Cold is the Night

Authors note: This contains dark themes and attempted suicide. You have been warned. If you read it please review and let me know what you think. On with the story!

He was walking down the deserted streets of Hogsmeade, looking for something to take his mind off of the Hell his life had become. It was about two in the morning and it was raining and cold. Fog was starting to roll in. He knew he would be in trouble when he got back but he couldn't find it in himself to care. What was the old man going to do, expel him? He chuckled a dark, bitter sound and thought cynically 'not likely'.

He kicked at a rock sending it rolling and bumping along the ground. He glanced around him as the fog swirled around his feet. The rain had soaked clear through the clothing he wore but he didn't care enough to dry himself. He finally felt on the outside what he felt inside. Numb. With the start of pain. How can a life turn to Hell so fast? It took seconds and he couldn't wrap his mind around that.

"Damn it! What the Bloody Hell did I do to you?" He screamed in fury and pain up at the cloudy sky.

He did not care that it was two thirty in the morning, didn't care that he was going to get caught, didn't care that he probably just woke people up. Why should he when he was in so much pain. Why should he care about anything?

"I'll check this way for the brat." A gruff voice said suddenly from the darkness and fog.

"All right, then I'll take this way." Said another voice, this one cold and hard.

He knew both voices. Flitch and Snape. Damn he really didn't need this. He glanced around quickly and saw a little alleyway. He slipped through the darkness the way a thief does a bank. He was careful not to make any sound. He really didn't care if he was caught but one of these men was the reason he was in pain, so having a little fun with them was in order. He ran silently through the alleyway and looped around behind the first man, He was going to be easy. The man was a Squib after all. He pulled out his wand and waved it. A bolt of red light hit the man in the back and he fell. 'Silent spell casting is really rather useful.' The young man thought with a rather twisted smile.

He stood there for a minute pondering what to do. 'Do I want to take on Snape or should I just evade him. It shouldn't be that hard.' Decided, he moved away from his victim. He moved quickly and efficiently through the darkness, using that to his advantage, to obscure his movements. He grinned a malevolent grin. It was going to be fun showing up Snape, the git. He stopped and listened. He could just hear the man in the distance, cursing.

'He's pissed. Good.' He thought with no small amount of distain. He turned and headed the opposite way. Maybe if he were lucky the git would fire on him first. He would love that, he wouldn't hold back. Someone had to put him in his place and he would be glad to do it; but he would not engage first or provoke an attack. He sighed his depressing mood coming back. These days nothing could keep it away for long. He felt the pain with every breath he took and it should be that way. He brought this on himself, but worse he inflicted it on others. How he hated himself.

'What will I screw up next?' He thought with a burning anger at himself and Fate for casting this shit on him. He turned and headed back toward the school. He didn't want to but he would rather be caught by Snape there than in Hogsmeade. He knew the grounds better so he would be harder to catch.

He walked with his head down for some time, getting lost in his, increasingly, dark thoughts. He was giving in to the pain, letting it fuel his anger and hate. Yes, hate. He felt it and it felt good. It was like a familiar lovers' cress, warm, forbidden, comforting, and dangerous. He knew he was playing a dangerous game but he found he didn't care anymore. The consequences to himself be damned. He doesn't care about himself anymore. Doesn't care about those who claim to care; if they care then where the Hell are they? His thoughts are bitter and hate filled. He is changing and he knows it. However, he doesn't care. He will do what he has to and nothing more. He looks up with deadened eyes to see where exactly he is. He's on the outskirts of the Hogwarts grounds. He slips inside them silently. He has changed a lot in the past week, listening more to his instincts and his head.

The grounds were covered with fog and he could tell no one would see him if he did not want to be seen. He glanced at his watch and noticed it was three thirty. An hour had past. Only three more to go. Then he could do it, and he would. Suddenly there is a rustling on the ground a few feet away; he spins around wand in hand ready to attack. It's Mrs. Norris. 'Stupid cat!' He thinks giving her a vicious kick sending her careening into a tree. He looks at her and casts a charm on her. She is alive just unconscious. Good, he didn't want to kill her. He'd already killed once and he would do so once more as the sun rises. That would be enough. He summons his broom and looks at it. It held so many of his memories. Of times when he was happy. Those days were gone now. Anger welled in him and he shot fire out of the end of his wand incinerating the broom. He watched it burn knowing that he was doing the right thing. He watched until all that was left was ash then he moved on. In the time the broom was burning he was thinking. He thought about his life and where he had been. He was not happy with what he found. But that wouldn't matter soon.

He looked once again at his watch and five blinked up at him. Soon, it would be time. He had everything he would need with him. There was nothing left to do. He was resigned to what was to come. What has to. The rain had stopped and the fog was lifting. He turned to the east where he could see the start of a new day. Soon it would be time. In the forest he could hear animals scurrying around, calling to one another. He moved closer to the forest knowing it would offer some protection from prying eyes. He looked again at his watch. Six o'clock it displayed. His heartbeat quickened in anticipation of what was to come. He was excited in a way he never felt before. It was almost time. His breathing quickened and a slow smile spread across his face. It was six thirty and the sun was peaking over the horizon. It was time.

He pulled the blade from it's scabbard and pressed it into his wrist lightly, drawing just a bit of blood. He smiled. He placed it directly over his heart and pulled back slowly with both arms. His head tilted back on his shoulders, eyes closed in rapture. The forest was silent, waiting for the end. He started to plunge the dagger toward his chest when-


The dagger went flying out of his hands and he saw Snape stalking towards him. When the Professor got close enough he grabbed the young man and hulled him to his feet.

"Damn you. I should have stunned you too."

"You're right, boy, you should have." The older man growled.

The End