In Your Head

You lie on your bed. The warm blankets cocoon you, offering shelter from the world. From your world.

There is nothing that can shelter you. Not really. Give up the pretence and accept it. What good will it do to hide? In the end, nothing can hide you.

You are destined to be alone. To hate yourself and continue to do so. Destroying the lives of the ones you claim you love.

You cannot bring them into this. If people know how you feel, they will be hurt.

So don't have friends. Be alone. It's better this way anyway, you're going to be murdered in the end.

You kick the blankets off in frustration. Your eyes burn and your heart is racing. Not even the physical shelter can comfort you now. In your head, it's all cold and empty. Alone.

You slowly sit up and look around the dormitory. Moonlight bathes the room softly through the window. The scene is serene and peaceful. Still.

Ron sits up and looks at you. His tousled red hair sticks up messily, paler than usual in the silver-white light. His brown eyes search your green ones.

"Harry?" Ron asks. "Look at me. You haven't slept all week. What's wrong? Mione and me are worried."

"Harry? Please... talk to me."

Ron looks down sadly.

You shouted it out loud. Into the silence. Ron looks up, confused. He doesn't understand.

You've gotten to your feet and are rushing out of the room, down the stairs, through the portrait hole, and down the corridors.

Mrs. Norris is up ahead. You stop for a moment, hesitating.

You scowl and continue on. The cat miaow and begins to trot away in the opposite direction. No doubt going for Filch. You break into a run. Down the stairs three at a time, panting, tears mingled with sweat.

"Mr. Potter?"

McGonagall.

You've stopped running. Your cotton pyjamas hang loosely off of you. Your breath comes out before you in mists and you shiver, undecided as to whether you should run or give in. Give up and accept that its not you decision. McGonagall hurries over, well wrapped up, looking at you.

"Harry?"

"Harry, what are you doing here? It's after hours and you're freezing! What do you think you're doing?"

You listen. You run. Pushing past her, you make your way to the next staircase. Then the next, and the next. At last, you're at the front doors. You don't think. You just fling them open and burst out, taking a few steps, panting, shaking, wiping tears from your face. For a few moments, you stand there.

You look down. Your feet are drained of blood, too pale as you stand in the snow. You take another step. The snow shifts a little under your foot, but you can almost feel it as the mass of snow settles and becomes firm. You look up as the snow swirls down through the sky.

The wind blows loose snow up, and it joins the flow of falling flakes.

You look at the trees in the forest. Caked in snow, just like everything else. It all glitters in the soft moonlight.

You sit down., allowing the snow to settle on you as it falls. You calm down. For the first time in weeks, you want to sleep. At least it's the Christmas holidays, there was no-one but Ron and Hermione to pester you about sleep. The snow falls faster. You close your eyes, body too numb to allow even the small smile you want to give. It's nice to be numb.

You open your eyes.

"Why do you always torment me?!"

You cry into the night. It resounds around the still grounds, echoing just once. It sounds alienated. You turn your head away. Is it shame?

"Just leave me alone," you whisper.

At last, you get to your feet. It's difficult to do - you're stiff and numb. Stumbling, you at last manage to steady yourself.