WARNING (I know i havent done alot of these when i should've. got lazy i guess): REFERENCES TO SUICIDE AND STRONG LANGUAGE. May not be suitable for younger readers.
Chapter sixteen: Harry's mistake
Harry Potter is not perfect. Far from it, actually. He makes mistakes just like everyone else. But, unlike everyone else, he isn't really allowed to and all his mistakes are plastered onto every newspaper within a fifty-mile radius. Harry hated this.
He hated not having any privacy. His fourth year had been a publicity nightmare and caused him a load of trouble. Everyone loved the Boy-Who-lived. But what about Harry? Harry knew that he had friends who cared for him. He knew that though Ron did get jealous from time to time of Harry's fame that he was still a true friend.
But then again Ron's jealousy was cause for concern. Who would want to be Harry Potter? Harry didn't even want to be Harry Potter. He didn't want all the fame. And why the hell was he famous? His bloody parents were murdered. He was an orphan and forced to live with his horrid relatives who hated him.
Harry would rather be an everyday muggle with his parents than the bleedin Boy-Who-Lived any day. It's not that he was particularly angry at people's idolization of him, he just didn't get it. Why would people want to be him?
Harry hated his image more than anything. He hated being depictured as this Golden Savior of the Wizarding World. They all acted like he was this great savior when he wasn't. A hero? Maybe. But not a savior. All Harry could do was save them from one maniacal wizard who marked him as his adversary when Harry was a child. He could not protect them from everything. A savior was someone who can and will save the world from the ultimate calamity. What that was, was not for Harry to say but he knew it was not Voldemort.
He was only seventeen for Merlin's sake. No one seemed to realize that, instead they just kept adding more and more weight to his shoulders. Strangers in the streets clapped him on the back saying things like 'we're counting on you' and 'you'll save us all'.
It was enough to make Harry want to scream. But he couldn't. He couldn't let anyone know how he truly felt. He had to put on a mask of happiness and confidence, while he was crying inside.
Harry thought of himself as a boy with messy hair, glasses, hand-me down clothes that didn't fit, and no parents. He would gladly switch places with anyone, well almost everyone.
At least that's what he had thought. But now everything is all wonky. He is so confused. How could he have gone from hating someone to falling in love with them? Though Harry knew that during the last few years the line between love and hate was blurring.
Harry had always been one to run with his emotions without thought so when his heart told him he loved Draco Malfoy, well than he didn't question it. But that didn't mean it didn't scare him shitless.
He began to feel again and what was that first feeling? Only the worse mistake he ever could've made. He had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy. He. Had. Fallen. In. love. With. Draco. Malfoy.
He didn't know what the hell he was thinking. Though Harry was perfectly aware that one cannot choose who and when they fall in love, he still blamed himself. That's the only thing Harry was ever really good at; blaming himself.
He blamed himself for his parents' death after he found out about the prophecy; he blamed himself for Cedric's death, and for Sirius's. and now he had one more thing to blame himself for; falling in love.
That had to be by far the most moronic thing he has done to date. So many things could go wrong, will go wrong. There is no way that Harry will walk away from this unscathed.
For starters, Draco had thawed out Harry's heart, as cheesy as it sounds. He made Harry feel again, something he hadn't done in a long time. But feelings only meddled with duty. This brings him to point number two.
Draco is on the opposite side and Harry cannot bring himself to talk with him about it. How could he? He could just see how that conversation would go.
'Uh, hey Draco. So I know you, like, evil and everything, but uh, I was wondering if you wouldn't be…anymore. Cause, uh, I really like you and all and it won't work for me if I have to kill you one day, y'know.'
Yup, that'll work well. Harry felt so stupid. He was so angry at himself and Dumbledore's disappointment in him hadn't helped. Harry hadn't thought about what he was risking by leaving the Dursley's. He hadn't thought about who he was hurting.
So he made another mistake. And his mistakes got people killed. He wasn't as watchful as he should've been during the Triwizard Tournament and Cedric was killed. Rushed into the Department of Mystery at the Ministry without thinking and Sirius was killed
He couldn't possible have forgiven himself if something happened to the blonde. Harry was feeling just so much for the blonde and he hated himself for it. He hated caring about this boy so much that he found no other word to describe his feelings than to call it 'love'.
He hated to be reminded of the constant mistakes he was making. Not only leaving the Dursleys' but loving Draco. It was a mistake and he knew it but he couldn't make himself stop, so he got angry. And made another mistake.
That's what Harry's life racked up to; mistakes. He took his anger at himself out on Draco. He began to spout out vile things. Horrible things that he didn't believe but he just was so damn angry.
Then Draco began to beg and Harry didn't need to be told that Malfoy's didn't beg. But here was Draco Malfoy sitting atop Harry doing just that. And Harry hated himself all the more.
It tore his heart when Draco cried out when he tried to hug him. The look of sheer anger and pain in his eyes made Harry want to cry. Then, of course, Harry made another mistake. He was sure Draco was going to kiss him and part of him so wanted the blonde to do just that but his stupid logic told him to speak. And he did. And Draco stopped.
Harry didn't want to move. Draco's warm weight on him felt so right but his mind told him it was so wrong. Then he made another mistake. He moved his wrists from under Draco's grip to try and get him to loosen it.
Draco looked from Harry to his wrists and back again. And all Harry could think of was
Oh shit.
Not to long ago Harry made a huge mistake. The only mistake he had ever made that he would not be seeing on any newspaper cover. For that he was grateful. He didn't want anyone to know. And he definitely didn't want Draco to know. Harry wasn't perfect and what was more powerful evidence of that than the twin pearly white scars that marked the tan skin on his wrists.
Harry tried to use Draco's shock against him. He began to buck wildly under him to try and escape. But Harry underestimated Draco's resolve. During the training Harry had always been able to throw the lighter boy off but not now.
Draco lowered his hands so that Harry's wrists were visible but he still had a firm hold on him. He ran his hand slowly over the scars. Harry shuddered at the tender touched and ceased his attempts to throw the other boy off.
"When?" Draco asked softly.
"It's a long story," Harry sighed after a moment of silence.
"Tell me," Draco said his voice a mix between a plead and a demand. Harry avoided Draco's eyes.
"Get off of me and I'll tell you," Harry said growing dizzy from the shortness of breath due to the heavy weight on his chest. Draco surveyed Harry intently and then nodded in agreement before sliding off of him. Harry took a deep breath and sat up using the foot of the bed. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes and took several more deep breaths.
He wasn't ready for this. His nerves were frayed and he felt disoriented and nauseated. He felt like he was hyperventilating.
"Here" Draco said. Harry opened his eyes wearily. Draco held a cigarette out to him. Harry had smoked before. Dudley had been too chicken to do it alone and none of his little friends had the guts so Harry was forced into it.
He got addicted quickly once he could inhale without choking and let the calming effect of the nicotine ease him. He would nick them from Dudley when he could and hoard them for times of need. But he hadn't had one since the summer before his sixth year.
He took the cigarette from the blonde and leaned forward as Draco lit it with a match. The smell of burning match and paper caused an immediate calming effect on him. He took a drag. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bed, holding in the smoke and savoring the nicotine before he blew it out slowly.
Opening his eyes Harry saw that Draco too had a cigarette between his lips. Harry, even in his on-edge state, had to admit that he looked sexy. The cigarette complimented the bad boy look that Draco was infamous for. Harry couldn't help but smiling a little.
"Ready to talk?" Draco asked once Harry was almost finished with his cigarette, his voice was hard and distant. Harry took one last drag on his cigarette.
"I guess," Harry said blowing out the smoke and stubbing out the cigarette. "I already told you some of it." Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Oh really?" He said. Harry's eyes narrowed at the boy's attitude." When?"
"Yes, when I told you about Sirius's death on my birthday. I just didn't tell you the whole story." Harry said.
"Well than you better tell it to me now," Draco demanded. Harry sighed again. He knew that there was no point in refusing. He closed his eyes again and rested his head against the bed once again.
"I told you how I was really depressed after Sirius died. I felt it was all my fault. I wouldn't listen to anything anyone else said. It didn't matter how many times someone told me it was an accident or that it just happened. It didn't make me feel any better. Because I knew, I knew it was my fault and nothing anyone could say would change that.
I had killed people before. My parents died because of me, Cedric was killed because of me and Sirius died, all because of me. I tried to distance myself from everyone. To protect them. It didn't work. Hermione and Ron would not have it. When I told them that I was doing for their own good, because I didn't want them to get hurt, they told me I was being ridiculous. That I was worrying for no reason.
It got worse and worse. I stopped telling them about all my feelings because they weren't helping. I bottled it all up inside until I was full of so much pain and hurt that I felt I couldn't go on. That I didn't want to go on.
I didn't plan it or anything, it just kind of happened. Ron and Hermione both went home for Christmas to be with their families as did the rest of Gryffindor house. No one knew if it would be the last time they saw their parents, y'know.
The Weasley's invited me over but I declined. I felt that I had imposed on them enough and that they deserved a holiday to themselves. I was left behind. I was alone, in more ways than one. I felt like I was dying inside.
One morning I woke up and wish I didn't. Then it just happened. I had taken to sleeping with a dagger by my bed at all times, just in case. It all happened so quickly and it felt like I was outside of myself watching it all play out before me, like a show or something.
My hand wrapped around the steel handle but I couldn't feel it. I brought the blade across one wrist and then the other. I watched the blood pour out but felt no pain. I just laid down and waited for the darkness to come and it did." Harry stopped for a minute and took a breath before continuing. "I woke up the next morning in the hospital wing. Hermione, Ron and Dumbledore were all crowed around me.
I've never seen Dumbledore look so old. His eyes were dull and his skin looked grey. Hermione and Ron looked awful as well. Both their eyes were swollen and there were bags under them. Their noses were red and they looked sickly pale.
Not one of them asked 'why'. Dumbledore just nodded to me before leaving. Ron wouldn't look at me and Hermione looked pissed. They both just stood there for a moment before Ron left. I guess he couldn't stand being around me at the moment.
Hermione didn't move an inch. She just stared at me then she slapped me and she said 'Harry James Potter, if you don't stop moping around blaming yourself and ignoring your friends who are very worried about you and just trying to help I swear I will hex you,'
She pulled out her wand and pointed it at me before turning on her heels and leaving. After I was checked over and okayed to leave I found her in the library and she was crying. I apologized and she forgave me. Then I apologized to Ron.
Later I found out that Ron and Hermione had come back early to spend the last few days of the winter holiday with me. They had found me, on my bed, unconscious with my wrist slashed. I was out for two days." Harry finished keeping his eyes closed. A heavy silence hung between them until Draco broke it.
"Why?" Draco whispered but to Harry it was as if he shouted. That was the one question that Harry had never been asked. Why? At first he thought he didn't know but for some reason he felt he did now.
"I didn't want to live anymore and I thought it would be better for everyone if I wasn't around." Harry said quietly. That was all there was to it.
There was a loud smack and Harry's hand flew instantly to his cheek and his eyes snapped open. Draco was standing in front of him, his grey eyes blazing. He pulled back his hand again but instead of smacking Harry, he punched him in the arm.
"What the hell is wrong with you!" Harry yelled at the blonde.
"Do you know how bloody selfish you are!" Draco screamed. "Do you even have a fuckin' clue!" Draco was swinging at Harry trying to inflict as much pain as possible.
"Stop it!" Harry cried trying to fend off the enraged boy. Draco grabbed Harry by the collar and pulled the boy to his face.
"Did you even stop to consider how much your death would affect the people who care about you?" Draco voice was low and deadly. "Did you even fucking care!" He screamed.
"I was trying to protect the people I love!" Harry yelled back. "I didn't want them to get hurt."
"You didn't want them to get hurt?" Draco shoved Harry away from him in disgust. "You hurt those people you care about more than the Dark Lord ever could." He growled.
"What are you talking about?" Harry snarled.
"The day you tried to kill yourself was the day you told your friends and everyone who cares for you that they weren't enough. They weren't enough to make you happy and they sure as hell weren't enough for you to live for." Draco said.
"No!" Harry cried. "No, I was just trying…I didn't…think-"
"That's right. You didn't think. Because if you did you would've realized something. Suicide is a just a fatal mistake. You would've realized that no one had anything to gain from you dying." Draco glared at the boy before him. He couldn't believe that Harry Potter would've attempted something so stupid. "You're a selfish prat." Draco spat at him.
Harry looked up and narrowed his eyes.
"Like your one to talk." He growled. Draco's glare intensified.
"And what's that suppose to mean?" He asked crossing his arms.
"What does that mean?" Harry repeated and laughed mirthlessly getting up from his position on the floor he went over to his trunk and rummaged through it for a bit. He than pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment and came back over to the Slytherin. "Here," He said shoving the parchment into his hands.
Draco looked from the parchment to Harry and back again before he opened it and began to read. His eyes narrowed further as he read it until they were slits.
"You wrote Granger, about me?" He snarled. "How could you? You invade my privacy." Draco stood up and looked angrily at the Gryffindor.
"No Draco. If you read carefully you would've noticed that I made up a story." Harry pointed out a bit afraid at the sheer intensity of the white hot gaze Draco had fixed on him.
"It doesn't matter!" Draco yelled. "It's none of your business! You had no right!"
"It damn well is my business!" Harry cried. "If you can lecture me I can do the same. How is what I did worse than what you do! Who are you saying isn't enough!"
"Because I only hurt myself," Draco snarled choosing to ignore Harry's last comment.
"That's what you think! But you don't even know what I have been through since I found out." Harry shouted. "Who were you saying wasn't enough?"
"When did you find out?" Draco asked, ignoring the last comment. Harry was a bit taken back by the sudden change in conversation.
"Um, about a week and a half ago," He answered. Draco looked thoughtful for a minute.
"Was it the day you disappeared while I was in the shower?" Draco asked with a blank look. Harry nodded.
"I- I need sometime to think. To…take it all in. I went to the library." Harry mumbled not sure he was liking the direction of the conversation. Suddenly Draco let out a sadistic laugh.
"You…you arsehole!" He roared. Harry jumped back at the sudden out burst. "You stand here and lecture me on how I hurt you because you just care so freaking much. But the truth is that when you found out you could take it. You thought I was weird, demented…sick." He shook his head.
"No," Harry tried to explain, but Draco held up a hand and cut him off.
"Fuck you, Potter." He said and with that he left the room leaving Harry very confused.
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(A/n: heavy chapter I know. I also have my own experiences with suicide, so I added my personal thoughts to it and I hope I don't offend anyone.)