Reciprocality

God knows why they did what they did. And He probably blames me for the second half of it. So cliche, really, but it left a good mark on all of us. Too many on me, you might think. I'm a bad person, I'm sure. I could care less about Malfoy, but Ginny... that one I curse myself for every single day. I know what I did that day sent her off the edge. I should have been there to comfort her, instead of fucking taking advantage of her. I knew I was being an asshole, and I wasn't trying not to. I don't know why. Everyone thinks I'm such a goddamn ubermensch... I enjoy being a dick every now and then. Incredibly bad timing on my part, however. Everybody thinks it's such a tragedy, so terrible, and they bloody won't ever stop talking about it, in hushed tones of grief and sometimes awe.

But I've found my release. I may never forgive myself for what part I played in the deaths of those youthful lovers, but I can escape. It's a muggle idea, I've never heard of it in the wizarding world. Wizards aren't usually so self-depricating as myself. Or maybe they are, and they just don't tell anyone, like me. Whenever it gets to be too much, I calculate. Wouldn't do any good to be found out. I have to think of a time when nobody would notice where the benevolent Boy Who Lived excused himself to, how long he was gone, what was different when he came back. So I plan, and when the time is right I find my way into the Prefect's bathroom (Draco was a Prefect...) and conjure whatever suits my fancy- a razor blade, scissors, and once... once I conjured Ginny's dagger. The blood flows, and I find relief. It's my dirty little secret. I've heard the reasons it works- chemicals, punishment, martyrdom, whatever. All I know is, now, after everything that happened, I like the pain. It soothes me. If I needed the release and couldn't get away, you'd probably notice me, flanked by an emotional Hermione and a stoic Ron maybe, discreetly clenching my arm until it purpled, blood vessels exploded, blooming under the skin, or a trickle of blood leaking from the corner of my mouth, quickly wiped away. Or maybe you wouldn't. Nobody else does.

When I recounted events, I realized this habit of mine was something Ginny used to do. In a way, it terrified me, but it also made sense that the trait should appear to me now. Of course, Ginny wasn't raised by muggles like I was. She used magic. But it's all to the same purpose, isn't it? Whatever it is. She did have that dagger, after all. I wonder why she did it, what she was seeking solace from. Sometimes it's difficult to think there could be problems, dangerous problems, lurking in such a beautiful girl. That's why we didn't see it, or convinced ourselves we didn't see it or pretended we didn't see it. And that's probably why she turned to him, to Malfoy, the bastard. And look what happened with that. If there's one thing I regret the most, it's not showing her that I was better than him before it was too late. In the years prior, a one year age-seperation was such a difference. And I have to admit, before she grew into such a beautiful woman, I did not want her affections. But then, she did change, and I really did want her. I figured, maybe subconsiously, that the best way to keep her attraction to me was to keep acting the way I had when she first blushed at the sight of me. She moved on, deciding I would eternally think of her only as Ron's little sister. So she fell into the welcoming arms of the only person I've ever truly hated. The Dursleys, you're thinking, don't you hate them? No. Not like I hate that son of a bitch. The Dursleys were blessed with stupidity and ignorance. Draco Malfoy's intelligence rivaled Hermione's. To choose evil, and to know you've chosen evil the way he did... It's different. I hold no reservations on the idea that he seduced her to get to me. It's not like he's normally go for virginal Weasley girls. And he's been banging Pansy Parkinson and a whole horde of nameless Slytherin chicks for years. She may have been beautiful, but he had beautiful girls, the kind of beauiful girls that whisper "I'm not wearing any panties" in your ear and press their quick hands into your pants. I'm the only reason he came to her. Maybe it turned into something more than that. But it started because of me. And, I suppose, it ended because of me. But not in the way I wanted. Bloody Malfoy.

There's something wrong with everybody. In times of crisis, flaws emerge like earthworms in the rain. And these times are certainly times of crisis. Voldemort hasn't killed us all, though, we're taking care of that ourselves. Me too, maybe. Someday you might find me in a pool of crimson like they did Ginny and Malfoy. All just wanting escape, pushing just a little too hard to get it in my case. Whatever the reason. I guess it might be about punishment. Affliction. I don't know. I don't think about it. It just makes everything okay, for a moment at least. And anyone would give up just as much for that these days. Pearly white lines across my body hidden under Hogwarts robes aren't enough discouragement. The scars have kept me from showing my body to anyone since... then. Maybe that's right, maybe that's how it should be. But I could get rid of the obstacles in an instant, as much time as it takes to wave a wand and utter a couple of words. But I haven't yet. Maybe someday, I will. Maybe then I won't have to keep hurting myself just to find some peace. Until then, I'll take my sanctuary where I can find it.