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Jars lined the shelves, full of colorful potions and unidentifiable ingredients. Harry surveyed the room quietly, avoiding Snape's black eyes that were undoubtedly staring at him from the seat behind his enormous and cluttered desk. If he was waiting for Harry to break the silence, he would be severely disappointed. It wasn't just that Harry didn't know what to say, it was as if his voice remained in the hallway outside Snape's office. His shell of confidence had shed with his pride; he was left ashamed, self-conscious, and mute. They sat in silence. If he was able to speak, Harry could have recited the potion patterns on the shelves by memory. It wasn't until he risked eye contact with Snape that the silence was broken.

"I have discussed the circumstances with the headmaster," said Snape. "He is concerned about your behavior, and we are in agreement that it must discontinue."

"So," Harry began, attempting to locate his voice. "So if he's the concerned one, why can't I talk to him instead?"

"The headmaster has left for the remainder of the holiday, Potter. He has asked me to keep-"

"He's gone? Where'd he go?"

"That," said Snape, "is something you may discuss with him yourself, once this... aberrant behavior has been corrected."

"Okay, I'm done. Let's just forget it happened, all right? I'm finished with it."

"I sincerely doubt that," said Snape, his black eyes focused on Harry's sleeve.

"What do you know? It was an accident, it's not that big of a deal!" exclaimed Harry. He was used to attention, people pointing at his scar and whispering his name everywhere he went in the wizarding world. This kind of attention was different, however, and made Harry extremely uncomfortable. The only thing he wanted to do was steal a time-turner and prevent Dumbledore from finding him last night. Yes, brilliant plan, Harry thought to himself, If it weren't for the fact they've all been destroyed by the ministry.

"Lift up your sleeve, Potter."

"Wh-what? No!"

"If this truly is 'no big deal', as you so characterize it, lift up your sleeve. Entirely."

The silence fell again. An escape route seemed unlikely. Reluctantly, Harry did as he was told.

"Is that... toilet tissue, Potter?!" exclaimed Snape.

"Yeah... well I had to shower and didn't really have any bandages in my trunk..."

"You could have come to me."

"Right..."

Snape stood up and left the room, returning shortly with the small medicine kit he'd used last night. He set it on his desk, and turned to face Harry. "Remove the tissue."

Once again, Harry followed Snape's orders obediently. He unrolled the sloppy tissue from his healing arm, and balled it up in his fist, clenching it as hard as he could. Snape said nothing, but gently lifted Harry's arm to examine it. Harry turned to look at the floor as he felt Snape push his sleeve all the way up to his shoulder, exposing far more of his arm than the night previously.

Snape remained silent as he turned Harry's arm slowly, pausing occasionally on areas Harry knew were more heavily scarred. He tried to push the shame and embarrassment out of his mind by recalling the potion pattern he'd memorized earlier.

Amber, Clear, Emerald, he concentrated as hard as he could. Lavender-Black-Yellow-

He felt Snape release his arm and heard him open the medical kit.

Yellow, Yellow, Silver...

The familiar sting of Snape's disinfectant potion made Harry's arm flinch. - Silver, Blue, Amber, Clear... Emerald! - He felt the bandages being wrapped around his forearm. Lavender-Black-Yellow-

"You may finish trying to distract yourself now, Mr. Potter, as I am through," Snape said as he returned to his seat. "This would have been easier had you just let me heal it last night."

"I... I prefer watching them heal naturally," admitted Harry, surprised by his own honesty.

"So you will admit this has become habitual?"

Harry stared.

"Your verbal admission is not necessary, as I believe what I've just seen of your arm speaks for itself. However, as Albus has asked me to help remedy this... situation, we shall have to find a way to improve your communication very soon."

Snape? Help Harry? Admittedly, the idea had passed fleetingly through his mind before entering the chamber, but surely it was not a serious one; Snape would rather drink spoiled pumpkin juice than do anything to help him. And even if Snape was as kind as Dumbledore, Harry wasn't sure he wanted any sort of guidance from either one. He had found a way to stay strong through the death of the only person Harry felt deserved the title of "family member", and here, in front of him, sat the self-proclaimed enemy of Sirius himself, trying to take it away from him.

"I don't want help," Harry said quietly. "I don't need it." He stood up and turned around to leave.

It seemed Harry's words had just broken down whatever emotional barrier Snape was using to remain civil. Snape was no longer calm; on the contrary, his next words seemed absolutely livid:

"Selfish, stubborn boy!"

Harry froze, shocked - he had been so used to Snape's calm tone over the past two days, he'd almost forgotten how threatening the potions master could be when provoked. He slowly turned back around.

"The things others have been consistantly doing to save your life! And you don't wish to correct yourself, you don't wish to heal... you remain obstinate in your desire to continue running from your problems while the rest of the wizarding world is doing every damn thing they can to keep you alive! All in vain!"

"I'm not trying to kill myself!" Harry shouted back, grateful for another reason to become angry once again. Confidence was always easier for Harry when he was mad.

"Not intentionally! But your last incident is enough to prove that you lack control over this particular problem, and if you choose to continue to destroy yourself, you might not be so fortunate next time!"

"So what if I'm not? What if I don't want to be the one that saves the world, the one that everyone relies on? What if I don't care how dangerous this is?"

At this, Snape stood up, gripping the edges of his desk, loathing etched in every wrinkle on his face. When he spoke, however, he did not yell. His voice was low and quiet, yet immensely powerful.

"Your mother," he hissed, "did not sacrifice her own life for this."

This time, Harry did not shout back. He stood frozen, speechless, and shocked. His arms trembled, the desire to quit and the desire to take Snape's potions knife and slash his arm right then and there were flooding him in powerful conflict. He felt his eyes watering in frustration and emotional anguish. After several moments of silence, Snape sat back down, and Harry followed suit.

"Okay," whispered Harry.

Snape's eyes met Harry's, and his expression softened slightly. "Okay, what?"

"Okay... I'll listen."

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