Briefly mentions blood.
Inspired by the song Always Hate Me by James Blunt.

"Gil I swear to the De Vil name ye better put my ass down right now!" I scream.

You see, I'm being carried over Gil's shoulder who will not put down me down, as Uma walks next to us.

"Chad's right: you still speak like Harry does, Y/n." Uma smirks.

I then get my ancient knife out from the sheath.

"Ye know what this means, blood has to be drawn before it's put back." The pair ignore me, "I will cut ye Gil."

"Please, no you won't." Uma laughs.

She's right and we both know it but I don't put the blade away. I'm not breaking world old tradition of the ancient knife that Harry stole for me when we were fifteen. Suddenly I'm placed on the ground but before I can react Uma shoves me in a supply closet and slams the door shut. Then the bastard locks it.

"Open up now Uma!" I shout banging the door.

"Not until you two sort this out." Uma then giggles.

Two?

"She's gone." A familiar Scottish accent says.

"Harry."

The light flicks on as I see Harry in the dingy small room. He looks like he hasn't slept in months or eaten for weeks.

"Hi lass."

Lass was always the nickname Harry gave me. A casual homage to his Scottish heritage that only he could call me. I sigh in utter frustration as I prepare to draw my own blood so I can put the daggers away.

"Right..."

"No, let me." Harry says putting his hand on my arm.

Harry slowly removes the blade and makes a small chink in his arm that draws blood on the dagger. He then gives me the dagger and I put it in the sheath.

"Thank ye." I nod.

A couple of beats of silence occur.

"Ye need to forgive me."

"Do I?"

"Ye lass." Harry walks towards me cautiously, "I can't go on like this."

"How do ye think I feel?" I snap back.

Harry tucks a stray hair behind my ear.

"Then put yourself out of your misery, lass," He pauses briefly, "And stop denying me."

I let go of my rigid posture and let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding in.

"Fine."

I really was unsure how to end this, sorry!