Carry On

Chapter 21

   A/n: trigger warning!! Self harm and mild panic attack!!

   It began the next day at breakfast. I walked into the Great Hall as I normally would, head down, avoiding everyone's eyes and the empty seats that always seemed to glare at me from every table. I was used to the stares that I received, however much I hated them. Today, however, they seemed different. I quickly walked over to the Gryffindor table, feeling extremely uncomfortable.
   "Alright there Harry?" I heard Dean ask. He was still a bit wary of what he said around me after the scene I made at the Three Broomsticks.
   "I'm fine, Dean. How was your holiday?" I asked, not wanting the attention to be on me any longer than it must.
   "It was alright. My mum has been a bit protective since I came back over the summer." The other boy shrugged. I frowned at his words. I still remembered hearing Dean out in the woods, along with several other wizards, when Hermione, Ron, and I were hunting for horcruxes. His mother must have been terrified. Her son leaving, telling her to hide with little explanation. If only I had ended it sooner-
   "Harry?" I heard from behind me, cutting my thought off. I turned to see Neville looking at me questioningly.
   "I'm sorry, what?" I asked, a bit sheepish.
   "Are you alright?" Neville asked, clearly concerned. I hated worrying him, which is why I hated when Hermione insisted that I write the other boy a letter explaining what happened on Christmas.
   "I'm fine Nev. Just got lost in thought." I responded, giving him a strained smile. There was a flutter of wings heard in the Great Hall, and moments later, the owls flew in. I felt my eyes go a bit misty when I thought of Hedwig, and how she died to protect me. A copy of the Prophet dropped down in front of Neville, and another in front of Dean. They both gave the owls a bit of their breakfast, and opened the newspaper. I heard a gasp, and quickly looked up to see the wide eyes of Dean.
   "What is it?" I asked, terrified it would be about the few Death Eaters that managed to escape capture. I then saw something that I never expected, never wanted to see from him. Pity.
   "Harry..." I heard Neville say. I turned towards him, and he held up his copy of the Prophet. What was clearly printed there caused my heart to stop.
     
       Savior Abused and Suicidal?

   "No..." I said in complete horror. I did the only thing I could think of. I ran. I darted out of the Great Hall as fast as I could, ignoring the stares people gave me. I could practically feel the pity radiating off of them. I vaguely heard someone calling for me, but I didn't stop. I didn't stop running until I was in front of the portrait that guarded the eighth year dorms. I quickly spoke the password, running past all of the students that were running late. I slammed my bedroom door shut, breathing heavily.
   I felt my breathing shorten. I couldn't get enough air into my lungs. My heart was pounding, I could hear it. Thoughts ran through my head, that voice that haunted me since the final battle came back louder than ever.
   Your secret is out. The great Savior, abused. Suicidal. What will they think? What would your parents think? It's unfortunate you killed them.
   "Shut up." I hissed, barely registering I spoke aloud.
   Why? Don't you want to hear the truth? The truth no one is willing to tell you. They don't care. If they cared for you, they would've told you how worthless you are. Even in a world of magic, you are still a freak.
   "Shut up!" I shouted, bringing my hands to my head. "That's not true!" I pressed my hands down, hoping the voice would stop.
   You know it is. They don't give a damn about you. They never have. It hissed.
   "That's not true..." I sobbed. "It isn't true..."
   Your uncle was right. You deserve this. Every beating. Every scar. Every moment of pain.
   That was all it took. I stood up, not realizing I had slid down to the floor. I tore through my trunk, quickly finding what I was looking for. I pulled it out, slowly lifting my sleeve. I put the sharp quill to my wrist, digging it into the flesh. It stung. It burned. It hurt. It was what I needed. The voice faded, only becoming a dull hiss in the back of my mind. I watched as each deep cut slowly faded behind the glamor.
   I began to cut into my wrist again, deeper than before, when the door flew open. It took me a moment to register what was happening. I looked up to meet pained grey eyes. I felt blood running down my arm, but knew that Draco wouldn't be able to see it until the droplets fell to the floor. I watched as the boy's eyes widened in horror, as he ran up to me.
   "Harry! Dear Merlin, Harry!" He said, snatching the quill from my hand, throwing it across the room.
   "What are you doing here?" I asked quietly, feeling a bit tired.
   "I followed you back from the Great Hall. We're going to the Hospital Wing." He said, clearly very worried. I watched as a single tear fell from his eyes, a testament to how upset he was.
   "No, Draco. I don't-" I started, already fearing what other people would see.
   "You must see Madame Pomfery. There's a puddle of... Of blood, Harry. On the floor." He said, swallowing. He stared at me, fear in his gaze. I had never seen the pastel haired boy so emotional. His mask was practically gone. All of this concern, this fear, for me?
"I- I can't, Draco." I said, looking down, seeing the ever increasing puddle of my own blood on the floor.
"Fine." He said, squaring his shoulders. "If you won't go to Madame Pomfery, then at least allow me." He said, slowly stepping a bit closer. I froze, not expecting that. My mind was slow because of the blood loss, and I barely noticed when I nodded my approval.
Draco quickly got to work, a determined look on his face. He pulled out his wand, preparing himself to cast.
"Take off your glamour." He said quietly. I tensed, hesitant despite the fact that the other boy had already seen me without my glamour. "I can't treat wounds that I cannot see." He said, sighing lightly. Once again, I nodded, dispelling the glamour I had cast that morning, albeit slowly. The only signs of surprise on his face were the slight widening of his eyes. Other than that, Draco's face only showed concern and determination.
Draco waved his wand in a complicated pattern, muttering words under his breath. I couldn't help but admire how graceful Draco appeared to be during this. How beautiful he was whenever he cast. How his lips turned down slightly, how his eyes became unfocused, yet completely focused at the same time. How a single strand of hair fell in front of his eyes. He was beautiful.
I was startled out of my wayward thoughts when the boy in question grabbed my wrists. Draco stopped for a moment, staring at my bloodied wrists. He seemed to be lost in a memory, quickly snapping himself out of it, returning to his spell work. I watched in awe as the skin stitched itself together, not leaving anything on the already scarred arm. It didn't matter that I had been living in the magical world for years now, it always managed to amaze me. We both sat in silence, neither one knowing what to say. Eventually, I spoke.
"Where did you learn to do this?" I asked quietly. Draco stiffened, before he sagged slightly.
"I researched healing magic during sixth year. After living with... Him for the summer, I thought it would be useful." The other boy responded. I immediately knew why Draco's reaction was so... Reactive for the other boy.
"Oh." I said a bit awkwardly, not really I knowing what else to say. "We should get to class. Snape would skin us both if we were late." I stood up, hoping to avoid talking about what I knew Draco had seen when he initially walked in.
"Fair." The pastel haired boy said, also standing. Both boys made their way out of the room, running down the corridors to the dungeons. They reached the doors moments before Snape arrived.
"Harry?" I heard Draco say from behind me. I turned, seeing a pained look on the other boy's face. "We will talk later about... What happened."

   A/n: comment any ideas you may have for the story!!!