A/N: So this is a fic that came from my own experiences with Ulcerative Colitis, and about the shame that comes along with having a disability that's seen as "gross" or "embarrassing." This fic features frank discussions about bodily functions. You have been warned.

It was all Harry could do to keep from crying. He tried to focus on the lecture Snape was giving but all he could do was focus on the deep sense of shame that welled up deep in his stomach and throat. He hated himself a little bit at that moment. Any other kid would have been able to raise their hand and ask to go to the bathroom. Or, considering this was Snape's class, hold it until class was over. But Harry never had the luxury of being any other kid.

He gently pressed his hand to the ostomy bag attached to his stomach. It had been over a year since the diagnosis. Since the night when he had been screaming and vomiting so badly that even the Dursley's had to take notice and take him to the hospital. A year since the night that even Vernon and Petunia had sat in a hospital waiting room while Harry had been in surgery, thinking about the child they had never wanted or cared about, realizing that even after everything they didn't want a child under their care, no matter how unloved, to die. A year since he had woken up to be told that he had something called Ulcerative Colitis, and they'd had to remove his colon. Harry remembered the silent way Aunt Petunia had sat with him as the stoma nurse explained that Harry wouldn't be able to go to the bathroom normally anymore, that he would rely on a colostomy bag for the rest of his life. Harry remembered how his aunt looked at him like she didn't know what to do with this newly disabled child that shared her sister's eyes.

But more than anything, Harry remembered the shame. He had learned very quickly that nobody wanted to know about his poo disease. It was gross and embarrassing. Something distasteful that shouldn't be discussed unless absolutely necessary. He remembered the queasy look on Aunt Petunia's face the first week he was home from the hospital when she had to help him change and clean the ostomy bag until he learned to do it himself. His aunt and uncle, by virtue of necessity, had let it be known that Harry was disabled (it was hard to hide an ambulance showing up in the middle of the night, and Harry's teachers had needed to know anyway) but they had made it very clear: Harry's condition was disgusting and shameful. Harry was disgusting and shameful.

Coming to Hogwarts had been a relief. Back in Little Whinging, Harry was the freak with the gross bowel disease that nobody wanted to touch or talk to. But at Hogwarts, no one had to know about his stoma besides the nurse and Dumbledore. He had gotten good at hiding all the equipment needed to change and clean his ostomy bags, and the robes that he wore over his school uniform hid any unsightly bulges better than Dudley's old clothes ever did. It was quite easy to sneak away between classes and at meals so that he could empty his bag of the output without anyone being the wiser. In fact, Harry had gotten quite good at timing the changing and cleaning of his stoma between classes so that he'd never have a reason to need to leave class early. A month into the term and Harry had yet to have a single mishap.

Except for today. Today he and Ron had been in the library for lunch, struggling to finish up their Potions assignment. Usually, Harry emptied his bag after lunch before going to class. But today they were running late. Which meant that Harry didn't have time. Which meant Harry hadn't emptied his bag since breakfast. Which meant if Harry didn't get to a bathroom soon he was going to leak poo all over his shirt in the middle of potions class.

Harry wrapped his robes around his front, making sure they covered the area where his ostomy bag sat. All he could do was pray that class was almost over, and try not to panic and cry before that happened. Harry couldn't remember a time when he had ever felt so embarrassed.

Harry let out a small gasp when he felt it, the tell-tale feeling of liquid on his shirt. He bit down on his lip hard, desperate not to cry. He wasn't going to cry in class. He wasn't.

"You alright, mate?" He heard Ron whisper in his ear. Harry nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak.

"Harry, you're shaking," Ron said.

"'M fine," Harry murmured, keeping his eyes fixed on the desk in front of him. Harry couldn't look at Ron. Because if he looked at Ron, his friend would see the tears in his eyes, and Harry didn't think he'd be able to hide anything.

"Potter! Weasley!" Snape snapped. "What on earth is so important that you feel the need to interrupt my class?"

Harry's head snapped up. Snape was right in front of their desk now. Harry pulled his robe tighter around himself, hoping that Snape wouldn't see what had happened from his position. It was bad enough it had happened in class. He couldn't imagine what would happen if Snape found out.

"Harry's sick, sir," Ron said, and god Harry could kick him.

"Is that so, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked snidely. Harry didn't dare look Snape in the eye. He kept his gaze straight ahead toward's Snape's belly button.

"N-No, sir," Harry said, "I'm fine." It was all he could do to keep his voice steady. He felt another gush of liquid seeping through his shirt and shuddered involuntarily. He kept his robes tight around himself, praying that he could get out of here before he leaked onto those as well. For once he was thankful that he was in the Potion's classroom. All the ingredients and fumes would cover the smell.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said. "Stay after class, Potter."

Harry shut his eyes as Snape walked away. All he could focus on was the chafing against his skin and shame that made his stomach turn. Time seemed to pass too slowly. Harry knew Snape was lecturing but couldn't manage to follow anything that was said.

Finally heard the words he'd been waiting for.

"I want a foot on salamander blood properties before your practical on Friday. Dismissed."

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief and grabbed his bag quickly. If he ran, he could fix it before it got worse.

"Potter," Snape boomed from behind him. "What part of stay after class don't you understand."

Harry froze in place as the last of the students left the room. He couldn't stop the tears anymore, biting down on the inside of his lip as he felt them fall down his face.

"Sir," Harry pleaded. "Please, I really need to go."

"Stop your whinging and turn around Potter."

Harry did so slowly, keeping his robe tucked close to him and his eyes trained on the floor. He refused to let Snape see him cry.

"What are you hiding in your robe," Snape asked.

"N-nothing! I swear!"

"Don't lie to me!" Harry shut his eyes wishing he could stop crying. "Look at me, Potter!"

Harry looked up. Tears were still streaming down his face. It took a Herculean effort for Harry not to break down into full on sobs. Harry couldn't remember another time when he had felt so humiliated.

Snape stepped forward and tugged on the front of Harry's robes, pulling them aside to look at Harry's chest. There was a brown wet stain on his school sweater, just at the waist on Harry's right side. Harry couldn't take it anymore. He burst into sobs. He pulled back from Snape quickly, covering himself with his robe again.

"Calm yourself, Potter," Snape said, but his voice lacked his usual edge. If anything there was uncertainty in his voice. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd call it concern. Apparently, having someone sobbing in your classroom was disconcerting even for the evilest of potions professors. "If you've injured yourself getting into potions ingredients…"

"I didn't!" Harry protested. "I swear I didn't…. I…" Harry could feel the heat on his cheeks. He was sure between the embarrassment and tears his face was nearly as red as Ron's hair. He wiped at his eyes and whispered, "It's my colostomy bag, sir. It leaked. I didn't get a chance to change it."

He couldn't bring himself to look up. There was a tense silence for a moment before Snape spoke.

"I see," Snape said finally. "And you didn't think informing your professor would be prudent?"

"Without you mocking me in front of the whole class? No." Harry bit out.

Snape just fixed him with a hard look, before taking out his wand.

"Scourgify," Snape said, and the stain on Harry's shirt vanished. "Step into my office, Potter. Bring your things."

Harry followed him obediently, taking a seat in the chair Snape was indicating towards.

"Your professors should have been informed of your condition, Mr. Potter," Snape said quietly.

"Madam Pomfrey knows. I… I've got Ulcerative Colitis. Er… rather I did. I used to. But I got really sick and they had to take out the part of my intestine with the disease. So I have a stoma now. And I can't… um… use the bathroom. It all goes into the stoma bag."

"That still doesn't explain why you haven't told anyone about your medical condition," Snape replied.

Harry just sunk in his chair, looking down at his lap. Unconsciously, he put a hand over his stoma. The skin surrounding it was still chafing and irritated from the leak, and the adhesive around the bag had started to come up, making it worse. The bag would still need to be changed soon but at least it wasn't leaking. At least he wasn't sitting in his own filth.

"Cause it's gross," Harry said. "It's gross and weird and embarrassing and I don't want to go around telling everyone that I've got some freaky disease that makes me poo in a bag, alright!"

"It is nothing you can control. Surely you realize that."

Harry shrugged. "People don't want to hear about it. I know how disgusting I am, okay? I don't need everyone else reminding me all the time."

Snape grabbed Harry's chin and forced Harry to look him directly in the eye.

"You are not disgusting," Snape said firmly. "You have a disability and that is nothing to be ashamed about."

Harry didn't know what to say. He pulled back from Snape and fixed his gaze firmly on his lap.

"I don't want anyone to treat me differently."

"So you go it all alone. You've been doing this alone for a long time." It wasn't a question but Harry nodded.

"Harry, you are a child. It is not your responsibility to take this all on yourself. But no one can help you if you don't ask for it. Your real friends, they won't care if it's a bit gross. There is nothing for you to be embarrassed or ashamed of."

Harry looked up at him and felt like he was going to cry all over again.

"You mean that?" Harry asked.

Snape nodded solemnly. "I do."

If someone had told Harry a month ago that he would be having this conversation with his most hated professor, he would have laughed at them. But Harry couldn't bring himself to feel suspicious or embarrassed about the whole thing. Instead, he just felt relieved.

"Thank you, sir," Harry murmured. Snape pulled away and walked over to his desk.

"I'm going to write you a pass to your next class. Clean yourself up. Go to Madam Pomfrey if you feel the need." Snape said. "Tomorrow during lunch you will report here, and I will teach you a cleaning spell and a vanishing spell. I daresay they will be useful to you."

Harry took the pass from Professor Snape and stood.

"Um, Professor Snape?" Harry asked. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Snape fixed him with an odd look. "You'll find one day, Mr. Potter, that even adults can be wrong about things.

Harry nodded, although he didn't really understand what Snape was getting at.

"Thanks again, Professor," Harry said and slipped out of the room.

Later that night, Harry got ready for bed as usual. He changed his bag and set the alarm on his watch to wake him up when he needed to empty his bag in the middle of the night. His skin was still a little chafed from earlier, but his shirt remained clean and the irritation would be gone by morning. The embarrassment from the incident had faded, but Harry was still thinking about Professor Snape's words. Your real friends won't care if it's a bit gross. He ruminated on the thought a bit, before slipping on his shirt and stepping out of the bathroom with his toiletries.

Ron was already on his bed, setting his own alarm. It was then Harry made his decision.

"Hey, Ron? I need to talk to you about something."