I'm very behind on my oneshot a day goal; six days to be exact, but I'm working on it. This was meant to be published on January 4th.
WARNINGS: SELF HARM; LANGUAGE; UNDERAGE DRINKING; MENTIONS OF DRUG ABUSE, CHILD ABUSE, EATING DISORDERS, SUICIDE ATTEMPT
Disclaimer: I own nada.
Life can be difficult at times, but fighting through the pain is so worth it. It's better to feel every kind of emotion than to not feel at all. -anonymous
It hurt like hell, but Draco didn't care. He just pressed the blade harder.
Yes, Draco Malfoy- confident, arrogant, stuck up, jerk Draco Malfoy- self harmed. In all kind of ways, too, from cutting to drinking to starving to purging. The list goes on and on.
Draco flinched as the razor bit into his forearm with a sharp pain, and a drunken smile (despite the fact that he hadn't touched the firewiskey yet) spread across his face as blood welled up and gushed down his pale skin.
The blonde had grown up only feeling the pain his father inflicted, only seeing how his mother drank and did drugs. Kids react to the environment they're raised in, so Draco grew up addicted to pain and learning to drink and do drugs on his mother's knee.
It was too late for him, he believed.
That is... until Harry Potter came into the picture.
Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was absolutely silent and empty, save Draco; even the ghost had gone off somewhere else.
As soon as he closed the door, he laid out the supplies on the tiled floor: a razor, a Muggle first aid kit, a bottle of firewhiskey, and a toothbrush.
No sooner had he pressed the razor to his arm did the door open.
'Damn it!' Draco thought. 'I forgot to lock it! Stupid idiot!'
In the doorway stood Harry Potter.
Harry's hair was tousled and wild, black as the night sky Draco knew to be outside; it was midnight, after all. His eyes were bleary, like Draco on his many sleepless nights, but they came back to life when he saw the sight that lay before him.
Draco was shocked to see that Potter didn't seem surprised.
Harry sat beside him without a word, taking the razor and tossing it to the floor, where it landed with a clink!
The Boy Who Lived stared at the supplies. "Muggle first aid... I thought you'd use your wand."
Draco shook his head. "No, magic heals it too well. I like the scars, the ache when I bang it against something. Now, why do you care? What are you even doing here so late?"
Harry didn't respond for a moment. "You know, I used to do it, too."
"What so you mean?" Draco spat.
"The self harm. I used a hairpin, though; only thing my aunt wouldn't notice if it went missing. I also threw up, too... after my first year at Hogwarts."
"Why'd you do it?" Draco asked, casually. Truthfully, he wasn't really surprised either; maybe he'd always known.
"I'll tell if you tell," Harry responded.
Draco wasn't normally one to be so curious; curiosity lead to bad things in his home. But tonight... maybe he could make an exception; he really wanted to know what could make the boy hero so depressed.
"Deal," he stated.
"Alright, aunt and uncle neglected me, locked me up in a cupboard, only giving me enough food to keep me alive. Cousin bullied me; I'm expected to be this perfect hero, just because I'm the Boy Who Lived. Lots of pain, lots of pressure. There was a time where I didn't want to be the Boy Who Lived. Now, your turn."
"Alright, father abuses me; mother isn't home half the time, drinks, does drugs, abuses me sometimes, although it's mostly neglect from her. I'm a prat because my dad wants me to be, and therefore, I have no real friends. Lots of pain, lots of loneliness," Draco summed up, copying Harry's way of telling the story in a brief manner.
"So what all do you do?" Harry asked.
"I'll tell if you tell me what you did," stated Draco.
"Deal."
"Well, I starve myself, and then, once a week, I binge and puke it all up. I cut myself using anything from razors to scissors. I drink; I do drugs occasionally, although not as much after there was an incident. I've attempted suicide three times, and sometimes I ask my friends to punch me just for the heck of it. Your turn, Potter."
"Well, I developed bulimia after my first year at Hogwarts; I used a hairpin to slice open my wrists. I tried drinking, but that didn't last very long. I attempted suicide in second year, but Ron found me, and unknowingly stopped me."
"We're messed up."
"Yep. Mind if I share a bottle with you?"
"Why not? Probably best I don't drink it all alone anyway," Draco said, popping open the bottle of firewhiskey, taking a sip, and handing it to Harry.
"This is one of the weirdest things I've ever done," Draco chuckled. "Sipping Firewhiskey with Harry bloody Potter, without fighting or insulting each other."
"Sing it, brother," Harry laughed, raising the glass and taking a sip before handing it back to Draco.
"You know, you don't have to do it- hurt yourself, I mean," Harry said, quietly.
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't," Draco smirked, laughing without humor.
"Because things get better, no matter how cheesy it sounds. After all, if I killed myself the first time I thought about it, I would've never met Ron and Mione."
Draco chuckled, bitterly. "I'm not you, Potter. I don't have 'oh, so amazing friends'. I have alliances, nothing more, maybe less. No one would miss me."
"I would."
Draco stared at Harry in disbelief.
"I really would. I'd miss your snarky attitude and sarcastic remarks, although I wouldn't miss your insults. And you know, if you showed the real you once in a while, more people would miss you."
Draco didn't know how to respond to that.
"Just think about it, Draco."
Harry left, and Draco sat there, staring at the razor for the longest time.
At three AM, he went back to his dorm room.
He hadn't made a single cut.
Years passed, but Draco never forgot Harry's words.
As he stared into his father's eyes at the ripe age of sixteen, he finally whispered, "No."
"What do you mean 'no', boy?" His dad snapped.
"I don't want to be a death eater," Draco said. "I've seen what it's done to you, and I will not be like you. I'll love my kids and my wife; that's a promise."
Draco walked out before his father could open his mouth or raise his wand.
He pulled the razor out of his pocket and gazed upon it.
In the end, he placed it back in his pocket, and he traveled to Blaise's home. Blaise Zabini was his only true friend, and he welcomed him with open arms; he actually hugged him, which filled Draco with happiness.
Maybe it was better to feel than to be numb; feeling kept you sane.
Draco would not turn out like his parents. And that was a promise.
Thank you all for reading! I know some characters were OOC, but I more about a powerful story than making the characters IC, so please try to look past that and see the true meaning behind the oneshot! Tell me what you think!
Farwell, readers!
