Title: Pain - My Friend And Foe

Summary: No, Harry Potter didn't know when exactly he first thought about purposely getting himself into detentions with Umbridge. But one thing he knew for sure: He didn't want them to stop.

Trigger warning: self harm, mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts

Rated M

Chapter 1 : Just an opportunity

Harry didn't know when he started doing it.

He knew it wasn't what normal people did, but no one had to ever find out. And it wasn't like he couldn't stop if he wanted to.

He just used an opportunity that he himself had nothing to do with.

Even after the first week, Harry had to admit that there was something quite relieving about...writing lines.

When he was doing them, he didn't worry about anything else. He focused all his anger into writing, into the pain. The pain distracted him and released his feelings.

So after that, he felt more at ease and in control of his emotions than he had since... his whole life had been turned into a world of being hated and tortured by dreams at night.

And these detentions with all the physical pain drained him of all the unpleasant emotions he felt.

Furthermore, after them, he could be a bit more pleasant to the people around him, who didn't deserve to be victims to his temper or mood swings.

Hermione had even commented on his good mood: "I'm glad you've been feeling better lately." And she had smiled at him in relief. So had Ron.

They didn't deserve to be put through pain just because HE couldn't get his emotions under control.

At first he had done it without realising it.

After the first detention he had felt tired, but somehow less angry than he had been in the weeks before. The next day had been the same. And so on. The more he did it, the more he welcomed it.

He had been so focused on enduring the pain and not showing weakness in front of Umbridge, that he had forgotten about everything else.

After the second week had ended and Harry had gone without the detentions for a few days, he was convinced that this was the only way to get himself under control.

He was back to being angry and moody and somehow itchy too. He was edging to use the quill again. The quill had helped him so much before.

That's why he deliberately started a fight with her in his next Defense Against The Dark Arts lesson.

He did it subtly, of course.

When she mentioned protecting Hogwarts from lies, he pretended to suddenly explode in anger and defend himself. It wasn't even hard, since he was actually very angry.

"Mr. Potter!" She said sweetly. "I think that is quite enough. You have just earned yourself another week of detention. Perhaps, this will finally make the message sink in." She smiled at him and Harry found it hard to suppress a grin.

His release was back.

These detentions, of course, made Hermione berate him, Angelina yell at him again and McGonagall look at him disappointedly.

But all of that didn't matter. He could be calm, as long as he could write his feelings away in the evenings.

The continuous throbbing after the detentions helped distract him further. Every time some unpleasant thought came upon him, he focused on the pain that was ever present.

"I'm glad you're taking this so well, Harry." Hermione said on the Thursday of his fourth week of detentions. They were in the great hall eating lunch.

Or more like, Ron was wolfing down massive amounts of food while Hermione ate slowly, completely contrary to Ron. And Harry, well, he was playing around with his food, occasionally taking a bite.

Food just... wasn't important.

"Yeah, well her detentions aren't so bad since she stopped making me use the blood quill." He had told them that she had just wanted to show him his place the first week and then switched to a normal quill once she demonstrated her power.

"I still think you should've reported it to Professor Dumbledore, but I get that it's over now and that you don't want to make a big deal out of something that's in the past." Hermione said, sounding like she was quoting him. "You're sure she hasn't used it on anyone else?"

He nodded, "Yeah, she doesn't have time for anyone else, because I'm always there."

He added, "I think she assigned other people to serve detentions with Filch."

He was Umbridge's priority. To punish him was very important. So of course she wouldn't give up that opportunity. That also made him feel better about using the quill. He was protecting others by doing it.

After a while of their usual lunch routine, they went to potions.

PMFAE

When Potter entered the door of the potions classroom, Snape was reminded of why he had become suspicious of him.

Potter had always been quick to defiance or righteous anger, especially when it came to the potions master.

But this school year, when it seemed like the boy had the most to be angry about, he wasn't.

He couldn't read Potter, who used to wear his heart on his sleeve and it annoyed him so much that he went out of his way even more than before to rile him up.

But no matter how unjust or insulting Snape was being, Potter just didn't react.

It was as though Potter was under a permanent numbing draught.

He was determined to get a reaction out of Potter, just to win and to feel more justified when he took away points or insulted the boy.

Also, to feel more justified in his hatred of Potter... To get him to act like James Potter, damn it! (He ignored that, even before, that had only been possible through his actions.) If he managed that, the world would be whole again.

"You are just like your father, Potter." Snape said, sneering down at him. "Expecting to do good without reading the instructions properly."

"Err... Professor...?" Granger said, raising her hand uncertainly.

"Five points from Gryffindor for interrupting the class. I suggest you keep your know-it-all mouth shut from now on." She looked like she still wanted to protest, her cheeks flushed, determination shining in her eyes, but waited until her time came.

"Oh, yes your father was a good for nothing." Still no reaction. Insulting his father usually got to Potter. "All he did was stroll arrogantly through life and expect everything to be handed to him." His voice got more and more malicious. "How astonishingly like your father you are Mr. Potter. Without even the smallest of efforts you expect that you will do well.

But I am not favouring you. This mess-"

"Is a perfectly brewed potion." Drawled a voice from behind him. Snape turned around and saw Malfoy staring at the scene in exasperation. And so were the other students.

He had never expected HIM to defend Potter... not even if it was...

He looked back at the content of Potter's cauldron and realised that Malfoy had been right: There was nothing wrong with the potion. He had been so concentrated on getting Potter angry that he forgot to actually look at the potion. How foolish.

"Ten points to Slytherin for this excellent observation Mr. Malfoy." He said. "And 20 points from Gryffindor for none of YOU realising it."

He went back to the front of the class, ignoring the palpable resigned anger and exasperation in the classroom.

He knew that his unfair treatment had reached immeasurable levels, but he had to get Potter to react. "Get your samples to the front of the class."

When Snape already felt like all hope of finding dirt on Potter was lost, a revelation like no other showed up.

Snape was about to make a snide remark about Potter when he realised that something felt off about the smell of the potion the boy had handed to him a moment ago. It was perfectly brewn, but something generally used to give potions a more powerful effect had apparently been put into it too: Human blood.

The only question was: Whose blood had gotten in there?

"Potter, stay after class."

PMFAE

"You wanted to see me professor?" Potter said in a perfectly polite and calm voice.

"Yes." He almost gritted his teeth at the lack of a reaction to his previous insults. "Why are you bleeding?"

Well. This finally got a reaction.

Potter suddenly seemed nervous and looked down at his right hand in worry. After that he relaxed marginally.

Most people wouldn't have realised the gesture, but Snape wasn't a spy for nothing.

"I'm n-not bleeding." Potter said with the slightest of quivers in his voice.

That meant the boy WAS actually bleeding. And since he was bleeding from somewhere where the blood could fall into the potion, it was likely that...

"Hold out your hands, Potter."

Potter hesitated for a moment, but then held them out to him. Neither one of them held any wounds or bloody cuts. Unless Potter had used an undetectable glamour charm to hide it. But Snape doubted that the boy had the ability to do that.

"The next time, take care of not dirtying a perfectly fine potion with your blood." He sneered, only belatedly realising that there was a compliment in the insult. Potter understood that he was dismissed and hurried out of the room without protests or questions. Potter was so... unpotterlike.

PMFAE

That evening, Harry really needed the blood quill. He had been waiting to use it so much throughout the day.

He had to write his frustrations, anger and pain down. Rinse himself of bad memories was what this was.

"Professor Umbridge," Harry said politely, when he was in the middle of writing his 10th line.

"Yes Mr. Potter."

"I think I need to write longer today... you know for the message to sink in." He had never told her before that he wanted to write longer or anything about WANTING to do it, because he had been afraid that she would take it away from him if she knew that he liked it.

But today... he needed it.

Umbridge smiled at him triumphantly. "You finally realised how much this helps, don't you, dear?" She said sweetly.

He nodded. "I cannot keep my students from prolonging their punishments if they feel like they need it. I think it would do you some good."

And with that, Harry got lost in a maze of pain and lost track of time.

Only focus on the pain, there's no reason to think about anything else. Put all your emotions into your hand that's carving words into your own flesh, it'll make bearing them easier.

He continued and continued and felt better and better.

"I think that is quite enough, Mr. Potter." Umbridge interrupted the haze of writing he'd been lost in, making him almost jump in surprise. She looked down at his hand that was full of blood and bleeding heavily. He put the quill down reluctantly and left the room.

He didn't know how late it was, but he felt so good. The relief this brought was immeasurable. He felt free again, nothing weighing him down.

"Potter, what are you doing out after curfew?" Drawled a voice from behind him.