Disclaimer: "Love Me Back To Life" belongs to Bon Jovi. "Harry Potter" and associated characters/world belongs to J.K.R. In other words, not mine!

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, cutting. Pretty serious themes. Don't like, don't read.

To me, this song is just perfect for this type of fic! And I've never written a songfic before, but here we go…hope you enjoy!

NEW AN NOTE: Due to and their ideas on songfics, the lyrics have been removed. But the idea of the song is still there.

They think I'm meant to save their world.

The wizarding world. A world that I never knew about until I was eleven. A little kid, meant to save an entire world. They thought I was the Heir of Slytherin in my second year. Their "savior" wasn't good enough then. Not after they knew that I was a Parselmouth. In fourth, they thought that it was my fault that Cedric died…that I was making it up.

Rita Skeeter, always trying to make some big deal out of me. I'm just a kid. Not meant to do anything great and fantastic at my age—they don't expect anything else from anyone else. But when I mess up…when people die…

They blame me. I know they do. I've been told…so many times…how worthless I am…what a freak I am…It makes me want to give into whatever they say I am…become what they think I am already.

I watch a thin line of blood appear. A hiss. It's not deep…not extremely painful.

Yet.

Another one, just beside the first, to the right of it. Right at the wrist…right where the vein is…not deep enough.

Another breath, sharply taken in.

It makes me feel better. The pain. The blood. Letting all my fears…my insecurities…THEIR pain…out.

The blade is my lover now…the only one that cares. Keeps me here.

It makes me feel something…something…

I no longer feel pain. Only if the blade sinks itself into my flesh. Only if it cuts so that blood comes from the wound. Only if I scratch the scabs till they bleed again.

I'm the Boy Who Lived. Too Long. But they don't add that second part…aloud. They don't understand…or even see…'Harry'. They see…something else…

Someone else. At Hogwarts…and the rest of the wizarding world, I'm the 'Boy Who Lived'. To my 'family', I'm a freak.

To me…I'm 'Harry.'

And sometimes I wonder even about that.

When the blade first sang to me…I wasn't sure if I could through with it. If I could actually pierce my skin with a sharp metal. Let the blood come.

Then it glistened. I gave in.

No one knows.

I've tried to stop. Really. It just hasn't worked…won't work. I crave it now.

It keeps me alive.

If I ever had to stop…if anyone found out and made me stop…I couldn't handle that. No. I wouldn't let them.

The blade caresses my skin…a wanton lover. Another hiss, another line.

A deeper cut. I close my eyes, relishing it. Relishing the pain that it brings, they only thing that gives me any feeling at all.

I cradle the blade in my hands. I'm done for tonight. A concealing charm hides the newest scars. Collected over time…old ones have faded. Blended now.

Phew. That wasn't quite what I had planned…but hey, it still works.

I could also see a lover…not just the blade…but in this, that's what Harry made me write, so I hear and obey J.K.'s characters. Once again, hope you enjoyed.