That Night.

Chapter Thirteen

Self harm in this chapter. Please, please, do not read if this could trigger you in anyway. I will put a '*' before it starts, and '***' when it is done.

I thought new years were supposed to be good.

I thought they were supposed to be better. Another chance. A year to start new.

Lies.

"You aren't eating," Severus points out.

"I know."

"Why?"

I roll my eyes. "I'm not hungry."

Remus and Severus share a look. They make little gestures with their hands, move their eyes. Like some sort of secret sign language. Maybe all adults know it? McGonagall has used it before with Madame Pomfrey when I get in the Hospital Wing over and over again.

"Well, eat. You need food."

"Why?"

"To stay alive, maybe?"

"Well, isn't that nice." I force down the little food I put on my plate. "There. I ate. I'm full. I'm going to my room."

I close the door and lock it. I'm not supposed to lock it, but hey. He didn't mind when I locked it on Draco that one time. And he didn't yell when I locked it, back when I was grounded.

*

Still. I'm not supposed to. And I know why.

But that's why I'm locking it in the first place.

It's funny... It's really funny how easy they made it to get places. I mean, to get in the kitchens, you only have to tickle a pear. There are knives in kitchens.

How daft can people get?

The House Elves didn't notice when I took it. A sharp knife, with a blade about five inches long.

Not what I usually use, but hey. I'll take whatever I can get at this point. 

I go to my bathroom and lock the door. Two locked doors. If they open the first, they're going to know something's up, so I have to be quick about this.

Bandages?

Check.

Knife?

Check.

Ready?

Absolutely.

I pull down my trousers to reveal my thighs. Almost empty. Only a few scars. An empty space.

Not for long.

Soon, there are three on one thigh. I switch to the other. Now there are seven in total.

The number keeps going up and up, until I'm at about ten on each. Tears fall down my face, but I don't care.

Not after everything. Not after Josiah. Not after learning about Sirius Black. Not after seeing Peter Pettigrew on the map. Not after knowing Dumbledore is still out there.

Not after the owl.

He's still out there. He wants me to go back.

They'll call me crazy if I tell them that I saw him on the map. Even if he is alive, even if Black is innocent. It doesn't matter.

Two weeks ago I had the best Christmas of my life. And now I'm here. Bleeding, sitting on a toilet seat, done with everything.

I want to be happy.