Harry Potter 1. Default Chapter

Chapter one.  
  
It was already three weeks into the school holidays, but for one particular boy, the passing of time was meaningless, irrelevant, and as such, he paid it no heed. Harry Potter sat cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom at number four, Privet drive, his green eyes dull and lifeless, as though the once vivid colour had seeped out along with his salty tears. The t-shirt and black jeans which hung off his thin body were filthy, caked in the sweat and stench of two weeks wear and his hair hung over his eyes in greasy clumps. His school trunk sat in the corner, opened, but still fully packed except for the quill, ink and parchment that sat on the bedside table, his only contact with the world he had once felt he belonged to.  
  
This room had become his retreat, his haven, since his return, and nothing his Aunt or his Uncle said had broken through the defensive shields he had placed around his emotions. Whilst inwardly, he died a little more each day, consumed with guilt and sorrow, outwardly, his face remained a blank slate, all signs of any suffering carefully hidden from view. Nightly, he relived the death of his Godfather in his dreams, and nightly he reached out desperately, trying to save the man who's final expression of horror would forever be etched on his mind, a permanent reminder of his fatal mistake. Startled out of his reverie by a sharp knock on the door, Harry scrambled unsteadily to his feet as the door flew open, revealing a vastly large man, ruddy faced and bearing more than a slight resemblance to a mountain troll.  
  
'Are you deaf, boy, or did you not hear your Aunt call you down to dinner?', the oversized man snarled, entering a few feet into the room.  
  
Stepping back slightly, Harry stared blankly at his Uncle, as though not even seeing the man at all. It was the same scenario every day, at every mealtime, when either his uncle or his aunt would barge in, make some pathetic attempt to coerce him to eat, then depart with some smart remark about his health.  
  
'I've told you before, I'm not hungry. How many times do I have to tell you that?', Harry said quietly, slipping over to his bed and sinking down onto the threadbare mattress. Absentmindedly, he plucked at the loose fabric of his jeans as his uncle remained inside the doorway, glaring at him with barely concealed anger,  
  
'Just remember this, boy. I won't be carting you off to the hospital if you get sick. You can sit here and starve to death for all I care, but your Aunt and I will not be held responsible, so just you make sure you tell those freaky friends of yours that. Damned if I'll have them marching into our home accusing us of mistreating you'.  
  
As the door to his room slammed shut violently, Harry lay back on the bed, staring at the many cracks and abrasions that marred the ceiling above. So often had he lain in such a way, that he had each area of the decrepid surface mapped out, the memorised pattern a testimony to his incessant lassitude. Rolling over onto his side, he gazed blankly at the wall, whilst painful thoughts danced across his mind, reinforcing the guilt he had already hoarded up. If he suffered, it was only what was due to him. It was his penance for the foolish mistake that had forfeited his godfather's life and placed so many of his friends in grave danger. As far as he was concerned, it was now safer to maintain an emotional distance from those he might inadvertently harm, and he had over the last weeks toiled incessantly to lock his feelings firmly away. Sure, he still experienced torrents of extreme anger, extreme pain and extreme self-hatred, but he had learnt, in the main, to efficiently conceal these.  
  
Sitting up slightly, Harry turned his gaze towards the window. Darkness was rapidly drawing in, throwing him into shadow, but he made no motion to turn on the light. He had come to appreciate the darkness, as long as he was awake and not trapped in one of his nightmares. As he glanced to the empty cage standing beside the wardrobe, a sharp tapping heralded the arrival of it's occupant, most likely with the latest response from Remus. Sliding off the edge of the bed, he shakily made his way to the window, opening it as quietly as he could. The snowy owl flew in, circled the room once, then came to rest on the boy's shoulder, offering her leg obediently. Removing the parchment, Harry gently stroked the owl, whispering his usual words to her,  
  
'I'm sorry, girl. I haven't got any food for you tonight either.'  
  
The owl hooted once, nibbled his ear, then flew to settle on the window ledge, watching her owner pensively. Clutching the missive tightly, Harry closed the window and made his way back to the bed, perching on the very edge With fumbling fingers he unrolled the parchment, laid it on the blanket beside him and leant over to read the few lines of neat script.  
  
'Dear Harry,  
  
I am glad to hear you are managing alright at your relatives. It has been decided that you should spend the remainder of the holiday with the Order. Professor Snape and myself will therefore be collecting you in four days time from your current location. The reasons for your removal will be explained to you then. I look forward to seeing you again.  
  
R. Lupin.  
  
This may have been exactly the kind of letter Harry would have wished to receive at the same time last year, but not now. Now, all he wanted was to be left alone, to not have to face those who had also been witnesses to Sirius' death, who had been privy to his error of judgement. Gritting his teeth, he snatched the parchment up and screwed it into a small ball before hurling it across the room. He couldn't go back to that house and face the absence of the one who by all rights should still have been there. Every picture, every room, every inch of that place would serve to remind him that he was now entirely alone and that it was his fault. No, it was imperative that he remain where he was. With this thought in mind, he scrambled over the bed to sit cross-legged before the bedside table, reaching out to snatch up his quill and uncap the ink-bottle. A piece of blank parchment was already laid out and quickly, he scratched out his response, hoping it would be enough to stall the two Order members. As he checked over the finished note, he silently cursed his shaky hands, wondering if Remus would notice the difference in his handwriting.  
  
Dear Remus,  
  
I've been doing some thinking, and actually, I would much rather spend the remainder of the holidays here. The Dursleys are treating me really well and I don't want to be moved. I am sure that it is just as safe here as at Order headquarters, considering the number of wards in place. Maybe I can see you once the new term has started or something?  
  
Harry.  
  
Hurredly. He rolled up the parchment, bound it with a small length of string and attached it to the awaiting owl's leg, stroking her head gently before she flew off into the night. Alone once more, he stood for a brief moment in the shadows, gazing out upon the myriad twinkling lights in the distance, wondering if he could ever be a part of that life; if he could ever simply be a normal teenage boy. 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter two.  
  
I thank you all for the reviews and for increasing my confidence in my own writing. May they continue to roll in to spur me on, though regardless, I will be continuing with this. Please have patience with the regularity of my output. I tend to think each chapter through pretty thoroughly and am somewhat of a perfectionist. Next chapter will be up within a week and is already planned, so hold tight.  
  
Oh, and just for safety, none of the characters within are of my own making, that honour belonging to J K Rowling.  
  
The dungeons of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry stood as cold and grim as they had for time eternal, their labyrinthine corridors devoid of the life that had inhabited them only weeks before. The oppressive silence was broken only by a solitary set of hurried footsteps, as Severus Snape, Potions Master, strode purposefully towards his destination, inky black robes billowing behind him, as though caught in a swift gust of air. It did not take a genius to ascertain his mood was one of complete fury, his lips set in a thin line, his obsidian eyes glittering dangerously in the low torchlight.  
  
For the second time in as many days, his precious research time had been interrupted by Albus' summons and it was only too clear that the reason for the interruption was Harry Bloody Potter. He had learnt over time to deduce the nature of the requests from the subtleties in the Headmaster's tone and his choice of words when requesting Severus' presence. This single minded obsession with the Boy Who Lived To Torment Him was beginning to get irksome, to say the least, especially when it infringed on his personal time and the little freedom he had these days.  
  
As he reached the stone Gargoyle guarding the entrance to his personal Chamber of Hell, he spat out the embarrassingly juvenile password and stepped forwards, curling his fingers in irritation as the circular stairway made it's ascent. The large, imposing entrance door already stood open, depriving him of the opportunity to vent some of his anger on it's aged wood. Gliding in, he flashed his most piercing glare at the aged Wizard seated before him, before noting a second presence in the room. Remus Lupin reclined in one of the two leather armchairs before the Headmaster's desk, hands folded in his lap as he calmly observed the new arrival's reaction to the situation.  
  
"Headmaster, with all due respect, I cannot see what could possibly be so important that it requires the presence of both myself and Lupin" , Severus said coldly, as his dark eyes bore into those of the man directly opposite him.  
  
Albus Dumbledore leant forward, his chin coming to rest on interlaced fingers as he studied the imposing figure of the one he regarded not only as an employee, but also as a friend. He knew that the reaction to his request would be extremely negative, if not downright explosive, but there was little other choice in the matter. Under such circumstances, discretion was the best policy and if nothing else, Severus knew when to keep his silence, being an infinitely private man by nature. The same could be said for Remus, and regardless of their mutual animosity, the two would have to work together on this one. Gesturing to the chair beside the latter, Albus, with great effort, directed a stern gaze at the Potions Master and spoke in a voice that invited no refusal,  
  
"Severus, please take a seat. You should know by now that I do not make demands of you unless they are of the utmost importance, and this situation is such that it requires the both of you"  
  
Grudgingly, Severus stiffly seated himself, his dark gaze coming to rest on the myriad papers littering the desk, before coming to rest once more on the currently distressed visage of his mentor. After a few uncomfortably silent moments, the Headmaster continued, his voice both steady and yet tired.  
  
"It has come to my attention that sending Harry Potter back to his relatives might not have been the best course of action, considering recent events." he was cut off sharply by a snort of derision as Severus raised his hands skywards,  
  
"Please, Albus, are you telling me the Golden Boy can't survive a few months without the simpering attention of his many admirers?"  
  
Albus, having anticipated some such outburst, unlaced his fingers and placed both his wrinkled hands flat upon the smooth wood of his desk, intently staring at the other, until Severus relented and resigned himself to hearing the full story.  
  
"As you are aware, Harry was to be retrieved from his relatives in three day's time, and taken to Headquarters for the remainder of the holidays. Remus owled him to inform him of such, only to receive this in return. "  
  
A crumpled sheet of parchment was pushed across the desk and Severus leant forwards to peruse the contents, his lip curling in disgust at the barely legible scrawl. Even by Potter's standard, the quality was appalling and he did his best to ignore the stilted wording of the note, pushing it back towards the Headmaster,  
  
"I do not see why this is reason to remove me from the little peace I get all year, Albus. So what? Potter is obviously being praised and pampered like a prize pet by his relatives and has no wish to be removed from that comfort".  
  
Even as he spoke the words, Severus knew from his recall of what he had seen of the boy's memories, that this could not be the case, but it was far easier to maintain his hatred than to start feeling pity. He glanced sharply to his right as Remus, for the first time in the duration, added his own voice to the discussion.  
  
"For your information, Severus, Harry has never been pampered or spoilt to any degree by those relatives of his; far from it, in fact. Had you seen his response to having had to spend so long there last year, you might realise how totally unlike him this note is. The fact is, Harry hates living with the Dursleys."  
  
Amber eyes bore into black as he spoke, each caught up in a battle to see who would look away first, until a voice interrupted and each returned their attention to Albus , who showed no amusement at the display.  
  
"I am more disturbed by the fact I received this very morning a letter from Petunia Dursley, regarding Harry's behaviour these past few weeks and her wish that he be removed, lest she get the blame for his condition. It would seem that young Harry is not coping well with the loss of Sirius.". Dumbledore broke off, removing his half moon spectacles to rub at his eyes, before looking intently at Severus, a look of utmost sorrow glazing his features as he spoke more quietly,  
  
"I fear we're losing him, Severus." 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three.  
  
All characters herein are the property of J K Rowling.  
  
Thank you once more for all the wonderful reviews and may I continue to please you all. A hard task indeed. I hope this is up to my usual standard, for I have had to write the majority in the midst of a severe bout of flu.  
  
Evening came and darkness fell gradually, shrouding the streets of surrey in shadow. On the threadbare carpet of a room at 4 Privet Drive, Harry potter lay on his stomach, his filthy t-shirt having ridden up to reveal pale skin stretched over a sharply protruding spine. He had been little more than thin prior to the summer holidays, and two weeks of near starvation had taken their toll both on his physical and his mental state. To say that Harry was falling fast was an understatement; he was positively plummeting into his own grief, as his guilt and self blame devoured him from within. Before him, his photograph album lay, open to an image of his mother, his father, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin in the days before fate conspired to divide them.  
  
To look at the boy at this present moment, a quill clutched tightly in his hand, one might have thought he was in a trance, his green eyes unseeing and glazed over. To look at the photograph before him, one might presume Harry Potter to be insane, for scratched across the image in livid red ink were the words, 'Harry Potter-Murderer. Three down, one to go'. As the inky darkness came to fill the room, Harry rose to his feet abruptly, his hands clenched tightly and rage distorting the features of his face. The quill snapped in two, the shattered pieces falling to the floor noiselessly as he stood there, seemingly fighting an inner battle he could not win. No matter how hard he fought to repress it, the pure, unadulterated anger would always get the better of him, rising up and slicing through him like a hot knife when the pain of his loss became too much. For a few moments, he stood there struggling to control the beast, but it was futile and he ran over to his open trunk, delving through it's contents until he found what he sought, the shiny metallic object laying cradled in his hand.  
  
It had started only a few days following his return to the Dursley's, when one night, he had woken once more from the hellish nightmares, sweating and trembling, the pain of the memory as fresh as the day of the event. He had needed to do something badly; anything that might deflect from the agony, and the only option he came up with, considering he could not shout and scream and cry out his woes, was the knife. The irony had not evaded him; the Golden boy brought so low that he was resorting to muggle means of expressing and excavating his pain. His legs were now a criss cross of weeks old scars and scabbed over cuts; he had, until now, avoided damaging his arms for the risk of it being noticed by his Aunt and Uncle would be too great. Besides, in the scorching heat of the Summer, even he had not been foolish enough to resign himself to wearing his cousin's oversized sweatshirts.  
  
Now, however, he was beyond caring about the heat, as he turned the razor sharp instrument over in his hand, his right arm trembling minutely as he lifted it to rest on the ratty bedcover. Clutching it in a death grip, he drew the knife across the papery skin of his forearm, watching dispassionately as crimson hued blood welled up from the semi-deep slit. He repeated the motion a further two times, feeling his anger dissipate as his eyes once more glazed over, displaying their usual lack of emotion. Wiping the edge of the knife on his already stained t-shirt, Harry returned it to the bottom of his trunk and knelt at the side of his bed, resting his cold cheek on the cover, eyes lightly closed. Red specks danced before his eyelids and he followed their trail as the fatigue set in, drawing him towards a brief oblivion.  
  
It was no more than twenty minutes later that he came to abruptly, blinking fuzzily into the darkness as he listened for whatever had roused him. Hearing at least three voices downstairs, including that of his uncle, he stood up abruptly, grabbing the bedpost as the room swam about him. Considering the time of day, along with the fact that Dudley was staying with Piers for the night, the only conclusion to be reached was that whoever stood downstairs had something to do with him. Cursing the bad timing, he once more delved through his trunk, retrieving a ridiculously oversized sweatshirt and yanking it over his head, as he struggled to remove the bloodstained bedcover, shoving the offending piece in the case and slamming the lid shut. Just as he was considering making a dive for the bathroom, his uncle's meaty fist made contact with the door to his room, his gruff voice grating on already tattered nerves.  
  
'Open this door, Boy. You have two visitors from that school of yours'  
  
Harry paled, his fists clenching spasmodically at his sides as he stared at the door, seemingly rooted to the spot, unable to move in any direction at all. This was not meant to happen. He had been so certain that his last letter to Remus would quash any ideas of removing him from his solitude that he had not planned any attack should anyone turn up. He had no defence strategy, no legitimate reason to offer for wishing to remain where he was, and furthermore, once whoever stood beyond that door, saw his less than healthy appearance, it was nigh on impossible he would be left to his own devices.  
  
Pushing open the door to the boy's bedroom, a brief hint of concern crossed the face of Severus Snape, as he stepped in, closely followed by Remus Lupin. Flicking on the light switch to his left, his dark eyes swept over the poorly furnished room, before coming to rest on the pathetic figure before him. The reason for the Headmaster's concern was blatantly obvious as he took in the filthy, emaciated state of the Boy who Lived and the vacant expression in the green eyes. Chancing a quick look at Lupin, who now stood beside him, he saw his own concern reflected more overtly as amber eyes blinked back tears of disbelief.  
  
'Harry, what are you doing to yourself?', the former DADA teacher whispered, as he stepped forwards, coming to a halt as Harry took a few steps backwards. Lupin looked at the boy in confusion, taking in the dead eyes and the clenched fists with dismay. Receiving no response, no sound at all, not even an acknowledgement, he turned back to Severus, unsure of what action to take next.  
  
The Potions Master had watched the scene silently, weighing up the options as to the next course of action. He had seen this type of behaviour before, but that had been many years ago, and he had not been placed directly in the situation himself. All he knew was that Albus wished Potter removed to somewhere he could be kept an eye on before he wasted away to nothing. This was not going to be as easy as one might think; Severus could see in the boy's eyes and demeanour that he would not be leaving this self-imposed isolation willingly. Glaring at Lupin, he swept forwards, coming to rest a mere foot away from Harry, a look of disgust painted on his features as he took in the stench of unwashed teenager.  
  
'Collect your things, Potter. The Headmaster has deemed it necessary to remove you before you succeed in starving yourself to death, not that it would be a vast loss to the universe'. The words were spoken in a harsh, clipped tone as dark eyes bore into green with little mercy. Lupin was clearly incapable of being anything other than a soft-hearted imbecile, and such a manner was not going to do anything to coax some response from the deeply withdrawn younger wizard, who currently glared back at Severus, refusal clearly showing in his eyes.  
  
'With all due respect, Sir, I made it clear that I wanted to stay here for the rest of Summer. I have no intention of leaving, least of all with you', Harry said, turning his back on the taller man and sliding over to the bed, where he sat down, staring straight ahead. His thoughts had been in turmoil since the unexpected arrival, and it was all he could do to rein in the uneasy combination of dread, anger and hopelessness at this situation. All that kept him from erupting was the certainty that he could not be forced to go with Snape and Remus against his will, but if it came to it, he would fight, and fight damn hard. No-one, not even his Godfather's best friend, was going to remove him from the security of the solitude he had found here, safe from the prying eyes of sympathetic admirers and from the perceived accusatory glances of others.  
  
Severus ground his teeth and brushed a stray strand of black hair from his eyeline, before turning sharply to Remus and snapping out his next words with unconcealed irritation.  
  
'I would suggest, Lupin, that you gather Potter's things. I have no intention of wasting any more of my precious time in this hovel.' He pursed his lips as the other man looked at him appraisingly, a hint of realisation sparking in the pale amber eyes.  
  
Harry followed Lupin's movements as his trunk was dragged from beneath the bed and shrunk to a more manageable size. Panic brought bile to his throat and his chest tightened painfully as he realised Snape had no intention of permitting him his simple desire of being left alone. Breathing heavily, his eyes darted between the two men, coming to rest on Snape, who was currently stood before the window, gazing into the darkness beyond. Taking his chance, he shot from the bed and darted towards the open door, adrenaline racing through his veins and wind rushing through his ears as his heart pumped fear.  
  
Severus Snape turned from the window at the sudden movement, already having anticipated some similar stunt from the boy, and was across the room in lightning speed, grabbing a hold of a wasted upper arm. Harshly, he yanked Harry back into the centre of the room and spun him about until they stood facing one another, Remus looking on the scene in silent shock. Under any other circumstances, he would have been in there, standing up for the boy, but these were not normal circumstances and urgency required desperate measures.  
  
Harry struggled to free himself, pulling and yanking against the restraint, but Snape maintained an achingly painful grip, the sharp fingers digging through to the bone. The transformation was quite phenomenal as desperation and blind irrationality took over the boy. Green eyes came alive with fury and glaring hatred as pale, claw-like hands came up with speed to attack his captor, giving no time for Severus to protect himself. It took a minute for Lupin to take action as he stared in horror at the chaotic scene but gathering his wits, he snatched his wand from within the deep folds of his navy robes, aimed it at the boy he had come to consider almost as a Godson and shouted 'Stupefy'.  
  
Severus relinquished his grip on Harry's arm and caught him by the waist as he sunk towards the floor unconscious. Raising his free hand to his face, he probed the bloodied scratches that now adorned the sallow skin, his eyes slightly wide with the remnants of surprise. Unless whatever issues Potter was fighting, were dealt with in haste, the boy was going to be a danger not only to himself, but also to those around him. At the present moment, he endeavoured to not even consider exactly whom the Headmaster might have in mind for such a difficult task, instead turning to Remus with a sneer.  
  
'It would seem your Golden Boy is not so golden anymore, Lupin. I'm not sure Hogwarts is the place for a wild animal, but nevertheless, we have an order to follow, I believe'  
  
Placing a hand under Harry's knees, he pulled the underweight boy into his arms and made his way from the oppressive room, Lupin trailing behind him dazedly. 


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four.  
  
Disclaimer-all characters herein are the property of J K Rowling, as is Hogwarts.  
  
Thank you once more to my reviewers. Please do keep them coming in, even if it is only one word. It is all fuel for the fire of my authorship.  
  
Severus panted heavily as he once more made his way to the Headmaster's office, Remus trailing behind him, deep in thought. Having left 4, Privet Drive, they had apparated to the Hogwarts gates, having little other choice since Harry was in no fit state to walk and the Dursleys had no fireplace. As they neared the Gargoyle, Severus reflected that in spite of his disturbingly diminutive weight, carrying Potter halfway through the school was no easy task. It was fortunate he was stronger than most would have taken him to be; the voluminous robes and his less than well-built figure deceived a great many people.  
  
The Headmaster awaited them at the top of the stairs, his face creased with concern as he glanced down at the boy held in Severus' arms. Waving his arm, he invited the two men to follow him, seating himself behind his desk as Harry was laid on a rich red hued couch to the side of the room. Pale blue eyes studied the scratched face of his Potions Master, as though searching for some untold answer lying within.  
  
'Sadly, I see I was not incorrect in my assessment of Harry's condition. What happened Severus?', he asked, lacing his frail fingers together beneath his chin.  
  
Severus brushed a pale hand through his oily hair nervously, as he kept one eye on the unconscious boy, avoiding direct eye contact with his mentor,  
  
'Lupin had to stun him, Headmaster. Potter decided he had had enough of our company and tried to run. Naturally, I stepped in and the boy attacked me. I will tell you this, Albus; unless Potter gets these absurd emotions of his under tight control, he is going to be a danger not only to himself, but also to others. In your position, I would be extremely tempted to place him in St Mungos for the duration. I see little else you can do with him at this current time, considering circumstances within the Order.'  
  
At these words, Remus, who had to this point remained deeply lost in thought, his eyebrows knitted in concentration, turned sharply in his chair to direct a disbelieving look at his neighbour,  
  
'Are you insane, Snape? Harry needs to be with people he knows. What good would it do to send him into the midst of a ward of people worse off than he is? We all know what is causing this. Albus? Surely there is somewhere other than that hospital.someone Harry could remain with for the rest of Summer?', Lupin finished speaking, turning to face the Headmaster.  
  
Albus listened to the words of the two men carefully, though the slight light in his eyes revealed that he already had the answers. If there was one thing Albus Dumbledore could not be accused of, it was of being slow on the uptake. He had already spent a considerable amount of time thinking through his options, prior to the return of the three persons present and had come to only one conclusion. Harry would have to stay with Severus. The idea was going to be vehemently refused by both parties, of that he was sure, but he was also certain that the only one who might feasibly be able to care for the child was the one least likely in the eyes of others. Contrary to popular belief, although Severus projected himself as a cold, uncaring individual, there was a heart within him somewhere. It had simply become a little brittle and slightly dusty over the years of his service to Voldemort. Removing himself from his reverie, Albus raised his head slightly and directed a watery blue gaze, intensely steady in it's observation, towards the dark eyes watching him across the desk, before he spoke.  
  
'There is one option that would avoid having to have Harry admitted to St Mungos. However, I have no doubt that it will not be met with smiles and willing acceptance. Severus, I believe you still have a heavily warded manor house in the wilds of Yorkshire?'  
  
Severus' eyes widened and he flung his head back and laughed, an unpleasant sound of disbelief mingled with fury, at the other's words. This could not be happening. There was absolutely no way in this lifetime that he would allow himself to be saddled with the Golden Boy. Was it not enough that he had been doing penance for the last twenty years, playing Master and Servant to Voldemort, and on occasion, almost the same with Albus? Grinding his teeth, he gathered his composure, ignoring the slightly disconcerted glances coming from Lupin, as he placed his hands flat on the desk and leant forwards slightly,  
  
'Albus, you cannot be serious. How can you even contemplate such a solution? I am not equipped to deal with any student in this condition, least of all Harry bloody Potter. It would be a disaster from the start, not to mention the fact I still have my duties to consider. Who would care for Potter whilst I was busy kissing the Dark Lord's feet? No, I am sorry Albus, but you ask too much of me on this occasion.'. The words were spoken in his usual cold tones, but the underlying sense of panic was decipherable to one who had known Severus long enough to recognise it.  
  
Surprisingly, Remus displayed no objections to the Headmaster's suggestion, though he knew Sirius would be turning in his grave to hear it. Whatever kept Harry out of St Mungos, he would accept, even if Snape was a cold bastard. He was not so blind as to believe there was nothing more to the man, though he would, if this came to be, ensure he kept a close eyes on Harry's progress.if there was any. As he looked over at the still stunned boy, he could not help but feel he had somehow failed both Harry and Sirius. He was drawn out of his melancholy thoughts as Albus cleared his throat and once more spoke, in his usual calm and collected manner, albeit with a stern glow in his eyes.  
  
'Severus, there is no other option and you know this. I know you and young Harry are not exactly the best of friends, but this is one of your responsibilities as a teacher at this school and as one with whom the child will eventually have to stand in war. Please, Severus, I ask that you take Harry to the safety of your home and help him as best you can. You might have forgotten, but I recall not so many years ago, a young man in a similar state, having been privy to his first glimpse of death. I have the utmost trust in you Severus, and I know you can help him. Now, I believe it might be time to awaken the subject of our meeting.'  
  
Severus glared at the Headmaster, but he knew that he had little choice in this, given his precarious position. Also, seeing the barely visible pleading within the other's eyes appealed to his conscience more than anything else ever could. He could help Potter, but it would not be pleasant and there was no possibility of his becoming a mollycoddling fool, treating the boy with kid gloves. Nodding stiffly, he stood and wandered to the couch where the Boy Who Lived currently reclined in all his glory. Sneering, Severus raised his wand and muttered 'Enervate', standing prepared should the brat attempt another escapade.  
  
All eyes fell upon the emaciated boy as his eyes slowly opened to observe his surroundings. As the realisation hit him, he shot upright and glared at Severus, his eyes burning with loathing.  
  
'I thought I told you that I was fine. I do not need your help. I want to go back. Take me back, please'  
  
Severus returned the glare, though he could not bring himself to conjure the right level of loathing before the Headmaster.  
  
'You are not returning anywhere, Potter and I suggest you get used to the idea or things might be somewhat difficult for the both of us', he spat with slight distaste.  
  
Harry rose to his feet unsteadily, before turning to his headmaster, who remained seated and emanated his usual sense of calm.  
  
'What does he mean 'both of us'? Please, Professor Dumbledore, I am fine, really. Let me return home'. The words were deceptively quiet as the familiar wrath rose up within him like some wild horse, shooting flames through his heart.  
  
Albus merely gazed upon Harry above his half moon spectacles, his eyes slightly sharp, in contrast to his gentle tone of voice.  
  
'I am sorry, Harry. I cannot do that. You have proven yourself unable to care for yourself properly at this time and I have no wish to lose you. As such, you will be spending the remainder of the Summer holidays with Professor Snape at his home. It is for the best, child, though you might not see that at this moment'  
  
Harry burned inside as he stood shaking spasmodically, his fist bunched and his eyes darting between the three adults in the room. Without warning several ornaments in the room smashed, sending shards of ceramic colour to the floor even as a shelf of books collapsed with a loud crash. He ran for the door, but Severus, being one step ahead, stepped in front, arms crossed defensively. He felt trapped, totally trapped and without a voice, and as such, he did the only thing he could. He sank to the floor, opened his mouth and started screaming at the top of his voice, as though a madman under restraint.  
  
'NO! NO! NO!! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME. PLEASE, LET ME GO BACK. LEAVE ME ALONE'.  
  
The desolate corridors of the school rang with the harsh screams as Severus flued to his quarters to retrieve a calming potion, leaving Remus and Albus to regain control of the situation. One thought ran through both minds- would Severus be able to help Harry or was he lost already.  
  
' 


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five.  
  
Disclaimer-all characters herein are the property of J K Rowling, as is Hogwarts.  
  
I apologise to my loyal readers for such a long delay. I have been fighting winter blues and panic attacks for some time and suffered a flare up. Please keep the reviews coming in as they really bring a spark to my smile.  
  
Severus flued directly to his chambers, his expression unreadable as he strode directly to a wooden, panelled door, paying no heed to the fine layer of soot that now adorned his usually spotless robes. Muttering a spell under his breath, he pulled the door open, revealing a small, closet like space, replete with row upon row of vials, all neatly labelled and lined up within easy reach. As he ran his finger over one of the rows, perusing the tidy script, his thoughts returned to the scenes of chaos within the Headmaster's office and the task ahead of him. The boy's screams were still ringing in his ears as he tried to erase from memory the furious fire that burnt in the green eyes.. Severus was not a man entirely incapable of caring, but somewhere along the way, he had learnt to detach himself emotionally from those around him. It did not pay to carry the burden of emotion in his current situation, particularly with the Dark Lord's propensity to judge honesty based on facial expressions. As such, assisting a severely grief stricken, angry and unpredictable Potter was going to prove a difficult task. The fact he was the son of James Potter and served as a reminder of times preferably forgotten did not help matters.  
  
Pulling himself back to the present, the Potions Professor settled on a vial of burnt umbre liquid, resealed the supplies store door and strode back to the ornately decorated fireplace. Grabbing a handful of flue powder, he walked forwards into the glaring flames and disappeared from sight.  
  
The sight that met him as he arrived back in the circular room was one of mayhem. Books littered the floor along with the shattered remains of various magical instruments and baubles, whilst the large desk lay upon it's side, it's contents scattered haphazardly around the floor. Harry was currently flailing about, struggling to break free from Remus, who stood in the middle of the mess, arms wrapped tightly around the boy from behind, worry etched in his features. Albus simply stood observing, his eyes betraying a helplessness he had not experienced in a good many years as he watched the boy he had come to care for deeply, fall apart.  
  
Severus, having gauged the situation, approached the partially restrained boy, the vial clutched carefully in one hand, lest the boy attempt to knock it away. Harry glared at him furiously and kicked out with his legs, catching a bony shin, as Remus fought to maintain his grip on the wasted body. Stepping back slightly, the Potions Master glanced over to the headmaster, and receiving a slight nod of agreement, removed his wand, casting a partial body bind on Harry's legs, before cutting through the teenager's enraged shouting.  
  
'Since, Mr Potter, you seem unwilling to cease this little drama of yours, the matter has been taken out of your hands. I would suggest, Lupin, that you bring Potter down to ground level, where he apparently belongs at present, since he is behaving no better than a rabid cur.'  
  
Biting back a sharp response to the insult, Remus carefully sank to the ground, bringing Harry down with him, the boy held firmly to his chest, whilst Severus knelt down beside them, the small vial already uncorked and braced in one pale hand. Reaching forwards, he grasped Harry's jaw, forcing it open and poured the small amount of liquid down, clamping his hand over the boy's mouth until he swallowed. Sitting back on his heels, Severus watched carefully as Harry's eyes glazed over slightly, his arms falling slack beneath Lupin's grip as the mild sedative took effect.  
  
Remus, looking paler and wearier than usual, removed his arms from the frighteningly emaciated body and slid backwards, pulling himself to his feet shakily. It was agonising to see the child he had come to consider almost as a Godson, so caught up in his grief as to be unreachable, yet, oddly, he felt that if anyone was able to break through the wall of rage, it would be Severus Snape. The silence that had filled the room was broken as the headmaster, who had managed to restore his desk and three chairs to an upright position, addressed the room's other occupants in a quiet, but commanding tone.  
  
Remus, take a seat. Severus, if you could assist Harry, I believe we have a few further things to discuss before your departure.'  
  
Shooting the headmaster a sharp glare, Snape latched onto Harry's upper arm and rose to his feet, pulling the now unresisting teenager with him. Harry, for his part, gazed towards Dumbledore, a look of muted resentment in his eyes, as he found himself unable to respond physically to the emotions still raging within him. Whatever had been contained within that vial, it had only slightly numbed his thought processes, whilst rendering him incapable of acting on them. It was as though the strength had been sapped from his limbs, leaving him not far from being limp as a rag doll and he loathed the loss of control. His bitterness towards Dumbledore was only exceeded by the loathing he felt towards the greasy man who was now steering him into a seat beside Lupin. He still couldn't quite grasp the fact he was being forced to spend the remaining months of summer with one who had striven to make his time at Hogwarts as miserable as possible. Breaking from his thoughts, he stared down at his hands as Snape spoke up from beside him, his tone as icy and crisp as frost covered grass in winter.  
  
'Headmaster, with all due respect, you cannot possibly expect me to play nursemaid to a manic teenager who clearly needs care I cannot provide. I will not allow this...', at this point, Snape pointed a bony finger towards Harry, '.boy to destroy what little I have left of my own life beyond this school'.  
  
Albus Dumbledore gazed calmly between the three familiar faces seated opposite him, before bringing his eyes to rest on his potions professor, a hard glint apparent in their misted blue depths, his voice firm as he spoke.  
  
'Severus, I would trust you with my life, and as such, I am entrusting you with the life of Harry here. I would not place this burden upon you were there any other option, but as such, you are the only one capable of such a task at present. Please, for once, do not question my motives. Take Harry to your home and do what you can. Remus and myself will pop in weekly to check on your progress, and should you be called, one of us will take over the task.'  
  
It was all too much for Harry, listening to the older wizards discussing him as though he weren't there, as though he were but a heavy weight they could do without. Knuckles white, he gripped the edge of the desk and rose unsteadily to his feet, his eyes burning with ill concealed hatred.  
  
'Well, if I'm such a burden, why don't you do all of us a favour and send me back to the Dursleys. I was doing fine until you turned up and decided once more to control my life. I'm not a puppet and if you think I'll spend the rest of summer with that greasy pig, you've got another thing coming. This is MY life. Not yours', he spat the words out, shaking off Lupin's hand, which had come to rest on his forearm.  
  
Albus rubbed his eyes tiredly beneath his half moon spectacles, before bringing his gaze to rest on the the green eyes currently blazing in his direction. He was seriously beginning to wonder if even Severus would be able to get through to the boy, given the extreme hostility and rage evident in his behaviour. Noticing the increasing pallor on Harry's face, he finally responded to the outburst, maintaining his usual calm demeanour.  
  
'Harry, you are not a burden, but even you must be able to see that all is not well with you at present. I cannot sit by and allow you to simply waste away before my eyes without making some attempt to help you. I know the death of your Godfather is weighing very heavily upon you at present, but would Sirius wish to see you suffering in such a manner? It is time to stop blaming yourself, Harry, for something that was not your fault.', he paused, a heaviness settling in his heart as he watched Harry sag back into his chair, the young face becoming a blank mask, as all emotion was once more concealed from view. Turning slightly to the right, he once more continued, addressing Severus this time.  
  
'Severus, I trust you know what to do. Please, for all of our sakes, try to exercise patience and some level of understanding, as I once did for another young man suffering similarly. I suggest you take Harry and flue to Hawksley Manor directly. Time is moving swiftly and it has been a long and tiring day.for all of us. Remus, you have young Harry's trunk, I believe?'  
  
Remus retrieved the resized trunk from deep within his robes and handed it over to the boy beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as he did so. His words were, as usual, softly spoken with an undertone of strength.  
  
'Please try and take care of yourself, Harry. I know how hard it is, but don't let Sirius' death have been in vain. If you at any time need someone to talk to besides Severus, just owl me at Headquarters and I will do my best to reach you'. His amber eyes glinted with suppressed sorrow as he removed his hand and turned his head away slightly.  
  
Harry remained seated, his eyes devoid of any sign of emotion, his body by now slumped in the chair. The lack of nutrition was taking its toll in more than one way and coupled with his earlier exertion, had left him almost entirely drained. He gazed at the headmaster blankly as the elderly wizard came round the desk and pulled Snape slightly to one side for a few private words.  
  
'Severus, please try to exercise some restraint with the boy or we are going to lose him to this. I know you and he are not on the best of terms, but I also know you have a heart there somewhere, jaded though it may be. You will need to watch him very closely, so I would suggest a simple linking spell as soon as possible, lest he attempt something irreversible'. Usually twinkling eyes dulled at the last words, the gravity in his voice betraying his very real concerns.  
  
The Potions Master nodded curtly, before spinning on his heel and returning to his charge, who had returned to studying his hands. Severus Snape was not usually a man who doubted his own abilities, but in this case, doubt was rife. As far as he was concerned, Potter was an attention seeking, over glorified miniature of his father, and it was safer to retain this view. Glaring coldly at the flaccid boy, he bit out his next words, irritated at the loss of time he would have otherwise devoted to his Potions research.  
  
'Get up, Potter, I have no intention of waiting here all night while you decide whether to throw another tantrum.'  
  
His irritation increased as he watched the boy stand, sway unsteadily on his feet and slump forwards against the desk. Rolling his eyes, he strode forwards and snatched a bony elbow, dragging Harry ungracefully behind him to the fireplace. It wasn't entirely unexpected by the other occupants of the room when aforementioned boy's knees gave out, forcing Snape to support his full weight.  
  
Remus watched in concern as his former colleague roughly hauled Harry into his arms, but restrained himself from making comment. Severus Snape might have been many things, but he would never harm a child intentionally. Arms full, Severus turned to the Headmaster, who took a handful of flue powder from an intricately decorated pot on the mantel and glanced once more at his fallen student  
  
'Good luck, Severus', he whispered, before throwing the dusty substance and watching as the tall figure disappeared into the green flames with the words 'Hawksley Manor' 


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six.

Sorry it has taken so long folks. I hit a mental block and a pile of doubt about whether I could keep this to the same standard. Thanks to all those who have waited patiently.

Severus emerged gracefully from a rather plain fireplace within what looked to be a study. A large, mahogany desk stood to one side; only an ink pot, quill and a few sheets of cream coloured parchment adorning it's surface. A vast Chinese rug broke up the monotony of the oak floor, whilst the occasional landscape painting added interest to the otherwise bland, pale green walls. Overall, the room was very Spartan, there being little evidence that anyone had used it in a great many years.  
  
Adjusting the boy in his arms, Severus strode across the room, coming to an abrupt halt as the large oak door to which he was headed, swung open, admitting a small, strange looking creature, known to those of Wizarding blood, as a house elf. Appearing somewhat panic stricken and shocked, it quickly recovered itself and bowed deeply, it's squeaky voice reverberating through the room, resonating through the silence.  
  
'Master, Sir, I wasn't expecting you. All isn't ready yet, Sir. Oh, I is a bad elf, Sir.',  
  
The Potions Master rolled his eyes, apparently irritated by the elf's high pitched voice, and responded brusquely, a sharp edge to his voice as he continued towards the now open door.  
  
'Mr Potter here and myself will be staying in the West Wing...I trust the rooms there are in a habitable condition?'  
  
The House Elf hurried after the retreating back of his master as they progressed into a vast entrance hall, cold and uninviting as the Hogwarts Dungeons, their hurried footsteps echoing off the dark grey stone walls.  
  
'Yes Master, Minky has done all rooms in the West Wing. Will Mr potter be needing anything Sir?'  
  
Pausing at the base of a sweeping stone staircase, the Professor once more adjusted his load before carefully making his way upwards. Either side of him were gleaming mahogany banisters, but as with the entrance hall and the study, there was no sign of any embellishment nor of any warmth. Just as Severus did not endorse elaborate wandwork, he did not endorse dwellings filled with pretty, yet useless trinkets and baubles. Gritting his teeth against the strain of carrying a lightweight, yet cumbersome teenage body up such a vast incline, he snapped his response to the House Elf's question,  
  
'Mr Potter will not be needing anything besides a good night's sleep'.  
  
Severus was almost tempted to add 'and a good walloping', but refrained from doing so. His arms ached atrociously and he could feel the beginnings of a headache setting in, no doubt from the prospect of having to deal with an obnoxious Potter for the remainder of the Summer Holidays. Albus could not have been in his right mind, nor Lupin for that matter, if both thought he would be able to resolve the torments in the boy's addled brain. Contrary to popular belief, Severus neither hated the boy nor wished any harm upon him. He simply refused to condone the repeated incidences of Potter being absolved of all guilt for his actions. No matter which way he looked at it, the child took his vaunted position for granted, as had his father before him, and being one who had had to battle for any recognition of his abilities, Severus could not help but resent this. Also, being a spy was a dangerous game. Potter was The Dark Lord's enemy, and that in turn made him the enemy of any of his Death Eaters and their offspring. To be seen showing anything other than dislike for the boy would raise questions that would place both his life, and the lives of all at Hogwarts in more danger than they were already in.  
  
Reaching the top of the staircase, Severus turned left down a wide corridor, passing numerous doors, identical to the one leading from his study. There were a few narrow passages leading off to the left along this corridor and it was down one of these that the dark man headed, the light from the few lit torches casting eerie shadows on the age weathered stone. Reaching a door at the very end on the right hand side, he manoeuvred the child in his arms and freed a hand, turning the handle and pushing in with his foot.  
  
The room beyond was quite large in size, being about the same dimensions as the average dormitory at Hogwarts. However, it lacked the warmth, being as cold and as bland as the rest of the Manor House. A four poster bed stood to the left, whilst to the right was a large desk and chair. There was a fireplace, which was unlit, and an upright armchair stood before this, looking as though it had rarely been touched, let alone sat in. A small door set in the right hand wall presumably led to a bathroom. Other than these basic items, the room was bare. The stone floors had no soft covering to protect unwary feet from the biting chill, and the walls were devoid of colour and decoration.  
  
Striding over to the bed, Severus roughly deposited Harry on top of the dark red blankets, neither bothering to cover the teen up, nor to remove his shoes. He was quite astonished that the boy was still unconscious, considering the change of scene, but what could he expect? The foolish brat had clearly not eaten nor slept in some time...things which would need to be rectified in the forthcoming weeks, no matter the tactics that needed to be used.  
  
With one last glare at the teenager, he turned around and swept out of the door, closing it behind him and casting a locking charm. He was damned if he would allow the boy full run of his home, considering the havoc he always managed to create at the school. Striding back down the passageway, he sneered as Minky came trotting along from the far end, wringing her gnarled hands in worry as she squeaked incoherently,  
  
'Master, I never question your wisdom, but is it wise to lock Mr Harry Potter in his room ? What if something bad happens?'  
  
Severus directed a cold stare at the small creature, before responding in an equally cold tone,  
  
'Mr Potter is too accustomed to being allowed to run rampant wherever he goes. It will not be the case here. It is about time he learnt the meaning of rules, and until I am sure he understands my rules, he will be locked in his room. I will be staying in my own quarters, which as you are well aware, are near enough that I will be able to act quickly should there be any problems'.  
  
The small creature continued wringing it's hands, it's bulbous eyes wide with concern, but seemingly accepting its position of helplessness in this situation, it bowed low, before scurrying off back from whence it came.  
  
Sighing heavily, Severus continued to the main corridor and entered a chamber almost directly opposite the passageway. This room was not only larger than the one Harry now inhabited, but also less bland. A few Wizarding portraits, presumably of long dead relatives adorned the walls, several large, deep green hued rugs covered the cold floors and shelves lines with books filled one side of the chamber. Two well worn armchairs sat before an already blazing fire and many torches lined the walls, almost making the space seem homely...but not quite.  
  
It was a world away from the icy cold, dark and uninviting room Harry awoke to find himself in some three hours later.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven.  
  
Thank you to all my reviewers. You really are an inspiration to me. This is a record for me...two chapters in two days. Please continue to review and let me know what you do like...and even what you do not like. Blessings.  
  
Harry awoke abruptly, his body soaked in a cold sweat, the result of another of his many nightmares. This one had to have been the worse yet, for whilst all the others had simply replayed the reality of the scene at the Ministry of Magic, this latest addition had included elements that had not been a part of the actual event. The nightmare had began normally enough, as nightmares go, with Harry stood watching in horror as Sirius was struck by that awful red light from Bellatrix's wand, but as he fought against Lupin's powerful grip, the scene became more unreal. Blood had begun to dribble from every orifice on his Godfather's face, the usually palid skin becoming a mask of glimmering dark red, as the frozen smile had changed to a pleading look of desperation. Even Sirius' grey eyes had become blood streaked, as he stretched out his long, thin hands to Harry, who was helpless to do anything.  
  
Laying totally motionless for a few moments, Harry worked on slowing down his accelerated breathing, reaching a hand up to scrape damp hair from his forehead. That feeling of horror and dread still snaked through him, as though the nightmare had become a part of his consciousness, waiting to rear it's ugly head at any reminder of his Godfather. Once he felt a little calmer, the teen slowly sat up, confusion washing over him when he realised he was still fully clothed and wearing his glasses. He peered around in the dim light of early morning, trying to resolve the fogginess and confusion in his mind. Where was he? He Clearly was neither at Hogwarts nor at the Dursleys.  
  
With all the force of a solid, sharp slap, the events of earlier that night came rushing back...Snape and Lupin removing him from his safe haven, Dumbledore's calm reasoning, his prospective removal to Snape's home...Snape. The memories filled him first with an aching despair, then, as he realised his own wishes had been entirely ignored, he filled with pure, vitriolic rage. No trace of the calming potion administered almost five hours ago remained, but the memory of it's effects most certainly had not left Harry. Fists clenched in tight balls, he glared about the room, taking in the bare stone floor, the bleak, naked stone walls and the unlit fireplace. This room was, in spite of it's larger size, more unwelcoming, more claustrophobic than the cupboard in which he had spent the first eleven years of his life. If anything reinforced his view of Snape as a man incapable of any act of human kindness, this was it.  
  
Almost springing from the bed, Harry, for a few minutes, simply stood shivering, his feet sending out complaint against the icy chill of the hard floor beneath. Thoughts of every incident in which his choices had been removed whirled through his head in rotation, fuelling his rage further, adding to it, as though a wall of anger were being built brick by brick. It was almost as though years of pent-up frustration and emotion were vying for release, but there was no release other than an uncontrolled explosion.  
  
Finally deciding to take some action, Harry strode over to the heavy oak door, with the intention of leaving this place, wherever it was. Turning the handle, he pulled, fully expecting the door to give way...after all, Dumbledore could not approve of his being locked in a room the entire Summer. On finding the door jammed fast, panic set in, competing with the already present rage, for attention. If there was one thing Harry could not endure, it was being locked in any space, with no means to escape if it was needed. To feel trapped psychologically was one matter, but to find himself physically trapped was another. He yanked on the door, putting all his weight behind it, then fumbled with sweaty fingers in the back pocket of his jeans, finally retrieving his wand, surprised that Snape had not taken that away as well as his freedom. Hand shaking violently, he raised the smooth piece of wood and incanted every unlocking charm he knew, but to no avail. Whatever had been placed on that door was not within his range, broad as it was. Still holding his wand in one hand, he began banging his fist on the rough wood, yelling out with fury, until his knuckles were red raw and his throat dry as parchment.  
  
'LET ME OUT, SNAPE! I KNOW YOU ARE HERE. LET ME OUT, YOU BASTARD!'  
  
He repeated the words for a good five minutes, before spinning around and giving vent to his full rage. He shoved the armchair a good ten feet across the room, picked up the plain wooden chair before the desk and threw that at the oak door that trapped him within these confines then aimed an almighty kick at the door into what was apparently the bathroom. The door swung open, revealing a medium sized, but primitive room, containing an old fashioned, claw footed bathtub, a green ceramic washbasin and a circular mirror. As with the main room, the floor was of uncovered cold stone and the walls, aside from the mirror were bare. Harry entered the room and just stared blankly at himself in the mirror for a few seconds, taking in the now filthy, damp hair and the pale, drawn face. In that moment he directed all his anger, all his frustration, and the undirected hatred at that reflection, raising his fist and slamming it into the clear glass, just as the door to his chambers slammed open.  
  
The Potions Master hurried down the narrow passageway as fast as he could, his face set in a mask of anger and loathing. He did not know how long the racket emerging from Potter's room had been going on, but it had woken him from one of the few deep sleeps he had managed to garner in the last month. Pausing only to grab a black silk dressing gown, he had almost walked into the door in his half-fogged sleepy state of consciousness which had not helped his bitterness at being woken so rudely. He had met up with Minky who had rushed up from the quarters below, her eyes panic stricken and wide, but had told her to return to her bed. This was something he needed to deal with himself. As he reached the entrance to the chamber, he muttered the spell to remove the locking charm and slammed through the door, just as he heard the unsettling sound of glass shattering in the bathroom beyond. Pocketing his wand, he stepped round the now broken wooden chair and strode towards the open door, trying to control his anger enough that he wouldn't simply throttle the boy then and there.  
  
Harry stood in front of the mirror, his clothing, hair and the floor littered with jagged shards of broken glass, as droplets of blood fell from his injured fist. Pausing only a moment to take in the scene, Severus came up directly behind him and grabbed his wasted upper arm in a vice like grip, ignoring the exclamation of surprise and pain that escaped the boy's lips. Exiting the bathroom, he dragged Harry behind him, as though he were little more than toddler and came to a halt in the centre of the main chamber. He then spun the teen around to face him, snatching hold of the other wasted arm and shaking him violently until the boy's glasses slid off and his eyes took on a dazed expression, mingled with fear.  
  
'Let me get this straight right now, Potter. As long as you are staying under my roof, you will not destroy my property, you will not make any noise and you will LEARN TO CONTROL YOUR ANGER. If I have to come running in here again because you decided to have a temper tantrum, you will find yourself in a room with no furniture and a pot to relieve yourself in. Do I make myself clear?'  
  
He ended in a barely controlled soft voice, his eyes glinting dangerously in the early morning light, as he glared down at the small boy in his grip, who seemed to be glaring back now with an even more dangerous glint.  
  
'You have no right to control me and no right to lock me in. I am not your damn prisoner. I DON'T EVEN WANT TO BE HERE. I HATE BEING ANYWHERE NEAR YOU. I want to return to the Dursleys. I'd be a lot safer there than I am here and at least I wouldn't freeze to death'.  
  
Harry attempted to yank his arms out of the painful grip, grimacing as Snape's fingers dug in tighter, almost cutting of the blood supply to his hands. His injured fist had started to throb most unpleasantly, and now felt as though it had been submerged in a thick liquid, the blood was flowing so freely from the cuts.  
  
Severus continued to tighten his grip until he could feel every bone and tendon in the boy's skinny arms. A brief hint of concern crossed his features, to quickly be replaced by the usual emotionless glare. His voice, this time, was rigid and the words slowly spoken, in spite of the cruelty contained within.  
  
'What's wrong, Potter? Having trouble adjusting to the absence of the luxury you are no doubt accustomed to? Having difficulty tolerating the fact you are not free to run rampant here, creating chaos wherever you go ? Let me make this quite clear, Potter. Here, you will follow my rules and you will do as I tell you. There will be no midnight adventures, no snooping around into things that do not concern you and no disregard for your own safety and that of others. I know you would like to follow in your father's footsteps of arrogant foolishness, but you will not do so here. You will remain in this room at night, and unless you are studying Occlumency or doing some task for me, you will remain in this room at all other times also. Do I make myself clear?'  
  
He did not notice as Harry's eyes once more became dull and blank, the emotion within the green light dying altogether. He did, however notice as the boy stopped pulling and simply went slack with resignation, his shoulders slumping and his head turning towards the ground. Letting go of the boy's arms, Severus stood back and appraised the state of the room, his eyes coming to rest on the splatters of blood on the floor.  
  
'Show me your hand', he snapped, watching as Harry raised a shaking arm to hover in mid-air, eyes turned slightly to the right to avoid seeing anything other than the wall.  
  
Severus snatched the mangled hand and held it upon one of his own, narrowing his eyes at the torn flesh around the knuckles and the profuse amount of blood. Dropping it in disgust, he clapped his hands once, and announced by a muted 'pop', Minky materialised beside him, her eyes horror- struck at the chaos around her. As her Master spoke, she peered at Harry curiously, wondering how such a small human could create so much mess.  
  
'Minky, go to my Potions stores and bring me a basic healing salve and some bandages. Mr Potter here seems to have had an accident'  
  
Pointing to the bed sharply, Severus ordered Harry to sit down, before disappearing into the bathroom and clearing up the remains of the mirror with a wave of his wand. Minky reappeared just as he returned to the main chamber, a small, pale green jar and ordinary looking bandage clutched in her hands. Taking both items, he informed the Elf she could go then marched over to where Harry sat rigidly on the edge of the hard mattress. With an efficiency that revealed much experience in such injuries, Severus carefully rubbed the thick, pasty substance into the protruding knuckles and tightly bandaged the hand, his mouth set in a hard, thin line as he worked. Once he was done, he stepped back and turned towards the door, secreting the small jar in a voluminous pocket, pausing once to direct a few last words at the small figure behind him.  
  
'Since neither of us have any choice in this matter, Potter, I would suggest you get accustomed to the idea of staying here. Believe me, had I any choice, you would not be breathing in the same air as I. Breakfast will be brought to you in a few hours time, and you will eat it, even if I have to force feed you. '  
  
Slamming the door behind him, he exited the room, leaving behind him a boy who had given up his will to live. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight.  
  
Thank you once again to all my reviewers. I am doing my best to not make this a generic Severus helps hurt Harry fiction, but obviously it would be impossible to totally avoid all the cliches. I have decided to make my  
chapters longer and hold my impatience in check. I hope you all prefer this.  
  
Harry remained where he was on the bed, gazing blankly at the door, which had just slammed so violently behind the bitter Potions Master. The thoughts in his head had become sluggish, as though some thick substance had glued them all together, slowing their rotation. He once more felt as though the life had been sucked out of him, leaving a hollow vacuum within his ravaged heart and body, seemingly unable to be filled. His emotions confused him, leaving him at times, desperately wondering who he was, what he was, which parts of him were real, and which parts were simply a product of current circumstances. Averting his gaze from the door, he lowered his eyes to stare at his newly bandaged hand, studying the creases as though his life depended on it. He felt numb inside...totally dead, as though he would never again feel love nor pain nor anger and he hated this numbness...this emptiness. He wanted to feel something, anything at all to remind him that he was still a human being...to remind him that he still existed. It seemed somewhat ironic that he desired this, considering he would just as soon be dead as be alive right now.  
  
Shifting slightly, he frowned as he felt something digging into his hip and reached into his pocket to retrieve whatever the guilty artefact was. He had, in his panic, entirely forgotten that he had his shrunken school trunk in his pocket and smiled slightly as he dropped it on the bed beside him and stood up. Gazing around the room, he spotted what he had been looking for and went to retrieve his wand from where it had fallen during Snape's bone-rattling shaking session. Within a matter of seconds, his now normal sized trunk lay open on the bed, clothes strewn carelessly over the floor, as Harry Potter stood, lovingly caressing the handle of his treasured knife.

To him, it was like a comfort blanket...he knew it would always be there, waiting for him when he needed it most. It promised him some form of relief if the feelings of numbness or of rampant pain became too much for his tormented mind to deal with. Sighing softly, he picked up a mangy, moth eaten sock from the pile of clothing on the floor and buried the knife in the very tip, shoving the precious bundle under the mattress of the bed. His heart rested a little easier just knowing of its presence, and he lay back down on the bed, closing his eyes against the small amount of daylight that streaked across the chamber. He welcomed the darkness of a few more hours of sleep.  
  
Severus Snape had been unable to relax enough to enable the luxury of unconsciousness to return, and currently sat within his study, strong thumbs rubbing the tiredness from his dark eyes. To be frank, his response to Potter's actions had come more of fear than anything else. On seeing the boy's bloody fist, his first feeling had been not rage at the damage to his property, but rather shock and a slight hint of concern. If there was one thing Severus Snape feared above most else, it was being privy to emotions of empathy or sympathy. He could not afford to care. It was a simple as that. He had spent years devoting immense energy to shielding all emotions save the most negative from those that would use them against him. The memory of the responses of James Potter and Sirius Black on finding out Severus harboured affection for Lily Evans, remained a bitter taste within his mouth, and not one he would soon forget.

As long as he could see James in Potter, and not his mother, it was all too easy to loathe the boy, but things were never so simple. He had made a promise many years ago, having realised his failure in not warning the Potters in time of the upcoming threat, to protect Potter to the best of his ability. Oh no, he had not worded his promise to anyone...it was a promise he had made to himself, and the only viable means he had to in some way gain redemption for his failure. That said, he did not need to like the brat to do this small duty,  
and like him he would not. Something was not right about the child, that was plain enough. The astonishingly speedy swing from outright, demonstrative anger to silent submission had not evaded his notice. Nor had the haunting emptiness in Potter's usually vibrant green eyes...green...Lily; mustn't think of Lily. Slamming his fist to the desk in frustration, Severus stood up and strode over to the fireplace, hoping the intended recipient of his visit would be awake at such a ridiculous hour. Snatching a pot from a nearby shelf, he threw some of the powder into the still burning flames and snarled, "Hogwarts, Headmasters office".

Shaking the soot from his robes, he emerged gracefully to find the batty old codger sat at his desk, smiling benevolently, his eyes twinkling with an irritating jollity. Scowling and folding his arms across his chest, Severus leant against a nearby wall and fixed his sometime mentor with his most withering glare. Chuckling, the Headmaster leant forward and gestured to the chair opposite his own with a sweeping motion of his cerise clad arm. Balking at the grotesque display of colour, Snape remained where he was and cleared his throat.  
  
"Albus, I must once again question your sanity. You have left me in charge of a boy who, judging from this morning's performance, belongs in a locked isolation ward in St Mungos. Short of locking him in his room, I see no means to deal with him. He has no respect for my property, no respect for my personal life, and certainly no respect for me."  
  
The Headmaster sighed heavily and for a moment seemed lost in thought as he gazed disconcertingly at younger man before him. Finally, his eyes becoming sharp and his expression slightly more serious than befit his nature, he stood up and wandered across the room until he faced Severus.  
  
"Severus, you will not reach the child with harsh words and vitriol. Harry has suffered a severe loss and learnt of the destiny he must fulfil if any of us are to survive. That is a heavy load indeed upon a child's  
shoulders, and he is still a child. Also...', here the elderly Wizard hesitated, his eyes taking on a saddened light, his expression being one of guilt. Passing his frail fingers across his brow, he continued in a quieter voice, '...I have reason to believe I should not have returned Harry to the Dursleys each Summer. Certain information has come to light that suggests they treated him in a manner worse than I had expected. I need you, Severus, to find out the extent of this...mistreatment"  
  
Severus' eyes widened slightly at the last, while inwardly he snorted at the idea of a Potter being anything other than royally spoilt and showered with adulation. And just how was he supposed to find the information he required, short of force feeding the boy Veritaserum, which he was not entirely unwilling to do. It was not as if the Potter child was suddenly going to spill all his sickly secrets to the man who had taken the utmost pleasure in baiting him for the last five years. Sneering, he fairly spat out his next words, feeling satisfaction as Dumbledore stepped back to avoid the flying spittle.  
  
"Potter is a spoilt, arrogant little boy...how that has evaded your notice I do not know. This morning he took it upon himself to wake up the whole household with his incessant banging and shouting. I entered his room to find furniture strewn about and Potter bleeding all over the place, having taken a dislike to his bathroom mirror. Such behaviour cannot go unpunished, Albus."  
  
Running his hands distractedly through his beard, the Headmaster returned to seat himself behind his desk, concern vaguely apparent in his stance and in his gaze, which once more rested upon Severus. His voice, when he spoke once more, sounded tired, yet at the same time, urgent.  
  
"Severus, I cannot emphasise enough the importance of this matter. It is imperative that you change your attitude towards Harry and let go of this rather juvenile grudge. Harry is not his father and had you managed for one moment to see beyond your bitterness towards James, you would have realised he is far more like his mother than anything else. If you cannot do this for the boy, Severus, then do it for Lily...and yes, I am fully aware of the feelings you had towards her. I must ask that you remain in the manor at all times, excepting when you are called. I fear Harry is not to be trusted by himself any longer. I will call by in a few days time to see how you are coming along. Good day Severus"  
  
Anger shining in his eyes, Severus sharply turned about and flued back to his office, murderous thoughts running through his mind. If truth were to be told, Severus Snape was inwardly panicking. For the first time in many years, he felt panic rising up within him at the prospect of failing once again. He simply did not possess the parts needed to drag the boy back from the precipice; they remained firmly barricaded in behind a firmly bolted door.  
  
Harry was awoken from a blissfully nightmare free sleep by a distinctly squeaky voice in his right ear. Opening his eyes blearily, he stared for a moment at the creature stood by his bed holding a tray laden with the most unappetising food he had ever set eyes on, not that he had any intention of eating it. Just the thought of anything passing into his shrunken stomach bought acidic bile to his throat, which he hurredly swallowed back down. Sitting up, he half heartedly listened as the small elf babbled on about why he was being given only mashed foods and why he had to eat them, and how Master had ordered that all was to be cleared.  
  
Finally, Minky left, having placed the tray on the desk on the far side of the room. It was at this point that Harry thanked Snape for giving him a room with a bathroom, as he padded across the room, his bare feet slapping on the stone floor almost soundlessly. Removing the plate of scrambled eggs, tomatoes and pureed mushrooms, he stepped into the bathroom and tipped the lot into the toilet, stepping back as it his the water with a splash. Quickly he flushed the edibles away, a slight tinge of guilt pervading him as he returned the plate to the tray and drank half of the orange juice provided.  
  
Ignoring the clothes scattered on the floor, and ignoring the fact he smelt quite appalling from the filth of two weeks in the heat, he fetched his photo album from his trunk, returned to the small desk, and sat down to once more brood on those he had irretrievably lost.


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine.  
  
Thank you once more for all the reviews. This will not be one of those fictions whereby Snape suddenly becomes sickeningly warm and cuddly...it simply would not happen in canon and wont happen in this story. Of course, it goes without saying that he will not get very far being as harsh and hateful as he currently is, but he will not be doling out hugs galore and suddenly becoming Harry's best friend. On with the story.  
  
By the time Severus emerged from his introspection, several hours had passed and it was well past midday. Scowling across the empty study, he clapped his hands sharply to call his House Elf and stood up, roughly brushing imaginary dust specks from his robes. He had decided to do his utmost to ignore the extra presence in his home for the time being, opting instead to spend the majority of the day catching up on his Potions brewing and research. If there was one thing he sorely missed during the period he was teaching a horde of ignorant children, it was the opportunity to make full use of his formidable capacity for formulating new ideas for potions. He had, for some years, been sitting on an idea for a potion that would negate the effects of the Cruciatus curse, but had not, thus far, had the time to explore the possibilities. Now seemed the perfect opportunity and he was damned if he would allow the Potter brat to impose anymore than he already was. The child could occupy himself...goodness knows, if his ineptitude in Severus' classes was anything to go by, he needed all the study time he could get. He was torn from his thoughts by the grating voice of Minky, who had clearly been stood in the room for some minutes, too pathetically fearful to make her presence known.  
  
"Master, Sir, what is Master wanting from Minky?"  
  
Sweeping across the room towards the door, Severus called out instructions as he made his way out of the study, forcing the small creature to scuttle after him in a quite comical fashion.  
  
"I shall be in my laboratory for the remainder of the day. Be sure to take Potter his lunch and let me know if there are any problems with the boy. Did he finish his breakfast?"  
  
"Yes Master, nothing was left. Is Master wishing Minky to bring him food also?"  
  
Coming to an abrupt halt as he reached a large door at the very rear of the hall, Severus retrieved a large, iron key from his robes and carefully unlocked it, roughly pushing it open before turning towards the Elf.  
  
"I will take my meal in my laboratory...a simple sandwich will suffice. Aside from that, I am not to be disturbed unless absolutely necessary. Inform Potter that I will be collecting him for an Occlumency lesson at 7pm and that he is to be prepared. He will know what this means. I trust you will provide him a simple meal beforehand of rice and vegetables. He is not to have anything more solid than that over the next few days."  
  
With one last, sharp glance at the rapidly nodding Minky, he swept through the door and retreated down an ornate, spiral staircase to the lower levels of the Manor where, presumably, his workrooms were.  
  
In another part of the Manor, the Boy Who Lived sat in the same spot he had inhabited for the last four hours, his eyes glued to a Wizarding photograph of his first year at Hogwarts. In this picture, he stood waving, his two best friends, Hermione and Ron on either side, all grinning happily, without a care in the world. Had he only known then of the horrors he would face in the following years, his face might not have looked so obliviously innocent and carefree. No matter how many times he had tried to work out just why Voldemort chose him, he came no closer to getting to the heart of the matter. Sure, a prophecy had been made, but had not Voldemort known of this prophecy, would any of this have come to pass? He did not think so. And why him? Why was he chosen over Neville? How could anyone have known what powers he would possess when he was no more than a baby? It just didn't make sense to him and he did not believe for one moment that it was he, of all people, who had the ability to destroy the one who was destroying him. The way he saw things, the students of Hogwarts would be a lot safer without him than with him...he was determined to not be responsible for any more deaths, no matter the consequences for himself. He had spent much time thinking on death...wondering if he had the courage to leave all he knew in this life behind. Time and time again he had found one small part of himself that was unwilling to let go of life, no matter how hopeless and defeated he felt.  
  
Placing his face in his hands, he closed his eyes and tried to clear all these thoughts from his head, preferring the numbness of an empty mind to the chaos of a full one. Within a matter of minutes his head dropped to the desk before him, coming to rest on the open photo album, as sleep pulled him into it's shadows once more.  
  
He was abruptly awoken by someone prodding his right arm, which lay curled around his head, as though expectant of attack. Blinking slowly, Harry raised his head and turned to his right, finding himself staring at a pair of anxious, bulbous eyes. The house elf stared back, her gnarled hands firmly gripping a tray of food, which again, looked unappetising even to the hungriest of persons. Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell and pushed his chair back as the tray was placed on the desk beside him. Minky, noticing this, folded her arms and pushed the tray further across the desk as if to make her point known.  
  
"Harry Potter must eat or Master will not be pleased. Master is also saying that Harry Potter must prepare himself for an Occlumency lesson tonight. Master will be coming for Harry Potter at 7 O'clock and Harry Potter must be ready."  
  
Allowing the Elf's words to simply wash over him, Harry responded by nodding silently then waited for the intrusion to make itself scarce. Minky stood for a few moments longer, just staring at the young Wizard then scurried away, closing the door quietly behind her.  
  
Taking a deep breath, said boy turned back towards the desk, revulsion showing on his face as he glanced at the rice and pureed vegetables on the plate. Reaching forwards, he grabbed the glass of pumpkin juice, also provided, and quaffed half of it before placing it on the desk and snatching up the plate of steaming food. He followed the same routine as before, emptying the contents into the toilet, and hoping it didn't cause a blockage as he flushed it away. He just could not imagine actively engaging in the act of eating at the moment, the mere thought of it causing his stomach to clench uncomfortably. It wasn't that he particularly wished to starve himself to death, rather that he didn't think anything he did eat would remain put. Replacing the empty plate on the tray, he retreated to the bed and flopped down, suddenly feeling physically exhausted again. The room was not much warmer than it had been during the night and he shivered slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest and rolled onto his side, facing away from the door. Gazing sightlessly at the wall, he wondered if this was to be his life for the next few months and wished he could simply fall asleep and not wake up again.  
  
Severus Snape cursed loudly as smoke billowed from the large, silver cauldron he had set up six hours ago. Snatching up an empty potion bottle, he swung his arm and watched as it shattered against a wall, sending fragments of glass in all directions. Slumping down on a tall, wooden stool, he glared in frustration at the green tinged contents of the cauldron and racked his brains for what he could be doing wrong. He never miscalculated a potion, but naturally, if he had made an error in his theory, the potion would also be flawed. Emptying the cauldron with a flick of his wand, he shoved the stool away and removed himself to a desk on the far side of the tidy laboratory, gathering together his scattered notes and perusing them with the utmost concentration. He pondered on the possibility of needing to reduce the number of Lacewings or maybe needing an increase of Pog Grass, visualising the resultant potency and coloration of the potion in his head as he went through all the options.  
  
Time was running short, and he was now regretting his decision to give Potter a lesson, for it was already coming up to six O'clock and he had made little progress in his experimentation. Inwardly he cursed the child and spitefully wished a plethora of unhappy events to befall the boy. Severus Snape in a bad mood was not a pretty sight, and little put him in a viler mood than failing at what he considered to be his one true talent. His concentration lost, he stood abruptly, shoving the reams of notes from his desk, and strode from the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Emerging in the hall, he locked the door to his laboratory behind him and strode off towards his study to make preparations for the forthcoming lesson.  
  
Meanwhile, Harry Potter remained curled up on his bed, his eyes lightly closed, though he was not asleep by any means. He was simply in a blissful state of numbness, having finally managed to still his thoughts and forget where he was and in whose home he was residing. It was an easy enough thing to achieve when left alone in silence for long periods of time, with nothing to remind him he existed. He had even managed to forget that the man who hated him most would be arriving to ransack his mind and dredge up the most painful and humiliating memories from the depths of his subconscious.  
  
Severus marched along the passageway to Harry's room at exactly five minutes to seven, robes swelling out behind him as though caught by a windy gust. His mood had improved little in the previous hour and he was quite prepared to vent his frustrations on the potter boy should he fail to perform to expectations. Removing the locking charm, he harshly pushed the door open, striding in a few steps as it slammed against the wall behind. He sneered as the figure on the bed jumped slightly and sat up in a flustered manner, turning a pale, pinched face towards him. Glaring for a few moments, Severus took in the dishevelled, unwashed state of the the boy and the pile of clothing scattered across the floor, before allowing his harsh voice full reign.  
  
"Well, don't just sit there, boy. It might be beyond your comprehension, but my time is precious and as such, I will not waste it standing here waiting for you. I only hope your skills at Occlumency exceed your skills for keeping yourself looking like some semblance of a human being, Potter. When we are finished, you will make some effort to clean that disgustingly dirty body of yours instead of wallowing in self pity"  
  
He watched as his student slid off the bed, eyes averted to the ground, and made his way haltingly towards where Severus stood. With a final glance around the chamber, Severus turned about and led the way through the passage and down the staircase, steadfastly ignoring the sounds of dragging feet and stumbles behind him.  
  
Harry kept his eyes glued to the ground as he traipsed after the dark form before him, only looking up occasionally to avoid walking into anything. He felt terribly weak and his legs shook with each step, as though he had been afflicted with some form of palsy. Gripping the banister tightly, he carefully descended the staircase, catching himself a few times as he lost his footing and stumbled clumsily. Upon reaching the bottom, he was led into a large study, obviously chosen for it's lack of furnishings and breakables. Passing Snape, who had paused to close the door, he ambled to the centre of the room and stood still, his face not reflecting anything but the blankness he had composed it into. Inside, his gut was roiling and he was desperately battling to clear the thoughts that now seemed determined to make an appearance. It was almost as though his mind, in bringing so many images up, was challenging Harry to be able to prevent what was to come. Closing his eyes, he tried to make some attempt at focussing, but failed miserably, only making himself waver slightly as a dizziness overtook him. startling as Snape snapped at him to have his wand at the ready, he hastily pulled said item from his Jeans pocket and raised his head to look at his Professor.  
  
Snape stood opposite him, a fierce glint in his eye that promised trouble if Harry failed to show any improvement on last year. The man still towered over him by a good eight inches, seeming at this point in time as some cruel beast just waiting to tear him apart and rip away the last shreds of his sanity. Gripping his wand tightly in his right hand, Harry placed his feet slightly apart and waited for what he knew was to come, even as his body trembled minutely in a fear he had not succeeded in repressing.  
  
"Legilimens", Snape hissed out.  
  
Harry did not stand a chance. His mind was immediately filled with a stream of images, passing through in rapid succession like some ill-conceived horror film. He did not even get the privilege of it being just the usual childhood images which he had grown accustomed to. Of course, there were the usual memories of Harry curled up in the cupboard under the stairs, Dudley punching him a few times and his Uncle spitting out the name 'Freak' in his face, but more came after. It went straight for the jugular, bringing forth memories of the battle at the Ministry, Sirius falling through that veil, his eyes wide in horror, Harry casting the Cruciatus curse on Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort announcing his arrival, Harry about to...No, no, he could not allow that to be seen.  
  
"NO!", yelled Harry, as he pushed with what little strength he had left, crashing heavily to his knees and panting as the spell was abruptly ended. He lifted his sweat soaked face to see a livid Severus Snape glaring down at him and crawled backwards slightly as the man advanced on him, crying out as he found himself yanked roughly to his feet by his collar.  
  
"Once more, Potter, you have shown yourself to be incapable of the simplest of tasks. Did I not give instructions that you were to prepare for this lesson, yet I am once more forced to watch pathetic scenes of the pathetic Boy Who Lived and his pathetic life. Do you want everyone around you to die? Is that it? You seem to be doing an incredibly competent job of it so far, don't you? Has the mutt's death taught you nothing at all, you stupid boy? Answer me!", Severus spat, shaking the boy in his grip harshly and ignoring the small whimper that escaped his lips.  
  
Harry's insides filled with scorching heat and bitter bile trailed its way up to his throat as he shut his eyes tightly against the anger of the other man. It was a hard enough blow to realise for himself that he was becoming a champion murderer but to hear it stated so plainly and to be reminded of just how weak and useless he was sent him into turmoil. He couldn't think...he just wanted to run away and end it all...stop the excruciating pain he was feeling inside. It was agony. He stumbled backwards as he was abruptly released and finally dared a quick look at the furious man who stood feet from him.  
  
Snape was glaring at him with a look so loathing, so hateful, that all at once, Harry felt very small and very stupid. The next words came as no surprise, for he had heard them so often, his response to them was well practised and automatic.  
  
"Get out of my sight, Potter. You make me sick", Snape snapped, already striding past Harry towards his desk.  
  
Not needing telling twice, Harry stumbled to the door and exited, making his way back up to his chamber. It did not occur to him to flee the house or to explore while he had the opportunity. He just wanted to get back to his room as fast as he could and stop the pain racing through his body.  
  
Severus sat down at his desk and slammed his fists into the wood, causing the ink bottle to overturn and papers to fly off haphazardly. To say he was livid was an understatement. If Potter didn't learn to protect his mind soon, it would not only be a disaster for himself, but also a great danger for the entire world, Wizarding and Muggle. He could not comprehend why the boy was finding it so difficult to occlude his mind, considering he had already proved he could hide his emotions when needs be. The Dark Lord had already proved his astonishing competence in breaking into Potter's mind and Severus knew it was only a matter of time before it happened again...after all, so much useful information could be gleaned from such unguarded territory. As he calmed down, he tried to shove back the guilt that made its presence known when he recalled the words he had spoken. He realised belatedly that these were the worst things he could have said to a depressed teenager, especially one who already showed signs of blaming himself wholeheartedly for his Godfather's death. His wrath did a fine job of concealing the concern he felt at seeing one of his students in such a poor physical state. The large part of him thought the boy a selfish little imbecile for causing the Headmaster, and in time, his friends so much concern, but a small part understood the reasons he was as he was. Sighing, Severus extricated himself from his chair and left the study, crossing the hall and disappearing through another door into the sanctuary of his library.  
  
Harry paced his room, his hands clenched in tight fists as his teacher's words repeated themselves in his mind, mocking him and daring him to disagree. He truly hated himself at this point as the extent of his weakness struck him solidly with it's reality. He was pathetic...he was a freak...he had been responsible for several deaths, and he could not deal with the pain of that knowledge. His insides felt cold and he started to breath rapidly as he gasped for air, choking on his misery and the reality of just how alone he really was. Dry eyed, he swiftly headed towards the bed and heaved up the mattress, retrieving his knife and blindly making his way to the bathroom. He stood before the remaining pieces of the mirror and stared in revulsion at the face reflected there, feeling an overwhelming desperation weave its way to his surface. Gripping the smooth handle of the knife, he turned away and held out his arm, inner wrist facing towards him, veins standing out clearly against his paper-thin skin. Pressing the sharp blade against the most prominent vein, he tightly closed his eyes and slashed downwards, the knife slipping from his hands as blood began to pour freely from the wound.  
  
Nausea overtook him and as he opened his eyes, his vision clouded over, vague black spots dancing fuzzily. Looking down, his heart almost stopped in sudden fear as he saw the damage he had done and the blood that now was almost spurting from the wound. Tears started trailing down his cheeks as he realised he might be dead within minutes and no one would know for maybe hours. Panic gripped him even as blackness started creeping into the sides of his eyes and he stumbled from the bathroom, now whimpering in fear as he grabbed hold of the desk, desperately fighting the impending darkness. With one shuddering sob, he keeled over, the pull of his body wrenching the desk over on top of him with a resounding crash.  
  
In the library, Severus dropped the empty glass he was holding as he heard the loud thud from the floor above. Standing up abruptly, the book in his lap falling to the floor, he hurredly strode out of the vast, book-lined room, a sense of foreboding overcoming him as he broke into a run once in the hall. Racing towards the stairs he almost collided with Minky who had obviously also heard the loud noise and fell backwards, a look of fear shining in her wide eyes. Ignoring the Elf, Severus took the stairs two at a time, and turned into the passageway, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to reach the end room. With a few shouted words, the door swung open and he entered, his eyes automatically drawn to the right where Harry Potter now lay crumpled in a pool of his own blood. Realising almost instantly what the boy had done, the man strode over and hauled the desk aside, before kneeling down and carefully pulling the boy to lay across his thighs. Snatching both small hands, he quickly located the gaping wound on the left wrist and clamped his hand firmly over it, paling at the sensation of blood pulsing against his palm.  
  
Almost all colour had drained from the child's face and his lips were taking on a blue tinge. Noticing the tear tracks down the sunken cheeks, a horrified Severus Snape tightened his grip on the boy's wrist as he rasped out a few words.  
  
"Merlin, What have you done to yourself, Potter"  
  
There was no answer. 


	10. Chapter 10

To all my recent reviewers and all those who have reviewed since my last chapter…indeed, especially to any who are still waiting having read when I originally posted, I am terribly sorry it has been so long. Things came up in my life which took me away from Harry Potter and my writing for a long period of time, and only now have I found the confidence to continue with the story. I hope it is still in the same tone as the rest and hope you enjoy. Thankyou so much for still reading. Kate.

**Chapter Ten**

Rushing into action whilst keeping a firm grip on the damaged wrist, Severus shouted out to the house elf who was lurking in the doorway, wringing her thin hands anxiously.

"Well don't just stand there, you foolish creature. Go to my stores and bring me a blood replenishing potion and my black box…you know of what I speak"

His voice betrayed one of the rarest emotions to be found in the usually emotionless man…panic. Although he could deal with the blood loss to a degree, there was no possibility of sealing the wound with normal wizarding methods. Those did not work when the damage was self inflicted for reasons unknown even to himself. Not daring to risk moving the boy, he looked down, noting the way the child's face stood out in stark relief against his black trousers. Time was running out and he willed Minky's return, even as the agonising guilt threatened to overwhelm him for a brief time.

Within minutes that seemed like hours, rapid and light footsteps announced the elf's return and he turned his upper torso slightly, reaching out an arm to snatch the lilac coloured potions vial that had been tentatively held out. Uncorking it quickly, he raised Harry's head slightly, forced his mouth open and poured the potion down, rubbing the boy's throat to ensure he didn't choke.

Dropping the empty bottle, he removed a large black lacquered box from Minky, placed it on the floor and flipped the lid open. Within lay an odd assortment of muggle medical instruments, including a scalpel and various unusual looking kits and containers. Taking out one such kit, Snape revealed suturing equipment, consisting of thread and needle and swabs soaked with local anaesthetic.

It was over an hour before Severus' work paid off and the wound was fully closed. The boy had done a good job, almost severing a muscle in his self-destructive tantrum. Having returned everything to its correct place in the box, he ordered Minky to return to her quarters for the night. Placing long, pale fingers at the boys neck, a sharp sense of relief flooded his knotted nerves as he felt a faint, but steady pulse of blood pumping through the vein. Although still unconscious, a slight hint of colour had returned to Harry's face and the blue tinge had retreated. Adjusting his position, the tall Potions Master eased a hand under the knees of his charge and carefully stood, depositing the child on the bed. Dimming the lights, he sat down heavily by the door, preparing himself for a long night.

As the night wore on, Severus' concern rapidly switched to a burning anger. How dare Potter have done something so incredibly mindless, selfish and irrational in his home. How dare he have chosen such a means to elicit attention from those around him. The years he had spent carefully burying such pitiful human emotions, only to be bought to his knees by this imbecilic boy.

Not in over seventeen years had he felt so vulnerable and it was not a feeling he relished. Even as a small part of his subconscious reminded him of the seriousness of the apparent suicide attempt, Snape's conscious mind buried all such rationality along with the accompanying emotions. As far as he was concerned, the brat had made a dramatic and foolhardy attempt at pushing Severus into a guilt trip and he was not prepared to buy into it. As a pale orange tinged the grey, early morning light outside, he formulated a new plan to ensure such an incident never occurred again.

A steady, throbbing pain in his wrist awoke Harry Potter from a mainly dreamless sleep, as he turned onto his back slowly and attempted to open eyes sticky with sleep. His head felt fuzzy and foggy all at once, as if he had been asleep for a week, and he vaguely wondered where he was as he tried to orientate himself. Clumsily feeling for his glasses, he placed them on his nose, gasping in horror as he was flooded with memories of what he had done. He was still alive. He did not know quite how to feel about that at this point in time but he was angry that once again, a choice had been whipped away from him. The irony that he had been capable of taking the lives of others, but not himself, did not escape him. Even as his features twisted in bitterness, he was startled out of his thoughts as the bed dipped down suddenly to his right. Slowly turning his head, he came face to face with Snape, who wore an expression the like of which he had not seen before.

"You have surely excelled yourself this time, Potter. Not content to fill my home with your inadequate self, you now have to resort to pure witlessness to gain attention"

Grabbing Harry's injured wrist in a vice like grip, Severus squeezed as he continued speaking, ignoring the pained whimper that escaped the boy's lips

"I assure you, this will not happen again. If you are going to act like an irresponsible, deranged idiot, you will be treated like one. All glass objects will be spelled unbreakable, all sharp items will be spelled against your touch and this will not be returned to you"

Harry sat up sharply, ignoring a wave of dizziness, as Snape held aloft the knife that had helped him through the pains of the last weeks. Without it, he would be helpless, carried along in the tide that was his emotions. Without that, he had no security remaining, nothing to turn to when the darkness once more shadowed his soul. Rolling sideways, he flung out a hand, grabbing at the weapon, even as Snape stood and stepped out of his reach.

"You bastard!", screamed Harry, as he kicked at the covers that held him in place and struggled to stand in spite of his trembling limbs. Grabbing at the chair Snape had vacated, he swung himself forwards and viciously swiped at the man, hand briefly making contact with a solid arm.

"Give it back! How dare you take everything from me! How dare you do this to me, you stinking Deatheater!"

Letting go of the chair, he stepped forwards, attempting to strike his professor, even as the man's eyes glazed over with rank fury. His wrist throbbed horribly, but the pain meant nothing beside the further control that had been taken from him. He screamed in rage as as he found his arms gripped tightly, even as a sharp, stinging slap sent his glasses a few feet across the room. Then he went silent as his anger quickly receded and the shutters came down.

Minutes passed as Severus battled to rein in his anger, lest he do something he regretted, not that he hadn't already acted in an unacceptable manner. Feeling his fingers hitting the bone of the boy's arms, he loosened his grip and stared with disgust at the totally blank face the boy now displayed. The changes in the boy's moods were becoming dangerously volatile and if the truth were told, he was unnerved. Through all his years of teaching, no experience had prepared him for this degree of dysfunction. The boy was totally out of his mind!

"Are you quite finished, Potter, or do I need to call in the men in white coats? You must be so proud of yourself. I am sure your wretched father would be so proud to see his son behaving like a raving lunatic. You have got away with your infantile behaviour for too long and it stops here"

Dragging him by an arm, Severus threw Harry back onto the bed and watched as the boy remained unmoving and rigid where he landed. Grabbing the sutured wrist, he checked the recent antics hadn't undone any of his hard work, before dropping the limb in revulsion and glaring at the boy's face. The green eyes gazed straight ahead, almost unblinking and a muscle twitched nervously in his cheek.

"I will be informing Professor Dumbledore of this incident, naturally. I am sure you will take great pleasure in his disappointment. The boy who lived is too much of a coward to face the consequences of his actions."

Harry blinded himself to the man in front of him, even as the words joined the myriad others twisting themselves through his mind, darkening the already pitch blackness that seemed to surround him like a dense cloud. He wasn't sure if it was shock or if he was maybe now truly insane, but the air around him seemed to buzz at a high pitch and his skin prickled uncomfortable. He felt almost outside of himself as Snape's voice droned on mercilessly.

"…and you will not be leaving this room until your foolishly inflicted wounds have fully healed. You are not to touch them, I will be alerted immediately if you attempt any further harm on yourself. Minky will be checking you at regular intervals as I can assure you, I have more important things to do than babysit a selfish, arrogant little boy."

Biting back the urge to add further insults, Severus turned about and strode from the room, slamming the door loudly. The heavy sound reverberated through the corridor, reminiscent of the sound one might hear in a heavily guarded prison.

Biting his lip viciously to prevent the fluid threatening to leak from his eyes, Harry pulled his legs up to his chest and rolled onto his side, tightly curled up against the world he seemed unable to escape. He hadn't expected any comfort from Snape. He didn't want comfort from anyone. He just wanted to be left alone to do as he wished but he now knew that was not to happen.

Closing his eyes, he clenched his fists as a half-repressed image came to his mind's eye. Sirius was pointing at Hogwarts, his eyes alight with barely suppressed excitement, his hand resting on Harry's shoulder warmly. Biting his lip harder, Harry chased away the memory, reminding himself that comfort was no longer a thing he deserved. As sleep overtook him, he invited the demons back in, embracing the pain he now considered his only solace.


End file.
