Author: Diagonalist
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: SS/HP
Warnings: child abuse, depression, suicidal tendancies
Summary: Devoid of the will to live, Harry decides that it is simply time to end it all. Too bad for him that one of his professors had to come and screw it up.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I am simply borrowing them; therefore, do not sue me.
Chapter 25: Talking
As the door to Snape's bedroom shut behind him Harry couldn't help but feel afraid. He hadn't done anything. Not really. He still felt guilty. Why did he feel guilty?
He had never been in here before. Though the nervous tension he was experiencing somewhat lessened his curiosity, it did not eradicate it completely. He had been right in his guess that Snape kept all of his personal items in this chamber. There were shelves and shelves stacked with books, potions and curious little oddities. The walls were bare. There was a deep, soft, luxurious carpet on the floor, which contrasted sharply with the cold tiling in the other rooms. It looked comfortable. There were no chairs.
Snape indicated that he should sit on the bed, so he perched on the edge of the massive four poster.
Kneeling beside him, the professor reached out his hand to start taking the bandage off. Harry flinched away, drawing his arm out of Snape's range. This caused the other man's face to become serious. Oh no, thought Harry. But he hadn't done anything. Not really.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
Tell him about what? There was nothing to tell. Why did everyone act like he was going to try and kill himself again. He hadn't even meant to the first time, he had just cut too deep while he wasn't thinking about it. He wouldn't have done it on purpose.
"Harry."
Merlin, the way Snape said his name like that made him feel like he was keeping a dozen deadly secrets. And should disclose them all immediately.
"I'm fine, I didn't do anything!"
A snort of disbelief. Snape got up and started pacing, muttering to himself. Harry could make out very little.
"Why didn't I feel anything? I should have known." he heard.
When Snape had apparently exhausted his own conversation, he turned back to Harry.
"Tell me what happened."
Harry just glared at him. He didn't need to talk about this. Why was everyone always pestering him? He was fine!
"Harry, you can tell me. Please tell me."
"Leave me alone."
Snape reached for his arm again, he shoved his professor away and scrambled backwards. He didn't need looking after like this.
He quickly moved to the door and found it locked. He was locked in. He hated being locked in. It reminded him of the cupboard. And the darkness. And he didn't want to be reminded of those things.
"Let me out, please let me out." he said in a small voice, face against the door, hand clutching the handle.
"Harry." The voice was gentler now. It didn't make him feel any better. "Harry talk to me."
He turned. Snape was sitting on the bed.
"I really haven't done anything wrong you know." he tried to inject an indignant tone into his words.
"Then let me look at your wrist."
Harry wasn't sure why he didn't want Snape to look at his arm. But there was a reason somewhere. It made his stomach clench painfully.
"There's nothing wrong with it." his voice was becoming panicked. Why was that? If he hadn't done anything wrong, then he shouldn't be worried. Harry stared down at his own wrist for a while, trying to remember.
Snape's hands entered his field of view, and he jerked back in alarm.
"It's alright Harry."
The hands took hold of his wrist, turned it, undid the bandage, peeled it away.
There were no new gashes. What was all fuss about then? Harry mused to himself on why he had not wanted Snape to see. Then he looked closer at the two bite marks. They were bleeding. Very small but deep incisions had been made around the edges of the bites, to try and disguise their presence. Clever. How had he thought of that? Just as well Sylrissin hadn't been with him. He remembered leaving her behind. He wasn't sure if he could remember making the cuts though. Strange.
Snape wasn't fooled, he could tell with a look. Harry felt slightly faint.
He was guided to the bed, and sat down.
"Harry. Harry, look at me."
He dragged his eyes up from staring at his arm. When had he done that? He had been in the bathroom. He must have cut himself there. But he had tried not to. Now he remembered. He'd transfigured a toothbrush into a small blade. But he'd tried so hard not to need to. He let out a small whimper.
"Harry?" No sound but their breathing for a time then, "Shall I get you some cookies?"
Harry relaxed. This was Snape. Snape who had tended to him over the holidays, who had held him through his nightmares. Snape who had listened. Snape who said he cared.
"I didn't mean to." He heard the waver in his own voice and told himself to grow up. Then decided that attitude hadn't got him very far, and had merely led to him cutting again.
"I couldn't get to sleep. I was afraid to. I knew I shouldn't be, because He's gone now, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. About how it felt." Pause to catch breath, which was starting to become fast and shallow. Calm. Be calm.
"I felt sick. I haven't eaten that much in forever." he turned a reproachful look on Snape. "So I went to the bathroom and threw up."
"Did you do it on purpose?"
Harry was startled by the interruption. And what had been asked. He frowned in puzzlement. "On purpose? I only just made it in time. I doubt that you would want to redo your floors in puke yellow. It felt awful."
He went quiet, the memories he had been subconsciously blocking off coming back.
"Harry? What happened then?"
"I don't...." Harry swallowed thickly. "The taste. The taste in my mouth. Somehow it reminded me of when Voldemort died. I think he might have been sick too. It's all so hazy. And then I thought about the pain. And how I couldn't even kill Voldemort like everyone expected me too. What else am I good for?" he mumbled to himself. "And I wanted to know, what it was that made me feel alive again when she bit me. So I took of the bandage, just to see. And the red was fading. I thought that maybe if I brought the red back then it would feel like it did to start with."
A tear dripped down his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I don't know why I hid it. I just felt so guilty when I heard the knock. I thought you'd be so disappointed in me." his voice hitched.
Snape sighed, and wrapped an arm loosely around Harry. "I'm not disappointed in you, though I wish you had told me sooner. Harry, you didn't need to cut yourself, you should have come and talked to me instead. I could have helped you."
It wasn't as though he hadn't thought of that. But what if he had gone to Snape and been turned away? He didn't think he could have taken that again.
"But I thought that you were asleep. I didn't want to disturb you."
"Harry, it doesn't matter if I am asleep. In the future, promise me that you will come to me straight away if you feel like that."
Snape cared. It was a strange feeling, knowing that someone did. Harry liked it. He nodded tentatively. "But..."
"I would never turn you away."
Harry dropped his head. Accusations ran through his mind. But he uttered none of them. He couldn't, not to the only person who seemed to care at all whether Harry lived or died. Snape seemed to know what he was thinking anyway. He sighed again.
"I know Harry, I know. But I explained why I treated you that way and I am very sorry for it. It will not happen again, no matter how cranky I am."
Harry's lips curved into a smile at hearing the word 'cranky' issue from the professor's mouth.
"Will you be alright going back to sleep now?" asked Snape.
He cares. He cares. Harry would be honest then.
"I think so. It might take a while, but I'm not so afraid anymore, and I don't feel sick. I think I can sleep."
Snape smiled at his honesty. "Good." He unlocked the door. Harry felt relieved as he heard it click open. "Now, come and get me if you need anything."
"Yes sir, I will." He hesitated for a moment, then, realising it was something which shouldn't be prompted, said, "I promise to tell you if I feel like that again."
Snape nodded, he looked pleased. Harry went back to lie in his own bed. Sylrissin scolded him roundly, but forgave him when she snuggled up to his warmth.
****************
"Are you alright?" came the whispered undertone from the other bed. Draco. Oh well, he didn't think he could sleep straight away anyway.
"Yeah, Snape just had to change the bandage on my arm."
"What happened?"
"My snake bit me."
"Why don't I believe that. That's the worst excuse I've ever heard. And I've heard a lot. You're a parseltongue, why would the snake bite you? What did you really do?"
It was pointless arguing that Sylrissin actually had bitten him. He was too tired to bother anyway.
"I was feeling shite and sick, so I cut myself."
Oh My God, did he really just say that? Wow. It was sort of true. He never looked at it like that before.
"And Snape caught you?"
"Yeah, he read me this long lecture about never doing it again."
"I've thought about it, suicide I mean, but there was always something... I don't know."
"I wasn't trying to commit suicide. I'm not that crazy!" said Harry defensively.
"Well why were you cutting yourself then? If you were doing it for fun then that's way more crazy than trying to kill yourself."
"No, it's just that... I mean, I could never kill myself, because there was always too much depending on me, and Sirius would have... Although I suppose now, there's no reason why I shouldn't."
"Yes there is." said Draco firmly. "Even if you can't think of it. You have to stay if only so that I'm not left alone with Snape. He really hates me, you know, because of my father."
Harry laughed weakly. "I had the same problem. I think he got over it though. And, considering what you did, he can't really treat you like your father anymore, can he?"
Draco just grunted. "Then there's your cute little snake. You have to be alive to stop her from biting me. I'm sure she'd be really vicious in her grief. And you can't die because..." his voice grew really soft and Harry strained to hear it, "because then I'll have no one to talk to anymore."
So, it seemed as though more than one person cared about him. That was Snape, Draco and Sylrissin. His new reasons for living.
"I'm sorry about your parents." he said sleepily.
"Don't be." Draco replied, "They were pretty evil."
"I'm sorry all the same. Whatever they were like, you must miss them."
"I do."
They were quiet then. Harry tried not to think about the cutting, or the depression. He thought about flying. Then he remembered that the Dursleys burned his broom.
He thought about freedom, and how he was finally getting closer to it.
He thought about how he was no longer alone.
TBC
