This chapter is a little bit of a filler but enjoy.

Chapter Four

A week passed since McGonagall outted me. I had told everyone (everyone being Remus, James and Sirius) that I was doing better. It was a lie of course; I had cut twice. Both times it was because of Remus' hovering and that damn pitying look in his eyes. No one knew of course, I had learned to lie, cheat and hide a long time ago.

"Hey Izzy," Remus joined me by the fire one night.

"Hey Remus."

"How are you?" He asked, again.

I sighed. "I'm good," I answered like I did every time.

He frowned. "You know you can tell me anything right?"

"Mmhm." No I can't.

"Actually," Remus cleared his throat and looked down. "I was- uh- wondering if you would um- go out with me again." He blushed.

I stared at him. He had the guts to ask me out on a Pity Date? "No," I told him.

He looked hurt. "Why not?"

"You don't have to ask me on a Pity Date, Remus."

A muscle jumped in his cheek and the hurt look was replaced with anger. "Pity Date!? Izzy, I really like you! I want to be with you. I ended things earlier because-"

I cut him off. "You don't have to explain. I get it, really. I didn't measure up and now you feel guilty because the day you broke up with me I tried to commit suicide." Remus let out a strangled noise. "Trust me, that wasn't about you. Not really anyway."

"Guilty," He said slowly. "You think I'm asking you out because I feel guilty? What the hell! You never told me you were having problems! Was I supposed to read your mind? How is this even possibly my fault?"

My temper started rising. "I didn't say it was your fault. I know it's not your fault!"

"So why won't you go out with me?"

"Because it's still a Pity Date."

"How can I convince you it's not?" He pleaded.

I simply said, "You can't."

"But-"

"Look Remus." I stood up. "You're a great guy. You should find a nice girl who you don't have to worry is going to kill herself every other day. You'll never have that with me because I know you'll always worry. I'll always be 'the girl who cut herself'."

"No! That's not-"

"It's alright," I told him gently. "I made my choices and I accept them." I gave him a small smile and turned away.

"Izzy!" Remus called to my retreating back.

I walked into my dorm and sat on my bed, a whirlwind of thoughts swirling in my mind. I tried to clear my head, knowing exactly what would numb my thoughts: my razor. Then I felt a confusing stab of guilt. I had never felt guilty about my cutting before, there was no need to. I had never really felt anything about it; it was a necessary fact of my life.

To have emotions about it is against the purpose of it. I thought back to the last time I cut; I definitely didn't feel guilty then. What had changed? Suddenly it hit me like a ton of bricks: Remus asked me out! I almost audibly growled.

How dare he! He took away the last sanctuary I had. Maybe it's a sick sense of Sanctuary but it was my safe place nonetheless and he took it away. Unfamiliar, and possibly unjustified, rage boiled up inside. In that moment I wanted nothing more than to reclaim my safe place, to prove he couldn't stop me.

I calmly stood up (how on Earth could I have been calm at a time like this?), collected my toiletries (which held my razor and bandages) and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

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