Title: Broken.
Harry Potter.
Rating: PG-13, just in case.
Genre: Angst.
Secondary Genre: Romance/Drama.
Soundtrack to Chapter: Broken: Seether and Amy Lee.
Summary: He's happy. Or content at least. Or so it seems. What happens to him when he's alone? What torture does he put himself through after the life he's had to live? What does he tell himself? Is he all he seems to be, or is he someone else when he's alone?
Kid(6/30/04): Hey. sigh Okay, okay, I know. "There is Only One" should be almost finished by now right? Well, sad to say, but it's not. And even more sad is the fact that I started on the first chapter on 3/22, and finished it about 3/29. And it's past three months later, and I've barely got 1400 words, if that wrote on the second chapter. With that out, I know I shouldn't be starting on another story, but I want to get this out, and finished hopefully. Maybe by the time school starts again, I will have it finished. Heavy sigh Well, Fushigi's ran out of her own ideas, so she pulls me out again. I hope this is..... Okay. Maybe even good. Eh, whatever.
Updates: As I said before There is Only One is on it's second chapter. I still don't have a start on the sequel to Disappearence. Previous events is going no where and I'm thinking of taking it off. I've written a new HP fic called 'Promises'. I'm leaving it a one shot until I get it posted and get a responce, and whether I take it off or add more chapters is up to the reviewers. Anyway, I've also started on a new 'Wolf's Rain' fic, and 'Yugioh' fic, but I'm at a wall with them too. Now, done with updates, on to story:
-
Chapter One: Scars, Blood, and Tears.
Did he always sit like this at the window? Did he always watch the rain, a dead look on his face reflecting in his eyes? No. He couldn't. He didn't; it wasn't this way around his friends. He was content, and maybe even happy. But he betrayed that composure now, with his hair in a clutter on his head, and his knees held close to his chest as he rocked back and forth, muttering to himself. It was wrong, seeing the boy like this. Seeing him in such disarray, and not being able to do a damn thing about it. It wasn't fair, but then it never was.
The boy looks up, searching the room, then he sighs. No, no one was there. There never was, no matter how hard he looked or tried to make himself believe it. It only caused a false hope to swell in his chest, then explode, leaving an even bigger hole in his chest then there was before.
He curles back up, leaning his head against the cool bricks.
"Of course there isn't anyone there. No one cares enough about you to come and find you. The others only put up with you because of who you are. You know that. Why bother telling yourself anything else?" He mutters to himself, and immediantly he begins to rock again. He laughs, making himself shiver, and goosebumps form on his arms and legs. "You're nothing to them. Only a doll. A tool to get what they want. Only a thing that they hardly give recognition to otherwise. Get over yourself! You know that you'll never have any real, true friends. No one will ever love you. You are just a cold, heartless snake." Again he shivers, but this time from the tears now flowing silently and freely down his cheeks.
"No," He whispers in a soft voice. "no, you're wrong! They are my friends! And I'm not cold! I'm not heartless. I'm not a tool." With each statement the boy's already quiet voice becomes more and more hushed until only he could hear it, but only because he was thinking it in unison with his voice. "I'm someone! I have people who love me, who-" His voice catches in his throat, making a sound between a cry and a sob. He laughs at himself. "Is this what you tell yourself everyday before you go into the Great Hall? How could you ever believe that it's true? It's lunacy; it's just an illusion to give yourself the right amount of false will and hope to hold your head up. You aren't wanted. No one could care less if you croaked right now." He nods. "No one would care. I'm nothing." He whispers back to himself. Beside him, he picks up a shard of a mirror he had earlier broken. He looks at his reflection and winces, turning away from the broken eyes, the torn glare that gave no help, no mercy. Ignorant to his actions, he drags the shard of glass across his plam, and onto his bare legs, not stopping until he hit hard ground.
Finally looking down to the fresh cuts, he watches as the blood pools beneth him. He shakes his head. It wasn't enough. Almost. But not enough. So he takes the fragment of the mirror, the edge now covered with blood, and he pulls the point across his chest. He pushes the point in, not stopping. The pain that washed over him kept him safe, kept him alive, one might say.
He stops, looking out the window again, counting the raindrops. He puts the shard back down beside him and cleans up the blood he lost. He takes off his robe and examines the fibers. Yes, the blood had been soaked in, and he'd be questioned if he had someone else do it, so, using a simple spell, the boy erases the blood, leaving it spotless to the naked eye. There would be no proof that he was ever here; that any of this ever happened. No one would know. No one.
"Hey, where were you last night, Harry?" Seamus asks. "I don't remember you ever coming back into the boy's dorm." Harry smiles. He, Seamus, Hermione, and Ron all walked down the halls, conversing between each other. "I went for a walk." He tells the boy simply. Seamus looks at the raven head skeptically. "That was a hell of a long walk, then Harry. Besides, it was raining! You couldn't have went outside." "Yeah, mate. He's right. You were gone for a long time. What could The Boy Who Lived have on his mind that would make him take that long of a walk?" Looking up from her book, Hermione pipes in. "Stop it Ron! If Harry wanted an interrogation, he would have found a Professor. Merlin, I can't believe I forgot to read this chapter!" And she buries her nose into the Potions book yet again. Smirk in place, Harry looks at Ron. He shrugs, saying goodbye to everyone as he reached his class: Divinations.
When Professor Trelawney had been sacked because of Umbrige, Harry had opted to take Divinations yet again, just to see if it was him or the Professor that was going wrong. So far, it'd been him. But luckily, the new Professor hadn't seen any Grims that like to populate his tea leaves so very often. Mostly he'd been able to scrape by without getting called on much this year, which pleased him to no end.
Harry steps into the classroom. He looks around then turns to walk out again. Obviously he was in the wrong class. Divinations never had... Desks! He begins to walk out of the room when-
-Oof! Harry goes head first into someone else, only making himself stumble back a bit, but causing the other to fall, and not too gracefully, Harry noted. He looks down. "Sorry 'bout... that......" He raises an eyebrow. "Malfoy?" Draco looks up at his "attacker", scowling. The Slytherin opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it again. Draco begins trying to get up, which was turning out to be more difficult than it should have been, as he and Harry both realized. Suddenly, a hand is held out in front of him. He looks up at Harry again, confusion showing in his eyes, but he takes it nonetheless and is hoisted up to his feet again easily. Harry offers Draco an apologetic smile and not waiting for one in return, goes to a desk.
Draco's eyes follow the retreating form back to a desk. Had Potter really just helped him up? Yes, he had. And had he just smiled at him? Yes,
he had also done that. Draco's mind wasn't fooling him. He sighs. "What am I doing?" He smirks, then shakes his head. He couldn't think about it right now.
The boy watches him from the corner of his eye, watching every move he made. It was weird, this affixation he felt towards the boy, but who was he to deny that the feeling existed? He had known about them for a year now, but it taken him half of that to stop denying them and realize they weren't going to go away just because he wanted them to. But, like it was said last night, no one is ever going to like, much less love him, so what would the point be? It'd just cause him to hate himself even more and have others know what he really was. That was all.
So, what was he doing watching him like a hawk? Watching him talk to his friends. The other boy would never talk to him, he knew it. They'd been quarreling for far too long for the other to think of him in any way other than that of an enemy. His.... fondness of the boy was one-sided and it always would be. "He has no reason to even look at me, so why do I play with my hope? Why do I keep causing myself more pain than I need?" He whispers. "You're right. He wouldn't look at you. Haven't you noticed every time he looks at you he grimaces?" He laughs, causing the ones around him to look at him. He puts his head down and takes in slow breaths.
"Hey, are you alright?" He looks up and nods. They smile and go back to listening to the professor. "At least someone likes to pretend." He whispers to himself. That statement made the boy feel a little better. Enough to once again lift up his head and almost smile.
How many times had he walked down these halls? How many times had he saw the same people pass him and never even look at him. Though it was unusual, it was quiet satisfying too. He'd been stared at for most of his life, for one reason or another, and he was never quiet sure why sometimes, but then, most of the time he did do something that caused the stares. He didn't care. Most of what he done was well deserved, or just needed. Especially that for his family. He never really liked his family, but with a family like his, not many would.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair, but never really messing it up.
"Hey Blaise! Wait up!" Someone calls from behind him. It was a... Ravenclaw? He watches as the Ravenclaw runs past him and on down the hall; again, someone who didn't even notice him. What did he care? He should know that no one, not even his house would care anymore. It was inevitable, but again he didn't care. These.... sessions at night had caused what feelings he had to either freeze or disappear completely. All he done anymore was act out his "normal" life with false emotions, and no one noticed. He was thankful. But also, he was saddened. He wanted to talk to someone, but who? Certainly not his friends, and not a Professor. He couldn't go to the nurse. This wasn't a physical injury; the results were, but not the actual problem.
Actually, the boy wasn't even sure if it was a problem. He'd gotten so used to adding new scars to his skin that in a way, he needed it. He needed to feel the pain that was inflicted, both physically and emotionally. And that was enough to scare him.
Harry pressed his back against the chair, sinking deeper into it. He sighs. After the quidditch practice, this was all he felt like doing. Sitting and stareing into the fire at his feet. He lets his thoughts wander. To a specific person, to be exact. Again, he sighs, letting, willing his mind to construct every inch of the other's body, letting them fuse right before his eyes.
But, out of every detail, he worked on constructing their eyes the most. He loved looking into the ashen colored eyes of the perfection that is known as Draco Malfoy. He loved drowning in the fathomless pits that he so often caught watching him, just as he watched Draco.
Harry chuckles at the thought of Draco and him. It would make him so happy; but then, it'd cause over half of the student body to be happy if Draco went out with them. Of course almost all of the female body, which took up a great deal of Hogwarts anyway, and most of the male body.
No one though could deny that he was the sexiest guy around. No one would deny it, not even Draco himself, but that didn't come as a surprise.
What is it that we fear the most? Is it our death? Or someone elses. Maybe it's not existing, or vise versa. For him, it was himself. It was the blood that spilt from his veins every night. It was the words that flowed so easily from his throat that would eventually cause him to break. That would leave him broken for the rest of his life; that would leave him broken for everyone to see. That was what he feared, even as he once again slit open the skin that protected the blood he so feared.
"Not a drop of your blood is cared for. None of it will go noticed by anyone but you. You don't exist anymore. You are but a walking corpse. A damned being taking the place of someone whom no one cared for, and still isn't. No matter how much you bleed, no matter how many tears you shed, you'll be broken. Once broken, twice destroyed, never to be fixed." He whispers, going across his palm and legs again, deeper than before, deeper than he'd ever gone. But he didn't feel it anymore. He didn't feel anything except for the tears that would flow down his face as a sign of his weaknesses. A sign of hopelessness. But for now, the non-existing pain, the flowing blood, and his tears were enough to substain him. For now.
Kid: Hmmm.. Okay, so it doesn't tie in with the song, but it was originally supposed to. As you can tell, it didn't exactly end up like that. Oh well, maybe I'll start another one sometime that actually does tie in with the song. I hope you liked this and all that. Please review this! I don't get many reviews..... Yeah.. Anyway. I'll try to start and actually finish the second chapter not too long after now, but I'll post it a week to a week and a half after this. Kay?
Fuyu: That was sad!! How could you to that to-
Kid: clamps hand over Fuyu's mouth You can't tell! I want them to guess. Oh, btw, when you review tell me who you think it is, and if you have any suggestions for the story, tell me!
Fuyu: passes out from lack of air.
Kid: Oops. Well... Drops Fuyu I guess he misses out.
tbc!!!
Harry Potter.
Rating: PG-13, just in case.
Genre: Angst.
Secondary Genre: Romance/Drama.
Soundtrack to Chapter: Broken: Seether and Amy Lee.
Summary: He's happy. Or content at least. Or so it seems. What happens to him when he's alone? What torture does he put himself through after the life he's had to live? What does he tell himself? Is he all he seems to be, or is he someone else when he's alone?
Kid(6/30/04): Hey. sigh Okay, okay, I know. "There is Only One" should be almost finished by now right? Well, sad to say, but it's not. And even more sad is the fact that I started on the first chapter on 3/22, and finished it about 3/29. And it's past three months later, and I've barely got 1400 words, if that wrote on the second chapter. With that out, I know I shouldn't be starting on another story, but I want to get this out, and finished hopefully. Maybe by the time school starts again, I will have it finished. Heavy sigh Well, Fushigi's ran out of her own ideas, so she pulls me out again. I hope this is..... Okay. Maybe even good. Eh, whatever.
Updates: As I said before There is Only One is on it's second chapter. I still don't have a start on the sequel to Disappearence. Previous events is going no where and I'm thinking of taking it off. I've written a new HP fic called 'Promises'. I'm leaving it a one shot until I get it posted and get a responce, and whether I take it off or add more chapters is up to the reviewers. Anyway, I've also started on a new 'Wolf's Rain' fic, and 'Yugioh' fic, but I'm at a wall with them too. Now, done with updates, on to story:
-
Chapter One: Scars, Blood, and Tears.
Did he always sit like this at the window? Did he always watch the rain, a dead look on his face reflecting in his eyes? No. He couldn't. He didn't; it wasn't this way around his friends. He was content, and maybe even happy. But he betrayed that composure now, with his hair in a clutter on his head, and his knees held close to his chest as he rocked back and forth, muttering to himself. It was wrong, seeing the boy like this. Seeing him in such disarray, and not being able to do a damn thing about it. It wasn't fair, but then it never was.
The boy looks up, searching the room, then he sighs. No, no one was there. There never was, no matter how hard he looked or tried to make himself believe it. It only caused a false hope to swell in his chest, then explode, leaving an even bigger hole in his chest then there was before.
He curles back up, leaning his head against the cool bricks.
"Of course there isn't anyone there. No one cares enough about you to come and find you. The others only put up with you because of who you are. You know that. Why bother telling yourself anything else?" He mutters to himself, and immediantly he begins to rock again. He laughs, making himself shiver, and goosebumps form on his arms and legs. "You're nothing to them. Only a doll. A tool to get what they want. Only a thing that they hardly give recognition to otherwise. Get over yourself! You know that you'll never have any real, true friends. No one will ever love you. You are just a cold, heartless snake." Again he shivers, but this time from the tears now flowing silently and freely down his cheeks.
"No," He whispers in a soft voice. "no, you're wrong! They are my friends! And I'm not cold! I'm not heartless. I'm not a tool." With each statement the boy's already quiet voice becomes more and more hushed until only he could hear it, but only because he was thinking it in unison with his voice. "I'm someone! I have people who love me, who-" His voice catches in his throat, making a sound between a cry and a sob. He laughs at himself. "Is this what you tell yourself everyday before you go into the Great Hall? How could you ever believe that it's true? It's lunacy; it's just an illusion to give yourself the right amount of false will and hope to hold your head up. You aren't wanted. No one could care less if you croaked right now." He nods. "No one would care. I'm nothing." He whispers back to himself. Beside him, he picks up a shard of a mirror he had earlier broken. He looks at his reflection and winces, turning away from the broken eyes, the torn glare that gave no help, no mercy. Ignorant to his actions, he drags the shard of glass across his plam, and onto his bare legs, not stopping until he hit hard ground.
Finally looking down to the fresh cuts, he watches as the blood pools beneth him. He shakes his head. It wasn't enough. Almost. But not enough. So he takes the fragment of the mirror, the edge now covered with blood, and he pulls the point across his chest. He pushes the point in, not stopping. The pain that washed over him kept him safe, kept him alive, one might say.
He stops, looking out the window again, counting the raindrops. He puts the shard back down beside him and cleans up the blood he lost. He takes off his robe and examines the fibers. Yes, the blood had been soaked in, and he'd be questioned if he had someone else do it, so, using a simple spell, the boy erases the blood, leaving it spotless to the naked eye. There would be no proof that he was ever here; that any of this ever happened. No one would know. No one.
"Hey, where were you last night, Harry?" Seamus asks. "I don't remember you ever coming back into the boy's dorm." Harry smiles. He, Seamus, Hermione, and Ron all walked down the halls, conversing between each other. "I went for a walk." He tells the boy simply. Seamus looks at the raven head skeptically. "That was a hell of a long walk, then Harry. Besides, it was raining! You couldn't have went outside." "Yeah, mate. He's right. You were gone for a long time. What could The Boy Who Lived have on his mind that would make him take that long of a walk?" Looking up from her book, Hermione pipes in. "Stop it Ron! If Harry wanted an interrogation, he would have found a Professor. Merlin, I can't believe I forgot to read this chapter!" And she buries her nose into the Potions book yet again. Smirk in place, Harry looks at Ron. He shrugs, saying goodbye to everyone as he reached his class: Divinations.
When Professor Trelawney had been sacked because of Umbrige, Harry had opted to take Divinations yet again, just to see if it was him or the Professor that was going wrong. So far, it'd been him. But luckily, the new Professor hadn't seen any Grims that like to populate his tea leaves so very often. Mostly he'd been able to scrape by without getting called on much this year, which pleased him to no end.
Harry steps into the classroom. He looks around then turns to walk out again. Obviously he was in the wrong class. Divinations never had... Desks! He begins to walk out of the room when-
-Oof! Harry goes head first into someone else, only making himself stumble back a bit, but causing the other to fall, and not too gracefully, Harry noted. He looks down. "Sorry 'bout... that......" He raises an eyebrow. "Malfoy?" Draco looks up at his "attacker", scowling. The Slytherin opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it again. Draco begins trying to get up, which was turning out to be more difficult than it should have been, as he and Harry both realized. Suddenly, a hand is held out in front of him. He looks up at Harry again, confusion showing in his eyes, but he takes it nonetheless and is hoisted up to his feet again easily. Harry offers Draco an apologetic smile and not waiting for one in return, goes to a desk.
Draco's eyes follow the retreating form back to a desk. Had Potter really just helped him up? Yes, he had. And had he just smiled at him? Yes,
he had also done that. Draco's mind wasn't fooling him. He sighs. "What am I doing?" He smirks, then shakes his head. He couldn't think about it right now.
The boy watches him from the corner of his eye, watching every move he made. It was weird, this affixation he felt towards the boy, but who was he to deny that the feeling existed? He had known about them for a year now, but it taken him half of that to stop denying them and realize they weren't going to go away just because he wanted them to. But, like it was said last night, no one is ever going to like, much less love him, so what would the point be? It'd just cause him to hate himself even more and have others know what he really was. That was all.
So, what was he doing watching him like a hawk? Watching him talk to his friends. The other boy would never talk to him, he knew it. They'd been quarreling for far too long for the other to think of him in any way other than that of an enemy. His.... fondness of the boy was one-sided and it always would be. "He has no reason to even look at me, so why do I play with my hope? Why do I keep causing myself more pain than I need?" He whispers. "You're right. He wouldn't look at you. Haven't you noticed every time he looks at you he grimaces?" He laughs, causing the ones around him to look at him. He puts his head down and takes in slow breaths.
"Hey, are you alright?" He looks up and nods. They smile and go back to listening to the professor. "At least someone likes to pretend." He whispers to himself. That statement made the boy feel a little better. Enough to once again lift up his head and almost smile.
How many times had he walked down these halls? How many times had he saw the same people pass him and never even look at him. Though it was unusual, it was quiet satisfying too. He'd been stared at for most of his life, for one reason or another, and he was never quiet sure why sometimes, but then, most of the time he did do something that caused the stares. He didn't care. Most of what he done was well deserved, or just needed. Especially that for his family. He never really liked his family, but with a family like his, not many would.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair, but never really messing it up.
"Hey Blaise! Wait up!" Someone calls from behind him. It was a... Ravenclaw? He watches as the Ravenclaw runs past him and on down the hall; again, someone who didn't even notice him. What did he care? He should know that no one, not even his house would care anymore. It was inevitable, but again he didn't care. These.... sessions at night had caused what feelings he had to either freeze or disappear completely. All he done anymore was act out his "normal" life with false emotions, and no one noticed. He was thankful. But also, he was saddened. He wanted to talk to someone, but who? Certainly not his friends, and not a Professor. He couldn't go to the nurse. This wasn't a physical injury; the results were, but not the actual problem.
Actually, the boy wasn't even sure if it was a problem. He'd gotten so used to adding new scars to his skin that in a way, he needed it. He needed to feel the pain that was inflicted, both physically and emotionally. And that was enough to scare him.
Harry pressed his back against the chair, sinking deeper into it. He sighs. After the quidditch practice, this was all he felt like doing. Sitting and stareing into the fire at his feet. He lets his thoughts wander. To a specific person, to be exact. Again, he sighs, letting, willing his mind to construct every inch of the other's body, letting them fuse right before his eyes.
But, out of every detail, he worked on constructing their eyes the most. He loved looking into the ashen colored eyes of the perfection that is known as Draco Malfoy. He loved drowning in the fathomless pits that he so often caught watching him, just as he watched Draco.
Harry chuckles at the thought of Draco and him. It would make him so happy; but then, it'd cause over half of the student body to be happy if Draco went out with them. Of course almost all of the female body, which took up a great deal of Hogwarts anyway, and most of the male body.
No one though could deny that he was the sexiest guy around. No one would deny it, not even Draco himself, but that didn't come as a surprise.
What is it that we fear the most? Is it our death? Or someone elses. Maybe it's not existing, or vise versa. For him, it was himself. It was the blood that spilt from his veins every night. It was the words that flowed so easily from his throat that would eventually cause him to break. That would leave him broken for the rest of his life; that would leave him broken for everyone to see. That was what he feared, even as he once again slit open the skin that protected the blood he so feared.
"Not a drop of your blood is cared for. None of it will go noticed by anyone but you. You don't exist anymore. You are but a walking corpse. A damned being taking the place of someone whom no one cared for, and still isn't. No matter how much you bleed, no matter how many tears you shed, you'll be broken. Once broken, twice destroyed, never to be fixed." He whispers, going across his palm and legs again, deeper than before, deeper than he'd ever gone. But he didn't feel it anymore. He didn't feel anything except for the tears that would flow down his face as a sign of his weaknesses. A sign of hopelessness. But for now, the non-existing pain, the flowing blood, and his tears were enough to substain him. For now.
Kid: Hmmm.. Okay, so it doesn't tie in with the song, but it was originally supposed to. As you can tell, it didn't exactly end up like that. Oh well, maybe I'll start another one sometime that actually does tie in with the song. I hope you liked this and all that. Please review this! I don't get many reviews..... Yeah.. Anyway. I'll try to start and actually finish the second chapter not too long after now, but I'll post it a week to a week and a half after this. Kay?
Fuyu: That was sad!! How could you to that to-
Kid: clamps hand over Fuyu's mouth You can't tell! I want them to guess. Oh, btw, when you review tell me who you think it is, and if you have any suggestions for the story, tell me!
Fuyu: passes out from lack of air.
Kid: Oops. Well... Drops Fuyu I guess he misses out.
tbc!!!