Chapter 10

                                    

                                          
Harry wanted to go and find Draco just then but his free period was almost over. Besides, he was sure the Slytherins had Care of Magical Creatures that morning, so Draco should be in class anyways.
                          
Still feeling immensely guilty, Harry slowly walked to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. When he got there, he saw Ron and Hermione already standing outside the classroom. Not wanting to deal with them, Harry turned to go and wait at the other end of the hall until he could go into the classroom when he heard Ron speak up. "Quite a show you put on this morning."
                          
Harry, sure Ron was mocking him, turned to snarl at him but was met with a shy smile instead. It surprised him. Since when was Ron nice to him? "Um, yeah. I guess," Harry said. 
                          
Hermione, who hadn't said anything yet, spoke up. "Harry? Are you alright?"
                          
"I'm fine."
                          
"Harry-"
                          
"Guys, seriously I'm fine."
                          
Hermione hesitated. "Listen, Harry. I know Ron and I haven't been that good of friends these last few weeks. But we're really sorry. We know how hard things must be for you, still trying to deal with the War and all and we're sorry. We shouldn't have ditched you right when you needed us most. We've really been awful." Hermione elbowed Ron who then also mumbled an apology.
                          
Harry looked between his two friends. "Then why did you? You know, just ditch me and stop talking to me?"
                          
Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. Ron spoke up first. "Well, you know. You were hanging out with Malfoy a lot and we didn't really think you wanted to be our friend."
                          
"Wow, Ron, you're really thick. So you're the only one I can be friends with?! In case you guys hadn't noticed, I wasn't really that fine and you guys weren't there for me. DRACO WAS! And instead of trying to sort things out with me, you just resorted to ignoring me?! Let's go back to how it was. Don't ever talk to me again," Harry yelled at Ron, fuming. 
                          
"Harry. That wasn't what he meant," Hermione started. 
                          
"Forget it," Harry spat. "We have to get to class." Harry turned and stomped into the classroom which was already filling up. He took a seat in the back of the class, at a table by himself. 
                          
He spent the rest of the class period angry. Angry at Ron and at Hermione. Angry at Draco. Angry at himself for hurting Ginny and for pushing Draco away. He needed Draco. Draco kept him in check. And now, without him, he was spiraling. 
                          
After an agonizing hour, the bell finally rang. Harry didn't even wait to hear the homework, he rushed out of the classroom and ran to his dorm room. He needed to make the pain stop. 
                          
He ran to his and Draco's bathroom and locked the door. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was a mess. His eyes were droopy, bloodshot, and had large bags under them. His hair was a disheveled mess, as always. He could understand why no one wanted to be his friend. He was ugly. 
                          
Harry looked in the mirror one last time. Then he punched it, hard. The mirror shattered and glass flew everywhere. Harry's hand was severely cut and blood was dripping down his arm. Harry sank to the ground, crying. 
                          
He couldn't even feel the pain surging through his hand. He was too numb to feel it. But he needed to feel pain. Needed to make himself suffer for hurting Ginny and for pushing away Draco. He picked up a large piece of the shattered mirror from off the ground. He put it to his wrist and pulled. 
                          
Blood ran down his arm but it felt good. The sting of the glass digging into his skin punished him for being such a horrible person. Harry did it again, and again, and again. Each time, digging slightly deeper than the time before. Soon both his arms were gashed and covered in blood. He started feeling woozy but he couldn't stop. He moved to his thighs, cutting deep with the glass there, too. It hurt but he couldn't stop. He deserved it.