An Unhealthy Escape
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, Fred Weasley would still be alive.
A/N: Hello! I know that it has been a while, but I promise I have not given up on this story! I know that the last chapter was a little boring, it wasn't the most interesting one to write, but I am hoping that the next few chapters will be exciting. I hope that you enjoy it, and if you have time please leave a review telling me what you thought. Milo.
Chapter 10:
When Harry woke, he was confused. His vision seemed to be obscured by a soft could of bright red. Then he remembered.
"Ginny!" Harry whispered frantically as he looked at the clock. 7:33am. It was a wonder no one had come looking for them yet.
"Ginny! Wake up!" Ginny woke with a start, looking around at her surroundings, confused at the dark blue wallpaper that had been a cream color only last night. It was then she noticed she was lying next to Harry.
"I need to get back to my room!" she almost yelled. Harry only nodded at her.
"I mean, we know nothing happened..." Harry said, his voice trailing off.
"But if my brothers or parents walked in they might get the wrong idea," Ginny finished for him, quickly grabbing her bathrobe from the floor and wrapping it around her small frame. Although she was wearing her long-sleeve flannel pajamas, she still felt exposed in front of Harry. Maybe it was the fact that she had woken up in his bed.
"Right," Harry agreed quickly. They sat there, looking at each other for a few moments, drowning in the awkwardness of the situation.
"Thank you. For last night," Ginny whispered softly as she made her way towards the door.
"Anytime Ginny. You know you can always come to me, don't you?" Harry asked, smiling softly at the young witch.
"I know. Same goes for you too," she told him before shutting the door behind her silently. She crept back to the room she was sharing with Hermione, thankfully not meeting anyone on the way down. She quickly looked left and right, feeling very much like one of those lame spies in some of the muggle movies her father had taken her to, and silently tiptoed into the room, shutting the door behind her. Because she was still facing the door, she didn't see Hermione sitting on her bed, staring at her with one eyebrow raised in a silent question.
Ginny jumped when she turned and saw the older witch observing her carefully.
"Hermione! I didn't see you there!" Ginny squeaked.
"Where did you go?" asked Hermione.
"Just down to the kitchen to get some breakfast," Ginny lied smoothly. She silently thanked the twins for teaching her to be such a great liar. Only problem was, she was trying to lie to the brightest witch of her age.
"In your bathrobe?" asked Hermione, both eyebrows beginning to travel higher on her face.
"Er… yes?" Ginny's statement came out sounding more like a question.
"Ginny, where were you last night?" Hermione asked again. "You left at like midnight or something. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
Shit, thought Ginny.
"I just went upstairs to the library. I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to bother anybody," Ginny said, trying to stop her voice from wobbling.Ever since Hermione had arrived the day before, she had been watching both Ginny and Harry like a hawk. It was driving them both nuts and it had not even been two days.
"Hermione, please stop. Harry and I are perfectly fine," Ginny said exasperated. "You've been watching us like we're both about to explode all day!"
"That's because Ron told me you've both been waking the house up with your screaming every night," said Hermione. "I just want to make sure that you're both okay. I love you both like you're my own brother and sister. I care about you both so much." Hermione's eyes were now full of unshed tears and she looked pleadingly up at her best girl friend.
"I know Hermione. We both love you like a sister; I know that Harry especially thinks of you and Ron as the family he never got to have," Ginny said softly. "But the last thing he needs at the moment is someone watching him and fussing over him. You know what he's like, he won't admit he's not alright no matter how much you pester him." Hermione smiled at the young girl.
"When did you become so wise?" she asked. Ginny just winked playfully at her before grabbing a long sleeved, tight purple tank top and a pair of black high-waisted shorts that her mother definitely wasn't aware that she had. She made her way slowly towards the bathroom, thinking about a certain green eyed, handsome boy with jet black hair.
+HPGWHPGWHPGW+
The bathroom was silent, except for the sound of blood dripping down onto the white tiles. Harry watched with fascination. No matter how many times he did this to himself, he would never get used to it. The ease with which the blade penetrated his delicate arm, the brilliant contrast between the deep red of the blood and the pale white of his skin, the sick, unnatural absence of any pain and the twisted sense of relief and joy that all of these things brought. Harry added a fourth fresh cut to his damaged arm.
He deserved this. He knew that. That's why he did it. He deserved to watch his precious liquid life drain slowly out of him, deserved to feel that stinging pain that he felt when he finally cut deep enough, deserved to see the gashes getting deeper and deeper every time and to watch helplessly as he destroyed himself in front of his very eyes, unable to stop himself from doing so. Harry dragged the blade across his wrist for the fifth time that morning.
It was funny, Harry thought, that something most sane people would consider quite painful was the one thing that made his pain go away. Or maybe it wasn't so funny. He wasn't just another sane person, after all. He knew he was crazy. Entirely mad. Utterly bonkers. Completely nuts. He wore the physical proof on his arms. He added a sixth cut.
This time, when he cut himself he felt the blade slice through his arm. He finally felt the pain. He relished the magnificent stinging that assaulted his nerves, burning his arm like fire. He laughed softly at the feeling. Maybe he'd finally cracked. He continued to giggle. He looked down at his arm and realized that the blood was rushing out of his arm a little too fast. He grinned widely before he bent over, his thin frame struggling to hold him up due to both the substantial blood loss and the hysterical, manic laughter now erupting from his mouth. He didn't know why exactly he was laughing, only that he found something about his current situation very funny.
He was the Boy-Who-Lived for crying out loud! The boy who was supposedly stronger than most adults, the boy who had come face to face with the darkest wizard in magical history and beat him four times before the age of fifteen! This made him laugh louder. He didn't notice the banging on the other side of the door. Didn't hear the panicked cries of a certain red-head. He didn't hear the sharp intake of breath as the door flew open. He looked down at the dark pool of red on the floor. Funny, he thought. How did that get there? Soon after, his mind gave in to the darkness, and it engulfed him completely, pulling him under and putting him to sleep. His breathing became even as the laughing stopped, and his pale eyelids fluttered before closing over the haunted emerald orbs.
+HPGWSBRLHPGWSBRL+
"Sirius! SIRIUS!" Ginny Weasley ran full pelt down the stairs of Grimmauld place, colliding with the kitchen door in her haste to reach someone, anyone.
"Remus! Sirius! HELP!" she cried, bursting through the kitchen door. Everyone looked up from their breakfast, startled by her sudden appearance. Ginny blushed as she realized what she must look like, running into the kitchen screaming and wearing only her nightdress at eight o'clock in the morning. But that didn't matter now. All that mattered was the alarmingly large pool of blood on the bathroom floor, and the unconscious teen lying next to it.
"What? What's wrong?" Sirius asked frantically, drawing his wand from his pocket.
"It's Harry! He's – he's…" Ginny began to cry, raising her hands to cover her mouth.
"Where is he?" asked Sirius, his face paling as he noticed the blood on Ginny's hands.
"B-b-bathroom," was all Ginny managed before falling to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Sirius and Remus immediately ran up the stairs, wands in hands and breakfast forgotten. Ron and Hermione stood up, panic clear on their faces.
"NO!" Ginny yelled as they moved to follow Remus and Sirius. "You – you can't. You can't see him. He fell over, he's injured. Stay here."
Hermione looked like she might have argued, but something in Ginny's distraught face and pained screams made her stop. Ron, however, was not so tactful.
"He's our best mate! If he's injured then we want to go and see him!" He yelled at his sister. This only made Ginny cry harder. Ron looked at her alarmed. He couldn't deal with crying girls, even if it was his little sister.
"Ronald, you will stay down here. Whatever is wrong with Harry I am sure that Remus and Sirius will be able to sort it out perfectly well by themselves. You can see him once Sirius and Remus say that he is okay," Molly told the two teens, her voice eerily calm. Hermione frowned at the Weasley matriarch; she thought she would be more upset and worried that Harry was injured. She didn't even know what was wrong with him, and Ginny's hands looked like they were covered in blood.
"Come on love, let's get you cleaned up," Mrs. Weasley spoke softly to her daughter, grabbing her gently but firmly by the arm and leading her towards the tiny washroom a few doors down from the kitchen. She didn't want to take Ginny to the main bathroom in case Remus and Sirius hadn't cleared up the blood yet.
"Come on Hermione, Mum's gone, let's go see Harry," Ron whispered as soon as he was sure his mother was out of earshot.
"No Ron, you heard what she said," Hermione fretted, "we shouldn't go up there. I'm sure he'll be fine."
"Did you see Ginny's hands?! They were covered in blood Hermione!" Ron's voice was steadily getting louder and Hermione glanced nervously towards the door.
"Come on, you can't tell me you don't want to know if he's okay. He's our best friend! Don't you think if he was injured he would want us there?" Ron asked her. Hermione looked at him for a little while, clearly torn between doing what she had been told and checking on her best friend.
"Oh alright," Hermione acquiesced, quickly following Ron up the rickety old stairs.
+HPSBRLHPSBRLHPSBRL+
"Harry!" Sirius yelled as he entered the bathroom on the first floor. There was blood everywhere; all over the tiled floor, in the sink and all over Harry's arm. Harry's jumper and jeans had bright red stains on them which were steadily growing in size as blood continued to stream from the gashes on his forearm.
Remus immediately crouched down next to Harry, seemingly unaffected by the amount of blood, and began to mutter under his breath. Bright white lights shot out of his wand and hit Harry's arm, stopping the bleeding. Both of them relaxed a little once it was clear that harry wasn't bleeding anymore, but both also knew that he was not out of danger yet. He had lost way too much blood.
"Sirius, I need you to floo Madame Pomfrey and ask for a blood replenishing potion, now!' Remus called over his shoulder as he lifted Harry into his arms easily and carried him towards his bedroom.
Remus set Harry down on the bed and immediately started healing his cuts with magic. It was lucky he had so much experience with healing spells what with being a werewolf. After a few minutes, the cuts faded to scars, just a little deeper than the others that covered Harry's skin. Remus quickly performed a complicated spell on Harry that would help his blood start to replenish. It wouldn't be enough, but it should stop him from suffering any serious damage until Sirius came back with the potion.
Just then, Sirius raced back into the room holding a dark red potion that smelled of salt and metal. Remus hurriedly grabbed it from him without a word and forced it down the unconscious teen's throat. Straight away, Harry's breathing evened.
"There," said Remus, sighing with relief. "He's going to be fine."
"No he's not Moony," said Sirius, collapsing into the hard wooden desk chair on the other side of the room. "He's not going to be fine. He'll recover from this, he'll wake up but I don't think he'll ever be fine."
Remus closed his eyes to hide the shimmering tears he refused to let out. How could Harry do this to himself? Was Harry trying to kill himself? Maybe he was. Remus shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. No. He didn't even want to think about that…
Sirius was thinking along the same lines. Was this an accident? Or was this a suicide attempt? He knew that Harry could simply have cut just a little too deep, unintentionally spilling a little too much blood. Remus had done that a few times. Sirius couldn't count the amount of times he had walked into his dorm room at Hogwarts to find Moony unconscious on the bed, blood soaking the already scarlet sheets, turning them a darker, more sinister red. He never meant to do it. It was always accidental; Remus had never attempted suicide, although he had come close several times.
But even if Harry was not suicidal, what he was doing to himself was dangerous. If he didn't stop, he was going to end up dead whether he meant to do it or not. And Sirius was not going to let that happen. If he had to lock his godson in a padded cell and put him in a straight jacket, then that's what he would do. This had to stop, because he couldn't live with the guilt and depression if he let Harry kill himself. This had to stop soon.
+HPRWHGHPRWHGHPRWHG+
"Oh my Merlin!" Hermione's hands flew to her face when she opened the bathroom door. Sirius and Remus had not had time to clean it before, and the room was still stained with bright scarlet.
"What happened?" asked Ron, his freckled face going from pale white to a sickly shade of gray as he saw the blood soaked tiles.
"I don't know," Hermione said weakly, silvery tear tracks making their way down her cheeks like small rivers. "Look! There!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly, pointing to a small shimmering object that stood out in the ominous sea of red. Ron walked forward and picked it up, cleaning it in the sink. He looked at it in shock, as if he couldn't quite believe it was there.
"What is it?" asked Hermione, who was growing fearful at Ron's expression. She looked at the tiny thing in his hands; it looked like small piece of metal that seemed to be rusting slightly.
"Hermione it's a razor blade," whispered Ron. "You don't think…" Ron trailed off, afraid to even voice the terrifying thoughts that had entered his mind. Hermione began to hyperventilate.
"No," she choked out. "NO! He just – just s-slipped!" She cried desperately.
"Hermione, this is a blade that's been snapped off one of those muggle razor blades. It looks like it's done on purpose too."
"He can't. It's impossible," Hermione stated firmly. Even as she said the words, she knew they were a lie. Harry was an impulsive, emotional and sensitive boy. He had been acting strange ever since the final task. He had never worn long sleeves in the summer before, and now he was wearing jackets in the hottest part of the year. Hermione closed her eyes, scared to acknowledge the terrifying logic that struggled to overpower her denial.
"We need to go, before Mum catches us up here," said Ron, carefully replacing the blade on the once white floor and cleaning the blood off his hands. He wrapped an arm around Hermione, who seemed too shocked and upset to move b herself, and led him to the bedroom that Ron was sleeping in.
A/N: Hello! Sorry, I know that was a rubbish ending, but I am quite pleased with how the rest of it turned out. If you have time, please leave a review telling me what you thought. I know it's been a long time, but I have just finished school for two weeks so I should have more time to write. Hope you enjoyed! Milo.