Wait...this isn't my dorm...oh. Infirmary. DAMN. Harry took stock of his surroundings, finding himself on the windowsill, where he'd moved when he'd woken up in the middle of the night. He immediately noticed that Poppy was entering the room, and closed his eyes halfway to watch her. I'm asleep, see? No need to bother me. You can just let me sleep and pretend not to notice I'm curled up on the windowsill. It didn't work, however, as Madame Pomfrey's goal was clearly to wake him up: she walked towards him immediately upon entering the room. He opened his eyes fully when she was still twenty feet away, and sat up.

“Good morning,” she greeted briskly. “I need you to take these for me, please.” Her manner was quick and professional as she handed him the vials, and Harry almost winced. He hadn't thought she'd be angry, too.

“What are they?” He asked almost timidly.

“A blood replenisher, skeli-gro, and one that'll help your kidneys heal. You were very anemic, your left kidney was almost entirely useless, and you have two cracked ribs. But then, you probably knew all that already. The pain from the ribs and the large amounts of blood in your urine would have been hard to miss.” She turned her back and walked out as briskly as she came in, calling behind her.

“I'll send your guest in when you've finished those.”

Harry stared after her as he swallowed his potions, eyes burning.

By the time his eyes cleared, Harry knew who his guest was, and watched with some trepidation as Blaise approached his windowsill. They stared at each other for a minute, Harry's expression proud, and Blaise's chilly. It was Harry who finally looked away.

“You lied to me.”

Harry couldn't meet his eyes. “I know. I'm sorry.”

“Promise that next time you are injured you will tell someone.”

Harry stared at him. “I can't!”

“Then you are not sorry.” Blaise answered coldly, and started to walk away.

“I won't lie to you again!” Harry called frantically.

“Yes you will.” Blaise scoffed. “I am not such a miserable friend that I will knowingly watch you die. If you tell me you are injured, I will get you help. So you won't tell me. I'll have to get used to being lied to. Don't worry, the other three aren't mad at you. Hermione's not recovered from the shock of you almost dying – she just cries. Ron just clings to her like the world's ending, and Theo hasn't smiled in three days. They'll be glad to see that you're awake.”

He left.

I should never have woken up. Harry thought, tears running down his face. Everybody hates me, now.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Later that day, Poppy came by and handed him a bag with a somewhat awkwardly-written note attached.

I'm still mad, but I do want you to get better...I hope you like these...

Inside the bag was a whole mess of assorted candies; Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, some Chocoballs, and even some of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. Maybe he doesn't hate me...

Harry tried some of the gum, blowing big bubbles around the infirmary, but it didn't work to cheer him up. Poppy still didn't talk to him beyond what was required, and Blaise didn't come to visit him again. He also still had the evening's detention to look forward to, now that he was awake. Was I really asleep for three days? Whatever. He was not looking forward to that detention, especially considering that Snape had not come to find him in the infirmary as he'd expected. The last time the man had waited until detention before dealing with him had not made the detention more pleasant. If he didn't hit me for fighting, he's not gonna hit me for this...I don't think. He did have several ideas about what the man MIGHT do, though, and none of them were pleasant.

Finally Ron, Theo, and Hermione came to visit him. Apparently they'd taken some time to coordinate with Blaise, because instead of bringing Harry candy, they brought other things: Ron came bearing bottles of Butterbeer that he said he'd gotten from the house-elves, while Theo came with a 'Get Well Soon' bear that changed among six or seven equally-bright colors.

“It reminded me of you.” Commented Theo, smiling.

Hermione had somehow gotten a hold of some Muggle-style helium balloons, which she tied to the base of his bed. “I know they're silly,” she said, blushing, “but they do look cheerful.” Her eyes were red.

“They're nice.” He said, smiling. “I like silly, sometimes.” He hoped it would distract him from how desperate the three looked, and from the conspicuous absence of Blaise. There was a brief silence before Ron asked tentatively,

“Why didn't you tell us, mate? We would've helped.”

“I didn't need help, Ron. I was fine.”

“No wonder Blaise's so mad. Sorry, mate, but you're delusional.”

Conversation turned to other things, then, but he didn't have a lot of energy to spare: they only stayed for half an hour, finally leaving when he kept dozing off.

Madame Pomfrey came in as soon as they had left, to do tests and have him swallow a couple more potions. She then told him that he was free to go when he woke up, provided he returned to the infirmary to sleep. Harry fell asleep easily, relieved that he would not have to miss any class.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

When Harry woke up it was to Hedwig pecking at him gently. How'd she get in? He wondered briefly, ignoring the message she carried in favor of caressing her fluffy feathers with some relief. Hedwig, at least, didn't hate him. Neither do your friends. Stop being over dramatic. Harry couldn't get Blaise's words out of his head, though, and was grateful for the reprieve given by Hedwig's presence. The message she carried was somewhat less welcome, however.

Poppy has informed me that you will be free to leave the infirmary this afternoon. I expect to see you as usual at 7:00. S.S

Harry groaned, noting that it was already 6:00, but just kept stroking Hedwig, sending up a silent thanks to Hagrid for having gotten her for him. She didn't even know about his dishonesty to be angry at him for it. She didn't ask any uncomfortable questions, either. That's probably the only reason I haven't lied to her. He thought glumly. Some friend I am. But Blaise had said he'd 'have to get used to getting lied to'. Did that mean he was sticking around, at least? Even though he thought Harry was a schmuck? He'd given Harry candy...but he hadn't come to visit again, either. Was Kallie angry at him, too? She'd been before, when he'd ordered her not to tell on him. How did Harry get to the infirmary, if she didn't tell, though? Maybe he didn't care if she was angry.

By the time Harry had to leave he was feeling thoroughly depressed. He stood up off of the windowsill carefully, feeling slightly weak but mercifully free of pain, and headed down to the dungeons.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Harry struggled to maintain his usual stiff posture and eye contact as Snape looked down at him across the desk. It was hard to be proud and defiant when he felt so cruddy. Yet another person to yell at me. Wonderful.

“Why am I angry with you, Harry?”

Because for some reason what I do matters to you? I don't know! “Because you're a jerk; I don't know.”

“I highly doubt that. Take a guess.”

“I broke your stupid rules.” Harry stated, a hint of heat in his voice. You wouldn't be angry if you just let me alone in the first place. Those rules shouldn't even EXIST.

“For a start. Which ones? And be polite.”

Harry lifted his chin mulishly, but when he didn't answer right away a hint of real annoyance entered Snape's voice.

“Why don't I give you a hint? There's a large bruise on your face that was conspicuously absent when I last saw you in detention.”

Oh, shit. I was hoping he wouldn't notice that. He straightened up and spoke proudly. “I didn't complain about my injuries.”

“Just that?” The Potions Master's voice held a dangerous edge.

Harry stayed silent.

“Stop PLAYING, Harry!” The professor barked.

Harry flinched and abruptly decided he was too tired and depressed to argue. Nothing I say is going to matter. Lets just get this over with.

“Okay! I hid them from you!”

“And in the process? What did you say to me in detention when I asked you how you were?”

“I said I was fine! It was the truth!”

“Fine? You call INTERNAL BLEEDING fine? You couldn't have felt good, when you claimed that.”

Harry looked away. Lying implies you care about his reaction to the truth...Harry had held that belief for some time, but apparently it was wrong. I didn't lie because I cared about his reaction, I just didn't want to deal with the infirmary and didn't figure I needed it.

“No sir.”

“Did you know you were bleeding? Did you know what the bruise, and the blood in your urine, meant?”

“Yes, sir.”

He would. Snape realized suddenly. No wonder he thought he'd just get better on his own, he's probably done it before. But, damnit, he had told Potter to tell him if he was injured, that he could get help. The boy almost died!, and now he says he knew how bad it was? Snape's anger flared up again as quickly as it had died.

“And you said nothing? You said you were fine? Would you rather die than tell me the truth?” Is it just me? Does he hate me that much? The thought hurt, though it bothered Snape to admit it.

“No, sir.”

“Then why?” Harry did not want to answer that question. It seemed so stupid now! He just shook his head.

“Harry, lying to me almost cost you your life. You will tell me why it was so important.” How can I prevent this from happening again? Please!

“I didn't lie! I can take care of myself!”

Oh, for the love of- “I found you passed out on your bed from blood loss. The only reason you are alive is because your house-elf loves you enough that she would rather disobey than see you die. That is not 'fine'. Clearly someone is needed to take care of you. How am I supposed to protect you when you won't even tell me you are dying?!” Snape's voice cracked with stress and Harry looked at him in startlement and anger.

“Don't you get it?! You're. NOT. Supposed. To. Protect. Me. You. Are. Supposed. to. Leave. me. Alone. I can bloody well take care of myself I've been doing it for ten years!”

“Aren't you listening?! You almost died!”

“I don't care! That was my business!”

“And not mine? How about your mother's, Harry? Should she have let you die? Or your friends?” Harry flushed, feeling guilty.

“They don't care.”

Snape looked at him in disbelief. “Excuse me, 'they don't care?' Have you even talked to them recently?”

“Blaise doesn't. Maybe the others do.”

Snape softened at the bleakness in the boy's tone. “I take it Mr. Zabini is angry with you.”

Harry shrugged to show he didn't care. “Yeah.”

“Why do you say he does not care, if he is angry?”

Harry lifted his chin, trying to appear indifferent. “He didn't come to see me with the others. He just yelled at me when I woke up, and left.” And gave me candy. He reminded himself. He might come around.

“Why did he yell at you?”

I don't want to talk about it. “None of your business.”

Snape studied him for a moment, and sighed. “True. If you truly do not wish to speak of it, I won't pry.”

Really? “Thanks,” Harry whispered.

“All right, back to the matter at hand, then.” Harry grimaced. What if I don't like that conversation, either?

“You lied to me.”

This is definitely not a good conversation. “Fine! Fine, I lied to you! What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing, yet: we're not finished talking. What other rules did you break?”

What's so important about this conversation? Why do you always want to talk about things? Harry hated it. Enough talking, I think. “None. That's it. You told me not to hide injuries, I hid injuries. I lied. Punish me. It's what you're gonna do anyway.” What else did I do, anyway? What am I forgetting?

Snape ignored that. “Harry, what did I ask you to do when caretaker Filch went after you?”

Right. I do remember that.

Harry finally dropped his eyes. I'dve never gotten beat up in the first place.

“I don't want your protection, sir.”

“Too bad. You have it.”

The blunt statement took Harry by surprise, and he suddenly felt really, really, stupid. I could have avoided all of this. I really could have.

“So, Harry, what other rule did you break?”

“You know already.”

“Yes. I want you to tell me.”

“Fine, then.” Be that way. “I didn't tell you about Capt- about the guy who was after me.”

Well that was easy. I only know of four people in the school who could be called 'Captain', and only three who are male. I highly doubt Wood or Davies hit Harry.

“Captain Flint, Harry?”

Harry pursed his lips. DAMN! “No.”

Snape got seriously angry at that. “You do not want to be lying to me right now, Mr. Potter.”

Harry shivered, the first trickle of real fear running down his spine, and only then realizing that Snape only rarely still called him by his last name, and generally when he was angry.

“Fine, yes, it was fucking Marcus Flint. What does it matter? What're you gonna do, give him detention? You can't do anything, professor. You can't even get rid of him if Dumbledore doesn't sign off on it. You're not even probably allowed to tell anyone, other than the stupid headmaster, and you know he won't do anything.”

Severus smirked. Thank you, Harry, that's all I need to know. “You underestimate me, I think.” His smile had a cruel aspect to it, and Harry shivered even more, remembering the man's reaction to Filch. I may have just set a Death Eater on a fifth-year student...he really can't do anything, right?...You know what? I don't care. Not one whit. He could hang Flint up by his ankles and I'd just watch.

“In the meantime, however, I have you to deal with. We have yet to address one rather important detail. Your house-elf.”

Kallie. He suddenly remembered from earlier in the conversation. She told on me, the little-! “What about her?”

“You mistreated her.”

“I what?! I did no such thing!”

“You did. You forced her to disobey. Do you know what that does to a house-elf, to disobey?”

“I didn't force her to do anything! She told on me! I should- I don't know – fire her or something!”

“She saved your life!”

“I told her not to!”

“Exactly. You asked something of her that she could not do! How could you ask her to just let you die, Harry?! You don't know what you did to her!”

“I don't care what I did to her! It's the little snitch's own fault!”

Only one way to make him understand, I think. Severus thought regretfully. This is not going to be any fun, for either of us. Severus did not want to live through this again.

“Very well, you want to know what she did; what you did to her; how she is taking this? I saw her. Look at me, and I'll show you.”

Harry hesitated, unsure of what the man was up to.

“Harry, look at me.”

Harry looked up, met his eyes, and found himself in a corner of the room, facing out, instead of in front of the desk, watching Snape sitting at his desk correcting papers. With a slight 'pop' Kallie apparated in, and Harry watched in horror and confusion as she tried to hit herself with a paperweight and a poker before Snape restrained her, and as she spat out her message around his orders. Snape rushed out the door after she finally managed to tell the man where Harry was. Belatedly Harry realized. This must be one of Snape's memories, somehow.

Then Harry was in his dorm, looking down at himself as Snape rushed in, Kallie right behind him and ringing her hands and crying.

“Is he dead, sir? Was Kallie too late, Master Snape, sir? Kallie is sorry, sir! Master Harry ordered her not to tell, sir. Kallie is a bad house-elf, sir!”

Harry's attention was drawn to Snape as the man ran some sort of spell over his horribly bruised abdomen before cursing fluently. But Snape never curses. Harry watched unbelievingly as the man ordered the house-elf to stay with him, and not hurt herself, before lifting Harry gently in his arms like a small child.

Harry followed silently as Snape hurried to the infirmary and shouted to Madame Pomfrey. The woman turned white when she saw Harry. I really do look bad, he reflected, looking at himself limp in the Potions Master's arms. The Harry in the memory was white, white as a sheet, and his lips had a blue tinge. Harry watched as the man set him down impossibly gently on one of the clean hospital beds, and removed his shirt. The man's face was set in grim lines, but Harry could tell he wasn't angry. If he's not angry, then what? He's certainly not happy.

Harry's attention was once again drawn to Kallie, who had taken advantage of Snape's distraction to bang her head hard on the nearest wall. He couldn't help it – he called to her. “Kallie- no! No stop! Kallie I order you- please!” But she couldn't hear him. I'm not even really here. He remembered. But how could the cheerful, bossy house-elf be acting this way in the first place? Mercifully, Snape heard her and cast a strange spell- Petrificus Totalis- and caught Kallie before she hit the ground, stiff as a board and unable to move. Poor Kallie. Harry thought. She's like this, just from disobeying? From saving my life?

Time seemed to skip forward rapidly, then: Harry stayed still, but the room moved around him, like between each 'skip' one had fast-forwarded the tape, then watched for a bit. Madame Pomfrey would be on one side of his bed, then another, then in her office, as Snape paced different parts of the room or sat in a chair nearby, but never left. Finally the woman left and Snape stayed, still pacing. By then the spell on Kallie had faded, and she sat next to Harry, just crying but no longer trying to hurt herself. Snape watched her, and Harry, and paced.

Every once in a while, while Madame Pomfrey was gone, the man would come over and check Harry's pulse at the wrist, or just watch him, or brush his hair away from his face with a hand. This isn't real. It can't be. That isn't Kallie. That isn't Snape. But time wore on: the sky was lightening when Snape finally gave up and sat at Harry's bedside, right next to Kallie, stopping her every once in awhile as she forgot or ignored Snape's orders and went for another go at the wall. Occasionally she pleaded with the man, “Kallie must punish herself, sir! Kallie should have told sooner, sir! NO! Kallie should have obeyed Master Harry sir! Kallie is bad house-elf, Master Snape, sir!” It's okay, Harry reminded himself. It's not real.

Hours passed by, and Harry watched Snape fight to stay awake as the sky lightened, then darkened again. Dude how long is the man going to stay? Finally Madame Pomfrey came by and did some tests.

“He is stable, Severus. It is time for you to go sleep.”

Snape just gave her a cold glare. “I will leave, Madame, when he is more than 'stable'. Until then you have far more important matters to attend to than whether I sleep.”

Madame Pomfrey huffed at the rebuke and retorted, “Then at least take a cot here, Severus! The boy is not going to heal any faster because you worried yourself into exhaustion and gave me another patient to deal with.”

“I am not-”

“Worried? Well whatever you call staying up all night watching over a child, I won't have it! You will get some sleep if I have to force a potion down your throat same as we did to Harry!”

Snape took one of the nearby beds, put it on it's most propped-up setting, and got on. “Satisfied?”

“You know very well that's not what I meant. You are to sleep.”

“And you are to worry about your patient. You are a mediwitch. Don't you heal people? You're supposed to heal him, damnit!”

“Just like you were supposed to protect him in the first place, Severus?”

Severus looked like he'd been slapped, and Madame Pomfrey whitened.

“I'm sorry, Severus. I should never have said that. I'm just stressed, I-”

“Leave me.”

“I am truly sorry.”

Madame Pomfrey finally gave up and left, and Snape promptly got off his bed and retook the chair next to Harry's cot. Harry could hear him mutter, “Don't you die on me, Potter. Stupid boy. You are to live, do you hear me? You will live and go about doing more stupid things like painting my bloody door or filling my office with bloody farm animals. You are not to die, understand? You die and I'll kill you myself, I swear. I'll take Filch's suggestion and hang you up by your thumbs. I'll- put you in that corner you hate so much until you grow old. You can glare at me, and curse me out, and disrupt my class all you want, but you are not to die. I haven't gotten finished making your life miserable, you understand me? You are to live.”

That is not Snape. It's not. It's not real. I didn't hurt Kallie like that and Snape- Snape was not that worried. It's all a lie, all just something Snape made up 'cause he's an ugly greasy git.

Finally Harry came back to himself, in the office with Snape.

“Well, Potter, do you get it now?”

“It's a lie – you- you made it up,” Harry managed to get out, seriously unsettled. Please. It's gotta be a lie.

Snape watched the momentary distress cross Harry's face, and heard it in his voice, and felt his temper fall.

“I have not lied to you before, and I am not now.”

“You can't prove it.”

Snape sighed. “Call your house-elf, Harry.”

No! I can't see her now! What'll I even SAY to her? If he's not lying-

“Either you're right, and calling her will do you no harm, or I am, and you need to speak with her anyway, to make things right. Call her, Harry.”

He was right. Harry lowered his eyes, and called tentatively, “Kallie?”

Kallie arrived instantly, and threw herself at at Harry's feet. “Master Harry, sir! Kallie is sorry sir-”

She had a black eye. “Kallie-”

“Please don't give Kallie clothes, sir! I'll do better, sir-”

Harry was getting upset. “Kallie, please-”

“But you were dying, sir! Please, master, sir-”

“Kallie I'm SORRY!”

“Kallie will punish- ”

“NO! Please don't do that. You saved my life, Kallie. I- I should apologize to you. Please – please forgive me? I should never have told you not to tell.”

“Master is asking Kallie's forgiveness, sir?”

“Yes, Kallie. Please. You didn't do anything wrong.” He finished in a whisper. “I did.”

Kallie considered him for a moment, before standing up straighter and looking at him.

“Kallie begged you not to order that, sir.”

Harry looked away. “I know, Kallie. I'm sorry.”

“Master almost died because Kallie could not get help, and Master wouldn't, sir.”

“I didn't want anyone to know!”

Kallie looked at him for a moment, looking sad. “Kallie is not forgiving so easily, sir.”

Harry felt his eyes start to burn. Not her, too!

“Does Master have an order for Kallie, sir?”

“No, thank you, Kallie, I-”

Once again Kallie left without letting him finish.

Severus watched as tears started to flow unchecked down Harry's face for the second time in a day.

“Harry-”

“Just leave me alone,” Harry whispered, looking away, “please?”

I can't punish him now, realized Snape. He'd feel like a monster. “Very well. You may go outside, if you wish, but I want you to go think. You're dismissed.”

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry took Snape's suggestion and headed outside, changing his face on the way to that of a muggle boy he'd seen at school before coming to Hogwarts. Hopefully if nobody recognized him, nobody would bother him. He was supposed to think about things: the last thing he wanted to do. He headed over to plop himself down under a tree by the lake, trying to ignore the thoughts that fought to destroy his peace of mind. He managed for about five minutes before images started to pour into his mind: images of Kallie pleading at his feet, of her bruised face, of her telling him in her house-elfish language that she could not forgive him. Overwhelmed and sick, he buried his face in his hands.

He was still crying fifteen minutes later when he noticed someone walking to him across the lawn. As the figure got closer he realized it was Blaise, and turned away. Blaise just sat down next to him for a moment before lifting his hair away from the scar still evident on his face. Damn, I forgot the coverup.

“You know,” said Blaise conversationally. “This is a pretty small place. Newcomers don't go unnoticed.”

Harry turned further away from him; a blatant hint. Blaise ignored it.

“So? Talk. I...sorta didn't give you a chance before.”

No you didn't. “I don't want to anymore. Leave me alone.”

“Why are you out here, anyway? Aren't you still grounded? And in detention, besides?”

“Snape let me go out. He wants me to 'think about things'.” Harry answered grudgingly.

“That doesn't sound like any fun.”

“It's not.”

“Why are you doing it then?”

“Have you ever tried to not think about something?” Harry demanded, annoyed. Didn't I ask you to go away?

“A point. So...what's up, then?”

“Life blows, that's what's up.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“Sure it is. Well, part of it, anyway.”

Reminded of their earlier conversation, Harry grumbled. “I said I was sorry.”

Blaise looked at him soberly. “You gonna do it again?”

Harry shook his head, confused. “I don't know. I- I hate the infirmary. I just wanted to get better on my own. It's not my fault I got messed up. I didn't even start the fight! I just wanted it to go away, to just get better, maybe a little slowly, and forget it ever happened. Instead everybody's mad at me, even you.”

“You scared us. You almost died, and then even when Madame Pomfrey said you were going to be okay you looked bad. That's...that's why I got so mad... I just don't want it to happen again. How can we take care of you when you don't even tell us you are dying? When you lie about it even when we ask?”

“That's what Snape said, too. Why do you all feel like you have to take care of me? I'm not a baby, I can take care of myself! If you just gave up then you wouldn't be mad at me when I didn't let you! I don't need your help!”

“Harry-” Harry abruptly realized that Blaise looked like Harry might've hit him- hurt and angry. “you – you want us to back off? To leave you alone? Do you not want us help you when you need it?”

Why does this hurt him? “I just don't understand why you all care so much about this! I was the one injured, how was it your business? You and Snape and Pomfrey and even Kallie! Why can't you all just let me be?”

Blaise looked away, feeling awkward. “Because I- well, I guess we, we care about you! We don't like seeing you hurt! Why can't you understand that? We want you to be safe, and happy, because you are ours! You are my friend, Snape's ward, Kallie's 'master'. You are important to us. When you are happy, so are we, when you are sad, that upsets us, too. Merlin, Harry, you act like nobody's ever cared about you before!”

Harry didn't comment on that last, choosing instead to point out a flaw in Blaise's logic. “I make a bloody awful 'master'.”

Blaise grimaced. “I saw how she was. Is she okay?”

“I don't know. She's not really talking to me: either way, she hates me, now. Not that I don't deserve it.” Harry said bitterly.

Blaise clapped him gently on the shoulder. “If she knows you at all she knows you didn't mean it. She'll come around.”

Harry chose to ignore that as a vain hope, having thought of a further (gaping) flaw in Blaise's logic. “You are also claiming that Snape cares about me. You do realize who you are talking about?”

Blaise looked at him strangely. “Yes, Harry. I am talking about the man that just spent three days no further than ten feet from your bedside. I'd wager good money he's never done that for any other student.”

Harry just stared at him as he realized what Blaise was saying, and more images came flooding into his brain: Snape's memories, at first, which Kallie had proven true. Snape talking to him when he was unconscious, making desperate threats and telling him not to die. This isn't happening. Snape's frantic expression while he carried Harry to the infirmary, his exhausted struggle to stay awake, his expression when Madame Pomfrey blamed him for Harry's injuries. No, no, no. Damnit it's not true. It's a lie. Madame Pomfrey had said something in one of the memories – something about staying up watching over a child? And worrying? That's not Snape.

Then other things came to Harry. Snape's anger at Filch, his blunt statement about protection. His speech about him not being a freak, about the care due to children. Suddenly more subtle memories seemed significant: Snape allowing him to face out from the corner when he was frightened, even though the man was angry, his quiet jokes, his anger when Harry put himself in danger, his patience with Harry's numerous pranks. He called him Harry, and looked over his tests, and brought Tonks to see him even though the Potions Master didn't like her. No. He hates me. He exists to make me miserable. Snape letting Harry go outside, twice now, even though he was being punished. Snape's...concern...when Harry couldn't stay awake. Snape apologizing.

Adults never apologize. But Snape did. Maybe the photos really weren't meant to hurt?

“You – you really think he cares about me?” Harry still sounded really skeptical, but Blaise spoke with assurance.

“Yes, Harry. I really do.”

“And that's- why he's so angry?” How does that work?

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Explain that again?” I don't think that's one I'm ever going to get.

“He cares about you, so when you're hurt, he's worried- scared. Then you're okay again, and all he can think is, you wouldn't have been so hurt – wouldn't have scared him so much- if you'd gone ahead and told him the truth in the first place. So he's mad. 'Cause he was scared. And it's partly your fault. 'Cause you didn't tell him you were hurt.”

“Wait, so he's angry because he was scared?”

“Yeah.” Harry could practically hear the continuation, like I've said three times already.

“This is still Snape we're talking about, right? Scared?”

“Scared 'cause you were maybe going to die. Of course he was scared. I was scared, too.”

That still doesn't make much sense. Him being scared of me dying would require...him to not want me to die. Him to care. That's not okay. “I...sorry, I guess. I didn't know.”

“You gonna apologize to Snape, too?”

It struck Harry again. He spent three days just watching me breathe. Three DAYS. “Errr...I dunno.” He felt impelled to be honest. “Probably not.”

Blaise spoke quietly. “Maybe you should.”

Harry's response was equally quiet. “Maybe I don't have the courage.”

Blaise nodded. “Yeah, I could see that. Evil bat of the dungeons and all that.” His tone was warmer than it had been, and Harry asked tentatively,

“Are you...still mad at me?”

“A little bit.” Blaise answered seriously. “You still won't promise to tell next time. You've pretty much told me you're going to lie to me again, and lying about something like that- it's just dumb, Harry. It could get you killed.”

Harry sighed. “I know.”

Blaise looked at him, a quiet anger back in his voice. “Please- I won't make you but please consider telling somebody next time? I know you don't like Snape much, but he wasn't the only one affected by this, Harry.” He left, as Harry remembered again what he'd said earlier about Theo, Hermione, and Ron's reactions, and saw Kallie's bruised face once again in his mind. Blaise seemed to mostly forgive him, but he had to wonder if Kallie ever would. Kallie was usually so - happy. Moreover she was an assertive little creature, always bossing him around, hands on hips, insisting that he eat more because 'you is so skinny, Master sir! It is not right for Kallie's master to be all knees and elbows!' Now - she'd looked like a slave. He might as well have given her that bruise with his own fist. Miserable once more, Harry went back to his dorm to pick up his book bag and bring it to the infirmary with him. He'd not missed any classes, but he hadn't worked for the entire weekend either, so he'd have to play catch-up to get all his homework done on time.

The next day Harry managed to pay close enough attention in class to block out his new and uncomfortable thoughts, though he did it with his head down, especially in Transfigurations. McGonagall spent half the class sending him severe looks, and Harry found he couldn't bear to meet her eyes. Usually he'd just glare back, but this time, he kept thinking, did I scare her, too? And couldn't manage to react with anger as he'd like.

Finally she came up in front of him and squeezed his shoulder gently, prompting him to finally look up at her. She was smiling slightly, and he relaxed enough to smile a bit back. Thank Merlin. Harry liked Professor McGonagall: she'd allowed him to hang out (or hide out) in her common room multiple times, and didn't treat him differently than her own students. Her forgiveness now only strengthened that. If only everybody forgave that quickly.

Minerva watched her little pseudo-lion throughout her class. Having seen him in and out of the Gryffindor common room for most of the term, and heard of his...family issues...from Dumbledore, she had almost come to see Harry as one of hers. She'd worried about him as she would one of her lions, and as such made her displeasure known as she would to one of them. Harry seemed to take it differently than usual, though – instead of trying to fight her anger, he seemed to submit to it, almost trying to hide from her glare. He seemed so little, all of a sudden, and soon gained back her sympathy. Enough people are angry at him right now, I think.

His tiny, contrite smile as she signaled her forgiveness completely won her over. Poor kid. He tries so hard to show he doesn't care...if only more realized how much he actually does. His fellow students seemed to like him a lot, but some of his professors – Professor Sinistra especially- and other staff members seemed to take his defiance on face value, and made his life difficult. Nothing Minerva might say in his favor would fight the fact that he tended to be quite disrespectful, and belonged to Slytherin besides.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHHPHPHPHPHP

Eventually Harry's classes for the day ended, and everything came rushing back like a tidal wave. It was too much at once: he'd finally manage to get Snape out of his mind, and he'd immediately start thinking about Kallie. In the brief moments that he managed to escape both of them, Blaise and his other friends pressed forward, carrying their own load of guilt. Mostly, though, he thought about Snape. Blaise said the man cared for him, and...well...if it were anybody else, Harry'd agree that all evidence pointed to that very conclusion. McGonagall hadn't stayed with him for three days, after all, and he figured she liked him.

Snape was different than McGonagall, though. McGonagall liked him, maybe, but she just treated him as one of her lions. Snape treated him differently than he did the other students. One explanation was that he hated Harry and was trying to make him miserable...and the other was much more complicated. All that stuff about rules being there for my own good. Now I've broken rules, and ended up half dead. Snape should feel vindicated, not angry.

But that sort of logic only made sense if Snape hated him. Unfortunately for Harry's peace of mind, it was becoming more and more obvious that the man didn't hate him, and Harry found himself less and less able to ignore that. Damn. Damn damn damn. Did I say I wanted more complications in my life? Did I say I wanted some adult to suddenly decide to 'care'? I don't want 'care.' He reminded himself. 'Care' is for pretty happy children who can't do a thing for themselves without permission. Not for me. I've taken care of myself for this long, I don't need somebody to coddle and 'protect' me. That's not who I am, and moreover it's not who I want to be. Snape can go find somebody else to pity.

Harry really couldn't see Snape 'caring' for him out of pity, though, and the thought of the man suddenly treating him like any other student was somehow painful, now that he knew it wasn't hate. I'll get over it. He seriously needs to back off and stop trying to control me just because I'm- Harry tried to stop the thought as it came. -important...to... him. The image of his mother holding him came back to him, then, and as usual his throat grew tight. Before he could act to hold the memory back a conversation with Snape came to him - Why does it matter that she loved me if she's gone?” Harry had said. Snape's response had sent him reeling. “Isn't it better to know that someone did, Harry?” He hadn't quite figured that out yet, and now he had to react to this revelation. It was just...too much at once. How was he supposed to figure out if it was okay that somebody cared, now, if he couldn't figure out if it was okay that somebody cared, then? Was it better to know that Snape didn't bother him out of hate but out of- caring? My mo- Mrs. Potter was different. She's not here to- bother me anymore. Snape is. In fact, he had detention with the man in under three hours. Too soon. Wayyy too soon. How do I approach him, now?