A/N: Thanks Maxx77, The Lady Sorcha of Sevenwaters, Mioshe, Shadowsofpain, Arizosa, mimatogirl, and whitemudfounder for reviewing to chapter 4!
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Ron stood there for what seemed like an eternity. There was Harry, sitting there with a knife, looking *happy* that his wrist was cut. Intentionally. By himself. And now he was *watching himself bleed.* What is wrong with him? Ron was lost for words as Harry got up and walked into the bathroom.
Ron walked into the dorm and stood, facing Harry. Harry didn't see him. Ron saw Harry wash away the blood through the open door. Harry examined his wrist one last time, carefully pulled down his sleeve, and turned to leave the bathroom.
He took one step and looking up, froze, the little color in his face draining completely as he saw Ron.
"Er... um..." he said after a few moments, starting to panic. He swallowed as Ron somehow found his voice.
"Harry?" Ron said, having great difficulty finding words. "What-- What were you doing?"
"Um..." Harry answered quietly. He winced. "What all did you see?"
"What did I see? I saw-- I saw you-- I saw you slice your fucking arm open, that's what I saw!" He was yelling now. Harry cringed.
"Ron, Ron, don't yell, please!"
"What were you thinking?!"
"Ron--"
"What's wrong with you?!" he bellowed. Harry tried to get past Ron, but Ron caught him by the shoulders and violently turned him around. Harry looked away.
"Look at me!" Harry obeyed. "What were you thinking?" Ron said in a pleading tone, letting Harry go. Harry gave Ron an apologetic look and then started to leave again, but Ron caught him by the arm, causing Harry to cry out.
"Okay, okay," he said, pulling his arm out of Ron's reach.
"Are you okay?" Ron asked Harry seriously, calming. Harry nodded. "Let me see." Harry's will failing, he let Ron take his arm and pull up the sleeve, revealing everything.
"Shit, Harry, how long has this been going on?" Ron asked quietly.
"A while," Harry responded quietly. A pause. "I was still at the Dursleys'." Ron looked at Harry in shocked, horrified amazement. "It's all right," Harry said, pulling back his arm and pulling down his sleeve.
"Harry, it's not all right. How can you say that?"
"It is, Ron, it's fine. I'm fine."
"No, you're not, Harry. Not if you do this." Harry didn't respond. "So..." Ron seemed lost for words again. "So all this time you managed to keep this, from all of us?" Harry nodded.
"Please don't tell," said Harry quietly, looking at the floor.
"I don't know if I can do that." Harry looked up.
"Please?" he begged.
"We'll see." Harry looked at the floor again. "Why?" Harry looked up. "Why? Why do you do it?" It was a few moments before Harry spoke.
"I-- I just suppose-- I don't know. I just need to." Ron was looking at Harry incredulously. "It's just a way for me to cope." Ron was somewhat puzzled, and seemed lost for words. Eventually he spoke.
"What, so you just cut yourself every time you have one of those dreams?"
"No, of course not," Harry said.
"Then I don't understand."
"It's just... what I do, all right?"
"No. Explain yourself."
"Fine," Harry snapped. " I *can't* cut every time I have a nightmare because they're *always* nightmares, okay? Whether they're those... *visions,* or just any ordinary dream, no. They're-- no. I *need* this, Ron."
"No you don't."
"What?"
"You don't. You don't need to... cut. We're here for you, Harry. Me, Hermione... anyone. We're here for you. You don't need to cut. You can stop." Harry looked away. He shook his head slowly.
"No," he said quietly.
"What do you mean, 'no'? Yes, Harry, you can. Stop cutting! We're here for you. It'll be all right." Harry shook his head more firmly.
"No, I can't. It won't be."
"Yes it will!" Ron said loudly, starting to get angry.
"No. It won't." Harry said quietly. He paused. "I can't. I can't stop. I can't stop cutting. I--" He searched for the right word. "I crave it now. I need it."
"Really?" Ron asked quietly.
"Yeah," Harry replied solemnly.
"Are you *sure* you can't stop?" Ron pleaded. Harry nodded.
"Please don't tell anyone."
"All right," said Ron, nodding, after several long moments. "Can I tell Hermione?"
"Do you think she'd understand? Do you think she'd keep quiet about it?"
"I don't know," Ron said honestly. "Maybe-- maybe if we both told her, in private, she'd understand. Do you think so?"
"Okay," said Harry, sighing, after a few painful moments. "We'll tell her."
*******************************************
"Erm. Hermione," Ron said. Hermione looked up from her studying. Ron rarely sounded this serious... and why was Harry standing behind him like that, looking guilty?
"What'd you guys do?" she asked shrewdly.
"Nothing!" said Ron defensively. "We just need to tell you something."
"What is it?" she asked.
"Not here," said Ron, glancing about the common room. "We're going to an empty classroom." Hermione, seeing the seriousness of the situation, didn't protest.
"Now what is it?" Hermione asked kindly once they were shut inside an empty classroom.
"Harry has something he wants to tell you." Harry looked sharply at Ron. "Okay, he has something I found out about that he agreed to tell you about."
"Please understand," Harry said.
"I'll try..." Hermione said, puzzled.
"Harry?" Ron urged. Harry sighed loudly.
"I don't know where to start." Silence.
"Well? What did Ron find out?" Hermione asked eventually, the tension getting to her.
Using every ounce of resolution he had, Harry tugged up his sleeve and held his arm out in front of Hermione.
"Oh my god, Harry, what happened?" she asked. Harry couldn't bring himself to respond. He pulled back his arm.
"He did that to himself," said Ron, anger seeping into his words.
"What?! Harry, you did that to yourself?!"
"No use repeating it," he responded.
"Why? How? When?"
"Calm down," Harry said. Hermione sighed deeply.
"Fine. I'm calm. Now tell me. Why? How? When?" Now Harry sighed.
"I'll try. It... um... I've been cutting for since last summer, I was still at the Dursleys. Er... I've been using--" Harry reached into the pocket of his robes. "Well, I've been using this." He held it out to show them. Ron intook his breath sharply. There it was again, that thing which shocked him so thoroughly when he found out. He was beginning to look slightly ill. Harry pulled the knife close to him as Hermione reached out for it.
"Sorry," she muttered.
"You keep it with you?" Ron asked incredulously.
"Well... yeah," said Harry. They didn't seem to be taking all of this as well as he'd hoped. But they did seem better than he expected.
"Well, *why?* Why'd you do it? And how'd you ever even *think* of such an idea?" Hermione asked.
"Er..." Harry couldn't tell them how it all started, with him thinking about suicide. And he certainly couldn't tell them that by now he intended to go through with it. They'd already discovered more than he'd wanted them to. "I don't know. But I do it because-- well, because of--" This seemed impossibly hard for Harry to explain. What had he told Ron earlier? "I do it because I need to. Because of my dreams, mostly, and everything else."
"Everything else?" Hermione asked.
"Everything! All the stuff that happened after the third task last year. Cedric and Voldemort coming back and the Death Eaters and the torture and the duel and putting you in danger and--"
"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Ron said, silencing Harry, noticing the horrified, glazed look back in Harry's eyes.
"Harry?" Hermione said, hoping to bring Harry back. She waved a hand in front of his eyes. She shook him slightly, and he shook away the look, replacing it with a very sad one.
"Hmm?" he replied.
"It's all right now, we're here," she said gently. He didn't respond.
"So what's this putting us in danger thing?" Ron asked.
"Oh. Well, I do. Wherever I am it puts everyone around me in danger. I mean, look what happened to Cedric. And I don't want to do that to you guys."
"Harry, we're not going to stop being your friend," Hermione said.
"I know," he said. He sounded surprisingly accepting.
"But Harry, you *need* to stop doing this," Hermione said.
"I told you, I can't," Harry said, a hint of annoyance in his voice now.
"Harry, what are you talking about, of course you can."
"*No,* I can't, I told you. And I don't *want* to, either."
"But Harry, it's *dangerous.* You *need* to stop. Please?"
"No. I can't. I won't. Don't you understand?"
"No, Harry, I don't understand," Hermione yelled.
"Well you should!" Harry yelled back. "This is hard enough for me as it is, I didn't want to tell you in the first place!"
"Harry," Hermione said more quietly, forcing herself to calm down. "You need to stop. It's dangerous. I'm going to tell someone." Harry paled.
"No," he said quietly, horror in his voice. "No, you can't, *please* Hermione!"
"You need to promise to stop."
"I *told* you, I can't!"
"Well then I'll have to tell someone, Harry."
"Hermione--" Ron started.
"*No,* Ron, he needs to stop this before he hurts himself!"
"But you don't understand," Harry said.
"I don't need to understand."
"Try?"
"Fine," Hermione said after an angry moment. "Try to make me understand."
"It's my escape, Hermione. It's the only thing I have."
"You've got *us.*"
"But you can't understand. You don't see what I see. You don't know what it's like for me."
"But we can *try,* Harry, don't you see? We want to help you."
"And I don't want to hurt you," he said. "It's hard enough as it is without dragging you into it. And it wouldn't make me stop cutting anyway."
"Harry, you're hurting us now." These words echoed in Harry's mind. "You need to stop. You need to let us help you." Harry looked pleadingly at Ron.
"Hermione," He started. She turned to him angrily. "Listen, I don't like this anymore than you do, but... maybe we should listen to him. He got me to. I agree with him, Hermione, we shouldn't tell. It would get all blown out of proportion. Maybe this is what he needs. Maybe letting him is the best way to help him." Hermione looked pained, but thought that Ron might be right. After several long moments, she spoke.
"All right. I won't tell. Just be careful, Harry, *please.*"
"I'm careful," he said, truthfully.
"Good," Hermione said resignedly, sighing. Harry was relieved that Hermione had agreed to keep quiet, but something else was bothering him. Little things, like the concerned sadness in Hermione's eyes, and Ron's look of disappointed resignation. And Hermione's words, "Harry, you're hurting us now," kept echoing in his mind. He didn't mean to hurt them. He couldn't bear it. He would have to act soon.
"Thanks," he whispered to her as they left. She didn't say anything in return.
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Ron stood there for what seemed like an eternity. There was Harry, sitting there with a knife, looking *happy* that his wrist was cut. Intentionally. By himself. And now he was *watching himself bleed.* What is wrong with him? Ron was lost for words as Harry got up and walked into the bathroom.
Ron walked into the dorm and stood, facing Harry. Harry didn't see him. Ron saw Harry wash away the blood through the open door. Harry examined his wrist one last time, carefully pulled down his sleeve, and turned to leave the bathroom.
He took one step and looking up, froze, the little color in his face draining completely as he saw Ron.
"Er... um..." he said after a few moments, starting to panic. He swallowed as Ron somehow found his voice.
"Harry?" Ron said, having great difficulty finding words. "What-- What were you doing?"
"Um..." Harry answered quietly. He winced. "What all did you see?"
"What did I see? I saw-- I saw you-- I saw you slice your fucking arm open, that's what I saw!" He was yelling now. Harry cringed.
"Ron, Ron, don't yell, please!"
"What were you thinking?!"
"Ron--"
"What's wrong with you?!" he bellowed. Harry tried to get past Ron, but Ron caught him by the shoulders and violently turned him around. Harry looked away.
"Look at me!" Harry obeyed. "What were you thinking?" Ron said in a pleading tone, letting Harry go. Harry gave Ron an apologetic look and then started to leave again, but Ron caught him by the arm, causing Harry to cry out.
"Okay, okay," he said, pulling his arm out of Ron's reach.
"Are you okay?" Ron asked Harry seriously, calming. Harry nodded. "Let me see." Harry's will failing, he let Ron take his arm and pull up the sleeve, revealing everything.
"Shit, Harry, how long has this been going on?" Ron asked quietly.
"A while," Harry responded quietly. A pause. "I was still at the Dursleys'." Ron looked at Harry in shocked, horrified amazement. "It's all right," Harry said, pulling back his arm and pulling down his sleeve.
"Harry, it's not all right. How can you say that?"
"It is, Ron, it's fine. I'm fine."
"No, you're not, Harry. Not if you do this." Harry didn't respond. "So..." Ron seemed lost for words again. "So all this time you managed to keep this, from all of us?" Harry nodded.
"Please don't tell," said Harry quietly, looking at the floor.
"I don't know if I can do that." Harry looked up.
"Please?" he begged.
"We'll see." Harry looked at the floor again. "Why?" Harry looked up. "Why? Why do you do it?" It was a few moments before Harry spoke.
"I-- I just suppose-- I don't know. I just need to." Ron was looking at Harry incredulously. "It's just a way for me to cope." Ron was somewhat puzzled, and seemed lost for words. Eventually he spoke.
"What, so you just cut yourself every time you have one of those dreams?"
"No, of course not," Harry said.
"Then I don't understand."
"It's just... what I do, all right?"
"No. Explain yourself."
"Fine," Harry snapped. " I *can't* cut every time I have a nightmare because they're *always* nightmares, okay? Whether they're those... *visions,* or just any ordinary dream, no. They're-- no. I *need* this, Ron."
"No you don't."
"What?"
"You don't. You don't need to... cut. We're here for you, Harry. Me, Hermione... anyone. We're here for you. You don't need to cut. You can stop." Harry looked away. He shook his head slowly.
"No," he said quietly.
"What do you mean, 'no'? Yes, Harry, you can. Stop cutting! We're here for you. It'll be all right." Harry shook his head more firmly.
"No, I can't. It won't be."
"Yes it will!" Ron said loudly, starting to get angry.
"No. It won't." Harry said quietly. He paused. "I can't. I can't stop. I can't stop cutting. I--" He searched for the right word. "I crave it now. I need it."
"Really?" Ron asked quietly.
"Yeah," Harry replied solemnly.
"Are you *sure* you can't stop?" Ron pleaded. Harry nodded.
"Please don't tell anyone."
"All right," said Ron, nodding, after several long moments. "Can I tell Hermione?"
"Do you think she'd understand? Do you think she'd keep quiet about it?"
"I don't know," Ron said honestly. "Maybe-- maybe if we both told her, in private, she'd understand. Do you think so?"
"Okay," said Harry, sighing, after a few painful moments. "We'll tell her."
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"Erm. Hermione," Ron said. Hermione looked up from her studying. Ron rarely sounded this serious... and why was Harry standing behind him like that, looking guilty?
"What'd you guys do?" she asked shrewdly.
"Nothing!" said Ron defensively. "We just need to tell you something."
"What is it?" she asked.
"Not here," said Ron, glancing about the common room. "We're going to an empty classroom." Hermione, seeing the seriousness of the situation, didn't protest.
"Now what is it?" Hermione asked kindly once they were shut inside an empty classroom.
"Harry has something he wants to tell you." Harry looked sharply at Ron. "Okay, he has something I found out about that he agreed to tell you about."
"Please understand," Harry said.
"I'll try..." Hermione said, puzzled.
"Harry?" Ron urged. Harry sighed loudly.
"I don't know where to start." Silence.
"Well? What did Ron find out?" Hermione asked eventually, the tension getting to her.
Using every ounce of resolution he had, Harry tugged up his sleeve and held his arm out in front of Hermione.
"Oh my god, Harry, what happened?" she asked. Harry couldn't bring himself to respond. He pulled back his arm.
"He did that to himself," said Ron, anger seeping into his words.
"What?! Harry, you did that to yourself?!"
"No use repeating it," he responded.
"Why? How? When?"
"Calm down," Harry said. Hermione sighed deeply.
"Fine. I'm calm. Now tell me. Why? How? When?" Now Harry sighed.
"I'll try. It... um... I've been cutting for since last summer, I was still at the Dursleys. Er... I've been using--" Harry reached into the pocket of his robes. "Well, I've been using this." He held it out to show them. Ron intook his breath sharply. There it was again, that thing which shocked him so thoroughly when he found out. He was beginning to look slightly ill. Harry pulled the knife close to him as Hermione reached out for it.
"Sorry," she muttered.
"You keep it with you?" Ron asked incredulously.
"Well... yeah," said Harry. They didn't seem to be taking all of this as well as he'd hoped. But they did seem better than he expected.
"Well, *why?* Why'd you do it? And how'd you ever even *think* of such an idea?" Hermione asked.
"Er..." Harry couldn't tell them how it all started, with him thinking about suicide. And he certainly couldn't tell them that by now he intended to go through with it. They'd already discovered more than he'd wanted them to. "I don't know. But I do it because-- well, because of--" This seemed impossibly hard for Harry to explain. What had he told Ron earlier? "I do it because I need to. Because of my dreams, mostly, and everything else."
"Everything else?" Hermione asked.
"Everything! All the stuff that happened after the third task last year. Cedric and Voldemort coming back and the Death Eaters and the torture and the duel and putting you in danger and--"
"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Ron said, silencing Harry, noticing the horrified, glazed look back in Harry's eyes.
"Harry?" Hermione said, hoping to bring Harry back. She waved a hand in front of his eyes. She shook him slightly, and he shook away the look, replacing it with a very sad one.
"Hmm?" he replied.
"It's all right now, we're here," she said gently. He didn't respond.
"So what's this putting us in danger thing?" Ron asked.
"Oh. Well, I do. Wherever I am it puts everyone around me in danger. I mean, look what happened to Cedric. And I don't want to do that to you guys."
"Harry, we're not going to stop being your friend," Hermione said.
"I know," he said. He sounded surprisingly accepting.
"But Harry, you *need* to stop doing this," Hermione said.
"I told you, I can't," Harry said, a hint of annoyance in his voice now.
"Harry, what are you talking about, of course you can."
"*No,* I can't, I told you. And I don't *want* to, either."
"But Harry, it's *dangerous.* You *need* to stop. Please?"
"No. I can't. I won't. Don't you understand?"
"No, Harry, I don't understand," Hermione yelled.
"Well you should!" Harry yelled back. "This is hard enough for me as it is, I didn't want to tell you in the first place!"
"Harry," Hermione said more quietly, forcing herself to calm down. "You need to stop. It's dangerous. I'm going to tell someone." Harry paled.
"No," he said quietly, horror in his voice. "No, you can't, *please* Hermione!"
"You need to promise to stop."
"I *told* you, I can't!"
"Well then I'll have to tell someone, Harry."
"Hermione--" Ron started.
"*No,* Ron, he needs to stop this before he hurts himself!"
"But you don't understand," Harry said.
"I don't need to understand."
"Try?"
"Fine," Hermione said after an angry moment. "Try to make me understand."
"It's my escape, Hermione. It's the only thing I have."
"You've got *us.*"
"But you can't understand. You don't see what I see. You don't know what it's like for me."
"But we can *try,* Harry, don't you see? We want to help you."
"And I don't want to hurt you," he said. "It's hard enough as it is without dragging you into it. And it wouldn't make me stop cutting anyway."
"Harry, you're hurting us now." These words echoed in Harry's mind. "You need to stop. You need to let us help you." Harry looked pleadingly at Ron.
"Hermione," He started. She turned to him angrily. "Listen, I don't like this anymore than you do, but... maybe we should listen to him. He got me to. I agree with him, Hermione, we shouldn't tell. It would get all blown out of proportion. Maybe this is what he needs. Maybe letting him is the best way to help him." Hermione looked pained, but thought that Ron might be right. After several long moments, she spoke.
"All right. I won't tell. Just be careful, Harry, *please.*"
"I'm careful," he said, truthfully.
"Good," Hermione said resignedly, sighing. Harry was relieved that Hermione had agreed to keep quiet, but something else was bothering him. Little things, like the concerned sadness in Hermione's eyes, and Ron's look of disappointed resignation. And Hermione's words, "Harry, you're hurting us now," kept echoing in his mind. He didn't mean to hurt them. He couldn't bear it. He would have to act soon.
"Thanks," he whispered to her as they left. She didn't say anything in return.
