Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I do own Harry Potter socks though, does that count?
I borrowed the quote "There's always a light at the end of the tunnel. Of course, it's usually an oncoming train that's going to squash you flat." from Cassandra Claire's DS. If she got it from somewhere she didn't say.
Author's Notes: This is an little ficlet for Connelly's birthday, although it isn't what I had planned to write at all. I was trying to write Dark!Harry and I get Angsty!Draco. Oh well, it's the only decent thing that is complete that I've written in a while.. so it's for Connelly. Happy Birthday you loffly t00b! You're always fun to talk to about HP (and other things) hanks for pointing me in the direction of H/D! Have a great belated birthday.
Please review! Reviews make me a happy monkey.
Warning: This is a fic with SLASH content. If boys loving other boys squicks you then don't read. If you do read, and decide to flame the slashiness, then prepare to be mocked.
Here, on This Windowsill
Sometimes death is necessary, sometimes someone is just in so much pain that to do anything but kill them would be inhumane, like a fish, floating listlessly on its side, no longer with even the energy to swim upright. When you look at them, all you see is pain, and all you want s to make their pain stop. Many people fear death, but most fear it because they don't know what will happen to them after death. I've never really been one to fear the unknown. In fact, for me it's always been the opposite. I fear my reality and the unknown is full of hope and fantasy. My reality is much more difficult.
When I was a child I used to escape reality to my fantasy world. I refused to understand what was going on around me. As I grow older it becomes harder to ignore, right now, it is impossible.
I can feel the bitter wind on my face and my legs and my arms.
I can feel the hard stone of the windowsill underneath me.
I wish I couldn't feel anymore.
I guess I should be thinking about all of the good things that have happened throughout my life. I should have a part of me that is convincing me not to jump. All I can think about is him Through all my life my father has abused me, my mother has oppressed me and my friends have feared me. Ever since I was a child I looked towards love as a sort of light at the end of the tunnel. I don't know why I didn't see it coming. If my life otherwise was hell I don't know why I expected anything else from love. Like my father always said : "There's always a light at the end of the tunnel. Of course, it's usually an oncoming train that's going to squash you flat." Of course, I can't really see myself spouting sonnets or buying some silly girl roses. It makes a lot more sense that I would fall in love with my greatest enemy and the source of all my problems : Harry Potter.
Harry Potter took power away from my father, making him bitter and angry.
Harry Potter and his stupid friends always best me at everything, making my father bitter and angry.
Harry Potter made me realize that I am not, in fact, entirely straight, which will make my father fucking murderous.
I hate loving Harry, and I love hating him. Emotions are fickle things, aren't they? No matter how much how little you want them to be there, they just are, without so much as asking your leave.
I'm sitting here, on this windowsill wondering if I should really jump this time.
I'm sitting here, on this windowsill wondering what would happen if Potter saw me. Would he play the hero? Would he push me off?
I'm sitting here, on this windowsill wondering what would happen if Harry knew I loved him. Would he love me back? Not likely. Would he hate me even more than he already does? That's more probable.
I hear someone near me. Wouldn't it be funny if it was him? But no, it's Snape. He's yelling at me to get back to the Slytherin dorms. It's nearly lights out. he says to me, as if that's something I care about. If you don't go now, Mr. Malfoy, I'll have to give you detention.
I'm going back inside now. Maybe I'll end it all next week. Maybe I should've ended it all last week. Maybe I never will. I don't know, and not knowing is the only thing that keeps me alive. Not knowing what Harry really thinks of me is an unknown that keeps me going. For another week I will live in my own little fantasy.
