Warning:
This chapter has a scene of self-harm but lets face it: you probably all knew it would happen at some point. I just thought I'd give you all a heads up.


Harry walked slowly over the rocks, a lit cigarette already between his fingers. He brought it to his lips, inhaling deeply as he trod carefully on the snow covered rock. It was the first time since last night that the snow had actually stopped falling, clouds dispersing to reveal a gradually waning moon. He blew the smoke out and stepped through the mist it created.

As he reached the edge of the rocks, Harry took a final draw of tobacco before flicking the cigarette into the lake. He rummaged around inside his robes for his wand, exhaling the smoke as he did so. His fingers clasped around the wood, pulling it out and casting a charm over the snow.

It melted as if on fast forward, leaving clean, dry rock behind for Harry to sit down on. As he lowered himself, he stuffed his wand back inside his robes and pulled out his cigarette packet and sat it beside him.

Harry sighed as he propped his elbows up on his knees and held his chin in his hands. He'd successfully avoided so much as looking at Draco the whole day. Harry had never noticed before how much the blonde's very presence affected him. He reached round and picked up the cardboard packet. Opening it, he extracted his lighter from inside and brought out a cigarette.

He placed it between his chapped lips, flicking open the lighter and bringing the flame to his face. The cigarette lit and Harry took a long drag, setting the lighter back down. Harry took the cigarette between his thumb and index finger, taking it from his mouth to exhale.

Harry had forgotten what it was like to go a whole day without speaking to anyone, Draco was the only person he had any more. If the familiar crunching of feet behind him were to sound then every thing would be fine. Only time would tell.

He put his cigarette in his mouth as he leant backwards slightly to look up at the night sky through the parted clouds. Quickly his eyes locked onto the Sirius star and he gave a small smile as he blew out the smoke. Harry had been looking through an old astronomy book earlier that day as he sat on his bed in order to avoid seeing Draco. As he searched over the star map for Ursa Major, there next to it stood out another constellation.

The constellation Draco. Harry had never noticed it before but it seemed significant now.

Harry sighed and sat up, holding his cigarette in place between his lips as his hands groped inside either pocket of his jeans. He gripped his prize, feeling it dig into his palm slightly as he pulled it out.

Bringing his left hand up to take out the cigarette, he sat the contents of his right hand on his thigh. The smoke curled up through the cold night air as Harry exhaled. He flicked his second cigarette stub of the evening into the lake, watching the moisture seep through it slowly then becoming heavy and sinking.

He took the blade from his thigh and held it up before his face. It was a dull metal, except for the actual sharpened edge that glinted even in the dim light from the castle. Harry ran his finger lightly over the sharp edge and then up the side, the tip of his finger dipping into the groove.

Harry ran his finger of the flat face of the blade, skin catching on the hole in a strangely loving caress.

It had been awhile.

He wasn't quite sure why but it had been a good few weeks since he had indulged. Even last night as he had returned to his room, the taste of tears and Draco still on his lips, he had completely ignored the possibility of going into his trunk and taking out the thing that had been his comfort for so long.

Being the Christmas holidays, the castle was almost completely void of students. This unfortunately meant that he would be easily missed at lunch and dinner. Not breakfast though, he rarely showed up to that on a normal day.

Harry had lain awake most of the night, reliving the kiss. Draco's lips had been so soft on his, gentle in a way that would never normally be associated with the snarky Slytherin. Then, of course, there was the feeling of Draco ripping himself away, the hurt and frustration at having another person leave him.

He began to experience a familiar itching on his left forearm. It wasn't a real itch, well at least he didn't think it was. Harry liked to play a game with himself, much similar to trying to resist the lure of his cigarettes. He would wait and wait, trying to out last the itch, figuring that perhaps one day he would be able to win.

Perhaps tonight would be that time.

When Harry had finally fallen asleep the edges of the horizon could be seen to be glowing fractionally, a promising pale yellow light that injected the hope of the end of the continual snow fall. It hadn't been until twelve hours later that the last flake had fallen.

His sleep was troubled by a dream that he was sure he didn't want interpreted. He had been standing on the edge of the lake, only the cliff was too high. He could feel his mouth drying with thirst so he reached with both hands to scoop up the water. The closer he brought his hands to his mouth the quicker the water drained through his fingers. Frustrated and desperate, Harry had reached again only to find that the cliff was even higher and he couldn't reach the water.

He heard a voice beside him and turned to see Draco with a cigarette between his fingers. Harry could see Draco's mouth moving but couldn't make out the words. As he had turned to stand by Draco the cliff gave way and he was falling.

Falling to the dark, stormy water beneath all the while trying to make out what Draco was telling him. He'd awoken with a start, cold sweat on his forehead and his entire body trembling. After calming down, Harry had rolled onto his stomach and drifted off once more, this time unable to remember what he had dreamt.

Harry was pulled from his reminiscing when he heard snow crunching at the end of the rocks. He turned round quickly, almost dropping the razor blade in the process. Pushing his hair from where it was flopping into his eyes, Harry squinted up the rock path for the easily identifiable head of blond hair.

There was nothing there.

Harry groaned and turned back round to look over the lake. He could have sworn he had heard Draco. Perhaps he was loosing his mind. He snorted sardonically, no one would be surprised if he did end up locked away in some corner of St. Mungo's. No one would really care either.

He sat down his razor blade as he picked up his lighter and cigarette packet. He extracted one and lit it quickly, taking a long drag as he squashed the lighter back into the packet and dropped it unceremoniously to the rock. Exhaling the smoke, Harry rubbed his eyes and, cupping his left cheek in his hand, leant heavily on his elbow.

He took another drag, bringing his head back up and shaking his arm so the sleeve of his robes fell down to his elbow. He exhaled and pulled down the sleeve of his jumper to reveal the scarred flesh of his forearm.

Most of the skin was covered in pink scars that were slowly turning to silver. Even the most recent ones were only lines of dark pink. Yes, it had definitely been awhile. Harry looked at his watch, simply staring at the second hand as it ticked round the dark green face. Draco was late.


I wasn't aware that there was a set time arranged

Harry could hear Draco's words from all those months ago, smiling slightly at the now bittersweet memory. There wasn't a set time, it was true and Harry knew it. Unfortunately, he would have to face the fact that was glaring him the face.

Draco wasn't coming tonight.

Harry took a last drag of the cigarette and tossed it into the lake to meet it's predecessors. He blew the smoke out slowly as he picked his razor blade back up.

He lay his left arm over his thigh, forearm facing upwards. He pressed the blade into a patch of skin about half way up his arm. Harry held it in place, wondering how long he could last before pushing it in and dragging it down the length of his arm. From this vantage point Harry could watch the slim silver of his watches second hand ticking slowly.

Ten seconds, he was resisting fine.

Fifteen, the itch was growing.

Twenty-five, he could feel his control wavering.

Thirty, Harry began to press the blade in.

Forty-five, he snapped.

He pushed the blade in harder and dragged it slowly up his arm. The skin began to split open in its wake. Harry pressed slightly harder again as the blade reached the thicker skin nearer the top of his forearm. He winced slightly when he finally brought the blade away.

He watched, fascinated, as the blood trickled slowly from the wound. Droplets pooled where the cut was deeper than it was in other places, some of them breaking free and sliding slowly down his arm. Harry could feel the rush of endorphins that he had missed for so long without even knowing.

Somewhere, he thought he heard the crunching of feet once more.

There wasn't anything before that gave him the same rush to his head. He placed his right hand over the cut, the gradually congealing blood beginning to feel sticky beneath his fingers.

Again he thought he heard crunching but then it stopped. Harry sighed, he knew he was imagining it, but that didn't mean he wasn't disappointed.

As the dull throb of the cut ebbed and he came back to himself, Harry had the distinct feeling that he was being watched. An eerie prickling on the back of his neck made his back stiffen.

The crunching sounded again, only this time it was louder and retreating. Harry's head snapped round only to catch a sight of billowing black robes and fluttering blond hair as a form rushed back up towards the castle.

Harry stood up swiftly, all the blood rushing to his head and causing his footing to shake a little. He took a step forward but there was no use.

"Draco...?" His voice sounded quiet and hoarse, a spec of nothing that was lost on a growing, frozen wind.

He turned back to the water, the corners of his eyes stinging with warmth. The blade was still clasped between his thumb and index finger.

In a fit of sheer frustration he tossed it down angrily, hearing it bounce off the rocks and land in the water with a small splash.

As he dropped back to the rocks and pulled his knees up beneath his chin, Harry felt the bizarre urge to follow the razor blade beneath the surface of the bone chilling water.


Notes: The next chapter will probably be out quicker than this one was. It will be the final chapter and as sad as I will be to finish I am most excited about the next chapter! Oh and if anyone does actually want to know what Harry's dream meant feel free to mail and ask although it isn't particularly vital. Now since Ash seemed to freak out at the notion of only one more chapter I will tell you all now that if any body is interested I am planning on writing a sequel.