A/N Well I hope you enjoyed the last chapter. Here is the next one again it was polished up to a nice shine by the wonderful Dramionelurver. Enjoy!

Never Realized I Was Spread Too Thin

Damn, Ron, he did it again. He made a big deal over nothing, leaving her feeling like she was some kind of traitor. So what if she was getting letters from Victor Krum? It was none of his business anyway. He acted like Victor was a spy and she was giving away government secrets. He just made her so mad. So mad and hurt. That was the problem. Just anger she could deal with, hell, they argue enough, but angering her wasn't anything next to the hurt his attitude caused her. It was the hurt that filled her mind as she gathered her books and stormed out of the common room. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the tears she fought to hold back as she stormed towards the library. That's when she slammed into somebody and her books fell to the ground. Such crashes had happened loads of times before, but circumstances being what they were, it was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, and the tears broke loose. Angrily brushing them away, she blindly groped for her books when someone over her spoke.

"Hey! Watch..." She looked up. Her eyes blurred with tears, she could still make out the unmistakable platinum blond hair of Malfoy. Great. Just what she needed. She ground the tears away so she could see the bastard clearly, knowing it was an act of suicide to give Draco Malfoy any advantage over her. When her vision cleared, she didn't believe what she saw. The boy was extremely pale, more than usual, and a look of horror claimed his face as he backed away from her. She couldn't figure out what she did to cause that look and was about to ask what his problem was he turn and ran. She looked around her, expecting to see a troll or something equally horrifying, but no, it was just her and her books. Deciding she didn't feel like contemplating Malfoy's bizarre behavior, she gathered her fallen books and continued to the library. But she couldn't help glancing back just once in the direction Malfoy ran.

***Don't Give A Fck I cut My Arm Bleeding***

Draco ran like there were dementors chasing him. After turning a few corners, he stopped and leaned against the wall as he tried to catch his breath. 'It was just Granger, you stupid fool!' he yelled at himself. But that was not what he saw when he looked down at the girl on the ground. Those tear-filled eyes looked up at him and he was no longer in the halls of Hogwarts, but in the library loft of his father's study. He wasn't looking down at the school know-it-all, but the face of a tortured girl on the verge of death. And like the coward he was, just as on that night, once again he ran. When away from the images, his mind insisted to replay the scene as it was. His breathing slowed, his heart stopped pounding. He closed his eyes and knocked the back of his head against the wall. He could not believe he was still being affected by this! Of all the things he'd seen, why was this one bothering him so?!

On top of it all, he just made a bloody fool of himself in front of the mudblood! How this managed to slip passed his well-resurrected walls was beyond him. That girl! It was like when her eyes locked with his, they left upon him a mark that ran deep. And of all the times for these memories to resurface, why did it have to happen now, and in front of Granger?! He was going to hear about this! At least it was just the Mudblood, without her usual Potty and the Weasel to back her up. It was his word against hers... but then again, when it came to gossip, people tended to side with the gossiper over the gossipee. He just hoped this didn't get back to his father. True or not, he would be in trouble just for the rumor getting started. God, he hated his life. Ironic how everyone thought it was so damn perfect. Bloody idiots. They want a perfect life, they should go bother wonder boy Potter. Draco's was the exact opposite of perfect: it was screwed up with a capitol S! The only thing he did have was money, and it wasn't his at all. It was his parents'. All he truly had was his mask, his cloak of arrogance that kept everyone away so no one could see what he really was... a scared little boy that would one day bow-down to a life he didn't want because he was too much of a coward to do otherwise.

Forgetting the library that had been his original destination, he went back to his dorm room. Taking off his outer robes and tie, leaving him in his white button down shirt and slacks, he put his robes and tie away before proceeding to open a hidden compartment of his trunk. He brought out a black cherry wood box, headed to his bed and pulled the curtains closed. He didn't have to worry about anyone bothering him. Within the Slytherin House, closed curtains were the equivalent of a do not disturb sign; it was one of those unwritten laws that if broken would have consequences very painful for the aggressor. He carefully opened the wooden box, revealing a black, crushed-velvet lining and something wrapped in black silk inside. He lifted out the black silk package and unwrapped a small, silver dagger about the size of a letter opener. The handle of the dagger was a dragon's head with diamond-chip eyes. Spread dragon wings made up the hilt, the front claws latched around the blade. The blade itself was wavy and double edged, both edges wicked sharp.

After looking at the blade for a few silent moments, he softly stroked the cool metal, careful not to cut himself. Then, he gently laid it down in the box as he undid the right cuff of his shirt and neatly folded back the cuff until his arm was exposed to the elbow. Laying the silk cloth across his lap, he held his arm over it. Gently, he picked up the blade, placing the cold silver against his skin. Closing his eyes and wetting his lips, he simply held it there a moment before drawing the blade slowly along his pale flesh. A slash of hot pain registered, followed by another as he brought the blade across his arm again and again. Finally, he stilled his hand and let the throbbing sting of the open wounds hum. He bit his lower lip as tears silently rolled down his cheeks. Not that he felt the tears; his mind was directed solely on the stinging pain. He submerged himself in it, letting every other feeling drown out.

Too soon, the spell was broken and he laid the dagger down on the silk cloth, replacing it with his wand. Pausing a moment to watch the blood trickle from the shallow cuts, he watched as the few drops that fell from the wounds hit the black silk cloth, which magically absorbed the blood, leaving no trace of it behind. Pointing his wand at the cuts and casting the healing spell, the flesh bound together, leaving nothing but fine, pale lines on his skin. For some reason, he liked his scars. When he couldn't get away to cut, sometimes it was enough to be able to run his fingers over his arm; knowing the scars of past cuts were there was somehow comforting. He cleaned the blade off on the silk cloth that again just swallowed up the blood before wrapping the cloth around the dagger and placing it back in the wooden box.

Although he started cutting himself fairly recently, only towards the end of fourth year, Draco had learned about cutting in his second year, when he and a handful of other extremely early risers in Slytherin came across a sickening sight. One of the sixth years had cut open their wrists. Of course, Snape was immediately called and they had to share the Hufflepuff's showers that morning.

Draco remembered asking a seventh year with the surname Roberts that had also come upon the scene about what had happened. The seventh year looked at him with a blank face. After a moment he responded with, "Michaels was a cutter. I guess he cut too deep this time. It happens."

Draco looked at the seventh year in horror but couldn't help asking, "Why would anyone do that?"

"It helps to have a pain you can control. I say when and how long."

Draco looked at him with wide eyes. "Do you... how do you know?"

Roberts studied him for a while before he lifted his own sleeve and removed a glamour, revealing fine scars up along his arm. "How do you think?"

Draco reached out to touch the scars but stopped when Roberts pushed his sleeve back down. Instead Draco asked, "Why?"

Roberts growled, "None of your business, Malfoy."

Draco nodded, realizing Roberts wasn't going to share anymore. He turned away to leave when a hand came down on his shoulder. "About my arm, Malfoy...." warning filled his voice.

Draco put on his best sneer. "Do I look like a Gryffindork? What you do to your body is none of my concern. Just, if you off yourself try not to affect the rest of our schedules. Last thing any Slytherin wants to see in the morning is a Hufflepuff!" As Roberts released Draco's shoulder, he nodded and the two parted ways.

The truth was, no matter how much everyone would like to believe so, it wasn't strictly the Slytherins who were cutters. They could be found in every house. In fact, Ravenclaw would most likely rival Slytherin in their numbers. Those that did were mostly upper years; it was rare to find a 3rd year or younger cut. Sadly, although rare, they were there. The Hufflepuffs probably had the smallest group. There were even some among the high and mighty Gryffindors. Each house dealt with cutters in their own way.

And in Slytherin, they had certain understandings. Why one cut was their own business: no one asked, no one told. In the time after that incident, he'd walked in on others. Later when he had started, Draco himself had been walked in on a couple of times. You didn't talk about it. The person entering would just turn and leave, nothing ever to be said. That went for non-cutters, too. They just acted like they didn't know. This wasn't something that was ever shared, at least not in this house. This was a house that knew the value of discretion and the dangers of having loose lips.

Feeling a little more balanced, he went on with his day. He didn't even spare a look at Granger when he went to the great hall for dinner. He smirked and talked and jeered people of other houses. He was in full cloaked mode. Nothing was wrong; all was well in the life of the Slytherin Ice Prince. At least, that is what everyone else saw...

A/N I hope you liked that last installment! Please let me know by posting a review!