She could simply jump. It would all be so easy. A single step forward and then the endless fall. The sky had chosen to be its darkest, illuminating the stars, which seemed to shine at their brightest, even more. She had chosen this night, this place, this method, out of all the possibilities.
How sweet it would be to end while flying. The beauty of the night being the last thing to envelope and caress her. So why did she hesitate? Why stand here instead of finally taking that little step. Thoughtful as always she had taken care of all her things. Her testament, distributing all of her goods, had been written. So had the farewell letters. The one for her parents. The one for Ginny. The one for Harry. The one for Ron. Even one for Headmaster Dumbledore. And one for Snape.
She closed her brown eyes for a moment, trying to calm herself, to grow detached before the end. She pulled the robes tighly around her body, her filthy, hurt body. "Do it, do it."
"What are you thinking you are about to do, stupid girl?" She hates his deep, velvety voice. Detests the deep scowl on his gaunt face as she turns towards him. "What does it look like?" she retorts. Tonight she is not the obedient little Miss Know-it-all. And he is not the scary, intimidating Potions Master. Why not be bold before the end comes?
He sneeres. "Like a little girl who is about to do something rash and foolish!"
She wants to hit him, strike this impassive face. How dare he talk to her like this? He out of all the people. He has been there. He has seen it. He had watched. And chosen not to intervene.
"Bastard" she yells "You enjoyed it, right? Maybe you even would have liked to participate? Pity Voldemort did not appoint you!" For a second shock appears on his chalked face. "How dare you judge me. To think I would have lusted after getting my hands on a student. That I take pleasure in those meetings." He suddenly falls quiet, knowing he has revealed too much.
"Why are you here?" she inquires. His long, slender fingers throw the farewell letter she had written to him, at her.
"Dear Professor Snape, when you read this letter I will be gone. That is if you even waste your time with reading anything adressed from the little Miss Know-it-all. The reason I write to you, is because you are the only one who knows what they really did to me last week. I ask the favour of you of not telling anyone. Although this might be even another reason for distributing the news of the "wretched, raped Miss Granger" throughout the castle.
Goodbye, Professor Snape, you were quite a good Potions teacher and I learned a lot during your classes.
Sincerely, Hermione Granger"
"You read it too early!" she whispers. "Oh what a clever thing you are." A thing she is. "All the better I read it in advance." She stares. "No!" she shakes her head, the bushy curls flying wildly. "If you had not come, it would already be over" she longingly gazes at the endless depth. Again he sneers. "You think it would be that easy? That jumping would solve all your problems?"
"It would." "Oh but isnt that too cowardly for a Gryffindor?" he silkily prods on.
"Should I rather remain alive and suffer?" she sounds desperate now. "Of course, you should. As we all do" he retorts.
"Not everybody suffers, just I" she stares at him "and you." Then she shakes her head as if to get him to disappear out of her mind.
"I know what you are trying to do. You are getting me to talk to you and change my mind until the others come up and carry me to the hospital wing."
"You have quite a fantasy, Miss Granger, I have no intention of doing any of that. And I ensure you that noone knows about you being here."
"Then why are you?" He looks as if he does not know. "Come down, it is decidedly uncomfortable to talk out here, I do not intend on catching a cold because of your stupidities."
She notices he has ignored her question. "You do not know." She whispers.
And the memories return. The masked faces with the black robes, so many, the manly voices, those she did not know and even worse the ones she knew.
That dark prison cell. The coldness. And her own naked body. The endless bars and the onlookers around them. And he had been there. She had recognized his eyes, the deep, dark tunnels that had been watching. Her brown ones had pleaded him to help, to prevent this from happening. She had trusted him. But he had simply stood there.
And then they had come. One after another. Theodore Nott, Gregory Goyle Senior, some which she did not even know by name. She had found out details she would not have wanted to know in her darkest nightmares. Such as Lucius Malfoy liking to doing it from behind, while gasping "Draco". Such as the kiss of Voldemort, who sucked her lips until the blood seeped out.
How she had been lying there, naked and cold and lost. And filthy, so dirty. And how he had watched her, not intervening.
"You were there" a small tear trickled down her face "you saw them and did not help me. I had counted on you. I trusted you."
"You know I could not intervene, it would have blown my cover" he stopped, noticing that he was about to justify himself to her. "I do not need to explain my reasons to you." He coldly states.
She laughed – a dark, hollow sound. "So you were afraid of death, were you not? Or of being tortured?"
His cold black eyes stare at her. "I do not fear death!" and the way he says it makes her believe its truth. "What do you fear then?" she inquires. "Being killed before this bloody war has been won, before my spying task is completed, before I have atoned for my sins" he breaks off. Again he has revealed too much.
Get it over with now. She takes another step towards the edge. Who cares if Snape watches her fall down? "You can not understand" but the words sound hollow. She knows that they are not true. If anyone can understand, then he does.
"Listen Miss Granger" She feels the cold touch of a clammy right hand on her shoulder. Obviously he intends on keeping her in this life, with physical force if necessary.
"What would your friends say, if you left them this way?" it stings. "They would learn to cope with it." Untrue again. Harry and Ron and Ginny, they would honestly mourn her loss, she knows of that.
He infuriates her. "Well you would not have that problem at least, would you?" she has gone too far. But this is the only way. He will let her do her will now.
He immideately takes back his hand and retreats into the dark shadows. She thinks he might not answer. "No, gladly friendship is a curse I have been spared off." Bitter, even sad.
Why does she feel bad that she has hurt him? Why should she care anyway? "Just leave me" she quietly resigns. She is tired of fighting him any longer.
But he does not. He keeps standing there. "Why do you even care?" she is crying now. "I dont" he harshly spits out, but quieter he adds a "…know".
"Why have you chosen this way?" his question surprises her.
She smiles a little as she remembers "When I was a little girl, I always dreamt of flying. Later when I was accepted to Hogwarts and first rode on a broom, I knew that was not the way I had meant. I wanted to fly downwards, into the nothingness, without the need of having to control anything, no util, just me and the air." Her mind that has drifted off returns to the Astronomy tower.
Flying! Again she draws nearer to the edge.
"I have a potion." Again his words surprise her. "My own creation" he sounds proud. "The stoppered death works quick and 100 surely" She wonders on which creatures he has tested to know so certainly how his potion works.
It fits him, she thinks, if a girl who dreams of flying wants to die during this, why shouldnt a Potions Master poison himself?
She will not tell him to leave, any longer. And when she stares into the endless darkness, she knows that she could not take that step any more. She hates him for his intervention. But the small part of her that wants to live, is grateful.
She is at a loss of what to do. Her body feels tired and worn and so does her soul. After being strong for so long she finally breaks down, comes to sit on the cold stone, stupid salty tears flowing down her cheeks. Her body shakes and she shivers.
The slender fingers hold a tissue paper towards her. Again she searches for some feelings in the dark eyes, but finds none. She accepts and blows her nose. "Thank you" she whispers defeatedly. Her words do not relate to the tissue paper.
He looks taken aback, not used to being thanked. "Youre welcome." The words sound foreign, even wrong, coming from his lips.
"You should go back to your dormitory" She nods. He even offers his hand to help her up and she gladly takes it, finding she is getting used to the cold touch. He guides her until they come to stop in front of the fat lady, who is preoccupied with snoring loudly.
"Goodnight, Miss Granger" he turns swiftly, black robes billowing dramatically behind him.
"Professor?" her small voice stops him. "You should think about pouring away the stoppered death. There are people who would miss you." He almost smiles. "I shall consider it."