I don't own Harry Potter.

Warning: Suicide, Self-Mutilation, Semi-Slash, Mentions of Drarry

This pain is all I have to remind me that I'm alive… Without it, I'm dead—I'm useless either way, though, aren't I? The whispered words, subtle glance; things they believe I don't realize… Is it ironic that my last shard of hope to keep me alive is killing me?

Dull beryl eyes stole a glance at the silver metal on his dresser. The blade was taunting him, shining without a liquid to make it sparkle prettily. Sirius gave him that dagger—a very expensive, jewel encrusted, silver dagger—for his fifteenth worthless birthday on this planet before he fell through the Veil, leaving Harry all alone yet again. Oh, yes, his godfather had been great at picking presents as the dagger was, oh, so, pretty…

I could make it so much prettier by tainting it with my crimson tears…

It would look much better stained with red, wouldn't it? What was holding the worthless boy back from doing it, doing everything he—he and everyone else—wanted?

What am I leaving behind?

Running a pale hand through his messy black hair, he sighed, averting his eyes towards the ceiling. Closing his eyes, he pressed his pale lips together, letting his hands drop to his sides, his black clothing rustling softly.

His shadow danced along the dark room's walls, its black outline painting the dark maroon walls with a visionary of a tragic young man in turmoil. A single lamp in the corner flickered slightly, casting a dimmed light over the room. He sighed again, opening his dull green eyes halfway, staring at the corner with faraway eyes that weren't there.

One last day to not run away is all I'll take. I'm no coward. One last day…

Turning from the beautiful end on the dresser, he walked towards the door, flinging it open and leaving, his open window letting the sunrise's morning light drown the room in dull light, clouds of bitter sorrow filled snow passing in the sun's rays.

His left side ached in pain as he was pushed violently into the stone corridor's wall by a bulky Gryffindor, being laughed at, his heart sped, and he walked faster, his eyes downcast, attempting not to attract any attention.

"Oi, Potter! Get over here, and on your knees!" The Gryffindor yelled, his deep voice resounding after him, a smirk evident in the arrogant voice. A wave of laughter filled the hallways on the way to the Great Hall, seeing the savior reduced to what he should be.

Taking a momentary glance out of the corner of his large eyes, Harry bolted, his petite frame disappearing into the crowd walking towards the sweet smelling room.

Isn't this what I wanted?

Fresh tears that burned his eyes were never seen by anyone but him, leaving as fast as they came.

"Potter, why don't you stand up for yourself? You take it that hard up the ass that you've grown to love it?" Draco Malfoy crooned as he cornered Harry alone in an empty classroom. "Really, your not useful for anything anymore, are you?"

Harry stared with wide eyes at the blonde, and shook his head.

"Is that why everyone's left you? Or did you not really have anyone with you in the first place?"

Staring at the cold floor, he sunk to it, wrapping his arms around frail knees. Sharp pains cried out from his thighs, stomach, wrists… countless other places, as well. He squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to let any tears escape.

He heard the taller boy take a few steps towards him, and he flinched back as the boy touched his face gently.

"Tell me, why do you live? Do you live for the pain? Or is it something else? Will you leave anything behind if you would be gone tomorrow? Would anyone miss you, Potter? Tell, me one thing, at least," He murmured, brushing messy black hair out of panicky eyes that told a story, "Wasn't this what you wanted?"

I'm not strong enough to have what I want.

Raising his head, he stared into soft grey irises with dull green. With a broken smile of an angel's horizon and cloud, tears ran down his pale face, nothing but agony in the face of an angel who had fallen.

"This is my December. This is what I want so bad, Draco, but I'm not strong enough to take it."

His crystalline grey eyes widening at the shattered seventeen year old boy in front of him, and the reality of the situation hit him in the face—hard—like a bullet in shoulder. So, he did the only thing he knew how, of course.

"Would you care if I was gone tomorrow, Draco? Would you notice? Would you cry?" Harry whispered, his voice filled with utter hopelessness, breaking more than once.

I'm so sorry, Harry, but I can't help you.

With scared eyes, Draco ran out of the room, leaving Harry alone once more, to the dead silence of his agony and heart-break.

The last sound that could be heard in that room was a broken laugh, followed by a wet sob.

My last hope literally ran away, escaping and taking the last wish of life.

The dagger was sharp, and he gave a small smile, the broken aura showing for miles around. The tears had begun to fall, the pain of his heart never releasing.

Pressing the sharp silver to his frail wrist, his smile widened slightly, the silver slicing clean across the vein. Pain blossomed and blood spurted, and he repeated it the same on the opposite side. Crimson waterfalls begun to drip down his wrists, onto his hands, staining the dull purple carpet.

Turning the bloody knife over in his hand, he marveled at the sheer beauty of the object.

It does look prettier with my life on it.

The dagger clattered to the floor as he stood up sharply. Staring at the light on in his small restroom, he walked towards it, crimson waterfalls painting the carpet like a canvas.

Opening the door, he opened the lower left cabinet, yanking out a bottle of fluids labeled, 'Potassium Cyanide'. His hands shook, and he smiled once more, the angelic side showing again.

This had been a bitch to obtain.

Uncorking the substance, he sniffed the small bottle, and stared at his reflection.

I wonder if I'll look prettier dead, covered in my crimson blossoms…

Tossing his black hair covered head back, he opened his mouth, bringing the bottle to his lips and drinking his liquid suicide.

Within seconds, he collapsed on the floor, and a few more, he began to suffocate on air that he couldn't breathe; it was rendered useless from his perfect killer.

Covered in crimson blossoms and choking on liquid suicide, it made me smile, yet, a tear slipped out, as it had been seventeen fucking years wasted on my life.

Hugging the body to his chest while rocking back and forth, he sobbed, tears making their way down his face, waterfalls of misery dropping on to the lifeless body beneath him.

"Please, one more chance, please..," Draco Malfoy sobbed out, holding his dead love's body to his chest, refusing to let anyone take him from him.

Severus Snape watched his godson hold the dead body of his dead love, and tears fell, memories returning.

I'm sorry, Lily.

Don't cry for me, I can't take your pain. This was what I wanted.

Thank you for reading, please review, I appreciate your feedback greatly.