Summary: Harry is sick and refuses to believe it, when he does, will his life be too late to be saved?
He liked the sense of power if gave him, that only he could do this to himself. He shivered in delight as the cold metal ran down his arm, whispering of things to come, the pleasure he would soon feel.
He knew this wasn't normal, this wasn't what sane people did, then again, he knew he was never meant to be normal to begin with, after all, his destiny wouldn't allow that, now would it?
He laughed bitterly, cursing all the contradictions and wondering how come no one ever noticed this side of him before, or perhaps this was his imagination?
'One sick imagination you have if it is true, Potter' he sneered to himself.
But no, it wasn't--
the blood weeping from his wounds proved to him; it was all real.
He just stared, stared until the flow of his blood continued to run down his fingers and drip onto the hard floor.
He looked at the knife; it was a curse but a blessing all at the same time. This cold piece of metal was his ally, his only true friend who offered him comfort in those cold dark and lonely nights, only friend who gave him relief.
Ah, but if anyone ever found of his secret ally surely they would take it away. He would not allow this happen especially since they've already taken away everything he ever loved or could've loved.
No, he would make sure nobody found out this secret.
It would remain just that--
A secret.
"Great game last night, wasn't it, Harry?" asked his friend, Ron Weasley.
Harry shrugged in response and tinkered with his eggs.
Unbeknown to him, Hermione and Ron exchanged worried glances.
"Harry, can we perhaps talk, perhaps in private?" asked Hermione sweetly, too sweetly.
Harry bit his lip."Why? We only have twenty minutes until class starts--"
"Twenty minutes is all we need," replied Ron quickly, too quickly for Harry's liking.
Harry scowled, weighing out his options as to how he could get himself out of this one.
'You're out of luck, eh?' the voice sneered.
"All right," he growled, and stood up, exiting the Great Hall without waiting for him to flank him.
"Harry, we're worried about you," began Hermione once they were in the Room of Requirement.
"Why? I'm absolutely fine," he said.
"Mate, we've been your mates since day one, we aren't stupid," shot back Ron.
"Listen, I won't deny it, I'm under a lot of stress, but other than that, I'm perfectly fine," he said, without breaking eye contact.
'My my, what an excellent liar you've become, Potter', a voice sneered in his head.
'Shut up' he hissed back.
Both looked somewhat unconvinced.
Harry sighed in exasperation. "You're worrying too much that you're making things up."
"Are we, Harry?" asked Hermione sincerely.
"Yes, you know if I had any problems, you two are the first ones I go to," he said, smiling. "I could never keep anything from you even if I tried."
Hermione smiled. "Alright, just don't be afraid to talk about what you're thinking, half the time Ron and I aren't sure what exactly you are thinking, we just want you to know it's the three of us, not just you."
'Funny, your names weren't mentioned in the prophecy' his inner voice sneered.
"Yeah, mate, maybe you don't notice, but you're always wandering by yourself," said Ron, hands in his pockets, a sign he was nervous.
Harry smiled, it was forced but they didn't know that. "Thanks, both of you, it means a lot, you guys caring."
With instinct, he embraced them to fully show them he was all right.
'You really should've been a Slytherin, quite a waste of talent you are in Gryffindor,' the voice said defeated.
'I know,' he replied darkly.