Harry couldn't believe Snape had let him leave detention so early. He ran into the dorm and found Seamus and Dean drinking Firewhiskey.

"Fancy yourself a drink, Harry?" Dean asked.

Harry really did want a drink. He felt drained emotionally and knew it would make him feel warm and pleasant inside. He nodded and took the bottle from Dean. He took a good swig and handed it back.

"You're downing it like a pro, Harry," said Seamus, grinning.

Harry shook his head. "Just one more drink tonight and that's it. I can't get pissed."

"The more often you drink the more it'll take to get drunk. Keep drinking, mate!" Dean said, laughing.

"Thanks, guys, but that's it for tonight." Harry walked over to his bed and rummaged around in his school bag. He wanted a chance to read the psychology book. It might even help to read it after a couple drinks; make it easier to accept that he was mad.

In the common room, the only empty seat was next to Hermione, who was busy reading a book about famous animagi. Harry sat down and pulled out his Charms book as a cover. He opened it and took out the psychology book to quickly set it inside, but in his haste, it dropped loudly to the floor. Hermione glanced down and saw the title before he could recover the book.

"Psychology?" she asked.

"It's nothing," said Harry, his face reddening. "I've always been interested in psychology."

"You've never mentioned it before," said Hermione. "Is it something you started learning about over the summer?"

"You might say that," he answered. He picked it up and opened to the section on abnormal psychology and illnesses. Harry could feel Hermione staring at him. His jaw clenched as he waited for her to say something else.

"Harry, are you reading that book because of your own issues?" she asked, gently.

He hardly knew how to react to that question. Part of him wanted to throw the book in anger, and part wanted to tell her about what he'd learned. He was torn, but decided to try and get her off his back for tonight.

"Look, I'd rather not talk about it, okay?" he said, hoping his tone would convey a lack of interest in talking.

"Okay, but if you'd like to discuss it, that would be great. I love psychology," she said earnestly. "I find it very fascinating, and always enjoyed reading Muggle books on the subject before coming to Hogwarts. It would be interesting to learn about the way psychology is treated in the wizarding world."

"I'll let you know," he answered.

Harry looked back down and started skimming through the chapter. He was stuck on the symptoms of depression. Anger. Feelings of worthlessness. Withdrawal from friends and family. Hopelessness. Sadness. He took a deep breath. This is what was wrong. Depression. He shut the book because he'd seen enough. He'd gotten back from speaking to Snape so early it wasn't even close to curfew yet. He packed up his things and quickly headed to the portrait hole before anyone could stop him to talk. Practically running to the library, Harry kept his head down. His heart was racing and he needed something, but what? Part of him was tempted to see if Snape was still in office to talk about what he'd learned. He shook his head at the thought of volunteering to go to the dungeons to talk to Snape. Harry had changed; he hardly knew who he was anymore.

Setting the psychology book down in the return area, he turned and wondered if he should take out another book. First he set his bag down and considered writing in his journal for a few minutes. He was disappointed to notice that the good feeling from the Firewhiskey had left him, and he was dead sober. Writing seemed like a good idea, and he sat and took out his journal and quill.

There's no doubt that I really am a nutter. The book listed all the things that are wrong with me, and it's depression. I don't know whether I should feel relieved or not. Tonight I talked to Snape and actually told him there's something wrong with me. He already knew there is. It wasn't a surprise. I'm to talk to him again tomorrow night, and I might as well tell him that the problem is depression. That I have all the symptoms. Maybe there's a potion that can make me better?

Before leaving, Harry looked over the psychology books and chose the one that seemed best suited to his needs, Dealing with Depression. The book had a special section on teens, and while Harry wasn't a teenager yet, he was close enough. He felt older than his twelve years, as though he'd been through more than the average kid his age. How many of them had faced death on more than one occasion? Pleased with himself for finding another resource, Harry headed back toward the Tower. He'd have time to work on an essay for Transfiguration and still be able to read through the new book.

 When Harry got back to the dorm, Neville was in his bed studying. Harry flopped onto his own bed and sighed.

"Hey, Neville," he said. "How are classes?"

"Okay," Neville answered, shrugging. "Potions is rubbish, but my other classes aren't so bad. How are you doing? You seem to be in a better mood the past couple days."

"Yeah, I am feeling a bit better," said Harry. "Sorry that I've been such a prat. I really didn't mean to be."

"It's okay, Harry," Neville replied. "We all have tough times."

Harry nodded in agreement. He wondered if Neville felt depressed sometimes, he always seemed so serious. In fact, he began to wonder about many of his classmates and things they might be dealing with. Maybe Harry wasn't the only one, and the thought made him feel better. He hated feeling like no one else could possibly understand what he was going through, but that was slowly changing. He was looking forward to his talk with Snape tomorrow night.

***

"Have you thought about what we discussed last night, Potter?" Severus asked. His chair was pulled next to Harry's the way it had been the night before. "Any strong feelings of anger today?"

"No, sir, I haven't felt very angry today, and I didn't last night, either," replied Harry. He didn't know where to look, or what to do with his hands. He cracked his knuckles and the sound seemed to echo through the room. "I want you to know...I've been trying to figure out what's wrong with me, and I think I have an idea of what it is."

"Oh?" Severus was pleased to hear that Potter had been giving this a decent amount of thought. "What have you discovered?"

"Well, you see, back at the beginning of term I started to write, because I was so angry all the time. And I did some drawing, but I'm pants at it, so I just doodle. Anyway, like I said last night the anger made me want to hurt someone, or me, and I wrote poems instead. Poems about hurting people. And, well, suicide. But I started writing other things, too, about what I was thinking. So it turned into a journal. I've been writing in it every day, and it's helped. The writing helped me figure out that I should look into psychology to see what happened to make me a nutter." The words were flying out of Harry's mouth. He'd gone from struggling to speak, to being unable to shut up.

While it was annoying, Severus felt Potter's rambling might be a good sign. He seemed far more at ease tonight than he'd ever seen him, and it was clear the boy was sharing openly.

"You aren't a nutter, Potter, stop saying that," said Severus, although he certainly had no proof that Potter was sane. "Writing down your thoughts is very wise, and it's something you should keep doing. Tell me, have you thought about harming yourself? You didn't mention last night that you have been having thoughts of suicide."

"Yeah, I guess I didn't tell you that. But there's so much to tell, I hardly knew where to start." Harry couldn't believe how much he was revealing, and yet he kept going. He felt compelled to speak. "It wasn't so much that I was thinking about actually killing myself, it's more that I wish I were dead. I don't know that there's much point to me staying alive."

Severus kept his composure, but he was alarmed at what he was hearing. He had to stop himself from taking in a sharp breath. Could it be that he felt concerned about the boy? Instead of being irritated at having to spend his time in a mock therapy session, he was genuinely interested in why Potter was struggling so much.

"And why do you feel there's no point in being alive?" asked Severus.

Harry looked away from Snape and stared at the wall. He balled his right hand into a fist and clutched the arm of the chair with his left hand. Emotions were welling up inside of him and it was like a wave of pain. The source was unknown to him, and he struggled to articulate his feelings.

"I honestly don't know," Harry said. He couldn't pull his gaze away from the wall, and certainly couldn't bear to look at Snape. If he did look, or continue to talk about this, he might cry. The idea of crying, especially in front of Snape, nauseated him. Harry hadn't cried in a very long time, and he certainly didn't do it publicly. "Can we talk about something else, sir?"

Severus would normally never allow a student to avert their eyes from him like Potter was doing, because he considered it extremely disrespectful. Yet there was a part of him that was afraid to see the boy's face at the moment. It wouldn't do to have Potter start crying - Severus wasn't prepared for it, and Potter probably wasn't, either. He'd assumed that Potter was angry for a specific reason, one that could be identified, and yet there was clearly much more going on than anger alone.

"You said that writing led you to investigate psychology," said Severus. "How did you go about that? What have you learned?"

"Well, I took out a book about psychology from the library and read over it. There were some parts that kind of explained the way I've been feeling, and things I've been doing," explained Harry. "Last night I read about depression, and it was spot on. I'm almost positive that depression is what's happening to me."

"Tell me why it was ‘spot on,'" he asked. Yes, depression might make sense, and there must be more things Potter wasn't mentioning. He noticed the boy's right hand was still balled up in a fist. Somehow he had to help him relax.

"There was a whole list of things, symptoms, and I had a ton of them. Like anger, feeling worthless, hopeless, um...withdrawing from people, and there's more." Harry felt like an idiot for not remembering more of the symptoms. "Wanting to die....there are more."

Severus flashed back to several incidents he'd witnessed during the term that were indicative of depression. The inappropriate laughter in class, angry outbursts, physical altercations, getting dead drunk and passing out in a hallway - these behaviors could all be explained by depression. He wondered if the boy was still indulging in alcohol. Just because he hadn't been caught didn't mean it wasn't happening.

"Potter, have you continued drinking alcohol since the incident in the hallway?" Severus asked. He could tell immediately by the boy's body language that he had continued drinking. "Do not lie to me."

"Sometimes," mumbled Harry. He put his head in his hands. "I'm sorry."

"Look at me," said Severus, slowly. Harry hesitated. "Now, Potter."

Harry looked at Snape's face quickly and then brought his eyes down and stared at the man's chest.

Severus spoke in an even tone, hoping to impress upon Harry the importance of his words. "It is crucial you realize that alcohol is not the answer, and that it will not make you feel better. When one feels there is no hope, or that they are alone, it is...tempting to escape through alcohol. However, this is unacceptable. Alcohol is a depressant and will only serve to worsen your mood. Not to mention that you are underage and a student at a school where possession and use of such a substance is forbidden."

"I...I didn't know that alcohol would make things worse." Harry had never heard of a depressant, but it made sense in a way. "Like you said, I just wanted to get away from everything. To escape my life."

"Let me be clear," said Severus. "It's obvious that someone in Gryffindor has been providing you with alcohol since you are not old enough to go to Hogsmeade. This cannot go on. I won't ask you to tell me which student is foolishly risking expulsion by bringing alcohol into the school, and giving it to other students, but I will be alerting your head of house to the fact that there is contraband in Gryffindor Tower. If she would like, I will personally help her conduct a search."

Harry blanched at the prospect of Seamus and Dean being caught. It would be all Harry's fault. "Sir, I'll never do it again, I swear."

"I hope that's true, but regardless, Professor McGonagall will be made aware of the situation." Severus wasn't trying to be menacing, but the boy was terrified at the idea of a fellow Gryffindor being caught and punished because of him. He needn't worry, because Severus had no intention of speaking to McGonagall before the morning. There was still time to warn his little friends.

"Sir, I'm really tired," Harry said. He was tired, and now he needed to rush to Seamus and Dean and warn them.

"We can continue tomorrow, but you will stay and complete your detention tonight. You will alphabetize the files on the front table in the Potions classroom. Tomorrow you may file them away after we have our talk," said Severus.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, standing up. "Thank you, sir. For talking to me."

"You are quite welcome, Potter."

Harry worked on the files in the Potions classroom and his heart was light. Even though he was afraid of his friends being caught with liquor, it had been a good evening. He had someone to talk to, an actual adult who took the time to sit and listen to Harry. It gave him that funny feeling in his stomach again, like it was doing a flip. He still didn't understand it, but he guessed it came from Snape's help. He had never, ever, imagined he'd have an adult in his life that cared and wanted to help. And he sure as hell never thought it would be Snape. It felt like everything in his life had tilted on its head.