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The stars were bright that night. White and cold against the dark sky.
Evan rubbed his arms as a breeze swept across the astronomy tower. He should’ve brought a coat. Or at least his wand to cast a heating charm. In hindsight, he’d made a lot of stupid decisions by coming up here. But he had been tossing and turning in bed for hours now, and the air inside the dorm had started to feel suffocating.
Before he’d known it, his feet had led him up the tower. It felt familiar, in a way. Nostalgic, even. He used to come up here often. Whenever he couldn’t sleep in second year, he’d always come up here. Stare into the sky, and wonder what he should do. About his father. His mother. His little brother.
Sometimes he wished he could just disappear. Vanish into thin air right then and there, and forget all of his worries. He tried to, once. Cast ‘Evanesco’ on himself, to no effect.
He didn’t try again, and the closer he grew with Regulus and Barty, the less he came up the tower, his nights instead spent chatting or playing games.
But nothing ever lasted, not really.
And Evan found himself up on the tower once more. The fresh air felt crisp against his face as he leant against the railing. He inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering shut. He still wondered sometimes. Wondered how it might feel to disappear. Feel the world fade around you, until there’s nothing left. No thoughts, no noise. Nothing.
Evan cracked his eyes open. Glanced down. The grass at the bottom of the tower seemed to sway in the wind. It looked soft. He knew it wouldn’t cushion his fall. When he hit the ground, the grass wouldn’t save him. His body would shatter upon impact, his bones broken in the midst of the deceptively soft looking grass.
Evan took another deep breath. The ground seemed to call to him. Maybe it was the stillness around him, but the voices inside his head had gone quiet for the first time in weeks.
He felt oddly calm. His fingers wrapped around the railing, the cold metal biting into his flesh. There was nobody here except for him.
The moon cast a faint glow onto the hills; the stars watched on silently. The breeze seemed to welcome him, wrap around him like a hug. Evan knew this could be it. He could cross the line, climb over the railing.
And then, he’d fall.
Would it feel like flying? Would it feel the same way as when he soared across the Forbidden Forest, feeling the air currents in his feathers?
Evan blinked slowly, taking another deep breath.
It felt like his heart was hammering inside his chest. It was loud and strong, and he could feel it reverberate inside his whole body. A smile tugged on his lips. Then, a laugh. He hadn’t felt this alive in a long time.
The wind messed up his hair as he swung his first leg over the railing, then the second. His hands still gripped the cold iron as he leant his body forwards, stretching out towards the dark night sky. This was it. The stars seemed brighter tonight.
Evan took one last look at them, then closed his eyes. He wouldn’t return home in the summer. He wouldn’t have to face his father. Wouldn’t have to face his wrath. Wouldn’t have to meet his ridiculously high standards. No more ridicule. No more yelling, and hitting, and cursing. He wouldn’t have to face his mother. Her empty, blank stare. Her vacant smile. The disappointment of another year of her not recognizing her own son.
He wouldn’t face ... his brother. His little brother, who was so full of love. Of innocence.
For a second, Evan hesitated. Opened his eyes again. Tightened his grip around the only thing keeping him safe. Guilt flooded his system. Could he really leave his brother behind? Could he really put him in such a position?
He knew that he’d have to take Evan’s position as heir of the Rosier family. Could he really-
“Mr. Rosier?”
Evan’s head whipped around. His hands gripped the railing tighter on reflex. He could feel the empty air behind him, the wind whipping up his hair. There was a woman, standing a few meters away from him, her wand in hand.
Professor McGonagall. Her face betrayed none of her emotions. Instead, it was stoic.
“Mr. Rosier, please step back over the railing.”
Evan’s face flushed. His thoughts were swirling around in his head. All he could do was stare, frozen. When did she come up here? How come he hadn’t noticed?
“Mr. Rosier?” Her voice was softer than it had been a few moments ago.
Evan cleared his throat, then straightened up.
“Professor McGonagall. Good evening.”
His body felt rigid, his eyes slightly widened and trained on his professor. There didn’t seem to be enough air. Evan inhaled, yet it felt as though the oxygen didn’t enter his lungs. The cold air seemed to cut right into his throat, making it ache even more so.
“What brings you here?”, he managed to press out, his voice foreign and strangled to his own ears.
Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows slightly, yet her face didn’t betray any kind of emotion.
“Simply stepping out for some air. The stars are quite … beautiful tonight, aren’t they?”
Evan’s gaze snapped towards the sky. The vast, dark night sky that seemed to stretch infinitely into all directions. And within the darkness, the stars, sparkling the way they always were. His chest stopped heaving, his shoulders stopped tensing.
“Indeed, they are, Professor. Quite beautiful.”
It took another moment for Professor McGonagall to break the ensuing silence.
“May I ask you to accompany me to my office, Mr. Rosier? After all, it is quite late to be wandering about on your own.”
Evan sighed silently, his head drooping a bit from his previous straight posture.
“Of course, Professor.”
She nodded, then turned her attention to the sky again, sparing him the embarrassment of her watching him climb over the railing like an undignified child. The second Evan’s feet met the ground within the safety of the banister, a wave of disappointment rushed through him. Here he was again. Inside. Safe. Stuck. The way he always was.
He followed Professor McGonagall inside, walking silently by her side whilst his heart got heavier with every step. Every step he took was one further from that exhilarating edge. It seemed to solidify his inability, his inability to free himself from that iron grip that kept him chained to his family. To this path that would lead him nowhere in life.
He knew that he had failed, and that there would be no more chances after today. Because he had messed up, and now a professor knew. Even if it was just Professor McGonagall, even if she probably couldn’t care less if he lived or died, he knew that it was her obligation to prevent any students from harming themselves. And being a bloody righteous Gryffindor, she definitely took that duty very seriously.
Everyone jumps at the idea of being a hero. Yet, many failed to realize there might be people who did not want to be saved. Evan had never believed himself one of them. But with the feeling in his chest getting stronger by the second, he realized how wrong he was. About everything. Because how else could he explain why he felt this way, when all he should be feeling was relief? But how could he feel relieved when he already knew what his future would hold?
They came to a stop in front of Professor McGonagall’s office. She watched him carefully over her glasses, then let out a sigh. The light from her wand seemed to flicker.
“Would you like to join me for a cup of tea, Mr. Rosier? It might help you sleep, if you are having issues with that.”
They danced around the subject as if it were an open fire in the middle of a wet field. Dangerous and violent and burning, yet they pretended not to notice. After all, it was kept away. But Evan knew, eventually the grass would dry, and then it would light up like flintwood, spreading faster than you can breathe. The fire would grow and roar and devour until there was nothing left, no oxygen, and maybe, maybe Evan would suffocate on it. Merlin, how he hoped he would.
But for now he knew that he couldn’t refuse Professor McGonagall’s offer, for it wasn’t really an invitation. He nodded silently, and followed her into the office. The candles were lit with a quick spell, her coat discarded on a clothing stand in the corner. She gestured for him to sit in one of the big armchairs in front of her desk. Despite the situation, Evan marveled at the intricate room. He had never been in her office and whilst it wasn’t all that big, it was homey. Plants thrived in the corners, stretching out towards the windows. Bookshelves lined the walls, thick encyclopedias were stacked on the floor. Professor McGonagall sat across from him, conjuring up a traditional looking tea set.
“Jasmine or Earl Grey?”, she asked, her voice carrying in the otherwise quiet room.
Evan cleared his throat. “Uhm ... Earl Gray.”
The armchair was soft, but he couldn’t quite relax. He picked at his skin whilst the tea brewed. Finally, Professor McGonagall spoke up again.
“You know why I asked you into my office, don’t you, Mr. Rosier?” Evan swallowed, then nodded.
“I do, Professor. And I apologize for the inconvenience. It wasn’t what it looked like.”
Professor McGonagall arched an eyebrow, casting him a quick glance before pursing her lips.
“I am not here to reprimand you, Mr. Rosier. I am also not here to ask about what happened, or what you were doing.”
She halted, and Evan found himself staring at her. Her eyes seemed to bore into his, as if she was trying to look into his soul.
“All I am doing is simply offering you support. If you ever feel like there might be something you cannot handle, or require assistance for, I want you to know that you can come to my office.”
Evan blinked. Slowly. His hands stilled.
“I- I appreciate the sentiment, Professor. However, I do not require any help.”
He cleared his throat, adjusted his clothes.
“If you will excuse me. I must return to my dorm. It is past curfew.”
He could feel her eyes staring at him as he got up and turned. The silence weighed heavy, the only sound his heeled boots on the wooden floor.
“Think about my offer, Mr. Rosier. You are not as alone as it may seem.”
Evan halted, his hand already on the door handle. For a second, there was something akin to hope within his heart. A warmth, spreading inside his chest. But he shook it off. Because this was Professor McGonagall. She may be good at giving the illusion, but he knew she wouldn’t care about a Slytherin like him.
“Good night, Professor.”
The door clicked shut behind him. Leaving nothing more but a heavy heart and an untouched cup of tea, destined to slowly go cold.