IMPOSSIBLE RISKS // Drarry

23) THE DROUGHT OF DISPAIR!

TW: Bullying, Sexual Assault.

Harry has been thinking about Ron and Hermione's idea. And, after giving it deep thought, he's deemed it a good one. The only problem is, nobody will want him to teach them. People always sneer at him from across the Great Hall or make comments about how the boy who lived is an attention-seeking liar. "The boy who lies."

Some have even gone as far as to say that he was the one who murdered Cedric Diggory, and he's claiming it was Voldemort to get out of legal trouble. This angers Harry, more than anything. Who are they to say what's real and what's not? Who are they to say that he's making it up? They weren't there. They didn't see what happened. They don't know the true pain he's gone through. How much it broke him to be at fault for someone's death.

Harry continues to receive sadistic detection from Delores Umbridge. Each time he writes with the quill, the wounds on his hand become deeper and harder to heal. And, because he's been stuck in so many of them, the scaring has become permanent. Just like the scar Voldemort placed on his forehead as an infant. Even more, like the words that have heartlessly been engraved into his back and thighs. And, just like the dark mark that was cut into his forearm. Every single one of the scars implanted on his body are ones that so how much he has fought. How much of a survivor he is. But he doesn't see it that way; he sees it as a weakness since he didn't try hard enough to prevent it from happening.

And now, there is one more filthy scar that has violated his skin; made him think of himself as less. If his school uniform's scratchy fabric so much as rubs against the carved letters on the back of his hand, metallic blood oozes out. Luckily, Hermione's a genius, so she can easily help him out when the time comes.

When Ron and Hermione suggested that he goes to Dumbledore about it, Harry stubbornly refused. Because nobody would care or do anything. Besides, he deserves this for letting Cedric die. If he had just done his part, and died in the graveyard, as fate had planned, maybe Cedric would have survived. If he hadn't selfishly chosen to live, he wouldn't be facing this misery.

"Are you doing alright, Harry?" Asks Hermione at the Gryffindor table. Harry realizes that he has been staring blankly at his breakfast, not even eating.

"Oh, I'm fine," Harry tries to smile but he finds it being too forced. Hermione gives him a look, "Just. . . Thinking."

"What about?" She asks hopefully.

Harry doesn't necessarily want her to know his thoughts have morbidly been drifting to Cedric Diggory's cold, lifeless body. . . He also doesn't want her to know he's been thinking about her idea. So, he simply replies, "Homework."

Hermione sighs, taking a bite of her sliced-up strawberries, "Alright, then. Better get to Bin's class."

She stands up and Harry along with her. He has to conceal a snicker when he notices Ron looking longingly at his scone.

"Oh, shush! You don't want to fail your O.W.Ls, do you?" She snaps and Ron follows them out.

History of Magic is very boring. . . Harry practically fell asleep. He just hopes Hermione will be willing to let him copy down her well-organized notes.

By the time class is over, Harry has to rush to get to his next class, alone. Ron and Hermione were called out for some sort of Prefect thing.

Harry feels very annoyed, knowing his next class is potions. He hates potions! (Mainly because Snape is a git.) But he's never been particularly good at the subject. He always finds one creative idea or another to fuck it up.

Hermione has stubbornly refused to let him copy off of her, for moral reasons. Though she has offered him tutoring. But Harry doesn't want to disrupt her from her studies, knowing how hard she has worked over the past few years. So, he is left to fail.