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Beautiful Hurts	By : Morosemordant Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 16198 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Beautiful Hurts

Morosemordant

It hurts to be thin, it hurts to pretend, and it hurts to smile with loose teeth. Triggering. Eventually HP/SS

Morning moved slowly for Harry, his eyes fell shut and lingered on empty space. His feet shuffled as he walked and the gnawing ache in his stomach seemed to fade out for a time. His head felt clogged with uncomfortable warmth. His voice was lost in a sea of roaring children and he could never seem to answer a question before Hermione interrupted. He felt sluggish and dull.

Food was passed in front of him at lunch and he ate a bit of pudding to calm the growling and water filled the rest. He felt like dying with every bite. The mirrors in the hallway all showed his gluttony. He felt like he was positively jiggling with fat with each step. His hands were wrapped tight to his sides as he walked, mechanical, methodical to each class. Every step took every bit of concentration to look as normal as possible, but he was so tired.

So tired he felt like clawing his eyes out, the bones in his jaw hurt from smiling, chewing, laughing, clenching, from all of the pretending. His legs wanted to stumble from underneath him and all he could think about was not crying with the need to rest, just to close his bagged eyes for just a minute.

It just dragged one an don, and on it was barely lunch time now and he was close to screaming once again. Food was being piled onto his plate in mounds that would make a pig turn green.

“Ron, please tell her to leave me alone. There’s no way Hagrid could eat all this stuff, let alone me.”

“ Hermy he has a point…”

“Ronald what did you call me!? HERMY???” She was screeching high and loud and that was the last thing Harry wanted right now. He was trying to fly under the radar not trying to get all of the school’s attention.

“Really Hermy…” He was doing it on purpose now. “… that isn’t the point here. Harry can’t eat all that crap, I don’t know if even I could right now.” Then she growled, really truly growled in frustration and if the hall hadn’t been paying attention before they sure were now. Harry put his head down on his arms and pushed the plate away and a breath out in a defeated angry sigh. Here it comes, he thought.

“RONALD HE IS A STICK,” Shit, shit shit, thought Harry as he sat up and stared wide eyed at the idiot girl to his left “HE HASN’T EATEN IN DAYS, IF YOU HADN”T NOTICED!”

Apparently Ron hadn’t noticed until just then how little his best friend had been eating in the last week. Ron’s sad brown eyes looked down on the other boy. Silence followed and so did everyone else’s eyes. Harry looked at his for half a second before the disgust and realization in those eyes became too much. Harry stood up to leave and nearly fell back down.

The dizziness was back.

Not now… not here.

Harry screwed his eye tight trying to push the burning blackness from his eyes. He shook his head hard trying to shake the blurred groggy feeling free. He pushed off from the table and walked quickly from the room. Harry felt betrayed, he knew Hermione had noticed but he hoped she would have enough sense to keep it to her self.

It wasn’t their fucking business, they didn’t know him. How dare she do that? She didn’t know what it was like, neither of them did with their fucking normal families. Normal fucking lives, both of them. HOW DARE THEY?

He had eaten. He had. Harry knew he had to have eaten something. Some bread here, a biscuit here or there? He wasn’t NOT eating. He wasn’t a stick, he was a fat ass, couldn’t they see it? Harry walked to his next class and sat behind the worn wooden table. Nicks decorated it’s surface, he pushed his finger tips into the grain of the wood, memorizing the table he had sat behind three years ago. He could remember it, the splinters under this left elbow his right rubbed itchy against parchment and photos. His hands cramped, they were cramping now. He was writing, HE was there writing. Sitting next to Harry. Warm knees brushing making Harry nauseous. Same words, nearly identical messages. But the hand writing was different. To Bethesda Hobscrogg…

Warm, wet tears came from clenched eyes. His hands were breaking into the wood of the table. His ink pot came from his bag and slammed into the table surface and tipped over. Ink…

Ink had covered his nose and cheek. All the next day he had had Bethesda’s name etched onto his cheek in reverse. Ron and the twins had had a great laugh. Harry hadn’t eaten that day either, claiming Ron’s rude comment about what this Bethesda must have been doing, had made him lose his appetite. Really it had been those cold blue eyes watching his ass walk into the Great Hall.

Harry was disturbed by the swishing of heavy fabric to his right. He looked up and saw black.

“Mr. Potter, I suggest you straighten up before class begins, I shall be filling in today.” Harry nearly had a heart attack. Snape had never been so cordial before.

“Yes sir.” Harry bowed his head and wiped furiously at the treacherous tears clinging to his stubble. “Thank you Professor.”

“What ever for Mr. Potter?” The left brow was raised in curiosity but the smirk belied the truth. Snape had seen, but what Harry couldn’t figure was why hadn’t this been used again him. A swish of an ebony wand cleared the ink.
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Beautiful Hurts