Harry sat in the common room long after most other students had gone to bed. He had his Charms book open, but the psychology book was stuck inside of it so that no one could see what he was actually reading. So far the book was frustrating him, because there was a ridiculous amount of history detailed in the first couple chapters. The book discussed the development of psychology in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds, and while it was fairly interesting, it wasn’t what he needed to know. He jumped ahead until he found the sections on personality, abnormal psychology, and treatment.

So far it looked like there were tons of things wrong with him. His personality had changed dramatically over the past several months. He’d gone from a boy who tried hard not to rock the boat, to please people, and also to pretend like everything was fine even when it wasn’t, to his current personality where he didn’t give a shite what anyone else thought. In this respect, he considered how his life had been with the Dursleys. As he read through the book, he made notes in his journal.

Dursleys. They didn’t like me, kept me in the cupboard until this past summer. Didn’t feed me. Cruel. Mean. Was there ever a time when they were nice to me? Why do they hate me so much? What did I ever do to them???

He found the chapter on attachment very interesting, because he’d gone to live with people that couldn’t stand him when he was just over a year old. He assumed that things had been great with his mum and dad, but his attachment probably went all to hell when he moved in with the Durlseys. The theory part of the chapter was complex, and Harry decided he’d go back to that issue another time. He knew there was something to it, because he was afraid to get close to people. He’d gotten close to Ron, and then Hermione, very quickly, but that was unusual. During the summer, while isolated on Privet Drive, he’d felt stupid and naïve for letting himself care about them so much. Surely that would lead to him getting hurt.

When you let people get close, you get hurt. If you keep people away, it’s safer.

This is part of what had led him to believe Snape was someone he could talk to, because he didn’t have to worry about letting him get close. It would never happen. Harry couldn’t be certain, but he’d bet his last galleon that Snape had no real friends or family. The sentimental people around Harry, like Dumbledore, McGonagall, or even his friends, wouldn’t understand the need to protect themselves from being hurt.

Am I hurt? Why don’t I ever cry?

When he found the section on trauma he scanned it quickly and was taken aback. He knew nothing about trauma. It never, ever occurred to him that things had happened that might cause him emotional pain. But here it was, in black and white. The death of his parents, living with people who treated him like shite, the incident last year with the Sorcerer’s Stone – and those weren’t nearly all of the traumatic events he’d experienced. According to the book, a person could experience trauma in many ways, and sometimes the effects of trauma didn’t show up until later. Harry struggled with what he was reading and feeling, but he needed to know about these things in order to understand.

The book says I need to feel “safe.” Safe with people? What does it mean to be safe?

Harry stuck the books in his bag and rested his head on the back of the chair. It all seemed too much. He had no idea where to start, because it was overwhelming. And tomorrow he’d be in detention with Snape expecting him to talk, but where to start? He had no clue. In some ways, the psychology book had made things way more complicated than they’d been before.

What do I say tomorrow? How do you tell someone that you’re a nutter?

***

Harry started the day feeling angry and defensive, and his dorm mates took the brunt of it in the early morning. Following a curt discussion with Ron about leaving Harry to get to breakfast on his own, Seamus called him over.

“Have you had anything to drink lately, Harry?” he asked. “A spot of whiskey might make you feel a little better.”

“I can’t keep drinking,” Harry said. But he was torn. He didn’t need to get drunk, and it did make him feel better. “I guess I might like some later, if you’re going to have it.”

“You’re way less of an arsehole when you’ve had a drink,” said Seamus, laughing. “We’ll have it around tonight and you’re welcome to join us.”

“Thanks,” Harry muttered, and walked away. Less of an arsehole? Maybe it was true. He hated to think about the way people saw him and felt about him lately. He’d never meant to drive everyone away. He hadn’t meant to do anything but live his own life.

***

Severus considered how best to handle the detention with Harry that evening. It wasn’t going to be a real detention at all because he wasn’t going to assign any punishment. He’d allow the boy the time and space he needed to talk. During dinner, he seethed inside, thinking that his colleagues wouldn’t believe him capable of being able to have a decent conversation with Potter, let alone help him. They were quick to assume the boy’s relationship and resemblance to James Potter would get in the way, but Severus wasn’t a teenager any longer. One shouldn’t revisit the sins of the father on the child, and while he’d done that until this past month, he was aware enough to change gears and do what was necessary.

Potter hadn’t been as emotionally erratic over the past few days, and he was less explosive and inappropriate in class. He wasn’t sure if Potter had talked to Granger and Weasley about the situation, because while they seemed amiable, they didn’t have the closeness they’d previously shared. Severus knew that he was more interested in what was going on with Potter than he’d ever admit to anyone. Especially Dumbledore. The old man had never before asked him to deal with a student in this way before, and it irritated him that Potter’s own head of house wasn’t handling the matter. In his opinion, it spoke volumes that he’d been asked to reach out to the boy instead of another member of the faculty.

As soon as he finished eating he headed to the dungeons. He went into the Potions classroom to wait for Potter, and found himself too distracted by the upcoming discussion to focus on his work.

***

Harry’s heart was in his throat as he walked down to the dungeons. He felt more prepared to discuss things, but still hadn’t thought of how he would start it off. Maybe Snape would ask him questions to make it easier. But he wasn’t sure he’d been clear about what he needed to talk about, either.

Inside the Potions classroom, Snape stood and directed Harry to follow him into his office. Harry settled in a seat across from the man’s desk and was dumbfounded when Snape sat in a chair next to him rather than at the desk. He felt like backing up just to get some more distance between them, but reconsidered because it might be perceived as rude. And they weren’t so close together that it was uncomfortable. It was just surprising.

Looking intently at the ground, Harry took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. He was nearly shaking with anxiety, as though he were about to be expelled rather than have a simple talk.

“Potter…” Severus struggled to find the right words. “Why don’t you give me an idea of what you wanted to discuss with me last night.”

“Well, um, I think there’s something wrong with me,” Harry spoke rapidly; acutely aware of how nervous he sounded. “I think I’ve gone mad.”

“What, specifically, is causing you to believe this?” he asked, enunciating each word clearly.

Harry’s heart was beating so fast it might explode. “I can’t control myself anymore. I’m too angry.”

Severus waited a moment to proceed, as he pondered what Potter had just stated. Yes, he understood what it was like to be so angry it was unbearable. Before he could respond, Potter kept talking.

“I’m tired of everyone treating me like I’m special or something. It’s not true. I’m not special at all.” Harry’s throat was choking up again.

“What brought you to speak to me about this?” Severus had never considered that the boy might not want special treatment. He’d simply assumed Potter was arrogant and insolent.

“You’re the only one who knows I’m not special,” Harry said, still staring intently at the floor. “The only person who treats me like the loser that I am. And I appreciate that, sir, because it’s the truth. No one else would understand. They’d try to convince me it isn’t true, I’m sure of it.”

Severus was also certain that no one would confirm Potter’s feelings of worthlessness. He wasn’t going to validate it, either, but he agreed Potter shouldn’t be treated with special privilege. He hated to admit it, but he was so shocked by what he was hearing he hardly knew where to go next.

“How long have you been feeling this way, Potter?” He was curious as to when the boy had begun to feel angry and worthless.

“I realized it when I went back to live with my relatives over the summer,” Harry said, softly. “I…I wanted to hurt them. To cause them pain. I’ve never been that angry, but the feeling suits me. I should’ve been this way a long time ago.”

“Did you do anything to hurt them?” Severus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Dumbledore’s Golden Boy having the desire to hurt people and cause pain? It would be so rich to report this to Albus, although he had no plans to talk with him about Potter.

“I just stayed to myself,” Harry said, picking at a spot on the arm of the chair. “But the feeling didn’t go away when I came back to Hogwarts. I’m still angry, and I don’t understand why.”

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“I’m a nutter,” Harry said, in a whisper. “I’m not okay.”

“Potter, I do not believe that you’re a “loser” as you’ve put it,” said Severus. “Stop staring at the floor and look at me.”

Harry’s stomach felt like it did a flip as he looked up into his Potion Master’s face.

“We will continue to talk about this. It’s not madness that’s causing you to feel this way, I’m sure of it.” Severus noticed Harry visibly relaxing. “In the meantime, you may come to me if you feel overwhelmed by anger. You will not continue on the path of destruction I’ve witnessed since your return to school.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. “Thank you, Professor.”

Severus gave Harry a sharp nod, “You’re welcome, Potter. I will see you tomorrow evening. Meet me here in my office rather than the classroom.”

Harry stood and left. He felt buoyant as he headed toward Gryffindor Tower. Maybe things would get better, although it hardly seemed possible. Snape had been very understanding and compassionate. Once he was upstairs he’d take out his journal and write about what had just happened, if only to document Snape’s moment of kindness. There was also more to read in the psychology book. He planned to return it soon and take out another book that was more advanced.