"There will be rules, Potter. And I expect them to be followed."
Harry nodded, his eyes glued to his lap. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting... a loveable Snape? A healer? A guardian? But yes, this made sense. Rules, restrictions, and expectations were the basics of Snape's teaching method. Why should this be any different? Harry knew what would come next, but he wasn't ready for it. Had this been last year, he would have been sitting here being lectured for general belligerence, talking back to Snape with the confidence of his father. Today, however, he was sitting here completely exposed, and there was absolutely no confidence to be had in that. He knew what Snape would say, and he would have given up his Firebolt for a way out of it.
"You will give me whatever tool it is you have been using, and you will not harm yourself again."
The problem was simple... Harry didn't want to quit. Sure, he might be endangering himself. Sure, he might seem too dependent. But the biggest issue was that Harry did not regret these things. What he regretted most of all, painful as it was to admit to himself, was getting caught. If he was triggered by things beyond his control, how was forcing him to stop going to help? The mere thought of being told he couldn't do it made it all the more desireable. How he longed to be back in his bunk, waiting for Ron's snores, and then releasing his frustrations on the only thing he had control over...
Yes, that was it. He couldn't control Lord Voldemort's return. He couldn't control the death of Cedric. He couldn't control the loss of Sirius. It all remained beyond him, and hurt in a way that words could not express; these things were evident and final. What he could control, and possibly the only thing he had left, was how much he decided to hurt himself.
Just thinking about it was sickiningly inviting. And the sooner he could get away from Snape, the sooner he could regain composure.
"And if you choose to disobey me, I will most certainly find out."
This was unfair. Harry's inability to occlude put his life on display. He had no more privacy than a caged animal. But he knew this would be of no significance to Snape, who never seemed to think Harry's privacy was very important to begin with.
"You have not responded in the slightest. Do you find these rules to be unreasonable?"
Harry looked up, wondering if he should risk explaining his frustrations aloud. Of course, the worst thing Snape could do was disagree.
"Professor, sir, would it be possible for you to... you know, stay out of my head?"
Snape looked at Harry curiously. "You believe you have earned that right?"
"Sir, it has nothing to do with this." He motioned towards his arm. "I just don't like losing every bit of my privacy. I mean, you can check my arms every day if you'd like. But part of my issue is that I don't like losing control. And knowing that you can access my mind whenever you want... well, it kind of adds to that, you know?"
Harry waited for Snape's response, wondering how sincere he'd sounded. To his great surprise, Snape responded in his favor.
"I will avoid using legilimency on you for the timebeing. But Potter," added Snape, "if I have any reason to doubt your honesty, I will not be so kind."
"I'll be sure to fill my head with loads of memories with Cho Chang, in that case," replied Harry.
"This is not a subject to joke about, Potter," said Snape. But for a fraction of a second, Harry could have sworn he saw a flicker of a smile appear on the stern man's face.
------------
It wasn't that he was particularly depressed, really. His discussion with Snape wasn't fun, but it hadn't been nearly as awful as Harry had been anticipating. He couldn't explain why he was sitting on his bed, a mere twenty minutes after his promise to be good, fiddling with Sirius's mirror. Perhaps it was because he was expected to give the shard to Snape after dinner tomorrow. It had been there for him for months now, always laying in the bottom of his trunk, always promising to be there after a fight with the Dursleys or another painful memory. And after tomorrow, it would be there for him no longer.
It was almost like losing another loved one. Almost.
Like Lily. Snape was absolutely right, it was an insult to her sacrifice to endanger himself. He set the piece of glass back down beside him. Endangering himself was off limits.
But what if he wasn't dangrous? What if he was careful?
Snape will find out.
Not necessarily....
Harry lowered his pajama pants enough to reveal his thighs. Clean and inviting. Untouched, unmarked. And that just wouldn't do.
The actions were more second nature than anything at this point. He hardly gave it a thought as he pressed the shard against his left thigh and dragged it a few inches.
He'd only gone a day, but it felt like ages since he'd had the feeling. And yet, it was incredibly familiar, as if he'd been doing it every hour.
But Harry had never before cut himself without good reason. If he wasn't sad, this wasn't necessary. He had to prove to himself that Snape was wrong, that he could control this just fine. He placed the mirror on the bedspread once again.
This is only to say goodbye to Sirius's mirror, that's all... like a bachelor party before a wedding. I'll be good after this. Just one last time.
He picked up the glass again without a second thought, and continued to bid Sirius's mirror goodbye.
------
Harry woke up the next morning to find the dormitory completely empty. A quick glance at his watch suggested everyone was at breakfast. He stood up slowly, yawning, and streched his arms out. He heard something drop to the floor. Curious, he glanced down at his feet.
Sirius's mirror. Had he fallen asleep with it? He could have been caught again. Shaking his head at his own carelessness, he returned the mirror to the bottom of his trunk.
His pajama bottoms were stained with red. For a split second, Harry almost thought to ask Hermione for a good stain-removing spell.
Yeah, right...
He cleaned his leg in the bathroom sink before dressing and heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast.
There was something quite comforting about the hallways during the Christmas holiday. They were generally empty, meaning he did not have to try to avoid anybody, make small talk, or be subjected to the many stares and gasps from first year students who recognized his lightning scar.
He approached the Gryffindor table. Ron and Hermione were sitting across from each other, whispering to one another. Once Hermione had spotted Harry, however, she made a quick motion to Ron, and they both fell silent.
"Keeping secrets now, are you?" Harry asked jokingly, taking the open seat next to Hermione and helping himself to some toast.
"Funny you should mention secrets, mate-"
"Ron!" snapped Hermione, who mouthed something along the lines of no confrontation!
Harry's eyes shifted from Ron to Hermione and back again. What were they thinking? Had Ron seen his bloody pajama pants earlier? No, surely he would have woken Harry in alarm. Then he remembered Hermione's curious look after Snape and Ron's conversation at their prior breakfast.
"Look, I'm not sure what you two are on about," said Harry, "but I told you, Snape's been on my arse since he caught me sneaking food, I've got detention for eternity-"
"It's not just that, Harry," said Hermione, softly. "You've been so distant lately. We almost never see you anymore, and when we actually do spend time together, you've been very careful to keep the topic of conversation off of you."
"When I talk to you, it's like I'm talking to a brick wall-"
"You haven't been eating as much-"
"You've been staying up late and sleeping all morning-"
"You really just don't look happy, you know..."
"So I haven't been talkative lately! Forgive me if I have a lot more on my mind than Quidditch practices and Transfiguration homework!" replied Harry, feeling incredibly defensive.
"We're just concerned about you, Harry! We're your best friends, we only want to make sure you're okay, you know, I mean with... what happened at the end of last year, and all..." said Hermione, her voice sounding less confident than ever. "And I happened to notice how awkward that conversation with Professor Snape had been yesterday, and we were just talking, and- I mean- oh, Harry, is there something you're not telling us?"
"Like what?! Like the fact my godfather's dead, Hermione? Maybe I just don't like talking about it, okay?! And I was just hoping that my best friends would understand that!"
"Lay off it, Harry! She's just trying to help!"
"You want to help me? Try leaving me the hell alone." And with that, Harry stood up and marched out of the Great Hall, leaving behind a teary-eyed Hermione and a very angry Ron.
--
Harry spent the remainder of the day in his dormitory alone, replaying the events of the morning in his head.
It wasn't what he'd wanted to say. Truthfully, he was grateful that his friends cared about him enough to worry. However, given the circumstances, it seemed the best option was to push everybody away from him. He didn't want to tell Ron and Hermione why he was really stuck in "detention" with Snape, and perhaps if they were in a row, it would be easier to avoid telling them the truth.
It wasn't even a question. He couldn't consider burdening his best friends with this. How could he? He knew they would do whatever it took to help him... but after all they'd already done for him, all the times they'd risked their lives for him...
And this is how I repay them...
Harry walked over to his trunk to fetch his shard of mirror. He might have used it, too, had he not been dangerously nearing his appointment with Snape. He had not risked dinner; it would have been too painful to see Ron and Hermione. His stomach growled with hunger - the toast had been ages ago.
Was this what his life would be like at Hogwarts, now? Hiding in his room all day? Skipping meals to avoid seeing his friends? It felt oddly familiar to his summers at Privet Drive.
Harry shook the thought out of his head, grabbed a handful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans for dinner, and headed towards the dungeons.
--
Harry was greeted at Snape's door by an expecting, outstretched palm. He wasn't sure what Snape had been expecting him to relinquish, but it clearly hadn't been a piece of broken mirror.
"This?"
Harry nodded, but did not elaborate. Snape surveyed the glass for a few seconds before pocketing it and entering the office. Harry followed. They took their usual seats across one another. The awkward tension in the room was overbearing. Harry wasn't sure what was supposed to happen next. Were they going to talk about what happened? Was Snape going to threaten him? Would these meetings become an ongoing awkward ritual?
Was Snape going to find out about his thigh?
Snape did not speak immediately, which was both a blessing and a curse: it meant Harry wasn't being interrogated, but it also extended the uncomfortable silence that made Harry wonder whether or not he should be trying to block his mind. He looked up at Snape, who was tapping his fingers together, but was otherwise still.
"Well, Mr. Potter, it appears you and I have found ourselves in quite the undesirable situation," said Snape finally. Harry nodded slightly, unsure if Snape was actually expecting a response.
"I will assure you that I was not keen on adding 'adolescent psychologist' to my job description, however, as the headmaster has left me with the fortunate task of tending to you in his absence under strict orders of secrecy, it seems I have found myself with an unwanted obligation."
"Sna- sir, why did Professor Dumbledore ask you to do this?" asked Harry curiously. Though he despised the idea of talking to anyone, there had to have been someone better than the man that loathed him at first glance.
"I was the one to give you the potion that night. He doesn't seem to desire anyone else finding out about your issue."
"Like who?"
"Like anyone who would benefit from knowledge of your weaknesses."
"You mean Volde-"
"How many times do I have to tell you-"
"Like you-know-who?" Harry finished quickly.
"The Dark Lord, his followers, the ministry, or your good friends at the Prophet," replied Snape. "He believes it will escalate the problem, or otherwise bring unwanted attention to yourself. But we are not here to discuss Professor Dumbledore's rationalization, Potter. We are here to discuss why you feel the need to lacerate your skin in times of distress."
Harry shifted his leg uncomfortably. He had so far been able to avoid discussing his actions in any sort of depth. They didn't feel like some issue that needed immediate attention. It was personal, a part of his life that he didn't much care to share. And although it hadn't been a question, Harry could tell Snape was waiting for his reply. The response Harry gave, however, was most likely not up to par with Snape's expectation.
"I... well, erm... yeah."
"A telling tale."
Harry tried again. "I... I dunno... I guess I just felt like... well, like I needed something else to focus on, something else to control after- after Sirius."
"Is this the reason you chose to injure yourself last?"
Harry's stomach tightened. Did Snape know about his leg? The panic subsided after Harry noticed Snape's lack of accusing glare. He was referring to the night Harry had come to Snape's office, the night Dumbledore had caught him off guard...
He'd woken up from another nightmare. Reliving the death of his godfather in his dreams had become a frequent torment. Not wanting to wake Ron with his panic, he had left the common room. He should have gone to the bathroom. He should have stayed in the common room. But in a state of sorrow, Harry had forgotten logic. His invisibility cloak seemed safe enough. He should have remembered. Remembered that he had a knack for running into faculty members when exploring the halls after dark. Remembered that Dumbledore could see through invisibility cloaks...
"Potter."
Harry blinked and became aware of his surroundings once more.
"Though your communication is still lacking, I suppose it suffices to say that I have heard more from you tonight than our previous meeting. We shall continue this discussion tomorrow."
Relieved to have been excused from talking, Harry stood up to leave. Just as he'd reached the door, however--
"Reveal your arms."
Right. He rolled up his sleeves steadily, revealing nothing new. He held his breath, waiting for Snape to ask if he'd done it elsewhere. Snape, however, did not inquire further. He merely nodded, but as Harry turned to shut the chamber door behind him, he heard Snape's voice one last time.
"Progress, Potter."
A feeling of guilt came over Harry fleetingly as turned to head back towards Gryffindor tower.
It's Personal