Harry stared dispassionately at the blood leaking from his gaping wounds. He let the red pour out, not a single expression on his face. It stood out against his milky skin, a stain on purity. The glass shard was clutched in his opposite hand. His body shook but not from fear. He felt lightheaded and his vision was spottier than it should've been.
It only took one night for everything to fall apart again. Harry didn't know what led him there, or why he was doing this to himself, all he knew was that it felt right. He laughed at that thought. Clearly, he was crazy. Anyone who saw him right then would send him straight to an insane asylum. That's why the door was locked. He didn't want help; he didn't need help.
The blood had begun to clot, the wounds trying desperately to right themselves. A part of Harry, an evil part, wanted to rip them back open. And if not for the fear of getting caught, Harry would've done it. Even though it was night, spending too long in the bathroom made Harry anxious.
The adrenaline was leaving Harry, and now Harry had time to truly realize what he'd done. He'd been doing so damn good, so fucking good. So why? Why did he have to sabotage it? He ran a hand through his hair, panic overtaking his body. He was going to cry; he was going to sob and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He fell to the floor from his standing position, kneeling on the ground as he held his head in his hands.
Big tears fell from his eyes, and they mimicked blood in the way they stained his skin. Salty trails leaking down his face. He let out gasping sobs even as he tried to quiet himself. He couldn't keep doing this, keeping up with this shit was impossible. Always hiding, always lying.
Thoughts of what used to be came to his head, and he grieved. He mourned his old life, knowing no matter what happened because of this, it'd never be the same. These cuts were deep, and they'd scar. He could magic it away, maybe he'd do that, pretend it never happened.
His tears slowly stopped, and he stood on shaky legs. He still had the glass clutched in his palm, he hadn't noticed but he held it too tightly and now his hand was cut up. He opened the bathroom door and left. Quiet as a mouse he wandered over to his trunk to put away the glass shard. He promised himself he'd never touch it again; he knew that was a lie.
He grabbed his wand off his nightstand and pointed it at his injuries.
"Episkey." He whispered, but to his shock nothing happened. Did he incant wrong?
"Episkey." He repeated, louder this time. The wounds tried to knit themselves together but failed. He stared at the cuts in disbelief, utterly confused. They should've just righted themselves after that, was his magic failing him?
"Ferula." He tried and to his relief it worked, bandages wrapped around the wounds. It wasn't his magic. But what could it possibly be?
Harry was left scratching his head as he went to bed that night. Dark thoughts mixing with confusion and exhaustion as he passed out almost immediately. The last thought on his mind was one of concern. Tomorrow he was going to Luna's house. She'd know, he knew she'd know.
Harry woke up that morning with his arm aching, it felt worse than the initial cuts had. Harry sat up and yawned, only to look around and see the room completely void of his dormmates. He spared a glance towards the clock.
"Fuck!" He cursed and sprung out of the bed. In ten minutes, the train for station nine and three-quarters would be leaving, and in ten minutes Harry would be left behind. He refused; he couldn't be alone.
He scared himself last night because for the first time in his life, Harry truly had the means and want to end it. The worst part was he was half tempted still. His mind seemed to degrade more and more each day.
He pulled on a random pair of oversized pants, threw on a long sleeve shirt, and finally he wore the dreaded windbreaker.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry spelled his trunk to float, and he ran out the door trailing the enchanted trunk after him. He had no time to shower, no time to eat, no time to think. He was on the move, shoving multiple people out the way and getting some angry looks from them.
He arrived with two minutes to spare, huffing and puffing as he searched for Luna. Harry spotted her dirty blonde hair over the crowd. He got closer till he could see her face, that's when they locked eyes. At first, Luna grinned at him, pleased to see Harry. She suddenly paled and the pleasant expression fell off her face. Before she had a chance to speak, the train rolled into the station. Harry anxiety rose he knew what he was in for.
They got on the train together. Harry had to carry the luggage himself now. It put unwanted pressure onto his arms that left him feeling two seconds away from screaming. Luna must've noticed his face because without a word she moved to help him. He tried to deny her aid, but she glared at him with a deadly expression. He knew he didn't have a choice in the matter. Together they lugged his trunk into an empty compartment. Once the luggage was secured in place and Harry was seated across from Luna, she opened her mouth.
"Harry, your arm is covered in dark magic." Luna hissed. Harry's brows furrowed in confusion. Luna shook her head, in awe of Harry's stupidity."I-I haven't cast dark magic, Luna. I would never." Luna suddenly grabbed Harry's wrist, and he winced. She didn't lift the sleeve like he expected her to, but she stared into his eyes even as he tried to avoid her gaze.
"Show me? Please?" she asked softly, her pale eyes gentle. He finally met her stare, and he wilted. Harry pulled his wand from his pant, and he pointed at the door.
"Colloportus! Muffilato!" He incanted quickly as the door was locked and the room was silenced. Harry took a deep breath before pulling up his sleeve. Luna didn't gasp; she didn't look at him with disgust. She gently held his arm up so she could examine the wounds.
"They're about as deep as m-" Luna cut herself off, glancing up at Harry. Somehow, Harry knew what she was going to say.
"Luna, did you-?" Harry didn't want to finish the sentence. He didn't want to see Luna hurt in any way. She sighed and let his arm fall before moving backwards into her seat.
She wore a red skirt with black stockings today. An ugly green snowman sweater and two snowmen hanging from her ears completed the look. Suddenly, Luna rolled down her stockings and Harry went beet red, but he couldn't look away. On her pale milky thighs, despite how kissable they looked, all Harry could focus on were the scars. At least forty horizontal scars marring her pretty skin. They weren't neat little scars either, some were reddish purple and quite large even though they looked old. She rolled her stockings back up and Harry was left in a state of bewilderment.
"I used to-I used to hurt myself too." She admitted with a grounded voice that Harry wasn't used to coming from Luna. Harry thought to ask why but maybe like him her reasons were lackluster.
"Why?" The question slipped out without meaning to, Harry bit his lip to keep from screaming. He didn't want to say that, to ask her that. Luna's eyes went very distant, so far away that Harry feared she'd never return. He knew then that whatever hurt Luna like that, whatever made her have such pain, was worse than Voldemort.
Luna eventually returned to Earth, but she still had a miserable expression on her face.
"When a witch or wizard harms themselves, our magic acts strangely." Luna explained, returning her attention to his arm.
"How so?" Harry asked numbly, his mind had long since been lost in space. He thought of a million things at once now.
"It corrupts." Luna said with a shudder.
"I learned after a while how to fix it." Luna carefully grabbed his arm once again and with the other hand she reached for her wand.
"Purifico!" The minute the spell had been cast he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Blackness had oozed from his wounds but it had been cleared away with a simple wave of Luna's wand.
"Woah, where'd you learn that?" Harry commented, but Luna just shot him a mysterious smile.
"Episkey!" She cast finally and the wounds knit themselves together this time. It didn't leave him with clear skin, however. Instead, Harry had scars very similar to Luna's. She stared at the scars with a melancholic face before she released his arm. Harry studied the scars up close, tracing one with his finger.
"Can I ask something of you, Harry?" Questioned Luna. Harry nodded.
"Can you come to me before-before you do that?" Luna begged. Harry's face contorted into a look of deep thought. Harry never wanted to lie to Luna.
"I can't promise I will." He admitted and Luna's frown deepened. Harry didn't know much about this side of him, he didn't think he could control it. The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Until, finally, they arrived at station nine and three quarters.
I got a job ya'll so we'll see how that effects the update schedule, but thank you guys for continuing to read!
-Lemon Nugget