Why Should It Matter?

Disclaimer: Don't own it

Read and Review no matter what you think about it.

Thanks you to all that have read it so far :-)

Warning: This fic is extremely dark at the moment and contains cutting and suicidal thoughts. If this makes you uncomfortable, please don't read it. Thanks :-)

Chapter Four: Shadow Talking

The next morning, Harry woke up feeling a stinging pain. His arm ached to the point where it hurt to move it. He cringed as he slowly rolled up his sleeve. The cuts were swollen and bleeding lightly. He sighed loudly, being aware for the first time that he cut himself. However, he didn't regret it. Anytime that he cut, there was a purpose and a reason. Those weren't very clear at the moment, but eventually, Harry would remember why he did it. Slowly rolling down the sleeve, Harry got off of his bed and looked down at his pants. 'Maybe I should change these; we all know that they weren't this bad when I arrived.' Harry walked over to his trunk, changing into a clean pair of pants. He threw the stained pants into the trunk, underneath many of his possessions. Once changed, he decided to venture outside of the room today. Walking around felt weird, as visions of Sirius flew in and out of his head. For some odd reason, Harry had forgotten that this was the house Sirius had stayed in all those months. This made it even harder upon the Gryffindor, who could faintly hear his godfather's voice echoing throughout the hallways. Harry walked near the kitchen to hear Ron and Hermione talking. He decided to listen in before walking in.

"Do you think that he wants to talk to me yet?" Ron asked Hermione. Harry figured it was in reference to him. He wanted to hear Hermione's response to this. He couldn't imagine her not telling Ron to come visit him, even though he didn't really want to be bothered by him.

"I never said that he wouldn't, you must have thought that on your own." Harry definitely sensed uneasiness in Hermione's voice. The dark haired young man continued to listen. He wanted to see if Hermione would really keep her promise.

"Well, has he been acting strangely at all?" Ron inquired.

"No, not at all." Hermione said solidly. Harry smiled to himself knowing that Hermione probably would not say anything that would blow his cover.

"You better not be lying, 'Mione. We both know that he's gone through hell this summer. Anything that signifies trouble should be brought to an adult's attention. Harry's our best mate; we need to help him out." After that, a silence last for a minute or so. Being that anyone could walk up behind Harry, he decided just to enter the kitchen without delaying himself any longer. Both of his fellow Gryffindors looked like they had seen a ghost which caused Harry to smile slightly.

"Good morning, Hermione and Ron." Harry said, sitting down beside Hermione. She beamed at him, her brown eyes dazzling in the early day sunlight. Seeing her glee, gave him a pang of guilt, something that he couldn't easily describe.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Hermione asked Harry eagerly. She was so happy that he finally decided to leave that bedroom. 'He's going to be alright, I can feel it.'

"Fine. I'm little tired, though." Harry smiled at both his friend again.

"Sorry for not coming to see you yet, mate." Ron threw in before Hermione could open her mouth again. "I just thought that maybe you didn't want to see me or something."

Harry continued to smile, but thought bitterly in his head. 'Yeah I didn't, but I'll be nice and say, 'you should have'.' "I wouldn't have minded it, but most of the time I was sleeping. The other time, Hermione was there, bugging me."

Hermione scoffed, "Didn't seem like you hated it."

"It was pure hell," the trio laughed. With everything that had gone on through the past few months, it felt good to laugh.

XXXXXX

Harry spent most of his time with Ron and Hermione that day, making sure that his sleeve stayed down the entire time. But as dark approached, he snuck back into the dark room to evade his mind with the pleasure of his blade. Even as the trio laughed and spoke of sixth year, the urge grew to a tremendous size for the Boy-Who-Lived. Lying in his bed, he stared blankly upon a spot on the ceiling. The candlelight was again tonight creating soft shadows that reflected his emotions. Each existed as dark spots that moved when they pleased. His heart raced as he lifted the blade, letting it capture the dancing fire. Pulling up the right sleeve of his shirt, Harry exposed the arm without injury. The other hurt too deeply to add more painful slashes. He stared fixated upon his arm. No scars or imperfections laid upon it, he always cut on his left arm. He slowly raised the blade, feeling all of his anger, sadness, and hatred built up behind him. Pressing against his right forearm, the cool feeling quickly faded as the blood mingled upon the dagger, making it instantly warmer. The gash bled heavily, more so than the others. He watched the blood run down his arm, feeling tears arise within his dulling eyes.

"What's wrong with me?" Harry asked himself quietly as he shook with quivering sobs. For some reason, he couldn't understand why he couldn't suddenly control his urges to cut himself or why he thought about it constantly. Quickly walking over to his trunk, Harry pulled out one of Vernon's large black socks. He wrapped the sock around the deep wound, giving it compression. His tears continued to flow as he collapsed upon his bed. The shadows on the wall were now distorted and were all visions of people that hated him. All started to encircle him and he was a hopeless case. Nothing could prevent them from snatching him away from the bedroom.

"Worthless freak!" The voice of his uncle called through his mind or was it through the bedroom? Harry trembled with fright and anger. He closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and prayed everything would go away.

"You're dead, Potter." Draco Malfoy's voice became loud and clear. Harry opened his eyes to see a shadow formed as the Slytherin Prince. Voldemort and LeStrange were there as well. Feeling so worthless, Harry threw his hands over his face, trying to block out the images before him.

"Go away!" He whispered furiously. "Leave me alone!" His breath was ragged and sweat poured from his forehead. The urge to throw up became greater with each word spoken by the shadow people. "Go away! Go away! Go away! Go away! . . ." Harry continued to whisper until he finally passed out, still crying and still very much confused.

AN: Here's the new chapter... read and review

sweetfrv