"Hello Katrina." The girl glared up at the man. She stood up and stalked out of her common room into her bedroom which he was not allowed to enter. She felt perfectly murderous tonight and it was his entire fault.
The man sighed and walked out of the room and stalked off back to his office muttering something about 'female hormones' and how 'she'll cool down later.' He knew he was kidding himself on that front. She was a very fiery young lady.
Everyone thought she was dead. Thought she had died along with her mother when she'd been killed by her 'uncle.' She had been living with her uncle Albus since she could remember. She knew she had her mother and father and twin brother before that. She knew that two of them were still alive, but her uncle kept her here saying it was for the best. He took care of her well enough, but she knew what he did. She knew about his manipulations and his want of power. She knew she lived at Hogwarts. She knew both her father and twin were there too, but he had his ways… he had his ways of making sure they could never meet. She could watch as her brother turned to the knife, cutting his arms, used the quill to write deeply into his own flesh and watched as her brother became more and more depressed. He'd been denied lessons with Dumbledore. She'd watched him ask for Albus to help him when Severus had yelled at him. Dumbledore denied him and told him he hadn't the time. She watched as the glimmer of hope disappeared in his dull eyes. She did that to her brother she knew that much, Albus taught her everything. A strong charm, keeping people from; seeing, hearing, in the case of creatures like werewolves smelling her and in general anyone one feeling her. She was basically a ghost child. She would try to make her brother hear her though. Scream at him to stop him cutting, beg and plead with him. She would cling to him as he sat there. Sometimes he would cry. She always cried. He didn't know she was there but sometimes, just sometimes, she was sure he felt her there… just sometimes…
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I've had thoughts about my cutting lately and I realised I never told my tale of how I started to cut. Well I did in a way, but 'FREAK' was not the first ever cut, merely my first deep cuts, my first was much younger. I first cut in my junior school. Actually in the school after a morning of 'freak hunting' I hid in the art department, under one of the desks in the corner. I was so small no one saw me as lessons came and went a drawing pin rolled beside me. I picked in up. Forgetting I was holding it, I fell asleep but minutes later a woke up with a yelp of pain, luckily the class was loud and hadn't heard me, my hand was bleeding from the stab of this small drawing pin. I pulled the pin across my hand which made them bleed slightly in patterns, it seemed almost to take away my pain and I felt myself become alive. I could feel. I loved it, the pin became my friend, and I took it everywhere, small cuts, small scars which faded away with my past, no one saw them when I came to Hogwarts, they had all faded and gone and with the drawing pin left behind, a small part of me was left with it, until I picked up the knife and pulled it across my flesh and watched as my blood left the cut, the coppery smell intoxicating. God I had missed that feeling, but now I have it back, and I'm sure it won't be leaving me anytime soon.
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Harry, once back in the infirmary, watched Lavender sleep peacefully. She looked small and pale just lying there. Softly her chest rose and fell rhythmically. Harry let the guilt seep into him as he watched her. He looked up at her Hermione who smiled slightly at him and then she looked back at Lavender. Tears fell down Hermione's cheeks, she was trying to put on a brave face but it wasn't really paying off. Harry stood up and walked round to Hermione's side and placed an arm softly around her. She smiled again gratefully before going into huge sobs. They both felt guilty, both felt it was there fault, neither voicing how they felt. Harry knew he shouldn't have left her on her own all that time, he knew she was mad but he knew he should have looked after her during that time, explained sooner. Helped her… She had told him she was ok when he asked, after they had finally become friends again. He'd believed her, so had Hermione. They both felt they should have known better, but neither believed she would ever be this close to death.
Hermione felt it was her fault, she should have expected it. Her guilt worsened as she pictured Lavender's bleeding wrists. It was about a month ago but still the picture was imbedded into her mind. The day Harry had talked to Malfoy and run off, the day she had left Lavender to find Harry, the day with the snowfall of falling paper which never left her mind, the day she had first started falling for Lavender…
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A/n... I don't like it... I think I may be trying to do TOO many things with it? Review and tell me if that's what you think...
Thank you too all my lovely reviewers! And the mean ones who threaten me if I don't write -cries-