Title: What it means to hurt
Author: professorginger
Rating: M
Warnings: self-mutilation, slash, drug and alcohol use, lots of angst, excessive amounts of untold character deaths
Summary: The war is finally over, many people have died and Harry learns what it means to hurt.
Word count: 1,267
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, for if they did, there would be no epilogue.
Ch. 1: Coping
The year following the war was difficult for everyone. Dumbledore and Snape both died and Professor McGonagall took her place as Headmistress of Hogwarts, just as everyone expected. Harry Potter succeeded in defeating the Dark Lord Voldemort and was once again the hero and savior of the wizarding world, though he wished he could just disappear into the shadows. Everyone close to him died during the war except Neville and Luna, who kept to themselves, enjoying a new-found love between them, and Molly and Arthur Weasley, who were grieving the death of their entire family, so Harry was once again left by himself and that's just how he preferred it.
For some strange reason, the Ministry of Magic decided to open Hogwarts while reconstruction of the old castle took place. Harry though it was completely absurd that he should have to study for his NEWTs while things as distracting as this went on, but he kept his mouth shut and endured.
With his friends gone and Quidditch put on hold, Harry was left alone a lot, especially when he shouldn't have been. Thus, Harry developed a lot of bad habits, just as an attempt to forget everything. Every night around one, Harry dug through his trunk and took out a bag filled with bottles of fire whiskey, a never-ending supply of England's best marijuana and a dagger charmed to never dull, his invisibility cloak and his Marauder's Map and made his way up to the Astronomy tower. He came to the tower to light a candle for his loved ones he lost and get completely pissed to help himself cope with the pain; and if the pain was too much, it was then that he used the dagger. One night in particular, he grabbed the bag, his invisibility cloak and his map, climbed through the portrait hold and headed toward the tower. Once out of the common room, he donned on his cloak, took out his map and whispered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Glancing down at the map, he noticed only two dots wandering the castle, Mr. Filch and his car, Mrs. Norris, and they were nowhere near his route to the tower.
Once in the door, he ditched his map and cloak, walked to the window, conjured and lit a candle and sat on the floor and began rummaging through his bag. He dug out his favorite pipe and some of his pot, loaded it, took out a bottle of fire whiskey and proceeded to 'cope', as he put it. It was a particularly difficult night for Harry. There had been a memorial service for the teachers and students who had fallen during the war earlier that day, so the pain was still fresh. About halfway through his first bowl, the tears decided they weren't going to show any sign of stopping, so he dug his dagger out of his bag and cut a long deep gash along his left forearm.
About the same time, Draco Malfoy departed from his dormitory in what was left of the dungeons to start his prefect rounds. It was unbeknownst to him why he still had prefect duty while everything was still in the process of returning to normal, but he did as he was told. While walking toward the Astronomy tower, Draco caught the scent of a very familiar plant burning. Wanting to catch the culprit who dared to smoke without him, he cast a silencing charm on his feet and climbed the staircase as quietly as possible. Once at the door, he was shocked to find the savior of the wizarding world lying on the floor, crying uncontrollably. .
"Poor Potter. What is the matter this time? Scared because no one's here to pity you anymore?" Draco sneered as he slowly walked into the room.
"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry snapped as he muttered a cleaning spell on his arm and the floor around him.
"Like hell. I'm actually doing my rounds…" Fuck, Harry forgot to check the map for prefects. ".. And how coincidental that I walk past the staircase to the Astronomy tower and smell someone smoking pot. I expected it to be some younger students, but it turned out to be Harry bloody Potter, piss drunk and stoned out of his mind, lying on the floor, crying like a little baby… Oy, Potter, you realize you're bleeding right?"
"What business is it of yours if I'm bleeding or not?" Harry snapped. He hastily attempted to cast a glamour charm on his arm and pulled his sleeve down, but wasn't quite quick enough because Malfoy grabbed his arm and held it up to the window under the moonlight to get a better view of the mutilated limb.
"What in the name of Merlin have you done to yourself, Potter?" Draco whispered as he examined the numerous gashes that have scabbed over and scars from those that have already healed.
"It's none of your damn business, Malfoy, so if you'll kindly give me detention or whatever for being up here and leave that'd be great."
"No way, Potter. I demand to know what is so bad that causes you to feel the need to do this to yourself."
"Why would I want to tell you?" Harry demanded as he fought back more tears. "What business is it of yours if I feel the need to do this? I thought you were 100% behind the monster who wanted to kill me anyway? What's the problem if I want to finish the job for him?" The tears now fell freely. "What business is it of yours if I think that physical pain is easier to handle than emotional pain? I know you didn't lose anyone close to you during this war, but dammit, cut me some slack!" He knew this last line was false, that Draco had lost one of his best friends and his father during this war, but he didn't care. It felt good to unleash his wrath on someone, especially someone he hates.
Harry didn't hear a retort as he cast a glamour charm on his arm and pulled his sleeve down, only the shuffling of feet. As he turned around, a fist to the bridge of his nose was his only response. Harry fell to the floor, cradling his nose and lying on his back, trying to suppress the bleeding. He didn't know what was happening until Draco climbed atop Harry's chest, pinned his arms at his side and got in his face and spat,
"How in the fuck would you know if I had lost anyone I cared about in the goddamned war? You were too busy playing hero to notice that my best friend and father had been killed. You don't think they were close to me? Think again, Potter. You're not the only one who lost someone dear to them, so stop with the bloody pity party like you are!" All Harry could do was stare. He knew he wasn't the only one to lose someone during the war, he just never realized Draco cared about anyone other than himself. Before Harry could even think of a retort, the blood on his face was gone and Draco was already walking out the door.
"Get the hell out of here, Potter, before I give you detention for being out after hours."
There were so many things Harry wanted to ask Malfoy, but couldn't think of how to approach him about it, so he gathered up everything, blew out the candle and headed to Gryffindor tower.
Maybe another time.