(Alright this takes place right after book five. This is my first ever Harry/Snape story, so please be gentle . I hope you enjoy this, its something that has been floating around in my mind for a while now. Since it wouldn't leave me alone, I decided to write it out! So.. :goes through a list of things she needs to say: oh! I should probably post a disclaimer. I do not own Harry or this wonderful world that he lives in. As much as I would love to :hugs fantasy world: it belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I am just a humble Slash lover who decided to attempt a story. Also, for those who haven't figured it out yet, this is a male x male story. So if the wonderful world of slashyness offends you, here is your warning to turn around and run, leaving us slash fanatics our dream. Alright now one with the show::claps hands: enjoyeth (hopefully))

Ch1: Broken and Shattered

A cold breeze slammed against the two figures walking knee deep in snow, pulling at their cloaks and stealing any trace of warmth gained from the small hut they had just left. Crystal snowflakes fell from the sky, covering the lake and Hogwarts in another layer of cold. A shivering Ron stopped his complaining for a moment, glancing up at the approaching castle. Hermione walked beside him remaining silent, deep in thought while a small frown formed across her face. Ron turned towards her, opening his mouth to continue whining when he noticed her expression.

"Your thinking about him aren't you?" he asked, his voice unusually low and serious. Hermione looked up, slightly surprised at being jolted back into reality. She nodded stiffly, a look of concern on her face.

"I'm worried about him." her voice was equally as low as Rons, filled with worry and concern.

"I know, I am too." the two friends exchanged a knowing glance before continuing their walk up to the school. It was the weekend, just after dinner and they had decided to visit Hagrid. Even though they had been back at school for quite a few months, it had been the first time either of them had had a chance to see their friend. Homework was starting to pile up, along with Quidditch practice and worrying about Harry, both had their plates filled.

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Up in the castle, the very same person who the two had been worrying about, was sitting in front of the fire in the Gryfindor common room. Harry had a far away expression on his face, something that was becoming more and more common for him. He was staring at the burning embers in the fire, but not really focusing on them. Beside him his fellow Gryfindors remained completely ignorant to the tormenting thoughts in his head. A normal day in the life of Harry. He barely looked up when the fat lady's painting opened up, letting in a cold Hermione and a complaining Ron. Harry didn't pay any attention to their conversation, choosing to stare at the dying embers, his face expressionless. After a moment of silence Harry realized Ron had said something to him, something he was probably expected to reply to. Taking a small breath he looked over at his friend, forcing a smile onto his face.

"Sorry mate, I missed that." he said, his smile not faltering even after Ron gave him a weird look.

"I asked if you finished the potions homework thats due tomorrow." Ron asked, gesturing towards the potions book lying forgotten on Harry's lap. Though Ron had asked more to fill the silence then need of an answer. One only had to look at the half scribbled on parchment to see Harry had definitely not finished the 700 word essay on all the properties of a Nuilanies something rather.

Harry shook his head, letting out a small groan before looking over at Hermione. He did not even have to ask if she had finished it or not, the view of a long parchment sheet, completely covered in her small writing was answer enough.

"You know, it only has to be 700 words, not 700 pages." A slightly annoyed Ron expressed his feeling at the over achiever Hermione. The person in question gave them an annoyed look, before turning back to her parchment and to Harry and Ron's utter amazement, started to write down more information.

Dark slowly settled on Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, settling its velvet blanket down upon everyone inside. The students in the Gryfindor common room slowly started to filter to their rooms for bed. Eventually only a frustrated red haired boy and an equally disgruntled raven haired boy were left, both writing tiredly onto the parchments infront of them. Until they two went up for bed.

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Harry rolled over in his bed, sleep evading him, like always. He lay awake staring up at the roof above his bed, his mind going through the same familiar motions. Even after all these months the guilt didn't weigh any less on his shoulders, neither did the pain. He remember the first couple days after getting back from the ministry, the nightmares. The scenes forever playing in his head, then rewinding and playing again. Each time changing slightly, until the result he had now. The result that made him not want to go to sleep. That made him always be tired and seem out of it. He took a shallow breath, fighting it off once more. Though as desperately as Harry always fought the dreams away, they always won. Tonight was no difference. Against his judgment he slowly drifted off to sleep.

He looked up and once again was back in the Ministry of Magic. The veil stood in front of him, almost mockingly, but then another figure came into view. It was a confused and concerned looking Sirius. A look of disgust and hatred spread across Harry's face as he pulled his wand from his robes. He smirked at the look of confusion spread across the other mans face as he shouted the words. The confusion was replaced with a look of shock.. and betrayal. And then Sirius was gone, behind the veil, out of site. Harry stood there, a look of smug happiness spread across his face, then he laughed.

Harry woke up with a start, the sound of his laughter ringing in his ears. He pushed his sweat soaked hair out of his eyes, as he tried to gulp down as much fresh air as he could. It took a few moments before he could lay back down. The same familiar dream. Harry squeezed his eyes closed, thankful for one thing. At least he had found away not to wake up screaming. The first month Harry was back at Hogwarts he would be woken up with the sounds of his screams and a room full of concerned boys. Thankfully Harry had eventually been able to stop that. Now if only he could stop the dreams all together, but he knew he never would. They constantly haunted him, plaguing his mind every night since the night Siruis di... left.

It was hours and not until light started to peer threw the dormitories window that Harry finally drifted off to sleep. Just a normal day in the life of Harry Potter.

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Harry woke up, a few nights later, his scar tingling uncomfortably, nothing new. Sitting up in bed, he pushed on his glasses before slipping his feet out from under the warm blankets and onto the cold floor. Making no noise, Harry walked across the boys dormitory and crept down the stairs, wand in hand lighting the way. Harry lowered himself into the nearest chair by the fire, his left hand resting over the scar.

Harry gazed at the now dead coals, ones that only hours before were full of life and warmth. His eyes went out of focus as he waited for his scar to stop tingling, something that normally took an hour or two. A dark shadow passed in front of the boys face, but only for a moment before it was masked behind a look of indifference. Even when Harry was all alone in a room with the rest of the school asleep, he couldn't let the facade fall. For all it would take is one crack, one moment of weakness and it would all come crumbling down, leaving him with nothing to hide behind. Then he would have to face the simple truth. It was all his fault. Everything. Sirius's death, Cedric's death, his parent's death and the countless other innocent victims who died in Voldemort's hunt for him. Nameless faces and lives, at the wrong place at the wrong time. All Harry's fault.

He pushed those thoughts away briskly, focusing on something more important, his training. Harry had been reading countless books with the help of Ron and Hermione, learning anything that could be useful. He was taking lessons with Dumbledore, since Snape has been missing from Hogwarts, to busy being a spy to teach at the school. Under Dumbledore's guidance Harry had finally been able to block his mind completely from Voldemort's and fight of any other intrusions to his thoughts. He had work continuously over the summer and the first few months of school, until not even Dumbledore could get inside him.

Dumbledore was very much pleased with Harry's progress, but of course Harry had other factors then just Voldermolt. It was his fault. If he had learned Occulemency in the first place, Voldemort wouldn't have been able to place that image in his head. Harry wouldn't have went of to the ministry to "Save" Sirius and his godfather would not be dead.

He dimly noticed that his scar had stopped hurting, but stayed in the same position, emerald green eyes staring into nothingness. His expression completely blank, eyes devoid of any emotion, mind blocked from any intrusion into his thoughts. And that was Harry's other goal. To become the master liar. He had seen, who couldn't, the way Hermione, the Weaslys, Lupin even Dumbledore had looked at him over the summer. Their faces full of concern and worry. The looks of pain on their faces whenever he let that same emotion appear on his. The sad look in Dumbledore's eyes when he was teaching Harry Occulemency and had seen the pain and guilt in his mind. He had already caused enough people pain, without giving more.

His eyes drifted their gaze away from the cold dead fire and to an old issue of the daily profit on a nearby table. A frown formed in his mind, but like every other emotion, remained off his face. The Daily Prophet was another problem. After what happened at the Ministry, people could no longer stay in denial of Voldemort's return. Instantly Harry was shed into a new light. No longer was he a crazed attention seeking boy, trying to cause unneeded pain and suffering on others. No, now he was once again placed in the role of hero. The Ministry again singing his graces and the Daily Prophet filled with heartfelt stories about the "boy-who-lived."

He mentally shook his head at them all, disgusted. Harry stood up and turned his back on the paper and on the dead fireplace, taunting him with memories of light and warmth. He made his way back up the stairs, equally as silent. His bare feet soon crossed the dorm room, before slipping back under the covers. He placed his glasses on the table to the side and tucked his wand under his pillow. Empty green eyes, masked eyes, stared up at the roof, a thousand thoughts swimming inside the boys head as sleep evaded him, like always.