Author: FireAngel8723
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: R
Disclaimer: See this page.
Warnings: This is a SUICIDE FIC! If that offends you, please hit your back button now. Standard warnings also apply.
Silence. Cold, oppressive, deafening silence had settled over Number 12, Grimmauld Place, broken only by the ticking of an ancient grandfather clock in a forgotten sitting room. The silence had been bearing down on the old manor since its last inhabitant had died nearly three years ago.
The outside of the house, now visible to all, was run-down and the paint was beginning to peel away, leaving bare bricks. It�s porch was sagging slightly in the middle, the lawn was overgrown, and the window shutters creaked and threatened to come unhinged as they blew in the breeze.
Eighteen-year-old Harry Potter trudged up the street toward the house, eyes downcast. Since his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry had slowly but surely isolated himself from his friends, instead throwing himself into intensive training meant to prepare him to face Voldemort. As a result of said training, he was physically and magically the strongest he�d ever been. Emotionally, however�well, that was a completely different story. Since Sirius had been killed, Harry�s sole purpose had become getting revenge, making Voldemort and his minions pay for taking Sirius from him. He knew, however, that his friends and surrogate family would never understand, so he hid his emotions away in a corner of his mind, only letting them show when he was alone.
At the end of Harry�s sixth year at Hogwarts, tragedy struck once again. While on a mission for the Order, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks had been captured by a band of Death Eaters and tortured. Tonks had escaped�Remus had not. The Headmaster hadn�t come looking for Harry when he disappeared, nor did he allow anyone else to look for him. Instead, he had trusted Harry to return on his own when he had calmed down.
When Harry had returned to Hogwarts, eight days after the news of Remus� death had reached them, he wouldn�t speak a word about where he�d been. He withdrew himself from everyone completely, not speaking unless it was absolutely necessary, and throwing himself even more vigorously into his training.
As Harry�s seventh year had progressed, everyone noticed the drastic change in Harry�s attitude, but only one person chose to say anything about it�
Harry made his way to the dungeons for his usual Friday night defense lesson with Professor Snape. It was the winter holidays, so Harry didn�t meet any fellow students on his way. He knocked on the door and entered after Snape gave him the invitation, closing it quietly behind him.
�Sit,� Snape commanded when Harry went to get out his wand.
Harry glanced at him, confused, but kept a blank expression on his face. He slipped into a chair in front of the teacher�s desk and waited for Snape to speak.
For a long minute, Snape just stared at Harry, an unreadable expression in his coal black eyes. �I suppose you think that by cutting yourself off from your friends, you will save them,� Snape finally stated. Harry only looked at him, knowing he wasn�t finished. �A wise idea�if you weren�t so connected to the Dark Lord. What you may not realize is that you are not the only one who is able to read emotions through that blasted scar. Even if you act like you don�t care, he knows what�s going on in your head.�
�Then he should know that all I care about anymore is getting rid of him,� Harry replied, his voice quivering with rigidly controlled anger.
Snape sneered at him. �So�finally we get to the root of your change of attitude. I had wondered why you became so dedicated. It�s about revenge because the Dark Lord killed both your precious mutts. Well��
Snape was abruptly cut off by Harry muttering a spell. Golden light hit him in the chest and he flew backward and slammed against the wall of the dungeon classroom. He slid to the floor, gasping and clutching his chest as he glared up at Harry, who had come to stand over him. Looking up into murderous green eyes, Snape realized for the first time exactly what Harry was going through. Quite frankly, it nearly made him cry.
�You have no idea what is going on in my life. No bloody idea,� Harry whispered harshly.
Snape sighed and stood. �Unfortunately, I know all too well. You�ve lost your family, your parents, just as I did. You don�t want to be like me when you grow older, trust me, Harry. If you keep focusing on revenge like this, you�ll ruin your life,� he said quietly, resting his hands on Harry�s shoulders.
Harry�s shoulders tensed under Snape�s hands, but Snape didn�t remove his hands. Instead, he started rubbing in slow circles over the tense muscles. Harry sighed and leaned into Snape, laying his head on the older man�s shoulder.
As Snape massaged Harry�s shoulders and neck, he started speaking again. �Harry, I understand your thirst for revenge, but you must stop it from consuming you. If you don�t, you�ll end up empty, with no purpose, after you exact your revenge.�
Slowly, Harry pulled away and looked into Snape�s eyes. �I�ll think about it,� he said quietly before turning and walking out of the classroom.
Although Snape managed to get through to Harry, Harry couldn�t find it in himself to go back to the way he was. After that first night, Harry started going down to Snape�s rooms every night. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they�did other things. Being with Snape made Harry feel something other than pain�so Snape became a way for Harry to release anger�at first. Unknown to everyone but himself, Harry had fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with Snape.
After Graduation, Harry had been on his way to tell Snape exactly what he�d been feeling when Lord Voldemort had struck.
Death Eaters and Dark creatures swarmed the castle by the hundreds, giving no warning at all, except the alarms triggered by the breaking of the wards. Even then, the faculty, staff, and students of Hogwarts had no time to prepare themselves for the merciless onslaught.
Dodging curses, hexes, and creatures, occasionally throwing a few hexes and curses of his own, Harry raced down to the dungeons, all the while praying Snape was okay. He reached the door of Snape�s classroom just in time to hear a low voice, full of malicious glee, say, �Now you�ll get what you deserve, traitor.�
As Harry entered the room, he watched Snape�s broken body crumbled to the ground, lifeless, amidst a flash of green light. With a hopeless wail, Harry fell to his knees next to Snape�s body, sobbing, forgetting about the others in the room.
The Death Eaters, who had been shocked into inaction by Harry�s sudden appearance, recovered and laughed at the distraught Harry. The sinister laughter brought Harry charging to his feet to face the ones that had murdered Snape in cold blood. The two Death Eaters saw Harry whipping his wand out, but had no time to react as Harry muttered an unintelligible spell. Before the pair of Death Eaters could even aim their wands, Harry�s spell had hit them with an explosion of blue-green sparks�both were blown to pieces on impact.
With adrenaline and fire racing through his veins, Harry raced upstairs and toward the Headmaster�s office.
As he reached the entrance, an Extremely Bad Feeling washed over him at the sight of the pile of rubble and ash that was once the stone gargoyle. With a wild, anguished cry, Harry virtually flew up the now-stationary staircase.
�Ah, Potter. I�ve been waiting for you.� Voldemort was standing in front of Dumbledore�s desk, twirling his wand in his hand.
�Where�s Dumbledore?� Harry asked, voice scratchy from crying.
Voldemort grinned maliciously and stepped to the side. There, slumped over on the desk, looking very pale and very dead, was the finally defeated Albus Dumbledore.
Instead of breaking down as he�d done with Snape, Harry�s eyes just darkened and flashed with anger. He advanced slowly into the room, never taking his eyes off Voldemort, even though his scar had burst open and was bleeding. Harry held his wand steady as he aimed it at Voldemort�s forehead.
�You know,� Harry began, sounding deceptively calm. �I�m rather tired of you ruining my life. First, you take my parents, then you take my godfather, then you take one of my best friends. Your little lackeys downstairs just found out what happens when someone I love is killed. They are currently piles of burning flesh and bone in the Potions classroom. It�s time to end this, Tom Marvolo Riddle. I refuse to let you affect me anymore.�
Voldemort laughed. �What a pretty speech, Potter. Bravo. It�s just too unfortunate that you will be the one dying today,� he sneered.
As Voldemort aimed his wand, Harry sprang into action. He accio�d the sword of Godric Gryffindor, causing the glass case it was in to shatter. As he dodged curses, he quickly wove powerful magic around the blade and lunged at Voldemort. As the sword of Gryffindor pierced his heart, Voldemort let out an inhuman scream and clutched desperately at his left arm.
All over the Hogwarts grounds � actually all over Europe � Death Eaters began screaming and writhing with pain worse than the Cruciatus as their Master died. In the Headmaster�s office, Harry took grim pleasure in the anguished screams as he twisted Gryffindor�s sword slowly in Voldemort�s heart.
When Voldemort�s screams faded away and his lifeless body was slumped on the floor, Harry pulled the sword from his flesh and wiped the blade clean on Voldemort�s robes. His anger faded away, leaving Harry feeling rather empty and extremely miserable. Harry laid the now-gleaming sword on Dumbledore�s desk and walked out, not looking back once at the dead bodies of his mentor and his arch nemesis.
Students and faculty and staff had slowly but surely begun clearing the castle and grounds of Dark creatures and dead Death Eaters, so Harry had a relatively clear path to the Whomping Willow. As if running on autopilot, Harry made his way down the tunnel and into the Shrieking Shack. On the way, he had thought hard about what he was going to do now that he�d finally gotten the ultimate revenge. He had come to the conclusion that there was only one thing he could do�so he Apparated to London and began making his way to his late godfather�s home for the first time since his fifth year at Hogwarts.
Harry stopped walking and looked up at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, his face grim, but determined. This would mark the first time anyone had been inside the house since that fateful night of Sirius� death.
�Welcome home, Harry,� Harry said sarcastically as he approached the silent (and visible, since its Secret Keeper, Dumbledore, was dead) house.
Upon entering, Harry was overwhelmed by a flood of memories. He sank down to the floor in the entry way and let the memories flash by�his first visit, seeing Sirius again, cleaning the house from top to bottom, sitting in the kitchen goofing off with Sirius and the younger Weasleys, Christmas with Sirius and the Weasleys, waiting anxiously for news after Mr. Weasley was attacked, seeing the disturbing stillness through the fireplace after the vision involving Sirius�
Abruptly, Harry stood and walked purposefully down to the kitchen, angrily dashing tears off his cheeks as he went. He pulled open the knife drawer almost violently and took great care in selecting the perfect one for his purpose. As he climbed the stairs to the master bedroom, he laughed mirthlessly.
�Well, Sev�you were right. I have no purpose anymore. Sirius is gone, Remus is gone, you�re gone�hell, even Dumbledore is gone. Why in Merlin�s name would I want to stay here when you�re there?� he asked. �Maybe people will miss me, maybe not. Honestly, I don�t particularly care. I hope you�re waiting for me, Sev, because here I come.�
Harry shivered slightly at the touch of the cool silver metal on his left wrist and smiled. �Here I come,� he whispered again as he pressed down hard on his wrist with the knife.
Fascinated, Harry watched the crimson blood flow freely from his arm as he dragged the blade along the path of his veins. When he began to get lightheaded, Harry took the blade in his now-weak left hand and traced the veins in his right arm almost reverently with the serrated edge of the knife.
Harry smiled as the knife dropped to the carpet with a dull thud. The creamy beige rug was slowly being stained as blood dripped steadily from Harry�s wrists.
Harry felt only relief and contentment as he slipped into a blessed oblivion.
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