Title: Shattered
Title: Shattered
Paring: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, Self Mutilation
Summary: Harry can't handle Sirius' death. He's withdrawing from everyone and starts cutting. Who will be able to help him?
Harry's POV
I'm standing in the middle of the room, looking into the mirror, looking at myself. The dark tousled hair, so much like my father's and my mother's green eyes, hidden by those foolish glasses. My clothes, way to big, hiding my disgusting body.
I take a look at the clock. It's 19:50. In ten minutes I'm supposed to be in the dungeons for Occlumency lessons. Dumbeldore insisted, that Snape continued teaching me. Once again I'm glad that I have my own room, or Ron and Hermione would have dragged me down to the greasy old git. Dumbledore suggested, that I should have my own, after Siri- no, don't think about him, Harry, don't think- after his death. He said it might help me to get some peace and to get myself back together. I'm the boy who lived. I'm not supposed to break down because of Siri-…because of his death. I'm supposed to be strong and collected.
I let my gaze wander back to the mirror and pull the sleeve of my shirt up. A smile – a very rare thing lately, really- tucks at my lips when I see the red lines. That's the only release I allow myself to have. It's my fault he's dead. If I wouldn't have fucked up Occlumency then he would still be here today, I'd still have a family. It's my fault, I'm not allowed to cry, to get angry and scream, I'm not allowed to feel anything put pain or numbness.
I started cutting about a month ago. It was one of these days when I could barely get out of bed in the morning and Hermione and Ron came to visit me, trying to get me to talk, telling me over and over, that it wasn't my fault, that no one was blaming me. They knew that I didn't want to talk about him, and yet they kept probing and they wouldn't stop until I kicked them out of my room. I didn't know what to do at that moment. I felt all that anger, rage and sadness that I kept bottled up inside, bubbling up, trying to get to the surface and break free. I started to panic. I wasn't allowed to let it go, I suddenly felt way to much. My frantic gaze fell to the knife lying on my desk. And suddenly I knew what I had to do.
I took it, rolled up my sleeve and carefully dragged the knife over my arm. I barely broke the skin but I felt a warmth from the little cut spreading through my entire body, numbing a bit of my feelings. I made another one. And another one. The fourth one was deep enough to let a few drops of blood run down my arm. I watched completely fascinated, how they run down my arm, other my palms and over my ring finger. Numbing my emotions, numbing my entire being. It was a rush that soon left me feel completely empty.
I instantly became addicted. Nothing mattered anymore. A fucked up potion, Snape yelling at me, giving me detention, Hermione and Ron talking about HIM, Dumledore's disappointed eyes when I even refused talking to him about my godfather's death. There was nothing, NOTHING, that the blade couldn't fix. Of course, it's not that easy to explain why you're walking around with long sleeves in summer, but I've become a loner lately anyways, so people stopped paying attention to me. It seems that even Hermione and Ron are getting annoyed with me. We're not close anymore.
I focus on the mirror once again. The ugly boy standing there. Gods how I hate him. He's so weak. He let SIRIUS die. Pathetic piece of scum. Scum. That's what he is. The anger is back. And the rage. I hate him. I hate him. I HATE him. I think of Sirius. Sirius taking my face in his hands. Sirius hugging me. Sirius telling me, we'll be a family. And suddenly it's all too much. "I HATE YOU" I scream before I start hitting the mirror.
I hit with my palms and my fists, screaming over and over, feeling tears start to fall, and then everything inside me shatters together with the mirror. I feel the glass dig in my hands, but it doesn't hurt. My hands just feel very warm, the warmth spreading through my entire body, once again numbing everything, making me forget and then there's peace. A steady flow of blood drips on the carpet and with a blissful smile on my face I lower myself to the floor, feeling a bit sleepy suddenly. I feel my hands throb and know that everything is all right for now.
That is until I feel someone probe the wards that are protecting my door. Some part of my brain tells me that I should be worried, that someone might get in and see me like that, but I'm too high from the pain to mind. Then the wards are broken, the door opens, and an all too familiar voice, almost as sharp as my razor blade, sobers me up quickly. "Mr Potter!" Oh fuck.
That's my first fic. Please let me know what you think of the story, if my english is alright or if i made a lot of mistakes. Should I continue the story? Thanks in advance!