Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Hope you all like this chapter! It is mostly Draco and Ginny, but there are two others in there, too.


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And sooner or later, it's over
I just don't wanna miss you tonight
And I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand


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Small rivers of deep crimson flowed lightly down pale, peach-colored skin, dripping on navy blue bed sheets. The curtains were drawn so that there was no chance for prying eyes to see anything, even though there was nobody in the room at that moment. She sat cross-legged, watching the blood that matched her equally deep hair fall in rivulets, making wavy lines on her arm as she held it at a slight angle.

This time, she was crying silently; not staring blankly at nothing. This time, she felt the deep depression in which she lived, and felt hopeless, and meaningless, as if she had absolutely no purpose in life. Defenseless, worthless. These were the words that were running through her head. She felt that she had no reason to be there, no reason to live, except for the grief she would cause her few friends and family. Then she thought of the 'Golden Trio,' and let out a short, sadistic laugh.

"Like they would miss me for long. They would have their moment of silence, maybe shed a tear or two if I'm lucky, and go back to their perfect little lives of ignorance and fame, always having each other. What a laugh of a fucking life they're living. Scourgify." She knew that they loved her, but they had each other, and she had no one. Even her best friend, Hermione, was part of that group, and she didn't know Claudia well enough to consider her a best, close friend.

The blood on her bed sheets was cleaned up, but not the red on her left arm. She started to form another cut right below that one, nearly parallel to it, but not quite. When she reached halfway, she cut upward to cross over the previous one to form a sideways number four, only to cross over the bottom line, then go right to cross over the last one she made.

She never planned her designs; they just happened. There was one that looked like a Celtic symbol in the middle of her forearm, and another one that looked Egyptian. She winced, and then hissed; that last line was a particularly deeper one than the rest, therefore hurting more. She placed her Swiss army knife next to her on the bed and bent over, as if trying to get rid of the slight pain, though welcoming it at the same time.

Though there was no one in her room, she needed to get away, and so she left the room to go to her favorite place; a place she thought she would never be disturbed, where she could relax and just forget about everything. She put on her jeans and a black t-shirt, then promptly left.


-

While many people feared and hated him, most envied him for his wealth and 'supposed' freedom. But his life wasn't what they thought it was. He lived a life of abuse, rage, and hatred. There were only six people who he loved, and would die for to protect. He had no other friends than them. He despised the man who liked to call himself a father, but he was, in no way, fit to be one. If Lucius wasn't so powerful with his name and his money in the Wizarding world, he would have been locked away years ago. He called himself a pure blooded, prideful person who was worthy of everyone's respect, yet he worked for and worshiped a half-blood monster who had no compassion in his heart whatsoever. But money and fame do not last forever, and now, he is finally behind bars – though Draco wasn't convinced he would stay there for good. Unless the dementors performed the kiss, Lucius Malfoy would find a way out.

He hated his life. If it were not for those six people, he would have been dead long ago. He started self mutilation when he was eleven years old, but that was just a 'test' run, if you want to call it that. He really began at the age of fourteen. His band knew about it, but they didn't try to stop him because they knew that they wouldn't be able to. While they highly disapproved of his habit, it helped him immensely. He rolled up the loose sleeve of his left arm, and traced the lines on his skin, somehow drawing comfort from them.

He had his own room, being a sixth year student in Slytherin, which had more singles than any other house. He applied for it the summer before and got it, so he never had to worry about drawing the curtains. But he did, anyway, as a sort of comfort zone and as a habit from doing it the past few years. He sat there, on his comfortable bed, thinking about his life and how he would have ended up had it not been for his disgusting father.

And somehow, he suddenly felt uncomfortable sitting in that empty room.


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"George, have you seen Ginny?"

"No, Claudia, sorry."

Claudia had approached George in the library after searching for most of the day for Ginny.

"Oh…"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to talk to her."

"Oh. So, how was your day?"

"Pretty good, actually, besides the little skirmish with that bastard Ernie earlier."

"He's an idiotic Hufflepuff. Don't listen to anything he says, and don't let him get to you."

"Yeah I know. But I have a bit of a temper…from my father's side, I guess…heh. And, well, I don't let people walk all over me."

George smirked.

"So I've noticed."

She chuckled and looked into his handsome brown eyes, and thought to herself how good looking he really was.

"What?" he asked. She chuckled again.

"Nothing."

"Tell me. Please?"

His expression was one of innocence and it was adorable – very hard to resist.

"There's nothing to tell!" she laughed.

"Aw Dia, c'mon. I know you were thinking something. And you know you can't resist that nickname." He pouted, making her laugh more.

"Stop it, George!"

"Are you blushing??"

"NO! I am not!" But she was. Her cheeks were a beautiful rosy color, and George found this very amusing. He could think of only one reason why she was blushing, and he was never bold enough with girls before, resulting in losing his chances. So he, against his better judgment, went to kiss her gently, and found that she let him.


-

She sat on the roof of the Astronomy tower, outside, staring at the stars. She loved to go up there when she was feeling upset, lonely, or even when she felt empty. It was the one place she never felt lonely. She didn't know why, but she felt safe up there, and free, as if nothing in the world could harm her there.

The wind gently blew through her hair, and caressed her freckled face and neck, then brushed over her hands and bare arms, but she did not shiver, even though it was September. She sat down on the cold stone, straightened her legs, and looked up at the stars, leaning back and resting on her hands with her arms positioned behind her.

She closed her eyes and let the wind play with her hair some more, gaining the feeling of being on a big cruise ship, at the very front. She wasn't smiling, but she wasn't frowning. To others, she would have looked almost serene, but really, she was emotionless, letting her heart fly with the wind. She no longer felt the despair she felt in her room just twenty minutes earlier, for it had passed, and she cleaned up her arm, save for a small trickle of blood from the deeper cut that would not heal as fast. Self-inflicted wounds never healed by magic, and the scars would never completely fade. It was something never fully explained, or even understood.

She would probably feel depressed later on, as she just was, but now, as she did most of the time, she felt empty and lonely. But she didn't dare tell anyone this. She feared they would make a big fuss, force her to see a counselor, and take all sharp objects away from her. It was funny…how using those objects was the only thing that she could do to make herself feel something sometimes. No one would understand how much she actually needed her knife to keep the last bit of sanity she had left in her.

'When everything feels like the movies,
Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive…'

That part of Iris, her favorite song, described her exactly as she was at this moment. She never tried to kill herself; she wasn't much interested in that, even though it came up a couple of times. But her depression was getting worse, and she thought about it more often than she used to. She felt emotional pain a lot, but when she was in this blank, empty state, she felt as if she never felt anything else before. It was in this state that she cut herself most, to make sure that she could still feel.

She also did it when she was depressed, to make the pain go away – quite the opposite of the other reason. Now, she did not have anything on her to make another line on her arm, but her arm was not completely empty, so she knew. She knew, whenever she looked at the lines, that she could still feel. However, there were times when she didn't want to feel anything at all so that she could escape the deep hurt she felt in her chest.

She was so lost in the stars and the wind, that she did not hear the footsteps near the door of the roof of the tower. It opened quietly, and the intruder's eyes widened when he saw her. He had never seen a more beautiful sight…but then he realized who it was he was gazing at, and quickly threw that thought away.

"Lost in thought, Weasley?"

She jumped and turned towards him, opening her vivid chocolate colored eyes. In the dark, it isn't possible to see the golden veins scattered in them, but in daylight, it makes her eyes almost glow with warmth.

"No," she answered softly. "Maybe…"

"Hm. What are you doing here?"

"I was just enjoying the freedom. It's not every day you get to do that at Hogwarts."

"Hm."

"What are you doing here?"

"Same, I guess."

"I see…" She looked away from his softer than usual icy gray stare and back to the stars.

He then saw her left arm and the trickle of blood in the moonlight, and narrowed his eyes.

"New ones, Weasley? I thought it wasn't like you were going to kill yourself," he said, mimicking her words from four months prior. She whipped her head around to look at him again, causing strands of her hair to get caught blowing across her face.

Due to the wind, however, they fell free, and blew in the opposite direction. She knew what he was referring to, and folded her left arm across her stomach, bringing her legs to her side and holding herself up with her right arm.

"Why do you care?"

"I don't."

He was lying. He folded his arms across his chest, leaned his back against the wall next to the door, and loosely crossed one ankle over the other in a masculine stance. For some reason, this brought slight pain to her, and her heart clenched. She wanted someone to care, even if it was Draco Malfoy.

"Then why did you mention it?" He heard the tightness and pain in her voice, but he didn't say anything, no matter how much he wanted to help her.

"They're not that hard to notice."

At this, she subconsciously pressed the inside of her left arm closer to her stomach, as if to hide them further, smearing the droplet of crimson on her black shirt.

"Like you said, it's not like you care, so go on your way, Malfoy." This sentence was supposed to sound menacing, but it came out of her soft and distant.

"This roof isn't yours, Weasley. I can stay if I want." He expected to get a reaction out of her, but instead, he got the opposite, and was quite surprised.

"Fine. Stay then." She looked away from him and up at the dark night sky again.

"You know, you're out after hours. I could write you up for this, being a Slytherin prefect," he threatened, but his voice defied the meaning of the sentence; his heart wasn't into it.

"Go ahead."

She wasn't satisfying him at all. He wanted to get a rise out of her. Why, he had no idea. It was fun, he decided.

'It's because she's a hellcat when she gets riled up, and sexy as ever.'

Draco's eyes widened. 'What?! No way! It's just fun to mess with her!'

He 'hmphed' silently, and turned his head to look the other direction, the one Ginny wasn't facing. They had a few very peaceful minutes of silence, but then Ginny broke it.

"What are you doing after you graduate?" It was very soft, so Draco had to strain to hear it, but when he did, he scowled.

"I bet you think I'm going to become a death eater, like my father," he spat.

"No. I was just making conversation. I don't care about Lucius, or you becoming a death eater. That's your business, not mine."

This took him off guard.

"You don't care? You're Weasel's sister and Potter's faithful follower. You should care. For all you know, I could come after you when I become one." He wasn't ready for her reaction. She turned, shot up from the floor, and was in front of him in a second.

"I am NOT his stupid follower! I am my OWN person! Don't you EVER forget that!"

"Whoa, Weasley, calm down. What's got your knickers in a bunch?"

"Why do guys always say that?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

She turned again and walked around the telescope to the edge of the roof, bent her body slightly, and rested her arms on the ledge of the parapet. He followed her silently, and leaned on the ledge with his waist since there was no upper part he could rest his back on. He put his left arm out to rest it on the stone, standing on Ginny's left.

"Is that why you cut yourself? Because of social reasons?" he asked, surprisingly gentler than his normal cold voice.

"I thought you didn't care about me or what I did."

"I don't."

"Then don't ask."

She was confusing him. She wasn't acting like her normal fiery self; she was acting…distant. Ginny didn't move her head, but she glanced down at his left wrist; she couldn't help herself, after Harry's constant yammering about Malfoy being a death eater. He was wearing a loose shirt that flapped gently in the strong breezes, and she saw something on his skin when the wind moved his sleeve, but she couldn't tell if it was the dark mark or something else, though she was pretty sure, because it looked oddly familiar.

"So what are you going to do after school?" she asked again.

"Why are you suddenly so interested in me?"

"I'm not. I'm just making conversation."

"I don't know."

She looked at him, at his stormy grey eyes.

"You don't know? What about your father? Won't he…oh, I'm sorry, that's not my business." She looked down at her hands and her cheeks flushed slightly in embarrassment. This puzzled him, yet again.

"Why didn't you finish your question?"

"It's none of my business. Plus, it's wrong of me to ask such a question, or anything about him."

"What that bastard does is none of my concern." He realized he said this out loud, but covered it up with a colder attitude.

"I take it you don't like him much." He snorted.

"What makes you think that." It was more of a sarcastic statement than a question. They spent more time in silence, but as before, Ginny broke it.

"If you're not going to become a death eater…hmm…can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

She frowned.

"If you're not, why did you freak out when Madam Malkin went to pin the left sleeve of your new robes? Harry told me about that. He thinks you're…um, well, you know."

"I don't think that's any of your business, Weasley," he said dangerously. He sounded threatening, but inside, his heart was hammering. He did not want her to find out what was hidden under his sleeve.

"Oh, excuse me for asking."

"You're excused."

Ginny huffed. Then, so quick he almost didn't see it, the left sleeve of his shirt was at his elbow and Ginny was staring at him with an expression that was very hard for him to read. He was torn between yelling at her and trying to tell what she was thinking. He gripped the stone parapet.

"Are you happy? That you figured it out?"

"No," she said quietly.

She looked at his arm again and stared at the crisscrossing, yet neat red lines and white scars. Some were old, some fairly new, and some were clearly made earlier that day. She didn't realize what she was doing until after she'd done it, but she reached up to his arm and lightly ran her fingers over the slightly rough texture, frowning. He was confused, and had no idea why she was doing that, but he made no move to stop her. She looked up at him when she dropped her hand.

"Why?" was all she asked. It was such an innocent-sounding question. He didn't answer. She then saw a scar that looked like it was very deep when he made it, and traced it with her thumb. It was right over two of his veins, she noticed. "I've never gone this deep…" she breathed. 'It's a wonder it didn't kill him.'

"It's not like I'm trying to kill myself, Weasley." She didn't take note of the fact that Draco had spoken in the present tense. She looked up at him and he saw a ghost of a smile on her lips at the second reference to what she had said during their first meeting.


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Thank you for reading! And again, I promise I will write more soon. I love reviews! They help me write more because they really motivate me. So please send me some! Thank you!