Time Period: About 7 years after school. Harry is about 24 & flashbacks of his 7th year at Hogwarts.
Spoilers: Hopefully you've read all the books and book five. But it doesn't matter to much. If characters are dead... it's because it's implied that they died in the passing time period. ;D Did that make sense? I hope so. :x
******************
Hogwarts
7th Year (November 2nd)
Harry hated to lose track of time. Right now... he hadn't a clue where he was, nonetheless what time of day it was. Hell, he didn't even know the day. He knew one thing-he was still alive. Not only alive, but alive, in the hospital wing, with Madame Pomfrey bustling around him, muttering about how in all her years she'd never had someone who'd hurt themselves on purpose. "... Those wretched Weasley twins, trying out their silly little tricks on each other… Always coming in here sick to their stomachs. Despicable behavior. Though it was quite funny what they did to that Umbridge woman..."
If he'd had enough strength, he would have cursed her to shut her up.
It was clear to Harry that he couldn't make up a story now about his wrist. He couldn't tell some bullshit to get everyone who "cared" off his back. He'd planned to say that he'd fallen and hit himself on a sharp edge of the table- that he'd been on his way to the hospital wing when that stupid git had found him. You always need to have a back-up story about things, even if you didn't expect to live long enough to use the excuse. How was he supposed to know that Malfoy would come into the owlery just seconds after he'd let the knife cut across his wrist? Who would have known that Harry would be grabbed by his enemy and found out? Draco Malfoy... of all people!
He wondered, still listening to Madame Pomfrey's rambles, how Draco would use this against him. Would he tell the whole school? Send out flyers telling the story? Or maybe he would just make little snipes at him, saying only things Harry would understand... the kind of things that would have Ron and Hermione asking him "what did Malfoy mean by that, Harry?". He didn't need that. If he'd needed it, he would have willingly showed his bleeding wrist to the boy, then cursed him right out of the owlery, leaving himself to die by himself as he'd planned.
Harry sighed, wondering why he was even worrying about it. Another place, another time (very soon), he could steal away to a more hidden place and open the wound right back up again. And, he vowed, no one would catch him a second time.
Harry Potter didn't lead a glorious life. He was far from "okay" when it came to his emotions. He wasn't sure if he hated himself, or the people around him, more. Either way... Harry was sure he couldn't stand it a moment longer.
How much longer could he hold onto the "Boy Who Lived" title once the war began? He didn't believe in himself, though millions of wizards across the world prayed for his victory when things crept towards the dark more and more. Harry had a feeling that the worst was soon to come. The sharp pangs in his forehead, despite his advanced occulmency lessons, had only gotten worse over the last 2 years. He could still see things, FEEL things, that the Dark Lord did. Things he never had wanted to see or know about.
Life reaches a point where you don't care who lives or who dies. A point where you just don't care that you could help protect the innocent. What would they give him for helping them anyways? A pat on the back and a "sorry everyone you ever loved has been killed because of this"? What good is that kind of reward for putting your life on the line? Sure, he'd only come to love so many people in his life... he wasn't even sure he loved his mother and father, he didn't think he knew them long enough to truly love them. But he knew that regret grew every day because he'd never known them.
He pondered frequently what he would have been like if the first war hadn't happened. If his parents hadn't stood up to Voldemort, would Harry be the same person he was now? Or would he be like Malfoy, only not as villainous? Thinking about his father, and the things he knew about him, Harry drifted off into another dream filled sleep. Imagining himself with an attitude like Draco Malfoy.
******************
Hogwarts 7th Year (November 5th)
"How are you Harry? You're not hurt to bad? You feel alright?"
"I'm fine, Ron."
Yea, I'm fine. Didn't you notice the bandages on my wrists? He thought bitterly, smiling on the outside but baring his teeth on the inside. If he saw another chocolate frog from a 'friend', he'd have to drown himself in them, attempting suicide with death by chocolate. Maybe if he ate enough of it he would get sick and die of food poisoning.
"You're not fine, Harry! You've missed so much in classes this week. In Hagrids class-" Ron rolled his eyes, shoving another chocolate frog into his mouth. "...We learned about Drazi and-" Harry wasn't even looking her way as she babbled on about some demon that hated those who loved. "HARRY!" She shoved him with her elbow, making him jolt from his trance. "Ugh! I can't talk to you!" She walked out of the room, insulted that he hadn't paid any attention to her the whole time she'd been talking.
"Sorry, mate. Better go cool her off. You know how she gets..." He nodded and Ron ran after her, shouting that he'd been paying attention.
He continued to stare at the door, long after they'd gone through it and down the hall back to classes, when finally a glint of blonde hair shone from the doorway. And, just beyond that blonde hair, black robes threaded on the edges with green and silver, and after that... gleaming blue eyes. To Harry's surprise, Malfoy looked at him and, without saying a word, put down a set of books on the desk next to Harry. He turned around, and strolled away, not looking at Harry more than he had to.
Harry couldn't let him walk off like that, with no explanation of what happened that night. "Malfoy?" Draco stopped, twirled on his heel, and stared at Harry, his eyebrows raised and his smirk sharper than ever. "What do you want, Potter? I didn't come here to talk to you. I have class to attend to."
With growing hatred for the boy, Harry spat out, "Just don't save my life again, Malfoy." Draco looked intrigued, huffed, and left the room.
"Asshole."
******************