Harry trudged up to the seventh floor, banging open the door to the Room of Requirement. Walking in, he once again saw the piano set up, ready for playing. Dragging himself over to the stool, he sat down, placing his hands on the keys of the grand piano, running his fingers gently up and down the instrument. Closing his eyes, he began to play.

The first few strains of the Devil's Trill drifted through the air, the music flowing along smoothly. The melody was soft, gentle and full of sorrow. Harry allowed the pain and sadness to overtake him, the sense of loss and hurt fresh in his mind. He remembered the confrontion with Voldemort, his friends' looks of shock, and Severus' reactions. His heart clenched painfully as tears began falling from his eyes, the wet drops falling onto his face and rolling down his cheeks, absorbing into his robes. As he played, his mind began forming pictures to go along with the music. He imagined himself on the night-time ocean. The luminous moonlight shone brightly against the water, reflecting along the gently rolling waves. Surrounding him was darkness, the distance around him the shade of midnight black. The only light guiding his way was the of the mild glow of the moon. The trilling right hand was the soft rippling of the Arctic waters, the enchanting left hand becoming the grandeur of the deep, mysterious ocean. There was a feeling of melancholy sorrow in the air.

The grieving tune changed into one of anger and rage. Harry couldn't help but ask himself: What had he ever done wrong? Whatever had happened, whatever he had had to go through, he had always tried his best. It wasn't his fault that he had to disguise himself as Sebastien Frostpine to keep himself safe, that he was the Bloody Boy-Who-Lived. The scene in his mind faded, shifting into another. The gentle current became the rumbling waves as they crashed against the shore. Lightening flashed dangerously in the air. Thunder boomed in a dull roar as the howling of the Northern wind could be heard.

He lost himself in his music, completely absorbed in his playing. He /became/ the music, entwining himself among the notes, concentrating hard. A single moment of distraction would ruin the flow of music rushing through his veins. As he continued his playing, he didn't notice the door open soundlessly and the almost inaudibe sound of footsteps stepping into the room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severus Snape was in a terrible mood, to say the least. He had just come out of the dungeons after sitting motionless for several hours, sinking into self-pity and anger. He was heading towards the sixth floor, looking for some poor rule-breaking students to take out his anger on when he suddenly heard piano music drift through the air from the floor above him.

Sebastien. His mind clung to the single thought for a few seconds before changing gears. No, not Sebastien. Potter. He stopped slowly as he listened to the eerily melancholy music. He thought the music sounded familiar, but couldn't place his finger on it.

Suddenly, he realized what tune it was. It was the Devil's Trill, a rather famous, classical wizarding piece. However, Potter had done something to the tune. Instead of the happy melody it was supposed to be, it was now full of grief. Severus winced just listening to the piece.

The strains were so beautiful, yet there was a sense of pain, so full of hurt that Severus was almost choked by the intensity of it. He was left stunned and devastated: he couldn't understand, how could a boy, so arrogant, so self-centered, play something of such utter beauty? How could a child, seemingly so disdainful, produce something so deep and meaningful?

As he listened, he could feel the supressed power behind the music whirling out, a magic beyond simple spells. He could feel it wrapping around him, weaving its own unique spell, allowing itself to be truly heard within a person's heart and soul, not just their ears.

He found himself standing in front of the door of the Room of Requirement. He blinked. How had he gotten there? Well, no matter. He was here, he was here. Reaching out, he pushed open the door.

Stepping in, he shut the door inaudibly behind him, standing next to the back wall. Potter didn't seem to notice him as the boy continued playing. The tune changed. The sense of gentleness was gone, replaced by a wave of anger. The innocence which had appeared in the first few stanzas was subsituted by harsh reality. The notes clashed together and Severus could practically feel the fury radiating off of the boy.

He continued listening until finally, the music stopped, resting on the high B flat. A bittersweet sound lingered in the air. He watched as Harry slowly stood up and turned around...

"Potter."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Potter."

Harry looked up in surprise at the sound of his given name, although he was careful to hide it. Seeing the Potions Master, his heart beat sped up. What would the man do? How would he react? Whirling around, he quickly sat back down into the piano stool.

Severus sighed inaudibly at this action. His heart was still soaring with the music. Blinking, he tried to clear his mind. In reality, he was deeply moved by the emotional piece, although he would never admit it. "Twenty points, Potter, for using this room without permission."

Harry, feeling tired and drained, nodded. "Yes, sir," he replied.

"Potter, look at me when I'm speaking!"

Harry stood up slowly, turning around to meet a pair of obsidian black eyes.

Severus looked into emerald orbs, clearer and brighter than any jewel. He could see the innocence radiating from the boy. He couldn't understand: How could a child whom was forced to face so much darkness, be so pure, so very /innocent/? Although the shadows of pain and weariness could be clearly seen, there was no hint of corruption. How could one who had lost so much be so... /good/?

To his own surprise, Severus didn't feel angry like he had guessed he would. Instead, he just felt a sense of loss and regret. Finally, opening his mouth, he spoke again. "Why?'

"Why what?"

"Why did you do it? Why did you pretend to be Sebastien Frostpine?" Severus felt his anger slowly begin to build. "Wanted to trick me, did you? Think this is all a big prank thought up by the Great Harry Potter?"

Harry shook his head, eyes downcast. "I-I didn't want to hide it from you, Severus," he said quietly. "I-- but I wanted to keep you safe."

"Keep me safe?" Severus laughed harshly. "Keep me safe? Why would you care about keeping me safe, Potter?"

"I--- I didn't want you to get hurt." Harry swallowed hard. "I--- Everyone who comes near me gets hurt. My parents died for me, as did Cedric and Sirius."

Severus sneered, his eyes hardening. "Stop whining, Potter. You father was an arrogant fool, always thinking he was the best. And your mutt of a godfather-- he died and it was his own fault. It's passed and it's gone, so stop wallowing in your pathetic self-pity." He paused. "But then, what else should I have expected? Of course you would sulk: after all, you are the Great Harry Potter, the Golden Boy of Gryffindor. What other could you deserve?"

Harry would not have said anything if he had been the one insulted, but he would not tolerate Severus insulting his father and godfather. He felt rage mounting inside him at the Potions Master's words. Yes, he knew Severus was hurt, but that did not give him the right to lash out at others. Especially not at James and Sirius.

"You," he hissed, for once his voice full of loathing. His fists were clenched at his sides as an unearthly white glow radiated off of him. "How DARE you, Severus? Yes, I know my father and godfather were immature when they were in school, often humiliating you before others, and I am sorry for it, but how does that give you the right to insult the death? After all, how must you blame them when you do the exact same thing to me?" He watched as the Potions Master opened his mouth to retort, but he cut him off before he could start. "And don't you deny it, Severus Snape. You've always humiliated me before the Slytherins. True, it might be because of your position, but that does not give you the right to publicly insult my parents. As to this summer, everything I've said before is true. I had to become Sebastien Frostpine in order to keep myself safe, and for some reason, Lady Lyra decided it would be the best choice for me to come to Snape Manor. I regret listening to her now. She told me to give you a chance, to get to know you. She told me that you were more than you seemed, and I believed her. I should have known it was too much to hope for for your friendship. You're nothing but a bastard, Severus Snape, and I hate you." With that, Harry swept out of the room, anger rushing through his veins.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry rushed out the door, face flushed with fury. He was heading towards the Lake for a walk to calm himself when he suddenly turned the corner to see Ron and Hermione in front of him.

"Ron. Hermione." He felt nervous and unsure. How would Ron and Hermione react to him? He guessed he would find out.

"Harry! We missed you so much!" Hermione cried, launching herself at Harry. "I--- But I don't understand, why did you pretend to be Sebastien Frostpine? What about your death? What happened?"

So Harry ended up retelling what had happened to him since the beginning of the summer. However, he left out many details. As he was telling his story, he noticed that Ron was decidedly more quiet than usual. This was not a good sign.

When he was done, Hermione immediately reached forward and hugged him again. "Oh, Harry!" She cried. However, Ron was not so forgiving.

"How could you do this to us, Harry?" the redhead asked angrily. "We're your best friends! You were supposed to trust us with everything!"

"I'm sorry, Ron. I-- I didn't want to hurt you guys."

"Harry's right, Ron! Besides, how could you risk his safety?"

Ron shook his head stubbornly. "I don't care. He could have told us if he'd really wanted to." He turned back to Harry. "How could you do this, Harry? Making friends with Malfoy and Snape: What were you thinking anyways? They're Slytherins!"

Harry felt his anger and protectiveness mounting. "They're my friends, Ron! It doesn't matter that their Slytherin: I'm half Slytherin too!"

"Oh, so now you're a Slytherin!" Ron's tone was dangerous and furious. "Well, I'll leave you to the Snake Den then, Potter, if that's how you'll be." With that, Ron brushed past him and walked away.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry couldn't stand it anymore. He had always counted on Ron to help him: the only time the redhead had turned against him was during the TriWizard Tournament in the Fourth year. He couldn't believe this was happening.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione," he said quietly. "I need some time alone right now. I'll talk to you later if you want. Will that be okay?"

Hermione nodded sympathetically. "Of course, Harry. I can't BELIEVE Ron. How could he be so heartless? Remember, Harry, don't listen to any of his nonsense. I'll always be here if you need me." She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she walked away, leaving Harry to his own thoughts.