Disclaimer: if you still think I own HP then you'd better take a little trip to St Mungo's.
WARNINGS: TRIGGER WARNINGS, CUTTING, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, AND WHATEVER ELSE I CAN'T REMEMBER ON THE TOP OF MY HEAD NOW.
AN: Again I must apologize for leaving you hanging, but don't worry, I'm back on track again! And thank you so much reviewers! Oh and I'm on like chapter 60 of Against the Moon…it is amazing! Such long chapters, suck beautiful friendship…GO READ IT NOW! XD
A note to DeadlyHuggles: Naw, I won't leave you for years. I'd feel too guilty, so you're safe there!
A note to Potato Personal: Thank you! Depressing is what I try for. ;)
With a start he awoke, Sirius trying to control his breathing, clutching the blankets so hard he couldn't feel his hands. A wave of hate washed over him and he dug his nails into his wrists on impulse, the pain soothing him.
Sirius got up, desperately searching for something, anything. He grasped an empty potions bottle and stumbled to the bathroom, closing the door securely behind him.
The glass fell, shattered, aching downward with Sirius' fury.
Traitor.
He stabbed his wrist with a shard, relishing the burning pain.
Filth.
Scarlet ran down his arm in little rivulets, forming a spidering cobweb of agony.
Pathetic.
He cut open his pale skin with the sharp, clear glass.
Coward.
Blood slid between his fingers and he dropped the glass, his head falling back against the wall. He closed his eyes, his wrist stinging.
He was only a heart pumping mindlessly, striving to continue for no reason. And suddenly he wanted to tear that out of his chest, render his body the same pain as his mangled mind. Wanted to dig his fingers into his flesh, scream that he was alone, that he was only a half-alive corpse. He yearned to shatter into a million pieces, to break like the glass bottle that had hit the ground with a echoing crack. That was all he needed. A crack.
Because he was empty. He was nothing.
oOo
After cleaning the blood, he headed down to the Quidditch pitch and ran back, forth, back, forth.
When he was finished, Sirius stopped, out of breath. For a moment, the world spun, but he quickly rightened himself and headed up to the castle.
Sirius sat down in his favorite chair by the fire when he reached the common room and started to work on his homework, forcing himself to stay awake.
I can't go to sleep. I'll just have more nightmares. I can't sleep.
He turned to his book once more. The Draught of Living Death brings upon the drinker a very forceful sleep that can last immeasurably. He scratched down a few sentences with his quill. When prepared correctly, the potion will appear a pale lavender...
"Sirius."
Sirius' head shot up to see Remus watching him. "Oh, hi."
"Are you okay?"
Time to put up my mask. He smiled easily. "Of course. I'm just getting my potions essay done since it's due today. What are you doing up this early, Moony?"
Remus shrugged and sat down next to him. "I just woke up, don't know why."
Sirius nodded and returned to his essay, but being aware of his friend's eyes watching him he found he couldn't concentrate. Remus' gaze was slightly unnerving and Sirius coughed loudly. The teenager hastily looked away, leaving him inexplicably glad that he had played a prank yesterday- James had reverted to his usual carefreeness, and even Peter seemed assured that he was all right again. However, the relief that had been left in its wake was short-lived, he now realized; Remus was aware that he was breaking, and he wouldn't fall for any tricks.
Sirius' friend watched him as he elegantly formed the copperplate letters, hand brushing against the piece of alabaster parchment, staining pure white with the dark ink drawn by his own hand.
AN: sorry it was so short, but I hoped you liked it! Review, please!