Escape

Skin

This is someone else's story,
Someone that I never knew.
This is someone else's body.
Am I getting through to you?

Harry stumbled blindly down, down, down. Further down into the pits of his misery, the pits of hell. Why did it have to be him? Why did that bastard have to go and kill his parents? Why? Why? Why? He didn't know how to do anything. He didn't know what to do. Why was he expected to do something that so many other failed to do? For God's sake, he was only a fifteen year old boy! He should have been a normal wizard, a normal teenager. He was just a normal kid! Not some miracle worker that everybody believed he was! Hot, salty tears rippled down his pale face, dripping from his cheeks onto the cold stone floor below him.

If you peel away the armor is something underneath?
If you look below for hidden treasure underneath another layer?
Are you hiding underneath the skin?

Harry shivered. The air was so, so cold. Just like everyone. Everyone was so cold. Did they even realize that he was a child? That he wasn't anywhere near as old or as wise or as powerful as all the others that went up against the Dark lord and were murdered? Didn't they know that he wasn't his parents?! He could feel his hot tears running down his freezing face, growing cold as they traveled down his miserable cheeks.

If you peel away the skin is there anybody there?
If you peel away the skin is there anybody there?
If you peel away the armor is it too late to begin?
Is there anybody hiding if you peel away the skin?

The stone walls seemed to close in on him, as if they were collapsing. Just like everyone. Dumbledore, the Order, the Hogwarts staff, the Weasleys, Hermione, Ron, his friends, the other students, countless other wizards he had never met. Snape. God, were they right? Was he just a shell? A robot, programemd to kill the Dark Lord? How did they expect him to do something so insanely sucidal if he wasn't under somebody's strict control? Harry dropped to the floor, moaning softly as his head collided with stone. Falling, falling. If he didn't move, he'd be squished between the pressing walls and the floor. But there would not be anyone else. No one else.

Now a spark has passed between us now,
A momentary recognition.
Something lost and something gained.
And something shared that feels strange,
Something cold that will not go away.
There's a heart as cold as ice
In a vault that's made of stone.
Over years the walls got higher,
Over years the walls have grown.

Harry's shallow breathing echoed through the harsh stone walls, the warm breath making little clouds in front of his nose. Slow, controlled footsteps pattered down the hall, closer, closer. Speeding up, moving faster and faster, but still carefully controlled. Oh God, I don't want to go back! Dont want to be manipulated. Don't want to be hurt . . . And then the steps stopped. Blinking a few times, Harry saw a dark clad figure looming towards him, a simple, strange, genuine look of concern written all over his face. Harry squeezed his eyes shut as he was carefully picked up, saved from the collapsing walls, from the constant pressure of the world, saved from himself. "Don't take me back, please," he whispered haltingly, "I don't want to be- don't want to be hurt again. Please," he begged. To his surprise, he was set down again, but sitting upright this time. "I won't take you back," the silky voice promised. He'd never heard that tone before. It was odd, but nice. "But I can't just let you bleed to death like that." Damn, he'd noticed. Then again, it wasn't too hard. Harry was bleedingly like a stuck pig. "Suicide is the coward's way out, and I had thought you were a Gryffindor." The voice sounded amused, another tone Harry did not recognized, but liked. And then he doubled over in sudden agony. A firm hand kept him from screaming outright. Harry's vision was coming back. "Now that you aren't going to die and get me killed," the hand hoisted him to his shaky, unstable feet. He could see clearly now. His savior helped him stagger down the hall, twisting and turning and going further and further down. But he wasn't going back. Not ever.

Is there anybody in there in this self inflicted tomb?
If you peel away the layers is there someone in this room?
If you peel away the skin, if you peel away the skin?

Harry, after slightly getting over the sudden and unexpected exhilarition of the knowledge he wasn't going to return to the horrible pressure of the wizarding world, glanced up at the tall, dark man half-dragging him down the dungeons, because his feet still wouldn't work properly. His bright green eyes widened in shock. "Snape?" The potions master looked at him. "I was wondering when you'd figure it out." Harry was thoroghly confused, but hung onto his every word, like he never did during classes. "And I bet you're asking why. Well, you've probebly been asking that." Snape sighed, and stopped. "Sucicide. No garuntee if it would work, but by the time I was your age, I was more than willing to try for it. And in fact, I did exactly the same thing you did. I slit open my forearms and hoped to God that no one would find me here, down in these dungeons. However, unlucky as I am, Albus found me." A sour look crossed is face, mixed with pain. "He was all dressed up in," as he continued, his face grew more and more contorted, "fishnets, corset, everything." Snape shuddered and leaned against a wall. "And then, then he started dancing. To one of my favorite movies, in fact." A grim smile crossed his face then, and he glanced down at Harry. "Can't stand it anymore, because of that bastard. Anyway, as soon as he stopped singing, dear God, don't ever let him sing, soon as he shut up, he healed my arm the same way I did yours and said 'Ever try that again, boy, and it'll be the whole movie!' I never did commit suicide again. Well, not like that anyway. Been hoping one side or the other would kill me off for some reason or another. Damned old men keep saving my ass." He'd started walking again, and harry finally found his feet, but lost his voice in the process. Snape had tried to kill himself? Why? Suddenly, Harry found, he didn't hate Snape. He didn't like him either, more like he was just curious about the man. What cause him to commit sucicide?

This is someone else's story,
Someone that I never knew.
This is someone else's body.
Am I getting through to you?

Harry sighed, content, sitting in a soft, high back chair, sipping a cup of hot chocolate beisde a warm fire. The walls were painted a soft maroon, with creme borders. One wall was made of a large cherry wood bookshelf, stocked full of books both muggle and wizarding, all very interesting looking. Another was a similar book shelf, only smaller, and it had rows of various potions. He could have sworn one of them was a Felix Felicious. The crackling fire beside him felt good on his face, made him feel rather sleepy. Or had Snape spiked his drink? No matter, it asted good anyway, and Snape did just prevent Harry frmo dying, so why would he kill him now? He took another drink. "Harry," he glanced up at his name, at Snape sitting across from him. "We need to dicuss where you are going, fairly quickly. Albus will be gone until tomarrow afternoon, so you need to be gone well before then, in case he comes back early." He was going to help him escape! "We'll also need to work on your appearence. Just a little tweaking." Tweaking? Uh oh. Harry didn't like the sound of that. Obviously Snape caught his nervousness, judging from what he said next. "Make-up, Harry. The stuff girls and actors wear." He was obviously amused, and the corners of his thin, pale lips kept twitching, as if desperate to break into a grin, but too controlled to do so. "Not only that, but I've taught you for about five years now. You're a blundering idiot, and this year just further proved that." Harry winced at the mention of Sirius's death. He didn't want to go into that again. Snape's harsh tone softened, "You'll need someone who knows how to get around muggles and wizards alike, if you're going to leave." The man was hinting at something, although Harry couldn't figure out what for the life of him. Snape, exasperated, sighed again. "I'm going to get blamed for your disappearence, just like I always do when things go wrong. I'm going with you."