He Doesn't Love Me.

Summary: Harry's hurt. The man he loves doesn't love him back. Warning! Story contains slash pairings and suicide. If either upset you DO NOT READ THIS!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything Harry Potter related (no matter how many birthday candles I blow out. Drat drat and double drat!)

He doesn't love me.

The words cut through me like a knife. The tears are flowing freely down my cheek. How could I be so stupid? How could I ever think that he could love me? I'm just a child! Just a child to him. A child with a fucking school girl crush. That's all.

What happened you ask? Well, it all started just two nights ago...

Flashback

We were celebrating our victory against Slytherin.. We were in the common room. Fred and George got butterbeer for everyone, along with sweets from the kitchens. Dobby was dancing on one of the tables to the weird sisters blaring through the room. There he stood. He looked perfect. Smiling that smile of his. He was talking to some seventh years. Of course he would he is a seventh year. I had to talk to him. I sighed before I took a sip of my butterbeer. I walked over. He smiled.

"Hey Wood," I said.

"Hey Harry! How ya doing?"

"Great! We won! That was a great game." I sounded so stupid. But he just smiled at me. Like he thought it was funny. My heart melted. He took a drink.

"Well, I'm off, see ya lads!" Wait! No! You can't go!

"Leaving already?"

"He has to write to his mommy about tonight's win!" one of his friends said. Wood shoved him in the shoulder.

"Fuck off!" he yelled laughing."Night boys." and he was off. Alone.

I thought Yes! This was my chance. Oliver and I alone. By ourselves. It was perfect.

His friends didn't pay me no mind as I headed off towards the boys' dormitory. The room was crowded so no one cared. I walked straight past the third years dorm. After a few moments I reached the seven years dorm. The door was open. Oliver stood with his back to me taking off his shirt, his muscles rippling in the process. I thought I was going to have a heart attack at the sight.

"Am I interrupting something?" I said. Oliver turned. He made no effort to try and cover himself, he just turned fully around.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" he asked. I tried to think of something smart to say. But my mind wouldn't leave his broad chest and defined abs.

"Admiring your body." I said truthfully. It wasn't until after I said it that I realized what I had said. The color had drained completely from his face. His mouth hang open. Whydid I say that?

But before I fully came back to reality I walked towards andhim pressed my lips against his. The kiss felt magical, like it would last forever.

But it only lasted a second.

Oliver pushed me off of him with such force I fell on my back. He walked around me, not caring in the slightest that I was hurt, both physically and emotionally. He checked the hall. My guess would be to make sure no one had seen what happened. I stood. He turned back towards me.

"Harry, I think you should go." He said, his eyes looking anywhere but at me. My eyes burned, the tears were threatening to come pouring out but I held them back.

"Wood-" I began before he cut me off screaming.

"Get the fuck out Harry!" my vision blurred as the tears spilled out. I walked out. Oliver wouldn't even look at me.

End of flashback.

So now you know. He doesn't love me. He never will. I don't think he ever could. He's not some fag! He doesn't go around shagging men! He shags women! I'm a fool. A childish fucking fool.

I twirl the razor blade between my fingers. The cool metal feels good against my skin. It's begging to cut.

I put the blade on my wrist. It hurts for a moment as it runs deeply to the other side. My blood gushes to the surface. Pouring all over my arm, and on the tiles on the bathroom floor. I cut again. And again, and again. I cut until the physical pain takes away all the pain my heart feels. My vision blurs. The way it did last year when the basilisk's fang penetrated my arm. It didn't feel bad then, and it doesn't now. I feel free.

"Harry! Harry!" someone screams. I don't know who it is. It sounds familiar though. I don't care either way. I try to lift my head, but it feels heavy. I'm so tired.

"Tell Wood," I say, my throat is hoarse, it's a struggle to say the words. "That I still love him."

My life flashes before my eyes. Memories of the Dursleys. Ron, Hermione. I don't feel anything.

I see Oliver. Sweet beautiful perfect Oliver. Oh god, what have I done! No! I can't leave Oliver!

Too late.