the boy scratched at the skin on his wrist so hard it bled. he'd been doing it all summer. so much so that the skin on his left arm was nothing but scabs and irritated skin. it itched. it constantly fucking itched and it hurt. but the subtle pain was a decent daily distraction from his mind. and harry liked that. there's only so much dark magic a person can suffer before it leaves a mark. harry potter 8th year fanfic WARNING: 18+

If hatred was a disease, and love was a drug, then they were both deathly ill... and heavily addicted.

Pansy Parkinson x female oc ________ *heavy editing*