Title: Acerbitas
Author: Rowan Arkenson
Summary: I close my eyes and as I tighten my fist around the sharp blade, I can feel it dig into my skin… I collapse to the floor. My hand is weak. In a last grasping attempt I squeeze the knife as hard as possible, cutting deeper into that which I hate most – myself…
Pairings: Kind of Harry/Draco but NOT slash. Sorry to disappoint you!
Disclaimer: Ok, so I did forget this at first, but I just forgot. So then I wasn't going to bother adding it, but hey – JK's a bitch so she probably WOULD sue me. All this disclaimer stuff's a load of bollocks though, wouldn't you say? Like anyone would give a shit – it's not like we're pretending we OWN Harry Potter. Even if we said we did no one would believe us so what's the point? Ok, so, yeah, on with the disclaimer: (clears throat) "I, Rowan Arkenson, do not own the names of the characters in this story. Nor do I own the history relationships between them and stuff. Nor do I own the setting. HOWEVER," (clears throat once more), "I do own the slightly (although not to the eyes and minds of fanfiction readers, but to the eyes of JK Rowling fans) changed characters and depression of a certain character who may seem to JK Rowling 'Out Of Character'. I also own the main plot of this specific story, but not the Hogwarts theme JK Rowling has so kindly put in." End. Happy?
Rating: PG-13 for mild swearing and, um…violence - "inappropriate scenes".
Author's Note: Reason for doing this fic? Felt bored and depressed. That's why! And I've been wanting to do a Draco fic for AGES but never get the inspiration to do it. So finally I have inspiration and here's the result. Hope you like it. And yeah, this chapter is short, but what can you do?! LoL. The next chapter will probably be longer. Well, maybe… Oh, and as a warning to anyone who's actually reading this,…no, actually, I have TWO warnings for you! 1)I already have three stories im writing at the moment, so I won't be writing this ALL the time, though I do write quickly, so if I don't update for ages, you'll know why, 2)this might be quite a short story (a few chapters) or I might decide to make it really long, so be prepared for both!! Go read now and review please!!! ~rowanx
Chapter one - Pain
I clutch the knife in my hand. I close my eyes and as I tighten my fist around the sharp blade, I can feel it dig into my skin. Blood seeps out through my closed, white fist. I tremble as the pain shoots along my arm and my hands get covered in the dark red oil. My mind races through everything I've ever felt, ever seen. Images, memories, thoughts…
Memories of my father, towering above me, a clenched fist hanging threateningly in the air. I see myself, cowering on the floor, arm raised protectively over my face. I had a set face, not wanting to show my father how weak and hurt I was. Wanting to prove to the man who calls himself my father that I was strong enough to live.
Turns out I'm not.
Turns out I'm just like everyone else. Weak and open to pain.
My hand feels numb. The blood is now purple. I can see my veins. Can't think too…clearly. Head feels dizzy. Mumbled thoughts. Thoughts of Slytherin. Thoughts of my mum. Thoughts of Potter, Crabbe, Weasley. Enemy or friend? Can't remember. Don't care.
I collapse to the floor. My hand is weak. In a last grasping attempt I squeeze the knife as hard as possible, cutting deeper into that which I hate most – myself. I drop the knife onto the floor. I hear it clatter. My eyesight has gone blurry. Amidst all I feel hungry. An ironic smile. I smile, crazily. I look to the knife on the floor. Suddenly, it rises to the air and gasps. I see a shadow. I open my mouth to speak. My eyes droop. The blackness fills my mind…
I wake up. I blink, feeling confused. Where am I? Where's all that bright light coming from? I try to open my eyes but don't know how to. My nerves are blocked…
Again, the blinding light. Am I still asleep? I don't know. Confusion. Sleep…
Eyes snap open. I yell aloud. Who for? What did I just say? Not too sure. Can't remember now. I look around. See the blinding light which comes from above. Things start to take shape in front of my quivering eyes. I see walls. I see screens. I see a chair. A table. A person. Who? Who is that? Who cares. Whoever they are, they don't care about me. No one does…
A sob escapes my throat. I feel a tear prickling at my eyes. I never cry. Never. The tears escape. I feel it rolling down my cheek. I blink, in an effort to hold back the tears. When I open my eyes, things are a bit clearer. So I blink again. More clearer. I don't dare look at the person. I don't want to know who it was who saw me cry. I turn my head away and close my eyes. I hear a chair shifting, I see a shadow stand, I hear the footsteps as they moved away – as if they know I don't want to know who it was. As if they know me. No one knows me. Not really.
I wake up. This time, when I open my eyes, I can see things very clearly. My head hurts and it feel confused and muddle. As if I have just spent an eternity walking through a mumbled, confused dream. The only things I am sure of, is the fact that I'm dead, and not happy about it.
I sit up onto my shoulders and look around. I'm in the hospital wing. I frown. Someone must have found me and brought me here. But who? Then my eyes widen as thoughts of a person near by come flittering back into my mind. I close my eyes and think urgently of anything, any clue as to who that person was. I remembered…twinkling eyes. Was it twinkling eyes? No, it was glasses! They had glasses. Hair…messy hair that kind of looked like mine. It was darker though…
Oh no. My mind tries desperately hard to think of other people who match this description, but I can only think of one person. My eyes snap open. Potter.
