He’d done it, he’d actually gotten into Durmstrangs. And oh, how he wanted to go. He could finally start things over, somewhere where people might not hate him for no reason. He just needed a parent’s signature. He knew the Dursleys would never give it to him, after all it was something he wanted. That left only one option, and he wasn’t sure if it was worth it, but the worst that happened was that he was told no, and then he could just forge it. That led him to where he was now, recently returned from Christmas break and standing in front of his father’s office, begging to leave and never return. He nocked on the door and waited. When it finally opened his father stood there glaring at him. When his father finally spoke his cruel words almost made the tears in Harry’s eyes fall.

            “What is it Potter? Do you have nothing better to do than to bother me before term even begins? If you are looking for help healing whatever injuries you have sustained from your fights you have come to the wrong place.” Harry stood his ground though and choked out his answer.

            “No sir, I, I just need your signature. I know you don’t acknowledge me or anything, but no one needs to know. My, my relatives would never sign it. Once you sign it, I’ll go away. I won’t bother you again either way.”

After all, if he couldn’t escape one way, he was sure he’d be able to escape another way. His wrists itched as he extended the form. Snape reached forward and took the parchment, slightly digesting the words the child had just said. He looked over the parchment and back up to the boy, his eyes incredibly critical, displaying nothing. He held the form in his hands, as if it was poisonous.

“What is this Potter? Well? Hogwarts is no longer good enough for the famous Harry Potter, is it? You need to go abroad so that your fame can increase do you? And what do you mean ‘either way’, if I refuse to sign this form you’ll run away will you? And what will you do then? The spoiled harry potter can barely survive in his pampered little world?

With those words, Harry felt his last hope deflate. He realized that he could never escape, and even if he did it wouldn’t be enough. How could he have hoped to find a better place? A place where he wasn’t hated. He should have known that the world was too good for a freak like him. He was spoiled, he was allowed to live. But he would be ok, he’d fix it soon enough. 

“No sir, no. I, I wouldn’t run away sir. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I’ll just go away now. Don’t worry, you won’t need to deal with me anymore, sir, I promise. I’m sorry for whatever it is that I’ve done.” With those words he reached to take the parchment back from Snape, only for his robe sleeve to slip up his arm and expose his ugliness to the man. For a moment, Snape was too shocked to take action, but then he grabbed the boy’s arm. 

“What, what is this Potter?” the man asked. He was too shocked by the boy’s arm to say anything else. The boy’s words were beginning to sink in, and Snape was starting to feel terror welling up within him. He looked at the arm, covered in bruises, but also in hundreds of self-inflicted scars. It looked like the boy had been harming himself for years. How did he never see? His previous promise came to his mind and he finally realized how close to death the boy was. If he was allowed to walk away, Severus was sure it would be into the welcoming arms of Death himself. And yet, the boy didn’t seem to be responding, he’d seemed to just give up. He slumped into his own body, and would probably have fallen to the floor if Severus was not holding him so tightly. 

“Please sir, I’m sorry, just please let go. I promise, I won’t bother you anymore. I’m sorry. Please, sir, please sir, please, just let me go!” Harry’s voice seemed to get frantic towards the end, and Severus was nervous, scared that if he did nothing the boy would be hysterical soon. While letting go of the boy’s arm, he grabbed onto the his shoulder to guide him into the office, only slightly surprised and highly upset at the flinch the action brought about. 

Once they were in his office, he guided the boy over to the couch he kept in a corner, seating them both on it. Only after the door was magically locked did he release the boy. Immediately, Harry seemed to shrink into himself, the strong façade he had used for years having left him entirely. Severus had no idea where to even begin. He decided that he should probably start somewhere, and decided to go with the parchment, knowing it was something the boy was prepared to discuss.

 “Potter, let us begin with the easiest topic, let’s. What is this?” he asked as he held the parchment up.

 Harry looked up and opened his mouth a few times, only to close it immediately and look down. Finally, he was able to respond. “It’s, it’s my enrollment form. Sir. For Durmstrang. I can begin immediately, their term doesn’t begin until next week but they have housing options during vacation. Someone, someone will come get me tomorrow. Sir.” Snape was shocked to hear this. He knew that he was not particularly kind the boy, but he had no idea that anything had gone this far. The answer was what he had expected, he had read the letter, but to hear the boy, the boy that he had always thought of as his even in the smallest of ways, explain that someone would be here to collect him virtually immediately was a bit of a shock, especially as he knew the boy would probably never leave the grounds of Durmstrangs once he arrived. Those vacation-housing options included an optional summer term. Why would the boy not wish to return to his indulgent relatives? They were so much more than he could ever give after all.

 “Why?” it was all that Severus could muster.

 Through tear stained eyes and a choked voice, he heard the boy answer. “I don’t understand sir, are you going to sign? Please, please sign. I, I know I don’t deserve it, but please, I can’t do this anymore. They have special programs. They’re nice. I, I’ve talked to them before.” And he had, he’d read that there were other magical schools, and he’d selected the one that seemed the best. He even remembered when he’d gotten the chance to talk to a professor, he’d seemed to actually care. It was probably the only reason he was still alive, he’d been about to give up hope when Professor Daskalov had come and talked to him over Christmas break. He was the one who gave him the form, telling him that as soon as it was signed he would be there to retrieve him, and that he would be there to talk to once he arrived. 

            It was a cold day, and Harry was outside, tending to his aunt’s flowers. Even if they were already frozen and dead, he was tending to them. In his overlarge t-shirt and jeans, and little else. The only warm clothes he had were from the magical world, and he couldn’t very well walk around Surrey in a Hogwarts robe, now could he? Over his shoulder he heard someone make a sound, and he flinched. His obvious bruises on his face could easily tell you why, a thin jumper hid the rest.

            “Mr. Potter I presume?” the accented voice asked. Harry slowly stood up and turned around. 

            “Yes, yes sir.” He answered. The stranger could tell that the boy was in a bad way. How had no one noticed his home life?

             “I am Professor Daskalov, from Durmstrang. You wrote to us, asking for a spot in the spring term. I wish to talk. Let us walk, yes?” And, with that he began to slowly walk away, knowing that the boy would not be able to keep up if he went quickly, but also knowing that he had seen some sort of warm food stand on his way over.

            “Let us begin, yes? How are you Mr. Potter, you do not look well? When did you last eat? I think not for some days, yes? Yes, yes, I thought not, you do well not to lie to me. Now, how did you get those marks on your face, I think it was not a door, yes?”

            Harry thought of lying to the man, he really did, but he just couldn’t. “No, it, it was, I deserved it sir. It was my fault. It’s nothing really. I’ve, I’ve had worse. My uncle, he just, I get in his way. I should know better. It’s nothing really, I’ll be fine.” His answer didn’t do anything to alleviate the man’s worry for the boy, only to inflame his anger at those fools at that ridiculous school. Finally, they arrived at what he supposed was food, a pie stand. He quickly ordered a few pies, enough so that the boy would have something to take home. He knew that he would need to help him hide the food, no doubt he wasn’t fed either. As they sat down on a bench and he handed the boy a pie, the boy’s sleeve rode up a bit and he saw the multitude of angry red lines, lines that seemed close to deadly. His hand stopped and he looked at the boy.

             “Why do you really want to come to Durmstrang Harry? What is going on in that house? School too, what there? This is not good, this will kill you, and soon. Yes?”

            The boy quickly pulled his sleeve down, and looked away sheepishly. Silence reigned, the professor knowing that the boy would break it eventually.

            “I know, I know it will kill me, but that’s not that bad. I mean, so what? It’s just me. It’s not like anyone would really care. It, it would be better. No one here would miss me anyway.”

            “Harry, I may call you Harry yes? Yes. Why? Maybe your home is not good, no, but school? Your friends, teachers, have you talked to them? No, no, I think not. I know of the, relationship, between you and the Snape man. Maybe he will listen? No, I suppose you would know best. Alright, we will talk later. I have seen your schoolwork, I know we want you, yes, we do. But we need a, guardian yes, yes, guardian’s signature on the form. It is magical, as soon as he signs it, I will know. I will come get you. You can stay at school all year long, we have classes in summer too for extra credit. I think you like that, yes? Yes. Now listen to me Harry, you are special. I like you, you will be a great man one day, and a great student. You are not alone. If you need anything, write me. I will come. Yes? Yes. Good.” 

             And that, that is how Harry ended up sitting on Professor Snape’s couch, begging for a happy ending, for a different type of escape. He knew he would find a way to escape either way, but while this one seemed like more work it might just be worth it. Plus, he could always escape the other way if it turned out like he thought it might. He didn’t know why he was remembering that day so vividly, or why it felt like some of the memories he didn’t like to think about were coming to the surface, but he didn’t really mind. At this point, he was a bit disconnected from his mind and really didn’t care. His arms itched, and he needed to escape.

            As Severus pulled out of the boy’s mind he had trouble maintaining his occlumency shields and hiding his utter despair. He’d done this. He’d driven his own son, and he now knew that’s what the boy was, into death’s arms. And how could he not. His own mind was shut off from his self, in an effort to feel less. The boy was virtually numb, gone. The boy didn’t need to slit his wrists as he was planning in order to die, he was already dead. It was just the body and a small flicker of hope that remained.

The only part of Severus that could function at this point was the pragmatic part, and he rose to gather his supplies. He returned and faced the boy, unsure of how to proceed.

“Harry, I’m sorry. But, before we talk, I need to see your arms.” He stated in what he hoped was a kind voice, and it was either the tone or the name, but somehow the boy looked up in complete despair.

“Why? It’s just me? Why does it matter?”

“Please, just take off the robe, I need to see what you’ve done. And what’s been done to you.”

As Harry took off the robe, Severus could tell that the mind was still numb, and the boy was functioning purely on instinct and following commands. What he saw once the boy was disrobed shocked him. His entire upper body was covered in bruises and scars, many from a belt. His arms were more scar tissue than flesh at this point. Many looked like they had been cut into a multitude of times, and the newer ones, those made in the last couple of months, looked close to fatal, and he knew the next cut would be fatal. He handed the boy a vial, a disinfectant, and watched as he numbly swallowed the potion, not caring what it was. Next was a bruise balm, and Severus attempted to apply it to the boy directly, only to be rewarded with a violent flinch that slammed the boy into the wall and caused his legs to become drawn up into his body.

“It’s just a balm, it will help.” With that he began to apply the balm to the slowly uncurling boy. Covering every inch that he could see with the gentlest of touch. Lastly were his arms. He applied a second potion once the balm had sunk in, and reached for the bandages.

“Please, please don’t. No, don’t please. I, I don’t want them covered. I can’t, I need them. I need to be able to get them. I, I need…” Severus’s heart seemed to break as he saw the child that he now knew was his begging to be allowed to keep his arms uncovered so that he could continue his self mutilation. How was he supposed to deal with this. He had an option. Sign the damn paper and push the boy onto Karkarof and that damn frozen school. But he couldn’t even if the boy wished for it.

“Harry, Harry, I need to. You can’t keep doing this. If, if I don’t cover them then the next one is going to be fatal. Can’t you see that?” That, it seemed, was the entirely wrong thing to say.

“So! I want it to be fatal! I want to die! Just sign the damn parchment and let me go! I’m not your problem, I know that now! I’m not going to keep trying! I’ll go away! Just stop! What the bloody hell do you even care! Why are you even doing this! Just sign the damn thing so Daskalov can come and get me!”

Snape knew Daskalov, he was a good man, and if he was the one the school had sent then he could understand why Harry wanted to go, even more than before.

“After, after we talk, then I’ll think about it. Ok Harry? But first I need to treat your arm.” With his assurance that he would think on it, Harry seemed to relax again, while also retreating into his fear of the man again, he had just yelled at an adult.

Once his arms were bandaged, Snape ordered some tea while Harry redressed. Once they were both settled with a cup each, Snape took a good look at his son. What he saw was not what he would have liked. His cheeks were sunken, his bones stood out, he was smaller than he should have been, his clothing was obvious second hand at best, and the spark that had been in Lily’s eyes was gone from his. All in all, he could not understand how he could have done this. His memory was starting to come back to him. How the boy always seemed to gorge himself the first few weeks of term, how he flinched a bit more than most when Snape came near him, especially his hands. But especially, how he had stopped eating this last term, as if he had given up. How he flinched even more when any adult or student can near him. How he had distanced himself from his band of followers. How some of the other teachers had been concerned. He especially remembered a note he had confiscated from the boy. He had thought he was passing notes with Weasley and Granger, but now it made sense.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me for everything. I know that you will all be much better off now. I

The boy had been practicing his suicide note. And he hadn’t even noticed.

                       “Your wrists then? I assume that is how you will do it then? If I do not sign you over to Daskalov you will find somewhere secluded and let the blood drain out?” He was rewarded with a nod. He noticed the backpack. He hadn’t seen it before, but now it seemed odd that the boy was walking around with it, classes didn’t start until tomorrow. “May I have my note then please? I assume that you have written out individual notes?” Once again he was rewarded with a nod as the boy reached for a journal and handed it to him.

             “I wrote to you. Every day for two years. It, it helped. It was silly. I know that, but it was nice thinking that you might have cared. I know you don’t. I just don’t know why.”

             As Severus opened the journal a letter fell out, but he decided to look through the journal a bit first. Every entry was dated, and began as if it was a letter to him. It seemed to start on a confused note, in his first year, and progressed as the boy learned how much the world hated him and he learned to lose first his self-esteem, then his trust in others, and finally his will to live. He did not read every entry, but vowed to at a later date. He finally picked up the letter that had fallen and opened it.

             Dear Father,

            I’m still not sure why you hate me, but I know you must have a reason. I don’t know why the rest of the world hates me, but I know everyone has a reason. I’m sorry for being a bother. I don’t know why Mum didn’t just strangle me in the crib or let Voldemort finish me off. She should have. I must have made her miserable too. I know she couldn’t have loved me, after all, who could? Please forgive me for whatever it is I did, it must have been horrible. Maybe Mum will be there to greet me before I go wherever I’m destined to go. I hope so. Then I can apologize to her before I go to hell. Anyway, I promise not to bother you every again. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.

 Sorry,

            Harry Severus Snape

             His occlumency shields couldn’t help anymore. He grabbed the boy and held him tight. How, how had he done this? His own son was prepared to die, and it was his own fault. He couldn’t help what he did, or what he said, next. Crying, he finally got the words out.

             “I’m so sorry Harry. I don’t know why I did it. I’m the one who belongs in hell, not you. Please, I’m so sorry. I love you Harry. I, I just could not say it before now. Please, explain to me what you feel, and maybe I can help. I promise not to treat you the same ever again.

             Harry wasn’t sure what to think anymore. He’d stopped flinching at the hug, he thought that’s what this was, he’d never had one from an adult before. Unfortunately, as he got back a little hope it felt like the floodgates had opened and the pain he’d disconnected from rushed in on him. He started to sob.

             “It, it just hurts so much. I can’t do this anymore. All I ever feel is pain. I don’t know why everyone hates me, I don’t even know why I hate me, but I do! If I die then at least it ends! If I go to Durmstrangs then it’s a fresh start. I, I just want it to end!” With those words, Severus finally understood his son, he had probably never known love since that awful night. He also knew what he needed to do.

             “Harry, how about we try something new? I, I can’t just sign you over to Durmstrangs just yet. But, I understand why you want to go. Hogwarts, Hogwarts is not a good place for us right now. I am due a, a sabbatical of sorts. I do not think you should be here this next semester. If you agree, why don’t we return home. I have a house, it’s in the country. I can ensure you stay up to date with your studies, especially catch you up to Durmstrang standards if that is what you chose for next year, but at my, our, home. We can spend the time talking, away from prying eyes. And, I promise, I will not be like I have been. I will be the father you deserve, the one I have failed to be. You should have been loved, taken care of, spoiled, and I have failed on all accounts. Is, is that acceptable?”

             “Harry lookup at him through tear stained eyes, and nodded. For the fist time since Severus had seen him that evening, Harry’s eyes had a bit of a spark in them. And he finally understood what that spark had been these last two and a half years, hope. And, the hope had finally come back.