McGonagall had scolded him several times already, threatening to tell his ‘father' that he was skipping classes, but Harry told her to go ahead because he didn't care whether or not Harry skipped classes. He had stopped going to Potions completely because he couldn't handle sitting there in a room with a man who spent his time acting as if Harry didn't exist. So much for the hope that had captivated him so early on in this ordeal. His dreams of determining himself to have a real family had flown out the window when Ron and the others had so completely abandoned him to his own struggles within himself.

There was no vindication in life, not for him, he thought to himself. No support whatsoever. But had there ever really been? Perhaps with his parents, no, scratch that he reminded himself yet again, with his mother, there might have been. But perhaps she had not really wanted him at all. If she and Snape had split up, or if she had not told Snape that Harry was his, then perhaps she was ashamed of him, and was ashamed of Harry as well. Harry sodding Snape. He should just change his name to that. It did have a ring after all, as Ron had found out and taken to deriving pleasure from as of late.

Even in Harry's dreams Ron taunted him, Hermione ignored him for the next big homework assignment, he fell further and further behind in his coursework, and Draco stood by silently and watched it all with a look of distaste and pity on his face. All too close to real life and Harry felt trapped and knew he could not escape this life if he could not find a way to reconcile his feelings and escape the literal pain he was feeling deep in his muscles, heart, and mind each and every day.

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon when Harry had just such a dream in which he felt trapped and uncertain, and unable to free himself. Suddenly Harry was five years old again and running down the sidewalk in front of Four Privet Drive. In his dream he had just found out that he had a living father and would no longer be force to suffer at the hands of the Dursleys. He turned to look behind him at the front door of the house, and instead of finding chubby Dudley, he found a younger version of Ron making a rude gesture at him. Distracted, Harry fell face first to the pavement and ripped his knees and hands open. Injuries smarting, he sniffled as a long dark shadow fell over him. He looked up to find his father, finally come at last to save him. But instead of picking him up and whispering something soothing into his ear, the man crossed his arms and stared down at him in disapproval. They stayed like that for a long while and Harry sweated in the sun, before finally Snape shook his head in disgust, and walked away without a single word. Harry had been judged. He was not good enough to be taken in.

Instead of waking however, the dream suddenly changed, and now Harry was outside a small cabin in the shady woods. He had fallen again on some grass, and this time his father ran outside and scooped him up in a warm embrace, whispering a love and content and peace over him that he had never known. Harry snuggled closer into his father's chest and smelled a sweet potion on the dark shirt. "Don't fret child," his father soothed him, running his hand through an unruly lock of Harry's hair. "I will always save you from yourself." Just as Harry looked up at his father's smile, the dream faded, and Harry was left breathless in his stiflingly hot dormitory. Early evening sun flooded into the quiet room as motes of dust drifted softly down, but Harry felt as if his heart was slowly being stifled and drowned in darkness. He was confused. Where was he? Which dream was true? Had his father taken him from the Dursleys or not? Did Snape love him and he had been with him for all of these years?

Breathing hard, Harry felt emptiness settle over him after a moment as he realized that his dream was not real. Why couldn't his dream world and waking world be one in the same? Rolling over to bury his face in his pillow in order to stifle a sob, Harry realized that he suddenly felt lost. He wanted so desperately what it seemed that he could not have. How did he obtain a dream? Could he simply go and ask for it?

Swallowing past his too dry throat, Harry sat up and scrubbed at his eyes. His body ached as it so often did now, and he felt sluggish. He just couldn't do it anymore. He had to do something... had to try anything, else his anguish eat him alive. Ron not wanting him was one thing, but his father not being part of his life was another emotional wound entirely, and he felt as if without guidance he would not survive.

Mind made up he combed his hair, put on some old sandals that Hermione had once transfigured for him, and made his way down into the common room. People eyed him as he passed, but said nothing, and he tried to ignore the taunts that followed him out shouted by his former friends.

Emptiness still engulfing him from the loss of the wonderful dream embrace, Harry was drawn down through the sunny castle to the cold, dark dungeons. Draco gave him a curious look on the way down the stairs, but said nothing, and Harry continued on. He just needed reassurance, he told himself. Any words of comfort at all to get him through the rest of the day. His mind had often wandered towards darker thoughts in the course of the last few days and they scared him, but none so much as they did now, when he felt too hopeless to continue on without the help of this one person who somehow had come to mean so much to him.

A sudden hope filling him to the brim gave him the courage to knock on the door after staring at it wordlessly for a full five minutes. This was the moment, he just knew it. Inside, the dream vision of his father promised him again, whispered that he would always be there to scoop him up and save him from himself.

"Come." He almost didn't hear the voice on the other side bidding him to enter. He pushed open the door and stood there on the thresh hold. His father glanced up briefly, gave a short sneer, and then returned to his paperwork.

"What is it Potter?" Not a warm invite, but a command.

"I-" Harry cleared his dry throat, and then tried again. "I was hoping to have a word with you."

Snape didn't look up. "Make it quick. I don't have time for this."

The words stung him, more than they ever would have before. Harry inched in gently, and was just lowering himself into a visitor's chair when his father barked, "I said make it quick Potter! Not sit and have a cup of tea!"

Suddenly Harry's chest was tight with panic, and he couldn't move. No, this had been a bad idea. This was not the father in his dream. This was not a man who could ever love him in any lifetime, despite the feelings Harry had for him, despite the need Harry had for him.

"Well! Say what you came to say and leave!"

Feeling betrayed by his own body, Harry's lower lip trembled slightly, and he willed with all his might to gain control over his panicky limbs, willing them to move and carry him far away from here. And they did. He was running far and fast, unable to stop the sobs, unable to stop the hurt from escaping him, the tears from flowing, the anguish from seeping out. Pulling on his hair because he felt like his heart was going to burst at any moment, he finally collapsed on his knees on the cold hard earth and lay there sobbing, not even realizing that he had run clear out of the castle and out into the Forbidden Forrest.

The evening sun eventually faded into darkness, and darkness faded into a cool night before Harry looked up and realized that he was laying in the dirt hugging himself. He felt numb. Somehow in the haze that his mind was in, he had made a decision to end it, and making that decision freed him from the need to feel so much emotion.

Just three more days, he told himself. While everyone is at the feast, I can finally put myself at rest. As he walked back up to the castle, he felt some modicum of peace, and knew that this was the only way.