Dying to Stay Alive- Chapter Two
Author's Note: Bwah hahaha! Here's chapter two. Oh… and apparently, Simple Plan is Canadian. I did not know that. Cool. Thanks for that X-X x0 EVIL POKER 0x X-X. That's freakin' sweet. See folks? You learn something new every day! forever an optimist, though you'd never guess from her style of writing… Again, thanks, and srry for anybody who was irked by it. My bad!
A/N2: Thank you soooo much to all of my reviewers! Oh man- you have no idea how happy you've all made me! A lot of people don't like Simple Plan… I just found that out. Lol. Anyway… I never wanted the reviews to end! They were just soooooo great! Keep them coming!
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Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table, still seething with anger. It seemed the he thought about what Draco had said, the more sense it made, and the angrier he became. He hated that the person he had always despised seemed to be able to read him so easily. He didn't even hear the Sorting or Dumbledore's welcome speech: he was too involved in his own thoughts.
"Harry, are you feeling okay?" Seamus asked.
"Hmm? Yeah- fine, why do you ask?" he replied.
"You're being so quiet…" the Irishman trailed off, uncertainly.
"And you look right ticked," Dean finished, smiling sweetly.
"Yes, well, I got some rather startling news a bit ago," Harry said.
"Good or bad?" Seamus asked.
"It depends on how you look at it," Harry replied.
"Could you be any more vague?" Ron said, rolling his eyes.
"So, Harry, how was your summer?" Neville asked.
"It was fine," Harry said quickly, earning him a queer look from his companions.
Hermione and Ron both knew that something had happened at Privet Dr. that he wasn't telling them. He'd been covered in bruises, welts, and cuts when they'd gone to get him, but he only told them that Vernon and Dudley seemed to like roughing him up more this summer and blamed it on the fact that he wouldn't be returning.
"Harry…" Hermione said quietly, placing a tentative hand on his arm.
He stood quickly. "I'll see you guys in the Common Room. I've got to go- do something…"
He hastily strode out of the Great Hall, completely to the cool, grey eyes that followed hi movements. He hurried through the halls up to the Astronomy Tower and into an unused classroom, where he could think. He moved to the open window and looked out at the castle grounds. He sighed listlessly, pulling out his half-empty bottle of whiskey and drawing from it, allowing the buzz of the alcohol to settle his thoughts. He wished he could simply disappear- or at least get away from everything once in a while. He took another long drink. He knew he should tell Ron and Hermione- or at the very least Hermione- what had happened… he knew he needed help… but he didn't want any more attention. He didn't want anybody to know. And, most of all, he didn't want anyone's help. He drained the last of the bottle and pulled out another.
His thoughts wandered back to earlier that summer. He'd spent most of his time out of the house, not getting back until anywhere between midnight and three in the morning. When he was around, Vernon just hit him and yelled about what a nuisance he was and how much he couldn't wait until he was gone. So, Harry spent a lot of time in muggle clubs, making 'friends'. A fake ID was easy enough to get, and he soon found he had a taste for hard liquor. He spent a fair few dollars in those clubs, as well as on a new wardrobe and certain ornaments that he was rather fond of. Money wasn't really an object though. He had plenty of money, so why not spend some on himself? He also bought contact lenses, but had yet to try them out.
It had been around one o'clock in the morning and Harry was walking to one of his favorite clubs after a trip to Gringotts. He'd been so lost in his thoughts that he didn't see the group of boys ahead of him until he ran into one of them. He stumbled backward, apologizing absent-mindedly as he moved around them. However, a hand encircled his upper-arm, preventing him from leaving. He looked up to see a boy with sandy blonde hair, brown eyes, and a cruel, thin smile.
"Hey, D. Isn't this your oddball cousin?" the boy sneered.
"Harry? Yeah, I suppose it is," Dudley said, rounding on him, "Well, well, well… how long have you been sneaking out, Potter?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know… how long have you been lowering your princely standards to this kind of place?"
"What's he talking about, D?" one of the boys said, "Don't you live down here?"
"'Course I do. Didn't I tell you he was delusional?" Dudley said, laughing.
"Kinda cute, though…" his captor said, leering at him in a way that made Harry's stomach turn over.
"Have him. He won't tell," Dudley grinned, flipping out a switchblade, "Will you?"
Harry knew that he could take him down easily- if he had thought to take his wand with him. 'Stupid!' he scolded himself, 'Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! What're you going to do now?'
The sandy haired boy began dragging him down a dark, narrow alley, followed by two more boys. "You guys fancy a turn?
The two shook their heads. "Just here to watch."
Harry began struggling when what they were planning sank in. Panic settled into his mind and he called out. However, a cool blade pressing into his neck silenced him. He had felt the cool night air hit his bare legs and then…
He took another drink of whiskey and the memory faded away slowly. 'Just there to watch… guess they changed their minds…' One more drink and the memory was gone, replaced by a pleasant furry feeling. He looked at the bottle and saw that was now almost half-empty. He sank to the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest and crying silently, just as he had almost every night since… He took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out on a sigh, pulled a long red, velvet box out of his bag. He opened it and picked up the small, silver handled dagger from its resting place, smiling at how the moonlight reflected off of the tiny rubies. He pulled the sleeve up on his left arm, drawing two long lines down his forearm, careful of the vein he knew only too well lay beneath the skin. He wanted to bleed, not kill himself- what a melodramatic way to go… He winced only slightly at the pain and then sighed as the crimson fluid spilled forth, proving that he was still alive. He chuckled at how demented he must look, sitting on the dusty stone floor, face streaked with tears, a small pool of his own blood between his legs.
He pulled his wand out of his robes and healed his arm until it was only a phantom of a scar, but the pain remained, pulsing in his mind like a living, breathing thing bent on his destruction from the inside-out. He cleaned the blood as well, leaning his head back against the wall. He noticed that tears were still falling gracefully down his cheeks. Normally, he'd have stopped crying by now. He searched his mind- as well as he could his near drunken state- for the cause, and found it to be a single person in particular- Draco Malfoy.
He'd pretty much realized that he was gay- or bisexual… he wasn't ready to call himself completely gay. However, in the span of a an hour or two, he'd not only come to that conclusion, but he'd also realized that he seemed to be pining for a certain platinum blonde Slytherin with the most beautiful stormy grey eyes. And that was absolutely unacceptable. He couldn't have feelings for Malfoy! He didn't even know the git! 'Although, seeing his face when I gave him the C.D. player was… what am I thinking? This is not possible! How can somebody develop a crush on a person after one, twenty-minute conversation!' He sighed again, taking another drink. 'My mind is seriously whacked.'
He heard the door open and close and looked up to see the very subject of his thoughts walking towards him. He pulled his sleeve down quickly, using it to wipe frantically at his tear-streaked face. Damn! Why did he have to be seen at his worst? Oh- that's right. Because he's Harry-fucking-Potter and the universe has decided that nothing is allowed to go his way.
"Po- er… Harry?" Draco said, testing the name. It didn't sound half-bad. In fact, he rather liked the feel of it.
"Only if I can call you Draco," Harry said, attempting humor.
'Wow… I definitely like my name now. It sounds so sexy coming from his perfect mouth.' Draco thought. "You can call me ferret if you tell me what's wrong."
Harry sighed. "It's nothing. I'm fine."
"Didn't I tell you that you're a horrible liar?" Draco said, "When a person is sitting on the floor, drunk, alone, and crying, they're generally not 'fine'. What's wrong?"
Harry was silent for a moment. "Why did you follow me?"
"Don't change the subject," Draco said, "What's wrong?"
"Why do you care?" Harry said, looking up at him. 'Please don't care about me… I don't think I could handle it.'
"I don't know," Draco sighed, "I just do. Now will you answer me?"
"No," Harry replied, standing, "I can't."
"Why not?" Draco demanded.
"I- just can't…" Harry said, making his way to the door.
Draco grabbed his left arm as he passed, startling a cry of pain from Harry. The cuts were still fresh…
He clutched his arm to his chest, wincing as the throbbing pain increased. 'Crap! Maybe he won't figure it out…' But Draco's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Let me see your arm," he said in a dangerously low voice. 'I should just leave him be… I shouldn't get involved… but I care about him. Damn it!'
"It's nothing. I bumped it on the train," Harry said nervously, turning back to the door.
Draco beat him to it. "Potter…" he growled, then corrected himself, "Harry. Let me see it."
"Let me leave, Draco," Harry said, "I'm not showing you anything. It's none of your business, anyway."
"Harry, please," Draco said, softening his tone, "I'm just worried."
"Why would you be worried?" Harry said, "Why do you care so much? Why did you follow me? Why are you doing any of this!"
"Because maybe I like you!" Draco exclaimed.
Harry blinked. "Don't joke, Malfoy," he said coldly, "You're not very funny."
Draco sighed. "I'm not kidding… I'm serious. I- like you. A lot. Okay?" 'This is not good. Why did I tell him that? Why couldn't I have just left him alone?'
"Let me out," Harry said quietly.
"Not until you show me your arm," Draco said.
Harry tried to move past him, but Draco caught him off guard and grabbed his wrist, pushing his sleeve up. He snatched his arm away, glaring at Draco, who could only stare at him in shock.
"There. Is that what you wanted to see so badly?" Harry sneered, using the only defense he had, "I bet you're really happy, now, aren't you? Do you have everything you need, or would you like to see the bruises and scars on the rest of my body!" He gasped at what he had just revealed. However, when he looked at Draco, he was shaking.
"What- why…" he said quietly, "Why would you-? How could you do something like that? What happened to you, Harry? What bruises and scars?" He moved forward.
Harry backed away from him, refusing to meet his eyes, afraid of what he would see in them. "Stop it…" he whispered, tears springing into his eyes again.
"Did you do those to yourself, too?" Draco asked, reaching out to frame Harry's face gently with his hands, "Or was it somebody else? Who hurt you?"
"Stop… stop- you wouldn't understand!" he yelled, pushing Draco aside and running from the room.
Draco let him go. "Shit! What the hell could be bad enough to make him do something like that?"
He saw an object glinting up at him from the floor and picked it up. It was a small, leather-bound book with the initials H.J.P. written of the front in silver. It was Harry's journal! Draco nearly opened it, but resisted the urge and decided to return it to him when he saw him in class the next day. At the moment, he needed to talk to his Godfather.
X
He knocked on the door to Severus Snape's private chambers and waited for the curt 'enter', before walking into the room. "Sev?"
He looked up from his work and smiled. "Draco. What brings you to me so early in the year?"
"Sev, I've got a bit of a problem…" Draco said, sitting on the sofa.
Severus sat next to him. "What is it?"
"Well… I kind of have some really- strong feelings for this guy… I don't want to call it love, because that seems too sudden and I don't want to sound cliché," Draco said, "But it's definitely something akin to love. Anyway, I don't think he feels the same about me… in fact, he may not even be gay. And on top of that, I think he's got some really heavy baggage."
"Harry Potter?" Severus inquired.
Draco blushed. "How the hell did you know?"
"You're carrying his journal," Severus said, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Oh… I forgot I had that," he said setting it down on the table.
"Did you try telling him your feelings?" Severus asked.
"I told him that I like him," Draco said.
"How did he react?"
"Well… he ended up running out of the room in tears…" Draco said, smiling miserably.
Severus' eyebrows shot into his hairline. "Maybe you should give me the whole story."
"I'll only tell you that I think he's had it a lot worse than he'd like people to think and he's definitely keeping secrets from us all- even his best friends," Draco said.
"You should try meeting him somewhere to tell him exactly how you feel," Severus said, "Don't try to make him tell you anything and let him know that you trust hi to talk to you about it when he's ready."
Draco smiled at him. "Thanks, Sev," he said, standing and picking up the journal, "I'll do that on Saturday."
"Draco?" Severus called as he opened the door.
"Yeah?"
"Whatever you do, don't read that book," he said, "The last thing you want to do is give him another reason not to trust you."
He nodded and left, still smiling. Saturday… he would talk to Harry on Saturday.
X
Harry stood outside of the Potrait of the Fat Lady, composing himself, before muttering the password and stepping into the Gryffindor Common Room. He was greeted by several perplexed stares as he stumbled over to where Ron and Hermione were sitting. The alcohol had finally begun to settle it and he realized, with a morbid sense of satisfaction, that he was pleasantly drunk. He flopped into the chair next to Hermione, who was playing Ron at chess.
"Hey, Hermione, you're losing," he said, grinning, "Miserably."
"I know," she growled, "I'm bloody terrible at this damned game!"
Harry snickered. "What a potty mouth you have, 'Mione."
Ron laughed, but Hermione turned to him, her brow furrowed. "Harry… are you drunk?"
"No…" he said, nearly falling out of his chair and then laughing hysterically.
"You are drunk!" she exclaimed, standing with he hands on her hips, drawing the attention of everybody around them, "How could- why would you drink? I cannot believe this!"
"Hermione, give the guy a break," Seamus said, "I'd drink, too, if I was in his position."
"Yeah, seriously. It's not the worst think he could do," Ron added.
"You two, shut up and take him up to the dorms," she snapped, "I can't even look at him."
They shrugged and did as they were told, practically carrying Harry up the stairs.
"You're pretty cute, Seamus," Harry said as they tucked him in, "Did you know that?"
"Yes, that's nice Harry…" Seamus said, shaking his head and chuckling good-naturedly, "Now, go to sleep."
"I'd much rather you stayed," Harry said suggestively.
"Much as I'd like to, I don't take advantage of the incapacitated," Seamus said, leaning over and placing a soft kiss on his forehead, "Let's wait until you're sober."
"I'll hold you to that…" he said, promptly falling asleep.
Seamus smiled sympathetically at him and followed Ron out of the room.
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NO: there is no actual Seamus/Harry relationship pending… sorry. As cute as it would be, it doesn't fit. Maybe later… I dunno. Just read. And review. We can't forget THAT, now can we? Until next time…