AN: Hey guys, I'm glad you guys seem to be liking this so I hope you enjoy it and read on!

This chapter does include slight mentions of rape if you squint, and it does include a suicide attempt.

Desperate Times

He found his feet running, escaping the school, tears streaming down his face. He couldn't do it. He couldn't face Kurt, or anyone, and now Mercedes knows about his arms, she was going to tell them, and he just couldn't do it.

He was somewhat glad he'd brought his car in, for the fact he could drive home without question, and no one else had to see him. Not yet, he wasn't ready.

He also hoped Kurt wouldn't be phoning the home phone. He had given Kurt his number the day before, and he knew there was a possibility he'd call up with questions.

Questions Harry couldn't answer.

As Harry drove, he sobbed softly, his heart hurting again, and he couldn't make it go away. By the time he got home, he was a sobbing mess, and he needed to be held. He wanted Ginny more than ever before, because he wanted to hold her, for her to hold him, and cry together.

However, the only person home was George, and he was drunk, again, slurring his words, "What are you doing home, freak?"

Harry had only just shut the door and he felt like he was 7 again when his teacher sent him home with a tummy bug and no one came for him.

"I couldn't cope," The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and the thunderous look on George's face made Harry wonder if he should have stayed at school.

However, the look gave way to pity, and George opened his arms. Harry, being as weak as he was, stumbled forward, his heart breaking further than it already was, and didn't expect the blow that sent him flying backwards into the front door.

"How dare you? We've all lost something in this war! It doesn't mean you can get away with moping about all day and using it as an excuse. And anyway, why should you get to be so upset? You're the one who killed them, remember?"

Harry sunk to the floor, sobs wracking his body, an idea coming to his mind. George vanished into the kitchen, and Harry crawled up the stairs into his room. He managed to sit up on the chair and he pulled out a pen and piece of paper.

Dear everyone,

I'm sorry. I'm so goddamn sorry that I don't think sorry cuts it anymore, but that's okay; I can't think of another word to use.

I've only been attending McKinley High for three days and I've pissed off my first friend there and someone saw. The secret keeping is breaking me, and I want to tell you so my, and I fucking can't and it hurts.

I want my mum and dad, I want Padfoot and Moony, I really want Hermione and Ron, and I can't live a second longer without Ginny or my little girl.

So, I guess this is goodbye. I'd ask George to burn all my belongings, but I don't believe he is even sober enough to be reading this, so I'll leave that down to anyone who has the time. I do not want a funeral; I just want my body to be taken back to England and buried with Ginny under the tree.

I'm sorry, Kurt, for making you think I'm homophobic. Truth is, I am uncomfortable with most people and men in particular. Unfortunately, I do have one experience with a gay man I really wouldn't want to repeat, and just the thought terrified me, even though I know you wouldn't even consider it.

George, I'm sorry for killing your family. I just turned up at the wrong time. Now, you can be happy; I'll never hurt anyone again.

I've got nothing left to live for, and I guess this is goodbye. Thank you to Kurt, Mercedes and everyone else in Glee Club that made my last few days good ones, it just… It isn't enough, and never will be. You can't replace them.

With all the love that is left in me,
Harry James Potter

Harry folded the letter, and slid it into an envelope, titling it, 'to whom it may concern', before heading into the bathroom.

He put the envelope on the side, out of the way, before opening the medicine cabinet. He knew Tylenol would take forever to kill him, putting that straight out the window. The rest were sobering potions and dreamless sleep, designed to look like pill bottles to muggles.

Damnit.

Okay, Harry thought, overdose was out the window. He looked over at his razor, knowing his nails weren't long enough to do the job.

He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, and then got to work, removing the blade. He removed his shirt, and started running a bath, deciding he'd put on an act, just in case George came up.

Once he got the blade out, he stared at it, a little smile forming on his lips. He began humming as he pressed the blade to his skin, dragging across the section he had always avoided, tears slipping down his cheeks.

Downstairs, the doorbell had rung, and with a quick sobering potion, George found himself opening the door.

On the other side, was a tall man in a vest, shirt and tie. Of course a teacher would show up; Harry had skipped school.

"Mr Weasley, am I correct?" The man asked, and George nodded.

"Yes, is this about Harry leaving school early?" George asked softly, keeping his tone friendly. George hated Harry, but no one else could know that, could they?

"Um, yeah. I'm his Spanish teacher, and the leader of Glee club, and I just brought his homework from his last two lessons, and I was hoping I could have a chat with him," The man said and George swallowed nervously.

He knew Harry's intentions were suicidal and he didn't want to interrupt the dangerous activities he was up to, but he would have to.

"Okay, I'll take you through to the living room and then I'll call for Harry. What is your name?" George said, beckoning the man in and shutting the door.

"William Schuester. I only brought it because Kurt was panicking about Harry," The man said, and George nodded like he had a clue what William was talking about.

William.

William Weasley.

The first brother Harry killed.

A thud from upstairs startled the two men, and George called up, "Harry, are you okay?"

With no response, the two men ran up the stairs, two at a time, and when Harry's room was empty, he tried the bathroom.

"Harry, I know you aren't going to like this so you better respond to me," George said in his most caring but strict voice he could manage.

When there was nothing, George tried to open the door, but it was locked, and even throwing his body weight against the door didn't help, so with a silent 'Alohomora', the door opened, and there Harry was, shirtless and bleeding to death. He noted the letter on the side, and knelt on the floor, checking for a pulse, as William called an ambulance, in shock at the sight of Harry's back, his body covered in scars.

George just hoped they'd be too late.

Once at the hospital, William was making phone calls, and George had only made one to McGonagall. He knew she would blame him, and he dreaded 9 hours' time when she turned up with Luna in tow.

Two kids had turned up, and they seemed guilty, like they blamed themselves, and George decided he'd let them feel that way while he went for a coffee.

"Kurt, Mercedes, while Mr. Weasley is gone, I need you to read this. I think he's been abusing Harry, and I just need confirmation," Mr Schue said, handing them the letter.

Kurt scanned over it, tears pooling in his eyes, and he realised it wasn't him, it was just memories of being attacked.

As Kurt got to the next paragraph he gasped and began reading aloud, "George, I'm sorry for killing your family. I just turned up at the wrong time. Now, you can be happy; I'll never hurt anyone again."

"No," Mercedes interrupted, "George made him think like that. Harry was very involved in the British war, I believe, he was the one to end it, it was in the British papers, so I don't think he did. He may have accidentally caused it, but I don't think it was his fault. He didn't fire the gun."

Mr. Schue sighed, draping his arm around a crying Kurt and holding him close, "We'll have to wait 'til he wakes up."

AN: How did I do? Thanks for reading, please review.