Instead of going back to his dormitory, where he knew he'd get no sleep, he
headed up to the astronomy tower. It was still cold, but his cloak did help
to prevent him from freezing. Just.
There were steps leading onto the roof of the astronomy tower and Harry ascended them, mind whirling. Why had Snape been so kind? It was all strange, and in a way, too much. He didn't doubt that Snape would find out the truth. . .and he wanted to trust the man. He liked the gentle side he had seen. But he couldn't help feeling like it was a bit soon.
He sat down on the edge of the flat roof, swinging his legs over the side. He had contemplated suicide one night, when he was younger. He had considered it for a long time, finally bursting into hysterical tears. When he had woken up the next morning, and the light was shining on him, and the boys were having a pillow fight, he realised that things would always get better. That belief had managed to keep him going, even through the beatings and the Last Battle.
And why end it all so quickly, when the exquisite torture of blood running down your arms in small trickling rivulets? It was so close. . .
He didn't even realise he'd done it until he felt his muscles relax at last and a feeling of warmth and comfort suffuse his frail body for a few seconds. He ran a hand over his ribs, feeling them even underneath his jumper. A small smile of satisfaction spread over his gaunt face, and then faded as he realised his stomach was feel-able. It existed. And that was enough to piss him off.
Trying to distract himself from the gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach, he looked out over the grounds. He could see into the forbidden forest; there was nothing of interest except Bane the centaur picking at some herbs. Hagrid was walking Fang and the boarhound was sniffing on the trail of something. Harry didn't like to think what that something was - or what would happen to it if Fang caught it. The school grounds really were beautiful. The sun was rising and the dew on the Quidditch pitch glistened. There were some things that magic just couldn't beat, and this seemed to be one of them.
The day seemed to be getting off to a good start, even though Harry hadn't slept. That was nothing new. He rose to his feet and stumbled down the stairs, just managing to catch the rail in time. Ron and Hermione were on their way back from breakfast when Harry almost ran straight into them. He had contemplated saying good morning, but they seemed to be well wrapped up in one another. They didn't even notice Harry trailing after them.
The day then got drastically worse. As Harry was walking along, wondering if he was going to collapse because he felt so weak, Colin Creevey caught sight of him.
"Harry! Harry! You excited about the match on Wednesday, Harry?"
Harry gave some non-committal grunt and turned to walk away. However just then a burly Slytherin shoved Colin out of the way. Colin's ever-present camera swung around, cracking Harry on the arm and, to his surprise, Harry fell to the floor. Ron was there in an instant.
"Harry? You alright, mate?"
Harry tried to ignore the ferocious pain in his arm and nodded. Hermione looked at him piercingly.
"You don't look well. . .you're as white as a ghost. I really think you should see madam Pomfrey. . ."
Relieved, Harry made his excuse.
"She's away. Her sister's ill."
"Oh" said Hermione, looking surprised, and a little disappointed that she hadn't known the latest news.
"Well, if you're sure you're alright. . ."
Harry nodded and forced a smile, even though pain was shooting through his arm. He thought he might have broken it, but he was sure it would heal quickly. And if it didn't, then he could try it himself. Unbidden, images of Lockhart's grin as he removed the bones from Harry's arm sprang to mind, and he suppressed a shudder.
It was his left arm that seemed to be broken thankfully; so in transfiguration he was able to take notes without any problems. However at the end of the class, McGonagall called him back.
"Mr Potter. Are you alright?"
Harry nodded, smiling brilliantly up at the Deputy Headmistress, who nodded looking relieved.
"I thought so, but Professor Dumbledore asked me to check. And, of course, you know that you can come and talk to me any time you like."
Harry nodded, his cheeks aching from the novelty of smiling. His head hurt and he had a nasty feeling his stomach would begin to grumble. Thankfully he got away in time, and even had time to go to the bathroom to cut his legs before lunch. One handed, of course.
How he survived the next few lessons he didn't know. He knew for a fact that his arm was broken, though he wasn't quite sure how it could be from just being hit by a camera. Stupid Creevey.
He half considered just going to bed, and not talking to Snape, but realised he would have to. But what was he going to do? Concealing charms? Wouldn't Snape just break through them?
He groaned and rolled off the bed, holding his arm gingerly. He didn't want to cast a concealing charm because he vaguely remembered that they did something odd to broken bones. So, worry gnawing at the pit of his stomach, he descended down into the dungeons and softly rapped on Snape's door. Almost immediately it swung open, and Snape gestured him inside. A fire was burning, the flickering flames making the tapestries on the wall seem to come alive. Harry stared at them, entranced, until Snape put a hand on his shoulder. His soft "Potter" was drowned out by Harry screaming in pain. He sank limply into the chair and bit his lip hard, feeling the blood run into his mouth.
"What is it, Harry? Did I hurt you?"
Snape looked worried to the point of terror.
"No, I'm ok. I think I might have broken my arm earlier. . ."
Snape stared at Harry for a moment, and helped Harry to recline.
"You *think* you *might* have broken your arm? I think if you had you would be fairly sure about it!"
Harry suddenly realised how stupid he had been, and laughed. It sounded false, even to his own ears.
"No, you're right. I was just exaggerating. I don't know what happened, I guess it's just bruised."
He knew there was no point in trying to argue as Snape glared and held out his hand. Mutely Harry extended the arm and for a moment his heart leapt as Snape merely felt through the sleeve of his robe.
"Merlin, it is broken. How did that happen?"
"Creevey knocked into me with that damned camera of his."
Snape snorted, and crouched in front of the boy, gesturing for him to roll up his sleeve. Harry hesitated, and Snape narrowed his eyes.
"Roll up your sleeve, boy, I don't have all day."
Harry gulped, the sound amplified by the cold stone walls, and Snape grasped his sleeve and tugged it firmly, exasperated. It rolled up and Snape dropped Harry's arm in horror and disgust, causing the boy to yelp with pain. He stared at Harry for a long moment, before shutting his eyes for a moment, and then he silently took the young boy's arm again, healing the broken bone. Then he took a seat and regarded Harry for a long moment, still silent.
"Why?"
Harry opened his mouth, and then shut it again. He was shaking like a leaf. . .a very frail leaf. Snape briefly wondered how much the boy weighed, and he was about to ask when Harry suddenly got to his feet and bolted. He sat, amazed for a second, before climbing to his feet and following. He stood silent outside the portrait hole for a few seconds, and was rewarded by the sound of footsteps going up the staircase just around the corner. He followed Harry up several flights of stairs, and quickened his pace once he realised the boy was heading for the Astronomy Tower.
Harry's legs ached, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep running. He slowed slightly on the final flight of stairs, and crawled to the roof of the tower, gulping in the fresh air greedily. He didn't know or care if Snape was following him.
He walked to the edge, as he had so many times before, and slowly sat down. His muscles and joints protested vehemently but he didn't care. He just didn't care about anything. He felt Snape behind him, and tensed.
"Go away."
"No."
"Please."
"No, Harry. I'm not going to leave you on your own."
Harry shivered again. Why was he always so cold?
"Please, Sir. I didn't ask you to follow me, and I'm none of your responsibility."
Snape shook his head, and walked to the edge, surreptitiously casting a softening charm on the ground in case Harry did decide to jump. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and kept it there even when the boy flinched and moved away.
"Will you come down?"
"No."
Snape sat down next to Harry, and took a deep breath. For some reason it was easier to convince the Slytherins not to kill themselves. He didn't know why.
"Please, Harry. You're going to freeze up here."
Silence dragged between the two of them. Harry simply stared down at the grounds while Snape tried to think of something to say.
"Should I go and get Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster then?"
Harry ignored him, and again silence fell. Snape wasn't sure he could ever remember feeling so useless. He was scared about Harry; well, anxious. The boy had grown ridiculously thin, and was a danger to himself. The wind howled and rain began to lash down. Snape shivered, pulling his cloak closer to him, and raised his voice to drown out the wind.
"Harry, I'm serious. If you don't come down soon I'm going to put a body- bind on you and drag you down! You will freeze to death out here!"
Harry didn't turn, but bellowed back,
"It's none of your fucking business, Snape! Why couldn't you have just left me alone? I want to be alone! I want to freeze to death!"
His voice cracked on the last syllable and Snape realised that the foolish boy only wore his shirt and trousers - he must have left his robe in Snape's office. He reached out an arm, and Harry shied away violently, nearly tipping over the edge. Water ran in thick rivulets off his glasses and down his reddened cheeks.
"Leave me alone, Snape, or I'll push you off the edge before I go!"
He didn't know where the words had come from, didn't care. He would do it, if Snape pushed him. Chancing a glance, he saw the concern in the older wizard's eyes, and it snapped something inside him. He got to his feet; saw the relief on Snape's face; and stepped off the edge.
**************************************************
Dumbledore was in his office when Fawkes suddenly screamed and wheeled out of the window at the same moment as a cloudy orb on his desk began to glow blue. Jumping to his feet, he wrenched open the window in time to see a body topple from the Astronomy Tower through the driving rain, and with a gasp of horror he levitated himself out onto the playing field. He could see Poppy and Minerva, who had similar alarms, racing across the pitch. The dark shape which had fallen stood, slightly shakily, and Dumbledore saw another figure levitate down from the Tower and grasp the student.
Harry Potter.
He felt like his stomach had fallen out. Unbidden, anger blazed inside, and he roughly pulled Harry away from Snape.
"What in the nine Hells did you think you were doing?" he hissed furiously, and Harry recoiled. He was shaking violently, and was very pale. Snape laid a calming hand on Dumbledore's shoulder.
"Albus, don't you think he should have some rest?"
"No! I want answers! We have sacrificed a lot for him; I want to know why he has decided to repay our kindness with this!"
Harry visibly shrunk in on himself. He felt like his heart had withered up and died. He was freezing cold, and felt like he was going to cry, except there was an obstruction in his throat. Why HAD he done it? And why did he want to do it again so much?
He couldn't bear to look into any of the teacher's eyes; Snape's unfathomable, Dumbledore's and McGonagall's and Pomfrey's angry and disappointed. He was nothing; just a load of hype. His time had passed with the fall of Voldemort, and now he was just another brick in the proverbial wall.
Someone was guiding him inside; he didn't care. Students stared and whispered; he didn't care. Peeves dropped a bucket of rainwater on him; he didn't care. Why should he? There was just a painful emptiness, a vacuum inside him.
He felt a potion being forced down his throat, and he was laid down on a bed. Then unconsciousness claimed him.
********************************************
There were steps leading onto the roof of the astronomy tower and Harry ascended them, mind whirling. Why had Snape been so kind? It was all strange, and in a way, too much. He didn't doubt that Snape would find out the truth. . .and he wanted to trust the man. He liked the gentle side he had seen. But he couldn't help feeling like it was a bit soon.
He sat down on the edge of the flat roof, swinging his legs over the side. He had contemplated suicide one night, when he was younger. He had considered it for a long time, finally bursting into hysterical tears. When he had woken up the next morning, and the light was shining on him, and the boys were having a pillow fight, he realised that things would always get better. That belief had managed to keep him going, even through the beatings and the Last Battle.
And why end it all so quickly, when the exquisite torture of blood running down your arms in small trickling rivulets? It was so close. . .
He didn't even realise he'd done it until he felt his muscles relax at last and a feeling of warmth and comfort suffuse his frail body for a few seconds. He ran a hand over his ribs, feeling them even underneath his jumper. A small smile of satisfaction spread over his gaunt face, and then faded as he realised his stomach was feel-able. It existed. And that was enough to piss him off.
Trying to distract himself from the gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach, he looked out over the grounds. He could see into the forbidden forest; there was nothing of interest except Bane the centaur picking at some herbs. Hagrid was walking Fang and the boarhound was sniffing on the trail of something. Harry didn't like to think what that something was - or what would happen to it if Fang caught it. The school grounds really were beautiful. The sun was rising and the dew on the Quidditch pitch glistened. There were some things that magic just couldn't beat, and this seemed to be one of them.
The day seemed to be getting off to a good start, even though Harry hadn't slept. That was nothing new. He rose to his feet and stumbled down the stairs, just managing to catch the rail in time. Ron and Hermione were on their way back from breakfast when Harry almost ran straight into them. He had contemplated saying good morning, but they seemed to be well wrapped up in one another. They didn't even notice Harry trailing after them.
The day then got drastically worse. As Harry was walking along, wondering if he was going to collapse because he felt so weak, Colin Creevey caught sight of him.
"Harry! Harry! You excited about the match on Wednesday, Harry?"
Harry gave some non-committal grunt and turned to walk away. However just then a burly Slytherin shoved Colin out of the way. Colin's ever-present camera swung around, cracking Harry on the arm and, to his surprise, Harry fell to the floor. Ron was there in an instant.
"Harry? You alright, mate?"
Harry tried to ignore the ferocious pain in his arm and nodded. Hermione looked at him piercingly.
"You don't look well. . .you're as white as a ghost. I really think you should see madam Pomfrey. . ."
Relieved, Harry made his excuse.
"She's away. Her sister's ill."
"Oh" said Hermione, looking surprised, and a little disappointed that she hadn't known the latest news.
"Well, if you're sure you're alright. . ."
Harry nodded and forced a smile, even though pain was shooting through his arm. He thought he might have broken it, but he was sure it would heal quickly. And if it didn't, then he could try it himself. Unbidden, images of Lockhart's grin as he removed the bones from Harry's arm sprang to mind, and he suppressed a shudder.
It was his left arm that seemed to be broken thankfully; so in transfiguration he was able to take notes without any problems. However at the end of the class, McGonagall called him back.
"Mr Potter. Are you alright?"
Harry nodded, smiling brilliantly up at the Deputy Headmistress, who nodded looking relieved.
"I thought so, but Professor Dumbledore asked me to check. And, of course, you know that you can come and talk to me any time you like."
Harry nodded, his cheeks aching from the novelty of smiling. His head hurt and he had a nasty feeling his stomach would begin to grumble. Thankfully he got away in time, and even had time to go to the bathroom to cut his legs before lunch. One handed, of course.
How he survived the next few lessons he didn't know. He knew for a fact that his arm was broken, though he wasn't quite sure how it could be from just being hit by a camera. Stupid Creevey.
He half considered just going to bed, and not talking to Snape, but realised he would have to. But what was he going to do? Concealing charms? Wouldn't Snape just break through them?
He groaned and rolled off the bed, holding his arm gingerly. He didn't want to cast a concealing charm because he vaguely remembered that they did something odd to broken bones. So, worry gnawing at the pit of his stomach, he descended down into the dungeons and softly rapped on Snape's door. Almost immediately it swung open, and Snape gestured him inside. A fire was burning, the flickering flames making the tapestries on the wall seem to come alive. Harry stared at them, entranced, until Snape put a hand on his shoulder. His soft "Potter" was drowned out by Harry screaming in pain. He sank limply into the chair and bit his lip hard, feeling the blood run into his mouth.
"What is it, Harry? Did I hurt you?"
Snape looked worried to the point of terror.
"No, I'm ok. I think I might have broken my arm earlier. . ."
Snape stared at Harry for a moment, and helped Harry to recline.
"You *think* you *might* have broken your arm? I think if you had you would be fairly sure about it!"
Harry suddenly realised how stupid he had been, and laughed. It sounded false, even to his own ears.
"No, you're right. I was just exaggerating. I don't know what happened, I guess it's just bruised."
He knew there was no point in trying to argue as Snape glared and held out his hand. Mutely Harry extended the arm and for a moment his heart leapt as Snape merely felt through the sleeve of his robe.
"Merlin, it is broken. How did that happen?"
"Creevey knocked into me with that damned camera of his."
Snape snorted, and crouched in front of the boy, gesturing for him to roll up his sleeve. Harry hesitated, and Snape narrowed his eyes.
"Roll up your sleeve, boy, I don't have all day."
Harry gulped, the sound amplified by the cold stone walls, and Snape grasped his sleeve and tugged it firmly, exasperated. It rolled up and Snape dropped Harry's arm in horror and disgust, causing the boy to yelp with pain. He stared at Harry for a long moment, before shutting his eyes for a moment, and then he silently took the young boy's arm again, healing the broken bone. Then he took a seat and regarded Harry for a long moment, still silent.
"Why?"
Harry opened his mouth, and then shut it again. He was shaking like a leaf. . .a very frail leaf. Snape briefly wondered how much the boy weighed, and he was about to ask when Harry suddenly got to his feet and bolted. He sat, amazed for a second, before climbing to his feet and following. He stood silent outside the portrait hole for a few seconds, and was rewarded by the sound of footsteps going up the staircase just around the corner. He followed Harry up several flights of stairs, and quickened his pace once he realised the boy was heading for the Astronomy Tower.
Harry's legs ached, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep running. He slowed slightly on the final flight of stairs, and crawled to the roof of the tower, gulping in the fresh air greedily. He didn't know or care if Snape was following him.
He walked to the edge, as he had so many times before, and slowly sat down. His muscles and joints protested vehemently but he didn't care. He just didn't care about anything. He felt Snape behind him, and tensed.
"Go away."
"No."
"Please."
"No, Harry. I'm not going to leave you on your own."
Harry shivered again. Why was he always so cold?
"Please, Sir. I didn't ask you to follow me, and I'm none of your responsibility."
Snape shook his head, and walked to the edge, surreptitiously casting a softening charm on the ground in case Harry did decide to jump. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and kept it there even when the boy flinched and moved away.
"Will you come down?"
"No."
Snape sat down next to Harry, and took a deep breath. For some reason it was easier to convince the Slytherins not to kill themselves. He didn't know why.
"Please, Harry. You're going to freeze up here."
Silence dragged between the two of them. Harry simply stared down at the grounds while Snape tried to think of something to say.
"Should I go and get Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster then?"
Harry ignored him, and again silence fell. Snape wasn't sure he could ever remember feeling so useless. He was scared about Harry; well, anxious. The boy had grown ridiculously thin, and was a danger to himself. The wind howled and rain began to lash down. Snape shivered, pulling his cloak closer to him, and raised his voice to drown out the wind.
"Harry, I'm serious. If you don't come down soon I'm going to put a body- bind on you and drag you down! You will freeze to death out here!"
Harry didn't turn, but bellowed back,
"It's none of your fucking business, Snape! Why couldn't you have just left me alone? I want to be alone! I want to freeze to death!"
His voice cracked on the last syllable and Snape realised that the foolish boy only wore his shirt and trousers - he must have left his robe in Snape's office. He reached out an arm, and Harry shied away violently, nearly tipping over the edge. Water ran in thick rivulets off his glasses and down his reddened cheeks.
"Leave me alone, Snape, or I'll push you off the edge before I go!"
He didn't know where the words had come from, didn't care. He would do it, if Snape pushed him. Chancing a glance, he saw the concern in the older wizard's eyes, and it snapped something inside him. He got to his feet; saw the relief on Snape's face; and stepped off the edge.
**************************************************
Dumbledore was in his office when Fawkes suddenly screamed and wheeled out of the window at the same moment as a cloudy orb on his desk began to glow blue. Jumping to his feet, he wrenched open the window in time to see a body topple from the Astronomy Tower through the driving rain, and with a gasp of horror he levitated himself out onto the playing field. He could see Poppy and Minerva, who had similar alarms, racing across the pitch. The dark shape which had fallen stood, slightly shakily, and Dumbledore saw another figure levitate down from the Tower and grasp the student.
Harry Potter.
He felt like his stomach had fallen out. Unbidden, anger blazed inside, and he roughly pulled Harry away from Snape.
"What in the nine Hells did you think you were doing?" he hissed furiously, and Harry recoiled. He was shaking violently, and was very pale. Snape laid a calming hand on Dumbledore's shoulder.
"Albus, don't you think he should have some rest?"
"No! I want answers! We have sacrificed a lot for him; I want to know why he has decided to repay our kindness with this!"
Harry visibly shrunk in on himself. He felt like his heart had withered up and died. He was freezing cold, and felt like he was going to cry, except there was an obstruction in his throat. Why HAD he done it? And why did he want to do it again so much?
He couldn't bear to look into any of the teacher's eyes; Snape's unfathomable, Dumbledore's and McGonagall's and Pomfrey's angry and disappointed. He was nothing; just a load of hype. His time had passed with the fall of Voldemort, and now he was just another brick in the proverbial wall.
Someone was guiding him inside; he didn't care. Students stared and whispered; he didn't care. Peeves dropped a bucket of rainwater on him; he didn't care. Why should he? There was just a painful emptiness, a vacuum inside him.
He felt a potion being forced down his throat, and he was laid down on a bed. Then unconsciousness claimed him.
********************************************