He picked it up and studied it carefully, not recognizing the liquid. He recalled the memory he’d seen earlier of Harry looking into a cauldron full of a pink liquid and felt his stomach turn to ice.

“Harry, what is this?” he asked, holding the vial so Harry could see it. Harry shook his head and moaned softly in pain.

“Did you drink this?” Harry again shook his head. Snape noticed his eyelids beginning to droop. He lifted Harry into a sitting position and shook him lightly.

“Harry, you can’t go to sleep right now. I need to know what you’ve taken.” What the hell was that pink liquid? He remembered seeing it somewhere, just couldn’t remember where. He wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulder to keep him upright and placed his right hand on the floor for support.

His hand touched something wet and sticky. He brought his hand up to his face for further inspection and saw that there was a faint pink color on it. He rubbed his hand clean on his robes and looked for the source of the mess.

An empty vial was laying on the floor close to him. He picked it up and saw that there was a small amount of the pink liquid in it. So Harry had had some of the pink liquid then. There was another full vial on Harry’s bag. He opened Harry’s bag and found two more empty vials. Just how much of the potion had Harry taken? The way it looked, Harry had had way too much of the potion. He needed to get Harry to the hospital wing.

He picked up the vials and placed them in a pocket of his robes. He slung Harry’s bag over his shoulder and picked up Harry. He still wasn’t much heavier than the day he’d tried to kill himself. Thinking about that made him grow even more concerned for the boy in his arms.

As he made his way to the hospital wing, he began to talk softly, hoping to keep Harry’s attention focused on him and not how much he hurt or wanted to curl up and go to sleep. He knew enough from his potions experience that if Harry fell asleep, he might never wake up again, he knew that he couldn't bear losing another person that he cared about. He opened the door to the hospital wing with one hand and walked over to Madam Pomfrey’s office. She opened the door immediately upon hearing Snape knock and came out.

“Put him on the bed over there.” She pointed at the one nearest to her office.

“What happened to him?” she asked as she looked him over. Snape set Harry’s bag down and pulled out the potion vials.

“I think he took these,” he said. “I don’t know what was in them.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know either. I can give him something for his racing heart and probably a sedative for when the potion wears off, but I can’t do anything else until I know what he took. I’ll have to watch him until the potion wears off,” said Madam Pomfrey. Racing heart. He mentally added that to the list of Harry’s symptoms.

“I will go to my lab then, and see if this matches anything I have in my stores,” said Snape. He thought he had an idea of what the potion was now and needed to check Moste Potente Potions. If it was what he thought, then he needed to go make an antidote right away. He went to his office and got out his copy and settled down in his chair. He pulled out the list he had been working on of Harry’s symptoms and added racing heart and chest pain to it.

He flipped through the book, searching for the potion that matched Harry’s symptoms. He was several pages past Polyjuice when he found it. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he read exactly what the potion was for.

Humeur Ascenseur -- the mood-lifting potion

Created in 1758 by Edgar Stroulger.

Use is heavily restricted by the Ministry of Magic because of the dangers of prolonged use. Used as a treatment for depressed patients at Wizard Hospitals, though patient must be monitored closely while taking the potion, as effectiveness is decreased in time and patient may become addicted due to increased need for potion.

Signs of over-use may include:

Bizarre behavior, decrease in responsiveness, hallucination, abnormal vital signs.

If an overdose is suspected, get patient to nearest hospital for treatment. The potion must be allowed to completely wear off, as there is no known antidote.

Sedation is suggested for more depressed patients.

No antidote? He checked the ingredients list to see if there was a possibility of creating one in a short amount of time. His eyes widened as he saw that belladonna was one of the ingredients Antidote to belladonna, where the hell was it? That would help curb most of the overdose symptoms. He looked through numerous cupboards and finally found a vial of the blood-red liquid.

He blew the dust off of it and walked back up to the hospital wing as fast as he could without looking suspicious. He handed the vial to Madam Pomfrey without telling her what it was. If she knew what Harry had been taking, she’d probably have him shipped off to St. Mungos’ Psychiatric Ward without a second thought. Harry wasn’t insane, he just had a lot more problems than anyone else his age.

She carefully poured the antidote into Harry’s mouth and saw that he swallowed it. When his breathing slowed, she looked somewhat mollified and turned back to him.

“What was that?” she asked.

“It was for his heart,” said Snape simply.

“I know that, but what was it?” she pressed.

Snape chose to ignore her question and said instead, “I need to go inform Dumbledore of the….situation.” He got up and left Madam Pomfrey sputtering behind him. He gave the gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore’s office the latest idiotic password, Skittles, and headed up the spiral staircase. What was a Skittles anyways?

“Hello Severus,” greeted Dumbledore the instant he walked through the door. “Quite surprising to see you this time of night.” Dumbledore was wearing robes that were bright pink with strange multi-colored circles all over them.

“Have a seat. Lemon Drop? Skittle?” Dumbledore held out a handful of the small circles that matched the ones on his robes. So that’s what a Skittle was. Some kind of Muggle sweet.

“No thank you,” said Snape with a slight sneer on his face, as he sat down.

“Now, what brings you up here at this hour? It can’t be for just my company,” Dumbledore said, his eyes sparkling.

How he so wished to want to be up here just to sit and talk about Skittles with Dumbledore.

“No, it’s not,” said Snape. He launched into his story of everything that had happened since he had taken Harry to stay at Snape manor. When he finished, Dumbledore was looking quite subdued as he munched thoughtfully on several Skittles.

“I believe we have a few options here. If Harry is indeed addicted to this potion, then he’s going to need a lot of attention before he can resume classes. The best thing to do would be to take him to St. Mungo’s for treatment. There are some Healers who a re specially trained in this area.”

“I’d rather not take Harry there. I don’t believe it’s entirely safe there, especially for Harry,” said Snape.

“Hmm….perhaps there is another solution. You would be able to brew the required potions, would you not?” said Dumbledore. Snape nodded mutely. What kind of crazy plan was Dumbledore coming up with now?

“I propose that we have a Healer come here and instruct you as to what to do for Harry. He can be moved to your quarters, where you would both stay until his treatment is complete. I would take over your classes, under Polyjuice, of course.” Snape was flabbergasted. How had Dumbledore come up with such a good plan in such a short amount of time? He had to credit the man, although he had his suspicions of Dumbledore being partially--well, actually mostly, the cause of Harry's depression, Dumbledore did come up with some brilliant plans.

“If that is acceptable, then I will have Harry moved to your quarters once he is more stable,” said Dumbledore. He bent down and pulled two rectangular red bags from a drawer in his desk and handed them to Snape.

“Skittles for you and Harry,” said Dumbledore, the twinkle back in his eyes. Snape thanked him, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, and went to his quarters to prepare for having Harry staying with him. He selected an empty room that he usually used as a storage room and within an hour, had it transformed into a smaller replica of Harry’s room in Snape Manor.

~Harry’s POV~

Harry opened his eyes to the familiar sight of his room in Snape’s house. What was he doing back there? Had his return to Hogwarts been a dream? Harry sat up and looked around. The room looked the same, but it seemed different somehow. He got out of bed and saw that there was only one doorway; the one that led out to the main hallway. He heard voices coming from the hallway and moved over to the door to listen in.

“…room is just through here.”

“Thank you, Professor Snape.” A woman’s voice. Who would be visiting here? Especially a woman. He opened the door to see who was there and almost gasped in shock. He was not in Snape’s house. Snape and a woman with long blonde hair were standing near the door in a hallway covered in dark blue carpet. The woman was the first to recover from the shock of seeing him open the door and stepped forward with her hand outstretched.

“Hello Harry,” she said.

Harry ignored her hand and asked, “Who are you?”

She dropped her hand and said, “I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself first. I am Alejandra Garmond. I work at a Muggle hospital. Your father asked me to come here and see you.” Harry looked at Snape, who was still standing where he had been when Harry had opened the door.

“We didn’t expect you to wake up so soon,” said Alejandra.

“I will leave you two to talk, then,” said Snape.

“Wait,” called Harry. He had one more question to ask. “Where are we?” Snape answered without looking back.

“My quarters at Hogwarts.” He disappeared through a door on the opposite side of the hallway, leaving Harry and the woman alone.

“Why don’t we go in you room and talk?” suggested Alejandra.

“Sure,” said Harry. He went back into his room and sat on his bed. Alejandra pulled a chair over next to his bed and sat down. She got a clipboard and a Muggle pen out of a bag she set on the floor and laid it on her knees. She clicked the pen on and looked at him.

“Okay, Harry. I just have a few questions for you,” said Alejandra. A few turned out to be quite a lot. Finally, Alejandra laid her pen on the clipboard and set it on the floor. Relief flooded through Harry, until he saw what happened next. She pulled up her bag and withdrew a vial of pink liquid. What was she doing with that? Had Snape taken it out of his trunk? He dreaded to think what she was going to do with it...

She held it up so Harry could see it and asked, “Do you know what this is?” Harry stared at the vial. He’d rather drink that potion than answer any more of her questions. Maybe if he answered, she would give it to him.

“Yes,” said Harry.

“Do you know what this is for?” asked Alejandra.

“Yes,” said Harry.

“Well?” prompted Alejandra.

“It makes you happy,” said Harry.

“That’s all you know?”

“Umm…yes,” said Harry. Alejandra frowned, then bent down and pulled a book from her bag. She opened it and handed it to Harry.

“Read that,” she instructed. Harry’s eyes widened as he saw that the book was Moste Potente Potions and that it was opened to Humeur Ascenseur. He read the page and felt slightly sick as he realized what the potion could do to him.

“I take it you never read that,” said Alejandra. Harry shook his head.

“Your father believes that you are addicted to that potion,” she said, pointing at the book.

“I am not,” Harry objected.

“I think you are too,” said Alejandra. She held out the vial to him and stood up.

“Hold this for me while I go speak to your father,” she said and left him alone, holding the vial.

Exactly what he had wanted before reading about the potion. Except now, he didn’t want it. He didn’t want to feel like he needed to drink the potion. Harry closed his eyes, trying not to think about the cool glass vial that was now held in his sweaty palms.

~Snape’s POV~

Snape sat in his study, wondering how things were going with Alejandra and Harry. Dumbledore had said she’d be perfect to help Harry. She was a well-known Healer and worked at a special Muggle hospital for drug treatment, doing the same thing in various Wizard hospitals when her services were needed. He hoped she would be able to help Harry.

He heard knocking on the door and said, “Enter.” The door opened to admit Alejandra.

“What are you doing here?” Snape demanded.

“I’ve just given him a wake-up call,” she said.

“What?” asked Snape.

“It’s my best way of making a patient realize that they need help. It also help me to judge what kind of treatment they’ll need. In Harry’s case, I had him read the section on Humeur Ascenseur in Moste Potente Potions and right now he has a vial of what he thinks is the potion. I need to let him alone with it for several minutes, then I’ll return and assess him,” she said.

“May I watch?” asked Snape. He was rather curious to see how this test would affect Harry.

“Yes, but I must ask you not to interfere with anything I’m doing, even if it upsets you,” said Alejandra.

“I wouldn’t interfere with anything that might help Harry,” said Snape.

“You’d be surprised how many parents attempt to interfere when they see their child in distress, Professor Snape,” said Alejandra.

“I assure you I won’t,” promised Snape.

Several minutes passed in silence, then Alejandra said, “Time to go back.” She left the room with Snape following. Snape was shocked at the sight of his son.

Harry was sitting on his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest and his head resting on them. His gaze was focused entirely on the vial clutched in his right hand until he heard the door open. He looked up and smiled in a maniacal sort of way.

Alejandra sat down beside the bed and Harry tried to hand her the vial, but she said, “You hold it for now.” Harry frowned and looked at Snape. His gaze locked with Snape’s and Snape could see that his face was flushed slightly.

He jumped off the bed and held it out to Snape, saying, “Please take it.” Snape shook his head and backed away.

“Please, I can’t stand it anymore,” pleaded Harry.

“No, Harry,” said Snape. Harry collapsed to the floor, his whole body shaking. Snape was forced to endure watching Harry like that for what seemed like an eternity when Alejandra motioned for him to go ahead and comfort Harry.

He pulled the vial out of Harry’s grasp and pulled Harry close to him. Harry shivered slightly in his grasp and Snape felt the front of his robes becoming damp. Harry made quiet whimpering sounds as tears streamed down his face and were soaked up by Snape’s black robes. Eventually, Harry’s body grew limp and his breathing deep and even, letting Snape know that he had fallen asleep. He carefully placed Harry on his bed and turned to Alejandra.

She picked up her things and led the way out of Harry’s room. They sat down in his study and Alejandra pulled out her notes.

“From what I observed and what you’ve told me, Harry is definitely addicted. What I can do is tell you how to help him and what to expect. First of all, Harry was experiencing denial. He should be over this now and be ready to start the next phase of treatment. From documented cases of this same potion, he should be going through withdrawal for about two weeks or so.” She handed Snape a roll of parchment.

“This is a list of withdrawal symptoms. You just need to treat them with whatever you feel appropriate. Harry may have some serious cravings, so I suggest you do what I did and give him a vial of colored water to drink. It should trick his mind into thinking it’s the potion. After that, there will be about a week or so where he will need to be watched carefully. As this is an emotional stimulant potion and he was suicidal before taking it, being without the potion will be harder on him. He can return to classes whenever you feel he is ready to, but make sure you have people watching him. Got it?” said Alejandra. Snape nodded mutely, surprised at how much she knew.

“Good. Anything you might need to know is on that parchment, but if you need to talk to me, you may Owl me, Floo if it’s an emergency. I should be getting back to the hospital now.” Snape pointed out he fireplace and she Floo’ed off to her office in London Medical Center. Snape unrolled the parchment partially and began to read.

~Harry’s POV~

Harry sat up quickly in bed and looked around. Seeing no one in the room with him, he climbed out of his bed and headed for his trunk. He needed to take the potion.

Halfway there, he stopped and remembered that he couldn’t have any more of the potion and that the rest of his supply had probably been taken out of his trunk. The potion could kill him. In fact, he had probably already come close to dying.

Oh Merlin, how could he have been so stupid? Snape had always had them read about a potion before making it. He should have remembered that. But no, all he had wanted was a quick fix to his problem. He had learned the hard way that there was no “quick fix”, no easy way out. He rubbed his wrist, where the thin white scars lay and leaned against the bedpost.

He was the Boy-Who-Lived. There could be no easy way out for him. Not now, not ever. He ran a hand through his short hair, “James Potter” hair and sighed. Nothing was ever easy for him and now this. Getting over being addicted to that stupid potion was going to be hard. Why, oh why had he even done it?

No one was supposed to know, said a little voice in the back of his mind. Just like no one was supposed to know about your arms.

But they did. No detail of his life could be private. He supposed this was actually why he had done it. First ran that glass over his arm, first taken a sip of that potion. He wanted something that was all his own. Something that no one else knew. Merlin, he hated this.

He kicked viciously at the bedpost, earning himself a sharp pain his foot. He sank to the floor and buried his face in the mattress, biting his lip to keep from screaming in frustration. He slammed his fists into the mattress and barely registered it when a pair of arms wrapped around his chest and pulled him away from the bed. He relaxed into the arms, grateful to be held, grateful that he had a father, one that was alive.

That’s what you have of your own. Just one thing that no one else knows about. A father. A real father, whispered the voice.

“Harry?” Harry twisted around so he could see his father’s face.

“Yeah?”

“You realize that this is only going to get worse before it can get better?” asked Snape.

“I kind of figured that,” Harry muttered, ashamed of how much trouble he had caused.

“Dumbledore will be teaching my classes for the next couple of weeks so that I can be here with you,” said Snape. Harry blinked, surprised. Well that was unexpected, he thought.

“But what about Alejandra?” asked Harry.

“She was only here to tell me how to care for you. I would rather be the one to help you, rather than a Healer you don’t know and could possibly be on Polyjuice or something like that. I’d just rather not risk it,” said Snape, concern clearly evident in his eyes.

“Oh,” said Harry quietly. He was starting to get a headache from that stupid voice that kept urging him go find some of that potion. He closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead.

“Scar?” asked Snape.

“No, just a headache,” replied Harry. Snape set Harry back on the floor and stood up.

“Where are you going?” asked Harry, concerned that his father would leave him alone again, forced to dwell on horrible memories for hours on end. He just wouldn't be able to take it. Harry knew he would either have to find some more of the potion, or resort to cutting himself again, and he didn't think he could do that, not after the fiasco with the Death Eaters...

“To get you something for your headache. Do you want to come with me?” said Snape. Harry shook his head, relieved that his dad would only be gone for a couple of minutes at most, and scooted backwards to lean on the side of the bed. His whole body was starting to ache for no reason, like he’d been in a Muggle fight. Snape returned several minutes later with a vial of potion, which Harry happily drank. His headache ceased, but the pain in his muscles persisted.

“Why don’t you get some rest, Harry?” suggested Snape. Harry shook his head; he wasn’t tired at all. Except for his aching muscles and that cursed voice, he felt fine.

“Do you have any more sleeping potion?” asked Snape.

“No,” said Harry. He’d used it all up a few days ago.

“I’ll make you some more, then. Would you like to help?” asked Snape.

“Sure,” said Harry. He followed Snape out of his room and into a room down the hall. Snape had him sit at a table and take care of ingredients for him.

Slicing, grinding, dicing, whatever the instructions called for. He began to get bored as he started in on grinding knarl quills. He tapped his finger against the mortar as he ground him quills into fine dust. He finished grinding and dropped the pestle into the bowl. He then hopped off his stool and began to wander throughout the room.

He found nothing of interest until he found a cupboard in the back containing racks of potions. His breath caught in his throat as he saw a vial of familiar pink potion. He suddenly found his hand stretching out to grab the vial. Harry backed away, his eyes locked on the vial.

It would be so easy to just grab it and drink it. Snape would never know. He was so absorbed in making the sleeping potion for you.

No, he thought desperately. He couldn’t have it. He couldn’t give in. He closed his eyes, wishing desperately for the potion to just disappear. Something, anything so he didn’t have the temptation. Knowing it was there, just an arms length away was sheer torture. He needed that potion. He pulled his hands behind his back and clasped them together tightly.

“You know you want to,” a voice that sounded like Voldemort whispered softly in his ear. He opened his eyes to find no one there. No, he didn’t want it. He didn’t want the potion.

“Yes, you do,” whispered the voice. His head snapped to the right, where he saw a flash of a white face, and crimson eyes glowed in the semi-darkness. Voldemort couldn’t be there, could he? He’d done it before, after all. Harry stepped closer to the shadows, wanting to see if it really was Voldemort. It was.

He held up a vial of pink liquid and smiled. Then, the potion changed into a gleaming silver knife and Voldemort’s face changed to that of Lucius Malfoy. Harry whimpered and found himself back in the stone room, sprawled on the floor.

Lucius reached down and grabbed his arm, the left one, the one that was covered in scars. He ran the cool blade down Harry’s arm, not pressing hard enough to even release the tiniest trickle of blood. Harry yanked his arm back and felt the knife cut into his hand. Lucius kicked viciously at him, then yanked him to his feet and pulled him close.

“You should have just killed yourself. It would have been far less painful,” said Lucius. He ran the blade down Harry’s left cheek.

“Oh how I would love to be the one to kill you,” he said, the blade dangerously close to Harry’s throat. “but that is the Dark Lord’s job. Mine is to have as much fun with you as I can.” Lucius leaned down and grabbed his shoulders. He pushed him backwards onto the floor, his head slamming into the stone with a loud thud, making Harry slightly dazed.

“Harry!” That was not Lucius. He could feel warm breath on his face. “Harry!”

Harry’s vision cleared and he could see Snape’s concerned face hovering over him. He sat up and looked around wildly. He was mollified when he saw that he was back in his room. Oh Merlin, why had he remembered that? He rubbed his head, trying to erase the memory from his mind.

“What happened?” asked Snape.

“I don’t know. One minute I was looking at your potions and the next it was like I was re-living a memory of….the Dursleys,” said Harry. He didn’t want to lie about what he’d seen, but he could tell his father what he’d really seen. He couldn’t tell anyone.

“What was it about?” asked Snape.

“It was -- I saw -- I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” said Harry. He was getting sick of Snape’s endless questioning every time he so much as breathed.

“Talking about it will help, I assure you,” said Snape. Harry had no doubt that he did know that, but was in no mood to talk.

“I don’t want to talk,” said Harry. Maybe he could sneak down to Snape’s lab and just have a sip of the potion. No, he couldn’t have that either.

“Just go away.”

Snape said, “Remember, you can talk to me anytime you feel like it,” and rested his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Just the weight of it sent cold chills down his spine and he knocked it away, hissing, “Don’t touch me.” Snape looked slightly startled and hurt, but quickly put his mask up again and exited the room. Harry turned around and buried his face in his pillow. Hot tears fell from his eyes and were soaked up by the pillow.

He hated Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Sick bastards. He couldn’t wait until Dumbledore discovered a way to get rid of him for good. But no, he had to do that. He had to be their perfect little hero. He had to save them all. The world could go to hell. All he wanted was to be normal and live a normal life. Harry slowly drifted off to sleep, his face pressed to the damp pillow.

* The dream picked up exactly where it had left off. Harry felt Lucius’ warm breath on his face and was disgusted.

“Get off me!” he yelled as he swung his fist up and punched Lucius in the face. He fell to the side and Harry quickly scrambled to his feet. Lucius picked up the knife and started towards Harry, who saw that his lip was bleeding.

“You arrogant little brat, you’ll pay for that!” said Lucius as he raised the knife. The door suddenly appeared in the wall and a robed and masked Death Eater stepped in.

“The Dark Lord wishes to see you now,” said the Death Eater.

“You are very, very lucky,” whispered Lucius as he dragged the knife down Harry’s arm. He turned and stalked out of the room, leaving Harry alone with the unknown Death Eater. Harry clutched at his arm, which was bleeding slightly and watched the Death Eater.

“Time to play, Mr. Potter,” said the Death Eater. *

Harry woke up screaming. The door to his room banged open and Snape hurried through it.

“Voldemort?” he asked.

“No, nightmare,” said Harry.

“You’d better take this,” said Snape, holding out a vial of orange liquid.

“Thanks,” said Harry and drank the potion. He was immediately plunged into a nightmare-free sleep.