Red Wine - White Linen | D.M

33

Sad.

That's all I felt, a true sadness as I queried myself in the mirror. I didn't feel real, I felt nothing.
Everything felt like nothing.

I just wanted to feel better. Feel anything.
Feeling something was better than nothing, even if it was temporary. Just for a minute.

My mood uplifted instantly when the familiar feeling for relief sprung into my mind.

Uplifting was a false reality actually, it just merely gave my mind something else to focus on, the feeling of doing something forbidden was superior to feeling happy.

I opened the cabinets to see what array of items Draco possessed. Id quickly come to the knowledge that's he's very minimal and owned nothing interesting apart from a forefront unopened pack of double edged razors.

Tempting nonetheless but off limits.

Shaving manually was a peculiar sight in the wizarding world, we had charms for that.
Everyone had charms for that.

I knew it was a trap, it was obvious. No doubt if I touched that packet he would appear, or horrifically he'd charmed them to mirror and hurt him also.

He was the best, but sometimes I thought I was better.

I avoided going within inches of the box and shut the cabinet instead. I moved to my right and began to rummage under the sink, every bathroom in Hogwarts has a simple but mandatory unremovable first aid kit. A fine piece of kit for a time in need.

I took the pair of small bandage scissors and moved myself to the toilet seat, avoiding everything else.

I wasn't angry, I didn't want severe damage, nor did I want to work on one area. I wanted expeditious pain, lots of it.
And as I have always said, paper cuts sting far worse than gashes.

I quickly covered my whole lower arm with neat but thin cuts, none of them gaped or poured but I was satisfied.
They were aesthetically pleasing to my eyes.

I didn't stop until my skin was too tender and I'd ran out of room so my lines would be overlapping, which was strictly forbidden.

With minimal blood I didn't bother to clean myself up with more than a once over, the cool wipe soothed my fever like skin with an aftershock bite.

Instead of putting the scissors back I left them in the cabinet next to the blades for potential further access.

I pulled my sleeve down with a satisfaction.

The satisfaction of what thought?
Well that was still my mystery.

I opened the bathroom door to see Draco still sat in the corner, he looked past me and into the bathroom. The clear exhaustion overwhelmed his face and he started to get up.

"Go to bed." He muttered, seeming slightly more aware of himself.

I watched as he walked past me into the bathroom, without bothering to shut the door behind him he pulled up both the toilet seats and hovered effortlessly over the bowl.
With a shaky and slightly slurred breath he recited a familiar sounding spell.

A few seconds later he was retching and not long after the sound of liquid hitting liquid filled the room hazily.

"Did you just-" I stammered, in shock. "Why did you-"

With his hand now placed on the porcelain basin he looked over at me with a weary smile.

"Makes the hangover more forgiving."

I sighed and let myself slump back onto the bed as I listened to the water flushing. "You're a hypocrite."

He chuckled as he walked over to the sink.
"It's all about the reasons behind the actions, now that is how I determine how detrimental they are."