take my hoodie ✓

fifty | swim

going back to school is fucking bullshit when ur best friend has a new best friend (who i now prefer over my bsf what a crazy feeling) and ur the third wheel in the trio

~no pov

Summer was flying by, and results day was nearing. 

The past two weeks, Draco and Harry had been dating. Not much had changed. They still met up in the field every night, and acted the same way they had done when they were just friends.

Only difference was, things were slightly more intimate.

Kisses, makeout sessions, cuddling. It was perfect for Harry, and despite Draco having a very active sex life beforehand, it was enough for him.

He would wait forever for his boyfriend. 

"The weather is perfect today." Draco grinned. "Fancy a swim?"

Harry froze. See, he'd avoided going swimming for years. When he was forced to swim weekly in primary school, he'd wear full-body swimsuits. 

It was awful. 

In the tournament of year ten, people were so disappointed he hadn't been shirtless for the swimming challenge. This one, bonkers teacher, Moody, had asked why he wasn't just wearing trunks, and that was awkward enough.

He got fired due to unhealthy alcoholism. A student caught him drinking in lesson, and reported him immediately. She would've been called a snake, but Moody wasn't an ideal teacher, so it was fine.

"You alright, love?"

The nickname had clung onto Harry like glue, and threatened to break up with Draco if he ever stopped calling him love. It always made him feel better, except from at this current moment.

"I'm fine."

"What's wrong? Is swimming a no for you or-"

"I can't swim." Harry said. He didn't think it through, however. 

"Yes you can?" Draco asked, confused. "You swam in that crazy tournament last year." 

"Oh, I suppose I did." 

Draco's previous suspicions of Harry self-harming and being a victim of abuse were screaming: you're right. Ask him about it. Despite that, he stayed silent. 

"I don't like public pools. Unhygienic." 

The blond decided not to point out that the swimming task was in a public pool. He was slightly disappointed that Harry didn't want to go swimming, but he would put the brunet before him always.

"Where do you want to go instead?"

Harry could feel how disappointed his boyfriend was, and decided he wanted to go home. "My uncle needs me to help him with something today. I'll see you at the field."

"Bye." Draco watched Harry get up promptly and walk out of the coffee shop they were in. He felt bad, and was worried for the brunet.

Did I do something wrong?

"Results are soon, Dudleykins." Petunia mentioned during dinner. 

Harry, as always, sat on the counter and ignored them, until he heard his aunt. He'd completely forgotten about his GCSEs and his results being out soon.

"How long?" He asked.

"Shut up, boy. Who said you were part of the conversation?" Vernon scolded.

Harry stayed quiet and pulled out his phone, checking the date. It was August Twenty-First, meaning there were four days until he found out. 

His summer felt so peaceful, save from the beatings and the seventh suicide attempt. The Dursleys had gone on holiday twice, leaving Harry alone for a whole five weeks altogether. 

And now the pressure was back on. It dawned on him how soon it was and how his results really mattered. He was planning to go to the Hogwarts sixth form, and he needed to pass his GCSEs for that.

What if he failed? Everyone knew Harry wasn't the brightest, he himself knew it. Even so, he prayed for good results, and soon he'd find out if he prayed enough.

He was ready to spiral right there in the kitchen, and knew he needed Draco. He always knew how to ground or distract the brunet. 

Abruptly, Harry stood up and was planning to go to his room, when something grabbed his arm. Well, someone.

"Where do you think you're going, boy?"

"Upstairs?"

"I never dismissed you. In fact, I had something to talk to you about. How disrespectful of you to leave without asking."

be fucking for real

"What would you like to talk to me about?"

Out of nowhere, Harry was slapped. He was startled, as he'd been nothing but polite. Except from trying to leave, but he didn't usually need permission to do so.

"You can wait until I'm done."

The moment Vernon was done, Harry was yanked by his arm and dragged over to the living room. Dudley and Petunia got up and retreated to their rooms.

"What would you like to talk to me about?"

"Have you been hurting yourself again?"

The younger boy choked on air. "Excuse me?"

"Have you?"

"No!" Harry shouted. 

He didn't like this sudden check up. It was weird, and felt oddly intrusive. He wasn't used to anyone asking such a question, let alone his uncle.

Especially because his uncle never used to care. On multiple occasions, Vernon had seen Harry's arms and done nothing about it. Sometimes he'd make fun of him for it, or even encourage it.

But him trying to prevent it? It felt worse.

"Show me."

See, last time he attempted, Petunia completely forgot to bring up the semi-colon tattoo. She never told anyone, and forgot about it herself. 

He didn't know how his uncle would react to seeing Harry's tattoos.

"I'd rather not."

His arms were yanked and sleeves were rolled up. Vernon looked both disgusted and shocked.

"Tattoos?"

"No?"

Harry was slapped.

"You disgust me. These are ugly. Get rid of them."

are u dumb

"They're tattoos. I can't really-"

"I don't care." Vernon shouted. "How did you even get them? Are you getting older people to do it for you, like with Louis?"

Harry paled and felt his stomach churn. Everything he ate at the coffee shop was ready to come back up. 

"I didn't get an older person to do anything for me."

Vernon dragged Harry away from the living room and up the stairs, to the bathroom. He was afraid, and ready to relive Christmas Eve of year ten. 

But Vernon went towards the cupboard above the sink. It was locked, and Harry's panic dissipated, knowing exactly what was in it.

Razor blades were shoved into his hands.

"I don't care anymore. Slit a vein, carve off the tattoos. Kill yourself for all I care. I'm done with you."

The gesture felt strange, bittersweet almost. He was done with Harry, meaning for a while, he tried. He cared, momentarily, and that was enough.

And instead of using the blades, he put them in one of his drawers and got ready to sneak out to meet Draco. It had been a while since he hurt himself, and he didn't fancy doing it right now.

i think i wanna be clean