Author's Note: For those who are confused, anytihng in italic is Draco's thought's. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed my last chapter. It helps so much to think that people are actually reading this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, everything in the Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Ch. 2, A Beautiful Escape

By: Mousecat

"Hey Malfoy," Draco turned to see the face of Blaise Zambinni scorning back at him. With a slight grin on his face, Blaise continued, "What was all that about. I mean you and Potter?"

Draco considered confiding in Blaise about the truth behind Potter's words, but decided against it. "What do you mean? He's Harry Bloody Potter. I hate him and he hates me." Draco thought for a second, and then added "So naturally we'd fight if paired together."

"Whatever mate," Blaise said patting Draco on the back. "Regardless, it was funny as hell. Too bad you didn't actually hit him."

"Yea, too bad." Draco chuckled lightly was Blaise turned to leave. "See ya," Draco waved as Blaise rounded the corner. His only response was silence, as Blaise was already out of earshot.


Draco spent the rest of the day in silence. He skipped dinner, spending his time in the library instead. He even went to bed without saying goodnight to his fellow Slytherins. As much as he tried to shake the thought, he couldn't clear Potter's words from his mind. Why is everything so complicated? Draco thought to himself. Why do I even care what he says. It's not like he's my friend or anything. He's my enemy. I hate him, right? But even Draco was beginning to doubt himself on that. Did he really hate Harry? Or was hatred just a guise for much deeper feelings? Draco had no time to think of such things, for now, sleep enveloped him.
Draco's dreams where restless. He was at the Malfoy Manner, and his father was there. Draco screamed as his father attempted to bludgeon him with his cane. The first wack-painless! As was the second, and the third. He laughed as he watched a lightening bolt come from the sky and strike his father dead. He was laughing so hard now, he eventually woke himself up.

Draco heard the clock from down the hall chime. "DING! DING! DING!" It was three o'clock in the morning, and while most people where sound asleep, Draco grabbed his bathrobe and crept out of the dorms and into the common room. Covered in sweat, Draco decided the best place to go would be the prefects bathroom. Draco needed a shower, and most of all, he needed to relax. With the emerald green rope under his arm, Draco set out into the dungeons and followed the familiar path to the bathroom.

Once there, Draco let out a sigh. He began to fill the tub with hot water, and the scent of lavender filled his nostrils. The smell of lavender, as girly as it seemed, always made Draco feel safe. The smell took him back to a simpler time. A time when he could cuddle against his mother's breast, and didn't have to worry about his father beating him. They say scent is the strongest sense in memory, and while he could not remember ever being safe, he could at least feel it.

After stripping from his night clothes, Draco stuck his big toe in the water and decided it was too hot. I'll wait a couple minutes, Draco thought. Just until the water cools down. Wrapping his robe around him, he waked over by the sinks so he could get a good look at himself. He was shocked by his appearance. He hadn't really looked at himself for a while, and what he saw frightened him. The pasty look to his skin had gotten even more paler in the past weeks. Dark circles rested beneath his eyes, and made him look almost dead. He'd always been depressed, but he usually faked a smile, or a sneer very well. Now he actually looked depressed. When he could no longer look at his frail, dying body, he turned his head from the mirror. He was about to go back to the water when something caught his eye. A razor. One of the older boys must have left it here, Draco thought to himself. Draco picked the metal up and began to examine it. It was the kind of disposable blade that you loaded into a nice shaver. I wonder if it's still sharp Draco thought, and placed his finger to the tip of the blade. "Ouch!" Draco dropped the blade and sucked his cut finger. Yep, still sharp, Draco thought.

As he nursed his wounded finger, Draco looked at the drop of blood that landed in the sink. The red on white was beautiful. Pulling his finger from his mouth he looked at the crimson on his pale white finger. Beautiful. Still staring, Draco thought of the cut. It was very painful, but somehow felt–good.It was as if the numbness he'd beenfeeling all his life was somehow replaced with this new feeling–pain. Pain wasn't a good feeling, but to be able to feel anything was an improvement. Bending down to pick up the blade, Draco hadan idea. What if I cut my arm? He questioned himself. Don't be crazy, said the reasonable side of Draco. This is what your running from! Your father has hurt you all of your life. You don't like it when he beats you. Why would you want to do it to yourself? And so the mental battle began. Draco finally decided that pain form his own hand was different from the pain caused by his father. He finally told himself that this was the only way he could control the numbness. Shutting the logical side out of his mind, Draco removed his robe. Standing completely naked in front of the mirror, Draco held the razor to his upper arm. Closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath, Draco drug the blade against his skin as hard as he could. The blood immediately began to flow down his arm. Draco sucked in as the cold air hit his cut. He put the blade several inches down from the first cut. As a tear escaped his eye, Draco pushed on the razor again. Not too much at one time, Draco decided. Just one more time. Draco decided the inner elbow would be the best choice.One quick swipe later, and Draco was on the ground. Sitting on the cold stone floor, Draco began to sob. This is what you wanted, Draco told himself, and decided to open his eyes and look at the damage done by hi own hand. Beautiful, Draco thought. Red rivers of blood flowed down Draco's armand he smiled at the sight of it. Almosthating to clean the cuts,Draco pressed his robe against his open skin. So beautiful, it's a shame to clean it up. But Draco knew the danger his was in. The fear of bleeding to death, or passing out told Draco he needed more than just pressure to stop the wounds. Draco found his wand in his robe pocket and pressed the tip to his skin. In an instant the blood was gone, and all that was left where three deep looking scabs. They'll leave scars, Draco thought, and smiled at thought of it. Let them. I should look the way I feel.

Not wanting to think of anything else, Draco walked over to the bathtub and slid in. As the warm water covered his body, he felt a twinge of pain when it touched the scabs. Ecstasy, thought Draco and closed his eyes. Before he knew it, Draco was asleep.


"What the Fuck!" Draco was awakened to the sound of a very loud Prefect. Looking up, he seen a mass of messed up red hair. Oh, shit. It's Weasley! Draco jumped from the water and quickly put his robe one. Oh, shit. It's still bloodstained!

"What the hell are you doing in here so early? It's only five in the morning!" Ron went to pull the plug in the tub so he could run himself a bath.

"I could ask you the same question." Draco said, his voice dripping with malice.

"I was hoping I could get the big tub before anyone else got here, but obviously I was wrong and–what the hell is on your robe?" Ron said in an almost concerned way.

"Nothing," Draco said trying to quickly think of a lie.

"Nothing my arse. It looks like blood. What in Merlin's name happened to you?" Ron said, trying his best to hide the concern in his voice.

"None of your business, Weasel-bee. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be off," Draco ran from the bathroom before Ron could say anything else. When he got outside the door he stopped. He knew Ron wasn't about to followed him, so he was safe. For now. What if Ron told someone what he saw? Draco suppressed a tear. Stop thinking like that, and stop crying. Your not a little girl, so pull yourself together. Draco took a look around the corner, and began to sneak back to his own common room. But the thoughts of the little razor he left back in the bathroom haunted him. He made up his mind then and there that he would come back tonight, and hopefully the razor would still be there. Hopefully Draco thought, and he entered the Slytherin dungeons.