Authors Note: Just a little something I've felt like writing. I don't think its particularly good, and Im not looking for reviews. I rarely write Fan fics, btw
~Kia
A brave front. The mask of a Gryffindor. A concealment against everything he felt inside. He didn't even tell Ron or Hermione what was going on in his own mind. How could they understand? He loved them dearly as friends, but they would never, ever, understand.
Over the summer he'd been building his mask, trying to come to terms with Sirius' death. His Aunt and uncle hardly showed a care about Harry or his seclusion, his silence. Sirius was all Harry had. The only true family he had left. He couldn't come to terms with it. He couldn't understand why. Even without the constant nightmares and access from Voldemort into his mind, from last year, he was still being broken by the Dark Lord. Harry often mused to himself, comparing himself to a pane of glass where stones were thrown. The largest stones had been Voldemorts return and Sirius' death. He was afraid of breaking.
And now he had returned to Hogwarts, with a new name. The Chosen One. He hated it, the eyes on him, and the affection from those he didn't really care about. They believed him now, they knew the truth, and they pitied him. But nothing helped. He kept up the mask, smiling, pretending to be humble about the sudden attention. Inside, he felt hollow though.
'weak,' a voice would hiss in his mind. Harry knew it was his own, he knew it was telling the truth as well. 'Helpless. People have died for you and you can't avenge them.'
His inner voice delighted in torturing him, and leaving him with no one to talk to. No one understands.
Whenever he was around anyone, whenever Hermione and Ron talked to him, and they shared smiles and laughs, it felt like a dream. Unreal. He smiled and laughed at appropriate moments, but there was nothing to it. He was empty. His friends, his teachers, Hogwarts, they only barely grounded him now. He wanted to be with his parents. To be with Sirius.
"Potter!" McGonagall barked in the middle of transfiguration. Harry looked up, and blinked slowly.
"Yes, professor?" He asked, unsure of what had happened.
"I asked you a question," She replied sharply. "5 points, Mr. Potter," She said with a sigh. "Ms. Granger, could you instead, enlighten us on the benefits of being an Animagus?"
Harry opened his mouth a little, but then fell silent. He zoned out to Hermiones voice, most likely giving a perfect and highly detailed explanation to the question he didn't hear.
"Harry," Hermione began as they left the class later on. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, mate, you zoned out all class," Ron added, before screwing up his face and adding "Well, all morning now that I think about it."
"I'm fine guys, just a little tired," Harry replied, giving them a false smile. Ron easily believed it and didn't push any further. Hermione gave him a worried glance. "I didn't get much sleep last night."
"Still having nightmares?" She asked. He shrugged, shaking off her question. He'd rather avoid the topic all together.
"I can't believe Snape's our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" Ron exclaimed as they headed to the very class. "Slimy, old git…"
"Ten points, Mr. Weasly," Came Snapes familiar drawl. He must have heard as they came down the corridor, standing at the door the class room. Ron pursed his lips and flushed an embarrassed color. Snapes cold, black eyes locked onto Harry, filled with the familiar contempt. Harry blinked in response, not glaring, not giving any indication of emotion.
He walked past the teacher and took his seat, Snape looking after him curiously.
...
For the rest of the day, Harry was just as distracted. He lost house points for his inattentiveness, but Hermione made up for them with hers. Both her and Ron were watching him a little more closely, although he fended there worry with more masks, more walls, more smiles. He was almost… hurt that they so easily fell for them. He knew they cared, but part of him wanted them to notice something really was the matter.
That night, he couldn't sleep either, nightmares flashing between Voldemorts high, cruel laughter as he killed Harrys parents to Sirius being hit in the chest by Bellatrix's spell and dying to Cedric being thrown across the ground by the killing curse. He sat up after his last bout of nightmares, panting and sweaty. He threw the blankets off, and grabbed his invisibility cloak.
He needed to walk. With the Marauders Map in hand, he walked across the castle, going anywhere he felt like. There were few people walking the halls this time at night; He could see Snape on the map, prowling the lower halls. He still felt no feeling of loathing, not anger towards the man. Nothing. It felt strange. A few ghosts were about, and, as was to be expected, Peeves was doing something in the Potions room. Perhaps he should tell Slughorn… but as he glanced at the map, the man was sleeping. Tomorrow he would tell then.
Harry checked the map as he went, watching as Severus walked into the dungeons, where potions was, and finding Peeves. The dot that was the ghost ran off, Snape fixing up whatever the ghost had done. No anger, no laugh at Snape needing to clean up the mess, nothing.
"Mischief managed," Harry mumbled as he put the map away. He didn't really need it now. The only ones who concerned him were asleep. Or picking up after a ghosts' mess. Plus, he had the cloak on.
And so he wandered, until in the early hours of the morning, he slumped against a wall. He felt tired, but he could feel the nightmares, just on the edge of his mind. He didn't want to sleep. He still wanted to be with Sirius and with his Parents. A door appeared suddenly. The room of requirements. Harry opened the door and stepped in. It was a bedroom now, a bed, a draft of what was probably dreamless sleep potion. There was something else too, however. A razor.
He looked at the metallic item curiously, feeling the cold against his skin. It was so simple to find an artery, just to end it all. No one would ever find him. He would be in here, dead, until someone else needed the Room.
He was disgusted by his own ideas, the first true emotion he'd felt in while.
"I'm not that cowardly," He growled to no one, throwing the razor on the floor and leaving. However, there was someone else there when the door opened and Harry ran right into the warm body.
"Tsk tsk, Potter. Still walking the halls when you feel the urge to be out after curfew?" Snape said slowly. Harry backed away, finding no smart retort in his mouth tonight. "20 points from Gryffindor then."
Harry still had nothing to say, he just looked back into the room and considered getting the razor now… No ,I'm not that cowardly.I will not kill myself. He chastened. 'but it would be so easy… just one cut and no more needing to be the Chosen one. No more causing others pain, Harry. All you do is cause pain.'
"Potter!" Snape barked, grabbing the boys shoulders. Harry looked up at him and blinked in surprise.
"Yes, sir?" He replied quietly. Snape searched his face for answers. His arrogant face. The face of James Potter. This child was exactly like him, and last year only gave him more reason to detest the boy. But there was something off about Potter now. He wasn't angry, he wasn't spitting out insults or glowing red at the loss of points.
The boy had looked back into the room, if only for a moment.
"Stay put," Snape said testily, stepping into the open doors of the Room of Requirement. A simple four poster bed, a goblet of, what was it? Snape sniffed at. Dreamless Sleep draught. So he had been having nightmares, it seemed. Poor little Potter. Snape sneered. Then the glimmer caught his eye. His onyx eyes flashed to the floor of the room. A razor. His brows raised slowly, understanding what might have transpired, and what Harry was actually doing.
"We're going to the Headmasters' office," Snape said, grabbing the boy by the arm and dragging him along. Harry went without protest, although his face twinged at Snapes' grip.
"Caramel," Snape said to the statue guarding Albus' office. It moved, and they went up. He let go of Harry and said "Stay."
Harry nodded, and Snape went to get Dumbledore.
Snape had seen the razor, it was the only reason he dragged Harry up here to see Dumbledore. Dumbledore, who relied on Harry, the Chosen One. The One he didn't want to be at all. He could already see the look of disappointment on his face that Harry had even for a moment considered the option.
'All you do is cause others pain, Harry,' the voice hissed. Harry shook it off, flexing his neck as he had started doing last year. He hated it, but it was a tick he seemed to have developed. Dumbledore and Snape came back, Harry looking at the Headmaster. His blue eyes didn't shine or twinkle, they looked grave, sad.
Snape moved to leave.
"Severus, please stay for a moment more," Albus asked quietly. Snape narrowed his eyes but stayed, keeping his distance from Harry. Dumbledore turned his attention to the boy. "Harry, Severus has told me he found you in the room of requirements, with a razor blade." He said it so carefully, as though if he spoke louder, the tension would break. The softness of his voice made Harry feel guilty.
"Yes, sir," He replied, unsure of what to say after. Dumbledore sat in his chair, rubbing his temples wearily.
"Harry, speak to me." He said after a moment of silence. "What's wrong?"
"I… I don't know, sir," Harry mumbled, looking into the floor. Dumbledore was obviously tired, he didn't need Harry's problems thrust on his shoulders, like he had done so many times before. Harry wasn't sure how he would explain himself anyway. Dumbledore looked at him, into him it seemed, in the silence. Harry wanted to get away.
"Sir, I'm really tired." Harry finally managed, after a few moments that felt like hours. "Can I go back to my dormitory?"
Albus sighed and nodded. He wouldn't push the boy any more. He would talk eventually, when he felt like it. Harry stood.
"Severus, please escort Harry to his dormitory," Albus asked as he rose. Snapes nostrils flared, looking down at Harry.
"Yes, headmaster," He replied in a monotonous voice. Albus left, Snape jerked his thumb at the door.
"Potter, what exactly is going through your famous little head?" Snape sneered as they walked down the hall. "Trying to get a large pity party? As if the fans you have don't weep enough on your behalf."
'All you do is cause others pain, Harry,'
Silence.
"I expect to be answered when I ask you something," Snape said coldly. Still nothing. He glanced at the boy, seeing his eyes glazed over and staring off into the distance "Potter." Still no response. He grabbed the boys shoulders. "Potter!"
Harry looked up at him, caught off guard by his sudden grab. Severus tried to read the boy, but he was still partially dazed, caught between somewhere and nowhere. He released him and continued walking hastily towards the Gryffindors Dormitories, Harry walking quickly to catch up to the teachers' quicker stride.
As they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry seemed a little more responsive to the things around him.
"Mandrake root," Harry mumbled. The lady, disgruntled at being woken, swung open for him.
"Death is not a viable option, Potter," Snape said after the boy. The portrait swung shut.
