Something about the idea of suicide had always appealed to Harry. It wasn't that he wanted to kill himself. It was something about the intensity of the feeling that would prompt it. The thought that everything seemed so bad that you were caught in your own world and overwhelmed to the point of taking your own life fascinated him. He had been threatened by death for so long that it didn't scare him. He wanted to think that there would be something for him after it all, but if not, what could he do about it? Nothing. Death was final. There was no uncertainty in it.

He'd seen a movie over the summer called Drift. The movie hadn't been fantastic, but one scene had stuck with him. It's the morning after and these two writers are talking about life. The one is lost because he wants to find someone he care share the world he lives in with. The other tells him that that is what being a writer is about: sharing your world with everyone. They talk about the difference between themselves and psychopaths and once again the other writer speaks. He says that the difference is that a writer controls himself and no matter what he writes, he doesn't do it. They go on to talk about suicide and they tell each other how they would kill themselves. The one says he would like to jump off a skyscraper because he's always wondered what that would feel like. The other says that he would like to die with his soul mate in a double suicide. They would slit their wrists and make love in their own blood. The power of that image made Harry speechless. The dark romanticism of it was perfect.

The oddest part of it all was that Harry didn't particularly want to die. Perhaps, a small piece of him did want to, but not enough to make him kill himself. He wasn't really unhappy. The only way he could understand his affinity for suicide was that he was attracted to the depth of feeling, a love so strong that two people would want to die together. He couldn't begin to imagine it.

Sometimes, Harry just felt like he needed a good mind fuck. He needed his thoughts shaken up a little and some disturbing ones added to his mind's mundane routine. Usually, he'd rent a movie like Donnie Darko and watch it with the disposition to believe, but he couldn't when he was at Hogwarts. He missed the feeling movies like that gave him. He liked the fear that he felt and the intrigue. The twisted beliefs of the characters and the insanity they portrayed were confusing. Movies like that made him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. They made him question things and he liked it.

He supposed that he was attracted to Draco, the other night, for the same reasons. Draco had surprised him the night of the Slytherin party. He had confused him. And Harry had enjoyed doing the same to the blonde boy. He had kissed him just for the hell of it. The only problem was that the plan had backfired slightly. He had enjoyed the kiss more than he had expected to and now he supposed that he was experiencing a mind fuck as intense as the one he had tried to give Draco.

Oh well, that's what made his life interesting after all.

"Harry!"

Oh shit. It was Ginny.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about the other night. I was being insecure and stupid. I should have listened to you, but you shouldn't have exploded like that. Friends are supposed to be able to talk to each other. I thought you were my friend."

God, he hated Ginny sometimes.

"Thanks, I'm sorry. I was an ass. It had just been a tough week." Like every other week, really.

"It's ok. I asked Neville out. He said yes."

"Great."

"Anyway, I have to go. I just wanted to clear the air between us."

"Ok, bye, Ginny."

Harry knew he should have been a little more caring about all of that, but he found it hard to be. He didn't want to talk about his feelings and solve every issue they had. He didn't want to deal with the fact that she obviously still had a crush on him. He didn't want to tell her that he found her a bit immature. He just wanted to continue their stupid charade and get by pretending to be the same old Harry.

He also didn't want to say sorry. He wasn't sorry. He would have done the same thing again. He didn't want to deal with all these people. He only did it so that he wouldn't have to spend his free time in Dumbledore's office being questioned about his health and all that stupid shit. He used them, just like knew they used him at times. Ron used the angle of being Harry Potter's best friend whenever he could to get special treatment. He liked to speak for Harry and generally parade around that he was friends with someone famous. Hermione liked to use her status as Harry's friend to make herself seem cooler. Ginny did the same with her friends, not only was she friends with Harry Potter, but he was older than she was. He knew they genuinely cared about him. He couldn't say that they were only using him. He could, however, say that using him was a nice perk of being his friend.

He hadn't seen Draco since their kiss and now it was time for potions. He found himself looking forward to it, but he didn't know why. He knew that nothing would happen; both he and the blonde had too much control over their masks for anything to slip. He just wondered if maybe he'd be able to see a tiny sign that the blonde wasn't composed as he looked. He hoped he would because then he'd have the fun of seducing Draco Malfoy. He was sure the blonde would be a challenge as opposed to the others that fell down at his feet. Not to mention, he'd be a great fuck.

On principle, Harry only fucked Slytherins and Ravenclaws. He knew they would never tell his house. He also knew that Hufflepuffs would just be clingy and think that sex meant a relationship. And of course, he couldn't sleep with a member of his own house, unless of course they'd already graduated. He really favored Slytherins though. They had no problem with his fuck them and leave them philosophy. They also tended to be a little kinkier and definitely like it rougher. Harry didn't want any of that hold me all night, kiss me a million times and tell me you love me sex. He just wanted to fuck someone and fall asleep with another body in the bed, a body that would either be gone with he woke up or present no objections when he left.

Sitting down, he glanced at the seat the blonde normally occupied, but it was empty. It was then that he felt someone sit down next to him, someone that wasn't Ron.

He turned his head slightly and looked through his fridge to find the very boy in question next to him. He didn't say anything.

An hour into the lecture, a paper was slid under Harry's hand.

Going to the party tonight?

Harry picked up his quill.

No.

Why?

Blaise drank too much last time and I didn't get what I came for.

And what was that?

Really, Malfoy, I know you aren't innocent and I've already told you. We have to stop playing this game.

I wasn't suggesting you go with Blaise.

Who, then?

No one. I'll put you on the list so you can go.

Why?

You made a great wall decoration last time.

Ha.

You coming?

You put me on the list and you can find out tonight.

Seems like Slytherin is rubbing off on you, Potter.

Doesn't have to rub off. I was almost in Slytherin.

What?

Harry didn't answer. He was too busy putting his things back in his bag. Snape had just dismissed class and he had the perfect excuse to leave Draco with more questions than answer again.