Why? - a Drarry Fanfic

Chapter 23

Harry

Thick, white snow fell on the ground as December drew nearer. It's two weeks until the start of holiday break, and no one knows where their going. Especially me, and Draco. His mum still wants him to visit her, because she's going to visit his father, and I know he's not doing that.

I feel a nudge on my shoulder. "Huh? Oh, Ron. What?"

"I asked, are you coming for Christmas?" He leans back in his chair, looking at the bright orange flames of the fire. "I dunno. I don't want to stay here, but that means Dray's gonna be alone for Christmas if I go, because I think he's staying."

"Stop worrying about him, Hare. Worry about yourself." Ron mutters. "Excuse me?"

"You worry about him constantly, he worries about you. Just worry about yourself, care for yourselves, and this would be fine." That little-

"In case you haven't noticed, Ron, I don't care about myself for shit. And, I doubt Draco thinks very highly of himself either. Just because we don't physically harm ourselves, doesn't mean we care about ourselves. And since when do you care? This is the first time you've talked to me in what, two bloody weeks? What's that about?"

"I thought we covered that already." Ron snarled. So much to having a good friday night. "Oh, yes, because screaming for an hour is covering it."

"Look, I wasn't talking to you because Ginny was saying stuff again." I highly doubt that. Me and Ginny have been on pretty good terms, and I've never heard her say an ill word about me. "Oh really? Hey Gin, come here a sec?" She looks at me from her spot with Hermione and Pansy, where Hermione's teaching them poker. "Sure. What's up?"

"So, Ronniekins here has told me, that you told him something, dunno what it is, that was bad enough for him not to talk to me for roughly... what, three weeks? Have you any idea what that could be?" Her face says it all. He's lying. Ginny's always been a good liar, but when she's really mad, she can't fake it. "Ron, I'm gonna kill you."

"What?! You and him don't even talk!"

"Yes we do! We finally got on good terms, not just ignoring each other because we're both awkward with exes!"

"Gin, you can kill him later, right now it's my turn." Thankfully, she leaves back to 'Mione and their poker game. "Care to explain?"

"Look, you, are always down, you're always upset, or tired, or mad, or something of the sort, and if you're happy it's only for a little while. Why would I want to hang out with someone twenty-four-seven who's depressed all the time? I needed a break, I needed to hang with stable people."

Exactly. He's leaving me. Again. Just like he did last year, even around the same time as last year, because things aren't perfect. "So because I'm depressed, you just think you can leave me again with no explanation?" He stares. "That's not what I said."

"Fine. To sum it up, because I'm depressed, you just think you can leave me again with no explanation?" He doesn't answer. I'm right. "Great. Just just great." I turn to look him in the eye. "Did you know, that on October 31st, I had an anxiety attack. And one of the reasons was because I thought you were leaving me, because you hadn't talked to me in a week. Huh? Or, that you are my best friend, and I accidentally thought that meant that you would somewhat understand that I'm going through something. What, did you just think with a month of therapy I'd be a-okay again?" He still doesn't answer. "I was abused, Ron. I was bloody RAPED, and you think that I'M FUCKING OKAY! HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE OKAY, RON! HOW! DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE LEFT, TO HAVE YOUR PARENTS DEAD, TO BE LIVING IN A HOUSE WHERE YOUR NAME IS 'FREAK'? OR, TO HAVE BLOOD TRICKLING DOWN YOUR LEG AN HOUR AFTER YOU GET BACK FROM HOGWARTS, BECAUSE YOUR OWN FLESH AND BLOOD THINKS IT'S OKAY TO LET THEIR HUSBAND RAPE YOU? NO, YOU DON'T, BUT PLEASE, RON. JUST LEAVE ME BECAUSE I HAD A SHITTY PAST, AND AM HAVING A SHITTY FUCKING EXISTENCE. THANKS. JUST ANOTHER FAMILY MEMBER, OR WHO I THOUGHT OF AS FAMILY, GONE. GREAT. FUCK YOU."

The common room is completely quiet. I can feel eyes in the back of my head, but mine won't leave Ron. He still hasn't uttered a word. "Thanks for this, Ron. I just thought I might've been family too."

I do the only thing I can do. I leave. And no one tries to follow me at first. Then I hear footsteps, so I break into a run. If they catch up me, I can't. I can't because I'm longing for a blade, a bottle, a knife, something. I want it. I want to slice my skin until I eventually bleed out. And they don't catch me. I'm able to make it to the Room of Requirement, and different room than usual, and they don't catch me.

This room is significantly smaller than the other. It only has a twin bed, a table, and a fireplace. Laying on the bed is a few options. A pocket knife, a glass sharp, and a pencil sharpener blade. I pick up the shard. It's thick, and clean, like the room knows what I want. In detail. I roll up my sleeves, and kick off my trousers. The shard drags into my thighs. Slice after slice, until your can't tell what is a cut and what's not. I do the same to my arms, almost to my shoulder. And it feels good. It feels so, fucking good. So, so good. 

It's relieving. Finally, my release is back. It's back, and I feel good again. But it hurts. It hurts, it hurts it hurts it hurts. It's never hurt this bad before. I feel faint. Then it hits me.

I'm really going to die this time.

"No, I can't die, I can't die." Tears start pouring down my face. "No! I can't die!" I have two options. Open the door and let someone find me, or...

The room chose my option. The door flies open, and the room starts getting smaller, like it wants me to leave. Great, now I feel claustrophobic. I practically fall out of the room, and lie on the floor of the hall. I don't move. My face is on the stone floor. Blood. I can feel it on the floor, making pools around and below me. I feel worse. They burn. They itch. They hurt. I feel fainter than before. No ones going to notice me unless I move. It's too dark.

I hold the wall and stand, barely staying up. But, I walk, still clutching the wall. "Help..." I try to say, but it feels like I'm choking and comes out as croak. Then I trip. And land directly on my arms. It feels like if the devil would attack me. I scream as my face collides with the floor. 

"Harry?" A voice is in front of me. I try to speak, but at first I can't. It hurts so much. "Help."

"Oh my God, Harry! Draco, Minnie, I've found him, he's bad! He's really bad!" I think it's Hermione. "'Mione."

"Shut up! Shut up! Minnie-"

"Harry, what did you do?!" It's Draco, but everything sounds muffled. "Had to."

"You were getting better! You were getting better, you were better, why would you do this?!" I feel myself get picked off the floor, and I'm in someone's arms. Draco's. I smell cinnamon and apples. "Sorry."

I think he's running. I don't know what's happening. I don't know where the hell I am. I try to open my eyes, but I'm tired. So, so tired. And it hurts. And it's floaty. And tired.

And I feel dead.