Easier Than Trying - A Harry Potter (Drarry) Fanfic

Chapter 2 - Potions Class

Harry jolted awake with a loud yelp, sitting up as he heard Ron sit up as well. "'arry..? Y'alright mate..?" He mumbles, and Harry takes a shaky breath before responding. "Y-Yeah... Nightmare... Go back to sleep."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry. I'll be alright."

He hears Ron mumble something before laying down again, and a few minutes later, he was back asleep, snoring noisily.

Harry climbs out of bed, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a shaking hand.

He heads to the bathroom, closing the door silently behind him before practically tearing his clothes off. He tossed them to the floor, stepping into the shower and closing the curtain behind him, turning the water on.

After it heated up to practically boiling hot, Harry stepped into the stream, steam billowing around the room, fogging the mirror as he stood there with his eyes closed, hands pressed against the shower wall in front of him as hot water poured over his body, erasing his thoughts, gradually.

He didn't want to remember.

He was away from the Dursley's for another school year - he'd give anything to forget and to just enjoy his school year. Well, best he could anyways. He still had Voldemort to worry about.

And grades.

His magic wasn't healing him like it normally did though, which was odd. Normally the bruises would be gone in a day or two, but for some reason, they were still there; bright as day, and extremely apparent against his vaguely tanned complexion.

Painful to look at, painful to touch, painful to think about the possibility of anyone ever finding out.

Harry sighed sadly, looking down at his feet, soaking wet hair falling into his face, his vision blurry from the lack of glasses and lack of sleep.

He stood there for what felt like hours, thoughts running through his head at an alarming rate.

Why him?

Is famous Harry Potter not good enough for the muggle world?

Why was he not just hated there, but here as well?

Hermione probably hated him.. Ron too... He always gets them into trouble... Nearly gets them killed each year...

Hell, he hated himself just for that alone.

Harry felt a tear roll down his cheek and mix with the shower water, which fell to the floor, and ran down the drain as he clenched his fists against the wall, gritting his teeth.

Soon, that singular tear was joined with many others as Harry cried.

He cried out of depression.

He cried out of pain.

He cried out of loneliness.

He cried for any reason he could possibly think of....

Because he hated himself.

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, the saviour of the wizarding world... Hated himself.

Who could blame him though?

He's spent his entire life abused, tormented, bullied, put down, hurt emotionally as well as physically. He was taught that he was inferior to anyone he ever came across, and that he should shut up and take whatever punishment anyone dished out, because he deserved it.

He was nothing but rubbish.

Nothing but a freak.

He didn't understand why they said these things to him at the time, but maybe... Now he did.