Chapter Nine - Who I Am And Who I Ought To Be

Days passed and Christmas was approaching at full speed, and Harry finally noticed that Ron and Hermione seemed to be distant. Not only from him, but also from each other. The euphoria from his latest romp with Draco has worn off and Harry was no plummeting back down into the world of the living, and into the prospect of facing a new problem. Ron seemed to twinge every time Hermione reached across him to grab a roll at dinner, and Hermione seemed eager to change the subject once it fell upon her. Harry decided it was time to investigate.

"What's up with you two?" he asked, eyeing them suspiciously one night in the common room as Hermione had went to pull Ron's essay towards her for proofreading, and Ron jumped so bad his ink bottle flew off the table and onto Crookshanks, who was sleeping below. Harry watched in horror, but slight amusement as Crookshanks sunk his claws into Ron's leg and clawed his way up his leg, Ron jumping from his chair and flailing madly. Hermione bent over and grabbed Crookshanks around his middle, but was greeted with flying claws. Crookshanks claws caught her hand, and she pulled back, gasping. Shining red streaks appeared on her hand, and she examined her hand, gingerly running a finger over the scratches. Ron finally pried the mad animal loose from his leg, and rushed to Hermione's side. He looked down at her hand, his eyes glazing over, as Hermione bustled on.
"It's nothing, Crookshanks does this all the time. It's no big deal." she smiled at Harry who returned it with a nod, then turned to Ron. Ron was still staring at her hand, then his eyes travelled up her arm and he took in a breath. He shot his gaze to Hermione's face, and she scoffed. "Honestly, Ron!" With that Hermione hurried up to the girls dorms, slamming the door behind her. Ron carefully picked up the ink bottle and threw it onto the table. Harry watched knocked for six at what had just happened, as Ron slowly made his way over to the chairs beside the fire, and slumped down into them. He stared into the fire, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening. Harry shook his head and watched Ron carefully.

"What was that about?" Harry asked, emphasizing the word "that". Ron didn't asnwer, but merely shrugged and kept staring into the fire. "You know, if you do that for too long, you're eyeballs will dry out and shrivel up…"

"She cuts herself." Ron said in a monotonous voice. Harry stopped breathing for a second. What was this all about? He was sure he hadn't heard Ron properly.

"What-"

"She. Cuts. Herself. With a razor. And God knows what else." Ron said, finally looking over to Harry. Harry's mouth had dropped open and he was gaping helplessly at Ron. Ron sighed and looked back into the fire.

"How do you kn-"

"I saw her. Her and Malfoy, in the Room of Requirement. That's where she's been all this time. If you haven't noticed." He rolled his eyes at this and sighed again. Harry closed his mouth angrily and furrowed his brow.

"What the hell is that suppo-"
"You know exactly what I me-"

"WILL YOU STOP CUTTING ME OFF FOR GODS SAKES!" Harry bellowed, and Ron closed his own mouth, looking down at the threadbare rug. Harry huffed, and sat back into his chair. It was true that he hadn't been spending as much time with Hermione and Ron as usual. His time was mostly filled with thoughts of Draco. And…visits…with Draco. He had found the boy irresistible after the first day with him, and also found himself going back for more. The last time was the night before, when he had crept out of his bed in the middle of the night with the invisibility cloak (which he found strewn across his bed, for some odd reason. "Why the hell is this here?" he wondered aloud, as he threw back his sheets. Ron, who was sitting on his bed across from Harry's turned red and pulled the covers over his own head, shutting the sheets around him tightly.). He had found Draco milling about the Prefects bathroom, in which Harry had once been himself. The large swimming pool sized bathtub was still there, as was the portrait of the primping mermaid who, that night, got more than a free show.

Draco was sitting with his feet dangling into the half empty bath, the taps running softly and fragrant bubble bath also poured from the silver spouts, as the door creaked open. Harry slowly snuck in, stopping only once as Draco turned his head slightly at the echoing noise Harry's shoe made. Harry held his breath and smiled slightly as Draco returned to his daydreaming. Harry made his way towards Draco and slowly slid his hand over his shoulder, and down his chest. Draco gasped slightly, turning sharply. His lips met a pair of familiar ones, Harry's cloak had slid down around his waist. Draco smiled into Harry's, who's hands moved down to Draco's waist. Not a word was spoken as Harry tumbled gracelessly onto the ceramic tiled floor, and Draco literally jumped on top of him. Draco growled low into his throat, which brought a giggle from Harry. Draco kissed him passionately again.

"Mmm…I knew you'd find me." Draco purred between kisses.

"Well, you gave me directions."

"Mmm…" was Draco's response as he slid his hands under Harry's shirt, pulling it over his head. Harry did the same, their lips only parting when Draco's shirt passed between them. Harry's heart was racing again, the old feeling coming back. He had waited for this moment, it was like a high he kept craving. And every time he got his fix, he was always craving more. He felt nothing towards the boy on top of him, the one unbuttoning his pants, the one sliding his hands down his boxer shorts. Harry felt nothing that Draco did, as he threw back his head and groaned, Draco licking his lips and lowering his head towards Harry's chest. Harry cracked one eye open, to see the mermaid blushing furiously. He smirked and ran his fingers through Draco's hair as the blonde head slowly kissed lower and lower until he reached his destination.

The echoing room proved difficult to keep quiet in. If someone had walked in, they would've heard Harry before they saw the two boys, half naked, sprawled across the floor. They would've smelled the bubble bath that was slowly filling the pool with pink bubbles. They both ended up into the bath, Harry's head resting upon the floor behind him as he floated in the water. Draco swam from one end of the pool to the other, and ended up beside Harry, sloshing water as his arms wrapped around Harry's neck. Harry smiled slightly, and looked over to him. He felt nothing. He felt nothing. He kept trying to remind himself that this, this was exploiting. Harry had finally put a name to his emotion. This was a new emotion, it wasn't love, it wasn't feeling anything towards Draco. It was lust, driven by lust for self-gain. He felt no remorse as Draco snuggled his face into Harry's neck, knowing that if this boy were to ever find out, it'd hurt him badly. Harry was half expecting that outcome. What he never expected was,

"What're those?" he asked, peering over to Draco's arms. Draco looked up at Harry, then to where he was staring. He sighed and dropped his eyes to the pink bubbles collecting around his chest. Harry took his arm, and pulled it close to his face. Bright red lines were vibrant and contrastive against the lily-white skin of the boy next to him. Harry felt a lump in his throat. "Draco?" his voice, to Harry's surprise and horror, had a twinge of hurt in it, a twinge of caring, of hysteria. He was worried.

"It's…God…I've never had a hard time telling anyone this…" Draco pulled his arm away and leaned against the side of the pool. "I'm a self-mutilator, Harry."

"You're a cutter?" Harry asked, bluntly. Draco winced. Ever since he started he hated the word. It was dirty, it was harsh, it was real, and raw. It tasted like dirt every time the words escaped his own lips, is seared like flames every time the word met his own ears. He was more comfortable with it now, though he wouldn't admit that inside he still cringed every time the word was used. Hearing Harry say these words made it ten times worse. Harry saw this small motion, and put a hand on Draco's arm, pulling it up through the water again. He took a good look at it, then slowly ran a finger over the longest cut. Draco winced slightly, and Harry quickly pulled his finger away. "Does it hurt?" Draco shook his head slightly, and Harry, gazing down at his arm again, softly kissed his scars. This was the first jolt Harry had gotten, his stomach plummeting into darkness and his heart leaping into his throat. It was the first of many feelings to come that he had towards Draco. It was unnerving.

Harry snapped out of his daze, and looked back to Ron, who was frowning deeply. The rest of the night was spent with Harry coaxing Ron into telling him what had happened. Ron retold his story, and the two boys sat, in silence, each thinking his own thoughts. Only when Harry looked over to Ron to find him with his chin on his hand, drooling over his sleeve did he shake him gently and they both traipsed up to bed. Not five minutes later, Hermione had snuck down from the girls room, unaware at how close she was to being found by Harry and Ron. She tip-toed to the portrait door and slipped out quietly. The Fat Lady snorted and gave Hermione an angry look as she passed, and Hermione made her way down the dark stairways to the Room of Requirement. She paced along the hallway, stopping when the dark black door materialized, the shining cast-iron handle gleaming in a soft candlelight. She pushed open the door, finding it empty. Sighing, Hermione walked slowly over to the bed, the door closing loudly behind her, making her jump. She dropped down onto the bed, the smell of incense greeting her nostrils. She flashed back to the night before, when she had met with Draco again, reliving the tale that Ron had just told Harry, only from her side.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" Draco asked. He was sitting leisurely in a large red velvet chair, whilst Hermione lay on the bed, her shirt pulled up so that it lay over her chest, her stomach exposed. A shining razor lay on her abdomen, the candlelight casting shadows across Draco's face as he watched Hermione's hand slowly make it's way up to it. She took in a breath and nodded. "Love, there are other places. Weasley checks your arms now, you say? What a git…wait." He said, a bit louder, as Hermione picked up the razor. Draco moved gracefully from his perch on the chair to the beside, slowly looking Hermione over. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, and Hermione shot him an annoyed look. Draco shrugged. "It is. Look, move your hand." Hermione did so, patiently. She had learned to listen to what Draco had to say, and though sometimes she didn't agree or understand it, he was intriguing. "Are you sure you want this, love?" he asked in a low voice. Hermione was startled by the sombre tone he had, his eyes not meeting hers. She sighed, and put a hand to her face.

"I can't do it on my arms anymore, you know that." she said quietly. Draco clucked his tongue, and she shot him an angry glance.

"Oh who gives a rats ass what Ron thinks? Who cares what they all think…" he drifted off, staring blankly at the velvet cushions that were strewn over the bed. Hermione peered curiously into his face. He shook his head slightly and sighed. "All I'm saying is that, love, it's like…well…a disease. If you spread it, if it spreads, it could go out of control. Then you won't be able to stop. It'll consume you. Are you willing to give up everything?" he glanced up at her, and smiled at the frightened look on her face. "Not so much like me as you think you are, are you?"

Draco got up slowly, and walked to the door.
"I'll give you time, love. Think about it. Is it worth it? Hiding isn't going to make things any better. If Ron's got such a problem, let him deal with it." And with that, Draco opened the door quietly and left Hermione lying on the bed, alone. He stopped when he heard her stifle a sob.

Now Hermione sat on the large bed, automatically putting a hand to her stomach. She had gone against his wishes, and now Hermione felt jolts of pain whenever she moved. Pulling the pillow beside her up to her chest, she placed her head on it and closed her eyes, wondering where Draco was at this moment.

Draco was thinking of Hermione as well as he made his way down to the dungeons, humming lightly to himself. He stepped down into the cold halls before the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and slowed his pace. His ears picked up a small sound, and his foot that he had lifted to take a step stopped in the air. He listened carefully for a moment, then spun around, only to be face to face with,

"Father…" he breathed, looking to the ground, smirking. "I thought you were.."

"Someone else?" his father whispered, and Draco looked up at him, wondering why his tone was no more than a hiss. His father's eyes were gleaming, though no light was near them, the only torch behind him in the landing above.
"Father?" Draco said, unnerved by the deadly sound in his father's voice. "What's this about-"

"Perhaps your faggot of a lover? Potter? Hmm?" Lucius took a step forward, his black dragon-hide boots making a soft thud, his robs swishing slightly in the cold air. Draco took a step back as his father advanced slowly.

"Dad, what? No, no Father…" Draco said, his voice cracking slightly, cowering, tripping over his own robes as he was backed into a corner.

"I cannot, and will not, tolerate this in my family, Draco. You know this. It's not normal. It's sick, it's disgusting."
"No, no no!" Draco shook his head, tears sliding down his face. His fathers hand shot out and grabbed Draco by the chin, pulling his face up to look at him.
"You're sick, and unnatural. I should've known. Luckily, Mr. Zabini's father, Cortez, informed me. We need to fix this, don't we, Draco? Don't we-"
"I love him, Father!" Draco closed his eyes tight, and Lucius stopped his advance on his son. His eyes narrowed. Suddenly, Draco felt himself being hit rapidly and repeatedly with Lucius's wand. His skin tore, his flesh singed, and he was left in a sobbing heap on the floor. A foot connected with his stomach, and he heard a rib crack loudly. The breath escaped him instantly, and he gasped for air, clutching his chest. Lucius looked down at the beaten boy, and spit on him.
"I have no son." he said quietly. He then walked away from the quivering mass that was Draco. As the footsteps died away, Draco pushed himself up, shuddering and sobbing, cradling his arm and breathing raggedly. He tried to get to his feet, and his feet slipped on the stone floor, and he landed on his back again. He let out a gasp of pain, and a shout of anger, until he finally hoisted himself up, and hobbled out of the hall.

It took longer than usual to get to the Room, and Draco nearly collapsed as he slid along the wall to the door, which appeared instantly and the door burst open, magically. His fingers slowly met the doorframe, and curled around it, pulling his body towards the opening. Inside, a curious but frightened looking Hermione sat, her legs curled into her chest, on the bed. Her eyes widened as she watched Draco literally drag himself into the room. She jumped from the bed and went to grab his shoulder as his limp body onto the ground. A groan escaped his lips, and Hermione gasped.

"Oh my God, Draco, what happened? Who did this?" Hermione's voice got higher as she looked frantically around the room, Draco slung over one of her arms. She finally got him pulled over to the bed, and she propped him up beside it, his back leaning against the frame. Draco took another gasping breath, and Hermione covered her mouth, sitting down beside him, her eyes still wide and shocked.
"He knows…my father, he knows." Draco finally gasped out, clutching his chest, which was barely rising. Hermione shook her head.
"Knows? About what? You're father did this to you?"
"Harry," Draco sobbed, tears running thickly down his face, "oh God, Harry…" Hermione suddenly had a look of realization on her face. After a moment, Draco regained his breath, and Hermione sat silently beside him. She jumped slightly when Draco stood, on his own, and walked slowly over to the door, which was still wide open. He grasped the handle and shut it, the sound loud, and empty. Hermione looked up at him, his back was to her. She got a chill down her spine, and stood up.
"Draco?" she said quietly. Draco didn't move. She took one step towards him, and suddenly he turned around. Hermione put a hand to her chest and breathed out, shaking slightly. "Are you alright?" she said slowly, but he didn't look at her. He merely stared at the floor. "Draco? Come on, you're freaking me out." No response. She took another step towards him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Draco, are you-"
Without warning, Draco had grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand off him. Hermione looked in horror as he raised his face to look at her, his eyes no longer leaking tears, but were puffy and bloodshot. He pushed her backwards so that she fell onto the bed, but slid off the smooth velvet blanket and onto the hardwood floor with a loud thud. Hermione whimpered as she hit the floor, and made a move to get up, but Draco had straddled her and held her pinned to the side of the bed, as he was just moments ago. Hermione gasped and looked, terrified, into his face again. Wild hurt and mayhem was in his eyes, but also, maniacal determination. Hermione's own eyes were now filling with tears, as Draco's grip became tighter and tighter whenever she squirmed to get away. She couldn't seem to get words out of her mouth, but she tried relentlessly to get away, eventually knocking Draco off her, with a loud cry. She scrambled desperately, her fingernails scratching along the wooden floor as Draco grabbed her leg and pulled her towards him, turning her to face him in the process. Her head hit the floor with a loud crack, and she cried out in pain, sobbing gently as Draco's hand reached around her throat, the other moving down towards her pants. In that moment, Hermione knew what he was about to do. Only seconds later, did she know why.
"Draco STOP! No! NO! Stop! Stop, please…" she sobbed out, struggling to keep Draco's hands away from her, the boy advancing with unusual strength and power. "…please! God PLEASE! Draco, PLEASE stop! PLEASE…stop! Please…please…" she sobbed quietly into her hands, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Is this what you WANT! IS THIS WHO I SHOULD BE!" Draco screamed out, but Hermione knew it was not to her. She tried one last time and kicked out, hard, and felt her foot hit his chest, knocking him backward into a small table that held a few books and a lamp. The books toppled onto the ground and the lamp crashed, the pieces scattering and making tinkling sounds along the floor. Her eyes still closed, Hermione dreaded the next attack, but when she felt nothing, she slowly, cautiously, took her hands away from her face. She only heard deep breathing coming from the direction of the table. Slowly, Hermione sat herself up, wincing slightly and placing a hand on the back of her head. Her gaze drifted over to Draco, who sat, his back to the wall, staring at Hermione. He furrowed his brow deeply, and screwed up his face. Hermione backed up from him, her breathing ragged and laboured. She watched as Draco looked from her to the ground, then to his own hands. Tears welled in his eyes and fell down the flushed cheeks which were now draining of their colour and into a sickly white. He cried gently into his hands, curling up into a ball. Hermione hesitated, then slowly slid over to him. They sat, Draco still wrapped in a tight fetal-position, Hermione slowly putting a hand on his back, which was jumping and twitching from his uncontrollable sobs. She slowly bent lower, and placed her head on his, and her own tears rolled gently down the blonde head.