Solitude is something Severus Snape values a lot, specially after a tiring day of teaching complete dunderheads. Solitude is something Severus Snape finds in the company of the serene night. Solitude is the reason Severus Snape finds himself climbing the stairs of the Astronomy Tower. However, what he finds once he reaches the top is not solitude, but rather the lone figure of one mega-dunderhead, Harry James Potter.

“Hello, Professor Snape. Although I was expecting someone to intervene, it clearly wasn’t you.”

Saying so, he turns and looks straight into the blazing black eyes of one potion’s professor. While everyday, Severus Snape saw his Lily in the child’s eyes, today he doesn’t. Lily’s eyes were never as haunted, cold or empty as are those of the child in front of him. Immediately, Severus knows – something is wrong and terribly so.

“Out looking for trouble, Potter? It is past curfew and you are not in your rooms. Detention.”

Severus hopes for a reaction in those dull eyes, but finds none. A chill settles in him, not from the cool wind which whips past the lonely souls of Snape and Potter, but from the cold, dark and utterly haunting laugh which rips it’s way out of Potter’s throat. Even the Dark Lord never terrified him as much as this 16 year old boy currently is.

“Detention, Professor? Whom will you give a detention to? Me? But I won’t even be here past tonight for you to punish me. Can a ghost attend your detention? Hmm…I wonder if I’ll remain a ghost just long enough to serve your detention and then cross over? Perhaps I’ll do that. What do you think, Professor?”

A mirthless smile settles on Harry’s face, which is soon replaced by a sneer, something which irritates his potion’s master. When Severus calls him out to be lying, the only response Harry provides him with is a dark look and a soft, Give it time.

Severus is confused by the boy’s behaviour, but his façade of hatred restrains him from probing further. And so, he waits…and wishes he hadn’t.

Harry’s eyes widen when he feels a sharp pain shoot through his abdomen and remain that way as the blinding pain travels all the way across his body. His vision blurs and he sways, but just as he’s about to fall down, Snape catches him and lowers him to the ground. Looking into his professor’s eyes, Harry sees fear, something he mistakes and hence he speaks, “Don’t worry, Professor. Just tell them you found me already dead. It’s not like I’ll be here to protest.”

Fear races through Severus as he looks at the quickly diminishing life of Harry Potter. The diagnostic charm he ran on the boy gives away nothing as to why his body is burning from the inside. He searches the lad for clues and when he finds an empty, used vial, Severus’ eyes widen in horror. His attention is brought back to the owner of the vial when a harsh cough racks through his body. Dark, red speckles of blood leave Harry’s mouth and now adorn the robes of Severus.

“Ah…judging by the look Professor, I think you’ve come to know which Potion I used. I admit, it was…hard to prepare, but my determination overcame my stupidity. Shame that such a beautiful looking potion causes this amount…of pain. Good thing, however, is that this golden boon has no cure.”

Harry speaks between painful rasps, coughing up more blood. His hands start to turn numbing cold and a pale colour starts setting in them. Sweat sticks to his body like a second skin. Even in pain, Harry smiles at the thought of finally having peace.

Severus is helpless as he watches the potion slowly kill Potter. The need of death must’ve been very strong for the child to want to end his life in such a painful way. He wonders, what could’ve caused Harry to want to end his life. What has happened in this child’s life?

Severus watches as Harry’s breathes get shorter and more pained, he watches as the lad struggles to keep his eyes open. He shifts the boy into a more comfortable position, wanting to provide him with some comfort in his last moments. Contrary to beliefs, Severus is not a monster. He watches with an aching heart and with tears brimming in his eyes, as Harry’s back gives a final arch, as his mouth opens, drawing in one last breath. And then, everything stills.

The motionless, still warm and lifeless body of Harry Potter remains in the arms of a Severus Snape, who is the first to mourn the loss. He cries, not for the boy he was, not for the Boy-Who-Lived, not for Lily’s son, but for the boy he could’ve been, for the green-eyed Harry, for an innocent lad.

~~~

As the morning arrives and the death of Harry is discovered by the others, people mourn all over the world. They mourn for the friend they lost, the brother he was, the loving student he became and the smiling lad he pretended to be. They mourned their own guilts, for none noticed that his laughs held screams, his smiles held tears, his innocence held dark secrets and his loving body held a battered soul.

Everybody mourned that nobody noticed. Nobody noticed the sunken face he returned to school with, nobody noticed the bruises he tried to hide, nobody noticed the flinches he produced at loud noises, nobody noticed his nightmares. Nobody noticed the help he screamed for, nor did they acknowledge it. Nobody noticed the sheer defeat he wore around himself like a warm blanket on a cold winter.

Nobody noticed the broken boy.

Nobody noticed and the broken lad found a comfort, a boon, in the golden poison.