Chapter Text
It would feel like flying, Harry thought and looked into the abyss.
The Astronomy tower was so high and the night so dark, with the moon obscured by clouds, that he couldn´t see the ground. There was only darkness and even that was blurred by his tears, spilling hot and endless down over his face.
He had been ok with being different. It was nothing new to him, really. He´d always been the freak, the scrawny boy in ill-fitting hand-me-downs and then The Boy Who Lived, Gryffindor´s wonder boy with the legendary scar on his forehead, the hero of the wizarding world, prophesied to save them all or die trying.
What did it matter that he was queer as well? Just a new nuance to his otherness. Nothing to be ashamed of. So he´d thought at least.
The wind howled, blowing cold in his face. It was always windy here, so high up over the world, but it was worse from October on. The wind became icy and strong enough to blow you right over the parapet.
It had been also up here on the very same tower that he´d realised why grieving for Cedric had felt so different back at the end of his fourth year. Funny, how he had almost laughed when he finally had realised why he´d felt so strange around the older boy. He’d hated that Cedric was dead, was dead because of him. But understanding his feelings had been liberating nonetheless. Sirius had picked up on his ambivalent mood -sometimes heartbroken sometimes exhilarated- so quick over the summer, Harry was perplexed Hermione never mentioned anything or questioned him like she usually did. But then it was lucky, because he would´ve never been able to open up to her, not then. Talking to Sirius, however, had been easy and Sirius had been understanding and gentle. He had patted Harry´s back, smiling, reassuring that there was no shame in his preference, that there never was shame in love.
‘Love whoever makes you happy, Harry. Because happiness is what is important and not what others think about you.’ Sirius´ voice rung in his head.
Tears threatened to choke him once again. Sirius. He would know what to say now. He´d hug Harry to his chest, stroke his back. But he wasn´t here. He was dead. So many were dead because of Harry and Harry was all alone. He had never felt this alone. He had been used to it when he hadn´t known any other life as the one with the Dursleys. But since coming to Hogwarts there had been his friends and he never had to be alone anymore.
Harry closed his eyes. Why hadn´t he reacted differently?
“Come on Harry.” Ron shoved him playfully. “You need a girlfriend.”
Harry scowled at Ron, willing him to shut up. He needed as much a girlfriend as he needed Dragon Pocks.
“What’s wrong with you? Every time I talk about girls, you’re all grumpy and snappish. As if something’s wrong with girls.”
“Nothing wrong with girls,” Harry muttered. He looked at his housemates, many of them sitting in pairs, snogging or cuddling. How much he wanted something like that for himself. But that was the tragedy in being gay and being who he was. He couldn´t just walk up to the next bloke and ask him out, could he?
“Now Ron, leave him be, will you?” Hermione chimed in, gaze narrowed over her Herbology book. It seemed she had picked up on Harry´s secret in the end as she always did. No use in keeping secrets from Hermione, was there?
“I just don’t get why he doesn’t react to all those doe-eyed love exclamations. All the girls are interested in Harry but not a single one is good enough for him.” Ron scowled now too. “It’s almost as if you’re not interested at all,” he said to Harry but the dark expression faded into a grin and he nudged Harry in the side. “Secretly into men, aren’t you?” he chuckled. Harry choked. Ron´s face reddened when he saw Harry´s bright red cheeks. “Blimey mate, no joke? You’re a poof?” Ron all but shouted.
He could´ve denied it. He should have. But he hadn´t been ashamed of his feelings, he’d been merely embarrassed that Ron had outed him when every Gryffindor and then some were in the common room. Oh, if he´d just laughed it off and maybe asked Ginny out or Luna or Hermione even, someone really, any girl to prove Ron wrong. But he hadn´t, because ‘being queer is no shame, Harry’. Sirius had said it with such conviction, had assured Harry so thoroughly, Harry had believed it himself, had never thought homosexuality would be an issue, a problematic one. Oh had he been wrong and since then he was alone. Not only alone but isolated. No one wanted to sit next to him, no one wanted to talk to him and no one listened to him. Not even Hermione who was so busy snogging Ron nowadays. Ron who couldn´t look in Harry´s eyes anymore. They were his best friends and even they turned away from him. Leaving him utterly alone. Seamus and some others had ambushed him before curfew one day, taking ‘revenge’ for him being a pervert all those years while they´d shared a dormitory, for all those times he´d seen them shower. The bruises had been well hidden underneath his clothes for days. No one had known. And anyway no one would´ve cared. The rest of the school was either gossiping viciously about him or spitting in his face or calling him names.
Was it a wonder he desperately wished for a fellow soul? Was it a wonder he couldn´t control his breathing when someone had sent him a letter, begging him to meet him, because he was in the same situation, knew what it was like to fancy the same gender and that he kept it a secret as Harry did before he had been outed. It was like a beacon in his heart. He was not alone. There was someone just like him. How much he longed for someone to be his, to embrace him, to love him. Someone who could not only understand Harry but who would willingly come closer. Someone who finally gave him closeness, closeness beyond a pat on the back or a brief hug like friends share.
Of course he´d gone, nervous like a first year student before the Sorting Hat was placed on his head. And then it had been only a joke. Malfoy had waited for him with his goons. They´d held him down while Malfoy had kicked him and spat in his face, calling him ‘Freak’ and ‘Bloody poof’. He´d been sneering when Goyle had prised his jaw open with raw violence so Malfoy could fuck his mouth with a thick candle, almost choking him with it. They´d left him slumped on the floor, bruised and humiliated. Harry had heard their laughter even after they´d been long gone. The pain in his jaw and his ribs had been nothing to the pain in his heart. He´d wanted to be strong. So many bad times had come and gone and he´d overcome all of them. But he couldn´t bear any more.
The Astronomy tower had been vacated when he´d dashed up the stairs and had burst into uncontrollable sobs.
Harry took a deep breath. He peered down again. Yes. It would be like flying. He´d always loved flying, loved it from the very first moment he´d mounted a broom and felt the wind on his face and in his hair.
He hadn´t planned to jump when he’d come here, but now he couldn’t think of anything else. He would finally be free. Free of the burden of the Prophecy, free of the responsibility to save the Wizarding world from evil, free from all those people who hated him for what he was.
His hands gripped the parapet and he pulled himself up on it before he had decided that now was the moment to fly, to escape and never come back, not alive.
“Mister Potter, what in Merlin’s name…” Snape broke off, realising what it was he had caught Harry doing. Harry startled and almost lost his footing. Grabbing for hold, he turned to Snape. The man´s eyes were wide and he looked so shocked Harry frowned, wondering if the light played tricks with his eyes or if the foreign emotion really was on Snape’s face. If so, Snape being capable of something else than loathing and pettiness, was rather interesting. Any other day Harry would´ve found it probably confusing to learn something like that about Snape. Snape the eternal git. But it was too late for confusion or wondering that even Snape was only human. He had enough of being a pawn, a freak, an outsider. His gaze returned once again to the darkness below him. He didn’t have to see where he’d land. All that mattered was that it was far enough away it would kill him.
Death.
Harry wanted nothing else. No more fame for something he would wish to no one. No exuberant expectations resting on him. No more loneliness. He would be with Sirius again, with his parents. Death sounded so much nicer than everything he would leave behind.
“Come down there.” Snape’s voice intruded his thoughts and Harry twisted around, frustrated with himself that he was doing so just again. But there was something in the man’s voice, a certain timbre Harry had not heard before. Could it be fear? Snape didn’t look like it at least. His expression was still slightly worried but otherwise mostly blank.
Harry laughed. “Why? To drag me back inside? Take points? Give me detention?” He laughed again and even to his own ears it sounded hysterical. He grabbed the cold stone harder and swung one leg over the top of the parapet, sitting astride.
“Potter,” Snape gasped but managed to make it sound like an order. He took a step closer, hand lifted in front of him.
“Don’t come closer,” Harry warned. He leaned forward. His chest was pressed against the stone. It really was cold. Cold and wet, chilling him right to the bones. He shifted his weight so he could swing his other leg past the safety of the platform. There was a small ledge below, he’d seen it when he´d checked the height. Once he was there, he turned. Now he just had to stretch his arms, close his eyes and fly. “There’s nothing you can do to change my mind.” Harry gazed back, deliberately meeting Snape’s eyes, so certain to see a sneer or loathing. There was neither. Snape shook his head, very, very slowly.
“Don’t. Harry. Please, don’t,” he pleaded. His voice was so soft, Harry might not have heard it at all had not the wind carried it towards him.
Harry was so surprised about the sudden change in Snape’s demeanour, his tone and expression that he tried to face the man, twisting around for a better look. His fingers slipped over the slick stone and the ledge was too small to find proper purchase. For a second he flailed with his arms and then realisation hit him. That was it. He’d fall now. He hadn’t planned it like this but it was just as well. It made no difference in the end. Harry closed his eyes. He smiled.
Strong hands grasped him and pulled him back, back to the wall and then over it and onto the platform.
“NO!” Harry wailed and struggled against Snape holding him. “You can’t! Let me go! Let me go!”
“Harry…Harry!” Snape shouted and shook him so hard his teeth clinked against each other.
Harry whimpered but stopped struggling. With wide eyes he stared at Snape. “Let me die,” he whispered.
“No.”
‘No’ it echoed in Harry’s ears and it was worse than a slap. He folded in on himself, his knees giving out under him. But he never met the chill stone floor. He landed in warm arms, holding him tight against a hard chest. Warm hands rubbed over his back.
“I have you,” Snape murmured right into his ear. “I have you.”