Hey guys. Here is the new chapter. I know they're all a little Ooc, but there are some reasons for that (plus I'm not Rowling). Hope it's okay! I'll try and upload another within the week.

10:46. Harry awoke to limbs that did not belong to him dangling over him and quite a headache. He looked over at the still sleeping faces of his friends, panic rising slowly as he remembered last night. He carefully removed himself from the bed and hurried into the bathroom, just in time to throw up painfully in the toilet.

Brushing off his mouth with his sleeve, Harry flushed and turned towards the shower, turning it on hot. He slipped his pants off, and began to tug his shirt off when it stuck. Shit shit shit. Harry's wounds must have reopened during the night of dancing, and now the blood had sealed his skin to his shirt like blood.

Here goes nothing. Harry pulled hard and fast, whimpering as the new scabs were forced off. The moment afterward, however, felt good, like a sort of warmth spreading through his body. It was similar to the pain he felt almost constantly from his stomach, but sharper and more…pleasurable? In any case, it momentarily distracted him from the realities of last night, and continued once he stepped into the beating shower.

Once he stepped out and dried off, quickly rummaging in his bookbag to grab clean clothes, he stepped out onto the hotel room's deck. It was a nice day out, a little cloudy, but with decent sunshine. Harry took a seat at the table out there and rolled a few joints, relaxing in the familiar motion that took him a week to learn.

After he lights up, he begins to calm. After all, they didn't do much, pretty much just oral all around. It was new to him, but not to the others. Harry just hoped it wouldn't be awkward between them now.

But when Nick steps out an hour later as Harry dozed in the sunlight, it had all returned to normal. He was carrying a tray of mimosas, more joints, and three thick lines of white powder.

"Mornin' mate. Did you sleep well?" Nick asked, handing Harry a drink.

"Guess so, we did all sleep in pretty late," Harry remarked, letting Nick's calm tones guide him out of nervousness. The marijuana he had ingested probably also helped. Luckily, that also had soothed his stomach, so he eagerly began sipping the mimosa, as Mav walked out with a bottle of champagne and pitcher of orange juice.

"Good morning, boys. It is time to get very stoned, drink all of this, snort all of that, and go get piercings," she said with her lilty voice.

Harry believed that cocaine should accompany every morning routine now.

After ingesting everything, the friends went and packed for the day, not preparing to return to the hotel until evening. They decided to split the illegal substances between bags. Nick took Adderall, saving the coke for later, plus his own flask and a few packs of cigarettes.

Mav rolled about five joints and two blunts, plus packed two grams and a bowl alongside it. She filled her flask with her favorite: tequila. She also carried three large cans of Red Bull.

Harry carried the alcohol since it was the least illegal. It was a handle of tequila, a bottle of champagne, and three cans of beer, all wrapped up in a sweater to prevent clinking. He packed his own cigarettes, and kept his wand tucked in a discreet interior pocket.

They all took their skateboards, and headed out to the bustling city streets. The three of them were practically skipping; the rush of substances and the excitement of the city were infecting them. Mav lead them block after block, cigarette after cigarette, until they finally slowed after taking a left.

"I think this is the right street," she said, peering around. Harry did as well, his heart sinking when he noticed a certain dingy pub. Of fucking course The Leaky Cauldron would be right where we need to be. At least now I can kinda find my way back to buy books.

Mav walked past, not glancing at it, but stopped two doors down at a building that had elaborate graffiti all over it. A sign read Skittle's Tattoos and Piercings. Mav smiled back at the boys over her shoulder and pushed open the door.

Despite the rough area outside the shop, the inside was pristine. It was all clean lines, black and white décor, and little stations for the individual artists. At the entrance desk was a very beautiful black woman with long dreads and tattoos leading up her neck and down her arms. She looked only a few years older than them, and dressed similarly in a cut off tee, dark tight jeans, and black boots.

"Hey crew, I'm Skittles. What are you looking for today," she asked in a raspy voice that surprised Harry.

"Piercings all around, m'lady," Nick replied in his eager, sweet voice that made Skittles laugh.

"Alright, I'll need a copy of your IDs please." She ran them through, handing them paperwork, and only raising an eyebrow at Harry's before shrugging.

"DANNY, TOM!" She yelled, making Harry jump at the loud noise. Two tall lanky guys came out from somewhere in the back, one sporting a Mohawk, the other a ponytail. Harry could tell they were twins though.

"I'm Danny," Mohawk said.

"Tom," the other grinned.

"What are you here for?" They asked together.

"I am in desperate need of a lip ring," Nick said dramatically. Danny nodded, his own lip rings flashing in the light.

"I'm here to get my nipples pierced," Mav said slyly. Skittles grinned at her and pulled her aside.

"I want my septum pierced. But what are the things in your ears called?" Harry asked Tom.

"They're called gauges. Like a very thick earring almost. You would start smaller than mine so your ears don't tear."

"I want those, plus the nose ring," Harry said. Nick whistled his approval and even Tom looked impressed. Harry just shrugged. He had a high pain tolerance.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

3:34. The trio plus their piercers decided to have a little party time in the small alley beside the shop. It was obviously a regular place to hang out, because there was already a few chairs, a very weathered table, and a few small, homemade skate ramps, plus a rail, tucked beside the shop.

Nick immediately starts the party, offering little blue pills to new friends. They gather around the table, watching as Nick methodically crushes it down into a powder and shaping it into lines. Mav brings out joints and Harry pulls out the bottle of tequila, as well as cigarettes. And it begins.

Harry began grinning after his first two lines of Adderall. Who knew it was this easy to make friends? They took shots together, chasing it with Red Bull, followed by the weed and conversation.

After four shots and one joint to himself and many shared, Harry got on his skateboard, feeling a rush of courage even in front of these new people.

"You look hot with those gauges on a skateboard," Skittles called out, Nick wolf-whistling in the background. Harry blushed, glad that Mav got up to join him on her board.

They spent the next hour there, drinking, smoking, skating. It was nearing 5 o'clock when it happened.

Harry was pretty fucked up by then. He was nursing a mixed drink instead of shots in the hope that he would mellow out, and the group had smoked most of the weed Mav had on her. The alcohol and Adderall had made him feel reckless, so, cigarette in hand, he started near the back of the alley on his board. He skated fast towards the first ramp, managing to clear it and do a simple 180. Harry skates past the next ramp but aims for the rail, popping up to grind on it. He was successful, until he tried to push into the air at the end to do another trick. Instead, he practically somersaulted onto the pavement, landing on his back on the busy sidewalk, cigarette still in hand.

"Bloody fuck," Harry moaned, eyes clenched in pain. He took an inhale on his cig, but on his exhale he opened his eyes to see a tall man with dark hair pulled into a bun and dark eyes burning into him.

"Snape?" Harry asked, wondering if he was hallucinating from the fall.

"That's Professor Snape to you, Mr. Potter," the man drawled.

"Oi, mate!," a voice called out, "that was fuckin raw." Nick had approached Harry and began pulling him up. Harry swayed for a moment before crumbling to his knees as the world swirled around him.

"Potter, stay down for another minute before standing unless you wish to suffer another head injury," Snape demanded.

"Who are you? How do you know Harry?" Mav asked, joining Nick and facing off the professor. Snape curled his lip at her but did not reply. Harry scurried to his feet now, seeing that Mav would not leave a good impression for him since she still had a cup in her hand and a cigarette dangling from her pierced lips.

"He's a teacher at my school, guys, relax," Harry motioned them to cool down.

"Indeed. Now, Mr. Potter, will you meet me at the restaurant down the street so I can inspect you without your friends around?" Snape's tone implied that this was not a question, but an order.

"Um, sure, Professor. I'll meet you there in a mo'. Just let me grab my bag." Snape nodded his consent and turned on his heel, walking on down the street towards the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry turned to his friends, eyes wide in fear. "Let me have a puff and a line, please! This is gonna be rough."

His friends sprang into action. Nick crushed him up a line and Mav packed a bowl while Harry chugged from his flask. He snorted and smoked, finally grabbing his bag. They made plans to meet back at the hotel soon before heading out for the night, and Harry went on his way, surely heading towards his death.

When he pushed open the door to the Leaky Cauldron, he noticed it was just as it always was; filled with a variety of odd witches, wizards, and magical beings, dim lighting, and the smell of hot food and strong alcohol. The feeling of being surrounded by magic comforted Harry as he made his way to the bar where Snape was waiting. Harry had been so surprised to see him out in Muggle London, that he had not even realized that the man was not in his typical flowing black robes, but instead wore a simple long sleeve gray button up (with the sleeves rolled up, to Harry amazement, so anyone could see the graying Dark Mark on his forearms), black jeans, and nice black boots- probably dragon hide.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, order yourself something to eat and we will move to a more private table," the man requested.

"Just some tea, Tom," Harry said, smiling at the innkeeper behind the bar. Tom nodded, and Harry followed Snape into a small room with only empty tables.

As they seated themselves, Harry's anxiety grew as a rush from Adderall kicked in and he realized he was too fucked up for this.

"Listen Professor, its nice you wanted to chat, but I know you hate me, so I'll just tell Dumbles you were nice, but you can keep on with your day," Harry rambled, avoiding Snape's intense gaze.

"Mr. Potter, on a scale of 1 to 10, how inebriated are you on muggle drugs at this moment?"

"What?" Harry feigned shock, but knew it was a lost cause, "No, you see, sir…"

"Just answer, Potter. It is terribly obvious."

"Well, like a six…" Harry swallowed thickly. More like nine. Tom, thankfully, arrived at that moment, carrying two trays. One held plain toast with sides of butter and marmalades, the other filled with some tomato and cucumber finger sandwiches.

"Thank you, Tom," said Harry, beaming, until he realized he definitely looked and sounded wasted. Tom nodded once more, before leaving the two alone again.

"Mr. Potter, much to your distaste, I'm sure, I am going to ask you some questions and urge you to answer honestly. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, feeling panic rise in his throat as he tried to swallow a bite of toast.

"Why are you not with your relatives in Little Surrey?"

"Oh, you see, Professor, they went on a family vacation, so my friends decided to take me to London." That was basically the truth.

"What are you currently 'on'?" Snape peered at him with those intense black eyes, leaning forward. Fuck. Why is he interested? He's just gonna land me in trouble.

"Just a bit of alcohol, sir," Harry said, attempting to exude a polite and honest tone. It did not work.

"Why do you smell like marijuana? Why are you so fidgety?" Snape clearly did not buy it.

"Well, I'm nervous, ya know? And my piercer was smoking while we were skating, so I guess that's why."

"It is very clear you are lying, but lets move on. Why, Mr. Potter, are you so dreadfully skinny?" That made Harry's stomach twist. He knew not to talk about it. It had never gotten him anywhere besides beaten before. And why would he tell Snape, of all people?

"I'm not that skinny, sir," Harry mumbled, wincing as he heard the lie, knowing it could not be ignored.

"I can see your ribs. The bones in your arms are apparent. Your face is all sharp edges. Do not take me for a fool, Mr. Potter," Snape sneered, yet his eyes flashed with something besides disdain.

"Listen, thanks for trying to help, but honestly, I'm fine. I was sick for a few weeks and lost some weight. But I'm fine," Harry said in a monotone. He could feel his defenses rise, creating a form of intense apathy. I'm fine. I don't matter. Nothing matters. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine.

"Your relatives left you alone after your prolonged illness? A seemingly severe illness at that?" Harry nodded lamely. "That is a dismal display of responsibility," Snape mused. That almost made Harry laugh. The best thing they could have done was leave. Snape peered at him again, sharp eyes seeming to split the 16 year old open.

"Finally, Mr. Potter, where did the mark on you shoulder come from?"

Fuck him. Why is he doing this? Harry didn't even look at his shoulder, knowing he would see the imprint of a belt buckle where it had been forcibly delivered on his shoulder to the point it broke skin, as well as left a hideous bruise.

"Skateboarding accident, sir," Harry replied, monotone well in place. Snape would see through anything, so why try. It's not like anything will come of this conversation. It's not like Dumbledore will listen.

"Did you fall onto a belt buckle?" The question was delivered coolly, but Harry sensed the venom underneath and winced. Fuck. Of course I would fucking flinch at the most critical part of the conversation. Fuckin freak. I need to leave. I need to go get wasted. This should not be happening.

"I dunno. Hard fall I guess," Harry said dully, avoiding eye contact. He was trying to keep his breathing in check, but his heart rate seemed to speed up.

"Mr. Potter, even though we have a convoluted history, even though you believe I despise you, I can assure you I will do everything in my power to help you if you're in a difficult or violent situation. You just need to tell me," Snape said calmly and… warmly? Shit. Does that mean he doesn't hate me? I can't tell, I can't tell, I can't tell. Dumbledore doesn't care. Vernon will kill me before any help can arrive. The number one rule is keep my mouth shut. I've survived this long. Harry longed to open his mouth and tell this man that he's been starved and beaten and worked since he was a boy, that he slept in a cupboard, that he's been locked up for days at a time, that the belt knows his skin more than any lover can. But no, I keep my mouth shut.

"Thanks for your concern, sir, but like I said, I'm fine."

At that, Snape sighed and folded his hands together.

"Okay, Potter. Just remember what I said. I am only an owl away," Snape's voice was soft now, but Harry still resisted looking up. Instead, he stared at the Dark Mark displayed on the man's forearm. This was the most skin Harry had ever seen of the reserved man, and he wondered why he was dressed like this. Snape had been a spy for as long as Harry had been alive, and while the Wizarding World was now aware of this, Harry doubted that the image goes over well. And the more Harry stared, the more he noticed thin white lines around the Mark, small scars from something. Harry snapped out of his curiosity though, knowing it would not be welcome.

"Yes, sir. Thanks, sir," Harry mumbled.

"Do you have any questions for me?" Why were you in muggle London? Why are you showing your Mark? What are those scars? Why are you acting concerned about me? Do you really not hate me? How do you know about muggle drugs? Why isn't your hair greasy right now? You've ignored me for the past year and hated me the four before, why now? And why so late? If you had asked me this when I was eleven, you would have received very different answers.

"I would really appreciate it if you didn't mention this to anyone, please. Can I go now? My friends are probably waiting for me."

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Remember to get your supplies. And try and be careful."

Harry nodded and left, scurrying out into the streets, before turning into an alley and chugging from his flask, relishing in the after burn.

ssssssssss

As Snape spun back towards his home after a few quick errands in Diagon Alley, he finally allowed his mind to wander to Potter. It was obvious what was going on, but for some reason, he felt it not wise to push it until he gathered more information. Luckily for him, he lived with someone that may have in depth knowledge.

"Hello, dear," Snape said softly as Remus embraced him lightly.

"How did it feel?" Remus asked, concern and excitement lacing his words. How did what feel? Oh, right. I have gotten quite distracted today.

"It was…manageable. Many people stared, some whispered, some ignored, and the muggles seemed to like it," Snape remarked. While he had been out in Muggle London buying herbs (it was cheaper in bulk from muggles), many people had claimed to think his Dark Mark was "rad" and "totally bril." Snape rolled his eyes. It was not a good thing to be marked as a Dark wizard, regardless of the ideas muggles had floating around in their heads.

"Everyone knows you have been cleared of all charges. Sev, you got a bloody Order of Merlin," Remus started, his temper rising and protective nature flaring. Snape simply put a hand on his chest and the man stilled. Severus was still amazed that the werewolf buried in the man would listen to his touch and tone.

"It will take time, dear. I have never been viewed favorably, and it is not bound to change any time soon. Therefore, I will continue to work with Deinceps on these problems and the many others I possess." Deinceps was his Mind Healer that had been appointed after his trial. Even though he was cleared, it was obvious he was not trusted. However, working with Dein had her benefits, one of which was an increase in patience and a decrease in his flaming temper. Dein had given Severus the homework of roaming about with the Dark Mark exposed. It was not something Severus had ever done, his own deep shame being much more oppressive than a few stares from idiots in Diagon.

"You're okay, then?" Remus was staring at him, face open and caring, and Severus couldn't help but smile a very small amount.

"I'm okay. You do not have to kill anyone on the next moon. Besides, Molly would probably get to them first." Remus grinned at that. The Weasley matriarch was somehow the biggest supporter of their relationship. Not that many knew of it yet, though it has been going on for two years now. The older members of the Order knew, but they had kept it quiet from others.

Remus pulled Severus down onto their sofa, a simple brown leather one that Remus had found while scouring thrift shops during his years as an outcast. They had kept it due to the buttery soft texture and because Severus somehow had a hard time denying his partner anything.

"So, I saw Potter out and about," he started, allowing Remus to unknowingly guide the conversation from this point forward.

"How did he look? Did you speak to him? Did you tell him about us? I bet he hates me. I've been awful. I've been scared, never should have been in bloody Gryffindor if this is how I act…"

"Shush," Snape commanded firmly, while placing a hand on Remus' cheek. "You are a bloody Gryffindor, Remus, but this is not typical courage. He will forgive you if you forgive yourself. If I know anything about the boy, it is that he is forgiving. I'm sure he does not even realize the internalized hatred you put yourself under for something out of you control, you silly bleeding heart." Remus could not forgive himself for the Battle of Hogsmeade occurring during the full moon. He had, once night approached, attempted to lock himself in a cellar, knowing that it was too late to drink the wolfsbane. Someone had released him. He killed two Death Eaters, but unfortunately ran across Marietta Edgecomb. Severus had conjured him in a cage before he could kill her, but she now existed as he does: trembling beneath the full moon every month.

"As for your questions, he is thin. Dangerously so. I inquired and he spouted off about being sick. However, what do you know about the muggles he lives with?"

Severus, watching Remus' anger and magic swirl, immediately deposited the wolf's head into his lap and carded his fingers through the graying hair.

"Harry never talked about them much. It was clear that he never wished to return there for summers, but Albus always insisted due to the blood wards. Why he is still there is rather excessive, but Albus has his reasons. Let's see," Remus paused, thinking, "Ron told Molly that during the summer before their second year, they had to rescue Harry because they had locked him up in his bedroom and put bars on his window and… installed a cat flap, I believe? If they're starving him again, I will go to that house and shred them apart," Remus panted. Severus smiled, never ceasing his movements through the man's hair. He loved how protective Remus got over the people he cared for. He is a gentle soul until one of his loved ones is threatened, and then he is overwhelmed by the need to protect.

"I was just curious, Remus. He does look as if he has changed though. His clothes and…mannerisms are different." He has piercings, tattoos, a skateboard, and gets inebriated in the middle of the day. Oh yeah, dear, he looks like he gets beaten, too. Severus was not ready to make a move yet though. The boy had asked him not to mention it to anyone. Snape was currently just probing for more information.

But Severus knew. It was too easy. But how he had not figured it out before now was mind-boggling. Severus always knew by second year, at the latest. He would pick out the students that showed the signs, inform their Head of House, and escort his Slytherins to Madame Pomfrey before chatting with them and attempting relocations. His celebrity, though despised, did get me. I saw what I wanted, not what was. And no other sodding professor can see past their nose. That's not fair, but Minerva and Filius are too naïve in the ways of neglect and abuse.

Severus relaxed into the sofa further, accepting the book Remus accioed for him as they settled in to read. He did not read though, not really. While his partner perused pages of his own tome, Severus thought deeply about the strange feelings he was having. Normally, he acted swiftly and immediately. But that was with younger children who, in most cases, are more likely to break down with the truth and accept help. Potter though has been carrying the weight of worlds on his shoulders for years. He died last year and came back. For the second time he defied death! That has got to increase the pressure on him.

Harry would not be trusting. He would not break and spill his soul. But Severus knew he would have to do something. The boy was clearly suffering if the copious amount of drugs he had probably consumed was telling enough. No, he would need slow, steady, support at school. He had friends, but, oddly enough, after the trials and press conferences, people seemed to distance themselves from the boy, as well as a few other key fighters in the battle. People are nervous of power. And those that have been touched by Darkness. And by the end of last year, Potter seemed even more ostracized, even by his own friends.

"Potter was with youths I have never seen before. What happened to Weasley and Granger?" Vague, but Remus probably found it odd that Severus was taking this much interest in the boy.

"Ron," Lupin hissed the word, shocking Severus, "seems to have a problem with gay people. Turned against Harry at the end of last year, or so Molly tells me, and Ginny said Ron has been making others see his point of view too. Claims Harry is just trying to get more attention, and even if he is really gay, it's disgusting and filthy. Molly has just about killed him." The words sank slowly into Snape's mind.

"Are you telling me Harry Potter is gay?" He asked slowly, watching Remus' face carefully. As if he needed to, the man was an open book. The wolf rolled his eyes and nodded.

Severus returned to his book, as casually as possible, all the while amazed and alarmed by what he had learned that day. Harry Potter still needs help and protection. And for some reason, I don't need my Oath to force me to support him.