Enlightenment in my Darkness ~ snarry

Guilty

It was the last week of the holidays, and Harry was spending it with the Weasleys, playing Quidditch and trying to have a good time. The loss of his godfather Sirius, his last living family struck him hardly, and even though everybody tried to convince him, that it wasn't his fault, he still felt guilty. If only he had been stronger. If only he would have waited longer while his head was stuck in the chimney, if only he would have fought Bellatrix.
"Then he wouldn't have died. He would still be alive"
All these feelings and thoughts made him sick, but whenever he tried to talk with somebody, they would just tell him that "it wasn't his fault" or that it would've been worse if they killed him instead, because he is "the chosen one".
"His live was not wasted, he died protecting you, our greatest hope and treasure"
Yeah right. He, Harry Potter, shouldn't feel guilty, because it's totally ok that people die for his sake. But responding like that would've just gotten him into another deep conversation with Mrs. Weasley about him not being guilty and her trying to sneak a "dreamless sleep" potion into his food. Sure they did help, and he wouldn't have any nightmares. But he didn't want the to stop, no, he didn't deserve to stop them.
He wanted them
Wanted the pain they brought to him, wanted to make his body suffer and experience every part of Sirius's death again. Wanted to wake up in the middle of the night, running to the bathroom and punishing himself.
That was another thing he started doing, self-harm.
The feeling of the torn skin, the blood running down his arms and legs, the pain he felt when he started but that later faded.
Everything
And he deserved it. He killed Sirius, his only living relative.
It was his secret, nobody knew, never saw or glanced at the scars under his oversized pullovers and jeans. And nobody would ever think that "the great Harry Potter, the chosen one" was a cutter.