Dislaimer: Don't own
Warnings: Character suicide. Depressing. Don't like, don't read.
Pre-Summary: Up to the end of OoTP compliant; The child department of the Ministry of Magic learns that Severus is Harry Potters true father, so they make him take Harry in against both their wishes. They are living at Severus' house, and Remus is there with them because of very strict restrictions on werewolves (he's in hiding). Snape and Lupin are also in a relationship (slash) but nothing is mentioned in this story (in the sequel, though, it will be).
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Dear
Harry scratched that out. After a moment, he crumpled up the paper and threw it lazily to the floor.
Professors, he started again.
I'm sorry I couldn't be who you wanted me to be.
He wanted to write more. There was so much he wanted to tell them, so much he wanted them to know, so much he wanted them to understand, but it all seemed too much and writing it down would take a forced effort he didn't think possible. He didn't know how to explain anything, how to write it down so they wouldn't think him a pathetic fool, how to make them understand how he was feeling and that he wasn't being selfish and that he was trying even though he knew the point was moot. They didn't want him anyway.
His own father only took him in because he was forced to.
He could barely pull up the energy to lift the quill to the paper again.
It's all better off this way, he finished in an futile attempt at summing up his aches and pains and thoughts inside.
Amazingly, he gathered himself enough to stand on his bed and hover over his trunk, which was setting on the desk chair next to the bed. Carefully, he stood on the box that carried his life for the past five years and pulled the hoop of rope up to himself, which was tied carefully, tightly, to the sturdy metal holder that carried seven burning candles. One by one, he slowly blew them out, giving himself time to change his mind. Before he snuffed the last, he pulled the rope over his head, leaving it slightly loose.
Using his fingers to kill the last of the light, Harry jumped and let himself fall.
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The room was dark.
And silent.
And airless.
All he could do was stand there, the light coming through the open doorway into the room that had so suddenly became his worst nightmare.
And he knew he was to blame.
He was the one who told the boy he wasn't welcome. He told the boy he was there only because he wasn't wanted anywhere else.
That as soon as he was 17, he would be on the streets to fend for himself. That the redheads and the know-it-all wouldn't visit because they wanted nothing to do with him.
That Lupin hated him.
Even though it was Severus himself who refused them any contact with the boy.
And didn't bother saying that Lupin wasn't avoiding him, he was just not able to leave his room because he had been ill.
He knew from a very young age he never wanted to be a father. Ever. And him being one now lead to his own son's death.
Unable to stay in the doorway of the room any longer, Severus stepped back a few steps, unable to keep his eyes off the hanging boy. All his anger had been swept away, but because of that, he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.
He left Lupin to the funeral.
He left the room as it was, the door locking the room's horrible past inside, everything but the noose exactly as it was the day his son died, until the day he died himself.
FINI
A/N: Let me know if you are interested in a prequel/sequel (either/both would be longer than this oneshot)