Hurt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt

***

It hurt.

Head, back, shoulders -- everything. You name it, it hurt. It hurt to breathe, and to try to stand. My legs, were scratched up and numb from I don't even know what. My glasses were broken, too; I was lucky enough to see through one eye. But seeing even hurt.

I was barely able to remember what had happened to me. How did I get there? Where was I? How long had I been there? I reached the pit of despair, the very bottom, and wondered if that was how I was going to die. I really did. I saw no reason not to die.

Looking at my surroundings proved to be pointless. Darkness stretched on for what seemed to be miles. I was surrounded by thousands of trees. Darkness, trees, and silence.

Silence. They say silence can kill a man, don't they? They -- or at least some people say how they enjoy the 'sweet sound of silence'. If it wasn't the cuts, or the bruises, or the possible concussion I had, it certainly was going to be the silence that killed me.

I sat myself down, at the foot of a tree, and tried to sort out what had happened. Nothing came to me for a while; it drove me mad. Madder than I had been at that moment. Which, if you saw me, you would have disagreed that there was a possibility my situation could worsen.

But it did; I remembered what happened.

It was his fault. He had lured me off to the edge of the forest, and honestly, I'm not sure what made me trust him. But I did. He walked me out into the darkness, and I thought we were alone. He had this nervous look upon his face, but it was there so often lately I just shrugged it off.

Now that I know what really had been going on, it makes me wonder how long he was planning this for. How long was he planning to turn me in like that?

Soon enough, shadows emerged from the forest. A group of five men -- or more -- cloaked all in black, from their face down to their feet. All except one of them, who I recognized immediately.

"Good work, Draco," he said as he eyed me, walking over to his son, "but we may take it from here. You will make an excellent Death Eater some day, but as for now, this is enough. It would be best, if you leave."

Draco was looking to the ground, not looking at his father or me. "Yes, father," he replied quietly. He turned around and went back to the castle, leaving me alone with five Death Eaters.

Lucius Malfoy turned in my direction. He smirked and then said to the rest of the Death Eaters, "Get him."

Those words got to me, for some reason. The reality of what was happening sunk in. I was in trouble, I had to get out. I knew that before the Death Eater's wrapped their cold hands around my ankles and wrists. Why didn't I do anything before?

I kicked and jerked my arms back, protesting, trying to break free. I knew it was hopeless. But it was worth a shot. I would just keep kicking and throwing my fists at them, until they let me free. Then I realised, they would never let me free. I had run out of ideas. I had run out of hope.

And that was when I decided to scream.

No, not at the Death Eaters. I was screaming at Draco. I trusted him, he betrayed me, and it was as simple as that. I wished him dead. I wanted him dead. I would have wanted him gone, out of my life, but I knew that was already the case.

As much as I was gone, he was gone too. I wanted him to be more than out of my life. I wanted him out of everyone's. I vowed that night, that very moment of being dragged into the woods, if I was ever to be freed, I would kill him.

I swore on my life that I would kill Draco Malfoy.

Ironically enough, it was what drove me to breaking free. To fighting. I was fighting to stay alive to kill him. I began to kick and punch more fiercely. I broke out of the Death Eater's reach stood on my feet, and grabbed my wand. It was then where I realised the reason why they didn't bother even to steal my wand.

There was five of them, and one of me.

There was nothing better to do than run. So I did. I ran for my life into and through the forest. Zigzagging everywhere as various spells were launched at me. It was one of the scariest moments of my life. Running in a dark and dangerous place, aimlessly, just looking for some place to hide.

Branches snapping beneath my feet and scratching my face, spider-webs breaking as I ran through them, and five angry psychopaths chasing after me. I must have run for just twenty minutes, but at the time, it seemed like hours. I suddenly ran onto nothing at all, and fell.

The hole I found myself falling into was randomly placed, perhaps even manmade, if not that, it was made by a creature. I heard the pounding and crunching of feet run right past the hole. I was safe from my first problem, at least.

I must have hit my head when I fell, because that's all I remembered. How I actually managed to get out of the hole? I may never know. But I remembered that I was still in forest outside of school. I could try my way back.

So I tried to stand again. I leaned against the tree and edged my way up. It hurt, but I suppose it could have been a lot worse. I was able to walk.

I wondered how deep into the forest I had travelled. I wondered how long ago it had happened. It was dark, but I wondered if it was the forest that made it dark or if it was night.

I walked in the direction my heart to me to go, and prayed for the best.

My feet began to hurt before I reached anywhere, but I couldn't give up. I had to get there now, and I had to find him.

He did this to me. It was his fault. Not his father's, not the Death Eaters', not Voldemort's, but Draco's. I trusted Draco. I loved Draco. And now this.

I limped on through the darkness, biting my lip to ease the pain. It didn't work; it felt as if my lip was swollen, too. Draco was going to pay. He was going to hurt just like I did.

I walked on for what seemed like forever. But by luck, maybe, I finally came to the clearing outside of my school. I walked through the bushes lining the forest, making a deep cut in my right leg. Just another thing to blame Draco for.

I neared the school. And chose then as the best time to check for my wand. Luckily, I had it. As I neared the front steps, I saw someone. Or at least, I thought I saw someone sitting on the steps.

I adjusted my broken glasses to get a better view. There was definitely someone sitting on the stairs, a blond, with a book on their lap and they were writing in it. They looked up. Surprise, surprise, it was Draco.

Anger pulsed through my veins, my stomach began to boil, I wanted to do something right there. My body began to hurt more. He looked shocked. He expected me to be dead, I'm sure. Maybe I would have been better off dead. But that just wasn't the case anymore.

"Harry?" he whispered, sounding rather unsure of himself. He closed the book and kept it on his lap, full attention on me.

I glared at him. I was right there, in front of him, doing nothing -- absolutely nothing -- about it. I wanted to say something, yell something at him. Scream everything I did the night I was dragged away to his face, just in case he missed them the first time. I couldn't.

I couldn't yell, I couldn't speak, I couldn't hit or hex him. Part of me didn't want to. A very large part. I just kept glaring at him and walked on by. Leaving him to himself.

I wasn't going hurt Draco. Why?

Because hurting Draco would hurt more than death itself.