Sirius had fallen, and he would understand what that meant for Harry as well, wouldn't he? To become someone he didn't want to become? Harry didn't think he could ever forgive Sirius for what he'd done to him because inside at night or when he was alone, Harry was still fearful that the man would come find him, harm him, drag him back to Grimmuald Place. He did want to forgive him though.

Mind going in circles, Harry put the pen to the paper. ‘Sirius,' he scratched out, and stared at the name for long moments, as if expecting the man to burst through the door right then. He kept scribbling words furiously after that and didn't stop until the page was filled up. He stared at the words and the anger they radiated until he could no longer control himself from shivering in the cold wet clothes, and began to tear them off to put dry ones on. The other boys were still downstairs doing homework, and he was glad for the moment, because he felt like he had to be by himself now that he'd spilled his anger down onto the page.

‘Sirius,

I don't want you to reply to me. I just want you to listen, because I've fallen, and you're the only one who knows what that is, to fall, to be that person nobody wants to be. I don't want to be me anymore. I'm tired of being this Harry. I'm tired of being the terrified, over worked, burdened down, jerk of a friend, gets everybody hurt, dirt using Harry. I'm tired of not being trusted by my father. So what if I smacked him over the head with an encyclopedia, he never trusted me before that either. So what if I messed up this one time and took the dirt, I was tired of being scared of you and I just wanted to feel good so I could be normal. Don't I deserve a second chance? Why won't he give me a second chance? It's not right. Nothing is right. What you did isn't right. I want to forgive you, but I don't know how, not when I'm still me, this jerk of a godson you have, not when I'm still scared, not when I still want the dirt. Maybe someday. I doubt I'll ever get my second chance.

-Harry'

‘P.S. Don't write back to me.'

Harry breathed out hard through his nose, feeling like he was righteous and his anger was well deserved, and when he had done that, he felt deflated suddenly, and alone. He thought he had gotten a second chance after Sirius when his father had claimed him, told him he'd give him a safe place... told him things weren't his fault. But his father hadn't quite turned out what he'd expected him to be had he? If Snape couldn't trust him, then could he trust Snape? Things certainly felt like his fault, and nowhere felt safe to him right now.

Harry went to his window, opened it, and turned to let Hedwig out of her cage. "Fly fast," he told her. "Don't let him capture you. Bite him if you have to." Her large amber eyes seemed to drink in his words because she hooted then and he was sure she understood. He tied the parchment to her leg, and let her loose. He stared after her out the open window long after she'd disappeared into the night, and he stared out the window for days in his spare time, waiting for her to return.

As it turned out, Hedwig returned three days later, without a letter and looking none the worse for wear, and almost as soon as she'd appeared tapping on Harry's dorm window, he'd sent her off again, this time with a letter for Remus apologizing for not writing sooner and for not saying much when he'd come to visit. He conveniently left out any details about his dirt addiction and about smacking Severus with the book, though he was certain that Sirius would have told Remus by now if they were still in contact, which he hoped they were. Harry secretly hoped that Remus was taking care of Sirius, as strange as he felt to realize that. In the end, when Harry read over his letter, he realized it was little more than salutations and apologies, and had added in the end that he wasn't on speaking terms with his father just now, hoping that it hinted just enough that he was looking for someone to talk to. He didn't expect Remus to make a trip all the way to Hogwarts just for him or anything like that, but he was hoping to strike up their friendship again via owl. Harry was doubling down on candy now that he didn't have the gum (as feeble a help as it was) or his father to occupy his thoughts and time, and he felt like he could use a distraction, because the dirt cravings were stronger than ever.

It was only two days this time before Hedwig came back with a letter from Remus, full of concern for Harry. Harry read it several times the day he got it, and kept it with him, uncertain of how to reply. Remus seemed to know an awful lot about what had happened, and Harry could only conclude that either his father had told him, or that Sirius had. Maybe Sirius hadn't told and Remus had just happened upon the letter while at Grimmuald Place?

Harry decided that if he wanted someone to really confide in, he'd better come clean with Remus and tell him everything, but when he finally sat down to put his thoughts to paper, he was finding it more difficult than he thought. In the end he ended up writing:

‘Remus,

The school came down sick and I was recovering in professor Snape's quarters. I was a little delirious and decided that it would be a good idea to take a heavy book to Professor Snape's head. When all was said and done things had settled down, and I thought Professor Snape trusted me... he really acted like he did anyhow, and he even bought me a warm winter jacket and some boots. But in the end it turned out he didn't trust me at all. He was just waiting for me to mess up so he could punish me. I haven't really spoken to him again anyway, and I don't want to. I wish I didn't have class with him either because he just sits there and pretends not to be staring at me from the front of the room. I know he's just waiting for me to mess up again just like always. I sent a letter to Sirius and told him not to write back. I was just mad and wanted someone to yell at, but I guess you must have already seen the letter.'

Harry pulled the pen away from the paper. He had put down more than he'd expected, exposed more of himself in writing these letters to Sirius and Remus than he'd expected. Now he wasn't really sure what to write. Finally he scribbled his name at the bottom, knowing the letter was really only half finished, and sent it off with Hedwig again. He wasn't sure what kind of reply he'd get. Harry sat back at his desk with a sigh and popped two licorice snaps into his mouth. He couldn't trust Sirius, he couldn't trust his father, he didn't trust Dumbledore... but Remus hadn't done anything yet to break his trust. Remus had always been there for him, showing him how to defeat a dementor and how not to fear fear itself. Harry wasn't afraid of fear now, he was afraid of Sirius, and the dirt, and maybe even a little of being a big disappointment to his father, who'd made no attempt to talk to him since last Saturday when he'd dumped Harry into the tub expecting to cleanse him.

The dormitory door opened and Ron stuck his head in. "You've been locked up here all week after classes," he said. "Want to do something?"

Harry shrugged. "Like what?"

"Don't know. I know its dark out, but we haven't been out in so long. I thought maybe we could go flying or something. It's Saturday and it's not curfew yet."

"You're not worried about getting a howler from your mum when you get caught?"

He grinned. "Haven't been in trouble yet this year. Reckon she can't be too mad."

"Come on then," Harry said, grabbing his new old broom and eying Ron's Blue Zephyr.

"Let's trade back," Ron said, seeing Harry eying his broom. "Just for the night. You haven't even ridden it yet."

"Are you sure?"

Ron nodded with a smile and held the broom out. "Besides, I miss this old beauty. It turns tighter in a downward spiral you know."

Brooms in hand they snuck down through the castle. It was only 6:30 but it was already pitch black outside and they knew they weren't allowed out after dark unless they were with a teacher. On the second floor, they found an unlocked classroom door and went in, using the window to climb out unseen. Ron told Harry that this was a tactic Fred and George often used when they were in school.

"You should start selling potions again," Ron said. "Since Draco stopped a couple weeks back, everyone's supplies are dwindling. And the big match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff is coming up, I bet you could charge extra for the hair gel with team colors."

"Yeah but why would I start selling potions again?"

"So you can get a broom. The new Lightning Bolt just came out. It's supposed to be faster than the zephyr even!"

"Bet that costs a pretty Knut," Harry said as they flew high over the dark castle grounds towards the lake.

"Costs 20 Galleons more than the Zephyr," Ron confirmed. "I can help you sell though, I'm not a bad salesman. When Draco was making the potions I was even selling them to the Slytherins. Made myself 2 Galleons before Draco quit."

"What'd you spend the money on?"

Ron turned and smiled. "Saving it for something special."

"Huh."

They flew for twenty minutes before Harry stopped, hovering over the edge of the lake, and said, "Ok, maybe I'll start making potions again. I think we've wiped the student stocks of Meeka leaf though. That's probably why Draco stopped. If we can get some tonight we can start tomorrow."

They flew to the Northernmost edge of the grounds where the Meeka trees stood and hovered near the top where they stuffed their pockets full of the tiny green leaves and then went down to the ground.

"What about the color?" Ron asked.

"The green and silver are common ingredients, I'm sure there's still some in the supply closet. But for yellow we'll have to get some Jipe Berries. Harry squinted in the darkness and pointed. "Over there."

"They each took a handful, as their pockets were full, and began their short flight back to the open window on the second floor of the castle. Ron climbed in first, followed by Harry. It was a few moments before Harry noticed that Ron wasn't saying anything in the dark room, and looked up to find the Headmaster and his father, both looking a little unhappy.

"If you gentlemen would be kind enough to empty your pockets," the Headmaster said, with no hint of danger in his voice. Harry had a feeling he had opted to speak because Snape would have been yelling by now.

The lights suddenly waved up in the room and Ron and Harry set their Jipe berries down on the desk in front of them and began emptying their pants pockets, front and back of the Meeka leaves. Harry felt embarrassed. Yes, they weren't supposed to be out, but they weren't criminals. He hated being treated like this. As if them emptying their pockets wasn't enough, Snape, his father, came forward and patted their pockets down to make sure there was nothing else in them.

"Would you be so kind to explain what you were doing out after dark?" the Headmaster asked, seeming a little more relaxed now that they'd shown them their find.

Harry looked away, angry and hurt, so Ron said, "I wanted to go flying. Harry and I hadn't gone flying in a while, so I asked if he wanted to go. When we were out, I said he should start making potions again to get enough money for a new broom for himself... since he's riding my old one," Ron lowered his voice at the last. "Then we decided we could probably make the hair gel in Slytherin and Hufflepuff colors and sell it for a little more than usual since they have the Quidditch match coming up, but we knew the supply closet was out of Meeka leaves. Since we were out anyway... well." Ron trailed off.

Through the corners of his eyes Harry could see the Headmaster and his father exchange a glance, and then Dumbledore spoke again.

"While I appreciate your entrepreneurial spirit gentlemen, you are well aware that it is against school rules to go out after dark. I'm afraid I will have to give you both a detention. Mr. Weasley, please go and find Mr. Filch. Mr. Potter, I will leave your detention to Professor Snape."

Ron gave Harry a sorry look, sorry that he'd gotten them both in trouble, before gathering up his leaves and berries and heading for the door with his broom, Dumbledore behind him. Harry could hear Ron's voice in the hallway grow fainter and fainter as he insisted that it had all been his idea from the start, and then it was silent, and Harry was still there with his father, refusing to look at him. He crossed his arms and waited, but Snape didn't say anything.

Harry thought the minutes ticked on, dragging in to hours, but it had only been a minute or two before his father cleared his throat. He was probably going to say something, but Harry snapped out, "What, want to toss me in the tub again? Going to search me some more? Go ahead, and I hate you for it." He wanted to turn his back to him then, because he didn't want to see him, didn't want to see the look on his face anymore, but he felt too uncomfortable to do it. Instead he took a couple of steps back and settled for turning his shoulder slightly. He could still see the Potions Master in his periphery.

"It was not I who saw you and decided to come wait for your return," Severus said after a long, tension filled moment. The Headmaster saw you out his office window. He decided to owl me to assist him, if it was necessary."

"Right, whatever," Harry said, arms still crossed. He felt like a baby then, because he knew he was being stubborn and childish, but he felt like he should have a chance to act this way after what his father had done last week.

Harry heard a long intake of breath followed by a long sigh, and then his father moved to stand next to him before leaning back on one of the student desks. "I always said you were like James Potter, sneaking about late at night and getting into trouble, but if I were to admit the truth, you're also very much like me."

Finally Harry looked over, mouth falling open for a moment before he promptly snapped it shut again and let his face go hard again.

"When I was your age, I was into defense against the dark arts, martial arts, that sort of thing, but I was also very much into making potions, though I'll admit, I wasn't clever enough at the time to think about selling potions to my fellow classmates."

"That was Draco's idea," Harry said, staring out the dark window. The lights had been waved down low again now with the absence of Dumbledore's magical presence.

"Regardless. As often as I would sneak out of the dormitories after hours to duel against... James, and his friends, I was also out on the grounds at night scavenging for potions ingredients that the student supply closet didn't have. A time or two, I was even caught, by the Headmaster," he paused here to address Harry's shocked look, "yes by the Headmaster, off of school grounds in the middle of the night. I had a month and a half of detention starting the first week back of my seventh year because he'd tracked me all the way up into the foothills on the banks of the river," he paused again to address the next shocked look from Harry, "yes, the same river I pulled you from."

Harry crossed his arms a little tighter, more for comfort and support than in anger now.

"At least you weren't treated like a criminal," Harry said, still feeling the sting of hurt of not being trusted.

"If I have treated you like a criminal, I am sorry," he said. "But you are mistaken. The Headmaster did not follow me thinking I was gathering potions ingredients, he followed me that night thinking I was going out to meet with death eaters, which I wasn't. That didn't come until... after Hogwarts."

Harry did let his arms drop then as he leaned against the desk. "I just wanted to ride brooms," Harry said. "I wasn't out gathering drugs."

"I know that, and I did not think you were. The Headmaster wanted me here, just in case, but it was not my intention to treat you like a criminal."

Spinning suddenly, Harry was angry again. "You pretend to like me, pretend to trust me, then you dump me in a bathtub without even letting me talk to you, and accuse me of things I haven't done. You're just like Dumbledore."

"Professor Dumbledore, and yes, I frequently find myself in the position of not trusting people. Perhaps it is the ‘basket case' side," he said, hoping it would soften Harry's angry features, and it did for a moment, just long enough for him to continue. "Children often tend to turn out like those that raised them, whether or not they want to be."

"Dumbledore didn't raise you."

"At school, he did. Again, you and I are more alike than you might think."

Harry waited for more information, but none was forthcoming, and he decided that the man beside him didn't want to talk about it and probably would never tell him the rest of that story.

"Still not right," Harry said, crossing his arms limply this time. The anger was gone, and in its place was hurt and cravings for the dirt, and he fought his mind not to let it wander back up to the attic.

"No, it's not, and for that I apologize. I should have given you a chance to tell me why you had brought the Asphodel down to me. I should have given you that chance to prove yourself. As it was, I saw it, and saw how calm you came back after you had left shaking and sweating, and I made an assumption that you had taken it."

They were silent for long moments as Harry thought. He wasn't sure if his father was done speaking and waiting for a response or if there was more to come from him.

Finally Harry said, "I want to."

"You want to what?"

Harry half smiled then, just for a moment, seeing that his father had at least made that small effort to ask instead of just assuming the worst.

"I want to take it. Every hour, of every day, I want it. There might be more of it in the East Attic, I don't know. I try not to think about it. I thought, I thought if I gave it to you, then I wouldn't have to worry about it, because I could trust you, but then you didn't trust me, and now I don't know if I can trust you."

Severus tried to work through what Harry had just told him. He wasn't sure the boy was putting the proper words to what he was feeling and thought maybe Harry had meant rely instead. He thought he could rely on his father for help, but when his father didn't trust him, he knew he couldn't rely on him. Hm.

"Harry," he put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I will be here for you. I may not always know what to do, and I may do things wrong sometimes, but I will be here for you no matter what you need. You can rely on me."

"You still don't trust me."

Severus sighed, uncertain of what to say. "You showed me that you could be trusted when you brought the Asphodel to me. It is not you I don't trust, it is the addiction. Strong men and women everywhere have fallen to Asphodel, even years after they thought they had beaten the addiction."

"I don't want to feel like this forever," Harry said, "and plus I'm getting fat. My pants don't fit anymore." He took a chance and let his head fall sideways onto his father's shoulder. It didn't feel out of place there, and his father hadn't pushed him away, so he left it.

"You're not getting fat, you're filling out. You were too thin to start with. Your friend Ron and the other sixth year Gryffindor boys your height all weigh 10 to 20 pounds more than you do to begin with. Not that the sugar is healthy, but you should not worry yourself over the weight gain for now. I will take you into Hogsmead tomorrow to buy some new clothes."

"You don't have to do that."

"No, but I want to, and it is my pleasure to provide for... my son."

Harry lifted his head to look at him in awe for a moment, and then let his head fall back to his father's shoulder, a small smile on his face. "Can we just, stay here a while?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

And they did.