With Pain and Suffering
While Harry is grieving over the loss of his godfather, he deals with his pain in ways that no one ever thought he'd do. Can Hermione save Harry before it's too late for even him to save himself?
ONE SHOT!
I don't really own much at all. This is a predictable story, but you'll enjoy it anyways. Right?
Rated PG13 for drug usage and mild swearing, but not that often. If you guys think it's bad enough that I have to bump it up to R, just tell me!
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Harry set the knife down on the bathroom sink and looked at his reflection in the mirror before him. He had just finished cutting himself all up both of his arms, the thick blood running down his arms in a sickening waterfall. Harry took his knife and left the bathroom, making his way to his bedroom. He opened his trunk and pulled out the several drugs that he had hidden in there. As Harry sniffed up the white powder that lie on his bed, he thought back to the first day he had ever tried drugs.
(Flashback)
"Make yourself useful boy and go tell Dudley and his friends to come down for dinner." Vernon ordered Harry upon his second day back at Private Drive. Harry looked at him with a dead look. He had been crying ever since he returned home. There were dark circles under his eyes and he hardly ever moved.
"Yes Uncle Vernon." Harry replied in a very dull voice. He lazily made his way up the stairs and down the hall. " Dudley?" Harry asked in the same tone as he stood before the closed door. Since he heard nothing but laughter coming from inside, he opened the door and poked him head in.
"Whoa Big D, this shit is awesome!" One of the boys said.
"Yeah, man!" Another said.
"I know. My dealer gives me the best shit." Dudley boasted. He looked up and spotted Harry. His eyes got even wider then they had been. "Close the door, you idiot!" Dudley commanded.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked.
"Get out of here!" Dudley shouted. Harry took a look at what was in the middle of the boys and spotted a bong. He had a sudden flash memory of when he heard Draco Malfoy talking about how much drugs had been helping him because of problems he was having a home. Harry then figured that if it worked for Draco's home problems, it should work for his emotional problems.
"No, I don't think I will. What other drugs do you guys have?" Harry asked.
"Get the hell out of here!" Dudley demanded. Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket and aimed it at his cousin in a threatening way. Dudley seemed to come off his high right away, for he scrambled off his fat butt and opened his trunk, pointing inside. Harry went forward and took the drugs into his arms.
"It's dinner time." Harry said before he left to his room. He knew that he wasn't going to be eating his own dinner until Dudley and his friends were finished, so he decided that he's start healing his pain.
(End of Flashback)
Harry sighed and stared at his ceiling, allowing the feeling of the drugs to consume him. They didn't make him like his cousin at all. They made him calm, in a deep thought. But those deep thought weren't the ones that normal boys have. They were thoughts of murder, hatred, suicide, death. And those were all aimed at himself and those that were around him.
He wouldn't have ever admitted it to anyone, but he felt the deepest hatred for Ron and Hermione. He hated that they were in love with each other yet didn't admit it. He hated that Hermione didn't love him. He could remember the first time that he caught them sneaking shy looks at each other. He remembered how he lied to Ron's face about not having any feelings about Hermione after Ron confessed his own. But Harry knew that lying wouldn't hurt Ron now since it didn't matter.
Harry could remember the first time he ever figured out that he loved Hermoine. It was their third year, just after he found out about Sirius. Harry had never realized how much he loved Hermoine until she began seeking him out for companionship after her fight with Ron. Fourth year was terrible for him, since he knew that Ron's jealously was getting to a peak after the meeting of Viktor Krum. Harry was thankful, though, that Viktor chose Hermione as the person he cared for the most, because he knew it would have been terrible if Ron realized that Harry cared for Hermione the most. And for all of this fifth year, he kept wanting to just cry in Hermione's arms, even though he knew he couldn't. She would be killed if Voldemort ever knew how much Harry loved her. But it didn't matter anymore.
Voldemort was someone else that Harry hated and wanted to murder. There were nights when, after he got high, he took his cutting knife and stood at the window, contemplating if he wanted to just find Voldemort and kill him with that very knife. But that just usually led to the cutting of himself in hopes that Voldemort was able to feel the intense pain that he was. After all, he could feel some of Voldemort's emotions, so it was probable that he could feel Harry's. But it just didn't matter anymore.
Harry though about the whole Weasley family for a moment and realized that he hated them as well. They all loved each other, even Percy. They had each other. But what he hated more was that they all seemed to love Harry as if he had red hair and was a Weasley. Mrs. Weasley especially seemed to want to take care of Harry, treating him as if he were the twin brother to Ron. Harry hated how much of a family they were. But it would never matter again.
"Hedwig, take these letter," Harry ordered his owl, handing her a few letters. She looked at him strangely, nipping at his finger that he offered to him. "Just do it. If they want to reply, let them."
Hedwig took the letters and left into the night. Harry watched her, the drugs affecting the look of her flying off. To him, she looked like a white puff just moving around a black scenery, the white stars clumping onto her. When she was out of sight, Harry lied back on his bed and stared back up at the ceiling. He waited until the early hours of the morn for his owl to return, which she did.
"Hey Hedwig," Harry greeted. She dropped two letters into his lap then perched herself on his shoulder as if she wanted to read the letter as well. The first one was from Ron.
Harry,
Don't do it, mate! I'm on my way over!
Ron
"Typical. Let's see what Hermione wants to tell me," Harry said to Hedwig, opening Hermione's letter.
Dear Harry,
Please, no! Don't go through with it! Just wait. I'll be there as fast as possible. Please.
I love you,
Hermione
Harry stared at the letter, looking at the still-wet smears in the letter over the words, probably from tears. Although Harry was looking right at the words he had wanted to hear ever since his third year, he knew that it didn't matter.
Harry raised his knife and cut a slit at the very top of his right arm, Hedwig jumping back from his shoulder and screeching. Harry ignored her and made a similar mark to it on his left arm. He continued to cut his scared over skin between the fresh marks from earlier in the night. Each cut was deeper then the one prior to it, which was just Harry's plan. He hissed as a salty tear fell from his chin and into one of the cuts, the liquids mixing. But the pain was almost over. He was almost to his wrists. It would all be over soon.
"Harry! No!" Hermione shouted when she threw the door open to the Dursley home, running up the stairs.
"What the hell?" Vernon asked, getting up from the kitchen table. He stood at the foot of the stairs, watching as the young girl banged and kicked at Harry's door, screaming at him to open it, tear streaming down her face. "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my home?" Vernon demanded.
"Harry! Open the door! For the love of God, please!" Hermione shouted, banging harder and harder.
"There is no God. Get the hell out of here Hermione," Harry shouted back at her through the door.
"Don't do this Harry! Please! Open the damn door!" Hermione cried out, slamming her shoulder into the door. At this point, the door kept cracking ever time she so much as touched it.
"Petunia! Call the police! There is a mad girl in our home!" Vernon called.
"Harry!" Hermoine shouted, slamming into the door one last time. The door opened, shattering all over the place. Hermione fell onto the broken door, but quickly scrambled to her feet and over to Harry. She gasped when she saw the blood pouring from Harry's arms, Harry making another deep cut when he saw her.
"I told you to get away, Hermoine," Harry said in a sickeningly deep voice, one that sent shivers down Hermoine's spine.
"Harry, stop it! Please!" Hermione pleaded, throwing herself onto her knees right in front of Harry. She had enough common sense to know that he she tried to wrestle the knife from him it would probably end up in her causing the fatal cut. All she could do was plead her heart out. "Harry, I love you! Stop this! I love you!" Hermoine said, now crying harder then ever. She felt so helpless sitting before him, watching him cut his pale skin up. She just couldn't take the risk of causing another cut.
"It's over, Hermoine! I hate life!" Harry shouted to her face, his next cut going the whole way cross his arm instead of just the middle.
"You don't have to! I love you!" Hermione cried out. Before she knew it, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her quivering lips to his, the blood of his arms seeping into the front of her shirt.
Harry couldn't believe what was happening. He had just yelled at Hermione and here she was, kissing him. Harry had a flash in his mind that told him to push her away and kill himself. But that idea was quickly defeated when Hermione gently moved her tongue across Harry's lips. Harry dropped his knife onto the floor and wrapped his arms around Hermione, pressing her against him and allowing her tongue to enter his mouth, his own exploring hers. Suddenly, everything from before was gone. Every thought dissolved into the back of his mind, Hermione his only focus. Even his high as suddenly something of the past, even though he had just sniffed some more no more then ten minutes ago.
"What the hell is going on in here?" Vernon screamed upon looking into Harry's room. There was a bloody knife on the floor, blood pooling around it along with some little droplets here and there. But he was more surprised to see his nephew kissing the girl passionately, blood covering both of their clothes.
"Something matters," Harry whispered, pulling away from Hermione and touching his forehead to her own. She smiled and laid her head in the crook of his neck, sniffing back a few more tears as she looked at the bloody arms holding her to her love.
"You'd better explain to me what if going in," Vernon said, stepping over the broken door, Petunia and Dudley behind him. When Vernon scanned the room a little bit, the drugs on Harry's bed caught his eye. "I knew that you were one of those good-for-nothing potheads!"
"I wasn't a good-for-nothing pothead. I was just trying to escape what I was feeling. Dudley, you can have your drugs back now," Harry said, still looking down at Hermione, softly caressing her arm. Hermoine tightened her hold on his, kissing his neck once very lightly. Harry smiled and kissed her head.
"What? You're crazy Harry. I don't do drugs!" Dudley cried out, trying to fend off the looks his parents were giving him.
"I couldn't have gotten them on my own. I never even left the house. Right Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked. Petunia looked at her husband and son then nodded slowly.
"He never left once. He's been around the house at all times," Petunia admitted sadly. "Oh Dudley, how could you?"
"I'm sixteen, Mother. I'm a big boy," Dudley replied, rolling his eyes.
"You better fix this door, boy. Dudley, we're going to have a talk with you," Vernon said, leading Dudley and Petunia away from Harry's room.
"Harry, does it still hurt?" Hermione asked Harry after a long time of silence passed between the two.
"It hurts, but now as bad as it could be hurting. The ones on my stomach hurt much more then these ones," Harry replied.
"Harry! How many times did you cut yourself?" Hermione asked, jumping away from him.
"I can't remember. I won't lie to you, though. They're everywhere," Harry told her seriously. Hermione sighed and reached her hand out, gingerly touching Harry's own.
"I love you so much, Harry. I want you better," Hermione whispered.
"What do you mean by that? Hermione, you're crazy if you think I'll go to a mental hospital," Harry said. He knew of several self mutilators that usually ended up in a mental hospital once they were found out. He didn't want to end up in one.
"No. I wouldn't ever do something like that to you. But I want to help you," Hermione replied.
"How can you help me?" Harry asked, softly stroking her now blood-covered hand. He didn't notice how sickeningly beautiful Hermione looked kneeling before him, blood covering her. He imagined that they looked almost matched.
"Live with me. I'll help you every day," Hermione offered.
"But what about your parents?" Harry asked.
"You need help, Harry. I'm probably the only one who can give it to you properly. Please," Hermoine begged. Harry smiled and enveloped her in another hug.
"Thank you," he whispered into her hair.
"I was so scared," she said numbly into his ear, a fresh tear coming between their cheeks.
"So was I," Harry said.
"Harry, I'm sorry I never told you sooner," Hermione said.
"What matters is that I found out in time," Harry replied, kissing Hermoine passionately once more.
"Hmm, looks like things are under control here," Ron said from the doorway, the twins behind him.
"Ron!" Hermione gasped, pulling away from Harry.
"It's okay, Hermoine," Ron said, smiling slightly. It was then that he caught sight of the blood that covered this best friends. "What the hell?"
"I wasn't lying when I said I was committing suicide, Ron," Harry replied.
"Technically, he still is. Love is the slowest form of suicide," George commented.
"I thought that was river rafting?" Fred said.
"No, that's the fastest way to get lost in the wilderness. Love is the slowest form of suicide," George replied.
"You sure?" Fred asked.
"Not really," George replied.
"If you guys wouldn't mind, we'd like to be alone right now," Harry interrupted.
"Yeah boys. We want to be alone," Ron said.
"Ron, he meant Harry and I," Hermione said, smiling slightly.
"We'll just fix this really quickly and be on our way," George said, taking his wand out. With a quick wave and a small, the door returned to it's old state. Then, it was locked.
"Harry?" Hermione asked, watching as Harry put his wand back on his side table.
"I don't care if it's the slowest form of suicide. I love you," Harry whispered, kissing Hermione once more.
End
Corny, I know. But hey, I started this when I was uber depressed, and now I'm not. Please review the corny story!
Serenity