The Coming of Nico di Angelo

After Nico Goes Crazy-Psycho

CHAPTER SUMMARY

Nico comes to terms with his actions during the fight. Harry, Ron, and Hermione continue their search for Lares.

BEGINNING NOTES

Chapter Rating: Mature
Content Warning: Self Harm
Word Count: 3250

And all the characters are owned by JK Rowling, or Rick Riordan.

____________________NICO____________________

Nico ran all the way back to the dorms. Once he got to the entrance, it took him a second to get the password to leave his lips due to the dryness of his throat. Finally, he muttered "parselmouth" and entered. He was alone in the greenish light of the common room. Immediately Nico fell to his knees. He felt so weak. He was exhausted and drained. Even the task of summoning a simple fly from the shadows seemed like too great of a task for him to accomplish. All he wanted to do at this point was collapse onto the ground like a dead weight.

I'm not a monster, I'm not a monster, I'm not a monster.

Why did Harry have to goad him? Why did Nico have to sense Harry's shadow on the ground? Why did he have to respond the way he did? A multitude of emotions churned in Nico's head. He was angry at Harry and disgusted at himself. The situation seemed hopeless, and it didn't help that the burning need for pain was screaming through all of those muddled feelings. His ambrosia and towel were back by his bed. He felt so weak he could barely move, it felt as if his emotions were attacking him, pounding at his skull like a loud, clanging bell.

Nico resisted the urge for about a minute until he couldn't think about anything else anymore. He needed the sweet feel of the blade, the glorious pain that took his problems away, the peace in the minutes after he cut. It was too tempting. He knelt in the corner by the fire, so even if someone left their room, he would be concealed by the shadows. Nico took off his cloak, took out his blade, and bit his lip. It felt weird kneeling down on the cold ground instead of his towel.

One. Two. Three.

After he'd thought the word sixty about ten times, he pulled his cloak back on. The fabric was dark enough to hide the fact that blood was still seeping from the wound. He walked back to his dorm slowly, trying not to be distracted by the sheer bliss of his work; at that moment, every voice in his head silenced and every problem he'd ever faced faded away. When he reached his bed, he dug for the ambrosia, rolled up his sleeves, and smeared some of the godly food on his cuts. It closed, leaving a small, red line like Nico's deeper cuts sometimes did. He had about seven in total. Not too many, considering how long he'd cut. The ambrosia did its job well.

Not wanting to go to bed yet, Nico fished around until he found his stash of drachma. He walked from where he sat in his dorm, careful not to wake up Malfoy or his cronies on his journey back to the Slytherin common room. He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. It made a rainbow easier than a sink did. How Nico managed to make one from the sink on the Hogwarts Express, he'd never know.

"Will Solace," Nico uttered. "Camp Half-Blood."

The vision opened, and Will was walking back to his cabin after dinner. It looked around eight pm back at camp. No campfires at camp during the year. He was glad since the I.M. would be in front of the entire camp had there been one going on. Will noticed the shimmering figure of Nico behind him and turned and smiled. "Hey, Neeks! Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"I did something bad, Will. Really bad." Nico's voice cracked. While the cutting had taken away some of his pain, now that the wound was healed up, his head was clear. Normally the feeling lasted longer, much longer, but this time his cutting hadn't had the full effect. Nico needed to talk to someone.