ron.

Just as he thought this the door to the outside world swung open and there he was. Always ready to save a friend in need. Harry looked at him. He was alone which surprised him.

"Come on mate, let's get you back before anyone sees."

Ron was good like that. He knew what shouldn't be told to others. What would the wizarding world do if they knew there prince was a drunk? A person who turned to the bottle for comfort. Harry smiled. No one would know. Neither of them would tell anyone, and neither would his trusted bottle.

Try to comprehend that which you'll never comprehend. You should see my scars.