WARNING: Contains alcohol, some blood, and mild slash.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, he belongs to JK Rowling.

Based off of the song 'The Sharpest Lives' by My Chemical Romance

The Sharpest Lives

Rain poured down in heavy droplets creating large rivers of dirty water on the streets. This night was not illuminated by the moon for it to had sought refuge from the bone chilling wind and sharp daggers of rain that roared down mercilessly on the cul-de-sac. It seemed he was the only one on the streets that night and he found it exceedingly unfair that he was the only one being soaked to the marrow.

He, the boy who lived, Harry freaking Potter himself obviously did not deserve this. He'd done nothing wrong, he didn't ask to be the wizarding words savior, it wasn't his fault that everyone he became close to ended up dead or at the very least severely injured. And yet here he was, running through the rain in a desperate attempt to return home, or what Dumbledore considered his home.

Stumbling and disorientated he made it to the front door and fumbled with his keys. His aunt and uncle along with his cousin were on a 'family vacation' and left the house to Harry saying: "If this house isn't beyond spotless when we get home you can forget about eating for the rest of your stay!" Of course he must have exaggerated. He wasn't aloud to let Harry die, starve and bleed maybe but not die.

Finally he managed to shove the key in the lock and push the door open where he let it slam behind him. He made his way to the couch and flopped down onto it letting the water, mud, and blood stain the couch, not caring if it was permanent or not. He rubbed his temples feeling a migraine coming on and thought back to early that night. He'd been drinking yes but not without good reason. Not only was he celebrating the absence of his guardians and the fact that he'd have the house to himself for two weeks but he was also celebrating his upcoming year at Hogwarts. It was his last year and he wanted to make its special, before and after. Now that he thought about it maybe it wasn't such a good idea to drink so much his first time. He had fun and he supposed that's all that mattered. The music was loud and catchy enough to leave one particular song stuck in his head where it echoed and teased his nearly hung-over mind.

"I'm the one that you need I'm the one that you loath…" He mumbled tiredly. He felt as if the icy water had burned away his skin leaving him exposed to the corrosive air. Even knowing that was utterly impossible didn't sooth his drunken nerves. Professor Snapes class had taught him every thing he needed to know about science and potions alike, making sure he and the rest of his class could easily take on both the wizarding and muggle world when needed. He often wondered why he didn't switch from that class, he already passed all the courses he needed to anyway. "'Cause I love all the poison…" he felt his head throb and scooted himself up more, shivering when his chilled clothes clung to his body.

He'd really been on a bender and it showed, blood shot eyes from retching in the nearest ally, blood stained shirt from something he couldn't recall, and a small gash on his right hand. Probably his own blood on his shirt now that took a good look. Harry chuckled. "That was truly a shot to remember…" He recalled trying out a small shot of whiskey and the horrible burn he felt upon swallowing. Now he new why the other men were laughing so much, it really was quite humorous when looked back on. He didn't know when he received the small gash on his hand but all the alcohol had managed to take the pain away surprisingly fast.

There were a couple of instances where he'd surrendered to some oddly passionate kisses from a cute looking blonde, whether the blonde was a male or female hadn't occurred to Harry then but now he felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment at the thought of kissing a guy. Even if the guy had beautiful platinum blonde hair and a smirk, yes smirk not smile, to die for.

"Heh, the sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead…" Harry closed his eyes and let his pounding mind wander. The lights outside the bar were bright and florescent, making him wonder if the manager of the bar wanted his customers to pass out from dizziness or better yet crawl back inside in an attempt to escape the burning white lights. Harry had managed to find his way out of the almost unbearably bright parking lot and was genuinely surprised to see the sun hadn't risen yet. Surly all that light couldn't come from the lamps alone could it? "Maybe the sun was afraid to rise and be…" His voice was barely audible now, laced with exhaustion and alcohol.

He never saw anyone come out of that particular bar during the morning hours, that alone made him stay a good distance away when passing by. He figured most of the patrons were vampires of some sort, seeing as he was a wizard that idea wasn't to far fetched. "I'm in love with a vampire?…" His words were now only distinguishable to himself and heard as disorientated mumbles to anyone else, not that anyone else was in the house to hear.

At one point during the night he was sure his sanity had abandoned him as he found himself locked in a three-way make out session with two unknown persons, one he was vaguely sure was the blonde from earlier. It was in a dark place secluded from the dance floor and main bar, it was where all the animals would go to suck face and bang their drunken little hearts out. So much dried blood on the walls and floor made him wonder if these people were cannibals or if they were all just into S/M. Be it the latter he counted himself lucky to get out of there before he did something he might really regret.

There was this one girl, he thought she was a girl at least, that had danced with him before he made his way to the bar. Juliet her name was, loved the beat and tended to grid up against the nearest guy, who happened to be Harry. It was all fun and games until her 'Romeo' appeared, the guy had a dagger from what he could recall, that's probably how he got the gash.

All in all it was a pretty good night, and if he remembered any of it the next morning it would be pretty nice to look back on. And while he looked around 19 or 20, he still hoped he didn't get caught drinking underage. Then again that blonde didn't look all that old either, as a matter of fact he looked about Harry's age. "Wha' happened to 'im…?" He wondered drowsily. He felt sleep over take him, and the pounding in his head morph into a dull throb.

Little did he know a certain blonde would be visiting him the next morning, Harry's wallet complete with I.D. and address in hand.

Authors notes

Yeah this was just a short one-shot of Harry getting drunk off his ass written to the song 'The Sharpest Lives' by My Chemical Romance. I'm well aware the drinking age is 21 in most places but I don't think Harry looked that old. Sorry if it's a little inaccurate but it was mostly to get rid of some writers block and I had Harry Potter on the mind. LOL. :)

Please Review! :)

Love and Straightjackets,

Miz. Jynx