"I warned you, Severus!" he yelled. "Crucio!"

He poured all of his rage into the curse, watching the tremours wracking Severus get more severe with each second. Yet, the man made no sound. He ended the curse and, while Severus sagged almost imperceptibly, the trembling continued.

"Your information cost me not only the boy, but also two of our own," he said. "Is the fool losing confidence in you?"

"No, my lord. He remains delusional and oblivious as always," Severus said. "He changed his plan at the last moment as he is wont to do."

He gave a shout of rage and sliced his wand sharply through the air, a deep slash appearing on Severus' cheek. The man didn't even flinch.

"I will not tolerate failure, not now when it could jeopardize everything," he said.

"Yes, my lord," Severus said, bowing his head. "I will not fail you again."

"See that you don't."

He flicked his wand and thin, red ropes began to wrap around the man's arms from wrist to shoulder. They circled around and around, the sleeves tearing and then the skin. Blood began to flow steadily, soaking the black clothing and dripping to the floor below. When Severus' face began to lose colour, he ended the spell but followed up quickly with another Cruciatus.

He held it gleefully until blood began to trickle from Severus' nose. Only then was he satisfied. Then, he turned his attention inwards, finding that spot, the thing he knew was Harry Potter, and he sent an internal Cruciatus at it, watching it shiver violently.

He laughed as he watched it disappear.

Harry grimaced as he forced his body to move, rising from the kitchen table as he finished his dinner. It had been a long, painful day following the nightmare and Voldemort's torture. The limits of their connection were steadily being discovered and Voldemort was now able to curse him directly when he was in the middle of a vision. Today, it was as though the Cruciatus had never ended, his nerves on fire all day. Gratefully, the house had been fairly quiet and empty, everyone staying there gone except Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Snape, though Snape had been locked away in his room all day. Harry had tried talking to him, concerned - just a little - after his nightmare, but the man hadn't answered.

He climbed his way slowly up the stairs, wincing with every step as he made his way to the third floor. He walked down the hall and around the corner to the second door on the right. he knocked and waited.

"Professor?" he called through the door when all remained silent. He sighed. "I just wanted to see if you were okay. I had a nightmare last night. I saw what he did to you because of me."

He was somewhat startled when the door opened and he was looking at Snape instead of wood.

"Your sense of self-importance is phenomenal, Potter," Snape said, walking away but leaving the door open in what Harry figured was the closest he would get to an invitation.

Harry walked in, closing the door behind him. "Am I wrong?"

"You're always wrong," Snape said and Harry rolled his eyes at the poor insult. He watched as the man lowered himself carefully into an armchair sat in the corner of the room. He was dressed casually, just in what seemed to be sleep trousers and a loose, long-sleeved grey raglan shirt. Harry could see the paleness in Snape's face, the strain lines, and the light tremours that still shook his body.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"I am here," Snape said simply.

"That doesn't mean you're okay," Harry said, moving to sit on the bed, moving almost as slowly as Snape.

Snape sighed, sounding exhausted. "I am fine, Potter. Are you?"

Harry looked at him, questioning.

"I am well-acquainted with the after-effects of the Cruciatus," Snape said pointedly.

Harry shrugged a shoulder, wincing as he did. Snape instantly opened a drawer on the desk next to him and pulled out a vial, tossing it to Harry who downed it without question. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"You have heard of self-preservation, yes?" he said.

Harry gave a cheeky grin. "Sure, but I also have it on good authority that you don't actually want to kill me."

"Perhaps I've made a mistake telling you. We could have proceeded through the next two years as though nothing had changed," Snape grumbled. "Likely simpler."

"I like that things have changed," Harry said, shifting on the bed until he could lean against the wall, bending his knees and draping his arms over them. "Everything is so mad now. You're the only thing that doesn't make me want to just lay down and die."

"My, my, things have changed," Snape said with a smirk.

"You were never that bad," Harry said with his own grin.

They fell into a relatively comfortable silence for a while, a feeling he didn't experience with anyone else. Surreal he only had it with Snape.

"You received your OWL results, correct?" Snape asked.

Harry nodded.

"And?" Snape pressed.

Harry shrugged again. "Does it matter?"

"It should," Snape said.

"Why?" Harry said. "I'm going to die, so it's not like I get to have a career or anything."

"Humour me," Snape said and Harry sighed. He pulled his letter from his pocket and levitated it over to Snape easily with his excess magic. He watched Snape scan the parchment. "Well done, Mr. Potter."

Harry glanced at him with slight surprise before dropping his eyes to his hands where he was absently picking at a chipped nail. "Thanks, but, like I said, it doesn't really matter. Though, I guess you're happy you don't have to deal with me in Potions anymore."

"If I didn't know better, I would think you sound disappointed," Snape said. "Would you miss my torment that much?"

Harry gave a little laugh. "I never actually hated Potions. I hated you."

Snape gave him an incredulous look.

"Okay, I hated Potions a bit, but I hated you more," Harry said. "For the most part, I kind of like Potions and guess I am a bit disappointed I won't get to take it anymore."

Snape hummed, looking at Harry's letter again. "Humour me again. If you were to survive, what might you like to do in the future?"

Harry frowned at his hands as he thought. "Everyone thinks Auror. It's even what I told McGonagall last year, but I don't know anymore. honestly, the idea of doing all of this fighting and dodging death voluntarily and for the rest of my life sounds like the worst possible thing."

"So, what do you like?" Snape asked.

Harry contemplated. "Duelling," he said eventually. "Real duelling is fun, like what we did yesterday, and I'm decent at it. It's Defence without the attempts on my life and I like Defence a lot."

"Anything else?" Snape asked, levitating the results back to Harry.

Harry thought again. "Magic in general," he said and Snape looked at him curiously. "With all this stuff I can do now, I don't know, I'm kind of interested in magic itself now, how it all works."

"Certainly something to consider pursuing," Snape said.

"Should I take the Magical Theory elective?" Harry asked, browsing the list again.

"I suppose that depends on what happens upon your return to Hogwarts," Snape said.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"If your training continues, you will learn Magical Theory as a result," Snape said.

Harry dropped the parchment in his lap. "Are you offering?"

Snape didn't respond and Harry found himself suddenly puzzled and uncomfortable. It was as though it was only just occurring to him that the person making things better for the last two weeks was Snape and it was not how things were supposed to be between them. Some part of him had been sure the changes were just for the summer, that they would return to what they were and had been all these years come September. Snape's subtle offer had that idea not so solid anymore and he didn't know what to do with it.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice suddenly rang out from the hallway. "Harry, where are you?"

"Go on, Potter," Snape said. "I will not allow you to isolate yourself fin here."

"You are," Harry pointed out even as he slipped off the bed and headed to the door.

"Yes, but there is no one to come searching for me," Snape said sardonically.

Harry frowned, unsure what to say or feel. He stayed quiet in his confusion and left the room. The sound of a door grabbed Hermione's attention just as she was about to head back down the stairs. Harry watched her turn to him. He hadn't actually spoken to her in the couple days he'd been at Grimmauld, mostly keeping to himself and always finding her with Ron. He'd assumed she was taking Ron's side, agreed with him that the Ministry was all Harry's fault, particularly due to the looks he had caught her sending him. After all, Hermione had been seriously injured, nearly killed. 

"Could we talk?" Hermione asked, her eyes flicking between Harry and Snape's door, a clear question there.

"Not if you're going to repeat what Ron's already made very clear," Harry said stiffly. He saw a flash in Hermione's eyes, recognizing the mix of hurt and uncertainty.

"I'm worried about you," Hermione said.

Sighing at his own unfair judgements, Harry nodded and led the way down to the second floor to the library. They sat on the sofa by the fireplace and Harry looked at Hermione expectantly.

"I don't blame you," Hermione said. "The Ministry and everything that happened, I don't blame you. I knew the risks and made the choice."

"Tell Ron that," Harry said bitterly.

"Oh, Harry, you know he doesn't mean it," Hermione said. "He'll come around. He just needs time."

Harry glared at the empty fireplace. "Right."

Hermione sighed.

"What do you want to talk about?" Harry said. "Why are you worried?"

"We haven't heard from you at all this summer and you were so quiet on the train in June," Hermione said. "Have you been alright?"

"I was dumped back in Privet Drive alone for the last month after getting Sirius killed and being possessed," Harry said snappishly. "What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think. You've been so closed off and then there's your magic," Hermione said. "I just want to know what's going on with you. You're not talking to us anymore."

"You haven't talked to me either," Harry said. "I'm still learning what's going on. My magic changed after the Ministry."

"Harry, I saw what happened at breakfast. Ron told me what you did that first night," Hermione said. "Your magic hasn't just changed, it's obviously out of control and could be dangerous."

Harry glared at her. "So, that's what you're actually worried about? My bloody magic?"

"Yes, because it isn't normal," Hermione said. "I think you need help. You could hurt someone."

"I'm dealing with it," Harry said through a clenched jaw, hurt at her implication that he would hurt someone.

"Harry, this is dangerous," Hermione said. "I've been reading and there are Suppression Potions that could help, could make your magic safer."

"You want to suppress my magic?" Harry said in disbelief.

"Raw magic is dangerous and can't be controlled," Hermione justified.

"Well, I'm learning how to control it," Harry said. "I've got help."

"Who? Professor Snape?" Hermione said, her face twisted into a frown. "Harry, I don't think we can fully trust him."

"Changed your mind all of a sudden," Harry said. "Why have you decided we can't trust him now when I've decided I can?"

"I just don't think you're thinking clearly after everything that's happened," Hermione said.

"I'm not crazy," Harry said. "Who do you think sent the Order to the Ministry? Who do you think brewed all those potions you needed all last month? He didn't have to do those things."

"Of course he did, for Dumbledore," Hermione said.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "He's on our side and he's helping me."

"He hates you," Hermione said.

"Things change and even if he does hate me, so what? Someone that hates me has done more for me than anyone else in this damn house," Harry said. "At least he's not calling me a murderer or wishing I'm dead or calling me dangerous or wanting to take my magic away."

"Harry-"

"If you're so afraid of me, why are you here?" Harry said.

"I just don't want you to hurt anyone else," Hermione said, her eyes widening immediately as she obviously realized what she'd said. "I...I didn't mean-"

"No, you did," Harry said stiffly. "I'll keep my distance and you'll be safe."

"Harry-"

Harry just shook his head and made to leave the library. At the door, he stopped and turned back to Hermione. There was pain in her face, but he could see the fear and even a little anger that made his own eyes burn. He couldn't believe this was happening. They were supposed to be his best friends, had been there through everything, and right when he lost Sirius...

Was he going to have anyone left or was he really meant to be alone forever?

"You know, I never asked you and Ron to do any of the things we've done. I never asked you to follow me," Harry said. "I never asked for any of what's happened to me, including what's happened to my magic. I hate who I am. I hate my life. I want nothing more than for it all to end. I thought you both knew that."

He saw one tear fall down Hermione's cheek and, feeling on the ledge and completely alone in the world once again, he left the library.

Harry gazed out at the dark, empty street from where he sat on Grimmauld Place's front steps. He knew he should be in bed given it was three in the morning and he knew he was pushing the safety of the place to its limits, but he didn't care. He just couldn't stop thinking and every thought brought him back to the same place: wanting to step off those stairs and get captured, get killed. He doubted anyone would even notice he was gone; he had no one, not anymore. he had no real reason to stay around. The one thing he wanted - a family - would never exist for him, so what was the point in continuing in this suffering?

He dropped his eyes to his newest wooden snake, finding a small light breaking through the abyss that was his mind. Thoughts of Snape drifted across the forefront of his mind and his eyebrows furrowed with the conflict he suddenly found himself in. He'd begun questioning everything about the last two weeks, suddenly aware that everything that had been going on between him and Snape was not normal and that the last five years shouldn't have been so easily pushed aside. Maybe Ron and Hermione were right. maybe he wasn't thinking clearly maybe he was betraying his friends...Sirius...his parents.

Even more reason to die then; to stop hurting everyone, to stop being a disappointment.

He looked past his snake and at the dark street again. It would take three steps to leave the wards, to give himself up...to give up. Three steps and it could all end. Just three steps...

"Potter."

Harry huffed, irrationally irritated at being interrupted.

"Your timing is annoyingly impeccable, Professor," Harry grumbled, glaring at the street he could no longer step into with Snape there.

"Yes, well, after the last five years, I seem to have developed a sixth sense for when you are on the verge of something particularly idiotic," Snape said.

A part of Harry appreciated the attempt at the dry joke, but it was drowned quickly by the crushing despair urging him to leap off the ledge he'd been standing on all day. The darkness waiting seemed so inviting.

"I'm fine," Harry said dully. "You can go back to bed."

Snape snorted and lowered himself to sit next to Harry only one step up so his legs were beside Harry. "I am not that stupid, nor are you."

Harry scowled out at the dark, spotting the streetlight that was flickering a few flats down. Just three steps...

"I'd rather be alone," Harry said stiffly, clenching his fist around his wooden snake until it hurt.

"I am sure you would," Snape said, "but you are three steps away from a very bad decision that I would rather have a head start on fixing."

Harry ground his teeth together, setting his jaw. Just three steps. It would be so easy...

"What if I don't want it fixed?" Harry said harshly. "What if I don't want it to get better?"

Snape didn't say anything, but his presence behind Harry seemed to grow. He felt the man's magic roll like waves, concern washing over him with understanding laying in the undertow. Harry's eyes burned and he fought back the tears brimming there.

"I just want it to end," Harry said, his voice dropping.

"I know you do," Snape said, his own voice quiet, but gentle.

"Then why won't you let me??" Harry whispered, pained.

Just three steps...

"It might be what you want, but it is not what you deserve," Snape said.

Harry scoffed, swiping angrily at the one tear that escaped down his cheek. "How do you know what I deserve?"

"You showed me," Snape said.

Harry gave a short, humourless laugh and rolled his watery eyes to the black sky. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You have shown me I was wrong," Snape said. "You have shown me what I refused to see."

Harry found, this time, the man's words weren't breaking through the dark that encompassed him. The abyss was just so deep, the end just steps away so inviting, and he was so alone. He shook his head, his face twisting into a frown as a couple more tears fell.

"You don't get to do this," Harry said.

"Do what?" Snape asked.

"This. Be here. Pretend," Harry said.

"Pretend?" Snape repeated.

Harry wasn't sure what caused it, but something snapped as he tumbled over the ledge. He jumped to his feet and spun to look wildly at Snape, the tears reaching their capacity and pouring over.

"Pretend you care! You don't care! No one cares!" Harry yelled brokenly. Several streetlights exploded along the street, drenching the area in complete darkness and raining glass tinkling on the asphalt. "You don't get to sit there and act like this is normal when you're just going to leave me!"

"Potter-"

Harry shook his head, his chest jerking as he tried not to audibly sob and tears dripping off his chin. He stepped down to the second last stair, feeling the alarm in Snape's magic.

Just two steps...

"I'm done! I can't do it anymore!" Harry shouted and he stepped down again. He turned to the street.

Just one step...

Snape's hand shot out and grasped Harry's bicep.

"Let me go," Harry said, staring at the waiting street.

"I can't do that," Snape said.

"Let me go!" Harry yelled desperately. "They all have!"

"No."

Harry pulled hard and lifted his foot from the stair. He moved to drop it only for an arm to wrap around his chest and yank him backwards. As he fought and struggled against the hold, desperate to take that last step, they stumbled backwards on the stairs. Snape was back on the stair he'd originally been sitting on and Harry fell into his chest, sliding down until Snape's grip stopped him. He was left sprawled on his side across the descending stairs, the edge of one digging painfully into his hip. Snape's left arm was still wrapped around Harry's chest while his right hand was cupped around Harry's right bicep near his shoulder. Harry was curling down, his forehead nearly touching Snape's thigh.

His chest was hitching and heaving, and his tears flowed like rushing rivers. He was still falling, the ledge so far away now, he wasn't sure he could find his way back. This dark abyss was becoming all he knew.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Harry whispered, agonized.

"Because you have a job to do," Snape said quietly.

"I have to die anyway," Harry said. "Just let me."

"The prophecy is not what I am referring to," Snape said. "Your job is to live."

Harry shook his head, choking on a sob. "I can't, I can't...I've lost everyone so what's the point?"

"I'm here," Snape said.

Harry shook his head again. "You'll leave or die."

"I am still here, child," Snape said. "I am still here."

Harry fell forward with a sob. His left hand travelled up to clutch Snape's arm across his chest and his right fisted Snape's trouser leg as his forehead finally came to rest on the man's thigh. He could just barely feel the softness Snape's magic had undertaken, the way it seemed to settle around him, trying to pull him up, but it wasn't strong enough. Not this time, no matter how much he wanted to let it wash over him, to let it heal him in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever been healed before. He shook and trembled as he sobbed almost violently, and Snape just held him through the never-ending abyss of despair he was lost in.