Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I do not own any of the Harry Potter greatness that is.
Goodbye
I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be.
He picked up a quill and dipped it into the black ink. He brought it down to a piece of blank parchment and began to write. His quill flowed smoothly across the empty void of the beige-coloured paper. The words found him easily, but it was difficult to actually be writing it, to share his feelings with everyone. But they had to know. He had to stop hiding and tell them the truth.
When he had finished, he sat back, leaning against the wooden chair; it creaked lightly against his weight. He had written nearly a foot. The glistening ink caught the bright flicker of the candle that stood at the top of the desk. Red light on black ink. Red and Black. Colours of death.
He reread his words; a single tear rolled down his pale cheek.
He sat on the floor next to his bed, his head filled with ambivalence.
Is this really what I want to do? he asked himself. Do I really want to just give up? Do I want to admit defeat? Do I want to take the easy way out?
Yes, came his answer. It's the only option. It doesn't matter what "way" you took or what other people think. Maybe then they'll realize the shit that I had to deal with. They have no idea what I had to go through every day. They never even cared. No one did. And I can't be their "Golden Boy". I can't be their savior. I'm not a saint. I never wanted to be any of these things. Don't they know that? I can't keep parading around behind a façade pretending that everything is okay, because it's not. I'm not. There is nothing left for me here. There is too much pain, too much sadness. But it will all be over soon.
He picked up a shard of glass from the mirror he had broken earlier - the mirror Sirius had given him. The mirror he never used. There was a pang of guilt in his heart. He gazed into the glass, seeing a pair of vivid emerald eyes staring back at him. Eyes that had once been full of life, full of happiness. Now they held only pain, sadness, emptiness.
It will be okay. I won't be alone anymore.
He held the glass firmly in his right hand. He brought the tip of it to his skin. It was cold, sharp. He pricked his finger. But it didn't hurt. He didn't feel anything. A small bead of blood began to appear.
I'm so sorry.
He took the cool piece of glass and dragged it down his left wrist. The dark warm blood came forth almost immediately. It ran down his arm and dripped onto the floor. Some trickled forward and formed a small pool in the palm of his hand. Then with the bloodied left hand he took the glass and ran it across his right wrist.
He dropped the mirror, and stared down at his arms. The crimson blood flowed gently, dripping onto his robes, the floor.
He lay down, feeling the incalescence of the dark liquid on his face.
I'll be with my family soon.
His vision became hazy.
He felt the warmth of his blood around him, the coldness within him, but he felt no pain. It was almost blissful. He smiled.
His eyes grew dark. His breath came in short gasps.
It's done. It's over.
"Goodbye," he whispered to the empty room.
His breathing stopped, the light in his emerald eyes flickered out, his body became limp and cold.
And the Boy Who Lived was no more.
A/N's: sorry if I have depressed you all. = P I wrote this a while back, oddly enough it was right before finals when I was all "AHH!" haha. You know the feeling; immensely stressed out, just wanting it all to be over, anxiously awaiting summer. And now it's bloody july. Ugh. Less that 2 months before we go back. ::shudder:: hehe. Anyhoo. I figured I'd get this up since there's been a temporary halt on HPatFR. I'm still working on that, but nothing's coming. I've written two other one-shots, but no FR. Ugh. I need to get out of this rut. = anyhoo. Thanks to Val, my wonderful beta. = D
While I'm at it, a BIG thanks to my reviewers from FR:
EyesofEmerald, (or whatever you called yourself, lol), Ninde Annare, Jess