The first day back at school, Harry didn't care to do anything. He didn't want to have breakfast because having to talk to people seemed unpleasant. He wanted to stay in bed, but knew that he'd never get away with it. Mainly due to his friends, and for the first time ever, he didn't want to be around them, either. It was an odd feeling to want to be alone; he'd grown up longing to be a part of a family and to have friends.

All summer he'd been angry, violence brewing inside of him even without provocation. Going to Ron's home had somehow made things worse. His heart ached as he was around the Weasley family, and he didn't know why. They treated him like a son, but he couldn't accept that feeling and he'd been acutely uncomfortable. Maybe here at Hogwarts he'd find a way to change back to the way he'd felt as a first year. Happier? Grateful to no longer be alone? He was lost in a sea of emotions he couldn't identify or manage.

He dragged himself down from his dormitory and on to his first class, Potions. Harry shook his head at the idea of starting the term with Potions. Things were looking crappy from the start. Ron and Hermione were waiting for him at the classroom door.

"Are you feeling okay, Harry?" Hermione asked. She had a look of concern that made him want to cringe.

"I'm fine," he answered. "Didn't feel like getting up, that's all."

They walked in and took seats in the back of the room. Other students entering the class grimaced when they saw the only available seats left were in the front. Harry chuckled to himself at their misfortune. Sucks for them. It didn't matter where he sat, though; he was going to get called on and mocked by Snape regardless. Last year it had made him so angry and upset, but today he didn't give a damn. No, he might even give it back. The idea of it gave him a bit of a thrill.

Snape took his place at the head of the class and Harry found himself jittery. He was tapping on the table, drumming his fingers, beating out a little song. Thankfully, Potions wasn't a class where there'd be any niceties, any happy queries from the professor about whether or not they had a good summer.

As expected, they got out their books and prepared to take notes from the lecture. Harry took his time, digging in his bag for a quill. He let out a big yawn. He had no idea how he was going to make it through this class without dropping his head on the table and passing out. Suddenly his shoulders started shaking and he had the overwhelming urge to start laughing. It didn't go unnoticed.

"Something funny, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked, glaring at Harry.

He couldn't help himself and started laughing out loud, and watching his professor getting more pissed off by the second only made him laugh harder.

"No, sir," he replied, trying to choke back the laughter. The whole class was watching him in horror, and Ron smacked him under the table.

"Control yourself or get out, Potter!" Snape barked.

"I will, I will," said Harry, as he looked down and concentrated on getting serious. He made it through class and bolted out the door the second it was over.

"Harry, what was that?" Hermione's eyes were wide. Ron was just as stunned, standing next to her, gawking at Harry.

"I don't know," he answered, shaking his head. "Really, I have no idea. I just started laughing over nothing. I thought I wasn't going to be able to stop." He felt laughter coming on again, and as confusing as it was, it felt great. He hadn't laughed like this in months, and it was a relief.

"You're lucky, mate," Ron said. "Holy shite, laughing in Potions!" Ron started chuckling, too. Soon the two boys were giggling, walking down the hall with Hermione looking exasperated. What was her problem? What was wrong with having a little fun? Her disapproval was starting to piss him off.

The laughter was gone by late afternoon. During lunchtime things all went pear-shaped, and Harry was frustrated at his inability to focus in class. With his arm up to keep anyone from reading his parchment, he'd scribbled and written snippets of poems instead of listening to the lectures and taking notes. Dinner seemed like an overwhelming task. Too many people wanted to talk to him, excited about the things they'd done over summer. He was done with fake smiles, pretending to be happy for his friends. His life sucked, and it wasn't going to get better any time soon.

In Gryffindor Tower, he scowled at the idea of sitting in the common room. He walked up into the boys' dormitory and sat cross-legged on his bed. When Neville came in, Harry found himself snapping at his friend, feeling guilty immediately when Neville's face fell. Harry wanted to disappear, but there was nowhere to go. Pretending to go to sleep early and simmering in his thoughts seemed like the best plan.

As soon as Ron appeared in the dorm, Harry felt anger welling up in his chest. Ron was going to ask if everything was okay, and he didn't want to talk. Didn't want anyone to ask if something was wrong. Ron surprised him by asking about sports instead.

"Are you excited about Quidditch, Harry?" Ron asked, smiling.

"I guess," Harry answered. Honestly, Harry was thinking about quitting the team.

"You guess?" Ron looked confused. Harry had never noticed how expressive Ron's face was before. He wore his emotions on his sleeve. Harry wanted to keep his own facial expressions in check.

"I'm having a hard time getting excited about Quidditch," Harry said. His voice sounded flat in his ears. He felt bad about disappointing Ron, but that was part of the problem. He was done putting on a front and being the kid everyone wanted him to be.

"Once you get on your broom it'll all come back," Ron was nodding his head. "You'll see."

"I hope so," said Harry. He gave Ron a fake smile and then pulled it back, irritated with himself for giving in and pretending.

Harry rose and went into the bathroom, knowing that when he came back out he'd climb into bed and pretend to sleep. 

In bed, Harry was glad to be alone in the dorm so that he could assess how the first week of school had gone. Earlier in the day he'd become enraged in the common room when Fred was teasing him and had flung his Charms book across the room, nearly hitting Ginny. Luckily there were only a few witnesses, but eyebrows were raised and Hermione was quick to pull him aside to ask what was wrong for the thousandth time. He'd tried to blow her off and told her that he was tired of the twins ribbing him. If he had to throw around some books, so be it.

"Perhaps you should talk to someone, Harry," she said with concern. "There's something very wrong."

"You know what I'd like?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "For everyone to leave me alone. You're all smothering me and I can't stand it."

"Surely you know that Fred didn't mean to be nasty," she said. "You usually don't mind his jokes about your scar." She looked a little hurt, but Harry didn't care. He was getting better at distancing himself from everyone.

"Fred and George need to shut the hell up," Harry said. He felt overwhelmed with anger. He turned and walked away without another word.

Reflecting on the incident, Harry realized that now everyone was seeing the real him. Worthless and pathetic. A loser in the Muggle world, now he was a loser in the wizarding world. The fact that he'd survived the killing curse as a baby meant nothing. It didn't give him any worth. No one had loved him before he came to Hogwarts, and he couldn't be sure anyone did now. Everyone else had parents, but all he had was a photo album filled with pictures of strangers. His parents were unfamiliar to him. The next person who told him he had his mother's eyes might get punched. No matter how hard he tried, the feelings of love and wonder he'd had last year were gone. Going back to Surrey had cured him of believing he mattered. He had no one. The only relatives he had couldn't stand him, and the thought of it made him sick.

Harry had tried so hard as a child to get the Dursleys to love him. He'd wanted to be a good boy; he did everything he was asked to do, and tried his best in school. He was an idiot to think he'd ever be good enough. He knew now that there was nothing he could do that would change the way they felt about him. No longer would he feel hurt and betrayed, because he was training himself to be numb. The only thing to do was keep everyone away and make it through school. Eventually he'd be an adult and he'd count on himself, just like he always had. It was strange, but Harry found himself respecting Snape for the first time. He was really the only adult at Hogwarts who had ever acknowledged that Harry was a pitiful boy. It was the truth.

The next morning, Harry went to see Professor McGonagall in her office.

"Professor, I'm not going to be playing Quidditch this year, and I wanted to tell you now so that you can find a new seeker," Harry said, looking her in the eyes.

"Potter, why would you do such a thing?" she was clearly stunned.

"I don't know," Harry said as he shrugged. "I just don't want to play anymore."

McGonagall's slack-jawed look made Harry want to laugh. He was enjoying this, which made him feel a little guilty, but he quickly pushed that feeling aside.

"Well, I can't force you to play, but I think you should reconsider," she said, shaking her head at him.

"No, I'm certain about this, ma'am." He raised his head up. "Thank you for the opportunity." He stood up to leave.

"If you need to talk, I'm here for you, Potter." She gave him a sad look. It was growing tiresome - getting the same look from everyone. The one that was clearly supposed to make him feel he'd gone mad.

"Thanks," he said on his way out the door. "I'll be fine."

Walking back to the Tower, Harry was pleased. He thought he'd feel guilty about quitting, but no, he was overcome with relief. While the rest of the school went to the matches he'd have some time to himself. The pressure of winning was off of him now.

Up in the dormitory, Seamus and Dean were laughing and looking over something in a bag. Harry could tell it was a bottle of Firewhiskey. When they acted like nothing was going on, he walked over and asked them if they were planning on having a drink. Seamus smiled and told Harry he was welcome to join them and that they usually downed a bit right there in the dorm. Grabbing the bottle, Harry tilted it back for a good drink. He nearly spat the whiskey right back out. It burned his throat and made his eyes water. He'd never had a drink of alcohol before. Seamus and Dean burst into laughter, but instead of getting angry, Harry laughed, too.

"Easy, Harry," Seamus said. "You don't want to gulp the stuff."

"It takes some getting used to, yeah?" said Dean, smiling.

Harry felt his gut becoming warm, but he wasn't nauseated. It didn't take long before he felt a bit calmer than he had in quite a while.

"Can I have another go at it?" he asked, grinning.

Seamus nodded and Harry took another swig. This time he didn't try to guzzle it like pumpkin juice. After handing back the bottle, he sat down on his bed and chatted easily with the other two boys.

"People are talking about you, Harry," said Dean. "About how different you seem this year."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah," he said, snorting. "Let them talk. All I know is that I feel pretty nice right now."

Seamus and Dean nodded. "There's nothing wrong with having a couple drinks now and then," said Seamus. "But I wouldn't go telling anyone else."

Harry agreed. "I won't say anything. Thanks for sharing, I really do feel better."

Harry went into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He truly was feeling good. Suddenly he had a better understanding of drinking "to take the edge off." That's exactly what it was like. Everything was warmer, not just his belly. Finally, he was relaxed. Putting his palms on the counter he took a closer look at himself in the mirror. It was a little sad that he didn't have anyone to talk to about how angry he'd become. He smiled at himself and it looked all wrong. He didn't know the boy in the mirror anymore. 

With Ron and Hermione angry with him, Harry was finding it easier to spend time alone. His attitude was terrible all around, and he'd been in detention frequently for mouthing off to his professors. The only person who didn't seem to get it when Harry openly mocked him was Lockhart, his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. It was just plain fun to cause trouble, and it was all new to Harry. Telling people off and ignoring the rules was better than he'd expected.

After enjoying some Firewhiskey in the dorm, Harry slipped out of the Tower with his invisibility cloak. He'd never wandered around the castle while drunk, and it wasn't easy to climb up and down the stairs without tripping. He decided to take a little rest and slid down onto the floor, sitting with his legs out in front of him. It was dark and he found it impossible to keep his eyes open. At first it was a game, and he fought his heavy eyelids, trying to focus on a point in front of him. The cloak had fallen off, but Harry didn't realize it. He was passing out, drunk, with half of his body visible and the other half invisible. In minutes he was fast asleep.

Snape was patrolling the hallways and he slowed his pace, listening to the noise he was coming up on. It sounded like....snoring. He cast lumos and continued slowly down the hallway. Frowning, he looked down at a sleeping Harry Potter, invisibility cloak strewn around the boy's small body. Snape reached down and snatched the cloak off of Harry in one smooth motion, but Harry didn't budge. Leaning in toward Harry's face, Snape caught the strong scent of Firewhiskey. The golden boy was drunk. Fantastic. Before he woke Potter he looked down at the boy and wondered about Harry's state of mind. His behavior had been extremely erratic lately, and had been discussed at many staff meetings. Personally, Snape thought Potter had reached a point where someone had to come in and rein in his insolent behavior. If it were up to him, he'd take on that role and teach him some respect. He shook his head to wipe that thought away. Take care of Potter's behavioral problems? No, that task could fall to some other fool.

Snape slowly moved his face within inches of Harry's and screamed, "Potter! Wake up!"

Harry was startled and upon waking felt quite ill. He turned away and nearly gagged.

"I feel like I'm going to die," he said, slurring.

Snape towered over Harry, who was still on the floor, his head bobbing to the side.

"Well, well, Potter," Snape sneered at Harry. "Look at me!"

Harry struggled to bring his eyes up to Snape's, and found that he was dizzy, and the longer he stared at Snape's face, the worse he felt.

Snape grabbed Harry's chin roughly and brought it up to meet his gaze. "I see you've employed some excellent decision making skills this evening." Harry thought the thick sarcasm actually seemed funny in the moment. He sniggered for just a second before Snape grabbed his face a little harder.

"Ow!" Harry cried out. "Bloody hell, I'm going to have bruises!"

"Stop speaking, Potter, and stand up." Snape grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him up from the floor. Harry noticed his invisibility cloak in Snape's hand and reached for it. Snape quickly stuck it into a pocket in his robes. He shook his head at Harry and waggled his finger as one would do to a toddler.

"It's mine!" Harry yelled, still slurring a bit.

"Oh, I believe I'll hang on to it, Potter," drawled Snape. "I daresay you've forfeited the privilege of keeping the cloak in your possession."

"No!" Harry was sobering up a little, and his anger was building. "I want it back! It's my bloody cloak!"

"Mind your manners, Potter." Snape moved closer to Harry. "You'll spend a week with me in detention for being out after curfew, another week for being intoxicated, and another week for your disrespect."

Snape took Harry by the wrist and dragged him off. Harry found himself not only struggling to keep up with Snape's pace, but also trying not to trip on the stairs while sobering up. It seemed like an eternity before they reached Gryffindor Tower, and Snape watched as Harry clambered through the portrait hole.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, Potter, in my office, directly after dinner," he yelled to Harry.

As he considered the situation, the Fat Lady startled Snape into awareness by asking if he was planning to stand there all night. He turned on his heels and headed off toward the dungeons. He wasn't sure what Potter was playing at this term. While he'd never been a model student, or a respectful one, his irresponsibility and cheek had reached absurd proportions. Something had to be done, because after years of teaching, one learns when a child needs an adult to take over and intervene before the child does something to harm themselves or others. Snape was relieved to know that no one would ever force that role on him. Surely Dumbledore wouldn't choose to put poor Harry under the guidance of his hated Potions professor. Perhaps McGonagall could get through to the boy.

Snape paused once he'd returned to his office and thought about the situation. There was more to this than a brooding, disrespectful pre-teen. Snape knew from his own youth that sometimes there's a breaking point, and once reached, it's hard to pull your life back together. Is this where Potter was heading? Was it possible that the golden boy was on track to destroy his life? He didn't want to think any more about Potter at the moment. It was time for him to have a drink. A single malt scotch sounded appealing. He'd have time the next evening to interrogate Potter about whatever the hell was going on with him. 

Harry woke up feeling like total crap, with a pounding head and ferocious thirst. He stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, where he leaned over the sink, cupping his hands and drinking water until he felt a little less parched. Every time he moved his head it hurt. He slowly walked back to his bed, with Seamus, Dean, and Ron all sniggering at Harry's hangover. Neville ignored them.

"Looking good, mate," said Ron. "Enjoy yourself last night?" Ron's sarcasm wasn't welcome. Harry was in no mood for it.

"Well, I have three weeks of detention with Snape starting tonight, so it wasn't the good time I was hoping for," Harry answered curtly. He didn't want to fight with Ron and Hermione, he just wanted space. Interactions like these with Ron hurt him a little.

"Oi, that sucks!" Ron chuckled and left the dorm. It did suck. He'd never had a hangover before, but Harry hoped that by evening it would be a little better. He had no idea what to expect.

He felt terrible all day. The best idea he could think of was to sleep, and skived off his afternoon classes to go back to bed. No one noticed or woke him up, but he managed to get down to the Great Hall in time for dinner. Eating and drinking made him feel stronger, and he knew he'd need his strength for detention.

Knocking on Snape's office door, he frowned at the idea of spending time with the man, especially since Harry could barely control his emotions. Odds were good he'd be in more trouble by the end of the evening, but he didn't care.

The door opened and Snape looked down at Harry, sneering.

"Potter," he said. "Come in and have a seat."

Harry sat in a chair facing Snape's desk and crossed his legs in front of him. He couldn't believe how relaxed he felt, not at all intimidated by the greasy git. Snape raised his eyebrow at Harry as he sat down, but didn't comment on the boy's casual posture.

"The Headmaster and I have discussed your drunken escapade," Snape drawled. "He was quite disappointed. He feels that my punishment for you is appropriate considering your misdeeds."

Harry shrugged. Was the Headmaster supposed to be pleased about it? Harry wasn't an idiot; he knew that he'd screwed up.

"You no longer care what Professor Dumbledore thinks, Potter?" Snape asked, keeping his expression neutral. "After all, you are the boy-who-lived, and he blatantly favors you."

"I really don't care what anyone thinks, professor." Harry looked him right in the eyes.

"Really," said Snape. "Yes, I've noticed that your fan club has thinned out considerably."

Snape rose quickly from his chair. "Stand up and follow me, I have a thoroughly unpleasant task for you this evening."

Harry followed Snape into the potions classroom and sat at a table in the front. He was presented with a knife and pile of some foul sea creature. Pickling jars were ready for him to pack full with the chopped bits. The odor was nearly unbearable, and it was obvious this task had been chosen due to Snape's knowledge that Harry would be feeling queasy. He was careful to show no emotion, and began chopping while Snape took a seat at his desk and started grading essays.

He didn't bother to ask what it was that he was chopping, but it appeared to be some sort of octopus. It was rubbery and difficult to cut. After about an hour, Harry's hand began to cramp up, and he started shaking it out. Getting back to work, his mind wandered, and he cut a deep gash into his hand by accident. He glanced up, but Snape hadn't seen his slip. Harry stared at his palm and watched it bleed. It didn't hurt, but he wasn't sure it would be a good idea to get blood all over the chopped octopus. Snape noticed that the steady sound of chopping had ceased.

"Potter!" he snapped. "Have you cut yourself? Why are you just standing there like an idiot? Get over here so I can heal the wound."

Harry shrugged and shuffled his feet as he walked up to the front of the room.

"You will stop shrugging and answer when you are spoken to," said Snape. "I will not tolerate this continued disrespect!"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered. It occurred to him that Snape's anger was escalating, but Harry wasn't getting furious the way he normally would. He was numb. He felt a bit smug about it, because it was usually Harry losing his composure. Perhaps tomorrow night, with the hangover gone, he'd push Snape purposely; just to see what sort of reaction he could get from the man.

His hand healed, Harry returned to chopping for another hour or so, until the task was finished. He was dismissed and wordlessly left the room, heading up to the Tower.

Instead of walking directly through the common room toward the boys' dorm as usual, he took a seat in an empty chair next to Ginny, who was reading. She looked up at him and he smiled. He liked Ginny because she was kind and friendly without looking at him like he was a nutter. 

"Hi, Harry," she said, smiling back at him.

"How's first year going?" he asked.

"It's okay," she answered, "I get a little homesick sometimes, but it never lasts long. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he said. "Things have been a bit strained with Ron and Hermione, but I just need some time, you know?"

"It'll all work out, Harry. If you ever need to talk, I'm here," Ginny said, smiling again. Harry thought that Ginny might actually be someone he could talk to, if he ever felt that need.

They settled into their chairs, and Harry felt okay being around the other students. He looked over at Hermione, who was studying, and she gave him a small smile. For the first time this term he didn't feel angry with her, and he smiled back. Then he took out a book and tried to read. Since he couldn't focus, he thought about doing some writing. He'd begun a small journal, writing out poems and sometimes notes about how he was feeling. It wasn't something he'd ever been interested in doing, but it was surprisingly enjoyable, especially when he went back and read over what he'd written. Although Harry's marks in school were fairly good, he never saw himself as a good student. Somehow writing made him feel a little better about himself, and since he'd been feeling like rubbish for months, he planned to continue the journal since it brought him a touch of peace. 

A summons to the Headmaster’s office didn’t take Harry by surprise the next morning. He figured that eventually Dumbledore would want to talk to him about the drinking incident, and it wasn’t going to be pleasant. Harry wasn’t going to pretend that nothing was wrong, but he also wasn’t going to ask for the man’s help. He knew better than to put himself in the position of asking for help from an adult. Not one adult had ever followed through for Harry.

Professor Dumbledore motioned for Harry to have a seat in his office, and then sat behind his own large desk.

“Hello, Harry,” Dumbledore said, pushing a bowl of sweets forward, his eyes searching Harry’s face for answers. “Please, tell me what happened the other evening when Professor Snape found you intoxicated.”

“Well, sir, I was drunk,” Harry answered. He made no move toward the candy. Instead, he shrugged, a gesture which was quickly become his signature move. “Firewhiskey will do that.”

“Did something happen over the summer, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“Sir?” Harry was confused. “I was at the Dursleys' house and then with the Weasleys. I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Well, Harry, sometimes when a person feels a need to drink, or find some other way to alter reality, it is because they’re in pain. You didn’t appear to be in emotional upheaval when you left Hogwarts for the summer holiday, but perhaps I am incorrect in that assumption,” said the Headmaster.

Harry leaned back in his chair and gave this some thought. The Headmaster appeared willing to give him a few moments of contemplation. The first thoughts to run through Harry’s mind were based in anger – was it a secret that his Muggle family was neglectful and cruel? Did Dumbledore think that it had somehow been a better summer because he’d turned twelve? Should he be celebrating his move from the cupboard to Dudley’s second bedroom? Dumbledore knew that Harry had been freed from captivity due to a rescue mission involving the Weasley twins and Ron showing up in Surrey with a flying car. Harry had been writing about those experiences in his journal and knew he was upset on more than one level just from that alone.

As for when he left Hogwarts at the end of the spring term, how could Dumbledore have adequately judged his emotional state? This is something else Harry had written about in his journal. He was nearly killed, along with his two best friends. After a childhood where he was treated like an outcast, as though he were subhuman, he was suddenly involved in the rescue of the Sorcerer’s Stone, from a professor taken over by fucking Voldemort, the mass murder responsible for the death of his parents. So, yes, Harry did think it was a little presumptuous for Dumbledore to assume it was all peaches and cream for Harry leaving off for the Dursley home directly after the most terrifying and dangerous experience of his life.

“Harry?” Dumbledore’s expression was full of concern.

“Sir, I have no idea how I can talk to you about this right now, truly I don’t,” Harry said, impassively. “If I even begin to address it I fear I’ll need to smash everything in your office. I might need to even strike you, sir, and that doesn’t seem like it will solve anything.”

Dumbledore took a long, slow breath. “Harry, we will need to talk about this, we must not pretend that there is no issue.”

“No offense, Professor, but why bother?” Harry asked, his voice rising in anger. “I think I’ll just take my chances and deal with it myself. Thanks for your concern, though.”

“I cannot allow you to continue breaking the rules, Harry. Please remember that there will always be consequences for your actions,” said the Headmaster.

“Oh, I know all about consequences, yeah?” he spat in anger. “I hate my life! I hate everything about it, and don’t pretend like you care, or that you’ll help, because you won’t. No, I’ve heard people make promises to me before and it’s always complete bollocks! The social workers in my old primary school? We’ll help, Harry, we’ll see if we can get you new clothes, or enough food, but NO! Nothing ever changed. I’m here and it’s the same.” Harry stood up and turned to leave.

“Please, Harry.” Dumbledore stood and reached out for Harry to look him in the eyes, but Harry refused, shaking his head violently. Harry left the office as quickly as possible and ran down the hallway.

Harry slipped into an empty classroom and slid down to the floor with his back against the wall. He placed his head in his hands and tried to calm himself. It seemed like he should be crying, but he wasn’t. He was even more confused than before he’d seen Dumbledore. Instead of simmering in anger, or punching a wall, he took out his journal in a hasty attempt to piece his feelings together. He began taking notes.

Dumbledore – did something happen over the summer? Why escape from my feelings?

It’s so obvious. Is he completely daft? Locked in a bedroom? No access to my friends? Treated like a house elf? Rescued by a flying car?

Last term? Is Dumbledore mad? I was nearly killed! Nearly got Ron and Hermione killed!

What is it like to be a regular person? What is it like to have a parent?

I will eventually come of age with no real parent or family member. I have no one who will always be there for me. No one. And you ask what’s wrong? Piss off!

Harry put down the journal and wrapped his arms around his knees with his back against the wall. He would stay curled this way until it was time for dinner.

Dumbledore had asked to see Professor Snape in his office after the meeting with Harry, because things were dire, much more so than he’d originally thought.

“Severus, I must ask for a favor, and I fear you will not be able to look past your history with James Potter,” said Dumbledore. “But I will ask anyway. I need you to speak to Harry Potter, to understand what is happening with him emotionally. He is in a dark place -”

Snape cut him off. “Yes, who better to assist Potter than someone else who is familiar with being in dark places? I am not going to hold Potter’s hand and allow him to cry on my shoulder for you!”

Dumbledore tightened his facial muscles and his eyes grew darker. “He will not speak to me about the pain he is experiencing, but he might speak to you.”

“Are you mad, Albus?” Snape nearly laughed. “The boy hates me, and I can’t stand him, either. He’s an insolent, arrogant little idiot, who has decided to buck authority and drink in order to solve his problems. I won’t be a part of this plan of yours.”

“Severus, you have the opportunity to see him every evening in detention. Surely you can see your way to speaking with him in a civilized manner,” said Dumbledore.

“Sadly, I was planning to start sending him to Filch for detention after tonight, because I have better things to do than spend each evening with Potter.” Severus had never meant to suffer through Potter’s detentions alone.

“Please, I am asking you for a personal favor,” Dumbledore said slowly.

“I will spend this evening with the boy in detention and make a decision concerning his future detentions by the morning,” said Severus. He stood, bowed slightly to the Headmaster, and stalked off to the dungeons. He’d be damned if he was going to play therapist to Potter.

Since he wasn’t spending as much time around his friends, Harry often walked the halls alone between classes. He wasn’t concentrating well or paying attention, and was caught off guard when Draco Malfoy ran into him, literally, with Crabbe and Goyle at his side.

“Watch it, Potter,” Malfoy spat. He gave Harry a shove and moved to walk past him.     

“Piss off, Malfoy,” Harry said with eyes full of anger. “Don’t touch me.”

“Or what?” Malfoy sneered at him. “You have no friends, Potter. You think you can take me on by yourself? Not bloody likely, runt.”

Harry gave Malfoy a shove into the wall and kept advancing on him. Goyle grabbed Harry by the elbow and Harry swung around and punched him in the face.

“I’m not afraid of any of you!” He screamed.

“Harry Potter!” Professor McGonagall was suddenly pulling Harry and Goyle apart. “What do you think you’re doing? Follow me, all four of you!”

The four boys walked with Professor McGonagall into her office, where she proceeded to lay into them. She assigned detentions to Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle for their part and then dismissed them to speak with Harry alone.

“I realize you’re having problems, Mr. Potter, but that does not excuse your behavior. You can’t keep this up and you definitely cannot strike another student. I’m not sure what to do with you at this point. I think it’s best to discuss this with the Headmaster.”

“Why, Professor? Can’t you just take points, or give me detention?” Harry didn’t think that there was much reason to go to Dumbledore. He already knew that Harry was a nutter.

“I loathe taking points from my own House, but yes, ten points from Gryffindor for fighting does seem appropriate. I will hold back on assigning detention since you already have three weeks of detention with Professor Snape. Professor Dumbledore will hear about this incident, you can count on that.” She looked angry and disappointed.

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” he said.

“You may go,” said McGonagall. “Please try to behave for the rest of the day, Mr. Potter.”

Harry nodded. “I will, Professor.”

***

Harry sat with Ron and Hermione at dinner, and things were awkward at first, but improved as the meal went on. He didn’t want to lose his friends completely, he just wanted space. They seemed to understand where he was coming from, finally, and he was hopeful that things might work out. He wasn’t ready to talk to them about the things he was learning about himself from the journal, but he also didn’t feel quite as angry with them anymore. He no longer felt like pushing his luck with Snape tonight, especially after the fighting incident earlier that day. Dreading his detention, Harry could hardly bring himself to walk down to the dungeons that evening. He ended up being nearly five minutes late, which was completely unacceptable to Snape.

“I see that you have finally decided to show up, Potter,” he snapped. He couldn’t imagine how he and Potter would ever be able to connect and talk about anything in a civil manner. However, as a head of house, he had extensive experience dealing with troubled children.

“Sorry, sir,” Harry said, placing his school bag on a table.

Severus was surprised to hear an apology from Potter, especially with “sir” added to it. Harry had been so cheeky lately, causing trouble seemingly for fun, that he was caught off guard by the boy’s words.

“Sit, Potter.” Harry complied and took a seat at the table and Severus looked at him, thoughtfully. “I heard about your incident with Mr. Malfoy and his friends. Striking Mr. Goyle was ill-advised. You’re quite fortunate that Professor McGonagall was able to prevent him from thrashing you.”

“I can hold my own, sir,” Harry replied evenly. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to defend myself from bullies.”

Standing in front of Harry, Severus cocked his head. “Do you fight often when you’re at home with your relatives?”

Why was Snape talking to him like he cared? He shook his head. “No sir, not often.”

Waving his wand toward the corner, Severus conjured a bucket of soapy water and a brush. “This evening you will scrub the floor of this classroom on your hands and knees. Ensure you are thorough, as you will repeat the job if necessary.”

Harry stood heavily and trudged over to the corner to scrub. He started scraping the brush back and forth, and waited for Snape to walk away. Snape was watching him work, and it felt like his eyes were burning into Harry. A sudden wave of anger washed over him and he threw the brush against the wall with all his might.

“What?” Harry snarled at Snape. “Why are you watching me?”

Severus narrowed his eyes at Harry and spoke in a smooth, slow tone. “If you ever throw anything in my classroom, or speak to me in that tone again, you will be a very sorry young man, Potter. Pick up that brush and get back to work. You will have no more chances.”

Harry took a deep breath and stared at the floor. He wasn’t sure he could stay in the room with Snape. He felt like he was going to explode. In fact, the feeling was so overpowering that he balled up his fist and punched the stone floor, twice. A sharp pain shot through his hand and he clenched his teeth.

“Potter! Get yourself under control, now.” Severus was concerned, but gave no visible reaction. Only a few students had ever behaved like this in front of him. It simply didn’t happen, and the fact that Potter was this angry led him to believe that Dumbledore was correct. The boy truly was losing control, and pain was causing this behavior.

Harry’s breathing was rough, and he had braced himself for Snape to go off on him, but it hadn’t happened. Slowly, he got up, walked over to the brush and picked it up. He returned to the spot he’d been cleaning and started again. Relief washed over him as Snape turned and walked over to his desk. As he scrubbed the floor he concentrated on the back and forth motion of the brush and began to calm down. In fact, the work was hypnotic, and Harry found himself lost in thought. Why was Snape giving him a break? He’d yelled at the man and thrown a scrub brush at the wall!

Sitting at his desk, Severus watched Harry get control over his emotions and calm down. It was good to see that the boy was able to do so, as it showed he had some level of awareness that he needed to regain his composure. Severus decided he would make an attempt to help Potter, even though it would no doubt be irritating and time-consuming. At twelve, Potter was young for this type of behavior, especially his angry outbursts. He’d always assumed Potter had enjoyed a good life with his family, as well as at Hogwarts, but something in the way the boy currently carried himself was alarming. Severus had been able to keep his own troubled emotions in check at age twelve, but Potter was a different type of child, hotheaded and foolish. This lack of emotional regulation might actually make it easier to get the boy talking, and the sooner this task was handled, the better. 

Curled up in bed, Harry flipped through his journal, reading what he'd written over the past few weeks. He could see progress in his writing from when he'd started, and it seemed to be making a difference in his essays for class. He wished he had a regular muggle-style pen instead of a quill for writing in his journal because it would be much easier for him. He was so surprised about the way detention had gone the night before that he'd written down the whole incident in detail. Snape had been kind to Harry in a way he'd never experienced from the man. He had a funny feeling in his stomach knowing he'd be there with him again that evening, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was odd, and he had no idea what it meant. He'd never had a feeling like that, and no one could ever know because it was unthinkable to want to be in the same room as Snape.

When Ron questioned him about how detention had gone, Harry told him it was rough. Ron started criticizing Snape, calling him a greasy git and a bastard, and for a moment Harry felt like defending the man. It was all so shocking; it was like his world had been turned upside down. But then he'd been feeling that way since the end of last term. He was a completely different person, one who'd been taking refuge in dark feelings and anger. His poetry was rudimentary but it helped him get his feelings out. Often he wrote about hurting himself, and sometimes other people. He worried that Ron might try to read his journal if he left it out, so he kept it with him most of the time or hid it in his trunk under all of his belongings.

"There's a Quidditch match this weekend, Harry," Ron said. "Do you think you might come with us to watch?"

"I might," he answered. "I'll see how I feel on Saturday morning. I've been a bit worn out, and it would be a good chance to have a lie-in. But I'd like to root against Slytherin, that's for sure."

Ron grinned, feeling good that his friend seemed less angry and friendlier. "It's nearly time for dinner," he said. "Do you want to head down to the Great Hall? Hermione's at the library and can meet us down there."

"You know, I'm going to run to the library before dinner," Harry said. "You just reminded me that there's a book I'd like to look for. I'll meet you guys at dinner."

"Okay, mate," Ron snickered. "The library? You've never been one to read for the hell of it. But I'll see you in a bit."

Harry rushed down to the library, and was glad Ron had reminded him it was something he'd wanted to do. He was hoping to find a book on psychology, because it might help him figure out why his moods were so off. He was fairly sure there weren't going to be any Muggle books on the subject, but surely there were wizard psychologists. After all, everyone has problems at times.

Right before time was about to run out and he'd have to leave for dinner he ran into the small section of books about psychology. He quickly looked over the titles and picked out a beginner's book on the topic. The Wizard's Introduction to Psychology sounded perfect. He grabbed it and checked it out of the library. Running down to the Great Hall for dinner he felt pleased with himself for taking the initiative to find such a book. Ron was right, it was a bit out of character for Harry to search out a book to read that wasn't required, but there weren't any people at the school who were experts on it, and he probably wouldn't talk to them about his problems anyway. If he could just fix this on his own everyone might stop looking at him like he was mad.

"Did you find what you were looking for in the library, Harry?" Hermione inquired at dinner. Harry had known she'd be interested in him going to the library.

"Yeah, I did," he answered. Since he didn't want to talk about it he took this opportunity to leave and head for the potions classroom for detention. Today he was five minutes early instead of late, and he waited to enter until it was time. Snape looked up at him and gestured for him to sit at a table in the front of the room. Harry set his bag down and took a seat. He felt glad to be there, and was so surprised and dismayed at the feeling that he frowned.

"Problem, Potter?" Severus asked.

"No, sir," answered Harry.

Severus took a good look at Harry and wondered about the boy's look of dismay. Had something happened or was he disgusted at the idea of being in the same room with him? It wasn't going to be easy to get Harry talking.

"Mr. Potter, tonight you will scrub down these tables and chairs. Use the bucket and brush next to the table where you're sitting," said Severus as he walked over to his desk and sat down with a pile of essays to grade.

Harry picked up the brush and dipped it into the soapy water. He began scrubbing the first table and his thoughts were racing. Later he'd be able to have a look at the psychology book, once everyone else was asleep. Part of him wanted to say something to Snape, but he was afraid. What would he possibly say? If Snape said something cruel it would be too much to handle. But there was no one else to approach. While he couldn't put his finger on why, he had a feeling that Snape would know how he was feeling, and there was no other person around him that might understand. Harry was either feeling so angry he might burst or so sad he wanted to walk away from his life and disappear. This couldn't wait forever, and if he didn't take some sort of action, something bad might happen. Thoughts sometimes came into his head that he knew were plain crazy, like wanting to smash his head against the wall. He didn't do it, but the urge was there, and it was getting harder to stop it from happening.

"Sir?" Harry stood up straight and looked at Snape.

"Yes, Potter?" Severus responded.

"Um, I don't know," Harry backed off. He was losing his nerve. "Never mind." He bent back over and scrubbed the chair he was working on.

"Ask your question." Was it possible that Potter wanted to discuss his problems? Could it be this simple?

"I don't really know how, sir," replied Harry. His stomach had that odd feeling again. Part of him knew the right thing was to spill his guts, but most of him was terrified.

"You don't know how to ask a question? Just spit it out, Potter." Severus cringed internally, knowing that it wouldn't take much to alienate the boy and prevent any progress from being made. His tone couldn't be too harsh. "It's no secret that you're having problems. Is that what you wish to discuss?"

"Yes," Harry answered in nearly a whisper. He looked down at his hands and felt his face redden. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Severus sat back in his chair, stunned that Potter wanted to talk to him. Why him? Why not someone who'd be sappy and understanding? Like Dumbledore. The idea of Potter discussing problems with his evil Potions Master was inexplicable.

"Sit down," he said to Harry, taking a quick breath.

Harry sat down in a chair and fixed his eyes on a crack in the table. He regretted his actions already; he wasn't prepared for this conversation.

"What do you think is wrong, Potter?" asked Severus.

Harry wanted to have a look at the psychology book. He should have done that first.

"Sir, is it okay if we talk about this tomorrow instead?" Harry felt desperate. He couldn't talk right now, it wasn't okay.

Snape looked at Harry and noted the boy's breathing had quickened and he had a panicked expression. He wanted to force him to talk, but that wasn't the right move. Waiting until tomorrow night would be acceptable since it had taken quite a bit of courage for the boy to even try to have this exchange.

"We will discuss this tomorrow evening," Severus answered. "I expect you to be prepared for a full conversation. In the meantime, you may return to cleaning the tables and chairs."

Flooded with relief, Harry nodded and stood up, getting back to work. He'd rushed into this tonight and didn't know how to explain what was happening. He'd be ready tomorrow. Writing in his journal would help him piece together what he needed to say to Snape. He felt both terrified and comforted by the plan to talk tomorrow night. 

Harry sat in the common room long after most other students had gone to bed. He had his Charms book open, but the psychology book was stuck inside of it so that no one could see what he was actually reading. So far the book was frustrating him, because there was a ridiculous amount of history detailed in the first couple chapters. The book discussed the development of psychology in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds, and while it was fairly interesting, it wasn’t what he needed to know. He jumped ahead until he found the sections on personality, abnormal psychology, and treatment.

So far it looked like there were tons of things wrong with him. His personality had changed dramatically over the past several months. He’d gone from a boy who tried hard not to rock the boat, to please people, and also to pretend like everything was fine even when it wasn’t, to his current personality where he didn’t give a shite what anyone else thought. In this respect, he considered how his life had been with the Dursleys. As he read through the book, he made notes in his journal.

Dursleys. They didn’t like me, kept me in the cupboard until this past summer. Didn’t feed me. Cruel. Mean. Was there ever a time when they were nice to me? Why do they hate me so much? What did I ever do to them???

He found the chapter on attachment very interesting, because he’d gone to live with people that couldn’t stand him when he was just over a year old. He assumed that things had been great with his mum and dad, but his attachment probably went all to hell when he moved in with the Durlseys. The theory part of the chapter was complex, and Harry decided he’d go back to that issue another time. He knew there was something to it, because he was afraid to get close to people. He’d gotten close to Ron, and then Hermione, very quickly, but that was unusual. During the summer, while isolated on Privet Drive, he’d felt stupid and naïve for letting himself care about them so much. Surely that would lead to him getting hurt.

When you let people get close, you get hurt. If you keep people away, it’s safer.

This is part of what had led him to believe Snape was someone he could talk to, because he didn’t have to worry about letting him get close. It would never happen. Harry couldn’t be certain, but he’d bet his last galleon that Snape had no real friends or family. The sentimental people around Harry, like Dumbledore, McGonagall, or even his friends, wouldn’t understand the need to protect themselves from being hurt.

Am I hurt? Why don’t I ever cry?

When he found the section on trauma he scanned it quickly and was taken aback. He knew nothing about trauma. It never, ever occurred to him that things had happened that might cause him emotional pain. But here it was, in black and white. The death of his parents, living with people who treated him like shite, the incident last year with the Sorcerer’s Stone – and those weren’t nearly all of the traumatic events he’d experienced. According to the book, a person could experience trauma in many ways, and sometimes the effects of trauma didn’t show up until later. Harry struggled with what he was reading and feeling, but he needed to know about these things in order to understand.

The book says I need to feel “safe.” Safe with people? What does it mean to be safe?

Harry stuck the books in his bag and rested his head on the back of the chair. It all seemed too much. He had no idea where to start, because it was overwhelming. And tomorrow he’d be in detention with Snape expecting him to talk, but where to start? He had no clue. In some ways, the psychology book had made things way more complicated than they’d been before.

What do I say tomorrow? How do you tell someone that you’re a nutter?

***

Harry started the day feeling angry and defensive, and his dorm mates took the brunt of it in the early morning. Following a curt discussion with Ron about leaving Harry to get to breakfast on his own, Seamus called him over.

“Have you had anything to drink lately, Harry?” he asked. “A spot of whiskey might make you feel a little better.”

“I can’t keep drinking,” Harry said. But he was torn. He didn’t need to get drunk, and it did make him feel better. “I guess I might like some later, if you’re going to have it.”

“You’re way less of an arsehole when you’ve had a drink,” said Seamus, laughing. “We’ll have it around tonight and you’re welcome to join us.”

“Thanks,” Harry muttered, and walked away. Less of an arsehole? Maybe it was true. He hated to think about the way people saw him and felt about him lately. He’d never meant to drive everyone away. He hadn’t meant to do anything but live his own life.

***

Severus considered how best to handle the detention with Harry that evening. It wasn’t going to be a real detention at all because he wasn’t going to assign any punishment. He’d allow the boy the time and space he needed to talk. During dinner, he seethed inside, thinking that his colleagues wouldn’t believe him capable of being able to have a decent conversation with Potter, let alone help him. They were quick to assume the boy’s relationship and resemblance to James Potter would get in the way, but Severus wasn’t a teenager any longer. One shouldn’t revisit the sins of the father on the child, and while he’d done that until this past month, he was aware enough to change gears and do what was necessary.

Potter hadn’t been as emotionally erratic over the past few days, and he was less explosive and inappropriate in class. He wasn’t sure if Potter had talked to Granger and Weasley about the situation, because while they seemed amiable, they didn’t have the closeness they’d previously shared. Severus knew that he was more interested in what was going on with Potter than he’d ever admit to anyone. Especially Dumbledore. The old man had never before asked him to deal with a student in this way before, and it irritated him that Potter’s own head of house wasn’t handling the matter. In his opinion, it spoke volumes that he’d been asked to reach out to the boy instead of another member of the faculty.

As soon as he finished eating he headed to the dungeons. He went into the Potions classroom to wait for Potter, and found himself too distracted by the upcoming discussion to focus on his work.

***

Harry’s heart was in his throat as he walked down to the dungeons. He felt more prepared to discuss things, but still hadn’t thought of how he would start it off. Maybe Snape would ask him questions to make it easier. But he wasn’t sure he’d been clear about what he needed to talk about, either.

Inside the Potions classroom, Snape stood and directed Harry to follow him into his office. Harry settled in a seat across from the man’s desk and was dumbfounded when Snape sat in a chair next to him rather than at the desk. He felt like backing up just to get some more distance between them, but reconsidered because it might be perceived as rude. And they weren’t so close together that it was uncomfortable. It was just surprising.

Looking intently at the ground, Harry took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. He was nearly shaking with anxiety, as though he were about to be expelled rather than have a simple talk.

“Potter…” Severus struggled to find the right words. “Why don’t you give me an idea of what you wanted to discuss with me last night.”

“Well, um, I think there’s something wrong with me,” Harry spoke rapidly; acutely aware of how nervous he sounded. “I think I’ve gone mad.”

“What, specifically, is causing you to believe this?” he asked, enunciating each word clearly.

Harry’s heart was beating so fast it might explode. “I can’t control myself anymore. I’m too angry.”

Severus waited a moment to proceed, as he pondered what Potter had just stated. Yes, he understood what it was like to be so angry it was unbearable. Before he could respond, Potter kept talking.

“I’m tired of everyone treating me like I’m special or something. It’s not true. I’m not special at all.” Harry’s throat was choking up again.

“What brought you to speak to me about this?” Severus had never considered that the boy might not want special treatment. He’d simply assumed Potter was arrogant and insolent.

“You’re the only one who knows I’m not special,” Harry said, still staring intently at the floor. “The only person who treats me like the loser that I am. And I appreciate that, sir, because it’s the truth. No one else would understand. They’d try to convince me it isn’t true, I’m sure of it.”

Severus was also certain that no one would confirm Potter’s feelings of worthlessness. He wasn’t going to validate it, either, but he agreed Potter shouldn’t be treated with special privilege. He hated to admit it, but he was so shocked by what he was hearing he hardly knew where to go next.

“How long have you been feeling this way, Potter?” He was curious as to when the boy had begun to feel angry and worthless.

“I realized it when I went back to live with my relatives over the summer,” Harry said, softly. “I…I wanted to hurt them. To cause them pain. I’ve never been that angry, but the feeling suits me. I should’ve been this way a long time ago.”

“Did you do anything to hurt them?” Severus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Dumbledore’s Golden Boy having the desire to hurt people and cause pain? It would be so rich to report this to Albus, although he had no plans to talk with him about Potter.

“I just stayed to myself,” Harry said, picking at a spot on the arm of the chair. “But the feeling didn’t go away when I came back to Hogwarts. I’m still angry, and I don’t understand why.”

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“I’m a nutter,” Harry said, in a whisper. “I’m not okay.”

“Potter, I do not believe that you’re a “loser” as you’ve put it,” said Severus. “Stop staring at the floor and look at me.”

Harry’s stomach felt like it did a flip as he looked up into his Potion Master’s face.

“We will continue to talk about this. It’s not madness that’s causing you to feel this way, I’m sure of it.” Severus noticed Harry visibly relaxing. “In the meantime, you may come to me if you feel overwhelmed by anger. You will not continue on the path of destruction I’ve witnessed since your return to school.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. “Thank you, Professor.”

Severus gave Harry a sharp nod, “You’re welcome, Potter. I will see you tomorrow evening. Meet me here in my office rather than the classroom.”

Harry stood and left. He felt buoyant as he headed toward Gryffindor Tower. Maybe things would get better, although it hardly seemed possible. Snape had been very understanding and compassionate. Once he was upstairs he’d take out his journal and write about what had just happened, if only to document Snape’s moment of kindness. There was also more to read in the psychology book. He planned to return it soon and take out another book that was more advanced. 

Harry couldn't believe Snape had let him leave detention so early. He ran into the dorm and found Seamus and Dean drinking Firewhiskey.

"Fancy yourself a drink, Harry?" Dean asked.

Harry really did want a drink. He felt drained emotionally and knew it would make him feel warm and pleasant inside. He nodded and took the bottle from Dean. He took a good swig and handed it back.

"You're downing it like a pro, Harry," said Seamus, grinning.

Harry shook his head. "Just one more drink tonight and that's it. I can't get pissed."

"The more often you drink the more it'll take to get drunk. Keep drinking, mate!" Dean said, laughing.

"Thanks, guys, but that's it for tonight." Harry walked over to his bed and rummaged around in his school bag. He wanted a chance to read the psychology book. It might even help to read it after a couple drinks; make it easier to accept that he was mad.

In the common room, the only empty seat was next to Hermione, who was busy reading a book about famous animagi. Harry sat down and pulled out his Charms book as a cover. He opened it and took out the psychology book to quickly set it inside, but in his haste, it dropped loudly to the floor. Hermione glanced down and saw the title before he could recover the book.

"Psychology?" she asked.

"It's nothing," said Harry, his face reddening. "I've always been interested in psychology."

"You've never mentioned it before," said Hermione. "Is it something you started learning about over the summer?"

"You might say that," he answered. He picked it up and opened to the section on abnormal psychology and illnesses. Harry could feel Hermione staring at him. His jaw clenched as he waited for her to say something else.

"Harry, are you reading that book because of your own issues?" she asked, gently.

He hardly knew how to react to that question. Part of him wanted to throw the book in anger, and part wanted to tell her about what he'd learned. He was torn, but decided to try and get her off his back for tonight.

"Look, I'd rather not talk about it, okay?" he said, hoping his tone would convey a lack of interest in talking.

"Okay, but if you'd like to discuss it, that would be great. I love psychology," she said earnestly. "I find it very fascinating, and always enjoyed reading Muggle books on the subject before coming to Hogwarts. It would be interesting to learn about the way psychology is treated in the wizarding world."

"I'll let you know," he answered.

Harry looked back down and started skimming through the chapter. He was stuck on the symptoms of depression. Anger. Feelings of worthlessness. Withdrawal from friends and family. Hopelessness. Sadness. He took a deep breath. This is what was wrong. Depression. He shut the book because he'd seen enough. He'd gotten back from speaking to Snape so early it wasn't even close to curfew yet. He packed up his things and quickly headed to the portrait hole before anyone could stop him to talk. Practically running to the library, Harry kept his head down. His heart was racing and he needed something, but what? Part of him was tempted to see if Snape was still in office to talk about what he'd learned. He shook his head at the thought of volunteering to go to the dungeons to talk to Snape. Harry had changed; he hardly knew who he was anymore.

Setting the psychology book down in the return area, he turned and wondered if he should take out another book. First he set his bag down and considered writing in his journal for a few minutes. He was disappointed to notice that the good feeling from the Firewhiskey had left him, and he was dead sober. Writing seemed like a good idea, and he sat and took out his journal and quill.

There's no doubt that I really am a nutter. The book listed all the things that are wrong with me, and it's depression. I don't know whether I should feel relieved or not. Tonight I talked to Snape and actually told him there's something wrong with me. He already knew there is. It wasn't a surprise. I'm to talk to him again tomorrow night, and I might as well tell him that the problem is depression. That I have all the symptoms. Maybe there's a potion that can make me better?

Before leaving, Harry looked over the psychology books and chose the one that seemed best suited to his needs, Dealing with Depression. The book had a special section on teens, and while Harry wasn't a teenager yet, he was close enough. He felt older than his twelve years, as though he'd been through more than the average kid his age. How many of them had faced death on more than one occasion? Pleased with himself for finding another resource, Harry headed back toward the Tower. He'd have time to work on an essay for Transfiguration and still be able to read through the new book.

 When Harry got back to the dorm, Neville was in his bed studying. Harry flopped onto his own bed and sighed.

"Hey, Neville," he said. "How are classes?"

"Okay," Neville answered, shrugging. "Potions is rubbish, but my other classes aren't so bad. How are you doing? You seem to be in a better mood the past couple days."

"Yeah, I am feeling a bit better," said Harry. "Sorry that I've been such a prat. I really didn't mean to be."

"It's okay, Harry," Neville replied. "We all have tough times."

Harry nodded in agreement. He wondered if Neville felt depressed sometimes, he always seemed so serious. In fact, he began to wonder about many of his classmates and things they might be dealing with. Maybe Harry wasn't the only one, and the thought made him feel better. He hated feeling like no one else could possibly understand what he was going through, but that was slowly changing. He was looking forward to his talk with Snape tomorrow night.

***

"Have you thought about what we discussed last night, Potter?" Severus asked. His chair was pulled next to Harry's the way it had been the night before. "Any strong feelings of anger today?"

"No, sir, I haven't felt very angry today, and I didn't last night, either," replied Harry. He didn't know where to look, or what to do with his hands. He cracked his knuckles and the sound seemed to echo through the room. "I want you to know...I've been trying to figure out what's wrong with me, and I think I have an idea of what it is."

"Oh?" Severus was pleased to hear that Potter had been giving this a decent amount of thought. "What have you discovered?"

"Well, you see, back at the beginning of term I started to write, because I was so angry all the time. And I did some drawing, but I'm pants at it, so I just doodle. Anyway, like I said last night the anger made me want to hurt someone, or me, and I wrote poems instead. Poems about hurting people. And, well, suicide. But I started writing other things, too, about what I was thinking. So it turned into a journal. I've been writing in it every day, and it's helped. The writing helped me figure out that I should look into psychology to see what happened to make me a nutter." The words were flying out of Harry's mouth. He'd gone from struggling to speak, to being unable to shut up.

While it was annoying, Severus felt Potter's rambling might be a good sign. He seemed far more at ease tonight than he'd ever seen him, and it was clear the boy was sharing openly.

"You aren't a nutter, Potter, stop saying that," said Severus, although he certainly had no proof that Potter was sane. "Writing down your thoughts is very wise, and it's something you should keep doing. Tell me, have you thought about harming yourself? You didn't mention last night that you have been having thoughts of suicide."

"Yeah, I guess I didn't tell you that. But there's so much to tell, I hardly knew where to start." Harry couldn't believe how much he was revealing, and yet he kept going. He felt compelled to speak. "It wasn't so much that I was thinking about actually killing myself, it's more that I wish I were dead. I don't know that there's much point to me staying alive."

Severus kept his composure, but he was alarmed at what he was hearing. He had to stop himself from taking in a sharp breath. Could it be that he felt concerned about the boy? Instead of being irritated at having to spend his time in a mock therapy session, he was genuinely interested in why Potter was struggling so much.

"And why do you feel there's no point in being alive?" asked Severus.

Harry looked away from Snape and stared at the wall. He balled his right hand into a fist and clutched the arm of the chair with his left hand. Emotions were welling up inside of him and it was like a wave of pain. The source was unknown to him, and he struggled to articulate his feelings.

"I honestly don't know," Harry said. He couldn't pull his gaze away from the wall, and certainly couldn't bear to look at Snape. If he did look, or continue to talk about this, he might cry. The idea of crying, especially in front of Snape, nauseated him. Harry hadn't cried in a very long time, and he certainly didn't do it publicly. "Can we talk about something else, sir?"

Severus would normally never allow a student to avert their eyes from him like Potter was doing, because he considered it extremely disrespectful. Yet there was a part of him that was afraid to see the boy's face at the moment. It wouldn't do to have Potter start crying - Severus wasn't prepared for it, and Potter probably wasn't, either. He'd assumed that Potter was angry for a specific reason, one that could be identified, and yet there was clearly much more going on than anger alone.

"You said that writing led you to investigate psychology," said Severus. "How did you go about that? What have you learned?"

"Well, I took out a book about psychology from the library and read over it. There were some parts that kind of explained the way I've been feeling, and things I've been doing," explained Harry. "Last night I read about depression, and it was spot on. I'm almost positive that depression is what's happening to me."

"Tell me why it was ‘spot on,'" he asked. Yes, depression might make sense, and there must be more things Potter wasn't mentioning. He noticed the boy's right hand was still balled up in a fist. Somehow he had to help him relax.

"There was a whole list of things, symptoms, and I had a ton of them. Like anger, feeling worthless, hopeless, um...withdrawing from people, and there's more." Harry felt like an idiot for not remembering more of the symptoms. "Wanting to die....there are more."

Severus flashed back to several incidents he'd witnessed during the term that were indicative of depression. The inappropriate laughter in class, angry outbursts, physical altercations, getting dead drunk and passing out in a hallway - these behaviors could all be explained by depression. He wondered if the boy was still indulging in alcohol. Just because he hadn't been caught didn't mean it wasn't happening.

"Potter, have you continued drinking alcohol since the incident in the hallway?" Severus asked. He could tell immediately by the boy's body language that he had continued drinking. "Do not lie to me."

"Sometimes," mumbled Harry. He put his head in his hands. "I'm sorry."

"Look at me," said Severus, slowly. Harry hesitated. "Now, Potter."

Harry looked at Snape's face quickly and then brought his eyes down and stared at the man's chest.

Severus spoke in an even tone, hoping to impress upon Harry the importance of his words. "It is crucial you realize that alcohol is not the answer, and that it will not make you feel better. When one feels there is no hope, or that they are alone, it is...tempting to escape through alcohol. However, this is unacceptable. Alcohol is a depressant and will only serve to worsen your mood. Not to mention that you are underage and a student at a school where possession and use of such a substance is forbidden."

"I...I didn't know that alcohol would make things worse." Harry had never heard of a depressant, but it made sense in a way. "Like you said, I just wanted to get away from everything. To escape my life."

"Let me be clear," said Severus. "It's obvious that someone in Gryffindor has been providing you with alcohol since you are not old enough to go to Hogsmeade. This cannot go on. I won't ask you to tell me which student is foolishly risking expulsion by bringing alcohol into the school, and giving it to other students, but I will be alerting your head of house to the fact that there is contraband in Gryffindor Tower. If she would like, I will personally help her conduct a search."

Harry blanched at the prospect of Seamus and Dean being caught. It would be all Harry's fault. "Sir, I'll never do it again, I swear."

"I hope that's true, but regardless, Professor McGonagall will be made aware of the situation." Severus wasn't trying to be menacing, but the boy was terrified at the idea of a fellow Gryffindor being caught and punished because of him. He needn't worry, because Severus had no intention of speaking to McGonagall before the morning. There was still time to warn his little friends.

"Sir, I'm really tired," Harry said. He was tired, and now he needed to rush to Seamus and Dean and warn them.

"We can continue tomorrow, but you will stay and complete your detention tonight. You will alphabetize the files on the front table in the Potions classroom. Tomorrow you may file them away after we have our talk," said Severus.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, standing up. "Thank you, sir. For talking to me."

"You are quite welcome, Potter."

Harry worked on the files in the Potions classroom and his heart was light. Even though he was afraid of his friends being caught with liquor, it had been a good evening. He had someone to talk to, an actual adult who took the time to sit and listen to Harry. It gave him that funny feeling in his stomach again, like it was doing a flip. He still didn't understand it, but he guessed it came from Snape's help. He had never, ever, imagined he'd have an adult in his life that cared and wanted to help. And he sure as hell never thought it would be Snape. It felt like everything in his life had tilted on its head.        

As soon as he'd reached the common room following detention, Harry rushed over to Seamus and Dean who were sitting with Fred and George, laughing. He knew the twins often joined in and drank Firewhiskey, as well. Everyone was going to be bloody angry when they found out that Harry had blown it by getting caught drunk. Because of him, there'd be a search for alcohol, and probably not just once. Harry was shocked that Snape had given him notice that he'd be telling McGonagall. He could have done it without saying anything to Harry, and his friends would have been caught for sure.

"Listen." Harry got their attention in a hushed and serious tone. "McGonagall knows that there's alcohol here in the Tower. She'll almost certainly do a search."

"What?" Seamus blew up. "Shite Harry, what the hell happened?"

Seamus and Dean both rushed up into the dormitory and Harry followed right behind. He watched as they rummaged through their belongings, removing so many bottles of Firewhiskey that Harry was stunned.

"I'm sorry..." Harry began an apology.

"Shut up, Potter!" said Seamus. "This is your bloody fault! Just leave us alone!"

"But she doesn't know it's you and Dean," Harry said, feeling guilty.

"Just go," said Dean. "We need to get rid of this before she shows up. Thanks for letting us know, Harry, but if you hadn't been caught by Snape this wouldn't be happening."

Harry turned and walked away from them. He felt like such an arsehole. But he also felt like it could've been much worse and they shouldn't be so angry with him. His mood plummeted and he went into the bathroom to be alone for a moment. Part of him wanted to grab one of those bottles of Firewhiskey and get pissed, and the rest of him wanted to fight Seamus and Dean. Splashing some water on his face he decided the best thing to do would be to get in his bed and do some writing.

It's funny how things can go to hell and be decent at the same time. One good thing is that I have a tiny bit of hope that life might get better. It's really up to me I think. And that means I might just bollocks it all up. But I don't feel like I need to die anymore, and it's a relief.

***

"Albus, I have no intention of betraying Potter's trust by telling you what we discuss." Severus said to Dumbledore. He'd been invited to tea in the Headmaster's office, knowing that he'd be grilled about the talks with Potter.

"Surely you can give me an idea of what's going on with the boy, Severus," replied Dumbledore.

"I think it's best if you trust me to handle it," said Severus. Secretly, he was delighted to have this advantage, a budding trust with Potter that Dumbledore had yet to achieve.

"I hope that if there is a serious issue or that harm may come to Harry, you will inform me." Dumbledore had no twinkle in his eyes. He was clearly disappointed to be left out of the loop.

"Don't worry, Albus," Severus said. "If there is something you need to know, I will not keep it from you."

Back in his office, Severus pondered the situation with Harry. He'd told Minerva about the alcohol problem with her house and she had immediately set off for Gryffindor Tower, no doubt to take them all to task. Her hands-off approach with the Gryffindors was the opposite from his own style. He preferred to be involved with his Slytherins' activities, and by being available to them and keeping them in check, there weren't many serious infractions.

Potter could not continue drinking alcohol. He hoped that the point had been made clear to the boy. Frankly, he was shocked by Potter's willingness to confide in him, as he'd expected angry defiance and deflection of the issues. Instead, they were making progress, and Severus felt obliged to investigate ways to help the boy deal with his depression. While he had a basic knowledge of psychological theories and disorders, someone with more experience and expertise should no doubt be consulted. It wouldn't be difficult to take a quick trip to St. Mungo's to meet with a healer about what to do next.

***

Harry was getting back on track with Ron and Hermione and didn't feel such a need to distance himself. But he still went off on his own at times to be alone. He'd never needed solitude the way he did now, and was grateful that they weren't giving him a hard time anymore. He decided to spend time after classes in the library, and sat on the floor in the area near the psychology books, which was quiet and out of the way.

Lost in thought, he barely noticed when a Ravenclaw first year walked up and stood next to him.

"Hello," Harry said.

"Hello, Harry Potter. I'm Luna Lovegood," she said, smiling.

"It's nice to meet you, Luna," he said, smiling back. "Would you like to sit down?"

"No, thank you." She had a faraway look on her face. Harry thought that Luna seemed content. She had a quality of calmness that he couldn't imagine possessing. "I just wanted to say hello. I'll let you go back to your psychology books."

As she walked away, Harry's jaw dropped. Had she been watching him? How did she know what he was reading? She seemed nice enough, but it was disconcerting to know she was paying such close attention to his habits. He shrugged to himself and kept reading. He'd have to go to dinner soon and then straight to detention, so he wanted to make the most of the time he had to himself.

***

Anger mounted in Harry throughout dinner that evening. Seamus and Dean were angry and kept talking loudly about what a wanker Harry was. He'd had enough of them by dessert. Ron grabbed his arm when he saw Harry about to blow it, and tried to calm him down.

"Take it easy, mate," said Ron. "Ignore them."

"I need them to shut the fuck up, Ron," Harry said, teeth clenched. "Or I'm going to beat the hell out of them."

Ron couldn't hide his look of shock. "Harry! You have detention with Snape in ten minutes. Ignore them, finish your tart, and walk away."

Harry took a couple deep breaths and realized that Ron was right. He had to walk away and go to his detention before he made a terrible decision. Plus, he could always punch them later on if they didn't quit it.

"You're a good friend, Ron," said Harry. "Thanks for getting me through this. I'm going to take off before things all go to hell."

Ron smiled and slapped Harry on the back. Harry gathered his things, ignored Seamus and Dean, and headed down to the dungeons.

***

Severus scowled a bit as he sat in the healer's office at St. Mungo's. He'd never gone to a healer for therapy, but he nearly chuckled to himself thinking of his own mental demons. The difference was that he'd been able to handle it without drawing attention to himself. Potter was running off the rails and it was obvious to nearly everyone around him since he wore his heart on his sleeve most of the time.

The healer was a fairly young woman, perhaps in her early thirties, with short dark hair and blue eyes. She took a seat at her desk and smiled.

"Professor Snape, it's good to see you," she said. "My name is Amanda Keller. I was a first year when you were a sixth year at Hogwarts, I believe. How can I help you today?"

"I have a student who is showing signs of depression and I thought it wise to consult you about his issues," Severus explained. "I'm unsure of how to proceed with the boy."

"Have you thought of having him speak with a therapist?" she asked. "An evaluation would help us determine how to treat him. I could make an appointment to see him at Hogwarts if that would be convenient."

"I'm very interested in hearing more about the treatment for depression, if that is truly his issue," said Severus, slowly. "As you know, discussing mental illness is discouraged in the wizarding world, and I don't have much knowledge beyond basic theories."

"Absolutely," said Dr. Keller. "Stigma concerning mental illness in our world is even more of a problem than it is in the Muggle world. How old is the child?"

"He's twelve," Snape answered. "As a Potions Master, I'm aware of the medicinal treatment options for adults, but I assume he is too young for such measures."

"Yes, if he needs treatment, therapy is a good option. I specialize in child psychology and normally would assess the child's needs and proceed accordingly. For example, an hour long therapy session once per week is somewhat standard. A more specific treatment plan would be conjecture at this point since I haven't met him." Dr. Keller seemed competent to Severus.

"I will speak to him about meeting with you when I see him this evening," said Severus. "I believe he'll be agreeable to talking with you. Would it be acceptable to contact you tomorrow to make an appointment?"

"That sounds perfect. I could meet with him in the evening any weeknight except Wednesdays," she said.

They agreed to speak the following night and Severus traveled by Floo back to Hogwarts in time for Potter's detention.

***

Harry trudged through the halls on his way to Snape's office. Spending so much time trying to figure out answers was wearing on him. He wasn't in the mood to talk tonight but he had no choice. He was feeling angry and tense. As he turned a corner and saw Draco Malfoy walking in his direction with Crabbe and Goyle, he prepared himself for a confrontation.

"What are you doing down here, Potter?" Malfoy asked. "Have another detention?"

"Sod off, Malfoy," he snarled.

The three Slytherin boys laughed. Malfoy walked up to Harry and shoved him. Harry had balanced himself and was able to push him right back. He dropped his school books and advanced on Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle sprang into action and grabbed Harry, throwing him against the stone wall. Harry lashed out wildly, swinging at Malfoy but not connecting. Malfoy threw a punch that landed squarely on Harry's jaw, snapping his head back. Pain coursed through Harry's face and he recovered from the blow. All four boys froze in place when they noticed Snape striding toward them, furious.

"Stop it!" Severus spat. He couldn't believe Potter was scuffling in the hallway like a common thug. Malfoy and his idiot friends should have known better than to start a fight here, around the corner from his office, as if they wouldn't be caught.

"Ten points from Slytherin and ten points from Gryffindor." He was furious with Malfoy, who was no doubt the instigator. "Detention for you three with Filch, tomorrow night. Potter, come with me."

He allowed Harry time to gather his belongings before grabbing him by the arm and practically dragging him into his office. Once inside, he thrust Harry toward a chair and stood over him.

"Explain yourself," demanded Severus. His voice hard and menacing. Harry was struggling to keep his rage in check.

"That arsehole started it!" Harry yelled. "He pushed me, and I was already too angry. I wanted to kill him!"

"Language, Potter," Severus warned. "You must learn to control yourself. Taking on three larger students in a fight is just stupid."

Harry couldn't calm down. The anger was too intense. His face hurt, and he put his hand up to gingerly touch his jaw. Snape pointed his wand at Harry and the pain diminished.

"Thank you, sir," he said, quietly.

Severus sat down in the chair beside Harry, as he had done during their other talks. The boy was clearly furious, and berating him would not help the situation, no matter how annoyed he was with Potter.

"Look at me," said Severus. Harry looked over and met his eyes. As usual, he was unable to hold eye contact, but kept facing him, which was good enough. "I spoke to a healer at St. Mungo's about your situation. She is willing to meet with you to evaluate your symptoms."

Harry was distressed. He didn't want to see a shrink. It was embarrassing, and he didn't know of any other kid who had to do it.

"Sir, I don't think I'm that bad," Harry said. "Can't we just talk? I think things are getting better."

"Are they?" Severus drawled. "Fighting in a blind rage certainly seems to be an improvement."

Harry winced. Why did that have to happen tonight? Why couldn't Malfoy just leave him alone?

"I don't want to do it," Harry said. He was certain what he wanted wouldn't matter to Snape.

"Yes, well, we all have to do things we don't want to do," said Severus. "But I'm surprised, Potter. With all your research and willingness to speak about depression, I felt certain you'd be willing to speak with the therapist."

Harry was silent. It had actually been nice of Snape to go to St. Mungo's and talk to someone about this situation. And it was true that Harry had been spending all of his free time attempting to understand his feelings. He looked at Snape and saw that the man was giving him time to make a decision. Resigned to his fate, Harry knew that there was only one correct answer.

"I'll talk to her," said Harry, reluctantly. "But not alone. I want you to be there, too."

Harry couldn't believe he'd just said that to Snape. Still, it was true. He was afraid to talk to the therapist alone.

Severus was astounded. The boy was full of surprises.

"If Dr. Keller agrees, I am willing to be there with you," he said. Potter wanted him to be in the therapy session. Would wonders never cease?

"Thank you, sir," said Harry. "When will we go to St. Mungo's?"

"I will make an appointment with her and she will come here to see you. It would make sense to have the initial meeting during this detention time. She may Floo here to my office for privacy." Severus was pleased that the boy wasn't going to fight this. "Have you continued to write in your journal?"

"Yes, sir," answered Harry. "I write in it a few times a day, at least."

"It might be helpful for you to write about a specific topic related to your mental health," said Severus. He'd been thinking about this earlier in the day. "I would like you to describe exactly what you're feeling when you get so angry that you need to fight."

"Okay," Harry said. "But, um, are you going to read my journal?"

"Not all of it, Potter. Only the entries that I request from you," Severus answered. As much as he'd love to get his hands on that journal, he would respect the boy's privacy.

Harry put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. He nearly flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Was Snape comforting him?

"Things will get better, Harry," Severus said after patting the boy's shoulder. "I'm certain of it."

Harry fought the tears that were filling his eyes. He blinked them back before they had a chance to run down his cheeks. How could his emotions betray him like this? He wouldn't cry. He felt pathetic to be so moved by Snape's gesture and words, and yet it had truly comforted him. He'd even called him ‘Harry' instead of ‘Potter.' But in time, Snape would remember that he was worthless and not deserving of any help. His emotions were tearing Harry apart, and he knew he could not lift his head until he had composed himself. It seemed to be taking forever. 

Harry sat cross-legged on his bed, the journal open in front of him. He was going to tackle Snape's first "assigned" entry. It was actually a relief to have a writing prompt, because it wouldn't be just random thoughts spilling from his mind like usual. Harry tapped the end of the quill against his left hand, waiting for inspiration to strike. He'd written the prompt at the top of a fresh page, in case Snape wanted to look at it. That way it wasn't mixed in with everything else he'd written in the journal.

Describe exactly what you're feeling when you get so angry you need to fight.

I think my anger is always here. Sometimes it's just below the surface waiting to break through into the moment. Because by the time I'm ready to fight, the anger is out of control. I go from the anger I squash down all day to anger that's in everyone's face. I guess the idea of this entry is to explain that point where I go into a rage. There's a line between just angry or upset, and hoping for violence. If I'm caught at a bad time, when I'm already close to the line, I get almost...blinded, or something like that. Sounds are distant and jumbled; my hearing is sharp, too intense really. At that point I get a bit frightened because I don't have much control over what I'm going to do next. What happens is that I want to kill the person who has made me this angry. I want them dead. That's the problem with the fights with Malfoy. Before the incident, or fight, I brace myself. I get ready to be hurt and to hurt back. But I want to hurt him beyond any silly hex. In fact, it's not magic I'm thinking of at all. I want to beat him with my fists, and maybe kick him with my feet. I want to beat him to death. I grew up in the muggle world, and I've seen muggle violence on the telly and in the streets. If I had a gun, I'd blast his head off. So that's how I feel. I'm afraid to keep writing about this. I could go on and on, but that seems like a bad idea. I think I've probably answered the question.

Harry looked over what he'd written and it genuinely surprised him. Those words had poured straight onto the page without hesitation. As soon as quill hit parchment, he knew exactly what to write. But Merlin! Who could read that and not think Harry was completely mad and dangerous? He took a deep breath and reminded himself that he'd only have to share this with Snape. And Snape was the one person in the world he could trust with this journal entry. In fact, after it had been discussed, he would destroy the evidence.

Harry turned back to the part of the journal where he made his own notes, because he had a sudden realization, and it was causing him distress.

Bloody hell. Not sure if I should write this down, because I don't ever want anyone to read it. I'm feeling attached to Snape. Like I need to see him and talk to him. It actually bothers me when I have to go too long without talking with him. And it feels odd, but at the same time there's this part of me that feels I deserve it. I'm torn up over it. I'm worthless, and yet somehow I think I deserve to have comfort. I've never had an adult care about me in ways that were real. I want an adult to care about me who will take the time to talk to me, to do what people do with their kids. To be there for me no matter what. He touched my shoulder, for just a second, to make me feel better, and my heart felt like it was floating in my chest. Because it meant that maybe (it's a long shot) he cares. That's what I want. If I had one fucking wish, it would be to have someone like a parent.

Harry's faced burned with embarrassment. Yet he felt freed by having those feelings transferred onto parchment. It was out there now - no longer just in his head. For years he'd longed to have an adult care about him, take care of him, and do the things a parent would do. He dreamed of it all the time. Harry closed the journal and quickly put it away. Continuing to think about the possibility of finding such an adult would bring him to tears, and he wasn't in the mood to cry.

***

Severus sat in the living room on his favourite chair with a cup of tea, thinking about the upcoming week. He had just returned from a meeting with the Headmaster concerning Potter's session with Dr. Keller. Severus was pleased that the old man wasn't going to meddle. If he hadn't needed consent for Potter to see a healer, he wouldn't have told Dumbledore about it at all. An appointment had been made with Dr. Keller tomorrow evening at 7 pm. She had agreed to allow Severus to sit in on the session at Potter's request, and he felt something pull at his heart when he thought of the boy wanting him there. He had not yet adjusted to this changing relationship with Potter, but it was somehow nice to be needed. Although he could barely admit it to himself, he was enjoying the time he spent with the boy. Most of the substantial interactions he had with students involved his Slytherins, and they had a decidedly different type of personality than Harry. There was nothing wrong with the cunning his students possessed, but Potter's openness was a refreshing change of pace.

Severus had noticed that Potter wasn't as distant from his fellow Gryffindors as he had been since the start of term. It was a good sign that the boy wasn't withdrawing as much from his friends. Not that Severus liked the little blighters, but support from his peers would be helpful for the boy. He would do whatever he could to help, not only because he wanted to do right by Lily's son, but also because he actually liked the boy.

***

Harry was nervous about the appointment with Dr. Keller that night, and whenever he thought about it, his heart raced. He was tempted to tell Ron and Hermione about it, but each time he had a chance, the words didn't come out. Only nutters had to go to therapy. From what he'd seen in the psychology books, it probably wouldn't be terrible, but it was embarrassing. Snape had instructed Harry to meet him in Dumbledore's office at 6:45 that evening, and that meant Dumbledore knew everything. Anger brewed in his stomach at the idea of the Headmaster being involved in this, and despite Snape's assurances that Dumbledore didn't know what they'd discussed, just knowing Harry would need to see the healer was bad enough.

He wondered why she was called a healer and a doctor. He didn't really know much about how the wizarding world worked when it came to shrinks. He knew there were psychologists and social workers in the muggle world. He'd seen them in his school, but didn't know what exactly they did. It was all a little confusing. Not quite as clear-cut as regular doctors or healers. Anxiety threatened to overtake him again as he thought of the possibility of having to discuss the Dursleys. Would she ask him about them? He couldn't talk about that or anything else that might cause him to become too emotional.

Walking to the Headmaster's office, Harry's dread was so intense he found himself taking deep breaths to try and calm down. He wanted to turn and run, to hide and not show up for the appointment. But doing that would be incredibly stupid, and as much as he didn't want to go, he also found he didn't want to anger Snape. Actually, he didn't want to disappoint the man, and so he made his way up to the office door and knocked.

Harry was relieved when it was Snape's voice telling him to enter and that Dumbledore wasn't in the room. It was a pleasant surprise. He dropped down into the chair next to Snape, aware of how heavy and burdened he felt.

"Nervous?" Severus asked. The boy looked like he was going to have a panic attack.

"Yes," Harry said. "I don't know if I can do this, sir."

"You can, Harry," said Severus, "and I'll be here with you. Dr. Keller said it was acceptable for me to be in the room if that's how you wish to proceed."

Harry was so relieved; he let out a deep breath. "Thank you."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Harry had his elbows on his knees and his head hung low, staring at the floor. Severus thought about reaching out and comforting the boy, but he didn't. He was nearly as uncomfortable as Harry, although he'd never allow his anxiety to show. It had clearly been a good decision for them to meet before Dr. Keller arrived in order to compose themselves.

"Do you know what she's going to ask, Professor?" Harry asked, still looking down.

"Sit up, Potter." Severus wasn't going to converse with someone who had their head hanging down toward the floor. Harry obliged and sat up. "Honestly, I don't know what to expect, although it is likely that she will want to hear you explain the symptoms you are experiencing."

Nodding, Harry started to pick at the arm of the chair. His heart was racing, and it felt like it would burst when Dr. Keller entered the room via the Floo Network. Snape stood to greet her, and Harry stood up as well. After a brief introduction, Dr. Keller summoned a chair and placed it so that she was facing Harry and Snape.

"Harry, Professor Snape said that you'd like him to be present for our meeting," Dr. Keller said. "Do you still wish for him to be here?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Please, ma'am, I'd like for him to stay."

Dr. Keller smiled. "No problem, Harry. It's nice to meet you, and please, relax. I can see that you're really nervous, but don't worry. I promise I'll make this as comfortable for you as possible."

Harry gave her a weak smile and nodded. Sure, he'd just relax. No problem.

"The first thing I'd like to tell you is that everything we discuss is confidential," she said, casting wards for privacy. "Professor Snape, it's just as important for you to keep what is said between us confidential as well, are you okay with that?"

"Yes, Doctor." Severus nodded. He looked at Harry. "I will not speak to anyone else about what is said here."

"Excellent," she said. "Harry, another thing I need to tell you is that while what you say is confidential, if I believe you are going to harm yourself or someone else, I would have to act on that knowledge. Do you understand?"

"What would you do?" Harry asked. This was alarming. He hadn't considered what might happen, but there were times when he thought of hurting himself. And other people.

"If you were set on killing yourself, for example, and you had a plan for how to do it, you might have to be hospitalized for your own safety. But know that there's a difference between thinking about death, and wishing you were dead, and being ready and willing to act on it," said Dr. Keller. "Likewise, there's a difference between wishing someone was dead and planning to kill them. While it isn't particularly healthy to wish a person would die, it's very different to make a plan to harm them on your own. Is that a bit clearer?"

"Yes." Harry nodded. It was clearer. "I don't want to kill myself or anyone else, ma'am."

"I'm glad to hear that, Harry," she said, making a note on her parchment.

She took a breath and continued. "This isn't a therapy session today; it's more structured because I need to get an idea of how you're doing before we make any decisions about treatment. The goal tonight is to talk about your history and assess your current symptoms. You no doubt realize that the story of your parents is widely known, and we don't have to go over that. But what I don't know is where you went to live following their deaths. Please tell me a little about where you grew up."

"Well, I was sent to live with my mum's sister. I lived in Surrey with my aunt, uncle, and cousin. They're Muggles," said Harry. He looked down at the floor. He didn't want to talk about them.

Dr. Keller could tell by Harry's body language that he was uncomfortable with the subject. However, she needed to know his history.

"What was that like for you, Harry?" she asked.

Severus was very interested in hearing more about Potter's family, but he could tell the boy was growing more upset by the second.

"I don't want to talk about it." Harry shook his head, clenching his fists. "I won't."

"That's fine," she said. Clearly this was a problem area, but there was no point in pressing the issue and upsetting Harry. "Don't feel pressured, Harry. We don't have to talk about it right now, okay?"

Harry was shocked. She wasn't going to make him? He'd been prepared to fight about it, and leave if he had to. He looked over at Snape. Harry's relief was palpable; the mood in the room lightened considerably.

"Why don't we talk about what's going on with you now?" Dr. Keller asked. "Professor Snape told me that you're experiencing some specific symptoms, such as anger. He also said you've been doing some research, which is great because perhaps your understanding of psychology can help us pinpoint what's wrong."

Harry started to talk about his symptoms. About the anger, his need to be alone, his feelings of worthlessness, but carefully avoided talking about the Dursleys and his life in Surrey. Mostly he looked at the floor, but occasionally looked at Snape for reassurance. Harry felt proud of himself, because she was right; his knowledge of depression was helping him be specific about what was wrong.

Severus was impressed with the boy. Potter was doing well with articulating the issues, despite omitting everything about his life with Petunia and her family.

"Harry, I think you've done a great job of describing how you're doing," Dr. Keller said, preparing to leave. "I'm going to work on a plan for treatment before we meet next, and then we can discuss it. Will this same time work next week?"

"Sure, Dr. Keller," Harry answered. He was relieved that they were done because he felt mentally exhausted. He turned toward Snape. "Sir, will Professor Dumbledore mind us using his office again?"

"Dr. Keller, perhaps next week you could meet with Harry in my office, and that way we won't have to disrupt the Headmaster's schedule," suggested Severus.

"Sounds great," she said, smiling. "Harry, if you need anything between now and then, please feel free to contact me, okay?"

"Thank you, I will." Harry was smiling, too. Once Dr. Keller was gone, Harry turned to Snape and was shocked when the man put his hand on Harry's arm.

"You did very well, Harry," Severus said, hoping that his gesture of comfort wouldn't upset the boy.

"I'm sorry I wouldn't talk about the Dursleys." Harry shook his head. "I just can't."

"Perhaps eventually you'll change your mind." Severus had a feeling that in time, Harry would talk about his childhood and life with his Muggle relatives. They had clearly traumatized him, which was upsetting. What the hell had happened to the boy?

"Maybe." Harry shrugged.

They left Dumbledore's office together, and after thanking Snape, Harry made his way slowly to Gryffindor Tower. He wanted to collapse into his bed and sleep, even though it was still early. Instead, once he reached the common room he headed over to Ron and Hermione.

"There's something I need to tell you guys," he said. "I saw a therapist tonight, and I think I have a problem with depression."

Hermione and Ron looked at their friend with shock. Harry looked down and gave them a nervous smile. It seemed like he was living in constant anxiety these days. It had taken all of his courage to approach them with this information, and he wanted it to go well.

"Harry, you saw a therapist?" Hermione asked. "At Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, tonight," he answered, getting comfortable in an armchair. "Professor Snape arranged it. She came by Floo from St. Mungo's."

"Snape arranged it?" Ron was flabbergasted. "I don't understand what this is all about, Harry."

"Honestly, Ron." Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Harry's been struggling all term with his emotions, and obviously Professor Snape noticed something was wrong and found someone to help."

"That's basically it," said Harry, nodding in agreement. "We started talking during my detentions and we discussed my symptoms. He helped find a healer who specializes in child psychology to come and do an assessment."

"Symptoms?" Ron was still confused. He moved in closer to Harry. "An assessment? What's going to happen to you, Harry?"

"Give him some space, Ron." Hermione pushed him back.

"It's okay," said Harry. "It's a long story, and I don't have that many answers, to be honest. But I have some symptoms of depression, and I'm going to see Dr. Keller again next week to figure out what to do next."

Hermione nodded and Ron gave Harry a funny look.

"But...people go to healers for things like this when..." Ron was stumbling over his words. "You know, when they go mental, yeah? Not that I think you're mental, Harry."

This is what Harry had been afraid of, that people would think he was a nutter. It stung.

"Right. Well, I am mental, aren't I?" Harry asked.

"No, Harry, you aren't!" Hermione said, emphatically. "There's nothing wrong with having depression or talking to someone about it. I'm very proud of you."

"Thanks." Harry looked down at his hands. "I'll be back in a little while. I need to go upstairs and think for a few minutes."

"Sure, mate," said Ron, who was also looking down. Harry hadn't meant to make anyone uncomfortable, but he couldn't keep this a secret forever.

"Things will get better, Harry." Hermione put her hand on Harry's arm as he stood to leave.

Harry smiled at her. "That's what Snape said, too." As he turned to leave, he enjoyed the look of shock on Ron's face.

***

The appointment with Dr. Keller had been so eventful it was hard for Harry to write it all down in his journal. He kept coming back to the way she allowed him to avoid talking about the Dursleys.

I'd worried so much about having to talk about the Dursleys, and I didn't even have to. What a relief! When I'm not in Surrey, I don't want to have to think about them. If it were up to me, I'd never see them again.

Ron thinks I'm mental, but I knew that would happen. There was no getting around it, though. I had to tell them, didn't I? Hermione seems to understand, but she knows about psychology. I hope Ron gets it soon.

Harry was going to write about Snape telling him he'd done very well, but he found himself feeling paranoid about the privacy of his journal. Snape was supposed to only read the entries that he'd asked Harry to write, but it was hard to be honest, knowing that the little book would be out of his hands. It made him very uncomfortable to think about sharing it with anyone else.

Seamus came into the dorm and Harry looked up.

"Goin' to bed, Potter?" Seamus asked, sneering. "Too bad there's nothing to drink, yeah?"

"Look, I said I was sorry," said Harry. He was trying to keep himself under control. "At least I was able to warn you guys that there would be a search."

"I guess." Seamus shrugged. He seemed to be backing off, and Harry was relieved. "It's pretty aggravating, but I'll get over it eventually." He walked away and Harry looked down. Once he was alone, he pulled the curtains around his bed so he wouldn't have to deal with anyone else.

Lying down, Harry placed his hands under his head and brought up his knees. His bed was so soft and comfortable; he loved to relax here. Before he'd come to Hogwarts last year, back on Privet Drive, he'd never imagined a bed as grand as this one. Thinking back, he couldn't help but frown when he remembered what it was like to have a cupboard as his room. Not really a room at all, just a spare bit of storage space under the stairs.

Last year Harry had been overwhelmed by every last detail of his new life. From the moment he'd properly received his Hogwarts letter and was on his way with Hagrid, everything changed. Even now, over a year later, he was still finding out new things about the wizarding world. Perhaps someday he'd learn more about his parents. He'd grown up with a loose construct in his head about them - what they'd been like - but he didn't have anything to base it on other than his imagination. Copious amounts of time locked in the cupboard had led to Harry having a very active imagination.

But this past summer, Harry spent his time locked in what had been Dudley's second bedroom. It was quite spacious compared to the cupboard, but it still wasn't his room. During this time in solitary confinement, he'd had a lot of time to think. Before Hogwarts, he'd had an idea that his life sucked compared to other kids' lives, but since he wasn't allowed to have friends, or visit other homes and families, he didn't know firsthand how other people lived. Everything he was exposed to was carefully controlled by his aunt and uncle. Once he'd been out of Little Whinging and at Hogwarts, there could be no denying the difference between his life and that of other kids his age.

At the Burrow, Harry had seen Ron's family have fun. They laughed and played Quidditch and ate meals together - their closeness astonished Harry. He'd never felt like he was a part of the family with the Dursleys, even though he was Petunia's blood nephew. But right away with the Weasley family, he'd felt welcome. It had made him uncomfortable, because he hardly knew how to handle himself. He didn't know how to have fun. Not without worrying the bottom would drop out at any moment.

Feeling sorry for himself wouldn't make anything better. There was nothing he could do to change the past, or make up for his crappy childhood.

***

After a trying day, with a second year Hufflepuff nearly blowing up the dungeons first thing in the morning, Severus found himself less than enthusiastic about his evening with Potter. If the boy gave him an ounce of trouble, he'd be sorry. In order to bring his mind to center, he decided to have Potter complete the detention part of the evening first, so that Severus could do some work and try to relax. Otherwise, he'd lack the requisite patience to talk civilly, and there was little sense in damaging the rapport they'd been building.

When Potter entered his office, Severus removed his fingers from his temple and looked up. The boy was grinning at him.

"Hi, Professor," said Harry. He felt stupid looking at Snape with a dumb grin on his face, but he couldn't help it, he'd been looking forward to this all day.

"Potter." Severus was taken aback and had to recover from the shock of witnessing Potter so happy to see him. Merlin's beard! No child had ever broken out into a grin upon seeing him in his office. Ever. "I've had a long day. I would like for you to take care of a task for me before we sit down to talk. It will give us both a chance to collect our thoughts."

"Um, okay," said Harry. "What should I do?"

"The storage cupboards containing the books in the classroom are in disarray," Severus said, standing. He continued talking while guiding Harry over to where he wanted him to work in the classroom. "Please straighten these books out and set them up by year. As you can see, students have thoroughly ransacked the school's copies while waiting to receive their own."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. He moved toward the cupboard and got to work.

"When you're finished, come back into my office and we will talk." Severus returned to his office.

Harry was good at this type of job, and began by removing all of the books in order to sort them. He didn't want to assume, but it appeared that Snape was having Harry complete this task so that he'd be able to talk to him properly, without letting the frustration from his bad day interfere. It looked like Snape wanted to be in top-notch form when they talked. Which Harry completely understood. When you have a day that's been rubbish all along, the last thing you want to do is sit down and chat. It's too easy to get frustrated or be a prat. Maybe Snape was trying not to be a prat with Harry tonight. He laughed out loud at the thought, and then turned to make sure he was alone in the room. Harry felt good. He had that feeling in his stomach again, like it was doing a little flip, because Snape cared. He must.

Setting up the books correctly in the cupboard was no problem at all. It took about thirty minutes before he was satisfied with the way it looked. But he hesitated before returning to the office. Should he have taken more time? Would Snape be ready? Only one way to find out. Harry took a deep breath and knocked on the office door.

"Enter." Snape was sitting at his desk with a cup of tea, looking infinitely more relaxed than thirty minutes prior. He gestured for Harry to sit. "Would you care for tea, Potter?"

Harry turned to stare before sitting. "Um, yes, sir," he said, surprised. "Tea would be nice."

Severus poured a cup for Harry and set it before him on the small table which separated their chairs. He'd been tinkering with the setup between the seats to make the area as comfortable as possible for them both. The small table allowed them to set down tea, but wasn't large enough to be an obstruction.

Severus sat down in his chair, ramrod straight, taking a sip of tea and then placing it down on the table. He allowed himself to relax just a little, crossing his right leg over his left and clasping his hands around his knee.

A small boy for his age, the chair was large for Harry, and he always managed to find many casual ways to sprawl out in it. It showed how comfortable and at ease Harry was in this room.

"Are you feeling better, sir?" Harry asked, and then stifled a grin. It wouldn't do to be grinning at Professor Snape every five minutes as though they were best mates. He had to get himself under control.

"Much," Severus said lightly. "Thank you, Harry, for completing that chore and understanding that it would be best to wait before we started."

Harry nodded. "I'm glad it worked."

"Indeed." Severus couldn't agree more. "The session with Dr. Keller last night no doubt left you with much to think about, Mr. Potter. Do you have any thoughts you'd like to share with me?"

Harry curled up in the chair and took a sip of tea while he composed his thoughts. "So much happened during the talk with her, I've been thinking about how it all went. I wrote about it last night when I got back to the dorm. I was relieved that she didn't make me talk about the Dursleys."

Severus raised his eyebrow. "Are you hoping that Dr. Keller won't bring it up again? Do you think that the information isn't important?"

Frowning, Harry glanced up at Severus. "I don't want to talk about it. Talking about them won't change what happened."

"The issue, Potter, is that something clearly did happen, and while you may not be asked to discuss it tonight, or even next week, eventually it will come up," said Severus. "It seems reasonable that you prepare yourself. I can help you with this process, if you wish."

Feelings of panic began to emerge in Harry as he considered Snape's words. "So, you think that I'm going to have to talk about it?"

"Harry, calm down," Severus said in an even tone. "Do not let this overwhelm you tonight, because no one is going to force you to talk about anything until you are ready to do so. What I'm trying to help you understand is that you cannot avoid the subject forever, and I am willing to help you slowly get to the point where you can discuss it without becoming upset."

Several moments of silence passed between them. Harry took deep breaths, in and out, and didn't allow himself to panic. He took the time to think about what Snape was saying, and once he thought he understood, he spoke.

"You'd help me get to the point where I could talk about the Dursleys," said Harry, his tone flat. "How could you do that? I can't imagine ever being able to do it."

"The strategy I have in mind involves your journal, as well as these evening talks," Severus said. "You will use the journal to write about the things that you feel you are ready to discuss with me. That way, when we talk you will already have an idea of what you plan to say, and since the discussion will not be a surprise, you should be able to prepare yourself mentally. Also, I will not push for information you choose not to discuss. Harry, this will be on your terms as much as possible, because I think it will be the least traumatic way to bring the memories out."

Harry didn't reply because he didn't know how to feel about what was happening. Why did Snape want to help him? What had changed?

"Why do you care?" Harry asked, snidely. Immediately he wished he could take it back. Snape glared at him. "I mean, what good will it do to talk about it? It won't change anything."

"I disagree," Severus replied. "Not talking about it and pretending as though it never happened is not the answer."

"I don't want to talk about it," snapped Harry.

"We have already established that sometimes we must do things we don't want to do, Harry." Severus reached out and touched the boy's arm and was surprised when Harry didn't recoil. He kept expecting Harry to cringe from contact with him, but it hadn't happened yet.

Harry's heart leapt as Professor Snape's hand touched his arm. He had a warm feeling despite his anger and frustration at being forced to rehash his life with the Dursleys.

"Sir, I don't mean to be disrespectful," said Harry, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is all so fucking confusing."

"Language, Potter." His rebuke was halfhearted. Severus gave Harry's arm a little squeeze before letting go. "You must be honest. And if that occasionally sounds like disrespect it is tolerable, so long as we are alone."

Harry smiled. "Thank you, Professor. Oh, I wrote the journal entry about anger that you asked me to do. Would you like to read it?" He dug around in his bag and took out his journal. He opened it to the page of the entry and handed the book to Snape.

Severus took the small book and read the entry on anger. It alarmed him, but he carefully controlled his expression. He realized how much he was able to relate to Harry's feelings, especially the desire to beat someone to death with his bare hands. Something he'd wanted to do to James Potter when they were teenagers. He skimmed the entry over again, wishing he could read everything Harry had written in the journal. Instead, he handed it back. The boy's eyes were full of anticipation and anxiety.

"You did well with this entry," said Severus. "It concerns me that you are so full of rage. I consider this a serious issue, and would like you to bring it up with Dr. Keller."

"I'd rather talk to you about it, sir." Harry looked up. "I don't think she's going to understand. And what if she makes me go to the hospital?"

"Potter, I have not been trained as a mental health healer," Severus said. "She is the one you must speak to, and I did not get the impression that she will overreact to what you tell her. As she explained, there is a difference between wanting to kill and planning to kill."

"What does she know about killing? Or anger?" spat Harry. He clenched his fists.

"Neither of us knows the answer to that," Severus replied. "However, it sounds as though you presume too much about what I know concerning anger."

"Am I wrong, sir?" Harry asked. "About what you know about anger?" His eyes filled with tears, and this time he couldn't hold them back. They spilled from his eyes, and he removed his glasses before they could become covered with salty spots. Crying while wearing glasses was annoying.

"No, Harry," said Severus. "I am quite familiar with intense anger."

Head in his hands, Harry sobbed. Severus stood to walk over to his desk, and without thinking, Harry launched himself at the professor. He threw his arms around him in a fierce hug. Shocked, Snape put his hand on the back of Harry's head and returned the embrace. After a few moments, Harry pulled away, blushing furiously. He had hugged Snape, and Snape had hugged him back. Finally, he had someone who cared. 

The week between sessions had flown by, and now Harry was meeting with Dr. Keller again. He'd been enjoying his evening talks with Professor Snape and wasn't interested in talking to her. Heading to the dungeons for the session, he felt angry and defensive. There was no way he was going to bare his soul to this woman, and he wasn't going to meet with her alone, either.

He knocked on the door to Snape's office, and when he entered, Dr. Keller was already there. Harry felt anger rising inside of him. He was supposed to have a chance to talk to Snape before she arrived, but here she was, early.

"Hi, Harry," she said. She smiled and gestured for him to sit. His chest felt tight, and he didn't want to sit. He looked over at Snape who appeared to be ready to leave the room. Harry moved to his usual chair and sat down.

"Sir? Aren't you staying?" he asked. Snape's expression was unreadable, and it made him uncomfortable.

"Potter, I do not think it is wise for me to continue sitting in on your sessions," he said. "You must learn to speak to Dr. Keller about your issues."

Harry was astounded. How could Snape do this to him?

"No!" he stood up and moved toward Snape. "Please, stay."

Severus hesitated and looked over at Dr. Keller. He didn't want to leave if Potter was this adamant. This situation was delicate, and he wasn't sure how productive it would be to argue this point. He'd thought the boy was ready to have a session without him, but now he wasn't so sure.

"Harry, if you feel that strongly about it, I have no objection to Professor Snape staying for our session," Dr. Keller said. "But I'm hoping that soon you'll be okay with meeting alone."

In moments, Severus had set up three chairs instead of two, and like the first meeting he was sitting next to Harry with Dr. Keller in front of them. Harry's body was tense, but he felt relieved. He never wanted to meet with her alone, but he wouldn't say that now.

"We got quite a bit accomplished last week, Harry," she said. "Next it's important to address your depression and discuss a treatment plan."

They sat in silence for a moment. "Why do you go by Dr. Keller and not Healer Keller?" Harry asked.

"It's fairly common for someone who has both a doctorate in psychology from the Muggle world as well as graduate education in healing from the wizarding world. My title doesn't matter, and that reminds me that you're both welcome to call me Mandy," she answered.

"Oh." Harry hadn't realized that people sometimes were educated that highly in both worlds. He didn't plan on getting to know Mandy much better because he was going to end therapy. "Well, I don't really want to keep doing this. I've been talking to Professor Snape, and that's really all I need."

Severus looked at Harry. He couldn't believe the boy was already fighting to avoid therapy. "Mr. Potter, we've discussed this issue. I am not a healer and you need a higher level of help than I am able to provide."

"Stop saying that you aren't a healer! It doesn't matter. I don't want to talk to her!" Harry found himself escalating into anger quickly.

"Enough," said Severus. "You are being rude, Potter. Trust that we know what's best for you."

"Harry, I think it's great that you've been able to connect with the Professor." Mandy smiled at both of them. "Why don't we see how things go tonight, okay?"

In his head, Harry knew that things weren't going to go nearly as well as she hoped. Screw this; he didn't have any interest in getting to know and trusting someone new. Snape was glaring at him. "Fine."

"Why don't you tell me how this week has been for you?" she asked.

"It's been fine," Harry answered. He felt defiant and it was exciting to have a bad attitude again. It reminded him of the times he'd been like this in his classes earlier in the term.

Severus wasn't sure if he was supposed to interject in the sessions or simply be there as a supportive presence for Harry. He decided it was more important to get down to business.

"Harry has some very serious anger issues," said Severus. "I asked him to bring it up with you, but he is clearly not feeling cooperative tonight."

"I don't want to talk about it." Harry snapped. "Just leave me alone."

The session went on like this, and as much as Mandy tried to get Harry to relax and talk, he wouldn't give in and participate. Severus was furious with the boy. He's gone through the trouble of finding this healer, getting her to come to Hogwarts to work with Harry, and this is how he was repaid? Potter was going to pay for this.

"I'll be back to see you at the same time next week, Harry," said Mandy. "And I think it might be best if you and I meet alone."

"I agree, Doctor." Severus gave Harry a hard look.

"Whatever," said Harry, standing up to leave.

"Good night, Harry," Mandy called after him. "Good night, Professor." Severus inclined his head, and said good night. She looked over at Harry before leaving via the Floo Network.

"Get over here, Potter," Severus said, pointing at the chair. "Don't you dare walk out that door."

Harry felt conflicted. He was pleased with himself for being so difficult, and yet he felt guilty for disappointing Snape. He sat down in the chair and lowered his head.

"Oh, no." Severus sat down and roughly cupped Harry's chin with his hand, forcing him to look up. "It's too late to act contrite. I cannot believe your behaviour tonight. This is what we're working toward? You being rude and disrespectful with a healer who is making the time to come here?"

"Contrite?" asked Harry. "What does that mean? Because I'm not sorry."

Severus had to suppress the urge to grab the boy and shake him. "I will not work with you if this behaviour continues. We will no longer have talks, and I will have nothing to do with you. We all make choices, Potter. You will either choose to obey and do what I am asking you to do, or we're done. Do you understand?"

Harry's heart dropped at Snape's words. So that was it? He'd wash his hands of Harry that easily? He choked back the lump in his throat. If he spoke he was sure to cry, although it looked like crying was imminent regardless of whether or not he spoke.

Severus could see that Potter understood the gravity of the situation. The boy was on the verge of tears, and Severus wanted to get him to see that there was only one real choice. Honestly, he wasn't going to turn his back on Harry, because he'd made a commitment to Dumbledore, to Dr. Keller, and mainly, to Harry. But it was imperative that the boy accept his rules. Whether he liked it or not, this was going to happen. He waited until Harry was able to speak.

"Sir," said Harry, his voice cracking almost immediately. Harry had trouble speaking through his sobs. "I thought you wanted to help me, and that you'd be here for me. And now, because I fucked up, you're just going to walk away?"

"Language, Potter." Severus tried to remain calm. "You misunderstand, Harry. I will not walk away from you; I should not have used that sentence. I am angry right now, and frustrated. But there is only one choice for you, and you must make it. I need you to be willing to do exactly what I ask you to do, and to trust me."

Harry stopped Severus from continuing. "I have to do whatever you ask me to do? Without having any say in it?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, Harry. Thus far we have had a vague understanding of how things would proceed. You would come to detention and we would talk, and there would be meetings with Dr. Keller. However, it is clear that we must solidify expectations on both sides. We cannot move forward without a clear understanding of what you are being asked to do."

"Okay," Harry answered. He was wary of what Snape was saying. Was Harry going to have any say in this new plan?

"I will tell you exactly what I expect from you, and you have permission to let me know how you feel about it. Then, you may express what your expectations are of me, and we will take it from here."

"That sounds good, sir." Harry nodded. This seemed very sensible.

"As it is too late to continue with this tonight, we can give it some thought, write down some ideas, and discuss the issue tomorrow night," said Severus. "And Potter, you have a Saturday detention for your disrespectful behaviour tonight with Dr. Keller. Understand that we won't be talking, but you'll be scrubbing cauldrons."

Harry's crying had stopped, but he was still shaken up. "I'm so sorry, sir."

"Yes, well next week I expect you to give Dr. Keller a proper apology, and if you dare treat her that way again, there will be consequences much worse than one Saturday detention." Severus motioned for Harry to stand. He cuffed Harry lightly on the back of the head and then put his arm around him, pulling the boy close.

Tears began to spill from Harry's eyes once again. "I'll make it a good apology, I really will."

Severus nodded. "I'm sure you will, Harry. Are you okay to go up to your dorm? You seem to be having a hard time calming down."

"I don't know if I can stop crying," Harry said, sobbing. He was overwhelmed by emotion and it didn't appear that he'd recover any time soon.

Severus knew what had to happen. He guided Harry over to the door that led from his office to his private rooms. Immediately after passing through the doorway, Harry was stunned. He was in Snape's home here at Hogwarts. He couldn't believe the man was taking him into his rooms. Snape must have some trust in Harry to do this, yeah?

They entered the living room and Snape gestured for Harry to have a seat on his small couch. Snape went over to a small table in what could only be considered a tiny kitchen space and summoned a pot of tea, which appeared immediately. He poured cups for both of them while Harry looked around the room. It seemed that in every possible spot Snape had set down a bookcase and filled it up. The living room wasn't large, but would certainly have more space without the books. Harry noticed the way Snape was able to tap his wand to get the attention of the house elves and request tea.

There was a hallway, probably leading to the bathroom and Snape's bedroom. The wood was in a cherry finish, and the room was more cozy and warm than he'd expected from Snape's quarters in the dungeons. Just being in this new environment was helping Harry to calm down.

Severus walked up, set down the tea tray, and took a seat next to Harry on the couch. He handed the boy a calming draught, which Harry held suspiciously.

"It's a calming draught, Potter," said Severus. "Take it and your emotions will balance, allowing you to return to Gryffindor Tower where you will think about how you behaved tonight, and write in your journal the followings things. One, you will write an apology to Dr. Keller. Two, you will write down your expectations of me. We will discuss both of these items tomorrow when we meet after dinner."

Harry took the calming draught and then picked up his tea to wash down the foul taste of the potion. His breathing was becoming steadier, and his eyes were no longer overflowing with tears.

"Thank you, Professor," said Harry. "I won't blame you if you decide you don't want to help me."

"No more about this tonight, Harry," Severus said, shaking his head. "I will walk you up out of the dungeons because I need to meet with Professor Dumbledore."

They stood and left through a door that opened into a dungeon hallway. On the first floor, Harry waved good night to Snape and headed up to Gryffindor Tower. He had a lot of thinking and writing to do.

***

Snape didn't say that Harry had to go directly back to the Tower. Instead he headed to the library, and went all the way to the back to a table where he could sit and write. He pulled out his journal, quill, and ink, and began to think about how to apologize. After a moment he could feel eyes on him and he turned around.

"Hello, Harry," said Luna. He hadn't seen Luna since the time they met in the psychology section.

"Hi, Luna. How are you?" Harry greeted her.

"I'm well, thank you. How are things coming along with psychology?" she asked.

Harry snorted. "Well, they're coming along, I guess. It's a long story." He gestured for her to have a seat next to him at the table.

"I know a bit about psychology," Luna said, quietly. "I went to a mental health healer for quite some time after my mum passed away."

"Oh, Luna." Harry felt deep pain for her. "I'm so sorry to hear that your mum passed away."

"Yes, it was awful. But going to the healer was very nice. No one else has ever been as interested in what I had to say. Dad cares, of course, but he's often busy with the Quibbler."

Harry was blown away by the information that another student had been to a healer for mental problems. "Thanks, Luna. It makes me feel better to know I'm not the only one who's had to deal with something like this."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Harry," she said. Smiling, she reached over and gave his arm a squeeze. "If you ever want to talk, I'll be here. I don't have any friends."

With that, Luna got up and walked away. She was an odd girl, but Harry liked her, and he had something in common with Luna that his other friends didn't understand. He found a blank page in his journal and began to write his apology to Dr. Keller. Or Mandy. He wasn't sure what to call her now that he'd been a complete prat.

Harry was up late, thinking about life and trying to study. Ginny was sitting with him, writing an essay for History of Magic. He wanted to work on the expectations he had for Professor Snape before seeing him tomorrow night. No one had ever asked him what he wanted before. It felt bold to ask for anything. It might be easier to work on his apology to Dr. Keller.

Dear Dr. Keller,

I apologize for my behaviour last night. I didn't mean to be rude and I know it isn't any excuse but it's really hard to talk about what's wrong with me. It's very nice of you to come here to Hogwarts to talk to me and I'll make sure I never act that way again.

Thank you,

Harry

He looked at the parchment and frowned. It wasn't very good but it wasn't really that big of a deal. She wasn't going to be around again until next week anyway, so if Snape didn't like this apology, there was time to write another. Harry was much more interested in coming up with expectations. He took out a fresh piece of parchment.

1. You won't give up on me because I screw up.

2. You won't pressure me to talk about things I don't want to talk about.

3. We can still talk about things even though I have to see Dr. Keller.

Harry couldn't think of anything else and it was getting late. Those were the most important things and it didn't seem like a good idea to go in with a giant list of things that he expected. He sighed and Ginny looked up.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Harry said. "Just tired."

"Me, too." Ginny put her book down. "I saw you talking to Luna the other day, in the library. I didn't realize you were friends."

"We've only talked a couple times, but she's really nice," he said.

"I like Luna," said Ginny. "She's a bit odd, but it suits her."

"It does." Harry nodded. Luna was unusual, but there was something nice about the way she spoke her mind and wasn't afraid of what other people thought. Most people, including Harry, were concerned about the way other people viewed them. He noticed that Ginny had a journal sticking out of her bag. "Do you write in a journal?"

Ginny quickly shoved the black book into her bag. "Sometimes. I like to write about things when they bother me."

"I write a journal, too," Harry said. He felt good about it and it was nice to see he wasn't the only one writing. "It's made me feel so much better about things this term."

"It's nice to be able to talk about things and keep them private," said Ginny. She seemed a little upset about Harry seeing the journal and he figured it was because she might be embarrassed. She stood up to leave. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Ginny," he said. He'd better go to sleep, too. Lately he'd been feeling worn out.

***

Harry fidgeted nervously in his chair after handing Snape the apology he'd written for Dr. Keller. Snape quickly skimmed over the page and looked up at him.

"This is inadequate, Harry," he said. "It doesn't convey much honest regret."

"Well, I figured if you didn't like it I'd have time to work on it before I see her again," Harry answered.

Severus handed the parchment back over to Harry. "I'd like to see you put more effort into it. Give it another go and I'll review it before next week."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, putting the parchment into his bag.

"Are you ready to discuss the expectations we have for each other?" Severus asked.

"I wrote them down, sir." Harry pulled out his journal and opened it up to the page with the three expectations. "I hope I did them right." He handed Snape the journal.

Severus read over what Harry had written and was pleasantly surprised by what he saw. "Let us discuss them before I tell you my expectations, Potter."

Harry nodded. "Okay."

"I assure you, I will not give up on you because you make a mistake, Harry. Everyone makes mistakes and while I cannot guarantee I won't get angry or upset with something you do, I will not give up or renege on my commitment," said Severus.

Harry was tense, his jaw clenched. Feeling so vulnerable with Snape was difficult. He was baring his soul. It was so uncomfortable he could hardly stand it.

"Thank you, Professor. It's just that you said, um, that you'd be done with me when I screwed up last week. So I thought that might happen. And I don't want it to, so..." Harry was stumbling over his words.

"Harry, it was wrong of me to say those things and I will be more mindful of how I phrase things when I am irritated with you. It's not fair to leave you uncertain of where you stand with me. Let's establish right now that I am in this for the long haul and want to help you. I will not abandon you if you do things I disapprove of, even if I become angry," said Severus.

Harry exhaled in relief. The first expectation had been addressed and he felt good about it. That was the answer he'd been hoping for from Snape. "Okay."

"The next expectation is trickier because there are things you need to discuss." Severus stopped when Harry bit his lip and looked away. "Harry, don't get upset. I don't plan to pressure you into talking about anything. We will get to the point where you can talk about things openly and if that takes time, so be it."

With a shy smile, Harry looked over at Snape and nodded. That didn't sound too bad.

"As for your third expectation." Severus paused in order to think of a way to phrase what he wanted to get across to the boy. "You and I will continue these talks. I have no plan to discontinue them and you don't need to worry about me disappearing simply because you have a therapist. It's quite clear that you and I are building a rapport that's helping you. In fact, you should know that I enjoy these talks with you and have no interest withdrawing my support."

Harry couldn't believe that Snape just admitted that he liked talking to him and he grinned broadly. "Thank you, sir," he said. "It makes me feel better to know that you aren't going to stop talking to me."

"Now, let us discuss my expectations for you, Mr. Potter. The most important is that you will not lie to me. Ever. I will accept nothing less than the truth from you, no matter how serious you think something may or may not be. Is that understood?"

Snape's ability to switch into his scary, serious mode always took Harry by surprise. It seemed like he should be prepared for it by now. "I understand, sir. I swear I won't lie to you."

Looking directly into Harry's eyes, Severus needed to be certain that Potter understood. "This includes lies of omission. If something serious occurs, such as a fight and you do not tell me about it, you will have broken your promise. It will be considered a lie."

"Yes, sir," said Harry. "I understand. I won't lie or keep things from you. I promise."

Severus gave Harry a quick nod to acknowledge they were clear on the issue. "Next, I expect for you to behave yourself. The behaviour you exhibited earlier this term is absolutely unacceptable. You will treat faculty and peers with respect. You will show up to your classes on time and prepared. You will not engage in any altercations, physical or verbal, with other students."

Harry's jaw dropped. "But, sir! What am I supposed to do if Malfoy corners me in a hallway? Just let him attack me?"

Severus had prepared himself for this question. "Mr. Malfoy has been told that it would be a grave mistake for him to provoke you, Mr. Potter. However, if he chooses to disregard my explicit instructions, you will remind him that I have forbidden any fighting between you. I expect for you to walk away and come to my office if you need me. If not, simply move away from Mr. Malfoy until you have passed any danger of a fight."

Pondering that, Harry felt a little better about the possibility of avoiding fights with Draco Malfoy. It sounded easy enough, but he wasn't sure if Malfoy would go along with Snape's orders.

"Okay, sir," he answered. "If Malfoy does try to start a fight, I'll remind him that you've told us not to fight, and if I'm in the dungeons, I'll come to your office. Otherwise, I'll just walk away to somewhere safer."

"Precisely," Severus said. "I'm certain this next expectation will be difficult for you, Harry. But it is crucial if we are to make progress. I must insist that you do as I say, despite whether or not you want to do it. I understand that you've grown up having to fend for yourself, or at least that's what I've gathered from what little you've said. But that is over. You no longer have to handle everything on your own. I am going to act as your temporary guardian during school."

"What?" Harry interrupted. "You mean instead of the Dursleys? You'll be like, in charge of me?"

"Do not interrupt me when I am speaking, Potter," said Severus in a sharp tone. "Yes, I am in charge of you, so to speak. I will be acting in your best interests and that is what you must remember at all times. I might ask you to do things you don't want to do, such as continue to work with Dr. Keller, and you will obey me. I know what's best for you, Harry. I'm the adult. You'll do what you are told. Understood?"

"I guess so," said Harry. He could feel himself pouting. Since he wasn't used to adults taking care of him, the idea was irritating. But at the same time, it was appealing to have an adult help him. To guide him and do what parents do. Is that what he was saying? That he'd be like a parent? "Do you mean you'll act like...a parent would?" He blushed and looked away.

The word "parent" caused Severus to suck in a breath. "Correct. I will take over duties that parents are generally charged with, such as setting limits for behaviour, attending to your basic needs such as clothing, shelter, food, and other things. I will certainly be taking on serious responsibility for your care."

Wow. Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Snape was going to be like a parent to him. He was going to be in charge. Harry wouldn't be running his whole life anymore and that was scary.

"I can tell by the look on your face that you're conflicted. But this might help. The important thing is to remember that trust is the cornerstone of this relationship, Harry. You must place your trust in me and for my part, I will do everything in my power not to let you down. Do you think you can trust me?"

He didn't need to think about it, the answer was obvious. "Yes, sir," said Harry. "I can trust you. I know you won't hurt me." Admitting that last sentence was so hard Harry had to fight tears.

"Excellent," said Severus. "My final expectation is that you will meet with Dr. Keller weekly, and you will put forth sufficient effort to make changes. You need to keep working with her, there is no other option. Therefore, I suggest you make it more enjoyable and participate."

"I can do that, sir," Harry answered. He was quiet. He was still stuck on the idea of Snape being his guardian. He had so many questions to ask. "Sir? Since you're my guardian, does that mean I don't have to return to the Dursleys' house?"

Severus took a moment to resettle in his chair. He crossed his legs and clasped his hands down on his lap. "Harry, I have a strong suspicion that it would be inappropriate for you to return to live with the Dursley family. However, without knowing much more about the situation, I am in no position to make promises about how long I will be acting as guardian. This is one of the reasons why you must get to the point where you can talk about them."

Harry felt trapped. There was no way around this, was there? "Um...maybe I could start talking about small things and see how it feels? Like when you and I have these talks, I might be able to talk about something that happened but not anything too hard to handle."

Severus saw this as a decent compromise. "Yes, Harry. I think that will work. We've talked quite a bit tonight, so I think we should end until tomorrow. But your plan is a good one and I think it has the possibility of getting you past this obstacle."

Harry felt tense and relieved. His emotions were always a jumble at times like this, when he was agreeing to something he didn't want to do. But he could see the benefit in doing it so he pushed forward.

"Thank you, sir. I'll start thinking of things that we could discuss and make a list. That way we can start off slow, yeah?" Harry felt better.

"An excellent idea," said Severus. "I look forward to learning more about you, Harry."

***

Once Potter was gone, Severus entered his quarters and considered the talk they'd had. Headway was being made and he was pleased. He found himself more invested in the boy's mental health and wellness by the day, and it seemed they were poised on the brink of making some real progress. Severus couldn't remember a time when there had been an issue with a student that had led him to be so personally invested. Was it possible that he was actually enjoying this work with Potter? Shaking that thought off, he headed over to make a drink to relax and enjoy the rest of his evening.