Draco had warned Harry to stay in the secret room after getting drunk, but Harry didn't listen. He climbed out into the hall, stumbling wildly and catching himself before he went sprawling out onto the floor. Somehow he made it back to Gryffindor common room, but Ron smelled the booze on him as Harry climbed into bed.

"Harry?" Ron asked groggily, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Ye, yeah Ronnie?" Harry said happily, trying to pull his shoes off, but giving up eventually deciding that they must be glued to his feet.

"You been drinking? You smell like moonshine."

"Yep Ronnie, I been drinking."

"Why? Where'd you get it?"

"Shhhhhhhh," Harry said before giggling wildly, "you'll get us in trouble. Can't tell old Snape one thing abou' his son drinking or he'd ground him for good!" With this Harry fell flat on his face onto his pillow and Ron frowned into the darkness, unable to make any sense at all of what Harry had just said. Attributing it to being drunk, and deciding to finally have a talk with Harry in the morning, whether he wanted to talk or not, Ron lay back down and tried to get back to sleep, not managing until the sun was almost up.

"Harry?"

"Mmmmm."

"Harry wake up."

"Mmmmm, nah, m' gonna sleep more."

"Get up." Ron prodded him in the back.

"It's Saturday."

"It's Friday, get up. We have class."

Harry sat up and rubbed his head. It ached a little, but not nearly as bad as the ulcer would have been hurting by this time in the morning.

"What classes do we have Friday?" Harry asked, confused for a moment.

"Potions first, come on," Ron urged.

With more prodding Harry got up and got ready, running his fingers through his hair, but not caring enough about his appearance just for Potions to find a comb. Ron gave him sideways glances all through classes, and then during lunch and dinner as Harry seemed to eat a weeks worth of food in one day.

"Hungry again?" Ron asked.

"I'm always hungry," Harry said, giving him a look like he was just being silly.

"Well you never eat very much," Hermione said, trying to help Ron out. He had told her about Harry coming in late drunk, and about his decision to talk to him about it.

"Well, so what," Harry said, happy that for once, even if he wasn't hungry because of the thoughts floating in his mind that he could eat because his stomach wasn't trying to rebel as he did so.

Ron looked around. He had picked a spot way at the far end of Gryffindor table on purpose so that they'd be alone.

"Come on Harry," Ron said, "Something's been bothering you and I want to know about it."

Harry set his roast chicken leg down. "Come on, can't I eat in peace?"

"You can eat any day," Ron said, and suddenly Harry was upset that Ron didn't understand that he couldn't eat on any regular day.

"Don't start with me Ron," Harry said, pointing a finger. "Just let me eat and go to detention."

"That's another thing, you've never gotten into this much trouble. You don't wear your uniform right half the time, you skip classes, you sneak around whispering to Malfoy, and you came in drunk last night."

Finally Harry pushed his plate away. "Just leave me alone Ron," he said firmly.

"Harry, we just want to help-" Hermione started, but Harry cut her off.

"Forget helping me!" he tried not to say it too loud, so it came out in a harsh whisper. "Just leave me be! You can never understand what I'm going through and I don't want you to." He stood up and made to leave but Ron stood now too, also angry.

"So what, you're just switching sides then? You just going to dump us to be friends with that slimy git over at Slytherin table?"

Harry couldn't help it, suddenly he had his fist up in the air and it was sailing towards Ron's nose.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed.

Harry looked around quickly and saw most of the hall looking at him, wondering that Ron was clutching his nose and that it was bleeding profusely.

"Listen, I'm sorry," Harry tried to say to Ron, half bending down to look Ron in the eyes because Ron was half bent over.

Ron stood straight and looked Harry in the eyes, knowing that this wasn't his friend standing before him, but at the same time it was. He wasn't sure what to do.

"I forgive you because I know this isn't you Harry," he said, sounding nasally. Harry was just about to say something, but the next second and somebody had him by the back of the collar. He barely got a glimpse of Snape before he found himself being dragged out of the Great Hall. He didn't fight this time, knowing that he deserved whatever detention he got because he had just punched his best friend in the nose for trying to help him. Unfortunately for Harry it wasn't detention that he would be getting this night.

Snape pushed him roughly along without a word, and when they finally reached his office, he threw the door open and threw Harry inside, just as he had done the day he had taken Harry to McGonagall's office.

"Ow," Harry complained as his elbow smacked the professor's desk.

"I have had it up to here with you Potter!" Snape shouted, holding his hand way up above his head.

"You think it's ok to go around punching other students now?"

Harry looked at the floor and shook his head. "No, I didn't mean to."

"Oh, you didn't mean to? So that makes it all better? You think it's ok to pick on weaker students JAMES?"

Harry looked up at the use of his father's.... no, at the use of his new name. He knew that James Potter had often picked on Snape, and now he knew he was in for a world of hurt because he had crossed the line of the one thing Snape wouldn't tolerate.

"Come on James," Snape taunted, lightly shoving Harry in the shoulders. "You want to be so much like your father... you want to be so delinquent, so cool, so go on. Be James Potter. Be the bully who yells at other students and punches people. Go on, do it, be James Potter!" He kept shoving Harry, and Harry was getting irritated. Professor's weren't supposed to do this kind of thing. He couldn't actually hit Harry could he? But then again, he hated him so much, why wouldn't he? Just like Uncle Vernon.... He hated Harry and he hit Harry all the time.

Harry tried to look at the floor and ignore the man in front of him, but Snape kept shoving him and kept taunting.

"Come on, not so big now that somebody more powerful than you is picking on you? Not so willing to fight? What's wrong with you? Hm? Are you so screwed up inside that you have to hit other people to feel better about yourself?" Suddenly the man had struck a cord in Harry. He was so deeply messed up inside and he just wanted him to understand. Draco understood, sort of, but he didn't want Draco to understand. He wanted his father to understand. And his father had always used his power over him to make him miserable. For seven years he had made him miserable, and before that he had made him miserable by dumping him with his aunt and uncle.

Snape gave Harry one more good shove and then Harry was swinging wildly. It was only the second punch he'd ever thrown in his life, but unlike Ron, Snape was ready for him and had ducked and then swung himself, landing a solid punch on Harry's jaw.

Immediately Harry's eyes began to water, and he reached up to his jaw to feel where he had been hit. He looked up into the eyes of his father, who was now no better than Uncle Vernon, and ran from the room, desperate to get out of his own skin. Desperate to be somebody different than this horrible person he had turned out to be. Desperate to be known as anybody else's son. Desperate to be loved by his real father.

In his office, Severus Snape stood dumfounded at what he had just done. Seeing Harry wanting so desperately to be like James, and then hitting his own best friend had just made something inside him snap. He was in disbelief that he had just hit a student, even if he had deserved it. He was now no better than James bloody Potter himself, picking on weaker people, and provoking them into fighting.

He stood there for a long while yet after Harry was gone, and thought about what he had done. He himself had now become no better than his own father, hitting a child. Yes, he could try to justify it all he wanted by saying Harry was not really a child because he was 17 and was indeed a man, but in his heart he knew it wasn't so. Something was eating at the child badly for him to break his own best friend's nose. He had gone away on holiday a boy and had come back a moody, mean, disrespectful bully. He didn't really care what was bothering the boy, only that something was, and he had only compounded the problem.

Damn, but the brat was so disrespectful, and he couldn't let that slide. And if he would just talk to somebody like normal people instead of turning into a little punk. But no, that still didn't excuse what he had just done. Severus took a seat in the visitor's chair in his office and hung his head in shame.