He wasn’t sure afterward how he’d gotten himself back down the Divination classroom’s ladder – he figured he was just lucky not to have broken his neck – and was more than a little surprised to see Hermione waiting at the bottom until he saw her face.  She had that same exasperation that Ron had had and, just like Ron, hers was swept away by the sight of him.  However, unlike Ron who had somehow known that to push Harry was to push him away, Hermione set her jaw stubbornly and even Ron flinched a little at the decisive, almost harsh tone of her voice.

“It’s about time we caught you, what were you thinking?!  Ron told me about last night and then you just disappear?  You like awful, what on earth’s happened?  Why can’t you just tell us?!”

“It may be because you haven’t given him a chance,” Ron murmured pointedly, just for the two of them to hear because the third of their trio was looking a little too dazed to be paying proper attention.  When Hermione opened her mouth, clearly set on continuing where she’d left off, Ron said, even quieter than before, “’Mione, seriously; leave it.  It’s not helping.”  It didn’t work until Ron nodded his head towards Harry who was still beside him but who had steadily slumped until he looked like he was caving in on himself with an exhaustion that wasn’t entirely physical.  Hermione didn’t lose any of her concern or even any of her indignation but she did stop talking and Harry was more than a little grateful because it hadn’t been helping his headache.

“Should we go get something to eat mate?” 

Harry looked up and met Ron’s eyes which looked the same kind of gentle that they had whenever he’d been laid up in the infirmary and, looking next to Hermione, he saw that despite her frown – the kind that with her meant there was some piece of information she was missing – she was biting the inside of her cheek and her eyes were a little shinier than normal.  Harry never ever wanted to give his friends cause to worry about him and he hated to think that he was the reason they were so upset now but at the same time, in that moment, he couldn’t help feeling... well, loved.  He couldn’t help feeling happy at the thought and squirmed – just a little – inside.

Dinner wasn’t usually something that Severus particularly looked forward to.  Ever.  Having to watch hundreds of children who had apparently been raised by animals eat at the same time as he did wasn’t his idea of pleasurable.  Or healthy.  It was really just a bit disgusting.  Nevertheless he didn’t have a choice and he would prefer to be here at the head of the Great Hall to see what the little delinquents got up to rather than be away from them and know they were plotting unsupervised.

And they were clearly plotting something.  Groups of them were dotted here and there at the house tables whispering with heads together and passing notes despite being able to talk freely.  The cynical professor in him that had been teaching longer than he would care to admit remarked that they were probably too much in the habit from classes and that clearly his punishments weren’t enough; due to him (or more likely his colleagues who saw him as far too strict, to which he frequently rolled his eyes) Hogwarts would surely soon usher in an entire generation who communicated purely through the passing of notes upon which only the most inane gossip was scrawled.  Excellent.  Once more he congratulated himself for this brilliant career path he was on.  Rewarding indeed.

Such groups at the Slytherin table looked quite a lot more sinister than the rest, but then they did have a reputation to keep.  The majority of the Ravenclaws were bent over books as they ate their dinner and many Hufflepuffs sat staring into space to which he sneered and they didn’t notice.  When he shifted the wasted sneer to Gryffindor he was a little surprised that it still went to waste.  Oh, the Weasley twins no doubt deserved it – if their mutual flinch was anything to go by... which in actuality it usually wasn’t, something else ingrained from the countless times there was a very good, very dangerous reason for that dual flinch – but the ‘golden trio’ couldn’t have cared less and it rankled Severus until he saw why.  And that rankled for a different reason.  Why on earth was that foolish brat not eating?

“I’m just not hungry Hermione, leave off.  Please.”  He hated to plead but really, nothing else was working.

“Just a little bit more,” she coaxed, ladling a small amount of steamed vegetables onto his plate despite the fact that he hadn’t done more than pick uninterestedly at his food for twenty minutes already. 

“’Mione, I’m not going to eat it, you might as well leave it where it is.”

“Just have a bit, you’re looking peaky and you know it.”

“’Mione maybe you should stop filling up his plate,” Hermione shot a somewhat betrayed look at Ron before he turned on Harry, “but she is right, just a little bit and we’ll stop.”

As much as Harry appreciated his friends caring for him, he’d really had enough of it all and he suddenly felt quite strange.  As though on any other day he would have lost his temper and he wanted to but something was stopping him; smothering the anger and frustration and turning it inwards until he had no choice but to be angry at himself before it vanished and he was left simply feeling defeated.  He pushed through it and despite the sudden awakening of pain in his body he forced himself to his feet and fixed a scowl to his face.  His voice wasn’t the yell he wanted to let loose – not at his friends necessarily; at everything, the world and the past and everything – but it was all the colder for it’s quiet anger.

“I don’t need either of you to feed me, I am fine.  Now leave off.”

Feeling a sudden wash of shame at the stricken look on their faces he spun on his heel and went to walk away but was stopped by Ron’s voice which achieved the volume he hadn’t been able to.  “We’re only trying to help and if you weren’t so bloody stubborn and set on lying to us and starving yourself and hiding away from the world you might be able to see it!”  Harry didn’t turn but even so he could clearly see in his mind’s eye as Hermione – still looking as though she’d been slapped from Harry’s words – slapped Ron’s arm even as he heard it. 

Not offering any kind of explanation even though he knew his friends deserved one, Harry opened his eyes and walked away, leaving the Great Hall as fast as possible without running. 

He didn’t stop when the huge doors of the Great Hall closed behind him even though he would have liked to since the brief row felt like it had thoroughly drained him of any remaining energy.  But no, he wasn’t about to show weakness, especially not when a certain blond would make his life hell because of it and was watching from where he stood at the bottom of the stairs in the Entrance Hall.  Brushing past him as though he didn’t exist, Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye as Malfoy opened his mouth and Harry quickly cut him off with a muttered, “Bugger off,” before he ascended the marble staircase, feeling Malfoy’s eyes on him the entire time.

He knew he had less than half an hour before he had Snape’s detention so he only climbed to the second floor, heading for the girl’s loo for some quiet in which he could compose himself, knowing – desperately hoping – that no one would disturb him there.  Except, of course, the reason no one living would want to come in here. 

Harry rubbed his temples as Myrtle’s moans and lazy screams pierced his skull and losing patience with the aimless noises fast he braced himself over one of the porcelain sinks and yelled, “Shut up!”

Myrtle looked affronted for all of two seconds as she floated out of one of the toilets behind him until she saw it was Harry and the changed expression made him want to groan.  Was nowhere in this place empty?  

“Hi Harry,” she said brightly.

“Hi.”  It came out sounding like an acquiescence of some sort, like he was finally giving in.  Clearly he wasn’t going to be left alone for any length of time tonight.

“Changed your mind?”  She asked demurely.

“About what?” He asked back quietly as he resumed rubbing his head.  The throbbing was turning into something sickening, a sort of deep thrumming that made his head feel like it was vibrating, like a huge drum someone was striking over and over and over.  And over and over and over.

Suddenly his mouth felt hot and dry his stomach flipped and he threw himself at the nearest toilet – incidentally the one Myrtle had just floated from – as the tiny amount of food he’d eaten at dinner made a reappearance.

Clutching his stomach in his hands and groaning piteously he continued to heave for what must surely have been an eternity – stop, stop, stop, why won’t it stop – before he slid from his kneeling position to sit on the floor with his head leaning back against the wall, sightless eyes on the ceiling.  He sincerely hoped his stomach was done with its revolt because he wouldn’t be able to move his head regardless.  He cracked his eyes open when he felt something nauseatingly chilling pass through his foot; slitting his eyes against the dimness that felt blinding to his thrumming head and allowing his eyelids to rise as he watched Myrtle ascend to hover above him.

“Yuck,” she observed as she inspected the toilet she’d luckily escaped in time before eyeing Harry who could only nod a little in agreement before closing his eyes quickly as dizziness assaulted him.  “Are you ill?” she continued brightly and he wished she wouldn’t.  He wasn’t feeling particularly chatty.  He hitched a shoulder in a tiny half-hearted shrug.  “You should see Madam Pomfrey.  Or...” he opened his eyes at her uncharacteristic hesitancy to see her full of a kind of hopeful excitement that she was clearly working to repress.  “Or, are you dying?”  He shut his eyes again and thought on that.  Was he?  Would it be easier than whatever this was?

A noise interrupted the two of them and he thought it was probably just as well, he didn’t want to accidentally give Myrtle false hope.

He heard footsteps at the entrance to the bathroom and stayed quiet, vaguely amazed that Myrtle did too, hanging in the air above his head, the two of them obscured by the cubicle they were in.  Most of the heavy wooden doors hanging on the cubicles were half open so it didn’t take much for Harry to shift himself to keep hidden in case anyone walked by.  Well, it shouldn’t have taken much.  The fact that he had broken out in a cold sweat from the effort by the time he relaxed again was entirely coincidental and most likely from his earlier sickness.

But the footsteps never approached; the person they belonged to stopping to wash their hands as Harry heard the taps turn on and off, the pipes in the walls vibrating noisily, before the person left again.  Sighing and tilting his head back again Harry watched Myrtle absently as he wondered if there really was nowhere in Hogwarts that he could be alone and experiencing an odd silly moment of nostalgic thinking.  Now back in my second year...

Hoisting himself painfully to his feet and feeling a deep, whole-body ache take root in his bones, Harry walked very carefully to the sink he’d been at before and turned on the cold water, cupping his hands and washing his face before inspecting it in the mirror.  Oh.  Oh damn.  He looked ridiculously unhealthy.  He couldn’t remember a time when only small amounts of food had left him looking quite so gaunt and thanks to his earlier bout of stomach acrobatics his face was pasty and his eyes dulled to an alarming level.  They looked dead already.  Already?  No one would believe that nothing was wrong with him.  Of course if he was careful the only people he would see before morning were the two least likely to care but he’d never been overly lucky and he knew Ron and Hermione would go out of their way to see him tonight, especially given his blow up.  He groaned and ducked his head as he remembered what he’d said to his best friends.  He’d said worse than that to them in the past – they’d all argued as any friends would over the years – but this time they really were only trying to help and compared to his own subdued behaviour over the past weeks, the way he’d acted tonight by comparison seemed so much worse.

“You do look awful you know,” Myrtle commented conversationally. 

“Thanks Myrtle, that helps.” His dry voice was tired like the rest of him and he looked back into the mirror, ignoring Myrtle’s pale spectre behind him.  Not so much paler than him anymore.

“Only saying.” 

Harry hummed in response and tried to fix his hopelessly rumpled clothes before inspecting himself one last time.

“Nope.  Still awful.”

Harry shot her a look and was surprised when his own mouth twitched in response to the teasing grin she was giving him.

“See you later Myrtle.”

“Wait a minute,” she called as he walked to the door.  “You didn’t answer my question.”  He didn’t have to ask which one.  Nor did he give her an answer.

He knew he was in for it as soon as he opened the door upon hearing Snape’s, “Enter.”

The man was sitting behind his desk as usual but there were no student assignments strewn across the mahogany surface in front of him.  It was bare except for Snape’s clasped, potion-stained hands and the man’s eyes didn’t leave Harry once he appeared in the doorway.  Snape’s eyes roved over him before locking back on his face, his own unreadable and completely unnerving.  Wondering what the hell this was about – Harry knew he was safe from explanations until he ran into Ron and Hermione again; Snape and Umbridge wouldn’t care and they were the only ones he had to see right now.  They wouldn’t care. 

He can’t... 

So why was panic beginning to rise and bubble in his chest uncomfortably?  Causing the kind of discomfort dentists promise before they drill their holes.  His brain studiously ignoring what his body had figured out Harry stayed at the door, one hand on the doorframe as though ready to bolt and Snape didn’t move, just sat and scrutinised and silence reigned and it was driving Harry nuts.

Without moving more than his mouth – and even that was the smallest of motions, just enough to get the words out from between thin lips – Snape said as calmly as Harry had ever heard him, “Take a seat Mr Potter.”

Feeling like a scared first year and an idiot for it in equal measure, Harry assessed the situation with fast flickering eyes but came to no conclusions and eventually the idiotic feeling won out and he crossed the room.  Snape had to have sensed his apprehension but he made no sign of it and Harry was frankly amazed the dour man was being so patient.  He was usually sneering or yelling or something by now.  That only made the panic bubble more furiously.  Predictability was good.  Yelling was good.  Yelling was safe.  This... this was...

Once he was behind the seat Snape had directed him to, Harry stopped and cast uneasy eyes to the empty corner where a pile of cauldrons were usually waiting for him to clean.

“Sit Mr Potter.  We are going to have a little talk.”  As if noticing Harry’s unease with this turn of events... and caring... Snape added, “There’s no reason to be so concerned.  I have a few questions I would like answered.”  Yeah, that helps.  Thanks.

“Yes sir.”  Despite his apparent acquiescence Harry didn’t move to sit down and Snape sighed.  “Potter,” he said with a slight edge of warning and Harry caved.  He just wanted to do his detention and get out and if this was the fastest way...

Sitting nervously on the very edge of the seat Harry ran through the list of ways he could get out of this.  Very quickly.  It was a small list.  Answer his questions until he lets me leave or... er... run?

Snape sat forward and steepled his fingers in a way that reminded Harry of Dumbledore.  That can’t be good... but then, he can’t be as omniscient as he seems.  Neither of them are or they’d have stopped... well... everything.  Too many thoughts followed on the heels of that and Harry shoved it all away in favour of focusing on the situation at hand.  Snape seemed to study Harry for a very long time until Harry was lost in the endless string of moments where he tried not to squirm under the scrutiny.

“I will only say this once; I want honest answers to everything I ask or, if that is not possible, I would like an explanation as to why.  You are not to lie to me is that clear?”  There was very little bite to the warning and Harry wondered what this was really about.  It seemed very important to Snape and Harry couldn’t begin to fathom why the man thought Harry would know anything that affected the Potions Master.  Was this really about Voldemort?  Was he up to something?

“Yes sir,” he said anyway.  Answer questions... run... answer questions... run...  the second option was looking more appealing every minute.  He would have been gone by now if he hadn’t known that Snape would be after him.  Snape studied him again for awhile and Harry resented him for it.  He knows this is putting me on edge; just ask your questions already!

“Is there a reason you didn’t eat tonight?”

The question completely threw Harry and Snape had to have known it but still he remained unreadable.  “Um...”  Harry knew it was a stupid response but he couldn’t think.  Why would Snape want to know that?  Why did it matter?

“Mr Potter?”

“I wasn’t very hungry sir.  Can I ask why you want to know?”

“No, you cannot,” Snape said and suddenly he seemed quite irritated. “Not when I asked you not to lie and you decided to anyway.”

“But I wasn’t!”  Snape studied him a moment longer and seemed to calm again.

“And how long have you had this loss of appetite?”  Harry bristled slightly at the terminology.

“It isn’t a loss of appetite I... I just... wasn’t hungry...”  Snape sneered a little, but only a little and it was gone again a second later.

“Alright... when was the last time you ate?”

“Why does it matter?” Harry exploded, losing his patience so abruptly it startled him more than Snape who just gave him an irritatingly knowing look.

“It matters, Mr Potter, because I will not have a student dying of starvation on my classroom floor and as you seem so fond of earning detentions with me there is a great chance of that happening if you continue to refuse food.  Now when did you last eat?”

Harry scowled but answered, “dinner, didn’t you see?”

“I saw you picking at your food and ingesting enough to starve a rabbit.  When was the last time you ate properly?”

“Lunch.”

“Which you just so happened to not be present for.”

“Breakfast!”

“For which you were also absent?”

“I went to the kitchens for it okay?  I woke up and had an early breakfast, you can ask the elves.”

“Wandering the halls again?” Snape asked with derision but he continued before Harry could do more than angrily open his mouth for a retort.  “Be that as it may, I have no doubt your one proper meal today was not dissimilar in quantity to the amount you ate at dinner, in which case you are starving yourself and you will stop.”

“Why?  How does it affect you?”  Harry might have been horrified at the detentions and loss of points he was risking if he’d realised what he’d said but only this man could get him so angry so fast.

“I believe I have already answered that question.”  Harry glared at Snape for a long moment and was disappointed that it seemed remarkably ineffective as Snape only stared unemotionally back.  It was only when Harry deflated a little that Snape continued.  “Now, what you did consume at dinner; did you manage to keep it down?”  Harry spluttered.

“What!  How does that matter?”  Snape gave him a pointed look but Harry refused to be pushed into answering again and Snape seemed to realise it as he took Harry’s evasion as a yes.

“Alright then; what exactly did Madam Pomfrey do when you went to see her yesterday?”

“She just did a scan and gave me Pepper-Up.”  When Snape continued to watch him as though waiting for him to continue Harry burst out, “really, that’s all she did!”  Snape was frowning now.

“And how long did she keep you in the infirmary?”

“An hour or two I guess.  She hovered the whole time, pretending to clean and stuff.”  Snape looked amused and Harry abruptly realised that he must be very tired indeed to be talking so normally with the man.

“And then she said you could leave?”  Harry nodded but Snape’s eyes narrowed and Harry wondered how he was able to discern the truth so easily.  Practise I guess.

“She didn’t say I couldn’t,” Harry said evasively while his eyes flickered away.  Snape seemed irritated again but not, Harry felt, entirely at him.

“So you snuck out and she allowed you to?”

“Don’t blame her; Madam Hooch and the Hufflepuffs needed her more than I did, of course she let me go!”

“Do you not realise, you imbecilic child, that if she did not expressly say that you could leave then she wished for you to remain no matter how many other students were in need of her attention?”

Harry couldn’t believe how fast the situation seemed to have spiralled out of his control, especially given what they were discussing.  Watching Snape warily as the restless man stood only to pace before him, Harry felt unaccountably teary and cornered and it made him lash out, “None of this matters, I’m fine and I don’t need... whatever it is you think I do.”  Harry stood to leave but as soon as his back was turned a hand was fastened around his arm and he made an odd sort of noise as he tried to wrench it free.  He’d deny that he was ever able to make that kind of sound but he knew he’d made it before; years and years before.  Snape’s hand flexed and loosened on his arm at the sound but he didn’t release Harry.  There was silence for a long moment which went unnoticed by Harry as he struggled futilely with his weak attempts to break free and Snape kept a firm hold of his arm.  When Snape broke the silence it was very quietly and in a different tone than Harry could remember ever having heard from him.

“Whatever it is I think you need is irrelevant but there are some certainties.  You are not well Mr Potter and as such you need to be in the infirmary at the very least-” Harry spun around and cut him off.

“What do you mean at least, you want me sent to St Mungos?  Or home?”  Harry’s voice broke on the last word and standing this close he saw the odd change of expression – just for a moment – on Snape’s face that he found impossible to decipher.

“I meant that at the very least you need to be in the infirmary,” Snape said in a quiet, oddly soothing voice, and didn’t that realisation just make Harry’s head spin.  “More than that I think you need supervision and more powerful diagnostic scans to find out exactly what is wrong.”  Harry had been temporarily calmed by Snape’s words but at that he remembered that, no, he had something he hadn’t had yesterday.  Something that branded him as a freak.  As Umbridge’s toy.  And he couldn’t have Pomfrey finding that... could he?  Yes!  I could!  It would get me away from Umbridge for good!  But inside him something squirmed and revolted against the idea, making his stomach flip as though he might be sick again and making him feel with certainty that no, he really couldn’t.  Harry shook his head a little wildly, feeling as though it wasn’t entirely under his control.

“No, no I can’t and it doesn’t matter.”  With renewed efforts Harry managed to wrench his arm out of Snape’s hold for a second before it was back, firmer than before.

“Potter you are clearly not well and possibly delirious.  I am not asking for your approval in this, we are going to the infirmary.  Now.”  Snape seemed to be losing the patience he’d had all evening if his tone was anything to go by and he gave a tug towards the door to his office through which Harry could see a fireplace.  The man seemed surprised by the panic that seemed instinctive and overtook Harry at the sight.

“I’m fine, stop it!  Let go!” Harry twisted backwards in an effort to release his arm and gasped as he felt the telltale pull and snap of skin on his back and the warm gush over one of his shoulder blades, shivering as it began pooling in the small of his back.  The sensation caused him to freeze up and Snape could tell immediately as he turned Harry back to face him and searched his face which Harry tried – and failed – to relax out of the scrunched up expression of disgust he now wore. 

“What just happened?  Potter!”  Harry was ignoring him as much as was possible when the man was a foot away and holding his arm in a pincer-like grip and Snape’s frustration was tinged with something unnameable as he shook the arm he held, clearly having to reign himself in from shaking Harry properly. 

From between gritted teeth Harry ground out, “I’m fine,” before Snape was pulling him bodily through to his office where Harry finally managed to squirm away.  Not stopping his long strides to the fireplace, Snape snatched up the pot of floo powder only to immediately drop it.  A shower of shimmering green fell to the ground as the Potions Master held his forearm in a fierce grip scowling furiously as he flicked his eyes up to meet Harry’s which had opened wide at the sound of the pot hitting the stone floor.  Once more Harry felt oddly that Snape’s fury was not aimed wholly at him, though the man was clearly irritated with him still. 

“You are to go directly to the infirmary from here.  You are not to stop or take any detours.  Straight there, you hear me?”  Snape had been walking around the room and waving his wand at the fireplace as he ground out his order through his own pain but at the last order he turned and fixed Harry with a piercing stare as he waited for acquiescence.  Harry could only nod dumbly before Snape was snatching a fistful of floo powder from the floor and stepping into the hearth before turning.  “Get out.”  The words were harsh and reminded Harry of exactly who this man had been to him for the past five years.  He didn’t need any more encouragement as he spun and left the room and the classroom beyond it as fast as possible, not hearing the murmured destination spoken behind him.

As he reached the corridor he leaned back against the blessedly cool stone and took stock of those last hectic minutes.  Making a split second decision to go straight to the infirmary as directed he took a step forward before crumpling in pain as what felt like a white hot knife pierced him from the inside.  On hands and knees Harry pressed his forehead into the ground and groaned as the pain only intensified.  He tried to breathe in and found he couldn’t, his throat was closed and any attempt to open it only forced that low, pain-filled groan to rumble from his chest.  He began to feel the dizziness of air deprivation and he felt quite sick as his insides were left wrung out from the pain before he was abruptly let go, a fierce ache taking the place of the agony and he convulsed and shivered before he was still.  Coughing as he finally breathed he felt wetness on his hands where they held him up, spread on the ground by his face, and slitting his eyes open he saw a spray of red across the backs of them.  He was coughing up blood.  Crap, crap, crap, crap...

He couldn’t deny that he felt scared any longer.  His body had turned on him in so many ways and people were asking questions he didn’t want to answer, except he did... but no, he didn’t.  He needed help so badly.  He wanted someone to help and every time someone did they interfered or they got called away or they stopped caring... but no, that was before.  Before Hogwarts.  No one had stopped caring here.  But... Sirius.  Dumbledore.  They’d all stop eventually.  But they hadn’t.  But they would.  Harry groaned and the dizziness didn’t abate and one thought seemed to transcend all the rest as though it was coming from somewhere entirely outside his own uncertain mind.  From somewhere completely sure of itself.

I have to get to detention before I’m late.