An Unhealthy Escape

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters used in this story. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.

A/N: Hi everyone! I know that this is a little darker than my other stories, but I hope that you will enjoy it all the same. WARNING: This story is about self-harm, and it may upset some people. Milo. xoxo.

Chapter 1:


Harry Potter bolted upright in his bed. His throat was raw from screaming. Sweat drenched the sheets, and his wet hair was stuck to his face making it look like he had just got out of the shower. He had visited the graveyard in his dreams again last night, as he had every night since returning from Hogwarts after the disastrous Triwizard Tournament. To be honest he was getting quite bored of seeing Cedric die again every night; if his mind was going to torment him it could at least show him some different memories once in a while. He looked at the door and strained his ears to make sure he hadn't woken Sirius or Remus. Quite frankly he was surprised he hadn't woken them up once with his screaming and thrashing around like a raving lunatic.

Harry was staying at Grimmauld Place for the last three weeks of the summer holidays; Dumbledore had wanted Harry to stay at Privet drive, but Sirius wouldn't take no for an answer. The Weasleys were not coming for another two weeks yet, so that left only Harry, Sirius and Remus staying in the large house, though Tonks spent almost every day there.

Harry tiptoed out of his bedroom, across the landing to the bathroom. He closed and locked the door behind him; it would not be good if Sirius or Remus saw what he was about to do. Slowly, Harry walked over to the cabinet and opened the mirrored doors. He took a box of plasters from the very top shelf and picked up the silver razor blade that he had hidden underneath it. He replaced the box of plasters before quietly shutting the cabinet.

Harry flipped the blade over in his hands, studying the sharp edge. He sat down on the white tiled floor as he rolled up the sleeve of his pajama shirt. Harry flinched violently when he saw his forearm; the once smooth pale skin was now littered with shining white lines that gradually got thicker as they travelled up his thin arm. The white lines were interrupted every so often by angry red cuts and scabs that were yet to heal. He didn't know why he cut himself exactly; all he knew was that it was his escape from the pain and the guilt. An unhealthy escape perhaps, but an escape nonetheless.

Harry looked at his arm and found an unmarked piece of skin near his wrist. He gently touched the sharp edge of the blade to his arm, before pressing harder and dragging the piece of metal across his arm. He saw the blood rush to the surface of his skin in little beads, before dripping down his thin wrist onto the floor. It was strangely beautiful, he thought, the deep red liquid dripping onto the stark white tiles.

+ All we've got is a precious knowledge of self-destruction +

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Harry is that you?" he heard Sirius call.

"Yeah, I'll just be a minute!" Harry yelled back, panicking. He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there, but the floor was covered in blood and his arm was still bleeding. He hurriedly grabbed some tissues from the shelf and did his best to clean the now drying blood. Once he was confident that there was no visible trace left on the floor, he pulled his sleeve down over his injured arm, trusting the dark fabric to hide the bloodstains. Thanking his lucky stars that it was not Remus waiting outside, as he would be able to smell the blood with his heightened werewolf senses, he unlocked the door. Almost too late, he realized that he still had the silver razor in his hand. He very quickly shoved it into the breast pocket of his pajamas.

"Hey Harry, why are you still up?" asked Sirius when he came out of the bathroom.
"Uh – see I was – just couldn't sleep," Harry blurted. Sirius would definitely worry if he found out that his godson was having horrible nightmares every night, and was unable to sleep for more than a few hours at a time.

"Alright," Sirius said skeptically. Before Sirius could say anything more Harry had rushed passed him into his bedroom. He carefully hid the precious blade under his pillow; he would probably need it again soon. Harry closed his eyes, hoping to get another couple of hours sleep before morning. 'That was way too close,' Harry thought to himself as he drifted into a restless sleep filled with visions of Voldemort, Cedric and rats with silver paws.

A/N: I know that this is a very short chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it. Please take the time to leave a review! I love it when I get feedback from people. The next chapter will definitely be a lot longer. R&R! Milo.