A/N: I am honestly the worst type of fanfiction writer because I'm such a procrastinator! I am SO sorry! I was supposed to have this chapter out yesterday, but I have been so busy! That's no excuse, though. Anyways, I'm not really that happy with this chapter; it's short and sort of a filler, but we get a little more insight to the dangers of Harry's thoughts. I hope you enjoy it!
Warnings: self-harm, suicidal ideation
"Are you okay?" Draco asks, noticing the tear streaks on Harry's face. "You were having a nightmare or something…I… I get them, too, and it always helps if someone stays with me…" Draco's asking more for his benefit than Harry's, not having been able to get to sleep earlier. Harry mumbles something incoherent and pulls Draco into the bed with him, falling asleep once again in seconds.
•HP•
Harry wakes up slowly the next day. He's wrapped in something warm and comfortable and doesn't want to get up just yet. When that something moves however, Harry is abruptly pulled to attention. He looks to his side to find a still-asleep Draco Malfoy. Harry jumps and pushes Draco off the bed. "What the fuck!?" He yells, angrily. Why was Draco Malfoy cuddling with him in bed?
"Jesus, Harry, I was sleeping," Draco says, annoyed at being woken up so soon. Harry doesn't understand why Draco is being so calm about this.
"Yeah, in my bed! What gave you the right to do that?" Harry asks, even more confused. He doesn't remember waking up, although he does remember having a horrible nightmare and it suddenly ceasing.
"You did! You were having a nightmare, so I woke you up. I get them, too, and it always helps if someone stays with me. When I told you that, you kind of just pulled me on top of you," Draco explains, calmly.
"No! I wouldn't have done that! We hate each other, remember!? I wouldn't have let you cuddle with me in my sleep, Malfoy! You were just trying to take advantage of me, I bet!" Harry yells, getting out of bed and standing over Malfoy.
"I wouldn't do that, Harry. Besides, we're friends now, right? Friends take care of each other when they're upset." Draco gets up as well. He doesn't understand why Harry is so angry. He was the one who pulled Draco onto the bed, after all.
"We are not friends, Malfoy. I can't believe I let you talk me into forgiving you! You're still the sneaky ferret you were before the war. You better stay out of my way this year, Malfoy, or else you won't know what hit you."
"Fine!" Malfoy says, grabbing his robes and leaving the room with a slam of the door.
Harry rushes into the bathroom and grabs his razor blade. He slashes twice on his arm and sighs in relief. He watches the blood flow down his arm with morbid fascination. He knows that Malfoy was probably telling the truth. In Harry's sleepy haze, he'd probably pulled Malfoy down to his bed to cuddle with him all night. But it's better this way. It's better that Harry doesn't get close to Malfoy. That would risk his secret being found out, and it would lead to him getting hurt.
Harry lines the blade up with his arm again and pushes down hard. He drags the blade through his skin and creates the deepest cut he's ever made. He smiles, watching the blood bubble up and pour out of the wound. He makes another cut. And another. Until his arm is no longer recognizable.
He gets lost in a sea of red.
•HP•
When Harry gets to the eighth year table he finds Hermione and Ron in a casual conversation with Malfoy. He sits far enough away that he won't have to listen to their conversation but close enough that it looks like he's not avoiding them. He can't have them find out about his cutting. If they do, they'll make him stop, and he can't have that. Cutting is the only thing that feels right in this world. Harry can't have it taken away from him.
Schedules are distributed and to his dismay, Harry finds that he has potions first. Could this day get any worse?, he thinks to himself as he walks slowly to potions class.
Snape's acting weird. When class begins, Snape simply tells them which potion they should brewing. There are no scathing remarks, no points taken away, no insults flung at the Gryffindors. He's not being nice, but he's certainly not being the greasy git he used to be.
After class, Harry walks with Ron and Hermione. Hermione explains to Ron that maybe Professor Snape just couldn't be himself and risk compromising his place among Voldemort's ranks in their previous seven years at Hogwarts after Ron remarks about the teacher's confusing actions. "What do you think, Harry?"
"Oh, I don't know, Hermione. It makes sense that his entire demeanor was a façade last year, but it's just so odd to see him acting so… different. I don't really think it's worth gossiping about, though," Harry replies, effectively cutting himself off from the conversation. All he can think about is his fight with Malfoy. He doesn't know why, but he feels incredibly guilty. Every time he sees Draco in the halls, he feels horrid for accusing him of trying to take advantage of him. Every time he sees him, he's reminded of the fresh new cuts on his wrist and presses them to his side. He's already reopened the deepest one twice today, and he's a little worried that someone observant like Hermione is going to notice. Of course they'll probably know he deserved the pain, the punishment. Who wouldn't? Harry Potter, the boy responsible for the greatest and most destructive wizarding war in a century! Harry Potter, the boy who single-handedly killed over ten percent of the wizarding population! Harry Potter, the boy who just wouldn't fucking die!
Maybe that was the solution. Death. It would be easy. He could cut in the privacy of his and Draco's bathroom. Straight down his arm. One quick slice. Draco may be the one to find him, though, and Harry doesn't wish that on him at all. Too much blood. Perhaps he could take a potion. He knows that there are potions out there that give someone an easy, painless death. Harry doesn't think there are any potions of the sort at Hogwarts, though, and he knows that he can't brew one himself. Harry also knows that he doesn't deserve a painless death. He deserves to die suffering for all that he's done, for all the grief that he's caused. Jumping off the astronomy tower would have to do, then. Maybe he could even cut then, too. There's bound to be blood either way. Maybe cutting and then jumping will make him die faster. He doesn't deserve a quick, easy death. But that's the only way his death could be guaranteed. Yes, that's what he will do. Slice up his wrists before jumping off the astronomy tower. It will be better for everyone involved if he kills himself before anyone else gets hurt. Including himself. Now, he just needs to figure out a date.
•HP•
Later that night, Harry gets out of the shower with fresh new cuts littering his thighs. He realized that he would have to let his arm heal slightly before cutting there again so that no one finds out. His thighs are the second best place. Not as good as the arm, but his thighs will have to do for now.
He crawls into bed, exhausted from his first full day back at Hogwarts. He'd forgotten how draining a day full of classes could be. He turns on his side, thinking of the revelations he'd made today regarding his death, and he smiles.
When Draco calls a meaningful and honest "Goodnight" from the other side of the room even though they haven't made up yet, Harry's heart constricts. He doesn't deserve Draco's niceties. He doesn't deserve anyone's niceties. He deserves to die.
He'll be dead before the end of the month.
A/N: I promise I'll be better with getting the next chapter out on time! I hope you enjoyed this one! Thank you so much for reading; please review, fave, etc!
