chapter 1
Harry was a boy nobody really knew, not even Ron and Hermione. He kept private, not wanting anyone to understand what’s going on in his head, in fear of seeming vulnerable. He wasn’t sure where this deep hatred for himself began, but it was there, and ever since he was a little boy able to perceive himself in any way he wanted, he decided he didn’t want to ever look in a mirror.
The little acts of self-harm started small, unnoticeable, but enough to soothe this ache or longing to hurt himself. Biting his lip a little too hard, or biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw a bit of blood.
He didn’t exactly know why he liked this, it wasn’t like he wanted to die, or commit in any means. Well, at least for now.
Every year, he turns older, more responsibility, more hatred. Any time he accidentally glimpses himself in a reflective surface he looks away as if he’s a disease. He feels like one, deep inside him, a parasite only living to save the world.
Sometimes he wishes Voldemort got his mother sooner, just because then she wouldn’t have sacrificed herself for him, and he would’ve died beside his family.
But that’s a bad thing to say, he should be lucky to be alive, is what everyone thinks he should say.
Every morning is the same for him. He always wakes up first, washes the sleepiness and disgust away, and gets ready to pretend. This morning is the same.
He untangles himself from his sheets and sits up, putting his glasses on, checking if anyone’s awake yet. When he sees that he’s the only one up, like every morning, he stands up and gathers his stuff to take to the Gryffindor bathroom.
The castle is always silent around this time. Harry likes waking up early, because it gives him a sense of control on time, and this way, he has some time for himself without being surrounded by people.
On his walk to the bathroom, he silently hopes to see the girl again. The same girl he sees every morning when he walks into the bathroom.
It started a couple weeks ago, he noticed this girl got up at the same time as him, as he kept seeing her every morning on his way to the bathrooms. She’s beautiful, and ever since seeing her he couldn’t keep her out of his mind. She’s the only thing able to make him forget.
To be quite frank, he didn’t know anything about her, not even her name. He didn’t have the courage to talk to her and find out, since he knows he’s the most undesirable person, and was sure she thinks the same things abut him as he does about himself.
Silently cursing himself for allowing himself to let his mind wonder, he nears the bathroom. His heart lept, she was there, the mystery girl, holding her own stuff and nearing the girls’ bathrooms. Her pyjama’s were light pink, and her hair was flowing behind her, making her seem angelic.
Again, Harry didn’t allow himself to dwell further, feeling his worth bellow hers, knowing only the worthiest of guys were allowed to think about her.
Walking into the bathroom, he put his stuff down and let the water run. He always showered in ice cold water, unless he felt like burning himself in hot water. He liked the feel of extreme temperatures on his skin.
He undressed himself and stepped under the streaming water, the coldness hitting his snowy skin, bearing all the scars life has left him with. He tried to wash himself without looking at his body, hating how he felt wearing it. He never feels as much disdain for himself as when he sees his own body, the thing that carries him during a fight, the only thing he thinks he can hide from the world at his own will.
After washing off all the soap he turns off the water and wraps a towel around his waist. Knowing he has time he just stands there until he’s dry enough to put his clothes on. He thinks of her, of his friends and what they think of him, how everyone he doesn’t know views him, and most importantly, how this girl must view him.
He pulls his clothes on, his skin still a bit damp. Harry didn’t mind this though. When he’s fully dressed he gathers his things and walks out the bathroom, not even making sure he looks presentable, since he knows he never does.
He glances around him, subconsciously hoping she’s around, and making sure there aren’t people he could bump into. He hates seeing people without expecting to, that way he can’t mentally prepare for the judgement that radiates off of them.
When he’s back in his dorm he’s grateful to find his roommates still fast asleep. He puts his stuff away and makes sure everything is neat and organised before going downstairs to the common room. He silently curses Hermione for being up early, like she always is, and hopes she won’t notice him.
“Good morning, Harry.” Hermione greets, her soft feminine voice having a calming effect on Harry, even though he wished to be alone. “Morning.” He greets back, not wanting to have a conversation.
Hermione closes her book and walks up to harry, a small smile on her face. “Want to go to breakfast early and eat something together?” She asks that a lot recently, to eat together. It annoys harry, mainly because he knows that she knows he doesn’t want to eat.
“I’m not that hungry.” Harry replies, trying to sound as genuine as possible. He didn’t think he failed, but Hermione always seems to know.
“Harry, I understand what you’re going through-“ she started, but Harry cut her off. “Actually, you don’t. I’m not hungry, okay?”
Harry tried not to sound angry, he wasn’t. He was just annoyed at Hermione for acting like she knows, like it’s actually easy for him to be healthy.
He walked away, in need of fresh air, and decided to take a stroll on the Hogwarts grounds. It was cold and wet outside, mist engulfing him. His breaths are forming clouds and his hair, still damp from his shower, is dripping against his cold skin.
He was glad there weren’t any people out this early, well, he was, until he saw Malfoy and Parkinson, sitting on a large rock, seemingly discussing something. They didn’t notice him there, and Harry realised he stood still, watching them in a way they would definitely find concerning should they see him. He wanted to move, but something rooted him to his spot. He was curious what they could be talking about, and why they’re outside this early. He knew they were a couple, and for some reason he wasn’t surprised. Malfoy seemed desirable to girls, his features are classified as conventionally attractive.
He didn’t wish to be Malfoy, or like him. Though he didn’t want to be himself either, so he wasn’t sure how that works. He resumed his walk.
Harry met up with Hermione and Ron. He doesn’t feel like having human interactions lately, but since he lives in a school it’s unavoidable. This didn’t mean he didn’t like Ron and Hermione, its quite the opposite, he loved them. He just didn’t have it in him to be a good friend lately, it’s exhausting.
While sitting with them in the great hall he saw her, the girl. Maybe he should stop thinking about her as the girl, or stop thinking about her in general. He almost felt disgusted with himself for thinking about her, and wondered what thoughts she must have on him. There were a lot of girls that kept watching him. When he was in the library, or walking in the corridors, or sitting outside, there were always girls following him, watching him. He didn’t give them any mind. He doesn’t understand how he’s desirable to others, in their eyes he’s the bravest hero. in his eyes, he’s the ugliest and most corrupt pieces of skin and bone, waiting to hand himself over to Death, whenever he’s ready.
Sometimes he would stand, and encourage himself to look in the mirror once in a while, just to see if he changed. Everytime he was met with disappointment. He would then watch himself with lidded eyes, limiting his view of himself and point out everything about himself he hates, and would stop when he doesn’t have anything else to name, except for his eyes.
He wondered, how could others not see what he saw. Why were it always other people, and not her. He’s just skin and bones to himself, and probably to her.
Then, harry remembered he was with his friends. of course they were bickering again, he didn’t even care anymore. He was trying to think of an excuse to leave, wanting to sit in the quiet of the library, where he could pretend to read just to sit in the silence and hear his own thoughts, even though they’re mostly negative. He deserves to hear them.
“Oh, stop it Ronald. Harry’s about this done with us. Seems like he wants to leave of we continue any longer.” Hermione tried joking. She was kind of right, he did want to leave, if they stopped or not.
“I was just about to head to the library actually, I’ll see you later guys.” He said, and departed the table, leaving Ron and Hermione looking concerned, and a little bit guilty. Harry didn’t mind this.
In the library he sat in a spot where there weren’t any people. He grabbed a book that seemed interesting and got comfortable on the tables. He kept thinking.
This is how his days looked like if he weren’t in class. Boring, an endless cycle he waited would break, either by some sort of event or even death. He didn’t mind either one.
For some reason he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He tried. He even tried by thinking about death, or his parents, anything that hurts him, but nothing works. He couldn’t understand why he was so caught up by her. He has found people attractive before, even bore a crush, but she’s different.
He forced himself to stop thinking about her, opting to think about quidditch. Nothing excited him anymore, only quidditch can create that spark inside him.
Harry was deep in thought about quidditch, and thought about how quidditch is the only thing he loves waking up for. he was good at it, just like his dad. His dad he didn’t know anything about. He wasn’t sure how to picture him. Was he like Harry? He can’t be, since everyone spoke of his good looks, and harry didn’t get those. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t blessed with his parents’ good genes, except for his eyes, of course.
Harry doesn’t cry often, mostly he just lets a couple tears drop, but when he does cry, he think about his parents. How he would probably be a much better and more good looking person if they lived. When he felt his eyes water, he decided he thought enough and left the library.