He felt as if he had suddenly come out of a fog and could see things clearly. How very strange for someone who felt like he was still in a daze, he thought to himself as he watched other students pass him by in the corridor outside of Charm's class. He had decided to go back to his classes for the last few days, to see what interesting things he might be able to learn before the end of things. Hermione and Ron were dating for instance. That was interesting, Harry noted as he watched them hold hands at the desk in front of him. And Ginny had been moved up to sixth year Charms now because she was so far ahead of the other fifth years, and Neville must have gotten himself a tutor or something because he was able to transfigure a rabbit into a pinecone now in Professor McGonagall's class. He reveled in the fact that McGonagall wore earrings, little silver ones with blue orbs on the end, something he had never noticed in his time there before.

He mused that he suddenly felt the need to understand every little thing in order to pass out of this world and into the next. He had no one to tell these little revelations to, so he kept them to himself, drawing odd looks sometimes as he smiled when nothing funny had been said at all or when he put steak and kidney pie onto his plate at dinner.

Draco has been awfully nice to me, Harry thought, wondering if he would accept his Firebolt as a gift. He would have given it to Ron, but Ron wasn't speaking to him anymore. How odd, that Draco was nice and Ron was not, and that was interesting too.

Without looking through the lens of emotion, Harry was able to re-evaluate the way his father had treated him. Harry had just assumed he deserved his father's love and attention, as he had always assumed of the Dursleys. But now he saw clearly that he did not deserve anything from anybody. He had never deserved Sirius' love, or Lupin's kindness, or Dumbledore's leeway. He had certainly deserved Snape's attitude though. Perhaps I'll write a note of apology to him, he thought, wondering if Draco would allow him to leave it with him, Draco was being so nice after all, not sneering and making snide remarks as the others were.

The three days flew by, and Harry frowned when he realized it was already nearing the time for the end of term feast to start and he had not even written his apology letter yet. He sat down in his favorite place in a hidden corridor by the windowsill with a Muggle pen and parchment, and in his nicest writing penned, "Dad. I loved you and you didn't even know it. I just wanted to apologize for being so unworthy of everything. I never meant to be a burden on you or mum. I wish things could have been different. I wish I could have deserved your love. Please don't let Draco feel bad over what I did. I know he's been watching over me."

He read over it twice and scolded himself for the emotion he had allowed to creep back into his heart as a tear slid down his cheek. Broom and a piece of spello-tape in hand he folded the letter and taped it to the broom, and waited outside the library where he knew Draco was returning borrowed books.

The halls were empty as other students had already made their way down to the start of term feast, and Harry imagined they were waiting anxiously to hear the Headmaster's speech right about now. A smile crept over his face at the thought of all the delicious food waiting for his friends... former friends.

It wasn't long before Draco appeared from behind the library door and paused, evaluating the smile and calmness on Harry's face as he stood waiting with broom in hand. He held it out and Draco shook his head.

"You've been so nice lately... I know you never say anything, but I wanted you to have this in any case."

Draco shook his head mutely again.

"I'll just leave it here then, and you can come take it when you want it. The note is for my dad."

"Give it to him yourself you coward," Draco spat, suddenly angry, and Harry flinched back.

"I tried," Harry said, taking steps to calm himself mentally. He did not want to be riled up for the task ahead. "Just, wait until the end of the feast, or give it to him before you leave tomorrow."

Draco shook his head again, and Harry gave a half smile. "I have to go now." And then he was gone, back to Draco he began to climb stairs and was out of sight. This is it, he thought to himself. I finally feel normal, after all these years.

* * *

There was a loud crash in the hallway followed by something rather solid slamming into the outside of his locked door. And then there was frantic pounding and Draco's harried voice carrying through from the other side.

"Open it! OPEN IT OPEN IT OPEN IT OPEN IT-" When the door swung open by Severus' wand, Draco fell inside and landed heavily on the floor, standing up in a panic. Knowing that by nature Draco did not scare easily, his mind drifted to thoughts such as the return of the long dead dark lord, or the grave injury of one of his Slytherins.

"What is it?" He asked, instantly alert.

"It's Harry!" Draco half shouted, out of breath as his asthma demanded he be after such a prolonged run down through the castle.

Severus stood straight and his face hardened. "Excuse me?"

"He's on the North Tower sir! He's going to kill himself!"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "That is not funny Mr. Malfoy, and you will be spending the feast in detention for such a-"

Draco held up a crumpled piece of parchment and cut him off. "I'm not joking! He's gone to end it!"

Suddenly Severus' chest tightened uncomfortably, and he asked in as calm a tone as he could, "And you know this how?"

Narrowing his eyes, angry now, Draco struck out with, "Because I'm the only one he's got. Father charged me with looking after him since you wouldn't, and I saw it in his eyes you stupid son of a-"

Draco never did get to finish his sentence however, as Severus had hurtled past him out of the office and away up through the castle. He never saw the mixed look of worry and relief etched across Draco's face as he promptly collapsed into a visitor's chair, too lightheaded and out of breath to fetch anyone else.

Severus felt as though he had never run so fast in all his life. What he would say when he got there, he did not know. It was not that he was running to save his son, he told himself, but that he was running to save a student. He was a professor after all, and was charged with the safety of all students, even one he had spent so long despising.

As if in a dream, he felt his legs would never move fast enough to get him there in time, and he prayed there would be some time to talk sense into the boy. Calm and collected, Snape reminded himself as he hurried up the ladder to the rooftop of the North Tower, "Calm and collected and-" the sight of Harry there standing on the battle ramparts in the fading light took his breath away. There was his son, ready to kill himself, and he lost all control he liked to imagine that he kept such a tight rein on in times of desperate need. Suddenly all the despise and anger he had been feeling over the last three months seeped back into his heart and he stood there and crossed his arms.

"Time to end your little stunt Potter," he said with a scowl. "This is not an appropriate way to draw attention to yourself."

Harry didn't answer, and he couldn't see the hurt in the boy's eyes since he was facing away, silhouetted darkly by a sun the boy considered that he would never see rise again.

"He- he wasn't supposed to give you that letter until tomorrow," Harry said very, very quietly, almost too soft for his father to hear, and Harry feared to turn around and spy his father scowling at him for yet another unworthy thing he had failed at. He could not fail at this.

Heart throbbing a little too much for his comfort suddenly, Severus narrowed his eyes again and tried to keep composure, but found himself failing, angry still that the boy thought he could win people's sympathy in such a way. When long moments had passed however and it was becoming apparent that the boy was not coming down, at least not back to the tower roof, he decided to change tact's.

"I didn't think Prince Potter cared about his parentage so," he taunted, hoping to anger the boy into backing down. "Not with the way he turned his back on his friends and ignored his not good enough father for the last three months." His chest grew painfully tight then as he became aware suddenly of a feeling he did not realize lay buried inside. He didn't feel good enough himself.

Looking back up at the boy, he saw the sixteen year olds head hung in shame. "Maybe it was that I cared too much," he whispered, although the wind caught it and brought it back to Severus' ears, making him stiffen with the realization that the boy was in more pain than he had cared to notice of late. A memory that felt distant of the boy trying to tell him something before tearing out of his office a few nights before flooded back to him. Harry had been seeking help, and his own father had turned him away.

A small sob brought Severus' attention back to Harry's back again, and he heard the boy struggling with himself. Uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was still standing on the edge of a very tall tower, Severus beckoned, "At least have the courage to turn and face me like a man before you hurtle yourself off."

Harry turned, footing unstable and for a brief moment Severus feared he would fall, but then he stood firm again, facing him with such an agony in his eyes as Severus had never seen before in someone so young. Not a man, he corrected himself, but a child.

Voice and body shaking, Harry asked, "Why do you hate me so much?" and then he slipped and was gone over the side of the tower. Faster than Severus would have thought possible, he was at the side and gripping the child's franticly squirming wrist, terror filling the green eyes below as he looked to the distant ground and then back up to the one thing keeping him from certain death.

"Don't you dare let go Potter," Severus gritted out with a look of determination. Scared eyes met his as the boy gave the smallest shake of his head. Dangling like an awkward doll on a string, Harry flailed and tried to grab on with his other hand, not strong enough to manage in the end.

"Use your feet," Severus directed as he reached forward with his other hand to get a better grip on Harry's arm and his fingers found purchase on the thin sweat jacket for a moment before slipping.

"Please," Harry squeaked, and for a moment he considered asking him to let go, to let him slip away, but seeing the determination in his father's eyes, glinting like a long lost imagination of hope, he said, "pull me up," instead.

With the last bit of strength he had in his tired arms, Severus hauled the thin teen up over the ramparts and onto the roof, where Harry stood steady for a moment, and then collapsed on the ground, pale and unconscious.

Stunned, Severus watched him for a moment, trying to verify that he was indeed still breathing, and then stooped down and scooped the light boy into his arms, and carried him down through the castle to safety.