take my hoodie ✓

sixty-seven | scars

i think im done writing drarry fics lol 

dw theres another long ass book to keep u guys going after this one

for at least a year

but i dont think ima keep writing here anymore

THIS WAS NOT DEFINITE I DID NOT GET MOTIVATION TO WRITE DRARRY AGAIN

~no pov

"Your 'family' know about you self-harming.. how did they react?"

Harry closed his eyes and tried to think back to the first time they found out, but he couldn't think of a specific moment. 

"I think they knew for a while but didn't care. Like, when I tried to kill myself and ended up in hospital, they definitely saw the cuts on my wrists. And they saw when I tried to cut myself to death. And then the next time I ended up in hospital, they ignored it too.

Maybe, I think, it was summer, when they realised. When I tried to literally pull a Hannah Baker. Petunia, my aunt, yanked me out of a bathtub and confiscated anything and everything I could hurt myself with, including what helped. I don't know why.

Like, make it make sense. If I'm gonna do it and not have anything that will help, you're gonna make it worse. They only took my shit away so I wouldn't get social services called on them for harming myself. So they weren't doing any favours.

When you ended up in hospital, I asked for my blades back and got yelled at for it. I was apparently giving them attitude. Dudley cared. Vernon didn't. 

And then later on, he randomly asked if I'd been hurting myself. This was before we got our results, I remember. He yanked my sleeves and said he wanted me to get rid of the tattoos. He accused me of getting someone older to do it for me, like with Louis and the alcohol.  

He then handed me a razor but I didn't feel like doing it. I wanted to get clean. And I was, for a really long time. Up until Christmas Eve last year, I was clean, for a few months."

"Why'd you do it?"

"I was scared of you seeing my body, and I was overthinking. I needed to get rid of my thoughts. You see, when I cut myself, it's like I'm ridding myself of my thoughts as well as blood. So doing that helped. Then I did it on Christmas."

"Why?"

"Because my uncle checked my wrists and was disappointed that he saw scars, only scars. He hadn't pulled my sleeves back enough. He dismissed me, telling me to go cut myself. And before that, he hit me, a lot, since it was the first chance he got in months. He made me cry with how badly he hit me, so I felt like cutting more than anything.

I relapsed then, and then went a bit too far. The razor was really sharp and I made a shitton of cuts, and I was scared I'd bleed out. And I didn't want to die for once, so I had to go and get myself cleaned up, but I was locked in my room.

You know, it's really fucking hard sneaking out when your arm is numb. 

Anyways, I went back into the kitchen and Dudley helped clean my cuts. I then told him about Louis, when I got in my room, because I didn't care anymore. Telling you about it, sleeping with you and confronting Louis really helped.

That was the last time I cut up until a few weeks before the coma. I didn't really have a reason; I just missed it. It's comforting."

Draco nodded. "See, no offence, but this is why you need help. Genuinely not trying to be mean, but darling you find self-harm comforting. Bleeding out makes you feel good. That's not normal."

"Shut up."

"I'm not trying to be mean, love."

"I know."

"Can I see?"

Harry turned his head, looking upwards to see his boyfriend. "See what? My di-"

"Shut it." The blond rolled his eyes. "I mean, can I see your arms?"

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Trust me?"

Harry sighed, rolling up the sleeves to his hospital gown. When he was admitted, Dudley had requested they put him in a long-sleeved hospital gown, because not everyone knew he self-harmed. Draco would never have looked regardless.

Draco held his boyfriend's arms, eyes raking over the many scars littering his pale skin. They didn't all look the same. Some were small and thin or the complete opposite. Some were raised, some were too light to even be seen. 

They weren't beautiful, because of what they represented. But the boy who had the scars was beautiful, and the scars changed nothing. 

"You're beautiful, Harry. These scars are part of you, and I'm so proud of you no matter what. You're so strong, for everything you've been through. Do you hate them?"

"My scars?" Harry shook his head. "I mean, sometimes. I don't like how a lot of them have faded. It makes me feel invalid. But I don't like seeing them either. It means I can't wear short sleeves."

"Why not?" Draco asked. "Who says you can't?"

"Me, I guess?" 

"Why?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess, I don't know, it makes me look fucked up. I mean, people would think I'm crazy for doing that to myself. Louis did."

"Fuck Louis." Draco said. "Fuck everyone. If you want to wear short sleeves, you wear them. If you don't, don't. Harry, this body that you have is fucking beautiful. The only opinion that matters about it, is you. Not me, not Hermione, you."

im sorry

"And the scars, well, they may not be perfect. They may not have come from a war, or saving a puppy or something, but they're still beautiful. Beautiful specifically on you. You've saved yourself. These are scars from your own war. So tell me, Harry, is war over?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want it to be over?"

"I do." Harry whispered.

Draco leaned down and kissed every scar he saw. "Then let war be over. We'll get professional help, and we'll work through our issues. And when we're better, I'll put a ring on your finger."

"Marriage? Surely you don't mean that?"

"Harry James Potter, there's not a single person I've loved more than you in this life. Not my parents, not my friends. You. You're the reason I'm still here, and if that doesn't give me a valid reason to put a ring on your finger, I don't know what does."

"We're young."

Draco smiled. "Recovery takes time. We'll be okay in a few years, not tomorrow. So, is that okay? Do you want to recover with me and get married in the future?"

And Harry couldn't help but return the smile. "Yes. Fuck yes."

Later on, Draco returned with a pen, and he drew stars over Harry's arms, with Taylor Swift playing in the background. 

"You drew stars around my scars."

"And you will not be bleeding. Soon, war will be over. And we'll be okay."

In the midst of Harry's struggles, both completely forgot about Draco's.

War is not over.