Oh Merlin...I almost...I...I...

Sitting on the rock mound, Harry pulled his knees to his chest, resting his forehead on top of them. He continued to sob until he could no longer breathe. He was a mess of tears and mucus. Stretching out his sore legs, Harry shifted uncomfortably as he opened his eyes, blinking repeatedly as he strained to adjust to the sunlight.

"Mr. Potter...we have much to discuss."

Harry started as a voice penetrated the silence.  His heart plummeted as he looked up quickly towards the voice. Squinting against the sunlight, Harry locked eyes with none other than Albus Dumbledore.

Shit.

To the right of the Headmaster stood Snape, dressed in his customary black robes and pants. The bright clearing made him appear all the more intimidating, and Harry quickly looked away from his calculating stare. Looking down at his own hands, he realized that he was trembling and clenched them, hoping that the two men would not notice. He searched for an explanation, and only realized that he had been silent for several minutes when the Headmaster spoke again.

"Harry." 

The mere name was conveyed with such emotion, that Harry found himself unable to resist looking up into the sad, blue eyes of Dumbledore. The sparkle that always occupied his eyes appeared dim, and his eyes glistened. 

No. No. This can't happen.

"Sir," Harry began, horsely. "I um..."

Think, Harry. THINK.

Seconds ticked away, until Harry heard the clearing of a throat. Following the noise, Harry saw Severus staring at him with the same look as before, as if assessing. 

"Well Potter?" Snape asked, coldly.

As anger rose up, Harry felt himself taking control again and put on a cocky grin. This always worked.

"Professor," Harry nodded. "Sorry to have startled you two. I come here a lot when I get bored, which is surprisingly, quite often." Harry was met with a familiar sneer and felt confident to continue. "I saw the train coming. That hasn't happened before. Whoa!" Avoiding his eyes, Harry shot the headmaster a playful grin before continuing. "Back home, there's a muggle game called 'chicken,' where we see who can get closest to a moving motorcar without getting hit. You know, Gryffindor bravery and all that. Anyway, I saw the train and figured, why not? I've faced worse." Finishing his monologue with a wink, Harry chanced a look at Dumbledore. 

 The Headmaster's eyes remained sad, and a single tear trailed down his wrinkled cheek. Harry felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him and quickly looked down again. 

 "I am sorry," Harry repeated remorsefully. Brushing off his knees, he used his right arm to propel himself upward before bending his knees and pushing off.

 "Ah!" A pained cry filled the clearing, and as he stood up, the ground seemed to rise up to meet Harry, his ankle feeling as if it were on fire. A second passed before Harry opened his eyes and realized that he was being held up by two, strong arms, holding him by his underarms. He was gently guided back into a sitting position, and he looked up to see the Headmaster looking down on him calmly.

"You are hurt, Harry. Hold still." As Dumbledore raised his wand, Harry found himself bracing himself, eyes shut tightly, his body rigid.

 "Harry," the headmaster's voice said, gently. Opening his eyes, he was once again met with the sad, questioning stare of Dumbledore. "I am just going to cast a diagnostic spell to assess your ankle and make sure you weren't hurt elsewhere."

Harry swallowed and nodded, embarrassed.

As a white glow outlined his body, Harry felt a tingling and noticed that some parts of his body were outlined in red. The glow faded, and the Headmaster conjured a piece of parchment, tapping it with the tip of his wand. As he read, he quickly looked down to Harry, as if startled, before putting the parchment in his robes and addressing him calmly again. 

"Your ankle is broken, Harry." Pausing, Dumbledore glanced to Severus, as if trying to make a decision. Nodding to himself, Dumbledore resumed. "You also have previous head trauma, a badly bruised knuckle, scraped knees, an improperly healed rib, an improperly healed shoulder break, severe malnutrition, and heavy scarring on your back." 

As he read through the list, Harry felt his heart beat increase rapidly as he looked from Dumbledore to Snape. The Headmaster ended, meeting him with a look so full of concern that Harry almost failed to notice the widening of Snape's eyes, before he schooled his face back into impassivity.

"Harry," Dumbledore began.

No. No. They can't know. They can't...

"Harry, it's alright, we..." 

"No! No. No." His breaths became erratic, and his chest felt as if it were on fire all of a sudden.

I can't breathe. I can't...

"Harry, calm down. You are having a panic attack." Large hands came towards him, and Harry hid his head in his knees, arms blocking his head. His pants echoed in the clearing and he panicked as his lungs screamed.

 Before he knew what was happening, arms pulled him from behind and he was pressed against something warm and firm. He fought, scared, until his energy was gone and he felt as if he might pass out. Looking up, he saw the pained look of the Headmaster and flushed.

"In...out. In...out." A calm, voice spoke gentle into his right ear and he felt the chest that he was pressed against rumble. "That's it. In...out." Harry matched his breathing to the instruction and felt relief as air entered his screaming lungs. Sagging backward, he noticed for the first time that the arms that encircled him were covered in a thick, black material that smelled of spices and herbs. 

Snape!

Cheeks coloring, Harry fought to be released before the voice continued: "Stop. You're going to bring on another attack. In..out. In...out. That's it." Harry stopped fighting. 

"Open your mouth." When Harry made no move to comply, Snape clarified: "Calming draught." 

Harry opened his mouth and felt the liquid run down his throat, making a face at its bitter taste. He felt it enter his system as his muscles relaxed and his mind became hazy. 

The world went black.

Harry awaoke groggilly when he heard the voice of his friends.

"We're his best friends! He needs us! We..."

"...needs to heal...he...."

"Come on Hermione....sleeping....come back later..."

Nodding in and out of consciousness, Harry realized that he had no idea what was happening. He couldn't bring himselt to care.

Harry continued to go in and out of consciousness as the Infirmary bustled around him. He vaguely realized that his shirt was off and that he was on his stomach as a cool lotion was rubbed onto his back. He also noticed that his ankle was stiff and numb. More liquids were massaged down his throat. Harry slept.

Opening his eyes again, Harry was met with nothing but darkness. A graveyard flashed into his mind as he remembered the last time he had felt so disoriented, after being portkeyed from the maze.

Harry frantically felt around his bed for his wand and anything else.

"Mr. Potter. You are in the infirmary. You are quite safe. Lumos."

A white glow revealed Snape seated beside his bed on a wooden chair. Everything beyond him was blurry, but Harry couldn't bring himself to ask for his glasses.

Looking up, he realized just how close Snape was. His mind brought back the train and what had happened in the clearing.

Playing chicken...Oh Harry...Strong arms holding...Breathe...In...out...In...Oh merlin.

Groaning, Harry laid back again, shielding his face with his hands.

"Are you in pain?" Snape asked, with a hint of concern in his voice.

Hearing it, Harry forgot his embarrassment and blinked up at Snape, confused.

"No sir."

"Good. We treated your ankle, which is braced, and dosed you with a strong calming draught, healing potion, and nutritive potion. We also applied an anti-scarring salve to your back."

Ankle...potion...salve...salve...SHIT.

Realizing that someone had seen his back, Harry began to panic again his breathing speeding up, even as the calming draught fought to calm him.

"Potter. Potter. Merlin Potter, it is alright. Breathe. In...out. In..out. In...out. Good."

Taking in a shaking breath, Harry continued to attempt to make sense of what was happening.

He's being nice? Why? Why is he being so nice to me?

"Why are you being nice?" Realizing that he had spoken aloud, Harry's eyes widened before he picked at the hem of his white pyjama top.

Harry hear Snape take a deep breath, and chanced a glance at him. 

Snape was staring intently at his own hands. "It appears I have been...mistaken in my presuppositions concerning you." Snape glanced at him with dark eyes and was met with furrowed brows and an expression of confusion. He paused before continuing. "You are clearly not pampered...or arrogant. The scars..." Snape ignored Harry's flinch and continued, "...indicate a less than desireable home life. The train..."

"It was a game. A muggle game. Chicken..." Harry babbled and was quickly cut off by an angry voice.

"You are an idiot if you believe that either the Headmaster or I beleived that pathetic excuse for an explanation of your blatanly suicidal ideation." Noticing Harry's distress, Snape's expression appeared to soften before continuing. "You are in no state to live in the tower on your own."

Taking a deep breath, Harry bravely interrupted. "I'll be sent back to my relatives then?" His voice sounded calm. Detached, but calm. As he looked down to pick at his sleeve again, he missed the murderous look that took over the professors features. He did not, however, miss the hatred in his voice.

"You. Will. Not. Return. To. Those. Muggles." The words were ground out, and Harry looked up, surprised, as he realized that Snape was angry on his behalf. "You will be joining me in my quarters until you can be trusted on your own."

Still under the influence of the calming draught, Harry stated the obvious. "You're angry."

Snape appeared startled and replied indignantly. "I am not heartless, Potter. Anybody that harms a child is an abomination not fit populate God's green earth."

"I wasn't..." Harry began.

"Don't." Snape interrupted angrily. "You do not have to speak of it just yet, but you will not lie for or defend those muggles."

Harry looked down, guiltily and swallowed, wetting his lips with his tongue. Suddenly, the world seemed too heavy. Nothing made sense. There was no way out. And now, everyone knew. 

"Why?" Harry repeated in a distressed whisper. He didn't know if Snape would understand the question. Hell, he didn't understand the question.

"Because, Mr.Potter." Snape replied in a matter of fact voice. "You are not your father."

Harry was startled as a fire flared in his chest. An anger that was strong and consuming. He glared at his own hands. 

"I look just like him. I'm arrogant and impulsive..." as he spoke, his volume increased. "People adore me for something I didn't even do. I'm wreckless and stupid and incompetent and weak. I ruin everything I touch. People die..." as his voice broke, he finished with a quiet whisper. "I'm a freak."

He felt a hand wrap around his wrist and realized that he had closed his eyes. Opening them, he saw five thin fingers enclosed around his wrist. Looking up, Harry met the eyes of his professor. 

Severus looked down into the tearful green eyes of Harry Potter. Without his glasses, the boy looked to be a mere twelve years old. His eyes, so much like Lily's, were not bright as they had been upon walking into the Great Hall his first year. No. They were dark and troubled. He was broken.

"You are not to believe a word that those abominable muggles have ever spoken. If I hear that word again, I will assign lines." 

The boy nodded. 

"You are not your father. You are not a freak. You are not the grim reaper." Severus spoke the words with conviction. 

The boy looked down at his hands again, biting his lip, hard. Severus realized that he was trying not to cry. He suddenly felt very much out of his depth.

Looking at the wall in front of him, Severus attempted to make sense of everything that had transpired.

I'm sorry Lily. I promised. I...

His self-condemnation was interrupted by a loud yawn. Severus looked down to see Harry rubbing his eyes tiredly before running his bandaged left hand through his hair. He stopped, rubbing it gingerly as if suddenly aware of its existence.

"Leave it Potter. Sleep. The draught is still working its way through your system."

The boy looked up at Severus with sleepy, confused eyes, as if he had no idea why the man was there. "Sleep Potter."

Severus leaned back in his chair, reaching for a book that he had left on a nightstand. As he opened the book and found his page, he heard a mumble. 

"I'm Harry. Just Harry. Just..." He watched as the boy drifted off.

"Goodnight, Harry."