Harry was silent as he stared at his arms and began to shake.

"Explain it," Snape said in a clipped voice, tight and controlled. His tone left no room to argue, and Harry decided lying wasn't a good option. No, Snape had already seen too much for him to lie. Snape's eyes were wide and flashing, but the grip on Harry's wrists wasn't any worse than it had to be.

"What's to explain?" Harry whispered, lowering his gaze from Snape's face to the criss-crossed white scars that decorated his arms. There were half a dozen fresh ones which still had scabs on them. Harry tried to yank his wrists free of Snape's hands, but Snape wasn't letting go.

"Harry," Snape sighed, a bit sadly, Harry thought.

"You already know what it is!" Harry shouted. "You don't need to me to tell you!" He wanted to be angry at Snape for - for anything, but he couldn't make himself feel angry. He just felt embarrassed. The shame was overwhelming. Snape continued to hold his wrists, and Harry wondered why Snape didn't just let him go already.

"So many," Snape whispered, and Harry wondered if it wasn't more to himself than anyone. Sure, Harry would admit there were quite a few scars on his arms. Most happened over the summers, but a good number had happened at Hogwarts too. It wasn't easy when everyone - even your best friends - thought you were insane or playing for attention.

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered. Snape's hand slipped up his arm, and Snape ran his thumb over a few of the unhealed ones.

"I can heal these for you," Snape offered softly.

"No, thank you," Harry murmured.

"Harry, let me heal them for you, please," Snape tried again.

"If you insist," Harry agreed with a slight shrug. "You don't have to."

"I know," Snape replied softly. "Sit down." Harry tried to sink back on the armchair, but Snape guided him onto the soft rug. Snape hadn't let go of him yet, and sat next to Harry, close enough that their sides touched. Snape sat on Harry's left, and finally released his right arm, in preference for his wand. With an intricate incantation and wand movement, Snape spent a full three minutes casting the necessary spell. After that time, Harry's still opened wounds were gone like they had never been there.

"Your other arm," Snape prompted quietly, and Harry complied, turning a bit so he could give Snape the desired appendage more freely. After repeating the ritual, Harry's fresh wounds were healed.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, still unable to meet Snape's eyes. He tried to stand up, but Snape grabbed him by the shoulder and held him there. Not roughly, Harry realized, but forcefully enough to make him pay attention.

"There's very little I can do for the scars," Snape said.

"That was a pretty long spell," Harry observed, trying desperately to distract from himself.

"It's hard to heal self-inflicted wounds," Snape replied casually. "Your magic wants to stop anyone from interfering."

"Why do you know a spell like that?" Harry asked softly.

"It's come in handy before," Snape shrugged. Harry nodded. Slowly, carefully, so that if at point Snape objected, the man could stop him, Harry touched Snape's sleeve. As if in some kind of trance, Snape understood the silent request, and unbuttoned his cuff. Time seemed to slow, and Harry pushed Snape's sleeve up. Harry swallowed when he saw the same criss-crossed, thin white scars that decorated his arms on Snape's.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, as he pulled Snape's sleeve back further, revealing more scars.

"It's alright," Snape replied softly. "I'm mostly over it now."

"Mostly?" Harry questioned.

"Mostly," Snape echoed, not elaborating further. "Some doors can be closed, but they can't be burned." Harry, again, pushed Snape's sleeve up some more, past the elbow. Harry saw more scars on Snape's bicep.

"Where do they stop?" Harry asked, looking at Snape blandly.

"They don't," Snape admitted, biting his lip nervously. Harry had never seen Snape so anxious, and looked at him curiously.

"Where do you learn that spell?" Harry asked instead.

"Your mother taught it to me," Snape whispered. "She learned it so that - in my more foolish moments - she could help me. Then I learned it."

"Thank you," Harry said.

"For what?" Snape asked.

"Maybe my mum wouldn't hate me, then, if she didn't hate you," Harry said wistfully. Snape sighed.

"Harry," he began, "I can only guess what I thought when I married Lily. I would hope to believe that I swore to be a better father to her children than mine ever was to me. But apparently, I've been as bad at parenting as you are at potions. Promise me you won't do it again, Harry. It's a terrible habit. Promise me."

"I can't," Harry shook his head sadly. "I won't break my word, and I can't guarantee that I won't, in my more foolish moments, as you call them."

"Promise me you will try not to then," Snape compromised.

"I promise," Harry said.

"Thank you," Snape sighed. "Why did you start?" Harry looked away and squirmed a bit, but Snape sighed again and draped his arm over Harry's shoulders.

"Why did you start?" Harry muttered, still pointedly looking away. "I told you about the Dursleys."

"I started because, at a young age, it wasn't uncommon among my associates," Snape began. "A coping mechanism for how my father - and some of the students here - treated me. What gave you the idea?"

"I was bored," Harry shrugged. "I told you - I was locked away for days with nothing to do. I was bored out of my mind. I had to do something. I was hungry, thirsty, hurt, and bored. I think the boredom was the worst. As long as you have something to do, sometimes you can forget you're hungry. I couldn't forget, not without anything else to do. And then I just kept doing it, even when I wasn't locked away."

"Damn you, Albus," Snape hissed through his teeth. Harry nodded, not trusting his voice anymore. Having to deal with the memories was too much. The scenes replaying in his mind at that very moment threatened to overwhelm him.

He remembered as a child, before Hogwarts, being locked in his cupboard and clawing desperately at the door so he could get out. The room was so small. It felt like it was going to crush him. Even his bedroom wasn't big enough. It still felt like it was going to press him into orange juice. He had to do something to release the tension or he would go mad.

"Once for every hour," Harry whispered, so that Snape almost didn't hear it.

"What?" Snape asked, caught off guard.

"Every time the grandfather clocked chimed while I was locked away," Harry continued, very quietly, tracing one of the more prominent scars. "Once for every time. It's how I kept track of the time. Especially in the cupboard, there were no windows, so I couldn't tell. It was always dark." Snape's face darkened but he didn't say anything right away.

"What did you use?" he asked.

"A piece of glass I picked out of the garbage," Harry replied casually. Snape sighed sadly, and he fell silent.

"I don't understand why Albus would do this," he finally said. "I don't understand why he would take my memories, or leave you in that situation. You said you proved it to him?"

"Yes!" Harry said loudly. "I showed him my back. I showed him memories. He said I just had to suck it up."

"It doesn't make sense," Snape argued, more to himself than to anyone. "I still don't see why he would do it! It's like he had a reason to want to exact the ultimate revenge from both of us."

"Dunno why," Harry muttered. "I never did anything to him." Snape grew silent, but still held Harry close to him while obviously lost in thought.

"I'm sorry, you know," Snape finally said off-handedly. "I always thought you had a good life with your relatives. I can't imagine I made their insults any easier to bear." Harry just shook his head, feeling a constriction in his throat as he blinked back tears.

"I still don't see how a blood relation changes what you think of me," Harry finally choked out once he'd swallowed the lump. "I'm still the same person. Harry. Arrogant, stupid, incompetent - "

"Stop," Snape cut him off. "The difference is that you're my arrogant, stupid, incompetent child." Snape squeezed his shoulder, and tried to smile a bit, but Harry thought that if Snape smiled too much, his face might break. Harry snorted a bit, but relaxed and leaned his head on Snape's shoulder, suddenly realizing how tired he was. The warmth of the fire wasn't helping him stay awake either.

It seemed like only a couple minutes later, that Snape was pointedly poking his ribs.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," he drawled. "You have a dorm room to get back to. It's almost curfew." Harry glanced at the time and saw that the whole evening had passed, and he was surprised when he realized he was slightly disappointed to have to leave.

Snape stood, as did Harry.

"Here," Snape said, offering Harry his shirt and tie, which were still sitting on the armchair behind them. Snape rolled his own sleeve down and buttoned it again.

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied, accepting the clothing gratefully, quickly putting it on.

"And here's something else," Snape said, picking a potion bottle from a nearby shelf. He handed it to Harry when the boy was finished tightening and straightening his tie.

"What is it?" Harry asked, turning the bottle over in his hand.

"Dreamless sleep for tonight," Snape explained. Harry smiled softly.

"Thank you," he said.