The smell of bacon woke Severus, and while dismayed to find himself in the Entrance Hall instead of his quarters, signaling that it was indeed not just an annoying nightmare, he was pleased to find breakfast served as usual. Two plates were set at the end of Ravenclaw table, and in the center of the table was a heaping plate of bacon, a large bowl of scrambled eggs, a plate piled high with buttered toast, and several other things usually served every morning. Stretching, and wondering that he’d gotten such a good night’s rest considering how annoyed and angry he’d been when he went to bed, he scanned the hall for any sign of Potter, finding none.
Snape got out of bed and used his wand to straighten the wrinkles out of his robes before he walked over and sat at the table.
“Potter… wherever you are,” he said this with annoyance, thinking the boy hid only to get on his nerves, “the elves will not leave breakfast here all morning.” Without waiting for the boy, he scooped eggs and bacon onto his plate, and used a wand to conjure a bowl of country gravy, which he relished as he poured it over his eggs and bacon.
It was a good five minutes before Harry appeared over the edge of Gryffindor table. It wasn’t until he sat down across from Snape that he noticed how pale and sickly Harry looked. He had noticed the bags under his eyes the night before, but somehow they looked worse this morning.
“No sleep? Well I would guess not since you had no dreamless draught to steal.”
Wordlessly Harry rose and moved to the other table, not taking any food with him, and sitting with his back to Snape. Again he was uncomfortable doing this, but he didn’t want to look at him. He wasn’t hungry anyway… he hadn’t been properly hungry in so long… Hermione usually fought him now to get him to eat more than a piece of toast at breakfast and barely more than that at any other meal. He’d made the effort at first so his friend’s wouldn’t notice the weight he’d lost, but now he could care less.
Snape eyed the boy’s back. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that seeing how sick the boy looked, but well he deserved it stealing from him. He could have asked and he would have given him the potion while he still had a stock of it. Even Madam Pomfrey would not have denied him the potion.
He finished his own breakfast and watched Harry’s back some more. If the boy wanted to stay stubborn and angry about it then let him. He would eat when he was hungry enough.
Head in his hands Harry stared at the wooden table as he heard the plates of food vanish, and heard Snape rise from the table. Nothing was said to him, and he had nothing to say to the man he was stuck there with.
It wasn’t until nearly nine am that Snape finally spoke, after finding an envelope that had suddenly appeared in the center of the head table in front of the Headmaster’s chair.
“We have a message,” Snape said. Harry didn’t look as he heard him open the envelope. After a few moments there was a snort of disgust. Another moment and when Harry had not asked about the letter, Snape read aloud, “Both of you are to write an essay about why you hate each other. This is the first of three tasks. When you complete each task, a new one will be assigned. When the last task is completed, the doors will unlock, and you will be free to go. This will take as little or as much time as you make it. Good luck, Albus.”
Well, that didn’t sound too bad, Harry thought. He had to write essays for class every day. And better yet, the letter didn’t say how long it had to be, and didn’t say it had to be turned in or read aloud.
There was a swooshing noise, and Harry and Snape both looked up to see rolls of parchment, bottles of ink, and quills appear at the end of the table behind Harry.
“Foolish old man,” Snape said. “This is a waste of time.” Wanting to escape spending even more time with Harry however drove Snape to stalk to the table and pick up some parchment. He threw a roll at Harry along with a quill, and bottle of ink and took his own supplies and went back to the head table.
Harry heard hurried scratching of quill on parchment from Snape’s direction but did not pick up his own quill. When Snape saw Harry still just sitting there five minutes later it only angered him more and he began writing about how Harry never took things seriously.
After an hour, familiar nasty thoughts beginning to encroach on his numb feeling, Harry finally unrolled his parchment just hoping to take his mind off of things. He needed to feel angry again, or else he was going to be in a world of hurt.
Quill inked and paused over the top of the paper, Harry began to write.
I don’t really hate Professor Snape. But he hates me. That’s all that matters. I wish he stopped seeing my dad, and started seeing me. It’s too late now though… by the time he figures it out… (here he let the quill pause for too long over the parchment and it left a big blot of ink). … by the time he figures it out… and he paused again. He couldn’t bring himself to write it down even, that by the time Snape figured things out Harry would be six feet under ground. And there that overwhelming feeling was again.
Long tense moments passed as Harry tried to calm himself and steady his breathing. If he just concentrated on breathing, he’d be ok. But that wasn’t good enough for Snape, and after twenty more minutes of Harry just sitting there, Snape said, “Finish it Potter. I’m done with mine and I want to make it to the next task and be done with this foolishness.”
Feeling calm enough to finish now that he had cleared his mind, Harry put his quill down on the paper. He didn’t know how to put it into words, so he drew it instead. He didn’t know why, but he did it anyway. Below his last line of untidy script was a picture of a wizard lying dead on the grass somewhere with little x’s for eyes to indicate that he would not wake again. He colored the hair in dark and gave the figure of himself a nice black cloak… he had already decided some time ago which one he wanted to be buried in. For some reason he didn’t understand it pleased him immensely to see the neatly drawn little picture of himself laying there dead, the North tower of the castle there behind him, although to anybody else it just looked like another part of the castle, but in his mind he knew, and was relieved to know how it would end.
Harry rolled the parchment up and then folded it in half to make it smaller. It was only a few sentences anyhow, and now that he had written it he planned on burning it in the fireplace just as soon as their next task instructions appeared.
On cue he heard a swoosh, and Snape rushed eagerly to get and open the aged envelope that had appeared on the head table. Harry watched as he rolled his eyes and dropped the note on the table.
“What does it say?”
“Read the essay you wrote out loud.”
Snape did not fail to notice how pale Harry suddenly went at his words. Surely it couldn’t have been worse then the long list of grievances Snape held against him.
“Want to go first?” Snape half teased, thinking he might be amused to hear what petty things Potter had written about him.
Harry shook his head and Snape thought he looked like he was about to be sick.
“Fine then, I’ll read mine first.”
Harry listened half-heartedly as Snape rattled off a long list of things Harry had done in the past, starting with the very first Potion’s class they’d had together where Harry hadn’t listened properly and had been too stupid to answer any of his questions, and ending with how he had stolen 12 out of 15 bottles of sleepless draught potion before Snape had caught on.
Of course Harry had stolen them. It was one of the only things on the long list that Snape had been right about. Harry felt ashamed for stealing from anybody, even Snape, and it had been the first time he had stolen anything, but he so badly needed the potion… he had rationed it carefully from day one so that he wouldn’t have to steal as much, but eventually he found the locking spell on Snape’s stock room changed, and had been unable to get much sleep at all in the last few weeks. He could never ask for it… there would be too many questions, and possibly even a demand from the Headmaster that Harry start occlumency lessons again. He shuddered at the thought of Snape seeing his deepest, darkest secrets… he worried that anybody at all would find out. He couldn’t handle knowing that people knew… even after he was dead, he wanted nobody to know of what had happened… his honor would be tarnished and people would think of him differently. He just couldn’t handle the thought of being ashamed for all eternity.
“All right, your turn Potter.”
Harry shook his head, staring down at the folded essay in front of him.
Snape rolled his eyes. “Read it or we will be stuck here.” He shook his head again.
After a few minutes, when Harry heard Snape move from the head table, and Snape said, “I will read it if you will not,” Harry leapt up from the bench faster than he had moved in months, essay in hand.
Surprised by the suddenly quick movement from the sulking boy, Severus watched as Harry stuffed the paper down his shirt and backed up a considerable distance.
“Do not be stupid boy,” Snape nearly drawled in the same fashion that Draco Malfoy would. “We will never escape here.”
“You… just stay back.” He seemed to have trouble getting the words out, which further surprised the annoyed Potion’s Master.
“It cannot be nearly as bad as you think, considering what I have written about you.”
Harry shook his head. “Stay back. Leave me alone.”
Snape put his hands on his hips and said, “Do not make me spell you to get the damned essay.”
Suddenly Harry felt for his wand and could not find it, and remembered that it was in his dorm, and that panicky feeling came over him again. No, Snape couldn’t see the essay, or else he’d know… and somebody might try to stop him!
Harry moved for the wall of windows, and despite the warning that they would not break, tried to put his fist through one anyway. Instead of going through his fist met a solid barrier and he heard his knuckles crack. He didn’t care though, he had to find a way out. He ran to the other side of the room behind the staff table and ran through the door that lead to the bathroom. There was no exit here either, but mercifully he found that the bathroom door locked. Of course Snape had a wand and could unlock it, but the room was tiny and Harry could barricade the door with his body if he sat against it and used the toilet to push against with his feet. He quickly sank to the floor and got ready to endure blasting spells and curses, but none came. Hours passed and there was no sound at all. For the first time in a long time, Harry felt safe enough to sleep, and he did.
* * *
Severus Snape rubbed the throbbing vein in his temple. What on earth was wrong with the child? He had never seen him act this way before, and it was starting to worry him. Not just the odd behavior, but how sickly and pale he looked. Thinking back on it now he had started looking like that shortly after the start of the term. He had been quiet and had kept mostly to himself so far this year… he hadn’t even tried to catch the Snitch in the Halloween match against Slytherin… yes, something was very wrong here.
Thinking it silly to talk to thin air, Snape said aloud, “I don’t know if you’re listening to this or not Dumbledore, but we need out of here. Potter is very sick and he needs help. Help beyond what I know how to give him,” he added as an afterthought.
It had been hours now since he’d locked himself in the bathroom. The stupid boy had probably flushed the stupid essay down the toilet, and he’d have to write another one now before they could get out.
Snape had tried the door to find it locked. He had even called to Harry, but there had been no answer. Perhaps he was finally sleeping he had finally decided, and had left him alone.
He sat quietly on the edge of the staff table, wondering what to do now, and wondering why he had not noticed how bad Harry looked before. Perhaps it was because his view of him was so colored by hatred and annoyance. But damn him, he was sure that Potter had stolen from him. He had seen the circles under his eyes for a couple of weeks before he thought the potions had started to go missing, and while the circles had not disappeared altogether, they had lessened, only to grow darker again after he changed the password to his storeroom. Stupid little quip… why had he not just come to him?
Ok, granted, he wasn’t the most approachable professor there, but still… there had been no reason to resort to thievery!
It was nearing ten in the evening again when Severus was finally starting to think about going to bed. Lunch and dinner had been quiet… not that breakfast hadn’t. He had just conjured his bed from thin air again when he heard screaming from the staff lounge where Harry was holed up.
He stumbled over his robes and climbed over the staff table to get to the door to the lounge, and then the bathroom inside. The screaming was frantic now and he was sure Harry must be dying of pain… he had heard that scream too many times… it was the scream of somebody writing on the ground suffering a Cruciatus curse.
“Potter! Potter! Open the door! Open it now! Fine… stand back!” He hoped the boy had heard as he pulled out his wand and sent a blasting curse at the door, trying to aim high so as not to hit the screaming child inside.
The door shattered and Snape reached through and tried to push Harry out of the way. He was still screaming, sitting on the floor, and his arms were flailing wildly, trying to fight off an invisible attacker. Severus wasn’t sure if he was awake or asleep but soon saw that he was still asleep and living inside a nightmare once he was able to push him far enough out of the way of the door to open it up and pull him out into the staff lounge.
“Potter! Wake up! Potter!” He shook him hard and Harry’s eyes were open, but he wasn’t seeing him.
“No! Don’t! Please no!” His screams were wild and frantic and his voice cracked.
Snape shook him hard again and as Harry’s fist met Severus’ jaw, Harry finally awakened, startled to find himself there in Snape’s arms. Immediately he rolled out of his Professor’s grasp and shouted in surprise, scurrying backwards frantically, trying to escape.
Hand on his aching jaw, he wondered that the boy had such a strong punch.
“Potter! You’re fine now, unlike my jaw.” Experimentally he moved it left and right and was satisfied that while he may have a bruise in the morning, it was not broken.
When he looked up at Harry he saw him against the wall next to the cold fireplace, arms wrapped around his knees, hugging them for dear life.
“What on earth were you dreaming about? It sounded like someone was using an Crucio on you.”
Harry shook his head, unwilling to answer. What they had done was worse than using a Crucio… so much worse. He would willingly endure that to get what they had done out of his head. He couldn’t help the tears from spilling down his face, even if they were silent. God how Harry needed something to be angry at… anything… how he wished Voldemort was there even just so he could kill him to stop the oncoming panic attack… he just couldn’t handle that right now.
Snape removed his hand from his jaw and spied a folded parchment on the floor in front of him where Harry had laid just a few moments ago. The essay. Finally he would see it and they would be able to move on to the next task. More than just being annoyed and angry now that he was stuck there, Severus was worried for Harry, and felt an urgent need to get him to the hospital wing. Now that he had felt how light he was when he dragged him from the bathroom, he was sure that he had not been eating… he was almost skin and bones.
Horrified, Harry watched his Professor stoop down and pick up the essay. Frantically he felt the front of his shirt for the folded parchment and found it missing. Snape was not smiling when he held it up however.
“I’m going to read this because we need to get out of here,” he said calmly, trying to impress on Harry the urgency of their need to escape their temporary prison.
Harry shook his head. “No.” It was barely more than a whisper.
Severus shook the essay open anyway, and his eyes scanned it, quickly finding the drawing below the few sentences. Suddenly his pale face flushed and he was in front of Harry lifting him up by the shirt collar. Damn but he was so light.
“What is this?!” He demanded. Harry shook his head, pale and horrified.
“What is this!? You drew a picture of me dead!? You’re going to kill me before I find out!?” Here he had been so worried about Potter and the brat had been thinking about killing him.
Harry shook his head yet again. Furious, Snape yelled, “Do not lie to me!” He raised a fist to show his seriousness and Harry flinched. “I owe you after you nearly broke my jaw!”
He was too horrified and weak to struggle much, and he knew his options were limited. If he didn’t say anything, he wholeheartedly believed that Snape would beat the crap out of him and take out all of his frustration and anger on him, and then he would just hurt more but would not be dead. And if he told him the truth?
Snape pulled back his fist, not intending to hit Harry, but wanting him to feel threatened enough to admit the truth, but Harry held up his hands in front of his face anyway and shouted, “IT’S ME!”
And there it was… it was him, and now somebody knew.
“Liar,” his voice was quiet but still angry, but the anger stilled and he lowered Harry to the ground when Harry sobbed, “It’s me, it’s me.”
Weakly Harry pounded on Snape’s chest until he let go of his shirt collar and lowered his fist, and then he pounded on the Potion Master’s chest some more.
“It’s me and I hate you for reading it! It’s me, it’s me.”
Severus stood there shocked, letting Harry pound on his chest as he sobbed. Why had Harry drawn a picture of himself dead? By the time Severus found out… Harry would be dead? By Voldemort? Was his fear of the wizard that bad after all the attacks he had survived? But no, that revelation wouldn’t upset Harry so… he had known this for a long time.
Realization dawned on Severus when he looked back at the picture and saw the North tower behind the drawing of dead Harry. Harry was dead because he had jumped.
“Read it Harry.”
Harry tried to push Snape away, but he was cornered and weak from lack of sleep and food and because he had finally given up the will to go on.
It took a few moments, but Harry finally stopped crying. He didn’t bother to wipe the tears from his eyes. “No.” Another weak answer, and yet Severus knew that if he persisted, Harry would indeed read it.
“We need to get you out of here… read it.”
Harry held out a shaking hand and took the essay before sinking back to the floor in the corner, but didn’t read it.
“Go on. Read it. You can’t carry it out if you can’t even read it.”
Suddenly remembering the intense calm that had come over him when he had managed to draw the picture, Harry read aloud, “I don’t really hate Professor Snape. But he hates me. That’s all that matters. I wish he stopped seeing my dad, and started seeing me. It’s too late now though… by the time he figures it out… by the time he figures it out… I’ll be dead.” He felt the relief sweep over him. He knew how it would end, and that was enough.
Severus was slightly sickened inside to see the calm and relief that reading it aloud had caused the boy, but remembered from his own experience that once you had a plan laid out, it was a relief. There was only one step beyond that though, and Snape was glad that neither he, nor Harry had taken it.
“Off of the North tower?” He was calm and quiet.
Harry nodded.
“When?”
Harry took in a deep breath. “On my way after dinner.”
“When?”
“The night you stopped me in the Great Hall and accused me of stealing from you.”
It was Severus’ turn to take a deep breath. The boy had not yet managed to kill himself because Snape had happened to stop him that particular night about the stolen potions? Thank the heavens that he had chosen to confront him then.
“Why?”
Harry shuddered, and didn’t answer.
“Why?” Harry shook his head at the prompting.
“I… I can’t.”
Severus knelt down in front of Harry now. “Yes you can.” He reached out a hand to touch Harry’s wrist but Harry recoiled.
“No, please, no,” he pleaded, sucking in deep breaths now. He couldn’t stand for anybody to touch him after… after it had happened.
“Harry…”
“No… please… please… back up.” Tears were flowing from his eyes again and Severus felt sickened as he backed up to give Harry room, realization coming over him again. He didn’t know who had done it, but he had an idea of what had happened from the way that the boy recoiled at human touch… God how it ate him up inside knowing now that Harry had suffered this for who knew how long… alone.
“It’s ok. You’re safe now. Nobody’s going to hurt you. I won’t let them.”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t know if I can keep going… it hurts too much.”
“I have seen you fight to live for so long… do not give up.” He sighed. “If we can finish the last task, we can get you to some help… someone who can make the hurt go away.” His voice was so sincere that Harry believed him and nodded. Snape nodded too.
“Sleep for now, and we will take on the third task in the morning… whatever it may be.”
He stood up and waited for Harry to do the same.
“You may sleep in here if you wish where you may keep the door locked. You can put extra charms on it with your wand.”
Harry shook his head. “I left my wand on my bed.”
Snape nodded. Of course he did. “I will spell you in if you wish, and will not come in again.”
He thought about it and then nodded, wiping an eye with his sleeve.
With another nod, Severus headed for the door and closed it, saying the spells loudly from the outside that would lock it from the inside. Not from experience, but from common sense, he knew the boy desperately needed to feel safe. Oh how he wished he had some sleepless draught right now to give him. Damn the old bat for locking them in here with no real supplies… but at the same time he thought, he would not have known about what Harry had suffered if they had not been locked in together. And not for the first time since he’d first stepped foot on Hogwart’s grounds was Severus Snape suddenly amazed at Dumbledore’s wisdom.
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