Harry Potter had always known loss, but he'd never anticipated that falling in love could hurt this much. It had started innocently enough, the Gilbert family had taken him in as an infant after his parents were killed. Growing up in Mystic Falls had given Harry a sense of belonging, but he'd never quite felt like he fit in. His magic, something he'd once thought made him special, became a point of tension within his adoptive family. They couldn’t understand it, couldn't accept it, and always seemed wary of the power he held.
Niklaus Mikaelson was a different story.
From the moment Klaus set eyes on Harry, there was an unspoken connection between them. Klaus saw beyond the messy hair and the lightning-shaped scar that others feared or pitied. He saw Harry for who he was, a powerful, kind, and loyal young man who, despite all he'd endured, still believed in love and redemption. And Klaus, for all his monstrous tendencies and centuries of bloodshed, couldn't help but fall for him.
Harry, on the other hand, had been hesitant. He knew of Klaus’s dark past, knew the terror he had inflicted on the world, and most painfully, the cruelty he had shown to the Gilberts. Klaus was dangerous, volatile, and nothing short of a walking tragedy waiting to happen. But when Klaus looked at him, Harry saw something raw, something vulnerable, something that made him believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be different with him.
They spent nights together, hidden away from the chaos of Mystic Falls, with Klaus showing Harry the world through his ancient eyes. Harry found himself falling deeper despite knowing he shouldn’t. His heart raced every time Klaus smiled, every time their hands brushed, every time they shared a kiss beneath the moonlight.
Yet, as much as they wanted to make it work, Klaus was always haunted by the inevitable. He knew that his life, filled with enemies and destruction, would eventually consume Harry. The longer they were together, the higher the chances that Harry would get caught in the crossfire of Klaus’s enemies or, worse, be hurt by Klaus himself.
And so, one night, Klaus made the hardest decision of his life.
They stood in the Mikaelson mansion, shadows dancing around them from the dim candlelight. Harry looked up at Klaus with wide, confused eyes, sensing the change in his lover’s demeanor.
"Klaus, what's wrong?" Harry asked softly, reaching out to touch his arm.
Klaus pulled away, his jaw clenched, his gaze hardening as he steeled himself. "This… us… It was a mistake, Harry.”
Klaus blew out a shaky breath as he spoke his next words. “You weren’t worth it.”
Harry’s heart shattered in an instant, the weight of Klaus’s words hitting him like a physical blow. "W-What?"
"I can’t do this anymore." Klaus’s voice was cold, devoid of the warmth it once held. "I need to be in New Orleans. There’s no place for you there, no place for someone like you in my life."
Harry’s eyes filled with tears, but he blinked them away, refusing to cry. "I thought… I thought we had something real."
Klaus turned his back to him, hiding the pain that was ripping him apart. "You thought wrong." Without another word, Klaus left, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He didn’t dare look back, knowing that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to leave.
Harry stood frozen, the reality of Klaus’s departure sinking in. He was gone. The one person who had seen him, truly seen him, had left, just like everyone else in his life.
Days passed, but the ache in Harry’s chest never dulled. Klaus’s words haunted him, gnawing at him with every passing second. The weight of his depression grew unbearable, until one evening, Harry found himself walking toward Wickery Bridge. It was where the Gilberts had died, and where, in some twisted way, Harry thought his life had ended too.
The sun was setting, casting a fiery glow across the horizon. The colors of the sunset, red, orange, and pink, reminded Harry of his bleeding heart. It was beautiful and painful all at once. He stood at the edge of the bridge, staring down at the water below.
What was the point of all this? What was the point of loving someone, of believing in second chances, if it only led to more pain?
Harry’s hand gripped the railing tightly, his breath shaky. The thought of jumping flickered in his mind, the idea of just… ending the pain. No more loss. No more heartache.
But before he could take another step, a voice spoke from behind him.
"Don’t."
Harry turned to see Elijah Mikaelson standing there, his expression solemn but kind. There was no judgment in his eyes, only understanding.
"You’re hurting," Elijah said, taking a step closer but keeping his distance. "I know what my brother has done, and for that, I am deeply sorry. But this…" He gestured to the bridge, to Harry’s precarious stance. "This is not the answer."
Harry swallowed hard, looking back at the water. "He said I wasn’t worth it."
Elijah’s gaze softened, and he moved closer. "My brother is a fool," he said gently. "He thinks leaving you is protecting you, but in truth, he is running from the only real thing he’s had in centuries."
Tears welled up in Harry’s eyes again, but this time, he didn’t try to stop them. "It doesn’t matter. He’s gone. I’m alone."
"You are not alone," Elijah said firmly, stepping beside him now. "And you are worth far more than Klaus realizes. He may not see it yet, but that does not diminish your worth."
Harry turned to Elijah, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. Elijah, ever the noble one, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Come with me," Elijah urged. "Let me help you heal, Harry. You deserve so much more than this pain."
For the first time since Klaus had left, Harry felt a glimmer of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to pull him away from the edge. Elijah was right, he wasn’t alone, and maybe, just maybe, there was still something worth living for.