Harry couldn’t help but grimace. It felt like Hedwig had been pinching the back of his hand with her pointy beak for the last hour. He grumbled sleepily and tried to shoo her away. He felt someone’s hands pressing his own back onto his chest, and Harry jerked awake. He looked about with blurry, wide eyes and spotted Snape’s imposing form sitting beside him on the bed. From the bleary lantern glow Harry could see that Snape had taken him back to his bedroom. Harry felt a little shiver of relief; he disliked being in cold, dark places.

Snape focused his sharp eyes on Harry. “You’re all right. I was just looking for a response to stimuli. It appears to me that you have your sense of touch back, correct?”

Harry nodded. He could feel the warm moon stone in one of his palms and Snape’s cool hands as they slid away from his own. Snape handed Harry his glasses, and Harry slipped them on, ignoring the zinging sensations that were pulsing through him. As he pulled his hand away from his face he stopped, something was different. His fingernails had turned black! It looked like he had taken a black magic marker to his fingers. He checked the other hand as well, and discovered the same discoloration. Did his toenails look that way too?

“That is a normal side effect from ingesting too many Rulger’s saltines. The poison is working its way out of your system still. Some of your fingernails may fall off. In fact they all might because of the amount you ate, but the nails will grow back fairly quickly,” Snape said in a soft voice.

“Are there other side effects?” Harry asked, staring at the black thumbnail on his right hand.

“None that I care to mention,” Snape said with an internal grimace. “You will recover fully if you’ve made it this far. I take it you’ve never had Rulger’s Saltines before this?”

Harry shook his head.

“Some things are not meant to be eaten by the handful. Soothing Saltines are toxic in amounts larger than four pieces. They really ought to have a warning label for those who don’t know any better,” Snape said in a voice that was not nearly as cold as it could have been.

Harry swallowed as he felt his cheeks darken slightly. His vision blurred as unexpected tears welled up and struggled to be released. He blinked furiously for a second, fighting the urge to start to cry. What in the world was the matter with him? Snape hadn’t even been being harsh. Harry made a little frustrated noise as a tear struggled down his cheek. He flinched as Snape put a hand on his shoulder.

“Another side effect, Potter. The emotions that were subdued with the saltines are going to surface. It would be best to just let it come.”

Despite Snape’s advice Harry didn’t want to let his emotions go. Releasing his emotions felt like losing control of things, and the last thing Harry wanted to lose control of was himself. He took in a ragged breath and squashed down a sob with a loud gulp. He stared at his black fingernails and rubbed forcefully at his left index nail. Maybe if he rubbed hard enough, the blackness would fade a little; maybe it would go away entirely.

Snape reached down and moved Harry’s right hand away from his left. The teacher picked up the moon stone, which had been forgotten in Harry’s lap, and put the stone into Harry’s hand. “It won’t make it any better by torturing yourself. The darkness is beneath the surface. You can’t simply rub it away. It will get better with time.”

Harry let his fingers clutch the comforting warmth of the tear in a death grip; his hand was shaking and white knuckled. He looked up at Snape, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. “How do you know it will get better?”

With a grimace that resembled exasperation Snape thought carefully of a response. He needed to say the right thing. Only what was the right thing to say to this boy? “Well, Potter,” Snape hesitated. Blast it he’d had something and lost it! He was going to choke if he didn’t say something, but nothing came to mind. Harry was watching him, and as if he’d sensed that Snape had lost his answer the boy’s eyes dropped to the bedding.

“You don’t know, do you?” There was no malice in Harry’s voice as he whispered the words.

“Still, it is better to hope for the best, is it not?” Snape said, trying to sound encouraging.

Harry choked on a laugh that was half of a sob. “I don’t know. Why have hope if you never had a chance in the first place?”

“Is that what you believe?” Snape asked softly. “That you’ve never had a chance? A chance for what exactly, Potter?”

Harry pursed his lips as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. “I don’t know.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Potter,” Snape said gently. “I believe you know exactly what you wanted to say.”

Snape was right. Harry did know everything he wanted to say. All the things that were clawing at his insides trying to rip him apart, but if he let these things go what would be left of him? Would he simply be hollow inside? Harry shuddered at the thought of feeling nothing at all. He’d rather be torn to shreds on the inside than feel emptiness.

“Potter,” Snape said, and Harry clamped his eyes closed in an attempt to shut out the world. Snape reached out to lift the boy’s chin to face him, but did not pursue it when the boy flinched at his touch. “Tell me.”

“It won’t help me to tell you anything.”

Snape casually brushed a piece of lint off his robes and then stared down at the boy. “How can you know that if you do not try first?”

Harry met Snape’s eyes for a second and then looked away. I can’t do it.

“If it helps try starting small, Potter.”

Start small? What in blazes was that supposed to mean? Snape may just as well asked Harry to grow wings and fly, because this was just as impossible.

“What are you feeling now?”

Harry glared at the man and whispered a reply. “I feel like I’m being torn to pieces inside.”

“Why?”

Harry shrugged and took a little gulp of nothing but air. “It’s just the way things have always been.” Harry stopped and glanced down to look at the moon tear. It was so incredibly dark . . . almost black.

“Things can change if you let them.”

“Somehow I doubt there will be a change for the better in my life, Sir.”

Snape frowned. This wasn’t going well at all. “It is far too early to tell that for certain. Things could improve, but they will not if you’ve given up already.”

Was he ready to give up? Probably not since he wasn’t certain. He nodded. “I just don’t know what to do, Sir.”

“Perhaps it would be best not to fret. Just accept things as they come for what they are,” Snape said.

The moon stone held loosely now in Harry’s hand fell to the sheets, landing near Snape’s fingers. The darkly clad man picked it up by the chain to give it back; Harry stared as its colors changed to a much lighter shade of blue. Snape shifted uncomfortably as he saw the disbelieving expression on the boy’s face.

“That thing never lies, does it?” Harry said with a little swallow; he was still focused on the colors that had swirled inside for Snape. He did not move to take it back and Snape set the stone down beside the boy.

“No, Potter, unfortunately it never lies.”

Harry leaned back into his pillow as fresh tears assaulted him. This time he didn’t fight it.

“Would you like me to leave you now?” Snape asked, feeling sure that if he left now Harry would just cry until sleep took him.

“Please,” Harry choked. Severus stood quietly and straightened his robes. “No, I . . . don’t leave. Not yet.”

Snape stood frozen to the soft carpet in shock. He certainly hadn’t been expecting the boy to ask him to actually stay with him. Slowly he returned to the place he had warmed on Harry’s bed and sank back down onto the soft duvet. “Do you wish to talk about anything?”

With his eyes closed in an attempt to hold back unbidden tears, Harry shook his head.

“Very well. I shall stay with you for a while if that is what you want.”

Yes. Harry nodded, trembling beneath the shield of his downy comforter. He could hear the noises of his own sobbing breaths as he cried; the sound making it feel like he would never have the will to make it end.

Snape sat poised on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do or say. Was simply being here enough to do the boy some good? In an attempt to distract himself and the distraught young man beside him Snape began to speak. “This house has been in my family for generations,” he said in a low, even tone, and he began the long process of explaining the significance of the room that Harry was staying in now.

********

Harry felt himself calming a little as Snape continued to talk. It wasn’t as if what the man was saying was particularly gripping or anything like that, but something in Snape’s tone was soothing like the sound of the wind on the empty Quidditch Pitch before a match. It was a peaceful tone; not the snappish voice that Harry knew so well from lectures in Potions class.

The consuming despair seemed to be fading now, but where it was going Harry wasn’t sure. Perhaps it would surface again when he had the energy to resist it, but he hoped not. He felt a little drowsy, emotionally drained, in effect raw inside. Succumbing to the almost hypnotic quality of Snape’s smooth baritone and his own spiritual fatigue, Harry let his mind drift.

When the boy appeared to have fallen asleep, Snape rose from the bed. He turned and regarded the pale boy’s appearance compared to the boy he’d met a few years ago. As he recalled that first day Snape shuddered inside. He’d been so harsh, unwilling to try to understand any circumstance, but wasn’t that the way things were meant to be? Certainly the Dark Lord would be completely merciless in an assault upon any one of the students. Just as he had been cruel when the boy had first come here for help. Snape shook his head, recalling the heartlessness that he had regarded Potter with only a few days ago. He told himself that he hadn’t really known what to do, but that still didn’t seem to make it feel right.

Gently Snape adjusted the comforter over the boy. Harry’s face pinched in an expression of displeasure in his sleep; the boy was murmuring something unintelligible. Placing his hands on the edge of the bed Snape leaned in to try and make out what the boy was speaking about. “Please . . . don’t . . . I have to go back. I... know . . . you hate . . . me.”

Snape frowned and leaned back, away from Harry. Was the boy saying that he wanted to go back home? Did he think that it was truly that horrible here with Snape to want to go back to his relatives? He thought briefly about reaching down to put a hand on the boy’s forehead, perhaps whisper a few words of empty comfort to soothe him, but Snape couldn’t bring himself to do it. He reached for the moon stone and placed it gently beside the boy’s glasses on the night stand to keep it from becoming lost. No, empty words wouldn’t do, so turning away silently Snape left the room.

*********

When Harry awoke, he recognized the heavy weight on his chest immediately. Apparently sleep had not dulled it as much as he would have liked. He let loose a mournful sigh and reached for his glasses, though he didn’t really know why he cared.

Snape entered a moment later. A goblet of something warm was in his hand. He took a seat on the edge of the bed without asking, but Harry didn’t seem to be bothered by it. He set the goblet down on the night stand and looked at Harry. “How are you feeling?”

Harry shrugged in answer.

“Any better?” Snape prodded.

Harry shook his head. No, not better, but not worse, just stuck.

“I suppose that you just need more time. Don’t be discouraged.” Snape paused, staring at the boy, watching the listless expression on his face for any flicker of change. “I’ve brought you something to drink. Are you thirsty?”

Not waiting for an answer Snape helped Harry to sit up and put the rim of the cup to his lips. Some sort of tea, Harry thought as the scent of the liquid caught him. Unwilling to resist he took a little sip. It tasted almost like citrus . . . something spicy and sweet all at once. In the space of a few greedy gulps the drink was gone, and Snape let Harry rest back onto the pillows once again.

With the warmth inside his belly, the heavy weight on Harry’s chest seemed to ease slightly, and the sigh that escaped his lips was not so sorrowful. Snape reached into his robes and withdrew a rolled piece of parchment. A letter? Harry didn’t seem interested.

“Miss Granger sent you a letter, Mr. Potter. Would you like to read it?” Snape offered the tightly rolled scroll sealed with some type of charmed wax. It smelled almost like blueberries.

“No, thank you,” Harry answered with hardly a moment’s hesitation.

“Fine, I’ll set it here until you feel like reading it.” Snape put the letter next to Harry’s moon stone.

“Professor Snape?” Harry said softly.

“Yes, Potter?”

“Can we go outside? I think I’d feel better . . . ” Harry stopped. His face flushed as if he’d said something incredibly stupid, but Snape pretended not to notice.

“Potter. You’re very weak still. I really don’t think it would be prudent . . . ” Snape stopped as he saw the tiny flicker of hope in the boy’s eyes beginning to fade. “I suppose a short period outdoors wouldn’t hurt.”

Snape noticed that the smile that crossed Harry’s features was fleeting; more than anything the boy looked relieved.

“Potter, do you think that you can stand?”

Harry nodded. He wasn’t exactly sure that he’d have the strength to walk around, but he was going to give it a try.

Snape peeled back the duvet that had been covering the boy and handed him his soft, black boots. With effort Harry tugged into them, it was substantially more difficult to pull them on while he was feeling so out of sorts. With a grunt of exertion he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Snape stepped back to give the boy a bit of room. Harry pressed his toes to the thick carpet, still unsure of whether or not he had the resolve within him to stand up.

Harry took in a deep breath and forced himself up. Something inside of him was swirling, and dark colors danced in front of his eyes; he felt dizzy. Harry fumbled a hand out to reach behind him for the bed to stop himself from dropping like a stone to the floor.

Snape quickly stepped forward grabbing Harry’s right arm beneath the shoulder and hauling him up, and surprisingly he didn’t flinch away from the touch. “Easy. I told you that you are still weak.” Snape moved him back to the bed and made Harry sit. A few disorienting moments passed before Harry started to feel more normal again, and he could sit without feeling like he was in a swoon. He didn’t care if he felt poorly; all he cared about was going outside, and thinking that Snape was going to make him lie back down he began to protest.

“Sir, please-” Harry stopped abruptly when Snape shushed him.

“Relax, Potter. I said that I would let you spend some time outside, and so we shall.”

An audible gasp of shock escaped Harry’s lips as he felt Snape’s arms move to pick him up. Snape was holding him like a small child; one arm behind his back just under his shoulder blades and the other was under his knees.

“I suggest that you try to hold onto my robes. Perhaps it would be best to close your eyes,” Snape said, as he gave Harry a few moments to gain some composure. Thinking that Snape would not give him a frivolous suggestion Harry quickly clamped his eyes closed and clutched Snape’s robes for dear life as they disappeared with a very loud POP.